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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1359/45995/MSmithRW425992-230825-02.2.pdf
934a1d70a17a0697f9ce5b48153226fb
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Title
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Smith, Bob
Robert Wylie Smith
R W Smith
Description
An account of the resource
125 items. An oral history interview with Bob Smith (b. 1924, 425992 Royal Australian Air Force) photographs, documents and navigation logs and charts. He flew operations as a navigator with 15 Squadron at RAF Mildenhall.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Bob Smith and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2019-03-25
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Smith, RW
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Prologue
Voices of the Past
O, There are voices of the past
Links of a broken chain
Wings that can bear me back
To Times
Which cannot come again
Yet, God Forbid that I should lose
The Echoes that remain. Unknown.
March 2003
Five years ago, after listening to friends, young and old, as well as journalists, editors and historians requesting War Veterans and Pioneers to write their memoirs I realised that perhaps it was a duty to my descendants that I should do so. Accordingly, I ‘bit the bullet’ and started a draft of “My Service during WW11 in the Royal Australian Air Force”.
It soon became apparent that I should have done so many years ago when the memories were still fresh, although there could be some wisdom in the fact that sometimes the perspective is better if viewed from a distance. Much time has been taken in getting back in contact with old mates and crew members to ensure that what I have written is as historically accurate as possible. I have even had researchers and historians in the UK verify some of the detail, as well as refer to a few publications that have covered the period of my ‘Operational Tour’ on XV/15 Squadron, RAF Bomber Command. I did keep a diary for a while, but discontinued same when I started Operational Training in the UK, as diaries were then forbidden. I did have, however, a good diary in the form of letters home and which my Mother kept. Unfortunately these were lost or mislaid before she died in 1979. I do have all my logs and charts as well as photos, other items and notes from mates that have assisted greatly. On a few matters the original draft had to be amended, but after a few years of revision and the acquisition of a computer I was able about six months ago to commence on the final record. There will no doubt be some further amendments and additions as more confirming information comes to hand. I will cover same in a ‘summary’ at a later stage.
The question will be asked, “Why didn’t I write my Service History soon after the war?”, and why have so many not put their experiences to paper? Some did, and they are to be congratulated and thanked for their efforts. For many there was the old service adage that it was “Infra Dig to Shoot a Line”. I consider it was a common decision of most who returned from active service in any theatre of war to get on with life and leave the war behind.
My father served in WW1 as an ‘original’ in the 41st Btn A.I.F. and went through a number of the great battles in France & Belgium. He was wounded 3 times and gassed. His younger brother was in the 9th Btn A.I.F. that landed on Gallipoli on 25th April 1915, where he was severely wounded, and later fought in France & Belgium. Their youngest brother, after whom I was named, died on active service in France after being wounded 3 times. As a boy I often wondered why Dad and his brother never talked much about the war except between themselves and other returned soldiers. I now understand. I have now been in the same position. With your mates who survived you can recall facets of your experiences in an atmosphere of mutual understanding.
War has made me a realist. Indeed there is a season for all things. Yesterday is history and there is nothing you can do to change it, although we do see some historians trying to sanitise the past. It is to-day that is God’s Gift in your hands, and Faith that gives you hope for tomorrow.
I hope that what I have written about my service in the Air Force will be a valuable record for someone in the years ahead.
Official Identity Card for the Royal Australian Air Force
Date of Issue 23 December, 1942
Letter from Employer Giving Approval to Enlist in the Airforce
Enrolment in the Reserve
Certificate of Enlistment
Enlistment in the RAAF
Rookie-AC2
When war with Germany was declared on 3rd September 1939 I was a student boarder at the Ipswich (Boys) Grammar School in my ‘Junior’ years of study. I had been enrolled at I.G.S the previous year under a Qld R.S.S.A I.L.A Scholarship that I had won because my father was a returned soldier from WW1 and I had attained a qualifying standard in the 1937 State Scholarship exams. At that early stage, although under the age of 16, I had ambitions of joining the Air Force if the war were to carry on for many years, which it did.
After sitting the “Junior Public Exams” at the end of the 1939 school year, which I passed with above average results (4 A’s, 4 B’s and 1 C) I was accepted for employment in The National Bank of Australasia Limited at its Harrisville Branch. I took the place of Gordon McDougall who had enlisted in the RAAF. He went on to graduate as a pilot and lost his life in a flying accident in East Lothian, Scotland on Monday 6th September 1943.
The war did continue in Europe through 1940, and in early 1941 when I turned 17 years of age I took the opportunity to enrol as a correspondence student with the Air Force Cadets. I received educational material and exercises in Physics and Mechanics, incorporating the theories of flight and navigation etc. Exams were set for each lesson and in my case these were checked and marked by the Headmaster of the Milora State Primary School where I attended and sat the 1937 State Scholarship exam. Early in 1942 on reaching the age of 18 I was given the opportunity to make a formal application to enlist in the RAAF, subject to parents’ and employer’s consent. I made the application to the Bank and their approval was forthcoming on 31st January 1942, subject to a few qualifications as I was still a temporary clerk on probation which meant that my re-employment after the war would be subject to reassessment at the time. My parents gave their consent on my promise not to start smoking or drinking in the Air Force until I reached age 21. This promise I kept well beyond that time, as I have never been a smoker, and only a moderate drinker since into my 30’s. When I returned from active service in 1945 I realised what an enormous stress I had placed on my parents, particularly as my father had seen active service on the battlefields of France & Belgium in WW1 and my mother prayerfully relied on the strength of her Faith. Her prayers were answered.
Armed with the necessary consents I forwarded my application to the RAAF Recruitment Centre in Brisbane and on 13th February 1942 had completed the RAAF’s Form P/P/39A for Air Crew entry I was now on stand-by as it was policy for actual flying training not to commence until the recruit was of age 19.
In 1942, after the entry of Japan into the war and posing a real threat to Australian territory the government of the day was actively engaged in calling up qualified males into the Militia Forces. Apparently to keep a priority on Air Crew ‘hopefuls’ the RAAF instituted a call-up of those on ‘the reserve’ by creating the mustering of Air Crew Guard in Queensland, New South Wales & Victoria. It was under this mustering that I received my call-up to report to No.3 RAAF Recruitment Centre in Eagle Street, Brisbane on 21st May 1942. My position at the Bank was taken by John Neville Keys, the son of the then Manager at Boonah Branch, Neville Keys. He went into the next RAAF call-up, was given the number 426112 got his ‘wings’ as a Bomb Aimer and lost his life with No.466 Squadron Bomber Command on 11th April 1944 when shot down by a German night fighter on a raid on the railway installations at Tergnier in the lead up to the “D” Day invasion of Europe. I reported to No.3 Recruitment Centre along with 191 other recruits who were passed medically fit and duly enlisted, with service Nos from 425819 to 426010 inclusive, and proceeded on posting No.3 Recruit Depot at Maryborough, Qld with the rank of AC2. Authority P.O.R.135/42. I was given the No.425992, placed between No.425991 Bill Washbourne and 425993 Des Webster. Bill came from the Warwick district and Des from the Kilcoy area. This was to avoid surname of Smith under consecutive numbers. The same applied to the Jones & Murphies. The only Smith who remained in strict numerical order was 425891 Robert Angus Martin Smith.
We proceeded by train that evening to Maryborough where we were issued with uniforms, dungarees, boots, toothbrushes, razors etc and settled into barracks with palliasses and introduced to the Air Force life on 6 shillings a day for 7 days a week with free meals, accommodation, medical & dental treatment. In those days the Bank made up the difference in pay, which was not great but amounted to a bit of compulsory saving.
I Settle Into Life as a Recruit
Soon settled into a daily routine of a route march early in the morning while there was frost on the ground before breakfast, drills, lectures and vaccinations. Leave was granted most evenings and over the week-end. It was quite a common practice for the airmen to commandeer a push bike after going to the pictures in town, ride it out to the station gates and leave it there. The recruit depot was situated on the Maryborough aerodrome. Maryborough in those days was a town where everyone rode bikes, and the locals soon got to know where to look for their missing mode of transport. After three weeks intensive initiation into air force life we were passed as suitable recruits for Air Crew training and were split into several groups and posted to various RAAF stations in Queensland & New South Wales to serve as Guards until posted to an Initial Training School.
Bill Washbourne, Des Webster, Col (Snow) Wheatley and myself were posted to No.1 A.O.S at Cootamundra N.S.W. on 13th June 1942. Authority No,140/42. We travelled by train from Maryborough and arrived in Sydney only 2 weeks after the Japanese midget submarine attack on that city. We had to change trains in Sydney. At Cootamundra we were joined by Air Crew Guards from other States. Duties at Cootamundra included guarding the Ansons parked on the station aprons overnight, station perimeters, main gate guardhouse and the fuel depot about a mile out of town. Guard duties were usually 4 hours on and 4 hours off. The winter chill was a bit of a shock to the Queenslanders but we were treated generously with the issue of an extra blanket. Ice creams taken on duty at night to help you through your 4 hour shift could be left on a post, or tail of an aircraft and would not melt. If there was a sneaky wind blowing and the opportunity was judged safe we would crawl into one of the aircraft for a bit of a break. It was a fair risk that no one was doing the rounds to check on you.
Duty at the fuel dump was more relaxed. We stayed in a tent, and had trained the possums to eat fruit and chocolates out of our hands until they became a real nuisance. Horse riders, probably going home from the pictures or a dance in Cootamundra and travelling along the road that passed by the dump would be challenged “Who goes there?” Most took it in good humour, but occasionally one would get a bit stroppy but remain cautious in case we decided to fire a shot into the air and scare their horse. To relieve the monotony one night I fired a couple of shots at something flying overhead in the moonlight. Unfortunately these were heard back at the station and in no time a vehicle with more guards for reinforcement turned up. To the N.C.O who arrived I had to give a quick explanation. Told him I had challenged a person who had come through the fence, and when he didn’t stop but went back through the fence I fired a couple of shots after him. A bit of a recco of the area was made but nothing found, so I was instructed to report to the C/O’s office the next day. This I did along with others who were on duty at the time. They supported my account of events, but we were ordered to go to the rifle range for target practice and assessment. I was given 5 shots at the 200 yard range and scored 2 bulls and 3 inners, and explained further to the C.O that I would have fired close enough to the intruder to give him a fright. He ordered a close inspection of the site in daylight to see if there was any evidence of clothing caught in the barbed wire fence but nothing was found. I should imagine the C.O’s report on the incident would make interesting reading. Bill Washbourne was on guard duty with me at the time and at a reunion of the Air Crew Guards in Brisbane in the 1990’s he was surprised when I told him there was no intruder. He confirmed that at the time they all thought I was serious.
My first encounter with an aircraft accident and death was at Cootamundra on 21st September 1942. A Beaufighter from No.31 Squadron stationed at Wagga Wagga flew into our circuit and on turning to come in to land stalled and crashed about a mile from the station. The squadron which had been equipped with Beauforts had changed over to the Beaufighter only the month before. It was flown by F/Sgt. John Evan Jenkins (No.407435) and the second crew man, possibly the Observer, was Sgt. Vivian Sutherst (No.35755). Both were killed instantly on impact and are buried in the Cootamundra War Cemetery. I was with a few guards who were sent immediately to the scene of the crash, which we had to keep under guard for a couple of days. It was a sobering experience and I vividly remember the advice given to us at the scene by a senior sergeant that we were not to dwell on the death of the crew, but put it behind us, do our duty and get on with life. There was nothing we could do to change what had happened. That advice stood me in good stead through the experiences ahead and indeed through my life. It was while on guard duty at the crash site that we had some amusement shooting at rabbits. On one occasion a bullet ricocheted off a rock and as it whined its way across the country side it was amusing to see flocks of sheep scatter in its path.
The Presbyterian Church in Cootamundra had a very active Youth Fellowship Association to which I went with Bill Washbourne and other airmen. We were made most welcome and enjoyed many a happy time
On 16/9/42 we were officially attached to the newly formed No. 73 Reserve Squadron, but our routine on the station did not change.
On 11th October Des Webster and I were posted to No. 2 Initial Training School at Bradfield Park (Sydney) as our first step to Air Crew entry. There were also Air Crew Guards from other stations on the same posting, including Keith Mills, Noel Hooper and Eric Sutton who were at Maryborough with me. Since we enlisted our mustering was Aircrew V (Guard), with rank of AC11.
We were part of No. 33 Course at I.T.S. It was an intensive course of lectures on many subjects, but mainly on basic theories of flying, navigation, gunnery and bombing. Physical training played an important part and you were under constant observation for overall assessment as suitable for air crew and put through various tests to gauge reflexes and co-ordination before being interviewed by a selection panel to be mustered into a particular category.
A wide range of sports was available, including sailing, and evening leave passes were generous. Queenslanders who were issued with the tropical uniform were not allowed to wear it into the city (South of the Harbour Bridge), but that was not strictly policed. We would mostly go to the Anzac Club for a meal and then to a show. Then buy a packet of fruit, say 4 lbs (2 kilos) of Cherries for 2 shillings (20 cents) to eat on the train back to Lindfield and walk to the camp. If you fell asleep on the last train and got carried on to Gordon it was a long walk back to camp- had to hurry to make it by 2359 Hrs. Through the Anzac Club interstate and country servicemen could be introduced to residents in Sydney who were willing to extend home hospitality. I availed of this offer and came to meet Miss MacPherson, a retired Nursing Sister who had a unit on the slopes of the harbour at Neutral Bay. Mac’s place became a home away from home for a few young airmen. She was a dear soul and was like a second mother to a few of us. It was a great joy to visit, have a home cooked meal and occasionally sleepover on a Saturday night. She would make up a bed on the lounge and be amazed to find us sleeping on the floor in the morning. I kept up a regular correspondence with her while overseas, as did a few others, and 3 years later made a quick visit on my return in-transit back to Queensland after disembarking in Sydney.
While on the course a few of us including Keith Mills, Eric Sutton, Des Webster, Noel Hooper and myself were detailed to go to the University of N.S.W. where they were doing research into air sickness. We were good guinea pigs, as we were given vouchers for a meal of roast lamb and baked vegetables before the tests started. The tests involved being strapped into a stretcher and swung from ceiling to ceiling to see how long you lasted. I lost my meal after about 10 minutes as did most. As far as I can remember Noel Hooper was the only one who did not part with his meal.
The course finished on 1st January 1943 when we were assigned into various air crew categories for further flying training. The Selection panel tried to get me to accept a pilot’s course as my tests confirmed I was well suited to be a pilot. I pressed hard to be given a Navigator category as I was ‘interested in mathematics,’ and got my wish. Actually the main reason I applied for a ‘navigator’ was the good gen circulating at the time that those chosen for Navigator and Bomb Aimer courses would be going to Canada for flying training with the plan to go on to the U.K. to fly in Lancasters or Halifaxes. There was a proviso that you had to be 19 years of age by 10th January 1943, the date they would have to report back from pre-embarkation leave. (That was my 19th birthday and how I became to be the youngest of the draft). This was confirmed when we were given 10 days leave with instructions to report back at Bradfield Park No. 2 Embarkation Depot on 11th Jan 1943. As from 2nd Jan 1943 my mustering was Air Crew 11 (Navigator) and rank L.A.C. (Leading Aircraftman—not Lance Air Commodore).
It was not hard to take a weeks leave at home. It was a busy week visiting a few relations and then having to say farewells with many a prayer for a safe return from the war. I had made a good friend of the bank manager’s daughter, Jean Hall, and I had a feeling that many thought our friendship was more serious. I took Jean to a dance at the Harrisville School of Arts on the Friday night 8th Jan, but it was not like the old dances as it was overrun by RAAF and American airmen from Amberley which had now grown into a large air base servicing the Pacific war zone. Jean promised to write me while I was away and we did keep up a regular correspondence. A neighbour, Mrs Adams, gave me a poem with a sprig of white heather that I kept with me always. She had given the same to my father when he enlisted in WW1. My leave at home finished on my 19th birthday anniversary, Sunday 10th January 1943 as I left on the morning rail motor from Harrisville on my way back to Sydney, with a heap of goodies from home including a birthday cake.
At Home on Embarkation Leave with Mum, brother Alex and
sisters Margaret and Joyce – January 1943.
A Rookie Airman – No. 425992 ACII R.W. Smith
1942 – In Sydney
Embarkation Depot Sydney & To Canada
From embarkation leave at home I travelled on the “Kyogle’ line, 2nd division, from South Brisbane station arriving in Sydney and No. 2 Embarkation depot at Bradfield Park on Monday 11th January 1943. Leave was granted that night, so I went to visit Miss Mac with a piece of my birthday cake. The rest I shared with mates.
Leave arrangements while at Embarkation Depot were very generous. If no drafts for overseas postings had been issued and no particular duties allocated we were stood down after the mandatory morning parade until the next morning, or even over the week-end if it was on Friday morning’s parade.
The Waiting Period – Stand Downs, Outings and Farewells
There were a few of us who spent a lot of time together during this waiting period, mainly the youngest on the group to be sent overseas. Besides myself there was Keith Mills who had turned 19 only 8 days before me, Lou Brimblecombe whose 19th birthday was about 2 weeks previous to Keith’s, Eric Sutton who had his 19th birthday the previous August and Des Webster whose 19th birthday was in July. We all went on to train as Navigators and Keith, Eric and I became known as the 3 musketeers on the course in Canada. Des went on to train as a Wireless Operator. A few were over 30 years of age and we looked upon them as old fellows. Early in our stay Keith somehow met a girl whose father was a Fijian Envoy Representative in Sydney. Her name was Pat, and on the first Sunday there he asked me to join him and Pat and her friend Merle Green to spend the day at Cronulla and then go to Luna Park at night.
The next few days saw us assigned to some wharf duties at Waterloo and on Thursday 21st January we were detailed to the unloading of mustard gas bombs from an American liberty ship at Glebe Island. Keith Mills, Des Webster and I saw no future in this so we went A.W.L that night and stayed at the Allied Club in town. Stayed in town on Friday and went to the pictures at night with Pat and Merle. Took Merle home to Punchbowl and her parents insisted I stay the night with them. Went back to camp on Saturday morning to learn that we hadn’t been missed. As there was still nothing doing about overseas postings and leave had been granted over the week-end I went back into town, had tea and spent the night at Miss Mac’s. Went into town on Sunday morning to meet Keith, and we went with Pat and Merle for a train trip to Lawson in the Blue Mountains.
The next week saw the usual routine of parade, stand-downs, sports etc. On Friday we were placed on a draft with all leave cancelled and no telephone calls allowed. After lunch the unexpected announcement was made that leave was granted and extended to 1300 Hrs on Sunday 31st Jan. So I went out to Punchbowl to say my farewell to Merle and her family and thank them for their hospitality, and then on to see Miss Mac and the two girls who boarded with her. They insisted I stay for a home cooked dinner and stay overnight. Slept on the lounge room floor. Got back to camp at midday on Sunday to learn there was no further news on our embarkation and that leave had been extended to 0730 Hrs on Monday. As I had said my ‘Good-Byes’ I stayed in camp and wrote a few letters.
On Monday morning we were paraded and went on a long route march before breakfast and after lunch at 1300 Hrs given another stand-down. On Tuesday morning it was a swimming parade and early stand-down again. Wednesday morning was another swimming parade, a film on “Next-of Kin” after lunch and then stand-down until the next morning. Keith had got word out to Pat that we were still around, so we arranged to meet Pat and Merle in the evening and take them to the Prince Edward theatre to see “Reap the Wild Wind”. On Thursday morning we had another route march, pay parade (“The Eagle sh.. on each 2nd Thursday”) and stand-down at 1330 Hrs. It was the usual swimming parade on Friday morning, 5th Feb, and another stand-down after the 1330 Hrs parade until Monday morning. By this time we were beginning to wonder if were ever going to get on board a ship.
With a free week-end ahead I took the opportunity to contact Merle and meet her in town after work and go to the pictures and then see her home to Punchbowl. Again her parents insisted I stay over the week-end. On Saturday morning I went into town to buy a few magazines etc for the trip over to Canada and back to camp to change into tropical uniform of khaki shirt and shorts and back into town to spend the afternoon in the Botanical gardens and go with Merle to the pictures at night to the State Theatre to see “They all kissed the Bride”. Slept overnight at the Green’s and had a very quiet day on Sunday playing draughts and reading a very funny publication titled “One Big Laugh”. On the way back to camp that night the M.P’s boarded the train at Wynyard station and anyone wearing tropical uniform had to surrender their leave passes and were ordered to report to the guard house the next morning. Big trouble?? Wearing of shorts in uniform was not allowed south of the Harbour Bridge.
The Wait is Over
Monday 8th Feb 1943 dawned with guards on all gates at No. 2 Embarkation Depot, an early call to parade and orders given for clearances to be completed. All leave passes were cancelled, so no further use for the passes that were taken from us the previous night. This is it at last. After attending to clearances we were instructed to report back on parade with kit bags packed and ready to move on to buses at 1700 Hrs for transport to Woolloomooloo to embark at 1900 Hrs on the troopship “U.S.S. Hermitage”. It was a ship of 23000 tons which cruised at 18-20 knots. It was formerly the Italian cruise ship “Count Ciano” that travelled around the Mediterranean Sea as a floating casino on pleasure cruises. It had been captured by the American forces and had taken part in the landing of allied troops in North Africa and was on its way back to the west coast of America. We embarked as planned and had a good night’s sleep on board.
We were up at 0600 Hrs on Tuesday morning, detailed on to mess duties and instructed in ‘Abandon Ship’ drills while we lay at anchor in Neutral Bay to take on fuel after taking aboard fresh water, fruit and vegetables and other food supplies at Woolloomooloo. Spent the night at anchor in Neutral Bay and at 0830 Hrs on Wednesday 10th February it was ‘up-anchor’ and away, waving to the passengers on the ferries and sighting many hammer head sharks in the harbour. It was not long before we were out through ‘The Heads’ and setting course Nor-Nor-East into choppy seas with two Dutch Destroyers in escort. I started to feel a bit squeamy? But yes, managed to hold on to my breakfast. We are now under American terms for troops in transit—only two meals a day, but the canteen is open for an hour twice a day. As the Australian landscape slowly dipped from view everyone bravely sheltered their own feelings-generally a mixed feeling of adventure and uncertainty. Everyone realised and acknowledged that as we all went into flying training and operations over enemy territory not all would be returning to see their homeland again.
The destroyer escort left us at 0600 Hrs the next morning and we continued on a zig-zag course through choppy seas in light rain. I was detailed on to mess duties that afternoon and issued with Aussie Comfort Fund parcels. Soon settled into a routine. Those not on mess duties had to attend lectures-a good bit of armed forces psychology to keep the troops moulded into a unit with a common cause of complaint. A couple of albatrosses followed us for the first few days but they then peeled off formation on us. Sharks and flying fish were sighted and on Saturday a pod of whales was sighted on our port side. On Sunday morning we had church parade at 1000 Hrs and then ‘stand down’, but I was detailed on guard duties. Certain duties were allotted to the troops in transit such as mess duties/kitchen hand, deck patrol and shifts on the ack-ack gun at the stern. The ship’s officers were a bit concerned about the Aussies on the ack-ack gun as they were too keen to shoot at the ‘Met’ balloons that were released at regular intervals.
Monday 15th February, 1943, a memorable 2 days. We crossed the International Date line. So, we had Monday twice and the thought of only one day’s pay was given much discussion. Sufficient to record here that after our arrival in Canada due submission was made to RAAF Headquarters and suitable adjustment was made in our paybooks. A compensating adjustment was made on our return to Australia in October 1945. One of the Mondays was the end on my guard duty detail and the idea of lectures to fill in the day did not appeal, so I took a stroll around deck without my life jacket and was promptly apprehended and given 3 day’s kitchen duties, along with a couple of others who realised the opportunity to avoid lectures and enjoy more than two meals a day as we passed along the corridors with trays of hot food yelling “Hot Stuff” to warn others to be careful.
Pango, Pango
On Tuesday morning we sighted land ahead. American Samoa. Berthed in Pango Pango harbour in the late morning to take on fuel, fresh water and unload canned food for the American troops based there. Also embarked a contingent of American Marines. Those not on duties were allowed ashore for a couple of hours but had to remain in the vicinity of the wharf. As I was on kitchen duties I had to take on the scene from the deck, watching some of the fellows enticing the native girls in bright floral dresses to climb the coconut trees. Don’t think they were interested in the coconuts. Cameras were not allowed, under very strict orders, but some did manage to take a few snaps from the ship. We left Pango Pango at 0820 Hrs next day, Wed 17th Feb, and I finished my kitchen duties after midday. Had first good bath and change of clothes for a week, then strolled around the deck again minus life jacket and got another 3 days in the kitchen. Good Show!!
The next morning we sighted a cruiser and a passenger ship heading south-west, the opposite to our north easterly route. There was a rumoured submarine alert that night as the ship’s engines were stopped and we drifted for some few hours. Woke early on Friday morning to the sound of the ship’s fog-horns but there was nothing in sight. Crossed the equator that day with King Neptune coming aboard to put the rookies through the customary initiation ceremony. We all got a liberal coating of shaving cream. On Saturday morning I finished my kitchen duty ‘penalty’ and as the news on the bush radio was that we would be calling into Honolulu by Tuesday next, decided to stay away from penalty duties in case shore leave was granted. Lectures had been toned down a bit by now to make the days less boring. On Sunday, church parade was held at 1000 Hrs and then all were given stand down. So the “Bum Nut” club gathered around Russ Martin’s gramophone to hear Glenn Miller playing “In the Mood” for the umpteenth time, along with ‘Corn Silk’ and other hit tunes of the time. Just can’t remember how the group got the name “Bum Nuts”. Probably from Gum Nuts sitting on their bums on the deck listening to that one record and almost for sure would have been one of Russ Martin’s screwy ideas. Monday 22nd Feb saw the celebration of George Washington’s birthday with dinner of roast turkey, baked vegetables, salads and ice-cream. A welcome variation from the usual navy beans, saveloys and sauerkraut. A concert was held in the afternoon when we were presented with our ‘Crossing the Line’ certificates.
Honolulu
Sighted land early on Tuesday 23rd Feb and at 1000 Hrs berthed in Honolulu. Half of the RAAF contingent was granted shore leave that afternoon. I was in the other half who were given ‘liberty’ from 0830 hrs to 1200 Hrs the next morning.
So we were up early on Wednesday and down the gangplank at 0830 Hrs. I went with Keith Mills, Russ Martin and a few others primarily to buy new gramophone needles. On shore, the first thing we noticed was the number of shop assistants of Japanese descent and the heavily armed guards on all premises with a strong naval and military presence on the streets. We were wearing our tropical uniforms of khaki shirts and shorts and were taken as ‘boy scouts’ by many Americans, which did not go over too well. It was our first encounter with vehicles driven on the right hand side of the road and the ingrained habit of ‘look right’ before crossing soon had to be adjusted. I went very close to being hit by an army truck being driven by an Afro-American. It was a close shave, but fortunately my parents were not to receive that dreaded telegram.
Nowhere could we find gramophone needles-sewing needles, knitting needles. All sorts of needles, but no gramophone needles. Then it dawned on Russ Martin to give a play-acting role of a record spinning around on a turn table. And the shop assistant with a very serious expression said “You mean Phonograph needles”. Problem solved and mission completed. So the old record was going to cop a hiding for a few more days. There was other shopping to do, so we split up and went different ways. I stayed with Noel Hooper and we met an American Army Officer who took a real interest in us and invited us to have a look at the Pearl Harbour Naval Base. After going through a few check points, and might I add, given star treatment, we had to explain that we had to be back on board by 1200 Hrs and by then there was not enough time to go any further. We did get a view of the harbour and the devastation that had been caused and he agreed to take us back to the ship.
While we were ashore many seriously wounded and shell-shocked G.I’s from the Pacific Island battle zones were embarked for repatriation to their homeland. Many required full time medical attendants to apply necessary therapy to teach them to walk again and regain normal physical co-ordination. The ship was now crowded for the rest of the trip.
A band played on the wharf during the afternoon, and then it was ‘Aloha’ as we sailed away to strike rough seas and cold weather all Thursday and Friday, which kept us in our bunks and under blankets for most of the time. We were issued with sheep skin vests from the Australian Comforts Fund which were well received. The seas calmed down a bit by Saturday morning so I was able to enjoy breakfast of beans and an apple. Got some entertainment in the afternoon with the ack-ack guns firing at flak bursts. The Aussies also got some entertainment hearing the G.I’s calling their mates ‘cobras’ after hearing us call ours ‘cobbers’.
On Sunday 28th February, four days out of Honolulu, complaints were lodged about the breakfast because it was not hot. The weather was still cold and rainy. Church parade was held at 1000 Hrs. At 0100 Hrs we had advanced clocks by 30 minutes. In the afternoon I sewed some badges on Ben Smith’s overcoat and was rewarded with a sandwich-can only guess that he got it from the canteen. Clocks were advanced by 30 minutes at 0100 Hrs on Monday morning. We again woke to cold and cloudy weather but the sun managed to break through late in the morning. To keep us on our toes we were put through ‘Abandon Ship’ drill which didn’t go over too well with the American troops who embarked at Honolulu.
Up on deck after breakfast on Tuesday morning 2nd March to see a convoy ahead and a welcome to the sea gulls that had started to circle the ship as we moved towards land. Soon as it was a very spectacular view as we passed under the Golden Gate Bridge to enter San Francisco harbour and berth on the southern side opposite the famous Alcatraz prison island at 1600 Hrs when the tide was favourable. We were promptly disembarked, assembled on the wharf and marched to a ferry terminal to board the ferry across the harbour to Oakland where we were entrained and departed at 2000 Hrs for Vancouver.
We enjoy Our Trip to Vancouver Through to Edmonton
After a bit more than 3 weeks on the ship, it was luxury accommodation and service on the train, and I really enjoyed a good night’s sleep. It was breakfast in style on Wednesday morning as we sped through the foothills of the Cascade mountains, and we enjoyed the view of snow capped hills and frozen lakes for the first time. We descended on to the plains and farming communities of Oregon, fruit, chocolates, ice-cream papers and magazines (you name it) all available from the waiters on the train. We went through Roseburg, and on to Eugene, Albany, Salem (the Capital) and arrived in Portland just on dusk, with the snow capped Mt. Hood on the eastern horizon. The things we noted most during the day were the absence of fences between houses in the towns and cities, and the lack of paint on nearly all the wooden houses. Of course the Queenslanders could not help but notice the luxury of the train travel at speeds and stability that were unknown on the Queensland railways at that time. After such a full day of interest it was no trouble to settle back into the bunk for a good sleep as we travelled on overnight to Seattle and on to Vancouver.
Thursday 4th March was another memorable day. Woke at 0700 Hrs in Vancouver, had breakfast at the station then a pay parade to be issued with Canadian Dollars. Leave was granted from 1130 hrs until 1800 Hrs when we had to be back at the station. The Canadian hospitality came to the fore as we were approached by a Mr Keeler who introduced himself as a Rotarian (my first contact with Rotary) and offered a lift for a few of us into town to the tourist bureau and the YMCA where we enjoyed a meal for 5 cents. He arranged with us to call back at 1400 Hrs to pick us up and drive us around the sights of Vancouver and back to the station by 1800Hrs. There were three of us and as far as I can remember, although I am not sure, the other two may have been Ben Smith and Russ Martin. We were taken over the Lions Gate Bridge, through Stanley Park with its Indian Totem Poles and views of the snow capped Lions Head mountains as well as past the Houses of Parliament and through a few suburbs to be back at the station on time. After tea (what the Canadians called the evening meal) at the station we left by train at 2100 Hrs via the Canadian National Railways route through the Rockies to Edmonton.
We woke the next morning to be greeted by the most spectacular scenery as the long train snaked its way alongside frozen rivers and lakes and snow laden conifer tress in the foot hills, climbing all the time. All around were the majestic Rockies with not a tree on them but capped in snow. It was cold outside but we were in heated carriages with the same service that we enjoyed on the train from Oakland to Vancouver, but the waiters were Canadians. When we did stop at a station for the engine to take on water we could not resist the temptation to jump out and romp in the snow. Most were wearing their dungarees over the singlet and underpants, so it didn’t take long before the freezing temperatures scuttled them back to the warmth of the carriage. At our stop at Avola for 20 minutes it did not take long for a snow fight to develop and by some fluke or by accident a hard packed snowball hit the window of a carriage and broke it. (Jim Bateman it was). Anyway it made that carriage too cold for comfort so the occupants herded into adjoining carriages when we got under way again. Then we saw a bit of organization that you would not see on the Queensland Railways. As we pulled into Jasper the train stopped with the broken window right beside a ladder and a couple of tradesmen with the necessary tools and materials to repair the damage. In less than 20 minutes the new window was installed. We had now climbed to a good height and at Jasper there was a lot of sheet ice on the ground which caused us a few problems to stay on our feet. Three young boys gave us a bit of amusement as we threw our spare Aussie halfpennies along the ice and into snow drifts. After Jasper we crossed the Athabasca River and the highest point on the trip. From there it was downhill on to the prairies of Alberta. We had to stop for some unknown reason near Edson, before going on to Edmonton where we arrived early in the morning of Saturday 6th March 1943.
Avola – Where a carriage window was broken
Jasper – Where the window was fixed
During our 20 minute stop
We stayed on the train until 0600 Hrs and the arrival of a few canvas topped 3 ton trucks on to which we were loaded. The temperature was Minus 23. Fahrenheit and I soon realised that the best option was to be among the first to throw your kitbag in and jump in after it with others piling in after you to keep the cold at bay. We were taken immediately to No.3 Manning Depot (as the RCAF called it), given breakfast and allotted to barracks. We then had to assemble in the ‘Arena’ for a lecture on what to expect in our future movements and to remind us that in the RCAF the flag in front of HQ had to be saluted. This did not impress the Aussies. After that we were given leave until Monday morning. As a general rule most of the trainees under the Empire Training Scheme in Canada were given leave over the week-end. After a shave and a shower I teamed with an Ian Scott (RCAF) and went into town to the pictures and then to a dance at the Memorial Hall. It was very cold coming back to camp on the tram.
On Sunday morning we slept in until 1100 Hrs, then shaved, showered and had dinner before a few of us went into town to the YMCA which was well equipped with a ten-pin bowling alley, heated swimming pool, gymnasium, dance floor and dry canteen. Came back to camp reasonably early with Ben Smith and John Honeyman.
It was down to business on Monday morning as we were issued with flying suits and other gear needed. Photographs were taken for Identity Cards, Dental & Medical checks after dinner and then back into town with Bub Sargeant for a while before coming back to camp to write a few letters to home. On Tuesday morning we were paraded at 0900 Hrs and those mustered for training as Navigators were transported to Edmonton Airport where No.2 Air Observer School was situated, to be signed in, allotted to barracks and issued with text books and settled in after a quick trip into town to buy a few necessities. Three Australians-Jim Bateman, Bill Bowden and Geoff Cohen were assigned to Course No.71N1 along with a number of New Zealanders and Canadians. The remainder of the Australians, including myself, were assigned to Course No.71N2.
Navigators Course No. 71N2
No. 2 Air Observers School - EDMONTON, Alberta, CANADA
On Tuesday 9th March 1943, one month after embarking in Sydney, we started on the above course for training as Air Navigators. It was a rather quiet day, with the issue of text books and some navigation instruments. Even had time to write my first long letter home.
The following day however saw the start of what was to become a regular routine of breakfast, parade, lectures, dinner (at midday), more lectures, tea (evening) and study at night, interrupted on occasions with sport’s afternoons and later on with daylight and night flying. All interspersed with visits to the canteen where we soon learned to enjoy waffles with maple syrup, coke and ice-cream. On Friday at the end of the first week we experienced a very heavy snowfall, got issued with our navigation watches and had our first ‘Dry Swim’ as navigation exercises in the classroom are called. Leave was granted over most week-ends.
On Saturday morning we had another ‘dry swim’ to prepare us for our first flight and then it was stand-down until Monday morning. Church parades were always held on Sunday mornings. Went shopping on Saturday afternoon with Bub Sargent and to a show “Journey for Margaret”. Had a sleep-in on Sunday morning to 1100 Hrs, then shaved and showered and had a big dinner before settling down to write a few letters. Bub Sargent was doing the same and Keith Mills came by to try to get us to go out for tea.
On Monday 15th March we had the usual lecture periods, a pay parade at which the Red Cross managed to get a donation of $5- from us; study at night to keep up with the course. Between lectures the next day we were paraded for issue of battle dress, during which there was more snow fighting. For some reason Bub Sargent and I missed out on the issue that morning-they had probably run out of RAAF-Blue battle dresses in our size. Went to the pictures that night to see “In Which We Serve”. Bruce McGiffin came over from the Manning Depot while we were at lectures on Wednesday just to see how we were going. He was still awaiting a posting on to flying training. He was one of the “Bum Nut Club” on the troopship coming over. Got a letter from cousin Danny, in the Army in New Guinea, and answered it that day as well as writing home again. Lectures on Thursday included one on the camera which was very good. Made a visit to the barber before tea. On Friday we had more ‘dry swim’ exercises and at 1500 Hrs had a Wing’s parade for passing-out of earlier courses of Navigators and Bomb Aimers. Bub and I were issued with our battle dress, had a ‘signals’ lecture and I was put on my first duty on “Watch parade”. Cannot remember for sure now, just what that involved, but I think it meant you were not granted leave over the week-end. Had our usual lectures on Saturday morning, during which there was some excitement when a Boston crashed on the ‘drome. There was a false fire alarm in the barracks that night, probably something to do with Ben Smith smoking in bed. Was not feeling 100% and could feel the flu coming on. Still not feeling well of Sunday, just mooched around and went to bed early.
I Have a Spell in Hospital
On Monday 22nd March I was quite sick and stayed in bed, and was admitted to the Station Hospital with a severe attack of ‘flu. Bub Sargent and Ben Smith visited me after tea. The next day in hospital gave me something to write home about, particularly to Jean Hall who was a nurse in the Ipswich General Hospital. A nurse came and stripped me to the waist to wash me down, as she said, as far a possible. Then does likewise from the other end to wash me up as far as possible. Finally says “I now have to wash possible”. Slept most of Wednesday. Keith Mills and Ron Etherton dropped in with some mail that had arrived and on Thursday. Scotty Gall dropped in with some writing gear so that I could write a letter or two. Got discharged on Friday morning-missed the C.O’s parade. A couple of lectures in the afternoon and early to bed. Recuperated a bit on Saturday morning by sleeping in (no lectures) and then went into town after dinner with Bub Sargent. Met Ben Smith at the YMCA and went to a show at night. On Sunday morning did some study to catch up and after dinner went for a walk with Keith Mills and Ron Etherton, playing with some kids ice-skating in the frozen over gutters on the way.
Woke on Monday 29th March, (sister Margaret’s 18th birthday) to a great blanket of snow. 9 inches had fallen overnight, so the snow fights were alive again. This was when we experimented and discovered that an orange left on top of the ground froze solid in a very short time, but if buried in the snow took a long time to freeze We were due to have our ‘orientation’ flight the next day after muster and pay parade. The weather was dirty however, and this was scrubbed. Instead, we were given lectures on the layout of the Avro Anson, (the “Aggie”), and the 2nd navigator’s job of winding up the undercarriage after take-off, some 130 odd turns of the handle. For our training flights we were paired, the 1st Navigator did the log and plot charts and the 2nd Nav practiced map reading. I was paired with Scotty Gall, aged 30. After tea Keith Mills, Ron Etherton and I went to see “Random Harvest”.
Airborne at Last
Wednesday 31st March 1943 Whooppee!!! Airborne, Took off at 0907 Hrs in ‘Aggie’ No.6074 with bush pilot Mr Anderson on a flight plan: XD (Edmonton)-Wetaskiwin-Camrose-XD. Landed 1034 Hrs. What a familiarisation flight!!. Got a bit airsick and no wonder. The pilot thought the ‘Aggie’ was a fighter plane and shot up the school house at Looma where his girl friend was a teacher. Circled it a few times and could see through the windows as we flashed by.
Next day was April Fools Day but avoided being caught out as we had a packed day of more lectures. Then on Friday we had a few lectures and reported to the Records Office to have our fingerprints taken. Then in the afternoon we had our first photo flight taking hand held obliques. We were given a number of landmarks to photo and the pilot just went from one target to the next which was always in view because of the good visibility and the pilots local knowledge. No directions from the navigator were needed. In spite of the many banks & turns involved I did not get airsick, but others did suffer effects.
It was back in the air again on Saturday morning for another photo flight. This time it was taking vertical cross-country line overlaps from the school house at Namao to a bridge 2 miles S-W of there. Good fun-watch the drift. On these flights the duties of 1st and 2nd navigator were shared. Under strict instructions of course, not to let go of the camera when taking obliques out of the rear window. In the afternoon we relaxed—Ron Etherton, Keith Mills, Russ Martin, Lou Brimblecombe and I went into town, had two games of ten-pin bowling at the YMCA (Won the 2nd game), had tea at “Tony’s” and went to the pictures to see “One of Our Aircraft is Missing”. Back to barracks on the 2140 Hrs bus. As the weather conditions earlier in the week had set back the flying programme, some time was made up on Sunday. Church parade was held in the morning, and after dinner we were briefed for our first navigation exercise which was a flight of about 3 hours with 1st and 2nd Nav duties shared. Route was: XD–Fort Saskatchewan–Camrose-Lougheed-Mannville-Lake Yekau-XD. Took off at 1400 Hrs with Mr Ireland as pilot.
Training Continues
Included in lectures on Monday 5th April was a special talk from a Squadron Leader on the conditions prevailing in Britain. A signals lecture was held after tea, but I did not attend. On Tuesday morning, more lectures {classes on various subjects}, and after dinner we were transferred from “D” Barracks to a new barracks building across the road. Real ‘5 star’ accommodation, with central heating and bathroom/toilet facilities incorporated as well as the sleeping quarters. We still preferred to have some windows open and a bit of fresh air coming in, and Ben Smith still smoked in bed. It was quite a change, as before we had to run from the bath/toilet block back to your hut in temperatures that were unfit for brass monkeys. It was supposed to be a sports afternoon, but that had to be scrubbed.
On Wednesday morning we had another photo flight, this time with a female passenger, probably a friend of the pilot, Mr Lawrie. Then on Thursday we had a review and discussions on our first photo flight, as all the films had been developed and printed. This was followed by practice on the drift recorder. Leave was granted after dinner, from 1400 Hrs, but most of the class stayed in camp to catch up on studies and letter writing. After lectures etc on Friday I was rostered on Duty Watch parade, strolling around that night in rain & mud. More lectures on Saturday morning and more studies in the afternoon as we prepared for “Maps and Charts” exam. Duty Watch Parade before tea. Sunday was still wet and miserable and we studied most of the day, with Duty Watch Parades at 1000 Hrs and 1800 Hrs. A football appeared from somewhere, so a few fellows managed a game in the mud.
Got mail from home on Monday 12th April, with the photos that were taken when I was home on pre-embarkation leave. As the weather was still unsuitable for flying on Tuesday and Wednesday we were occupied with more studies and lectures as well as a game or two of football in the mud. I had to go over to the Manning Depot to have a photo taken and more fingerprinting. Got back in the air on Thursday for a photo exercise with the Ft. Saskatchewan bridge as our target. It was a very bumpy flight. On Friday it was back in the air again on Nav. Exercise No.2: XD- Bremner-Willow Creek-Beynon-Millet-Yekau Lake-XD. A very good trip. Got a telegram from home, and as it was the end of Duty Watch was granted 48 Hrs leave.
So on Saturday morning it was into town to do a bit of shopping, and while browsing through the book department of the Hudson Bay Company store I met a Mrs Gillespie who had some association with Australia, and she invited me out to tea that night, which I gratefully accepted. Went back to camp for dinner, and catch up on a bit of washing etc. Then went to Mrs Gillespie’s place, met her daughter Marsh who showed me over the nearby University after tea. Walked back to camp-about 6 miles. Caught up with studies on Sunday morning, and after dinner a few of us went on a long walk out past the riding ranch. It was about this time that John Stopp was posted from the course to another A.O.S. to complete his nav. course. (He went on to No.166 Squadron, and was shot down and killed on 13th June 1944 on a raid on Gelsenkirken-would have been very early in his tour)
On Monday 19th April we had our first exam in the morning on “Maps & Charts”. Got some mail, including Don Grant’s circular to the Bank staff in the services. Lectures that night on the stars-introduction to astro-navigation. More lectures on Tuesday morning and study in the afternoon to make up for the Easter Friday holiday at the end of the week. Collected my RCAF ID Card. Into the air again on Wednesday on Air Exercise No. 3 Took off at 0830 Hrs on route: XD-Bremner-Lloydminster-Marwayne-Bremner-XD. Almost went without my parachute harness, but it was a good trip. Went with Keith Mills to the pictures at night to see “Reunion in France”. Lectures all day on Thursday, and preparation for Air Exercise No. 4 which we were to fly next Sunday (Anzac Day). Stand-down on Good Friday so went out to tea with Mrs Gillespie & Marsh and met Lin Gilmore, a friend of Marsh’s and a brother of a Mrs Cairns who lived in Ipswich. Lectures again on Saturday morning and went into town shopping in the afternoon, met Lin and Marsh. Had tea with them and came back to camp to study. On Sunday (Anzac Day) we flew Exercise No.4 which was the first time we did an air-plot-previous flights were mainly map-reading. Route was: XD-Ft.Saskatchewan-Hughenden-Czar(Recce)-Wainwright-Ellerslie-XD. In the afternoon the Australians and New Zealanders held a remembrance service at the Cenotaph.
On Easter Monday, 26th April we had lectures in the morning and a photo flight in the afternoon. Then on Tuesday we had lectures all day. In the mail I got a letter from Don Grant with news about the bank employees who were in the services. On Wednesday we had an exam on “Magnets & Compasses” and flew Air Exercise No.5 in the afternoon. To Trochu & Torrington with a ‘recce’ of Three Hills. A very rough flight and most of us got air-sick. On Thursday we started studies on Astro Navigation and had a good lecture on Radio D/F Navigation which was very interesting. On Friday morning we had an exam on “Meteorology”, pay parade and an informative talk on the war in the Middle East. Late in the afternoon we took part in a Victory Loan parade through the streets of Edmonton with a pipe band leading the parade, and all the services involved.
Then on Saturday morning we flew Air Exercise No. 6 which was quite an experience. Mr Lightheart was the pilot and the route was: XD-Bremner-Scapa-Coronation-Bremner-XD. We climbed on track through cloud and heavy rain. Good experience in D.R.Navigation and instrument flying for the pilot. Most of the aircraft turned back but we soldiered on. At E.T.A Coronation came down through broken cloud and there under us was a small town and railway station that the pilot thought was Coronation, but he wanted to make sure and made a low level run past the station to see if we could read the station name. Too close the first time, so around again and stood off a bit further, when we were able to confirm that it was Coronation. So back into the cloud and D.R. Navigation back to Bremner and Base. I think at the end he may have homed in on a radio beam, but anyway I was pleased with the navigation exercise, and earned some brownie points for it.
The rain kept up in the afternoon so I went into town with Noel Hooper where we met Russ Martin and Bub Sargeant, and went to a dance with ‘Ivy” and a few of her friends that Russ and Bub had chatted up. On Sunday morning wrote letters home before dinner and in the afternoon went with Scotty Gall and Alex Taylor on a hike with the 20th Century Club. Here we met Alice Grosco, Mary, Isobel, Helen, Joe and a few others. Had a great time making a fire to toast marshmallows, and spin a few yarns about the ‘hoop ’snakes, and ‘wampoo’ pigeons in Australia. Alice became quite a good friend and kept up correspondence with me until I returned to Australia. On later hikes with Aussies on later courses she met Jim Cossart, who was on a Bomb Aimers Course, and was a friend of mine at Ipswich Grammar School in 1938-39. Jim lost his life on 14th March 1945 flying with 106 Sqdn on a rai to the oil plant at Luitzkendorf.
On Monday 3rd May it was lectures as usual and a crack at a D.R. Test in preparation for a mid-term exam on Friday. More lectures on Tuesday morning and two sports periods in the afternoon, when I would go out to the university track for athletics with a Canadian middle-distance runner, who was a good coach and gave me some good advice on the tactics of 440 and 880 Yard running. Brought my times in the 440 down to about 51 secs and the 880 to just on 2 mins. Called into town on the way back to camp and did some shopping. After tea did study on subject of ‘Photography’. Had our photography exam the next morning, it was an easy paper. In the afternoon we did another D.R. Test - ‘dry-swim’ for a bombing raid on Duisberg. Little did I realise then that I would bomb this target twice in one day seventeen months later. After that, prepared for a flight scheduled for the next morning. But the weather conditions worsened on Thursday and flying was scrubbed for the day.
In terms of arrangements made with Alice last week-end I phoned her (No.83882) to make a date for Saturday night. On Friday morning we had a C/O’s parade and our mid-term D.R. exam. Weather remained bad and flight scheduled for that night was scrubbed. Saturday morning was filled with lectures and after dinner it was flying again on Air Exercise No.6 that so many did not complete on the first attempt (to Scapa & Coronation). I had the job of 1st Nav. again, leaving Scotty to wind up the undercarriage and get a bit of map reading practice this time. It was a rough trip. Then, as arranged, I took Alice to a dance at the YMCA that night. Walked home in the rain.
A ‘phone call diversion during the week. Early in the week during a lecture the ‘phone rang and it turned out to be a girl wanting to speak Eric Sutton, or one of his pals. Somehow, I got the job, probably because I was nearest the phone and Eric saying that she would be referring to either Bob Smith or Keith Mills as he had mentioned those names to her when he met her last week-end. Three of us were regarded as the 3 musketeers, Keith & I were the two youngest on the course, and Eric was only a few months older. We had all enlisted on the same day as Aircrew Guards, been on separate postings for a few months, and then re-united at No. 2 Initial Training School at Bradfield Park to commence training as aircrew and mustered together to train as Navigators. To come on this course we were required to be age 19 by 10th January 1943, which was my nineteenth birthday, so I just made it as the baby of the course.
So to the phone I go - “All for one and one for all”. She explained that she had two very good friends and wanted to know if Eric and his two mates would like to join them one evening and go ‘shagging’. With a bit of quick thinking and with survival uppermost in mind I asked her to hang for a moment while I checked. It called for some reference to our Canadian Instructor which caused a bit of hilarity among the class and a few remarks about how you can be so lucky etc until he explained that in Canada the term meant ‘dancing’. With that bit of clarification and referral to Eric & Keith, I told her that we would be happy to meet them on Sunday afternoon. Had the usual church parade on Sunday morning and after dinner set off with Keith and Eric as leader to meet Mildred, Charlotte and Maureen. Spent some time with them at the YMCA and came back to camp in time for our first night flying exercise. It turned out the three girls became very good friends, I partnered Maureen O’Connor who was a primary school teacher. Took off at almost midnight on what was called exercise No. 21 for a 2 Hrs 45 mins flight, sharing 1st and 2nd Nav duties with Scotty Gall.
Monday 10th May saw us sleeping in until dinner time as we didn’t land from our night exercise the night before until after 0300 Hrs. Had lectures after dinner. Did very well with mail from home over the next two days. On Tuesday morning we flew exercise No.7, as 2nd Nav this time, and in the afternoon got the results of our mid-term D.R. exam. I got a mark of 87%, with which I was pleased. Had lectures all day Wednesday and a late night studying. On Thursday morning flew Exercise No. 8 “navigation by track error”, as 1st Nav. After dinner we were given leave. Went out with Maureen to the Capitol cinema and walked home with Keith who had taken Charlotte out, after we had seen the girls home. Made it a late night as it was an hour walk back to camp. Got more mail from home on Friday morning and had lectures all day. Detailed on Duty Watch Parade that night. Spent Saturday (15 May) in camp as I was on Duty Watch Parade, studied in the afternoon and prepared for night flying Exercise No.22. Took-off at 2305 Hrs, but had to return to Base with trouble in the starboard engine. Changed over to a ‘photo’ plane and took off again at 0045 Hrs (Sunday) for a 3 hours solo night flight. Didn’t get to bed until 0500 Hrs, but up again at 1030 Hrs to prepare for Air Exercise No.9, as 2nd Nav, that afternoon. Took of at 1335 Hrs, with Mr Barnard as pilot for a fight of 2 hrs 55 mins.
Had lectures all day on Monday 17th May and wrote 7 letters to friends at home to catch up on some of my mail. Also had to prepare for Air Exercise No.10 scheduled for the next day. It was lectures in the morning on Tuesday, and Air Exercise No.10 in the afternoon. Took off at 1355 Hrs with Mr Luyckfassel as pilot for a flight of 3hrs 15 mins as 1st Nav. It was a bumpy trip but a good navigation exercise as the pilot flew the courses given and didn’t tend to track crawl.
Wrote more letters and cards that night. Had lectures all day on Wednesday, and after tea prepared for Night Flying Exercise No.23. Took off at 2300 Hrs with Mr Rathbone as pilot on a trip that took 3Hrs 15 mins down to Little Fish Lake. It was time off in the morning so we slept in. Had 2 lectures after dinner and went swimming at West End before tea. It was then more evening lectures and preparation for Air Exercise No. 11 the next morning. This consisted mainly of preliminary work on the flight plan. On Friday morning took off at 0855 Hrs for a 3 Hrs trip as 2nd Nav, enjoying the scenery and pretending to be map reading with the pilot Mr Neale keeping an eye on your performance, as the pilots had to file a report after each flight. Had two lectures after dinner, and as it was the end of my stint on ‘Duty Watch’ I went out with Maureen to the Capitol cinema and saw “Hitler’s Children”.
On Saturday and Sunday had 48 Hrs leave pass after duty watch. Went into town and banked $40 in to an account I had established with the Royal Bank, to bring my balance up to $80-. It was Red Cross day in town so I bought a fountain pen, then called on Maureen to say I could not go out with her that night as I had accepted an invitation out to tea with Mrs Gillespie. After tea went for a walk with Marsh while Mrs Gillespie went to the pictures with a friend. Slept in as usual on Sunday morning and did some preparatory flight plan work for a flight scheduled the next day. In the afternoon went hiking with the 20th Century Club and we were joined by several Aussie Sergeants from RAAF No.30 course who had their wings and were in transit through Edmonton.
On Monday morning 24th May 1943 we took off at 0830 Hrs On Air Exercise No.12 with Mr O’Hanlon as pilot. I was 1st Nav and was satisfied with good results. It was a 4 hour flight and we had to plot a square search and leading line search patterns. Study after dinner, and then after tea I did my laundry that had been soaking for a few days and wrote a few letters home. Lectures on Tuesday morning and sports in the afternoon when we played softball and got beaten by one run. After tea we were up till late doing Aircraft Recognition. Had lectures all day Wednesday and prepared for flight that night. Took off at 2355 Hrs with Mr Craig as pilot on a 3 Hr 15 min flight navigating by D/F. Not a very satisfactory result as the pilot was obviously track crawling. After the night flight slept in until dinner time and then had a couple of lectures in the afternoon. Before tea went round to the University for athletics training (running & high jump). Got a telegram from home and at night it was practice with the sextant shooting a few stars. Called on to C/O’s parade on Friday morning and a passing out parade for Bomb Aimers. Sent a telegram home in the afternoon and as I was feeling a few sore muscles after yesterday’s athletic training I had a rub down and went to bed early. Had lectures on Saturday morning and moved to new classroom in new G.I.S. Buildings. Attended a Highlands Games in the afternoon where I represented the station in both High and Long Jumping. With not much success, but our team managed to come second overall. Met Marsh Gillespie at the games, who was there with two friends Pat and Betty. Flying was scheduled for that night, but had to be scrubbed owing to bad weather. Usual sleep-in on Sunday morning, and after dinner Keith Mills & I went out to Maureen’s home. Walked home in the rain.
On Monday 31st May it rained all day, but did not interfere with a full programme of lectures, but did cause night flying to be scrubbed again. Wrote home, and at night went out with Keith and Charlotte; Maureen was unable to come. The girls were going to Vancouver the next day. Bad weather continued all day Tuesday, so it was lectures all day and study at night. Got a card from Maureen on Wednesday to say the girls had arrived in Vancouver, and also got a letter from my old boss, Mr Lindsay Hall. We were supposed to have an Army Co-op exercise but that was washed out. Aldis Lamp tests in the afternoon and study at night. Put my forage cap in for dry cleaning. On Thursday (3rd June) had P.T. first thing in the morning and the “Synthetics on Astrograph”. Cannot remember what that entailed, probably an astro navigation dry swim. A morse test in the afternoon and two letters from home, one form Jean Hall and the Bank’s ‘Nautilus’ magazine. Answered Jean’s letter and also wrote one to Merle Green. It was usual C/O’s parade on Friday morning and our 13th week Navigation Test in the afternoon. Got a letter from Maureen, and after tea went in to town, went to a show, came back to camp and wrote a few letters. On Saturday morning we had more lectures, and after dinner wrote a couple of letters and did my washing. Went out to tea at Mrs Gillespie and went in to town with Marsh, bought progress numbers of Journal and Bulletin to send home. Usual sleep-in on Sunday and wrote more letters in the afternoon. Study after tea and preparation for a flight schedule for tommorrow.
On Monday 7th June we had lectures in the morning and flew Exercise No. 13 in the afternoon, as a 2nd Nav. Took off at 1425 Hrs and were airborne for 3Hrs 15 mins. More study after tea. Lectures most of the day on Tuesday with sports in the latter half of the afternoon. After tea went for athletics training at the university and came back to camp to prepare for tomorrow’s scheduled flight. Took off at 0855 Hrs on Wednesday on Air Exercise No.19 with Mr Williams as pilot on a low flying exercise of 3 Hrs 20 mins. It was great-best trip yet. After dinner got a letter from Maureen which I answered and also wrote some letters home. Had lectures all day Thursday as it rained all day. More running around in the mud, and athletics training at the university was cancelled. Friday saw lectures again all day, and start of another duty watch which I hoped would be my last time. The weather cleared up in the late afternoon and we were able to fly night exercise that night. Took off at 25 mins after midnight (Sat morn) with Mr Real as pilot. Usual 3 Hr trip as 1st Nav, being a night exercise. It was an interesting one on which a few got lost. Didn’t get into bed until 0430 Hrs so slept in until dinner time. Studied all afternoon as the study load was getting heavier, and it was early to bed as we had a flight scheduled for Sunday morning. Took off at 0855 Hrs with Mr Real as pilot, as 1st Nav on a flight of 2 Hrs 50 mins. Had dinner when we landed and slept all afternoon. Wrote a long letter home after tea.
For the week starting Monday 14th June we had a heavy programme of lectures and study as the weather continued to be poor, scrubbing all flying. I was on Duty Watch until Friday. It was still drizzling rain at the end of the week and on Saturday morning we had more lectures. After dinner Keith Mills and I went to a show, and then after tea we went to another show with Charlotte and Maureen, who were now back from Vancouver. Walked home from Charlotte’s home through large pools of water and mud. Was able to tell Maureen that I had received her card that morning that she had posted the day before in Calgary on the way home. Usual sleep-in on Sunday morning and study in the afternoon. Went to tea at Mrs Gillespie’s with Ian Pender and Don Plumb. Ian was on another course, and I cannot remember how Don came to be invited. A night flying exercise was scheduled, but had to be scrubbed.
On Monday 21st June it was still raining, so we had another full day of lectures and study. Got 2 letters from home. After tea managed to go to the university track for athletics training as the weather cleared during the afternoon. This enabled us to get airborne on Tuesday morning on Air Exercise No.15. Took off at 0855 Hrs, as 2nd Nav, with Mr Stewart as pilot on a flight of 3 Hrs 05 mins and managed to get some practice with the bubble sextant by taking a few shots on the sun. Rain came on again in the afternoon, so went to a film on the station “Road to Tokio”. It was still raining lightly on Wednesday, so it was lectures and study during the day, and after tea met Maureen in town and went to see “China”. Lectures all day on Thursday and training at the university track after tea. Saw Maureen and Charlotte on the way home. Weather cleared on Friday and was good enough to fly, so at 1435 Hrs took off with Mr Rungel as pilot on Air Exercise No.16 which was for only 2 hours.
On Saturday we got called for 2 lectures in the afternoon. Got letters from both of my sisters. Just after tea Maureen and Charlotte came riding bikes past the barracks so we had a bit of a yarn with them, but could not go out with them that evening as we had a flight scheduled for early the next morning. Immediately after breakfast on Sunday morning took off at 0910 Hrs with Mr Tibbets as pilot on Air Exercise No.17 as 1st Nav on a trip of 3 Hrs 25 mins to Cremona and a look at the Rockies. A very good flight. More athletics training at the university in the afternoon and then over to a sports ground where Keith Mills and Eric Sutton were playing cricket. Maureen, Charlotte and Mildred were there watching them. Took photos.
On Monday morning 28th June, we had ‘magnetism & compass’ exam and after dinner two periods of instruction/educational films. Two letters from Aussie in the mail. More training at the university after tea. On Tuesday morning another exam on Instruments and D/F. Went to the pictures after tea with Maureen, Keith and Charlotte to see “Happy go Lucky”. Was supposed to do Aircraft Recognition that night but missed it. Lectures all day on Wednesday and at 2355 Hrs took off on Air Exercise No.26. This exercise had been scrubbed about 6 times owing to bad weather. It was a 3 hour flight, which meant we didn’t get to bed until about 0400 Hrs on Thursday morning. So it was a sleep-in until 1045 Hrs.
Thursday 1st July was “Dominion Day” After dinner went to a sports meeting conducted by the Southside Business Ass’n, at the Southside Sports grounds which had a straight 220 yard track and a lap of about 880 yards. Ran in the 440 yards race and won it, for which I received the grand sum of $80-00. Soon after competed in the high jump, but could only manage 4th, which paid nothing. This was my first experience of a professional sports meeting that also included cycling. Athletes were not permitted to wear ‘spikes’. The dirty tricks played by the cyclists in team events really opened my eyes. Maureen and Keith and Charlotte came to the event and we celebrated afterwards by going out to tea at the Royal George on my winnings. At the meet 3 parachute jumpers put on a very interesting display.
Friday saw us with lectures all day and flying Air Exercise No.27 at night. Took off at 2355 Hrs with Mr Lannon as pilot on a good flight of 3 Hrs 20 mins. At this time of the year in Edmonton it is nearly midnight before it gets dark, so night flying is fairly restricted. Usual sleep-in on Saturday morning after night flying. Saturday afternoon and Sunday saw the usual week-end chores, study and letter writing.
Monday 5th July saw the start of 2 weeks of intensive lectures, study, flying and exams to complete our course on time. In peace time the course would take over 12 months but in the urgency of the war situation had to be concentrated and focus on the essentials. Flew Air Exercise No.18 that morning. Took off at 0900 Hrs with Mr Real as pilot on a trip of 3 hours. Then on Tuesday afternoon we flew Air Exercise No.20. This was blindfold exercise that took us all over the map for almost 3 ½ hours. We took off at 0900 Hrs with Mr Filby as pilot. Air Exercise designated No.19 must have been cancelled. Bad weather prevented any flying from Wednesday to Friday. Got a long letter from my brother Alex on Wednesday and then one from Miss McPherson in Sydney on Saturday. Lectures all day on Saturday and study at night before flying Air Exercise No.28 which was a night navigation on the same course of daylight exercise No.10. Took off at 2300 Hrs with Mr Barnard as pilot. Flew through storms and cloud out to Frog Lake. Slept in on Sunday morning-you were excused from Church Parade if you were flying the night before. After dinner studied meteorology for an hour or so and then went to watch Keith and Eric playing cricket and then we all met Maureen, Charlotte and Mildred at the corner of 109th and Jasper later in the afternoon.
On Monday 12th July we had our final D.R. (Navigation) test. Wrote home and did preparation for more flying tomorrow. A large bag of mail from Australia came in but I did not score a thing. Maureen phoned just after tea. On Tuesday(13th July) took off at 0835 Hrs with Mr Luyckfassel as pilot on Air Exercise No.21, which was a special, incorporating evasive action, designed to prepare us for active service conditions. More lectures in the afternoon and studied meteorology at night. Supposed to fly on Wednesday morning, but this was scrubbed-raining again. So we had our final meteorology exam. The rain kept up through Thursday and Friday so time was passed with sessions of lectures and study more lectures on Saturday morning, usual laundry chores and letter writing after dinner and as the weather had cleared prepared for flying that night after tea. This was night flight over the route of Exercise No.9 that we had flown in daylight two months ago. Took off at 2355 Hrs with Mr Kellough as pilot and as 2nd Nav. I had to practice astro shots with the bubble sextant. That meant a sleep-in on Sunday morning and as we had some catch-up to do in order to finish the course on time another night flight was scheduled that evening. Took off at 2325 Hrs with Mr McCall as pilot on the route of Exercise No.11 that had previously been flown in daytime.
It was the usual sleep-in after night flying on Monday morning 19th July. In the afternoon and on Tuesday & Wednesday we had a few final written tests. On Wednesday night our final night flying test was scheduled. Took off at 2300 Hrs with Mr Cusater as pilot on the route of Exercise No.12 flown in daytime. This flight of 3 Hrs 05 mins was the final air exercise on which we were assessed. On Thursday 22nd July after dinner we were advised that all had passed the course, and got instructions to attend to clearances for medical and dental and to hand in any equipment that had been issued to us. ‘Wings’ passing out parade would be held on Friday 23rd July 1943.
On Thursday night Keith, Eric and I took the girls out to The Barn and then went walked them home. We invited them to the ‘Wings’ parade, but they could not attend. Friday was a big day with the presentation of our ‘wings’ and the sewing of Sergeant’s stripes on our sleeves. At the pay parade after ‘wings’ presentation I was given a slip of paper with the instructions “Here is your Commission, it is now up to you to arrange for the issue of Officer’s Uniforms etc”. Also commissioned off course were Ivan Biddle and “Inky’ Keena who were posted to other Air Observer Schools as instructors, Ken Todd, Ted Hall, John Honeyman, Noel Hooper and Les Sabine. Ben Smith was on line-ball about passing and had to go to a review committee as at this stage he had admitted he had put his age back to enlist, and he was in fact aged 35 Yrs-not 30 years according to the records. Ben did eventually go on the fly in Bomber Command and lost his life on night of 24/25 Dec. 1944 on a raid on Cologne with 166 Squadron.
With kit bags packed and left at ‘despatch’ as instructed, I went to Maureen’s for tea. Her father drove me to the station where we left Edmonton by Canadian National Railway at 2130 Hrs for Toronto.
Reflections on leaving Edmonton
Thoughts that would be shared by all now on their way to the European Theatre of WW11.
All shared a sense of satisfaction and relief that we had earned our ‘wings’ as Air Navigators after a very intensive course of 4 ½ months that involved a total of 75 Hrs 55 mins of daylight flying and 34 Hrs 45 mins of night flying for the average member, and instruction and exams in 12 subjects such as Navigation, Maps & Charts, Magnetism & Compasses, Instruments, D.F/Wireless Telegraphy, Meteorology, Aerial Photography, Signals, Reconnaissance, Armament and Aircraft Recognition. In all I managed an overall pass of 82.4%. A few found the going hard towards the end of the course, as it was not easy and acknowledged the support, encouragement and assistance given by the chief instructor F/O. Brown (RCAF). He did encourage a few to hang in and was rewarded with their dedication and success. All realised though that there was still a long way to go with further training after our arrival in the UK before we were fully trained to assume the roll of a navigator in a crew on Bomber Command.
The main memories most of shared:-
• The extreme cold and snow covered prairies when we first
started flying, which made it difficult to judge height from
the air.
• The mud and slush when the snow did melt, and the river
thawed, and the great swarms of mosquitoes-large scotch
greys.
• The fields turning to green when wheat was planted and to
yellow as the dandelions came into bloom.
• The brown bears coming in close to town in search of food in
the late winter and playing with their cubs who often got a
disciplinary clout.
• Gophers popping in and out of their holes in the field beside
our barracks.
• Young children ice skating on the frozen gutters in the streets’
• Our own first try at ice skating on a frozen flooded tennis
court and being conned into playing ice hockey, which was
good because it gave you a hockey stick for support.
• The pain that a few suffered from frost bitten ears- in spite of
warnings.
• The Indian quarters that we passed through when walking to
town.
• The hospitality of the people.
• On a few reported occasions being mistaken for “Austrians’.
• The beauty of snow laden trees early in the morning.
• For Queenslanders—the 4 distinct seasons.
• Saluting the flag in front of HQ. The furore caused when an
item of female underwear was hoisted thereon one night and
the Aussies had no objection to saluting that particular
standard.
• The skill of the ‘Bush Pilots’ They were all civilians who had
good permanent work because of the Empire Training Scheme, but they were very competent at their job. True Canadian Geese-born to flying.
• Waffles and Maple Syrup and Coke and Ice Cream in the
Station canteen.
• Strictly taboo. But some made it** Flying under the high level
bridge.
• The sports facilities at the YMCA.
• Ben Smith’s accidents from smoking in bed.
Personally, there was the joy of wonderful friends made. The gang of the 20th Century Club and at the YMCA where I met Alice Grosco who kept up correspondence with me for two years after the war, until I told her I was going back to Scotland to marry Alma. Alice did have a special reason to keep in touch, as from a later Bomb Aimer course she met Jimmy Cossart on one of the Club’s regular hikes. He came from Boonah and was a boarder with me at Ipswich Grammar School 1938-39 and she was quite surprised when Jim told her he knew me. Later I was to meet Jim at the Boomerang Club in London on a few occasions until in the last months of the war he lost his life in a raid over Germany.
Perhaps the most cherished memory was the wonderful friendship that Keith and Eric and I enjoyed with Charlotte, Mildred and Maureen. They really treated us more like brothers and I would say did not put any pressure on us for a lasting relationship. We were welcomed into their homes. They truly were three girls who enjoyed the simple pleasures, and were good companions to each other. What you saw was what they were.
As we left Edmonton we were all aware that we were now on the way to the big adventure with its inevitable risks. Also we would soon be split up to go various ways. In fact when we got to Embarkation Depot at Halifax, after leave, a few of us would move into the Officers Mess, whilst the rest would be in the Sergeant’s Mess. But for the period of leave, and until we got to Halifax, those who were commissioned would continue with Sergeant’s stripes on our uniforms and stay as a group. Most important in our minds was to enjoy leave as we journeyed to Halifax across Canada with a break to visit New York. We had completed a course of flying training, all with over a 100Hrs up, and without an accident and with no loss of life.
These Were Fellow Course Participants
Following is a summary of the participants on the course and a brief detail of the operational experience of most, with pertinent information on those who lost their lives in training and on operations over Europe as well as those who were shot down and were taken Prisoner of War, or, in one case evaded capture.
After the war I kept in regular touch with Keith Mills, and since the late 1980’s with Lou Brimblecombe. We were the three youngest on the course. Eric Sutton did his tour with 622 Sqdn which was also based at Mildenhall where I served in XV/15 Squadron. And I did not get in contact with him again until December 2002, when he was traced living in Victoria. Roy Olsen moved to Tasmania after he retired as a school teacher and we had contact each Christmas. Noel Hooper, who came from the Nambour district died a few years after the war. Scotty Gall returned to work with the Bank of NSW and on retirement moved to Cooroy in Queensland, where I resumed contact in the early 1990’s. After his wife died he sold his property and moved to a retirement village in Brisbane, where he also died in 1999/2000. In one of those co-incidences in life, Scotty (or Vernon as he was known to his family) turned out to a brother of a friend we have known in the church at Alexandra Headland for many years.
It is interesting to note the service history of the ‘Todd’ Brothers, Ernie and Ken. They were both schoolteachers from the Newcastle area (both born in Canada). They enlisted together and went through initial training and operational training together and served on the same squadron flying in Wellingtons out of Foggia in Italy. They returned to their pre-service vocation. Ken, who was shot down and taken POW, died is 1986 at the age of 71 and Ernie died in 2002 at the age of 89.
Don Plumb “Bluey” did a tour in Halifaxes and died of acute leukaemia about 1987.
Course No.71N2-EATS-at No2. A.O.S EDMONTON, Canada. All members of RAAF
Duration 10/3/1943 to 23/7/1943,
Instructors:- F/O.W.H.Brown & P/O. Pogue ??? (both R.C.A.F)
NAME Number Birth Enlisted Discharged D.O.Death Posting on Rank Awards SeeNotes
Discharge ***
BIDDLE Ivan R. 424905 13/10/1913 09/10/1942 09/10/1945 8 O.T.U F/Lt Instructor in Canada
Goulburn Sydney
BRIMBLECOMBE C.L. 425592 23/12/1923 25/04/1942 07/12/1945 9 A.H.U F/O (218/514 Sqdn)
(Louis) Brisbane Brisbane
ETHERTON Ronald H. 423088 02/11/1921 20/06/1942 13/08/1944 76 Sqdn F/Sgt ***No.1
Sydney Sydney
GALL V. Scott 424915 08/08/1912 09/10/1942 16/04/1946 1315 Flight F/O (467Sqdn)
Mosman NSW Sydney
HALL Ernest T 406976 17/02/1914 26/05/1941 25/02/1946 9 A.H.U F/Lt Instructor in Canada
Perth Perth
HONEYMAN John 429498 23/05/1923 08/10/1942 15/02/1946 1656 C.U F/Lt D.F.C.
Deepwater Brisbane
HOOPER R. Noel 425851 16/12/1923 21/05/1942 21/08/1945 1 P.H.U F/Lt *** No.2
Nambour Brisbane
KEENA Ilford N. 424870 12/10/1912 09/08/1942 22/06/1945 9 A.O.S F/O Instructor in Canada
Ballengarra Sydney
LEWIS John H. 423142 27/01/1923 20/06/1942 08/11/1943 3 A.F.U. Sgt. ***No.3
Broken Hill Sydney
MARTIN H. Russell 418289 28/12/1922 15/05/1942 13/12/1945 21 O.T.U F/O D.F.C
Melbourne Melbourne
MILLS Keith C. 425954 02/01/1924 21/05/1942 27/10/1945 78 Sqdn W/O ***No.4
Mackay Brisbane P.O.W
MURTHA Harold H. 429473 30/05/1922 08/10/1942 05/09/1945 12 O.T.U F/O (463 Sqdn)
Brisbane Brisbane
OLSEN Roy P. 429479 10/07/1920 08/10/1942 15/11/1945 640 Sqdn W/O ***No.5
Bundaberg Brisbane
PALFERY Noel J. 424920 16/05/1914 09/10/1942 18/07/1945 467 Sqdn F/O (467 Sqdn)
Brisbane Sydney
PLUM Donald A. 424934 17/12/1919 09/10/1942 17/12/1945 96 Sqdn F/O (466/462 Sqdns)
Inverell Sydney
NAME Number Birth Enlisted Discharged D.O.Death Posting on Rank Awards SeeNotes
Discharge ***
SABINE C.W. Leslie 426165 08/12/1917 23/05/1942 01/07/1946 466 Sqdn F/Lt. D.F.C.
Brisbane Brisbane
SARGENT Allan J. 410098 19/10/1918 08/11/1941 22/01/1946 1 M.R.U W/O ***No.6
(Bulb) Williamstown Melbourne 44 Sqdn-P.O.W.
SMITH Benjaminn H. 424891 24/03/1914 09/10/1942 24/12/1944 166 Sqdn F/Sgt ***No.7
Merriwether Sydney
SMITH Ian H. 423913 20/10/1922 18/07/1942 18/06/1944 115 Sqdn F/Sgt ***No.8
Katoomba Sydney
SMITH Robert W. 425992 10/01/1924 21/05/1942 12/12/1945 32 Base F/Lt (XV/15 Sqdn)
Brisbane Brisbane No.3 Group RAF Bomber Command
SUTTON Eric C. 425910 04/081923 21/05/1942 17/09/1945 84 O.T.U F/O (622 Sqdn)
Gympie Brisbane
TAYLOR Alexander 424804 04/08/1920 09/10/1942 02/01/9/1946 R.A.F. F/O
Arncliffe Sydney Dumbeswell
TODD Ernest 424942 30/12/1913 09/101942 10/08/1945 3 A.O.S F/O (142 Sqdn)
Canada Sydney Italy
TODD W. Kenneth 424878 16/07/1915 09/10/1942 06/12/1945 142 Sqdn F/Lt ***No.9
Canada Sydney
General Comments
All participants in the above course were members of the RAAF, and many were recruited under the “Air Crew Guard” category in May 1942. They left Australia (Sydney) on the USS “Hermitage”, departing on Wednesday 10th February 1943, arriving via Pago Pago and Hololulu at San Francisco on Tuesday 2nd March 1943, where they disembarked and then entrained at Oakland to go by rail, via Vancouver, to Edmonton in Canada where they disembarked on Saturday morning 6th March 1943 when the temperature was reading –23 (Fahrenheit).
Course No.71N2 started on 10th March at No.2 A.O.S at the Edmonton airfield with Avro Anson aircraft flown by civilian “Bush” Pilots. Passing out parade and presentation of wings with promotion to Sergeant was held on Friday 23rd July. Eight members were commissioned off course to rank of Pilot Officer. No casualties were recorded on training.
All but 3 were posted to “Y” (Embarkation) Depot in Halifax Nova Scotia (spending some time on leave in Montreal & New York on the way) where they embarked on the R.M.S “Queen Mary” on Friday 28th August 1943 and sailed to the Clyde in Scotland where they disembarked at Gourock on Tuesday 31st August 1943 and entrained for overnight travel to the RAAF’s No.11 Personnel Despatch and Reception Depot at Brighton. From here most were posted to various advanced training units to be incorporated into a crew and fly in Lancasters & Halifaxes of Bomber Command.
Postings as listed in the above schedule are the postings as recorded at the time the airman was recalled to No.11 P.D.R.C at Brighton for repatriationto Australia, or upon date of death, or at time of loss on operation and taken POW. Sqdn reference under notes is one they did tour with (where known).
Course 71N2- Details of Casualties, either loss of life or shot down and taken P.O.W, or Evaded Capture
No.1. Ronald Henry ETHERTON No.76 Squadron. In Halifax 111 LL578 MP-H Bar on night of 12/13 August 1944 took off from Holme-on-
Spalding At 2129 Hrs to bomb the Opel Motor factory at Russelsheim. Crashed 2Km N.E. of Hamm (Germany)
and all crew were killed. They rest in France in the Choloy War Cemetery, which suggests their graves were
investigated by an American Unit. Of the 297 aircraft (191 Lancasters, 96 Halifaxes 7 10 Mosquitoes) that took part
in the raid 7 Halifax & 13 Lancasters were lost. 6.7% of the force. Local reports stated the factory was only slightly
damaged.
No.2. Rupert Noel HOOPER No.463 Squadron. In Lancaster 111 LM597 JO-W on night of 24/25 June 1944 took off from Waddington at 2229
Hrs on their first ‘op’ to bomb flying bomb base at Prouville. Crew, with exception of the F/Eng, were all
RAAF; believed shot down by night fighter. B/A, W/O/P and both gunners were captured and taken POW
Pilot, F/Eng & Nav (Noel) evaded capture Pilot W/Cdr D.R.Donaldson RAAF was among the most senior officers
to evade capture in 1944.
.No.3 John Hedgley LEWIS The Course’s first casualty, in training, on 8th November 1943 at No.3 Advanced Flying Unit, Halfpenny Green.
Buried in Chester (Blacon) Cemetery, Cheshire, England. Section A Grave No154
.
No.4 Keith Cyril MILLS POW. No.78 Squadron. In Halifax 111 MZ692 EY-P on night of 22/23 June 1944 took off from Breighton at 2230 Hrs to
bomb railway yards at Laon. First operation for most of the crew. Shot down by enemy fire and baled out. 5 were
taken POW and 2 evaded capture. All the crew, with exception of the F/Eng, were RAAF. Keith was arrested in
France and taken into custody by the Gestapo, being held with other members of his crew for about 3 months in
Buchenwald Concentration Camp until ‘rescued’ by the Luftwaffe and transferred to Stalag Luft L3 Sagan and
Balaria. POW No.8018. 4 Halifaxes were lost on this Laon raid.
No.5 Roy Peter OLSEN POW. No.640 Sqdn. In Halifax 111 LK865 C8-Q on night of 27/28th May 1944 took off from Leconfield at 2356 Hrs to
bomb Military Camp at Bourg-Leopold. Shot down by night fighter and crashed 0228 hrs near Antwerp. Pilot,
F/Eng & M/U/G were killed. Roy was taken POW and held in L7 Stalag Luft, Bankau-Kruelberg. POW No.95.
No.6 Allan Joseph SARGENT POW. No44 Sqdn. In Lancaster 1 LL938 KM-S on night of 21/22nd June 1944 took off from Dunholme Lodge at 2325
Hrs to bomb synthetis oil plant at Wesseling. Shot down by night fighter Pilot, B/A, W/O/P and R/G were killed
and are buried in Nederweert War Cemetery. Bub was taken POW and held in L7 Stalag Luft, Bankau-Kreulberg.
POW No.236. Of the 133 Lancasters & 6 Mosquitoes that took part on this raid, 37 Lancasters were lost—27.8%
of the force. 10/10 cloud was encountered and planned 5 Group’s Low-Level marking of the target was not
possible so H2S was used with only moderate success. 44, 49 & 619 Sqns lost 6 aircraft each. This was the last
occasion on which Bomber Command would suffer such a severe loss in operations to the Ruhr.
It is believed that above crew was the only Bomber Command crew lost in the war that comprised airmen from the 3 Commonwealth & Dominion air forces, plus a USAAF representative.
No.7 Benjamin Hartley SMITH No.166 Sqdn. In Lancaster 1 NG297 AS-K2 on night of 24/25 December 1944 (Christmas Eve) took off from
Kirmington at 1515 Hrs to bomb railway communications at KOLN-Nippes (COLOGNE). Crashed in the target area. All the crew were killed and buried locally, since when their bodies have been interred in the Rheinsberg
War Cemetery.
97 Lancaster & 5 Mosquitoes took part—5 Lancasters were lost over the target area and 2 more on return to
England owing to bad weather. Oboe marking was used with very accurate results. Local reports showed that
railway tracks were severely damaged & an ammunition train blew up. Nearby airfield,(Butzweilerhof) also
damaged.
No.8 Ian Harrison SMITH No.115 Sqdn. In Lancaster 1 HK559 A4-H on night of 17/18th June 1944 took off from Witchford at 0102 Hrs to
bomb oil installations at Montdidier. Dived into the ground and exploded with great force at Gannes (Oise), 5 Km N of St-Just-en-Chausse. All lie buried in the Gannes Communal Cemetery.
317 aircraft (196 Lancasters, 90 Halifaxes, 19 Mosquitoes & 12 Stirlings) took part in this and a similar targets at
Aubnoye and St Martin-l’Hortier. Targets were covered by cloud. Master bomber called off raid at Montdidier after
Only a few aircraft had bombed. Above was only aircraft lost on this operation.
No.9 William Kenneth TODD POW No.142 Sqdn. In Wellington Bomber took off from Foggia in Italy to bomb airfield on outskirts of Vienna. On 10th
May1944. It was crews 10th “Op”. Shot down by fighter in target area. In hospital in Vienna for short period before
going to Frankfurt for interrogation and to Stalagluft 3 at Sagan. And later to Luckenwald from where they were
repatriated to England..
NOTE
About 4/5 weeks after the course started John Henry STOPP, No.419738, born 3/7/1915 in Cairns Qld, Enlisted 10/10/1942 in Sydney was posted to another A.O.S to complete a Nav Course from which he was commissioned off course. On the night of 12/13 June 1944, flying with 166 Squadron on a raid on GELSENKIRKEN their Lancaster crashed in Holland and all on board were killed They were buried on 16th June 1944 in the ZELHEM General Cemetery It would appear that would have been very early in their tour of operations. .John Stopp was transferred when his flying Training-partner was hospitalised. I think it was Doug Rogers No.424609 who was commissioned off a later course and served in No4 Group RAF Bomber Command in Yorkshire - he was attached to 41 Base before returning to Australia.
Three other trainee navigators who sailed to Canada in the same draft were assigned to Course No.71N1. They were Jim Bateman No.423042 (149 Sqdn- awarded D.F.C), Bill Bowden No.424728 (261 Sqdn) and Geoff Cohen No.424725 who was commissioned off course and remained in Canada as an instructor at No.3 A.O.S.
Course 71N2 - Empire Training Scheme
No. 2 A.D.S. Edmonton – Alberta – Canada
10 March 1943 to 23 July 1943
Back Row: Keith Mills, Bob Sargent, Lou Brimblecombe, Noel Hooper, Eric Sutton, Alex Taylor
Middle Row: Ken Todd, Ernie Todd, Don Plumb, Noel Palfrey, Ron Etherton, Roy Olsen, Les Sabine,
Bob Smith, John Honeyman, Harold (Roy) Murtha
Front Row: Russ Martin, Ted Hall, Scotty Gall, Ian Biddle, W.H. Brown, ? , Ben Smith,
John Lewis, I.N. Keena, Ian Smith
We’ve Got Our Wings – Rookie Sergeants
The “Three Musketeers”
Eric Sutton, Bob Smith, Keith Mills
23rd.July 1943
As an L.A.C. in Edmonton
In Front of Wilsons Stationery Shop in Jasper Avenue
24 April 1943
Air Photography Exercises “Spring”
Bridge Over North Saskatchewan River about 1 ½ miles S.W. of Fort Saskatchewan
Looking S.W. in Direction of Edmonton Which is Visible in Distant Background
Notification of Selection for Appointment to Commissioned Rank
Effective 23rd July, 1943
1st July 1943
Dominion Day Sports – Winning the 440 yds
Eric Sutton, Keith Mills, Bob Smith
- at University Sports Ground
Keith said the Wrong Thing!
Have Wings *** Will Travel
From Edmonton, Canada to Brighton, England
We left Edmonton, with “N” Navigator wings and Sergeant’s stripes sewn on to our tunics, by train, at 2130 Hrs on Friday 23 July 1943. After the busy day of Wings Passing-out Parade and getting clearances we soon settled down to a good night’s sleep. Woke up in the early hours of Saturday at Saskatoon and travelled all day across the prairies through what seemed like endless fields of wheat and grazing country. It was almost express through Watrons, Rivers, Portage, La Prairie and arrived at Winnipeg at 1845 Hrs. Had a stop-over there and left again at 2000 Hrs. Into the bunk at 2230 Hrs for another good sleep. The scenery was different on Sunday as we moved into Ontario with mostly coniferous trees and a few Indian settlements. Arrived in Toronto at 0830 Hrs on Monday morning where those of us going to New York detrained and wandered around to have a look through a few shops before catching a train leaving at 1330 Hrs for Niagara. Had a few hours there to look over the Niagara Falls and then catch a train that left an hour late at 2230 Hrs down the Lee-High valley for New York. This was another train trip in the U.S. that went too fast to even count the telephone poles as they flashed by, and with the best of service from the Afro-American waiters on board.
New York and Sightseeing
Arrived in New York at 0900 Hrs on Tuesday 27th July and most of us including Keith Mills, Noel Hooper, Roy Olsen, Lou Brimblecombe, Russ Martin, Ian Smith, and Eric Sutton and myself made our way to the Anzac Club (somebody had the directions) where accommodation was arranged at the Wentworth Hotel-on the ground floor. Settled in to our rooms and had something to eat somewhere before we went to Madison Square Gardens where a circus was performing. After that we went to the Stage Door Canteen for tea, where we received a hospitable welcome and were given complimentary tickets for a few tours and shows the next day. Met the actress Connie Hayes there. On Wednesday morning we went on a sight-seeing tour during which we called into a few shops and I purchased a 2 ¼ X 2 ¼ Voigtlander camera which gave me good service for many years. After that we went to the Empire State Building and rode the elevator to the top. What a ride that was and what a view from the observation deck at the top. Keith, Roy, Lou, Noel, Russ and I then went for a stroll around Central Park where I took the first photos with the Voigtlander and on to the Stage Door Canteen for tea and more free tickets. The show that evening featured Xavier Cougat and his orchestra, the Andrew Sisters and other acts. We then went to a broadcast at the CBS studios before going back to the hotel.
Stayed in the hotel until midday on Thursday and then went to the Rialto on free tickets and on to the Rochefeller Centre to view an exhibition. Had tea and came back to the hotel to write a few letters. We were on the ground floor and it was hard to get a good sleep, the street outside was as busy at 0300 Hrs as it was at 1500 Hrs.
We Return to Canada
Noel Hooper and I decided that we had better do something about our Officers gear in Montreal and to leave New York a couple of days before the others. So on Friday morning we went to the station to enquire about trains. Met two girls going to the Statue of Liberty so went along for the ferry ride, back to the Anzac Club and a show at the Roxy. Caught a train by the skin of our teeth at 1850 Hrs. Had to change trains at Depew at 0500 Hrs on Saturday morning to go on to Toronto where we arrived at 0915 Hrs and left 30 minutes later for Montreal where we arrived at 1910 Hrs, running about 30 mins late as the train had hit a woman walking on the track about an hour out of the city. When we arrived we went to the YMCA where they arranged accommodation for us at 1491 Bishop Street.
On Sunday morning, 1st August, we went for a circular tour of the city by tram, jumping off at places of interest. Noel was bit non-plussed by the priests stopping on each step of a long climb up the hill to a large cathedral at the top. They appeared to pause briefly on each step in prayer. So, he taps one on the shoulder and recommended they install an escalator-a suggestion that was ignored. Asking directions on the tram was almost useless as the conductors gave the impression that they only conversed in French. We had tea at the YMCA and then went for a walk through the heart of the town. We must have given the impression of two lost souls as two girls approached us and started a conversation. Their names were Dorothy and Kay. They were students at the McGill University in Montreal and invited us to meet them the next afternoon and they would take us up Mont Royal to view the town by night.
We did our shopping on Monday morning where RAAF uniforms etc were available. Got issued with P/O’s braid, badges and cap, but decided to leave issue of quality uniforms and overcoat until we arrived in England. Met Dorothy and Kay as arranged in the afternoon and went up the mountain. As we had to meet up with the rest of our course on a train leaving Montreal at 1930 Hrs the next day the girls agreed to have dinner with us and then meet us again the next day at 1730 Hrs to show us over the University where they resided in one of the colleges on the campus. This we did on Tuesday after more sight seeing around the town and checking out of our accommodation. After our visit to the University it was a quick trip to the station with the girls to see us off and to catch up with the rest and board the train departing at 1930 Hrs. On the way to No.3 ‘Y’ Depot at Halifax. That was the Canadian designation for an embarkation depot.
Wednesday 4th August saw us travelling all day along the St.Lawrence River with its lumber mills, log jams and fishing villages and arrive in Halifax close to midnight raining cats and dogs. We were settled into barracks. Those who were commissioned off course were directed to the Officers Mess and Quarters and all others to the Sergeants Mess.
Halifax
Our late arrival did not prevent us being paraded at 0830 Hrs on Thursday and then attend to usual clearances etc. It seemed that there were still clearances whether you were arriving or departing. After dinner we were put through decompression chamber tests to assess our reactions to lack of oxygen. It was quite an experience as the chamber was decompressed to a height equivalent of about 18,000 feet. We were equipped with oxygen masks. At this height we were instructed to take off our oxygen masks under the supervision of trained personnel and to see how many times we could write the alphabet on the paper that had been issued. Supervisors kept an eye on each individual. I can remember being very pleased with myself as I visualised the alphabet written about six times on my piece of paper before I was told to put my oxygen mask back on again. Then I couldn’t believe my eyes-there was the alphabet written once and then down to about ‘m’ or ‘n’ before the pencil trailed away into a real scribble. Your mind had been telling you that all was well, so the danger of losing oxygen at heights over 10,000 feet was impressed on us. Most of us were non-smokers and had very similar results, but the smokers capacity to cope was really restricted and a couple had to be put back on oxygen very quickly.
On Friday we had a C.O.’s parade at 0800 Hrs and then it was back into the decompression chamber again for 2 hours, with oxygen masks kept on and listen to the supervisor giving more information on what we could expect flying for more than two hours at heights of over 20,000 feet. During this exercise the chamber was decompressed to a height equivalent of over 25,000 feet. After dinner it was P.T. exercise and games. Wrote a letter home and attended to a pile of washing that had accumulated.
Games of tennis and softball filled in most of Saturday morning. After dinner went into town with Ken and Ernie Todd (Ken had been commissioned off course but his brother Ernie was not) to the Anzac Club to give it the once over, and see what services and freebies were available there. Back to camp for a wash and change into clean clothes and after tea went back to a dance at the Anzac Club for a couple of hours. Slept in late on Sunday and spent all afternoon writing letters.
On Monday, 9th August, we were called on parade at 0800 Hrs for P.T. exercises and games. After dinner we underwent night vision tests, which I had trouble in passing and then back to more letter writing to catch up with my correspondence. Got a letter in the mail that day from Maureen. What seemed to be the established routine of parade, P.T. and games was the dose on Tuesday morning. For games, a rugby league match was organised for the Aussies and Kiwis between the Officers and the N.C.O.’s. It was a match that Keith Mills has not forgotten. I was playing on the wing for the Officers and going flat out for a certain try. I heard Keith behind me call out, “here Bob” when he had no chance of catching me. Not thinking I passed the ball back to Keith, who promptly propped, turned and set off back in the other direction. Unfortunately for him however, I was being supported by Kiwi P/O. Simon Snowden, of Maori descent and well built, and who was in the right position to effect a heavy tackle. Simon and I became good friends after that. Keith, I am sure learnt a lesson and did not appreciate the obstacle course we were put through after dinner.
On Wednesday morning, to keep us fit, we were employed on trench digging, and after dinner some of us were put through another night vision test. With a bit of assistance from a mate I did better than the test on Monday. Night vision was for gunners and not for navigators. Did my ironing after tea as we did not have the luxury of a batman yet.
Did well with mail on Thursday - 6 letters from home. After dinner went on a harbour cruise. I was on duty as Reception Officer that night and didn’t get to bed until 0430 Hrs on Friday. Received a telegram from home on Friday morning and another letter from Maureen. We had pay parade after which I went into town to buy a suit case, and did some ironing at night. On Saturday morning we had a lecture on ‘Rehabilition’ and I spent the afternoon writing letters to reply to those I had received during the week. Sunday was a very quiet day and a few of us went to a concert in the evening at the Anzac Club.
Monday 16th August was another good day for mail with 7 letters in the morning and 1 in the afternoon. So my correspondence was not up-to-date for too long. Pictures in the Officers Mess at night, “Desert Victory” and “The More the Merrier”. Usual parade and P.T. on Tuesday morning and into town after dinner for shopping and on to the Anzac Club for tea and a dance at night. More P.T. on Wednesday morning as we were waiting for a draft to embark. Went to see “Stage Door Canteen” at night with Simon Snowden. Since our football match we had spent a few times together looking around the sights of Halifax. Although he was of Maori blood, because of his surname he had become known as “Snowy”. Thursday afternoon was set aside for more sports and in the late afternoon we marched through town with a brass band at the head of the procession. It was into town again on Friday to buy a dressing gown and then to pictures at night to see “Jungle Book” Football practice occupied some time on Saturday morning. The bush telegraph was passing on a rumour that the “Queen Mary” was on the way from New York and would be calling within a few days, so I packed one of my kit bags in the afternoon. Slept in late on Sunday morning and after dinner went for a walk with Les Sabine around Mt Pleasant Park, and to the pictures in the Officers Mess after tea.
After mandatory parade at 0800 Hrs on Monday 23rd August we had lectures and a test on Aircraft Recognition. Managed to pass the test, but only just. After dinner went into town with ‘Snow’, met one of his mates and went to the Anzac Club for tea and a show afterwards. It was P.T. on Tuesday morning and we were given notice to be on parade again after dinner. That was a fair indication that a draft had been issued for embarkation. The draft was read out and as far as I can remember all the navigators from Course 72N2, except for a couple who did not come on to Halifax, were on it. We would be embarking within 48 hours. Broke off parade to have medical examinations, and then it was into town with ‘Snow’ again, who was also on the draft, for tea and the pictures to see “Song of the Islands”. On Wednesday morning we had to take our ‘Not wanted on Voyage’ baggage on parade and complete clearances. A few of us went to the Anzac Club that evening just to say good-bye to the place.
On Thursday 26th August 1943, we had pay parade in the morning, dinner and then our final parade with our ‘Wanted on Voyage’ baggage. We were then transported to the harbour and embarked on the “Queen Mary”. I was billeted in Cabin A24 with 14 others.
We Sail to the UK
Sailed early on Friday morning into good seas. It was back to two meals again while ‘in transit’. The ship had taken on a large contingent of American Servicemen in New York and it was very crowded. With such a large number on board, all were assigned to particular areas with coloured lines to follow to different venues to which they were allowed, such as sleeping quarters, bathroom facilities and Recreation and Entertainment areas. We had a limited deck space allotted to us and yellow lines to follow to the dining room and other colours to the toilets etc. On the lower decks the ‘other ranks’, mainly American troops, were assigned to sleeping areas on a shift basis.
The “Queen Mary” proceeded at full speed of over 30 knots on a zig-zag course and was unescorted. If you were walking down a passage-way when ‘she’ changed course by about 30 degrees you were pinned against the wall until ‘she’ got on a steady course again for another 15/20 minutes or thereabouts. You certainly had the feeling that a submarine would have very little chance of a torpedo attack. Time was passed playing cards, listening to music, reading the daily newspaper that was printed on board, writing letters and attending entertainment provided on board, which mainly favoured Officers. The seas stayed good all day on Saturday and at night most of us in Cabin A24 followed the relative coloured line to the large theatre on board to see a movie. Church Parade was held on Sunday, and another show in the theatre at night.
We continued to zig-zag through good seas at full speed all day Monday and enjoyed a concert in the lounge at night. On Tuesday we came around the north of Ireland and were greeted by friendly aircraft overhead and land in sight by mid-morning. This first sight of ‘the Old Country’ will remain in the memories of most on board for the rest of their life. There was a band of The Royal Marines on board and as we sailed up the Clyde past Arran with the Scottish coast of Ayrshire on our starboard the band played “Land of Hope and Glory”. As indeed it was at that time in history. There were not too many dry eyes on the decks, even among the American troops. We weighed anchor off Greenock and at 1900 Hrs were disembarked onto barges to be entrained at Greenock to travel to Brighton by rail.
Brighton, England
Travelled overnight and got our first encounter with a country at war with the blackout. Early in the morning the train steamed into the large railway yards at Crewe, then on to Rugby and the outskirts of London where we witnessed bomb damage for the first time. Arrived in Brighton at midday and were transported to No. 11 Personnel Despatch & Receipt Centre. Have never been able to work out how the despatch came before the receipt. We were assigned to billets. The N.C.O.’s to either the ‘Metropole’ or ‘Grande’ on the esplanade near the famous West Pavilion and the Officers to the Lions Head a bit further along to the east. Those establishments had been commandeered by the War Department and allotted to the RAAF’s No. 11 P.D.R.C, which had been transferred to Brighton from Bournemouth. So, on the 1st September 1943 we were officially disembarked in the United Kingdom. We spent the next two days attending to the requirements of reception, records, leave passes etc, and writing letters home as we awaited delivery of our ‘Not wanted on Voyage’ baggage.
In Central Park, New York
Roy Olsen, Keith Mills, Lou Brimblecombe, Bob Smith
Along the St Lawrence River - Part of the Aussie Contingent
Ross Martin and Ian Smith at the ‘Door’ in Tropical Uniform
In the Gardens – Halifax
P/O Bob Smith
Advanced Training-United Kingdom
Brighton, Sidmouth (Devon), West Freugh (Scotland)
Settling into No. 11 P.D.R.C. at Brighton, by midday on Saturday 4th September 1943 I had completed most of the requirements for reception and after lunch (now back to the system of calling the midday meal lunch and the evening meal dinner) I was rostered on my first duty as O.I.C. of one of the light ack-ack batteries on the esplanade, from 1400 Hrs to 1800 Hrs. Almost got court-marshalled when I gave permission to the two N.C.O.’s on the guns to fire a couple of rounds to test them. An English Army Major was soon on the scene to check on ‘the emergency’. After a bit of discussion he accepted my explanation and didn’t take the matter any further. After dinner I met ‘Snow’ who had also come over with the R.N.Z.A.F. contingent on the Queen Mary and who were also billeted with us in Brighton. We went to a dance at ‘The Palais’ that night. Had a very interesting conversation with a girl aged in her early twenties who came from Israel and was working her way through to a degree at an English University, as well as a couple of other girls who were more interested in ‘Snow’. They seemed to think he was a real heart throb. He was a good looking and good natured bloke.
This duty on the gun positions got me out of an awkward position on Sunday. We had Church Parade in the morning, usual roll-up, with quite a few Roman Catholics joining the Presbyterians. After lunch, by chance or design, Snow had met one of the girls we were talking to at the dance on Saturday night, and she suggested that he bring his friend along (that was me) as she had a friend to come with her and we could go to the pictures at night. Being a good friend I went along with him to the cinema on this blind date. Her friend turned out to be about 40 and did not appeal. There was no way I was going to be involved so I called Snow aside and explained the position. He saw my point of view and then backed me up with the explanation that I could not stay as I was rostered to go on Gun Duty in less than two hours. So I made a diplomatic departure and beat it post haste, feeling rather satisfied. Saw Snow the next morning and he told me I had made a wise decision.
On Monday morning I had more matters to attend to at reception. Mostly this was to deal with the issue of Officers uniforms etc. Got measured for my great-coat which was to be made by a tailor on Saville Row and issued with headgear-Officers for the use of.
Up to this point I had kept a small pocket diary since leaving Australia but discontinued the practice forthwith when it was brought to our attention in lectures and sessions held in connection with our reception at Brighton that diaries were not to be kept. This would be particularly enforced once we got on to operational squadrons. As a result from hereon I have to rely on memory and reflections with mates as we recalled our experiences in later years. For the next few weeks it was a daily routine of morning parade to hear who had been drafted to advanced flying schools etc, rostered on to duties such as the gun positions, or orders to attend lectures on the Brighton Pavilion. The beaches were heavily mined and this kept us on our guard when we were on gun duties, particularly when a stray dog wandered on to the beach. The Pavilion was also booby-trapped and was accessible only by walking a plank from the Esplanade.
When not on duties and on stand down we made regular trips to London on the train to get acquainted with the Boomerang Club in Australia House, and enjoy some food that was not available elsewhere. It also gave us an opportunity to explore that area of central London that was within walking distance and included many of the well known and historic buildings and landmarks. Here also, I was introduced to the Overseas Club whose members hosted Commonwealth servicemen on leave. I also had to go to London to be fitted and issued with my Officers Uniforms and Greatcoat. We were also introduced to sirens signalling an air-raid alert and ‘all-clear’, and the lives of Londoners who slept in the underground stations platforms. At Brighton the only enemy action I saw was one day when a German twin-engined bomber came in low over the channel, climbed to about 1000 feet over the town and as it circled around the outskirts dropped a stick of bombs and headed out to sea again. It was all over in less that two minutes and the gun batteries on the esplanade did not get a chance to fire at it.
I Go to Scotland On Leave
On 11th September 1943 I was given 7 days leave (authority POR 174/43) and headed off to Aberdeen to stay with Jim and Nan Joss to whom I had been referred by the Overseas League at the Boomerang Club. I wished to go to Aberdeen to have the chance to visit Kintore where by father and uncles spent leave during WW1. It was a wonderful introduction to Scotland, and the fore-runner of a few more happy times there when on leave which eventually led to meeting a lass who stole my heart, but more about that later. That’s in the future still. Got back from leave to learn that some of the course had been posted to Advanced Flying Units. Keith Mills and Eric Sutton and a few others had been posted to No. 4 Observer A.F.U. West Freugh, Scotland and John Lewis and Lou Brimblecombe had been posted to No. 3 A.F.U. at Halfpenny Green. A few weeks later John was to be our first loss of life when he was killed in an accident flying over Wales on a training exercise. A few days after I got back Noel Hooper, John Honeyman and myself were instructed to attend Course No.14 Aircrew Officers Training School at Sidmouth in Devon.
With necessary travel warrants and instructions we arrived in Sidmouth on Sunday 26th September. The three of us were impressed with the beauty of the English country side as we travelled through Hampshire and Dorset to Devon. It was hard to realise that the country was at war, until you passed an airfield or a large military establishment. We were met at the station and transported to the Training School that was situated in a stately mansion that was probably an up-market holiday resort in peace time.
More Training in Devon
The course was an intense period of lectures on Air Force Rules and Regulations, Physical Exercises, Field exercises with live ammunition, escape procedures and parade ground drills under an iron-fisted disciplinarian R.S.M. from one of the Guards Regiments, whom we referred to as the ‘screaming skull’, but not to his face. None of us was that brave. We were put over an obstacle course on the second day there and only a few of us managed to complete it in the approved time. I was still reasonably fit from athletics training and managed to go over all the obstacles except one, but within the time allowed. After 23 days we were put over the same course again and everyone passed, all the fittest they had ever been.
Field exercises included live ammunition with shots fired at medium range, hand grenades, firework crackers etc and it was our observation to identify the type and direction from which the detonation was heard and make quick decisions on evasion tactics. We were also given exercises in techniques of camouflage and the use of the terrain to move and avoid detection. In the event of being shot down over enemy territory it was your first duty to avoid capture. Parades and Parade-ground drills were real masterpieces with the R.S.M. in charge. The short straw must have had my name on it when it came to parade-ground drills. When we were given duties for colour parades and reviews. I landed the duties of S/M of Parade, Adjutant of Parade, C/O of Parade and Reviewing Officer of Parade. It is a mystery how I was not promoted immediately to rank of Air Commodore or above. Noel and John felt sorry for me-like b.hell they did!
On our first day we were fitted out and issued with khaki battle dress, army boots etc, and this was our standard dress for the course, except for evening meals when the traditions of dining in the Officers Mess were observed. A few got postings from the course either to A.F.U. or back to their unit. I remember one Aussie pilot who was sent to the course as a disciplinary measure after he pranged a ‘Wimpy’ on take-off at an O.T.U, apparently without injury to any of the crew. After about ten days he was posted back to his unit to take up further training with the crew. Nine Aussies started the course but there were only five of us there at the end. Leave was granted most nights and at week-ends, so we were able to spend some time in town and go to the pictures or a dance. Met a girl, Irene Collins, at a dance one night who asked me to escort her home-what a walk; I think it must have been to the next village. She worked in a shoe shop in town, and I did see her a couple of times after that when I went down town.
Most vivid memories of the course relate to small arms firing practice, throwing live hand grenades, and the cross country exercises when we somehow managed to make tracks through an apple orchard, stuff a few into our jackets and get back to discover that we had a sort of crab apple used for making cider. Also tried our hand at toasting chestnuts, but not much satisfaction there either. Drilling the squad when under the instruction of the ‘screaming skull’ provided a bit of entertainment, particularly when he decided to take over and show us how to do it. He would give the order ‘Quick March’ at the top of his voice and let the squad get down the road about 70/100 yards before giving the order ‘About Turn’. By the 50/60 yard mark the squad had agreed that from a certain person forward they would disregard the order, the ones at the crucial point would hesitate, and behind them they would do the about turn. That really curled the ‘mo’ and sent a string of invective over the countryside, when the ones in front said they did not hear him. He didn’t fall for it-had been through that mill many times before. We got the feeling that he would liked to blame the Aussies and give them a bit of extra drill, but as they were of higher rank he had to play it cool.
At week-ends we were given leave, although the whole course was de-facto stand-in for the local Home Guard Unit, we were given details of the mined areas on the beaches, most of which were at the base of high cliffs and difficult to reach. Generally it was the area immediately below these cliffs that were not mined. On our first Sunday Noel and John and I headed off west close to the coastline along the tops of the cliffs, almost to Exmouth from where we could see Torquay in the distance. As we had been walking for a bit over 2 hours, we decided to veer north to a village that had golf links nearby where we found a café and had lunch. We crossed a railway line, into a village called Otterton and followed country roads and lanes back to Sidmouth. The next Sunday we headed north towards Honinton and got as far as Aflington. On this walk, following roads and lanes off the main road we stopped to talk to some villagers to enquire if a village about 2 miles further north had a café that was opened on Sundays. They did not know, had lived there all their lives and had never been to that other village.
We would have walked about 20 miles on each of those Sunday hikes, and that kept us in good physical condition. Knowledge gained on the Sunday hikes proved very valuable later on and was put to good use. On the Tuesday of the last week we had our final test on the obstacle course. No problems for any of us, even up and over the poles that were fixed horizontally at varying heights between the trunks of two pine trees to a height of about 30 feet, the only obstacle that stumped me on our run over the course on our first day. I did not go over the top then, but under it. The next day we were given our final test of escape techniques. We were despatched at 0830 Hrs to go to a spot near the village of Axmouth which lay just south of the road to Lyme Regis and north of the seaside town of Seaton. It was up to us whether we went singly, or in small groups like a crew from an aircraft that had been shot down. But we had to get to the destination without being observed by the instructors who would be in positions at a couple of points along the way. The sergeant in charge of the exercise, when informed that Noel and John and I would stick together and go as a team for the exercise said that was a good idea and even recommended to the others to learn from these Aussies who often did well in this exercise. We did well, but it involved a bit of cunning.
Our plan was to let the field get away and ahead of us while we went to a café for morning tea to formulate our tactics. We had to be at the ‘target’ by 1600 Hrs. That gave us a bit over 7 hours to do about 9 or 10 miles measured in a straight line. We had prepared a bit beforehand, and by fair means or foul John had obtained a woman’s hat and shawl. After morning tea we set off walking to the village of Sidford less than 2 miles north of Sidmouth where we knew we could get a taxi and were sure that no scouts would be stationed along that route. I have a suspicion that John had had a discussion with a taxi driver in this village on one of our Sunday walks because we found him very co-operative and willing to help, although he was going to use up a bit of his petrol ration. Sometimes crosses my mind if he got a voucher from John to say his taxi had been commandeered for defence purposes. For him it was going to be a round trip of about 20 miles. I cannot remember what the fare was, but probably in the 5/10 Pounds range, and that was probably the best fare he had made on a Wednesday in war time. In the taxi we set off on the main road towards Lyme Regis and after about 5 miles turned right along a road that went past a quarry and then north-east to Colyford our destination for the taxi. On this last stretch we had a fair idea that scouts would be stationed, so John donned the hat with the shawl over his shoulders and sat up and surveyed the scene while Noel and I crouched down so as we could not be observed. With a bit of luck John spotted our friendly Sergeant sitting under a tree about 15 yards inside a field with a ditch between him and the road. No other scouts were seen. We left the taxi at Colyfield and walked the last mile or so to Axmouth and the designated meeting place. No one was expecting escapees to come in from a northerly direction so we arrived without being spotted to the amazement of the team that had congregated there. We timed things so that we did not arrive until just after 1530 Hrs. A few had already arrived carrying flags to indicate they had been spotted by one or more look-out scouts. Not long before 1600 Hrs the Sergeant, and other spotters arrived and were about to announce that no one had spotted the 3 Aussies, when he looked around to spot us and cried “How the hell did you three get here??” We told him we did not spot any other look-outs, but we did see him under a tree and where he was.
We had our story ready that we were coming up a ditch beside the road when we spotted him and realised we could not pass along that ditch without him seeing us, so we back-pedalled a bit using trees along the road as cover, and then crossed the road and away a bit to the north, which brought us in from that direction. We told him we were within the length of 2 cricket pitches from him, and that really had him flabbergasted. Somehow or another he got the correct information by Friday morning, and told us he was not very impressed, but couldn’t decide whether to admonish us for not entering into the true spirit of the exercise or just acknowledge that we had exercised initiative that we had so often been instructed to do.
Sunday 24th October saw the completion of our Air Crew Officers Training School, and on Monday morning we set off by train back to Brighton. We went via Salisbury where we had a stop over to have a look around the town and visit the famous cathedral. During WW1 my father had been billeted on Salisbury Plains with 41st Battalion A.I.F. and used to talk about the Cathedral and his visits around the area. I did not know it then, not even until the 1980’s, that my paternal great grandparents had come from East Hagbourne in Berkshire about 20 miles from Reading in the area that we were to-day travelling through.
Back at Brighton on Tuesday it was a return to the usual routine of morning parade, lectures and stand-downs as we waited for a posting to an Advanced Flying Unit. During this time we were attending a lecture in the old ball room on the Pavilion when the whole pier was rocked by an enormous blast. Someone had detonated one of the booby-trap mines on the end of the pier and really started some activity. We were evacuated very quickly. Never heard any more reports and whether there were any casualties apart from a few sea gulls. At Brighton a new contingent of EAT’s N.C.O.’s and Officers had arrived and the duties on the ack-ack guns had been assigned to them which gave us more time to take visits up to London.
My Posting Comes Through - Scotland
On Parade about 6th November my posting came through to No. 4 (Observers) Advanced Flying Unit at West Freugh, near Stranraer in Scotland. There were other navigators on the same posting that were on a course after No. 71 and arrived in Brighton about a month or so after I did. These included Keith Nunn, Hector Craig and Soapy Campbell. Noel Hooper and John Honeyman were posted to an A.F.U. affiliated with No 5 Group Bomber Command. I seemed assured to going into No. 3 Group which operated in East Anglia.
Those going to West Freugh left Brighton by train on Monday 8th November, travelled overnight, changing trains probably at Carlisle, and arrived in Stranraer and on to West Freugh by RAF transport on Tuesday to attend to the usual requirements of reception for a course that was due to start the next day. Keith, Hector, Soapy and I were all billeted in the same Nissen hut in the Officers quarters.
We certainly got our introduction to the Scottish weather coming into their winter. The famous Scotch Mist just hung on and on, in fact for the first six weeks we were there we never saw the sun from the ground, but at 2,500 feet you were above cloud and in clear sky. For the first few days we were kept in the lecture rooms for revision in most of the subjects we had studied at Edmonton and talks on what to expect as we moved on to become acquainted with new navigation aids etc that were coming into use in Bomber Command. Our air exercises at West Freugh over the 8 weeks we were there comprised 30 Hrs 35 mins of daylight flying and 18 Hrs of night flying atSS heights between 1500 feet and 5000 feet. The air exercises over routes as detailed in my log book were mostly over the Irish Sea area to landmarks in Northern Ireland, Wales and the Carlisle area to the East. In most cases the exercise started from Ailsa Craig, a landmark island in the Clyde Estuary. You had to be wary of your height and track to ensure you did not come to grief on the Isle of Man.
A great advantage of flying with RAF Staff Pilots was they flew the course given to them. They couldn’t see the ground anyway most of the time. This gave good experience in D.R. navigation and was a great help in charting an air plot. They were mostly very experienced pilots who had served with the RAF in India as well as on operations at home and were very experienced in flying Ansons and Oxfords.
Some Flying “Incidents”
The starting point of Ailsa Craig nearly caused an accident on one of our exercises. We had climbed through cloud and on course etc, when I said to the pilot we would proceed on our first course of the exercise from E.T.A. Ailsa Craig, which would have been not far out because of the short distance we had flown. He insisted on going below the cloud to get an accurate fix from which to start our exercise. Our course was nearly too accurate, as when we broke cloud at about 800 feet Ailsa Craig was almost dead ahead, and the faithful “Old Aggie” as we called the Anson flew past the cliff face too close for comfort. The pilot circled the island, flew a bit north of it and then came back on the course we were to fly on the first leg and climbed back into the cloud over the island with a satisfied look on his face.
On another exercise the first course was eastwards to Wigtown, and then on to Silloth, past a mountain that was about 1500 feet high near Gatehouse-on Fleet I think it was called ‘Crefell’ and it had claimed a few aircraft crashing into it, so we had to make sure we were at least at 2000 feet. For the exercise we had been given ‘met’ winds of 30/49 Knots from the west. By the time we got near Gatehouse-on Fleet it was obvious that the true wind was over 70 knots and in response to radio message we were recalled.
A flight of less than 30 minutes out took over 2 hours on the return with the Aggie at maximum air speed. Coming over the top of one of those high mountains you had the feeling you could just have jumped off like from a moving tram. A night exercise was scheduled to fly to Newcastle to give us navigation experience and the air defences there some dry-swim practice. Before we got as far as Silloth we were recalled as Newcastle was in fact being raided by the Luftwaffe. Sometimes I have wondered about the co-incidence. It was on one of those exercises that I had a bout of air sickness and on landing the pilot put it in his report. The O.C. Training ordered me to report to the M.O. for an assessment. I cannot remember what his examination involved but I was not scrubbed from flying.
On 30th December we were detailed on navigation exercises flying at 5000 ft. Two navigators were assigned to an exercise flying over the Irish Sea due south to Holyhead in Wales and then north west to Ballyquinton Point in Northern Island. This had the Isle of Man along this path. The two navigators on this route were Keith Nunn and Harold ‘Hal’ Peters, both graduates of No. 74N course. Most of the route was covered in cloud with base at about 1000 feet. It turned out to be a tragic day. The aircraft in which Hal Peters was flying must have descended through the cloud too soon and crashed into a mountain on the island. Hal was 33 years of age and came from Bentleigh in Victoria. He was buried in Andreas (St Andrew) Churchyard on the Isle of Man. My last navigation exercise at West Freugh, a week later, was over this same route.
Another flying incident at West Freugh that remains in my memory concerns the crash of a Hampden twin-engined bomber. A few of the RAF pilots were discussing the flying capabilities of this aircraft, a few of which were stationed at West Freugh for coastal surveillance work. A F/Sgt. pilot was arguing that the aircraft would not pull out of a spin. One of the ex-India RAF Officer pilots disagreed and said when the weather was clear enough he would take one up to about 5,000 feet, put it into a spin and pull out. He did this a few days later in sight of a few onlookers - but unfortunately the aircraft did not pull out of the spin and went down to crash into the sea. One of the ex-India pilots was heard to remark “That is only four of us left now”.
Leave in Oldhall – I meet Alma
As I had advised Jim and Nan Joss in Aberdeen that I had been posted to West Freugh, Nan wrote back to say that she had been in touch with a Friend/Cousin in Paisley and she and her husband would be happy to host me if I went to Glasgow. We were given 48 leave pass one week-end so I took the opportunity to go by bus, getting off at Oldhall between Paisley and Glasgow to visit Ronnie and Molly Whyte and their daughter Alma who lived at 39 Tylney Rd, Oldhall. This led to many enjoyable leaves in Aberdeen and Paisley when I came to be accepted freely by both families over the times ahead and which was eventually to see Alma and I marry. I think that we would both agree however that it was not love at first sight.
Hector Craig, who had some relatives in Glasgow came with me on the bus on our two week-end leaves. We were not happy with the smoke filled busses filled with farm workers in heavy sweaty smelling clothes, and not a window opened. It was winter, damp and cold, but some fresh air was desirable, so we would open the window a bit near our seat to get a look that only a Ranger’s fan would give a Celtic fan. Ronnie Whyte was a staunch Ranger’s follower and I was soon to learn of the rivalry between those two sides. The passion for football, what we called soccer, was new to us.
Our course at West Freugh was completed on 7th January 1944. Our posting came through the next day and we were given a few days to complete clearances-the usual medical, dental etc and pack our Officer issue steel trunk for despatch to our new station. Keith Nunn and Hector Craig and I were posted to No. 84 Operational Training Unit at Desborough in Northamptonshire. We realised then that we were destined for No. 3 group Bomber Command that was equipped with Lancasters. We were given 7days leave and travelling time and had to report to Desborough by 24th January (Auth POR 2/44). Travelling warrants were issued at the Adjutant’s office on 11th January, a day after my 20th birthday anniversary, and I went on leave to Aberdeen for a week and then to London for a few days to catch up with mates at the Boomerang Club.
Now it was on to joining a crew, further training as a crew with more advanced aircraft and at heights above 10,000 feet. As it turned out it was to bigger and better things and experiences that made men of us. ......
West Freugh – Laundry Hung Out to Dry In Our “Heated” Quarters
At Aircrew Officers Training School
Sidmouth, Devon
Noel Hooper, Bob Smith
Bob Smith, John Honeyman
Training as a Crew
Crew Formation at No. 84 O.T.U. (Operational Training Unit)
Desborough, Northamptonshire
For operational training I was posted to No. 84 O.T.U at Desborough in Northamptonshire, an Operational Training Unit under the control of No.3 Group, (RAF Bomber Command) as from 25th January 1944. This Unit was flying ex-operational Vickers Wellington X’s, with unit identification “IF”. This was our introduction to flying above 10,000 feet in aircraft equipped with oxygen. Radio I/D was “Foodramp”.
Along with Keith Nunn and Hector Craig I was accommodated in the Officer’s Quarters and went through the usual reception procedure. A programme of lectures and ‘dry-swim’ exercises started immediately and went on for two weeks. Flying exercises started on 15th Feb, crewed with a staff pilot and flying as a 2nd navigator under supervision, to gain experience on new special navigation equipment and flying at heights of 10,000 to 15,000 feet, wearing oxygen masks. Instructors, mostly with operational experience, assessed our work and passed us as satisfactory to proceed further into the formation of a crew and on to further training towards posting to an operational squadron. Over that first month lectures and tests occupied a lot of time, and were most interesting as we were instructed in new equipment coming into use, some of it still on the secret list. During that second fortnight we flew 2 daylight flying exercises and 1 night exercise of between 4 and 5 hours each. On 28th February after flying a special daylight exercise of 4 ½ hours at 15,000 feet all the aircrew under operational training were assembled at 1700 Hrs and told to sort themselves into crews by the next afternoon.
On 1st March 1944 our crew was formed. In the morning pilot F/Sgt. Ron Hastings approached me to see if I had been claimed yet and when he said he had obtained another Aussie as a Bomb Aimer and two RAF fellows who had come through a gunners course together and wanted to be together in a crew, I agreed to join them. Soon afterwards we approached a Wireless Operator who had many flying hours to his credit and had come from a unit where he was an instructor. So, for the time being we had a crew, with a Flight Engineer to be added when we went on to conversion to four engined bombers:-
The Crew:
Pilot F/Sgt Ronald William Hastings RAAF No.423112 Born 11 Nov 1922
Nav. F/O Robert Wylie Smith RAAF No.425992 Born 10 Jan 1924
B/A F/Sgt Harold Edward Burns RAAF No.422144 Born 5 Nov 1915
W/Op.F/Sgt Victor Frederick Pearce RAF No.1196145 Born 17 Jul 1920
M/U/G Sgt George Henry James Malyon RAF No.1432616 Born 7 Jan 1923
R/G SgtDonald George McFadden RAF No.1387716 Born 26 Feb 1923
All aircrew were volunteers, so the RAF fellows were in the RAF Volunteer Reserve. Between ourselves we were called respectively, Ron, Smithy, Bobby, Vic, Mike and Mac.
On 2nd March most of the newly formed crews, including us, were sent to the satellite ‘drome at Harrington, about 4/5 miles away, to fly a high level bombing exercise in daylight and then about 6 hours on circuits and bumps (which gave the navigator nothing to do) over 2 consecutive nights, and on the next night 2 ½ hours on high level bombing. Having completed these exercises it was back to the main ‘drome on 8th March to start a very intense month of flying training in daylight and at night. These exercises were always over approved set routes, sometimes with an experienced pilot as we went on long night flights, fighter affiliation exercises and high level bombing. Lectures still continued at times during the day and there were breaks for sports and evening/week-end leave.
Dealing With an Emergency
On 13th March, flying in an older Wellington 111 No. X3995 and letter coded “U” for Uncle we had an emergency forced upon us on take-off after lunch. Just as the aircraft started to lift off the runway the flap over the port wing fuel tank inlet sprung open, causing that wing to stall. As that wing started to drop it was only the quick corrective action by Ron that saved us from disaster. It took the combined effort of him and the Bomb Aimer who was standing beside him to hold the joy-stick hard over to starboard to keep the plane on level flight. The control tower had noticed our wild take-off, and before we could gather our wits they contacted us with a call “Foodramp Uncle-are you in trouble”. Ron replied with a brief description of the problem and immediately got a message back to circle if possible and come into land immediately as they would have emergency vehicles standing by. An experienced pilot was put in direct contact from the control tower to assist Ron. Although we did not know it at the time, sirens were sounded on the ‘drome and a fire tender, ambulance and crash wagon were rushed on to the tarmac. Ron instructed me to keep the runway on our starboard wing in sight and guide him around to the downwind end. Then, as he lined the aircraft up on the runway and started a landing approach he ordered all except “Bobby” Burns, the B/A, to take up crash positions, leaving the intercom to all positions open. With the two gunners I took up the crash position. Vic, the wireless operator, was tuned into a BBC radio broadcast and was not aware of the emergency, although he admitted later he thought the flying was a bit rough. I learned a lesson from this as I should have tapped Vic on the shoulder as I went past him to the crash position and beckoned him to join me.
Ron and Bobby managed to control the aircraft sufficiently to make a reasonable landing although it gave a severe lurch to port as we touched down, causing Mac, who was next to me in the crash position and had started to get to his feet as soon as the wheels touched the ground, to fall against me and force my head on to the side of the fuselage resulting in a bit of a lump on my right temple. Mac thought for a minute that he had severely hurt me as we both ended up lying on the floor. This lurch caused Vic to look around and see Mike, Mac and myself in the crash position and to wonder what was going on. So we had a bit of explaining to do. We were all O.K, and saw a certain humour in what happened next. As soon as we came to rest Ron contacted the control tower with their sign and the message “Foodramp Uncle here—we have pancaked”, only to get the immediate response “Foodramp Uncle, if you have pancaked you have not pancaked here”. A quick look around and we recognised the surroundings—we had landed at Harrington, the satellite strip. As they say, all is well that ends well, (in spite of Murphy’s Law). Transport was immediately sent out to the aircraft to take us back to the base ‘drome for a quick medical assessment, but we said we were O.K. The M.O told me I would probably get a black eye if any bruising came out and that my flying helmet had probably saved me from more serious injury. In reflection, it is possible that if Ron had attempted a full 360 degree turn back to the runway we had just taken off from, the outcome could have been much worse.
The M.O did not say anything about not flying for a day or two. The experience certainly strengthened our confidence in and respect for Ron, and taught us valuable lessons. We did not hear what happened to the ground crew responsible for fuelling the aircraft and ensuring that the wing flaps were properly secured. Probably went on a charge and received some form of punishment. The aircraft was given a thorough inspection, before it was moved and flown back to the base ‘drome. The undercarriage must have experienced some stress when we touched down. We flew again in the same aircraft four days later on a high level bombing exercise and had no problems.
By 8th April we had completed all the requirements of the course at O.T.U and were passed as fit material to proceed to conversion to four engine aircraft. We were given about 11 days leave (Auth POR 15/44) and instructed to report to No. 1653 H.C.U (Heavy Conversion Unit) at Chedburgh in Suffolk on 21st April. A signal had come through that a crew was required for an Australian Squadron in No.5 Group with a condition that it must comprise at least 4 Aussies in the crew. The only one to qualify on our course was P/O. George Edwards (Pilot) who had crewed with Keith Nunn as his navigator. Both had known Ron Hastings prior to this time. Keith had known Ron and his father before the war. Both Ron’s father and Keith were employed in the then Union Bank of Aust- later to become the ANZ Bank. Ron & George had trained together as pilots. That crew eventually went on to No.467 (RAAF) Squadron at Waddington in Lincoln and were shot down on their second ‘Op’ on 29th June 1944, bombing the flying bomb base at Beauvoir in France. George was killed and Keith was captured and taken POW. After the war Keith resumed his career with the Union Bank. I have no recollection of where Hector Craig and crew were posted to.
Previous Service history of our Crew members
Pilot “Ron”
When he was born in 1922 his family surname was ‘Heuzenroeder”. His father was employed in the Union Bank and in the mid-1930’s with the world scene focussing on the Nazi regime in Germany, and the bank considering his transfer to Manager of a country town, they requested him to change his surname. Ron was in secondary schooling at the time and chose the name ‘Hastings’.
Ron enlisted in Sydney on 20th June 1942 and was posted to No.2 I.T.S. at Bradfield Park. On 15th Oct 1942 he went to No.5 E.F.T.S at Narramine in N.S.W and on 17 Jan 1943 to No.8 S.F.T.S at Bundaberg in Queensland. On 7th May 1943 he graduated with his pilot’s wings and posted to No.2 Embarkation Depot with rank of Sergeant. Embarked in Sydney on 25th May 1943, travelling via the USA and arrived in the U.K. on 7th July 1943 at No.11 P.D.R.C at Brighton. On 7th Sep 1943 posted to No.15 (Pilot) A.F.U at Andover before posting to 84 O.T.U at Desborough on 25th January 1944.
Nav. “Smithy”
Enlisted 21st May 1942 at No.3 Recruit Centre, Eagle St, Brisbane in an intake of ‘Aircrew Guards’ and posted same day to No.3 Recruit Depot Maryborough Qld. On 13th June 1942 posted as ‘Air Crew Guard to No.1 A.O.S. Cootamundra N.S.W. where on 16th Sep 1942 was posted into No.73 Reserve Squadron. On 11th Oct 1942 posted to No.2 I.T.S. Bradfield Park , Sydney and on 2nd Jan 1943 to No.2 Embarkation Depot, Bradfield Park. Embarked Sydney on 8th Feb 1943 on troopship “U.S.S. Hermitage” to San Francisco and then by train to Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. On 7th March 1943 posted to No.2 Air Observers School at Edmonton. Graduated with wings as a Navigator and granted a commission on 23rd July 1943. On 4th Aug 1943 posted to No. 1 “Y” (Embarkation) Depot at Halifax, Nova Scotia. On 26 Aug 1943 embarked on the “Queen Mary” to the UK. Disembarked on 1st Sep 1943 at Gourock, Scotland, and then by train to Brighton, England and posted to No.11 P.D.R.C. on 2nd Sep 1943. On 27th Sep 1943 attended Air Crew Officers Training School at Sidmouth, Devon, for a 4 week course. Posted 0n 9th Nov 1943 to No.4 (Observers) A.F.U at West Freugh, Scotland and on 25 Jan 1944 posted to No.84 O.T.U, Desborough,England.
B/Aimer ‘Bobbie’ or ‘Rabbie’
Enlisted on 25th April 1942 at No 2 Recruit Centre in Sydney and on same day posted to No.2 I.T.S at Bradfield Park. On 15 Aug 1942 posted to No.2 Embarkation Depot at Bradfield Park. And on 21st Aug 1942 posted to No.1 E.D. at Ascot Vale, Victoria. Embarked in Melbourne on 7th Sep 1942 and ‘disembarked’ No.3 Manning Depot, Edmonton Canada on 2nd October 1942. On 11th Oct 1942 posted to No.5 A.O.S at Winnipeg and on 29th Dec1942 posted to RCAF station at Trenton, then on 21st Feb 1943 posted to No.4 Bombing & Gunnery School at Fingal and on 16th May 1943 to No.4 A.O.S at London Ontario. On 13th Oct 1943 posted to No.1 ‘Y’ Depot at Halifax, Nova Scotia. Embarked at Halifax on 22nd Oct 1943 and ‘disembarked’ 31st Oct 1943 at No.11 P.D.R.C. Brighton, England. Posted to No.4 A.F.U. West Freugh, Scotland on 23rd Nov 1943 and on 25 Jan 1944 to No.84 O.T.U. at Desborough, England.
W/Op. Vic.
Enlisted in the RAF 2nd Dec 1941. Commenced flying training in August 1942 after transfer to the RAF V.R. After completion of Wireless Operator’s course was posted to Bobbington as an instructor prior to posting to No.84 O.T.U. Desborough on 25th Jan 1944
M/U/G. ‘Mike’
Enlisted in the RAF on 5th May 1941, in the RAF Regiment. Initial Training at Cardington, and on 30th June 1941 posted to White Waltham and Cranwell for a ground observers course before posting to the Outer Hebrides and Orkney Islands. In June 1943 volunteered for flying duty (R.A.F.V.R) I.T.W Bridlington ,Yorkshire and Air Gunnery Schools in Shropshire and Bishopscourt, Northern Ireland. Graduated with wings in Dec 1943 and posted to No.84 O.T.U, Desborough on 25th Jan 1944.
R/G. ‘Mac’.
Enlisted in the RAF on 5th Feb 1942 and served in the RAF Regiment until June 1943. when he volunteered for flying duties and had the same postings in flying training as ‘Mike’, which is why both wanted to stay together in the same crew. Both came from London.
The Crew in front of a ‘Wellington X’
Ground Staff
Mac, Vic, Mike, Bobbie, Ron Smithy
Hours flown at No.84 O.T.U.
Daylight – 34 Hrs 30 mins Night – 30 Hrs 30 mins
No. 1653 H.C.U. (Heavy Conversion Unit)
Chedburgh, Suffolk
This unit was equipped with ex-operational Stirlings 1 & 111. Unit I/D. H4.
On 21st April we were posted to No. 31 Base (No.3 Group R.A.F.Bomber Command), Stradishall, Suffolk, under whose administration were No.1653 H.C.U. and No.3 L.F.S. Feltwell for training in 4 engined heavy bombers. A Flight Engineer, straight from training at a Rolls Royce training school, was appointed to the crew. As a general rule this was a Flight Engineer’s introduction to flying. Sgt. Ron Partridge was added to the crew, and immediately earned the nick-name ‘Pheasant’ by Ron. His training in the Merlin engine at the Rolls Royce establishment was not put to use while we were flying Stirlings with radial engines, but was going to be valuable when we graduated on to the Lancaster Bomber. Ron was destined to stay with our crew only for our first 6 operational sorties.
After 3 weeks of extensive lectures, introductions to and instructions on the special equipment that we would be using on a squadron, most of it specialist to a particular crew member, and general information that applied to all given by experienced personnel on what to expect on operations over Europe as well as survival and escape techniques it was back to practical flying exercises. At first these were with an experienced pilot for dual familiarisation flights of circuits and bumps and then on to a high level navigation and bombing exercise before Ron was allowed to go solo with his crew.
We did not escape the now accepted ‘emergency’ that can crop up on training flights. On our last ‘dual’ flight on the morning of 18th May we had a F/O. Gill as Captain. On take-off he cut one engine to give Ron the necessary experience in that situation. It almost backfired as the aircraft we were in, R9287 H4-Y (Yoke) was rather sick on 3 engines and refused to climb while the under carriage was still down. Fortunately Chedburgh was on a plateau and the ground fell away from us. The under carriage was retracted and we did manage to gather a bit of speed to give us a safety margin above stalling. The ‘killed’ engine refused to re-start, so Ron also had experience with landing on 3 engines. An eventful 25 minutes. After lunch we were transferred to another aircraft and Ron was allowed to go solo with the crew for 2 hours of circuits and bumps.
Involved in a Diversionary Flight at Time of Normandy Landing
Over the next 18 days and nights we did a number of special cross country navigation and bombing exercises and then flew what was an ‘Op’, but it was not credited as such. It was on the night of 5/6th June 1944, the eve of “D.Day”. We took off at 2310 Hrs on a special exercise flying at 12000 feet which took us out over the North Sea, approaching the Belgian coast near Ostend and at about 20 miles from the coast altered course to roughly Nor-East for 15 mins, before turning to port and then heading back to base crossing the English Coast near Orfordness. We had been on a diversion raid to draw attention away from the landings on the Normanby Coast of France. When we got back over Suffolk we were given a triangular course to fly, still at 12,000 feet, until it was all clear for us to descend and land. Below was an extensive procession of aircraft heading towards France, so we soon realised that the invasion of German occupied Europe was under way. We landed about 0130 Hrs on 6th June, “D.Day”, and were informed that General Dwight Eisenhower would be broadcasting a special announcement later in the morning.
A day or two later we were paraded and given the duty of scouting through a near-by ‘wood’, as there had been a report that a parachutist had been seen to jump out of a German aircraft that had flown over. About 30 to 40 airmen hiked through that wood and surrounding fields, but found nothing. Later in the afternoon two farmers walked up to the guards at the station’s main gate with a suspect in tow. One was carrying a hay fork in a menacing manner. They found him on the edge of the wood, probably waiting for night to fall before moving on. Never did hear what the sequel to that was.
On 12th June, in the afternoon, we were detailed to take an aircraft on a flight test. On arrival at the aircraft we were met by a senior officer who informed us that an important passenger was on board who we had to deliver to Tempsford, the base of No.161 Special Duty squadron, and to fly below 500 feet all the way there and back. So I had to prepare a quick flight plan to Tempsford. When we got on board we discovered that our passenger was a very attractive young French lady, probably in her early 20’s, who was to be parachuted out over France that night on a special mission. What a girl?
No. 1653 Chedburgh – Suffolk
F/E Sgt Ron Partridge Added to The Crew That Went to “Ops”
Smithy, Bobbie, Ron, Pheasant?,
Mac, Mike, Vic
Two days later we completed out training at Chedburgh with a high level bombing and fighter affiliation exercise which involved corkscrews for which the Stirling was not particularly suited, and neither was my stomach. I have to admit that I did suffer some air-sickness on such occasions. On 14th June we were advised of our positing to No. 3 Lancaster Finishing School at Feltwell in Norfolk and to attend to our clearances from Chedburgh.
Hours flown at No.1653 H.C.U.
- Daylight 27 Hrs 25 mins, Night 20 Hrs 25 mins
No. 3 L.F.S. (Lancaster Finishing School)
Feltwell, Norfolk
Still under our posting to No.31 Base, Stradishall we were attached to No.3 L.F.S from 18th June 1944 for a concentrated 10 day course of lectures and instructions and our introduction to the “Lancaster 1”. The squadrons of 3 Group were equipped with the Lancaster 1 and Lancaster 111. The course was mainly for the pilot. Instructors were pilots who had completed tours on the ‘Lanc’.
P.O. Treasure was assigned to our crew for 3 hours of dual and solo circuits and bumps in daylight on 23rd June and for the same at night the following day. The next day we were on our own for a test flying a triangle over Norfolk for over an hour and 2 days later flew a cross country navigation test of over 3 hours.
It was a great thrill to eventually get on to Lancasters. A vast improvement on the Wellington and Stirling and truly the most successful heavy bomber of WW11. It was a ‘plane that gave the crews a feeling of confidence. Its power and manoeuvrability and load carrying capacity exceeded all others at that time. As far as I was concerned I had reached my goal. After some operational experience, you wee convinced that every one who operated in the light and medium bombers in the early years of the war deserved a ‘gong’.
On 27th June 1944 we were advised that we were posted to No.XV/15 Squadron at Mildenhall, Suffolk, a permanent RAF Base and one of the jewels of Bomber Command.
Hours flown at No. 3 L.F.S.
- Daylight 4 Hrs 20 mins, Night 6 Hrs 20 mins
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
Bob Smith's Memoirs
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Bob Smith
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2003-03
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Turkey
Turkey--Gallipoli
Australia
Queensland--Brisbane
Queensland--Ipswich
Queensland--Maryborough
New South Wales--Cootamundra
New South Wales--Sydney
New South Wales--Wagga Wagga
New South Wales--Lindfield
New South Wales--Blue Mountains
New South Wales--Neutral Bay
American Samoa
American Samoa--Pago Pago
United States
Hawaii--Honolulu
California--San Francisco
California--Alcatraz Island
California--Oakland
Canada
British Columbia--Vancouver
Oregon
Washington (State)--Seattle
British Columbia--Vancouver
Alberta--Edmonton
Alberta--Jasper
Alberta--Fort Saskatchewan
Germany
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Alberta--Calgary
Germany--Cologne
Tasmania
Italy
Italy--Foggia
Great Britain
Scotland--Gourock
England--Brighton
Germany--Hamm (North Rhine-Westphalia)
France
France--Laon
Belgium
Belgium--Antwerp
Germany--Wesseling
France--Montdidier (Picardy)
Austria
Austria--Vienna
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Queensland--Cairns
Saskatchewan--Saskatoon
Manitoba--Winnipeg
Ontario--Toronto
North America--Niagara Falls
New York (State)--New York
Québec--Montréal
Nova Scotia--Halifax
Scotland--Greenock
Scotland--Aberdeen
England--Sidmouth
England--Salisbury
Scotland--Ailsa Craig
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Isle of Man
Scotland--Gatehouse of Fleet
England--Newcastle upon Tyne
Wales--Holyhead
Scotland--Paisley
France
France--Beauvoir-sur-Mer
Queensland--Bundaberg
Victoria--Melbourne
Ontario--Trenton
Ontario--London
Saskatchewan
Québec
Nova Scotia
Manitoba
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 Australian Air Force
Royal Canadian Air Force
Royal New Zealand Air Force
Description
An account of the resource
Bob's memoirs from his early training until he became operational.
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
107 printed sheets
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MSmithRW425992-230825-03 copy
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.
106 Squadron
115 Squadron
142 Squadron
15 Squadron
1653 HCU
166 Squadron
3 Group
4 Group
44 Squadron
467 Squadron
49 Squadron
5 Group
619 Squadron
622 Squadron
640 Squadron
76 Squadron
78 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
aerial photograph
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bale out
Beaufighter
bomb aimer
bombing
Boston
crash
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
entertainment
flight engineer
H2S
Halifax
Hampden
killed in action
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Master Bomber
mess
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Mosquito
navigator
Nissen hut
Oboe
observer
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Bishops Court
RAF Breighton
RAF Bridlington
RAF Cardington
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Cranwell
RAF Desborough
RAF Dunholme Lodge
RAF Feltwell
RAF Halfpenny Green
RAF Harrington
RAF Kirmington
RAF Leconfield
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Silloth
RAF Stradishall
RAF Tempsford
RAF Waddington
RAF West Freugh
RAF White Waltham
RAF Wigtown
RAF Witchford
Red Cross
sport
Stalag Luft 3
Stalag Luft 7
Stirling
training
V-1
Wellington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1359/45959/SSmithRW425992v10004-0002 copy.1.pdf
8c565c94f5bd602d984256cc89676d7a
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Smith, Bob
Robert Wylie Smith
R W Smith
Description
An account of the resource
125 items. An oral history interview with Bob Smith (b. 1924, 425992 Royal Australian Air Force) photographs, documents and navigation logs and charts. He flew operations as a navigator with 15 Squadron at RAF Mildenhall.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Bob Smith and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-03-25
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
Smith, RW
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Bob Smith's Memoirs Book 4
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Bob Smith
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Scotland--Aberdeen
Scotland--Paisley
England--London
England--Thetford
Norway
Norway--Oslo
Germany
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Switzerland
Germany--Stuttgart
England--Ely
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Chemnitz
England--Brighton
Netherlands
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Liverpool
Malta
Egypt
Egypt--Suez Canal
Western Australia--Fremantle
Victoria--Melbourne
New South Wales--Sydney
Queensland--Ipswich Region
Queensland--Maryborough
New South Wales--Cootamundra
Canada
Alberta--Edmonton
Nova Scotia--Halifax
England--Sidmouth
Nova Scotia
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 Australian Air Force
Royal New Zealand Air Force
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
United States Army Air Force
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Description
An account of the resource
Describes his service after completing his tour and the journey back to Australia.
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
40 printed sheets
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription
Pending review
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SSmithRW425992v10004-0002 copy
149 Squadron
15 Squadron
3 Group
617 Squadron
622 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
B-24
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
Cook’s tour
crash
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Service Order
Gee
George VI, King of Great Britain (1895-1952)
ground personnel
H2S
Lancaster
love and romance
mess
mine laying
navigator
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
radar
RAF Desborough
RAF Honington
RAF Husbands Bosworth
RAF Lossiemouth
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Stradishall
RAF Tempsford
RAF West Freugh
Special Operations Executive
sport
V-2
V-weapon
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1359/45951/SSmithRW425992v10002-0002 copy.1.pdf
12af6b6dff947f6f4e21b0dbbb02f12a
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Smith, Bob
Robert Wylie Smith
R W Smith
Description
An account of the resource
125 items. An oral history interview with Bob Smith (b. 1924, 425992 Royal Australian Air Force) photographs, documents and navigation logs and charts. He flew operations as a navigator with 15 Squadron at RAF Mildenhall.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Bob Smith and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-03-25
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
Smith, RW
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Bob Smith's Memoirs Book 2
Description
An account of the resource
23 pages of Bob's memoirs.
Covers his training.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Bob Smith
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Brighton
England--Sidmouth
Scotland--Aberdeen
England--Salisbury
Scotland--Stranraer
Scotland--Ailsa Craig
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Isle of Man
Scotland--Paisley
Scotland--Glasgow
France
France--Beauvoir-sur-Mer
Australia
New South Wales--Sydney
Queensland--Bundaberg
Queensland--Brisbane
New South Wales--Cootamundra
United States
California--San Francisco
Canada
Alberta--Edmonton
Nova Scotia--Halifax
Scotland--Gourock
Victoria--Melbourne
Manitoba--Winnipeg
Ontario--Trenton
Ontario--London
France--Châlons-sur-Marne (Arrondissement)
France--Caen
Germany
Germany--Kiel
France--Gironde Estuary
Poland--Szczecin
Netherlands
Netherlands--Eindhoven
France--Le Havre
Germany--Neuss
France--Calais
France--Pas-de-Calais
Atlantic Ocean--Kattegat (Baltic Sea)
Germany--Kleve (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Essen
Germany--Leverkusen
Netherlands--Vlissingen
Netherlands--Veere
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Homberg (Kassel)
Germany--Castrop-Rauxel
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Fulda
Germany--Bottrop
Germany--Heinsberg (Heinsberg)
Nova Scotia
Manitoba
Poland
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 New Zealand Air Force
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
23 printed pages
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription
Pending review
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SSmithRW425992v10002-0002
1653 HCU
3 Group
467 Squadron
5 Group
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bomb aimer
crash
crewing up
flight engineer
Gee
Hampden
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 3
mess
mine laying
navigator
Nissen hut
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Normandy deception operations (5/6 June 1944)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Andover
RAF Bishops Court
RAF Bridlington
RAF Cardington
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Cranwell
RAF Desborough
RAF Feltwell
RAF Halfpenny Green
RAF Harrington
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Silloth
RAF Stradishall
RAF Tempsford
RAF Waddington
RAF West Freugh
RAF White Waltham
RAF Wigtown
Stirling
tactical support for Normandy troops
training
V-1
V-weapon
Wellington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1359/45950/SSmithRW425992v10002-0001 copy.1.pdf
74eced5094f4453fae9af70a62c5299a
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Smith, Bob
Robert Wylie Smith
R W Smith
Description
An account of the resource
125 items. An oral history interview with Bob Smith (b. 1924, 425992 Royal Australian Air Force) photographs, documents and navigation logs and charts. He flew operations as a navigator with 15 Squadron at RAF Mildenhall.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Bob Smith and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-03-25
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
Smith, RW
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
WW2 Service in the RAAF Robert Wylie Smith
Description
An account of the resource
Book No 2 Contents
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Bob Smith
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Brighton
England--Sidmouth
England--Desborough
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One printed sheet
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SSmithRW425992v10002-0001 copy
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.
15 Squadron
1653 HCU
3 Group
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster Finishing School
navigator
Operational Training Unit
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Feltwell
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Stradishall
RAF West Freugh
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2324/45256/LBanksJF1578295v1.2.pdf
8a9519e5298c51d95489441454014056
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
Camlin, Alan Edwin
Description
An account of the resource
7 items. The collection concerns Alan Edwin Camlin DFM (196717 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, correspondence, documents, and objects. He flew operations as an air gunner with 7 Squadron.
The collection also contains John Francis Bank's log book and other papers. He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 192 Squadron.
The collection was donated to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Janet Camlin and catalogued by Lynn Corrigan.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-09-20
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Camlin, AE
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
John Francis Bank's observer's and air gunner's flying log book
Description
An account of the resource
The observer's and air gunner's flying log book for Flight Lieutenant John Francis Banks, born I July 1922, (1578295 Royal Air Force) from 28 March 1943 to 9 April 1946. Detailing his training and operations flown. Served at 41 Air School South Africa, Advanced Flying Unit RAF Wigtown, 84 Operational Training Unit RAF Desborough, 192 Squadron RAF Foulsham, 221 Group and 47 Squadron South East Asia Air Force. Aircraft flown were Oxford, Anson, Wellington, Tiger Moth, Dakota, Expeditor and Mosquito. He carried out 40 operations, 32 night time and 8 day time as bomb aimer. All operations were flown in Wellington aircraft with Flying Officer Clarkson as pilot. The operations were to the coasts of Belgium, Denmark, France Germany and Netherlands, the Bay of Biscay and Western Approaches, Channel Islands, Brest, Calais, Cherbourg and the Frisian Islands.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-04-21
1944-03-22
1944-04-27
1944-04-28
1944-04-29
1944-04-30
1944-05-10
1944-05-11
1944-05-27
1944-05-28
1944-05-31
1944-06-01
1944-06-02
1944-06-02
1944-06-03
1944-06-04
1944-06-05
1944-06-09
1944-06-10
1944-06-11
1944-06-12
1944-06-13
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
1944-06-16
1944-06-17
1944-06-18
1944-06-19
1944-06-23
1944-06-24
1944-07-07
1944-07-08
1944-07-10
1944-07-11
1944-07-14
1944-07-15
1944-07-16
1944-07-17
1944-07-18
1944-07-19
1944-07-20
1944-07-21
1944-07-23
1944-07-24
1944-07-26
1944-07-27
1944-07-28
1944-07-29
1944-08-06
1944-08-08
1944-08-10
1944-08-12
1944-08-13
1944-08-25
1944-08-26
1944-08-27
1944-08-29
1944-08-30
1944-09-01
1944-09-05
1944-09-06
1944-09-09
1944-09-11
1944-09-13
1944-09-14
1944-09-15
1944-09-16
1944-09-17
1944-09-21
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Bangladesh
Bangladesh--Comilla
Belgium
Burma
Burma--Moʻ pī
Burma--Magwe
Burma--Meiktila
Burma--Rangoon
Burma--Toungoo
Europe--Frisian Islands
France
France--Brest
France--Calais
France--Cherbourg
Germany
Germany--Helgoland
Great Britain
England--Leicestershire
England--Norfolk
England--Northamptonshire
Scotland--Dumfries and Galloway
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Channel Islands
Malaysia
Malaysia--Butterworth (Pulau Pinang)
Netherlands
Singapore
South Africa
South Africa--East London
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LBanksJF1578295v1
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Lynn Corrigan
192 Squadron
47 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
bomb aimer
C-47
Mosquito
navigator
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
RAF Desborough
RAF Foulsham
RAF Wigtown
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2160/41026/LSweeneyAE573980v1.2.pdf
ed313baa3dff5563a54732513ab64e74
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
Sweeney, Alfred Edward
Description
An account of the resource
One item.
The collection concerns Flying Officer Alfred Edward (Todd) Sweeney (Royal Air Force) and contains his log book. He flew a tour of operations as a pilot with 115 Squadron from RAF Witchford.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Malcolm Sweeney and catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-02-20
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Sweeney, AE
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
Alfred Sweeney’s RAF Pilot’s Flying Log Book
Description
An account of the resource
Alfred Sweeney’s RAF Pilot’s Flying Log Book from 17 May 1942 to 30 July 1962 detailing training, operations and post-war duties as a pilot and instructor, including VIP duties. (Several logbooks bound into one volume).
He was stationed at RAF Stoke Orchard (No. 10 Elementary Flying Training School), RCAF Station Neepawa (No. 35 Elementary Flying Training School), RCAF Station Carberry (No. 33 Service Flying Training School), RAF Carlisle (No. 15 Elementary Flying Training School), RAF Church Lawford (No. 18 (P) Advanced Flying Unit), RAF Desborough (No. 84 Operational Training Unit), RAF Wratting Common (No. 1651 Heavy Conversion Unit), RAF Feltwell (No. 3 Lancaster Finishing School), RAF Witchford (115 Squadron), RAF Langar (1669 HCU), RAF North Luffenham (1653 HCU), RAF Waterbeach (514 Squadron), RAF Syerston (1333 Transport Support Conversion Unit), RAF Almaza, RAF Aqir, RAF Kabrit (78 Squadron), RAF Palam (AHQ(I) Communications Squadron), RAF Fassburg, RAF Lubeck, RAF Bassingbourn and RAF Waterbeach (24(C) Squadron), RAF Marham (115 Squadron and Bomber Command Jet Conversion Flight), Bassingbourn (No. 231 OCU), RAF Boscombe Down (Handling Squadron), RAF Lyneham (216 Squadron) and RAF Watton (51 Squadron).
Aircraft in which flown: DH82C, Anson, DH82A, Oxford, Wellington X, Stirling I, Stirling III, Lancaster I, Lancaster II, Lancaster III, Dakota III, Horsa, Dakota IV, Halifax VII, York, Harvard, Lancastrian, Valetta, Washington, Meteor, Canberra, Varsity, Firefly, Pembroke, Valiant, Sea Venom, Vampire, Jet Provost, Sea Devon, Hunter, Pioneer, Whirlwind, Chipmunk, Comet, Beverley, Seamew, Venom, Javelin, Gannet, Swift, Vulcan, Hastings, Victor, Skeeter, Prentice, Auster, Devon, Heron, Bristol Freighter, Dragonfly, Shackleton, Viscount, Sea Prince, Sycamore, Sea Balliol, Lincoln, Sea Hawk.
Records 30 completed operations (22 night, 8 day) on the following targets in France and Germany: Amaye-Sur-Seulles, Beauvoir, Bec D’Ambes, Biennais, Bordeaux Bassens, Brunswick, Cap Gris Nez, Chambly, Cologne, Coulonvillers, Domleger, Dortmund, Dreux, Duisburg, Düsseldorf, Foret de Lucheux, L’Hey, Le Havre, Le Mans, Lens, Lisieux, Montdidier, Nantes, Ouistreham, Vaires (Paris), Valenciennes, Watten and Wissant.
Also includes photographs of various aircraft, various documents, technical notes, medal awards paperwork and VIP passenger lists (including Pandit Neru, Sir Claude Auchinleck).
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Air Force. Transport Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Leitch
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LSweeneyAE573980v1
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
Egypt
France
Germany
Great Britain
India
Israel
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Cumbria
England--Gloucestershire
England--Norfolk
England--Northamptonshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Rutland
England--Warwickshire
England--Wiltshire
Middle East--Palestine
France--Domléger-Longvillers
France--Beauvoir-sur-Mer
France--Bordeaux (Nouvelle-Aquitaine)
France--Calvados
France--Dreux
France--Gironde Estuary
France--Le Havre
France--Le Mans
France--Lens
France--Montdidier (Hauts-de-France)
France--Nantes
France--Normandy
France--Oise
France--Opale Coast
France--Pas-de-Calais
France--Somme
France--Vaires-sur-Marne
France--Valenciennes
France--Watten
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Manitoba--Carberry
Manitoba--Neepawa
France--Coulonvillers
France--Cap Gris Nez
Egypt--Kibrit
North Africa
France--Ouistreham
Manitoba
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944-04-20
1944-04-21
1944-04-22
1944-04-23
1944-05-01
1944-05-02
1944-05-07
1944-05-08
1944-05-09
1944-05-10
1944-05-19
1944-05-20
1944-05-21
1944-05-22
1944-05-23
1944-06-02
1944-06-03
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
1944-06-07
1944-06-10
1944-06-11
1944-06-12
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
1944-06-16
1944-06-17
1944-06-18
1944-06-21
1944-06-23
1944-06-24
1944-06-27
1944-06-28
1944-07-02
1944-07-05
1944-07-06
1944-07-07
1944-07-08
1944-07-12
1944-07-30
1944-08-01
1944-08-04
1944-08-05
1944-08-08
1944-08-09
1944-08-11
1944-08-12
1944-08-13
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
115 Squadron
1651 HCU
1653 HCU
1669 HCU
216 Squadron
51 Squadron
514 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
B-29
bombing
bombing of the Le Havre E-boat pens (14/15 June 1944)
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
C-47
Cook’s tour
Flying Training School
Halifax
Halifax Mk 7
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Horsa
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 2
Lancaster Mk 3
Lancastrian
Lincoln
Meteor
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
pilot
RAF Aqir
RAF Bassingbourn
RAF Boscombe Down
RAF Carlisle
RAF Church Lawford
RAF Desborough
RAF Feltwell
RAF Langar
RAF Lyneham
RAF Marham
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Syerston
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Watton
RAF Witchford
RAF Wratting Common
Shackleton
Stirling
tactical support for Normandy troops
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1353/38126/MRobertsK430224-150527-010001.1.jpg
96c0e9d126ab2bfde0cc5fd93045ae8c
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1353/38126/MRobertsK430224-150527-010002.1.jpg
a2085bf678cbb7ca2aa86714cc500944
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1353/38126/MRobertsK430224-150527-010003.1.jpg
51fc1ae627a35d8729d18dc3f06eb57d
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
Roberts, Kevin
Roberts, K J
Roberts, Kevin Jack
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. The collection concerns Kevin Jack Roberts (430224 Royal Australian Air Force) and contains his log book, personal recollections and a photograph.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by H Morris 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
2015-05-24
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Roberts, KJ
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Surprising Details of a Few Years of World War 2 1939-1945
Description
An account of the resource
A memoir written by a Royal Australian Air Force wireless operator. Firstly he describes major events in the war but he continues with his own experience training in Canada then commencing further training in the UK. Only three pages are present.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Kevin Roberts
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Australia
France--Dunkerque
Russia (Federation)--Stalingradskai︠a︡ oblastʹ
Canada
Great Britain
England--Brighton
Wales--Llandwrog
England--Filey
France
England--Lancashire
England--Sussex
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Three printed sheets
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MRobertsK430224-150527-010001, MRobertsK430224-150527-010002, MRobertsK430224-150527-010003
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription. Allocated
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.
218 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bombing
Chamberlain, Neville (1869-1940)
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
crash
crewing up
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hitler, Adolf (1889-1945)
Lancaster
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Shepherds Grove
Stalin, Joseph (1878-1953)
Stirling
training
Wellington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1389/35980/LBarberT1047323v2.2.pdf
45149aecb9614bc718c3adfbc7621fe3
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
Connock, Mike
Michael Connock
M Connock
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
2015-02-24
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Connock, M
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items. The collection concerns (Royal Air Force) and contains people who served with 50 and 61 Squadrons at RAF Skellingthorpe.
They include:
W Dixon
GR Williamson
BV Robinson
GA Walker
L Barber
HJ Whitwell
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Mike Connock and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
T Barber’s Royal Canadian Air Force Flying Log Book. Two
Description
An account of the resource
T. Barber’s Royal Canadian Air Force Flying Log Book for Aircrew other than Pilot from 27th June 1943 to 6th May 1945 detailing his training, operations and instructional duties as an Air Bomber. He was stationed at RCAF Station Paulson (No. 7 Bombing and Gunnery School), RCAF Station Portage la Prairie (No.7 Air Observer School), RAF Penrhos (No. 9 (Observers) Advanced Flying Unit, RAF North Luffenham (29 OTU), RAF Winthorpe (1661 HCU), RAF Syerston (No. 5 Lancaster Finishing School), RAF Skellingthorpe (50 Squadron) and RAF Desborough (84 OTU). Aircraft in which flown: Anson I, Anson IV, Bolingbroke, Wellington III, Stirling and Lancaster. He flew a total of 35 operations (8 day, 27 night). Targets in Belgium, Czech Republic, France, Germany, Norway and Poland were: Bergen, Bohlen, Boulogne, Bremen, Bremerhaven, Brüx, Dortmund, Dortmund-Emms canal, Dresden, Düren, Düsseldorf, Essen, Flushing, Gdynia, Giessen, Harburg, Heilbronn, Homberg, Houffalize, Kaiserslautern, Karlsruhe, Mittelland-Emms canal, Munich, Münster, Pölitz, Rheydt, Rositz, Sassnitz, Siegen, Urft dam and Weser-Emms canal. His pilot on operations was Flying Officer Firmin.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944
1945
1944-09-17
1944-09-18
1944-09-19
1944-09-20
1944-09-23
1944-09-24
1944-09-26
1944-09-27
1944-09-28
1944-10-06
1944-10-07
1944-10-23
1944-10-28
1944-10-29
1944-11-01
1944-11-02
1944-11-03
1944-11-04
1944-11-05
1944-11-06
1944-11-07
1944-11-11
1944-11-12
1944-11-21
1944-11-22
1944-12-04
1944-12-05
1944-12-06
1944-12-07
1944-12-08
1944-12-09
1944-12-27
1944-12-30
1944-12-31
1945-01-01
1945-01-02
1945-01-16
1945-01-17
1945-02-01
1945-02-02
1945-02-03
1945-02-08
1945-02-09
1945-02-13
1945-02-14
1945-02-15
1945-02-19
1945-02-20
1945-03-05
1945-03-06
1945-03-07
1945-03-11
1945-03-12
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Belgium
Canada
Czech Republic
France
Germany
Great Britain
Norway
Poland
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
England--Lincolnshire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Rutland
Belgium--Houffalize
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
Germany--Altenburg (Landkreis)
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Bremerhaven
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Düren (Cologne)
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Essen
Germany--Euskirchen (Kreis)
Germany--Giessen (Hesse)
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Heilbronn
Germany--Homberg (Kassel)
Germany--Kaiserslautern
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Mittelland Canal
Germany--Munich
Germany--Münster in Westfalen
Germany--Rheydt
Germany--Sassnitz
Germany--Siegen
Germany--Weser-Ems Region
Manitoba--Dauphin Area
Manitoba--Portage la Prairie
Netherlands--Vlissingen
Norway--Bergen
Poland--Gdynia
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Wales--Gwynedd
Netherlands
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Manitoba
Czech Republic--Most
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Leitch
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LBarberT1047323v2
1661 HCU
29 OTU
50 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
Bolingbroke
bomb aimer
bombing
Bombing and Gunnery School
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 1
Operational Training Unit
RAF Desborough
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Penrhos
RAF Skellingthorpe
RAF Syerston
RAF Winthorpe
Stirling
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2113/35324/MDaymanC1818522-210821-02.2.pdf
8c608be02c95f7451ad4056df2b19520
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
Dayman, Clifford
C Dayman
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. The collection concerns Warrant Officer Clifford Dayman (1818522, Royal Air Force). He started aircrew training as a wireless operator in early 1944 and was converting to Lancaster as the war ended. Collection contains his log book and documents.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Colin Dayman and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2021-08-21
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
Dayman, C
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
Aircrew categorisation card - wireless operator (air)
Description
An account of the resource
Made out for Clifford Dayman and contains record of qualification and courses. Includes b/w photograph head and shoulders portrait.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1946-02-05
1946-05-07
1946-09-15
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Northamptonshire
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Service material
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Printed booklet with handwritten entries
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MDaymanC1818522-210821-02
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
aircrew
C-47
RAF Desborough
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2113/35320/LDaymanC1818522v1.2.pdf
4c5035bd30bcdf1d4b613cfffd43a08a
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
Dayman, Clifford
C Dayman
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. The collection concerns Warrant Officer Clifford Dayman (1818522, Royal Air Force). He started aircrew training as a wireless operator in early 1944 and was converting to Lancaster as the war ended. Collection contains his log book and documents.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Colin Dayman and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2021-08-21
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
Dayman, C
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
Clifford Dayman flying log book for navigators, air bombers, air gunners and flight engineers
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LDaymanC1818522v1
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Description
An account of the resource
Flying log book for navigator’s, air bomber’s, air gunners, flight engineers for C Dayman, wireless operator, covering the period from 11 February 1944 to 16 May 1947. Detailing his flying training, post war flying with 216 Squadron and Aden communications flight. He was stationed at RAF Yatesbury, RAF Millom, RAF Market Harborough, RAF Westcott, RAF Swinderby, RAF Snaith, RAF Desborough, RAF Syerston, RAF Almaza and RAF Khormaksar. Aircraft flown in were Dominie, Proctor, Anson, Oxford, Wellington, Lancaster, Dakota, York, Albacore and Lodestar.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
1945
1946
1947
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Egypt
Great Britain
Yemen (Republic)
North Africa
Egypt--Cairo
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Cumbria
England--Leicestershire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Wiltshire
England--Yorkshire
Yemen (Republic)--Aden
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
14 OTU
1660 HCU
216 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
C-47
Dominie
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Proctor
RAF Bridlington
RAF Desborough
RAF Market Harborough
RAF Millom
RAF Snaith
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
RAF Westcott
RAF Yatesbury
training
Wellington
wireless operator
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1827/33544/LWeedenRC153661v1.1.pdf
dccbd59a846b5d5498f26def9fafb147
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
Weeden, Reginald Charles
R C Weeden
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-04-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Weeden, RC
Description
An account of the resource
89 items. The collection concerns Reginald Charles Weeden (b. 1922, 1602823, 153661 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, letters, documents, badges, medal ribbons and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 75 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Scott Weeden and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Reginald Weeden's Royal Canadian Air Force flying log book for aircrew other than pilot
Format
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One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LWeedenRC153661v1
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
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Description
An account of the resource
Flying log book for aircrew other than pilot for R C Weeden, navigator, covering the period from 27 May 1943 to 31 January 1948. Detailing his flying training, operations flown and post war flying with 35 squadron. He was stationed at RCAF Malton, RCAF Port Albert, RAF Llandwrog, RAF Desborough, RAF Chedburgh, RAF Feltwell, RAF Mepal, RAF Graveley and RAF Stradishall. Aircraft flown in were Anson, Wellington, Stirling, Lancaster, Lincoln, Dakota, York and Proctor. He flew a total of 34 operations with 75 Squadron, 24 daylight and 10 night. He also flew Operation Goodwill to the United States with 35 Squadron. Targets were Pont Remy, Eindhoven, Le Havre, Stettin, Frankfurt, Calais, Kattegat, Walcheren, Saarbrucken, Dortmund, Emmerich, Duisburg, Bonn, Stuttgart, Flushing, Essen, Solingen, Koblenz, Homberg, Gelsenkirchen, Cologne, Osterfeld, Oberhausen, Hamm and Merseburg. His pilot on operations was Flying Officer Ford.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944-08-31
1944-09-03
1944-09-05
1944-09-06
1944-09-08
1944-09-10
1944-09-11
1944-09-12
1944-09-13
1944-09-25
1944-09-27
1944-09-28
1944-09-29
1944-09-30
1944-10-03
1944-10-05
1944-10-06
1944-10-07
1944-10-14
1944-10-15
1944-10-19
1944-10-20
1944-10-21
1944-10-23
1944-10-24
1944-10-25
1944-11-05
1944-11-06
1944-11-07
1944-11-14
1944-11-20
1944-11-21
1944-11-23
1944-11-27
1944-11-30
1944-12-04
1944-15-05
1944-12-06
1944-12-07
1945
1946
1947
1948
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
France
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Poland
United States
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Atlantic Ocean--Kattegat (Baltic Sea)
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Norfolk
England--Northamptonshire
England--Suffolk
France--Abbeville Region
France--Calais
France--Le Havre
Germany--Bonn
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Emmerich
Germany--Essen
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Hamm (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Homberg (Kassel)
Germany--Koblenz
Germany--Merseburg
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Germany--Osterfeld
Germany--Saarbrücken
Germany--Solingen
Germany--Stuttgart
Netherlands--Eindhoven
Netherlands--Vlissingen
Netherlands--Walcheren
Ontario--Malton
Ontario--Toronto Region
Poland--Szczecin
Wales--Gwynedd
Ontario
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
Cara Walmsley
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
1653 HCU
35 Squadron
75 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
bombing
C-47
Cook’s tour
Goodwill tour of the United States (1946)
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lincoln
navigator
Operational Training Unit
Proctor
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Feltwell
RAF Graveley
RAF Llandwrog
RAF Mepal
RAF Stradishall
Stirling
training
Wellington
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1817/32365/BWittyARWittyARv1.2.pdf
a568d561e92d25b45be271b0cecccb86
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
Witty, A R
Witty, Ron
Witty, Ronald
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-03-23
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
Witty, AR
Description
An account of the resource
118 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Ronald Witty DFM (1520694 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, navigation charts and logs of all his operations, photographs and correspondence home from training in South Africa. He flew thirty operations as a navigator with 12 Squadron before going as an instructor on 1656 HCU and then 576 and 50 Squadrons after the war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by David Witty and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
TIME OUT FOR WAR
[black and white sketch of Avro Lancaster bomber]
A factual account of war-time experiences
By Flight Lieutenant Ronald Witty D.F.C., B.Sc., A.R.I.C.
[page break]
TIME OUT FOR WAR
A factual account of war-time experiences
By Flight Lieutenant Ronald Witty D.F.C., B.Sc., A.R.I.C.
[page break]
[underlined]Author’s Foreword[/underlined]
At the insistence of my family, who are somewhat in the dark as regards what I got up to during World War Two, I have compiled the following account.
My memory of the wartime years still remains very clear, helped by some brief notes in diaries, my log book, some letters and, importantly, the navigational logs and charts of all thirty bombing operations in which I took part in 1944. Using them I could still tell you where our Lancaster crew was, within two or three miles, at anytime during those operations of more than fifty years ago.
[underlined]Acknowledgements[/underlined]
Many thanks to my wife Yvonne and my family for their various contributions in getting the raw material organised, and to Mike Fong for his help with the photographs.
[page break]
[underlined] CONTENTS [/underlined]
[underlined] Chapter. [/underlined] [underlined] Page No. [/underlined]
1. Decisions 5
2. The Stirling Castle 15
3. South Africa 21
4. Back to England 33
5. Operations 1 - 20 43
6. Operations 21 - 30 55
7. Instructing “ferry trips” & crewing up for second tour. 69
8. Lancaster ME 758 PH-N “Nan” 81
9. GEE, A.P.I. and H2S 85
10. The German Defences 87
11. Reflections on Survival 89
12. Postscript 93
Bibliography 97
Glossary of Terms 99
1
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[underlined] PHOTOGRAPHS [/underlined]
Following [underlined] Page No. [/underlined]
[underlined] East London, 1943 [/underlined] 32
Left to Right - Fred Rolph, Author, Dorita, ? Parker (uncertain)
[underlined] ‘B’ Flight, Air Navigation Course No. 12 at 41 Air School, Collondale, East London [/underlined] 32
Left to Right - Bond, Chippendale, Cox, Osborne, Jones, Sadler, Author, Hill, Woodland, Wilson, Marshall, Albans
[underlined] Ops Crew, 1944 [/underlined] 54
[italics] Mid Upper [/italics] - Stan Swain, [italics] Bomb Aimer [/italics] - Tom Crook, [italics] Navigator [/italics - Author, [italics] Pilot [/italics] - Fred Holbrook, [/italics] Rear Gunner [/italics] - Tom Tibb, [italics] Flight Engineer [/italics] - John Squires, [italics] Wireless Operator [/italics] - Jock Poyner
[underlined] Ops Crew and PH-N (‘Nan’) [/underlined] 54
Poyner, Tibb, Author, Swain, Crook, Holbrook, Squires
[underlined] The Author and PH-N [/underlined] 54
[underlined] Second Tour Crew, May 1945 [/underlined] 80
Two Gunners, [italics] Wireless Operator [/italics] - ‘Artie Shaw’, [italics] Pilot [/italics] - Bill Addison, [italics] Bomb Aimer [/italics] - Jack, [italics] Navigator [/italics] - Author, [italics] Flight Engineer. [/italics]
3
[page break]
[underlined] The author en-route to Wickenby, June 1945 [/underlined] 84
[underlined] PH-N, June 1945, with the author and member of the old ground crew [/underlined] 84
4
[page break]
[underlined] Chapter 1 : Decisions [/underlined]
Hull Grammar School - an old established seat of learning, with many famous pupils. I was proud of the old school and here I took the School Certificate Examination in June 1937. I passed in eight subjects with a Distinction in Chemistry. A selected group took Additional Maths, taught by the Headmaster, F. Mayor. This introduced me to differential calculus at the age of fourteen. I spent two terms in the Lower Sixth Science pending my sixteenth birthday, in March 1938. Although Maths was my favourite subject, it was more practical at that time to use the Chemistry. In those days, there were fewer universities and unless ones parents were very wealthy, one left school at sixteen.
I started work in the laboratories at British Oil & Cake Mills, H.O.M.Co, Stoneferry, Hull, within easy cycling distance from home. They were part of the Unilever Group, and were a very good firm, with sports and social facilities. I had little spare time for these as I immediately enrolled at the Hull Municipal Technical College, beginning in September 1938. I found that my School Certificate qualification gave me exemption only from the Northern Universities Matriculation and not from the London University Matriculation. This meant that I couldn’t enter for the External London B.Sc. in Chemistry. The difference between the Northern Matric. and the London Matric. was that English Literature was a compulsory subject for the latter. This seemed irrelevant in the context of a Chemistry Degree. However, I entered for the A.I.C. (Associate of the Institute of Chemistry). The A.I.C. and B.Sc. people took the same classes, but instead of taking the Inter-B.Sc. examination, after two years of Evening Classes one was given slips of paper certifying that one was up to Inter B.Sc. standard in Maths.
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[NOTE: PAGES 8 AND 9 MISSING]
and Physics. (These I duly obtained in May 1940.)
Meanwhile, I was fully aware of what was brewing up in Europe with Hitler and his gang making monkeys of the old-school politicians. The ruthless annexation of Austria, followed by that of Czechoslovakia, despite the pathetic delaying tactics of Britain and France, in addition to Hitler’s bellicose threats, made it very evident to me that war was becoming almost inevitable. The facts and figures produced by Winston Churchill underlined the growing military potential of the German forces. The weak capitulation of the British and French diplomats on the matter of the Sudetenland confirmed my belief that it was only a matter of time.
I was heartened when at last Britain and France gave their support to Poland, and actually felt relief when, after the German attack on Poland on September 1st 1939, they honoured their obligations and declared war on Germany. I realised fully how terrible a step it was, but there was no reasonable alternative. Sooner or later we had to face reality.
It was still very eerie when the first air-raid warning sounded on Sunday, September 3rd. 1939.
I carried on with my evening classes (three evenings a week), cycling to and from the Technical College throughout the black-out and occasional air-raid alarms. In fact, I didn’t miss a single class up to the time I went into the R.A.F. in April 1942.
I seem to remember that it was during the very first session of evening classes that I first met Walter Suddaby, who lived in North Hull. He was a quietly-spoken pleasant lad and we had similar ideas of humour and became friends for the duration
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of our time at the Tech. Of course, having full-time day jobs plus three nights a week at the Tech. and other evenings writing up notes and studying at home, we didn’t get together outside the course.
When the war started I was just coming up to seventeen and a half and “Sudd” was about the same age, maybe a month or two older. We followed the events of the war, wondering how it was going to affect us, but with no clear idea what we were about to do in the future.
War came to Hull spasmodically but with increasing intensity as the years passed. The German Luftwaffe found the city an easy option. Placed on a distinctive bend of a wide river estuary, it wasn’t too difficult to spot even at night, when most of their attacks were made. Also it wasn’t a great distance for them to travel, reducing navigational problems on the way. There were many air-raid warnings when inland targets were being sought and the “All-clear” didn’t sound until the last of the enemy aircraft cleared the coast on their way home. Hull often received an extra “bonus” if the Germans couldn’t find their original target.
As the war progressed the age of conscription for service in the armed forces was reduced to nineteen years but there was provision for students who were within two years of the final exams. to obtain deferment until after those exams. I remember quite clearly discussing the situation with “Sudd” and another Tech. student as we stood with our ‘cycles in the middle of the town. We agreed that we wouldn’t apply for deferment because “our qualifications wouldn’t amount to much if Hitler won the war”. “Sudd” and I would volunteer for the R.A.F. and the other lad (I can’t remember his name now) preferred the Fleet
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would be affected by the transition from my mundane earthly existence into the realms of flight. I had at the back of my mind some disturbing recollections of not being too comfortable on fairground rides, so I was just a little apprehensive. On this account I asked my mother not to tell people that I was going as aircrew, so if things didn’t turn out too well I wouldn’t be a public disgrace.
At Lord’s the centre of the famous stretch of turf was cordoned off but the perimeter offices had been converted into depots dispensing all the items of kit we were likely to require plus the inevitable kit-bag. Here we had our introduction to authority in the shape of sergeants and corporals, who shepherded us around the establishment until eventually we were marched off to our billets. My lot were in a converted block of flats in Viceroy Court, St. John’s Wood, which had been re-equipped with service beds and lockers.
It was all very strange, finding oneself amongst a crowd of strangers from various walks of life. The only thing we definitely had in common was that we were “all in the same boat”. We had so many adjustments to make from our previous individual routines that we more readily accepted our imposed companions and most of their idiosyncrasies. The main exceptions as far as I was concerned were smoking and crude language. I had earlier decided that smoking was bad for the health and ruled that out. After hearing some of my new associates, apparently unable to complete sentences without including at least one “f” word, I concluded that the repeated insertion made both the speech and the user appear idiotic and resolved never to stoop to it. I never did.
Various N.C.O.s, mainly corporals, undertook to instil
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some military discipline on our “shower” and in a few weeks we were marching around in shiny boots and brand new uniforms with shiny buttons and getting regular hair-cuts so we didn’t get picked out during inspections.
Although I was in London there was no scope entertainment-wise. Pay for an A.C.2 was 2s. 6d. a day. I was making a voluntary allotment home of 1s 0d. a day, so when pay day came after two weeks I had to quote my last three numbers, 694, step forward, salute and receive the princely sum of £1. I think I managed to get to a Lyon’s cafe once or twice whilst in London. Most of the “entertainment” consisted of walking around some of London’s famous streets.
We all looked forward to getting to an I.T.W. (Initial Training Wing) and acquiring some more useful instruction than the rudiments of drill. Unfortunately, by the time my posting to No. 5 I.T.W. at Torquay came through I had a problem. Due probably to being a little run down towards the end of the evening class session in Hull, combined with swinging arms up to shoulder-level during our marching exercises I developed an abscess under one arm. If I reported sick I would miss my posting and would be stuck in London for another three weeks, so I kept quiet and only mentioned the matter when I got to Torquay on 9.5.42. I was immediately hospitalised with a temperature of 104 degrees F. and operated on the next day.
“Home” in Torquay was the Toorak Hotel, appropriately modified with service beds and lockers. We commenced a range of studies including navigation, meteorology, signals, armament, aircraft recognition, hygiene and anti-gas. We continued with drill and physical training in addition to the regular exercise we
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got marching along the hilly streets in Torquay. The thing that regularly bothered me, being only five feet six and a half, was the constant effort to keep pace with the taller people at the head of the column, generally six-footers. I seemed to be airborne most of the time! We had as our N.C.O. Sergeant Ditchburn, who was the Tottenham Hotspurs goalkeeper. We found him to be quite a reasonable type and certainly preferable to a pre-war regular. He was firm but genial and had a good sense of humour.
As we progressed with our I.T.W. course we were rewarded by promotion to L.A.C. (leading aircraftman) which involved wearing a propeller badge on the sleeve. This embellishment in addition to the white flash worn in the forage cap gave us quite a smart appearance. Pay shot up to 5s. 6d. a day! Much of the time that summer in Torquay we didn’t wear our tunics – it was too warm, particularly when being marched around at 140 paces to the minute. I must admit that marching like that with arms swinging to shoulder height did look impressive and when it was N.A.A.F.I. or W.V.S. break time there was no problem achieving 140 despite the hilly streets, particularly when “racing” other squads.
I can remember learning Morse and using the buzzer and the Aldis lamp, also learning to rectify faults in the Browning 303 machine gun. Two other events associated with those days spring to mind. On one occasion we were all on the beach when we got our first sight of the enemy. A couple of Messerschmitt 109s came swooping in at low level to attack the shipping in the harbour. They also opened up with machine gun and cannon fire at random. We lay flat on the beach and had a very good view of the crosses on their wings. Fortunately we had no casualties.
The other memorable event was a dramatic introduction
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to dinghy drill. An inflated aircraft dinghy floating in the harbour at Torquay was the objective of our escapes from a mock ditching. In turn and singly we had to don a sodden uniform and a Mae West and jump into the harbour and make our way to the dinghy. This was reasonably straightforward for swimmers, but as a complete non-swimmer it certainly presented me with a problem.
For a start the water was about 14 feet below the harbour wall so there was no easy option. It was a case of jumping into the unknown or not showing up very well in front of everyone – so I jumped.
It seemed a long time before I surfaced and then managed rather laboriously to dog-paddle to the dinghy. I realised that it would not have been a realistic exercise in, say, the North Sea for real.
Time passed and we were kept well occupied with lectures, exams and drill (including rifle and continuity drill) and a memorable cross-country run of a mile or two which included ploughing through a duck-inhabited pond. We returned to the Toorak Hotel soaking wet, smelling horribly and legs stinging from nettle contact. On another occasion we were taken by a rather ancient local train and dropped off in small groups at stations along the line skirting Dartmoor and given the task of finding our various ways across country to a pub four or five miles away, somewhere in the middle of the moors. There we downed a pint or two of excellent cider. Fortunately we didn’t have to walk back!
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[underlined] Chapter 2: The Stirling Castle [/underlined]
Eventually, I think it was about 15.10.42, we were posted to Blackpool after some embarkation leave. We were billeted in typical Blackpool boarding houses complete with landladies. Ours was “Holmleigh”, Crystal Road. When “Sudd.” got my letter with the Blackpool postmark he was surprised but rightly deduced that I was going abroad. He said he wouldn’t mind being in my place. He was completing a wireless course at Cranwell. He had at one time also been billeted in Blackpool and had enjoyed his accommodation. He wished me good luck and suggested that to be on the safe side I should send my future letters to his home address in 5th Avenue, North Hull.
I received his letter just before we were moved to Liverpool and transferred to the “Stirling Castle” one of the Union Castle Line’s fleet which had been converted for troop carrying. That was on 26.10.42. Our accommodation consisted of long narrow benches and tables for the day-time and hammocks for sleeping. I recall the awkward and maddening time getting even the blankets to stay in the hammock. At night we must have looked like a tin of sardines. Next day the ship moved out into the river and our time was spent “spud-carrying” (2 hours) and then “fatigues” such as cutting butter, etc. from 10 p.m. to 5 a.m. Talk about slave labour!
On the 28.10.42 the ship turned to face the river mouth and we had our first boat drill. At 1 p.m. the following day we sailed, leaving Liverpool and the Royal Liver Buildings, then passing the Isle of Man and Stranraer as we headed round Northern Ireland. We got used to the hammocks but there was a snag. They isolated us from the movement of the ship and the full extent of the sea movement was not apparent until we
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dismounted next morning and hit the heaving deck. By now of course, we were getting into the Atlantic. It was better, if somewhat chilly on deck. I was a little sick and didn’t bother about fish breakfast. The afternoon was pleasant and we were entertained watching Aldis signals from escorting warships and a sister ship, the “Athlone Castle”. There were six ships in our convoy.
On the third day our convoy had increased to seven ships with six escorts and we were moving more slowly. Depth charges were dropped during the afternoon. Two days later we were joined by a merchant cruiser but there were now only two destroyers or frigates in sight. The temperature was increasing as we headed in a generally southerly direction and we changed into tropical kit.
We wrote letters and listened to the B.B.C. when we could, and were pleased to have good news of the North African theatre. Pontoon was a popular pastime but we also spent some time swotting our I.T.W. notes. In between we watched flying fish and were fascinated by the phosphorescence of the water. One ship left the convoy, with a small gunboat as escort.
As the temperature rose and we estimated our position as approximately 28 degrees West we speculated about the possibility of visiting South America. Our thoughts were re-focused when a destroyer Aldis message mentioned U-boats. This was a particularly profitable time for the German submarines, as the Royal Navy had not had time to recover from a series of severe set-backs in ’41 and ’42 and had only the minimum capacity for escorting convoys. On the credit side, the German Enigma Code had been broken, (we, of course, knew nothing about that) and so it was possible using devious routes to
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avoid the U-boat packs.
On 10.11.42 we were reduced to two escort vessels. Next day, Armistice Day, I bought a poppy – amazing that someone had such foresight! We reckoned that we were now about 4 degrees S. and 28 degrees W. We were now joined by the cruiser H.M.S. London and were also rejoined by the merchant cruiser. On 12.11.42 we spotted a Catalina flying boat so we knew land wasn’t too far away and from then on we saw aircraft every few hours. It reminded one of the dove with the olive branch. On 14.11.42 we were told we would be in port tomorrow.
AT 0530 next morning I got my first glimpse through a porthole of a low-lying stretch of land on the starboard with an orange-coloured beach, backed by trees, palm and deciduous. We were in an inlet running roughly north-south. A Brazilian biplane (it looked like an Italian C.R. 42) flew past and I spotted a Grumman Goose (American amphibian) and a Catalina – at least the aircraft recognition was paying off! There was a small harbour vessel with white-dressed pilots and officials to see us in, together with what appeared to be a tug (the “Aquina”). We were surrounded by canoes and skiffs of all sizes, fitted with sliding seats and crewed by handsome Brazilian boys. There were sailing boats looking somewhat like Red Sea feluccas. We saw loads of bananas and pineapples passing by and liberty men going ashore in launches. We had arrived at Bahia.
In the evening it was impressive, after weeks at sea and years in blacked-out England, to see all the lights ashore and red flashing street signs, together with the green flashes of trams. The land rose steeply from the sea shore with buildings at the foot and the top with trees in between.
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About 5 p.m. the next day our ship took the place of the “Athlone Castle” at the quayside. We had a London fire-engine pumping fresh water aboard and a British-made crane (Bath) loading stores. Some of the firemen threw oranges and bananas up to us. The water replenishment seemed to go on for quite a bit of the next day.
Wednesday 18.11.42 was a red-letter day. We went ashore for a couple of hours. (We had the “honour” of being the first Allied troops to land in Brazil after their belated declaration of war on the Axis). We were marched through the colourful streets, being followed by children who were delighted to have coins thrown to them. We halted and dismissed for a few minutes in a local park where there was a monument to the foundation of the Brazilian Republic. Everyone was after drinks and fruit, a complication being the exchange rate. I had a shilling, 100 reis = 1/4d.; 1,000 reis = 1 milreis. We then formed up and marched back to the ship.
We left Bahia the following afternoon on the final long leg of our journey to South Africa. We were escorted, presumably as a precaution against loitering U-boats, by a Brazilian “Harvard” fitted with bombs. Our convoy now consisted of three transports, two smaller ships, a destroyer and an armed merchant cruiser. By the next day we were well away from Bahia with no sign of U-boats.
Our time was occupied by tests in navigation, signals etc. We played chess and pontoon, and wrote letters (“airgraphs”). We listened to Wing Commander Ritchie, D.F.C., the author of “Fighter Pilot”. We had boat drills at regular intervals. Then on 25.11.42 we changed back into “blues”, and were duly inspected, prior to our second pay parade aboard the “Stirling Castle”.
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We estimated our position as roughly 25 degrees South and 5 degrees West, i.e. about halfway from Bahia to South Africa. I have a note on 27.11.42 that I saw the doctor and an albatross! I’d been bothered by bronchial catarrh for about a fortnight, possibly due to the stuffy conditions below decks at night-time. I used to take a book to the stairwell and read to get myself good and sleepy before climbing into my hammock so that I had a chance to fall asleep without coughing and disturbing everyone around. I can still remember the label “Mist. Expect.” on the medicine bottle in the sick bay which I visited at regular intervals!
During the next few days we were joined by a merchant cruiser and then saw two Venturas over our convoy. We were obviously in another danger zone and portholes had to be closed during the day as well as at night.
On the afternoon of 30.11.42 we sighted Table Mountain and very soon afterwards the wreckage from a ship torpedoed early that morning. By 8 p.m. we reckoned we were well east of Table Mountain when paravanes were brought into use against the possibility of sea-mines in the seas around the Cape.
We continued out of sight of land until on 4.12.42 we arrived at Durban. Everyone crowded on deck as we edged slowly into harbour at the end of our 5 weeks voyage. We were told to look out for the “Lady in White”, who made it her business to greet all the visiting troops at the dockside. Suddenly, there she was in a long white dress and picture hat.
She began to sing to us, using a megaphone, in a song clear voice several heart-warming songs such as “Rule Britannia”
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and finally “We’ll Meet Again”. At the end of her mini-concert the troops responded with cheers and whistles and the ships’ sirens joined in.
By 6 p.m. we had disembarked in our khaki uniforms and were entrained, six to a compartment, on our way to 48 Air School, a joint R.A.F./S.A.A.F. base, near East London. The journey was fascinating – I suppose being back on land and away from the ship helped a lot. We were back in civilised surroundings, a comfortable train and enjoyable meals served without us having to move a muscle. The scenery was magnificent, rolling hills with rocky outcrops. We often caught sight of forward and rear section of our train as we negotiated the snaking track. The evenings were notable for the brilliant displays of fireflies.
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[underlined] Chapter 3: South Africa [/underlined]
We reached Woodbrook, just three miles outside East London, on 6.12.42 after our two-day rail journey and were pleased by the wooden huts provided for our accommodation. We had an excellent dinner, filled in various bits of paperwork and got the bus into East London for the evening. It really was another world, walking through well-lit streets past well-filled shops, rather like a throw-back to 1939.
We discovered that new courses began every three weeks so we had quite a bit of time on our hands. In the meantime, I reported sick and got further treatment for bronchial catarrh, but really it was just a matter of time and it wasn’t long before I was O.K. again.
It wasn’t long before we were acclimatised, conditions being just about ideal in East London, temperatures being generally about 10 degrees F. warmer than we were used to in England. The coastal situation had quite a modifying effect compared with more inland Air Schools. We had the occasional sharp storm with heavy rain, but generally in short spasms, not enough to inconvenience our exploration and enjoyment of our unexpected “holiday”. Car lifts were readily available to and from the town. The harbour was usually worth a visit – we encountered various nationalities including Dutch seamen from a submarine depot ship. The shops were all set out for Christmas – this seemed at odds with an evening temperature of 70 degrees F. at 19.45 hours. A favourite indulgence was fresh strawberries and ice-cream in a local restaurant. For our entertainment and refreshment there were several volunteer-run facilities including the U-NO-ME Club, Toc H, and S.A.W.A.S., rather like the W.V.S. at home, where you could sit around and chat or play
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games. I was quite keen on table-tennis and snooker which I generally played with my pal Fred Rolph (an ardent Brentford F.C. supporter). It was also quite pleasant on the beach, or attending the “Colosseum” cinema. I also caught up with my correspondence, sending airgraphs and receiving letters from my parents, dated October.
Christmas Day was spent in the camp with lunch served by officers and sergeants. We went short of nothing. There was turkey, pork, pudding, cake, fruit, sweets, nuts, ices, beer etc. In the afternoon we rested and we had little room for tea.
It seemed a life in limbo. There was a world war going on many miles away but we were temporarily detached from it and waiting to get on the conveyor belt.
We obviously had some of our time occupied with lectures, drill etc., but were impatient to get on with something more meaningful. We were intrigued by the political situation and the segregation of the white and black communities. The coloured people did the menial jobs and seemed to accept their lot with resignation. They were housed generally in single-room huts on the outskirts of the European city. Quite a few thousands of black South Africans were enlisted in the Army but they served only in menial ways. Strangely enough they seemed quite keen on Army life. One day when I was on police guard near the main gate I witnessed a squad of them being drilled by one of their own N.C.O.s in their free time on the road just outside the camp. They put quite a lot of effort into it and were trying hard to be smart. They didn’t have any firearms, of course, or we might have been anxious! By and large, the R.A.F. lads sympathised with their situation in their own country.
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On 7.1.43 there were rumours of our course starting on 25.1.43. We filled in the time attending lectures, carrying out various duties, marching etc., and going into town when we were free. About this time I bought myself an Omega watch (£5.10s.) and a Tissot watch for my brother. The Omega watch is worth mentioning as I relied on it exclusively during all my navigation (training and operational). I got them from a Swiss jeweller’s shop in East London in early January ’43. (I still have the Omega, though it was accidentally broken around 1970).
We played a lot of table-tennis and snooker and I wrote home and to Walter Suddaby, and my brother Norman who was also in the R.A.F. (training as a wireless operator). Keeping up with the washing was another regular activity. My wash-day was usually at the weekend and consisted simply of washing my clothes in the wash basin using a bar of “Sunlight” soap, rinsing thoroughly and then spreading them out on large rocks in the sun to dry. Trousers were creased by placing them carefully under the mattress.
Eventually, we started our course proper on Monday 25.1.43, with three periods of dead-reckoning (D.R.) navigation, one period on instruments, two periods on signal procedure and one practicing on the Morse buzzer. From this time on we were kept solidly at our studies for the next eight weeks, including examinations to keep us up to the mark.
It was during this time, however, that Fred Rolph and I were invited to visit the home of Dr. G.J.C. Smyth of 30 St. Georges Road, in East London. He and his family were most hospitable and regularly entertained us when we and two other R.A.F. lads had a few hours to spare at weekends.
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We spent a lot of time in the spacious garden playing tenni-quoits, which was most enjoyable and enabled us to “let off steam”. We maintained this contact until just before we left South Africa. We didn’t see a lot of the Doctor himself, as he was pretty busy, but Mrs. Smyth and the family looked after us very well.
For the flying stage of our training I was posted on 27.3.43 to No. 41 Air School at Collondale which, I was pleased to discover, was only about eight miles from East London, thus enabling me to continue having pleasant weekend breaks at the Smyth’s. Fred wasn’t quite so fortunate, in that he was posted to No. 47 Air School near Queenstown, approximately 100 miles inland, which made it more awkward for his journeys to the Smyth’s. Fortunately he could make it by rail.
After the minimum time to settle in and only three days into our studies our class of twentyfour trainee navigators, divided into “A” and “B” flights, came face to face with reality by way of the Avro Anson. This was a twin-engined monoplane with a great safety record. I can recall it was already practically obsolete from a military point of view, being far too slow and almost unarmed, but provided a good steady platform for training purposes.
Appropriately, my first flight ever in an aircraft was on April 1st. (This by strange coincidence happened also to be the 25th. anniversary of the foundation of the Royal Air Force in 1918). I was first navigator with another pupil as second navigator in Anson “V” (3153) piloted by 2nd. Lieutenant McIndoe of the S.A.A.F. The aim was to give us air experience and to try out our map-reading skills while navigating as best we could from Potsdam, (a nearby village) around a laid-down
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cross-country route of about 250 miles. As first navigator I sat at the plotting table carrying out the chart plot and maintaining the log of events. The second navigator armed with a topographical map (i.e. showing the main ground features on the route) tries to identify features passing below the aircraft which are shown on his map. When he gets a positive identification he notes the spot on the map, the precise time of this observation and passes both pieces of information to the first navigator, who then plots them, using the latitude and longitude on his chart. This flight became the first entry in my flying log-book.
On subsequent flights the two navigators took it in turns to be first and second navigator.
The earlier trips were inclined to be a bit rough and ready technique-wise, but as experience increased we became more confident in our judgement of when to give the pilot an alteration of course. In reality, we had many factors in our favour, navigating in South Africa. The weather was generally very good and so was the visibility. The ground features were easy to interpret, nowhere near as congested as we were to encounter later back in Britain. The aircraft was usually only a few thousand feet up and the pilots were quite familiar with the territory, so although they played the game one was aware that they wouldn’t let things get out of hand navigation-wise. If you spotted a railway track it was a big help because there weren’t many railway lines in the whole of the area. Sizeable towns were few and far between and so were much more readily identified.
At this stage we were already encountering the fundamental problem of air navigation – estimating and allowing for the effect of the wind, a continually varying factor. As anyone observing a light aircraft flying in a crosswind will know,
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the aircraft doesn’t travel in exactly the direction it is pointing. It drifts sideways to an extent depending on the wind-speed and direction, (wind velocity). If the aircraft is supposed to be travelling from point A to point B it is not sufficient to point the nose directly at point B unless the wind is from dead ahead or dead astern, a most unlikely occurrence. One has to apply a correction to the heading according to the wind velocity. Knowing the aircraft’s heading from the compass and its airspeed from the airspeed indicator the navigator can plot an “air position” according to the time elapsed on that course. If at that time he can identify the actual position of the aircraft relative to the ground by visual or other means and plot that “fix”, the line joining the “air position” with the “fix” shows both the wind direction and the effect of the wind over the time of the plot and hence the wind velocity. This velocity can then be used as the most up-to-date information for use in making any necessary alteration of course to allow for the wind effect.
We proceeded with ever more sophisticated exercises as the course progressed, flying mainly with South African but occasionally R.A.F. pilots and included photography, astro-navigation (night-flying), over sea exercises, formation flights, flame-float exercises (also involving night flying), and low-level map reading.
Meanwhile we were kept hard at it with our ground studies which involved D.R. (Dead Reckoning) theory, D.R. plotting, compasses meteorology, maps and charts, instruments, radio navigation, reconnaissance, photography, aircraft recognition, signals (both lamp and buzzer) and Astro-navigation.
With any subject involving calculations I found no real difficulty because I had always enjoyed Maths. Notwithstanding
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the confidence this gave me, I could not see much relevance between the training we were getting and the realities of operating at heights of 10,000 to 20,000 feet on dark nights with the ground practically invisible, under enemy fire. Astro-navigation seemed to be about the only independent means of navigation, but when one thought about what that entailed in practice it didn’t seem such a good idea. Inherently Astro-navigation did not appeal to me as sufficiently accurate. In order to get a fix one needed to take observations by sextant on three stars distributed at reasonable angles in the night sky through the perspex dome in the roof of the bomber aircraft, each observation taking a minimum of 2-3 minutes, not forgetting to note the time of the observation and having to calculate a position line from a book of tables and transfer it along the track on the chart. Then, if one was lucky, one had three lines which crossed producing a sizeable triangle, somewhere within which lay, hopefully, the position of the aircraft. The biggest criticism was the vulnerability of an aircraft flying straight and level at a steady airspeed for up to ten minutes over predicted anti-aircraft fire and being followed by night fighters with radar. At this stage I was puzzled how the job could be done and I just had to hope that all would be revealed in the fullness of time. Meanwhile, I was thankful not to have experienced any ill effects from my encounter with aviation and felt that I should be able to cope reasonably well in the future.
It must have seemed very tame for some of our South African pilots after coming from combat in North Africa to spend time “taxi-driving” we “sprog” navigators. We heard strange stories about some of their antics as they tried to relieve the boredom, but the Anson was a most tolerant aircraft and almost flew itself. In my log book I have the names Jooste, Nasmith, Efroiken, Van Rensburg, Moll, Mannheim, Van
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Heerden, Steyn and Duveen, along with R.A.F. pilots Cowan and Hill.
Suddenly, on 1.7.43 I, with four other members of pour course (No. 12) at 41 Air School was sent for interview by W/C Pettit and two Squadron Leaders. I was genuinely taken by surprise, wearing a somewhat scruffy battledress with two or three buttons missing. I had nothng [sic] to lose and I ran down the C.E.B. exams in general. I noted “it seemed to work”.
The following day, more prepared on this occasion, I was interviewed by Group Captain O’Grady. I was stumped by a question on details of the D.F.C. He was very pleasant and at the end I felt I would have liked to have another interview, knowing more about him. It turned out that I was considered O.K. for commissioning, along with John Tebbut from “A” flight.
I was somewhat surprised, considering that I had at no time applied for or even thought about a commission at this early stage in my training. More so, because during the first interview I had rejected the possibility of staying in South Africa as an instructor on the grounds that pupils would be likely to take more notice of instructors with operational experience. I omitted to say that I would have felt like the blind leading the blind.
[underlined] Results of Courses from 29.3.43 to 10.7.43
Air Navigation Course No. 12 Held at 41 A.S. South Africa [/underlined]
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[underlined] Subject – Poss. – Obtd. [/underlined]
D.R. Theory – 100 – 63
D.R. Plotting – 300 – 229
Compasses – 100 – 74
Meteorology – 100 – 72
Maps and Charts – 100 – 94
Instruments – 100 – 76
Radio Navigation – 100 – 79
Reconnaissance – 100 – 72/A
Photography – 100 – 94/AA
A/C Recognition – P. – P.
Signals – 100 – 96
Astro-Navigation – 100 – 97
Flying times on Course Day 76.45 Night 17.20
A/C Type Anson
Air Exercise Assessment AA (Above Average)
[underlined] TOTAL MARKS OBTAINED 81 PERCENT PASSED [/underlined]
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Remarks: An Above Average Navigator
Signed by W/Commander Pettit
There were still three more air navigational exercises to fit in before our graduation day on 10.7.43. To present our brevets we had Rear-Admiral Scott. When it came to my turn the conversation was as follows:-
“Where do you come from, my boy?” “Hull, Yorkshire, Sir.”
“There’s not much of Hull left is there?” “No, Sir.” etc.
The evening celebration was quite informal but the Group Captain did take the opportunity to compliment us on a good parade.
A big dampener, as far as I was concerned, was the news I had received from Fred Rolph, about the time I had my first interview for a commission. He’d made a mess of the Astro-Navigation exam and then came up against a problem in the D.R. Plotting. He said in his letter of 29.6.43, “Do you think I could remember how to do it? I sat there cudgelling my brains and thinking of Edna” (his girl-friend back home) ”and the Astro exam and I couldn’t think how to do it.” He tried to remedy the plotting but only succeeded in getting deeper in the mire. In fact he needn’t have worried so much about the Astro exam – he obtained 67 percent, but he didn’t know how. It was worrying unnecessarily about the Astro that contributed to his failure in the D.R. Plotting. The outcome was that nine members of his course, including Fred had to re-sit their D.R. Plotting exam a day or two before I was getting my brevet. This meant a delay of three weeks for Fred but he added a P.S. “Edna won’t mind waiting three weeks extra after nine months. (I hope!)”.
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Unfortunately those three weeks meant that he never caught up with me again, and his next letter, posted from the Smyth home on 26.7.43 didn’t catch up with me until four months later, when I had no idea where he would be.
I had done my packing and said goodbye to the Smyth’s and boarded the train for Cape Town. Denis Smyth, probably about eighteen or nineteen years old, took me to the station by car, followed the train and saw me again at Cambridge just down the line. I was really sorry to leave the Smyth’s, after all their kindness. Next day, Tuesday, we passed through Queenstown very early in the morning, and on Wednesday afternoon we arrived at Cape Town. We completed the journey to the I.F.T.C. Westlake (Imperial Forces Transit Camp) by electric railway and we were ensconced in Hut 6/26.
During the next ten days I explored part of Cape Town and did some shopping. I managed to get items such as 1/2 yd. braid (pilot officer), a badge, some shirts, shoes, socks, gloves, hankies, and a raincoat and posted several small parcels of goodies to the family in England.
On Sunday, 25.7.43 I settled up my mess fees, collected my pay and a £15 travelling allowance, packed the little that remained to be packed and was transferred at the last minute to the draft prior to the one I had expected. In a very short time we boarded the “Mauretania”. There were eight of us in a cabin, but it was luxurious compared with the hammocks and benches in the “Stirling Castle”. There were five R.A.F. Pilot Officers, two Navy types and one civilian attached to the R.A.F. Next morning we sailed for England about 11 a.m., after a boat drill at 10 a.m.
Like the “Queen Elizabeth”, the “Mauretania” was
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constructed just before the war and proved extremely useful in transporting troops throughout the war. The “Mauretania” alone carried more than 380,000 troops during 55 voyages and must have been a high priority target for German U-boats. My brother travelled to Canada in the “Mauretania” for his aircrew training, shortly afterwards.
Our accommodation was section C3 on C Deck and our Mess No. 69. Mealtimes were pleasant affairs – I have an autographed menu from the luncheon on Wednesday August 11th 1943 in the Officers’ dining room. Nothing pretentious of course, but a big leap back to civilised behaviour. In contrast, acting as orderly officer one day, accompanied by a corporal I had the job of seeing the other side of life and asking the airmen on the mess decks for “Any complaints?” Thankfully everyone seemed reasonably happy with their lot.
So we passed our time in comfort on our fairly direct (apart from a brief call at Freetown), journey back to Liverpool. This took about half of the five weeks of our outward journey on the “Stirling Castle”. By this time the submarine menace had been reduced considerably.
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[photograph of three men and one woman]
[page break
[photograph of the crew with signatures]
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[underlined and centred] Chapter 4: Back to England [/underlined and centred]
Once we docked in Liverpool we were soon on the train and on our way to No. 7 P.R.C. (presumably Personnel Receiving Centre) at Harrogate on 14.8.43. From there we went on our disembarkation leave. I believe I got most of my officer’s uniform fixed up in Hull and maybe some items in Harrogate, where we had to return before posting.
On 8.9.43 my posting came to 3(O) A.F.U., Halfpenny Green, an airfield situated in the West Midlands between Bridgnorth and Dudley. (Today it is a civil airport). There during the next few weeks, I was to take part in No. 138 Air Observers Advance Navigation Course. It seemed an impressive title although a little anachronistic when the replacement of Observers by Navigators had already spread to South Africa and Canada with the Empire Training Scheme. We were already wearing the “N” brevets which replaced the previous observer “O”, as we arrived for the course.
The “advanced navigation course” conducted on Ansons served two purposes. It showed us the difference between map-reading over the wide-open spaces of South Africa, where it was relatively easy to pick out significant features such as a main road or a railway line, and the more complex problem in European map-reading. The more densely populated areas introduced a corresponding profusion of ground detail. Secondly, it extended our experience quite logically without the further complication, on a short course, which might have been occasioned by using an unfamiliar aircraft. On the other hand, the disquieting feeling remained over the relevance of map reading from a few thousand feet, half the time in daylight, compared with the coming operational navigation mainly at
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night, largely out of sight of the ground and at around 20,000 feet, while covering the ground more rapidly in a four-engined aircraft and with the added distractions caused by the opposition.
The thirty-eight and a half hours flying time accrued at Halfpenny Green, brought my total flying time to one hundred and thirty-two and a half hours, roughly one-quarter being night flying. My one recollection of those days was, on the completion of a particular night exercise, walking from the airfield to the hut on a beautiful Autumn night along a narrow country road with not a soul in sight and humming a popular tune of those days.
The next posting was to No. 84 O.T.U. (Operational Training Unit) at Desborough in Northamptonshire. That was on 12.10.43. This was a recently established O.T.U. and the roadways had only been laid that Autumn. It was also pretty wet weather during the first few weeks there and we aircrew, marching between our Nissen huts and lectures found ourselves on roads covered with mud from the soil excavated during their construction and piled nearby.
The O.T.U. was equipped with Vickers Wellington twin-engined bombers, which had been the main-stay of Bomber Command for some time but was being progressively replaced by four-engined types. However, the Wellingtons, or “Wimpeys” as they were usually called, looked large and impressive and very business-like compared with the Anson to which I was accustomed.
Other huts were occupied by other categories of aircrew – pilots, bomb-aimers, wireless operators and air-gunners. Very soon we would have to perform the transition from individuals to aircrews. To this end we were assembled in a large hangar and
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told to get ourselves sorted out. This was very much a lottery. We were teaming up with people we had never met before to undertake dangerous operations during which we would be bound to depend implicitly on these strangers being able to do their jobs efficiently. I suppose this was accepted because we were “all in the same boat”. In hindsight, I don’t think anyone could have suggested a rational alternative.
I cannot remember just how it came about but I found myself “crewed up” with three sergeants (pilot, Chris Derrick; wireless operator, John (Jock) Poyner; a rear gunner, Tom Gibb from Glasgow), and a Pilot Officer bomb-aimer making up the crew of five for the Wellington. This was the stage at which the division between commissioned and non-commissioned aircrew became apparent. We commissioned “types” were quartered in huts segregated from the huts of the N.C.O.s, and we had separate messes. We attended lectures according to our aircrew duties, e.g. navigator or whatever and only got together as a crew when flying was in the offing. It wasn’t done for officers and N.C.0.s to go around in “matey” groups.
On the morale-boosting side, we navigators were soon relieved to learn that our big worry about how we could possibly navigate accurately at night would be considerably relieved by our introduction to an almost magical device known as a Gee box. Basically this measured the aircraft’s distance from each of two ground stations and where these measurements coincided gave the geographical position of the aircraft. On the debit side it was jammable by the enemy and could not be relied upon beyond the enemy coast. Nevertheless it would give us a sound beginning to our task when we went out on operational flights.
We flew in a “Wimpey” for the first time on 8.11.43 with
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a “screened” pilot instructing our pilot, Sgt. Derrick on the take-offs, circuits and landings, commonly known as “circuits and bumps”. The significance of this dawned on me in the course of time.
Our pilot was given his solo check, went solo (with members of the crew) and had three further lots of “circuits and bumps”. Then we took the gunners on an air-firing exercise and did some dual “circuits and bumps”, two thirds of them with six different screened pilots. I think we must have met most of the instructors of “B” flight, some of them several times. Sometimes we were airborne several times a day, four times on three occasions. Our pilot seemed to have some trouble with his steering around the perimeter track and wandered off it occasionally. When this happened we were liable to be bogged down as the ground was so muddy.
On a couple of occasions I flew in the rear turret because the gunners were occupied with ground training and the policy was for there always to be a pair of eyes in the rear turret to warn of the proximity of other aircraft both in the air and on the ground. I did not care for the cramped conditions and I cared less about the landings, when my helmeted head hit the turret. In my ignorance I thought it was just one of the things that went with flying heavy aircraft. I was thankful I was a navigator.
Now the bomb-aimer had to “get in” a bit of practical work, dropping eleven and a half pound practice bombs at the local bombing range. We had been to the bombing range once at night and once by day, both times with a “screened” pilot. Now we had to carry out the same exercises “solo”. The high-level bombing by day was carried out, apparently satisfactorily but night bombing presented difficulties. We had bomb-sight trouble
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on a number of occasions and four attempts were aborted. On the last occasion our bomb aimer was sick and on our return to base our pilot reported “bomb-aimer u/s” instead of “bomb-sight u/s”.
At this stage we parted company with Chris Derrick – he was considered unsuitable as the pilot of heavy bomber aircraft. We heard that he carried on flying Oxfords, twin-engined aircaft. [sic] We also saw no more of our bomb aimer, F/O Valentine. I missed listening to his gramophone and classical records of an evening.
During these early weeks we were rudely brought up against the realities of the job. One of our Wellingtons was shot down one night by a German intruder aircraft from a height of about 10,000 feet, possibly on a practice bombing exercise. Two members of the crew, including the F/Lt pilot, who had some operational experience on other aircraft, were fellow occupants of the same hut as Valentine and myself. I was one of the bearers at the funeral service in the local church.
Within a few days we had a replacement pilot, Sgt. Redman, a rather taciturn character and we were transferred from “B” flight to “D” flight. We also had a replacement bomb-aimer, Sgt. Tommy Crook.
Obviously Sgt. Redman had already satisfied the Air Force that he was competent to fly Wellingtons because, without any preliminaries whatsoever, our first outing with him was on a daylight cross-country (i.e. navigational exercise) in the company of a screened pilot. That was on 28.12.43. By the 10.1.44 we were completing our series of navigation exercises (in which we suffered simulated attacks by R.A.F. fighters) in what must have been record time, as the Air Force attempted to
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makes us catch up on lost time.
Unfortunately the cross-country on Route 92/19 turned out to be a somewhat traumatic experience. (In those days I don’t think the word “traumatic” was part of the vocabulary as it is today). Part of the route during a five and a half hour flight took us about 100 miles out over the North Sea and everything was going satisfactorily and the Gee set was working O.K. when Sgt. Redman suddenly announced that the aircraft had stalled. In front of me on the navigator’s table, was a duplicate altimeter, showing 8,000 feet. I watched, somewhat numbly, as the needle began to “unwind”. I can only suppose the other crew members were similarly afflicted. There was certainly no chatter and no panic.
We all knew that the next words from the pilot were most likely to be “Prepare for ditching” which would mean taking up positions to minimise injury when the aircraft hit the sea. The altimeter continued to “unwind”. There was no instruction from our pilot to the wireless operator to try to inform base of our predicament and no word as to what was happening. At 4,000 feet, halfway down to the cold North Sea with virtually no chance of survival, the aircraft levelled off, still without a word of explanation from our pilot. It transpired what had happened was that the pitot tube, which feeds the air pressure for the airspeed indicator had “iced up” so the air-speed appeared to fall. The pilot, partly through inexperience, had feared the worst and informed us accordingly. We were relieved to get “home”.
In unanimous agreement the crew decided that we had no confidence in our pilot and did not wish to fly with him again. Because of my commission, I had the unpleasant job of forwarding the crew’s views to our superiors and we did not
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meet Sgt. Redman again. However, by the contribution of our two pilots, the rest of the crew were deemed to have completed the O.T.U. course, and after a spot of leave we were posted to a holding unit at Methwold, in Suffolk on 8.2.44.
It must have been at Methwold that, whilst puzzling over the fate of our temporarily headless crew, I happened to meet an American lieutenant pilot serving with the R.A.F. He had a very English name, Braithwaite, and hailed from Hollywood and had lots of flying hours behind him before he left the U.S.A. He was waiting to be given a crew. He didn’t have a pronounced American accent and discussing our mutual situation we got on very well together. We both thought it would be the ideal solution if we could join forces, i.e. if he could take our pilotless crew. Unfortunately, the authorities preferred to give him a crew who had lost their pilot doing an operation as second pilot with another crew for experience before operating with his own crew.
Our crew was posted on 25.2.44 to No. 1653 H.C.U. at Chedburgh, (also in Suffolk), which was in No. 3 Group of Bomber Command. Here we were in the land of the Stirling four-engined bomber – we would much rather have been on Lancasters. However, looking back on those days, I am certain that it was a turning point as far as our crew was concerned. In addition to acquiring a new pilot, Sgt. G.F. (Fred) Holbrook and a mid-upper gunner, Sgt. Stan Swain, we were joined by our flight engineer, Sgt. Johnny Squires, an extremely useful asset over the next six months or so. Johnny was already serving in the Army when the war started and had got to the rank of Captain in the Black Watch, pretty good going considering he wasn’t much taller than my five foot six and a half inches! Anyway, during the middle years of the war the Army had a comb-out of junior officers of 40 years and more and it was
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decided that he would be better employed in his basic occupation, engineering, in civilian life. He was not enraptured with the idea and, knocking ten years off his age, joined the R.A.F. for aircrew training as a flight engineer.
He was, of course, much older than the rest of us. I was just coming up to 22, our wireless operator, John Poyner, was just 22 and Fred Holbrook was probably about the same age. The rest of the crew were younger, the gunners probably 19 or 20. You could say he was almost a father-figure, but we daren’t have suggested any such thing at the time.
He was really first class at the job, always calm and never at a loss, whatever the circumstances. He was a really steadying influence and, personally, having already “lost” two pilots along the way and now having a third unknown factor taking over, I felt much happier about our future knowing that Johnny was sitting up there alongside Fred. That feeling was reinforced as we progressed steadily with the local flying and then with navigational exercises on Stirlings (Mark I and III).
The Stirling, which was the first of the R.A.F.’s four-engined bombers, built to a 1936 specification, gave the impression of a long dinosaur waiting to attack or pounce. The undercarriage was enormous and at first sight made me wonder what the altimeter in the cockpit read! It was a good aircraft but had serious limitations, the main one being its maximum altitude. I understand that this was due to its wingspan being limited by the standard hangar width of the day.
Whilst other Bomber Command aircraft normally operated at about 20,000 feet, this ‘plane could barely manage 15,000, so it seemed it would be unwise to get mixed up with
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people dropping things from a mile above.
After five weeks at Chedburgh we were able to erase such thoughts from our imagination as we went on leave prior to being transferred to the Lancaster Finishing School at Hemswell in No. 1 Group. I still have one souvenir from the Stirling era, a horizontal scar on the bridge of my nose, due to colliding with the rear end of the tailplane whilst walking around a Stirling on a very dark night. Fortunately it was only local flying – not a navigational trip – and I was able to clamp my first aid dressing on to the spot immediately and stop the bleeding until we returned. That was to be the only injury I sustained in the Air Force.
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Walter Suddaby
I kept in touch with Walter at varying intervals throughout our R.A.F. careers and I knew he’d been with his crew to 1658 H.C.U. (Heavy Conversion Unit) at Riccall (halfway between York and Selby) to train on Halifax bombers. I had plenty of reminders when I later travelled through Riccall on my way to and from work at Selby. I heard when he got onto 158 Squadron at Lissett, near Bridlington and then no more.
I cannot remember just how it happened that his brother, Frank, cycled over from their home in North Hull and found me home on leave, but his tidings were terrible and I was shocked. Walter had been killed in extremely unfortunate circumstances. In “The Bomber Battle for Berlin”, Air Commodore John Searby explains what happened on the night of 24/25th March 1944. “Over the Dutch coast P/O Simpson” (Walter’s pilot) “called base saying his port and starboard outer engines were damaged”. (It would be Walter transmitting the message). “and nothing more was heard until he was reported having crashed at the water’s edge at Ingham near Cromer, Norfolk, where a minefield was laid years before against possible invasion. The aircraft blew up and all were killed.” Apparently, having little altitude, the pilot attempted a crash landing on the beach, and had either forgotten about the mined beaches or had little alternative but to take the risk.
A later publication, by W.R, Chorley. reported the crash as happening on the sand dunes near Winterton-on-Sea, Norfolk.
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[underlined] Chapter 5: Operations 1-20 [/underlined]
I can still remember my first close-up encounter with the Lancaster – no, I didn’t bump my nose. Compared with the ungainly appearance of the Stirling, the Lancaster looked sleek and business-like. On entering the cockpit I was greatly impressed by the appearance of the in-line Rolls Royce Merlin engines, of which I had heard so much since I became interested in aviation. My confidence soared. It increased further when I heard about the H2S (air-borne radar equipment) and the A.P.I. (air position indicator). Not that I had any time for practice at Hemswell – the object of the exercise was the transference from one four-engined bomber (the Stirling) to the other (the Lancaster) which mainly meant lots of take-offs and landings for our pilot and familiarisation with the new aircraft and its numerous instrument panels and dials for pilot (Fred) and flight engineer (Johnny).
We were airborne for a total of barely eleven hours (some day and some night) during our brief stay at Hemswell and in no time at all we were making the short journey, on 26.4.44, by crew bus I believe, to Wickenby and No. 12 Squadron. At Wickenby, which was a war-time constructed airfield, I was again segregated from the rest of the crew as they were all sergeants. My accomodation [sic] on the officers’ site was in a Nissen hut, similar to that of the crew on the N.C.O.S’ site, which I later wandered over to inspect.
I had a distinctly unusual and rather disquieting introduction to my new “home”. There was only one person there when I arrived, P/O Adam (Jock) Varrie, who I believe hailed from Lockerbie. (Currently domiciled in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe). He had lost his crew on operations whilst he was ill,
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and had been given the job of assistant to the Flight Engineer Leader. He had arrived at Wickenby in September ’43 and had done quite a lot of ops. before losing his crew. He told me that during his time at Wickenby he knew of only one crew and “one odd bod” who had survived a tour of 30 operations, i.e. from the two squadrons Nos. 12 and 626, operating from Wickenby. I decided there was no point in worrying and to take a limited objective.
I had a few science books with me and I did look at them on several occasions but I decided to defer the idea. Instead, I suppose partly in bravado, I decided to read Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” which I found in the Library at Wickenby Officers’ Mess. I wondered how far I’d get with it under the circumstances. I did in fact get through the lot, more than 1,000 pages, in instalments! For moral support I said the “Lord’s Prayer” each night as I lay in bed, trying to give full interpretation to the words. Secondly (and rather trivially) I always polished by flying boots before going off to briefings. It was rather foolish in hindsight, because if I’d had to parachute down in enemy territory, polished boots would not have been a good idea, if one was trying to evade capture even if you managed to rear off the leg parts. Looking back, I suppose it was a case of “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition”.
At the Navigation Office I encountered F/Lt. R. Stancliffe, our Squadron Navigation Officer and was impressed by his relaxed and friendly attitude. I soon encountered something which I found very inspirational. In some pigeon holes or racks in the Nav. Office there were a few navigators’ logs, one of which left an enduring impression on me. It had been compiled by F/O D.A. Colombo who had gone missing, along with his crew, on the Berlin raid of 24/25 March ’44, i.e.
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just over a month earlier and the one on which Walter Suddaby and his crew were lost. His log seemed to me like a work of art, hardly the kind of craftsmanship one would have believed possible, given the circumstances prevailing at that particularly hazardous period in the history of Bomber Command. I decided, then and there, that if I couldn’t make Colombo’s standard I’d have a good try. I never met him but I never forgot him.
Our crew was placed in “B” Flight of 12 Squadron and we were airborne just twice, both on 28.4.44, for “fighter affiliation” (i.e. dodging a Spitfire) combined with air-sea firing practice for the gunners and a simulated night attack on Bristol. I don’t remember whether we managed to fit in a short leave but just over a week later we were detailed for our first op. on 7.5.44.
The first and second ops. were not very demanding, one on a target near Rennes in France and the second to a target in Belgium. The latter attack was aborted on the instruction of the Master Bomber, due to poor visibility and we were ordered to return with our load.
Between our first and third ops. we got in quite a lot of navigational practice (and much needed H2S practice) on five cross-country exercises. This period also helped very considerably in getting us working together as a crew and becoming familiar with our surroundings, both aloft and on the station.
Our third and fourth ops. were on German territory, but only just over the border from Belgium. They were attacks on two marshalling yards at Aachen and met with considerable resistance, the loss rates being 6 percent in the first case and 7 percent in the
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second.
Railway marshalling yards were beginning to assume very considerable importance in view of the impending invasion of Europe by the Allied Armies. Anything that would impede the free transit of German forces to the coast could obviously be helpful to our forces, and Aachen was an important railway junction in that respect.
On the second of the Aachen trips we made the aquaintance[sic] of Lancaster Mk.1 ME758, PH-N, the former being the Manufacturers (Metropolitan Vickers) number and the latter comprising No. 12 Squadron’s letters and the aircraft letter. This was to become our regular aircraft, in which we were to do 25 of our 30 ops. The Aachen trip was N-Nan’s tenth.
On all night operations and quite a lot of the day ones I travelled secluded from the outer world by my black-out curtain. I sat at the navigation table, which was situated to the rear of the pilot’s armoured back-rest (the only armour in the aircraft), facing the port (left) side of the aeroplane. The reason for the black-out precaution was, of course, the angle-poise light which illuminated my chart and navigation log. Any emerging light would not have been appreciated by the crew as a whole and would not have been good for the pilot’s night vision.
I had devised my personal system of navigation in an effort to simplify the calculations. In fact, I had gone decimal and worked in tenths of hours and tenths of minutes instead of minutes and fractions. For example, in the early stages of an operation when I wanted to ascertain the actual wind velocity, which was ever-changing and sometimes considerably at variance with the meteorological information, I took Gee-fixes at
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6-minute intervals or sometimes 12, knowing it was then simple mental arithmetic to multiply the measured vector from the air position (thank goodness for the A.P.I.) to the fix by 10 or 5 respectively to find the wind speed in knots (nautical miles per hour). This saved a lot of messing about with the manual computer.
It was just as essential to keep in touch with the wind velocity as with your actual position so that you had the ability to correct your course in order to hit the next turning point on your route. It was always a case of working with hind-sight. You could only assume that the wind affecting you over the next few miles would be similar to what you had just experienced.
Miscellaneous observations such as times of bombs being fused and released, times to drop and rates of dropping of “window” (i.e. anti-radar aluminised strips), times and rough location of the positions of aircraft being shot down (including some alleged to be “scarecrow” devices fired into the air by the enemy to pretend they were R.A.F. aircraft which had been destroyed in mid-air), whether parachutes were seen, sightings of enemy aircraft, target indicators, radio information via the wireless operator, and anything which might be of use to “intelligence”, all had to be logged with time of occurrence and estimated positions relative to our aircraft and its heading.
We fitted in yet another cross-country exercise on 29.5.44 for H2S practice. (See page 88. for technical details). The log book entry reads “Window (aircraft) lost and aileron damaged. A.S.I. (Air Speed Indicator) read 360 m.p.h. plus in dive”. The necessary repairs were soon made.
With the invasion imminent we got a number of short-
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haul trips, including attacks on a radar-jamming station near Dieppe which was later found to have been made “with great accuracy”, a gun position at Sangatte, near Calais, (as part of a deception programme to keep the enemy guessing where the landings would come), and the attack on a coastal battery at St. Martin de Varreville on the Normandy coast on the eve of the invasion. On the latter occasion the H2S screen was covered with numerous luminous pin-point echoes of the invasion fleet on its way across the Channel.
On the next evening we were supposed to bomb a railway switch-line at Acheres in the suburbs of Paris, but there was too much cloud for the safety of French civilians so the Master Bomber ordered us to return with our loads. (Not much fun, landing with a full bomb load!)
That counted as our eighth operation. The next couple of night operations were also concerned with inhibiting the Hun, one being against a landing-ground at Flers in Southern Normandy and the other attacking the important railway junction of Evreux, about 50 miles west of Paris. So far our ten ops. had not been too stressful and had averaged only about four and a half hours night flying.
Targets were marked by the Pathfinder Force (PFF) with various coloured devices which could be varied according to pre-arranged plans during the period of the attack and could be over-ridden by instructions from the “Master of Ceremonies” (Master Bomber) according to eventualities arising during the progress of the raid.
By the time I was operating, the P.F.F. system had been developed over the better part of two years into a formidable
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system, but there were occasional human errors. When this happened the whole or part of a raid could go awry.
On the night of 12/13 June 1944 we took part in the first raid of a new oil campaign, the target being the Nordstern synthetic oil plant at Gelsenkirchen in the Ruhr. In addition to my normal duties I was one of a number of navigators on the operation to be detailed for “wind-finding”. The idea was for the force as a whole to have the benefit of the information obtained from selected navigators and apply it to their individual needs. We calculated the wind velocities at successive stages en route and had our wireless operators transmit the coded information back to base for analysis and consideration by meteorological staff, who then reported back to the main force the outcome of their deliberations in terms of up-to-date information on wind vehicles.
From my log for the trip I see that I sent back wind velocities from seven stages of the outward and return trips. I was quite happy with the navigation and had given the pilot the final correction to the course to the target, then calculated and given a wind velocity to Jock Poyner, our wireless operator, when our pilot spotted what he believed to be the target markers about 30 degrees to starboard and altered course towards them despite my disbelief, when we were approximately 20 miles from the target. Our clear instructions were to bomb the markers so that is what happened. We bombed just after 0101 hours, i.e. within our allotted range of 0100 to 0104 hours.
Many years later I read an illuminating account in “Bomber Command News” in an article spanning “Six months in the life of Bomber Command, a day-by-day account of support for the Allied invasion forces.” This covered the period 23.5.44
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to 31.12.44, including the attack on Gelsenkirchen. It reported – “Owing to the good work of the Pathfinders the attack opened with exceptional accuracy. Later a rogue target indicator fell ten miles short of target and was bombed by 35 aircraft. All production at the oil plant ceased with a loss of 1,000 tons of aviation fuel a day for several weeks.” On my part, I compared the photograph taken automatically when our bombs were released, with the large wall mosaic in the Intelligence library of photographs taken by R.A.F. reconnaissance aircraft. Not having the benefit of the information which was quoted so many years later in “Bomber Command News”, I estimated from our last alteration of course before the target approximately where to look on this huge map for the place we had actually bombed.
From a few distinctive features on our photograph I was able to find the matching spot on the wall map – with a difference. Our picture showed unmistakably a dispersal point on the perimeter of an airfield which must have been constructed during the years since the reconnaissance photographs were taken. So the airfield personnel probably had an exciting night! The probable explanation is that whilst the real target was obscured by thick smoke from burning oil, the markers dropped ten miles away in open country were clearly visible. Seventeen Lancasters were lost, 6.1% of the Lancaster force of 286.
For a bit of variation we flew the following night for a couple of hours practicing night fighter evasion (with an R.A.F. fighter).
On the evenings of 14th and 15th June ’44 we operated in Bomber Command’s first daylight raids since May ’43. The objectives were the fast German motor torpedo boats (E-boats) and other light German naval forces based at Le Havre and
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Boulogne, which were threatening Allied shipping off the Normandy beaches. We flew in loose “gaggles” (there had been no training in formation flying) escorted by Spitfires of 11 Group. The E-boat threat to the invasion beaches was almost completely removed. R.A.F. casualties were very light.
We next had an aborted attack on a switch-line at Aulnoye, about 20 miles south of Mons. After a discussion between the Master Bomber and his deputy it was decided not to risk civilian casualties as it was too cloudy to bomb with accuracy, so we set off back with our loads, jettisoning the delayed-action bombs shortly after we left the French coast.
On the night of 12/13 June ’44 the Germans began their V-1 (flying bomb) attacks on London. Between 15-16 and 16-17 June, 144 flying bombs crossed the Kent coast and 73 reached London. This stung the British authorities into action and Eisenhower, the Supreme Commander of the invasion forces, agreed that retaliatory action (code name CROSSBOW) should rank second in priority only to the urgent needs of the battlefield. From mid-June to mid-August attacks on V-weapon objectives became one of Bomber Command’s major concerns, absorbing about 40% of its effort and correspondingly reducing its ability to bomb Germany.
Our first involvement came with a daylight attack on a flying-bomb site about 10 miles south-west of Calais. As the promised target indicators were not visible at the stated time we bombed on the Gee co-ordinates. That was on 22.6.44.
I think we must have had a week’s leave after our 15th “op”, because “N-Nan” flew five operations with three other crews before we returned to the fray. Then it was back to the
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Pas de Calais to attack the Domleger V-1 site, (my log says “flying-bomb supply lines”) in another daytime operation on 2.7.44. It was rather cloudy so again we “homed” to the target on Gee before the bomb-aimer, Tommy Crook, was able to take over and bomb visually.
Now followed a trio of fairly lengthy night operations all involving railway marshalling yards at important centres in France. On the nights of 4/5, 5/6, and 12/13 July, we visited successively Orleans, Dijon, and Tours (not exactly Cook’s tours). On the first night the loss rate was 5 percent, on the second nil, and on the third about 3 percent. This was rather strange because the Dijon trip was by far the longer route, taking eight and a quarter hours, compared with about six hours for each of the others. The results were satisfactory, particularly at Orleans.
I had cause to remember the bombing of the French railway system just over a year later when involved in flying our forces home on leave from Italy because the French railway system was still in a mess from our efforts in 1944 (see later). There was also an occasion when I was attending a symposium on analytical chemistry at Birmingham University in either 1954 or 1958 when I became involved in a discussion with a young French scientist, whilst queueing at the refectory. When he asked me if I’d been to France, I said “Not exactly” and admitted I hadn’t set foot in France although I had visited during the war.
I had no idea what his reaction would be, and was greatly relieved and pleased when he slapped me on the back and spoke warmly of his admiration for the way the R.A.F. had managed to knock out railway goods yards close to the towns whilst causing the minimum of civilian casualties. He did not have such a good opinion of the U.S.A.A.F. with whom he chose to make the
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comparison. I wish that I had made a note of his name and address! It was a completely unsolicited testimonial. After a gap of another week we went on our 20th operation to the railway yards and junction at Courtrai (or Kortrijk as the Belgians have it nowadays). Both targets were devastated. Casualties were 3 percent.
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[black and white photograph of 7 airmen in uniform standing in a row in front of a Nissen hut]
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[black and white photograph of seven airmen in front of an aircraft, four standing in the back row and three kneeling in the front row.]
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[underlined] Chapter 6: Operations 21-30 [/underlined]
Taking part in the first major raid on a German city for two months, on the night of 23/24 July, we went to Kiel. It was our twentyfirst [sic] operation. The elaborate deception and the surprise return to a German target must have confused the opposition because Bomber Command lost only four aircraft out of 629 taking part. Kiel suffered heavy damage. The bombing force appeared suddenly from behind a Mandrel jamming screen, operated by the Radio Counter-Measures squadrons of 100 Group, and took the defences by surprise. In the space of 25 minutes nearly 3,000 tons of bombs fell on the town and port, inflicting enormous damage to the U-boat yards and many other areas.
Rescue and repair was hampered by 500 delayed-action bombs and unexploded duds. There was no water for three days, no trains and buses for eight days and no gas for cooking for three weeks. Looking at my log, I see that I had a fault on the H2S and also that when we were well on the way home I had a dabble with the bubble sextant, taking three star shots for practice. I was glad I wasn’t dependent on them.
On the night of 24/25 July we took part in the first of three heavy raids on Stuttgart. This was a more arduous trip, the return trip taking eight hours forty minutes. I had to Sellotape two Mercator charts together to lay down the route which took us via Normandy and south of Orleans to just beyond 9 degrees E longitude, and the majority of two double-sided log forms. Once again, I had the added duty of “wind-finding” for the main force. As it happened, the winds were the lightest I encountered on operations, barely reaching 20 knots at any stage and often less than 10 knots from between west and north-west.
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From the intercom. and audible noises off I gathered, in the seclusion of my snuggery, that the reception committee was doing its best to welcome us as we neared the target. Someone spotted a night-fighter immediately ahead of us but fortunately it was crossing our route and was banked away from us, probably after some othe [sic] prey.
(See page 91 “The German Defences” for further information on the tactics of the night-fighters).
We bombed within half a minute of the time I had in my flight plan and speeded up to the next turning point on our route, just three minutes beyond the target, where we made a sharp turn to starboard on to the next leg of 18 nautical miles, before another starboard turn over the Schwabische Alb range. We had just settled onto our homeward route when trouble arose. The port inner engine packed up, probably due to flak, and had to be feathered.
That meant we had ahead of us, all being well and no further complications, a four hour journey on three engines. We hoped we didn’t encounter any night fighters and were thankful for light winds for the next part of our journey.
Actually, being relieved of the bomb load, “N-Nan” managed very nicely on its three Rolls Royce engines and I was able to continue the job of sending wind velocities back to base, the first on our return journey being only fifteen minutes after “losing” the engine. Altogether, on this op. I see that I managed to send back ten wind velocities covering various stages en route. We did lose a little time but by the time we crossed the south coast of England we were only ten minutes later than our planned time and we didn’t have to queue for landing back at Wickenby. Casualties amounted to 3.4 percent of the 614 attackers.
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Two days later, on 27.7.44 we were airborne locally to air test the new engine and also the replacement for a damaged tail-fin, do some air-sea firing and take a passenger to Sandtoft.
Our 23rd operation was much shorter and less exciting. On 30.7.44 we were part of a very large force of 692 aircraft sent to bomb six German positions in front of a mainly American ground attack in the Villers Bocage-Caumont area. Our target was near Caumont. Cloud caused difficulties and we had to orbit and descend to see the target indicators before bombing. Only four aircraft were lost. We were down at Wickenby after four hours.
During the previous week I had been greatly surprised to see among new arrivals on 12 Squadron an old acquaintance from South African days. Furthermore, he was the other navigator commissioned at the same time and so we had consecutive Air Force numbers. We had both been on No. 12 course at 41 Air School though he was in “A” flight and I was in “B”. Due to the vagaries of the R.A.F. posting system, he had arrived at Wickenby three months after myself. He was F/O J.A. (John) Tebbut. We were naturally both excited by this coincidence – he could easily have gone to one of the many other airfields and squadrons and I hadn’t encountered any of the other navigators of No. 12 course since I left 41 Air School.
I readily agreed to fly with him locally (and unofficially I believe) so that I could help him master the H2S equipment. We flew in “N-Nan” on a local cross-country lasting just over two hours on 31.7.44. When he wasn’t tied up with his crew we had a good natter about things in general and then he asked if I would like to borrow a book he had been presented with at Christmas 1943. I still have the book in front of me as I write, with its
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inscription “from Harold and Sylvia”.
Operation No. 24 couldn’t have been more brief. It was on a flying-bomb site at Les Catelliers, in the Pas-de-Calais. Navigation was normal down to the south coast near Selsey Bill except that I concentrated on H2S to the exclusion of Gee equipment. After that I relaxed as our formation was led to the target by Mosquitos. (I do not thing the Navigation Officer approved – he scribbled “Average Nav.” at the foot of my log). We were home again after three and a half hours.
Next day, 3rd August, we were briefed for a daylight attack on a flying-bomb site at Trossy St. Maximin, not far from Chantilly, about 25 miles north of Paris. The wind was light and the navigation straightforward. This time I relied mainly on Gee and my decimal-hour system taking Gee fixes at 1215, 1221, 1227, 1233, 1239, 1245, 1251, 1257, and 1303 hours i.e. 6 minute intervals and obtaining seven measurements of wind velocity in that time. For the next fix, at 1309, my fix was a bearing and distance from Selsey Bill, using H2S.
On crossing the coast the bombs were fused and selected and we proceeded at our eventual bombing altitude of 11,000 feet. We kept “bang on” our route and crossed the French coast within seconds of our predicted time. Other Lancasters were visible all around. At position “H” on our route the time was 1408 as we turned (dead over the turning point according to Tommy Crook, our bomb-aimer, and headed towards Compiegne, our last turning point before the target. Compiegne was only 14 nautical miles (4.3 minutes) away at this time and I thought I would have a look at this historic place as we turned towards our target. It was the place where the Armistice was signed in a railway-carriage in 1918 and the self-
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same place where Hitler insisted on reversing things in 1940.
I moved forward into the cockpit and was feeling pleased as Compiegne appeared below our banked wing-tip. Then I looked for our accompanying aircraft and eventually spotted them as small specks ahead of us. They had obviously cut the corner, missing out the right-angled bend at Compiegne and were well on the way to the target. There was only one other Lanc. anywhere near us and it was probably half a mile away on the beam.
We were now faced with a straight run onto the target of 21 nautical miles, which would take over 6 minutes, at only 11,000 feet in a cloudless sky and with no-one with whom to share the flak. The odds were very heavily stacked against us, but we carried on according to form. No-one panicked – we were all pretty quiet – but that run-in onto target seemed to take an awful long time.
We were subjected to very intense anti-aircraft fire – the gunners must have been rubbing their hands in anticipation. The conditions were ideal for them – a large aircraft at moderate height on a steady course in clear visibility. We were surrounded by shell-bursts, to the extent that the crew of the other aircraft thought we’d “had it”. We bombed in the middle of our allotted time bracket for bombing, which was obviously not the case with the vast majority of our companions, who were now miles away. Our aircraft was very fortunate to survive. Our recent replacement port inner engine was hit and had to be “feathered”. One of the other engines was damaged and three petrol tanks hit.
Our bomb-aimer, Tommy Crook, and flight engineer,
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Johnny Squires, received minor injuries from the “flak” which they later professed to be worthwhile in exchange for the wound-stripes they were then entitled to wear on their sleeves.
About 12 minutes after leaving the target and nearly halfway back to the coast, we saw a Lancaster on fire about five miles ahead and counted five parachutes opening as the crew baled out. That Lancaster “hit the deck” two minutes later.
It might just as easily have been our aircraft. Once we had crossed the French coast we breathed a sigh of relief and reduced the airspeed to ease the burden on our remaining engines. We were only 8 minutes later than scheduled back at Wickenby.
It so happened that our Squadron Navigation Officer had taken part in this operation and he was obviously in one of the aircraft which had taken the short cut, missing out Compiegne. I quite surprised myself by marching into his office later and telling him what I thought about it. I wondered, later, if it wasn’t our pilot I should have had words with, as he should have realised what was happening and stayed with the “gaggle”, or at least told me what was afoot. On the other hand it was possibly a throw-back from the Gelsenkirchen raid when he missed the target by sticking strictly to orders rather than follow my directions.
The outcome was that our aircraft “N-Nan” needed extensive repairs, having between 50 and 60 flak holes. (Johnny Squires gave me a piece of German flak found in the Lanc. – I still have it). It didn’t take part in operations again until ten days later, piloted by F/O G.S. Whyte to Falaise on 13/14 August.
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In the meantime we were sent on a sea-mining (or “Gardening”) operation in Lancaster PH-W off the French coast to the west of La Rochelle on 10/11 August.
This was our 26th op. and in this regard our crew was running neck and neck with another crew captained by F/Lt G.C. Owens, with a Canadian navigator F/O G.L. Wistow, who were both in my hut on the Officers’ site. I didn’t know George Wistow all that well, but I knew he was very well thought of in Canada. Mail delivered to the Mess was generally placed in a pigeon-holed framework but the “W” pigeon-hole was inadequate for the volume of Wistow’s letters so his were tied in a separate bundle placed just below the W’s. Like many Canadians he was a very outgoing type and usually went around with his pilot in his free time. Although only eight aircraft were taking part in this operation, Wistow’s was one of them, PH-X, JB716.
The object was to lay mines (or “Vegetables”) in channels believed to be used by U-boats operating from La Rochelle. This was where our H2S was to be of use in determining the dropping points of the mines on a bearing and distance from a feature on the Ile de Oleron.
The obvious hazard was the flak we were likely to encounter at our mine-dropping height of only 5,000 feet from both the Ile de Oleron and the Ile de Re. Night fighters wouldn’t have to make much altitude either.
Our route took us via Bridport on the south coast, then south across the Channel and the Brest peninsular and descending gradually to 5,000 feet to reach a turning point at 47 degrees N and 4 degrees W over the Bay of Biscay, from where
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we headed south-east towards our destination.
The islands indicating our mining zone appeared quite clearly on the H2S so I directed our route, map-reading by the H2S for the last few miles. When we reached our release point on a bearing of 335 degrees (true) from Boyard Ville we dropped our mines at 4 second intervals whilst maintaining the same bearing. There was a considerable amount of light flak but we did not receive any damage and were soon climbing back to 10,000 feet on our way home. Our mines had been dropped around 0058 G.M.T., i.e. within the 0050 and 0100 range allotted and we landed back at base at the time our pre-flight plan had calculated for our arrival, all despite a certain amount of apprehension about having to use a different Lancaster from our old faithful “N-Nan”.
Unfortunately, PH-X, with F/Lt Owen’s crew did not return. We heard later that they were badly shot up by flak near the mining area, struggled back to England but left it too late to bale out, crashed and caught fire. The wireless operator and the mid-upper gunner were the only survivors. They were both badly injured but fortunately they managed to crawl out without getting burned. They were in hospital for some time but both survived the war. Stan Canning, the wireless operator still lives in Birmingham. (I managed to contact him in 1997).
There were continual reminders for me in the post-war years of both George Wistow and Walter Suddaby as I journeyed between York and Selby. On the main road I passed through Riccall where Walter was stationed at the H.C.U. (Heavy Conversion Unit) prior to going on to Lisset and 158 Squadron. On the alternative route I had to pass through the village of Wistow.
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I think our crew must have gone on a week’s leave because the next entry in my log book was ferrying Lancaster PH-Z from Wickenby to Ludford for a major inspection on 21st August. Perhaps it was a good job it was only a twenty minute flight! Anyway we travelled back by road.
We discovered, on our return from leave, that John Tebbut and his crew had gone missing during our absence, so I was left with the slim blue book on “Cloud reading for pilots.” which he had lent me two or three weeks before. By this time of course, all his kit and possessions had been collected and I couldn’t see a lot of point in trying to catch up with them for the sake of the small inexpensive book which remains among my souvenirs.
Very strangely, a couple of years ago, I found John Tebbut’s name recorded on the Wickenby Roll of Honour with the date 24th June 1944 although my log book records my flight with him on 31st July 1944. W.R. Chorley in “R.A.F. Bomber Command Losses in 1944” obviously had the same source of information, reporting the loss of John’s crew “without trace” on 24th June during an operation on Saintes. I know they’ve got the records wrong but how can I do anything about it after 54 years? So many people were involved in making the records of operational casualties that inevitably mistakes were made. One such instance I can point to is the appearance on the Wickenby Roll of Honour of the two crew members who survived the crash which killed George Wistow and four of his crew mates. One of them, the wireless operator, is still alive and the other, the mid-upper gunner died in 1992. I presumed they must have died of their injuries until I came across their names in the Register of Members!
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By the time we renewed our acquaintanceship with “N-Nan” she had completed two more missions, her 42nd and 43rd, with two other 12 Squadron crews. We got her back for her 44th and our 27th operation on 25/26 August. This time the target was the Opel motor factories at Russelheim, E.S.E. of Mainz, where amongst other products, components were being made for flying-bombs.
Navigation was becoming pretty routine by this stage in my career, and although it was a nine-hour trip I managed to keep my concentration all the way, filling in reams of calculations with no noticeable variation in quality right through the exercise. This was recognised by the commendation “Very good nav.”. from our Squadron Navigation Officer written on the bottom of the log. Wind-finding for the main force was again an extra duty. Our scheduled time on the target was 0106 to 0110 – we actually bombed at 0107.
My log included two entries at 0054 and 0126.2 recording aircraft being shot down, with rough bearings relative to our heading. Also noted was a precautionary practice stall with just over twenty minutes to go to Wickenby. Our tailplane had received some damage and it was considered best to try out pre-landing manoeuvres whilst we still had plenty of height (about 8,000 feet). Anyway it can’t have been too bad. One thing I found was that after so many hours of continuous concentration, and then going through de-briefing, I didn’t have any problem sleeping!
The verdict on the operation, not immediately available, was that it inflicted very considerable damage and that the forge and gearbox factory were put out of action for several weeks. The attack was considered ”much more profitable, both in
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damage inflicted and in the lighter losses incurred” than the visit by a force a fortnight earlier.
Operation 28, our second attack on Kiel, turned out to be a rather bumpy ride. On the outward journey we stayed at 2,000 feet, heading E.N.E. until we were three-quarters of the way to Denmark before climbing on the same track to 12,000 feet. At 7 degrees East we turned to starboard and headed almost S.E. as if to attack Hamburg. Navigation was simplified by the fact that Heligoland stood out quite sharply on the cathode ray tube of the H2S with, of course, no confusing signals possible. I obtained bearings at ranges of twenty seven and three quarters and nineteen nautical miles as we passed well to the north of the islands, placing us right on track. At the same time we were climbing to 19,000 feet, and I sent back to base the third of the wind velocities I had dutifully measured.
We crossed the German coast dead on track, crossed the Kiel Canal still heading as if for Hamburg, but when about 25 nautical miles short we turned sharply port on a north-westerly heading to Kiel. As we turned we saw red target indicators going down S.E. of us, so it looked as if there was a diversionary attack on Hamburg. Ahead we saw the first illuminating flares going down but it looked as if there would be low stratus cloud over the target. Then we saw red indicators going down ahead of us. Using the H2S I measured the remaining distance to Kiel at 15 nautical miles, or 3.6 minutes time-wise. Then the green target indicators appeared dead ahead and our bomb-aimer, Tommy Crook, took over. The bombs were dropped at 2309.7 so we were very close to our planned time on target of 2310. We turned away at 2310.1 and, looking at the H2S, I reckoned we must have been “bang on” our aiming point.
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Our H2S fix at 2312.3 showed us right on track to our turning point over Kiel Bay, from which we turned westwards to cross the narrow neck of Germany roughly 20 nautical miles south of the Danish border. From our next turning point on the western German coast, we were to descend from 19,000 feet to 7,000 feet as we put the nose down and pushed up our airspeed from 160 to 200 knots. We had only left the coast between 10 and 15 miles astern when we saw a burning aircraft falling about five miles away on the port beam.
At 2340 all was going well and we were only 2 miles south of track, but only seven minutes later we were encountering static in heavy cloud at about 17,000 feet so Fred altered course, first onto 150 degrees, and then 180 degrees and then 210 degrees, as I could see from my repeater compass, to try to go round to the south of the cumulo-nimbus band. I managed to get a fix using Heligoland which now showed us 14 miles south of track, but we were still heading predominantly south looking for a gap in the clouds. We levelled out at 12,500 feet and turned onto 240 degrees. We were now about 24 miles due west of Heligoland and 20 miles south of track.
Fred decided to descend below freezing level on a heading of 270 degrees (west), but we encountered severe turbulence which upset some of our instruments, (apart from the crew!) and without any action by the pilot the aircraft was thrown around onto an easterly heading, all in the space of a couple of minutes! Fred turned south once more and I got another fix on Heligoland which showed that in a period of almost six minutes we had actually made good only 5 miles and that in a southerly direction. We kept on trying to avoid cloud, first on 240 degrees, then 210 degrees and back to 240 degrees.
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Another fix at 0010 hours showed us only 10 miles north of Nordeney, in the East Friesian Islands, known to be the outposts of German flak batteries. We weren’t keen on re-entering German territory and fortunately we found a gap in the clouds and altered course, thankfully, onto 290 degrees as an estimated direction whilst I calculated a more accurate course to intercept our originally intended track back home.
By 0051 we were practically back on track and hastening homeward at 220 knots. I resumed full navigational control of the aircraft and was soon back in the old routine. We arrived over Wickenby only 15 minutes later than our flight-planned time, thanks partly to using a somewhat higher airspeed than planned over the last hour of our journey, despite a certain section of our route seeming rather like an eternity.
The Navigation Officer’s comment written on my log was “Must have been a big, big cloud!!!” I wish he’d been with us to enjoy it! I think we had probably encountered what is know as a “line squall”. The report in Bomber Command News“ (Summer 1988) says “472 aircraft attacked, very heavy bombing in the town centre with widespread fires fanned by strong winds. 17 Lancasters were lost. In W.R. Chorley’s “R.A.F. Bomber Command Losses in 1944” six Lancasters are individually listed with their crews as “lost without trace” and two as “crashed in the North Sea” on that operation. One of the aircraft lost without trace was PH-A from 12 Squadron. I wonder whether they had cloud trouble but fared worse than we did?
Looking back on this experience I marvel not only at the robustness of the Lancaster but also that of the gyrocompass and the air position indicator (A.P.I.) which it served.
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It was back to routine on our 29th operation, which took us by day over Reading and Eastbourne to another flying-bomb site at Fromentel in the Pas-de-Calais. This was such a short-haul trip, lasting barely three hours, that we were able to take our maximum bomb load of 15,300 lb, or very nearly 7 tonnes in today’s parlance. One innovation this time was that the bomb-aimer took over the navigation from the French coast onwards and map-read us the 21 miles to the target, which was in any case, well marked with red target indicators, (T.I’s). We bombed one minute later than planned, but it was all pretty uneventful.
Our final (30th) operation took us on a daylight attack on a V-2 rocket store at St. Riquier, just a few miles from Abbeville. Eight other V-2 stores were being attacked on the same day, involving a total of 601 aircraft. Again things went very much according to plan and we bombed right on time. We did, however, climb to 14,500 feet to avoid flak as we headed back for the coast near Dunkerque. There was some flak damage to the aircraft, just to prove it’s not wise to take things for granted. Six Lancasters were lost. So we ended our operational tour of 30 ops. tidily on the last day of the month (31.8.44). I got an “excellent” proficiency assessment from the O.C. of 12 Squadron, Wing Commander Maurice Stockdale, which is recorded near the end of my log book. That gentleman now lives in Fleet, Hampshire.
One outcome of a successful tour of “ops” was my receiving the D.F.C., gazetted on 12 December 1944. I later learned that our pilot Fred Holbrook (who began his tour as sergeant, progressed to warrant officer half-way through the tour, and was commissioned after 23 “ops”) also received this award.
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[underlined] Chapter 7: Instructing, Ferry Trips & Crewing up for second tour [/underlined]
Just as quickly as our crew assembled in O.T.U. days we were dispersed. We went on leave, (I think it was for a week and I visited the B.O.C.M. laboratory early in September. The only home address I had for a member of the crew was for Johnny Squires. It’s such a long time ago I can’t remember how and when we got our postings, but I can’t remember meeting up again with the others at Wickenby. I was posted to No. 1656 H.C.U. (Heavy Conversion Unit) at Lindholme, near Doncaster, early in September.
I found I was amongst a bunch of experienced navigators condemned to instructing pupil navigators in the use of H2S (airborne radar). Part of the instruction we could do using simulators in a sort of classroom but the nitty-gritty part was actually flying with them on cross-countries. The four-engined aircraft at Lindholme were at first mainly Halifaxes (Mk II) but over the time I was there, (nearly eight months), they were steadily being replaced by Lancasters.
The one common factor in the flying instructing in H2S was that on each occasion (and there were forty-six of them) I flew with a different trainee crew who were leaving the airfield for the first time in a four-engined aircraft without the assurance of a “screened” pilot aboard. In every case they were all complete strangers to me, with the occasional exception of the navigator who I might have met on ground training exercises, and so there was a considerable element of the unknown when one took off with them on a four or five hour cross-country exercise. This might sometimes be extended to include simulated bombing by H2S or the dropping of small practice bombs at the local
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bombing range. When the “screened” pilot flew with a “sprog” crew he at least had his salvation in own hands in the case of emergency – while I knew nothing about piloting an aircraft for real. A “screened” pilot had generally successfully completed a tour of “ops” which was a fair enough way of sorting out the men from the boys.
Maybe I shouldn’t have put it quite like that – after all I was now a “screened” navigator, not that I felt all that screened in this situation. Anyway, I did my best to pass on my experience to a succession of navigators and there was never any suggestion of my being “grounded” and someone else doing the job.
Generally the H2S simulated bombing was done at the turning points on the navigational exercise. When the bombs would have been released if we were bombing for real, we operated (without looking out of the aircraft) a downward pointing camera to give us a line-overlap series of photographs which could be examined later to check the expertise of the use of the H2S as the sole bombing aid.
I still have some line-overlap series as souvenirs of the time we “bombed” Luton, Skomer Island (off S.W. Wales) and the Skerries (just to the N.W. of Anglesey). These were most impressive when the target happened to be largely obscured by cloud that would have made visual bombing difficult and yet there were identifiable points visible through breaks in the clouds on the photographs to prove that the bombing run had been “bang on”. As the H2S was just as effective by night as by day, these photographs helped instil confidence of its effectiveness in the pupil crews. Later we had a more sophisticated camera attached to the H2S set which took pictures of the scene on the cathode ray tube.
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Inevitably there were tricky moments. I can well remember coming in to land at Lindholme after a cross-country with one pupil crew. The pilot misjudged his landing and we touched down on the grass some distance from and running roughly parallel to the runway. Ahead of us loomed some large building. The pilot tried to turn the Lancaster and the undercarriage collapsed, so we skidded to a belly-landing. As calmly and unhurriedly as I could, I suggested that we got out quickly in case the aircraft caught fire. (We might have ruptured a petrol tank and the engines were still hot). Fortunately all was well and no-one was hurt. I have a picture in my log book of this unhappy Lancaster lying on its tummy and the succinct comment on the exercise of 15.1.45 – “Last trip by “X”. In another similar incident “Jock” Niven, another of our flying nav-instructors had to leave an aircraft somewhat hurriedly and, in squeezing his rather plump form through the emergency exit, got out either without his trousers or with them in disarray.
On another cross-country the powers that be tacked on a fighter affiliation exercise (to practice evading fighters) which upset my stomach somewhat and I had to go back down the fuselage to use the Elsan (chemical toilet) – in my log book I have a minute sketch of myself as a match-stalk man, being sick into a bucket! I survived other fighter affiliation exercises without undergoing that particular indignity.
It was just before the half-way stage of my sojourn at 1656 H.C.U. I learned that I had been awarded the D.F.C. for my work on 12 Squadron, and when I went on Christmas leave Mother presented me with a cutting from the “Hull Daily Mail” – I’ve no idea what happened to that.
Judging from the gap between entries in my log book I
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presume I had another leave after completing my duties as an instructor because the next entry shows me flying as navigator in a crew headed by F/Lt Bill Addison, who had acted as flight commander towards the end of his duties at Lindholme.
We were part of a newly assembled crew, each member having completed a tour of thirty operations, preparing for a possible second tour of operations. We had been laid off for a minimum six months (in my case eight months), to rest us from our first tours and at the same time make use of us in the training of further batches of aircrew.
In typical inflexible service fashion we found, much to our chagrin, that we were treated as beginners without an “op” behind us. Another possible explanation is that with the ending of the war in Europe, the R.A.F. had to keep us temporarily occupied and this was the easiest way to do it. For a couple of months (May to July ’45) we went through the same routine that our first crew had to undergo at No. 1653 H.C.U., omitting the “circuits and bumps” but making up for this by doing twice as much of the other H.C.U. catalogue. Halfway through this our crew was transferred to No. 576 Squadron, based at Fiskerton near Lincoln. To use a prevalent expression we were all “cheesed” or “browned off” with our lack of recognition. The war in Europe had ended but we were expecting to be sent to tackle the Japanese.
On 17.7.45 we had a cross-country with a difference, code-named “Cooks Tour”, visiting Rotterdam, Arnhem, Essen, Cologne, Aachen and Antwerp. The idea was partly to impress the natives and partly to let us see the havoc wrought by Bomber Command during the recent campaign. I believe we carried a few ground-staff personnel as observers.
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Then the R.A.F. at last found something to keep a large number of bomber crews occupied. We were used as troop carriers, flying to and from Italy, taking service personnel from and on leave, respectively. This was, I suppose, a kind of poetic justice. We had wrecked the railway system in France so that it was impossible to transport troops by land at anything like a reasonable speed, if at all, so we got the job.
On our first trip, early in August, we went to Bari, on the Adriatic coast and brought back on leave twenty members of the 8th Army. It can’t have been at all comfortable for them, sitting on the metal floor of a Lancaster, but I expect the novelty of the situation helped to distract them, and at least they were getting home quickly. Another novelty was that their kit bags were slung up in the bomb bays of the aircraft in place of bombs, but we didn’t drop any. On arrival in England we had to land at an airfield with Customs facilities, where the troops had to display their acquisitions (or loot).
The second trip was to Naples on 22.8.45. We had glorious views of Vesuvius on the approach to Pomigliano airfield. The next day was free and we managed to visit Pompeii. In Naples we were beset by bare-footed urchins competing with one another to swop lire for pound notes. Some R.A.F. types took packages of coffee to sell at inflated prices to the deprived Italians. On the following day we were due to carry another twenty passengers back to England.
Bill and I had to attend an early morning briefing, ready for a very early start, but take-off was postponed for a few hours and we had to attend a second briefing. Bill was rather tired and asked me to modify our official route by cutting off one of the corners. Instead of taking a north-westerly route running roughly
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parallel to the west coast of Italy and then heading due west towards the French Riviera I was to go over the top of Corsica to the French Riviera. As the highest ground on Corsica rose to about 9,000 feet it would be essential to be sure of a good safety margin for our passengers but as we didn’t have oxygen for them we would have to compromise – I reckoned that if we crossed Corsica at 11,000 feet that should be satisfactory. In fact I observed the approach to the east coast of the island on the H2S. We climbed to 11,000 feet and stayed there until we left the west coast behind us and then descended to our authorised height for the rest of the journey. The twenty minutes or so at 11,000 feet had negligible effect on our passengers. (The rule was that you needed to use oxygen if you flew over 10,000 feet for more than one hour).
The results of this change of route, whilst not affecting our passengers, remained to be seen. Whilst the pilot and myself were attending our second briefing some of the other members of the crew had wandered off to our aircraft where they were accosted by an R.A.F. groundstaff airman who was on leave in Italy but would rather spend his leave in England. Our crew members didn’t see why not and when the rest of us reached the Lancaster they seemed to have got it all arranged. Bill didn’t like it, but surprisingly, agreed on condition that if this “hitch-hiking” was discovered we knew nothing about it.
Our stowaway apparently got away from the Customs airfield at Glatton and went on his way. The trouble began when my chart was routinely scanned by the Navigation Officer and our short cut was revealed. Bill and I were interviewed separately about this breach of discipline but as I was subject to the captain’s instructions it largely devolved on Bill. Whilst the matter was still under consideration our stowaway put his
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spanner in the works. He had somehow to get back to Italy before his leave expired.
He knew we were from 576 Squadron from the aircraft’s lettering and notwithstanding the fact that he had already put us in jeopardy with his outward flight from Italy, he tried to get to our airfield at Fiskerton, near Lincoln, in the hope of a return trip. Unfortunately, he got mis-directed to our base airfield, where, being dressed in khaki drill whilst everyone else was in blue, the service police soon spotted him and took him for questioning. He told them almost the whole story – the only thing he didn’t give away was with which crew he had travelled. The pilot and I were confronted with this chap and we both denied having seen him – I truthfully didn’t recognise him as I hadn’t paid particular attention to him at the critical time.
We could have been right up to our ears in it but for our station intelligence officer withholding a vital piece of evidence. He knew from the time of the ‘bus that our stowaway had caught from Glatton that ours was the only aircraft from our squadron which could possibly have landed him in time, thanks to our cutting the corner on our route and being one of the first aircraft back to England. The intelligence officer told us later how he had worked things out. I suppose one or both of us might possibly have been court-martialled for this serious breach of discipline but nothing happened. Except, one day Bill Addison had to report to Group Headquarters where he saw one senior officer and was reprimanded for cutting the corner, then went (on the same visit) to see another officer to be told that he had been awarded the A.F.C. for his work as an instructor, to add to the D.F.C. he already wore. As it happened, I didn’t fly again with Bill Addison as his demobilisation cropped up very soon afterwards.
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The Japanese surrendered that August, so now there was a general feeling of anti-climax. Personally, I knew I couldn’t throw away four years of studying and I couldn’t get out of the Air Force quickly enough now that the “raison d’etre” had been removed. I tried to get back into the habit of studying science at Lincoln Technical College but found the available course too elementary and had to give up that approach. Later on I had a piece of good news from our R.A.F. education officer. He had made enquiries and discovered that London University had modified its regulations, my School Certificate of 1937 now being acceptable and giving me exemption from the London Matriculation exam. This meant that when I did get back to studying I could aim for the London B.Sc. Special qualification, which had the advantage of an intermediate examination (with certificate) en route.
Our crew was broken up and despatched to various points of the compass. I received a letter from our wireless operator, “Artie” Shaw a year later, just after I was demobilised, from R.A.F. Seletar, Singapore but never heard from any of the others. However, by strange coincidence I did run across Bill Addison again. I encountered him at Lloyd’s Bank in York somewhere about 1960, and it turned out that he was living in Osbaldwick, barely half a mile from our house on Hull Road, York
I was posted to 50 Squadron at Sturgate, a recently constructed airfield near Gainsborough and joined the crew of F/O Titchener. That was in September 1945. We were soon on the Italian ferry trips again, flying to Naples on three more occasions to bring home service personnel. Twice we brought twenty army types and once we afforded the ladies a bit more room to spread themselves by seating only fourteen of them
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(A.T.S. and Q.A.I.M.N.S.) in the space normally occupied by twenty army blokes, but it was the same metal floor.
After that it was back to routine with plenty of cross-countries thrown in. I see that on one night exercise, operation “Bullseye”, we went via Hamburg, among other places, to a target on the island of Spiekeroog in the German chain of East Frisian Islands. This was very near the scene of our memorable exploits whilst battling with the elements during our return from Kiel about sixteen months previously. This time however, things were entirely different – no cumulo-nimbus and no danger of flak. On the way back to Sturgate there was a problem. Visibility had seriously deteriorated and for the first time in my flying experience our aircraft was diverted to Carnaby, near Bridlington, where there was a special emergency airfield, much used during the war. This had exceptionally long runways to accommodate crippled aircraft returning from ops and also an emergency flare path called F.I.D.O. (Fog Investigation and Dispersal Operation) which used containers of burning gasoline down the sides of the runway to cause local dispersal of the fog.
We landed safely and found that we would have to stay there till next day. We didn’t think much of the food or the very cold accommodation (it was early January 1946). Maybe there was some problem with our aircraft because another Lancaster from 50 Squadron collected us the following afternoon and flew us back to base.
Nissen huts were never warm in the winter. I can well remember a period during the winter at Sturgate when icicles formed on the inside of the door and my bed was one of the two either side of the entrance.
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The solid fuel stove was halfway back down the hut and I finished my insulation by piling the contents of my kit-bag on the bed before trying to sleep. Some of the stuff consisted of flying gear which I never needed on operations because the Lancaster was warm enough without it.
By late January, 50 Squadron was transferred to the much more hospitable Waddington airfield, just south of Lincoln. Waddington was constructed originally during the first world war and opened as an R.F.C. flying training station in 1916. Now it was a thoroughly modern establishment with permanent accommodation, workshops and offices. I was soon pottering around with various pilots on trivia like bombing at the local range, air-sea firing (for the gunners), four short cross-countries with A.T.C. cadets, air tests (one with an A. V. Roe test pilot who managed to take off in less than half the length of the runway).
There was operation “Frontline”, a propaganda tour of the British Zone in Germany. Just for a change we did a couple of meteorological trips (code name “Operation Seaweed”, both lengthy exercises in excess of eight hours, which took us up to latitude 62 degrees North, passing Fair Isle and the Shetlands with a turning point roughly halfway between the Faroe Islands and the most westerly coast of Norway.
We carried a meteorological observer to take the required data readings, to which I was able to contribute the locations in latitude and longitude and measurements of wind velocity at our height. It was all rather boring but after seeing such wide expanses of ocean for such a long time it was nice to return to land.
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Then there was the novelty of my one and only trip in a Lincoln bomber, the successor to the Lancaster, in which we would probably have done our second tour of operations (against the Japanese). My last flight in the R.A.F. was an abortive air sea mission on which we had to search an area of the North Sea off the coast of Scotland. We did sight an empty dinghy, which was very good going considering how tiny they are from any appreciable height, but no sign of any people or aircraft debris. The lost aircraft was later found in the hills of Northumberland.
To fill in a few more weeks before I was demobbed, in August 1946 I was sent, under protest, on an instructor’s course at Finningley. It was interesting in that I got to appreciate more fully the equipment I had been using on a regular basis, but futile from the teaching point of view since I would be leaving the Air Force almost immediately. I suppose our C.O. had been required to send so many persons and it was just a matter of making up the numbers, the Air Force being well into a state of disintegration.
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[photograph of the crew in front of their aircraft]
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[underlined] Chapter 8: Lancaster ME 758 PH-N “Nan” [/underlined]
Whilst I was home on leave, sometime in June 1945, it so happened that my brother Norman was also at home. We took our bicycles and crossed the Humber by paddle steamer, then cycled south to Wickenby. By great good fortune we found my old aircraft, ME 758 PH-N “Nan” still very much in existence. She had eventually completed more than a hundred operations, the latest ones being to drop food to the starving Dutch just before the Germans capitulated. There was also one of our old ground crew in attendance and he told us that “Nan’s” next exercise would be to take part in a fighter affiliation exercise, i.e. manoeuvering [sic] violently with a fighter aircraft. This didn’t seem at all considerate after what that aircraft had gone through! Anyway Norman took a photograph of “Nan”, myself and my ground crew corporal to add to tone he had already taken of me and my bike! I still have both pictures.
It was only a few years ago that I learned more about “Nan”. That was when I obtained a copy of “Claims to Fame. The Lancaster.” by Norman Franks. This book celebrates the Lancaster “centenarians” – 34 machines that achieved the remarkable goal of flying 100 or more operations. A Lancaster crew’s first tour of duty stood at 30 operations, but both men and aircraft often failed to reach even half of that total. Skill, training and team work would all increase the chances of survival, but luck played a large part in deciding which Lancaster would be found by a night fighter or hit by flak and which would escape to attack again. Only 34 Lancasters in Bomber Command survived 100 operations, about 1 percent of the number which were lost on operations. “Nan” was the only centenarian from Wickenby which was the base for two squadrons, 12 and 626. Franks, through some meticulous
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research has been able to compile a fairly comprehensive narrative for each Lancaster, including crew changes, missions flown and events and incidents during the service career of the aircraft.
Our crew flew in PH-N for the first time when we did a two and a half hours cross-country exercise on 26.5.44 after we had completed three ops. on different Lancasters. We did our fourth op. in her (it was her tenth) when we went to the Rote Erde railway marshalling yards at Aachen. The defences were strong and losses 7 percent (12 out of 170). A day later, 29.5.44, we did another cross-country in her and it turned out to be a rather “hairy” experience.
My log entry merely states “Window lost and aileron damaged. A.S.I. (air speed indicator) read 360 m.p.h. + in dive”.
I cannot remember the cause, but no great harm was done. The damage was repaired and we began a series of eleven ops. in her over the next three weeks up to 22.6.44 covering a variety of targets, including the first daylight raids by Lancasters since 1943, when we attacked the docks at Le Havre and Boulogne, on two successive evenings and virtually ended the E-boat threat to our cross-channel invasion shipping.
This took our total of ops. to 15 and “Nan’s” to 22. Whilst we enjoyed a week’s leave, “Nan” did five more operations with three other crews. We then did four of “Nan’s” next five ops., three of them being to the important French marshalling yards at Orleans, Dijon and Tours, bringing us to 19 and “Nan” to 32.
“Nan” then managed two more trips without us before
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we did three night ops. in five days, returning from Stuttgart on 24/25.7.44 on three engines. Two days later we were air-testing “Nan” with a new engine and tail fin. This damage was not mentioned in Norman Franks’ account nor indeed was there any mention of the operation on Stuttgart, which was our 22nd and “Nan’s” 37th op.
After a couple of short daylight ops. to French targets we were scheduled to attack the V-weapon launching site at Trossy St. Maximin. This, as I have already described in some detail, was the worst experience of our tour and which we were very lucky to survive. Once again this was not mentioned in Norman Franks’ account. In fact he summarises “Nan’s” record as follows:-
“Nan” was almost totally free of mechanical problems, although towards the end of its career the aircraft’s starboard engine caught fire on 2nd February 1945, causing the crew to abort a trip to Wiesbaden. This particular Lanc. was also lucky to escape serious damage from the German defences: only once was damaged recorded when its hydraulics were hit by light flak at 0612 hours during the attack to support Operation “Goodwood” – the Allied breakout from Caen on 18th July 1944.”
This was one of a couple of ops. done by other crews, presumably whilst our crew was on leave after our 19th op. on Tours. That damage cannot have been too bad because the Caen trip was followed, the same evening, by an op. on Scholven!
In the aftermath of the Trossy operation we had to do our next op. in PH-W whilst “Nan” was being repaired. “Nan” didn’t get back on ops. until ten days after Trossy – a long lay-off in
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those days!
We had “Nan” back for the op. on Russelsheim on 25/26th August. Our tailplane was damaged to the extent that we practised landing manoeuvres whilst we still had plenty of height before actually landing at base on our return. With the exception of our op. in V-“Victor” on 28.8.44, when “Nan” was not flying with any crew, possible due to overhaul, we completed our tour in “Nan”, receiving light flak damage on our last operation.
So once we’d got “Nan”, after our three “starter” ops., we did 25 of our remaining 27 trips in her, which must be something of a record in itself.
Altogether she completed 106 operations, six “Manna” sorties (taking food to the starving Dutch people) and two “Exodus” trips (the flying home of released prisoners of war).
Looking back it seems such a shame that after seeing out the war she was “struck off charge” on 19.10.45 and “reduced to produce” i.e. scrapped.
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[black and white photograph of airman in uniform on a bicycle leaning against a wall]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[photograph]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[underlined] Chapter 9: GEE. A. P. I. and H2S [/underlined]
My work as a navigator was enhanced out of all recognition by three devices put at my disposal over a six-month period. “Gee” was a godsend after the dismal future I had anticipated relying to any extent on str-navigation. It was a system based on the transmission of synchronised pulses from a “master” (A) and two “slave” (B and C) ground stations. The two “slaves” were situated about 200 miles apart, with the “master” in the middle, and the cathode ray display on the “Gee” set in the aircraft showed the respective differences between the times at which the AB and AC signals were received. When these measurements were plotted on a special chart covered with two distinct sets of parabolic lines it was a simple matter to fix the aircraft’s position with great accuracy. This accuracy gradually declined as the distance from the transmitting stations increased and the crossings of the two sets of curved lines became more acute. Furthermore it was susceptible to interference from enemy jamming stations to the extent that it could not be relied upon beyond enemy shores.
It still gave us the all-important chance of determining accurate measurements of wind velocity and so getting off to a good start on every operation. It also helped to verify one’s position on the way home after leaving the enemy coast and simplified getting back to the right airfield. The Air Force had understandably kept the information about “Gee” from us until it was absolutely necessary to introduce this master stroke. It certainly “bucked up” we navigators no end.
The second of the marvellous pieces of equipment was the air position indicator (A.P.I.). This showed the changes in latitude and longitude of the moving aircraft which would occur
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if there were no wind. It was a mechanical device which combined the inputs of the gyro compass and the air speed indicator, keeping a continuous record of the actual courses and speeds flown, including all deviations from the intended, and including “spur of the moment” tactical manoeuvres. This made life a lot easier by removing much of the drudgery in the manual plotting of lines on a chart by means of ruler, protractor, dividers and calculator.
The third item was airborne radar, known as H2S. This had a rotating transmitter, known as a scanner, housed in a “blister” beneath the aircraft and a receiver at the navigator’s side, the whole system being self-contained. It produced, on a cathode-ray tube, a rough picture of the ground over which the aircraft was flying, irrespective of cloud or darkness.
Water areas, which reflected none of the transmitting signals from the rotating scanner showed darkly on the screen. Land areas (or ground returns) appeared green, but a more reflective area such as a built-up area showed up as a more luminous patch often, but not always approximating in outline to the shape of a town. It was up the navigator to use his other information gleaned en route to decide which town he was observing on the screen. The chief use was navigational for there was a range-finder on the screen and a bearing indicator so one could obtain a bearing and distance from an identified town or feature. It was also possible to carry out bombing attacks without sight of the ground and the equipment could not be jammed by the enemy.
Unfortunately, German night-fighters had, for some time before our tour of operations, the capability of homing onto H2S transmissions - more about this later under “The German Defences”.
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[underlined] Chapter 10: The German Defences. [/underlined]
To counter R.A.F. and U.S.A.A.F. attacks the Germans had to deprive the German forces of 75% of their heavy anti-tank weapons. These 88mm guns had to be used for ant-aircraft purposes, scattered all over Germany and occupied territories because the possible targets were so numerous. 900,000 soldiers manned those guns and, in addition, hundreds of thousands of expert tradesmen could not be used by the German Army because their skills were needed to repair bomb damage. Meanwhile, the increasing requirement for day and night-fighters for defence against the bomber offensive, deprived the German Army on the Russian front of much of its accustomed close support as Messerschmidt 110s and Junkers 88s were drawn westwards.
Our most deadly opposition came from the German night-fighters. The German pilots had long known that the blind spot of the British bombers was below the fuselage but had not been able to exploit this fully because the fighter had generally to be aimed at the bomber to make use of its fixed forward-firing weapons and this could be difficult at night. However, in the autumn of 1943, an ingenious fitter at a Luftwaffe airfield devised the prototype of the deadly “schrage musik” - “jazz music” - a pair of fixed 20mm cannons pointing upwards at 60 degrees. Having located a bomber with the aid of radar or using the bomber’s radar (H2S) transmissions, the fighter pilot could then fly unseen and fairly safely manoeuvre below their target and fire incendiary cannon shells into the petrol tanks between the two motors in the wing, being particularly careful to avoid the bomb bay in the belly of the aircraft. It was then only a matter of seconds before the bomber exploded. The victims had no chance.
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Using this technique, an experienced night-fighter pilot could account for several four-engined bombers in a single excursion, there being so many targets available.
I sometimes wonder if and at what stage our superiors realised the situation and whether they had to decide between warning the crews of the dangers of H2S transmissions and maintaining the advantage of the navigational aid. I am sure a lot of H2S sets would have been little used over Germany if the crews had been presented with the true scenario. To be fair, our leaders would not at the time have been in a position to accurately attribute the proportion of bomber losses due to night fighters as opposed to anti-aircraft fire, but they must have had a rough idea.
What other crews saw was a sudden mid-air explosion and burst of flame. Someone put out the story that these were “scarecrows” fired into the air by the Germans with the intention of making the crews believe they were bombers being shot down and thereby affecting the bomber crews’ morale!
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[underlined and centred] Chapter 11: Reflections on survival [/underlined and centred]
Many factors contributed to my survival, beginning with my decision that I wanted to do the navigation on a bomber aircraft. At the time I volunteered for aircrew this was one of the two jobs of the observer, who was also responsible for dropping the bombs. The latter task was subsequently delegated to a specialist bomb aimer. When I enlisted in November 1941 (after passing the preliminaries three months earlier), there was a bottle-neck in the training scheme for navigators. I was deferred for five months, otherwise I would have been starting my tour in the winter of 1943-44, probably about January. That would have been a rotten time with bad weather and numerous long-distance trips including a high proportion to Berlin.
Then there was the length of the training period which took two years from the end of my deferred service to reaching the operational squadron, partially due to the necessity of fitting in to laid-down training schedules at the succeeding stages, notably:-
(a) the gap between completing the I.T.W. course and catching the boat to South Africa,
(b) five weeks at sea on a circuitous submarine-evading route to South Africa via South America,
(c) several weeks between arriving at 48 Air School, South Africa and starting the course there,
(d) the return to England,
(e) several more weeks delay at O.T.U. whilst the R.A.F. decided that our original pilot wouldn’t make the grade.
All these delays took me nearer to D-Day and the invasion of Europe by the Allied Armies. The increasing
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diversity of the targets needing to be attacked in order to assist the coming assault meant that there was a greater proportion of shorter range tactical targets and only seven over Germany itself. (Air Marshal Harris would have preferred to keep hammering away at German targets but had to give priority to the invasion requirements.) In the final stages before the landings there were attacks on coastal batteries, and radar stations, but the longer term “softening up” was by attacking a large number of railway centres to seriously impede German troop movements and supplies to the invasion front.
We were fortunate in not being “downed” by anti-aircraft fire on a few occasions, particularly near Stuttgart, when we returned on three engines and on the occasion near Compiegne when we got 50-60 holes in the aircraft and two of the crew received minor injuries. We were lucky in our encounter with the severe storm on the way back from our second trip to Kiel. And we were never attacked by a night-fighter, despite getting a close-up view of one on the Stuttgart operation.
On the positive side, we had a well-disciplined crew who didn’t waste time on unnecessary nattering on the intercom. What’s more, there was never any visible or audible sign of fear or distress.
We kept very close to our scheduled routes and times on almost all occasions, i.e. we kept in the middle of the bunch so it wasn’t quite so easy to be singled out.
I am sure that the toughest time for bomber crews was in the six months prior to us joining 12 Squadron. Nevertheless, I was surprised to discover in an “Analysis of Total Losses of Lancasters by Months” in the Wickenby Register Newsletter of
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May 1994 that 12 Squadron lost 31 Lancasters in the six months Nov. ’43 to April ’44 and 27 in the four months that our crew was operating. I suppose that might be explained by the ops. not being so frequent during the winter months.
91
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92
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[underlined and centred] Chapter 12: Postscript. [/underlined and centred]
After all these years I cannot remember just when or where I was demobbed and received my “civvy” suit. I know that officially my last day of service was 16.10.46 but I believe I was out a few weeks earlier.
I know that I picked up where I left off. I went back to work for B.O.C.M. at the laboratory in Stoneferry and I re-enlisted for Hull Technical College evening classes. As an ex-member of the forces and a background of studying chemistry for almost four years I knew I was eligible to apply for an educational grant of something over £3 a week to proceed on a full time course to a professional qualification. (Out of this, textbooks etc. had to be purchased). This would have meant giving up the day job which paid over £4 a week.
I knew that after four and a half years complete absence from my studies I would have to revise from the very beginning, but now that my School Certificate was accepted as giving me exemption from the London Matriculation exam. I decided that I would defer my application for a grant and aim to take the London Inter B.Sc. examination the next June. The Inter B.Sc. course took two years of evening class work so it meant I would have to cover one-half via the 1946-47 evening class course and the other half by swotting up from textbooks and my old notebooks. If I succeeded in passing the exam, comprising Maths., Physics and Chemistry, I would at least have that certificate to my name and I couldn’t have been further on if I’d taken advantage of the grant. Anyway I took the gamble although I found the readjustment rather tough. It was very amusing when attending an early lecture in Physics to hear the same old lecturer, Mr. Robson, repeat the same hoary joke that
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Walter Suddaby and I had heard in 1938 concerning his friend’s dog who was christened “Hysteresis” because it was always lagging behind.
Back at home there was a problem. My parents had been separated for some years, partially due to the war. The Luftwaffe destroyed Spillers’ flour mill, where my father worked, during a night raid in July 1941. Shortly afterwards, his firm offered him alternative employment at their Wallasey mill, which he accepted. At the tip of the Wirral peninsula he was now well over a hundred miles from Hull, so he wasn’t able to come home every weekend. My brother Norman, although a year younger than I, joined the R.A.F. shortly before I left home, due to my five months deferred service.
So by the time I had to report to the R.A.F. in London my mother, in a matter of a few months, was reduced from a family of five to my young sister Hazel and herself. This was very hard for her in the middle of the war, particularly as the air raid alerts still sounded regularly in Hull.
It was assumed that we should resume as a family when the war was over, although no-one knew when that would be or whether it would be possible. My father settled in Wallasey and mad regular payments to mother. At one time he tried to persuade her to join him in Wallasey but she declined for two reasons. She had worked hard all her life and used a very small legacy from a relative in New Zealand to enable the family to move into a modest home of our own and she was intent on having it ready for our return.
By the time I was “demobbed” things had become more complicated. My father had formed a relationship with his
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landlady and had no intention of returning to Hull. Mother’s situation was uncertain unless there was a legal separation, which would obviously take some time to come to court.
After passing the Inter B.Sc. exam, in June ’47, I had another decision to make. I could apply for the ex-serviceman’s grant or continue at evening classes for another year and then take the Subsid. Maths qualification, clearing the way to the B.Sc.(Special) in Chemistry. This would mean dropping all contact with chemistry for a year. Being slightly mad, but having confidence in my maths, I carried on at the Tech. evening classes for another session! and continued to work full-time at B.O.C.M. I duly passed the maths exam in June ’48.
In the meantime, the legal formalities of my parents’ separation had been formalised on a proper financial basis.
When I got my exam results I composed a letter applying for an educational grant as an ex-member of the forces, pointing out that I had already saved the country money by completing part of the course via evening classes. How could anyone resist that? I got a favourable response and I arranged to leave B.O.C.M. and complete my education full-time but still at the Hull Technical College, commencing in the autumn.
My two post-war years at B.O.C.M. had been spent on the routine testing of ingredients for animal feedstuffs, a boring occupation which I had now endured for six years altogether, plus six years of evening classes. I knew it had to be full-time or nothing.
Fortunately for me those last two years at B.O.C.M. were by no means wasted because it was there that I met a charming
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young lady assistant. Yvonne and I found that we had very similar outlooks and much in common and, although I was transferred to the Foster Street laboratory for the latter part of my stay with B.O.C.M., we maintained contact. In subsequent years I must have cycled a few hundreds of miles between North Hull and East Hull!!
It was rather odd attending the degree course. There were a couple of other ex-forces students, but the majority of our fellow pupils were about eight years younger. An advantage over attending a university was that the staff and the geography were all familiar and I had great faith in the staff, especially Messrs. L. Balmforth and G. R. Dennis.
I proposed to Yvonne on New Year’s Eve ’48 – ’49 with the proviso that I had to concentrate on first passing my final exams in 1950. Fortunately, she accepted!
I found those final two years hard going but I took my A.R.I.C. exams in April and the B.Sc. Special in Chemistry (London External) exams in June 1950 and waited in some trepidation for the results. I didn’t wish to go through all that again. I was now 28 and I’d had enough of college for my lifetime! However, all was well and I had both qualifications.
Now the way was clear to seek employment and plan for the wedding, which took place on September 30th, 1950. It rained all day! Subsequent events would take another book!
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[underlined and centred] Bibliography [/underlined and centred]
FRANKS, Norman
“Claims to Fame. The Lancaster” (Arms and Armour, 1994)
RICHARDS, Denis
“The Hardest Victory. R.A.F. Bomber Command in the Second World War.” (Hodder and Stoughton Ltd. 1994)
HASTINGS, Max
“Bomber Command” (Michael Joseph Ltd. 1979)
CHORLEY, W.R.
“Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Losses of the Second World War. Vol. 5 Aircraft and Crew Losses. 1944” (Midland Counties Publications. 1997)
SEARBY, John (Air Commodore)
“The Bomber Battle for Berlin” (Guild Publishing, 1991)
HARRIS, Sir Arthur
“Bomber Offensive” (Greenhill Books, 1998)
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98
[underlined and centred] Glossary of R.A.F. Terms. (Official and Unofficial).
A.P.I.
Air Position Indicator
A.S.I.
Air Speed Indicator
“Bang on”
Spot on, “Wizard”, 100%
“Cheesed off”
Browned off, fed up.
“Circuits and Bumps”
Practice take-off and landing
Cumulo-nimbus
Thunder clouds
D.R.
Dead reckoning with a calculated wind
Elsan
Aircraft toilet
Feathered
Engine switched off with propellor blades turned to reduce air resistance
Flak
Anti-aircraft fire
F.I.D.O.
Fog Investigation and Dispersal Operation
“Gardening”
Laying sea mines
GEE
Radio navigation aid, grid box
H2S
Radar navigation and bombing aid
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I.T.W.
Initial Training Wing
O.T.U.
Operational Training Unit
P.F.F.
Path Finder Force
Pitot/tube
An open-ended tube mounted externally on the aircraft facing directly into the air flow to provide a convenient and accurate measurement of the aircraft’s speed.
“Screened”
aircrew rested from ops at end of tour and transferred to instructing
“Solo”
Unsupervised flight
Sprog
Inexperienced aircrew
V1 and V2
Robot flying bombs used by the Germans commonly called “doodlebugs”
“Vegetables”
Mines laid by the R.A.F.
“Window”
Aluminised strips used as an anti-radar device.
100
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
Time out for war
Description
An account of the resource
History of wartime experiences of Ronald Witty. Starts with schooling and early employment just before the war in Hull. Mentions German bombing of Hull and volunteering for the RAF. Describes training in London and Torquay before departing on a troop ship for South Africa. Describes navigator training and activities at Woodbrook and Queenstown. Continues with trip back to England and continuation of training at RAF Halfpenny Green, Desborough (Northamptonshire), RAF Chedburgh, and RAF Hemswell. Goes on to describe his operational tour on 12 Squadron at RAF Wickenby including accounts of some operations including some daylight operations during the Normandy campaign and against flying bomb sites as well as mine laying. Tour culminates with award of Distinguished Flying Cross. Concludes with account of subsequent tours as an instructor at RAF Lindholme and other stations and including account of flying on Cook's tour of German cities. Adds chapters about his Lancaster ME758 PH-N "Nan" as well as another on GEE, A.P.I and H2S. Contains many b/w photographs of RAF personnel and aircraft.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
A R Witty
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
100 page printed book
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
BWittyARWittyARv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
England--Hull
England--London
England--Devon
England--Torquay
England--Lancashire
England--Liverpool
South Africa
South Africa--Durban
South Africa--East London
South Africa--Cape Town
England--Staffordshire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Suffolk
England--Lincolnshire
France
France--Rennes
Germany
Germany--Aachen
France--Paris
France--Normandy
France--Evreux
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
France--Le Havre
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
France--Calais
France--Dijon
France--Tours
Belgium
Belgium--Kortrijk
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Stuttgart
France--Orléans
France--Pas-de-Calais
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
France--Domléger-Longvillers
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-03-29
1943-07-10
1943-07-27
1943-09-08
1943-10-12
1944-02-25
1944-04-26
1944-04-28
1944-06-14
1944-06-14
1944-06-12
1942-06-13
1944-06-22
1944-07-23
1944-07-24
1944-07-25
1944-07-30
1944-08-03
1944-08-31
1944-12-12
1945-07-07
1945-07-17
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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.
1 Group
12 Squadron
1653 HCU
1656 HCU
3 Group
50 Squadron
576 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
bombing of the Boulogne E-boats (15/16 June 1944)
bombing of the Le Havre E-boat pens (14/15 June 1944)
Bombing of Trossy St Maximin (3 August 1944)
Cook’s tour
coping mechanism
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
faith
Gee
H2S
Halifax
Halifax Mk 2
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Master Bomber
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
navigator
Nissen hut
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Fiskerton
RAF Halfpenny Green
RAF Hemswell
RAF Lindholme
RAF Methwold
RAF Sturgate
RAF Torquay
RAF Waddington
RAF Wickenby
Stirling
tactical support for Normandy troops
target indicator
training
V-1
V-2
V-weapon
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1817/32279/LWittyAR1520694v1.2.pdf
dfeb88f111e1be8091783d8a2c508035
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
Witty, A R
Witty, Ron
Witty, Ronald
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-03-23
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
Witty, AR
Description
An account of the resource
118 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Ronald Witty DFM (1520694 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, navigation charts and logs of all his operations, photographs and correspondence home from training in South Africa. He flew thirty operations as a navigator with 12 Squadron before going as an instructor on 1656 HCU and then 576 and 50 Squadrons after the war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by David Witty and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
A K Witty’s observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book
Description
An account of the resource
Observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book for A K Witty, navigator, covering the period from 1 April 1943 to 24 July 1946. Detailing his flying training, operations flown, Instructor duties and post war flying duties with 576 and 50 squadrons. He was stationed at RSAAF East London, RAF Halfpenny Green, RAF Desborough, RAF Chedburgh, RAF Hemswell, RAF Wickenby, RAF Lindholme, RAF Fiskerton, RAF Sturgate and RAF Waddington. Aircraft flown in were Anson, Wellington, Stirling, Lancaster, Halifax, and Lincoln. He flew a total of 30 operations with 12 squadron, 9 daylight and 21 night. His pilot on operations was Sergeant Holbrook. Targets were Bruz, Hasselt, Aachen, Berneval Le Grand, Sangatte, St Martin de Varreville, Acheres, Flers, Evreux, Gelsenkirchen, Le Havre, Boulogne, Aulnoye, Wissant, Domleger, Orleans, Dijon, Tours, Courtrai, Kiel, Stuttgart, Caumont, Le Catelliers, Trossy St Maxim, La Rochelle, Russelsheim, Fromental and St Reguier
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
Cara Walmsley
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LWittyAR1520694v1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Belgium
France
Germany
Great Britain
South Africa
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Belgium--Hasselt
Belgium--Kortrijk
England--Lincolnshire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Staffordshire
England--Suffolk
England--Yorkshire
France--Argentan
France--Berneval-le-Grand
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
France--Bruz
France--Calais
France--Cherbourg Region
France--Dieppe (Arrondissement)
France--Dijon
France--Evreux
France--Flers-de-l'Orne
France--La Rochelle
France--Le Havre
France--Longvilliers
France--Maubeuge
France--Orléans
France--Pas-de-Calais
France--Paris Region
France--Sainte-Maxime-sur-Mer
France--Saint-Riquier
France--Tours
Germany--Aachen
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Rüsselsheim
Germany--Stuttgart
South Africa--East London
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
France--Les Catelliers
France--Domléger-Longvillers
France--Saint-Martin-de-Varreville
France--Sangatte
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944-05-07
1944-05-08
1944-05-11
1944-05-12
1944-05-24
1944-05-25
1944-05-28
1944-06-02
1944-06-03
1944-06-04
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
1944-06-07
1944-06-09
1944-06-10
1944-06-11
1944-06-12
1944-06-13
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
1944-06-17
1944-06-18
1944-06-22
1944-07-02
1944-07-04
1944-07-05
1944-07-06
1944-07-12
1944-07-13
1944-07-20
1944-07-21
1944-07-23
1944-07-24
1944-07-25
1944-07-30
1944-08-02
1944-08-03
1944-08-10
1944-08-11
1944-08-25
1944-08-26
1944-08-27
1944-08-28
1944-08-31
1945
1946
1944-06-16
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
12 Squadron
1653 HCU
1656 HCU
50 Squadron
576 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
air sea rescue
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
bombing of the Boulogne E-boats (15/16 June 1944)
bombing of the Le Havre E-boat pens (14/15 June 1944)
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
Bombing of Trossy St Maximin (3 August 1944)
Cook’s tour
Gee
H2S
Halifax
Halifax Mk 2
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 3
Lincoln
mine laying
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Fiskerton
RAF Halfpenny Green
RAF Hemswell
RAF Lindholme
RAF Sturgate
RAF Waddington
RAF Wickenby
Stirling
tactical support for Normandy troops
training
V-1
V-2
V-weapon
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1414/28279/LWareingR86325v2.1.pdf
9d3140532497d80be26a8f60fae31949
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Wareing, Robert
R Wareing
Description
An account of the resource
258 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Robert Wareing DFC* (86325 Royal Air Force) and contains his flying logbooks, prisoner of war log book, memoirs, photographs, extensive personal and official correspondence, official documents, pilots/handling notes, decorations, mementos, uniform badges and buttons. He flew operations as a pilot with 106 Squadron. After a period of instructing he returned to operations on 582 Squadron but was shot down and became a prisoner of war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Andrew Wareing and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-10-05
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wareing, R
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/.
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LWareingR86325v2
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
Description
An account of the resource
Pilots flying log book two for R Wareing, covering the period from 17 February 1942 to 25 November 1943. Detailing his Instructor duties and flying training. He was stationed at RAF Cottesmore, RAF Market Harborough, RAF Upper Heyford and RAF Desborough. Aircraft flown in were Oxford, Anson, Hampden, Wellington, Lancaster and Proctor. Carried out 1 night operation and 3 Air/Sea Rescue searches.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Leicestershire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Oxfordshire
England--Rutland
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1942-06-25
1942-06-26
1943-01-20
1943-03-11
1943-06-14
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
Title
A name given to the resource
Robert Wareing pilot's flying log book. Two
14 OTU
16 OTU
84 OTU
air sea rescue
aircrew
Anson
Flying Training School
Hampden
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
pilot
Proctor
RAF Cottesmore
RAF Desborough
RAF Market Harborough
RAF Upper Heyford
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1412/26738/LTindallAJ173966v1.2.pdf
f71a81fa60cca73bbffd928026a637c0
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
Tindall, Arthur John
A J Tindall
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
2015-04-03
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Tindall, AJ
Description
An account of the resource
Nine items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Arthur John Tindall DFC (1388739 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a wireless operator with 97 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by June Tindall and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Arthur John Tindall’s navigator's, air bomber's and air gunner’s flying log book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LTindallAJ173966v1
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Description
An account of the resource
A J Tindall’s log book covering the period from March 1942 to 6 November 1945. Detailing his flying training and operations flown as wireless operator/air gunner. He was stationed at RAF Yatesbury (2 RS), RAF Mona (5 AGS), RAF Cottesmore (14 OTU), RAF Wigsley (1654 HCU), RAF Upwood (PFNTU), RAF Bourn and RAF Coningsby (97 Squadron). Aircraft flown in were Dominie, Botha, Wellington, Lancaster, Stirling, Anson and Proctor. He flew a total of 30 night operations with 97 Squadron (first Tour) and 10 night and 2 day operations with 97 Squadron (second tour), a total of 42. Targets were Stuttgart, Hannover, Berlin, Leipzig, Cologne, Frankfurt, Brunswick, Augsburg, Laon, Munich, Schweinfurt, Kjeller, L’Isle Adam, Brest, Argentan, Etampes, Poitiers, Gelsenkirchen, Prouville, Donge and Givors. His pilots on operations were Sergeant Johnson, Squadron Leader Cawdery, Flight Lieutenant Clarke and Wing Commander Ingham.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Terry Hancock
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944
1945
1943-10-07
1943-10-08
1943-10-09
1943-10-18
1943-10-20
1943-10-21
1943-10-22
1943-11-03
1943-11-18
1943-11-19
1943-11-22
1943-11-23
1943-11-24
1943-11-26
1943-12-02
1943-12-04
1943-12-16
1943-12-17
1943-12-20
1943-12-24
1944-01-14
1944-01-27
1944-01-28
1944-01-30
1944-02-14
1944-02-25
1944-02-26
1944-03-01
1944-03-02
1944-03-15
1944-03-16
1944-03-18
1944-03-19
1944-03-22
1944-03-23
1944-04-10
1944-04-22
1944-04-23
1944-04-24
1944-04-25
1944-04-26
1944-04-27
1944-04-28
1944-04-29
1944-05-31
1944-06-01
1944-06-06
1944-06-07
1944-06-09
1944-06-10
1944-06-12
1944-06-13
1944-06-21
1944-06-22
1944-06-24
1944-06-25
1944-07-24
1944-07-25
1944-07-26
1944-07-31
1944-08-06
1944-08-11
1944-08-12
1944-08-14
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France
Germany
Great Britain
Norway
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Rutland
England--Wiltshire
France--Argentan
France--Auxi-le-Château
France--Brest
France--Étampes (Essonne)
France--Givors
France--Laon
France--L'Isle-Adam
France--Poitiers
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Munich
Germany--Schweinfurt
Germany--Stuttgart
Norway--Kjeller
Wales--Anglesey
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
14 OTU
1654 HCU
17 OTU
84 OTU
97 Squadron
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
Anson
bombing
bombing of Kassel (22/23 October 1943)
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
bombing of the Pas de Calais V-1 sites (24/25 June 1944)
Botha
Dominie
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Master Bomber
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
Proctor
RAF Bourn
RAF Coningsby
RAF Cottesmore
RAF Desborough
RAF Mona
RAF Silverstone
RAF Upwood
RAF Wigsley
RAF Yatesbury
Stirling
training
Wellington
wireless operator
wireless operator / air gunner
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/530/25990/MShawSR3002545-160211-15.2.jpg
64233735a3dc7bb38205a8314df55045
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
Shaw, Stanley R
S R Shaw
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Shaw, SR
Description
An account of the resource
37 items. An oral history interview with Stanley Shaw (3002545 Royal Air Force) Photographs, documents and his log book. He served with a Repair and Salvage Unit and attended many crashes. He later served in North Africa and the Middle East.
The collection also contains two photograph albums; one of his RAF service and one of his time in a cycle club.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Stanley Shaw and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
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.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-01-14
2016-02-11
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
Aircraft Recovered by No 9 Party, 54 MU
Description
An account of the resource
A list of 29 aircraft recovered during 1944-45 by No 9 Party, 54 Maintenance Unit.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Stan Shaw
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One handwritten list
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MShawSR3002545-160211-15
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Bedfordshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Norfolk
England--Suffolk
England--Wiltshire
England--Thurleigh
England--Ely
England--Felixstowe
England--Desborough
England--Northamptonshire
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
1945
B-17
B-24
B-25
Battle
C-47
Halifax
Lancaster
Mosquito
P-51
RAF Bassingbourn
RAF Bourn
RAF Castle Combe
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Duxford
RAF Felixstowe
RAF Gransden Lodge
RAF Graveley
RAF Henlow
RAF Hethel
RAF Kimbolton
RAF Martlesham Heath
RAF Mepal
RAF Oakington
RAF Podington
RAF Stradishall
RAF Sutton Bridge
RAF Swannington
RAF Swanton Morley
RAF Tempsford
RAF Upwood
RAF Warboys
RAF Watton
RAF Woodbridge
RAF Wratting Common
Stirling
Walrus
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/631/24935/LQuineJW185297v1.1.pdf
eab1145dccb0b5e8771ded41d76a1a59
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
Quine, John Wakeford
J W Quine
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Quine, JW
Description
An account of the resource
Seven Items. Collection concerns Pilot officer John Wakeford Quine (b. 1923, 1576065, 185297 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a pilot with 170 and 582 Squadrons. The collection consists of his logbook, official documents, a course photograph and an oral history interview. also includes a sub-collection of a photograph album of his time training in the United States as well as some target photographs.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by John Quine and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-08-05
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944
1945
1945
1946
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
J W Quine’s Royal Canadian Air Force pilots flying log book
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LQuineJW185297v1
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
Description
An account of the resource
Royal Canadian Air Force pilots flying log book for J W Quine, covering the period from August 1942 to 18 January 1946. Detailing his flying training, operations flown and post war flying with 582 squadron. He was stationed at Miami, RCAF Edmonton, RAF Talbenny, RAF Little Rissington, RAF Desborough, RAF Lindholme, RAF Hemswell, RAF Warboys, RAF Little Staughton and RAF Dunkeswell. Aicraft flown were Tiger Moth, Cornell, Texan, Wellington, Anson, Oxford, Halifax, Lancaster, Mosquito and Dakota. He flew a total of 20 operations, 8 night with 170 squadron, 7 daylight and 5 night with 582 squadron. He also flew one Operation Manna, one Operation Exodus and two Operation Dodge flights. Targets were, Karlsruhe, Koblenz, Bonn, Hannover, Merseburg, Duisburg, Wiesbaden, Bottrop, Mannheim, Kamen, Chemnitz, Dessau, Kassel, Essen, Bremen, Dulmen, Sterkrade, Paderborn, Lutzkendorf, Rotterdam, Juvincourt and Bari. His pilot for his first 'second dickie' operation was Flying Officer Whyte.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
France
Germany
Great Britain
Italy
Netherlands
United States
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Alberta--Edmonton
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Devon
England--Gloucestershire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Yorkshire
Florida--Miami
France--Guignicourt
Germany--Bonn
Germany--Bottrop
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Chemnitz
Germany--Dessau (Dessau)
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Dülmen
Germany--Essen
Germany--Halle an der Saale
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Kamen
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Koblenz
Germany--Mannheim
Germany--Merseburg
Germany--Paderborn
Germany--Wiesbaden
Italy--Bari
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Wales--Pembrokeshire
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Florida
Alberta
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
France--Juvincourt-et-Damary
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1944-12-04
1944-12-05
1944-12-22
1944-12-23
1944-12-28
1944-12-29
1945-01-05
1945-01-06
1945-01-14
1945-01-15
1945-01-22
1945-01-23
1945-02-02
1945-02-03
1945-02-04
1945-03-01
1945-03-03
1945-03-04
1945-03-05
1945-03-06
1945-03-07
1945-03-08
1945-03-09
1945-03-11
1945-03-21
1945-03-22
1945-03-24
1945-03-25
1945-03-27
1945-04-04
1945-04-05
1945-05-03
1945-05-15
1945-06-16
1945-06-20
1945-06-30
1945-07-06
1945-08-11
1945-08-13
1945-08-20
1945-08-22
1945-08-27
1656 HCU
170 Squadron
582 Squadron
83 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
C-47
Cook’s tour
Cornell
Flying Training School
Halifax
Halifax Mk 2
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 3
Mosquito
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Desborough
RAF Dunkeswell
RAF Hemswell
RAF Lindholme
RAF Little Rissington
RAF Little Staughton
RAF Talbenny
RAF Warboys
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1186/18578/SWatsonC188489v1-1.2.pdf
41dce93a36a706458878ffce711dc143
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1186/18578/SWatsonC188489v1-2.1.pdf
78bceef44f30c4e1a4f2d533cd690cd9
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
Watson, Clifford
C Watson
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. Two oral history interviews with Flying Officer Clifford Watson DFC (1922 - 2018, 1384956, 188489 Royal Air Force), a memoir, his service and release book, and a scrapbook containing photographs and documents. He flew operations as an air gunner with 150 and 227 Squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Clifford Watson 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
2017-06-28
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. 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
Watson, C
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Photograph
JUST ANOTHER TAILEND CHARLIE
CLIFF WATSON DFC
HUNTINGDON
JUNE 1989
[page break]
[underlined] SEQUENCE [/underlined]
[underlined] File [/underlined] [underlined] Page [/underlined] [underlined] Location [/underlined]
[underlined] GROUP O [/underlined]
D 3 Joining up [underlined] AC2 [/underlined]
4 Babbacombe - 11 ITW Newquay [underlined] LAC [/underlined]
8 Troopship HMT Mooltan - Freetown - Capetown
G 7 Southern Rhodesia - Bulawayo [underlined] LAC [/underlined]
8 EFTS Belvedere Scrubbed TIGER MOTHS [underlined] AC2 [/underlined]
10 A/G Course, Moffat ANSONS [underlined] LAC-Sgt [/underlined]
11 Polsmoor Transit Camp [underlined] Sgt [/underlined]
J25 14 HMT Monarch of Bermuda
15 West Kirby - Bournmouth
17 25 OTU Finningley - Bircotes - WELLINGTONS
18 30 OTU Hixon - Sieghford
19 Leaflets to Paris
Wedding
J26 21 West Kirby - HMT Johan Van Vanderbilt
K1 23 Algiers - Blida - 150 Sqdn WELLINGTONS
K2 27 Fontaine Chaude (Batna) [underlined] FIt/Sgt [/underlined]
LT 32 Kairoaun
LU 35 On leave in Tunis, Chad in Jail
MT 46 End of First Tour - 47 raids
47 2 BPD Tunis - 500 mls. by lorry to Algiers
HXM Capetown Castle - Greenoch - West Kirby
NS 49 Screened 84 OTU Desborough
50 Norton, Sheffield Discip. course
53 W.O - 6th June D Day [underlined] W/O [/underlined]
OS 55 Aircrew Pool, Scampton - HCU Winthorpe STIRLING
56 Syerston Lanc. conversion LANCASTERS
P 57 227 Sqdn. Bardney – Balderton [underlined] P/O [/underlined]
60 DFC [underlined] F/O [/underlined]
63 End of Tour - VE Day
Q 67 Redundant - Photographic Officer, Farnborough
68 u/t Equipment Officer 61MU Handforth
[underlined] GROUP 4 [/underlined]
69 Lager Commandant, Poynton prison camp
2W 75 Civvy Street, Whitehaven Relay Service [underlined] MR [/underlined] .
79 Development Manager, Metropolitan Relays London
44 83 To Kenya, Kirksbridge Farm, Kiminini Kitale
48 85 HM Prison Service Asst. Supt. gr2
555 95 Civil Aviation Radio Officer
556 Mbeya Radio Supt.
557 103 UK leave PMG1 – Flt/RO lic. C. & G.
670 104 Eastleigh - Mwanza
107 Royal visit
680 113 UK leave
114 Entebbe Telecomm. Supt
115 Kisumu
700 123 Nairobi Comm. Centre Ast. Signals Officer
720 129 UK leave
750 134 Nairobi HQ & retirement
800 135 Laikipia Security Network
96 151 Pye Telecommunications, Cambridge Project Engineer
[page break]
[underlined] ILLUSTRATIONS [/underlined]
12A Air Gubber Coiurse 24 CAOS Moffat
15A Finningley Reg. Whellams
20A Bride & Groom 1/3/43
CW in flying kit
CW & HF at Richmond
26A Stan Rutherford with Hilda & Cliff at Richmond
Bill Willoughby (NAV) at Whimpey port gun position
Bill Willoughby & Stan Chatterton in their pits at Blinda
44A Pantelleria target photographs
48A CW with Mum, Barnoldswick
Skipper & B.A. with Hilda at Richmond
Skipper & Hilda at Richmond
48B Skipper& [sic] B.A. with Cliff at Richmond
Stan Rutherford in the snow, at Bircoates
Outside Chalet at Blida
Wimpey at Kaircan
48C At Richmond CW & Hilda
52A Warrant Officer parchment
54A three of Aircrew peeling spuds at Scampton incl. Frank Eaglestone
56A F/O Forster DFM 2nd tour Nav.
C.W.
W/O Foolkes at rear of NJ-P
64A Crashed Remains of 9J – O
64B F/O Cheale, F/O. Bates
S/Ldr Chester DFA with F/O Cheale, W/O Foolkes & F/O Forster DFM
64C More of 9J – O
64D F/O Ted (Ace) Forster DFM, CW & W/O Pete Foolkes
64E CW with rear turret of 9J – O
CW with motor-byke
Sgt. Geoff (Doogan) Hampson, Flight Engineer
64F Newspaper cutting
Start of Second Tour – Frank Eaglestone, Ted Forster & Pete Foolkes
More of 9J – O
64G Ted Forster Ready for Gerry?
Lunchtime over Homberg [sic]
64H P/O Bates (My last tour Skipper)
Part of F/O Bates’ usual crew
64J F/LT. Maxted (Gunnery Ldr) Pete Foolkes and F/O Sandford (spare gunner or Sqdn Adj?)
More of 9J – O
64K Doogan again
More of 9J – O
64L DFC Citation
64M Apology from H.M.
64N F/O Croker’s Lanc. on Torpedo dump at Wyke
Christmas Dinner at Wyke
Reverse of Pete’s Xmas Card 1989
Part of F/L Croker’s letter with Xmas Card
66A-H Examples of Battle Orders
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[underlined] DEDICATION [/underlined]
The section dealing with my R.A.F. career is dedicated to Lady Luck who shows no compassion, is completely immoral and yet cannot be bought.
After a remarkable interview on television recently, Raymond Baxter asked of Tom Sopwith "To what do you attribute your tremendous and unparalelled [sic] success over such a long period?” In his 94th. year he replied “Luck, pure luck”. His reply was the same when asked again at his 100th. birthday party.
This must apply to every aspiring aviator, and I was no exception.
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[underlined] THE EARLIEST YEARS [/underlined]
My first ten year or so were spent in Yorkshire, having been born on the [deleted] 22nd [/deleted] [inserted] 11th [/inserted] of February 1922, at 45 Federation Street [inserted] the home of my paternal Gt Grandparents [/inserted], Barnoldswick almost opposite nr. 26 where my Grandparents lived, and about two years after my father was demobbed from the Kings Own Yorkshire Light lnfantry after the Great War. My sister Winifred Sofia was born almost two years later on the 2nd. of January 1924. About that time the family moved to a shop at 33 Rainhall Road where my father established a wireless business. I attended the infants school only 50 yards away, often joined by Winifred.
At the shop, my father built radio receivers of the "Tuned Radio Frequency" type, (TRF), a good 10 years ahead of the superhet. At the same time he held one of the first radio amateur licences in Yorkshire, with the callsign 2ZA. His aerial was a wire to the top of a 50 ft. pole in the back yard and starting with a spark transmitter his first radio contact was with another amateur in Colne, whose transmitter output was connected between the gas and water pipes, He had no means of measuring his frequency but thought it was somewhere around 300 KHz. (1000 metres) He soon progressed to using valves and gradually higher frequencies, though almost everything was really trial and error. When communication progressed to "working" other countries the prefix G was added to UK call-signs. He once told me that his first telephony transmission was achieved using a GPO carbon microphone in the aerial circuit. The only receivable broadcast wireless station at that time was the BBC's 2LO and when people heard it for the first tine there was indeed great wonderment and excitement
In 1926 came the general strike. Money was very scarce and people were hungry. There was no money coming in and the shop closed down. The family moved to a house in Rook Street, close to the railway bridge and opposite the cobler's [sic] wooden workshop. Most of us wore clogs in those days, with leather tops and laces, and iron-shod wooden soles.
Before going to war my father had served an engineering apprentiship [sic] , and worked with steam engines. With outstanding debts at the shop and a wife and two small children to support, he volunteered to work with L.M.S. railway company, and drove a train between Barnoldswick and I think Skipton. The engine was pelted with stones at some of the bridges and he was very unpopular with the strikers, althought [sic] many of them were quite happy to use the train. Thus the family was sustained and he received a letter of thanks and a medalion [sic] from the chairman of L.M.S.
When things returned to normal the family moved again, to nr. 14 School Terrace in Dam Head Road and Winifred and I attended the infants and Junior Schools across the back street. My mother was able to resume working at the mill as a cotton weaver with her sisters Molly and Annie. Their brother Jim -my uncle- was a 'twister', that is he connected the cotton threads on the warp to tails ready for applying to the loom for weaving. The noise. in the weaving sheds was deafening and weavers were quite adept at lip reading. This had a great influence on their broad northern accent. Most weavers operated six looms, loading manually the weft into the shuttles before changing them. My uncle Charlie -the brother of my paternal grandfather=- was a manufacturer employing about a hundred people running 500 or so looms. I remember the big warehouse doors and the lift which was operated by water pressure. To go up, just turn on this tap!. Going down transfered [sic] the water back into a holding
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tank. There were two offices, large wooden boxes, one on each side of the big doors and just under the ceiling. Accessed by ladders. One office was for uncle Charlie and his clerk, and the other for the more junior staff. When I called to see them in 1941 I noted the intercom. system between the offices. It comprised, at each terminal, two empty Lyle Golden Syrup tins one for speaking into and the other for receiving. they were connected by two lengths of taught string which vibrated the diaphragms being the bottoms of the tins. I was surprised at their effectiveness. There was also a loop of string pulled manually between the two places with a small box attched [sic] for transferring documents. I was impressed. Uncle Charlie said he would consider changing the strings after the war.
At School Terrace my father carried on building wireless sets in the attic and also helped his friend Tom Shorrock who owned the local radio relay service. This comprised a wireless receiver and amplifiers connecting some hundreds of houses with a pair of bare wires to loudspeakers at a cost of ninepence per week for each loudspeaker. The idea appealed to my father and he was able to instigate some technical improvements. By then the wireless manufacturing industry had become well established and radios became readily available. My father had paid off his debts and was discharged from bancrupsy [sic].
At this stage we moved into a new house at 25 Melville Avenue. which was nearer to Fernbank Mill for my mother but also had an inside toilet and bathroom. It also had electricity mains in place of the more customery [sic] gas lighting. An electric soldering iron must have seemed luxurious after heating a copper bit on a gas ring.
Our school was only a few minutes walk from home. Gisburn Road Council School. I remember it and the teachers very well, Mr Alfred Green Petty.the Headmaster, Miss Housen who tought [sic] music english and poetry, and above all Mr Heaton who tought [sic] arithmetic, citizanship [sic] and physics. Miss Housen did not think much of my efforts, I couldn’t sing and disliked poetry, but I got on fine with Mr. Heaton, who also tought [sic] my father over 20 years earlier. Over a fairly long period he gave me extra homework in arithmetic most nights, generally a problem or two and he checked the results next day. It was almost private tuition and thanks largely to him, I excelled in the subject. I think children’s attitudes' in the main were very different to those of the present day. Discipline was strict by consent, not fear. Reward was achieved by effort alone and there was friendly competition between us. Most of us got the cane for some minor offence like climbing over the school wall, in my case refusing to stand in the front of the class and recite ‘the wreck of the Hesperus’. We did respect our teachers.
About this time we moved to a house in Headingley for just a few weeks and then on to. Fence, which we knew as wheatley Lane. During that period my father was working in London at Stag Lane fitting the electrics in Rolls Royces. My mother worked at the cotton mill nearby and Winifred & I were looked after partly by Mrs. Ingham who had a sweet shop. Our stay in Fence was also [deleted] m [/deleted] of short duration.
Tom Shorrock was a friend of Mr. Ramsbottom who was struggling with a one programme radio relay system in Keighley. He already had thriving electrical business and Tom introduced my father to him. So we moved yet again, to Keighley, and my father became Engineer and Manager of Ramsbottoms Radio Relay Service in the centre of Keighley. From 33 Lister Street, the Receiving and Amplifying Station the wires branched
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out on the roof tops in all directions. By then there were two BBC programmes, Home Service on 342 mtrs, and the Light Programme on 1500 mtrs, so they converted to two pairs for two programmes. We were living at 25 Lawnswood Road but soon moved to a new house at 21 Whittley Road. I recall helping Leslie Wright – Dad’s foreman to erect a garage which cost £7.10.0 to house the new Austin 7 which cost £75 taxed and insured. The other personality I remember well was Walter Spurgeon, chief wireman.
Winifred and I attended Holycroft Council School. Some of the lessons were by listening to the radio, an innovation in those days, and it was my job to check the radio was working, each morning.
It was in Keighley that Mrs. Alice Kilham, my father’s secretary came on the scene. She lived in Oakworth with her daughter Mary, her husband being in a sanitorium being treated for TB. During very cold winter around 1933 the snow was six feet deep and they came to live with us at Wittley Road.
Winifred and I were in the Girl Guides and Boy Scouts respectively and we decided to take the Signaller badge which meant sending and receiving the morse code. We were told the speed required was 12. Having established a battery and buzzer, and a morse key and headphones by the beds in each bedroom, we soon memorised the code and communicated with each other, quickly reaching 12 words per minute. Eventually we progressed to 18 words per minute and then went to take the test. Only then did we find that the speed required was 12 LETTERS per minute, not words. 12 letters is only 2 words per minute. However this faux pas proved very useful about eight years hence.
After just a few years in Keighley, the system was working well and no longer presented a challenge. My father was approached by a group of businessmen from Norwich who were interested in the “wired wireless” system. They were owners of radio busineses [sic] who felt they shouId have a stake in the competition and bank managers hoping to earn a quick buck. All the bank managers were Yorkshiremen. So Norwich Relays Ltd. came into being with premises in St. John Maddermarket, and my father became Engineer and manager, taking with him his secretary and foreman Lesley Wright from Keighley. Allan Moulton joined the firm and was responsible for obtaining wayleaves, that is obtaining permission from owners to put wires on their property. He was a popular figure in Norwich, his main qualification for the job was that he played cricket for Norfolk and knew most people who mattered. Leslie died whilst in his thirties in Norwich.
Once again we moved house, to 119 Unthank Road, and Mrs. Kilham and Mary moved into a cottage in Blickling Court near Norwich Cathedral. Winifred I went to the Avenues Council School initially but not for long. I remember getting a prize for my ‘lecture' on how a TRF wireless worked, showing them the working radio I had made. Probably not very accurate but there was no-one present who could contradict me, fortunately.
At 13 I changed to the Norwich Junior Technical School in St. Andrews. Soon after we moved house yet again to a new house, “Wayside", in Plumstead Road, on the boundary of Norwich Aerodrome. Winifred then joined Mary at St. Monicas private school. On Saturday mornings I attended Art School on the top floor. I achieved very little there, the art master quite rightly concentrating on pupils who showed some potential. For an enjoyable two years we concentrated on technical
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subjects, woodwork, maths, physics, Chemistry, mechanics, technical drawing, metal and woodwork etc. The masters I remember well, ‘Chemi’ Reed the principle, Mr. Abigail, Mr. McCracken and Mr. Lishman. At the end of two-year course I transfered [sic] to Unthank College in Newmarket Road, joining the 5th. form. This was big change for me, the emphasis was on classical subjects, in English literature we spent a whole year studying Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night's Dream and Spencer's Fairy Queen. I couldn't: get interested in either but I later achieved a credit in the School Certificate by answering questions on A.G. Street’s Farmers Glory which I read in bed the night before the exam. Mr. Bertwhistle the English Lit. master was furious. For Physics and Mechanics I had tuition from Mr. Horace, the Principal's son and on Wednesday afternoons I visited “Chemi” Reed's house at 33 Britannia Rd. for tuition.
In early 1939 my father, Mr. Moulton and Mrs. Kilham acquired six run-down relay firms and the Nuvolion loudspeaker factory in South London from a Mr. Olivisi, a Frenchman. My father moved to Stretham to a flat in Pullman Court and Mrs. Kilham and Mary and to duCane Court in Balham where the Moultons also had a flat. My mother and Winifred moved to a house in West Norwood and I became a boarder at Unthank College. Soon after taking the School Certificate I joined my mother in London and we moved to a flat in New Southgate. I became articled to George Eric Titley, a Chartered Accountant in St Paul’s Churchyard, commuting to the city 6 days a week by underground. Rail fare was tenpence return per day and I was paid ten shillings per week. Fifty pence in 2004 currency The firm was Gladstone Titley and Co. at 61-63 St. Pauls Churchyard and I was the junior with qualified accountants Joe Oliver, Clarke and Jenkins, and Miss Miller the Secretary. It was amusing 6 years hence when I barged into a Board Meeting at 69 Lavender Hill, Sqdn/Ldr Jenkins still in uniform was sitting there when F/O Cliff Watson appearedstill [sic] in Battledress. Jenkins was called up in 1940 as an Account Squadron Leader.
On the 3rd. of September 1939 War was declared and any plans we all had for the future were kiboshed. During the blitz in 1940 to be nearer my father and to help out at Relays we moved home to Ascot Court in Acre Lane, Clapham.
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[underlined] JOINING UP [/underlined] .
The outbreak of war found me as a clerk articled to a Chartered Accountant in St. Paul's Yard. London. At the age of 17 1/2 it went without saying that within a year or two my occupation would be changed way or another. In the family Radio Relay business men were already leaving to join to Forces. My father was on an army reserve and expected to be called up at any time. I felt my best course was to abandon accountancy for the time being and try and help out; so I joined the firm as a General Factotum. During the Blitz on London my job was fault-finding and replacing the overhead lines, knocked down by Jerry bombers where buildings and whole streets were destroyed. The Radio Relay Service, a two programme four wire system in those days, linked the BBC with some tens of thousands of homes in South London, homes where the radio was never switched off. The system carried air raid warnings also. All too frequently the radio was interrupted by an announcer at Scotland Yard with “Attention please, here is an important announcement, an air raid warning has just been officially circulated". There were occasions when bombs were dropped before the sirens sounded, but never before the announcement was made on our Radio Relay System.
September, aged 18 1/2, I found my employers were trying hard to register me as being in a reserved occupation. The Manager, Allan Moulton, had already been successful in his own case, which was reasonable. Someone had to run the firm and my father had sailed off to Abbysinia [sic] in March. At the time I was working literally 18 hours per day and my fifty bob per week hardly paid for digs.
On a very rare afternoon-off I was walking down Kingsway and tried my luck at the R.A.F. Recruiting office. One look at an applicant for aircrew wearing glasses brought an instant decision from the man at the door. I walked along the Strand and down Whitehall, and having removed my spectacles tried the Royal Navy. I completed the application form and was told that I would be called for interview eventually, but there was a very long waiting list.
I tried the R.A.F. again about a week later having left-off my spectacles for several days, and an application form for training as a pilot was completed. Had I previous flying experience? Yes. Fortunately I was not asked for details, as a passenger with Alan Cobham's Flying Circus might not have carried much weight. - In 1936 we had lived at a house called "Wayside” in Plumsted Road, Norwich, on the Mousehold aerodrome boundary, with a panoramic view of the aerodrome, and I was fascinated by it all like most boys of my age. It was to be three months before I heard from the R.A.F. - the Navy had missed the boat – I was to report to the Aircrew Selection Board near Euston station, on the appointed day about a week hence, for 'medical and academic examinations'. The letter added that in the maths exam `log tables but not slide rules are permissable [sic] ’.
The great day arrived, and at 8.30 am. with about 80 other applicants we were told there would be three one hour written exams, Maths, English and General Knowledge, followed by a medical and a brief interview. Maths was a typical 5th. form end of term test, and English an essay with a wide choice of subjects. General knowledge was mainly common-sense. One of the questions I recall; "Is the distance from London to Warsaw nearer 100, 600 or 2000 miles?”. The Medical Exam was carried out by about 6 examiners, probably Doctors, on a production Iine basis.
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Then the interview after a delay of some hours. Three uniformed R.A.F. officers who had obviously been places in previous wars. "Why do you want to fly"? I have forgotten the particular piece of flannel I used, but it brought no comment and another member of the Board fired his shot, "Which is colder, minus 40 Centigrade or minus forty farenheit [sic] ? Instant answer to that, I'd hear. it before somewhere. The third member asked "that does your Father do" I replied "He is an officer in the R.A.S.C. fighting the Italians in Abbysinia [sic] ". This brought a chuckle from two of them for some reason and the interview was over. I would be advised by post of their decision after the exam. results had been studied.
A week later I was told to report to Euston for attestation, actual reporting for duty would follow after some weeks. There was a brief ceremony and I was given a document which stated that " AC2 Clifford Watson 1384956 has been accepted for training as a pilot in the R. A. F. and is to be prepared to report for duty of a few days notice". It went on to state further that his teeth should receive the earliest attention, one extraction and two fillings.
About three months later my call-up papers arrived, and meanwhile I had met two other local lads whose paths had converged with my own and were to stay parallel for the next six months or so. Raymond Colin Chislett, the son of a Battersea butcher, .and Tom King., of Wandsworth. The three of us reported to the R.T.O. at Paddington and joined a party bound for Babbacombe near Torquay.
During the week at Babbacombe we were issued with uniforms, introduced to drill and Service discipline, lectured on the history of the R.A.F. and told something of what the future held for us. We were made to feel that we really belonged and were indeed priveleged [sic] to be chosen to follow in the footsteps of 'The Few'. We were perhaps more than a little naive to think that we were all destined to become fighter pilots, but we were made to feel that the fate of England and the empire rested entirely with us. The Bombers were taken for granted and were not in the forefront of than news at that time. In any case we Londoners had seen our Fighters in action and - we admit it - imagined ourselves in their shoes. There was a tremendous urge to get on with it and to make a success of it. A great sense of urgency prevailed. I remember well that first day in the Royal Air Force. We were advised to write down our Service numbers so we wouldn't forget them, and above all, we had strawberries and cream for tea. The last I saw of strawberries and cream for about eight years, and as for forgetting one's Service number...! Perhaps it was intended as a joke, but we were taking everything very seriously. At the end of the week there was another Pep talk, very well delivered by a Squadron Leader - and equally well received. He remarked that about Babbacombe, people will say "Never in the History of human conflict, have so many been burgered [sic] about by so few". A misquotation of those immortal words. He went on to say that the two most important weeks in your R.A.F. careers are the first and last, and "you have already survived 50% of them, Good Luck chaps, and have a good trip". There was probably a lot more feeling and sincerity behind those words than we realised at the time. He had seen it all and been there 'in the last lot'. "Have a good trip” was to have real meaning in due course.
A short journey by train took us to no. 10 Initial Training Wing at Newquay for 8 weeks of ground training. We were accommodated in
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Trenance Hotel, one of many taken over by the R.A.F. Another hotel was used for lectures in Navigation, Airmanship, Aerodynamics, Engines, Aircraft Recognition, Signalling, R.A.F. Law and Administration, etc. etc. some drill and P.T., and swimming in the local baths. The sea and beach were out of bounds due to mines and other surprises awaiting the enemy. I had to concentrate hard in the classroom on everything, except signalling. The required speed for sending and receiving morse was 12 words per minute and I had been happy at 18 w.p.m. in the Boy Scouts.
The 18 w.p.m. came about through a misunderstanding. My sister Winifred (a Girl Guide) and I were learning morse for our Signaller badges and were told that a speed of 15 was required, so we practiced until we were competent at 18. It was only when we took the test that we learned the required speed was 15 letters and not words per minute. However this mistake was now serving me well.
The only part I did not enjoy was the cross-country runs, but someone had to be in the last three. After two weeks we were told now that we had smartened-up a bit we would wear white flashes in our caps so we would not be mistaken for real airmen.
There was great speculation as to where we would go for flying training. Maybe stay in Britain, or was it to be Canada, U.S.A., South Africa or Rhodesia, and was there not a possibility of it being Australia?. Meanwhile we must concentrate on passing the current hurdle, it could not by any means be taken for granted that we would all pass the course. In fact after only four weeks, four out of the original 50 were "scrubbed" - a new word to add to our rapidly 'increasing vocabulary.
After about 5 weeks we were issued with some flying kit, boots and Sidcot suits, goggles, helmet and a full issue of gloves - silk, wool, chamois and gauntlets. 4 pairs worn together, and a fifth, electricalIy heated, yet to came. We were not to know that it would be 15 months before we wore any of this. I doubt whether our destination was known to anyone at I.T.W. except that it was overseas somewhere. Seven days embarkation leave and the entire course was posted to West Kirby, no. 1 P.D.C., near Birkenhead on the Wirral. We were joined by about 300 other u/t Pilots from other I.T.W.s and it was just a matter of waiting for the draft. There were parades each morning and we were allowed out of camp at mid-day. It was here that Tom, Ray and I teamed up with John Heggarty, a u/t Pilot who had been at 11 I.T.W. in Scarborough. He was from Birkenhead, of Anglo/French parentage. The four of us visited Liverpool every evening, a place crowded with Navy, Army and Air Force types mostly in transit to somewhere or other. Scores of ships were loading in the Mersey, but after a couple of weeks it was a special train for us to Greenock on the Clyde for immediate embarkation on the "Mooltan", a merchant ship of same 30,000 tons. Our 350 were accomodated [sic] on "D" Deck, just above the water-line, where we spent most of our time, not by choice but by order. Some slept on the mess tables, others under them, with the top layer of bodies in hammocks, a crippling device. To realise that hammocks were the traditional sleeping arrangements for British sailors left me unimpressed and I felt that something far more superior could have been devised. However, navies of many countries seem to favour them. Once aboard, there was no going back. On the second day aboard we were tugged down the Clyde and next morning counted over 40 big ships steaming very slowly in a north-
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westerly direction out at sea. Obviously we were bound for Canada, hence the heavy flying kit .and four pairs of gloves. A week ought to see us in the St. Lawrence. How wrong we were. the convoy was shepherded by some very impressive naval ships, Cruisers, destroyers etc. and Sunderland flying boats were in constant attendance for the first few days. After three weeks of steaming in all directions, first into the freezing cold, then warmer and finally very hot indeed, at 0500 one day the engines slowed and finally stopped; a rattling of chains and then silence. All very dramatic but a buzz on the P. A. system told us we had arrived in Freetown. Portholes were to remain closed. We may go up on deck but on no account were we to remove our shirts nor buy anything from the natives. By mid-day the temperature below decks was almost unbearable and there was no respite from that for a further two weeks. Salt water showers were available at all times, it was just a matter of stripping and walking through the shower. No need for a towel, but in any case that was reserved for absorbing perspiration and we became accustomed to the salt water. Food on board was very good under the circumstances. Two orderlies from each "table" would collect it from the galley (vocabulary still improving) and dish up, and after the meal two more orderlies would clean the tables and wash up. The chores were shared on a roster basis at each table, and each had some duty to perform every few days. We were very fortunate in that we were cadets and not yet real airmen we spent some of our time attending lectures in the second class lounge. We estimated there were about 3000 troops aboard. There was lots of talent for the almost daily concerts. A daily newssheet called "DER TAG”, together with the P.A. system kept us up-to-date with the news. The 9 o-clock news was a must.
Five weeks out of Liverpool it who getting cold again, even below decks, and greatcoats were essential deckwear for the endless lifeboat drills. There were lifeboats but for most of us it was a matter of parading on deck near a stack of Carley floats. The subject was better not discussed, there was no satisfactory answer to abandoning ship.
The Mooltan carried one gun mound at the stern above the propellers, manned by a RoyaI Artillery crew in transit. It seemed to be of about 4" calibre but was not fired during our voyage. It was said the deck would cave in, but this might have been an exaggeration. There were also two ramps off the stern for depth charges of which there was a supply near the ramps. The sixth week was really cold and wet and we estimated our position as somewhere in Antarctica. We then turned more or less north and after a total of seven weeks dropped anchor late one afternoon a few miles out at sea, with much speculation about our location. At about 7 pm. the shore was like Blackpool illuminations. Wherever we are, don`t they know there's a war on? A buzz on the P.A. system told us we would be disembarking next day and our British currency would be of no use to us in this foreign country. We should hand-in all currency, and get a receipt which would be exchanged for local currency when we got ashore. Next morning we entered the docks and disembarked. It was only then we found we were in Durban and were taken straight to the Transit Camp at Clairwood. The army contingent remained on-board and were understood to be bound for action in the Middle
East. So we had arrived in South Africa, and a very congenial and pleasant place it turned out to be.
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[underlined] SOUTHERN RHODESIA [/underlined] .
Clairwood Camp was just a few miles from Durban and there we spent 7 days, very enjoyable, but for the first two days, stoney broke. We had handed in all our money aboard ship but it was to be 10 days before it was exchanged for local currency. However, we seemed to get into Durban every day and we were made very welcome in the Service canteens and clubs.
Before I left England, I was given a card which stated that LAC Cliff. Watson was the son of a respected member of the Battersea Rotary Club and any co-operation afforded to him would be greatly appreciated. I noticed the Rotary insignia at the doorway of a Barclays bank in Durban and asked to see the manager. Could I please borrow £5 and I would refund it as soon as I was paid. 45 years later I would certainly not undertake such a venture. It happened to be the first Friday in the month which was the day of the monthly Rotary luncheon. The three lads from Battersea were invited to lunch and each given £10 on condition that we did not refund it. This was hospitality indeed. Several times in Durban we were entertained by the local people, and of course the environment was completely strange to us, so were the bunches of bananas, pawpaws and other fruits.
After about a week to regain our land legs, we embarked on a train and steamed north. The train was a coal burner and we were aboard for 3 days bound for Bulawayo. Food on the train was really first-class. At one stage we were told to disembark for a spot of exercise [sic] and whilst this was in progress the train moved off. We were marched in a direction at right-angles to that of the train and met up with it about an hour later. This was my first experience of African trains, and the 4-berth cabins, rather superior to even today's "sleepers" in Britain. Looking back on it 35 years later when I was concerned with radio communications between trains and stations in the U.K., - my firm was trying to Introduce a communications system-, I recalled chatting with the Radio Officer in his Radio Cabin on the train whist he was on the morse key in contact with the station at Mafeking. It was many years later that communication with trains in Britain was established.
After a very pleasant three-day journey, we arrived in Bulawayo and buses took us to Hillside Camp, formerly the Agricultural Show Ground. We were accommodated literally in what had been the Pig Sties. These were merely wattle poles supporting corrugated iron roofs with hessian round the poles to represent walls. The whole structure was whitewashed and with plenty of fresh air the accommodation was ideal. There must have been about 600 trainee pilots at Hillside Camp, and we embarked on a second I.T.W. course of ground training. There was however a single Tiger Moth on which we learned to swing the prop. and start the engine. So at last we had sat in an aeroplane although it wasn't going anywhere. At least it was supposed to be anchored down, but an Australian did taxi it a hundred yards or so after an evening of celebration.
Our stay in Bulawayo was certainly very pleasant, we visited Cecil Rhodes grave at Matopas, the ancient ruins of Zimbabwe, spent weekends on farms, enjoyed the swimming and so on, but our minds were on the war of which we were not feeling a part. Pearl Harbour had brought the
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Americans into the fray, several Capital Ships had been lost and things were going badly 'up north'.
In January came a very welcome posting, to 25 E.F.T.S. (Elementary Flying Training School) at Belvedere, on the outskirts of Salisbury. Here the day started at 0400 and we enjoyed tea and toast of our own making before assembling at 0425 for two-mile march to the airfield. By 0500 half the course would be standing-by for flying and the other half lectures and more ground training. Breakfast was between 0900 and 1030 hrs. which included the 2 mile march each way, and after breakfast the two halves of the course changed over. Flying started on the sixth of Jan. with what was to be a typical day, with 30 minutes of flying instruction at 0515, and lectures after breakfast. Addresses by two ex-fighter pilots F/O Newton and a Flight Sergeant whose left leg was in plaster. The following day I managed to get in an hour’s flying with P/O Bentley, concentrating on turns, glides and climbing. From the outset the instructor frequently cut the throttle without warning sometimes deliberately putting the aircraft into a spin. then telling the pupil to get on with it. My next flying session was with Ft/Sgt Oates as P/O Bentley was on leave and in six weeks of flying instruction managed 12 hours with 7 different instructors. A final three hours was spent with F/O Newton in one hour sessions and I was full of confidence and looking forward to the C.F.I.'s test the following day.
Maybe in retrospect I was over confident, even though most of my friends had been "scrubbed", including Hancocks, Robinson, Morgan, King, Barlow, Vivian, Bolton, Friend, Britton, Jones and Fry. Having made what I thought were two acceptable circuits and landings, the C.F.I.'s final remarks were "Sorry old lad, but as a Service Pilot you make a bloody good rear gunner". I did not regard these as being the words of the Prophet, but so ended my career as a u/t Pilot after 9 months in the R.A.F.
All was not lost however, like all the others whose Personal file was stamped "wastage", I found myself at Disposals Depot, which also happened to be at Belvedere, and in good company. All of us were sadly disillusioned and disappointed at failing the Pilot's Course, and the reasons given for the apparent failure were seldom accepted. Where do we go from here in the long term was the main question, and the opportunity to influence this came at an interview at Group H.Q. in Salisbury. The only guidance came from others who had already had their interviews and were awaiting a posting. The alternatives appeared to be many, we could opt out completely and remuster to ACH GD, reduced to the lowest rank of Airman 2nd. Class and thence take pot luck with no trade and no personal ambition. But we had joined the R.A.F. with too much purpose for this to be acceptable. We could apply for training as Observer which at that time embraced both Navigator and Bomb Aimer duties, but we were meeting chaps just starting that course who had waited six months for it after failing the pilot's course, and this indicated that it could be a year more before we qualified. The most logical answer appeared to be the Air Gunner Course which lasted only six weeks, and apparently with hardly any waiting list, so in less than two months it seemed we could become a sergeant with half a wing, not quite what we set out to achieve, but a far cry from where we stood at the time.
At the interview at Group H.Q. I asked why I had failed and was shown the comments made by my instructors. With the exception of the
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C.F.I.’s comment they were all favourable and I became a little argumentative. For the first time I learned that on the C.F.I. test I had climbed at less than full throttle but at the correct air speed with the normal rate of climb. What I should have done apparently was give it full throttle, keeping the correct air speed and letting the rate of climb take care of itself. On the training aircraft the emphasis had been on speed and rate of climb whereas it should have been on speed only and full throttle.
I remarked that the C.F.I.'s aircraft was more like a Gladiator than a Tiger Moth. The alternative careers were as we had deduced amongst ourselves and I applied to remuster to u/t Wireless Operator/Air Gunner and to do the A/G course as soon as possible. This was approved on the spot, and my file was endorsed “Watson requests an A/G course merely for the quickness in getting onto ops." I was supposed to start the course the following week.
It was to be three months before I was actively posted to Moffat to do the Air Gunner Course, and the greater part of this was spent on leave, returning to camp periodically to check progress. We had only to walk along the road away from town to be offered a lift which generally meant spending the rest of the day with new friends, and quite often arranging to spend a week or so with them. It was on the 15th. of Feb. Tom King and I were spending 10 days leave with our hosts Mr. & Mrs. Bedford at Poltimore Farm, Marandellas that we listened to Churchill's speech, with the dreadful news of the fall of Singapore. This led to a general discussion on the likely future plans of the war and it was generally felt there would be an allied landing at Dakar with the assistance of the French, and the forces would move north and then east to catch Rommel in a pincer movement. Not too far out in our argument, only 2000 miles, but we had the general scheme and timing right. Later we were shown around the tobacco "barns" where 12,000 leaves were drying in each of 10 barns. My diary records that "one of the most interesting things we were shown was the castrating of 300 pigs" A rather messy business", perhaps I was less squeamish in those days. Later about 2000 head of cattle were dipped including 3 wicked looking bulls. The two children tried to keep us amused, and with great success. We repaired their bicycles, small car, swing and dolls' house furniture, the dolls house being about 20 feet square. We carved out the names Wendy (8) and Cliff (20) on a tree and really began to enjoy the Rhodesian way of life. We cycled over to Chakadenga Farm and had tea with Mrs. Nash and also met the local jailer. We tried to repay all this kindness by making ourselves generally useful, and I recall changing the oil in Mrs. Nash's Chevrolet and repairing the lights. We also refitted the long-wire aerial on the house radio and refurbished the engine house which accommodated the lighting plant and batteries.
We tried to spend.as much time away from camp as possible, our idea being 'out of sight, out of mind'. Occasionally the S.W.O caught up with us and we were detailed for guard duty on the aerodrome, a 12 hour guard working 2 hours on and four off. The complete guard comprised 6 airmen, 4 on standby in the guard room, one cycling around the aerodrome and one standing in a sentry box at the side of the double gates which were normally closed. There were neither fences-nor ditches linking the gate posts and it was easier to drive a car onto the airfield on the wrong side of the gate posts than to bother with the gate. Generally the Orderly Officer carried out his inspection about 7.pm. but on one
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occasion suddenly appeared about 3 am. from the direction of the airfield and drove up to the main gate on his way out, parking so near the gate it could not be opened. I turned out the guard, which took about 5minutes and we were treated to a tirade and lecture covering several subjects including how utterly futile the guard was. One of the chaps said “you are absolutely right Sir" which made matters worse and he stormed back into his car. The headlights had been left on and the car wouldn't start, so we leaned our rifles against the sentry box and pushed the car backwards so we could open the gates. Finally the entire guard pushed the car forward and it started without trouble, but headed back towards camp. We decided to remain at the open gate, and a few minutes later the car returned at great speed, and disappeared through the gate in a tremendous cloud of dust without further formality. We had good laugh but it did little for the morale of chaps whose ambitions had been thwarted and who felt they were wasting their time in the R.A.F. and, even more so in guarding a gate which had no real purpose with blank ammunition and rifles which it would be too dangerous to fire. By the end of March the aerodrome guard was taken more seriously and comprised 24 Europeans and about 60 Africans, which meant the remustering aircrew trainees were on guard every few nights. I was given the job running the Post Office and Stores which exempted me from guard duties but also curtailed my leave periods.
On the 3rd. April Tom King and 20 others were posted to 24 C.A.O.S. at Moffat, near Gwelo, about half-way between Salisbury and Bulawayo, for their Air Gunner Course. The intake was 50 per month and we wondered where the other 40 had come from. Meanwhile Ray Chislett the other member of the Battersea trio- was doing extremely well at Cranbourne flying Oxfords. Root and Robertson were killed the previous day in a Harvard whilst officially on practice instrument flying but actually beating up a tree and misjudging matters
On the 1st. of May, I was posted to Moffat and started the A-G course. Things seemed to be happening in our favour at long last; and had been delayed because of a large influx of remustered ground crews who had got out of Singapore just in time, and also another large influx of Aussies for Air Gunner training. It was good to see Tommy King pass out as a Sgt. A-G and for Cpl. Luck to receive his commission.
On Sun. the 10th. of May there was a church parade in best blues and khaki topee, held in Gwelo. Two days later L.A.C. Chick Henbest, u/t A-G ex u/t Pilot shot a large hole in his own aircraft's tail. When he as charged with the offence he brought an expert witness, the Station Armament Officer ! - to state that such a thing was technically impossible. The Air-Gunner training was partly intergrated [sic] with that of the Navigator's, and on the 13th. May on such an occasion 'Ace' Buchanan and another A-G, piloted by Sgt. Reed, force-landed near QueQue and were missing for 5 hours
In the four weeks at Moffat we carried out 9 hours of Air firing in Anson aircraft using a Vickers Gas Operated gun of .303 calibre. This was mounted on a Scarfe ring with the gunner standing and firing at a drogue towed by a Miles Master aircraft. 200 rounds were fired during each exercise [sic] , the 3 "pans" of ammo. having been filled by the gunner and then 'doctored' by an armourer with faulty rounds, and other simulated faults. The only turrets available were on the ground, and comprised an ancient Frazer Nash, Daimler and electrical Boulton & Paul. A total of 4 hours was spent in them. We were supposed to swing the
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turret aiming at moving light images on the wall but in practice the bulbs in the ring-sights were all faulty.
On the 29th. May we graduated and were presented with brevets and tapes. The course was posted to Capetown but I had to report to Salisbury to give evidence at Gooding's Court Martial. Gooding had stolen my Agfa Carat camera and scores of other items in Bulawayo. Meanwhile on the news, 1000 Bombers over the Rhur [sic] again and 37 missing. A few days previously the very first raid on this scale was made on Cologne with 44 aircraft missing. The Middle-East war was becoming more intensive and in Russia Jerry was in real trouble, but we seemed a very long way from it all.
One of my friends on the Pilots course was Ian Smith who lived in Salisbury and with whom I used to go looking for buck in the early mornings. Ian had failed the course like most of us but being a Rhodesian had obtained his discharge locally and joined the Southern Rhodesia Light Battery currently at the K.G. VI barracks. I went to the barracks in the afternoon and saw Norman, and was introduced to Solomon, Slim and other Rhodesians in the S.R. Army Medical Corps. After tea in the mess we went to the local bioscope to see 'East of the River'. On the 13th. of June I managed to get another 19 days leave which was spent with Mr. & Mrs. James at their farm at Gilston, about 16 miles south of Salisbury. With three Aussies we had a wonderful holiday, riding, cycling, tennis, swimming, all at the farm. We rode up to the bushman's caves in a copje 4 miles into the bundu and photographed them. To the Aussies it was like being home and I concluded there was no alternative to this sort of life.
On my return to Disposals Depot my stolen camera was returned to me and I found that Gooding was on yet another charge,- stealing a W/T Set - . A few more days leave to say cheerio to all my friends in Salisbury, and I returned to Gwelo to find that I was posted to Bulawayo to give evidence at the Court Martial. I stayed with Mr. & Mrs. Rose for a week or so and spent some time at the Cement works where Mr. Rose was Manager. I was offered a job there if I would return after the war and for a long time this formed the basis of my post-war plan, but a great deal was to happen before that time came. The Court Martial was a very formal affair, and Gooding was charged with theft on about 45 counts. He had not disposed of anything he had stolen for personal gain, and pleaded Kleptomania. He was sentenced to dismissal from the R.A.F. after immediate return to U.K., and recommended for psychiatric observation. He survived the war, certified unfit for Military service and resumed his career with a firm of solicitors in Surrey. The case was finished just in time for me to join the rest of the course on the 1st. of July at Bulawayo station. In Gwelo I had bought a tin trunk which was now nearly full of presents, pyjamas for Hilda, stockings for Mum, embroidering material, tobacco, cigarettes, jam and so on.
After a 55 hour train journey we arrived in Kapstaad and enjoyed Iunch with John Heggarty before joining another train to Retreat and the drive to Polsmoor Transit Camp by bus. It rained heavily for a couple of days and the activity was just one big reunion. I met friends I had not seen since Newquay. Dicky Aires and Jack Frost were there as Sgt. pilots, Howard Iliffe (1090111) and Bob Hildred also, having trained as pilots at George, in the Union. Arthur Brittain a Sgt. Observer and Stewart Evans who was in the Officers Mess at Kumalo. In the next four
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weeks we spent most of our time in Capetown, making a beeline for the Soldiers Club. The welcome we received from the South Africans was positively overwhelming, and people were literally queueing up to entertain us. On the 4th. of July a group of four of us including Ray Chislett and two Maltese soldiers met Mrs. Williams and had tea at her flat. After tea we motored out to a vineyard and got quite merry on four glasses of their own wine. On the way out one of the tyres was punctured and it took us less than three minutes to change the wheel. In the evening we went to the Odeon Bioscope at Seapoint with complimentary tickets which appeared from out of the blue. Howard. Iliffe, John Heggarty and I spent a great deal of time together in Capetown where Howard & I met two young ladies. One of them, introduced as Cheri de la Chene said she was French and had spent five years in Paris, but she could not understand my efforts at speaking French. John Heggarty had quite a brainwave and I introduced him as a member of the Free French Forces,-L'Aviation Francais Libre-. John was absolutely fluent in native French and soon discovered that Cheri was neither French nor a University student, but a schoolgirl of 14 at the Convent. Whilst in Capetown I met Binedall with whom I used to correspond before the war, and he gave me a large matchbox which I left with Mrs. Williams' mother to be collected after the war. I have left it rather too late. The climb up Table Mountain with Ray was very interesting and from the top we had a wonderful view of Muizeuburg. This reminds me of one night during a trial blackout at Muizenburg, Heggarty and I met Mrs. Macbeth who invited us to dinner on the following day. We gladly accepted and on arrival at the house next day referred to her as Mrs. Shakespeare. This was laughed off and we spent a very enjoyable evening. After dinner we went to a show in Muizenburg and met a lady who had lived near Battersea Park. In 1952 in Mbeya in Tanganyika I was talking to another 'Radio Ham' in Muizenburg arid mentioned my faux pas with Mrs. Macbeth's name. He said he was living in Mrs. Macbeth's guest house and she had related the story at dinner only a few days previously. Stuttafords of Adderley Street provided a very interesting experience for Heggarty and me. We wandered into a tea-room the likes of which we had never seen before, it seemed the ultimate in luxury. We asked mildly for just two cups of tea but up came the whole works of silver teaset with lots of pastries and cakes. We said no thankyou, really, just two cups of tea, but the lady was adamant. We said it was jolly nice but funds were limited and the cakes were beyond our means. She said she would be very cross if we didn't have at least half a dozen cakes and then gave us a bill -for 1/3d. Fixed charge for two, she said. Wonderful people, it was embarrassing at times. We called in a Milk Bar for a milkshake and they insisted it was on the house. We would buy a bunch of grapes for a 'ticky', -3d- and they refused payment. One Saturday Ray and I spent the day with the Brandt family who lived at Rosebank . We went for a run with them in the car in the afternoon, round Table Mountain and took some very good photographs. They also drove us to the Lion Match Company's factory in Capetown, where we were given a tour - and quite a lot of labels- a wonderful finale to my first trip to Africa.
After meeting up with our old friends whose paths had taken many different ways and finally converged, but not without the loss of several due to accidents, the resentment at failing the pilot's course had just about worn off. The original crowd of rookies at Newquay were still basically together and covering all aircrew 'trades'. Someone had
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[photograph]
[underlined] AIR GUNNER COURSE [/underlined]
[underlined] APRIL 1942 [/underlined] [underlined] 24 C.A.O.S. MOFFAT, GWELO. [/underlined] [underlined] S. RHODESIA [/underlined]
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[underlined] POSTSCRIPT [/underlined]
The A/G course was rather an anti-climax after the concentration and determined outlook on the pilots course. Most of us felt we had wasted our time and had been let down.
During a "lecture" on the Browning gun by Cpl. Paddy Gilligan he noticed correctly that my eyes were closed and pointing to me, yelled "You, what was I saying?", I replied "You were saying 'as the breach block moves to the rear the cam on the rear sear rides along that on the barrel extention [sic] . . . ' There followed a discussion on my detailed phraselogy [sic] and he wound up by shouting "Your problem Watson is you don't speak effing english". I replied that I try to speak the King's english Cpl! and that did it, he swore to fix me. Study of the Browning gun comprised learning parrot-fashion the sequence of events and other odd statistics such as effective range and rate of fire. There was a drawing on the wall which gave us some idea of what it looked like, but the Browning was something for the future, the R.A.F. currently uses the V.G.O. or so we were told. The following day Gilligan told me to go to the billet and make sure the African had cleaned all the lampshades, including the one in his little room. This I did and two hours later reported they were all clean. The next day with no preamble I was told to report to the Orderly Room immediately. I was marched in to the C.O. and charged with failing to carry out an order, and also making a false report. Gilligan gave evidence and said the lampshade in his billet was filthy, I could not have checked it. The C. O. accepted this and I was given a severe rep. and 7 days jankers. I went straight away to the billet and I asked the S.W.O. to accompany me. He delegated a Sgt. Clerk and together we checked the offending lampshade. Sure enough it was filthy. I found the african cleaner and he swore that he had cleaned the shade but the Cpl. had then made him change it for one in the next but where they were all dirty. We all trooped next door and saw that all were indeed filthy except one.
The Sgt. could see what Gilligan was up to and endorsed my written report addressed to the C.O. which also applied for redress of grievance. The result was that my Severe Rep. was cancelled and so was the balance of the jankers.
At the end of the course the exam. papers were marked by Gilligan and he gave me 61% in all subjects which was the absolute minimum for a pass. Again I wrote to the C.O. and he agreed that Gilligan was up to his tricks again. He changed the exam. results to an average of 93% If I had not been so argumentative I could very well have "failed the course"
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to fly the thing, but there was a lot of other work to be done also. A cutting from the Rhodesia Herald whilst at Moffat spelt it out:-
I wished to be a pilot,
And you, along with me;
But if we all were pilots,
Where would the Air Force be?
It takes guts to be a gunner,
To sit out in the tail,
When the Messerschmitts are coming,
And the slugs begin to wail.
The plot's just a chauffeur;
It's his job to fly the plane;
But it's we who do the fighting,
Though we may not get the fame.
If we must all be gunners,
Then let us make this bet;
We'll be the best damn gunners
That have left this station yet
Nearly half a century later it does seem somewhat corny.
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[underlined] OPERATIONAL TRAINING. [/underlined]
And so to the 2nd. August 1942; we boarded HMT J/6, The Monarch of Bermuda and were shown to our cabins, stowed our kit and were issued with passes to go ashore until 1500 hrs. A last look at Table Mountain and Kapstaad and at 1630 on the 3rd. we left South Africa, hoping and firmly intending one day to return. The 10 day voyage to Freetown was a very pleasant cruise, escorted by two Battle Cruisers and three Corvettes and accompanied by The Empress of Russia, we ploughed along at a steady 12 knots. Our favourite pastime was reading the inter-ship messages on the Aldis lamps. Among other things we learned that one of the Empress's boilers was u/s and shut down. Which limited the speed of the whole convoy. There were several U Boat warnings during daylight and these coincided with lifeboat drills, which were taken very seriously.
The accommodation was very good, all the R.A.F. NCOs being accommodated six in each cabin. The cabins were equipped as they had been for luxury cruising pre-war, each with a toilet room with saltwater shower. The portholes remained open the whole time, but this time we were on 'A' and not 'D' Deck. In the Sgts Mess Italian P.O.W.'s waited upon us, and make a very good job of it. All fatigues are carried out by them and they caused no trouble at all. The vigilance of the Polish guards probably influenced that, their bayonets being fixed ALL the time, and there were few words passing between the guards and prisoners, just a few gestures with the bayonet. The Poles had been in action since August 1939 and were a long way from home, first defending their country, evacuating to Yugoslavia, and then making their way to Abadan to join the British. There were 1800 Italian prisoners aboard, mostly captured in Bardia and Tobruk about two years previously. They were a meek and miserable-looking lot. One of our 'stewards' who we called 'Grandpa' was a Cpl Major, and had medals for the Bolshevist and Abbysinian [sic] wars. He spoke very little English, but excellent French, and in return for a few cigarettes made me a bracelet in which he put photos of my fiancee [sic] , Hilda, and me. The material was similar to duralumin and he claimed it was a piece from a shot-down British Bomber in Abbysinia [sic] , a most unlikely story. His only tools were a pen-knife, a razor blade and a 4” nail for engraving. The Italians were confident the Axis would win the war and were expecting Stukas, Fokker Wolfe Condors and 'U' Boats to appear at any time.
There were several hundred European civilians aboard, mostly evacuees from Alexandria and Cairo, who seemed to think they owned the ship. Many of them were ducked during the Crossing the Line ceremony, we claimed exemption, being old timers at that sort of thing!!
There was some form of entertainment almost every evening; mainly variety concerts organised by the troops. During one of these I recall a wounded ex 8th-Army Soldier impersonating Stanley Holloway in his Northern accent with a poem,
"The Reason Why"
The unity of Empire .is seen in ships galore,
As they plough in convoy fashion, to Britain's island shore,
Across the world's big oceans, around continents as well,
The Bulldog breed keeps up the creed that history will tell.
We've roughed it on this convoy, we've lived like herded sheep,
Yet all can see, it's got to be, if freedom's cause we'll keep
We're mixed like breeded cattle, the R. A. F. as well,
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That R.A:F. who two .years ago Just drove the 'uns to 'ell.
They say the good ship Monarch, J6 her tag, goes back to Afric [sic] shortly,
but always behind that Flag.
The Flag we're fighting Jerry for,
the Flag of which we're proud,
the Flag which may be a tattered rag,
but with honoured blood endowed.
In that environment and atmosphere this was pretty stirring stuff.
On the 14th. of August we dropped anchor in Freetown. Just as a year ago, it was very hot and humid, with an overcast sky. This time we were not restricted to below decks, but enjoyed the freedom of the ship and were able to trade with the natives. Sunderland seaplanes were seen patrolling out to sea, with Walrus amphibeans [sic] doing about 60. m.p.h., around the harbour. There was lots of signalling between ships and we could cope with the morse, but the semaphore was too advanced and clever for us.
Sunday the 16th at 0600 the Monarch and the Empress slipped out of Freetown and rejoined the Royal Navy out at sea. We were a little concerned for an hour or two, as the sun was rising on the port beam, but we eventually turned right and the sun returned to it's proper place, astern. We expected to reach England by thursday, but rumours of the invasion of France were rife and my diary actually records that this might delay us a little!. The general topic of conversation was what would it be like going through Customs. We were advised on the P.A. system to hand in any unauthorised arms and ammunition, including loot taken from the enemy. I had 3 kitbags, a tin trunk, suitcase and issue R.A.F. webbing and packs, and somewhere in that lot was 25 lbs. of sugar, 10 lbs of tea, 8 pairs of silk stockings, 2 dress lengths, 15lbs. of jam, lady's pyjamas, 2000 cigarettes and other dutiable material. I also had a very small .22 revolver in my pocket and decided to risk it. It was really a toy, hardly a weapon of war. In the very early hours of the 26th. of August we docked at Greenoch. An hour later our party of 240 or so assembled on deck with a mountain of kit, all newly trained sprog aircrew sergeants. The train pulled in to within 100 yards of the ship and in less than 30 minutes we were on our way by train to Glasgow, then on to London. Whilst changing stations in London, I telephoned the office, BATtersea 8485, at 0730 and was disappointed that Hilda was not yet at work!
We arrived at no. 3 P.D.C. Bournemouth and moved into luxury hotels, expecting to be sent on leave immediately, hardly worth unpacking, but this was not to be. We were interviewed several times, medically examined, kit reorganised and generally messed about for a week. According to my pay book, I was a Sgt. Air Gunner, u/t Wireless Operator, and at one interview I was told that this could not be so. Either I could stay as a Sgt. A-G or lose my tapes and become an AC2 u/t Wireless op., eventually doing a wireless op. course. It was emphasised that the whole business of training was highly organised into streams, and once in the main stream it was better to drift with it rather than to try and change course. Streams could not cross, but only merge. All very academic and enlightening so it was agreed that u/t wireless op. would be deleted from my paybook, and of course, having done a couple of tours as a rear gunner I could always apply for a wireless course.
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That's what the man said and I was in no position to argue, 'Just a couple of tours'.
A week later we were on leave, and Hilda met me at Waterloo after just over a year apart. We had a few hours in London before going up to Barnoldswick to take my mother by surprise. After five rather hectic days of visiting relatives and friends we returned to London and met Hilda's parents and relatives, for just one day before returning to Bournemouth.
We were billeted in an attic at Ocean Lodge and took our meals at the Vale Royal. The food was the most unappetising and uninteresting we had seen in the R.A.F. so far. Life in Bournemouth consisted entirely of parades, square bashing, P.T. drill, lectures and swimming, each activity taking place some miles away from the previous one.
Bournemouth was full of sprog air crews, 90% Sergeants, few realised what the future might hold, and; in retrospect, I don't recall even thinking about it.
We were clear of Bournemouth on the 2nd. of October, and posted to 25 O.T.U., Finningley. near Doncaster.
The first 14 days were spent in lectures, practical work on guns in the armoury, and in firing on various ranges. We were introduced to the FN20 rear turret and relieved to have the opportunity of stripping the .303 Browning guns. We who had trained in Rhodesia did not advertise the fact that we had never actually seen a real Browning gun, only a wooden model, all our air-firing having been carried out on V.G.O.'s [Vickers Gas Operated) guns. We had spent several hours in a turret on the ground in Rhodesia. A Boulton & Paul electrically operated mid-upper type as fitted to a Defiant but bearing no resemblance to the rear turrets of Wellingtons and Whitleys.
11th. November was relatively peaceful at Finningley. In the world outside the Allies had landed in North Africa and occupied the coastal strip from Casablanca, through Oran to 50 miles east of Algiers where the big build-up was taking place. Jerry was being pushed towards Tunisia and Rommel's Afrika Corps was in full retreat in Libya, having been pushed out of Egypt, The Huns marched into hitherto unoccupied France and hard fighting was still going on in Stalingrad. Madagascar was in British hands. My diary records that Jerry lost over 600 aircraft in two days, according to the B.B.C. Nearer home I also recorded that "I flew today for the first time with my pilot, Sgt. Rutherford, and with Sgt. Bishop, W/optr., on circuits and bumps. Our Navigator Allan Willoughby is at Bircotes doing cross-countries". For some of us the pace was slow, and some of the time was spent in 'Brains Trust' sessions. Here a team of experts would sit on the platform and questions on any subject would be asked by the rest of us. In reply to the question "How do you think we should deal with the Huns after the war?", the M.O. replied "Castrate the bloody lot, the R.A.M.C. could do that in only a couple of weeks". Most of the discussions however were in a more serious vain. Over this period the weather was not very good. No 14 Course crews have been helping the Landgirls digging up potatoes and 12 Course chaps were heaving coal, We then had coal and coke allocated and delivered to our billets, which eliminated the need to pinch it from the Officers' Mess. we were accomodated [sic] in the peace-time married quarters close to their Mess.
One of our Wimpies from Bircotes crashed into a Beaufighter near Caernarvon where my sister was stationed in the W.A.A.F. There were no
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[photograph]
[photograph] [underlined] REG WHELLAMS [/underlined]] 1333520
[underlined] AT 25 OTU FINNINGLEY [/underlined]
(10 FORSTER RD. WALTHEMSTOW E.17 )
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survivors. A Defiant crashed near my home in Barnoldswick and we pressed on with the routine of local flying, stripping nothing more interesting than guns, and lectures and so on.
My diary records that on the 9th. December, after a little over two months we were taken by lorry to Bircotes to fly as a crew. Losses were high, on a Bullseye on London we lost three aircraft. One of them apparently ditched without trace near the French Coast, the only clue to this being their dinghy which would have been released automatically striking the water. A second crew headed by Ft/Lt. Anneckstein crashed into the watch office, killing the Bomb Aimer who was stretched out in the bombing position. A third crew crashed on landing at Bircotes, without fatality, but with the crew rather shaken-up. We were living Nissen huts about 2 miles from the 'hangars' and 3/4 mile from the in the other direction. The place was a sea of mud in parts and we generally washed AFTER breakfast for some reason which eludes me after 45 years
One point in favour of Bircotes, it was on the Great North Road and just before Christmas I enjoyed a 48 hr. leave with Hilda in London! I met Tommy King in Battersea who was a Rear Gunner on Halifaxes with three ops. to his credit, all to Italy. A brief respite and back to Bircotes. The flying aspect was proving more interesting now, I could see a little beyond my own situation and get involved to some extent in the general carry-on of working as a crew. We had a first-class Skipper, Sgt. Stan. Rutherford, a down-to-earth tough New Zealand sheep farmer. Our Navigator Allan Willoughby from the West country whom we regarded as the Academic member of the crew, but who suffered greatly from air sickness. On those occasions our Bomb Aimer Stan Chadderton from Liverpool took over the navigation without any problems. Stan trained as an Observer - which included both Bomb aiming and Navigating in the U.S.A. and we were thus very fortunate in having a standby navigator. Our Wireless Operator Harry Dyson was from Huddersfield possibly the socialite of the crew, and fancied his chances in the rear turret, giving me a welcome change on occasions.
I started the New Year well by having four runaway guns, over Missen, the bombing range, splattering a main road. The safety catches were 'off' and the guns ready for instant action almost all the time the air, and the reason the guns fired has not been fully explained. I vaguely put it down to a build-up of hydraulic pressure in the triggering system. This did not fool the Armourers who put it down finger trouble on my part - literally.
By the 7th. of Jan. we had completed all our day-flying details of cross-countries, bombing, air firing etc. and were suddenly posted to 30 O.T.U. Hixon, in Staffordshire to complete the night flying excercises [sic] . It took three days visiting various sections to obtain signatures on a Clearance Certificate before we were free of Finningly [sic] , and the after we arrived at Hixon, we were despatched to the satellite airfield at Seighford. A week later we were still without aircraft at Seighford and when the Skipper, Navigator and W/op went to Finningley to collect one, Stan Chadderton & I took French leave and shot off to see respective Hildas. It was on that leave that Hilda and I decided to get married and arranged for bans to be called in Seighford and Battersea.
On the 24th. Jan, our night-flying excercises [sic] almost completed we enjoyed a new experience. We were put on the battle order and briefed for an attack on Lorient. Everything was rushed and finally when
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boarding the aircraft -which was u/s-, the raid -or our part in it- was cancelled. We were to have dropped six 500 lb. bombs in 10/10ths cloud and were warned about the fighters and lots of flak. We found later that the Americans had bombed Lorient in the afternoon followed by 121 aircraft of Bomber Command that night. One Stirling was lost. In early Feb. we were doing a 6 hour cross-country operational excercise [sic] simulating a real trip and towards the end of it were joyfully bombing what was thought to be our target on the bombing range. After dropping two sticks of 11 1/2 lb. practice bombs the "target" lights were extinguished and although we remained over them for a further 20 minutes they did not come on again. Thirty minutes later "W" William landed at base amid great consternation. Apparently the O. C. Night Flying had thought we were lost and had been sending up rockets. These were seen by the Stafford Fire Brigade who came dashing out to Seighford expecting a major disaster. On reporting to the Watch Office the Skipper was congratulated upon a successful bombing attack on Hixon aerodrome.
A few nights previously Jock King and crew had crash-landed on the Yorkshire moors. They were over the North sea, badly iced up and losing height gradually until they ran out of it on the moor. The aircraft was a complete write-off and the Rear Gunner very badly injured by the Brownings crashing into his chest. On the 7th. Feb. the whole crew went to the local church and heard the Banns called. Two aircraft were lost from our unit the previous night, one piled straight in at Hixon, all killed, and Sgt. Browning bounced off the runway and finished upside down in the adjacent field. The 11th. Feb. was my 21st. Birthday and the Crew got absolutely sloshed in Eccleshall. It was a memorable party and the Skipper and Bomb Aimer got themselves lost on the way home and spent part of the night in a ditch. On the 14th. we completed the last of our cross-country details. The pages of my diary covering this trip are indistinct having been submerged in water in 1949, but there were problems. The first 4 hours were spent on accurately flown courses, but there was difficulty in keeping to specific heights. The aircraft seemed to climb and alternately lose height for no explicable reason and this distracted the Skipper from the required accuracy. Eventually with only 60 gallons of fuel indicated, the Skipper called "Darky Darky this is Nemo xx .....". Up came a 'gate' of two searchlights and signalled the direction of a friendly runway. 10 minutes later we all developed an instant inferiority complex, we had landed at Wyton, the home of 109 Squadron Pathfinders. One Wellington Mk.111 bombed up with four small practice bombs, was parked amid Lancasters, Mosquitoes and B17 Fortresses. However we were made very welcome and at 0400 hrs. thoroughly enjoyed the bacon, egg, fried sausages, toast and marmalade etc. Had I known then, that 40 years hence I would be retired and settled within 4 miles of Wyton I would have been a happier man. Aircraft on the first raid of the war had taken off from Wyton. The next two weeks were very active with little actually achieved. We were briefed almost every day for something which was cancelled every time but with one exception. We were told to do an air test on an aircraft which was parked near the perimeter fence. The rear turret was almost touching the fence at the other side of which was a haystack and chicken coop. The ground was muddy and rather more revs than usual were needed to free the wheels and move the aircraft forward. The hurricane strength wind created completely demolished the hen coop and the haystack, and many of the hens became airborne as never before. There
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was no time for recriminations however, on landing we went straight to the briefing room and learned we, were on a Nickel that night. The Oxford Dictionary gives a different meaning, but to Air Crews 'Nickel' is a generic term for a bum fodder or leaflet raid. It did imply that someone had some confidence in us, maybe. The target was Paris.
At last we were over enemy-occupied territory, still on our side of the Rhine, and still a long way from it, but we were getting nearer and there was no lack of confidence, at least initially. Problems developed, first my ring-sight ferrel broke off, so there was no hope of accurate aiming if attacked, then my intercom microphone ceased to function. The fault was later found in the Rotating Service Joint below the turret. We had a standby signalling system of push button and lamp, but that too was out of order for the same reason. I could hear the skipper calling me on a routine check but had no means of replying. Receiving no reply, Barry Dyson crawled back to the rear turret to check up, not knowing what to expect. He had overlooked the fact that we were at 15.000 feet - the highest we had been at that time- and almost passed out due to lack of oxygen. He reconnected his adapter to the system just in time. He was also inadequately clothed for a temperature of -18C but putting 1800 lbs of leaflets down the flare chute restored his circulation. Di banged on the turret door and we exchanged greetings. He returned to his office and reporting my situation to the Skipper. Meanwhile I was incommunicado for the rest of the trip, but I could hear the others conversing. Shortly after that I felt the rotation of the turret was becoming sluggish and I tried to fire a short burst. Three of the guns fired one round each and then stopped, but number one was working. I cocked and recocked the guns several times, tried firing them manually and eventually three were working. I fired a short burst and regained a little confidence. An hour after leaving Paris the turret rotation would not respond to the hydraulics so I ensured that manual operation was still possible. I knew that to bale out I would have to open the turret doors, then the aircraft bulkhead door, grab my parachute pack, drag it through both doors and into the turret, rotate the turret onto the beam, fit the 'chute, open the doors, disconnect the intercom and oxygen and go out backwards. I decided to give it a try except for actually bailing out - and decided it was probably not feasible in the time available, but I did get the parachute into the turret and tucked it down the side. I learned a lot that night, more had gone wrong in my department on that one trip than during all my training. Di learned the odd lesson too, to wear more clothing in case he had to move away from the hot air system under his table.
The following day we were advised that our O.T.U. course was completed and the Skipper was asked to state the crew's preference either to join a squadron bombing Germany or to go overseas. Our preference for Germany was unanimous; after all, I was getting married and most of us had already been overseas!. And so we went our separate ways on 7 days leave
March 1st, 1943 perhaps the most important day of my life, Hilda and I were married. Staying at Hilda's home I took my cousin Frank to Trafalgar Square and showed him the Lancaster bomber, then on to St. Pauls Churchyard where I used to work and showed him a Stirling Bomber. He was thrilled with London and with the aircraft in particular. At 1pm we met Mum and Topsy at duCane Court and lunched in Balham, and whilst Mum and the others went to meet Hilda's folks, I went on to the Church,
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St. Mary's in Battersea. Some years later when I saw the photographs I realised I was wearing a white shirt with my airman's uniform. Hilda joined me at the Alter [sic] and looked absolutely lovely in her white wedding dress. The service was grand and the organist played two hymns. The church bells remained silent, they were reserved for signalling a possible enemy invasion. We enjoyed a wonderful reception at Hilda's home and on Monday we went to Lancing on honeymoon, the guests of Mr. & Mrs. Pittock at 10 Orchard Avenue. After a few days at Lancing I returned to camp and somehow organised more leave. At 0300 on the 10th. however the police delivered a telegram-which stated "Report to Hixon immediately, posted overseas". I tried to convince them that it was a joke on the part of the crew, and I was not stationed at Hixon in any case. However, at 0700 Hilda accompanied me to Euston where we said goodbye on the platform for the last time for several months at least. One night spent at Hixon, and the following day we travelled by train with two other crews to no. 1 P.D.C. West Kirby.
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[photograph] [photograph]
1st. MARCH 1943 (WHITE SHIRT) 25 O.T.U. FINNINGLEY
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SECOND HONEYMOON SEPT ‘43
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[underlined] SECOND TIME TO AFRICA [/underlined]
At West Kirby we handed in our blue uniforms and were issued with army Khaki battle dress and tropical flying bowlers and helmets. Within a few days we embarked on a Dutch Vessel, the Johan van Vanderbilt in the Mersey, and were allocated first and second class cabins still equipped to. peace-time standards. Service in the Dining Hall was fabulous, staffed by natives from the Nederlands [sic] East Indies. The cuisine was superb, there was white bread and butter and sugar on the tables. A full breakfast at 0800, a peacetime lunch at 1300, tea at 1630 and dinner at 1900. Coffee was available in the Snr. N.C.O's lounge at any time during the morning. The Army Privates' quarters were similar to those we had experienced on the Moultan, sleeping in the same place as they eat, scrubbing everything by 0830 and with lots of bull. They had to wear greatcoats at all times whilst on deck and carry their life-jackets and water bottles. They not only manned the guns but were also detailed for lots of guard duties. Everything seemed to be guarded, but the reason was generally obscure. The cabins were shared with the Army Snr. N.C.O.s and they felt it quite a change to enjoy such comfort. The main topic of conversation was speculation about our destination, North Africa, Middle East or Far East? At a lecture on the 20th. March a senior Army Officer gave us a talk in the big second-class lounge, a very interesting run-down on the state of the war in all theatres. He dealt at some length with the North African campaign and said that very shortly the 1st. and 8th. Armies would meet and a few days after that Jerry would be slung right out of Africa. He wanted to dispel all rumours that we were part of a force invading the south of France. I cannot recall whether we were actually told in so many words, but we expected our destination was either Algiers or Bone.
The armourment [sic] on the Johann was comparatively small. We had about 10 Lewis guns, .303 calibre, and a naval gun at the stern, all manned by the army. There were about 16 ships in the convoy, with troops and cargo, protected by 5 Cruisers and Destroyers, and 2 Corvettes. Not as impressive perhaps as in August 1941, but a more wartime environment.
It was a feeling not entirely new to us, we knew by calculation that it was the 21st. of March and we were sitting comfortably in the First Class Lounge enjoying a coffee, but whereabouts on the Atlantic ocean was the ship? We know we had been heading east all morning so the chances. were we are heading for Gibralter [sic] , it was not warm enough for Freetown to be our destination. Where we were bound was open to speculation like most other vital factors affecting us. What were we going to do when we get to wherever it was? We were a Wellington crew which did not rule out finding ourselves on a Boston or Mitchell doing close army support work. And what after we had completed a tour of ops.? Chad the Bomb Aimer and Di the Wireless op. were both keen to remuster and train as Pilots. Allan Willoughby said he was 'marlish' and quite happy to carry on navigating. I felt the war would be over before we had finished our first tour. The Skipper said little but probably thought we were a bunch of dreamers, comparing us with his sheep back in N.Z.. We were not in fact approaching Gibralter [sic] , we had passed through the Straits during the night.
At 0300 on the 22nd. we were approaching the minefield off Algiers and were attacked by a Ju88 torpedo bomber. We heard the Johan's guns open up
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and the Windsor Castle received a direct hit from a torpedo on her stern, three members of her crew being killed. She also lost her steering and means of propulsion. Efforts were made to tow her into Oran without success but she sank at 1700 the same day. The Service personnel and remainder of the crew were taken aboard destroyers. Hurricanes arrived within minutes of the attack, but just too late and not ideal aircraft for the job at 0300 hrs. My diary - written up a few days after the event,- refered [sic] originally to The Duchess of Windsor and this was changed a few years later to the Windsor Castle.
There was no longer any secrecy about our destination. Di said the R.A.F. had opened an O.T.U. in Algiers, and we were destined to do another course. There were lots of rumours, but one fact was established, we had been in the R.A.F. over two years and we felt it was high time we did something towards the war effort.
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At 0300hrs. on the 23rd. March we were paraded on deck thankful for our greatcoats, which we were still wearing with great discomfort when we disembarked at 1100. A brief stop at an Aircrew Reception Centre, a large hotel on the sea-front, before going to the Aircrew Pool at Surcouf, about 30 miles from Algiers. There was no great feeling of urgency here, the Allies had landed at Algiers on the 6th. of November and the Germans had already been driven some hundreds of miles, to the East.
It was just a matter of waiting, something that most servicemen became very good at. We could not take the initiative and start our own war, but could only make the best of it. Quoting from my diary, "Life at Surcouf is perfect, we share the officers' mess and enjoy typical French peacetime meals. Lots of Bully Beef but the Chef - a French Civilian - certainly knows how to camouflage it. Our chalet is literally on the beach and the sea never more than 20 yards away. We could swim all day long without the formality of swimming trunks, or walk around the village. Sometimes we hitch-hike Into Algiers". There was very little to do in the village, and I recorded that I found the French very unhelpful and generally impolite. We all carried side-arms of course. There was practically nothing to buy except strange local booze, the Americans had seen to all that when they passed through, and the bars seemed to be open all the time. Algeria was, politically, a part of Metropolitan France in the eyes of the French, it was home to many Frenchmen, and they probably realised it might never be quite the same again. After a three-week rest at Surcouf we reported to 150 Squadron at Blida, about 30 miles south of Algiers. This place was most certainly at war, there were Wellingtons, Hudsons, Hurricanes, Commandoes and Albacores for squadrons of Bomber, Coastal, Fighter and Transport Commands, and the Fleet Air Arm. With the exception of Transports and 142 and 150 Wellington Squadrons, all aircraft were controlled by Coastal Command. We were part of the North Africa Striking Force - so we were told. Life was good at Blida, most of the food was tinned and we enjoyed eggs and bully beef every day in the mess. Generally in the evenings we would have a fry-up of eggs and bread with more bully on the primus stove in the billet. The Mess Hall was used as both dining hall and lounge. The arabs wandered round the camp selling eggs and oranges but prefered [sic] to exchange them for food -- more bully beef.
The currency in use was the French Franc with an exchange rate of 200 to the £1 sterling in which we were paid. BMA (British Military Authority) notes were also in use but the most popular currency outside the town was the tin of bully. We were billeted in chalets formerly the peacetime living quarters of the French Air Force. Each chalet had four large rooms-and accommodated two Wellington crews. It was very pleasant to sit out on the verandah [sic] . My rather battered diary records that on the 28th. March 1943 we were discussing what we proposed to do on completion of our first tour. Rather naive, we would have little or no say in the matter. We had been allocated an aircraft, "F" for Freddie, but it was a case of one crew to one aircraft and its present owners had not quite finished their tour and were reluctant to part with it. For two days they had been bombing and straffing [sic] a large German convoy bound for Bizerta which was not left alone even when part of it had docked. We finally took over the aircraft and for five days were airborne for several hours each day. On the afternoon of the 5th. April we took off
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in "F" for Freddie for an hour's fighter affiliation excercise [sic] with two Hurricanes. Employing violent evasive action to make things difficult for the fighters, we crossed the coast about 10 miles east of Algiers at 3000 feet and passed directly over a British destroyer. The Navy was wide awake and saw a heavy bomber being chased by two Hurricanes, immediately opened fire on us with considerable light flak. The pilot of a third Hurricane which was on an operational patrol saw the mini-battle and joined in. When he saw that one of his chums was only 100 yards from my rear turret and happy to stay there, he realised that we were in a different ball game, peeled off and, carried on with his patrol, finally returning to Maison Blanche.
On the night of the 6th. April we bombed the Marshelling [sic] yards at TUNIS, with 3500 lb. and 54 30 lb. incendiaries. We bombed in one stick from 8000 ft. and surprisingly were held in searchlights which we lost at 3000 feet. Not a very good effort on our part, the bombs overshot the target but hit the aerodrome 3 miles north according to the timing point photograph. All 28 aircraft returned safely, two of them damaged There was little light flak but some heavy stuff said to be radar controlled. For an hour on the return journey I changed places with Harry Dyson, our Wireless op. On the 7th. we attacked troop concentrations at night making several bombing passes at low level and finally coming in very low firing 7 Brownings. Chad the bomb aimer used the two guns in the front turret, I had four in the rear and we carried beam guns on these occasions. Only the front gunner could see what he was firing at. One aircraft of 142 Squadron, G George was shot down by light flak. On the 10th. we raided MONSERRATO aerodrome in Sardinia, an aircraft was seen over the target with navigation lights on, visibility was good and we moved away hoping the runway lights would be switched in. The aerodrome remained in darkness and we dropped our bombs singly. There was no light flack from the aerodrome to worry us, and the aircraft with lights on was not seen again. After a further 30 minutes of stooging about we returned to Blida. There was a reasonable amount of heavy flak which we learned on return had downed one aircraft of 142 Squadron. - 2 in 2 nights-. On the way back a searchlight opened up a few miles ahead and the skipper put the nose down so we were at 2000 ft. when we passed directly over the searchlight. Stan Chadderton in the front turret opened fire and the Skipper told me when to open up, aiming straight down. The light stayed on after we had passed, pointing vertically, maybe we did a little damage, probably not. Inside the aircraft however, the dive had caused the Elsan lavatory to come loose and scatter it's contents over the floor.
The following morning, fearing the wrath of the ground crew when they saw the Elsan, we stayed in bed until noon and breakfasted in the billet. Eggs and fried potatoes, fried bread and tinned pears and fresh oranges, served by the wireless op. and rear gunner to the Skipper and the rest of the crew still in bed. In the afternoon we were stood down and Joe Shields (Sgt. Rimmer's Rear Gunner) and I went into Blida to try and find presents to take back to England. The bigger French shops were all closed - no stocks- and we scrounged around the Arab quarters, without success. I mentioned earlier that we always carried side-arms and several times we were crowded by the Arabs. Production of the revolver dispersed them but it could have been very tricky.
On the 14th. April we raided MONSERRATO for the second time, the first run-in at 8000 feet and then 6000 feet. Direct hits were seen on
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the aerodrome this time with 1000 and 250 pounders. No incendiaries were dropped but 10 minutes was spent 8 miles north of the town dropping leaflets. The leaflets were the "laissez-passer" type printed in German instead of the more usual Italian. An aircraft over the target area sporting an orange light seemed to be signalling to a searchlight. We assumed it was acting as a decoy for a night-fighter and the only one of us keeping an eye on it was the navigator standing at the astrodome.
The rest of us searched the allocated parts of the sky according to the book!. All our aircraft returned safely and reported good aiming. Photographs confirmed the success, but we had borrowed "M" Mother which was without a camera. The return journey was uneventful and crossing Mare Nostrum Di tuned in to the 9 o-clock news from London. The announcer Alvar Lidell read "Algiers reports that the R.A.F. Strategical Airforce in North Africa has continued to batter aerodromes in Tunisia and Sardinia, damaging runways and destroying aircraft on the ground, without loss to themselves". Someone remarked "That's one way of looking at it"!. Actually a few nights ago 142 Sqdn. had lost 2 in 2 nights. 150 Squadron had lost one but the crew bailed out. Four of the crew managed to get through the enemy lines but the Rear Gunner was wounded and there was no news of him for several weeks.
The docks at TUNIS received our attention on the night of the 17th. April, with very careful placing of 500 and 250 pounders. Direct hits were observed in the docks area and there was concentrated heavy flack. It didn't worry us, we were well below it at 6000 feet. There was lots of light flack mostly concentrated on an aircraft displaying red and green navigation lights. At one stage this aircraft came to within 600 yards on the starboard beam and we converged to about 300 yards. We clearly identified it as a Wellington and gave it a long inaccurate burst from the rear turret. On this occasion every fourth round was a tracer. The nav. lights were extinguished and the aircraft was not seen again. There was no satisfactory explanation as to the identity of this aircraft. A captured Wellington perhaps acting as a decoy but attracting most of the flak. Possibly one of ours with the lights switched on accidentally, one shall never know. Two aircraft are missing, piloted by Sgt. Chandler of 150 and Sgt. Lee of 142. One sent out an SOS and ditched but there was no signal from the other. On our return to Blida there was a blanket of cloud over the whole area and our 23 aircraft were diverted to Maison Blanche. One aircraft was known to have a damaged undercarriage, which collapsed on touch-down and was a write-off but there were no injuries. Road Transport was waiting to take us the 30 miles or so back to Blida and we finally got to bed at 6 am. We shared the lorry with Sgt. Leckie's crew who had bailed out over Tunisia on the 14th. The Squadron Leader had flown to Sousse and brought them back to Algeria. Leckie had himself crash-landed the aircraft with no hydraulics and only one engine, somewhere in Allied-occupied Tunisia.
On the 23rd. April my diary records a tedious week of activity which achieved very little. Every day we were briefed for a night op. and every day we did our Daily Inspections and air tests, but in the late afternoon the Sirocco came up suddenly and the trips were cancelled. During the week, two Albemarles crashed on the runway, both from Gibralter [sic] carrying supplies which included mail from U.K.
Our uniform since leaving West Kirby has been British Army Khaki but with shoes and no putees. Our R.A.F. blue shirts with collar and tie and also blue forage caps were not exchanged. We have no tropical
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kit and it is getting very warm here. Our aircraft "F" for Freddie, has been grounded all week with "G" George, both with a trimming box problem. The policy is still one crew to an aircraft, and we enjoyed a very easy week. On the 28th. we managed to borrow "D" Donald and bombed DECIMONANU again, this time with a 4000 lb. 'blockbuster’ and a few incendiaries for good measure. After bombing we stooged around for 30 minutes having a close look at fires on the ground. Searchlights waved about apparently aimlessly and the light flack with tracer seemed equally haphazard. At 3000 feet we were caught by one searchlight and within seconds were held in a cone of five. The lights were dazzling and the three of us manning guns all fired point blank, it being impossible to aim. In theory a combined rate of fire of over 8000 rounds per minute should have hit something worth while, but after a very short burst my four guns jammed, a problem seldom experienced. At only 3000 feet we were quickly out of range of the searchlights. We were over Blida at 0700 hours which was covered in fog and diverted again to Mason Blanche. We were not very popular at Maison B, everyone had-their own problems which were not always appreciated by others on different types of aircraft performing widely differing types of work. We were in bed at Maison B. by 1000 hrs. probably without the knowledge of the 'owners' of the beds who had spent the night in then; and there we stayed until 1700. The tinned steak pie for tea made a very welcome change. Our aircraft "F" for Freddie still had a faulty-trimming box.
It was only in the air we were able to listen to the Radio News from London, although we had a reasonable supply of current newspapers brought out by the steady stream of aircraft from U.K. On the 29th. we logged another trip to BIZERTA, this time in "T" Tommy with a 4000 pounder. Take-off was at 0005 hours and the weather the worst for flying we had yet experienced in Africa. The target was the docks and all was unusually quiet. The coast-line was visible through about 4/10ths cloud and on our first run over the docks we dropped incendiaries. Positive identification of the target, so round again to release the 4000 pounder which the press were refering [sic] to as 'cookies'. It seemed that over Germany the lads were dropping 8000 pounders. The flak and searchlights opened up simultaneously and was relatively intense. We found later that we were the first to bomb. Some had difficulty in finding the target due to cloud and the enemy was trying not to attract our attention. Again there was low cloud at Blida and we were diverted to Maison Blanche. Two aircraft were lost on the Bizerta raid, one landed at Bone (now renamed Annaba) with one engine u/s, and a 142 Sqdn. aircraft did a belly-landing on the grass at Maison B. On our return we found that Sgt. Leckie, operational again after being shot down in Tunisia, had crashed into the mountain immediately after take-off. Another 150 Sqdn aircraft crashed on take-off, barely getting airborne, and it was assumed that he had engine failure. Two of the crew actually survived the explosion. It had been a fateful night, we were briefed for take-off from west to east, with a left turn onto course. Just before take-off a strong wind developed from the west causing the duty runway to be changed from 09 to 27 and we took off from east to west. Sgt. Leckie turned left instead of right, straight into. the Atlas mountains, all killed instantly. Our own Bomb Aimer Stan had flown on a raid with Sgt. Leckie only two nights previously. When I revisited Blida on business in 1978 I was astonished to appreciate just how near those mountains were to Blida aerodrome..
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[photograph] WITH HILDA & THE SKIPPER SEPT ’43 RICHMOND ON THAMES
[photograph] BILL WILLOUGHBY NAVIGATOR AT THE PORT BEAM GUN POSITION
[photograph] NAVIGATOR & BOMB AIMER IN THEIR PITS
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The following morning an aircraft of 142 was seen to be making a peculiar approach, and just before touchdown. one engine cut and the other was going flat out, resulting in a spectacular disintegration at the side of the runway, in which no-one was seriously hurt. By the end of April we had four aircraft all Wellington Mk.10s equipped for carrying 4000 pound bombs. Bomb doors had been removed and they were said to have a special main spar.
On the 5th. May it was farewell to Blida, the war was moving east. Each crew was issued with a First World War Bell tent and this together with official stores and personal effects was piled into the aircraft. I remember the Wireless Op. Di and I putting our (stolen) palliases [sic] aboard for our Ground-crew passengers to rest on during the flight. A very thoughtful act on our part said the Skipper. It was just that Di and I intended to sleep in the manner to which we were accustomed. Our destination was Fontaine Chaude, about 250 Kms. ESE of Blida. About half way in deference to our guests we opened a tin of spam and served slices of spam followed by stewed plums from a large tin we had been hoarding. Our destination was a stretch of desert near a tiny village. After landing we pitched our tent and organised our palliases [sic] into beds with the help of a dozen or so empty boxes. Meanwhile vehicles were arriving with our squadron personnel, more stores, aircraft and by late evening we had a small township. A small marquee served as a Sgts. Mess and on the first evening we enjoyed stew and green peas followed by pears and real cream. These had been provided by the Americans on an emergency basis. The following day was spent partly on an aerodrome inspection. The war had passed through Fontaine Chaude and it was possible the Arab scavengers had overlooked bits of war material which could do damage to aircraft, particularly the tyres. There were no runways, only sand with some coarse grass.
Back to war next day and Group Captain (Speedy) Powell briefed us for a raid on TRIPANI, a naval base in Sicily. We were 30 minutes late on take-off due to delays in bombing-up. We carried only six 500 pounders instead of eight, and some incendiaries. We were 20 minutes behind the bomber stream of 26 Wellingtons. 'The bomber stream'!. This was an expression used by a newly joined crew who were very displeased with having to finish their tour in North Africa after starting it over Europe. They treated our desert war with some contempt after their recent experiences over Germany, but were reported missing about three weeks after joining us. We were in cloud shortly after take-off and nearing the target came out of it at 12,000 feet. We moved over towards a concentration of heavy flak bursts and the bomb aimer thought he had found a pinpoint through breaks in the cloud. The bombs were dropped into the area of flashes and fires on the ground but it was not a satisfactory raid. We lost two aircraft. One was seen to go down in flames over the target having been coned by searchlights. Sgt. Pax Smith, a New Zealander and crew ran out of fuel in pitch darkness and had strayed too far to the west, over Algeria. My diary records "They bailed out in an airmanlike manner but the Bomb Aimer was concussed and the Rear Gunner broke both legs on hitting the ground and rolling down the side of a hill. Three of the crew are in the rest camp at Constantine and the two inured in hospital in Algiers".
The reader might be surprised at apparent navigation errors such as this, but the only nav. aid available was a QDM (course to steer) to reach in this case Algiers, which would not have helped. We had no M/F
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Beacons on which to take bearings. The Navigator worked on his dead reckoning plot backed up by a visual pinpoint from the bomb aimer map-reading if visibility was suitable. Quite often the only aid was the Rear Gunner taking a drift reading from his turret. Over the sea the Wireless op. would drop a flame-float down the flare chute, which would burst into flames on striking the sea. The Rear. gunner would rotate his turret and depress the guns, holding the flame in his ringsight for ten seconds, then read off the drift on the indicator by his side. There was sometimes a drift indicator in the 'Nav. Office' also. The same procedure was used over the desert during the day using a smoke bomb in place of a flamefloat.
We learned that Sgt. Leckie who was killed hitting the mountain was Commissioned two weeks before his death and had also been awarded a D.F.C. for his crash-landing in Tunisia. So Sgt. Leckie was really P/O Leckie D.F.C. and didn't know it, but the end result was the same. He and our own Skipper, Sgt. Rutherford 416170 R.N.Z.A.F. had been great buddies for a long time. (or what was regarded as a long time in those days)
May 10 my diary states, a Boomerang lastnight. We took-off with a 4500 pound payload for delivery to PALERMO, the Capital of Sicily. About 30 min. after take-off the petrol cover on the port fuel tank came open and the Skipper had great difficulty in keeping the left wing up. There was no option but to jettison half the bomb load in the sea and return to base. There was an enemy air-raid in progress at Bone and we kept a few miles to the east of it with the I.F.F. on. Our own night-fighters operating from Maison Blanche were known to be very active and we had great faith in our I.F.F. We were first back of course - not really having been anywhere!- and we waited for the others in the debriefing tent. To no avail, they had been diverted and returned the following afternoon. We enjoyed an afternoon and evening off, and went by lorry to Batna, a small town about 30 miles from our base. There was little to be seen and nothing to buy and no sign of any social activity. Conversation with the natives was difficult and they were not interested in the war.
On the night of the 12th. it was the turn of NAPLES again, 21 aircraft with 90,000 lbs. payload bombed within five minutes of each other. It was a lovely night, visibility 30 miles and not a cloud in the sky. As we approached Naples we could clearly see Mt. Vesuvius and convinced ourselves we could see the thin column of smoke drifting from it. Our last pinpoint on the way out was the Isle of Capri and we gave it a short burst of .303 for good measure. A futile act but the guns had to be fired occasionally. At NAPLES we went straight in, the target was clearly visible and the one stick straddled the railway yards and industrial area. My diary records that flak was intense and said to be some of the hottest in Europe, and reading that after a lapse of 45 years causes me to question the authority for such a statement. It was a small target compared to some of those in Central Europe, and the 40 searchlights at Napoli were quite effective, but would have been more so if it had been dark. All our aircraft returned safely after a 7 1/2 hour flight, not a bad effort for Wimpies with no overload tanks. As the W/op describes it, we climbed into our pits just as dawn was breaking. By 0900 we had the option of discarding our mosquito nets and being pestered by the insects, or enjoying a turkish bath due to the heat. Our 1916 vintage bell-tent was reasonable for our crew of five although in earlier times it accomodated [sic] , goodness knows how, 22 soldiers.
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At about 1400 we were happy to get airborne again on an air test where we could cool down, but at 1700 it was briefing again. A "maximum effort" - another phrase. imported from our colleagues bashing away in Central and Northern Europe, on CAGLIARI, a port and industrial town in Sardinia. All 26 aircraft were over the target area within minutes of each other, again visibility was near perfect. Bombing heights were staggered and we bombed from 6000 feet. Our 4000 pounder landed just north of the railway yards among some tall buildings and started a fire. Our W/op Harry Dyson claimed at debriefing that he could feel the heat from our own fire when we turned in again to see the damage. Di was prone to exaggeration by this time, perhaps due to frustration of monitoring broadcasts from Base and seldom touching the morse key. We came back over the target at 2000 feet and the flames were leaping high. We could still see the flames from 70 miles away at 8000 feet on our way home. Listening to the B.B.C. we learned that American bombers had raided Cagliari earlier that day, "wiping the place out". They also claimed they could still see fires burning when they reached the African coast. In daylight too; our W/op was not alone in the exaggeration stakes. However, it was a very satisfactory raid. We were in a shallow dive when the bomb was released and is thought to have scraped the fuselage under the aircraft where there was damage to the geodetics and six feet of fabric had been torn off.
On the 15th. our crew was stood down for 24 hours and I received four letters from Hilda, the first for many weeks. At this rate of completing ops I should be home in less than three months. It was very tiring night after night, particularly as is [sic] was not possible to sleep comfortably in the heat of the day. The target was PALERMO, and three of our 25 aircraft failed to return, including Sgt. Rimmer, and Sgt. Alazrachi, the latter a Free French pilot. It is not known what happened to any of them except that one aircraft was seen to go down in flames over the target. Rimer's Rear Gunner was Joe Shields, one of the best, and the crew had been with us since O.T.U. at Finningley. Polfrey the Navigator, Cave the Bombadier [sic] and Jack Waters the Wireless-op, all very keen types.
On the 16th. it was our turn to make a fragment of history. For the very first time, the R.A.F. bombed ROME. Rome, we were told was an open undefended city, and we were briefed to fly from the mouth of the River Tiber, over the city dropping leaflets, and return at 5000 feet dropping more leaflets, then bomb the LIDO DI ROMA near the mouth of the Tiber. Our first bomb went in the river and the last one in the sea, but the rest of the stick neatly straddled the buildings at the Seaplane Base. Over the city itself, there was considerable light flack with tracer, aiming point- blank without result. Not bad at all far an open undefended city, but we were forbidden to display any hostility except dropping leaflets. Even the lids of the Small Bomb Containers loaded with leaflets were secured with wire so as not to fall on the Romans. Later the B.B.C. claimed there was no flak over Rome.
An easier trip the following night which after the event gave me a slight suggestion of a guilty conscience for the the [sic] very first (and last) time.
"Your target" said the Group Captain, "is the German 'U' Boat refuelling Base at ALGHERO, in Sardinia, put paid to it". Our bomb load was 7 x 500 pounders, 4 S.B.C.'s of 30 lb. incendiaries and 2 x 250 pound bombs. We overflew the target at 4000 feet and first dropped several sacks of
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leaflets. These were in Italian and told the people of Alghera that when we very shortly occupied their country and liberated them from the beastly Germans, they would be treated better than ever before, provided with medical aid and food, and every other possible benefit. All we need is a little co-operation and understanding from them. Having spread the gospel, we made three bombing runs over Alghero, at 3000, 1500 and 700 feet, all perfect O.T.U. practice type runs. On the last bombing run, Allan Willoughby manned the port beam gun, Dyson the front turret and the [deleted] the [/deleted] three of us fired our 7 Brownings at point-blank range into the chaos below. The sole opposition comprised two small-calibre machine guns which were soon out of action. Maybe it was a U Boat refuelling base, but only in the sense that it was a small fishing village and happened to have a jetty where drums of oil could be trundled down to a U Boat at the end of it. Our vision of a Sardinian type Lorient or Brest was soon dispelled. The BBC reported 'our bombers based in North Africa attacked targets is Sardinia lastnight'.
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For a couple of days our conversation had centred around an incident over the Lido di Roma. A seaplane base consists mostly of water; on our first run over it we had difficulty in locating the buildings and were hoping to see a tidy straight line of parked seaplanes. The Skipper decided to drop a flare and asked the Wireless Op. to arm no. 1 of 4 already in position in the flarechute. As he removed the safety pin the flare ignited and the top part of it shot through the roof of the aircraft with flames pouring out of the lower end, streaking past the rear turret.
The blinding light startled Stan Chadderton at the Bombing panel and he instantly jettisoned all the flares, undoubtedly preventing a major disaster. How easy it was to be shot down by one's own flare.
According to Intellegence [sic] reports, there were 1,100 casualties in our raid on Cagliari on the 13th., most of them having been caught by a single bomb. This figure is highly suspect but it originated from an Italian report.
On the 21st. it was a stooge over Sicily with 18 250 lb. bombs.
A convoy was within range of the Ju88 Torpedo bombers based in Sicily and our task was to try and keep them on the ground, or if they did manage to take off, prevent them from making an airmanlike landing on return. Aircraft took off singly starting at 1700 hrs.; we were the 24th. at 2045 hrs., with two others to follow. A direct flight to Castelvetrano, identify the aerodrome and one bomb away, then set course for Ciacco, same procedure, and on to Borezzo. If a flare path is seen anywhere give it priority and stooge around in that area for a while. All the bombs were dropped on the three targets and no flarepaths were seen. We concluded there were no enemy landings or take-offs, but one aircraft was seen to go down in flames into the sea; probably Sgt. Williams of our squadron who was on his first mission from Africa, although he had done several over Germany. At Castelvetrano there was lots of light flak using tracer, and we felt the heavy flak in some areas was predicted. We were not experiencing the 'thick carpets' of flak ever-present over Germany, perhaps ours was more personal, just a few batteries carefully aiming at one or two Wimpies.
It was all go, and on the 23rd. we did an easy 3 1/2 hour trip. 2 hours of which was over Africa. We crossed the Tunisian coast and reached Pantelleria 20 minutes later, an island only 7 miles in length with an aerodrome on the western side. Visibility was poor, but we went straight in and dropped 4,500 lbs. in one stick. These were plotted later as just to the south of the aerodrome. We cruised around out at sea for 20 minutes at 7,000 feet, studying four barrage balloons clearly visible at 5000 feet. On our return however there was no support for this theory from anyone else and we were told it was only heavy flak. This was of course quite possible, in poor conditions and with tired eyes imagination can take over. Within a week however, it was generally accepted that the enemy were deploying barrage ballons [sic] although not in great numbers. Most of our aircraft were not fitted with cable cutters on the leading edge of the wings. Pantelleria was an easy trip and we were advised that it would count only as half a trip towards our 35. We had generally assumed the first tour was 30 trips but it did not seem to worry anyone. The day. after the Pantelleria trip, the Squadron mascot, Wompo, or Wimpy. a pedigree Heinz 69 was killed in action. Whilst he was
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merrily chasing some small creature he was accidentally hit by a jeep driven by F/O Langlois, a pilot of 150. He was so badly damaged that one of the lads put him down with his Smith & Wesson .38.
On the 24th. we staggered off the desert in "F" for Freddie heading for Sardinia carrying eight 500 pound bombs and some incendiaries and it seemed ages before we reached even 100 feet. I was not aware of the drama in the front office, both the Skipper and Bomb Air were struggling even to keep us airborne. At about 500 feet it was not possible to maintain height and the Skipper had no option but to lighten the load quickly. Two 500 pounders were released and seconds later there was a tremendous bang from down below, but the aircraft began to maintain height. We were just within sight of the Sardinian coast with the engines overheating when the Skipper jettisoned the remaining bombs and nursed the aircraft back to Fontain Chaude. That was our second boomerang. Had we been carrying a 4000 lb. cookie the episode would have had a very different ending. By the 2nd. of June we had completed 6 more trips and moved camp further east, to Kairouan. Our patch of desert was about 6 miles west of the walled City, said to be the fifth most holy in the Moslem world. The place was very dry, and the well 100 yards from our tent was out of bounds. The R.A.M.C. and the Afrika Korps had both marked it as poisoned by their repective [sic] enemies. It was said to contain human remains, but tests carried out just before we moved on showed the water had not been polluted and was 100% fit for drinking. Meanwhile our water was delivered by two water bowsers each of which travelled 30 miles east to Sousse several times each day. Many years later the record shows that neither the Germans nor the Allies polluted any water supplies. After all, both hoped to recapture them and put them back to their own use. On the first night from Kairouan we were credited with one more trip, having completed two halves! That is, two trips to PANTELLARIA.
We took off in waves of 3 or 4 throughout the night, arriving over the target 45 minutes later. Our aircraft was "C" Charlie which carried one 4000 pounder. On the first run in we overshot, but came round again and in a typical OTU practice run, Stan Chadderton placed the bomb neatly in the centre of the small town. A 45 minute flight back to base and an hour's respite whilst the aircraft was checked, refuelled and bombed up, then the mixture as before.
On the 27th. we were piling into a lorry to go out to the widely dispersed aircraft; the nightly German raid on Sousse was in full swing when a single Ju88 came over to look at our flare path. He was clearly visible and stooged around at will for about 10 minutes before making a run at about 1000 feet dropping 3 bombs in a salvo 300 yards from the Sgts. mess. Nothing was hurt except our feelings and there was no material damage. We had no A-A guns, so the Luftwaffe did not receive the same energetic welcome handed out to us. We relied on Beaufighter squadrons for defence. The R.A.F. policy was reasonable, as the aircraft were dispersed over a wide area and a single stick of bombs would be ineffective against a single aircraft as a target on the ground. We took-off half an hour later for a tour of Sardinia, again with a payload of eighteen 250 lb. bombs. Our only brief was to stooge around between aerodromes and generally make a nuisance of ourselves. There were no allied troops in Sardinia yet so no special care was called for. Our bombs were expected to be released on aerodromes, searchlights and guns. The
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main object was to keep the Luftwaffe and Regia Aeronautica on the ground. These trips were not very popular and provided good practice for Ju88 night fighters. We were stood down on the 3rd. June after doing two ops the previous night. We slept all morning and in the afternoon crowded into a lorry and went to the seaside. Monastir, near Sousse and we had our first baths since leaving Blida. We were in good company and had Mare Nostrum to ourselves with tens of thousands of other Allied troops. I have been there several times since and always think of the mass of naked troops in the sea. A good target for the the [sic] German aircraft? Not really, the scores of light A-A guns made it a very dicey target. The Allies must have had well over a thousand aircraft of different types in the area. The Arab town of Monastir was out of bounds to the Army but not, for some probably invalid reason to the R.A.F. We had a 'shufti' and two of us invested in a sort of haircut. Most of the inhabitants seemed to be French, Monastir having been the fashionable part of the Sousse area,
The night of the 4th. June was an unlucky one for 150 Squadron. We lost three of our 16 aircraft on the ground without intervention from the enemy. The aircraft were bunched fairly close together, having been bombed-up and ready for take-off. During a final check, a Bombadier accidentally released a flare which lay on the ground. He dashed off to find an Armourer to make it safe but within minutes the flare ignited. Within 15 minutes the whole area was ablaze and three aircraft, M Mike, A Able and P Peter, each complete with over two tons of bombs and full petrol tanks blew up. Our aircraft which was to have taken us twice to Pantelleria that night 'N' Nuts, together with seven others, was severely damaged. About half the squadron went to Panteleria [sic] , 2 half-trips and in full moonlight reported a couple of Ju88's circling the island. One aircraft returned with about 40
square feet of fabric torn off.
The following night a new target was added to our growing list, SYRACUSE in eastern Sicily, only a little light flak was encountered, and it was just a matter of bombing the water front. Our main task was in fact to drop leaflets on several of the coastal towns, working our way anticlockwise round Sicily. We passed slightly to the west of Pantelleria on the return leg and saw the Wimpies from the Western Desert squadrons bombing the island.
The exact words written in my diary are "bashing hell out of the island".
Our own Group Captain - "Speedy" Powell also went to Pantelleria but complained that his bomb did not explode. We riled him that it went into the sea. We were now seeing a great deal more of the British army and the Americans and we were realising just what small cogs we were in all the activity. We had an American guest with us when he ran us over to the Ops. Room in his personal jeep to collect lastnight's aiming point photograph. He noticed in the caption at the bottom of the photograph "280 deg.T" and remarked "Geez, mighty hot up there aint [sic] it?". It refered [sic] to our course, not the temperature, but we did not add any further complication to trying to explain.
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in the next 12 days we carried out only two raids, the first an easy one to PANTALARIA [sic], which surrendered the following day, and the second to a new target, MESINA [sic], the straits between the toe of Italia and Sicile [sic] . on the way out we passed very close to our favourite island and across Sicily to the target. The target was already marked with 14 flares by the Western Desert squadrons, and for the first time in North Africa that part of the job was done for us. I noted at the time that "the A-A defences were baffled by the number of aircraft over the target at the same time. There were 34 aircraft and only F/Lt. Langlois ran into trouble. He was caught in the searchlights from both sides of the straits and dropped from 11,000 to 2,000 feet to escape them. In doing so he flew through the balloon barrage, but without further incident.
My diary has recently been opened for the first time in over 42 years, so I have not pondered over its accuracy. 34 aircraft simultaneously over the target probably did seem like a thousand bomber raid to us!. Our Bomb Aimer that night was Ft/Lt. Casky, our own being in jail in Tunis. After our last trip to 'the' island we went to Tunis on a 48 hr. verbal pass. The Skipper had the trots, which we all suffered from time to time, and he tried to rest in the tent nearest the toilet trench. Willoughby the Navigator, Stan Chadderton Bombadier [sic] , Harry Dyson the Wireless Op and myself, Rear Gunner. We were each issued with two boxes of American "K" rations, and hitch-hiked first to Sousse and then to Tunis. The first leg was in the back of an Army lorry and the main leg up the coast road by R.A.F. "Queen Mary" which carried about a hundred of us. The whole trip took only 6 hours. The town of Tunis had been in Allied hands for 4 days and there were still a few Germans in hiding. We had given no thought to accommodation which did not seem to be important. Leaving Stan and Di in a canteen abandoned by the Germans, Wally and I eventually found an hotel near the docks area where we were able to book two rooms. I cannot recall the name of the hotel, but the address was 49 Rue de Serbie. The hotel was in very poor condition, no water, all the windows had been blown out, doors smashed, walls cracked and so on. No catering but we had our 'K' rations. Opposite the hotel was a bombed church and all around the buildings were either destroyed or severely damaged. The docks had been our main target in Tunis, and they were destroyed, with all the warehouses practically levelled out. One cargo vessel was beached and two others rested on the bottom. The Arabs were mostly friendly and told us the bomb damage in town was done mainly by 4 engined bombers is daylight, which let us off the hook. The European French were not so friendly, possibly many of them having lost comfortable homes. Some were quite abusive verbally but to others we managed to explain that we flew Chasseurs, pas des bombardiers. In our minds we had liberated the people of Tunis - and the rest of North Africa - from the Germans. We did not fully appreciate that the Arabs saw it differently. The Inglisi and Americans were no different to the Germans and Italians, and they in turn did no less for them than the French. They lived for the day when they would be left to manage their own affairs. In our wanderings around town we met a Tommy who was a Prisoner of War on a ship which had. been bombed at night a few miles out of Tunis. The ship was Italian, homeward bound and had been straffed [sic] by Spitfires during the day. The ship was spotted by two Wellington crews during a night raid on the docks, and the ship was
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bombed, then straffed [sic] from a few hundred feet. The vessel came to a halt and the 20 or so Germans and Italians abandoned ship. Three of the several hundred British prisoners had been regrettably killed in the action and all the others managed to get ashore in lifeboats and floats in the final days of the Axis evacuation of North Africa. The ship was without lights which should have been carried. Another 8th. Army private told us he was a P.O.W. being transferred from a lorry onto a boat about a week ago when about 30 Spitfires and Kittyhawks arrived and caused chaos with their 20 and 40 mm. cannon. The guards were overpowered and most of the 500 or so P.O.W.’s managed to get away. He spoke highly of the fighter pilots, convinced the attack was a very well-planned sortie to release the P.O.W.'s., not just to blaze away at anything German that dared to move. He could very well have been correct,
On our last evening in Tunis the four of us shared a battle of wine with a meal at a roadside cafe. When we were paying the bill we found there was money left over and asked for another bottle of their excellent wine. As the wine was brought over, a Sgt. M.P. standing behind us shouted "no more wine for them", after which Stan told him to mind his own business. The M.P. then grabbed Stan's arm and held it to his back, but seeing threatening movements from the rest of us, released it. Stan then turned quickly and thumped the M.P. who promptly disappeared. Shortly afterwards two R.A.F. Sgt. S.P.'s came is and asked if we had had some trouble and if so would Stan like to put in a complaint to the Provost Marshal? This seemed like a good countermeasure to a possible charge made by the Sgt. M.P. and Stan accompanied the two R.A.F. S.P.’s to the Provost Marshal's office. In reality this was the jail and as they entered the door the Sgt. M.P. set about Stan who gave as good as he got. But this was inside the jail, Stan was at a big disadvantage and about to spend the first of three nights in it. The jail was is fact next door to our hotel is Rue de Serbie. Willy and I did not suspect that Stan was in trouble, we assumed our S.P.’s were just being helpful, so we sat down again with the bottle. Perhaps Di's conscience was not quite so clear, and when he saw the S.P.'s coming he made himself scarce. We caught up with him later asking an M.P. where he could pinch a Jeep. The M.P. humoured him and directed him to an American car park with lots of Jeeps, but Di had seen a tramcar and decided to pinch that instead. Fortunately the tramcar was off the rails, and he changed his attention to the French tricolour on top of a derelict building. He climbed the building and removed the flag, then Willy and I managed to get him back to the hotel. Di's condition was not due to a session of heavy drinking, we had seen very little of anything alcoholic for a long time and two glasses of local wine would have been more than enough to really get him going.
The three of us hitch-hiked back to Kairoaun and reported the loss of one Bomb Aimer to the Skipper. The following day Squadron Leader Miller D.F.C. flew to Tunis and demanded Stan's release from jail. He had a major row with the same Sgt. M.P. who started it all and who was asking what authority the Squadron Leader had. The Squadron Leader pointed to his 2 1/2 rings of rank and the D.F.C. and asked the M.P. whether he thought they were scotch mist. Stan was released and back at Kairoaun was charged with causing an affray, resulting in a Reprimand. The Sgt. M.P. was charged and given a Severe Reprimand and reduced to Corporal.
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By the 16th. of June we were operational again as a crew. the target was again NAPLES, a 6 hour 15 min. stooge and rather tiring. There was a full moon and visibility was 25 miles. We could clearly see Pantelaria [sic] to port, and later, north of Sicily, the small island of Maritimo, just the tip of a mountain sticking out of the sea. The Isle of Capri provided a good pin-point. Over the target area there was 9/10ths. cloud so we bombed from above the flares. Flak was moderate and widely spread. There was slight consternation when one of my turret doors fell off for no apparent reason. I wondered what else would fall off but everything else seemed to be intact so it was just a matter of strapping myself in - which according to the book should be so in any case. Just after "bombs gone" I reported a twin-engined aircraft starboard quarter up at 1000 yards. The Skipper started to weave gently. and Di went to the astrodome position to search above the horizontal whilst I -theoritically [sic] at least-- concentrated on below the horizontal. This is not an easy task when the rear gunner is expected to ignore one fighter leaving it to his colleague whilst searching for others. Di became somewhat emotional to say the least, said it was not a fighter but merely flak, and then went on to give a commentry [sic] on searchlight activity and flak at least - by then- five miles away, and of only historical interest. Whilst in a turn to port the other aircraft was directly astern and I identified it as twin engined and without the high tail fin of the Wellington. The Skipper did a diving turn to starboard and we lost the other aircraft. Di claimed it was another aircraft not to be confused with the one he identified as flak! Normally Di stayed at his radio position, it was better that way. On the return journey, either there was a raid on Trapani or someone had strayed off-course. On the 18th. it was again to SYRACUSE, an exceptionally clear night, almost no cloud and a full moon. We could have dispensed with the flarepath on take-off and we felt as if we were doing a day trip. Over the target there was tracered flak up to 7,000 feet and we were geared up to bomb from 5,000 feet. We expected night fighters, and even day fighters, so went straight in at 5000 feet, bombed and straight out again, down to 3,000 feet for a quick tour of several nearby small towns and villages where we dropped leaflets. We were glad to get home that night, such met. and lunar conditions were hazardous. SALERNO again on the 21st, a routine trip, but on the 24th. of June I got a message to call at the 'Orderly Room', which in reality was the bell tent next to the C.O.'s tent. There was great discussion on which particular crime had caught up with me, but it was all very innocent. I came out of the bell tent as a Flight Sargeant [sic] much to the annoyance of the Sgt. Skipper and the three other Sgts. in the crew. It didn't help very much when I told them they need not call me Flight Sgt. ALL the time, just once in the morning and again in the evening.
In the early hours of the 26th. June we bombed the naval base of BARI in S. E. Italy, and it was an almost complete fiasco. It was not possible to see the ground due to haze, and the Western Desert aircraft had dropped the marker flares in the wrong place. Fires were started over an area of about 60 square miles, maybe one or two on the target by sheer chance. The target was a small oil refinery built especially to deal with the crude oil from Albania. Important to the Axis because that particular oil needed special treatment which, we were advised, only Bari could provide. We were now spending more and more time over the Italian mainland, for the first time we were seeing concentrations of
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lights in the form of a triangle which were assumed to be Prison and Internment Camps. On the way out we saw Trapani being bombed by our colleagues from the Western desert. The following afternoon it was too hot to sleep and I flew with Sgt. Whitehouse, a new pilot from Britain, in a brand new aircraft, 'D' Donald. We traced the path of the 8th. Army to beyond the Mareth line, at about 2500 feet. There were few battle scars; It was hard to appreciate that this was a place of such dreadful carnage so recently.
Kairouan was placed out of bounds due to Typhus, and there was nothing in the walled city to tempt us to ignore the order. The Arabs were less friendly and our revolvers were not looked upon merely as a taken of authoriity [sic] . According to a report in a Daily Mirror which took a few weeks to arrive, the lads were reported to have been given a hearty welcome by the French people in the Holy City of Kairouan. Actually there were only a handful of French remaining. Another Daily Mirror headline we found amusing was "BLOCKBUSTERS ON BIZERTA". It went an to say that "Lastnight our Bombers based in North Africa again pounded Bizerta; During the entire raid, blockbusters were dropped at the rate of one every two minutes. Absolutely correct, it was a raid from Blida, but it did not say that the raid was of 2 minutes duration and that we had only two aircraft able to carry the blockbusters. However, we looked forward to reading even an old Daily Mirror and to listen to the B.B.C. when airborne. Some of the stock phrases brought a chuckle at times 'Fires were left burning..', "Rear Gunners straffed [sic] the target..." "All opposition was overcome.." "Many two ton blockbusters ...." etc. etc, It appeared far more impressive in print than in reality doing it. Generally all we saw were explosions and dull red glows, tracer coming up and curving away passed us, and being blinded sometimes by searchlights. We did not picture at the time the loss of life down below and the damage caused to factories and buildings of all descriptions, in any cases, mostly houses. Straffing [sic] was invigorating and served to let off steam, but the supporting arithmetic was disappointing. An aircraft travelling at 180 m.p.h. (264 feet per second) over a target 360 yards in length would take 4 seconds to traverse the target. A .303 Browning has a rate of fire of 1200 rounds per min., the four in the rear turret having a combined rate of 4800 per min., or 80 rounds per second. There is time only for a 4 second burst of 320 rounds - not a lot - The Reargunner sees nothing of the target until it is passed and needs to be told when to open fire by someone in the front office. On straffing [sic] details it is likely the front turret with two guns, and one beam gun would be in use, increasing fire power by 75%, Possibly even a four-second burst once experienced at the receiving end might cause the enemy to duck next time we come by. This was an acceptable technique along a straight road. The aircraft was often fitted with two beam guns, one on each side, but only one was manned. Vision was poor from the beam positions and normally we would pass to one side of the target with one wing low. The gun on the other beam would have been aiming upwards. On the 28th 150 Sqdn. was stood down for 24 hours, but the previous night we paid a visit to SANGIOVANI on the southern toe of the Italian mainland: This was a daylight trip with four squadrons of Wellingtons to the train ferry terminal, a dock or lock which the ferry would enter and the water level be adjusted such that the level of the rails on land and ferry coincided. The train would then be shunted an or off the ferry as required. Flack was intense for
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Italian targets and there were trains both on-the ferry in dock and onshore. The whole lot was successfully reduced to a shambles but 6 of our aircraft failed to return. Our heaviest loss yet in a single night.
The 30th. of June was Willie's birthday and we celebrated it over MESINA. According to the B.B.C. we are blitzing both sides of the straits, Mesina to the west in Sicily and Sangiovani on the Italian mainland. The straits are only 3 1/2 miles wide, and carry the greater part of all enemy traffic to Sicily, entirely in German control with concentrated light flack [sic] from both sides and from ships in the middle. A trip lasting 5 1/2 hours.
The whole crew is beginning to feel the strain of long periods of intense activity. Although most of the memories are of the actual bombing ops., that was only a part of it. Aircraft had to be inspected daily on the ground and also air tested ready for the next trip, before bombing up. The Navigator had to prepare his flight plan prior to take off and this was done also on the many occasions when trips were later cancelled. All of us spent at least some time in the Intellegence [sic] Section to keep up-to-date with the position of the front line and the general trend. It was perhaps in some ways easier for us than for our counterparts in Europe. We had fewer distractions. There was no looking forward to a pint in the local pub. nor getting home to the family for a day or two. Not even the local cinema. There was very little booze to be had, I seem to remember a ration of one bottle of beer per fortnight which I used to take up on an air test to cool it down, and then give to the Armourers after landing. The batman was not going to ask "which suit and shoes are you wearing tonight Sir? " as he did later at Spitalgate. Evening wear was the same as for the rest of the day, shorts, perhaps a shirt, certainly no socks, and sandals on the feet. On the few occasions when we went out of camp we generally wore khaki battledress which we wore also of course on ops. I was finding it increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open at night for long periods, and finding it very tempting to rest my head on the guns and have a doze, but to do so would be absolutely unforgiveable. The Skipper was under an even greater strain and a six hour trip was 6 hours of concentrated effort. On one or two occasions he dozed off for maybe just a few seconds, but fortunately by his side most of the time was Stan Chadderton the Bombardier who very quickly realised the position and watched points up front. The amount of nattering in the air was on the increase, also. It was standard procedure to use oxygen at night regardless of altitude, and the microphones with their electrical heaters were built-in to the mask. Everyone was connected to the intercom system all the time except for the Wireless op. who was able to switch out his own connection when using his radio. Microphones were switched as required by individual wearers. The Skipper's microphone was switched on all the time and so too was the Rear Gunner's in danger areas. Procedures were relaxed somewhat in our particular theatre of war; we could get along quite nicely without oxygen below 10,000 feet and I don't recollect flying much above that height. Whenever I reported anything Di dashed to the astradome [sic] and objected. If the rotation of my rear turret was not rythmical [sic] both the Skipper and Navigator objected. The turret and guns presented an assymetrical [sic] shape to the slipstream with a consequent rudder effect. If I kept the turret facing starboard for too long the aircraft would do a gentle flat turn to starboard. Meanwhile the Skipper was trying to maintain a course determined by the
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Navigator who was keeping a watchful eye on his compass, perhaps not appreciating that it was the rear gunner making things difficult. Although the sides of the turret were clad with perspex, it was difficult to see through it with the degree of clarity required. In fact the perspex in front of the turret had been removed to provide a clear vision panel. Even on the ground the whole crew was getting very irritable with each other. For almost a year we had lived worked, ate and near enough slept together almost without a break, the same endless routine, and anything to which we could look forward seemed an awful long way off. Whose turn to carry the water, became a very important issue at times and would lead to an argument [sic] . After some very harsh wards we would agree that it was stupid to argue about such a trivial issue, which in turn led to a bigger argument on who started the argument in the first place. I remember Chad the Bombardier putting paid to the row one day by getting off his bed - known as a pit - and announcing "Well, I've get to go for a **, anyone care to join me'? The loo comprised a trench, 20 feet long, several feet deep and about one foot wide over which one crouched. There was a choice of direction in which to face, and one or two of the bigger chaps preferred to straddle the trench. There was no need to interrupt a conversation in going to the toilet.
By the end of June the length of tour was clarified. First it was to have been 30 trips as in Britain, then it had been increased to 40 as some trips were not very hazardous, then some of the trips counted only as halves, and the tour was again changed to be 250 hours of operational flying. The Western Desert tour was said to be 40 trips or 250 hours, whichever was the less. However, there were other things to think about. Sgt. Lee and two other pilots were paraded before the whole squadron Air Crews and called "Saboteurs" by the Group Captain, having between them written off five aircraft in taxiing accidents. Group Captain 'Speedy' Powell was a very keen type and conducted all the briefings himself, was generally the first one off the ground and first back in time for debriefing. Whilst we were resting he would sometimes return to the target in an American twin boomed lightning to try and assess the damage - or find what we had actually bombed!
On the night of the 30th. June we were stood dawn and watched 142 Sqdn. take off for southern Italy. The starboard engine of one aircraft cut a few seconds before the aircraft should have get airborne. The aircraft swung and crashed into a jeep which was waiting to cross the 'runway', killing both American occupants and breaking it's back, a complete write-off. My diary makes no mention of the fate of the crew. We had just been issued with a new aircraft, 'B Beer' and I spent most of the day cleaning the guns and turret which were still all greased up as when they left England. Normally this work was carried out by the Armourers, but I was expected to take an active interest in the guns and turrets. The guns were removed, stripped, soaked in petrol, thoroughly cleaned and reassembled, replaced in the newly-cleaned turret and then harmonised. In Britain the harmonising of guns was carried out by placing a board at a predetermined distance in front of the turret and adjusting the ring-sight and guns to line up with specific paints or circles on the board. In North Africa we placed a can or any handy object on the ground 300 yards away and pointed the guns and ring-sight at it.
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Another day-off on the 2nd. July and Jumbo Cox, a Navigator on 150 Sqdn. and I hitch-hiked into Sousse and spent a few hours in the sea. After our dip we queued for 20 minutes at a huge marquee and enjoyed the most wonderful mug of tea of all time. I have thought many times in the last 40 years of that mug of tea.
The 4th. of July turned out to be the-hottest in temperature we had experienced for a long time. We had bombed TRAPANI in the very early morning. Intensive flack and searchlights with tracer up to 5000 feet. At 2000 feet the temperature was 95 Farenheit [sic] and not much lower at 9,000 feet, our bombing height. I was wearing only trousers and a shirt and was soaked in perspiration. Even the slipstream felt hot when I put one hand outside. Apart from the oppressive heat, it was a routine trip, and we managed to sleep most of the following afternoon, in 130 deg. in the shade. The wind was from the south-west, straight off the Sahara, and several airmen passed out with heatstroke. Metal parts of the aircraft were too hot to touch and a Wellington on the ground of 37 Squadron went up in flames. On the night of the 6th, we were briefed to attack aerodromes in Sardinia, and Sgt. Chandler piloted the first aircraft off. Both engines cut immediately after take-off whilst his undercarriage was still lowered. With full fuel and bomb load he somehow managed to avoid the inevitable and landed in a cultivated area at the end of the runway. Some of the crew suffered minor injuries, but it was 40 minutes before the rest of us were given a green to take-off. The wrecked aircraft was directly under the take-off path. Seven aircraft failed to get off the ground, including ours, all due to engines overheating after running for over 40 minutes on the ground. We had also lost air pressure for the brakes. Of the aircraft which did take off none was successful in finding the target, flouted by bad weather over Sardinia. Sgt. Valentine was above 10/10ths cloud with engines overheating and deemed it necessary to jettison his bombs "over the sea". We were not generally briefed with the positions of Allied shipping convoys, but were routed away from them without being given the reason. Sgt. Valentine decided to return by the shortest route and when has bombs whistled down on the convoy the Navies took a very poor view and let fly with everything they had. This was a well-established practice on the Navy's part, so there was no cause for complaint. In all, that night was a waste of 30 tons of bombs, 4000 gallons of petrol and over 150 flying hours.
On the 7th. we visited an aerodrome at COMISO in Southern Italy, delivering 4500 lbs, of bombs. It was a new target to the R.A.F., and apparently undefended, Only three of us managed to locate it and we were lucky in the timing of our 3 flares in obtaining a pinpoint. We obtained good aiming point photograph which showed our stick of bombs had straddled the dispersal area, with the last two landing in the olive groves.
Nearly half a century later I wonder why we did not use the radio for communicating with other aircraft in providing mutual assistance. We had no V.H.F. but the TR9 H.F. R/T would have been adequate. Observing Radio silence I feel was taken to extremes, our signals might indicate our presence to the enemy, but they were aware of that in any case. They might home onto us, but our transmissions would have been brief and on a frequency initially unknown to the enemy. They were not equipped to respond fast enough to information gleaned by monitoring, neither was the area covered with direction-finding
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stations. I feel this was one of the matters where a principle had been established and which was not reviewed often enough under changing circumstances.
On the evening of the tenth of July, just before briefing we heard aircraft engines and it was like being at a cinema show. Wave after wave of Dakota transports thundered overhead on their way to Sicily. It reminded me of the film "An Engishman`s Home" and the massive formations of German bombers, but these aircraft were American and British and were definitely not making a film. At briefing Groupie put us in the picture. "Accurate timing and accurate bombing, more so than ever before" was his opening phrase. We were briefed to bomb a specific part of SYRACUSE whilst paratroops were being dropped close by and other paras were already in position ready to capture our target immediately after the bombing. Flares were dropped accurately and the target successfully bombed, although some bombs went in the sea because of its close proximity. We noted a very large fire at Catania and "a number of queer lights which suggested fifth column activity" according to my diary. 45 years later I wonder how I reached that conclusion. Looking down from about 9,000 feet on the southern coast of Sicily on the return journey, we saw the Navy shelling the coast and several searchlights on shore began to sweep out to sea. One of the searchlights located a ship and held on to it, whilst the others went on sweeping. From another ship there were just three flashes of light, and seconds afterwards, three flashes on shore, one in front of the offending searchlight, one slap on it, and the third behind it. That was one searchlight out of action, and the others switched off in sympathy. The Navy carried on firing without further interruption. My panoramic view of the action from nearly two miles above gave no indication of the destruction and agony caused by those three shots.
The following, night it was the turn of MONTECORVlNO in western Italy, a new German aerodrome. Over the target we narrowly missed colliding with Jack Alazrachi in `Q' Queenie. His starboard wingtip scored our port wing and my diary records "a very shaky do". Our stick straddled the aircraft parking area and we took an excellent aiming point photograph of 15 aircraft an the ground. It was later confirmed officially that our two squadrons destroyed 40 aircraft and damaged many more.
On the 13th. at briefing, Group Captain Powell grinned and glanced down at his flying boots and said "Yes chaps, we are in for an interesting trip, Jerry is landing a massive convoy at MESINA and we are instructed to smash it." We went out at 6000 ft. above sea level which, over Sicily averaged about 2000 feet above ground. I found it difficult to concentrate on a formal rear-gunner type search, there was so much activity. Ground detail could be seen very easily and the Tactical Air Force was observed bombing all over the island. There were flares everywhere, bombs creating havoc, flak barrages and intensive shelling by the Navies. Over our target, the flak was intense but scattered. Sgt. "Pax" Smith's aircraft was holed, something went through his bombing panel and made two big holes in the front turret. This crew, like most did not include a full-time front gunner, the Bombardier occupied the turret as and when expedient and on this occasion had just returned to the second dickie seat when the aircraft was holed. One aircraft was seen to crash and another, in flames, exploded on hitting the ground. At debriefing we learned that one Wellington of 142 Squadron was missing,
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and this was manned by six officers, five of whom had completed one tour over Germany. The sixth, flying as 'second dickie' was on his very first trip.
Another new target to us, on the 15th, CROTONIA, an aerodrome on the east coast of the toe of Italy. A routine trip out, good visibility and straight in to the taget [sic] . There were four flak batteries, but Sgt, Mickie Mortimer was just ahead of us and his first stick silenced all four. Our single stick straddled the aerodrome and enlarged the existing fires among aircraft on the ground. We stooged around for a little while watching aircraft blowing up and more bombs adding to the havoc on the ground. When all was quiet we dropped to 250 feet and went in with guns blazing and between us fired about 4000 rounds into the fires, We must have hit something. There were dummy fires to the north and south-east of the aerodrome, very unreal and no-one was fooled by them. On the way out of the target area we were followed. by an aircraft sporting an orange light, and at one stage took light evasive action, but he did not attack. Several other rear gunners reported the same experience, non [sic] was actually engaged. We were routed back round northern Sicily, as usual Trapani was being attacked and other targets nearby were being bombed. We were hoping to see the 142 Sqdn. aircraft with the blue light which we nearly shot down returning from Salerno. The Bombardier in the second pilot's seat reported two aircraft ahead, one with a white light which we assumed to be a decoy. We expected the aircraft to allow us to overtake, and whilst the one with the light drew our attention his chum would sneak is from another dirction [sic] . We lost both the other aircraft for a minute or two, then the aircraft with the light - this time a blue one - reappeared on the starboard bow at about 500 yards. Meanwhile Chad had taken over the front turret, but held his fire. He identified it as a Wimpey. The Skipper altered course and we passed about 100 feet below the Wimpy. I got a plan view of him and confirmed the identification. As he fell behind I flashed dah dah dit, dit dit dit on my inspection lamp. There was no reply from the other aircraft but it landed 15 minutes after us and taxied towards 142 dispersal, On that same trip two of us saw an aircraft at 800 yards on our port quarter up which closed in to 500 yards. He was at too great a range for our .303s, but we were ready for an instant dive to port. He surprised us by turning away to port at about 400 yards, and again two of us identified it as a Wimpey.
Enemy aerodromes continued to take up most of our effort, and on the night of the 17th. it was three hours each way to POMIGLIANO near Naples, passing round Vesuvius with it's dull red glow. The target was initially very quiet and consequently not easy to locate. On our first run in at 6000 feet, we were a few minutes early, but dead on time at 4000 feet on our second run. We were caught and held in searchlights, and the light flak was point-blank. Allan Willoughby claimed he could smell it when the Skipper asked him for a course for home after the second run-in. When Stan the Bombardier announced that we still had nine 250 pound bombs aboard, someone suggested we should jettisson [sic] them on the town. Allan suggested we strike at a village a few miles ahead but Stan refused to drop them anywhere except the aerodrome at Pomigliano. The third run-in was at 5000 feet and the searchlights got us again as soon as the bomb doors were open. We were in a cone of eight and it seemed we had the aerodrome to ourselves. The bombing was accurate and we lost height to 2000 feet, all quiet again. My part in all this had
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really been that of a passenger listening to and witnessing the drama, and I was not popular when I suggested to the Skipper that we go back at low level and put a few lights out. Chad was in favour and had the front turret in mind, Allan was not keen and didn't like the smell of flak, and Dyson thought the idea was 'plain stupid'. Dyson was probably right for the wrong reason, but the Skipper was thinking we had got away with it for well over 30 trips so far, and there was no point in tempting providence. A three hour stooge back to Blida with nothing but silence on the intercom. Other aircraft were seen in the circuit and our TR9 radio was out of order. This was a very low power transmitter/receiver operating between 4 and 8 MHz. and used by the Skipper to contact Air Traffic Control at Base. If we still had an acceptable reserve of fuel we would have gone away and returned in 30 miniutes [sic] , but fuel was low and the Skipper decided to land without any formalities or delay. This aroused the wrath of the Flight Commander who tore a terrific strip off him next day. Our report at debriefing was very different to that of Sgt. Whitehouse and crew, who said it was a wizard O.T.U. run, bombs slap on the runway, no flak, no searchlights and the whole thing was 'a piece of cake'. He had in fact been to the wrong aerodrome, Crotone, which we had pranged on the 15th. where the defences stayed silent in order not to attract attention. - an old Italian custom -. The reason for the accuracy of the searchlights was a layer of cloud at 10,000 feet, a full moon and clear visibility. We were silhouetted against the cloud even without the searchlights.
Two nights later Sgt. Whitehouse, this time officially and with the rest of us, went again to CROTONE. We were all very tired and I found it difficult to keep awake. Visibility was 15 miles with a nearly full moon and on the way out for long periods we actually enjoyed the visible company of other Wimpies. On arrival at CROTONE we were surprised to see fires already started and spent a good five minutes in ensuring that it was indeed the target, Two bombing runs were made, at 3000 feet and 1500 feet, dropping nine 250 pounders each time. The bombs were seen bursting among aircraft on the ground, some of which were already ablaze. 400 yards from the burning aircraft was a small wood which had obviously been hit and was burning merrily. My diary records "from the ground it would have seemed like Nov. 5th.
Rockets were going up and verries by the score.
Someone had pranged a pyrotechnic store."
We made a third run at 200 feet and spent some 1500 rounds at the aircraft on the ground. Other gunners did the same. We were amazed to find everything so easy, and no opposition as far as we know, our raid on the 15th. should have given them a good idea of what to expect. There were no dummy fires and still they make no effort to disperse aircraft. The absence of fighters was strange; even day-fighters would have been very effective under those conditions. One crew reserved an odd bomb for the village south of the arodrome [sic] . It had a 36 hour delay and landed in the centre of the village. Not a very nice thing to do, and an act certainly not in accordance with our leaflets. Sgt. Pax Smith the intrepid Kiwi was on the last trip of his tour and elected to hit a railway bridge near the coast. It also had a' 36 hour delay fuse and missed the bridge by 50 yards. The British army was not at all happy with Smithy's effort, they planned to use the bridge within a week or two and were going to some considerable trouble to make sure the enemy
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didn't blow it up. They hadn’t counted on Smithy, but fortunately he wasn't quite up to scratch an that last trip.
One night off and then back try the 'Big City" , the capital of Italia, not to be confused with the really big one, the Capital city of Deutchland, with which there was absolutely no comparison. It was over two months since we had been to Rome, and it was still supposed to be an 'Open, undefended City'. Our specific target was PRACTICA DI MERE, an aerodrome just to the southwest of Rome. The Groupy had made it very clear at briefing, that nothing must be dropped on Rome itself. The target would be marked by flares positioned by W/O Coulson of 142 Squadron. We had no target map but the the [sic] aerodrome was plotted on the map of Central Italy - probably half million scale -. As we were passing the island of Maratimo, Chad was in the second dickie seat, map in hand and decided to get a clearer view of Maratimo by opening the sliding window at his side. The map disappeared out of the window, but with Allan's D. R. navigation we reached the target as Coulson's flares went down. Target marking at that stage of the war in Italy was in its infancy and was carried out with flares designed for lighting up the ground. These were very different from the coloured Target Indicators used to such great effect over Germany. Bombing was not particularly accurate, but well clear of Rome itself, where there was plenty of light flak and searchlight activity which exploded the myth about an undefended city. This activity extended down the Tiber to the Lido di Roma, where the Radio Station was still operating. The Vatican was blacked out very effectively
On the 25th. we started 8 days leave, taking an aircraft back to Blida for an engine change and major inspection. We took advantage of the stores at Blida and were issued with new uniforms, shoes and anything we wanted, just a matter of signing for it, it was two years before the system caught up with me and I was debited with the cost.
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[bearer document in English and arabic]
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[photograph]
[photograph]
TWO OF OUR AIMING POINT PHOTOS
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The first three days were spent in Algiers with Harry Dyson at the Hotel Radio Grand but the inactivity - or something - was too much for Harry so we returned to Blida, only to find the rest of our party had adjourned to the rest camp at Surcouf. I spent most of my time in the next few days in Blida, partly with a French-Arab family Iloupcuse Moka Mourice Bijoutier, at 11 Rue Goly, Blida. 30 years later I was able to find the area but no-one recognised either the name or the address. Like most places, Blida had changed a lot in the intervening years. I remembered it as an almost typical French village, beautifully clean, tables and chairs outside the cafes, and a very pleasant atmosphere. After 20 years or so of independence it was a very different story, and I thought a rather sad one. I made several excursions into Algiers where the Yanks had become very well organised. They had-taken over and re-organised six cinemas, all with continuous shows for about 12 hours per day, and open house to Service personnel. I visited all six. The N.C.O.'s Club in Rue d'Isley was our base camp in Algiers, where we enjoyed endless cups of tea and cakes. The Malcolm Club, exclusive to R.A.F. personnel provided a good hot meat each evening. It was on this leave that I visited the local Match Factory at Caussemille, being an ardent Philumenist - collector of matchbox labels-. The factory was at that time owned and operated by the French and I was given a conducted tour of the factory. Most of the labels presented to me at the factory are in my collection to this day. My next visit to the factory was 37 years later, when I met with a very cool reception. The French had gone long ago, only their name remained. In that area of Algiers, all the street names were written on the street signs in Arabic except one, Caussemille. This was the name of an old French or Belgian family of match manufacturers possibly difficult to translate into Arabic. I met several of the chaps from the Rhodesia training days, one had joined Coastal Command and was detached from 'U.K. to Maison Blanche on White Wimpies. It had taken him six months to complete 100 hours and he was rather gloomy about the next four hundred to complete his tour. He was in fact rather nervous, his job being mine-sweeping; I asked him "what height do you fly at?" He replied that `it was a two-dimensional job, no such thing as height'. Causing magnetic mines to blow up by flying over them at very low level could not have been very pleasant. Maison Blanche is now known as El Beda, the International airport of Algeria, not so well organised as it was in 1943, and not half so busy! Blida aerodrome is the Headquarters of the Algerian Air Force and is a prohibited area to foreigners.
At the end of our 8 days in comparitive [sic] civilisation, we were glad to collect our newly serviced Wimpey and return to Kairouan. I was immediately recruited to fly with Sgt. Stone to MARINA DI PAOLA. We stooged over northern Sicily is daylight and very close to Trapani our old favourite which had been severely bashed about. During the invasion it was subjected also to heavy Naval shelling. Being with a different crew perhaps made things more interesting, seeing how they reacted to various aspects, and I thought they had a rather strange and formal appoach [sic] . We did not see our bombs burst and our photoflash failed to go off. There was none of the usual binding we experienced with our own crew, everyone was pleasant, courteous and cheerful. At debriefing Group Captain Powell said "Good Show chaps, I expect you are glad to get onto ops at last, and that's the first one done". I was speechless but thinking about their next 44, maybe they were also. I can see "Speedy Powell" very clearly making
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that statement, a memory revived recently in the film "Target for Tonight" in which he was the Flight Lieutenant taking the briefing; the same very distinctive and distinguished voice.
On the night of the 4th., the crew not feeling particularly refreshed after its leave, our target was BATTAPAGLIA. It was daylight almost to the Italian Coast and we arrived with 20 minutes to spare, circling the target area. 'Bang on time we dropped the flares, but there were no bright lights'. The twenty minutes of sight-seeing had upset the routine and the flares were dropped on 'safe', and therefore failed to go off. We still had two flares so went down to 3000 feet and dropped the bombs through 9/10ths cloud using individual flares. 90 seconds after bombing, Stan identified the target 4 miles ahead. We had neither bombs nor flares left, and were depressed at putting up such a rotten show on what turned out to be the last trip of our tour. We could have done a spot of straffing below cloud, but instead called it a day.
The following night we waved the boys off to MASINA, and we felt rather sad that we were no longer operational. Sqdn. Ldr Garrad and crew were also no longer operational, having failed to return from MASINA. Someone suggested staying and doing another tour, but Dyson thought the idea was "stupid" - like most other ideas - and with deep regrets we said cheerio to our friends on 150 and 142 Squadrons, and climbed in the back of a lorry bound for Tunis. Pax Smith and Mickey Mortimer and crews were with us and we sat back and enjoyed the scenery, some taking pot-shots at nothing in particular with their revolvers. We had in fact lots of unofficial ammunition of 9mm. calibre, captured from the enemy. This fitted nicely into our .38 Smith & Wessons and differed from the .38 ammo. only in that it had no ejection flange at the end of the cartridge. This had the effect that we could use captured enemy ammo. but they could not use ours because of the flange.
We arrived at no. 2BPD in Tunis just in time for dinner and a cold shower, the first shower for about nine months. During our week or so in the Transit Camp, we had a sort of parade each morning and then were free for the day. It was on one of these parades that our Skipper's name was called to approach the C.O. "Sir, 416170". With no prior warning, the citation was read out and he was presented with the D.F.M. Next it was the turn of Mickey Mortimer to march up and also receive a D.F.M. I seem to recall that he did a somersault before saluting in front of the C.O., or was it a back somersault after receiving the award? either of which today seems quite incredible. Pax Smith had already received a D.F.M for his earlier exploits. My one other recollection of the Transit Camp was an old Italian Water Tanker which was used as a static water tank. It held 10,000 gallons of water and must have weighed over 53 tons when full. All 24 wheels were firmly embedded in the sand up to their axles. It was when we departed from Tunis by lorry for Algiers that one of the Canadian officers decided to hitch-hike back to U.K. and to rejoin the party at the Reception Centre. I learned later that he flew first to Algiers with the R.A.F. and then flew to U.K. with the Yanks. He was an old hand at that sort of thing, having hitch-hiked from Blida to New York and back with a colleague in less than a week.
Meanwhile the rest of us travelled the 500 miles to Algiers by lorry along the coast road, and after a few days in the transit camp boarded a troopship, the Capetown Castle, a passenger liner of the Castle line. We were accommodated in 4-berth cabins with full peace-time fascilities [sic] .
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each cabin was allocated one Italian P.O.W. who slept outside the door, and attended to the cleaning, dhobi etc. We were not impressed by the Italians as fighting men, but had no complaints of their ability and willingness in the job they were then doing. It was a very comfortable voyage and we lived it up in a manner to which we were certainly not accustomed.
After a very pleasant and restful 10 days or so we disembarked at Greenoch and I recollect forming up on the key [sic] prior to joining a train for Liverpool and West Kirby. A rather pompous redcapped Military Policeman called us to attention, right turn, at the double, march! It was more astonishment than lack of discipline which caused everyone to stay put. He was told to get his knees brown and get a few other things too, and we walked to the train, deliberately out of step. Our first steps back in England were certainly not going to be at the double ordered by Red Caps.
This was my fourth visit to West Kirby, where we were rekitted, saying cheerio to our Khaki battledress and tropical kit, documents checked, medical exam. and then disembarkation leave. It was at West Kirby that our Crew was really disbanded, very sad after working as a team for so long, but another phase of our careers was completed.
Of the Crew? Stan Chadderton was commissioned on his second tour and we have met several times in the past 40 years, but I have no news of the Skipper and the rest of the crew. Stan met the Skipper, then a Flight Lieutenant at Brise [sic] Norton at the end of the war on his return from a German P.O.W. camp. We can only hope he returned safely to New Zealand and was able to return in the farm. Allan Willoughby is thought to have ended the war as a Squadron Leader.
My association with the Wimpy was not yet over, however, it was still in use in large numbers in the U.K. for operational training, and was to remain so until the end of the war. More "Wimpys" were built than any other operational. bomber.
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[document from C-in-C]
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[photograph] C.W WITH MUM BARNOLDSWICK
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[photograph] HILDA WITH THE SKIPPER AND BOMB AIMER
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[photograph] [underlined] WITH THE SKIPPER & BOMB AIMER – SECOND HONEYMOON SEPT. 1943 [/underlined]
[photograph] [photograph]
[underlined] AT OUR CHALET AT BLIDA [/underlined]
WATSON – RUTHERFORD- DYSON – CHADDERTON & PADDY (MORTIMER’S FRONT GUNNER)
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[underlined] OUR 150 SQDN. SKIPPER SGT. STAN RUTHERFORD 416170 RNZAF [/underlined] [underlined] A WIMPEY AT BLIDA [/underlined]
48B
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[photograph] AT RICHMOND SECOND HONEYMOON
[photograph]
48B
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[warrant officer parchment]
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[underlined] Screened [/underlined] .
September 1943 saw me at 84 O.T.U. Desborough, a Flight Sgt. with 43 ops under my belt, and that wonderful feeling of being ex-operational. For the next six months or so I was to be a "Course Shepherd", responsible for 12 Air Gunners. Desborough was a typical Operational Training Unit where, in the main, newly-trained aircrew were introduced to operational aircraft and the techniques of dealing with the opposition which was by no means limited to the Germans. There were three courses running simultaneously which gave ample scope to the Captains in making one of their most important decisions, that of selecting their crews.
For the first two weeks or so the training comprised mainly lectures and familiarisation with equipment. Air Gunners were generally able to make an early start with the flying where even on circuits and bumps an extra pair of eyes was to advantage.
The Course Shepherd ensured the smooth-running of the Air-Gunners training. There were specialist instructors for lectures on subjects such as guns, turrets and tactics, but the C.S. supervised their flying aspects and work on the range, in detail.
I particularly enjoyed the Fighter Affiliation sessions, where trainee gunners would take over the rear turret whilst being attacked by one or two Miles Masters or any other "Playmate" who could be cajoled officially to co-operate.
I would stand at the astrodome guiding the gunner with the timing of his advice and instructions to the Pilot. The standard evasive action (referred to later in 5 Group as "Combat Manouvre [sic] ") was the corkscrew, well known to, and anticipated by, the enemy, I might add that until I arrived at 84 OTU I had never even heard of the corkscrew. During the OTU excercises [sic] the fighter pilots were generally sporting enough not to press home their attacks with too much determination, but to allow the bomber sometimes to 'escape', thus giving the rear gunners - or some of them-- the false impression that they actually stood some chance of survival.
I felt quite at home in the "Wimpy" and encouraged the pilot to throw the aircraft around, and make the corkscrews rather more violent to simulate a real attack, where a quick getaway was the only solution to survival. For fighter affiliation excercises [sic] , the turret was equipped with an 8mm. Camera Gun, fitted in place of one of the four .303 Browning machine guns, the remaining three Brownings being de-armed. Each gunner plugged-in his own personal film cassette, and results were assessed the following day in the cinema.
Air firing excercises [sic] were supervised, where the speed of the Wellington was reduced, and a Miles Master would overtake about 3 or 400 yards abeam, towing a drogue. The gunner would be authorised to fire when the towing aircraft was outside his field of fire. He would then fire off about 200 rounds from each gun (five 2-second bursts), at the drogue. It was more than likely that air firing during his initial training had been carried out using a single gun not mounted in a turret. Air to ground firing was limited to a single exercise on a range near the coast, there being little scope for this type of work for heavy bombers over Deutchland.
Not very popular with the coming of Winter weather were the exercises at the firing butts or range. Six trainees would each be given a rear turret, together with four belts each of 200 rounds. He would
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mount the guns and fit the ammunition belts. Take-off procedure with safety catches 'on', then firing a few short bursts, landing procedure, clear the guns, etc. . Generally a few faulty rounds were deliberately built-in to create gun stoppages which the trainee had to clear. Finally he removed the guns from the turret and stripped and cleaned them ready for the next trainee.
All this took about three hours and it was on one of these sessions that unpleasantness developed with one of the trainees. Of the 12 Air Gunners in my little flock, eleven were Sergeants and one was an Acting Pilot Officer on probation. Like the others, his previous flying experience was limited to about 8 hours, and he had not yet been within 10 miles of an operational aircraft. He had been top of his course at Gunnery School and granted a Commission. I found that one of the Sergeants had fitted the guns in the turret and armed them with the belts of ammunition for him whilst I was busy with the others. He had managed to fire-off the rounds, and eventually, with some assistance the guns were removed. He flatly refused to clean the guns, claiming that it was an inappropriate task for an officer. I put it to him that although on a squadron the guns would be lovingly cared for by the armourers, he must still be fully au-fait with every aspect of guns and gunnery. He firmly refused to touch the guns and soil his hands and I told him that unless he gets on with it, we should be late for lunch. Four of the sgts. each took a gun and cleaned them. Some very cryptic comments were made by the Sergeants and I told the Ag. P. O. he was foolish. Later that day, to my absolute astonishment, I was marched in front of the C.O. and charged on a form 252 with insubordination. I was advised that an N.C.O. does not give orders to officers and I replied with something to the effect that I was the instructor and the officer the pupil, giving orders was an essential part of the job. Nevertheless, I was severely reprimanded. I had on several occasions applied for a posting back to operations, and the following day the Station W.O. told me my request had been granted and I was going to a squadron at Norton, near Sheffield in Yorkshire. Which squadron and with what type of aircraft was unimportant. I had never heard of Norton, bit hush-hush they had said. I should have realised that something was amiss, I was not being posted, but only detached. On arrival at Norton I found I was on an Aircrew Refresher Course which I was slow to realise was a correction or discipline course, a form of punishment. There were about 150 aircrew at Norton, from Flt/Lts to Sgts, almost all operational or ex-operational. At least I was among friends.
The day started with a call at 0600, on parade at 0630 , march to breakfast and an inspection at 0730 with greatcoats, followed almost immediately by a further inspection without greatcoats. This was followed until 1800 by sessions of drill, P.T. and lectures, with a break for lunch. Drill was just ordinary uninspiring square -bashing, wearing aircrew-issue shoes, and not boots. The instructor, said to be an L.A.C. Ag-Sgt. shouted commands and abuse, and was indeed very smart and probably efficient at his job, but utterly ignorant and useless off the barrack square. There was no rifle drill, and requests to introduce it were rejected. It was too easy for us to obtain .303 ammunition. P. T. was equally uninspiring and great emphasis was placed on recording improvement in performance as the training progressed. Lectures were farcical and covered most aircrew subjects, including navigation, gunnery, bombing techniques, target marking, etc. etc. There was not a
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flying badge among the instructors and obviously none had any flying experience in any capacity. No-one could possibly take the lectures seriously and there must have been some hair-raising answers in the written tests. The main problem was that at the slightest provocation one could be put on C.O.'s report. This was not a formal charge - which would have been on record - but an interview with the C.O. which would generally wind-up with an award of an extra 3 weeks at Sheffield. My policy was to keep my head down, or in modern parlance, to maintain a low profile. I generally managed to be near the back of the classroom and in the rear ranks on the drill square trying to be invisible. We were allowed out of camp after 1900, with an inspection at the gate, but lights out was at 2200, not allowing much scope. Most evenings were spent in the mess comparing notes and discussing our "crimes"; the instructors were conspicuous by their absence. I recall no-one admitting to flying or taxiing accidents, or misdemeanours whilst flying. Most of the reasons seem to have been absence without leave probably through boredom-, saying the wrong thing in an off-guarded moment or making someone more senior look silly. There was no connection between Norton and aircrew who were alledgedly [sic] L.M.F. or those who were reluctant to fly. Rather than charge a man formally with an offence, the easy way out was to send him on a "refresher course" with no reference to alleged crime or punishment. Operational aircrew discipline is often quoted as having been unique. All jobs were carried out with the same degree of dexterity, and responsibilities in the air within a trade were the same irrespective of rank. The Pilot was the Head Man, whether Squadron Leader or Sergeant. In the air, there were no formalities. The Pilot was 'Skipper' and no-one called anyone 'Sir'. This was generally so on the ground within the confines of the crew, but if it was a non-crew matter or there were V.I.P.'s about, a low-level type of formality might be introduced. Neither was there time for formality in the air where an attack may start and finish - one way or another - in seconds or less. On sighting a fighter at 300 yards a Rear Gunner in a film picked up a microphone and was beard to say "I say Skipper, I think we are being followed". A Guardsman might come up with "Permission to speak Sir", but life's not like that in the air.
Nearing the end of the 3-week course at Sheffield came the farcical final exams. I sailed through everything except P.T. where we were required to run 100 yards in 14 seconds. I was feeling fitter than I had for many years, but that 100 yards took me 17 seconds. Not good enough, try again. The second attempt took 19 seconds and the third attempt 24. I was told that "we would keep doing it all bloody night until I achieved it in 14 seconds". I merely said there was no point in attempting the impossible and I refused to carry out an unlawful order. So for me it was C.O.'s report next day. The C.O. said it was within his power to grant me an indefinite extension to the length of my course. I realised that to argue was probably futile and I recall being contradictory by saying something to the effect that "I have nothing to say except to remind everyone there is a real war going an out there and the sooner some of us get on with it the better". I don't know why I said it or thought what it might achieve, but I was easily provoked. I was awarded an extra 3 weeks at Sheffield, and was very surprised next morning when I was issued with a railway warrant to leave that morning with the others on my "course". I was convinced this was a mistake and succeeded in remaining invisible until I was well clear of Sheffield.
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Most of us felt the invasion of Europe was imminent and we had discussed our plans in the mess within earshot of the 'instructors'. When the balloon goes up, we return to base regardless of the opposition on the grounds that it was our duty to escape from captivity. In retrospect this was not entirely logical thinking but it might have influenced the C.O., I don't know. As far as I know there was no mass exodus and I have no idea how or when R.A.F. Norton was finally closed down. Suffice to say that it was a disgrace and an insult to aircrew, it would have been far more British to charge a man if he had allegedly done something wrong rather than take this easy way out. In general, training and lectures were taken very seriously by air crew and it could be claimed that the type and standard of lectures at Norton were in fact dangerous. Most of us realised it was just a load of absolute rubbish and did not take it seriously, and we had learned long ago to assess the value of the spoken word relative to the background and qualifications of the speaker.
The question of L.M.F. is an even more deplorable but entirely separate subject. Books have been written about it and it became a highly controversial issue. There were indeed some chaps who took such a bashing they felt they had had enough and to continue would increase the risk to the aircraft and crew or even crews. Most other operational aircrew have no less respect for them for admitting it and asking to be excused. L.M.F. and R.A.F. Norton were totally unconnected.
However, feeling very fit physically, and mentally ready to deal with the Ag. P. O. who knew all about the form 252 but couldn't strip even a Browning gun, I returned to 84 O.T.U. Desborough. A written request for an interview with the C.O. was given to the S.W.O. within minutes of arrival. I saw the Gunnery Leader and learned that I was to resume charge of the same course but less the sprog officer who was last seen on his way to Eastchurch as L.M.F and unsuitable for operations. I found later that he had been reduced to the ranks. It seems the other instructors had given him a very hard time all round, and particularly with combat manouvres where he was sick every time he flew. It was just not done to issue 252's but his chances of survival were improved. The C.O. agreed later that a mistake had been made and on paper my case had been reconsidered and the severe rep. withdrawn. Sheffield could not be undone and would have to be written off to experience, but he would see if he could hasten my promotion to W.O. and a posting to a real squadron.
At this time, the O.T.U. instructors were all crewed up and ready to back up the operational squadrons if necessary. Many of us were getting restless seeing a great increase in ground activity to the south and southeast. Lots of real aircraft, Lancasters, Halifaxes, Mosquitoes, Gliders etc. etc. and our status with the Wimpies as ex operational did little for our ego, making us feel like the 'has beens' we really were.
At about 0200 on the 6th. June, now a Warrant Officer, I was Orderly Officer and asleep in the duty room. The Duty Officer, a Ft/Lt. was flat out in the other bunk. A message was delivered marked "Top Secret" and I awakened the Duty Officer. He told me to open it. The message caused his to open a sealed envelope from his pocket and his exact words were "Christ, it’s started". 'It' was "Operation Overlord". Within a minute the Tannoy was blaring "All Duty Flight personnel to their flights immediately" 'All sreened aircrews to the Briefing Room
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at 0500," and so on. There followed a day of intense activity; air tests, bombing up, briefing, changing the bomb load, rebriefing, and the job of Orderly Officer went completely by the board.
In July, the great moment arrived, and our complete second tour crew of five was posted to Aircrew Pool at Scampton en route ultimately to a 5 Group Squadron.
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[photograph]
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[photograph] AT AIRCREW POOL SCAMPTON AUG ‘44
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[underlined] SCAMPTON [/underlined]
For Wellingtons we were indeed a complete crew, but we were not destined for Wellingtons, but Lancasters, and we needed either a Navigator or Bomb-aimer and another Gunner. Our Pilot and Observer had already completed tours on Blenheims and were good material for Mosquitos. They said cheerio on our third day at Scampton and were posted to a Mosquito Conversion Unit. The remaining three of us had ceased to exist as a crew and had become “odd bods”. We began to feel like members of staff but eventually we went our individual ways. Indeed I was put in charge of the Night Vision Centre for two months, until I met a pilot who was a Flight Lieutenant with a tunic that had obviously seen some service, and he had over 3,000 flying hours to his credit. With him was a Flying Officer Observer plus DFM, obviously clued up and who looked the academic type, a cheerful Flying Officer Bomb aimer and a Pilot Officer Rear Gunner. Four clued-up characters forming the nucleus of a gen crew. Somehow or other I became their other gunner and we were joined by a second tour F/Sgt Wireless operator and a Sgt. Flight Engineer ex fitter. A few days later we were posted to Winthorpe to 1661 Heavy Conversion Unit and settled into a course on Stirlings, flying together for the first time as a crew.
Familiarisation with a four-engined aircraft was the main purpose of the course; important to the skipper F/Lt. Chester who had been a Flying Instructor on Tiger Moths in Canada for a long time. He was about 8 years older than the rest of us and we were happy with his rather more mature approach to the job. The Flight Engineer, Sgt. Hampson, whom we called Doogan for no apparent reason, had flown on Liberators over Burma and nothing seemed to worry him unduly. F/O Pete Cheale was successful on two or three practice bombing sessions, and to F/O Ted Foster DFM it was all just routine stuff. F/Sgt. Frank Eaglestone’s radio was the same as on his previous tour, the good old R1155 and T1154 (still in service in 1960). The Rear Gunner was P/O Harvey who nattered endlessly about a chunk of flack [sic] still embedded somewhere about his person, and his first tour in general. He knew it all, or thought he did, but it soon became apparent that his experience was very limited and he had yet to do his first trip against the enemy. Because of this I insisted that he should have the mid-upper turret, and as Senior gunner, pulling a negative seniority in rank, I would take over the rear turret. He didn’t like that at all, and he left the crew. What became of him I don’t know, but Flt/Sgt Foolkes appeared from somewhere and took his place. Pete was one to take everything in his stride and was welcome to either turret. He preferred the mid-upper, possibly finding it more comfortable, being much taller than the average rear gunner. As for me, one rear turret was very much like another, the same Frazer Nash FN120 we had used on the later Marks of Wellington. A few mod cons perhaps, such as Hot air central heating in the turret. I recall that when we touched down on the runway at Winthorpe, the rear turret was still over the graveyard on the other side of the main road.
Whilst at Winthorpe, I found that 150, my old squadron, was about 20 miles away at Hemswell. I paid them a visit, but their only real link with the 150 of North Africa was the squadron number. 150 Squadron had been disbanded in Algiers though it’s final station was Foggia in Italy. I left
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it at Kairouan just before the move to Italy. Later it was re-formed with Lancasters and in theory had been in action since the beginning of the war, having been at the forefront with Fairey Battles in 1939-40 in France.
After about three weeks of routine and not very demanding training we graduated to the “Lanc” Finishing School” at Syerston. There we converted to Lancasters with about 14 hours flying, circuits and bumps, the odd practice bombing exercises, fighter affiliation and a Bullseye over London, co-operating with searchlights. Just what the Londoners down below thought of this aerial activity without an air raid warning was probably misconstrued. We were still in one piece, feeling fit, very confident and ready to join a squadron.
Our next move was to Bardney, near Lincoln, about 160 bods, and judging by their ranks and gongs, a rather experienced bunch, mostly second tour types. Bardney was the home of 617 and 9 Squadrons, rumours were rife of course. Were we obvious replacements for 617, where prestige was high and directly proportionate to the losses, - the highest in the Command? Our luck held, we were to become a new squadron, 227, just an ordinary Lancaster Squadron to enhance the might of 5 Group. It transpired that we were to become “A” Flight, and the Skipper was promoted to Squadron Leader. Meanwhile “B” Flight was forming at Strubby.
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[underlined] 227 SQUADRON [/underlined]
The first op. by aircraft of the newly-formed 227 Squadron was on the 11th. of October 1944 and most of us at Bardney were not even aware of it. Only three aircraft of "B" Flight, forming up at Strubby, were involved, a short early afternoon trip to FLUSHING. Three nights later "A" Flight provided three aircraft and "B" Flight four aircraft on a more typical raid by 240 aircraft of 5 Group on BRUNSWICK. The Squadron was beginning to take shape and on the 17th., two aircraft of "B" Flight joined 47 others on a short excursion to breach the dyke at WESTKAPELL. Two nights later was a 5 Group effort to NUREMBURG, with "A" and "B" Flights providing seven and five aircraft respectively. This fourth raid by 227 aircraft was only "A' Flight's second involvement, the aircraft and crews really becoming attached for this purpose to 9 Squadron.
On the 21st. October we were transferred to Balderton, at the side of the A1 near Newark and joined the crews of "B" flight.
Our Skipper had been promoted to Sqdn/Ldr. in command of "A" Flight, and was very such absorbed in getting his half of the squadron organised and operational, with little time left for actual flying. Our crew was kept busy in their respective sections, particularly Navigation, Bombing and Wireless, but there was not a great deal to be done in the Gunnery office: The Gunnery Leader was Flt/Lt. Maxted who occupied a small office in a sectioned-off Nissen hut. It was barely furnished with a desk and a few chairs; posters on the wall amplifying the vital issues and a notice board. The state of readiness of each aircraft and gunner was displayed with a record of daily inspections completed. The D.I. 's were an important part of the routine, and the gunners generally took part in the air tests prior to bombing up.
Our first mission as a crew was to Bergen in Norway. It was also a personal first trip for the Skipper, Bomb aimer and Flight Engineer. It was my 46th. op. but also my first in the mighty Lancaster. The Navigator, Wireless op. and Mid-upper gunner were all veterans having carried out their first tours on Lancs.
Our flight out over the North Sea which used to be called the German Ocean by some was uneventful, and Bergen was approached from the east at 10,000 feet. With the target ahead and in sight to those in the front office, all was quiet except for engine noise through someones [sic] microphone which had been left switched on. Peace was shattered by an almighty bang and shudder, confirming we had been hit, and the nose of the aircaft [sic] went down. I was forced against the left side of the turret unable to move, and found later the speed had built-up to over 370 mph. The Skipper was shouting for assistance. Ace the Navigator somehow managed to crawl forward a few feet and found Doogan with his head in the observation blister admiring the view of Bergen above. The Skipper had both feet on the dash trying to pull the aircraft out of the dive. The only control Ace could reach was the trimming wheel on the right of the Skipper's seat and he turned this to make the aircraft tail heavy. The nose came up and so did the target. The Flight Engineer added his contribution by exclaiming "Coo, i'n' [sic] it wizard". That was his opinion, but we were heading straight up the fiord and Ace brought this to the attention of the Skipper very smartly. Our height was down to 1500 feet and Ace and the Skipper somehow managed to turn the aircraft through 180
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degrees without hitting either the sea or the hills. Still tail heavy, we gradually climbed away to the west, and for the first time I saw the target, dead astern, always a welcome sight, and I set about sorting myself out from the intercom. leads, electrical heating cable, oxygen pipe and also checking that the turret doors would still open. Silence was broken about 100 miles from Bergen by our brash young Canadian Bomb Aimer, Pete Chiele, "Skipper, we still have the bombs-aboard". I think It-was Ace, who pulled the jettison toggle. At least my turret seemed intact and I took the opportunity of the lull in the drama of opening the turret door with my elbows, leaning backwards into the fuselage and making sure I could reach my parachute pack. Then a quick reversal and I was again "on the job” after a break of less than ten seconds. On the Wimpey and Lanc. the Rear Gunner had a choice of exits, either through the rear escape hatch inside the fuselage, or direct from the rear turret. I was well rehearsed in the latter method, first to rotate the turret dead astern, using the manually operated handle if there was no hydaulic [sic] pressure, then to open the sliding doors. These never failed to open on practice sessions, but an axe was provided inside the turret just in case. Then to remove the parachute pack from its housing and drag it carefully into the turret, placing it above the control column. Off with the helmet complete with oxygen mask, intercom, 24 volt supply and associated pipes and cables and also the electrical heating cable connector. The parachute pack was then clipped on, the turret rotated onto either beam, lean backwards and push with the feet. The alternative exit gave one more room to manouvre [sic] , but the escape hatch itself was rather narrow for a Rear Gunner wearing his full flying kit, particularly the 1944 version of "Canary suit", so-called because of its colour. There was also the phsychological [sic] aspect of deliberately entering an aircraft which was probably on fire. On the Wellington Mk1C with an FN20 turret and only two guns, there was provision to stow the 'chute pack inside the turret. Also the doors were hinged, opening outwards and they could be jettisoned. Although I mentioned being well rehearsed, drill was carried out with the aircraft stationary and upright, not quite the same as in an anticipated emergency bale-out. My only excuse for claiming the checking of my 'chute as practice was that I felt I should be doing something more useful than just sitting there, whilst there seemed to be so much happening up front. There was even more drama unfolding, the Wireless op. had passed a coded message to the Navigator instructing us to divert to Holme on Spalding Moor in Yorkshire, but only the W/op was issued with the code-sheet of the day. The Skipper did not receive the message in plain language until we were in R/T contact with Balderton, which was closed due to thick fog or very low cloud. However, the Navigator knew our exact location and there was fuel in the tanks. Eventually we re-joined the tail-end of the gaggle and landed at Holme. I recall spending the rest of the night on the floor in the lounge of the Sgts. Mess. The following morning we took a walk around the hangars and Doogan chatted with some ground crews who were changing an engine on a Halifax. He actually told then they were not going about it properly and their reaction was quite startling and informative.
Our second trip as a crew was two days later, to WALCHEREN in daylight. This was more reminiscent of our raids from North Africa except that 110 aircraft, including 8 Mosquitoes, took part. From North Africa our "Maximum Effort" had been two squadrons, a total of 26 aircraft, which
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seemed a lot at the time!. 12 aircraft from 227 took part, each having its own specific target, ours being a gun battery which was already completely submerged in water when we arrived. Just ahead several aircaft [sic] were bombing the sea wall and the Skipper decided to back them up, bombing from 3500 feet. The wall was breached and the sea poured through, but our bombs were all fused for delayed action which would not have amused the natives. In fact too much damage was done which, according to a story in Readers Digest, took over six months to repair. However, the main object was to silence the German artillary [sic] and this was achieved. This particular trip had been our introduction to the "formation" known as the "5 Group Gaggle". Pilots were not very practiced at Straight and level flying, it had been seldom recommended, and it seemed to me as a Rear gunner that everyone weaved along in the same direction, taking great pains to stay as far away as possible from other aircraft, but remaining in the stream.
Two days later Ches. and Co. joined 16 other crews from 227 on an afternoon excusion [sic] to an oil plant at HOMBURG. The ground was mostly obscured by cloud and visibility at 17,000 feet was poor, about three miles. Approaching the target a Lancaster in front of us was hit by flak and one engine was on fire. The aircraft passed below us and the fire was extinguished, but its no. 2 engine was stopped. It remained just behind us until we were over the target. The target was marked by 8 Mosquitoes of 8 Group, but marking was scattered over a wide area and out of the 228 Lancasters only 159 bombed. Results were poor, a recce. next day showed that most of the bombs had hit the industrial and residential areas. One Lancaster was lost, due to flak.
The following night 15 aircraft of 227 joined a total force of 992 aircraft on DUSSELDORF. Our Skipper flew as Second Dickie to F/L Kilgour, and the rest of us kicked our heels. This was the last heavy raid on Dusseldorf by Bomber Command, and 18 aircraft were lost. F/O Croskell and crew failed to return, our first 227 Sqdn casualties, but news was received shortly afterward they were safe in Allied hands. They were operational with the squadron again in Feb.
On the 11th. of November, we surprisingly found ourselves on the Battle Order for an evening raid on the Rhenania-Ossag oil refinery at HARBURG, close to the battered Hamburg. This was a 5 Group effort with 237 Lancasters and 8 Mosquitoes. 7 Lancasters were lost, including 9J"S" with F/O Hooper and crew. F/O Bates' crew reported that "oil tanks were seen to explode at 1924 hrs". but German records make no reference to the oil tanks, only that 119 people were killed and 5205 others were bombed out. Flak was not intense and the bombing appeared to be mainly on target. There were fighters about but the return journey was uneventful for us. Once again we were beaten by the fog at Balderton, and as our new F.I.D.O. was not yet operational, we were diverted to Catfoss. The night was spent in the chairs in the Sgts. Mess, but the officers among us were luckier to find beds.
For most of the following four weeks we were without either a Skipper or a Navigator. The Skipper was detached "on a course" and then spent a couple of weeks on a Summary of Evidence. Ace the Navigator was detached to Newmarket racecourse to clue up on some new equipment or technique. For three days I was detatched [sic] to Waddington as a Witnessing Officer at a Court Martial, which I found depressing. It seemed that at Waddington there had been an old car which was used by anyone who could find some petrol to run it. It was the property of an unlucky aircrew
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member who failed to return one night. The car was very useful, but whilst having neither licence nor insurance it was eventually involved in a serious accident, and the R.A.F. took over where the civilian court left off.
0n the 6th. December I had a letter of complaint from my mother, enclosing a newspaper cutting from the Barnoldswick & Earby Pioneer, showing a photo of me and referring to my award of a D.F.C. Why had I not told her? I don't think she ever believed me when I claimed that her letter was the first I knew of it. On Dec. 11th., with Ace still at Newmarket, we became 'Dambusters' - of a sort - for the day. Bomber Command Diary states " "233 Lancasters of 5 Group and 5 Mosquitoes of 8 Group took part. Hits were scored on the dam but no breach was made. 1 Lancaster lost". The squadron diary reflects a successful sortie, in that direct hits on the dam wall were observed, but the 1000 lb. bombs were too small for the purpose. My own recollection of the raid was quite different. We were stooging along just above cloud in company with scores of other Lancasters when the others were seen to be doing a 180 degree turn. Within seconds the sky within my range of vision was empty and in all directions no-one could see another aircraft. The mid-upper and I advised the Skipper that we were now unaccompanied and for 20 minutes we tried to impress upon him that we were extremely vulneruble [sic] (or words to that effect). We were just a few hundred feet above and silhouetted against a layer of stratus and I asked him to fly just inside the cloud, or at least just to skim the tops, but he replied that it was too dangerous, too much risk of collision. The mid-upper gunner agreed, collision from Gerry fighters. Vocabulary worsened and finally the Skipper realised we were 40 minutes and over 200 miles from the rest of the gaggle, we turned round. It has been suggested that as Flight Commander he must display a press-on attitude, and we were all in favour of this, but there was no-one around to impress and it was pretty obvious to the gunners that either Frank had missed a diversion message or we were in the wrong gaggle. Bomber Command Diary disproves the latter, but there is still uncertainty in my mind about that particular operation. Both Pete in the mid-upper turret and I realised that if we were attacked by fighters the Skipper would not take the slightest notice of our requests or advice. We were not disputing that the Skipper was in charge and the one who makes the decissions [sic] , but in our situation he had no choice other than to take advantage of the cloud. We regarded this as an expression of no confidence in the gunners, and we made it very clear to him both then and later that it was no way to finish a tour.
It was 10 days before we flew again, our 6th. trip with 227 embarking on their 22nd. trip as a squadron. The target was the synthetic oil plant at POLITZ, in the Baltic. 207 Lancasters and 1 Mosquito were detailed, including 13 Lancasters of 227. Two from 227 experienced mechanical failure and aborted soon after take-off. This was a long stooge, and 3 Lancasters were lost, plus a further 5 which crash-landed in England. The raid was successful, the main chimneys having collapsed and other parts of the refinery being severely damaged. On return to eastern England we were again unable to land at Base due to weather, and were diverted to Milltown, in Scotland. Fuel gauges were reading zero or less when a weary Ches. and crew finally landed after a trip lasting 10 hrs. and 15 minutes. F/O Croker in 9J"K" wound up at Wick, in Morayshire, his aircraft being so badly shot-up it was declared
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a write-off. The following morning we flew to Wick to join F/O Croker and crew and give then a lift back to Balderton. Among others, there was a Met. Flight at Wick, equipped with B17s, Flying Fortresses. It was their job to climb to a great height, making Met. observations, and some of their trips exceeded 12 hours duration. I recall the armourers at Wick cleaned and polished our three turrets and 8 Browning guns without being asked, and making a very good job of it too. Everyone was provided with beds, and it seems the officers were so comfortable the Skipper decided to stay at Wick over Christmas. The town of Wick was "dry', no pubs, but among the N.C.O's, this made no difference, we had no money with us. Normally on a diversion we didn't need any money, but for a several day stop-over it was embarassing [sic] to be absolutely without. We would like to have taken our turn in paying for the drinks is the Mess. I seem to recall trying to obtain an advance from Pay accounts without success, accompanied by the other two W/Os in our crew. I was reminded of one incident at Wick by Ace, our Navigator; We were not like most other crews, sticking together as a crew. The Commissioned officers kept to themselves, the three Warrant Officers maintained their own little triangle, and Doogan prefered [sic] his own company despite the W/O's efforts to get him to join us. It seems that one night at Wick we carried him and his bed outside and he awoke next morning in the middle of the parade ground which was covered is snow. I have no personal recollection of this, but there it is in black and white in Ace's book, 'Just Another Flying Arsehole'. We returned to Balderton on the 27th., with 14 of us aboard, and did not see the ground until we actually touched down. For the first time we landed with the assistance of FIDO, which was probably very scary for the pilot. In the rear turret I just got an impression of landing in the middle of a fire.
The following night we missed a trip to OSLO, our squadron providing only 5 of the force of 67 Lancasters. On the afternoon of the 30th. we were briefed for an evening take-off to HOUFFALIZE, a total force of 154 Lancasters and 12 Mosquitoes. German Panzers had broken through the American lines in a desperate attempt to thwart the Allied advance, in what became known as the Battle of the Bulge. The weather gave the Germans the advantage, low cloud and thick fog prevented the 2nd. Tactical Air Force from playing its part to the full. With almost 100% Allied air superiority in the area, Typhoons and other fighters operating on a cab-rank principle responding in seconds to detailed requests from the chaps below, Gerry was learning what it was like to be at the receiving end of the slaughter he started is 1939. But not for that few days at the end of 1944 in the Fallaise gap. The close proximity of Allied troops called for great accuracy in bombing and straffing [sic] , and this was not possible in the prevailing conditions. Because of the bad weather in the target area, take-off was postponed every few hours but we were eventually relieved to get airborne about 0230. Conditions over the target were quite impossible and the flares dropped into the murk below probably caused hearts on both sides to miss a few beats. Some crews did bomb, but Chas. quite rightly felt it was too risky. We had not been briefed for any secondary target so our bombs wound up in the Wash. Finally, we landed at about 0830 after 24 hours of effort of one sort or another. Nothing really achieved, but at least we had tried.
It was about this time that my father visited the Squadron for a few days. He was a Captain in the R.A.S.C. recently returned from East
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Africa and awaiting release on medical grounds. He was very impressed with what he saw but we could not obtain authority for him to actually fly with us. On the Sunday morning he watched our parade and later mentioned that as the W/O called out names, one Ft/Sgt responded to at least five of them. Also that some were in best blues, some in battledress, one or two with greatcoats and one even with a raincape. Two were actually standing on parade with bicycles ready to shoot off somewhere immediately after the parade. His thoughts at the time were how can such an undisciplined lot perform any serious task. Later that morning sitting in the Gunnery Office, gunners came in with more of a wave than a salute, a brief word from them and I would put a tick on the board against their aircraft. I explained to my father that this was their way of reporting that their turrets and guns had received and passed the daily inspection. After lunch in the mess he noticed a great deal of activity and movement, and a clear but quiet sense of urgency. He asked what was happening and I showed him the Battle Order.
The following day he said how wrong was his first impression. Everyone had a job to do, they know what was required of them and they got as with it without any shouting of orders or people stamping around. I was Duty Gunnery Leader that night, as was my lot quite often over that period, and was able to show my father what made a squadron tick. He thoroughly enjoyed his stay, but I don't think he met the Skipper. In fact I don't think we saw anything of our Skipper during the whole month of January, by the end of which 227 had completed 33 ops. "A” Flight Commander's crew had totted up only 7 as a crew and some of us were not at all happy with this performance. On the 2nd. Feb. F/O Bates was short of a Rear Gunner and I could have kissed him when he asked me to deputise for WO Bowman. This was an experienced and popular crew who had already completed 14 trips of their second tour. Bowman was in fact the only one outside our crew I had known a year ago. We had carried out our first tours together on 150 Sqdn. Wellingtons, and he was the only other 227 bod with an Africa Star. I cannot recollect why he was not available that night. Our target was KARLSRUHE, a 5 Group effort of 250 Lancasters and 11 Mosquitoes, of which 19 were from 227. Cloud up to 15000 feet and the consequent difficulty in marking caused the raid to be a failure. 14 Lancasters were lost, including 9J"D" with F/O Geddes and crew. The total effort of Bomber Command that night was 1252 sorties. Targets included Wiesbaden's only large raid of the war, and Wanne-Eickel, neither attack was regarded as a success. Very little was achieved that night for a loss of 21 aircraft.
On the night of the 7th. Feb., F/O Bates was airborne again with 11 others from Balderton in a total force of 188 aircraft, to the Dortmund-Ems Canal. All 227 Sqdn. a/c returned safely, but 3 were lost in all. I was not with him this time although W/O Bowman was not available. After about 5 hours sleep the Battle Order for the coming night showed 18 crews from 227 sqdn., including F/O Bates, with F/O Watson as Rear Gunner. It felt great to be doing something useful. The weather en route was clear and there were still fighters about, largely responsible for the loss of 12 Lancasters, but the bombing was extremely accurate. According to Speer, the German armaments minister, the oil refinery was kaput for the reminder of the war and a big setback to the German war effort. All 227 sqdn aircraft returned safely, one, F/O Edge's 9J"B" having aborted with problems on 2 engines and landed safely at a farm in Norfolk. It was in fact F/O Bates’ 18th. and final trip on
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227 sqdn., a very satisfactory finish. It was a satisfying night too for 'our own' Navigator, Ted Foster who flew as a 'spare Bod' Navigator with F//Lt [sic] Pond. On the 14th. Feb., 6 weeks into what surely must be the final year in the war against Germany, we were no doubt startled to see our Skipper and crew on the Battle Order. A 5 Group effort, the target was ROSITZ oil refinery near Leipsig [sic] , a force of 232 Lancasters and Mosquitoes, including 12 from Balderton. Our aircraft was 9J"H" and a couple of hours or so after take-off the Skipper found he could not come to terms with his magnetic compass, the performance of which was erratic. An hour or so later the Giro compass also started to play up and fortunately the Skipper did accept the advice of the Navigator and turned back, navigating solely on "Gee" back to base. It was not possible to carry-on navigating to the target on "Gee", we would have [inserted] 14/2/45 Rositz [/inserted] been out of range long before the target was reached. 9J"G" skippered by F/O Tate had engine trouble just after take-off and returned on three engines. We were the second aircraft to abort on that trip. There were some ribald comments next day when the Instrument Section reported there was nothing wrong with either compass. The comments were not facetious however, no-one would seriously accuse either the Skipper or an experienced Navigator like Ace of pulling a fast one. Both I am quite sure would have preferred to take part in the destruction of Rositz This was in fact the Skipper's final trip, although we did not realise it at the time and still regarded his as our Skipper for the next two months.
The record shows that in the following four weeks Ace did three spare bod trips whilst the rest of the crew passed the time somehow. The spell was broken for me when F/Lt Hodson asked me to take over his rear turret on the 14th. of March. Ace had already done his last bombing raid although he too might not have realised it at the time. His grand finale, quite fitting was a daylight 1000 plus Bomber raid on DORTMUND on the 12th. of March, as Wing Commander Millington's Navigator. It was also to be the Wingco's final trip before swapping his duralumin pilot's seat with a little steel armour plating at his back, for I think a wooden one in the House of Commons where his back was probably just as vulnerable.
Our target was another oil refinery, at LUTZKENDORF, a typical 5 Group effort of 244 Lancasters and 11 Mosquitoes, 15 of the former being from Balderton. We enjoyed the company of F/O Howard as 2nd. Pilot. In fact five aircraft from 227 Sqdn. carried 'Second Dickies' that night. Out of a total of 18 aircraft lost, two were from 227 Sqdn., both with Second pilots. It was feared by many that carrying a Second Pilot increased the risk, but I did not share this concern. The Second Pilot it is true would take the place of the Flight Engineer who would either stand between the two pilots or sit on the dickie-seat. Some drills had to be slightly modified for the occasion, but I would have thought the presence of an extra bod would tend to put the others more on their toes. The crew I was with were on their 18th. trip and had been with the Squadron from the outset. Nothing untoward happened to us, there was the usual flack and searchlights, maybe fighters but one saw none. Bombing seemed reasonable well concentrated and photo-reconnaissance next day showed that 'moderate damage' was caused.
On the 7th. of April the squadron completed its transfer to Strubby, and was detailed for action the same night. I was favoured to fly once more with F/Lt Hodson and crew, LEIPZIG again, this time to the
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Benzol plant at MOLBIS. 13 Lancasters of 227 joined 162 others and 11 Mosquitoes, all from 5 Group. The weather was good, bombing accurate, and the oil plant put completely out of action. No aircraft were lost and the raid was considered a 100% success.
After a few hours sleep we were briefed for an attack on LUTZKENDORF, the same target as on the 14th. March. It had been attacked the previous night by 272 aircraft from 1 and 8 Groups who caused only moderate damage. I was detailed to fly with W/O Clements and crew who were on the 5th. trip of their first tour, in 9J"Q". On take-off the starboard outer engine failed and Ace who waved us off said he saw the aircraft sink to within a few feet of the ground; but that few feet made all the difference and the Skipper was able to gain height gradually until it was safe to jettisson [sic] the bombs in the sea. The trip was aborted and a safe landing made at Strubby. Subsequent inspection showed a fuel leak from no.2 port tank and oil leaks from the two outer engines. 242 aircraft were on this raid, and 6 were lost, but another oil refinery was put out of action for the rest of the war. The 19 aircraft put up by 227 all returned safely and were diverted to the west because of weather.
Two nights later, on the 10th. I was again with W/O Clements, to the Wahren Railway yards at LEIPSIG. The force of 230 aircraft comprised 134 Lancasters, 90 Halifaxes, and 6 Mosquitoes, of which 1 Lancaster and 1 Halifax failed to return. Immediately prior to take off I had trouble with the turret sliding doors, they wouldn't close, but I rotated the turret onto the port beam as was general practice for take-off with the doors open. This was spotted from the ground and the Skipper was told on R/T soon after we were airborne. I had to get out of the turret and through the bulkhead door to fix them, but finally managed to get then to slide. If I had failed to fix then nothing would have made me admit it, it would just have been a little draughty. The trip went very well, the marking was accurate and the bombing concentrated. Some flak and plenty of fighter flares about but we saw no fighters. It was a quiet return trip and all 227 aircraft returned safely.
That was my last trip and also the last for W/O Clements and crew. It was the 57th. involvement by 227 Squadron which was to carry out 4 more bombing raids, terminating with BERCHTESGADEN itself, on the 25th. of April. The war in Europe was virtually over, but our impression was that 5 Group was to form the nucleus of Tiger Force to help finish the job in the Far East and we would be a part of it. It was with these thoughts that I went on leave on the 26th. April, a spare bod without a pilot, but still expecting to fly again with the squadron..
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[photograph]
[photograph]
[photograph]
64A
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[photograph] [photograph]
F/O. CHEERFUL CHEALE R.C.A.F.
[photograph] [photograph]
F/O BATES F/O PETE CHEALE (BA) W/O PETE FOOLKES
S/LDR CHESTER (PILOT) F/O FOSTER
64B
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[photograph]
[photograph]
[photograph]
64C
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[photograph] F/O. TED FOSTER D.F.M.
C.W. PETE FOOLKES MID-UPPER
[photograph] [photograph]
64D
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[photograph] CLIFF’S OFFICE
[photograph]
[photograph] OUTSIDE OUR DES. RES.
C.W. & GEOFF HAMPSON (FLIGHT ENG
64E
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[newspaper cutting of D.F.C. award] [photograph]
227 SQDN W/OP – NAV – MID- UPPER
[photograph]
64F
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[photograph] [underlined] TED (ACE NAV) FOSTER D.F.M. BALDERTON NOV 44 [/underlined]
[photograph] [underlined] RUNNING UP ON HOMBERG 1/11/44 AT LUNCHTIME [indecipherable word] [/underlined]
64G
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[photograph] [underlined] F/O. BATES [/underlined]
[photograph] [underlined] F/O BATES W/O JENNERY (NAV) SGT. WESTON (FLT. ENG) [/underlined]
FEB 45
64H
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[DFC citation]
64L
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[letter from HM George VI]
64M
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[Sgt Mess Wick Christmas Menus 1944]
[photograph]
F/O CROKER’S LANCASTER AT REST IN TORPEDO DUMP XMAS ‘44
64N
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[inside of christmas card]
CHRISTMAS CARD FROM PETE IN CANADA
64P
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[photograph]
STIRLING AT H.C.U. WINTHORPE
[photograph]
AT BLIDA
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LANCASTER AT SYERSTON
74A
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[letter of introduction to airfield manager in Iran]
154A
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[photograph]
F/LT. MAXTED (GUNNERY LEADER) PETE FOOLKES & F/O SANDFORD (SPARE GUNNER OR SQDN ADJ)
[photograph]
TED FOSTER WITH BITS OF 9JO
[photograph]
64J
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[photograph]
GEOF. HAMPSON FLT. ENG.
[photograph of 9J-O]
[photograph of 9J-O]
64K
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[christmas card]
CHRISTMAS CARD FROM PETE IN CANADA
64P
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[typewritten letter]
[underlined] PART OF F/L CROKER’S LETTER WITH XMAS 1990 CARD [/underlined]
64Q
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[location map for 1994 reunion]
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[underlined] FINAL LEG [/underlined]
Recollections of events in my final 15 months in the R.A.F. are reasonably clear but somewhat hazy of detail and of the order in which they took place.
I was still with the Squadron on VE Day, the 5th. April, on leave in London with Hilda. I recall going up to Leicester Square by tube train with my father, Alice and Hilda to join the celebrations and actually walking back the five miles to Lavender Hill in the early hours. This would explain why I had no knowledge of the Victory Parade at Strubby until I was shown a photograph of it many years later. I was on leave again in London in early August when the Americans dropped the two atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and suddenly the war was over. I was still in uniform and had to await my turn for demob.
I have no recollection of attending a Reselection Board when I was made redundant from flying, nor of actually leaving the Squadron. I think my first posting after the Squadron was to Gravely, as a Squadron adjutant. I had always thought that the Squadron was 106, but according to the Bomber Command War Diaries 106 was never at Gravely [sic] !. There is no mistaking the actual station, however, it is only 4 miles from my present home and parts of it are still recogniseable [sic] . I was astonished to find many years later that 227 Sqdn had transferred to Graveley about the 8th. of June and was disbanded there on the 5th. of September. I was there for about 6 weeks during which time we closed the Sargeants’ [sic] Mess and did a very little paper-work. We had neither aircrews nor aircraft, it was just a matter of holding office and very little else!. I probably spent most of it on leave.
I then became a Photographic Officer u/t and did a very interesting course at Farnborough which lasted 8 weeks. One of the instructors was a Sgt. Peter Clark, a leading Saville Row fashion photographer before the war and Hilda’s first employer. I went on leave yet again and was eventually told to report to 61 M.U. at Handforth in Cheshire as a u/t Equipment Officer. I duly reported to the Station Adjutant at Handforth feeling very much out of place. Of the hundreds of service types around only the ex-Air-Crew were in battle dress, the others were either in best blues or dungarees. I had always thought that battledress was the working uniform of the R.A.F., but it was not so at Handforth. I felt more as if I was in the Luftwaffe. The Station Adj. took me to see the Chief Equipment Officer, who was a Wing Commander and this feeling became even stronger. I reported formally and the C.E.O. said “And what the hell are you supposed to be?”. Those were his exact words and I did really wonder whether we were in the same air force. I replied that “I am here as a u/t equipment officer Sir”. “MM what’s your trade?” “Rear Gunner” – without waiting for the ‘Sir’, he exploded and almost shouted “That’s not a trade, it’s General Duties”. He was technically right but raising his voice unduly went on to add “You are supposed to be able to sit here and do my job, you’d feel a bloody fool doing my job, wouldn’t you!”. Fascinated by the smirk on his face and hypnotised by the Defence medal on his breast I just stood there in disbelief at this outburst and quietly laughed. “Well?” He wanted an answer and I said in a rather light vane “Yes Sir I would, but less of a bloody fool than some would have felt doing my job for the last three years”. That was it, he stood up and said “Right, come”. We went along the corridor and straight in to see the Station Commander, a Group Captain. The WingCo[sic] was very agitated and without preamble
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told the Groupie of my ‘gross insubordination’. He recited the dialogue in accurate detail and the Group Captain asked for my account. I agreed with the C.E.O.’s account but said that I was provoked, there was no reason for his outburst and I grinned only because I didn’t think he was being serious. Invited to comment the WingCo said he had been affronted by my being improperly dressed. I made no further comment and the Groupy told the WingCo that he would deal with the matter. The WingCo saluted and left, and I thought I was for the chop. The Group Captain sported R.F.C. wings and had obviously seen his share of action. He stood up and extended his right hand in friendship. “Sorry old chap, I didn’t get your name, do sit down”. I was back in the R.A.F. He asked “Where were you in Africa?” Not an idle question, followed by “Did you know Group Captain Powell?” Yes Sir, he was our Base Commander of 142 and 150 Squadrons, Speedy Powell of “F” for Freddie”. Speedy had been the Briefing officer in the film ‘Target for Tonight’. I mentioned some of his exploits and finally his loss, and the Group Captain was distressed. He told me that like the other 12 ex-Air Crew on the station, I was a square peg in a round hole, but to make the best of it and to go back to see him if I had a problem. In the mess that evening I met the others and soon found we were all on duty every day and every night. u/t Orderly Officer, then Orderly Officer, and through the whole range of Asst. Duty Officer, Duty Officer, Fire Picket, in-line Fire picket, Cyphers, Security, etc. etc. Only the ex Air-Crew Officers performed these tasks and after two weeks of this we agreed something must be done. One period of 24 hours I was Duty Cyphers Officer. This was just a title, there was neither Cyphers Section nor Intellegence[sic] Section and I found that for almost all the duties we were allocated there were no instructions. Several of us individually addressed the Station Adjutant in writing and one even enquired whether he should draw-up his own set of procedures for inclusion in Station Standing Orders. For reasons that could only have been sour grapes, there was a measure of ill-feeling between the ‘permanent’ equipment and Admin officers, and the air-crew types. Many of the former had spent the entire war at places like Handforth, and there is no doubt they did a vital job, and maybe were still doing it. In our case, the war for us was over, and after our experiences of the last few years there was a limit to the amount of being messed around that we were willing to accept. We discussed having fire drills with real fires and creating a few incidents for practice, but finally we drew lots and two of us applied through the C.E.O. to see the Group Captain. The C.E.O. refused permission so we made our request through the Station Adjutant. This was approved and we told the C.O. what was happening, we were being “imposed” upon from a great height. He called in the Station Adj. and told him that all Air Crew Officers would go on indefinite leave the following day. He told the two of us to ensure that all application forms were with the Station Adj. by 3 pm. And for me, it was straight to Whitehaven, in battledress.
I had applied for release from the Service under “Class B”, having an immediate job to take up which would in itself create work for 5 other ex-Servicemen. Hilda was in fact holding the fort in Whitehaven, and nothing came of the application.
It was about four months before I was recalled to Handforth, and immediately detached to no. 7 Site at Poynton to take over as Equipment Officer i/c and also as Officer i/c. the Prison Camp. There was an Equipment W/O running the Stores with about 200 Airmen and I agreed with him that it could
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stay that way. The Stores comprised 8 massive hangars full of equipment. I regarded my main job as O.C. the Stalag with its 1000 P.O.W.’s (750 Italian and 250 German) and my staff of 15 Air Crew N.C.O.s who had all been kriegsgefangener themselves. The Senior German prisoner was a Warrant Officer who spoke excellent English having studied it for 5 years in prison camps. Most of the prisoners, including the Italians, had been taken in the Western Desert. The Germans were very smart indeed, in contrast to the Italians, and the two axis partners had as little to do with each other as they could arrange. Gangs of prisoners were guarded by some of the 200 Airmen, supervised by ex-AirCrew NCO.s. The prisoners were not interested in escape, there would have been no point, but I put an immediate stop to their sneaking out of camp at night to try their luck. The German and Italian messes were separate from each other and staffed by R.A.F. cooks. The Germans asked if they could do their own cooking and I agreed but with nominal supervision of two airmen in case we had visitors. I made the same arrangement for the Italians but initially they refused. I appointed one of the Corporal Majors as Senior Iti [sic] and made him responsible. I threatened to fully-integrate them with the Germans if there was any nonsense, and with that some of them nearly burst into tears. They were a lazy shower. I had the Officers’ Mess all to myself, but that’s another story. It was a very cosy three months, with most long week-ends spent in Whitehaven where Hilda had taken-over the Relay system. It was also a tremendous anti-climax to the previous five years.
Eventually when the magic number 26 came up, I reported to R.A.F. Uxbridge for demob. and collected my pin-striped suit and a cardboard box to put it in. I realised then that my career in the R.A.F. was initially over. Straight to Whitehaven by train, still in battledress.
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[underlined] FIRST TOUR TARGETS [/underlined]
[table of targets and bomb loads]
71
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[table of targets and bomb loads continued]
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[underlined] 2nd TOUR [/underlined] [underlined] 227 SQUADRON [/underlined]
[table of targets and bomb loads with additions]
[underlined] 227 SQUADRON [/underlined]
After flying Beaufighters from Malta the Squadron folded in August 1944. The new Squadron was formed in 5 Group on 7/10/1944. Flying Lancasters from Bardney, Balderton and Strubby. Flew 815 sorties and lost 15 aircraft (1.8%) in 61 raids. 2 were also destroyed in crashes.
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[underlined] Back to Civvy Street [/underlined]
By early 1946 the great transition from War to Peace was taking place and many of us were gradually realising that we could now plan some years ahead with a very good possibility of surviving to carry them out. Of my colleagues at Metropolitan Relays, only Reg. Weller had paid with his life, having been killed in action in Italy, with the army. Allan Cutbush had been taken prisoner at Tobruk and spent some time in a prison camp in Italy. Eventually he escaped and spent a couple of years as an Italian farm worker. Soon after the invasion at Anzio he rejoined the Allies and had the greatest difficulty in convincing them that he really was a Private in the Royal Signals. Alan was first to be demobbed and rejoined the firm as manager of a newly aquired [sic] group of branches in the Mansfield and Retford areas. George Holah had left in 1939 to join the army, and spent the next six years in India, returning as a Major in the Indian army complete with an Anglo-Indian wife and family. George did not return to Relays, but joined the Metropolitan Police, and in 1975 was a Clerk in the Central Registry at New Scotland Yard. How he managed to transfer from being a private in the British army to a Commissioned Officer in the Indian army I don’t know, assuming it actually happened. I have not met George since 1939.
In June 1945, my father, Mrs. Kilham and Mr. Moulton bought privately another run-down radio relay system, West Cumberland Relay Services, Ltd., in Whitehaven, and I was invited to develop it. Although Germany had capitulated, the war was not yet over. Japan might have seemed a long way off but was still our Enemy and the job had to be finished. Meanwhile Hilda moved to Whitehaven and set-up home in the flat above the shop at 49 Lowther Street. Colin was then 9 months old and it was a further year before I was demobbed, but during that period I seemed to have spent most of my time in Whitehaven. Hilda kept the Relay ticking over, with very limited assistance from the staff, until March 1946 when I was given indefinite leave on compassionate grounds.
The relay was well and truly run down, with about 400 subscribers each paying 1/3d per week for two radio programmes. It was losing money fast, the entire network needed rewiring and the amplifiers and other equipment were just about a write-off. I had with me the name-plate from my office door at Poynton. One of the German prisoners had made it for me, a notice which proclaimed in Gothic characters
Obr. Lnt. Cliff. Watson D.F.C.,
LAGER COMMANDANT EINTRITT VERBOTTEN
I put this on my new office door, but drew a line through the bottom line.
Sorting out a fault on a 100 watt amplifier, I asked the engineer, Joe, for a soldering iron, and he said he never used one but preferred the special solder in a tube, which he handed to me. In that single sentence he had proved to me that his technical knowledge was just about zero. I demonstrated the solder’s futility by proving that it was not even an electrical conductor. Consequently all the equipment was full of dry joints and I spent a whole night in soldering connections. The stuff Joe was using out of a tube was for repairing small holes in pans and kettles. I was very disappointed in Joe, his technical
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knowledge was effectively less than zero. The next weekend he claimed to have worked all day Sunday clearing a line fault. He had deliberately caused this fault on the previous morning and I traced and corrected it myself within an hour of his doing so. He had shorted out two wires on our own roof and on Monday morning went straight onto the roof to remove the short. I was there waiting for him and sacked him on the spot for sabotage and dishonesty.
I thus took over the technical side but also looked closely at the system of collecting and keeping records of accounts and customers. The only record of payments was in the collector’s field book and there was no record of where the customers or relay installations actually were. I spent a week with the collector who was very reluctant to assist, and Hilda and I drew up a set of records and established a working system. In the next two weeks I found so many fiddles and had proof of so much skulduggery that I sacked the collector without notice. I found installations where the user claimed to have made one outright payment to the collector who had pocketed the money, a hundred or so loudspeakers recorded as being “on loan” which had in fact been paid for and all manner of other private arrangements. The collector was easily replaced, and Mr. Fee joined us. I was fortunate too in meeting Bert Wise, ex Royal Navy P.O. Telegraphist who had been on Submarines, and who took over the technical aspect including the outside lines. Bill Campbell, ex Royal Army Service Corps driver/mechanic was very quickly trained on installations and line work, assisted by John Milburn, a school leaver. John had a very broad Cumbrian accent and initially I found communication difficult, “As gan yam nar marra” meant “I am going home now chum”. I felt I ought to be replying in French or something other than English.
Bill Campbell’s first job was to take the train to London and bring back a vehicle. It was a new Hudson NAAFI wagon completely fitted out by Met. Relays and full of cable, bracket insulators etc. My first act was to buy a set of maps covering the area to a scale of 1:10,000, and display it on the wall. The idea was that if we could establish exactly where we were we stood a better chance of knowing where we were going. A basic plan for the overhead lines was derived and we worked as a team, stripping out old wiring, checking and replacing where necessary, and keeping a record of installations connected. When an installation was serviced and documentation complete we fitted a capacitor in the loudspeaker for technical reasons and a new programme selector switch. The capacitors were to prove very useful later. The service we had to offer at that time was poor, and although it was gradually improving, we were spending far too much time on fault-finding, diverting us from the main program. Within a month it was very clear that our top priority was to rewire and re-equip. I managed to convince the London Office of this and they sent me a team of 3 wiremen from London, led by Dennis Horton who was inherited as a foreman at Mansfield, complete with two Dodge trucks and tons of installation materials. For four months this team concentrated on rewiring for four programmes, gradually reducing and finally almost eliminating the line faults.
The receivers and amplifiers were at Harras Moor in a cottage, but this was at the end of a two mile line, too far from our main load. We ran a 6-pair cable the whole distance and used these as 600 ohm lines, to feed five 1 KW amplifiers at Lowther Street. A bank of 6 AR88 receivers was installed at Harras Moor and two “straight sets” on loop antennas for the BBC Home and Light programmes. In town we had 210v. DC mains and had to fit rotary
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invertors. We also installed a 9KVA petrol/paraffin engine-driven alternator for use during power cuts, which were all too frequent. I could never understand how the grid system could sustain power through seven winters of wartime industrial production and as soon as the war was over we had to live with power cuts. Harras Moor was providing us with four good radio channels, Home, Light and Third BBC, Radio Eirein, Luxembourg, Paris, New York and others from around the world. We were getting organised and I was able to concentrate on sales, keeping our own gang of three busy on new installations. Within two years we had 2,200 installations, including the two Music Halls, cinemas, and all the factories. In addition we were doing more than 90% of all the Public Address work in Cumberland, some of which were quite memorable. At Grasmere Sports the events included a Fell Race and the first year we gave a running commentary over our P.A. system. The runners were out of sight near the top of the fell, so for the following year we applied to the Post Office for permission to use an H/F radio link to cover the gap. This was refused, “you will have to apply for a telephone”! The following year Bert Wise and John Milburn climbed the fell with an Aldis Lamp and battery, and established themselves where they could see the runners at the top and the ‘ops room’ on the showground. I too had an Aldis lamp and Bert flashed me the numbers of the runners as they reached the top of the fell. This delighted the spectators but completely upset the bookies who alone had the complete information in previous years.
The Post Office were also upset, claiming they had a monopoly on signalling, but declining to put it to test in court. I suggested that to try and licence boy scouts to signal in morse code with torches was ludicrous. I enjoyed the atmosphere of these events and went to quite some lengths to obtain the appropriate marshal music. At a Conservative Party fete one particular rather rousing piece was played several times and I was asked by a retired General why the Hell I kept playing the Red Army March Past.!!
A month after taking over, Hilda and I went for a walk - with the pram - to Hensingham, about three miles inland, and I was surprised to see Relay wires between chimneys and lots of downleads. I had not expected to find another system so close and I checked at some of the houses, asking who provided the system! I was told it was owned by a builder called Leslie but it hadn’t worked for several years. Leslie was the fellow from whom the company had bought West Cumberland Relays, and on checking with him I found it was part of the ‘system’ we had taken over. Further search showed a line of poles stretching for about two miles across the fields which had originally linked the village to the lines in Whitehaven. It also showed that a whole area of Hensingham had no electricity, ideal for relay. There was already a big housing estate and this was being extended, and I decided there was adequate potential in the village, but to replace the trunk route to it would be too expensive. We compromised by obtaining four modified 50 watt Vortexion Amplifiers and four receivers from London. Fred Wright brought them by road in his small van, the logo on the side of which was “Radio Trouble-shooting Service”. I did my very best to put up a case for keeping the van, to no avail. The next day we installed the equipment in an air-raid shelter at Hensingham, as a temporary measure, and immediately started connecting subscribers. Within a few weeks the wiring reached the side of the village where the lines from Whitehaven went across the fields, and we began to replace one pair all the way to link with Whitehaven. With this in operation on the third channel we were able to switch
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off one of the Hensingham amplifiers. Later all four programmes were fed from Whitehaven and the station in the air-raid shelter dismantled. The amplifiers were put to use at Whitehaven Hospital and the Workhouse. Both places were wired for 4 programme relay, but at the flick of a switch microphones could be switched in for announcements, and in the case of the latter, to broadcast concerts from the stage.
It was at Hensingham that I found a row of about 30 terraced houses, all without electricity and all wired with three twin cables of different sizes. This rather intrigued me and I enquired further. Most of the houses had battery driven wireless sets which used a 75 volt dry battery for H.T., a 2 volt accumulator for L.T. and a 9 volt grid bias battery, and in one case I found one of these sets without batteries but connected to the 3 pair cable. The old lady owner said it had not worked for several years. I quickly found the man who recharged the accumulators and he confirmed that the cables I had seen were once used for providing power supplies to radios. I think the system must have been quite unique. Shortly afterwards, the houses were connected to the relay system. My only regret is that I didn’t buy up those radios and store them for 50 years. As more and more installations were connected on the Woodhouse estate, the load on the five mile line gradually became too heavy with a corresponding reduction in line voltage and therefore volume. To overcome this we rented an air-raid shelter from the British Legion on the estate and fitted 4 amplifiers to take the load. These were fed from the incoming line itself, but for emergency use we also fitted receivers. Later the receivers came in useful for about three months during reconstruction of an area over which our main line had been fitted. One of the radio dealers found that we were using local receivers and that they were subject to radio interference from vacuum cleaners, so he had a sales drive in the immediate area of our receiving station with rental vacuum cleaners at 1/- per week. Reception gradually deteriorated but after three months of emergency operation our main line was again complete and the receivers switched off. Reception then was near perfect on our system and dreadful for the rest when the vacuum cleaners were being used. He had put a lot of time and money into trying to wreck our system, and had a double-fronted shop in Lowther Street, but I was sorry to see his shop with a bicycle in one window and a Bible in the other when I left Whitehaven..
On a new housing estate where 5 new houses were commissioned each week, we took a gamble and wired them all. When the first tenants moved in the loudspeaker was playing and the tenant’s radio problems were resolved. After 3 or 4 weeks I would go along and generally sign them up. Some of them of course compared it to their own ‘wireless’ if any, which could not possibly reach our standard of reproduction and reception. There are very few places in and around Whitehaven where we had not fitted microphones and radio, and after reaching near saturation in two years there was little scope for further development.
Whitehaven had been a very satisfying experience, but was marred by the Williams Pit disaster where 160 miners were trapped underground and lost their lives. John Milburn’s father was among them. It was traditional for the eldest son to take over where the Dad left off, and we were very sorry indeed to lose John. Hilda had run the office and “showroom” assisted later by Connie Sim from St. Bees. Bill Campbell was still our mainstay on the lines.
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I handed over to Bert Wise, still wearing his Navy P.O.’s hat, and moved to Wandsworth as Development Manager for Metropolitan Relays. A flat was available for us above the shop at 111 Garratt Lane, but on arrival we found it occupied by squatters. For several weeks we lived with Hilda’s parents until the squatters moved to the second floor and we took over the first floor. They were a decent couple in their forties, and had been desperate for accommodation. Our shop had been empty so they moved in, knowing that when an eviction order was issued by the court, they would be allocated a council house or flat. It was a short-cut to the top of the housing list, and the firm had to go through the motions of demanding court action. The ground floor was established as a showroom, even with T.V. in the window, an impressive amplifier room and an office with the same old sign on the door, Lager Commandant!
The original plan was to develop the area working outwards from Garrett Lane and to use the linesman from H.Q. at Lavender Hill, but there was line work to be done from the very outset and it was this part of the job which would be the limiting factor in our rate of progress. I insisted that we employed our own gang of wiremen. Bill Cutler was my wayleave expert, and having planned the main basic routes of our main lines, it was Bill’s job to find out who the landlords were and to obtain their formal permission to fit our wires on or over their property, generally between chimneys. The easiest way was first to sell the relay service to the tenants and their order was used as the reason for our request to fit the wires. We started to run four main lines, no.1 along Garrett Lane to link up with the Lavender Hill system at West Hill. No 2 made a beeline west along Garrett Lane to a Council-owned housing estate which at the time had no electricity. No 3 went due south to Southfields and along Merton Road, over the Redifon buildings and on to Putney, and No. 4 went north towards Wandsworth Common. Everyone on the staff except me, but including Bill Cutler and the linesmen was given five shillings commission for each new customer they signed up. The average wage at that time was £7 per week (in London) and there were few days when the gang did not hand in the paper-work and deposits for customers they had signed up and probably already installed in addition to the day’s work allocated to them. Quite often we would have thousands of leaflets distributed to houses in a particular area which was proving difficult but which they needed to cross.
At about this time, my father retired and went to East Africa, settling at Kirksbridge Farm, Kiminini, 10 miles west of Kitale on the Kakemega Road, and about 260 miles from Nairobi.. He sold his controlling interest in Metropolitan Relays to Seletar Industrial Holdings, Ltd. and their representative, Colonel Slaughter, took over as Chairman. Mr. Moulton became Director & General Manager and I was Development Manager with sufficient shares to qualify for a seat on the board. At the time T.V. was still in its infancy, though beginning to catch on, but the main background entertainment would be the wireless for some time to come. Transistors were still in the experimental stage and Radio Relay provided an alternative to cumbersome and relatively expensive valve radios, with near perfect and trouble-free reception. As Development Manager I made sure I was not bogged down with routine day to day running, and at the outset established a reliable Manager at Garrett Lane, Jack Thompson, whose knowledge of the business was gleaned entirely from Bill Cutler and myself with on-the-job training. Bill had been with Radio Relay since about
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1930, except for during the war when he was a technician in the R.A.F. on Link Trainers.
I was asked to have a look at Yeovil in Somerset and see whether it appeared suitable to establish a relay system, and if I felt it so justified, to spend some time there making a detailed study. I spent a week studying the layout of the town, types of housing, probabilities of future development, the people and their attitudes and in discussion with the Borough Surveyor and Town Clerk’s office staff. I realised that Colonel Slaughter had been a senior army officer and also a senior civil servant for a long time, and that my future relationship with him depended to a large extent on the impression he gained from my first formal report. I recommended that it was a border-line proposition and included a financial budget for 5 years. It would be three years before the system was breaking even and this was too long. The Capital required was too high unless the system was subsidised by another well-established branch. I felt we could find better places to apply our efforts. The Colonel decided to have a look for himself and I went with him to Somerset a week later. Alone, he met the Council officials concerned and one of them agreed to support our application if a relative of his was given a seat on the board of the new company!. I had known of that before the meeting but thought it better not to be involved, nor to include thoughts of that nature in my report. The Yeovil proposal was dropped and I turned my attention to Maryport.
Whilst Bert Wise was on holiday Bill Cutler and I went to Whitehaven for two weeks to relieve him and also to investigate Maryport.
I had known Maryport for some years and I already knew that it would be a goer from the outset. With lots of Council houses (no wayleave problems on them), a working type population, even with an element of communism. It had known major unemployment and soup kitchens and was still a little Bolshie.
We had many friends in the area and a good popular working system in Whitehaven as an example. In that two weeks I produced the same type of report as for Yeovil, but recommended we should go ahead immediately. We saw the Council Officials and agreed a draft agreement with them, found suitable accommodation for a shop in town and a receiving station just out of town to which we could run our own lines. Two weeks later I returned with the Colonel and together we met the Council Committee and completed formalities. From then on it was all systems go. Bill Cutler asked if he could get it organised and he did a very thorough job, using the labour and resources from Whitehaven. He stayed on as Manager and a few years later took-over Whitehaven also when Bert Wise ran-off with his secretary, Connie Sim.
Meanwhile Garratt Lane was running smoothly, and number 1 line had reached East Hill. In a junction box on the wall of a block of flats we had two four-pair cables, one from Lavender Hill, and the other from Garratt Lane, and on an experimental basis we linked the two together, isolating the line at Garratt Lane. We were thus able to monitor the Lavender Hill system in our Control Room, providing their service to our installations on the way. The Garratt Lane amplifiers were fed by Post Office line from Lavender Hill, and each amplifier could provide 1 kilowatt of audio power, sufficient for 3000 loudspeakers. Most of the loudspeakers were switched to no. 2 channel, the Light Programme, still referred to as the Forces programme by the majority. Channels 3 and 4 were very lightly loaded and we were able to switch off the Garratt Lane amplifiers on these channels for most of the time. At that time my family
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home was the flat above the showroom at Garratt Lane, and was guarded by Rex, a huge Great Dane/Alsation [sic] hybrid. Only Hilda and the children could handle it, presumably because they fed it regularly, but everyone else - including me - had to be very cautious.
Eventually it took a bite out of the Manager’s wife and was returned to Battersea Dogs’ Home.
I was spending more time at Garratt Lane where progress was losing momentum, and extending our no. 3 line over West Hill to East Putney was proving difficult. Near Putney Bridge, still a mile from our lines was a highly suitable area of small houses and it was going to take a year to reach them at our current speed. Without much fuss we established a station in the basement of a shop in the middle of this area, using 4 receivers built by Fred Wright’s dept. and 4 small 50 watt Vortexion amplifiers. This station was identical to the one fitted at Hensingham. We then had a sales drive in that part of Putney with the emphasis towards West Hill, and in 4 months were able to link the two systems.
I was interested to recall that for monitoring our four programmes we used a modified aircraft type automatic bomb release mechanism. This was a uniselector type of relay unit which clunked round and changed programme every 30 seconds instead of releasing bombs.
All my staff were ex-Servicemen and there was a dynamic no-nonsence [sic] approach. In contrast to this, our General Manager Allan Moulton based at Lavender Hill, had a stock answer to any serious proposal for action put to him, of “Wait a little while and see what happens”. My attitude was that we know what we want to happen and it wont unless we make it. He didn’t like my Lager Commandant notice on the door either but there it stayed. In 1948 the war was not forgotten by most of us and many satisfactory business deals were made in that spirit of comradeship and trust.
In Feb. 1949 I found that someone called Fry had studied Belfast on our firm’s behalf and had strongly recommended starting a relay service there. The report came to me quite by accident and at the same time I found he was surveying Bath, introducing himself as Development Manager in Relay Association circles. I tackled Colonel Slaughter about it and he said it was news to him, but he took it up with Moulton to whom Fry was reporting. I found that Moulton resented the fact that I was responsible direct to the Chairman, and also that my contract detailed my renumeration including commission which was the £1500 per year, 4 times the average wage. To clear the air we had a formal meeting and I put forward my prediction for future development. I forecast that within 2 or 3 years a general rundown of the system would be inevitable with the increase of television; further that it would be prudent to reduce expenditure on “wired wireless” and to develop the rental side of both radio and T.V., but to reconsider with Fred Wright - who was not at the meeting - the policy of manufacturing T.V. sets. My prediction became factual and was influenced also by transistor radios of which we had no knowledge at that time. There was 33% Purchase Tax on most things including T.V. sets. This was payable at the point of sale and not on rentals. As our sets were never sold but remained the property of Met. Radio & T.V. Rentals Ltd. no Purchase Tax was payable. This loophole was soon to be closed, as forecast, and tax was payable on the rental itself. It became cheaper to buy sets from the big manufactures than to actually make them.
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The Colonel remarked that as Development Manager I was really saying we should stop developing, and I agreed. This set the scene for further discussion well outside the intended scope of the meeting. The Chairman asked Moulton for his views on likely technological advances, but Moulton had none and said we can only try and stay afloat, seeking support from Fry. The Colonel shot down Moulton completely and asked Fry to detail his relevant qualifications. After a silence Moulton was told to study the content of my prediction and not to go off at a tangent on development nor without reference to him. Fry was sent packing and the meeting was closed. I learned quite a lot from Colonel Slaughter, he had spent a long time in the Royal Engineers and one of his attributes was building a flat-bottomed boat on the Nile, one of the biggest in service. His personality was such that when he looked up and down disapprovingly at an obvious ex-Serviceman leaning over a bar, the man immediately took his hand out of his pocket and squared himself up. I actually saw this happen in Maryport, he had that effect on people. (That was in 1948, it might not be the same over 40 years later).
No more was heard of Fry, and I never did join the Board, I was too busy getting on with the job, but it was time for reflection. I realised that when my father was Chairman he had the engineering and technical aspects at his fingertips and he took care of them. He was succeeded by the Colonel who was a business-man but who had no backing on the engineering side. My brief was the Development of the Radio Relay Systems, I regarded technological changes as a matter for the General Manager, Moulton, but I was not responsible to him.
I met the Colonel again privately and I said it seemed that I was Development Manager in a firm which was not going to develop any further. Although there was plenty of routine work to be done I felt the Electrical Trades Union would soon start making things very difficult as it was doing in the Post Office. In view of the probable technological changes, I felt that Colonel Slaughter would rather sell-out than try to steer a ship without a rudder. I was being rather outspoken but straightforward and the Colonel approved of this. I told him I would like to call it a day and try my luck in Africa, Kenya was said to be a land of opportunity. If that failed there was always a job in Bulawayo 2500 miles further south of the Cement Works with Mr. Rose.
The Colonel agreed I could leave when convenient but if I wanted to return within 6 months, to drop him a line. It was four years since the war in Europe had ended. Britain was changing and so was the attitude of many people some of who were very disillusioned. Hilda and I agreed it was time to make a move.
And so in July 1949 I went to Africa for the third time, but with Hilda and the two children, not knowing what sort of a career I was seeking, but nevertheless full of confidence, and still with my Lager Commandant board.
The following year, Colonel Slaughter retired and Seletar’s controlling interest in Metropolitan Relays was sold to British Relay Wireless which later became Vision-Hire. Within a further 12 years the wired-wireless or Relay industry in the U.K. closed, being overtaken by technology.
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[underlined] KENYA [/underlined]
The flight to Nairobi was a very pleasant trip by Argonaut, calling at Rome, Benina, - which we had known as Bengazi [sic] -, Cairo, Khartoum and Entebbe. On the last leg of the flight we flew very low at times, quite unofficially to give us our first views of big game from the air. The flight was very enjoyable, in very easy stages, and in retrospect the Argonaut was about the most comfortable aircraft we were to fly in, in our many subsequent flights to Africa. It was I think the first and only time we travelled in first class.
We were met in Nairobi by Duncan Fletcher, a friend of my fathers, and spent the night at Torr’s Hotel, in Delamere Avenue, the leading hotel at that time. The Stanley Hotel across the road was being refurbished to become the New Stanley, and within a few years Torr’s was closed and became the Ottaman [sic] Bank. I recall the strawberry and cream cake for tea at Torr’s for which it had been famous for many years. The following day we journeyed the 260 miles by bus to Kitale. This was a road we would take many times in the years to come. The first half was tarmac, 100 miles of which from the top of the Nairobi escarpment, through Naivasha to Nakuru, having been built by Italian prisoners of war. From the top of the escarpment there was a wonderful view of the Rift Valley and Mount Longenot [sic], an extinct volcano, and to the west over the plains towards Mau Forest and Kisumu. The bus took us down the escarpment, dropping about 2000 feet to the floor of the Rift Valley, passed the little Italian church built by P.O.W.’s, and northwards past Lake Elementita and Nakuru, then the rough murram road to Kitale. The journey took about 10 hours, but was far from tedius [sic], there was so much to be seen.
Kitale seemed like a typical american western type of small town, the roads were not made up and the sidewalks were made of wood. Many of the buildings were made of timber clad with mabati - corrugated iron - and most europeans wore khaki drill. We were met at the bus station by my father and completed the remaining 9 miles of our journey to our new home, Kirksbridge Farm, Kiminini where a guest house had been built for us, about 100 yards from the main house. Colin and Wendy, aged 6 and 4 were introduced to the Ayah, the african nurse, called Nadudu, who spoke only Swahili and her tribal language, Kitoshi, but within a matter of days was communicating without difficulty with the children. Nadudu had her own rondavel, a thatched roundhouse on the lawn at the side of the guest house, and took care of all the children’s needs.
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[underlined] Hoteli King George [/underlined]
Life on the farm had provided a welcome anticlimax to just about everything that had gone before, but it could hardly be a long-term solution for a young couple with a growing family. We did not appreciate at the time the serious effects of the political unrest and changes which were beginning to take place. We thought that common sense would prevail and most of us felt we had a good working relationship with the Africans; only a misguided few claimed to really understand them! Neither Hilda nor I felt we were achieving a great deal on the farm and we agreed it was time to look further afield.
In April 1950, after almost a year in Kitale, I responded to an advert in our national newspaper, the East African Standard, for Prison Officers. Salary £550 per year, uniform and furnished accomodation [sic] provided, generous leave etc. Military experience advantageous, with the rank of Asst. Supt. of Prisons. One pip! At least the job would get us to Nairobi where most of the action was, and we would have an opportunity to look around, but it was also to give me an insight into a very different and often sordid aspect of life. My application was successful. Our family, Hilda and myself, Colin and Wendy, with Paddy and Jeep our two Alsations all crowded into the Austin A70 and once again made the now familiar safari to Nairobi. 150 miles of murram road, through the Transnzoia, and the plains around Eldoret settled almost entirely by South Africans from the Union, winding around ravines to Mau Summit, up and over the 11,500 ft. mountains at Timbarua to Nakuru then 100 miles of luxurious tarmac through Naivasha with its flamingoes [sic] , passed Elementita an extinct volcano, up the escarpment to Nairobi. The tarmac road was built by Italian prisoners of war in W.W.2, the best stretch of road in East Africa. We also took with us Edward Ekeke, an African driver who had been with my father in Abbysinia [sic] during the war. Although a Kikuyu he was a trusted servant, and if left alone by the politicians and other agitators would have stayed loyal, but tribal and other pressures on chaps like Ekeke were great, and in retrospect it was foolish of us to trust them. Ekeke returned to Kitale with the Austin for more personal effects and re-joined us after a few days. I think he must have finally returned to the farm by 'taxi', as the african buses were called.
As it claimed in the advert., accomodation [sic] was provided. It could have been described as a three-bedroomed chalet, the walls and roof being of mabati (corrugated iron), and was built on stilts about a foot off the ground. We learned that is [sic] was originally built at the other side of the prison and had been carried to its current location by 200 prisoners. As far as I remember, we moved straight into the 'house', and roughed it until Hilda made it comfortable. There was a bathroom, but the loo was a 'thunderbox' at the end of the back garden with a bucket which a gang of prisoners dealt with about 5 am. every day. The kitchen was a Colonial type near the back door, with a wood stove, and an adequate supply of kuni (firewood) provided by more prisoners.
The prison was totally enclosed within a high stone wall, designed to hold 700 prisoners, but with a prison population of about 1900 Africans, 180 Asians, 20 Somalis and 12 Europeans. Quite separate was a small compound for the Wamawaki, (women), with about 20 African and 1 Asian inmate (in for murder but only men were eligible for hanging, so she was serving life). The whole 2000 or so were in the care of about 9 European officers and 200 African Askari. The
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Officer i/c was 'Major' Martin M.C., W.W.1 Veteran,as [sic] Snr. Supt., his number 2 was Henry Thacker with 3 pips as a Supt. Henry spoke fluent Kikuyu in addition to Swahili, and in fact had a Kikuyu 'wife'. He had been in the Prisons service for 36 years at that time and sported one medal ribbon, on his right breast. Legend had it that it was awarded by the Royal Humane Society after he saved a cat from drowning, but Henry was on a totally different wavelength to other Europeans. Sid Swan with 2 pips was i/c the stores and accounts, having spent the war in the Kings African Rifles, and having been demobbed as a Major. Other junior officers like myself included Bunty Lewis, rather effiminate [sic] but nevertheless an ex Royal Artillery officer who had a Kenya-born wife; Paddy McKinney, a large hairy ex Irish Guards Sergeant; Jimmie Vant, ex Kings African Rifles, the son of a Keswick lawyer turned Kenya farmer. Jimmie and his wife Dulcie regarded themselves as Kenya settlers and claimed to spend most of their time at the ranch on the Kinankop, hence their landrover vehicle. Another officer, Whitehouse who joined about the same time as me seemed to spend most of his time off sick and did not stay with us very long. There were three other officers whose names elude me but they were all ex-service, and all lived just outside the wall of the main prison.
The Duty Officers i/c worked a shift system, 0600 to 1800, assisted by a "day-duties" officer during more or less office hours. The Duty Officer was responsible for the day to day activity in the main prison. We were each armed with an enormous ancient revolver of 0.45 calibre and six rounds of ammo., issued by Mr. Thacker. I objected to the rounds of ammo., pointing out they were dum-dums, the bullets having been filed down to within 1/8" of the cartridge cases., and they contravened the Geneva convention. I remember Henry saying "there is nothing in the Prisons Ordinance about the Geneva Convention, and that's all that matters"! We were ordered in writing to wear the revolver in its holster at all times when on duty, and I thought of my four Brownings of long ago to deal with one enemy, compared to a ridiculous revolver in a compound with nearly 2000 potential enemies. It was in fact general practice, strictly unofficial, to carry the revolver but to leave the ammunition in the safe, and the prisoners knew this. I did carry a loaded Czech. .25 automatic in my pocket of which the prisoners were not aware. Some months after I joined, the Snr. Supt. inspected Paddy's revolver and put him on a charge for not carrying ammunition, "contrary to station standing order number something or other". Paddy was eventually charged before the Commissioner of Prisons and pleaded not guilty, asking to see the written order. This was produced and the charge dismissed. The order refered [sic] to the revolver only, and not ammunition. All very childish, but Paddy of the Irish Guards was not one to be messed about. He produced his dum-dum bullets to the Commissioner who was astonished, and all the dumdums were withdrawn. Paddy also pointed out how ludicrous it was for a lone officer to carry firearms in a crowd of hundreds of prisoners, but the order remained. He was a likeable fellow and when the C.O. quoted the book of rules, Paddy made a detailed study of it. In addition to the Prisons Ordnance, we also had Station Standing Orders which gave Paddy ample scope for playing the barrack-room lawyer. He was seen one night at a party in the Military Police Snr. N.C.O.'s mess, and was put on [deleted] a [/deleted] two charges by Martin. Before the Commissioner he was charged with sleeping off the station and drinking whilst on duty. Again Paddy asked for the rule-book and pleaded not guilty. The book stated that an officer would not sleep off the station whilst
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on duty. Paddy agreed he had been at the dance all night and did not in fact sleep anywhere! case [sic] dismissed. Station standing orders also stated that an officer would not partake of alcoholic drink whilst on duty, but a further order stated that an "officer was deemed to be on duty at all times". It therefore followed that all Prisons Officers were required to be completely teetotal, and that was an unlawful order. Martin had met his match and was told to edit Station Standing Orders.
The day started at 0630 by unlocking the European cells and counting the inmates, whilst the Askari dealt with all the other prisoners. There was no point in an escape attempt by Europeans, they would not have got very far before being picked up, but for other races it was a different matter. They were guarded very closely. The four main racial groups were quartered separately for sleeping and eating, their customs and diet and indeed their whole culture differing considerably. Only the Europeans slept on beds, the others were not interested and prefered [sic] the floor, some with very thin mattresses. The Europeans wore shoes, the Somalis heavy boots, Asians wore flipflops and the Africans stuck to their bare feet which were generally tougher than any footwear. European food was probably similar to that in U.K. prisons, and with each race having its own traditional food, this was not a case of discrimination, each prefered [sic] its own. Each group also provided its own cooks. Some of the Asians in fact opted out of Prison food and had it sent in, but it was very thoroughly checked. Uniforms differed too, some compromise between standard prison garb and ordinary native dress. Europeans wore K.D. slacks and shirts with arrows printed on them. Africans wore white shirt and white shorts held up by string.
Two or three hours were spent in the early morning preparing prisoners for court, generally about 50 of them. Some were on remand, and others were convicted prisoners who were required to give evidence in cases where they were involved as witnesses. In the late afternoon all were returned to the prison possibly with changed status. The paper-work had to be watched very carefully, confusion could arise where one prisoner might have a conviction warrant on one case, a remand warrant on another and possibly a production order to appear as a witness in an entirely different case. It was not unknown for a prisoner to be involved in two cases under different names. Language sometimes presented a problem. The courts conducted the business in English and Kiswahili, but there were many tribal languages and quite often interpreters had to be employed. One such case was when 60 prisoners of the Suk tribe were charged with murder having massacred the District Commissioner and his staff of 12. The only interpreter who could cope with the Suk language translated into Kitoshi, and a second one translated from Kitoshi into Swahili. All 60 were hanged at the prison in due course. They seemed very young to me and I doubt if they really knew what it was all about. They were the ones rounded up by the Police after spears had been thrown at the D.C.'s party from a crowd of 2000 whilst he was reading the Riot Act -literally-.
Relationships between officers at the prison were generally very good, with the exception of Martin who thought he was playing soldiers and Thacker for whom we felt rather sorry. 36 years as a prisons officer must have warped his mind somewhat. After about two months I decided to be like the other officers and wear my medal ribbons, and that was when I first fell foul of Major Martin. He asked me what the first medal was and I told him. He said he
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had not authorised me to wear it and I laughed and said I didn't need his authority, the King's was good enough. Shortly after this I was on duty when 45 new African prisoners were admitted, but there were 50 warrants. Some were convicted on Capital Charges, (murder, manslaughter, rape etc). My Chief Warder had signed for 50 bodies and 50 warrants, but there were only 45 bodies. It was 5 pm and my obvious priority was to determine which 5 prisoners were missing. It took until 6.30 to sort it out, no-one was missing, the Court was at fault in issuing two warrants each to five prisoners, instead of one warrant and one production order each. Only then did I get around to locking up the European prisoners for the night, 30 minutes late, and I entered this in the log. The next day an Asian prisoner complained to an Asian Official Prison Visitor that the Europeans were not locked up until 6.30 whereas the Asian prisoners were locked up on time. This was racial discrimination and the official visitor reported the matter direct to the Commissioner. I was charged by Martin for failing to carry out a particular standing order in that I failed to lock up the Europeans at 6 pm. 'How do you plead?' saith [sic] the Commiss. 'I don't', I replied, 'I request the case be taken by the Member for Law & Order'. He was the member of Legislative Council equivalent to the U.K. Attorney General, and this was a genuine option available to an officer charged before the Commissioner, same sort of procedure as an Airman on a 252 asking for a Court Martial rather than take his C.O.'s verdict. The Commissioner suspended the charge for the time being and asked Martin why the charge was brought. I was then asked why I had failed and I said that I was the Officer responsible and in unusual circumstances I concentrated my action in what I considered the most important aspect, which was resolving the problem of the 5 apparently missing prisoners. I consider I acted correctly, regardless of Station Standing Orders. Martin said he had not known that and I suggested that he should read the duty log before signing it as seen, next time. I also suggested that an amendment be made to the standing orders to the effect that nothing contained therein would prohibit an officer from using his initiative when he felt it necessary. Anyhow, I went on, it is an unlawful order in any case, and that will be my alternative defence with the Member for Law & Order. The commissioner was intrigued and read out the order "You will lock-up the European prisoners at 6 pm.", looking to me for comment. I said it was an impossible order, locking-up people involves work which takes time, 6pm is a moment of time in which by definition no work can be done. I said the whole set-up is childish and the Commissioner asked Martin to withdraw the charge. It seemed I had joined Paddy in his war of attrition against Martin.
Our two alsations, Paddy and Jeep had settled-in very nicely, with only their hereditary training. Their self-appointed task of guarding Hilda and the children was unending. When the family was inside the house, one guard would remain with them whilst the other maintained watch on the verandah [sic] and patrolled outside in the garden. When the children were in the garden whilst prisoners were working in the area, either Paddy or Jeep would deploy themselves between the two groups. Only by instinct our dogs knew the prisoners were not to be trusted and were watched very carefully, but the African askari were regarded as allies. The prison was very close to the boundary of Nairobi National Park, and grew cabbages two feet in diameter in what must have been some of the most fertile land in Kenya, receiving all the effluent from the 2000 odd inmates. Late one afternoon an african prisoner in a work gang fancied his
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chances and made a run for it, sprinting along the road passed [sic] the house hotly pursued by about six askari. The askari were at a disadvantage wearing heavy boots and jerseys, but they were joined by Paddy and Jeep who caught up with the prisoner and arrested him in the Game Park. When the askari caught up with them they found the prisoner literally with his pants down, leaning exhausted against a post supporting a notice "Stay in Your Car, Beware of Lion".
It was essential but sometimes difficult not to become involved emotionally with the prisoners, almost all of whom had in their eyes suffered a grave injustice by winding-up in jail. One afternoon whilst I was on duty the Chief Immigration Officer, a Mr. Pierce, came to the prison and required me to serve a Deportation Order on a European Prisoner, Major Melbourn. I read the document first and found that Melbourn had been declared an 'undesireable [sic] immigrant' and was therefore to be deported within 5 days. Melbourn had in fact served about 12 months of a three year sentance [sic] for bigamy and would be required to complete the term in the U.K. He was 'undesireable [sic] ' because he had changed his job without permission. I remarked that this was a very lame excuse for such drastic action. After an exchange of views I said I had not sought his permission when I joined the Prisons Service and he advised me to do so without delay! A few days later I was detailed to escort the prisoner to Mombasa, and hand him over to the officer i/c of the prison at Fort Jesus. Meanwhile I had studied all the Melbourn files and they showed a good example of how a fellow could slip up over small technicalities which produced major consequences. Melbourn was a British Army officer serving overseas for almost the entire war. During the Blitz, his wife was in a Convalascent [sic] home in Liverpool which received a direct hit and she disappeared without trace like many others. He had been drawing a marriage allowance in the normal way and eventually reported to his C.O. that it should be discontinued because he believed his wife had been killed in an air-raid. He was advised that until he had proof of this the allowance would continue. He should have applied to the courts for it to be deemed that his wife had been killed but the environment of the Burmese jungle and other wartime pressures were not conducive to that sort of logic and he let the matter rest. After the war he made enquiries in Liverpool without result, and was eventually released from the Army having served for 30 years. Several years later he became engaged to the daughter of the French Consol [sic] in Nairobi, and when they were married he declared that he was a bachelor. They were Catholics and had he referred to himself as a widower, there could have been difficulties and the authorities would have required proof in any case, which he could not provide. Soon after the wedding someone who had been a clerk in the Pay Corps spotted the reference to 'Bachelor' and thought it rather odd that Melbourn had claimed a marriage allowance during the war. He reported this and the subsequent enquiry led to Melbourn being charged with bigamy and convicted. Whilst it was essential that justice must be seen to apply equally to all races, Europeans were the Bwana Mkubwas and were supposed to set an example. White men in jail were an embarassment [sic] to Government and wherever possible they were returned to the U.K. Melbourn had slipped-up on a second trechnicality. [sic] In the U.K. After [sic] demob. he and two ex-Army colleagues, all of whom had served in East Africa in 1945, decided to establish a business in Kenya, and the three applied for Entry permits, Employment passes, Dependants [sic] passes in two cases, and Residence permits. Complete with ambitious plans for the future and proper documentation
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the trio arrived in Nairobi and set about organising their new enterprise, one of the first acts being an application to register the name of their company. Whilst this was 'going through channels' problems came to light which could not have been foreseen and their plans had to be abandoned. Melbourn remained in Nairobi and obtained employment, and his two colleagues returned to U.K., disillusioned by the red tape. Whilst looking for a reason to declare Melbourn an undesireable [sic] immigrant the application for permission to work with a firm which did not exist came to light and provided the necessary ammunition.
On the night train to Mombasa Melbourn was very chatty, we were both in civvies, he was allowed to use his own money and I felt the best policy would be to let him have a few drinks and to sleep it off. He undertook to behave and understood that at the first sign of being unco-operative he would be handcuffed to his bunk. He told me his story which was the same as gleaned from the files, and added that he had made arrangements to escape at Suez and join the sister of one of the Somali inmates. I handed him over at Fort Jesus, wished him luck and had a look around Mombasa before returning to Nairobi on the night train. About two months later we learned that he had indeed jumped ship at Suez and was working as a Newsreader at Oomdemaan on Egyptian International Radio Broadcasts. I bought some brass plates from him in Nairobi which today are displayed at Wendy's home in Cherryhinton [sic] , and which remind me of the injustice metered out to one who served for 30 years in the British Army.
Another European prisoner, on remand, had been arrested for vagrancy. He was a British merchant seaman who felt like a change, had legally entered Kenya with proper documentation and had taken a job driving a native bus. The authorities deemed this was not a suitable job for a white man, declared him undesireable [sic] and deported him, by ship. He would have been quite happy to have joined a ship at Mombasa as crew-member or paid his own passage. He most certainly did not meet the definition of vagrancy, he had more than adequate means of support. I recall his bitterness when he said it was fair enough to drive a bloody army lorry for five years but not an african bus.
For nearly six months I relieved Ron Woods as officer i/c the Tailoring section of Prison workshops, whilst he was on home leave. In the workshop 200 prisoners beavered away sewing and stitching, 100 with sewing machines and the other half working by hand. We produced uniforms for all Government departments and also for prisoners and were allowed to undertake private work for anyone willing to provide their own material. One of the European prisoners had been a tailor in civvy street and he was very helpful. There was also a 'mechanical workshop' employing about 100, mostly producing articles in metal for Gov't departments, but also repairing and generally working on motor-cars. I took the opportunity of turning them loose on my father's Packard and they did a very good job. The Tailoring section even produced some seat covers for it without being asked. Shortly after the car was finished, a Salvation Army Major came to me and said that Johnson, a European prisoner who had worked on the car, had seen the light after several months of Bible study and was now determined to go straight. He was serving five years for armed robbery, having held up a taxi in Mombasa. The Major asked for my support for his application to the Parole Board and was in fact going to great lengths to secure the Prisoner's release. I declined my support, and told the Major he had been spoofed, Johnson would never go straight. However, the appeal
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was successful and Johnson suggested to me the night before his release that for a small fee he could arrange to 'steal' the car and drop it over Nairobi escarpment for me. Such were the people we were dealing it, [sic] [inserted] with [/inserted] but what finally became of him I don't know.
After several months we moved to a much nicer house in the prison officers' compound. Hilda was doing photographic retouching and finishing work in the city for Arthur Firmin, and life was without undue pressures. On saturday [sic] evenings we occasionally went to see our friends George and Iris Dent at the Oasis pub. George was an engineer with the Army Kinema Corporation and a very keen 'ham', VQ4DO, ex ZS6DO. At their parents' Pub George showed films which provided entertainment. This was before the days of television in Kenya. It was on the evening of one of our visits we were sitting in the Dent's home, Wendy was stretched out asleep on the couch and Iris's little boy was playing with his toy cap-gun. This reminded me that the pain in my rear was caused by my .25 automatic in my trouser pocket, so I moved the gun to my jacket pocket. Iris saw this move and said it looked a far nicer gun than her .38 and asked to see it. I handed it over, having checked there was no round up the spout and it was on safe. To our absolute astonishment, Iris cocked it, off with the safety catch and fired. The bullet demolished the leg of the couch less than a foot from Wendy's head. The song "Pistol-packing mamma" didn't seem at all funny any more. Colin was with us and had attended Nairobi Primary School for about two months. Wendy was looked after during the day by Nadudu, the Kitoshi ayah we had taken with us from Kitale. The children called her Bundudu.
With the withdrawal of the British Army from Kenya, George and Iris returned to South Africa, George taking up employment with the S.A. Broadcasting Corporation. Today the Oasis pub is thriving, still on the main Mombassa [sic] Road and close to Nairobi airport at Embakasi.
I was concerned only with Nairobi prison, but there were prisons in 8 or so towns, backed up by several camps. Later when Mau Mau really got under way, there were many more much bigger 'internment' camps. Some of them in my day were known as rather tough places. Hard Labour was still the prerogative of the courts; It meant exactly that, and was invariably stone breaking. A gang would be given a task of smashing up a number of very large boulders and feeding the fragments through a screen before putting them onto a lorry. Only when the task was complete would they be marched back to the living area. One of our camps was at Lokitong, about 450 miles north of Nairobi, and it frequently happened that prisoners had to be returned from there to Nairobi to attend court. There was no telephone, the only communication with the camp was was [sic] by a telegram to Kitale prison and thence a letter by bus and camel to the camp. It was generally a three-week process, so six weeks was needed to produce a prisoner from Lokitong to a court in Nairobi. I put up a written suggestion that in the absence of telephones we should establish a number of radio stations. I could undertake to establish the stations myself using ex-army 21 sets, maintain them and also to train the operators. The suggestion was submitted through Mr. Martin but addressed to the Commissioner, and according to the Chief Clerk went straight into Martin's waste paper basket. A few days later I delivered a copy direct to the Commissioner's office with a covering letter with my estimate of costs, about £100 per station plus my time and travelling.
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I promised instant communication with the camps but it was too revolutionary and there was no provision in the budget for it. About four years later the job was done for them by the Police at a cost of £700,000 with recurring annual expenditure of over £100,000. A lot of money in those days. Jimmie Vant became the Prisons Dept. Telecommunications Officer with no knowledge whatsoever of the subject. He didn't really need any, all the work was carried out by the Police which was staffed entirely by technicians on secondment from the U.K. Home Office. Such is the price of progress and sophisticated over-engineering. No doubt in the 1990s they will be able to spend even more millions and do the job via satelite [sic] .
Returning home one afternoon having collected Hilda and two other ladies from the city, and Colin from school, we found the prison surrounded by armoured cars and light tanks with hundreds of Police and Army personnel. Apparently there was a rumour of a pending mass breakout, but it was only a rumour. I regarded it as a show of strength for the benifit [sic] of the unruly.
The job in the Prisons Service was like no other I have held either before or since. It was work which started and finished according to the duty roster and activity was determined and limited by the various orders laid down. For every minor detail there had to be a written authority. The Prisons Service had become established about the turn of the century and the antiquated system did nothing to inspire enthusiasm. On one occasion Paddy Mc.Kinney and I were taking a five minute breather in the office and enjoying a coca-cola, when Martin came in and without preamble ordered us to put leg-irons on Mchegi, then stormed out again. Mchegi was a "casi kubwa", a 6'3" Kikuyu in a condemned cell. The leg-irons were a reprisal for Mchegi's offensive the previous day. Martin, on his round of inspection had moved aside the 6" square observation panel in the door of Mchegi's cell to look inside, and received the full force of the contents of the choo (night soil!) bucket in his face. Mchegi was awaiting hanging and had nothing to lose. He was a very dangerous individual who had already killed and because of his violance [sic] often remained in his cell during excercise [sic] periods. Putting leg-irons on this tough character was a formidable task and Martin knew that. Paddy startled me by suggesting that I should open the door of Mchegi's cell, and he would wait at the open end of the corridor where it entered the prison yard. I replied that I would rather he opened Mchegi's door and I would wait in the yard. However, Mchegi had no personal animosity towards me and Paddy's complete plan appeared rational. I opened the cell door with the greeting "Mjambo Mchegi", and he stepped out of the cell, seeing a clear passage to the prison yard and beyond to the open gate in the outside perimeter wall of the prison, with neither officer nor askari in sight. Mchegi recognised his chance to escape and made a dash for it. It was at the end of the corridor that Paddy stepped out hit him and simultaneously an askari tripped him up. Before Mchegi recovered four askari had rivetted on the leg-irons and dragged him back to his cell. A few minutes later Paddy and I were finishing our cokes in the office when Martin came in and remonstrated, "why haven't you carried out my order?" Paddy said we had done so and Martin exclaimed "impossible". When Martin was told just how it had been done we were both on a charge once more. The Commissioner reminded us that striking a prisoner was a very serious matter but when Paddy said it was the preferred alternative to shooting him, there was no answer, and the matter was dropped. Mchegi gave no more trouble and apologised to Martin for his indiscretion, and
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Paddy saw to it that Mchegi received his full ration of excercise [sic] time in the prison yard. It was about three weeks after the choo bucket incident that Paddy was in the yard and attacked from the rear by a prisoner with a pair of 12" scissors. Fortunately Mchegi was watching and although still in leg-irons tackled the assailant, overcoming him just in time. Paddy was still cut, but there was no doubt that Mchegi had saved his life. He took a great interest in Mchegi and asked why he had been a condemned prisoner for so long, just waiting for the death sentance [sic] to be carried out. Paddy saw to it that the stabbing incident received a great deal of publicity, and eventually Mchegi was released from jail. Some years later I found he was a Snr. Warder at the prison.
About the same time, a new recruit joined us, with the same rank, Asst. Supt. Gr.2, but we found his salary was in fact 2 increments (£120 per annum) higher than ours and we wanted to know the reason why. We were told that he had been in the armed services and was awarded two increments for war service. We, apparently, had been under the average age of entry for the Prisons service at the time of our war service. Our next move was to try and compare our respective efforts during the war, but the new recruit was very reticent about his service career, and somehow didn't seem to speak the language of the soldier. It was several weeks later we found he had been in the German Army and the rest of us felt this really was too much. Regulations on war service increments however did refer to the "armed services" and made no mention of which side a fellow was on. We were not still fighting the [deleted] a [/deleted] war, but we were a uniformed service after all. The Gerry could see he was not wanted and resigned.
After 12 months as a Prison Officer I was very disgruntled with the way of life and went to see the Commissioner and gave him one month's notice. This he accepted and on my return to the prison I was handed a letter terminating my appointment with immediate effect, signed by Martin.
I then set about thinking of another job, there was lots of scope and on the air next morning my father suggested I should go and see Joe Furness who was Director of Civil Aviation. Later that day, in prison uniform, I called to see the Personnel Officer of D.C.A., one Bert Leaman, and found there might be a possibility of joining the Telecommunications section, and arranged an interview for the following day.
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[underlined] CIVIL AVIATION [/underlined]
In April 1951 I joined the E.A. Directorate of Civil Aviation as a Radio Officer on a salary of £610 per year. I had no relevant qualifications for this job but I could cope with the morse code at 25 words per minute and had aquired[sic] a general background of aviation during the war years! The first two weeks were spent at R.A.F. Eastleigh studying the workings of the Telecommunications and Air Traffic Control systems, after which I was posted to Mbeya near the Tanganyika/Northern Rhodesia border at 6500 feet above sea level. The journey down to Mbeya was by road, 900 miles, and in the middle of the rainy season. Much advice was received, “all the hotels are closed”, “the roads are waterlogged and blocked”, “there is no petrol beyond Arusha” and so on. We decided to do the trip in four short stages of between 200 and 300 miles per day, with night stops at Arusha, Dodoma and Iringa.
Our 1949 Ford Prefect, KCC13, with 60,000 miles on the clock was reshod at a cost of £10. Recapped tyres were the vogue at that time, a practice which has since stopped, being said to be dangerous. However, those recaps. did 22,000 miles on some of the worst roads in the world, without problems, before being replaced, a better performance than the original new tyres. With the car loaded with household equipment, and with Colin and Wendy lying on blankets near the roof of the car we headed south down “the Great North Road”. The first 100 miles was tarmac and no problem in the pouring tropical rain. Always to the south of us -dead on track- were towering thunderheads of cumulo [sic] -nimbus, but nearing the end of the tarmac the rain stopped. Indeed for the next three days the rain stopped falling about twelve hours ahead of us, but also remained on our tail. On the second day, deep ruts in the road caused a broken rear spring near Dodoma, but this was repaired overnight at George’s Garage; very well equipped with spare springs was George. Crossing the hundreds of fords, or drifts was exciting and at times quite hilarious, many being over 100 years wide and comprising merely a strip of concrete 10 feet wide on the bed of the river. Most of them were covered by water, hiding the concrete and the only clue to its location was provided by the poles at each side of the drift. More often than not the river bed at the side of the concrete was worn away creating a drop of a foot or so. A piece of thick wire fixed to the front of the car together with a vertical line on the windscreen, could be lined up with the centre of the two distant poles. By ignoring everything else and having implicit faith in the navigational instrument, we always reached the other side without going over the edge. Without this blind faith there would have been a tendency to keep a little to the up-stream side of the drift. To go over the edge on the other side could have been disastrous. In two places on the second day we were really bogged down in mud but we quickly mastered the technique of driving in reverse over the worst parts, thus becoming front-wheel drive. The most interesting village we passed was Kondor Arangi, between Dodoma and Iringa, on the third day. A beautifully painted and spotlessly clean Arab village, probably unchanged for centuries and almost completely independent of the world outside. After over 35 years I can still recall the aroma of freshly-baked bread, and the welcoming atmosphere of the village. On through Iringa and the final leg of 250 miles of the beautiful scenery of Southern Highlands, completely unspoilt by development. After a night at the Iringa Hotel, we had made our usual early-morning start and reached Mbeya by mid-day. Straight to the Railway station in
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Mbeya, a typical East African Railways and Harbours station complete with platforms, but the nearest railway lines and trains were over 400 miles away. A search for Paddy and Jeep, our two alsations, which had been put on the train five days previously in Nairobi, was to no avail. It was to be a further three days before they reached Mbeya, very hungry and very thirsty. After a night in ‘Links’ Salter’s Mbeya Hotel we inspected our new home at the airport. Known as Wilson Airways Rest House, built in 1932 for use by British Airways – before the change of name to Imperial Airways, and B.O.A.C. – It was ‘U’ shaped with 2 kitchens and 10 bedrooms. No electricity of course but a dozen or so paraffin lamps took care of the lighting problem. An african [sic] was provided to carry water from a tap about four hundred yards away to keep our small tank topped-up. The house was very convenient at the side of the runway, actually the grass landing area. It was very pleasant to sit on the verandah[sic] where there was a wonderful view of Mbeya Peak. We had only two neighbours, the Claytons from Burnley who were ‘refugees’ from the groundnut scheme at Kongwa and now in charge of a tipper unit with the Public Works Dept., and Bwana Grigg, an old-timer who had been a prospector and was then a Weights and Measures Inspector.
Mbeya was our home for 2 1/2 years, the aerodrome had been up-graded from a one-man to two-man station open from 0600 to 1800 hrs. every day. My colleague was George Hanson, who originally hailed from Selby in Yorkshire, an ex-wireless operator in Royal Signals during the war who had joined E.A. Posts and Telegraphs as a Radio Officer in 1947. George had spent 3 years in Burma during the war and returned to Selby in 1946. To find his fiance [sic] in the arms of two Italian prisoners. According to George he gave the Italians a thrashing – which would have been very true to character – and left them with their heads jammed in the railings, to be released later by the fire-brigade. The Law caught up with him and George was given a dressing -down by the magistrate who said “We don’t want ruffians like you in this country”. George claims he told the magistrate to get some service in and his knees brown and the case was adjourned. At that time the Crown Agents were recruiting for East African Posts & Telegraphs Dept. and George felt it was time to emigrate. All aeronautical communications were handled by E.A.P. & T. until the end of 1950 when they were taken over by the Directorate of Civil Aviation. George and I had to cover 84 hours each week between us, thoeoretically[sic] a 42 hour week, but there was no provision for sickness, local leave, and the many chores which required both of us, like being in three places simultaneously. We were assisted by an african [sic] wireless operator, a Kikuyu 1200 miles from his home, a cleaner, a watchman, and a diesel mechanic, Kundan Singh Babra, all of whom lived on the station. George and I agreed our individual responsibilities, we would each carry out our 42 hours per week on watches, which included R/T to aircraft on HF and VHF, an aerodrome control function, W/T to Nairobi as required, originating meteorological reports each hour and coding them into Aero format, and customs duties. In addition, he would deal with all the admin., and I would see to the technical aspect of keeping the station on the air.
The station had been established in 1932 and the original Marconi M/F Beacon, a type TA4A was still in use and in immaculate condition. We had a stock of MT16 valves enough to last for another 30 years. We also had an ex-South African Air Force T1190 of 1933 vintage, fitted in 1940, and four ET4336 transmitters for working aircraft on R/T and Nairobi on W/T. Everything was in very good condition and gave me no problems. Our “office” was at the D/F
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(direction finding) station, and was fitted with one of the original DFG10 Marconi recieivers [sic] .
We could not see the runway from the office, which rather limited our scope in controlling it.
Each week, Mbeya had only 4 East African Airways scheduled Dakotas and Loadstars, on the Nairobi-Dar es Salaam route, plus a Beaver of Central African Airways from Blantyre in Nyasaland and one R.A.F. transport from Johannesburg to Nairobi. There were also up to a dozen or so charters which sometimes arrived with little or no notice. Our M/F Beacon was the only navigation aid for some hundreds of miles in all directions. The D/F Receiver was not in use and had a faulty power unit. This I serviced and used the receiver for monitoring Tabora’s M/F Beacon. We were operating also on 6440 KHz, the Salisbury F.I.C. channel, unofficially, to keep in touch with the Beaver aircraft which were not fitted with Nairobi F.I.C. channels. This proved very useful and also gave us a rapid link with Salisbury Ndola and Blantyre. One day and R.A.F. Anson called on [underlined] 6440 [/underlined] and reported his MF/DF receiver, - in his only [inserted in margin] NOT 6440 BUT 5190[?] [/inserted in margin] navigational aid – out of order. He was over mountains, - he hoped – in cloud, could we give him QDM’s, (courses to steer) on M/F ?. I told him to transmit on 333 KHz, the standard frequency for this purpose, and it took only a few seconds to retune the DFG10 to this frequency. For the next 2 1/2 hrs. I gave him a QDM every three minutes. The weather was bad and the aircraft eventually landed at Mbeya, staying overnight. The Navigator was visibly shaken, he did not know his position, only that if he acted on the QDM,’s he would eventually reach Mbeya. Only after landing could he calculate his ground speed, about 70 knots. On arrival over Mbeya the crew were able to see Mbeya Peak above cloud, This was five miles to the North of us and with a cloud base of 3000 feet above the aerodrome they were able to descent and land. All this would of course have been totally unacceptable to a civilian aircraft which would have possibly returned to it’s starting point. The R.A.F. aircraft without any Nav. Aids had really no option. Some weeks later we received a letter from the R.A.F. thanking us for the assistance we had given the Anson crew in providing M/F bearings thus preventing a possible disaster, etc. etc. Unfortunately this letter was also copied to D.C.A. H.Q. with another asking if the facility could be retained. The next mail brought a letter from our own boss, the Director of Civil Aviation.. “Whilst complimenting and thanking you for taking the initiative on this occasion…”. The letter went on to point out the legal significance of giving information to pilots and of undertaking to provide a direction-finding facility with 20-year old equipment and no spares. I made sure I could provide an alternative power supply of 2 and 130 volts which did not take much imagination and adapted some modern valves – type 6C4 – with bases to replace the original 1930 vintage triodes. There were not used in my 2 1/2 years in Mbeya and we continued to give bearings to the R.A.F. unofficially. About 2 years later a Pye VHF set was fitted together with a D/F antenna and also a modern Redifon M/F Beacon, both with an effective range no better than 25% of the 1932 equipment. This was not the fault of the manufacturers. In the case of the D/F the reason was the difference in propagation characteristics and with the M/F Beacon it would have been better to retain the original 1932 Marconi type antenna.
I have no notes of this period, but memories are many. I recall seeing a Cheetah on the grass landing area we called a runway, whilst carrying
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out a runway inspection. As I approached, the cheetah ran off. My foot was hard down doing 58 m.p.h. just behind it, but the cheetah gradually drew away. Daily inspection of the ‘runway’ was necessary. Ant-Bear holes appeared quite often, and just one of these was sufficient to wreck an aircraft. Africans had free access to the runway except when aircraft were actually using it. One evening a grass fire started and swept first along the windward side of the runway where the grass was long, and then crossed it in a line of flame and black smoke the whole length of the runway. Hilda and I were on foot at the other side of the runway and witnessed literally hundreds of snakes fleeing from the fire. There were lots of snakes and other creatures in that area which after all was open African bush. This was again highlighted at 6 am one morning when I drove to the D/F station and opened up the radio. It was still dark and there was a very pungent smell of pigs. I assumed there was a dead animal outside but within a few minutes it was daylight and having established contact with Nairobi on w/t and confirmed there were no overnight disasters requiring my attention, I went outside to investigate. There were elephants all over the place, standing there, and looking just as surprised as I was. I made a strategic withdrawal smartly into the D/F station and bolted the door. On my way to the office I had met the African nightwatchman who was waving his arms about and saying something about ‘tembo mningi sani”. The word Tembo was generally associated with Elephant Brand Beer, which was more a part of everyday life in our immediate area than the animal after which it was named. I assumed he had been drinking and thought no more of it. The africans too were soon awake and trying to chase the elephants out of the maize, throwing tin cans, stones and even pangas at them. Three africans were killed in the process. Meanwhile I telephoned the police who said it was not their shouri (affair), “tell the Game Warden”. It was then 6.15am. and the Game Warden would not take the matter seriously, claiming I was drinking too much, “see the M.O.”! There was a scheduled Dakota due at 7 am. and I asked the pilot to overfly the runway and make sure there were no elephants on it, and this he agreed to do. I gave him the surface wind and QNH and landing clearance, and he came straight in and landed, without checking. He too thought I was not being serious about the elephants. It was mid-day before the elephants left of their own accord and moved back towards the mountains to the south. The Africans said the elephant movement was a sure sign that Rungwe, our local dormant volcano was about to erupt, and the elephants had already received warning. They took me to the fire trench round the Shell petrol dump which was 10 feet deep, and showed me the alternate layers of volcanic ash and sandy soil, starting at the bottom with four inch layers. At the 5’ level about 8” layers, gradually thickening as compression decreased to a 12” layer of ash and finally, 18” of soil at the top. There was no record of the date of the last erruption,[sic] probably some hundreds of years ago. We did experience several earth tremmors [sic] in Mbeya, but it was a nice life and we decided to stick it out!
Colin and Wendy were attending Mrs. Maugham-Brown’s infants school in the town and were making very good progress. Hilda was doing retouching of photographs for Arthur Firmin which were sent to and from his Nairobi office by air mail. It was in Mbeya that I built my first amateur transmitter with bits and pieces from the junk box, and was soon in daily contact with the outside world on the morse key.
On the sixth of Feb. 1952 I called my chum in Liverpool as usual and he told me that all U.K. stations were closed for the day in deference to King
[inserted] G6YQ George [/inserted]
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George VI who had died during the night. Later that day Hilda and I went to Mbeya School to see Colin, expecting the football match to have been cancelled. I expressed my surprise to the Provincial Commissioner (the King’s direct representative) that the Union Jacks were not at half mast and the game still on. He told me not to spread rumours and he would deal with me after the game. Just after half-time a Police askari despatch rider drove onto the field and gave the P.C., who was referee, a message. The P.C. stopped the game and announced that the King was dead. He was very annoyed indeed that I had received the message direct from U.K., many hours ahead of the official channels. Mbeya had a local telephone service which did not connect with any other. It was also at one end of a single-wire line of about 1000 miles which was used for passing telegraph messages. This linked about 30 places ‘up-country’ with Dar es Salaam, the Capital. There was no other way officially of telecommunicating with Mbeya. It so happened that I had a pair of ex-military amplified telephones, which were battery powered, press-to-talk operation and which gave an amplification each of 20 dB (100 times). I sent one of these to Jimmie Waldron in Dar es Salaam and by arrangement he called me one morning at 0545 on this line. We had a first-class conversation which was truly remarkable. This was possible only because the operators at the 30 or so other stations were still asleep, and not interfering. I have no doubt this particular exploit would compare very favourably with the record longest telephone conversation over a single wire and earth, if indeed a record has been established.
George Hanson and I got on very well with each other, both being from Yorkshire and both being ex-Service, but eventually his tour of 2 1/2 years was completed and he was succeeded by Doug. Clifton, who was ex-PTT and R.A.F. ground wireless operator. We moved into the cottage vacated by George and family, near to the transmitting station, and I ran a mains cable underground between the two. This gave us 230 ac. Power for 12 hours a day and at night whenever the radio beacon was required for overflying aircraft.
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One quiet morning the Provincial Commisioner [sic] asked me to his home to discuss a problem, and on arrival I was told that the Governor, Sir Edward Twining was convalescing in Mbeya, having just arrived, but could stay only if he could speak regularly with the Chief Secretary in Dar es Salaam. The Police and Posts & Telegraphs Departments had already been approached and could not assist. I was authorised to cut clean across any rules and regulations in order to set up a communications channel. Back at the D/F Station I sent an official message on the Aeronautical W/T channel to CHF ZHTD (Officer i/c Airport Dar-es-Salaam) asking him to pass a message to Jimmie Waldron, P.T.T. Chief Engineer’s office. I told Jimmie of the Governors request and the powers bestowed upon us, and that I would call him on 7151 KHz which was just above the upper limit of the amateur 40 meter band. I would install a receiver at the P.C.’s house. Would he advise me of his transmitting frequency. Meanwhile I got the local P.T.T. to connect my second aerodrome telephone line to the second line to the P.C.’s house. This automatically provided a microphone for the P.C. and enabled me to make a simple connection to my amateur transmitter at the airport. Half an hour later I received a message on the aeronautical channel “Loud and clear on 7175, Dar es salaam calling you on 8775. A check on my local receiver and indeed there was Jimmie. I then drove to the P.C.’s house and retuned the receiver to 8775, and we had first class duplex communication. A lady’s voice came on “Is that you George?” “No Love, this is Cliff”. “Oh dear, this is Lady Twining, is my husband George there please?” I handed him the telephone and restrained myself from saying “It’s for you George, I thought your name was Edward”. For the next two weeks the link was in constant use and another letter of thanks was sent from D.C.A. in Nairobi.
Why the fuss one might say, but in 1952 it was the very first time [inserted] H E [/inserted] H.H. the Governor had spoken by private radio telephone to his Chief Secretary from outside Dar es Salaam. This was another ‘first’, also on an amateur basis.
At Mbeya Post Office I was introduced to the Manager of New Saza Gold Mine, which was about 100 miles north of Mbeya. He said his radio link with Mbeya had not worked for four years although experts from all over East Africa had tried to fix it. It was a simple w/t link to Mbeya Post Office where there was an operating position and transmitter set up on 3900 KHz which seemed to be a reasonable frequency for the job. “Fix it and you can name your price”, and I agreed to have a go on a ‘no pass, no fee basis’. I first set up a spare DCA transmitter keyed from the D/F station, rather than rely upon co-operation from the Post office. My own DCA operator would monitor. I called the local Post office from the aerodrome but there was no reply. This was the rainy season and it would be a three hour drive through the bush to New Saza, so I lost no time over the Post Office and set off in my Ford Prefect complete with two amateur transmitters and two receivers, any combination of which could do the job if all else failed. On arrival, their station appeared to be working and with adequate output, but I soon found the output stage was doubling to 7.8 MHz. and not amplifying straight through 3.9. A higher tapping on the coil fixed that and I called Mbeya Post office. No reply. Then I called ZEQ3, my own office at the D/F Station and my operator came up trumps. We were in contact with
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Mbeya. I asked my operator to ring the Postmaster asking him to kick his wireless operator. He found the transmitter had the wrong crystal in it and the receiver was also detuned. Having corrected this, all three stations were in contact. The station receiver at New Saza was a pre-war ‘straight set’, that is, not a superhet, and was not ideal, so I added one of my own receivers. In addition, I fitted a second operating position, with my own equipment and separate aerial, as a standby. The manager was delighted and I was rewarded handsomely. Only once in the next 18 months did I need to visit New Saza for a minor fault. Electrical and mechanical power for the mine was derived from a very old wood-burning steam engine of pre-1914 vintage and German manufacture.
On the road about half way to the mine, was Chunya, a typical American-type western one-horse town, the main street being unpaved and 200 feet wide. The place was almost derelict, a few prospectors still panned for gold in the stream, but in years gone by it had supported a population of over 2000. There was a Police post which sported a telephone connected to Mbeya Post office. The overhead line ran at the side of the ‘road’ and I had this in mind for emergency use. A field telephone was part of my standard safari equipment in the car. Later on I carried a transmitter on the aeronautical H/F channels in addition. Communications was often the key to survival.
One very hot day, about noon, George Blodgett, an American tourist, took off from Mbeya in his Cessna 180 with his wife and another passenger, continuing their round-the-world holiday. The aircraft carried the same load as when it took off from Dar es salaam without problem a week or so previously. But Dar was at sea level, and Mbeya at 6500 feet. Dar had a proper concrete runway with a clear flight path. Mbeya had a grass ‘runway’, much shorter and with a small hill at one end and a mountain within 4 miles at the other end. It was the slight banking to avoid the small hill which caused the aircraft to stall and plough along the ground, writing itself off. It took me several minutes to reach the wreck, to find a bewildered trio shaken-up, but physically unhurt. There was a strong smell of petrol which came from a 5 gallon can INSIDE the aircraft. The can had a hand pump and hose which fitted on the drain cock of a fuel tank inside the port wing. Transferring the petrol was achieved by opening a window and leaning out to fix the pipe. This rather surprised me as George was a very experienced pilot and was in fact the first to cross the Andes in Peru, solo, where some years later he went missing without trace. His life-story was written up in Time & Life and referring to his accident in Mbeya, it said he had crashed in the bush and the Despatcher from Mbeya trecked [sic] all night to reach the aircraft, to find George and his passengers surrounded by lions and tigers. Lions were a possibility but the only tigers in Africa are [deleted] a few imported ones in captivity. [/deleted] [inserted] in West Africa and are not tigers as we know them. [/inserted]
Mbeya was a peaceful place, and to a large extent we were able to plan our lives. Occasionally we became involved with the local tribesmen, particularly after one of their frequent skirmishes. Generally a small group would appear at the house bearing the injured on bicycles with blood all over the place, and asking me to take the casualties to hospital. The first time this happened I took them by car to the African Hospital and not really knowing the system, gave them my name. Some weeks later I received the bill. Subsequent deliveries were made in the name of Ramsey Macdonald!
Soon after joining DCA I noticed on one of many flight plans received the name of Iliffe as Captain of an incoming Dakota. When the First Officer
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called me on VHF I requested him to ask the Captain if the number 1090111 meant anything to him. Back came the reply, affirmative. I gave him my first service number 1384956 and after he had landed, went over to the Terminal Building to see him. There wasn’t much time for reminiscing but he marvelled that I had remembered his first service number. It was on a pay parade in Bulawayo that Howard’s name was not called with the others in alphabetical order. It was called at the very end when he gave his ‘last three’, somewhat disgruntled, as “Sir, One one bloody one”.
We had seen a great deal of each other on the troopship going to Durban and until our ways parted at Belvedere where Howard got his wings and my records were stamped ‘Wastage’. After his training at Belvedere, he completed S.F.T.S. on Oxfords and in U.K. converted to Dakotas. His war was on Transport Command, flying Dakotas. We met several times in the next 15 years, the last time being in 1965 when Howard was the Captain of a Comet of East African Airways returning to the U.K.
After 2 1/2 years in Tanganyika our tour was finished and we were due for 6 months leave in U.K.. We opted to travel by air rather than sea but did not realise when making the decision that this referred to trunk travel to U.K. from the International Airport of the territory in which we finished our tour. It was unlikely that we would return to Mbeya after leave, my successor expecting to stay for the full 2 1/2 years. All our effects were crated up whilst we spent the last week in Mbeya Hotel. The car was left with the Postmaster and Paddy our Alsation [sic] boarded with Mrs. Maugham-Brown. And so with four children, Christopher a baby of 4 months, we said farewell to Mbeya at the railway station, not by train but by diesel-powered bus - referred to as a ‘taxi’ by the Africans. The first leg took us the 250 miles through Southern Highlands to Iringa, where accommodation was reserved at Iringa Hotel. The next day was very similar, by another ‘taxi’ to Dodoma. The drivers were Africans, probably ex-Kings African Rifles, and their driving was of a very high standard considering the state of the road. There was some tarmac in the towns, but otherwise the road surface was graded murram, a well-packed reddish sand. This was apt to become corrugated after rain and scarred with deep wheel ruts. Ruts made by lorries could be quite deep and dangerous to cars with little clearance below. The ‘taxi’ took us direct to the railway station at Dodoma where we had been advised to request compartments as near to the engine as possible, where the sway is minimum. The first job was to wash all the nappies and as we had two compartments it was easy to sling a couple of lines and hang up the nappies to dry. It was very hot in Dodoma, and the carriage windows were all open because of the heat. In the evening the engine got up steam and the train moved off amid clouds of thick black smoke, most of which seemed to come in at the windows. For 18 hours we chugged across the plains with its tens of thousands of many different types of wild animals, gradually descending to the coast and becoming progressively hotter. Arriving in Dar es Salaam at about 4 pm., the temperature in the shade was 120 deg.f. and it was a great relief to flop onto the beds in the air-conditioned hotel. The evening was spent in trying to clean up our clothing and indeed ourselves, with Christopher’s nappies hanging on lines in the hotel room. The nappies dried within an hour but were still filthy. After a browse around the big stores in Dar, we handed in our 480 lbs. of baggage and placed ourselves in the capable hands of B.O.A.C.
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Our flight home was by Arganaut, [sic] 16 hours flying, stopping at Nairobi, Entebbe, Khartoum, Benghazi and Rome. Plenty of seat room, excellent food and a very comfortable flight. One engine developed trouble approaching Italy and we were delayed for 24 hours in Rome. The Romans were hostile to the British at that time, I cannot remember why this was so, but we enjoyed a conducted tour of Rome and first-class hotel accommodation. At breakfast next morning I thought I recognised a fellow at the next table. He was under the same impression and when he spoke to us there was instant recognition. He was the B.O.A.C. Rep. in Rome and we had seen a great deal of each other on the squadron in North Africa. He was then W/O Woolston, a pilot on 150 Sqdn. We arrived in London 24 hours late, but there were no complaints. B.O.A.C. had made the trip very enjoyable.
The greater part of our leave was spent in London with Hilda’s parents, and I took the opportunity of spending 12 weeks at the School of Telegraphy in Brixton, for an Intermediate C. & G. in Telecomms and a P.M.G 1st. Class licence. I was also on a course of Dexedrine to reduce my weight, eating very little and actually losing it at the rate of 1lb. per day, for 44 days. Peter Gunns, another D.C.A., Radio Officer had been at the school for 6 months and was doing the complete 12 month course for a P.M.G. second class licence. I decided to give it three months and take the first class ticket. The Principal at the school advised against it, almost everyone first obtained a second-class ticket before trying for a first. For three months I swatted hard, long into the night and then went to Post Office H.Q. in St. Martin-le-Grand and applied to take the P.M.G.1 licence. The Chief examiner asked to see my second-class licence and when I said I didn’t have one, he said “look son, try for a second class and if you pass, come back in a few years time and try for a first”. I replied that I was not interested in anything second-class and he shrugged his shoulders and booked me to take the exam. three days hence. The exam. took from 9 am to 5 pm., written and practical and was quite intensive. The final part was the morse test at 25 w.p.m. and the examiner was wearing an R.S.G.B. tie. I took a chance at the end of the test and sent, on the key ‘QRA? De VQ4BM’ and after an exchange of greetings he asked me if I was returning to Kenya. I replied “yes, but only if I pass this exam”. He sent QRX3 and left the room, returning with a smile and said “strictly off the record, you could book your ticket”. The next three days were taken up with City & Guilds exams, and I was delighted when my P.M.G. licence arrived by post. The following day, feeling on top line, Hilda and I went to M.C.A. Headquarters at Berkeley Square and I applied to take the Flight Radio Officer’s exam. I found this was held only twice yearly and by sheer coincidence the next one was the following day. I was told to just fill in the form, pay £3 and come back at 0830 the next day. I saw the Chief examiner and told him I wasn’t quite prepared for the exam. at such short notice, it was many years since I had studied the S.B.A. and Navigational aids. He told me not to worry about them and to check through the last 5 exam. papers, copies of which he lent me. They could be bought openly from the “shop” downstairs, but this was already closed. He also said “bear in mind that everything has its own natural frequency”. I spent until 5 am next morning making sure I could answer all the questions on those papers, and doubly sure of the compulsory questions. I noticed that
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year 4 had the same compulsory questions as year 1, and year 5 the same as year 2. Year 6 was to be my lot and if this was to be the same as year 3, on cathode ray tubes, all would be well, and I had a couple of hours sleep. It had taken me a long time to realise what the Chief Examiner had meant by “it’s own natural frequency”.
The exams were spread over a period of two days and I failed two of them. The first was a three-minute test writing down the phonetic alphabet and I wrote “Alpha bravo coca delta foxtrot golf hotel etc.” The examiner looked over my shoulder and remarked “what on earth have we here, have you never heard of able baker Charlie?”. I thought this was a catch and I said “yes but that went out three years ago when I.C.A.O. introduced this one”. It seemed that Britain was three years behind the rest of the world on this simple issue. I had however quite rightly failed on R/T procedure. All went well on a simulated flight from Manchester to Jersey when I received a chitty that both engines had stopped and we were on fire. There was already a M’iadez in force from another aircraft and I broke radio silence and put out my own “M’aidez” without the Captain’s authority and that was the end of the exam. FAILED! on two counts. I had passed two three hour written papers, a two hour practical exam., an hour’s morse at 25 w.p.m. and failed on two ridiculous details. I said I was sufficiently experienced to anticipate the Captain’s instruction to send out an SOS but the book does say that only the Captain has the authority. However, I paid another £3 which I could by then ill-afford and resat the two parts the following morning. The licence came by post a few days later. The R/T Procedure test was the same as before, and when we reached the point where I had put out my M’aidez I just sat tight. I heard the other aircraft transmit his SOS again and it was acknowledged by Jersey Approach. Without authority to transmit an SOS I could not break radio silence according to the regulations and I continued to sit tight. One minute of real time was equivalent to 10 minutes of ‘flying’ and after 30 minutes of theoretical flying time I removed my headphones and placed them on the table. The examiner did likewise and asked me what I thought I was doing.
I just said “swimming to the surface”. He laughed and said O.K. at least you didn’t originate a M’aidez. In the practical M.C.A. exam the equipment in use was the T1154 and R1155 and the main object of the examiner seemed to me to be one of getting me confused, argumentative and thoroughly rattled. Thanks maybe to the dexedrine I realised what his game was and remained very calm indeed. He admitted afterwards that he was trying to get me rattled, remaining calm and composed was all important in the air!. I cast my mind back 10 years but said nothing.
Meanwhile Peter Gunns was still plodding on and becoming very discouraged. I urged him to take the PMG2 the following week, there was little point in further delay. I spent a week with him going through every paper set for 5 years, and he was successful in the exam. A few weeks later we returned to Nairobi together. About 10 years later Peter died of a heart attack whilst on night duty in the Nairobi Communications Centre. He was taking a short break and read in the newspaper that Pinnocks had folded up. He had £15,000 invested with them, and the loss was too much to bear. After a few weeks at Eastleigh I was posted to Mwanza on the southern shores of Lake Victoria, again in Tanganyika.
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Our car, a Ford Prefect KCC13 (new price £400) and Paddy our alsatian, were nearly 1000 miles away in Mbeya and I was able to scrounge a flight as supernumery [sic] crew with East African Airways. The return journey by road with Paddy took 30 hours non-stop except for refuelling and for half an hour at dawn when driving was dangerous. The work in Nairobi was operating air/ground channels on R/T and W/T and also at the D/F station giving H/F bearings to aircraft on the Khartoum and Johannesburg sectors where navigation aids were few and far between. It transpired later that the D/F station was adjacent to the Mau Mau graveyard. I recall one day looking out of the door and seeing the police askari guard fast asleep with his loaded rifle on the ground beside him. More for security reasons than mischief I took the rifle inside the building and it was still there when I closed the station at 1830. But there was no sign of the askari, so I put the rifle in the loft of the small building, intending to do something about it next day. Somehow I forgot all about it for two weeks and then handed in the rifle at the R.A.F. guardroom and questioned why the police had taken no action. The askari had just disappeared without trace.
Once again our household effects were packed into crates, and despatched by ‘rail’ to Mwanza. We had exchanged our Ford Prefect for an Austin A70 and motored via Kitale (my father’s farm) to Kisumu where we boarded the M.V. Rusinga. The Rusinga ploughed clockwise round the lake shore calling at Musoma, Mwanza, Bukoba, Entebbe, Jinja and complete circle to Kisumu. Her sister ship the M.V. Usoga called at the same ports, but went anti-clockwise round the lake. A third ship, the M.V. Sybil was smaller and more or less a reserve vessel. Lake Victoria was the second largest inland sea in the world, and became the largest when its level rose 8 feet with the building of the dam at Jinja a few years later. The voyage of about 200 miles took a very pleasant 30 hours with one halt at Musoma. We were met at Mwanza Port by Johnny King who I was relieving. He said he expected to return to Mwanza in 6 months as it was his station and his wife’s father was Government entomologist permanently stationed there. His wife’s family were German, very domineering and forceful. I didn’t mind the mother’s clay pipe but took an instant dislike to her Bavarian-type husband. I insisted upon a proper formal take-over at the airport which was just as well, and the proper storage of King’s personal effects at P.W.D and not in the transmitter room. For a couple of weeks we stayed at Mwanza Hotel and then moved to a delightful house at Bwiru, facing north with a wonderful view over Lake Victoria. Palm trees in the foreground, paw paw trees in the garden and - we discovered much later - leopard in the hills at the back of the house. The water supply came from a storage tank half a mile up the hill via a metal pipe on the surface of the ground, and was always hot enough for a bath without further heating. The water had to remain in our roof storage tank for some time before we could regard it as being a cold water supply. Water and electricity could not be taken for granted in East Africa, but the house was connected to the town electricity supply.
The airport was a fairly new one about 10 miles east of town, by the lake shore, the single runway 18/36 being of grass. It was a neat little place, the transmitters being in the room below the Control Tower with two diesel engines and fire station being in a custom-built building 50 yards away. The
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transmitters were two RCA ET4336s, a G54 Redifon M/F Beacon and an ex-R.A.F. T1154. In the Control Tower was a Pye PTC704 VHF set with a direction-finding antenna. There were only 6 scheduled aircraft per week and an average of about 10 charters. This was a ‘one man’ station and my working hours were long. Perhaps the highlight of the tour was the four-day visit of H.R.H. Princess Margaret. The ten mile road to town was ‘tarmaced’ [sic] a few days before her arrival. The original murrum (red sand) surface was first graded and then covered by a quarter inch layer of chippings and sprayed with tar. The cost was £11,000 which was charged to my aerodrome maintenance vote. For the few days of the visit the road looked really superb, and then just a few days later it rained and the remains of the “tarmac surface” were cleared away by grader, the surface reverting to murram once more.
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Every effort was being made by the Administration to make the Royal Visit a success and the costs were covered somehow. The M.V. Sybil was in dock for 6 months at Kisumu being completely refitted so the Princess could spend just a few hours on the lake. An R.A.F. Shackleton flew down from Aden to provide an escort for the Sybil. Four radio stations were established on the boat, each with an operator, to contact the Police on H/F W/T, Aircraft on VHF, Mwanza Airport on H/F R/T, and E. A. Railways & Harbours. Just about every vessel afloat on Lake Victoria seemed to be milling around outside the harbour waiting for the Sybil and the Princess. A Widgeon aircraft, the only amphibean [sic] in E. Africa, was detailed to position itself at the end of the runway at instant readiness for take-off. The Shackleton took-off to patrol an hour before the Sybil was due to leave harbour, Captain Chris Treen positioned his Widgeon and stayed put with engines idling. All the Sybil's radios were tested and people were getting excited. We were then advised that it was a case of not tonight Josephine, H.R.H. had a headache, the trip was cancelled. The Shackleton, looking remarkably like a real Lancaster landed on my murrum runway, and the Widgeon had to be towed in backwards, the engines having over-heated.
In company with all the other Colonial officials I had been given six pages of foolscap telling me how to address the Princess and how to conduct myself in the Royal presence. There was also an application form for a Permit to be at the airport for her arrival and another application form regarding my being presented to the Princess. It was the two application forms which bugged me. I refused to apply for a permit to enter the airport where every aspect was my responsibility, if anyone denied me access, be it on their own head. "Before applying to be presented", the write-up stated, "You must qualify under at least one of the following headings:-
1. Be a Government Servant on a salary exceeding '£x'
2. Be a serving officer of H. M. forces,
3. Be a retired officer having held a rank above 'Y'
4. Hold a Civil Decoration equivalent or senior to an M.B.E.
5. Hold a military decoration.
6. Have already been presented to another member of the Royal Family.
There was virtually an order to apply if one qualified and this decided me to ignore the whole issue. I was not in favour of the pomp and circumstance and the relatively vast expenditure involved, and I was never any good at playing charades and other party games.
Just before the Royal Visit a gang of workmen turned up at the airport and were starting to fit a toilet suite in the 'Crew Room'. This was a small room where aircrews could relax and enjoy a little privacy between flights. Toilet facilities were quite adequate without specially converting the crew room for the Princess. I vetoed the plan, and finally the toilet wing, already with four Asian type and four European type loos was enhanced with one new and rather superior loo. The superloo did come in useful however; whilst the Princess was inspecting the guard of honour, the bare-chested Engineer of the Widgeon aircraft appeared inside the Terminal building,
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looking quite incongruous in his filthy shorts and sandals. I told him to keep out of sight until Princes Margaret had left. He did, and hid in the superloo. After the visit, someone fixed a royal coat of arms an the door to which I had the only key. I was tempted to replace the heraldry with a replica of the board made for me by one of the German prisoners at Poynton. written in Gothic characters "Lager Kommandant, Eintritt Verbotten".
The Royal Visit was the highlight of the decade for Mwanza, the road to the aerodrome was closed for three hours and all the Police were concerned only with the visit. It was during that three hours the villains broke into many European houses. We lost all our shoes which were not actually being worn at the time, some clothing, and all our clocks including a time-switch I had just repaired for someone.
There was one charter aircraft based at Mwanza, the Widgeon piloted by Chris Treen. It was a very busy aircraft, being an amphibean [sic] , going relatively short flights mostly around the lake shore. Chris had a full-time engineer who was not very co-operative, and the operation proved to be uneconomical although Chris tried very hard. He was on Transport Command during the war and later flew in the Berlin Air Lift, then flew the Widgeon from U.K., 6000 miles to Mwanza. The airline had its moments, on one occasion the Provincial Commissioner was climbing out of the aircraft at Ukerewe Island into a dingy which collapsed and he was nearly drowned. Submerged rack. and crocodiles added to the excitement
One of the busiest aircraft at Mwanza was a Miles Magister which, was owned privately and which has also been flown out from England by its owner, an official of the Lint & Seed Marketing Board, who also had an Aircraft Maintenance Engineers' licence. It became the main asset of the Mwanza Aeroclub and was very active at weekends.
The tribe an Ukerewe Island had it's own language, and the story goes that the District Officer studied the language and wrote a dictionary and grammar for it. Having done so he applied for the £60 per year "language competency allowance", and to qualify had first to pass the Official Colonial Office exam. in the subject. The Colonial Office department which organised such matters was duly asked to prepare an exam. and find an invigilator for it, but was not given the identity of the candidate. There was no record of anyone being able to speak the language, and they approached the obvious source, the District Officer Ukerewe. As a part of his normal chores he was pleased to prepare the two papers as 2 hours of translation each way between English and the native language of Ukerewe. On arrival in U. K. on leave, he received a letter from another Colonial Office department, addressing him by name and asking him to invigilate at as examination, giving the venue and date. Shortly after, yet another office wrote to him advising him that an examination had been arranged and wishing him luck in the exam. He hardly needed it, reporting as directed in his official capacities as both invigilator and examinee. Not only that, but he had also prepared the examination papers. He was the only European who knew the language and he got his £60. per annum. The common language with the natives was of course an up-country impure Swahili, as in all parts of East Africa.
I had studied Kiswahili in the Prisons Service and from books, but the grammatical version was spoken only at the coast and on the radio. The
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Africans in the Prison Service and those I worked with spoke the up-country version, almost completely ungrammaticaI. The further one went from the coast the more it became a matter of joining words together. Nevertheless, it was an interesting and descriptive Ianguage. Beautiful words like 'maradadi' which in fact is an adjective meaning 'beautiful', and 'tafadahali', said to mean 'please' , but I never actually heard an African use it. ' Asanti' meaning thankyou was frequently used. Calling someone a "shenzi" hardly needs translation.
The Caspair Lake Service operated daily. Based at Entebbe, a DeHavilland Rapide flew to Kisumu, Musoma, Mzanza, Bukoba and back to Entebbe. It called at Mwanza three times weekly and remained on the ground for 4 hours. Paddy O'Reilly was the most colourful of the pilots and on one occasion was missing when the aircraft was due to take-off. He had borrowed a native canoe and paddled out into the lake for some peace and quiet. He was very soon asleep and when he awoke he found he was two miles off-shore without a paddle. He was soon rescued and took off two hours late.
I had a very good African Assistant at Mwanza, Zepherino Shija, and he was a tremendous help in making things run smoothly. In fact my African staff were all good types, far from home, politicians and the trouble-makers to be influenced by them.
It was at Mwanza that I really became involved with radio repairs, and once I had repaired a few, word quickly spread and I was inundated with them. Many of the 'dukes' -shops- in town sold radios but hadn't the vaguest idea how they worked or how to repair them. Most of the radio owned by the Africans were powered by dry batteries, using a 4-pin plug on the power lead which was very often forced the wrong way into the socket on the battery. This instantly blew all four valves for which the shops charged 25 shillings each. I bought valves for 3 shillings each in quantity and sold them in sets of 4 for forty shillings, throwing in a new and better type plug. I must have repaired over a thousand radios in two years, plus many bigger sets for Europeans. Before very long I met Mr. Manning, the American Head of the African Inland Mission in the Province, and he showed me a room full of equipment, domestic radios, car radios, record players, tape recorders, transmitters, P.A. ampIifiers etc. etc. Every item was faulty. I was invited to repair what I could, keep what I wanted and throw out anything that was past it. Three trans-receivers were very attractive and they needed only setting up. Independent transmitter and receiver units powered from 115v a.c. but with rather limited frequency coverage of 5 to 8 MHz. I used them on the air for a couple of weeks and they were then taken by road to African Inland Mission stations in the Belgium Congo where they had a network on 7150 KHz. These sets were to prove very useful within a few years during the Congo rebellion which came with "Independence". It took me 6 months to empty the room, and all except three or four units were returned to use within the Mission organisation. Those three or four units caused a misunderstanding with Mr. Manning. I said "These units are U/S, best place for them is in the lake", and I could see that I had upset him. He associated my expression 'U.S' . with Uncle Sam, or the United States, but when I explained it meant ‘unservicable’ in English Service jargon a crisis was avoided.
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I met a fellow called Nawotsey, supposed to be a Belgian, who was making a fortune killing crocodiles for their skins. He had just about wiped them out on Lake Rukwa. His technique was to use an infra-red lamp and sniperscope at very close range, typically six feet. His equipment gave a lot of trouble and I charged him well over the odds for repairs. In reality he was German, and ex-German army. There were many of them in ex-German Tanganyika but few had the guts to admit it, and there was not a nazi among them, in theory.
Eventually one of the dukas offered me £50 per month cash if would stop doing radio repairs. This was not far short of my salary and quite a compliment, but not accepted.
We became very friendly with one German, Dr. Schupler, who had been a wartime Medical Officer in the Luftwaffe. He was serving in Dresden the night of the 13th. of February 1945 when it was attacked by over 800 R.A.F. bombers, followed by over 300 American Fortresses the next day, causing between them 137,000 casualties including an estimated 50,000 killed. A doctor somehow seemed to be in a different and acceptable category, but our talks had reminded one of a period I had almost forgotten, and about which I had stopped thinking. One good point in East Africa's favour, there was very little to remind us of the war. A row of ribbons perhaps on a police uniform, or a retired senior type using his old rank, but there were few occasions when we compared, notes on our respective war efforts. The Germans were supposed to be super-efficient, a myth already exploded, but in the main they were still mostly distrusted.
Mwanza was a peaceful place, there was only one murder during our 2 years residence, and that was committed by a mad african from Dodoma, 400 miles away. I could not have visualised at the time that within twentyseven years this nice little airport would be bombed by the Uganda Air Force. I can picture now the little bakery where the murder was committed. It was in same road just before we left that a hyena was running down the road to meet us. We were in the Austin A70 which already had a damaged right. wing and I put on full speed. We met the hyena head-on, relative speed about 70 and he was thrown completely over the car. He lay on the road for about two minutes, then picked himself up and loped off into the bush. We had ringside seats watching an interesting battle between hyena and baboon one evening. Our bungalow was on the hillside and the bedroom windows on one side were 15 feet above ground, and level with the tops of the pawpaw trees, heavily laden with fruit. The baboon were taking the fruit and being attacked by about a dozen hyena which were being thrown around by the baboon. The fight finished suddenly for reasons best known to the combatants. They might have sensed the presence of a leopard, which was very likely, but we were not aware of the leopards ourselves until a few weeks later. In the middle of one night we were awakened by a scuffling outside the window and there was the most obnoxious stench. There was the so-called laugh of the hyena and a deep sawing sound which we were told was a leopard. It seemed that a hyena had been dragging an old carcass along when it was disturbed by a leopard. The carcass was dropped outside our bedroom window and later one of them returned to collect it. Apparently baboon are the favourite diet of the leopard and everything including baboon and leopard dislikes the hyena. One of them cornered a neighbour’s dog in our garage and
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chewed off it’s vital parts before help arrived too late. Snakes too were in abundance around Mwanza, and a European girl had been crushed, but not fatally by a python near the lake shore. One of the houseboys hacked a monitor lizard to death, thinking it was a snake. Hilda recalls the occasion when I encountered a leopard on the driveway to the house and I got out of the car to tell her!. There was the occasion too when Paddy, our Alsatian was aware of a leopard outside the front door and Paddy's hair literally bristled. The leopard was probably aware of Paddy's presence also. I was away in Nairobi at the time
Some months before the end of our tour, we received a telegram from Les with the sad news that Hilda's father had died. At about the same time the Kenya Education authorities informed us that as we were no longer resident in Kenya, Colin and Wendy would have to leave Kitale School. The alternative was Kongwa, a school established at the time of the groundnut scheme, a British Government fiasco then almost fully wound up after wasting eighteen million pounds. Kongwa was about 400 miles away and difficult to reach from Mwanza, and as it would be only a temporary measure in any case, we felt it better that Colin and Wendy should return to U.K. We saw them off on the Dakota on an hour's flight to Entebbe where they were met by Flossy and Pi Reed. The following day they flew to London and stayed with Mum at Korella Rd., in Wandsworth.
In early June `57 it was time for home leave again and once more we packed all our household effects into huge crates ready for shipping to our next station which had not yet been decided. I had been promoted to Radio Superintendant [sic] in Mbeya and later to Telecommunications Supt. having passed departmental exams for the two lots of promotion. I was finally relieved by Sailor Seaman who immediately objected to the long working hours. The way of life on the outstations had a great deal to commend it. There was no television but we always had a good radio set. There was not the pressure we were to experience in later life and we made our own entertainment. It would be nice to go round again.
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Before leaving Mwanza I had ordered a VW Beetle on the home leave scheme stipulating the date and time that I would collect it in London. This resulted in a considerable saving. The cost was £330 delivered London whilst the price in East Africa was £1250. Colin and Wendy were already in Britain, only John and Chris were with us on this trip. From Mwanza we should have returned via the capital, Dar es Salaam, as we did from Mbeya, but for some weeks I had been pointing out the futility of the extra 1600 miles via Dar, when the the [sic] aircraft would go via Entebbe in any case. Sanity prevailed and we flew by DC3 to Entebbe, a nice lunch at the Lake Vic. and a 10 hour flight to the U.K. with one stop at Benghazi. I think that was our first trip by Jet aircraft, a Comet. I have flown in many jets since then, but none as comfortable and roomy as the Comet. The following day we went to Lower Regent Street and collected our new VW Beetle, which came into the showroom one minute ahead of schedule. I was very impressed by the German organisation. I was taken into a workshop and given some useful tips about the car which was to serve us well for over 200,00 miles most of which was on murrum, our reddish East African sandy soil.
In the following six months we made good use of the car, visiting my mother in Barnoldswick, the Yorkshire Dales, and whilst up north had a rendezvous avec Ace (Ted) and Mary Foster, Ace having been our second tour Navigator. Ted recalled this many years later and remembered an incident in a Southport restaurant. We were sharing two tables with Ted and Mary and their three children, making a party of 4 adults and 7 children. Ted alleges the waitress exclaimed “By gum are these all yours?” and claims I replied “No, they are from the local orphanage, we are just taking them out for the day”. She said that was right champion and gave us a discount! I went to Liverpool also and en-route noticed that a Police car had been right behind me for several miles. I slowed down to 30 for the next five miles and eventually the blue light came on and I was stopped. “What speed were you doing Sir?” An instant reply, “29.5 m.p.h. “The officer agreed with that and said “Why, it’s a lovely road and there’s no speed limit. When you slowed down from 80 to 30 we thought you had a problem, enjoy your visit Sir”. I had a “Visitor to Britain” sticker on the back which was supposed to help a little. In Liverpool I met Stan Chadderton, our First tour Bomb Aimer. I called at Stan’s house and his wife Hilda directed me to the Gladstone Dock where Stan was working, I seem to remember being introduced to his boss and Stan was given the rest of the day off. We adjourned to the Lord Nelson Pub and reminisced well into the night about our efforts in North Africa.
We had made another acquisition whilst in Mwanza. Clearly a base was needed in Britain even if my work was to be in East Africa. Les told us of a house in Glyn Neath called Glaslyn going for £1850 on the balance of a 999 year lease. I offered to buy it if the freehold was available. It was very quickly ours at a total cost £1910 and £25 solicitor’s fees. Hilda’s Mum moved into Glaslyn and Colin and Wendy had already joined her. Glaslyn was a comfortable and handy sort of place, only a few hundred yards from Aunt Doll’s cottage.
In early December I was told to report direct to Entebbe Airport to relieve Henry Day in charge of Telecommunications. I wrote to P.W.D. in Mwanza and asked them to send on our boxes and car by Lake Steamer to
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Entebbe, and completed other arrangements. Just before Christmas I handed over the new car to the A.A. near Tower Bridge and paid £75 for shipping it to Mombassa [sic]. Then with our four children and a mass of baggage we once again booked-in at Victoria Air Terminal and shortly afterwards we realised we had just been home for six months and were then in Entebbe. The Comet aircraft was flown by Howard Iliffe, 109011! but I discovered this too late to meet him.
At Entebbe we were met by Henry Day who had been in charge for six months in an acting capacity and he made it clear that as he was now demoted – with loss of acting pay – I could not expect any co-operation from him. For 10 days we stayed in the Lake Victoria Hotel, luxurious but not at all homely and with it’s population of some hundreds of cats living on the roof. We then moved into a house with a red mbati (corrugated iron) roof. Between the ceiling and the roof was a foot of sand and if the builders had been designing an oven it would have taken some beating. The red iron absorbed the heat from a tropical sun and it was retained by the sand. Entebbe was a pretentious place, not the capital of Uganda, which was Kampala 20 miles north, but where most of the senior Gov’t officials lived. The airport was a minor one to U.K. standards but trying very had [sic] to appear important. I found the whole place docile and yet offensive, “toffee-nosed” is the phrase which comes to mind. The job itself was not at all demanding, I had a team of about 8 Engineers including Frank Unstead and Gibby. Also three Radio Officers including Henry Day and several Africans to operate the teleprinters and radio links to Nairobi. There was little for me to do personally. Airport Management was taken care of by Uganda Government officers. The East Africa High Commission, of which the Directorate of Civil Aviation was a part, was responsible for Air Traffic Control and telecommunications. About six airlines had their own Station Managers and there was a great deal of empire building which led to over-manning and inefficiency. An individual’s importance was determined by the number of his subordinates and the extent of his warrant to incur expenditure. There was a great deal of ill-feeling too, between the officers of Government and those of the High Commission, later more appropriately renamed the East Africa Common Services Organisation. The latter was responsible for all communications in Kenya, Uganda and Tanganyika, except for the actual maintenance of roads. It included E.A. Posts & Telegraphs, Railways & Harbours, Fisheries, Meteorlogical [sic] Depts., Civil Aviation and several Medical Research establishments. Politically, the scene was complex, Kenya was a “Colony & Protectorate” – some of each – Tanganyika was a Protectorate with a United Nations mandate and Uganda a combination of twelve Kingdoms formed into a ‘State’ with 12 Kings, a Prime Minister and also a President. It had its political problems but they were not mine. Dickie Dixon was Senior Air Traffic Controller and therefore Officer i/c Navigational Services in which capacity I was his deputy. As I was not at that time a qualified Air Traffic Controller, this led to friction, and as I have already implied, Entebbe was not a happy place. The crunch came when I was told by Dickie to compile all the Annual Confidential reports, including those for Air Traffic Controllers. I told him that I did not think it proper that I should report on officers whose qualifications I did not hold myself. He should do them himself and I would write them for all the Telecommom [sic].
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staff. The previous year he had reported on the Telecomms staff and I disagreed strongly with his findings in one case, that of Gibby who, he wrote, “was slow in carrying out a job”. He was indeed slower than most, but was also the most thorough engineer in the Department. When repairing an equipment he not only repaired the current fault but also brought it right up to the manufacturer’s specification. My personal relationship with Dickie deteriorated rapidly, and rather than speak to me he would write me memos. In one of his many memos he “required” a technical explanation of a particular problem, and I replied to the effect that “as the conductivity between the two points was less than half a mho, this was inadequate for proper operation”. He wrote to my Chief in Nairobi complaining that I was taking the Mickey, and this brought him a rude reply. I could have referred to “a resistance greater than 2 ohms” instead of “a conductivity less than half a mho”, which would have been more helpful, but I made my point.
One major problem at Entebbe was the absence of schools for European children, and Colin and Wendy had to go to Nairobi and Kericho respectively, as boarders. This would have cost little had I been stationed in Kenya and paid the statutary [sic] Education Tax, but as I was stationed outside Kenya and had not paid the Kenya tax I had to pay the full boarding fees. I was not alone in this of course, it was a problem for all families of the E.A. High Commission living in Uganda.
However, I learned that in June 1958 Dinger Bell was finishing his four year tour at Kisumu in Kenya, and I managed a transfer for myself, handing-over Entebbe to an officer returning from a U.K. leave. At that time we had two cars, and I remember taking the Austin A70 to Kampala and selling it in a bar to a consortium of five Africans for £25, each chipping in with a hundred shillings. We travelled to Kisumu by road, our effects going by lake steamer. It was an easy day’s drive round the north-east shores of Lake Victoria, through Jinja, with its crocodiles at the source of the Nile. This was in the days before the level of the Owen Falls dam was raised by eight feet. It was refreshing to arrive at Kisumu, and we were pleased with everything we saw. We spent the first week in the hotel, then moved in to Dinger Bell’s house at 55 Mohammed Kassim Road, near the African Broadcasting Service transmitting Station.
Kisumu Airport had been established about 1932, and had, like Mbeya been a scheduled stop on the Empire Air Route of (the original) British Airways. The lake was ideal for the Empire Flying Boats and our staff pilot, Capt. Casperuthus had many stories of flying Hannibal biplanes into Kisumu. During the Second World War it was taken over by the R.A.F. and used extensively by Catalina amphibeans [sic] and Sunderland seaplanes. R.A.F. aircraft of most long and medium range types were regular visitors, together with the 3-motor Junkers 52 transports of the South African Air Force. With two excellent murrum runways and four hangars, it had seen some service one way and another.
The Control Tower was a small two storey building of 1932 vintage, the ground floor being taken up completely by the transmitting room. The first floor comprised the Control “tower”, a small office, and store. Originally there had been a second floor with a glass top for good all-round vision but this had been removed at the end of the war and replaced with a tiled roof. The second floor became the loft and housed the VDF antenna. I
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found the transmitters had been sadly neglected for many years. Two RCA 4336 types were used on R/T., a third on W/T., and a new Redifon GR49 NDB. There was also a dual transmitter which was not on the inventory and which had in fact been ‘liberated’ from a Catalina, before it joined the other two scuttled in the lake at the end of the war. This set was the best of the lot, and certainly my favourite. It was complete with a 110v ac supply of 600 Hz, not 60 and within a month I had modified an old T1190 power unit to drive it. The M/F section was put into use in place of the Redifon beacon, and the H/F section performed wonderfully on the amateur bands.
Being a ‘one-man station’ my working hours were long, 7 days a week and seldom a whole day off, but I had a workshop and bench and put my waiting-for-aircraft hours to very good use, mostly repairing domestic radios. The transmitters were giving a lot of trouble. As an example, whilst tuning a rotary inductance on a 4336, a two inch nail providing an electrical contact dropped out and had to be bodged up again. The GR49, although nearly new, was using modulator valves at the rate of a pair every two weeks due to a missing relay and associated wiring which had actually been left out at the factory during production. Fortunately there was a good old T1154 which acted as a standby for all transmitters except VHF, so I was able to take each transmitter in turn out of use for as long as was necessary whilst I overhauled them. As this progressed I was enjoying the practical work and decided to make use of a three-foot cabinet which was not on charge. (I inherited quite a lot of useful ‘junk’ at Kisumu!). At the Fisheries office on the lake shore, also on the airport, I found that a vehicle had demolished a rondaval (a 12 ft. diameter building constructed of aluminium). I volunteered the services of my crash-tender crew to clear up the mess and to take away the wreckage. A few days was spent by the crash crew in cutting the best of the aluminium into 19” panels of standard sizes, and suitable chassis. One of the ET4336 transmitters was going to be off the air for several weeks waiting for spares, and in order not to delay my overhaul programme I built a two-stage transmitter on one of the 3 1/2” panels. This was a 6V6 crystal oscillator driving an 807 to a dipole antenna. The operator at Nairobi reported our signals as very good and better than they had been for a long time. 20 Watts in place of 400, but it was the dipole antenna in place of a random length of wire which made all the difference. Within three weeks the 3’ cabinet contained 4 transmitters and was providing all services except VHF and M/F Beacon. The overhauling programme was completed, the official transmitters finally tested and then switched off. For the next 18 months we operated almost trouble-free. My monthly engineering reports to H.Q. in Nairobi were mainly negative and referred to “routine preventative maintenance only”. However, Sid Worthy, Chief Telecomms. Engineer was not fooled, and in due course he wrote and asked why my monthly electricity bill was only a quarter of what it had been for many years. Before I had plucked up enough courage to reply, Sid arrived unannounced and went direct to the Transmitter room, finding the four big transmitters switched off. In the Control Tower he saw my all-purpose cabinet, and to put it lightly, he was not amused. I suggested to Sid that we should make our own single-purpose transmitters and dispense with the old uneconomical general-purpose types. He agreed there was no good technical or financial argument against this but what would he do with his army of 50
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or so engineers? He compromised and allowed me to leave my own equipment in use provided I removed it a month before I left Kisumu.
One of our friends at Kisumu, Jimmie Sanson was a very keen constructor of model aircraft and several he had made were lost in the lake. His final model was a rather superior type with six-foot wingspan and single engine using alcohol as fuel. The rudder was radio-controlled on 27MHz. and the aircraft made some very impressive flights at the airport. On one occasion it went up to about 2000 feet before it ran out of fuel and for almost an hour Jimmie kept it turning over the airport. The aircraft was trimmed slightly nose-heavy but apart from turns, he had no other control. Eventually it was so far down-wind that it was lost to sight and last seen heading for the mountains. After a period of calm, the wind changed in the early evening and Jimmie and I were standing outside the Control Tower lamenting his sad loss when one of the crash Crew shouted “Bwana, Ndegi ndogo narudi”. His eyesight was far superior to ours, we saw nothing until the aircraft appeared over the end of the runway and actually landed, after a record flight of over three hours. Up-dating the radio control was the next stage and two months and about £200 later an eight function system was completed, giving control of the engine, elevators, ailerons and rudder. The machine could then be made to taxi out, take off and carry out aerobatics. The engine was used in short bursts and as there appeared to be a permanent thermal over the runways during the warm days, thirty minute flights were quite routine. Eventually the aircraft was lost over Lake Victoria and probably joined the three Catalinas on the bottom. Perhaps one day a Catalina will be recovered from their fresh-water grave, but the Sanson special was lost for ever..
My official work ran quite smoothly, with a little excitement occasionally. At 3 am one night, Nairobi Flight Information Centre phoned and asked me to open up the VHF and call Alitalia 541 which was three hours overdue in Nairobi, from Khartoum, and with no radio contact for four hours. I sped through town doing over 70 m.p.h. to my Control Tower, switched on and called the aircraft. There was a weak signal in reply and I managed to get a class C bearing of 270 degrees. A second transmission confirmed this and I told the operator he was probably over the Congo, but certainly well to the west of Kisumu. I told him QDM Kisumu 090, but the pilot would not agree and said he was east of Kisumu, not west, and approaching Mombassa [sic]! His signals faded right out and I telephoned F.I.C. asking them to log the QDM of 090C that I had passed to the aircraft. After half an hour, whilst F.I.C was sending frantic messages to all points west, I heard the aircraft calling Kisumu and was soon in good contact giving QDM’s, his signals gradually improving. It was just 0530, 20 minutes before first light when I heard the aircraft and sent out the boys to light-up the gooseneck flares. Then he was overhead and decided to carry on to Nairobi. This was rather disappointing, and in fact the wrong decision, his endurance being insufficient for any further diversion. I was told much later that the Captain and Navigator had a row before take-off and were not on speaking terms. The aircraft was a DC8 and the Italian crew and passengers had been very lucky indeed. The police followed me through town and I was charged with speeding, but the fine of 60 shillings was refunded later by the court when the urgency became known.
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Some weeks later Nairobi F.I.C. phoned again, about 4 am., an Air Liban DC6 from Cairo was lost and was not within the scope of Nairobi VDF. The aircraft had made a brief contact on the area cover VHF through Lodwa, and another aircraft north-east of Kisumu had heard the DC6, but of course had no idea of range or direction. This time I went through town at a more reasonable speed, opened up the radio, and called Air Liban. The crash crew was called out and the boys started dispensing paraffin and setting out the flares right away. I called Nairobi on 5680 H/F R/T to establish my station was on the ball, and every two minutes called the Lebanese Airlines aircraft. About 20 minutes later the aircraft replied to my call and I gave him a QDM of 225, and was satisfied there was no risk of it being the reciprocal. Three minutes later I measured 230 and then 235. He said his Giro compass was u/s and his magnetic compass erratic, and that he would use a standby giro, set to my figure. He turned 10 degrees to port and the QDM increased, 10 degrees to starboard and the figure decreased, so he was heading for Kisumu, and not going away from it. The bearings were given every two minutes and were reasonably steady, and after about 25 minutes the pilot said he thought he could see the coast, meaning the shores of Lake Victoria. It was still very dark but a clear night (not a contradiction of terms) and the boys hurtled out to light up the goosenecks. I told the pilot the wind was north-easterly at 15 knots, he was down wind, duty runway 06. I reminded him of the very high ground 2 miles to the north of the airport and he replied “O.K. Bud, Thanks a lot, I’ll come straight in on 24, hope youv’e [sic] got some gas, we shure [sic] ain’t [sic]”. A few minutes later he made a good landing and parked outside the 1932 wooden terminal building. The Captain of the Air Liban DC6 was an American pre-war Veteran. I had completely forgotten to tell the East African Airways agent but did so at 0545. There was no catering at the airport so he found some buses and the passengers were taken to the hotel. I was also late in phoning the police who dealt with immigration, but they hadn’t a clue how to deal with 60 international transit passengers. Similarly, it was a new experience for Customs, so both departments decided to pretend it hadn’t happened.
The Captain asked me to tell the non-English-speaking African Shell Assistant to put 3000 gallons of 100 octane into the tanks. I translated to the startled assistant “Bwana Mkubwa anataka gallon elfu tatu, pipa sabini na tano”. That was 75 drums of petrol to be pumped by hand. Finally he compromised with 400 gallons, but it was still quite a task, even with only 10 drums.
The Captain was concerned about the limited fuel and lack of a reliable compass and we double-checked that the met. conditions to Nairobi were near perfect. A scheduled DC3 of East African Airways came in at 10am. And was taking off for Nairobi at 11 am. The two pilots talked together at length and studied the map. The DC6 took-off three minutes after the Dakota and the two remained in visual contact until Nairobi was in sight. Surprisingly, the DC6 did not carry a radio compass for M/F but relied entirely on VHF, which, in East and Central Africa was quite inadequate.
I was criticised by DCA for not informing them in detail of progress, and was conscious of this at the time, but had I done so, they would have confused the issue with lots of advice. A civilian airliner without a reliable compass would be a major issue. I operated an “aerodrome
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advisory service”, not being an Air Traffic Controller. F.I.C. would have tried to control my detailed activity, but with a bit of common sense, things worked out well.
The visit of Her Majesty the Queen Mother to Kisumu went off smoothly except that two European Police Inspectors on the airport main gate refused permission for me to enter without a permit. One of my passengers, an R.A.F. Wing Commander leaned out and said he was the Queen’s Pilot, better open the gate old chap. Police had been drafted in for this event from hundreds of miles. I remember little else about the Royal Visit, or it’s main purpose. On these occasions most of the senior officials climbed in on the act, establishing their own importance.
I do remember in detail the visit of Billy Graham. My brief from the organising committee was to provide the Public Address systems. The main system had to cope with an audience of 30,000 people, with three microphones for which I borrowed a 300 watt amplifier from Twenche Overseas Trading Co. in Nairobi and used my four 100 watt loudspeakers. In addition there were six other systems for separate areas where the audience spoke only their tribal languages. Each of the six would hear Billie Graham plus one interpreter translating into the appropriate tribal language for that particular group. There were nine microphones on the platform for the evagelist [sic] and 8 interpretors [sic]. In addition the Post Office ran a special line about a mile at the end of which they connected a candlestick type of telephone with a carbon microphone and place it with my nine microphones. This relayed the proceedings to another mass meeting in Nairobi. The microphone was ineffective until I connected the P.O. line direct to the main amplifier output via a suitable transformer. Billie Graham had a very efficient team. Harley and Bonnie Richardson are two I remember, both very hard working and leaving nothing to chance. They were backed-up by representatives from most church denominations.
The following Christmas, the missionaries approached me again, could I use my loudspeakers at the Church to simulate bells on Christmas morning. An interesting proposition, and someone had written to Bradford Cathedral to scrounge a tape of the Cathedral bells. I had to edit the tape considerably, as every two a rich Yorkshire-accented voice was superimposed with “You are listening to the bells of Bradford Cathedral”. I set-up the amplifier and loudspeakers at the Church at about 7 pm. On Christmas-eve and tested the system with a record of carols. Within minutes, people began to gather and joined in. The Vicar asked if I could connect a microphone and in no time at all he was conducting an impromptu carol service with a bigger congregation than he had enjoyed for a long time, well over 1500. At 7 am next morning I relayed the bells of Bradford Cathedral, but could not resist pre-empting them with a verse of ‘Christians awake’. The loudspeakers were in constant demand and were in use every day for two weeks during H.H. the Aga Khan’s visit. Events included H.E. the Governor’s barazas, opening a ginnery and so on, all official requests from the Provincial Commissioner. I was spending so much time away from the airport that I fitted a TCS12 Transmitter and a good H/F receiver in the car to work aircraft and keep in touch with the airport. At the African hospital I fitted a receiver and 50 Watt Vortexion amplifier imported by my father, and installed 30 loudspeakers round the wards. This was followed by a similar
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job at an American mission hospital about 30 miles from Kisumu, but more ambitious with microphones, tape recorder and record player. At the Roman Catholic Cathedral in Kisumu I fitted an amplifier and loudspeakers with microphones on the Altar and pulpit. Another system was fitted at the African Community Centre in Kisumu and one way and another I was kept very busy indeed.
The transmitter in the car was used also on the 40 metre amateur band to keep in touch with my father and amateur chums in Nairobi and other parts of East Africa. On one occasion Tom Mboya took an interest in it and was quite impressed. Tom was a Luo by tribe and a party leader of the Kenya African Democratic Union, a very nice chap with an attractive wife Pamella [sic], daughter of Mr. Odede, a Kisumu lawyer. Tom wanted to buy the transmitter but for me to sell it to him would not have been wise. Later Tom was shot and killed in Nairobi.
Kisumu was fairly well populated and within 10 miles or so of town we saw very few wild animals. The two exceptions were the protected herd of impala in Kisumu township and the hippo which abounded on the lake shore. They came ashore at night to graze and I encountered them on the aerodrome several times. One rather amusing occurrence, the airport was wide in area and Africans frequently trekked across the runway and even drove their cattle over it at most inappropriate times. On several occasions I impounded the cattle after due warnings and charged the owners with trespass under section 69 of the Colonial Air Navigation Act. When I found the offenders were getting six month’s imprisonment and losing their cattle, I stopped charging them and the Police insisted upon taking over this task. Finally they agreed to drop the practice, when I told them that I doubted whether the Colonial Air Navigation Act really applied in Kenya and in any case I had invented the content of section 69. However, the runways had to be watched carefully and checked every time there was an aircraft movement.
One morning at Kisumu a uniformed Prisons Askari I had known at Nairobi Prison in 1950 came to my Control Tower and after a smart salute handed me a note saying it was from Bwana Mkubwa ya Ndegi. It was from Commander Stacey-Colles R.N. Ret’d., my former boss and previous Director of Civil Aviation. He had arrived at Kisumu Prison only two hours earlier, and was serving a three year sentence. He had been found guilty of receiving money, a refund of an airline ticket issued by the High Commission and which he did not use. At the time he was in Britain having travelled home on a complimentary ticket from Air France. The official ticket was handed in to East African Airways and a refund obtained which was paid into his bank instead of the High Commission’s account. He claimed no knowledge of this and most of us believed him. He would not prejudice his career and Navy pension in this way, someone had fixed him. The note was a list of things he wanted, which I soon assembled and took to him at Kisumu prison, where I found I knew the Prisons Officer from 1950. A very embarrassing situation. I met Stacey and gave him the radio, writing materials, money, cigarettes and cakes from Hilda, on the first of many visits. Three days later the Askari was back with a long message in code for Muriel Pardoe, his former secretary in Nairobi. I sent this off straight away on the aeronautical W/T channel, addressed to HKNCHQPA, the ICAO address which would reach Miss Pardoe from any airport in the western world. HK was Kenya, NC Nairobi City, HQ DCA
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Headquarters and PA Personal Ast. To the Director. The code was in five letter groups with a double substitution of letters, a similar system to that used during the war.
The message was decoded by Muriel who obtained whatever it was Stacey was asking for and gave it to Capt. Casperuthus who was DCA pilot of the Avro Anson. Casper gave it to the Controller at Wilson airport who passed it to a pilot about to depart for Kisumu. The pilot handed it to me at Kisumu and I delivered it – whatever it was – to Stacey in prison the same day. Three days later the radio set came back to me with the askari, not working. Two of the valves had been swapped over, and I noticed a piece of paxeline had been fitted neatly inside the bottom of the set, forming a false bottom. Under it was a note asking me if I could fit a B.F.O. into it. This was a beat frequency oscillator and Stacey could want it for only one reason, to monitor morse, probably on the Prisons channel, to see what was happening. There were two spare holes for valve holders on the chassis and plenty of space for fitting a mains power supply, vacant in this case because it was a dry-battery receiver. I fitted the B.F.O. as requested, and also another valve as a flea-power transmitter, using just a channel freq. crystal about 6.5 MHz and a tuned circuit on the anode. Maybe 50 mW output, I had no means of measuring it, but I tested the set at a range of 2 miles using 3 feet of wire for an aerial it was received at the control tower. The morse key was just a matter of touching a wire to the chassis. I returned the set to Stacey personally and explained the switching of the B.F.O. and transmitter keying. He was delighted and agreed to be very careful, taking absolutely no-one into his confidence. About six weeks later I met my former colleague the Prisons Officer in town and he told me there was some concern over the prisoners getting confidential information before he received it himself. He quoted that a week ago a prisoner asked if he could change cells and share with a particular prisoner who would be transferred to Kisumu with three others on a date a week hence. He said the four arrived that day, how could the prisoner have known a week ago? It should have been obvious, there were many ex-service personnel who were good W/T operators and the Prisons Radio on 7 MHz could be monitored by anyone, the signals being in plain language morse. I said nothing. Stacey’s frequency was monitored at my office where I had a similar tiny transmitter. It was used at a specific time of day on only two occasions for test purposes, but he found it satisfying and consoling to have a personal and totally clandestine link to the outside world. It gave him a great deal of satisfaction and from my point of view did no real harm. Stacey was a great organiser and motivator.
The African Inland Mission in Mwanza had colleagues in the Sudan [author indicates with X and page footnote that it is Kisumu not Mwanza] who visited Kisumu frequently in their Cessna aircraft. They desperately needed two transmitters in the Sudan but were not able to obtain import permits. They could however get a permit to re-import a transmitter if it had been sent out of the country for repair. I suggested to them that they should send me a piece of otherwise useless equipment which might look like a transmitter to the uninitiated and send it to me as a transmitter for repair, together with the appropriate paper work. This was done and in an antenna tuning unit they brought me, I built a 10 Watt transmitter without changing it’s outward appearance in any way. A few weeks later a second one was built and the two did a very useful job in the Sudan for about six
[KISUMU NOT MWANZA]
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months until the African Inland Mission stations there were closed, and the missionaries withdrawn. The missions’ aircraft were also licenced on that frequency and I contacted them occasionally. It is most reassuring to be able to communicate with someone in times of trouble, and plenty of folks in Africa were in that situation.
But trouble was also brewing in the Belgian Congo, just across the Lake. Six months earlier, the Belgian Government had advised the missionaries and other settlers to leave, but many were dedicated to their work and some felt they were quite indespensible [sic]. The Belgiauns [sic] had handed over the reins of Government and administration hurriedly to a totally ill-equipped and unprepared Congolese. The consequences of withdrawal by the Belgians were clearly predictable but they succumbed to political pressures from all directions. There was human slaughter on a big scale, and the only information coming out of the Congo was on the frequency of 7150 operated by Mission stations, and also shared with East African amateurs. It was in Kisumu that I received a message from a mission at an Agricultural Station which read:-
“We are being menaced by 100,000 hostile savages. We have their chief as hostage and expect annihilation within one hour. We have ammunition but no guns, please advise Kamina”.
The amateurs among the DCA staff in Nairobi, of whom Viv Slight was one, had set up a W/T link to the Belgian Coast Station at Ostend, using a communications booth in the D.C.A. Communications centre and a powerful DCA transmitter at R.A.F. Eastleigh.. I relayed the message direct to them on the aeronautical W/T channel, and Nairobi passed it straight to Ostend, with a steady flow of other messages. Ostend relayed it to Brussels who passed it to the Military where it was relayed on it’s final leg back to Africa, to the Belgian Paratroop Base at Kamina. Within 20 minutes of my receiving the message at Kisumu, the paratroopers were airborne and the Agricultural Station was liberated. Hardly had I cleared the message when I received a correction to it which advised:
“Not one hundred thousand savages, only ten thousand”
When I passed this to Nairobi, the reply was “What’s the bloody difference”
There were many such stories during the evacuation of Europeans from the Congo. Uganda was the main escape route and DCA Nairobi asked that any aircraft available and pilots who could make it, should get to Entebbe and help in the evacuation regardless of Certificates of Airworthiness and Pilot’s licences. One of my ex-pilot friends evacuated about thirty people in several trips in a Rapide aircraft. The last aircraft he had flown was a Beaufighter during the war. Some thousands were got out from the Congo, one way or another, mostly via Kampala and Kisumu. The Kenya Girls’ High School in Nairobi (known as the Boma) was turned into a Medical Reception Centre the records of which show the dreadful experiences and medical remedial action taken. Wendy reminded me that she and all the other girls who were not taking G.C.E..s were sent home a week before the term was due to end, to maked [sic] room for the refugees. At Kisumu I met many who came out by road. Two middle-aged ladies came to my Control Tower and one phoned her parents in
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the United States with a terrible story of pillage and rape. A third, more elderly, who had three American Doctorate degrees – Medicine, Divinity and a PhD. – had devoted her entire working life to helping and teaching Africans, but she said a lifetime had made only a superficial advance from their savagery.
Most of our memories of Kisumu were of happier days. There was an excellent social club but we were not members due only to the lack of time. The children made good use of the swimming pool, the lake being too dangerous, not only with its hippo and crocs. but with Bilharzia and hook worm. Hilda enjoyed her painting and drawing and we even managed to take a few photographs.
After nearly three years at Kisumu, Colin was still at the Prince of Wales School in Nairobi and with Wendy at the ‘Boma’ we were not seeing very much of either. And so a transfer was arranged and we packed up our household once again and moved to Nairobi, to a lovely house in Nairne Road, near Wendy’s school.
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[underlined] D.C.A. HEADQUARTERS [/underlined]
It was then June 1960, the Mau Mau emergency was still with us, but 84 Squadron had finished their bombing of the Aberdares which had raised the eyebrows of a few ‘hasbeens’ like myself. I had talked with the crews of the R.A.F. Lincolns some time earlier at R.A.F. Eastleigh and it all seemed very unreal to me. Perfect weather, ceiling and visibility generally unlimited and no enemy opposition from either the air or ground. Bombing over the bush was a matter of a timed run at a specific speed from a firmly identified point on the ground. Hardly a challenge for the Chaddertons and Fosters of this world and I don’t know what comprised a tour. It reminded me of O.T.U. where I saw the log book of a fellow-instructor with 40 ops. to his credit. His first tour ops were shown in the normal way, Benghazi 0340, Benghazi 0345, Benghazi 0342, Benghazi 0350, about 6 pages of Benghazi and no other target. But then, there are those among us who never bombed B.G., so the song goes. I could visualise the log books with several pages of ‘Aberdares 0125…”. Some of the Africans reckoned it was “mzuri sana” (very good) for the terrorists, the bombing just laid on a supply of fresh meat without their having to hunt for it, but there was probably more to it than that.
My place of work was the Communications Centre in the High Commission Building, on the top floor, above the Inland Revenue office. My duties were those of Telecomms. Supt. i/c a watch, responsible for the operation of the telecommunications system. We were not really concerned with aeroplanes, only messages about their movements. We had Radio Teleprinter circuits with Johannesburg, Khartoum, Der es Salaam, Entebbe, and Gan, and teleprinters on line to R.A.F. Eastleigh, Wilson Airport, Nairobi (Embakasi) and the Flight Information Centre next door. Our internal communications, that is within East Africa, were mainly by W/T links, to Iringa, Songea, Mbeya, Mwanza, Tanga, Dodoma, Arusha, Kisumu etc. Every teleprinter link had a standby W/T channel and most of these were resorted to in the early mornings, about 4 to 6 am. Brazaville [sic] and Leopoldville in the Congo were only on W/T but there was little traffic to the west and none to the east except Gan. With Gan, we operated an emergency channel with a test message every twenty minutes, to supplement the R.A.F. network if required, but they seemed to manage quite well without us. We handled about 20,000 incoming messages per day in the Tape Relay Centre, and apart from one or two all had to be relayed out again and logged. We also had three ground to Air operating booths, two of which were always manned, working aircraft, one on HF/RT and the other HF/WT. The European Radio Officers preferred the latter, where often three messages per minute were handled for long periods.
As soon as an aircraft left, say, Khartoum, a message would be sent on the Fixed Service by RTTY to the Tape Relay centre which should reach F.I.C. within a few minutes of being originated, requiring two relays, at Khartoum and Nairobi Tape Relay Centres. The system was that the pilot would not need to call Nairobi until he reached the Flight Information Region Boundry [inserted] Boundary [/inserted] at 4 degrees North, as Nairobi F.I.C. should have already received all the information by teleprinter. However, this being Africa and therefore supposedly not very efficient, the pilot would call Nairobi as soon as he could after take-off, on HF/RT. On the older propeller jobs, (the real aeroplanes), this would have been
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carried out by the Radio Officer on W/T., where just a few groups in code meant a great deal, for example:-.
ZGU de VPKKL Nairobi this is VPKKL
QTN STKM 0201Z I departed Khartoum at 0201 GMT
QAH 24 TTT QBH My height is 24,000 ft. below cloud
QRE HKNA 0718 I am estimating Nairobi Airport at 0718
QRX FIR I will call you again at the Flight Information Boundary
The Radio Officer would write those 14 groups onto a pad and his Clerk would put two copies through the hatch to the Air Traffic Controller.
The Clerk would spend most of his time putting carbon paper between the pages, it was fast going during the busy periods, but was even faster before HF/RT was introduced.
The aircraft would remain in constant contact with Khartoum on VHF until it reached 4 deg. N. when Nairobi would become responsible. Many aircraft were still using W/T at the time. There was no really conscious use of code, it was as commonplace as plain language and to a radio operator the two were synonimous, [sic] as were the many technical and other abbreviations. One example which comes to mind was at a Board of Enquiry into an accident where an aircraft had crashed into Mt. Kilimanjaro. An elderly judge asked the Ground Radio Officer if there had been any radio message, and the R/O replied “Yes, I last worked the aircraft on C.W. at 0247” “What is C.W.?” asked the Judge, and the reply “C.W. is Charlie Whisky your worship” and the Judge nearly gave up, maybe thinking whether Irish or Scotch.
Some Radio Officers preferred to transcribe the morse and speech messages straight onto a teleprinter which produced a simultaneous page copy in front of the controller, but this method was not very popular. With several aircraft calling at the same time it was easy to make a mistake but too slow to correct it on the teleprinter. The F.I.C. Controller operated the VHF himself. The whole set-up was very well thought out and we were very well equipped. Communications were our line of business and we were highly organised.
The tour of duty was rather longer in Nairobi, where one had to work for 4 years to earn 6 month’s leave, compared to only 2 1/2 years in Tanganyika. I believe there was some reduction for the Kenya coastal strip. These were the rules established when East Africa was supposed to be an unhealthy and hostile place, and most of the Europeans were Administration officials. I always felt the home leave terms were over-generous, as we also enjoyed three weeks of “local leave” each year with railway warrants provided to any part of east Africa. Where there was no railway to our particular ‘holiday resort’ or we chose to travel by car we could claim car mileage costs. Most people preferred to go on leave by sea, depending upon the time of year, possibly home on a 10 day voyage via suez, returning on a 3 week cruise via the Cape of Good Hope, on Union Castle liners. Some preferred the long way round both ways, spending as much time at sea as possible and thus economising
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on accommodation costs in the U.K. My only experience of sea travel had been the four troop-ships and Hilda claimed she couldn’t swim; we wanted to spend as much time as possible with the folks back home so we chose to travel by air every time.
Within a year of our return to Nairobi, June 1961, political unrest was well to the fore and getting worse. Alice, my step-mother, was a Senior Secretary to an African Minister in the Secretariat, and felt it was getting too dangerous to remain. Luigi and Mary had already retired to Italy and Alice was preparing to join them. Most of us were expecting the balloon to go up at any moment and people were getting jittery. We had been close to the hiatus in the Congo and the more recent mutinies of the armies of Kenya, Tanganyika and Uganda, and Europeans were beginning to leave. The weight of evidence of impending disaster was overwhelming and towards the end of June Hilda returned with the four youngest children to U.K., Colin remaining at the Prince of Wales School as a boarder. Alice and Brian returned to Italy shortly after and my father moved in with me at Nairne Road. My father and I had become very involved with emergency communications for the settlers up-country, which dominated our lives for the next few years, but this is a story unto itself and is dealt with in the chapter “Laikipia Security Network”. The mutinies referred to occurred soon after the British Forces had left Kenya, and the emergency was declared officially over. Some European Service personnel remained as advisers to the Kenya army - there was no Kenya Navy and the Kenya Air Force existed mainly on paper but with a few light aircraft. We awoke one morning to the news that the three separate armies many hundreds of miles apart, had thrown out their European officers and declared themselves independent of any authority. Within 48 hours and before they could organise themselves and cause any damage, very small forces of British troops appeared simultaneously near Nairobi, Jinja and Dar es Salaam, subdued and disarmed the lot, without any loss of life or limb. I recall a cartoon in the East African Standard, showing Jomo Kenyatta with both arms raised to paratroopers dropping from aircraft and the caption “How good it is to welcome old friends” - His arch-enemies for 10 years or so. I saw several hundred African soldiers sitting on the grass at Wilson Airport with three European soldiers guarding them with machine guns. There was a large pile of rifles and other weapons nearby, also guarded.
Life was not all traumatic, however, we had the occasional laugh. One of our officers, MacDonald, was on official leave of absence quite frequently and we understood he was masterminding a very hush-hush communications link direct to U.K. from Government House and even satellites had been mentioned furtively. This was before the days of the Sputnik when satellites were a part of science fiction. He was one of the [underlined] firt [sic] [/underlined] to retire and as he was leaving he let us into the secret. Mac. had indeed spent a great deal of time at Government House. He was a master baker and was responsible literally for the icing of the cake. He told us also that when he joined the Dept. he stated that his qualifications included a final City & Guilds Certificate. They did, he confided, as a Master Baker, but not in telecommunications.
One Sunday morning in October on duty at the Comm. Centre I found my African Supervisor was monitoring Reuter on teleprinter, and looking over his shoulder I read on the page copy that thousands of Africans armed to the teeth were surrounding the High Commission building and holding hostage the
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Europeans working inside. The report gave more detail of riots and demonstrations and gave the impression that we were really in trouble. I went out through a window and onto the flat roof of the High Commission building and gingerly looked over the parapet entitled to expect a hail of bullets. On the road was a police car with two officers watching a group of about 20 Africans, some of them supporting two banners on which was written “Wazungu Rudi Uliya” (Europeans return to Europe). That was the extent of the demonstration reported to the entire world in Reuter’s message. Had it occured [sic] in Cambridge it would not even have received a mention in the free local papers.
My tour of duty ended in December and I relinquished the house, my father moving into Plums Hotel. A nine hour flight to London, and I was home for Christmas.
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[underlined] Dec. ’61 ON LEAVE [/underlined]
Hilda and Anne came to London and I met them at Paddington. We intend to spend a week with Joan and enjoy a holiday in London, but Hilda had a rather worrying cold so we limited our stay to two days.
The next six months or so were spent on leave. With the exception of Colin who was in the R.A.F., the whole family was together in Wales at Glaslyn. My father was in Nairobi, and his regular letters referred to increasing unrest. He was working flat-out in building the ‘Watson Wonders’ and he asked me to take back 500 B7G valve holders and 150 modulation chokes
In May ’62 I said goodbye to the family and returned to Kenya. As I was unaccompanied, Sid Worthy the Chief Engineer asked me if I would housewarm for him whilst he was on his 6 months leave. This meant that he paid the rent but could just walk out without packing up his household and walk back into the same apartment on his return. There was a tendency for senior officers who were permanently based in Nairobi to try and retain the same house or apartment once they had found the right one. Rent was in fact 10% of salary and it was well worth it. My father moved in with me and together we carried on with the transmitters, having rented a workshop next to Stephen Ellis in Victoria Street. After only 3 months in the apartment I received a letter from Sid telling me he was returning immediately, could he please have his flat only a few days hence!. The following morning we were going up-country and I could see my father was a more than little depressed. He was driving like a madman down the Nairobi escarpment and I insisted that he let me do the driving. He told me he had to go to Mombassa [sic] next day, having received a telegram from Alice that she and Brian were returning on the Union Castle. This was supposed to be a surprise to him and I did not doubt that it was so, but Alice admitted later that she had in fact booked return tickets on the homeward trip. She had been totally dishonest in her statements about her intentions which had resulted in Hilda and the children staying in Wales. Our safari was cut short and we returned to Nairobi the same day, a 500 mile round trip. Alice’s return meant a complete change in plan; clearly she and my father expected to share my accommodation but with Sid’s return they had no option but to move into an hotel again. They were lucky in obtaining a couple of rooms at Plums, after only two nights in the flat. I moved into Woodlands Hotel, but applied for a housing allocation as my family had decided to return to Kenya. Hilda and the children rejoined [sic] me and we moved into a house at Likoni Lane, resuming a normal life except that it was dominated by the Laikipia network and work at the Comm. Centre. Within a year of my return I was promoted to Asst. Signals Officer and took over from Mike Harding As [sic] Officer in charge of the Communications Centre. This I had tried to avoid for a long time, not the responsibility, but the working hours. The new post meant working office hours and for the first time in my life I was working a five-day-week. On watches it had been a four-day cycle of say monday afternoon, tuesday morning and all tuesday night, then off duty until friday afternoon. The 2 1/2 days off within every 4 days had suited me very well and was a very popular roster with everyone. Office hours curtailed my visits up-country except at week-ends, but I did have every evening free. Very soon, each European Radio Supt. In charge of a watch had an African trainee assistant. Shortly afterwards one joined me. They were all supposedly bright boys from Secondary School and we delegated the routine work to them as much as possible. Their presence was resented by the old-timers among the
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wireless operators, who knew what they were doing and were very good operators, but their educational background was inadequate for the senior posts. Africanisation was the policy dictated to us and we bowed to the inevitable. I trusted most of my Africans, and there were about 180 of them working on the 4-day Watch roster at the Communications centre. Although many of them had served with the British Army both during and after the war, I could not completely lose sight of the fact that some had taken part in the Lare massacre when an African village was set ablaze and almost everyone slaughtered as they tried to escape. The majority of my staff were from the three main problem tribes, the Kikuyu, Meru and Embu, and a few of the Luo tribe from Nyanza.
My father’s farm had been abandoned long ago. It was not possible to obtain reliable labour during the Emergency, and the whole of the European settled areas was to be handed over to the Africans. There were already very few farmers left in the Trans-Nzoia and the Eldoret areas, the latter being mainly from South Africa. The Laikipia farmers were the last to hold out, except perhaps for the bigger ranches near Athi River.
Our next home leave was in June 1964 and the story of my activity over the three years leading up to it is synonymous with that of the Laikipia Security Network. The network seemed to priority over everything, but lives were at stake. Occasionally Hilda and the Children would go up-country with me, and one memorable week-end was spent with Tony Dyer and Family at their lovely home facing Mount Kenya. One afternoon Tony asked the children if they would like to go to a polo match and they took off in Tony’s Cessna from their own front door, landing at the side of the pitch. One of Tony’s sons was killed some months later whilst taking a gun out of the back of his vehicle. It was never discovered how the gun came to be loaded and with the safety catch off. Hilda and the children stayed too at the farm of Dr. Anne Spoerry, at Ol Kalau. Anne’s loo was a traditional type in the bushes down the garden, very comfortable and lined with bookshelves, full of the Lancet and other medical journals. Anne was a wonderful character. Only once did we go to the coast for a holiday, and this was two weeks spent at Likoni, near Mombassa [sic]. Unfortunately we chose to go in the rainy season but it was a welcome break. We took Chippy, our cockerel, and it followed us around everywhere, afraid of absolutely nothing. Chippy returned home one day in Nairobi with a broken beak and was unable to peck for food. Fortunately Jean and Dick Chalcroft came to stay overnight with us and Dick fitted a new lower section to the beak with the plastic resin we used in making dipole aerials.. It took an hour to cure, or set, and Jean and Dick held Chippy during that period, and again whilst they filed down the surplus plastic and polished the result. Chippy was ravenous and began to feed straight away, but was very aggressive towards humans, except for Jean and Dick, who took him back to their farm at Molo. I saw Chippy several times after that at the farm, lording it over the hens, and not another cockerel in sight.
One day I bought a petrol/paraffin engine-driven alternator and a bank of batteries, a complete 32 volt lighting set in fact, too good to miss for £25 in Nairobi. The dealer said the engine wouldn’t start although it had just been thoroughly overhauled. I knew that Jean and Dick were without power on their farm although their house was wired for a 32 volt DC system such as this. I knew too of Jean’s prowess with anything mechanical and I took the whole lot straight up to the farm at Molo. At 10pm. on the Saturday Jean started stripping down the engine whilst I was linking together the 26 alkaline cells
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and checking the house wiring connected to my car battery. Jean, assisted by Dick slogged on until 5am. in the light of an Alladin lamp, but she had discovered the trouble long before that. The timing was exactly 180 degrees out of phase. At 5am, just before dawn, the batteries being flat, Jean cranked the engine which roared into life, literally, we were deficient of a silencer for the exhaust. The batteries were taking a charge and we changed from petrol to paraffin and switched on a few lights in the house. The following evening the Chalcrofts were very proud of their lighting system. That sort of effort and co-operation did give one a great deal of satisfaction.
My recollections of work in D.C.A. over that period are very few.
We seldom talked of the war, but in the middle of one night I somehow got chatting to the F.I.C. Controller, Sqdn Ldr. Anderson DFC & Bar, who had also been in 5 Group on Lancasters. Andy said we were sometimes like a lot of sheep, he recalled one night having reached his ETA, all was very quiet except that markers had been dropped 20 miles to the south. Within minutes bombs were crashing down so Andie turned south for five minutes and joined in. Next day it was found that the target was 20 miles north of where most of the bombing had taken place. My reply was just “Politz”, we had done exactly the same thing, followed the flock. We talked together of flying during the war, several times, but my memories of the actual events are more vivid now, after 45 years, than they were 25 years ago. Perhaps because there was not a great deal in East Africa to remind me of it, compared to today, living 4 miles from Wyton on the approach to Alconbury. To see the Lancaster of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight fly over gives me rather more than a lump in my throat at times. Pathfinder House is not what it was with Don Bennet, either, it is now the place where I pay my rates, but they at least have a picture of a Lancaster on the wall near the Cashier’s office. A couple of years ago I asked one of the cashiers why it was called Pathfinder House, she had no idea, I asked what the aeroplane was and the answer was the same. I let the matter drop.
I had taken over the comm. Centre from Mike Harding who had retired prematurely, and his immediate predecessor had been “Bing” Crosby, ex Royal Signals. Bing was in Headquarters just along the corridor and came into my office every day to inspect an object pickled in a sealed jar which he had left on the shelf when he was promoted. Although he urged us to take good care of it, he used to look at it and say to it “You useless ruddy thing”, or words to that effect. Finally, on retirement, he came and collected it and let us into the secret, with the parting words “Oh don’t worry, the other one’s fine, you only need one you know”.
Alice and my father had left in May for Italy, to stay with Mary and Luigi. My own feelings were that he should have stayed in Kenya, possibly up country with Jean or with one of his many other friends among the Settlers. He had worked unceasingly on the network for over 4 years, but Alice insisted upon their return to Europe. In June ’64 it was time for home leave again. We were reluctant this time because there was so much happening up country and we expected it to be our final tour in East Africa together, unless I returned and carried on with communications on a commercial basis. This was still an option, communications had kept me very busy and with lots of ‘job satisfaction’, but it was DCA who had paid my salary. I still had a family to support, and there was a great deal of uncertainty in Kenya. And so it was we flew to London yet again, and joined Hilda’s Mum at Glaslyn.
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[underlined] ON LEAVE June 1964 [/underlined]
Before leaving for Wales we bought a second-hand Vanguard from a dealer in Putney which was to prove very useful in the next few months. At the end of our leave it was sold to the local Policeman for the same price.
A month or two before we returned, the house next to Aunt Doll had become vacant and was put on the market for £500. It was small and in shocking state, but a real snip so we bought it. Five months was spent in refurbishing it, building a bathroom, kitchen, replastering, new fireplace, rewiring etc. I remember John mixing at least a ton of concrete manually, he was a tremendous help. Electricity at the house had not been used for many years, and what little wiring remained, mostly twin flex, we ripped out. Electrical contractors quoted £900 to rewire, which was totally ridiculous, and finally John and I did it in one day, having spent about £50 on materials through an advert in Exchange & Mart. We tried to buy the field - or even part of it - at the back - of the house, but our lawyer said it was quite impossible to find out who owned the land. Many years later it transpired that it had in fact been owned for at least a hundred years by members of his own family.
Visits were paid to my other in Barnoldswick and to Joan and Ken in London, but the greater part of my leave was spent on the ‘new house’.
At the end of April Hilda’s Mum moved into her new home and made comfortable. From the house there was a wonderful view of the mountain separating the Neath and Rhonda valleys, with the river within 25 yards in the foreground. Perhaps it is only fair to mention the road between the house and river, but when the bypass was built a few years later this road carried little traffic.
In November ’64 I returned to Kenya unaccompanied, and being so, moved into Woodlands Hotel. The following day I was in touch with Laikipia and also back at work. I relieved Mike Harding as Asst. Signals Officer in Headquarters, Deputy to ‘Spud’ Murphy who was Telecommunications Officer (Operations). The job was just a matter of dealing with the steady flow of paper-work. Every piece of paper coming in was registered in Central Registry and filed by the Clerk. If he couldn’t decide which file to put it, he would open a new one. The file was then delivered - and booked out - to the officer thought to be the one who should deal with it. The officer would either add his comments as a minute and pass on the file to someone he thought might not return it to him, or if he felt he was authorised to make a decision, draft a letter for his immediate superior. Very occasionally, on an external matter he might even sign the letter “for the Director of Civil Aviation”. I was expected to finalise all matters concerning the operational aspect of the Telecommunications side of DCA, including all staff problems, their examinations and promotions.
Europeans were leaving the Directorate almost every week and being replaced by Africans. Those with African proteges training to take over the senior posts were most vulnerable. The Africans thought it was easy to sit back and authorise someone to go on leave, or to promote or reprimand another. The newcomers could read the many returns and forms but whereas a European officer could do every job subordinate to his own, the assistant had neither the experience, qualifications nor ability to do those jobs. In some cases the African was promoted and his former boss remained as his assistant. It was
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obvious who did the actual work. I found the work uninteresting, mainly it seemed just a matter of going through the motions and staying out of trouble by being non-committal, which was completely out of character. My main thoughts were with the 5190 Network, something that really mattered.
Sqdn. Ldr. Anderson was still with us and when he went on two week’s leave to the coast he asked me to sleep at his house, which made a welcome change from staying at the hotel. At about 3am on the third night there was a hullabaloo outside and a pounding on the door. “Police, open up”. I opened up, 9mm. Mauser ready, to be greeted by an African Police Inspector and about 15 Askari with enough weaponry to start a rebellion. Andy had told the Police he would be away for two weeks and would they please keep an eye on the house? I told them he had asked me to sleep there but they were not convinced. All my documents were at the hotel and eventually the Inspector ‘phoned the Acting Director of Civil Aviation at his house - Dickie Dixon, my old antagonist from Entebbe. Dickie was not amused, he never was, with me, but the Inspector was satisfied. A few nights later, about 10pm. I was lying on the bed reading, the house in darkness except for a small reading lamp. I heard footsteps on the gravel outside and quickly extinguished the light. I heard a key turning in the lock of the pateo [sic] door. By this time I was off the bed and standing at the bedroom door, left hand on the hall light switch and my Mauser in the right, cocked and with the safety-catch off. When the outside door opened I switched on the light and was startled to identify the intruder as Jimmie Sanson, whom I had not seen since we were in Kisumu. If he had been carrying a gun I might have blown his head off before it became unrecognisable. Andy had done it again, asking Jimmie also to keep an eye on the house. That night my car had been in Andy’s garage. On the following nights I left the car in full view outside, and with the a few lights in the house switched on.
For several years I had held one of the very few Flight Radio Officer Licences in the Department and frequently flew as Radio Officer first on the Anson VPKKK and later on its replacement, the Heron. On my last trip on the Heron we did a “tour of inspection” with visiting officials from ICAO in Montreal. Whilst supposedly inspecting the runways here and the Met. Station there, a V.O.R., D.M.E. and other aids to Aviators, in reality we enjoyed a visit to Zanzibar, flew around inside the Ngoro-ngoro crater, an extinct volcano well stocked with wild life, witnessed a specially-staged lion kill in Tsavo West National Park, and entered into the spirit of a very expensive ‘Cook’s Tour’. A few weeks later I did another tour of airports, inspecting the Telecomm. aspect and also giving morse tests to operators who were otherwise already qualified for promotion. I knew most of the staff and the stations also. 16 years previously I had first visited Iringa, which was then run by ‘Blossom’, Mrs. Brown, the only lady Radio Officer in DCA. Blossom was an ex-WREN officer who had specialised during the war in Japanese morse. I think she told me there were about 120 characters in their morse alphabet, and she used to transcribe in Jap. characters for hours on end. It was someone else’s job to translate them into English. Blossom had left some years previously. The morse tests were interesting, first the candidate sent for 10 minutes at 25 w.p.m. of 5-letter and figure groups, which was recorded on tape. The second test was 10 minutes of plain language, and the third receiving for 10 minutes of automatic morse. The fourth test was for the candidate to receive the morse recorded in the first two tests, without telling them of it’s origin. Many complained that the
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fourth test was unfair, the morse being very poor and difficult to read. Some found it difficult to believe the poor morse was their own! In general, the morse was, in fact, very good, most of the old-timers having been British Army trained, during the war.
Soon after the invasion of Zanzibar I flew there in the DCA Anson piloted by Capt. Casperuthus. The two Air Traffic Controllers had been deported to Mombassa [sic] and almost all the Telecomms. equipment was faulty. The teleprinter on line to Dar es Salaam still worked, however, and this was taken over by an African from Tanganyika. Zanzibar and Tanganyika became known as Tanzania and for the very first time customs and immigration formalities were introduced between the two. I recall paying customs duty in Dar es Salaam on 200 cigarettes bought in Zanzibar, although the price was the same in both places, and duty had been paid already to the same authority, the new government of Tanzania. There was no rational explanation to some of the politics in East Africa. Rumours were rife that a huge Russian biplane bomber made secret trips at night without contacting DCA, the aviation authority, and the machine was said to be in a particular hangar. We were intrigued by this and taxied very close to the hangar, a ‘deliberate mistake’, and took photographs of the aircraft. It was a biplane about three times the wingspan of a Tiger Moth, but we were not able to find anyone who had actually seen it airborne.
By May 1965 I was recovering transmitters from Settlers who were leaving the country, and these sets were more than meeting the demand for new ones. I felt that by the end of the year there would be very few Europeans left, and in that atmosphere of intense anti-climax I gave 6 months notice of my retirement. The leave earned would take me to just over my 44th. birthday when compensation for loss of office would be at its peak. Looking at this in more detail, compensation would have been reduced by £2,000 per year of delay. There was really little choice but to go.
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[underlined] JOB HUNTING [/underlined]
I returned home finally on the 11th. of November 1965 and joined Hilda and the family at Glaslyn, except for Colin who was in the R.A.F. in Aden. My father and Alice were settled in Voghera in Northern Italy. There was plenty of time to look for a job, as I was on full pay for about six months and could not really afford to start work until April. Had I started before that, it would have meant paying income tax at the U.K. rate for the previous year on my world income, so I was advised, probably wrongly.
I wrote many letters, one offering my services to O’Dorian of Redeffusion [sic]. They were at that time considering establishing a Radio Relay system in the African areas of Nairobi. Other firms were also interested and the City Council was monitoring a pilot scheme which I.A.L. had fitted about a year previously. The pilot scheme had been put out to tender and my father had submitted a bid to provide for a four-program system. The contract went to I.A.L. on the grounds that they had shown confidence in Kenya by being established there for many years and were a reputable firm. My father was invited to comment and said I.A.L.’s presence was nothing to do with confidence, they were wholly-owned by B.O.A.C. and were there to do aircraft radio maintenance for E.A. Airways also owned by B.O.A.C. As for being a reputable company, so are Marks and Spencers but like I.A.L. they have no experience in Radio Relay. I had seen the pilot scheme at Kaloleni. Each house had a loudspeaker on the wall with volume control, and the system was wired in D8 cable and flex, with no protective devices. Reception was poor and quality was that of a typical bus station P.A. system. I gave O’dorian [sic] a detailed report of what I thought could be achieved in Nairobi and also the whole of Kenya, together with the engineering detail, resources required, budgets etc. The report was mainly the result of my father’s efforts of two years previously, updated. I included my report of I.A.L.’s one programme pilot scheme the performance of which could induce the Council to reach only one conclusion about Radio Relay. One of not to bother with it. Transistor radios were then on the market at 40 shillings giving good world-wide reception, Moscow being a necessity. I mentioned too the near to impossibility of collecting payment from individual subscribers. Payment would have to be made by the authorities. O’Dorian thanked me for my interest and appreciated the report and said he would be in touch. About a month later he wrote again and said they had decided not to pursue any interest in Kenya.
I also tried West London Telefusion who I knew at working level in 1947, and had an interview in Blackpool with their M.D., and Personnel Manager, for a new post as Development Manager in Taunton, Somerset. The job was to establish a cable T.V. system. I was offered the job after a prolonged interview and at a good salary. I accepted there and then and was advised to start looking for a house around Taunton. Only the starting date was uncertain, but they agreed to confirm the appointment in writing and provide a detailed Terms of Reference. I was very surprised indeed a few weeks later when a letter from Mr Wilkinson said he was very sorry but had decided not to proceed with the Taunton project and all development was under review. I realised that cable TV was popular in fringe areas but more and more repeaters were being provided and the need for cable was reducing all the time. I am writing this in 1993 and the concept of cable TV has developed from the 1966 “amplified aerial” to a single coaxial cable providing over 30 T.V. channels, radio and telephone, and
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most recently, scanned T.V. Security Systems. The technological advances in Relay since its inception in my father’s time, around 1928 have meant many fresh starts for the industry.
I had an interview with Aero Electronics at Crawley – to whom I had a letter of introduction, and was offered the job of Development Engineer & Manager! I felt this was aiming rather high. The interview took place in a large country house, alongside which was a fairly new factory with lots of activity, and a sketch of which appeared on Aero Electronics letter heading. I later found that the factory had no connection with Aero Electronics, which was in fact a one-man show. The job would have been responding to overseas enquiries received mainly via the Board of Trade, designing a system and providing equipment, winding up with a quotation. On the face of it a very interesting prospect, but with no back-up of any sort, and relying upon other firms’ equipment. I felt it to be somewhat dicey, particularly when I was asked if I could type! I had to say it was a job for a team, not one man.
From Crawley I went to see G.E.C. at Coventry for interview as a “Production Team Leader”. The job turned out to be the leader of a team of about 12 assemblers and wiremen constructing telephone exchanges – one at a time. I was shown one being assembled and spent an hour with the Team Leader on one particular exchange which comprised thirty 7’ racks of relay panels, counters uniselectors, jack fields etc. As far as I could see it was just a matter of ensuring each item was in the right place and wired-in correctly. Turning down the job was the right decission [sic] for the wrong reason. There seemed to be thousands of people around all moving at the same time, and the environment depressed me. Although I was only vaguely aware of it at the time, that type of system would be giving way to electronic exchanges within a year or two.
Next stop was Redifon in Wandsworth, who were advertising for Test and Installation engineers. The job was described accurately but was basically testing H/F and M/F equipment at the end of the production line, with very occasional trips into the field on installation and commissioning work. There was great competition for the field work. I was offered the job but the Personnel manager told me to think very carefully, Wandsworth was a terrible place to live in. I was given two weeks to think it over, and turned down the offer. I asked the Personnel Manager what happened to the job I was offered in 1957. The requirement was for an engineer who had a PMG1 licence to operate on ships and an MCA Flight Radio Officers Licence to operate on aircraft. He was to take equipment to sea and into the air to ensure there were no problems, and if there were, to resolve them. That job really appealed to me and could very well have become what I cared to make it. Maybe. He looked up my file and told me the vacancy was not filled and the post was withdrawn.
I saw a job advertised for a Telecommunications Engineer for Gambia, 18 month tour, £3500 per year + 25% gratuity, and applied for it. A week later I was called for interview. I didn’t think there was the slightest chance of this happening, having applied out of interest and an expences [sic] paid trip to London. The interview went well and soon after my return to Wales a letter arrived asking me to confirm my acceptance on a salary of £2500. I was in a quandry [sic], I didn’t really want to go to Zambia, but wrote to the Crown Agents and pointed out the discrepancy between the advert of £3500 and offer of £2500.
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They regretted their mistake in the advert, and on those grounds I was able to decline
I applied for an advertised post of Signals Officer at the Ministry of Aviation’s Communications Centre at Croydon for which my D.C.A. experience fitted me well. The interview went off very well and I found that in some respects E. Africa was more up to-date than was the practice at Croydon. At the end of the interview they said they would write to me. About a week later their letter arrived and advised that I had not been selected but only because a more senior post would shortly become available and I was already short-listed for it. Good news indeed, but having heard nothing further after four months by which time we had moved house to Cambridge, I wrote to them. In their reply I was told that the letter offering me the job had been returned to them marked “Gone away”. As Communications Officer in charge at Croydon life would have been rather different.
Becoming more and more disillusioned with U.K. I went to see the Overseas Services Resettlement Bureau at Eland House, Victoria. I saw a Mr. Williams who was ex-Malaysia P.& T and we chatted for a while about the prospects of settling down to a job in the U.K. I had to agree that after 18 years in East Africa I was not impressed with what I saw in Britain nor with the people who occupied it, it was a vastly different place to the one I had left in 1948. He was quite right in saying that I first had to decide whether I wanted to stay and if so to make the best of it. What job did I want? I told him I had hoped to join Pye Telecomm’s technical sales dept. I knew Pye aeronautical equipment and felt I could fit in there, but had written and been advised there were no vacancies. “Did I still want the job?”. Having replied yes please he picked up the phone, and said “get me Ernie Munns at Pye”. Moments later he greeted someone in what I assumed was Malay, then switched to English “look Ernie, I’ve another bloody Colonial here, thinks Pye’s the ultimate., When can you see him?” We agreed 2pm the following day at Pye Telecommunications, Newmarket Rd., Cambridge. More words in Malay between them and he wished me luck.
I liked the friendly environment at Pye and was interviewed by Ernie Munns, head of Systems Planning Dept. and his deputy, Cyril Foster. The interview was constantly interrupted by the telephone and people barging in for instant decisisons [sic]. I recall Ernie asking whether I would be prepared to write a paper for a semi-technical customer on the relative merits of conventional VHF links and Tropospheric scatter and I said “yes”! Fortunately the phone rang and both interviewers were involved, which gave me a few minutes to think about it. I had heard of Tropo-scatter, but that was about all. I awoke to the question of “how would you go about it?” I replied that I would read up the subject in the Pye library. It must have been written up many times, I would study it and probably be able to quote a learned authority. I agreed that I didn’t know all the answers, and Ernie said “Thank god for that, one or two around here think they do”. I was told that my application was opportune, if I joined them I would be in the Aeronautical team headed by Cyril, which was currently preparing a factory order for equipment to re-equip 22 airports and several other sites in Iran, plus a lot of other orders for aviation equipment. Basically the job was block-planning of systems to meet the customers’ operational requirement, prepare quotations, to engineer the job in detail and to project manage the order to its conclusion. This was the sort of job offered by
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Aero Electronics but at Pye there was full backing from experts in all fields. The second part of the interview was with Cyril and the Personnel manager who said he would write to me with the result. The letter arrived a few days later offering me the post at £1250 per year and to start preferably on the first of April. This was gladly accepted. Hilda and I went to Cambridge and after a week’s run around by Estate Agents we found a nice 4-bedroomed house at 14 Greystoke Rd. near Cherry Hinton which was to be ready by the end of March.
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[underlined] AT PYE TELECOMMUNICATIONS [/underlined]
The first two years at Pye were spent as a Project Engineer in Systems Planning Dept, not in the Aviation team as hoped, but in Duncan Kerr’s team doing general systems. Also in the team were Jim Bucknell, Ian Douglas, and Mike Bavistock who had also joined Pye on April first. Duncan was away most of the time drumming up contracts with the Scottish Police forces but on our first day Mike and I did meet him briefly and he gave us two pink files. ‘Take one each’ said Duncan. ‘Turkey 10th Slice is now an order and needs a flimsy, and the Libya quote needs revalidating’. Mike and I hadn’t a clue on Pye methods and we decided to work together, providing a mutual back-up. It quickly transpired that we had something in common, Mike had been in the Gambia for three tours whilst I was in East Africa. I told him of my experience with the Crown Agents for the Gambia job and he had seen the advert for what had in fact been his post. He was not amused when he saw his £2500 a year job advertised with a salary of £3500.
Of the 36 people in the department, no-one was particularly helpful, in retrospect mainly because they were themselves under great pressure and had problems of their own. I saw the Chief Clerk, - later known as the Admin Group Leader – and said ‘Duncan wants me to do a flimsy, what’s a flimsy?’ He was most unhelpful although he was responsible for the admin. aspect of many hundreds of them. His philosophy was that he wasn’t going to help anyone who was on a bigger salary than his own. I had to go to Export Sales to find out what a flimsy looked like. It turned out to be an all-singing and dancing instruction to every dept. detailing all the action required in designing, manufacturing inspecting packing shipping and invoicing and even installation of a customer’s order. All the information available was entered on the forms and circulated around the departments. The initial circulation was programmed to take six weeks. The system was designed in detail and all the engineering information added with ammendments. [sic] Eventually there were so many ammendments [sic] I had to completely rewrite the flimsy after six weeks, and finally there was an issue 4. The job was eventually engineered by Dickie Wainwright – ex East African P.& T., following a departmental re-organisation, and I picked it up again at the delivery stage having moved to the Systems Installation Dept.
My performance on my first task in Pye was not at all brilliant, and about 18 months later when the installation was finished I issued a memo entitled “Lessons Learned on Turkey 10th Slice”. I started with saying that a week of training in Pye methods would have saved a great deal of cost and misunderstanding and went on to discuss the contract itself. The contract stated that ‘The Turkish Version of the contract shall be deemed to be the official version’, and it seemed there were many anomalies all to the advantage of the Turks, in particular to our agent, a chap called Avidor, who in fact translated the Turkish contract into English!. The system originally quoted was for a microwave chain the length of Turkey with a dozen or so links carrying teleprinter and telephones. We were awarded only the links, the radio parts of which were main and standby. One rediculous [sic] requirement in the Turkish version was that they wanted the main link in one place and the standby in another. We were providing main and standby transmitters etc within a link, not a completely seperate [sic] standby link. The whole thing was quite rediculous, [sic] no
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wonder it was given to one of the new boys and everyone else steered clear. The title of the contract simply meant that it was the 10th slice – or part – of a multi-million dollar allocation of N.A.T.O. funds. I don’t know how many slices there were, but one was enough for us.
With Mike’s first job, revalidating a quotation might on the face of it seem more straight-forward. It is just a matter of extending the date on which the offer expires, or is it?! The engineers who did the quotation with many versions over a period of 10 years, and the half dozen salesmen involved over different periods had all either left or moved on somewhere. Now they were all out of picture, it was Mike’s job, and he was on his own. Revalidation implied that he must thoroughly understand the customer requirement. The quotation comprised 18 volumes of A4 size, each 2” thick, plus a mountain of minutes of meetings and correspondance [sic] over a period of 10 years. Undertakings made in good faith years ago could well be quite impossible to honour, requiring endless variations to the tender document. Every change required approval from others in Pye. Every aspect had to be checked. Equipment from other manufacturers was included and confirmation of availability and price had to be obtained, every move documented and absolutely every aspect of the tender was Mike’s direct responsibility. When I think back to those days, I remember how every letter and memo originated had to be written out in longhand for the team’s typist to action. I understand the office system did not change in the next 25 years although there is much less of it. Mike asked me to sit in at his very first meeting on this project, the main purpose of which was to put him in the picture and answer any queries he might have. One item in the quote was ‘2 years Bavister £2000’ What’s that asks Mike. The finance dept man said it’s an accountancy term, just leave it in but add 10%. Two others had totally different ideas and finally a fellow woke up and said “I’m Bavister, I’m supposed to go out there for two years to help the customer”. There followed a discussion on the price of whether it was 2 or should be 20 thousand and which department accepted the responsibility. Mike asked why we are using scramblers bought from Redifon at £1200 each when we can make them. It turned out they were actually ours, produced in Cambridge for T.M.C. who sold them to Redifon who in turn mounted them on a panel with their label, and sold them back to Pye at about 10 times the price.
The Libya communication system itself was very good, a policeman on a camel with a hand-held portable could talk through a local Base station and several UHF links and an HF SSB link to his HQ 3000 miles away if required. Mike Bavistock saw the project through two revalidations and the tender’s final acceptance, and the production stage, over a period of 4 years. He went on to do many other big projects before deciding to resign and return to Africa to try and regain his sanity.
When I joined the department, one half prepared quotations and everything else with the exception of the detailed engineering. The other half were responsible for engineering and nothing else. The system was sound, one person should not have to divert his thinking from conditions of sale to pricing to shipping to the specific connections on a 131 way socket. After a while the system was changed whereby one man did the lot, and with a dozen or more projects on hand at any one time constant re-orientation was getting me down and I asked for a transfer to Systems Installation Dept. Meanwhile I pressed on
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doing many quotations and made sure I did not get involved with detailed engineering design or anything else which could delay my transfer. In fact I feigned some excentricity [sic] and got away with it. The pressure however was high and there was a great deal of jeolousy [sic] and backbiting in the department.
At one stage I did a couple of Fireman’s callout schemes and these were done on the electric typewriter by a typist who normally did only the conditions of sale. The only difference was in the number of base stations and portables, and the finance. Together using the same basic tape we could rattle off a quotation in half an hour. We made about 20 spare copies and sent them to Home salesmen who were not already in the know, to help them secure orders from their local fire services. This was very rewarding to Pye.
One monday [sic] morning I was given the job of providing a quotation to meet a requirement for the Yugoslavian police, to be ready by 4 pm on friday [sic] . It was a big job and I would have three chaps to assist me but I was not to make a start until the go-ahead was received from International Marketing Dept. At 2.15 pm I was told to forget it, it would not be possible to complete it in time. On Wednesday at 10 am I was told the job was on and vital, top priority. Drop everything and get on wth [sic] it. I would not have any assistants and would have to complete it myself. So one man had two days and two nights to do a job which was too much for 4 men in 5 days and 4 nights. I worked almost non-stop, all day and all night, mostly at home, and on the thursday [sic] I asked for a typist to be available for friday [sic] night. By 5 pm on friday [sic] the document was ready for typing, a very long technical description and equipment schedules. The prices had not been agreed with the finance dept, so I used standard Export price with 15% mark-up for luck. No signatures of approval were obtained from Snr. Management although a quote for over £100,000 needed signatures from three Directors and finally the Company Secretary. I did ‘phone Bert Ship who was responsible for determining delivery time and I put 5 months instead of his 9. The typist did not materialise, and as a last resort I took an office typewriter to my daughter Wendy’s home and she typed it overnight.
At 7 am on the saturday [sic] I assembled a batch of relavant [sic] publicity material and technical leaflets, and made 10 copies of the whole document, four of which I signed and gave to the Salesman at 9 am. He translated the Technical Description and schedules into Italian on his way to London Airport by road and to Milan by air. It was retyped into Italian on the Sunday and presented to the client in Rome on the Monday [sic] , by Pye Italy. A month later the Salesman told me we had got the job and thanked me, but there was no other official recognition. I was amused to have signed it myself, having cut through all authorities and proceedures. [sic] One copy of the file was circulated around for approvals by Mike Loose and this was completed a few days before we got the contract. Not all jobs were like that.
One particular quotation was done for Frank Mills, a salesman responsible for dealing with government departments in Wales. I had first known Frank when he was Provincial Police Signals Officer at Mwanza in Tanganyika when I was in charge of the airport. Prior to that he had been a Radio Officer with D.C.A. in East Africa. Frank had told me of his lucky escape when he went to Musoma on a routine inspection. An african [sic] sold him a live snake in a sack for a shilling and Frank decided its skin would make a good present. An 8 foot python for a shilling. First the python had to be killed and whilst still in the sack was placed in an empty 40 gallon storage drum. A pipe was connected between his
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landrover [sic] exhaust and the drum, and the engine left running. After an hour the python was removed and made ready for skinning, but first let’s take a few photographs. Off came Frank’s bush jacket, and the python wound round his chest and neck, with Frank gripping the snake’s head and looking it square in the eyes. The photos were taken and the snake lowered to the ground. It was sweaty work and Frank sat on the back of the landrover [sic] drinking a cool beer. After a few minutes the python slid away into the bush. However, Frank had arranged to collect the quotation at 1.30 pm. and as the hour approached it was ready in triplicate except for the three front labels. All the typists and secretaries were enjoying their lunch break, most of them sitting at their desks knitting or reading. Not one of them would type the labels, so I used a spare manual machine and typed them myself. It was their right to stop work between 1 and 2 and they would excercise [sic] that right regardless of everything else. Most of them didn’t speak to me for weeks. This childish attitude was only too prevalant [sic] throughout the organisation and was completely foreign to me. However, Frank collected his quotation and we had a short chat about old times. Tragically he was killed in a road accident next day whilst on the way to see his customer with the quotation.
After my 2 years or so in Systems Planning, Bill Bainbridge one of the two Field Controllers in Systems resigned to start his own business, Cambridge Towers, and I was fortunate in succeeding him. At the same time Harry Langley Head of Systems Installation moved into Sales and D.A.D. Smith took over as Manager of Systems Installation Dept., (S.I.D.). I got on very well with Harry Langley, he had been with the Kenya Police as a Radio technician seconded from the Home Office. Howard (Jimmie) James was the other Field Controller and between us we managed all S.I.D. projects, mainly installing and commissioning systems in the field, about 60% being overseas. In theory we had a Project Engineer heading each Installation team but as each was involved in several jobs at any one time it was never possible just to sit back and let the P.E. get on with it. He was likely to be abroad when most required.
[underlined] IRAN [/underlined]
One of the first jobs allocated to me in S.I.D. was the Iranian Airports project, Pye being a member of a consortium with Marconi, C & S Antennas, Redifon, G.E.C. and S.T.C. All came together as the Irano-British Airports Consortium to re-equip the major airports and aviation facilities in Iran. This was the project mentioned to me at my interview when applying to join Pye and Cyril Foster and Allan Breeze had devoted their last two years entirely to it, and much of 5 years before that. Allan in fact eventually went to Iran to commission the F.I.C. console. I had a great respect for him when we went to Iran together and whilst I was struggling along in French he was talking in Farsi with the hotel staff. He had been quietly studying it in Cambridge and could even read it, which was a tremendous achievement.
I became suspicious when I received a memo from D.A.D. Smith the Departmental Manager enclosing a change-note and asking me to confirm that we could still carry out our installation committment [sic] in Iran for the £85,700 he had quoted. A change-note was a notification from a Lab. making a minor change in the design or manufacture of a piece of equipment. In this case it refered [sic] to a resistor which would make no difference to anything except the parts list.
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[photograph of the head and shoulders of a man]
[Arabic writing]
[stamp]
[Arabic writing] G. Watson [Arabic writing]
[signature]
[Arabic writing] JSB/100/14/6/T [Arabic writing]
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Not “will the change-note make any difference?” His subtle phraseology was making me responsible for the whole installation amount, not just a possible minor differe [deleted r [/deleted] nce. His figure was derived by taking 5% of the factory transfer price of the equipment which had no real relationship to the cost of fitting it, and was totally unrealistic.
I studied the draft contract and drew up an installation plan, and after a few days replied to my manager that “if the work can be carried out in the 12 month time scale as in the contract my estimate of costs is not £87500 but £250,000. I believed the work would take at least 5 years, it would not be possible to co-ordinate the many scores of officials with their different loyalties and the organisations involved. The final cost could very well be double the £250K. The end customer was the Iranian Director General of Civil Aviation, represented by Aerodrome Development Consultants Ltd., (A.D.C.) apparently a private firm, but wholly-owned by the then British Board of Trade and staffed by their officials. They were more than loyal to their Iranian masters.
After a great deal of arguement [sic] with A.D.C. and other Consortium members about methods, division of responsibilies [sic] , consequential losses and costs etc., the quotation was accepted including my price of £250K, and the contract signed. I was to live with that contract for exactly 10 years and have been sorely tempted many times to record the frustrations, stupidities and almost impossible business of working with the Iranians whilst retaining any degree of sanity.
It was the custom in Pye at the time, and a very good one, that before work was started on a major quotation, the comments of people with recent similar experience were sought as to its desireability, [sic] and with the question “Do we want the job?”. The file, an informal one came to me and in answer to that question I wrote in a light-hearted moment, “pas avec un barge pole.” I didn’t know that our masters Philips in Holland were involved until a minute came from them asking ‘vos ist ein barge pole’? This surprised everyone as the Dutch generally have no sense of humour where money is concerned.
One year from the signing of the contract, bang on time, we airfreighted the 26 racks of equipment and a mass of other material for installation at Meherabad airport, a direct flight from Stansted to Teheran where it was to be fitted. The pilot spent 36 hours under armed guard first for not having a “Certificate of no objection” from Iranian Airlines and secondly for paying a parking fee for only a 12 hours stay. There were many problems with that first consignement [sic] which provided a good pointer to the difficulties to follow. It was 12 months before the equipment was released from Customs and then it was stored in the open air outside the Meherabad receiving station for 6 months. Soon after that first air shipment I returned to Iran and spent 6 weeks studying the first 12 airport installations, including Meherabad, and re-formulating detailed plans. Meherabad was the main International Airport and included the Flight Information Centre. One problem at the F.I.C. was how to fit a 24 ft control console manned by 6 people whilst maintaining a full service on the old console which occupied the same floor space. In addition the contract stated that 12 racks would be fitted in the old equipment room on the fourth floor and 14 in a new equipment room on the second floor. This really was quite impossible and I was keeping the problem to myself. When I was discussing with the Iranians the work involved in their own equiupment [sic] room,
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they became extremely worried because their wiring was an absolute shambles with hundreds of multipair cables actually threading their way in and out and through racks which we had to replace with no interuption [sic] in the service.
They finally startled me by laying down the law and insisting that we stay right out of their old equipment room, and they would knock down walls between six offices on the second floor to house all 26 racks. This area was very close to FIC and made our job not only possible, but easy. Also the change was their firm requirement and we charged them £17,500 extra for the priveledge [sic] .
On Kushi Nostrat mountain, Marconi were to fit a Radar scanner, which we were to link to Meherabad by a 7GHz link, but the only way to reach the site was by helicopter, unless one was a mountaineer. There were no civilian helicopters in Iran and it was only when I put the problem to A.D.C. that I found the Radar stn. was to be at Kushi Basm and not Kushi Nostrat, a totally different mountain. This had an access road and Meherabad was a line-of-sight path of 32 miles. At a critical distance was a salt pan and we were supposed to go round this desert on a dog leg using a microwave link repeater. There was no suitable location for the repeater because of the “change” in location of the Radar site. This resulted in another variation to contract for a frequency and space diversity single link, less equipment than in the original contract but we got away with charging £18,000 more. Some of the problems were pathetic, others amusing. When I checked the earthing and lightening arrestor system at Meherabad I found the one inch copper earth lead was terminated not with an earth mat in the ground but to a spike stuck in a concrete plantpot on the first floor verandah. That was and probably is still there and highly dangerous. Incredible but true.
At Bandar Abbas Airport I prepared a detailed installation plan which together with others was discussed later at a monthly progress meeting in London. It bore no resemblance to a plan prepared by Redifon two years previously and we realised that since Redifon’s visit a new airport had been built about 9 miles away. More variatons [sic] to contract. There were 260 of them finally. At Bandar Abbas, the port of which was the main base of the Iranian Navy, I was with the Provincial Governor, an Iranian Air Force General and the Airport Manager. All three agreed it was permissible for me to use my camera. Later when an army corporal confiscated the camera they all denied it and simultaneously lost their ability to speak fairly good english, resorting to french in discussion with me. I had already met the works manager in charge of the extensive building operations who spoke excellent english and was apparently all-powerful. He not only recovered my camera from the army but also gave me a fine selection of photographic prints together with detailed architect plans of all the buildings. I did not see the three senior chaps again but the works manager put a car and driver at my disposal. I think he must have been related to someone important, maybe the Shah-in-Shah, or maybe he was a member of the secret police, there is no knowing.
A consignment of Redifon transmitters was held up in Customs for over two years with a documentation problem, and even the fixer employed was quite ineffective. To clear through customs it was necessary to get 120 signatures and rubber stamp impressions on the release document and this had to be done in a single day. This was finally achieved after the Shah had decreed that the equipment must be released, but the chap on the gate seemed to resent this interferance [sic] and refused to release it. The document with the signatures was out
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of date the following day so the man’s boss supported him and the equipment remained a part of the scenery. A week or two later, another department came into the act and gave notice that if Redifon did not remove it within 7 days, it would be sold off by police auction. Redifon did not appreciate my suggestion that we should go to the auction. The problem had arisen because one small item of equipment was refered [sic] to as a “tone transmitter”, the word transmitter being anathma [sic] to Middle east types. It did not appear on the schedule [deleted] d [/deleted] of approved tranmitters [sic] and was regarded with grave suspicion.
It took four months to amend the contract to exclude the tone transmitter and substitute a tone oscillator, - the same thing -, but even then 36 copies of the invoice had to be changed and re-submitted.
The Consortium offices belonged to the G.E.C.O.S. agent who kindly trebbled [sic] the size of them at the Consortium’s expence [sic] . All the members’ staff in Iran moved in and made themselves comfortable. About three weeks later a gang of workmen with demolition equipment reduced the new buildings to rubble and said “sorry, no planning permission”. Two months later the lawyers proved that all the proper authority and permissions were completely in order. The gang returned and said “sorry, ok you build”.
Despite all the red tape in Iran it was generally possible to get results eventually, the main difficulty was often finding out just which palms had to be greased. Our man in Iran for three years was Mike Cherry and he was successful in getting an amateur radio licence, with the call-sign EP2MC. Mike fitted an SSB125 transceiver in the office in Teheran and I was in daily contact with him from both my house and the office in Cambridge. By using very carefull [sic] phraeseology [sic] I was kept right up to date with progress in the field.
I was talking with Mike from the office one evening on 14 MHz when Dr. Westhead the Chief Executive came in and asked who I was talking with. I replied “to Mike Cherry, our man in Teheran, Sir”. He grimaced and said “Ah well, ask a stupid question..” The public telephone system to Iran was diabolical most of the time. I used to book a call for 4.30 am the following day and take it from home, which saved a great deal of time in both places. Teheran time was 2 1/2 hours ahead of U.K. On most occasions the Post Office telephoned several times during the night to confirm the call or advise of delays, which was very tiresome.
Monthly progress meetings were held in London, and at one of them I was asked to quote for additional work at Esfahan during the 2500 year celebrations, which were to take place before the new equipment was fitted. They required to talk with aircraft and I suggested they should do so on a mobile set which would be quite adequate. Our team would already be on site with the mobiles so without any fuss I quoted £300 which was put forward. At a board meeting a week later this was confirmed and the Pye member of the Board, Pat Holden who was also our International Marketing Director promptly withdrew it as I had not gone through the proper channels. The next day he sent for me and instructed me to cancel my quotation, and with a great thumping of the table told me to increase it £3000. Then followed a lecture that “we are here to make money, add a nought”. I told him the job would take about an hour and £300 was more than adequate. £30,000 was utterly rediculous. [sic] I told him “I was doing no such thing, put it in writing through the head of my department and meanwhile you are clear to return to earth”. I then excused myself and left him
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to it. I returned to my own desk 20 minutes later to find a note asking me to go and see the boss, not surprisingly. I told him exactly what had happened and he laughed. I said I thought I had burned my boats with Pat Holden and David Smith my boss said “far from it, he admires you for standing up to him and asks you to forget it.” I took no further action in this and in the event there was no income at all, but the job took only 30 minutes for one engineer.
Another equally challenging job was the installation and commissio [deleted] m [/deleted] ning of a UHF system within the London Stock Exchange. This employed 520 adjascent [sic] channels. The Base Stations in the basement comprised a transmitter and receiver for each channel, all being combined into one “radiating feeder”. About 600 pocketphones on the Stock Exchange floor were used by dealers working into this system. An invitation to tender for this job had been received by Pye about two years previously and comments invited from all technical departments. It was unanimously agreed that the job was quite impossible and must not be attempted. Pye did not quote for it and the contract was awarded to S.T.C. Mobile division. Nearly two years later Pye or Philips aquired [sic] that organisation and half the installation had been fitted. About 60 channels were in use and very unsatisfactory. Dealers received messages intended for others and signals faded out at the crutial [sic] moment. Firms were receiving wrong messages and transfering [sic] and buying shares erroneously through these faults. The task of bringing the job to a conclusion was allocated to me and I chose my favourite team of Nick Fox, Aussie Peters and Jack Faulkener.
There was a local Service Dept. depot at the Stock Exchange of four engineers who were struggling to get the system working and we took over from them. On arrival there was a flap on, a dealer had acted on a false message and bought some tens of thousand shares for which he had no client and he was stuck with them. He said he was going to sue Pye for his loss. He dropped that idea next day when he sold them at a profit. The main problem was loss of signals into the pocketphones on the Stock Exchange floor but we were not allowed onto the floor during dealing times to make tests. Eventually we were given an ultimatum to either fix it or remove it and face an enormous claim for damages.
This was very serious indeed and I reported back to Cambridge. The Engineering Director, Frank Grimm showed me a copy of his comments of two years ago when he said the job was quite rediculous [sic] and impossible, and that was the end of it. No-one wanted to know, “It’s your problem Cliff, get on with it”. So it was back to the Stock Exchange, and I demanded permission to see for myself what was actually happening by being on the floor during dealing hours, otherwise there was nothing more we could do. The Chairman gave permission, quite unprecedented and we were then able to make a more scientific approach. We stayed on that evening and with Jack Faulkener in the basement at the transmitters we measured signal strengths which were astonishingly high and with no blind spots. Jack reduced the base station transmitter power at the input to the antenna system until even with the antenna completely isolated the signals were far more than adequate. This provide the mathematicians were all wrong and we were all barking up the wrong tree. We then carried out the most elementary test of all, whilst receiving properly on a pocketphone we transmitted on other pocketphones – on other channels – at a distance of ten feet. We had found the reason for the problem, simple R/F blocking which should have been checked in the Lab. at a very early stage. That evening we modified 6
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pocketfones [sic] , fitting a 2 pf. capacitor at the receiver input and completely bipassing [sic] the transmitter output stage. They worked perfectly, and with no blocking even at 2’ distance between portables. We had found the answer and the next day, friday, [sic] we recovered all the 160 pocketfones [sic] and over the weekend modified the lot. Everything worked as it should and the customers were delighted. We had received no co-operation from anyone in Cambridge but word soon reached Cambridge that all was well. We deliberately kept them in the dark until I issued a formal report. I had of course no authority to modify equipment but deliberately flouted this on the grounds that someone had to do something constructive or we would have been thrown out of the Stock Exchange. It did not improve my popularity with the people who could influence my career.
In 1979 after being responsible for some dozens of major projects three more Field Controllers were appointed, Dave Buller Mike Simpson and Clive Otley and I felt that a change was long overdue. Relationships with the Departmental Manager and his yes-man deputy Joe were deteriorating rapidly. I transfered [sic] back to Systems Planning Dept. and overnight became a specialist in Radio Frequency propagation. I was in a small team headed by Dave Warford, and including Lewis Wicker and John Ewbank, and a trainee. Our job was to plan Radio Links and area coverage systems, within the parameters laid down by D.T.I.
At the outset my knowledge of R/F propagation (or Electromagnetic Radiation) was limited to my practical experience of what had been achieved and what had failed to work. The theoretical aspect was highly mathematical but fortunatly [sic] the subject was well written up and the principles well established. Dave Warford and Lewis Wicker were a great help in getting me onto the right lines.
A typical job would be a request from a salesman asking whether a radio link on a particular frequency band would work between two specific sites and if so what aerial height would be required? The first step would be to study the Ordnance Survey maps of 1:50000 scale, and plotting all the contours on the direct line between the points. From this information a profile of the earth’s surface would be prepared including the earth’s curvature
[inserted] To be continued [/inserted]
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[underlined] Dresden 13 – 14 February 1945 [/underlined]
At the end of January 1945, the Royal Air Force and the USAF 8th Air Force were specifically requested by the Allied Joint Chiefs of Staff to carry out heavy raids on Dresden, Chemnitz and Leipzig. It was not a personal decision by Sir Arthur Harris. The campaign should have begun with an American daylight raid on Dresden on February 13th, but bad weather over Europe pre-vented [sic] any American operation. It thus fell to Bomber Command to carry out the first raid on the night of February 13th. 769 Lancasters and 9 Mosquitoes were dispatched in two separate attacks on Dresden and at the same time a further 368 R.A.F aircraft attacked the synthetic oil plant at Bohlen near Leipzig. A few hours after the RAF raids 311 bombers of the 8th US Air force attacked Dresden. The following day (15 February 1945) the USAF despatched 211 bombers to bomb Dresden and a further 406 bombers on the 2nd March.
As an economic centre, Dresden ranked sixth in importance in pre-war Germany. During the war several hundred industrial plants of various sizes worked full-time in Dresden for the German War machine, Among them were such industrial giants as the world famous Zeiss-Ikon AG (Optics and cameras). This plant alongside the plant in Jena was one of the principle centres of production of field glasses for the Armies, aiming sights for the Panzers and Artillery, periscopes for U-boats, bomb and gun sights f or the Luftwaffe. Dresden was also one of the key centres of the German postal and telegraphic system and a crucial East West transit point with its 7 bridges crossing the Elbe at its widest point.
In February 1945 the war was far from over. The Western Allies had not yet crossed the Rhine, Germany still controlled extensive territories, and Bomber Command lost more than 400 bombers after Dresden. The war was at its height, the Allies were preparing for the land battles which would follow their crossing the Rhine, the Russians were poised on the Oder. This destruction of Dresden meant a considerable reduction in the effectiveness of the German Armed forces.
The Germans followed Hitler even after the liberation of Auschwitz in January 1945 when its horrors were broadcast to the world. They continued to follow Hitler even after they watched the thousands of living skeletons from concentration camps being herded westward in early 1945.
A quote from former POW Col H E Cook (USAAF Rtd) "on 13/14 Feb 1945 we POWs were shunted into the Dresden marshalling yards where for nearly 12 hours German troops and equipment rolled in and out of Dresden. I saw with my own eyes that Dresden was an armed camp: thousands of German troops, tanks and artillery and miles of freight cars …. transporting German logistics towards the East to meet the Russians.”
[signed] Jim[?] Broom [/signed]
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[curriculum vitae page 1]
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[curriculum vitae page 2]
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[autographed photograph of Lancaster bomber]
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[history of Jack Railton and Emma Sharpe]
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[history of George Henry Watson]
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[history of Herbert Kilham]
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[history of Herbert Kilham continued]
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[photograph of male]
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[history of George Henry Watson]
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[history of Jack Railton and family]
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[history of Jack Railton and family continued]
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[history of Cliff Stark’s early years]
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[letter from LMS railway to C.W. Watson page 1]
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[letter from LMS Railway to C.W.Watson page 2]
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[letter from LMS Railway to C.W. Watson]
Dublin Core
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Title
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Just Another Tailend Charlie
Description
An account of the resource
A memoir written by Cliff Watson divided into 20 chapters.
The Earliest Years.
Born in Barnoldswick, then in Yorkshire, now in Lancashire in 1922. His father ran a wireless business until 1926. He describes his years at schools and a move to Norwich. The family then moved to London where he started an apprenticeship as an accountant.
Joining Up.
Cliff left the accountants to work in his father's radio business. Initially he was rejected by the RAF because he wore spectacles. He reapplied and passed various written, oral and medical examinations. Initial training was at Torquay then Newquay. Once training was complete he sailed from Greenock to South Africa.
Southern Rhodesia.
After acclimatisation in South Africa, Cliff and his colleagues were put on a sleeper train to Bulawayo in Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. Training commenced on Tiger Moths but he was 'scrubbed' or rejected. He was reselected as an air gunner and completed a course in Moffat, also in South Rhodesia. Hospitality in Rhodesia and South Africa was described as generous and excellent.
Postscript.
Cliff describes a run-in with a training corporal who took a dislike to him. Despite faked evidence he proved his points and emerged with a clean record and passed his exams.
Operational Training.
In August 1942 he sailed back to the UK. He was sent to Bournemouth for assessment, then on to RAF Finningley for training then RAF Bircotes for operations. Next was a move to RAF Hixon and its satellite airfield at Seighford. He married Hilda on 1st March 1943 during a week's leave.
Second Time to Africa.
He was then sent to West Kirby, Liverpool to join a ship sailing to Algiers, for further training. Their destination became Blida where they started operations on Tunis and Monserrato airfield. They then moved to a desert strip to the east by 250 kms. From there they continued operations into Italy. Later they moved to Kairouan and continued operations into Italy, mainly Sardinia and Sicily. Each operation is described in great detail.
He has included a letter in Arabic with instructions to take the bearer to British soldiers for a reward. At the end of his tour they sailed back to Greenock.
Screened.
After some leave Cliff's next posting was at Operational Training Unit Desborough where he helped train new gunners. Due to an argument with an officer he was sent to RAF Norton for correctional training. On his return his case was reviewed and the severe reprimand was removed from his record.
Scampton.
Scampton was Cliff's next operational base then Winthorpe for its Heavy Conversion Unit on Stirlings, followed by Syerston on Lancasters then Bardney.
227 Squadron.
Cliff joined 227 squadron at Bardney. Again he covers in detail each operation. His flight was later transferred to Balderton. During this period he was awarded the DFC.
Final Leg.
His squadron was transferred to Gravely at the end of the war. He did a photography course and was transferred to Handforth. There was little work, some unpleasantness and eventually a period of extended leave, a spell at Poynton looking after prisoners then demob.
Back to Civvy Street.
Cliff returned to Whitehaven to revitalise a radio company. He gives great detail about the improvements made. Later he set up a similar enterprise at Maryport. Wired radio services were set to become less popular and financially worthwhile so seeing the writing on the wall he decided to emigrate.
Kenya.
Cliff and family flew to Nairobi, then bus to Kitale where his father was.
Hoteli King George.
Dissatisfied with life on his father's farm, Cliff took a job as a prison officer. He and his family moved to Nairobi. He relates several stories about prisoners and their better qualities but in the end he gets restless and leaves.
Civil Aviation.
Cliff joined the East African Directorate of Civil Aviation in April 1951 as a radio officer. He and his family were relocated to Mbeya, 900 miles from Nairobi. His skills as a radio engineer were well used in this remote location. After 2.5 years the family returned to UK on leave. On his return he was posted to Mwanza, also in Tanganyika. He describes in great detail a royal visit. They left on leave in June 1957 and collected a VW Beetle for transport to Kenya. Their next move was to Entebbe. This was not a happy posting and led to a transfer to Kisumu in Kenya. After three years they transferred to Nairobi to spend more time with their children, who were at boarding school there.
D.C.A. Headquarters.
His role here was Telecomms superintendent. He describes in detail the operations of his section. This was an unsettled period in Kenya with many Europeans returning home.
Dec' 61 on Leave.
Leave was spent at their house in Wales then in May 1962 Cliff returned alone to Nairobi. His family did return later. By this time his father had abandoned his farm and was building radios.
On Leave June 1964.
He bought another house in Wales and spent his leave restoring it. His wife's mother moved in. In November 1964 Cliff returned alone to Nairobi. he left within a year due to the worsening situation.
Job Hunting.
Several electronics firms were approached offering Cliff's services. He attended an interview with Pye who quickly offered him employment.
At Pye Telecommunications.
He found his colleagues unhelpful. A great deal of time was spent on a Turkish quotation that had been in progress for 10 years. A quotation to the Iranian Directorate of Civil Aviation contained complications leading to Cliff revising the quotation. Later there was a complicated installation job at the London Stock Exchange. Eventually Pye pulled out from the bid but a rival company won it, only to be taken over by Pye. At first the system was troubled but after a simple modification it worked perfectly.
Dresden 13-14 February 1945.
A one page description of the bombing of Dresden.
Curriculum Vitae.
Cliff Watson's CV, dated 1976.
Creator
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Cliff Watson DFC
Date
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1989-06
Format
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192 typewritten sheets and photographs
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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SWatsonC188489v1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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Great Britain
England--Huntingdon
England--Yorkshire
England--Norwich
England--London
England--Torquay
England--Newquay
England--Birkenhead
Scotland--Greenock
Sierra Leone--Freetown
South Africa--Durban
Zimbabwe--Bulawayo
South Africa--Mahikeng
Zimbabwe--Harare
Singapore
South Africa--Cape Town
England--Bournemouth
France--Paris
Algeria--Algiers
Algeria--Blida
Tunisia--Tunis
Italy--Sardinia
Italy--Cagliari
Tunisia--Bizerte
Italy--Monserrato
Italy--Decimomannu
Italy--Trapani
Italy--Palermo
Italy--Naples
Italy--Rome
Italy--Lido di Roma
Italy--Tiber River
Italy--Alghero
Italy--Castelvetrano
Italy--Pantelleria Island
Tunisia--Sūsah
Italy--Syracuse
Italy--Messina
Italy--Salerno
Italy--Bari
Italy--Comiso
Italy--Crotone
Italy--Pomigliano d'Arco
Italy--Paola
Italy--Battipaglia
England--Desborough
Norway--Bergen
Netherlands--Walcheren
Germany--Hamburg
Norway--Oslo
Belgium--Houffalize
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Berchtesgaden
England--Whitehaven
Kenya
England--Yeovil
Kenya--Nairobi
Kenya--Kitale
Tanzania--Mbeya
Tanzania--Mwanza
Uganda--Entebbe
Kenya--Kisumu
England--Cambridge
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Düsseldorf
Zimbabwe--Gweru
Zimbabwe
South Africa
Sierra Leone
France
Algeria
Tunisia
Italy
Netherlands
Germany
Norway
Poland
Belgium
Tanzania
Uganda
Iran
North Africa
Germany--Nuremberg
Iran--Tehran
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Netherlands--Vlissingen
Germany--Homburg (Saarland)
Tunisia--Munastīr
Tunisia--Qayrawān
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Cornwall (County)
England--Cumberland
England--Devon
England--Hampshire
England--Huntingdonshire
England--Norfolk
England--Northamptonshire
England--Somerset
England--Lancashire
Italy--Capri Island
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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.
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Peter Bradbury
109 Squadron
142 Squadron
150 Squadron
1661 HCU
227 Squadron
25 OTU
30 OTU
5 Group
617 Squadron
84 OTU
9 Squadron
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
Albemarle
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
B-24
Beaufighter
bomb aimer
bombing
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
C-47
Defiant
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
ditching
FIDO
flight engineer
Flying Training School
Gee
ground personnel
Halifax
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hudson
Hurricane
Initial Training Wing
Ju 87
Ju 88
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
mess
military discipline
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Mosquito
navigator
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Pathfinders
prisoner of war
RAF Balderton
RAF Bardney
RAF Bawtry
RAF Catfoss
RAF Desborough
RAF Eastleigh
RAF Farnborough
RAF Finningley
RAF Graveley
RAF Hemswell
RAF Hixon
RAF Holme-on-Spalding Moor
RAF Milltown
RAF Norton
RAF Scampton
RAF Seighford
RAF Strubby
RAF Syerston
RAF Waddington
RAF Wick
RAF Winthorpe
RAF Wyton
searchlight
Spitfire
sport
Stirling
Sunderland
Tiger force
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
wireless operator / air gunner
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/340/11808/BThomasWKThomasWKv1.2.pdf
e5b0b8afc7063253cd39405680e94d56
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
Thomas, Ken
William Kenneth Thomas
William K Thomas
William Thomas
W K Thomas
W Thomas
Description
An account of the resource
Four items. An oral history interview with William Kenneth 'Ken' Thomas DFC (1022415 and 186493 Royal Air Force), two photographs and a memoir. Flight Lieutenant Ken Thomas flew operations as a pilot with 622 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Ken Thomas and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-01
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Thomas, WK
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
If you can't take a joke ........
by William Kenneth Thomas DFC
I was born in Liverpool on 19th December 1921. I have a sister namely Evelyn Gwyneth born 15th October 1920. My father and mother moved from Liverpool to Beaumaris in 1924 approximately and purchased a well established chemist business in 40 Castle Street. At that time the population of the town was approximately 3000 and there were two chemist shops.
I attended the Beaumaris Council School, both infants and seniors. Whilst at Primary School in Beaumaris, I spent quite a lot of time in the summer months on the boats and the sea shore. I also did a fair amount of swimming, and although there was a public swimming baths in Beaumaris, I preferred the end of the pier. I often swam across the Menai Straits which was very dangerous particularly at low tide when the current was flowing at some 12 14 knots. I was on occasions carried under the pier and was badly cut on the barnacles. I also did rowing, sailing and fishing, and used to know the Straits fairly well.
The end of the pier was also one of my favourite places for catching crabs and prawns. I got into a terrible state with mud and grime. I remember on one occasion being there when my mother and a very posh friend of hers, namely, Mrs Sircus waiting at the pier wall, dressed up and ready to take the small ferry boat, which in those days plied from Beaumaris to Bangor. Of course, I wanted to go with them, although I was filthy dirty with mud and had no shoes. Exactly what happened next, I do not remember, although I do recall the incident very well, and no doubt caused my mother some considerable embarrassment.
I was a poor scholar and frequently in trouble as I got in with a bad crowd, who were generally very poor and appeared jealous of my living conditions in comparison with their own. I was therefore involved in numerous affrays and mischievous pranks. I only just managed to pass the required standards for entry into the Beaumaris Grammar School as a fee paying pupil, and continued to be in trouble as I seldom did my homework, and spent many long hours playing football and cricket.
The headmaster of the Beaumaris Grammar School was a man called Frank Jones. He was a real tyrant, and was most unpopular and hated by both staff and pupils because of his general attitude. He walked in a very stupid manner, and I called him "Here's my head, my arse is
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coming!" I was always in his black books, and whenever anything went wrong, I was usually there. I disobeyed many of his rules, such as not kicking or playing football in the school yard, not wearing school uniform cap and blazer etc., throwing fireworks, snowballs, and so on. I smashed one window in the memorial hall as there was a stone in the snowball
I played a lot of football and cricket and was in the school's first eleven. I was also a strong swimmer. I carried off many prizes at local and school swimming galas.
I must just mention that in the early days all the rubbish in Beaumaris was tipped in a place called the Point. This is now a boat builders' yard, but it used to be infested with rats. Anyone could go there and catch and kill as many rats as possible and obtain a shilling a tail at Beaumaris Town Hall. Since I had a good dog, a Springer spaniel called Glen; I often went there and made a few bob. Sometimes my friend and I would take a few rats home and let them go in the yard and let the dogs chase them. Most of the money we got was spent in the liberal club on billiards and snooker.
Having failed at school in Beaumaris, my father made arrangements for my education to be continued at Friars School in Bangor, and this was where I met my first girlfriend namely Eve Bock. I used to see her every day, as we were both catching the same bus to school in Bangor each morning…More about this will be mentioned later.
I once again failed to pass the matriculation examination, and by this time, it was plain to see that the Second World War was fast approaching. Since I was 17 plus, I would be obliged to register for military service. I was completely undecided what I was going to do and finally decided to go into the Merchant Navy as a cadet. This all came about after a long discussion with a friend of my father's Captain Morris Jones who was a member of the Beaumaris Lodge of Freemasons. He was incidentally later killed in action out in the Middle East. I was measured up for my Cadet uniform and had passed all the necessary medical and educational standards required. However, by this time, the war had started, and numerous ships were being sunk by submarines. My mother decided that this was not a good idea and stopped me going. I then informed her of the seriousness of the situation, which she didn't seem to quite understand, and I finally persuaded her to let me go into the RAF on the Ground Staff, with the condition that I was not to fly! I duly passed the medical and educational standards required in Caernarvon, and since I was still under `calling up' age, was able to choose the ground course I required, that was, Flight Mechanic.
I was finally called up just after the evacuation on Dunkirk, and had to report to Padgate in Lancashire, where I spent three weeks
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confined to camp until I was conversant with RAF Regulations, and able to conduct myself as an airman. l was then transferred to Blackpool south Shore, where I was in private billets for two weeks and we were thinking we were going to have a very nice war!
I was then posted to Bridgnorth Shropshire for further training i.e. square bashing, rifle drill, inoculations, guard duties etc. I was there for approximately 3 months during which time Coventry had received its heaviest raid of the war. We could see exactly what was going on and hear and visualise all that was happening over the skyline, because Bridgnorth Camp was situated some distance from the town on the top of a very steep hill. I also remember carrying our kitbags all the way from the station to the camp, and when we got there, the billets had not been prepared for us. Therefore, we had to set to preparing and cleaning the huts, cleaning the floor and stove, and setting up our beds for the night. We were all by this time muttering a few hash words, but we had to take it, and as we went on, we found that the discipline in this camp was very strict by comparison with what we had experienced previously. The instructors and the people in charge of the various intakes were extremely crude and corrupt. One sergeant instructor immediately informed us that they called him `Slim the Bastard', and that if we crossed him, he would show us `what a real bastard was like.' For instance, on one particular day, we had three inoculations one after the other followed by rifle drill on the square. Several of the people on parade either fainted or fell down, and were merely carried away to sick quarters to recover.
From Bridgnorth, I went to No7 S of TT (No 7 School of Technical Training) at Hednesford which was situated on Cannock Chase and very high up in the hills. Consequently, it was a very cold camp. My course here lasted about three to four months. Again, there was very strict discipline and since the school had some four brass and silver bands, we had to form up and march back and forth to and from our work and technical school daily. Apart from the school we had to do guard duties, fire and air raid drills, and also gas precautions and action to be taken in the event of an attack. These duties were all done in the evening after school hours. As you can see, there was very little time for recreation and we didn't manage to get out very much. During my stay, an epidemic of scarlet fever broke out on the camp, and this further complicated matters.
However, I finally passed out as a Flight Mechanic – AC1 (Aircraftsman First class) but knew comparatively little about my trade. I was immediately posted to Penrhos Bombing School near Pwlleli in North Wales along with a number of other people on my course. Penrhos was a small grass airfield and was really too small for the types of aircraft operating there i.e. Whitleys, Blenheims, Fairey Battles and Ansons. These aircraft were used for the training of navigators and straight air
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gunners and were kept pretty busy. I was looking after the only Whitley fitted with radial `Tiger' engines and experienced considerable trouble keeping it airworthy. There were constant problems with the engine ignition systems mainly due to the exposure of the plug leads which allowed a certain amount of moisture to seep in, causing engines to cut out or lose power. This, on such a small grass airfield, described in many instances by pilots as `like landing on a saucer' proved to be very dangerous and there were numerous accidents. It was quite common to see five or six accidents daily, due to aircraft either overshooting or undershooting the airfield. Some of these were, of course, fatal and aircraft could be seen burnt out around the airfield perimeter.
I [inserted] t [/inserted] eventually became apparent that this airfield was unfit for the purpose for which it was being used, and much of the flying was eventually transferred to a new aerodrome that had just been opened near Caernarvon, namely Llandurog. Here there were proper runways and hard standing, and we finally did all our night flying from here. This meant frequent travelling in open wagons and of course it was very cold and uncomfortable in wintertime. We were obliged to exist on such occasions on pilchards, sandwiches and cocoa for many of our meals, and were glad of these. There was only one really bad accident in the whole time I can remember flying from Llandurog. It involved a couple of Whitleys which were both trying to land at the same time. One landed on top of the other causing the deaths of about sixteen personnel on board. It was, of course caused by carelessness on the parts of the pilots of the aircraft and also the people controlling the aircraft from the control tower.
I used to get very depressed with life at Penrhos, although I did do some [deleted] night [/deleted] flying on flight tests, and often flew to our maintenance depot at Hell's Mouth . [deleted] This again [/deleted] [inserted] Hells Mouth [/inserted] , was [inserted] also [/inserted] very precariously positioned, which [inserted] & also on cross country frlights with training navigator & gunners [/inserted] accounted for many accidents during landings. [inserted] & take offs [/inserted]
In view of the situation, I was frequently at home [inserted] in Beaumaris [/inserted] at weekends, and [deleted]of course [/deleted] [inserted] was often [/inserted] missing from my flight duties [deleted] and [/deleted] [inserted] I [/inserted] [deleted] i [/deleted] t was [inserted] therefore [/inserted] only a matter of time before I would have been caught. I used to break out of the camp at the back of my billet, and climb over the barbed wire entanglements in order to catch the local bus to Caernarvon and Bangor. Of course, this meant I had to get back [inserted] again [/inserted] very early on the following Monday morning and my father had to drive me to Menai Bridge, where I caught a [deleted] small [/deleted] [inserted] local [/inserted] train on a single track line to a place called Avonwen and then on to Pwlleli. The problem then was getting back into the camp without being seen and before roll call. Fortunately, for me, we had a good sergeant in charge of our flight, Sgt. Hudson, and I [deleted] got [/deleted] [inserted] managed to get [/inserted] away with it on all occasions.
In order to prevent trouble in the future, I decided to attend night school. I had a very good education officer, and managed to achieve the required standard of education very quickly. I finally had an interview
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with the camp commanding officer Group captain Williamson, and after an aircrew medical examination, was recommended for a Pilot/Navigator [inserted] /Air Gunner [/inserted] course. I was then posted to London ACRC (Air Crew Receiving Centre) where I was given a white flash for display in my forage cap. I stayed in flats in London in a place called Avenue close, St John's Wood, and had to attend various centres for tests in maths and Signals particularly Morse Code. The Morse test was carried out at Lord's Cricket Ground. We had to pass out at 12 words per minute. Fortunately, sitting close at hand were a couple of wireless operator air gunners who were in the course of remustering to Pilot/Navigators. We, naturally, got all our information from them, and so passed the course comfortably.
From London ACRC, I was posted to No 4 ITW (Initial training Wing) at Paignton for 14 weeks. Here we had more instruction on mathematics, signals, meteorology, navigation, airmanship, air force law, armaments, aircraft and ship recognition, and of course square bashing and drill. All the hotels in Paignton had by this time been taken over by the RAF, and I was billeted in the Ramleh hotel right on the sea front. The Palace hotel was close by and this was our mess. All lectures and instruction were arranged daily at a very smart country house outside Paignton off the main Torquay Road. No transport was laid on, and we therefore had to fall in and march to attention at 140 paces to the minute, which was quite a fast pace, for quite a long distance. I had to work very hard to keep up with this course as the pass marks on each subject were very high. In subjects such as Morse Code and Aircraft Recognition it was 100%. I was very lucky to get some help at weekends with my studies from a Beaumaris acquaintance, namely Hugh Williams, who happened to have been a headmaster in Manchester prior to the war and had been called up and commissioned in the RAF. He was instructing on Maths and Navigation at an ITW in Torquay where he lived with his family. Our final test in Signals was unique in many respects as [inserted] we [/inserted] were all assembled on the Paignton seafront and had to read an Aldis lamp signal flashed to us from Torbay (Hope's Nose peninsula) a distance of some six to seven miles.
During our time in Paignton and Torquay, we had frequent visits from the Luftwaffe fighters, mainly Messerschmidt 109, and Fokkerwolf 190 fighter aircraft, which roared in from the sea on many occasions and dropped their bombs and strafed the sea front and retired. However, all in all, we had a fairly pleasant time in Paignton. I missed the athletic display put on in Torquay for the visit of King George V1 by Air Commodore Critchley. The reason for this was that I got very badly sunburnt, and managed to get out of this very well. Everybody thought it was a waste of time anyway, and we were browned off in more ways than one, for having to go and prepare for this event.
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On completion of the course, I was made up to Leading Aircraftsman, and had the coveted propeller badge on my uniform sleeve.
From Paignton, I was posted to Desford near Leicester to do my [inserted] Flying [/inserted] Grading School. This was to see if I was suitable for Pilot/ Navigator/Bomb Aimer. In order to pass as a pilot, I had to go solo by day and also solol by night. [inserted] T [/inserted] His course was completed in the allotted 12 hours and again, I had no real problems, but many [deleted] people [/deleted] [inserted] students [/inserted] were then sorted out. [inserted] as they failed to achieve the required standard. [/inserted]
[inserted] All details of my flying at Desford were lost as I had no log book at that time. This was unfortunate as I particularly wanted to know the exact times I required to be “solo” day & night. [/inserted]
I then went to Heaton Park, Manchester [inserted] & slept [/inserted] under canvas to await my posting as trainee pilot to Canada. This was also the time of Gwyneth and John's wedding. John was heading for the Middle East, and they decided on the spur of the moment to marry. Under the circumstances, I was unable to attend the wedding. I only stayed in Manchester for some three or four weeks, during which time, I got engaged to Eve Bock. She was also living in the [inserted] symbol [/inserted] Manchester area, as she had not at that time been called up for the WAAF.
During my stay at Heaton Park, the Station Warrant Officer who was a bit of a bully , was thrown into the lake and almost drowned. Nobody had much sympathy for him, and I believe he was later removed from office and absolved of all responsibility for airmen, as clearly we were on the verge of rioting. I finally left Manchester late at night by train for Greenock, Clyde Scotland and was taken out to a liner, namely the Thomas H Barrie, by a steamer known to me from my days on the Menai Straits as the St Seriol, which pre war, was a pleasure steamer plying from Liverpool to Menai Bridge during the summer season.
I sailed in a large American convoy, which zig zagged its way across the Atlantic in August 1942, and after fourteen days at sea during which one boat was sunk and another set on [deleted] fore [/deleted] [inserted] fire [/inserted] , the convoy arrived in New York. The journey had been fairly unpleasant as we had very little to do and my bunk was situated near to one of the vents from the engine room and it was very hot and uncomfortable. However the food was good and there was plenty of it. Most of the lads had stomach trouble due to the richness of the food which we were not used to. I had severe diarrhoea but I didn't stop eating. There was a large 14 inch gun at the back of the boat on a special platform and this was firing from time to time. It was manned by naval personnel who were also dropping depth charges because of the submarine menace. I can well remember going through the Newfoundland fog bank off the coast of the USA and waking up in the morning on the outside deck soaking wet and very cold. I had little choice but to sleep [inserted] outside [/inserted] most of the time on deck due to the heat from the engine room. On arrival in New York, we saw the liner Queen Mary which was used at that time as a troop ship. She was speeding back to the United Kingdom full of troops and without a convoy.
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We entrained for Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada, and stopped at a place called Bangor Maine on the way north. We were allowed to get off the train, and this was the first experience I had of spending American dollars. The journey took about 24 hours to complete and was reasonably comfortable. We had plenty to eat and the seats were large and roomy.
Moncton was a very large holding unit, and all RAF aircrew personnel going in and out of Canada had to pass through there. I was only in Moncton for about four weeks and was then posted to Stanley, Nova Scotia No 17 elementary Flying training School ( Royal Canadian Air Force) where all instructors were civilian bush pilots. Here we flew Fleet Finch bi planes which were fitted with a Kinner 5 R radial engine. The machine was roughly twice the size of a Tiger Moth and used for initial training purposes. It was, I think, a very good aircraft on which to commence flying. The instructors were also very good at their jobs. They were conversant with the aircraft and knew the territory over which we were flying. Seldom did they have to refer to any maps, although these were always taken on our flights. Apart from day and night flying, and aerobatics, we had to attend Ground School, and covered Navigation, airmanship, Aircraft Recognition, Meteorology, and Armaments. [inserted] & Signals [/inserted] Altogether, I did some 76.55 hours flying at this station. There were no serious accidents, apart from the occasional ground loop to which these machines were subject in [deleted] the [/deleted] [inserted] a [/inserted] cross wind. [inserted] The remedy to counteract this was a very quick & positive pressure on the rudder bar – to stop the swing to the right - which was a characteristic of this aircraft.
My next posting was to No 8 Service Flying Training School at Lakeburn, New Brunswick, another Royal Canadian Air Force station. This was a fairly large aerodrome, and in those days used by civilian aircraft on regular routes throughout Canada. All Staff in our area were Royal Canadian Air Force, and our unit was separate from the civilian sector. Incidentally, our training was carried out under the Empire [inserted] Air [/inserted] Training Scheme. (Later the name was changed to Commonwealth Air Training Scheme) and there was a large notice board to this effect at the camp entrance.
I started my training here on Harvard 2 aircraft, but only did some [symbol ] 2hrs 30 [deleted] m [/deleted] [inserted] hrs [/inserted] on these before changing over to the Anson twin engmed aircraft. I flew some 270 hours in total before getting my wings, instrument rating etc.
Again it was , hard work, and I had to attend some of the extra instruction [deleted] exercises [/deleted] [inserted] classes [/inserted] in the evening [inserted] s [/inserted]when I wasn't flying. We had no flying accidents during my time here, although the winter was very harsh and the aircraft difficult to control when landing on ice and snow, particularly in any cross winds. Naturally, we had a `Wings Parade' at the
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end of the course. My `wings' were presented by the C.O., namely, Group Captain Hubbard, and I was promoted to Sergeant Pilot.
The `wings' presentation was the subject of a telegram home, as I felt I had achieved a positive result of which I was duly proud. Many of my school friends had failed the pilot's course in the early stages, and I don't believe they expected me to pass, in view of the results I had obtained at school.
I returned to 31 PD Moncton to await my posting back to the UK, and was fortunate to meet two old school friends from Beaumaris Grammar School, namely David Prewer and Clifford Roberts. David Prewer was a sergeant bomb aimer, and Clifford Roberts was commissioned as a wireless operator/air gunner. Both were on operations late in 1944 and David Prewer was killed in action. Clifford Roberts bailed out over France and was taken prisoner of war.
I returned to the United Kingdom on a very fast liner called the Louis Pasteur. We had no escort and were not troubled by submarine activity en [inserted] – [/inserted] route. However, again it was a very uncomfortable few days at sea, and during this time we had to sleep in hammocks and were squashed into one of the lower deck compartments. Had anything happened while we were in transit, we would not have got out. We had no fresh water on board for washing etc. and sanitary arrangements were very primitive. Going to the latrines was a dangerous business since these were merely long troughs with the sea water rushing through, and any careless movement would have been disastrous.
We duly arrived in Liverpool after about seven days out of Halifax which was really good going. The customs people checked all our kit and [deleted] other [/deleted] baggage for cameras and other contraband, and several airmen had to pay up or get their goods confiscated. There were no concessions made even in those days.
From Liverpool, we went on to Harrogate by train, and were billeted in the town centre in the Majestic Hotel. My intake was settled mostly on the top floor, and we were a mixed batch of pilots, navigators and bomb aimers. There were no lifts in operation and the main staircase had been boarded up to prevent wear and tear and other damages. We were given further tests, and one which I particularly remember was to check on our night vision capacity. Mine was assessed as being above average and this was noted in my log book. We were also given further inoculations and vaccinations, and after one particular dose, I was taken ill and removed to the sick bay. There I remained for two or three days recovering. Upon discharge, I had noticed some suppurating sores occurring on my nose and mouth area. Nevertheless, the M.O. still discharged me, but by evening time, I was re admitted with impetigo.
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This meant isolation for some three weeks, and then of course a period of sick leave.
On returning home, I contacted Eve Bock who was by this time a WAAF sergeant, and based in Lewes in the south of England. I went down to see her, but obviously she had found another boyfriend. I decided almost immediately to retrieve my engagement ring. [inserted] & [/inserted] I finally returned home to Beaumaris really sad and fed up. After this, I had several more girlfriends but nothing serious until I arrived at Shepherd's Grove on a Heavy Conversion course on Stirlings. I was home on leave when I met Mary. More will be said about this at a later stage.
My first posting in the United Kingdom was to South Cerney near Cirencester, Gloucestershire to an A.F.U (Advanced Flying Unit). Since South Cerney was the `parent' unit, we were almost immediately transferred to satellite units namely Tetbury and Southrop, to do our day flying and night flying respectively. Owing to the blackouts, night flying was very difficult, and we depended on occults and pundits for determining our position when on navigational exercises. ‘Occults’ were green lights flashing a single Morse [delete] character [/deleted] [inserted] characteric and denoted an aerodrome [/inserted] , and ‘pundits' were red lights flashing a two letter character [inserted] [ indecipherable word ] [/inserted] These were changed periodically to confuse the enemy, and all details of these were given [inserted] to us [/inserted] during pre flight briefings. In the event of any air raids in our vicinity, all aerodrome lights were switched off, and when flying we had to stop all transmissions, and fly from pundit to pundit until the raid was over and the all clear given.
In the event of any emergency when flying in Training command, the code word [inserted] for aircraft in difficulties [/inserted] was "Darky” as opposed to the international "Mayday" code used by operational squadrons. All these things had to be fully explained to [deleted] all [/deleted] aircrew taking part in such exercises, and this information was given usually in pre flight briefings.
The next stage of my training took me to Cranage in Cheshire where I completed a [inserted ' [/inserted]Beam Approach [inserted] ' [/inserted] course which we had to use in extremely bad visibility, conditions where we could not see the surrounding territory [inserted] or airfield [/inserted] . This was quite a difficult procedure, and we found it almost impossible to follow when flying heavy four engined aircraft because of the frequent large course changes which were necessary to carry out the landing procedures. We therefore used a different, system namely QGH, which was a `talk you down' control through [deleted] the [/deleted] cloud, and your aircraft headings [inserted] & height [/inserted] were all given by the ground controller. A similar system is still in use today. [inserted] Another procedure in foggy conditions was called “Fido” comparatively few airfields were equipped with this system. [/inserted]
Upon finishing at AFU, I went to Upper Heyford near Banbury - No 16 OTU (Operational Training Unit) on Wellingtons. Here we had to pick a crew of five people out of numerous aircrew milling around. This
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included a navigator, bomb aimer, wireless operator, air gunner, mid upper gunner, and rear gunner. [inserted] My flight engineer was chosen at Heavy Conversion Unit they were only employed on 4 engined A/C. [/inserted]
Flying the Wellington, which was classed as a twin engined medium sized bomber, was very different from what I had been used to. [inserted] As it looked very big and of course far more sophisticated from previous aircraft flown to date. [/inserted] Fortunately most of the people I chose as my crew proved reliable and [deleted] very big and of course far more sophisticated [/deleted] efficient, or at least they did at this stage. Further on, in [inserted] training on [/inserted] the different courses, some weaknesses did develop, and more will be said about this later. First of all, Upper Heyford closed down as a Bomber command [inserted] OTU [/inserted] [deleted] OUT [/deleted] and we were all transferred or posted to No 84 OTU at Desborough, Northants again on Wellingtons. This aircraft, [deleted] as already stated [/deleted] was far more complicated to fly because of [deleted] the [/deleted] [inserted] its [/inserted] size and extra instrumentation. We did many cross country flights particularly at night, some lasting six hours or more, and under some terrible weather conditions. Consequently, there were many accidents occurring in OTUs throughout the country. Many of these flights consisted of [deleted] a [/deleted] simulated attack [inserted] s [/inserted] on various towns and [inserted] chosen [/inserted] targets throughout the country, and usually fighter affiliation and [inserted] machine [/inserted] gun firing exercises were included in these flights. Firing the guns at night particularly, is quite an experience at first as we had tracer bullets mixed in with ordinary rounds of ammunition and the idea of this is self explanatory as it enables the gunners to [deleted] fix [/deleted] [insert] set [/insert] their sights on a particular [symbol] target. [insert] and see exactly where their bullets were going [/inserted] However, when first experienced one got the distinct impression that the aircraft's bullets [inserted] when fire in the [indecipherable word] areas [/inserted] were coming straight in at us, in our aircraft [inserted] which was extremely frightening [/inserted] . However, we all completed this course satisfactorily and went on to fly Stirlings Mark I and Mark III at Stradishall in Suffolk, and; [inserted] then [/inserted] on to its satellite at Shepherd's Grove, near Bury St Edmunds. This aircraft was [inserted] again [/inserted] huge by comparison with the Wellington and was classed as a heavy 4 engined bomber, with a particularly bad reputation: Numerous aircrews were killed flying the Stirling which suffered from all sorts of problems. Operationally they were almost useless because of their limited height approximately 12 14,000 maximum with a full bomb [inserted] if you were lucky [/inserted] . The undercarriage and flaps were operated electrically, and the undercarriage particularly [inserted , [/inserted] was in two tiers making the pilot's cockpit position [inserted] when on the ground [/inserted] some 2 [deleted] 6 [/deleted] [inserted] 0 [/inserted] ft above ground level [inserted] . [/inserted] Added to this, the braking system was inefficient and during circuits and bumps many aircraft ran off the runway due to lack of brake pressure. The undercarriage was weak, as already stated, because it was in two tiers, and in a cross wind, it was easily damaged and I [deleted] f [/deleted] [inserted] t [/inserted] often collapsed. [inserted] with catastrophic results. [/inserted]
Towards the end of the Stirling course, I was obliged to take a full medical examination. This happened [inserted] to all aircrew [/inserted] every six months to ensure that [deleted] aircrew [/deleted] we [deleted] e [/deleted] [inserted] were [/inserted] in good physical condition. [deleted] On this occasion [/deleted] , [deleted] I [/deleted] [inserted] I [/inserted] t was [deleted] found [/deleted] [inserted] discovered [/inserted] that my blood pressure was. too high [inserted] & [/inserted] I was immediately sent to hospital in Ely. I was kept under observation [inserted] there [/inserted] for some two to three weeks during which time several tests were carried out, as they thought I might have a
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[inserted] ** [/inserted] kidney problem. However, nothing was discovered and I was then sent down to London to No 1 Central Medical Board where I was seen by about eight doctors. Once again nothing could be found, and I was posted [inserted] on completion of the course [/inserted] [deleted] back [/deleted] to No 3 LFS (Lancaster Finishing School) at Feltwell in Norfolk. During this time, my crew had all been on leave and had been enjoying themselves. We were lucky in one way, as we missed [inserted] our previous [/inserted] [deleted] a [/deleted] posting on Stirlings to Algiers, and were really quite pleased about this. [inserted] We were not keen on the Stirling because of its operational performance & other major problems taking off & landing due to weak undercarriage & poor brakes etc. [/inserted]
However, I still had to complete [deleted] my [/deleted] [inserted] the [/inserted] Heavy Conversion Course on the Stirling and was obliged to do a night exercise which was a simulated night attack on Bristol. This was called a `Bulls Eye' and during the exercise, it was customary to have on board a screen navigator and also a screen pilot. It was [inserted] therefore [/inserted] very important we all pulled together as an efficient crew. Unfortunately, due to a navigational error, our navigator, by the [deleted] m [/deleted] =name of Jack O' Toole, got us to the target too early, [inserted] and In stead of getting me to do a dog leg in order to waste some time, he took us straight to the target, which was enough to fail him on this particular [deleted] course [/deleted] [inserted] exercise. [/inserted]
While stationed at Shepherd's Grave, Jack Gambell and I decided to purchase an old Morris 8 Saloon for £50 at a garage in Bury St Edmunds. The car really was `clapped ' and [deleted] s [/deleted] had a hole in the roof [deleted] of [/deleted] [inserted] on [/inserted] the right hand front corner, and when it rained your legs got wet. It also consumed a large amount of engine oil. [inserted] and this was an indication of pending expensive repairs [/inserted] I taught Jack to drive on this car; and he took it home on his first leave from HC unit. Really speaking, the car served its purpose very well as Shepherd's Grove was way out in the sticks. [inserted] and we needed some transport. [/inserted]
The next car I bought was a Triumph Dolomite [inserted] ( [/inserted] Open Tourer [inserted] ) [/inserted]. This was in Littleport. I paid £50 for it from the next door neighbour of Mrs Leicester where we went quite regularly for a slap up meal. She always had plenty of eggs on the menu and made good Yorkshire puddings. Many of our Australian and New Zealand crews [inserted] also [/inserted] met here. The first time I took the Dolomite out, it caught fire [deleted] . [/deleted] I got the wiring behind the dash panel renewed on the camp [inserted] at Mildenhall [/inserted] by a corporal from the MT section. I took this car back to Coventry several times, [inserted] and [/inserted] On one particularly cold winter's day, I was just outside Daventry on my way to [inserted] Coventry [/inserted] to see Mary, when coming towards me on the wrong side of the road was a huge Scammell truck. Apparently, the driver was having difficulty getting up the hill [inserted] in the slippery conditions [/inserted] and had [deleted] chosen [/deleted] [inserted] decided [/inserted] to to try the right hand side [inserted] of the road [/inserted] . I couldn't stop because of the ice and snow on the road, and didn't want to hit the lorry, so chose to turn into the left hand hedge and a deep ditch! The car turned over and I was left upside down in the ditch. Fortunately, I was unhurt and my car was pulled out and put back on its wheels and I drove on my way. I didn't even take the offending vehicle's registration number. However, I found
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that the steering was damaged, due to bent track rods and had difficulty getting to Coventry where it was easily repaired.
I took this car with me to Feltwell and Mildenhall, but in the meantime, I had acquired a Hillman Minx, which was being sold cheap on the squadron by a F/Lt Parker. I must mention that second hand cars on the squadron were plentiful, and it was customary when crews were shot down and killed, for these vehicles to be auctioned off on the station. The Hillman saloon proved to be the best car I had purchased to date, and in it I covered a few thousand miles. I remember deciding to paint it blue while on leave in Coventry, but after hand painting it, it started to rain. What a mess! Mary's father finally got it resprayed for £20 in grey and it looked quite presentable. I kept it until the end of the war.
The Triumph Dolomite was not used much in Mildenhall as I had two cars, and one night my two gunners stole it. They drove to Littleport where the steering broke and it was finally left on the side of the road for several weeks. I finally arranged for it to be towed back by the army. The towing vehicle was a Matilda tank, and by the time it reached our base, it was a complete wreck and ready for the scrap heap.
I duly finished my heavy bomber conversion Stirling course at 1657 Shepherd's Grove on Ist September 1944. We all went through to a Lanc finishing School at Feltwell on 14th September 1944 and I did some 12 hours 50 minutes Conversion Course on Lancasters. We found the Lancaster comparatively easy after the Stirling.
On completion of the Lancaster course, I was posted to No 622 Squadron at Mildenhall, where I completed further exercises in fighter affiliation, air firing and bombing before going on to actual operations. I started full operations on 23rd September 1944.
The first trip I made was a flight with F/Lt Orton to Duisburg in the Ruhr. This procedure was followed on all operational squadrons as it was felt that the pilot required some actual operational experience before taking a complete crew over Germany. It must be mentioned that F/Lt Orton did not do many more sorties after this, and was shot down and killed along with his crew.
I did several more flying exercises in Mildenhall consisting of cross country flights, loaded climbs with full bomb load, fighter affiliation etc., before taking my complete crew over Germany. It was during these exercises that my navigator Sergeant Jack O'Toole was assessed to be incapable of navigating with the accuracy required for operations, and was `washed out.' I was therefore without a navigator for some time.
I was very lucky in Mildenhall to quickly find another suitable navigator, namely Sam Berry, as most of the spare people were doubtful
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characters, who had either come off operations because of illness, or because of other navigational discrepancies. Sam Berry was a Flight/Lieutenant and was of Indian descent. He had been taken off operations because of being ill, and had at one time been suspected of having tuberculosis. During the time he was in hospital, his original crew who were Canadian, had been shot down and killed. He was a Fl/Lt when I met him and I was a Fl/ Sergeant, but I was in charge of my aircraft, so he was obliged to carry out my orders.
Sam flew eleven operations with me before being seriously wounded on a trip to Homberg in the Ruhr on the 8th November 1944. we were flying in aircraft `L' Love. This was the nearest I got to being shot down, although we had various damage [inserted] s [/inserted] on all flights over Germany, mainly due to the accuracy of their anti aircraft fire. The Germans knew that we would normally be flying in at heights between 18 20,000 feet, and they would put up what we would call a `box barrage' between these heights , and obviously they had to hit something or somebody. As a matter of interest, I will describe what really happened on this particular visit to Homberg.
I remember remarking to Jack Gambell, my bomb aimer, that there was a very dark cloud over to our starboard side, and of course, he immediately replied that this was our target and that we would be turning right into it in exactly one minute. He was, of course, right, because the next thing I knew was a big bang and we were on fire caused by a direct hit on the starboard inner engine and aircraft fuselage. Sammy, who was sitting directly behind me at his navigating table, was of course hit in the back by shrapnel. By the time Bill Ralph had got to him, it was after we had cleared the target and he was bleeding [inserted] and [/inserted] in a bad way. My starboard inner engine [inserted] had been [/inserted] [deleted] was [/deleted] on fire. [inserted] And in [/inserted] [deleted] In [/deleted] addition, my windscreen in front of me was smashed, and in the panic, I gave instructions to my engineer to feather the starboard inner engine and stand by. Bill Ralph, my flight engineer, feathered the wrong engine, and consequently we were obliged to fly as accurately as possible over the target area on the remaining good engines, and this proved to be very difficult with an aircraft that was fully loaded with bombs and flight crew. However, we managed after losing about 2000 feet in height, and began to assess the damage. As already mentioned, my windscreen had been completely shattered, and the glass had fallen down and cut my face a little bit, but it was not serious. My mid upper gunner had suffered similar injuries in his turret. Fortunately, we all played our part in getting out of this serious situation, and Bill Ralph who had experience in first aid, managed to get Sammy to the bed which was available a mid ships. Sam was awarded an immediate D.F.C. and I was assured that mine would come later.
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My first priority was to keep the aircraft flying and try to get Sammy comfortable. It was not possible, however, to stop his bleeding, and my next consideration had to be to get down as quickly as possible on to an aerodrome on the English coast. I chose Woodbridge emergency aerodrome situated on the east coast, and [deleted] o [/deleted] after considerable difficulty [inserted] in [/inserted] getting the undercarriage down and locked, I made a reasonably good landing, despite having a further two engines pack up on the approach. Fire engines and ambulances were awaiting our arrival as we had called the station up in advance and Sammy was rushed to hospital for emergency treatment. We were all examined by the station medical officer and were all back in Mildenhall soon afterwards. My aircraft was written off, and I was obliged to fly the Lancaster that picked us up, back to base. This procedure was always adopted on our squadron whenever air crews had been involved in such actions or flying accidents, in order to restore their confidence. I was later informed that I could not have reached my home base, had I decided to remain with my original aircraft.
I didn't get my DFC until after I had left the Squadron in Mildenhall, although I had been told unofficially that I was to get the award [inserted] . [/inserted] [deleted] and could wear the ribband [sic] [/deleted] . This information was given to me by the Squadron adjutant, who contacted me at Chipping Warden, and was also confirmed by Sammy my old navigator, who had by this time returned to Mildenhall after his hospitalisation, and was working at the base headquarters. [deleted] Also n [/deleted] [inserted] N [/inserted] ormally, it would have been presented by the King, but at this time he was very ill and the medal was sent by registered post with a personal letter with his signature. I also received a letter of congratulation from the Beaumaris Town Clerk and Town Council.
I went on with my crew to complete our tour of 33 operations, which finished on 22nd February 1945. I did not fly with Sammy again after the eleventh operation and had to fly with many spare navigators who were floating around the squadron, and this was not very easy as some of them were pretty awful. One in particular Fl/Sgt McKay got me lost over Germany on a trip to Leipzig and we got back very late and had been given up as `missing' on operations. [deleted] Fl/ [/deleted] McKay proved to be a complete nervous wreck and mentally unstable. Whatever happened to him afterwards, I could not say, but I believe he was assessed as LMF (Lack of moral fibre)
I must say at that time, I had no regrets about bombing Germany, as they were bombing us and I just wanted to return the compliment.
Flying conditions over the continent, particularly during the winter, were the cause of many flying accidents and frequently many crews did not find their target. They were initially obliged to depend on D.R. Navigation (dead reckoning). The inaccuracy of aircraft instruments and in many instances lack of flying experience….. [inserted] also took their toll. [/inserted]
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[arrow headed line down left hand side of page]
Finding the target depended on evading the enemy fighter [inserted] s [/inserted], and ack ack anti aircraft barrages and searchlights which were particularly fierce in the Ruhr and around all the main towns and cities. As mentioned, navigation depended on D.R navigation initially, and later on new equipment such as radar [inserted] – [/inserted] GEE, G.H and [deleted] H25 and also [/deleted] [inserted] H2S increased accuracy [/inserted] …… Target marking was also important as Jerry often jammed radar and radio equipment. Added to this when flying through a cold frontsome [sic] of the flying instruments ie pilot head, although electronically heated, froze solid and this meant that we had no airspeed indicator or altimeter, and the ice that built up on the leading edges of the wings and on the [inserted] airscrews [/inserted] ………..used to come adrift and crash against the fuselage, which was very disconcerting, and when experienced for the first time, the noise was frightening. [inserted] T [/inserted] [deleted] t [/deleted] owards the end of the war, the main bombing force was assisted by Pathfinders, a specially trained force who marked the target in various ways, again depending on the prevailing weather as sometimes we bombed through cloud and with the GH equipment, we …:[inserted] were able [/inserted] [deleted] with this equipment [/deleted] to bomb to within 50 yards which was considered to be a direct hit.
There were occasions when bombs got iced up on the bomb racks due to the cold, and these dropped into the bomb bay when we descended to a lower altitude, usually after leaving th target. The ruling was that in an emergency bombs would be dropped "safe" in certain areas ie the Wash and the Channel but we had to drop all our load in or on enemy territory. We would not land with a bomb rolling about in the bomb bay, and in such cases where we were concerned, a secondary target was chosen on the return route.
Prior to any raid, day or night, there were many regulations and procedures to be followed. First of all security on the bomber stations was strict, but even so, it often happened that the people ` [deleted] dwn [/deleted] [inserted] down in [/inserted] the village' knew what was going on. Battle orders were drawn up usually each morning upon receipt of instructions from Bmber [sic] Command Headquarters. These indicated the names of crews affected, the target to be attacked numbers of aircraft taking part. All arrangements for bomb load, rations, fuelling aircraft and briefings of aircrew members, were given to the various sections pilots, navigators bomb aimers, gunners were briefed by their section leaders, and a general final briefing was given by the squadron C.O. and senior staff. A little later, after this general briefing, we were taken out with all our kit to our individual aircraft to carry' out further checks and await take off time. Radio silence was strictly adhered to, and orders to take off were given by means of Aldis lamp or signal cartridge from the control tower. A limited amount of time was taken for take off and taxiing and all aircraft were checked
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and lined up ready for departure. Timing was , of course, all important as all aircraft had t [sic] bomb and clear the target spot on time and on the appointed compass heading to avoid collisions. We usually bombed from 18000 to 20000feet and reduced height by 8000 immediately after releasing our bombs.
I would mention that to ensure we all bombed our target, every aircraft carried a camera in the nose, and a photo flash in the tail portion. When the bomb doors were opened over the target area and the bombs released, the photo flash would be released at the same time, and a photograph taken of the target area. The photographs were scrutinised by our Intelligence Department on our return to base and if anyone had not been to the target, they wanted to know why! This was really a .......method to ensure that we all did our job.
On completion of my operational tour (33 operations), all of my crew were posted as screen instructors to various OTUs in 3 Group. My wireless operator, Fred Charlesworth and myself were posted to Chipping Warden, and I was awarded my DFC on leaving the station. Prior to going there, I did an instructors' course at Silverstone to get me acquaint [inserted] again [/inserted] with [deleted] t [/deleted] Wellington aircraft on which we were instructing. My time in chipping Warden was very restricted and I did very few trips. The war in Europe ended, and many aircrew were then made redundant. I was not asked, but was posted on a Tiger Moth course at Birmingham Airport. I was not very pleased about this. However, whilst on holiday in Beaumaris, I met Lady Megan Lloyd George at a garden party and would mention here, that my father knew her pretty well. When I explained my situation, she promised to do her best to get me into Transport Command. Shortly afterwards, I had a posting, not to Transport command, but to Ferry Command, which was the next best thing, and I did a short course on airspeed Oxfords at [deleted] Boscombe [/deleted] [inserted] Aston [/inserted] Down.
I was then posted to No 5 Ferry pool at Silloth. I flew many different types of aircraft, most of them twin engined and four engined types. On the twin engined aircraft, we carried no crew, but on the four-engined aircraft, we always carried a flight engineer. We were supplied with crystal [inserted] s [/inserted] for the radio transmitter unit and had to tune this equipment ourselves.This was quite an interesting job as we flew all the different types of aircraft arriving on our station. Most of these were taken to the north of Scotland or to Ireland to be put in storage. We were given no instruction on the aircraft we flew. [deleted] We [/deleted] [inserted] But [/inserted] were given a little blue book containing details of all types of aircraft and were obliged to study the respective performance figures prior to take off. Surprisingly, we had only one fatal accident the whole time I was with this unit.
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I was demobbed in August 1946, and completed a course for a `B' flying licence, as I intended to do some civilian flying. However, pilots were very plentiful in those days after the war, and there were problems finding a suitable job. Also, there was my high blood pressure which always came to the fore during the regular six monthly medical examinations, so I decided to seek work elsewhere.
First of all, I made a bad mistake and joined the Coventry Police force, serving as a police constable for some twelve months. During this time, I got married, and found the money in those days very tight. I earned £5.00 per week plus a boot allowance, and had to work on shifts. I finally handed in my resignation after twelve months. Again, I experienced considerable difficulty in finding suitable work, as I had no real qualifications apart from flying aircraft.
I finally got work in the Standard Motor Company in Canley. I had no wages for the first year as I was a student. I then went on to Service Reception, and was eventually allocated a territory as a service representative. This territory included the whole of the Midlands, South Wales as afar as Aberystwyth and right across to the Wash and East Anglia. This job entailed being away from home quite a lot. However, there were other advantages, such as having a car which was change [inserted] d [/inserted]. frequently every 10,000 miles, and of course, all the maintenance, insurance and running costs were paid for by the company.
Eventually, I had the opportunity of going abroad, which was a step forward, and an increase in status and salary, so I jumped at this. My first trip abroad was for three months, and included most countries in Europe and North Africa plus a visit to the oil wells of the Middle East which were at that time operating the Standard Vanguard. On my return,a great deal of service reorganisation and company changes were taking place, and I was posted on a permanent basis with my family to Brussels in the 1950s. This again, meant a great deal of time being spent away from home, and although Brussels was a very good centre, the job, to say the least was a little bit inconvenient, and threw a lot of extra work on my wife Mary.
After three years, I was again recalled to the United Kingdom [inserted] because of reorganisation [/inserted] and given the territory comprising Spain, Portugal, all of North Africa, as far as Angola and the Belgian Congo, and the Mediterranean countries as far south as Egypt. These changes of territory were taking place the whole time I was with British Leyland, and I finally ended up with a territory comprising the whole of Asia, Australasia, south America, central America and the Caribbean. This meant going round the world practically every time I did a trip. For this, I was promoted to Service Executive, and awarded an increase in salary for the extra responsibility and inconvenience involved. However, it meant a lot more work for Mary and
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[page break
the children. With all the problems it caused at home, the move was not really worth it, but work was difficult in those days.
I finally finished up at Land Rover at Solihull. I had by that time completed 33 years service with the company which was then known as British Leyland. The final crunch came when I had reported sick with prostate gland trouble. I was instructed by the company to get the operation completed quickly and they would pay all my expenses. This I did, but the company did not want to pay, and I finally had to foot the costs myself. I was in BUPA, but because I had previously had similar problems, they refused to accept the expenses involved.
I felt that the company had let me down, and even the trade union to which I belonged was useless. I felt that nobody had appreciated my effort s over the past years and I got out as quickly as I could. I did manage to buy my company car - a Dolomite Sprint at a special price. Apart from that the company paid nothing and the pension in those days was extremely poor by today's standards.
I would also mention that life during my working days in the motor trade was extremely precarious, as the unions were always going on strike and fighting for better conditions and better wages, but the quality of the final product was poor, and often disgusting. As a consequence, our sales, in overseas markets in particular, suffered. This deterioration became more noticeable in later years. The people in top management were most incompetent, and got their jobs not because of what they knew, but because of who they knew.
During my whole service with Standard Motor Company, Land Rover, and British Leyland, I can only remember going on strike once, and I vowed I would not do it again regardless of the consequences. It was a waste of time and money.
On retirement, Mary and I went to live in Portugal. We had a nice little two bedroomed villa situated some 3 km from Tavira, in a kind of cul de sac. We had all facilities including a swimming pool measuring some 8 x 4 metres. Most of the neighbours were English, and we got on with them all very well. We carried out various modifications during our time there including converting the top floor into a self contained flat with full facilities and capable of accommodating 3 4 people. This flatlet opened on to a flat tiled roof and overlooked the swimming pool. We were very happy living there although we did find the medical expenses there. high, and had always feared the day when we might need to pay for expensive medical treatment and hospitalisation.
We were very happy, until Mary became very ill with lung cancer and on her return to the UK, died after only two weeks in Walsgrave Hospital where she was receiving treatment. Unfortunately, she had a bad fall in the hospital ward just prior to her death and smashed all her front
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[page break]
teeth, and was badly bruised. I often wonder how much this fall affected her life span, and sometimes wish that I had complained more to the hospital authorities.
However, Mary had been a heavy smoker all her life. She would not go to see the doctor because I do believe she knew what he was going to say. Being sick in Portugal was very costly, and I am sure she was avoiding medical attention over there because of the conditions and expenses involved. Being back in the UK would have improved her chances of survival, but I feel that she had left it too late to do anything about her problem.
When Mary died, my real life seemed to end and can never be the same again. She was wonderful, always so kind and considerate, not only to me but to everybody she met. Everybody I have spoken to held her in very high esteem. I feel that my life is over now and if it wasn't for my children and grandchildren, I don't think my life would be worth living. They have all been truly wonderful.
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WKT Memoirs revised Feb 2005
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If you can't take a joke...
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A detailed account of Ken Thomas's life from his early years at school, through his ground crew technical training followed by his aircrew training, operational tour, short post war service and his civilian career, he revised the account in 2005.
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Ken Thomas
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2005-02
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19 typewritten pages
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eng
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BThomasWKthomasWKv10001 to 10019
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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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Royal Air Force
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Peter Bradbury
David Bloomfield
16 OTU
1657 HCU
622 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
Anson
Battle
Blenheim
briefing
Distinguished Flying Cross
flight mechanic
Flying Training School
Fw 190
Gee
ground crew
H2S
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Me 109
mechanics engine
military service conditions
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
perception of bombing war
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Cranage
RAF Desborough
RAF Feltwell
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Hednesford
RAF Llandwrog
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Paignton
RAF Penrhos
RAF Shepherds Grove
RAF Silloth
RAF Silverstone
RAF South Cerney
RAF Stradishall
RAF Torquay
RAF Upper Heyford
sanitation
Stirling
strafing
training
Wellington
Whitley
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1029/11401/AMearsCE170921.2.mp3
edf2f184d73bf03b40c1c7f7b746d032
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Mears, Charles
Charles E Mears
C E Mears
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An oral history interview with Flight Lieutenant Charles Mears DFC (1923 - 2017). He flew operations as a pilot with 218 Squadron.
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IBCC Digital Archive
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2017-09-21
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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.
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Mears, CE
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Transcription
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AM: This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is Alistair Montgomery, Monty, and the interviewee is Flight Lieutenant Charles Mears, Distinguished Flying Cross. The interview is taking place at Charlie’s home in West Kilbride and his son in law, Jim Ferguson is present. Charles, good afternoon. Tell me a little bit about your family background and where you lived.
CM: Yeah.
AM: Prior to joining the Royal Air Force.
CM: Yes. Well, I was born in Manchester. My parents had an off licence and grocers in a place called Hulme. H U L M E.
AM: Right.
CM: And I I was born on the 9th of December 1923. And my father was a Scot. He was born in Edinburgh but emigrated to Canada. And he joined the, during the First World War he joined the Canadian Army with his brother George and they were both in France and they met my mother’s brother in France. And my mother’s brother invited them over to their home in England and at that time they were in Manchester because my grandfather was a tunneller and he built the first, well he didn’t personally but he was the foreman ganger on the first tunnel under the Clyde. And they’d moved to Manchester because in the Victorian era they were building all the sewers in, in Manchester. And my Uncle Jack, which is my father’s brother he was also a tunneller and in fact I think they were in the tunnelling company in the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry. And they obviously, that’s where my father met my mother in England and that’s why I’m here. And we lived there. I went to school at Princess Road School which was just famous for, for footballers really. And then the war broke out in in 1939. Oh, I wanted to go in the Royal Air Force and I wasn’t, my schooling wasn’t, it was only an elementary school so that I needed, I needed to have experience in English, maths and science. So I went to night school as we called it, evening school if you like, for three years with a view to going in to the Royal Air Force as an aircraft apprentice at Halton. But of course the war broke out in 1939 and me and my pal, which was a Welsh boy were determined to, to join something. And we first of all went to join the Navy and I didn’t know much about it and I said to John, my friend, ‘Well, what do I do? What do I say we go in as the Navy?’ He said, ‘Well tell them you want to be an artificer’s mate.’ I said, ‘What the hell is that?’ So he said, ‘Well, I don’t know but tell them you want to be.’ So, anyway we joined up and they gave us a form for my father to fill in because I was fifteen when the war broke out. Anyway, cutting a long story short my father threw it in the fire and said, ‘You’re not joining the Navy.’ I think because he’d been in the Army in the First World War and told me stories where he never had his boots off for three months and horrible things about the war. Anyway, we then said, John my pal, said, ‘Well, we’ve got to join something.’ So we’ll join the, we’ll join the LDV which it was then. The Local Defence Volunteers. That was before the, before the Home Guard. And he said that, ‘But they’ll ask you. You’ll have to have some experience of shooting.’ So, he said, ‘Tell them you’ve, you’ve experience of rabbit shooting,’ he said, ‘Because I used to shoot.’ He came from Wales and he said, ‘I’ve done a bit of rabbit shooting.’ So we went to this place and I said, when they asked me I said, ‘Well, rabbit shooting.’ So, they said, ‘Well, where are the bloody rabbits in Hulme?’ And so we got kicked out of that. So we said, ‘Well, we’ll join the Army. We’ll join the cadets.’ So there was a place called Hardwick Green Barracks in, in Manchester. So we, we went there and there was a big door and a little door going in to the big door. And I opened this little door and there was a line-up of lads with just a cap on, with a peak cap, all with one rifle stood in a line and must have been a sergeant or somebody shouting all sorts of things at them. So I closed the door and I said to John, ‘We’re not doing that. I don’t like the look of that at all.’ So he said, ‘Well we’ve got to join something.’ He said, ‘The only thing left is the Air Force.’ So he said, ‘But the Air Force don’t have a cadet force.’ The Army did and the Navy did but the Air Force didn’t. So he said, ‘But they’ve got what they called the ADCC,’ which was the Air Defence Cadet Corps. So he said, ‘We can join that.’ He said, ‘The only trouble is you have to buy your own uniform.’ he said, ‘And it’s, it’s five pounds.’ Or four pounds fifty. I forget now which. Well, that was equivalent to a man’s wage in those days because where I was working, ‘cause I started work at fourteen that was in fact I remember them taking a guy out to a for a drink who’d just managed to be awarded five pounds a week. So anyway, surprise surprise my father said, ‘Well, that’s alright. I’ll pay for it.’ So we bought this uniform and I joined the ADCC. Well, that in in due course became 1941 ATC Squadron. That was, as far as I know the first ATC squadron there was. And during that time the, the three officers used to come periodically and interview people to go in for the forces. To go in the Air Force. Well, you could be, you could be called up at, at eighteen then. That means conscripted when you were eighteen. But you could, you couldn’t be, you couldn’t be conscripted into aircrew. You had to be a volunteer. Anyway, I didn’t know anything about this. I knew you had to be conscripted because my brother was three years older than me and he’d been conscripted in to the army. So these people, I used to be, I used to march the cadets in to see the officers for this selection board and they said why aren’t, have you, ‘We haven’t seen you sergeant.’ I was a sergeant then in the ATC. So I said, ‘Well, I’m not old enough, sir.’ They said, ‘Well, we’ll do it now anyway.’ Anyway, they interviewed me and then about, it must have been a few weeks afterwards surprise surprise I got papers, a travel warrant to go up to Cardigan. So I went up to Cardigan and went through various tests. And then I was taken into a room and swore my allegiance to King and country. That was in October ’41 and I was in the Air Force. So, so they couldn’t call you up until you were eighteen and a quarter so, so I was duly called up and went to ACRC Air Crew Receiving Centre in London. And from there you did a few, you did various things. Got your uniform and what have you. But we went to, we were ACRC in, for us, for me was at Lord’s Cricket Ground and they, the first of all you went into the place and, and they said, they asked you where you, what’s your name and address and what school did you go to and what newspapers did you read. And I made what I later realised in later life a mistake because I said, which was true Princess Road Elementary School. Well, that wasn’t the answer really that I should have given. I should have said a High School or something. And they, they sort of sized your gas mask that you’d kept very religiously all, well from being fifteen from the time war broke out until 1941 you’d sort of treasured this thing and guarded it with your life. It was taken off you and thrown into a heap. This was, oh I don’t know, a mile high of all gas masks. And then a guy weighed you up for a uniform and he seemed to be able to just look at you and weigh up what, what you required by just a glance and he gave you this uniform and underwear and the rest of your kit and off you went. And we were put into, which are now we know are quite expensive flats in St John’s Wood. And you had little few exams and if you passed them alright you went to ITW. Yes. Initial Training Wing. And if you didn’t you went to Brighton for more maths instructions. And funnily enough I wasn’t. We’d never done algebra or those things at school so, and one of the things we were asked was transposition of formula which is what it was called. So I said to a colleague I’d joined up with, Bernard Hall, I said, and he was a university boy from Hawarden. Hawarden, I think you pronounce it. In Cheshire. And he said, ‘Don’t worry, Chesa. I’ll show you what to do.’ So he showed me and anyway, I must have passed. But strangely enough he mustn’t have passed because he was sent to Brighton for extra maths and I went to ITW at Cambridge at what was then New Clare College.
AM: Right.
CM: And then, then from there we did twelve weeks at ITW and then I was posted to Manchester to, like a big holding centre where they put all the people waiting for, for movement. Funnily enough it was a place that my, my father in law had been, it transpired later on, had been to in the First World War. Anyway, I was there for I think about a couple of months at which time I was billeted out. Lived at home at the off licence and grocers I told you about. And then one day we were told would you, asked, ‘Would you like to go to Communion because we’re going, possibly going overseas?’ So I said, ‘Yes. I would,’ because I’d always been brought up to, to go to church. I went to Communion and then we were marched to the railway station at Heaton Park and we were put on the train up to eventually ended up at Gourock in, well not very far from where you live. And we were put off the train in to I think it was called a lighter and I don’t know how we, we obviously arrived at the side of this huge piece of steel it looked with just a big hole in it. And we got off in to it and went up this beautiful staircase. And later on because of a plaque that was on the wall we found out that it was the Queen Mary and apparently the, we were on the way to going to America. And on its trip before this one we went on it had cut through a destroyer and the bow was all stove in and filled with concrete. And anyway we sailed. I think it took about three or four days and the weather was very rough. We went well north because the Queen Mary didn’t have a, it was considered too fast for the U- boats so we didn’t have any escort at all and we ended up in, in Boston Harbour. And then we got off at Boston and were put on the train and went up to Moncton in Canada which is in New Brunswick. And I just wondered how far it was from Montreal because I thought perhaps I could visit some of my relatives if I knew where they were. Anyway, we were in Moncton for only possibly a couple of months I think ‘til November because I think because we were in, we were in an Armistice Day Parade in Moncton. And then we, we got on a train in Moncton and then —
AM: So what were you doing in Moncton? Were you doing any more training?
CM: No. I didn’t do anything.
AM: Right.
CM: We just did a bit of marching and that was it. And I know a fellow used to come around who was a bit of, he used to come in the morning and shout out, “Hands off cocks and put on socks, any sick laymen’s lazy,’ and then you reported sick. I remember that. And we put on this train in Moncton and we were apparently going down to Florida for, to join 5 BFTS, British Flying Training School. And I think navigators went to, to Rivers in Manitoba but we were on this. And we went down through New York first and we were got off the train in New York and we were invited and taken to the Stage Door Canteen which was a famous place where apparently all the troops went. And the main, main artist on at the Stage Door Canteen was Larry Adler at that time. The well-known harmonica player. And a lady took my name and address at the door and said, ‘We’ll send a card. We’ll send a card to your mother and let her know how you are.’ Well, later on. Many, many years later my sister I have a well I had a brother and I still have a sister but she’s thirteen years younger than me. My brother was well was three years older than me. He’s dead now. Been dead some time. And my mother had the, still had the card from that they’d sent. And it was a Jewish lady who’d sent it and said, “We’ve seen your son and he’s alright,” and that. That was the first word she’d had of me. So she was very pleased to get that.
AM: Oh aye.
CM: Yeah. So then we never got off the train after that. We went down through, through Georgia and I marvelled at the, I mean America was so vast and we were miles and miles of peanut stacks in Georgia and things. The first stop we came to in Florida was a place called Sebring, which I believe was where the five hundred miles road races are or something. Sebring. And they greeted us with a silver band and two big sacks of oranges. And we hadn’t seen oranges or anything, you know for a long time. So that was nice. And then we arrived at Clewiston which is right at the bottom of Lake Okeechobee which is the big lake in, not very far. And went up to, we went to, came to our camp and we couldn’t believe our eyes when we arrived there and saw this big swimming pool and all the billets were all like little apartments were around the swimming pool. And I was, we were put in, apparently it was Course 12 and it was the first course that had Americans with us. Apparently the, we heard that the Americans had decided that our navigation was probably superior to theirs so they trained, because they’d all trained with us they were Army or Air Force armaments instructors but the American instructors and your ground duties were American. The Meteorological fella was a fella from New York who used to talk about the turning and turning of the, of the clouds for the, in the cumulus and cumulo nimbus. And they were, most of the Americans were already or some of them, there were seven. The course was a hundred. A hundred people total and seventeen were Americans and eighty three of us were British boys. So they, and they’d come from, from some sort of university to, to 5 BFTS because they used to talk about, they had lots of sayings which when you’ve seen American fellas on the television they’re marching left right and singing their songs and this but they said, superiors used to say to them, ‘Stand to attention. How many wrinkles have you got under your chin?’ And when you were on the tables for your lunch they’d say, ‘Pass the salt and don’t short stop it.’ They meant you couldn’t, if you were a junior then you couldn’t stop the salt being passed down. It had to go from one to the other so, so they had what they called a, they appointed one cadet from, from, from the British side and one from the American side to be what they classed as a senior under officer and he was like the commandant of you, and any complaints and so on he was the one who had to direct it to the authorities. And they called it the honour system. And they used to say, well the Americans have got the honour and the, and the British have got the system because we didn’t take any notice much of things that were going on. And I had four, well not I, we had four Americans in our billet and they astounded us at first because they all had different smelly stuff, you know. Sprays and stuff. Well, we didn’t have any of that. We had, we used to perhaps a bar of carbolic soap or something. But they had all squeeze under your arm and whatever. Anyway, we were chatting around and they said, the two boys I was with were a fella called Harold Wilkin and Jack Hough. And Jack Hough was an elderly bloke. He was married. Well, elderly to me because I was eighteen. I don’t know, he was twenty something. And Harry used to, I found the, some of the ground subjects quite difficult because I hadn’t been that well educated and Jack used to, I had the top bunk and he had the bunk underneath me and he didn’t seem to do any studying. He said, ‘You do all the studying. I’ll be alright.’ And then he’d, he’d try and copy off me if he could. So, but it was, it was unbelievable to have this beautiful swimming pool. Anyway, we were there until, and I, they said, the boys said, ‘Well, the first thing to do is Palm Beach can’t be far away.’ Well, Palm Beach to me the words were just something you heard on, on the films as we called it, you know. Or the pictures. But they said, ‘Well, so we’ll hitch a ride to Palm Beach.’ Well, we, we did one weekend. When the first weekend came up we, we thought we’ll hitch a ride. Well, it turned out to be ninety miles to Palm Beach. And so we saw a truck coming by and it had all melons on the back and there was a couple of what we used to then say coloured fellas driving it and we, we gave them the thumbs as you did when you were hitching and got on the back of this wagon. And we eventually got to Palm Beach. What we thought was Palm Beach. But we were expecting to see the water and the beach but there wasn’t. There was just this strip of water and nothing. Well, apparently that is a place. The water at, is not Palm Beach when you’re there. Its West Palm Beach. Palm Beach is across the strip of water which they called Lake Worth. It isn’t a lake but it’s a strip of water and a bridge over to, to the other side which is Palm Beach proper. The proper beach. So, anyway we, we asked somebody at, the Americans have a thing called the PX which is the equivalent of like our YMCA. So we went into this PX and asked them and they said, ‘No. Well, if you want Palm Beach you’ll have to go across the, across the Lake Worth.’ So we stayed. We said, ‘Well, where can we stay?’ They said, ‘Well, there’s a nice little inn just, just around the corner.’ So we stayed there the night and the next morning we went across this bridge and we noticed like black men peddling these like big bassinette affairs, carrying a couple of white people over the bridge. Apparently this is how they, they travelled around. And we got to the end of the road and it was a road called Coronation Road and we went down to the bottom. There was a little picket fence. And then we saw this lovely beach and then the ocean. So we climbed over and we settled ourselves on the beach and lo and behold there were there were which I now know were coconut trees on and some coconuts husks. Well, I now know they were coconuts husks on the, on the ground and these trees. So I said, ‘Oh, look at those.’ They said, ‘Yes. We’ll bag those up.’ And so I said, ‘What are they?’ He said, ‘They’re coconuts.’ So I said, ‘Coconuts?’ Well, the only coconuts I’d seen were the ones that are on a coconut shy. So they said, ‘Oh no. That’s the coconut’s inside those. We’ll show you what to do.’ And they broke open this thing so I learned now the coconut was inside the shell. I didn’t know that. So we settled down there and had a swim and then suddenly a black fella arrived out of the, and came along the beach and said, ‘I’m afraid you can’t stay here. You’re on private land.’ So I said, ‘Private land?’ He said, ‘Yes. This belongs to, to Waikiki,’ which was, he said, ‘But I’ll have a word with the mistress and see what she says.’ So anyway, this lady came down and her name eventually we found out was Mrs Nesmith. N E S M I T H. And she said, ‘Oh, where are you?’ And we explained and of course she knew nothing about the British boys at 5 BFTS or anything else. So she said, ‘Oh, come up,’ and she said, ‘You can change in our, in our bath house here,’ she said, ‘And then come in.’ So we chatted to her and she said, ‘What are you going to do?’ I said, ‘Well, we’ll get, hitch, hitch a ride back.’ She said, ‘Well, no. You can stay the night’. She said, ‘We can fix you up alright,’ she said, ‘I’ll give you some of Isla’s pyjamas.’ Well, Isla must have, well is her husband and apparently he had been a banker but there were a lot of private banks prior to the big crash of whenever it was. And a lot of these little banks had all gone bust so they’d, they’d taken to be estate agents and they had this big, big house called Waikiki and they said, ‘You can stay here,’ and she gave me this thing. Nice pyjamas. And she said, ‘Well, if you get a chance you can come here anytime and just, just help yourself.’ So anyway, cutting a long story this lady befriended and treated me almost like my mother. She was elderly and I was, well seemed elderly she was probably fiftyish and I was, I mean I was only eighteen so she really treated me very well. And she eventually she actually set up a Cadet Club at Clewiston and she also arranged, she said, ‘Well, I want to arrange for you to meet some, some girls and some of the wealthy people of Palm Beach.’ Well, I thought well if you’re not wealthy I don’t know what is because they each had a car. She had an Oldsmobile and he had a Plymouth and they had this lovely place. Well, that actually that was one of their letting places. That wasn’t their, their home. Their home was at I think 206 Pendleton Avenue if I remember rightly. And eventually me, Harold Wilkin and Jack Hough were the first people she’d ever befriended and as I say she, she eventually set up a Cadet Club in Clewiston and she also befriended over two thousand RAF boys. And she was awarded the, I think I’ve put it in the papers there. I think it was the King’s, the Kings Medal for, not for bravery. For something. And she was given it as an honour on a battleship in, in Miami. But she were a fantastic lady and, and she actually after, after that part of the war she still corresponded with me and my parents and, well mostly my mother and my little sister and sent us all sorts of, I think the first Christmas cake we’d had, and was a really wonderful lady. But funnily enough we, we didn’t want to chance hitchhiking back because we had to be in camp by 23.59 you know. Like a minute to midnight on such and such a day. So we decided to go on the bus. And they said, ‘Well, you can get a bus straight to Clewiston from here.’ This is, this is where, she showed us where the bus stop was and we were standing there and some black people came and stood behind us. And apparently, we found that the black people couldn’t get on the bus until all the whites were on and they couldn’t sit with you. They had to stand or they could sit on a seat with them but they couldn’t sit. And there was a pregnant lady who stood by the side of me and I, I got up and said, ‘Sit down.’ So she said, ‘No. I can’t.’ I said, ‘Just sit down.’ And anyway, apparently, I didn’t know but apparently when I don’t know who did it, whether it was somebody on the bus or one of the driver or what but I was hauled before the coals the following day and said, ‘You’re a guest of the American nation at the moment and irrespective of whatever your feelings are you will obey what they do.’ So I said, ‘Well, what’s the matter?’ He said, ‘They’re just not allowed to be with you.’ And when you went to a cinema they went in one part of the cinema, the coloured people as I call them, I apologise if I’m using the wrong expression but to be honest I’m at a stage where I don’t know really. It’s a different world to me. I don’t mean any disrespect to, to any nation but I just, just instinct with me. So it was, I mean in those days apparently there was, was just complete segregation. They weren’t allowed to. The black or coloured or whatever you call them people were not allowed to mix with you. And even when if you were fishing anywhere, they and you actually, I remember catching some, I think it was cat fish or something and I asked the fella who was showing me the fishing, I said, ‘Can you eat these?’ And he said, ‘Niggers do.’ Well, I mean it’s just a completely different world altogether, but in 1942 that seemed to be the way things were but anyway —
AM: What was the, what was the flying like at Clewiston?
CM: The flying?
AM: The flying.
CM: Well, the flying was strange because we were, we were in Stearmans which were open cockpits, twin wing aircraft and, and it was on a grass airfield and at night when we were doing night flying you had to wear snake boots because there were, there were rattlesnakes in the grass. And in fact Milton Steuer, one of the American boys who who had come to join us he was like a famous literary person because he could, he wrote like a brochure afterwards of, of our course, Course 12 called, “Listening Out.” And he, he had a, he had a what I then learned afterwards he had a prize Harley Davidson motorbike. Absolutely beautiful thing. Most of the boys. The American boys all had, some had their wives with them and some had their motorcars and everything. And they, they had the uniforms made weeks and weeks before the graduation. They were all commissioned. And beautiful material. You know, pink trousers and olive green tops. Really lovely stuff. And they, so he shot one of these rattlesnakes and we had, he skinned it and we used to have the skin on the, on the barrack room wall. And Mrs Nesmith arranged for us to go on a deep sea fishing trip with one of the guests of one of her houses and we, we were fortunate. It was a beautiful yacht where there were two seats at the back where you sat with these big rods doing the fishing. And we caught what we called, it was a sailfish but it’s like a swordfish and it had a bill that was about, well the whole thing, the whole, I don’t know whether Jim sent you a picture of it and it was on and it was over seven foot long.
Other: A Marlin.
CM: Yeah. Well, we call it a sailfish. And it had, it had this bill and they used to put the bill on the wall of the billet as well. And you flew a pennant if you’d caught one of these. And this fella whose yacht we were on said, ‘Damn me,’ he said, ‘I’ve been fishing twenty years and I’ve never caught one of these,’ and he said, ‘Here you are your first trip and you catch one.’ So that was, that was a thing I remember. So then when, when you graduated oh well you did your Wings exam as they called it. That was your final examination and I didn’t know whether I’d done any good or not because I studied like hell but I was at a disadvantage from the beginning because some of the boys, one boy in particular used to, well when he went to the examination he had three different bottles of ink and used different colours to write the answers in. And I think he became top of I don’t know how many people but I had a trouble with, with meteorology at first. I couldn’t. I mean like if I’d had, and I had the misfortune to have one of these strange minds who made fun of everything and like Buys Ballot’s Law. I learned that and it’s like stand with your back to the wind and low pressure’s on your left hand. Well, I, I joked with this so often I actually put in in the answer in the first one. I put, “Stand with your back to the wind and the wind’s behind you.” And the Met Officer, Harold C Cowleyshaw his name was. A real New Yorker. And he said, ‘I suppose you think that’s funny.’ So I said, ‘Well, I didn’t,’ I said, ‘It’s like Newton’s law of motion.’ He said, ‘What’s that?’ I said, ‘A body is at rest and it continues at rest until it moves.’ So he said, ‘Oh, get off.’ So, but these things happen and you make these mistakes. But I was, Mrs Nesmith had said, ‘Well, you boys can come to, to me at Christmas,’ she said, ‘But one of you will have to do the cooking,’ she said, ‘Because Ida,’ that was her servant, who was a a black servant, ‘Goes to Canada in, in the summer because, and normally I go,’ she said, ‘Because it’s too hot in Florida. And also the termites come and they have to treat them. Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’m not going.’ So, she said, ‘One of you will have to. Not you son.’ She wouldn’t let me do a thing. So I must have been looking miserable. She said, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m sweating on, on my exams.’ She said, ‘Oh, I’m not having that,’ and picked up the phone and phoned the station and asked for the CO and wants to know how I’ve done. So she came back and said, ‘Nothing to worry about. You’re fifty fourth.’ So I said, ‘Well, that’s better than being a hundred.’ [laughs] So, so that was alright. But, but she was a lovely lady and that’s my, my highlight of being with 5 BFTS. Well, then I, we trained up and I got bitten by a horsefly on the leg the day of the passing out parade when you got your wings and I had to go into a hospital and so I missed the graduation dinner. And then when we got on the train they arranged for an orderly to come on at every halt to come and drain my leg from this horsefly bite which was quite, quite a nasty thing. And we trained up back to Moncton and then we were on the Louis Pasteur which was one of the ships that were plying backwards and forwards to, to England. And we came, came into Liverpool and I was posted up to Fraserburgh for a conversion on to twin engine aircraft because what had happened is the Battle of Britain had finished. And therefore although we’d actually trained and learned all the fighter manoeuvres in fact two of our boys were killed on simulation of tight turns for fighters, and there was a few accidents of boys getting in to a stall because you had to be tighter and tighter and tighter. So they said. And you did it with fighter affiliation you do, you call the exercises. And they all, they nearly all the boys are buried at a place called Arcadia and the people of Arcadia where they, we went to a few of the funerals of the lads who were killed and the people of Arcadia looked after their graves ever since, and they’ve done a fantastic job. And 5 BFTS have sent them paintings of, of the Stearman and the Harvard together as an acknowledgement of the help they’ve given us. And the 5 BFTS was, Association was formed and it went on for well it only finished not last year it would be the year before. We had a letter we no longer had to give subscriptions. He said they’ll still, they’ll use the money sending out the, the yearly bulletin until the money run out and then the last one out was [unclear] That was it because they, I mean I’m, I’ll be ninety four in December so nearly all of them are no longer with us. But yeah. It was. So I was posted to Fraserburgh. Which was a shock because I’d never been to Scotland. Only once. Although my father was a Scot. My mum and dad with them having the shop never had a holiday together and he brought me up in 1934 to Glasgow to the Empire Exhibition which was in 1934 at Bellahouston Park. And that’s the only time I’d been to Scotland. He went to see two friends. One was in Cathcart I think and, where my father had lived. And the other one was in what I first of all said Milngavie but he soon corrected me and said Milngavie see. So, but Fraserburgh when we came up in ’43 they had to feed us by air. It was, the winter was that bad. And, and the dances which I thought we would be going to an ordinary dance there you didn’t get a ticket you put your arm through and they stamped it, “Paid,” with a, with a indelible stamp on. And every, every dance was a Eightsome Reel. And I could neither dance, I couldn’t, well I could dance. I couldn’t dance the Eightsome Reel. And I couldn’t understand a word the girls were saying. And in fact, this morning I was singing they’ve, they’ve got a song which everybody knew but me and they said at the end, ‘Well, what song would you like to have now?’ So I said, ‘Well, any song you like as long [laughs] as long as it’s in bloody English.’ Anyway, that’s by the way because the only songs I’ve got are, are Scottish songs were ones my father told me but they were either by Will Fyffe or —
AM: Harry Lauder.
CM: Harry Lauder but —
AM: So what was the flying like there?
CM: It was alright. Fraserburgh was, we did and I loved the, the Airspeed Oxford. It was a lovely little aeroplane. And we went to different places along the coast. Dallachy and one or two others on BABS flights or SBA flights. Did those. And, and did all the night flying all around.
AM: Because the weather must have been quite a factor.
CM: Oh, it was dreadful. Dreadful weather. But then from there I was posted to Hooton Park which is now the —
AM: Yeah.
CM: Vauxhall Motor plant. And I was there for about seven months on, on ASV. That’s Anti-Surface Vessel training with, they were wireless operators who were being trained to, in the Liverpool Bay to look for U-boats and you flew from from Hooton Park anywhere between our coast, our west coast out as far as the Isle of Man and around about. And fortunately because you, I mean you didn’t know where the hell you were going and I could navigate in, I’d only navigated in, in America and that’s where all the loads of north and south are and the, my instructor seemed to, he seemed to, he said to me he could tell where he was by the colour of the soil. But I don’t think he, that was the main thing because he used to fly quite low and we’d fly around the water towers, and all the water towers have their name on them so I think [laughs] he was reading the name. But I found the navigation was, was fairly I could do that alright but in in Scotland or England it’s not quite the same.
AM: No.
CM: So, we did that and then I was at Hooton Park as I say for about seven months and what I found that I’d fly around because you didn’t know where you were going. They just guided where they went and they were looking for whatever the instructor was teaching them. So then if the time was up which I think was about an hour or an hour and a half I used to fly, fly east until I hit the coast. If I could see Blackpool Tower it was alright. And then I’d, I’d turn right and there were two rivers. There was the River Mersey and the River Dee. So, I knew it was the second one and then fortunately there was a railway line. It isn’t there now. But there was a railway line that went right from like from West Kirby right the way through to Hooton so I just followed the railway line and went in. So that was easy enough to find. It was a bit disconcerting sometimes if, if there was a clamp on and the visibility was quite low. But then I was posted from there to, to OTU. Operational Training Unit at Desborough on Wellingtons. So we did, did fifty hours on Wellingtons and one of the, they used to have if they had a thousand bomber raid or whatever they, they seconded, all training units as well flew. Generally with aircraft that were not exactly top notch because they’d been used for training for a long time. And they obviously had a number of what they called nickel raids which are dropping leaflets instead. And either the Germans couldn’t read them telling them to give up like but either they didn’t read English or they didn’t take much notice. And I, I went to Brest for my nickel raid and it was one of the worst trips I had. It’s because that’s where the U-boat pens were and it was very very well defended. And when we came back we were diverted because it was fog bound and we were diverted to Boscombe Downs which was a grass airfield. And I remember you’d, when you land you open the bomb doors first to see if there’s any hang-ups presumably. And when I opened the bomb doors of course all the shower of leaflets fell out which is — so I had the boys scampering all over trying to pick up all these leaflets and I realised afterwards they really needn’t have bothered. They didn’t worry about a few. I mean they wasn’t the English people weren’t worried about them anyway. So, but that fortunately I found afterwards that actually counted as an operation anyway so, which I was glad it did because it was a pretty hairy target, Brest. So, then from, from that I went to Shepherds Grove I think it was called in in Suffolk for a Heavy Conversion Unit on to Stirlings and then from Shepherds Grove we went to, to Feltwell which was a Lancaster Finishing School.
AM: And was that where you crewed up?
CM: No. No. You crewed up at OTU. But the crewing up was a strange thing because I’d, I was coming from, from I think it was from Dishforth to, to [pause] I don’t know if it was Dishforth to Feltwell but as I got off the station, out of the train on to the platform this young navigator came up to me and said, ‘Are you crewed up, serg?’ Because I was a sergeant then. Either a sergeant or a flight sergeant, I forget because I’d been a sergeant over twelve months. And then, so I said, ‘No, I don’t think so.’ He said, ‘Well, can I be your navigator?’ I said, ‘Yeah,’ I mean I said, ‘Yes, certainly.’ So I’d already got then one crew member and then we went in and when you go to a station you have to go to, to all sorts of departments you know. Well, you’d know. Well, you did then. You went to the sick quarters and went to the bike shed and God knows where. So I went to the sick quarters and I’m sitting there waiting to see somebody and then a gaggle of blokes came in and slumped on a form of chairs and [unclear] and all these blokes were sort of lolling asleep and this one fella was quite awake. And apparently they were a load of bomb aimers who’d come from Morpeth I think where they’d been doing, it was a Radio School, I think. And a fellow who everybody called Dick, and I called him Dick once I’d been introduced to him he, he came. He was only a livewire. Well I’d found out then later that they’d all just come from, all the way from, from Morpeth in the North East so they were tired. But he seemed quite chirpy. And I found much later on in life that his name wasn’t Dick. His name was actually Bob but his surname was Turpin see. So he was Dick. Like everybody who was White was Chalky White. Anyway, I thought, I said, ‘Are you crewed up?’ So he said, ‘No.’ So I said, well he was what we called a flying A, A haul because he wasn’t a, he wasn’t a navigator he was an observer. And he was both a gunner, a wireless operator and navigator as well. So he was the best of all works. And eventually he was one I, I became closest to and I actually taught him enough to get the Lancaster down because I thought it was, was stupid for say if I got shot or killed and there’s all the crew, I mean. You know they didn’t know anything so, so he could at least put it, I don’t say it would be a good landing but he could put it down. So that was he was fixed. That was, the navigator was fixed. And Bob was, or Dick was fixed and he was a sort of back up navigator if I needed it and he said, ‘Have you got any gunners?’ So I said, ‘No.’ He said, ‘Well, I’ve got two Geordie gunners,’ he said, ‘And one of them wants to be a rear gunner,’ he said, ‘Which is unusual. So,’ he said, ‘Should I ask them’? So I said, ‘Yes. Fine.’ So then I got the two gunners. So I was fixed up apart from the wireless operator. Well, we were going to, I forget which station we were at now but I was passing the, where the wireless op was being, where the wireless operators were being trained and this circle of people were there around this one bloke and they were all laughing their socks off. And I thought well he’s a livewire whoever it is in the middle so I said I’ll have him. Well, I didn’t realise they weren’t laughing with him so much as laughing at him because he was, he was the most well intentioned bloke but he really wasn’t that well clued up because twice he [pause] well once on the Wellington he nearly gassed us all to death because he, it was his responsibility to turn the ground and flight switch on to flight when, on the Wellington when you took off and he’d forgotten. And suddenly the cockpit filled with fumes you see. And it was only Dick who said, ‘You bloody well haven’t switched the thing on,’ see. So the battery was going. And he also, he when the wireless wasn’t working once he stripped it all down. He said, ‘I’ll fix it.’ Well, he couldn’t put it back together again, so [pause] But, and he and the navigator who was we called Titch because he was only five foot one and he had a, a motorbike and used to, we used to joke, if you see the a bike coming along and there’s nobody on it that’s Titch. So that was, that was quite funny. So then I was fully crewed up and they truthfully were, were a good bunch of lads. And my rear gunner could turn his hand to anything if, he used to do all my sewing for me. Darn my socks. And whenever I got any increase in rank or what he’d sew it on. And if you lost anything he would get you another one. He would acquire one from somewhere [laughs] Whether it was a bicycle or, or a gas mask or whatever it was he would get it. ‘Don’t worry about it, skipper. I’ll see to it,’ he’d say. That’s right. But they were really a good bunch of lads. And that was it. I was fully crewed up. But apparently what they did they was, if you read the stories they shoved everybody in a hangar and they had to sort theirselves out. Well, that didn’t work for me. Mine came like I told you and I never had any trouble. And the only thing was you didn’t, you didn’t want your crew flying, flying with anybody else. You just, but they all, one of the snags was one and it’s funny how I, how I got my commission I think because at Ched, I didn’t, from Feltwell LF Lancaster Finishing School we went straight to the squadron which was at Methwold which was in Norfolk. And that was the first time I ever realised they were on ops because prior to then you just wanted to get on the squadron you know. You desperately want to get on the squadron. But when we drove through the gates because it’s only a few miles from Feltwell to Methwold there were ambulances pulled up at the outside. They’d been to, I think to Homberg they’d been to and they were lifting some of the people out and putting them in the ambulances. They’d been shot. They’d had a particularly bad trip and of course I would see it at the time but funnily enough it was strange because after I’d done this, when I’d seen these, all the bomb aimers and got crewed up you went to the bedding store, that was the last place you went to to get your blanket. Well, your three blankets and two sheets. And the fella looked at me and said and must have been when I spoke, he said ‘You’re a Mancunian, aren’t you?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘So am I.’ He said, ‘Now, don’t worry son,’ he said, ‘I’ve seen hundreds go through here,’ he said, ‘And I can tell you now you’ll be alright.’ You’ll see things through. So I don’t know why he’d sort of gave me and the strangest thing out. I’ve told this story many times. Later on. H came from Blackley. As we called it Blackley as it’s spelled. A lot of people call it Blackley who don’t know Manchester, Blackley and we corresponded with each other for only by Christmas card but for must have been twenty odd years until the Christmas cards stopped and presumably he’d gone. But when I was back in civilian life my wife and I were walking down Cannon Street in Manchester and there was a ladder up against the wall and I was just going, I said to my wife, ‘Don’t walk under the ladder. We’ll walk on the outside,’ were just walking round the outside and then suddenly somebody pushed, pushed us both to one side and a coping stone fell off the roof and crashed right down by the side of us. And I turned around and looked at the, who’d pushed us out the way and who should it be but Wilf Brennan. The fella who had seen me at the, at the station and said I’d be alright. And I thought, well what a coincidence you know. Just, but he must have I mean obviously he was quite a bit older than me. Well, nearly everybody was. So that was that. And then we’d only done one op from, from Methwold when the whole squadron was posted to Chedburgh and I found out it was what they call a GH squadron. Which was mostly daylights because we had, we were fitted with Gee which was, which was a radar scheme to, but it was only, it was only accessible as far as the Ruhr. That’s the farthest distance it had and and I was, the way the aircraft were were differentiated was they had two yellow bars on the fins of the, of the Lancaster. And I used to take off from, from Chedburgh and rendezvous over Ipswich and we would either communicate through the Aldis lamp or with, on the RT for, to give your call sign and they would formate on me. So we’d fly all the way to the target in what we called vics of three. I would be the leader and one on either side and it was formation flying all the way until you dropped your bombs and then, then virtually they were supposed to fly back with you but frankly it was every man for himself after that. Didn’t work. We didn’t do that at night but daylights and the, I mean I did I did twenty two day trips. I only did I think about eleven nights and then a nickel raid and that. I think I did thirty six altogether. But I think the trouble with the night flying was the searchlights because you, with GH the thing was it was only accurate if you flew straight and level for about forty miles going into the target and the navigator used to complain bitterly if you, you went off slightly off course because he’s, he’s sat behind his curtain thing and once or twice we had words because I’d say, ‘Get the bloody hell, get your head out and have a look,’ I said, ‘And you’ll see why I’m diverting a bit.’ ‘Cause as you would know you always say you don’t just say left or right you always say left left and then right to differentiate between the two so he can’t mistake what you’re saying. But you’ve got to be forty miles absolutely straight and level and not deviate so that the thing is accurate. And the trouble is you’re susceptible to fighters on daylights. The FW190 was the one we were worried about. Daylight it was. Night time it was searchlights because we were briefed that the ordinary searchlight wasn’t too bad but then they had what they called the master beam and if that, if that got you in his sights then all the beams came on you. They must have coordinated somehow and you had I think they had, you had, they had sixteen seconds in which to replot the actual position you were in from the time the searchlight, master searchlight got on you. So you had to be quick. But what I developed over the, over the time which wasn’t particularly brave but I used to ask the, I asked the two gunners, the mid-upper and the rear gunner, I said, ‘Look out for another Lancaster or Halifax or Stirling or whatever you can and if you see one let me know.’ And I used to dive over the top of it if I could with the idea being that if the searchlight was following me and if I went over the top of him the light would be on him for a short period of time and then if I was able to get out of the way very quickly hopefully they’d have lost me and be on somebody else. And I for daylights I used to tell the lads, the gunners, I said, ‘If you see what you think is a FW 190 or a Stuka or whatever it is,’ I said, ‘Don’t fire at it in case one of three things. A — he might not have seen us. B — he might have seen us but be like me and want to stay alive so he doesn’t want to get shot down.’ And I said, ‘Those are two things you must take into account because I said there’s no point in drawing attention to yourself,’ you see. And our, my mid-upper gunner was at first on the first three trips were, very first three night trips were very gung ho. He wanted to go down and have a go at the searchlights. But I politely told him I don’t think that’s on. Not in those words.
AM: And did you ever have to do a corkscrew at night? Or —
CM: No. Yes, I did. On the really shakiest trip I had was I’d gone to a place, well I didn’t get there. I was going to Dessau which is about, I think it’s about a hundred miles southwest of Berlin. And it was a night trip and we were, I was going there and suddenly the port outer had a runaway prop and I tried to feather it and it didn’t feather. And then to my consternation it burst into flames. So I thought, oh shit. What the hell am I going to do? So I, you had in the Lanc you had what they called four graviner buttons. One for each engine. So I pressed the graviner button and it, it didn’t seem to to put the thing out. So I thought oh I’ll have to do something. So I resorted to a manoeuvre I’d learned early on in, in my flying days, sideslipped. So I, I sideslipped it left to try and, I thought one of two things. It would either help to extinguish the flames or else it will increase the, the chance. I don’t know which. But fortunately it went out but the trouble is the prop hadn’t, hadn’t feathered and it was windmilling like the clappers. And obviously immediately I lost, I started to lose height because I was at, I’d started at twenty, about twenty one thousand feet and it just started to drop like a stone so I said to, to Bob, or Dick as he was, I said, ‘Just jettison.’ So he jettisoned and that sort of arrested the fall for a bit but I didn’t regain control until about I must have been about nine thousand feet and I said, we had piles of Window stacked in the back which we were supposed to shovel out. So I, I got the boys shovelling this stuff out as fast as they could. And I’ve read many books since where what we thought we was, was helping to jam their, their radar, in point of fact was doing just the opposite. They were, it was helping them more than not. So then I was, said to Titch, ‘Well, just give me a course as far as you can. As near as you can to, to get to base.’ I said, ‘But you’re better not to go in to base because I haven’t got any hydraulics. So you’d better go in to Woodbridge,’ which was the nearest. There was Woodbridge, Manston or Carnaby were the three emergency. But I don’t have to describe those to you. You know what they are. Three runways of different calibres. So there was a battle line and then the bomb line and they’re two different lines because you had to be sure you were over the bomb line before you dropped any bombs because of your own troops being in the way. Anyway, Titch said to me, ‘You’re alright now, Skip. You’re over the, over the sea. You can let down.’ Because I was over nine thousand feet and I was struggling to, to hold the thing because as you can see I’m only five foot and my, I’d got as maximum trim as I could on but it was still a struggle for me. So he said, ‘Ok, you let down now.’ Well, when I came out of the cloud instead of being over the sea I was met by a load of tracer and very heavy anti-aircraft fire. So I, I did a corkscrew as you say which was not, it’s not very pleasant for the crew. Not very pleasant for me. But it seemed to, seemed to do the trick and we sailed on over the North Sea and then, then I don’t know whether what aircraft there are now, whether they [unclear] but on the Lanc you had what they called a star wheel which is the trimmer which, which altered the trim. A little piece of strip on the back of the elevators to, to for fine tuning and I’d got it obviously full, full on for, for, from my left leg. And I had on, because it was cold as well because the boys, actually you were you were given Kapok suits first and then, then on top of the Kapok which is like a thermal material. It’s called Kapok in those days. Then you had, you had your underwear first. Your silk underwear. And then your Kapok suit and then like a gabardine suit. This is what you had on your what they called you flying kit. But as far as I was concerned certainly my crew and every other crew I’d know didn’t, didn’t wear that stuff. The gunners.
AM: Yeah.
CM: Actually, especially the rear gunner they wore electrically heated suit. A bottom and a top which the boys said didn’t always work. Either the top of it or the bottom worked. But we just wore our thermal underwear, well not, it wasn’t thermal then. It was silk worn in two layers. And then your ordinary battledress with a fisherman’s, what I called a fisherman’s sweater and fisherman’s socks and then, then your escape boots which which had a little section in the side where you could put a, which was a pseudo strip of Wrigleys chewing gum. A long strip but it contained a hacksaw blade. And I had every single button on my uniform was a compass. If you took the top off the button then there was a little like pin on it and you could put it on the top of the thing and there was a little yellow dash which pointed to north. That was on every button. And I also had, because I was friendly with the, one of the intelligence officers and I had the cigarettes, not a tobacco pouch which you broke open the lining and it had a silk map of Europe with Spain and so on. And I had pipes that either unscrewed and there was a compass inside one end of the pipe or pencils that you could break and there was a compass inside that. I said, ‘If the Jerry’s ever get me I’ll run a [unclear] over the stuff’ [laughs], but I had every, every aid there was and our plan was, which wasn’t very good, Titch, the navigator had done a little German at school so we were all too, if we were to bale out we were to all get together which is being possibly impossible anyway and he would be able to talk his way out. He’d be able to talk his way out. I don’t think he would.
AM: Yeah.
CM: But that was the plan. So, as I say we, we had all this so coming in to land obviously as you start to throttle back then you have to take the trim off. But with three gloves on I got my fingers stuck in the bloody star wheel see. So I’m sweating cobs that I’ve got to get my hand out of this so I could get both hands on the stick. And anyway we got in alright and just ran to the end. And I’d, you were issued with what we called wakey-wakey tablets which were Benzedrine, I understand. And I never used them. The boys used them a lot for forty eight hour leaves. They used to use them and then they could stay awake all night and you know get pissed as a rat and stay in London or whatever. But I never used them but this time I thought well I’d better take these wakey-wakey tablets because it was, it’s a long way back from, from Dessau to, to base. And it must have been about four hours I think. I know it was a long way. So I’d taken these bloody tablets and the affect it had on me. That was the only time I ever used them but you sort of wanted to go to sleep but you couldn’t. And you had to go into the Watch Office first and sign your name on something. I said, ‘I’m afraid I can’t. I can’t sign anything.’ I didn’t, I just didn’t couldn’t do. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t write. Anyway, I went in and it seemed to be alright. And that’s, that’s the worst trip I’d, I’d had. I’d had one or two bits of scrapes but that was that was the one that was the worst one for me. And —
AM: What about the losses on the squadron? Did it affect the crew or you?
CM: Well, no. What happened is, you didn’t. They were, we used to refer to it as getting the chop and what happened when there were no number thirteens on anything. On the lockers or anything. And if, if a crew got the chop, if you were all, I don’t know how many of us there were in the nissen hut but there wasn’t just our crew. There was another crew. Or at least one crew and if they got the chop they didn’t fill those beds until another intake came in. And the, I don’t know whether he thought it was the right word but the, the normal way of things was if there was a girl on the station who’d gone with somebody let’s say a pilot from another crew and had got the chop she became a chop girl. So that was taboo. You didn’t, you didn’t go out with her at all. And there was one poor girl I, I know. This was on Wellingtons. Not not before I got on Lancs but she had lost. This had happened to her twice and so she said, ‘I’m not going out with anymore aircrew fellas.’ And she went out with a ground staff sergeant and he walked into a pillar. I mean, and superstitions were absolutely rife. I mean my, my crew Dick always wore a pair of his wife’s cami knickers as they called them in those days. Which was like coms, but with, with three little buttons which fastened on the crotch. And he always wore those. And his wife Mary because he was the only one married in the crew and she travelled with him wherever she, wherever we went and played the piano which was good. So she was, you know friendly with every one of us. Well, she gave me a scarf. It was a paisley scarf. A lovely one. And Dick came to my home sometimes when, when we were on leave and more often than not I came up to Blyth because it was a better atmosphere. And so I’d ask my mother to wash this scarf which of course it got dirty after, you know. So she said, ‘I haven’t seen this before. Whose is it?’ I said, ‘That’s Mary’s.’ So, she said, ‘That’s, that’s Dick’s wife isn’t it?’ I said, ‘Yeah.’ She said, ‘You’ve no right to be wearing some other man’s wife thing.’ I mean that’s my mother all over. So I said, ‘Well, I do and that’s it. So if you don’t mind just wash the bloody thing.’ Well, that was him. Now, my, my flight engineer always wore a white towelling shirt. And he never washed it. But he always wore a white towelling shirt. And my mid-upper gunner always carried a kukri in his flying boot. You know a big kukri. And I think it was the, I think he was the rear gunner who had a rabbit’s foot. And you found, I don’t know whether it was just coincidence or what but one of the fellas, fella I remember his name, Marley because he had a Riley car as well. A Riley sports car. He went and he lost his life on take-off on one operation and they found his rabbit’s foot in his locker and they said, ‘There you are,’ you see, they said, ‘He didn’t bloody well take it.’ Well, we also had a stuffed cat. Which was not a real cat but it was a stuffed cat called the Mini the Moocher and we always had it tied to the, the stem of the loop aerial. In the Lancaster there’s a little bubble behind the pilot’s cockpit where the loop stands. And Mini the Moocher was strapped to that. And when you used to take off you’d come along the peritrack, all lined up taxiing and then they’d signal you to go on to the runway and you’d sit on the end of the runway and there was the dispatcher’s hut and they would shine an Aldis lamp with a green for you to go. And always at the side of the runway there would be the padre, and the CO, and possibly two or three WAAFs and maybe one or two of the ground crew. And you would sit there until you got the green and then you’d open the tap and off you’d go. Well, one day we had, we’d forgotten Mini the Moocher and suddenly one of the ground staff came peddling up like the clappers and waved to us and stopped so we could, we could have Mini the Moocher and strap it to the thing. Yeah. They were very superstitious. But you do. I mean when you think about it now it didn’t make the slightest difference but it did in your mind, you know. So that was that so —
AM: You mentioned going home to see your mother when you went home to Manchester.
CM: Yeah.
AM: During the war.
CM: Yeah.
AM: What was it like for you? An operational pilot.
CM: Well, my mother didn’t know I was on ops. Only the boy I told you about John, John Fowkes the Welsh boy who’d been with me, who’d been with me throughout. He had joined the Air Force and he was in Bomber Command but he was actually at, at Mildenhall which was only a few miles from Chedburgh and he, he used to come over and see me. Well, his parents were greengrocers. Nearly all my friends when I was at school were the son of street corner something or other. Greengrocers or chip shop or butchers or whatever so, and he was on ops and he was before me. I didn’t know this but he was on a squadron and his mother had met my mother on some occasion and she told him. Oh yeah. ‘I see your Charles is doing the same as John.’ Well, she didn’t know see. So the next time I came on leave she gave me a pile of stamped postcards all ready to post. And she said, ‘Now, we hear on the radio,’ she said, which they did. They’d say ‘Last night our aircraft bombed — ’ whatever. Frankfurt. And so many of our aircraft of are missing or they all returned safely or whatever happened. Or Lord Haw Haw would tell them. So she gave me all these cards and she said, ‘Now, post them to me as soon as you get back so I know you’re alright.’ So I said, ‘Ok.’ So what I used to do is I used to tell her I was safe and that before I went and posted it, you see so she didn’t worry about anything. And if I wasn’t, I wasn’t so that’s [pause] But the first time as I say she’d ever heard from me for all the months before was that card she had from the Jewish lady in New York. So she didn’t know. But what we used to do is when we came up to Blyth which they were much, beer was, was rationed completely and Mary was also loved by everybody because she could play the piano see. So she came because she was with Bob, Dick and she would, she would play the piano and we’d sing. Have a sing song. And when, when we came to Blyth the one song that we all used to stand in a circle and we’d sing was, “With someone like you,” altogether, “A pal good and true, I’d like to leave it all behind.” You know the song. And I introduced the same thing at home so we all had a, had that song and a bit of a, possibly a bit of a weep together like I’m doing now and but there was songs seemed to have a, you know a special something about them.
AM: Resonance.
CM: But that’s, that’s how it was and —
AM: Tell me about the day the war ended.
CM: Well, we were on [pause] what happened when, I finished early on in April. The war finished in April, May. VE day was promulgated I think on the 8th of May. But we finished in April. I forget what date it was now. I’ve got it here somewhere. I did, I did my last op on [pause] this incidentally I don’t think. You can have a look at it. This is when I came back from any of the ops there was always a cutting, or not always, generally a cutting in the newspaper. Like this stop press news, “Our bombers new route. Daily Sketch correspondent. People in the north east saw for the first time last night something which the south has seen many times before. The organised might of Bomber Command proceeding on a mission. The concentration of aircraft was the biggest ever seen over the north east.” And this was Kiel.
AM: God.
CM: We sank the, and I used to write, I used to write what I’d thought about the trip. And they used to put the bomb load in. The one five hundred medium capacity. “Another master bomber effort and very impressive. A good way out at two thousand feet. Really good. The target itself was beautifully marked and though the flak was intense it was well below our height. Searchlight gave us persistently little trouble. I’m pretty sure it was a grand prang.” That’s the word we used. “The only thing that marred the trip was the long delay in getting us down.” And then this was where we sank the, the I think that was the Admiral Scheer.
AM: The Admiral Scheer.
CM: Yeah. So that’s, that’s I’ve got a record there of every trip I did so that it starts right at the very front page with the details of the Lancaster. I don’t know whether you’ve —
[recording paused]
AM: What did you do after the war, Charles?
CM: Well, as I said to you at the beginning after the war when I was on the Berlin Airlift they had, they had a, they had a lot of small aircraft. Freddie Laker had some of his aircraft and Blackburn Aircraft Corporation had a lot of aircraft and they were I don’t know how it I was seconded or whatever to help the war. To help the Berlin Airlift. And I met a pilot. We were actually talking over the intercom and he recognised my voice and I spoke to him and I met him at, we used to go to a place called Bad Nenndorf for r&r because the, it was quite a strain on the Airlift because we were flying twenty four hours a day seven days a week and we didn’t, we didn’t always get back to the billets to go to sleep. You slept in the watch office. So you had to go to a place for a bit of rest. And we often used to meet up there and I met with a bloke called Takoradi Taylor who was called Takoradi Taylor because he’d been in Takoradi before the war with the Air Force and he, I’ll show you later on. But I used to play a lot of golf when I first retired and we were playing at Haydock one day. We had, with the veterans you went to different, different Golf Clubs to play in the Veteran’s Association and I walked out on the tee and there was this fella with, and there was this bag he’d got and he looked as if it was made of sort of snakeskin and I said, ‘That’s a wonderful bag.’ So he said, ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘My brother got it for me,’ he said, ‘From Takoradi.’ So I said, ‘Oh, that’s a name that rings a cord,’ I said, ‘I knew a bloke on the Berlin Airlift. Takoradi Taylor,’ I said, ‘But unfortunately,’ I said, and he, I said, ‘That’s the first time I’ve heard that word Takoradi for a long time,’ I said, ‘But unfortunately,’ I said, ‘He flew for a firm called Flight Refuelling,’ which was one of Cobham’s people. And I said, ‘Unfortunately, they were,’ I said, ‘He was a friend of mine and I last met him at Bad Nenndorf and he recognised me from, we were at OTUs together. At Operational training Unit.’ So, I said, ‘I hadn’t seen him from that day,’ I said, ‘And I met him at Bad Nenndorf and I said, I said to him, ‘Well, we must have a drink together.’ So he said, ‘Yes, so he said I’m flying back now with the boys,’ he said, ‘All the, all the pilots from Flight Refuelling are flying home to Tarrant Rushton,’ which is near Southampton, he said and, ‘That’s where, where I’m going for my rest. But when I get back I’ll give you a buzz and we’ll get together.’ And I said, ‘Fine.’ Well, apparently the whole of them. All the pilots flew into a problem at Tarrant Rushton. Whether they flew straight into the ground or what but they were all killed. And so we never did get together but I told, we had a magazine at the Golf Club and I told them this story which went in, you know. So that was that. But what I’m saying is when we were talking over the intercom and I talked to this fella called Des Martin who lived on the Wirral and afterwards we got together. He’d been at Clewiston with me on 5 BFTS. So he was flying for Blackburn Aircraft Corporation and he said, and he said he was getting a hundred and twenty pounds a week, you see. Well, I was a flight lieutenant in the Air Force. I was getting sixty pounds a month. So he said, ‘Well, you’re stupid to stay,’ he said, ‘You’re doing the same bloody job.’ He said, ‘Just apply for your, you’ve just to apply to them and,’ he said, ‘You’ve got all the qualifications. You’ve been flying the route for God knows how long,’ he said. ‘You’ll have no trouble,’ So I did but they said, ‘Well, what you need is a course at Tarrant err at Hamble. Well, by the time I got my compassionate release because I told you Margie was ill the course had finished. And you had to have a hundred and twenty hours on type which I couldn’t afford you see. So instead of going to fly, I hadn’t decided to emigrate then I thought well I’ll see what they have to offer me. I’d worked before. I’d worked for a firm call Lec Transport and I was happy but it was only a mediocre job. So I went to what they called the Appointments Bureau which was supposedly for officers. Like the Employment Exchange but a bit of higher up. He said, Mr Green was the fellas name, so he said, ‘What’s your name?’ So I said. He said, ‘Well, you’ve got a good war record son,’ because he had my details, he said, ‘But the war’s over.’ I mean, I knew that. So, he said, ‘And what I can offer you, I can, I can fix you up with a job down the mines or, or I can fix you up with, with you can go into a cotton mill.’ So, I said, ‘I’ll find my own job.’ So my brother had, he was in, he worked for Milner’s Safe Company and he had been selling steel furniture which Milner’s sold to different firms in Manchester. And one of the firms was an office equipment company which had furniture and adding machines and calculators and typewriters. So he said well, ‘I’m sure he’d give you a job.’ So, so I I went to see him and he said, ‘Have you got a briefcase?’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ So he said, ‘Well, I’ll show you what these machines are. Typewriters and so on. He gave me a little bit of instruction on how to use them and he gave me a load of leaflets. He said, ‘Well, just go out and sell some of these.’ Well, cutting a story short I did that for about, I don’t know, maybe twelve months. Hated it because well after being an officer and being used to eating off linen and all nice things it was a shock to, to come to what was reality. And anyway I, I stuck at it and eventually became the sales manager and then I became the general manager and then he was the director of the company and then he made me a director as well. And then I’d, we had a fall out which I don’t need to go into but it was, it was a case of misinformation in various areas. And I’d met a fellow who was in a similar line of business. He had a stationer’s shop in amongst other things in Liverpool and he’d always said, ‘If you ever think of changing your job give me a bell.’ We got on well together. So I did and I started work with him and they were [pause] he didn’t want me for stationery. He wanted me for a new branch of his firm which was called Industrial Stapling and Packaging. So I eventually got to be the admin manager of this company and we were taken over by a firm called Ofrex who manufacture stapling machines and tackers and all sorts of different machines. And when they took us over they also had a stapling machine called, stapling company called IS & P Industrial Stapling and Packaging which was based in Aylesbury. So the head of the company, the director and the only director of the company said it was silly having two companies. One in Liverpool and one in Aylesbury. So he decided to merge the two into two called British Industrial Fastenings. And he took the whole thing down to Aylesbury. So, they, they obviously wanted me to go to Aylesbury. Well, I had a word with the managing director of the company down in Aylesbury and he wouldn’t meet my terms. I said to him, ‘I, first of all I want a house equivalent of the bungalow I’ve got here. And I want pay equivalent to the sales manager’s because,’ I said, ‘I’m the manager of the whole of the thing.’ Anyway, he wouldn’t meet my requirements so I said, ‘Alright. Well, I’m not coming.’ So I saw my boss back in Liverpool and he said, ‘Well, don’t worry Charles.’ Now, we’d started to buy some machinery and some strapping which was plastic strapping from a company in America. So he said, ‘Get your ass over to America and learn all you can about all the machines and how they make the strap and everything and then come back and see what you can do here.’ So I went over there for about three weeks and I had to learn about all the different machines and how they made this what was then polypropylene strapping. And cutting up a long story short I, I took a twenty year lease on a building which belonged to the Coal Board in, in, in Ellesmere Port on the other side, on the Wirral. And I arranged for the, for the factory, the extruder and the drawer stands and all the rest of it and we set up this company called, we just called it Laughton’s [unclear] Strap. That’s the name of the strap the Americans were making.
AM: Right.
CM: But we started. I said, ‘Well, we won’t make money being the last in line. We have to manufacture the straps.’ So we bought these extruders and we bought all this stuff and I had to take a twenty year lease out on this place in Ellesmere Port. But anyway we set it up. Within, within twelve months we were, we had a turnover just over a million quid. And it went from strength to strength and we eventually we then were taken over by Gallagher’s which not only had tobacco companies like Benson and Hedges and so on. They also had, they owned Dolland and Aitchison, the opticians. They owned Prestige Pans and a lot of other companies. But they in turn were taken over by the fourth largest tobacco company in the world called American Brands who then got themselves into litigation about cancer. So they decided, this was after I’d retired. I retired in ’86, but after I’d retired they decided they weren’t going to get into this litigation about cancer so they sold everything back to Galla. Well not, they sold it to Gallagher’s. And Gallagher’s and American Brands not only owned the tobacco side which was Lucky Strike and God knows what. They also owned Pinkerton’s, the security people, they also owned Titelist Golf Balls they also owned Jim Beam Whisky. And what they did is they sold all their tobacco business to Gallagher’s and Gallagher’s sold all their stuff off to, back to American Brands and, and everything but so then American Brands to divest themselves of all the tobacco stuff and they sold out to a firm called Acco Europe. Which is probably one of the biggest firms. They first of all started out in what I call continuous stationery which is if you look at machines going it prints all sorts of loads of different stationery. So that’s who the company belongs to. But Laughton’s was a business on its own which didn’t fit in to anything so it’s now gone kapput. It no longer exists.
AM: Right.
CM: So, but that’s the way it was. But I, I was appointed to the board on that company as well because I had a number of quite good ideas. One of which has come to fruition but not with me. But I, I dreamt up the idea of a thing called, ‘Call and Collect.’ Which was people phoned up the company, and on the phone with our computers which I’d put in. Then you keyed in what they wanted. You had to have a code and all that which was very different from these days when everything’s [unclear] and I bought a place next door which had a big door at one end and a big door at the other end. I had different stalls put up and we put a lot of our stock which was the main big seller down in this, this warehouse. And the idea was for people to phone up. This would be processed and they would be picked by people and then the car from the company would drive in one end, load it up and drive out the other. But it didn’t take off at all. But this Click and Collect at Tescos and God knows where.
AM: Yeah.
CM: But it just didn’t work.
AM: Did you, after the war Charles keep in touch with any of your crew members?
CM: Bob, or Dick. Yes. I did. We used to, they used to come and stop at my house and I used to go up to Blyth and stay with them. We, we stayed together for right until Bob died. He’d be about seventy one or seventy two.
AM: Right.
CM: And then Mary, his wife died. And I still, I still keep in touch with their daughter. And one of the boys I was with at ITW, Initial Training Wing, the one who I told you how I met the wife when she was dancing around. Well, I kept in touch with the daughter for quite a years when they didn’t know he was killed or what. He was just missing. So I kept in touch with her. She died and her husband saw some of the correspondence so he asked if he could keep in touch with me. He still keeps, well he stayed in touch with me until he died. And then his daughter found this correspondence so she’s still in correspondence with me today. And my sister who I told you he thought the world of she always puts a cross on in the arrangements for us in the Arboretum in Staffordshire somewhere. Yeah. So I do. My, my other crew. My Bomber Command crew I kept in touch with them until they, they all passed, so there’s no — as far as I know my mid-upper gunner went as a tea planter in Ceylon and I lost touch with him. And the flight engineer. I wrote to him. He’s from Glasgow. I had a couple or three letters from him and then that died off. And Freddie Collins, the wireless op I’ve never heard or seen anything from, from the day we went on break up leave. And my navigator I told you got killed on his first trip. So that accounts for the crew and the, the other crew that I kept in touch with was the York crew. But they’re dead now so I don’t keep it going. I can’t keep in touch with them. So, there’s, there’s virtually nobody left.
AM: So is there anything else that you’d like to tell me of your time in Bomber Command?
CM: No. I don’t think so. As far as, as far as I know. I mean if there’s anything you think of and I’ll try and tell you. I mean all I can say to you that it was a traumatic time but at the same time I made friends that I, I was, I’d been never been closer to anybody in my life. Just one of those things and, and it taught me an awful lot. The Air Force really [pause] the Air Force in general, it made me feel that I want something better out of life than I was, was having. And I mean the very fact that I got commissioned was, was quite an uplift for me really. I never, I mean I never dreamed that I was ever that, I was never university type. But at the same time it also taught me that as far as I can tell I’m good at what I do. And I’ve been fortunate in that the two private companies I worked for were individuals who were able to, there must be many many people who are working for firms that just either it’s so remote that they don’t see anybody. But these two fellas were, they owned the company. And like there’s one guy now phones me, has phoned me religiously every month since I’ve known him. Forty odd years. And he has a, he has a, he owns a huge paint factory. Got factories all over the world and a multi-millionaire. But he phoned me only a few days ago just to see how I was. And never, never fails. And he said, ‘We’ve been friends for so long,’ and he, he hasn’t got a ha’pence of side on him at all. I mean, you wouldn’t know. I mean when, when I took him out for a meal at Formby we just went to an ordinary meal place and he said, which I can hear him saying, he was a real Lancashire lad, he said, ‘Anybody having pudding?’ I mean and they all seemed, and given the chance I’m pretty certain whatever I’d have done I’ve made a success of it.
AM: Yeah.
CM: It’s just worked out that way. And I’ve been, I’ve said in all my papers I have been very, very lucky. I had a, had a wonderful childhood. And I can truthfully say I never had a day when I got up and said, ‘I don’t want to go to work today.’ I’ve always been happy in what I’m doing. And I think it’s, it reflects really what you are and to the people that you meet you know. And even all the girls who come. The carers. I get on like a house on fire with them. I mean. And I say to them, which is true I don’t know how anybody can criticise the —
[recording paused]
AM: Charles Mears. Flight Lieutenant Charles Mears, Distinguished Flying Cross, thank you.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Charles Mears
Creator
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Alastair Montgomery
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-09-21
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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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AMearsCE170921
Format
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02:12:50 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
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Charles left school with no formal qualifications and was undertaking further education when the Second World War commenced. Being too young to enlist, he joined the Air Defence Cadet Corps and - upon reaching 18 - he eventually was able to join. He was detached to the United States for training. Upon boarding the Queen Mary, he was aware of damage to the ships bow which had been repaired with concrete. Training was carried out at No. 5 British Flying Training School in Florida. Mixing with Americans, he experienced things like deodorant. Charles also came across discrimination: having given his seat on a bus to a pregnant black lady, he was interviewed and told that being a guest of America, he must respect the American way of life. Upon return to the UK, he was posted to RAF Fraserburgh to convert onto Oxford, followed by anti-surface vessel training which involved flying trainee wireless operators over the Irish Sea. After several months, Charles was posted to the Wellington operational training unit at RAF Desborough. Whilst here, he was involved in a leaflet drop over Brest. Following conversion to Lancasters, Charles was posted to a squadron operating Gee H radar. This was mainly daylight operations. On these sorties, it was necessary to fly straight and level for 40 miles to the target, which led to many arguments between him and his navigator. At RAF Methwold he saw a row of ambulances taking injured aircrew away after a particularly bad operation. On one occasion he had to make an emergency landing at Woodbridge. He was told by the navigator he was over the sea and since he was struggling to control the aircraft he dropped below the cloud straight into a barrage of anti-aircraft fire. He performed a corkscrew manoeuvre and managed to get out of trouble and successfully land at Woodbridge. On the only occasion he took the wakey-wakey pills he found them so disorientating he couldn’t even sign off the aircraft on landing and although he desperately wanted to sleep he just could not. Superstition was rife amongst the crews. He describes his experience as traumatic but worthwhile. He met so many friends that he has remained in contact with throughout his life.
Contributor
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Ian Whapplington
Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
United States
Florida
Great Britain
England--Northamptonshire
Scotland--Aberdeenshire
France
France--Brest
Atlantic Ocean--Irish Sea
England--Norfolk
England--Suffolk
Atlantic Ocean--Irish Sea
Temporal Coverage
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1941
1942
Conforms To
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
218 Squadron
5 BFTS
African heritage
aircrew
bombing
British Flying Training School Program
crewing up
Gee
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
military ethos
navigator
Oxford
pilot
propaganda
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Feltwell
RAF Fraserburgh
RAF Methwold
RAF Shepherds Grove
RAF Woodbridge
searchlight
superstition
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/894/11134/AHyndC171115.2.mp3
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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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Hynd, Colin
C Hynd
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Colin Hynd (1925 - 2022, 1825158 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a flight engineer with 158 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
2017-11-15
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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Hynd, C
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
JS: This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is Jim Sheach the interviewee is Colin Hynd. The interview is taking place at Mr Hynd’s home in Dunfermline on the 15th November 2017. Colin, thanks for agreeing to be interviewed. Could you tell me a little about your life before you joined the RAF?
CH: Well, I went to the local schools, obviously commercial school and Queen Anne’s school, and when I left school at the age of fourteen just at the beginning of the war in September 1939, I got a job in the local cinema because jobs in those days were extremely hard to find. My wage was six shillings and eight pence per week, anyway, I only lasted there a month and I went on and got two subsequent jobs in the local gents outfitters, but that wasn’t satisfying me so I went to Todds Engineers in Dunfermline and became an apprentice turner, where I did turning until 1943 when I joined the Royal Air Force, but as I was underage at the time I had to wait until I was eighteen and a quarter which was in the November of 1943, when I was called up, and went to Lord‘s Cricket Ground for various tests and what have you, and we- We did three weeks in London being kitted out, medical-ed, the usual, uniforms and what have you, and then from there went on up to Bridlington to the initial training wing up there, and did six weeks up there, doing various signalling, gunnery, of course drill and all that, and then from there, after the six weeks went to St Athans, where we did the, the flight engineers training. Unfortunately, during my early days there I developed scarlet fever, so of course I was in hospital for a month, and when I came out my actual course had moved on that far, anyway [emphasis] I carried on, various entries and anybody that was available to do the thing where you studied engines, air frames, electrics, meteorology, gunnery again of course they just - Dismantling the guns and that, education of course was a big thing in those days as well but, eventually after, something like nine months, I was awarded my stripes and my brevet, my flight engineer’s brevet. After being awarded my stripes and my brevet I was posted to a heavy conversion unit at Marston Moor which is in Yorkshire, where you then actually were working on the real aircraft which were Halifaxes. You then saw what you’d only previously seen on a blackboard, and you did that for approximately two weeks, and as well as that of course you could go get a bit of experience on a crew who were doing a night exercise or, air tests, anything like that that was available, but I didn’t get crewed up, for about three weeks at that time. Anyway, the crew that I joined, unfortunately, they all drank and I didn’t, and I wasn’t very popular because of course I didn’t go out drinking, so the pilot at that time, told the engineer’s leader that I was no use as a flight engineer. Anyway I was duly called into the office, where I was interviewed for approximately four hours over engineer- Flight engineer matters, the subsequent outcome was that I was given the job of teaching the new recruits from St Athans, the pre-flight checks, how to start the engines, how to operate the, the petrol levers and all, all that, from when they came from training school, so of course, the outcome of that was that after some weeks, I was told that- What had happened, and why I’d been removed from the crew and that, I would be offered a commission when I got to the squadron, unfortunately the war finished before we got to that stage in my career [slightly laughs], however, they – The, the aircrew without the engineer, because, people trained at different places, but all came together at the HCU, without the flight engineer because up till then they had been flying in two-engined aircraft to teach them the art of gunnery or navigation or whatever, but then when they went onto the four-engined aircraft, like the Halifax, the Lancaster, Sunderlands, they needed a flight engineer. Anyway there was a bit of a shortage at the time so I was posted to Riccall which was near Selby, where I carried on doing the same thing, teaching the newer lads the pre-flight checks and all that sort of thing and then eventually they had an intake of crews, and in those days, the crews plus the flight engineers were put into this room and the wing commander flying, then gave a lecture but this was just a ploy so that the crews could see who the flight engineers were. Anyway I was approached by one of the crew members, Johnny Prosser, who was the wireless op in this crew which were Canadian, anyway I decided to, to join them, as their flight engineer, so from there on in, I, I did the flying experience which I’d learnt prior to this on my own, I didn’t need anybody with me obviously, so that er- We did air tests, short daylight runs, a lot of night flying, because the pilot of course being new to the four engine bomber always had a pilot with him who had had experience, so of course no aircraft could take off without a flight engineer anyway [emphasis] because it was too complicated where - What you had to do as a flight engineer, so that - We then eventually moved onto the squadron, 158 which was an operational squadron, they had had a terrific loss, of personnel, they had- We had New Zealanders, South Africans, Canadians, RAF and it was a mixed squadron really, but the flight engineers of course no matter which crew you joined were always RAF, because that was the only place that trained engineers was St Athans, from then on it was just basically doing exercises and that until somebody decided you should go on a bombing trip. When that happened, you were all gathered together, into this building which was secured with armed police surrounding it so that you couldn’t get out [laughs] or the phones were cut off, you couldn’t make a phone call and you sat in this building waiting for someone to come in and remove the curtain from what the target was going to be, you were then shown the target and you were explained the, the route you would take to the target, the route out, the weather that you would meet, where the opposition was heaviest with gunfire, or fighters, things like that was all in- And then it could well happen that halfway through all this, they would decide to change the target so you then had to wait until your new target was announced which could take ages, then they would start again having looked at this new target route and the way in. Again you couldn’t go anywhere, you were, you were all right for a cup of tea [chuckles] but that was about it, and on one occasion they changed the target on three occasions, so - But again it was the old thing, just sit and wait, and wait for the people to tell you what the weather was going to be, or what the target was, the route out, the route in, because you never came back the same way, and of course it was extremely dangerous if you were on night flying because you could have anything from a thousand to fifteen-hundred aircraft in the air at any given time, and of course nobody, or very few ever stuck to the speed they were supposed to be flying at, or the height they were supposed to be flying at, because you were given a height, your squadron would fly at, say twenty-thousand feet but then behind you five-minutes later should be another squadron at nineteen-thousand-five-hundred, and they were supposed to step down like that with the gap in between, so you stopped this overflying which of course it never did because, you could be on your run up to your target, and of course you’d suddenly look up and five-hundred feet above you you’d see a bomber with its bomb doors open, so of course they couldn’t see you, so you had to abort and, well either just carry on or go round which was an extremely dangerous thing to do when you’re turning a full circle in that number of aircraft, but our pilot being a Canadian did exactly that one night, not very popular pilot [chuckles]. Anyway we had to do the run up again, and of course all the time, people are shooting at you, and once that stops you know - You then knew the fighters were up, so you had to watch for them, also of course you had the problem with searchlights, now, when you got a group of searchlights, one of them was blue, and that was the master searchlight and once that got you all the other searchlights hooked on, and of course then the gunners, or the fighters whichever was at the time, then attacked that one aircraft and, that was an extremely dangerous situation. But during the war also of course we had the problem that we had the Americans flying with us, not on the same squadron, but on their squadrons, and they used to join in, they would never fly at night the Americans, at all, but during the day the Flying Fortresses were out in force, which made life even more difficult, because they were rather prone to shoot at you if you- If they, didn’t realise and especially we had one sort of, a new Halifax which was unmarked, we didn’t have the RAF roundels on it and we were a bit frightened that the Americans would shoot us because it was a known fact that if any of our aircraft was shot down in Germany or France, then they were redone and they- The Germans flew them.
JS: Mm-hm.
CS: The other thing of course was that - I forgot to mention, that was before we got to the squadron, when we were at the heavy conversion unit, they- If there was an op on, we at the HCU would be sent in the opposite direction to the bomber force with the object being to draw the fighters, of cou- [laughs] of course the unfortunate part about that was that we never had any ammunition to shoot at the fighters because it was in short supply, but you, you did it and- Best as you could, but, I mean it was just a small force but the i- As I say, the idea was to draw the fighters away from the main force so that they could get a free run at whatever the target was. But anyway once you got to- As I say to the point of where you [emphasis] were actually operating on a, a raid, then of course it was every man for himself, and we unfortunately lost our rear gunner, not through injury or anything like that but, there was two types of fire, there was a projected gunfire and a box gunfire, the projected gunfire was that you could see the rounds coming up behind you and obviously if you stayed at the same height the gunners got your height and then it was just a question of getting closer to you, and of course the rear gunner could see this and I could see it because I was watching through the panel above my station in the Halifax, so of course we had to forget what we were doing and try and stop the, the rear gunner from bailing out which - There was two doors, one in the aircraft and one on the turret, so we had to keep pulling the dead man's handle, to stop the air gunner ‘cause he could operate his turret manually or electrically, and simply roll it round and then fall out backwards, but you have to appreciate that the tail end of a bomber is extremely narrow, and in there you have a huge oleo leg which was the, the rear wheel ‘cause that didn’t retract like the front carriage, so we spent ages, and of course he was trying to bale out panicked, and we were trying to stop him which we eventually did, and that was how we lost him because he was then classed as LMF which is lack of moral fibre, so we then of course got another rear gunner who had lost his crew, but this really was a no-no, that it was taught that it was very bad luck to take on another crew member who wasn’t there at the beginning, and in fact, on one of our last raids we had a whole- A bomb that went through the tail plane of our aircraft from one above, which fortunately it was only a small two-hundred-and-fifty pound bomb, and it just made a hole in the tail plane near the rudder but didn’t effect because we didn’t know that we’d been hit, until we got back to dispersal and saw the hole in the -In the tail plane. But after that, the- Very few raids, because we were getting close to the end of the war in ‘45, and we just carried on the same routine of if there was- You were going on a raid, you had a meal, then you were locked up in this building till the- You knew where you were going et cetera, and then of course, the war finished and all these foreigners, the New Zealanders, the South Africans, the Canadians, disappeared overnight back to their own countries so, the only personnel that were left were RAF. So what we did was a pilot and flight engineer got loaded up with bombs and pyrotechnics and, things like that, or unused ammunition and, and we used to fly out to the North Sea, drop this- And I acted as the bomb aimer, because there was only the pilot and me on board, but after that then, the war finished, we got rid of most of the, the bomb ordinance, and the flame float- Smoke floats, all that type of thing, and we were sent on indefinite leave.
JS: That’s - That was great, can I just take you back a wee bit, on your - That was really fascinating. You spoke about your crew, and interestingly how you, the RAF made crews was to sort of put you all in one room and say ‘sort yourselves out’, and you said you were picked by one of the other guys on the other crew, how did you get on with the rest of your crew?
CH: I got on well with them, I never had a problem, apart from one night, we were on a raid and as always if I moved from my engineer position to where the- You had to operate the petrol cocks, which were in the rest position, so I had to move, I would tell the pilot I was going back to change tanks. Now the Halifax had twelve petrol tanks, and you had a sequence, and we were on tanks five and six which were joined, which were big tanks and, I told him I was going back so what I was waiting for, I was waiting for four red lights to come up to tell me that the tank was empty, or the tanks on both sides were empty, and I would then close those levers and bring on the next levers with full tanks. Unfortunately, I fell asleep because it was so cold back there that I stuck the heating pipe up my flying harness which was nice and warm then, and also, we had been on a daylight raid earlier, and by the time we were debriefed and had a meal, and got taken back to our accommodation which was always outside the camp, we’d only had about four hours sleep when the police came and wakened up us again because we were on the night detail. Anyway, I’m enjoying my sleep and I hear this shouting down the earphones, ‘I’ve no petrol, I’ve no petrol’, but I don’t see what the pilot's problem was, we were at twenty-thousand feet anyway, so we had plenty time to remedy the situation. So, I closed tanks five and six both sides and opened tank number four either side, and within seconds he had his petrol, but he never forgave me for that, though he didn’t hold it against me, he gave me a bollocking but apart from that, it went off- That was about the only time we had a, a disagreement actually. In fact it went remarkably well because he landed once - We were on an air test, this aircraft had been serviced and we- It was our aircraft, so we took it for a short flight, and on the way back, in Yorkshire, the pilot decides to land [emphasis], and I said to him at the time, I said, ‘This is not our airfield’, ‘Yes it is, I know where we are.’ I said, ‘No it isn’t’ because each aircraft has its own- Each airfield had its own identification, and the one that was flashing wasn’t flashing Lisset. Anyway, we landed, and suddenly a jeep pulls up in front of us, a flight lieutenant gets out, comes to the aircraft, I go to the door, open it, he says, ‘What you doing here?’ I said, ‘We landed at the wrong air field.’ He said, ‘You’re dead right,’ He said, ‘Where are you from?’, So we said ‘Lisset,’ he said ‘Well you’re just over the road there’ [chuckles]. So, I mean that was how close we were, so he’d turned left instead of turning right, so anyway I told the pilot, so that sort of evened out my, misfortune for the, the petrol incident, but it was one of those things, I was tired [emphasis] and it was cold, and of course with sticking the hot air pipe up my flying harness got me nice and comfy.
JS: You- You mentioned as part of that, that your accommodation was off-base?
CH: Yes
JS: So- So what was your accommodation like?
CH: Well, to say the least, the accommodation was very rough. It was all dry toilets, because you were in a field, and what they’d done, they’d simply put the wooden huts in a clearance place, and then built like, toilets outside. There was no water on site, nothing like that, so you then had to go to the sergeants mess to have your wash and shave, and in fact at Riccall which was a heavy conversion unit, we had to walk across two fields to get to the sergeants mess, and if you were lucky you managed to get a locker to keep your stuff in there, there were- You know, you could locks, otherwise you had to carry it backwards and forwards to have a wash, and of course you used the toilets and that, but they had obviously water, but other than that, it was dry, lavatories and I won’t describe what they were [laughs], primitive to say the least. You were lucky, again, if you had a stove in these because your predecessors had probably knocked out the front of the, the stove, and had nicked some bread from the cookhouse to do toast back in the billet if you could find enough fuel to get the fire going because, in those days people didn’t come round and drop off coke for you, or anything, you had to do the scrounging bit as well. So you had to look after yourself, but there was an awful lot of self-discipline, a lot of self-discipline involved amongst the air crew but, they knew the rules and that was it, you stuck by them, not like the present-day air force you know, so that was the situation.
JS: Thank you. The- I read that were- You spoke about things being seen as not being lucky, about, you said if, if you took somebody on from another crew that the rest of their crew were lost that was seen as not being lucky, I read that there were two, there were two aircraft in the squadron, that by the end, by VE day had done well over a hundred operations, was the number of operations that your aircraft had done, was that seen as being lucky, or?
CH: No, the, the aircraft- One of the aircrafts that you’ve mentioned, did thirty-two ops, which was a lot, and I have a book on that particular aircraft, of course, the crews that manned it over the period of time, and in fact they- Elvington, which I’ve previously mentioned, outside York, they built a Halifax bomber, starting with the fuselage which came from Lerwick I think it was, or a bit of fuselage, which a farmer had bought because a Halifax had crashed in that area and his sheep, or whatever he had in the field at that time, took shelter in it. Anyway it was brought down to Elvington and by a lot of good will et cetera, was built to look like a Halifax bomber, and I had the privilege of being the first person that was allowed in to the actual aircraft, to, to see what work had been done, because it was like all the others, aircraft on view they were all roped off and you weren’t allowed to enter they were all locked, but because I’d been a flight engineer, and in fact I've got photographs of the actual aircraft, that was why I was allowed because as I say, I was a flight engineer on that squadron, with that particular aircraft, though I never flew in it. You were allocated an aircraft, different aircraft, it could be every time, you know, but, no, some people carried things with them which was for some reason special to them. Some of them carried crosses, you know, not on- Not based on a religious thing, other people had other things which they considered to be important and they carried them for good luck charms and put them on- I never carried anything like that, but that, that again, but that was one of the things that was fiercely resisted, that if you took on someone else then you were dicing with death.
JS: Interesting. You spoke earlier and took us up, up to the end of the war, and you said then, everybody- All the folk who’d come from elsewhere in the world, the Canadians and New Zealanders and whatever, they, they shipped home, and you mentioned dumping surplus munitions in the, in the North Sea, so, what did you do after that?
CH: Well after that, as I said to you we, we were sent on indefinite leave, and then we were called back, given a short list of jobs that we could do. I picked one which you- You had to pick something, so I picked an airframe mechanics job, went back to St Athans, did the course, wasn’t very happy with it, it wasn’t my type of work, anyway, I was posted to Desborough after that, and in those days I was a flight sergeant by then, during the day you covered up your badge of rank, so you worked as an airman, but you still used the sergeants mess, which you took you armbands- Your covers off to show your rank, but then in the morning you put them back on again. But there was a shortage of, senior NCOs at Desborough, so I was drafted in to the tech disip[?] office, without the badge covered up, so I carried on in there, and then the, because this was the time when there was many demobs going on at the end of the war, so I suddenly found myself taking over as well, as NCOIC police. So I was doing that job and suddenly I got told I was NCOIC fire section, so I’d now three jobs, and I thought well that’s it, that can’t get anymore, unfortunately I was wrong. We decided, or somebody decided that we’d have some German prisoners of war, though the war was over but, anyway, I had to go and collect these prisoners of war, we didn’t put them any locked compound or anything, I only had an LAC to help me, so I became ICGM and prisoners, and then I thought that must be it, but wrong again. At this time they decided to start the ATC having the summer camps at RAF stations, and Desborough was picked so I suddenly became IC air training corps cadets, in the- On the camp as well. So it was quite a busy time, the way, you had various things like courts martial as well, and of course I got that job, again because of your rank. The down side of all this was that they suddenly brought out two dates, all those who were warrant officers or flight sergeants had to reduce themselves to the rank of sergeant by this certain date, so fair enough, it was nothing uncommon to see a bloke walking round with a warrant officers’ uniform on showing where his gallopers had been on his arm wearing an LAC’s prop. Then the second date, that was when you reduced yourself to your rank in your ground trade, now had I not been lucky enough, I would’ve finished up as an AC1, but I remustered whilst all this business had being- IC Police and all the rest of it. To what were called in those days an aircraft and general duties, that was trade groups one to five in those days, but the trade I was in was trade group one, the air frames, but, five was the aircraft hand, and by doing that of course I managed to, on paper, work my way up to corporal, and then I saw an advert in the air ministry orders for drill instructors, now prior to all this upheaval I had gone to Cardington, and I did a six weeks warrant officers and flight sergeants course, which I passed, so of course that helped me no end. So I applied to become a drill instructor, and because of that of course I got made acting segreant, but the funny part about that was the, course was at- By this time had moved to RAF Credenhill which, subsequently became RAF Hereford, and I was standing outside with the rest of the course, waiting to be interviewed by the squadron commander, a warrant officer walked past, came up to me and said, ‘I know you,’ and I said ‘Yes, you know me’, he said ‘Where was it,’ I said ‘Cardington’, I gave him my name and that, away he went, anyway later on, I was told to leave the queue, so I was made a staff instructor there and then without doing that particular course. So I did that, and I did three years as staff instructor on the school airdrome, we taught weapons and bayonet fighting, admin, drill obviously, and this was training recruits into instructors, so that they could go out ‘cause in those days there was quite a lot of them. Anyway in 1949, I got posted to Padgate which was a school of training, and there I suddenly found myself nominated to set up a course for officer cadets, because the officer cadet school was full, so of course being- My background, I got the job of setting up this course for officer cadets, it was only a one-off thing, but then I did eighteen months there, and then during that time RAF Halton had gone through all the drill instructors in the RAF, we were told, and five of us had been selected from, because there was an awful lot of drill instructors in those days, five of us were selected for Halton, and the funny part about that, I always remember to this day [emphasis] was when I reported to the guard room, the corporal policeman said ‘Don’t unpack, you may not be stopping’ [laughs]. The obvious bit being that if you failed the five days, which was the period that they assessed you, from the air commodore, two group captains and various wing commanders, during the week, you had to do certain exercises, anyway, I was selected and I did three years there and that was where I became a substantive sergeant then, while I was there was seven years but, pay for seniority, so my sergeant went away back to when I became a sergeant flight engineer which made a big difference. So, anyway these blokes I’m still in touch with to this day, these apprentices, they’re in their mid-eighties, and I periodically get letters or phone calls from them, even now as we speak. But that was a hectic three years because I had two-hundred-and-twenty of them, and they were aged seventeen to twenty because they did three years, so if, they were unfortunate to fail their entry and got back flighted, they went back a year. So they then became that much older and more difficult to handle because, even though they were twenty or twenty-one the rules said they weren’t allowed to smoke, they weren’t allowed to go with girls, they had to be in bed by twenty-two-hundred-hours, things like that, but you still had to maintain discipline at that age. In fact, not so long ago I had a phone call from a group captain, who had been one of my, what we called snags, the leading apprentices but they were nicknamed snags, and of course he said, you know, the reason he rang, was that he, when he was a wing commander had been posted to Swinderby as OC training, and somewhere along the line he had either seen my name or heard my name mentioned, and was commenting on the work that DI’s did at square bashing camps, you see, so that, that was how I met him, but he’s still alive to this day, like me but [chuckles] that, that was that. Then, I got posted to Yatesbury by mistake, I was posted to the boy entrants wing, who unfortunately had moved before I got there and had moved up to Cosford, so I then got posted up to Kirkham near Preston, where they had trainees there but unfortunately, the station warrant officer there at that time had been the station warrant officer at Credenhill of course I was immediately in his office rather than sent out, anyway, that wasn't- Didn’t work very well really.
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 Colin Hynd
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
2017-11-15
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
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AHyndC171115
Format
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00:44:33 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
James Sheach
Description
An account of the resource
Summary: Colin Hynd joined the RAF in November 1943. Upon completing initial training, he was posted to RAF St Athan, where he trained as a flight engineer. He struggled to bond with his first crew, so instead worked as an instructor before joining a Canadian crew based at 158 Squadron. Hynd recounts the briefing process and dangers during bombing operations. He also describes why their rear gunner was accused of Lack of Moral Fibre, accidentally falling asleep during an operation, dumping surplus munitions in the North Sea, and the conditions of their accommodation. Finally, Hynd describes serving as drill instructor after the war.
Contributor
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Tilly Foster
Carolyn Emery
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Yorkshire
Wales--Glamorgan
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-11
1945
158 Squadron
aircrew
bomb struck
flight engineer
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
lack of moral fibre
military living conditions
RAF Desborough
RAF Halton
RAF Lissett
RAF Riccall
RAF St Athan
superstition
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/307/9640/PMooreWT1508.2.jpg
46d70c19f0283282b575e00c8060bca7
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/307/9640/AMooreWT150728.2.mp3
c01c152b10f0fbf9438d9f8a3ee5b0c3
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
Moore, Bill
William Tait Moore
William T Moore
William Moore
W T Moore
W Moore
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items. Three oral history interviews with William Tait "Bill" Moore (1924 - 2019, 1823072 Royal Air Force) and five photographs. He served as a navigator with 138 Squadron.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-07-28
2016-03-18
2016-07-06
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Interview Agreement Form - Moore, WT, William Moore-03
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Moore, WT
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
This is Andrew Sadler interviewing Mr. William (Bill) Moore at his home in Woking on Tuesday 28th July 2015 for the Bomber Command Archive.
AS: Thank you Bill for allowing me to come and interview you.
BM: You’re very welcome indeed.
AS: Can I start with some background information, where and when were you born?
BM: I was born in Dunoon in Scotland on 26th August 1924
AS: And um, can you tell me a bit about your family background?
BM: My, my father was a regimental sergeant major in the Invergyle Southern Highlanders, my grandfather was a chief petty officer in the Navy, we’d twenty two children, I am one of a family of five and, um, I first got in touch with the, err, Royal Air Force as a cadet with the Air Cadet, Air Cadet Association, which was the forerunner of the Air Training Corps.
AS: And presumably your father, was your father involved in the First World War?
BM: Yes my father and my grandfather was in the First World War, my grandfather was also in the Boer War and he was also in the First and Second World War, and my father was in the First World War and he was called up for the Second World War to the Colours and, um, later stood down when the BEF went to France, and he later took over the, what became the Home Guard for the whole of the County of Argyle in Scotland.
AS: Did he talk about his experiences in the First World War?
BM: Yes he um, he was a Royal Scottish Fusiliers and um, he was in quite a number of the big, of the big battles, and, um, then he was taken, he was taken prisoner in late 1917 and he was shipped out to Poland then and, he was wounded in the legs, he was given very good treatment by the German, um, medical people at that time.
AS: And how did you come to join up into the Royal Air Force?
BM: Oh that was through the, the Air Cadets which was the forerunner of the Air Training Corps. The reason for that was I had been a drummer boy in the band of the Argyle’s and um, I fancied the Air Force after having two flights at a place called Montrose quite a long time before the war started.
AS: Can I just stop what, - okay we are restarting now after closing the windows
BM: Right
AS: Noise outside, sorry you were telling me about how you came, you joined the Royal, the Air Cadet Force.
BM: That’s right the Air Cadet Defence Couriers
AS: And why did you do that, what made you interested in?
BM: So it was after I had two flights we’er with the Argyles as a drummer boy in the Band at Montrose on the east coast of Scotland.
AS: And that made you want to fly?
BM: That’s quite correct.
AS: So what year did you actually join up to the Royal Air Force?
BM: Well for the, well it was 1940-41 when I was in the Air Defence Cadet Corps and then of course when the Air Training Corps started I joined that immediately and, err, on the Monday night I joined up and um, of course naturally I had no rank and then the Friday night of that week I was made a flight sergeant in the Air Training Corps, within one week.
AS: And can you tell me how that came about?
BM: Oh the experience of the Air Defence Cadet Corps, that was why.
AS: So can you tell me about your training?
BM: Oh the training in the, in the Air Training Corps. Yes the Air Training Corps we, um, we attended night school classes in the school along with students who were actually full time students of the school, also members of the Air Training Corps and this was taken by Mathematics teachers and English teachers all the way through, and they had become officers in the Air Training Corps, and one gentlemen Mr. Ozzy Broon, he was the maths teacher and very good in navigation and um, he made it all very, very interesting for us and, um, later on I met up with him but that will come into this later on, um, but he was a person who really gave us the foundation in navigation and bringing us up through math and made it interesting for us.
AS: So what age were you at this time?
BM: By that time I was sixteen.
AS: And um, when you joined the Air Force could, you were immediately made a flight sergeant and what sort of work?
BM: No that, no that was just the Air Training Corps I’m talking about, and that was made immediately. Now what happened was that um, we um, when I was, um, seventeen and a quarter I actually volunteered for the Royal Air Force and um, because of my background in the Air Training Corps I, um, had all certificates following examinations that was, um, especially orientated towards air crew, and with that I was selected at Edinburgh to actually join air crew formally and I was given the silver badge and um, became a member of the Royal Air Force on reserve which was actually the, um, Auxiliary Air Force.
AS: And what year would that have been?
BM: That was, that was beginning, the beginning of ‘42, ‘41-‘42 yes.
AS: And can you tell me how you came to be in Bomber Command?
BM: Well that’s quite a story, but I’ll cut it short as much as possible, we, we were invited to London to Lord’s Cricket Ground where we were given the medicals etcetera and passed all these things and tests, various inoculations etcetera, etcetera, and um, we were billeted at Avenue Close, um, and fed at the, at the Zoo there, and of course, um, after a few weeks we actually were sent to Scarborough where I, I joined number 17 flight, of the air crew selection, and um, that was at, that was the beginning of our formal training with the air crew, Royal Air Force, the Royal Air Force. They, um, that was when we conducted drill, navigation, signals, um, engines, everything that you had to do in preparation to become a member of air crew, but not a specialist at that time, you were given that particular course so that you could be able to fit in somewhere along the line, we were actually called PNB, pilot, navigator, bomb aimer, at that time. That’s what we were, PNB. We um, I had at that particular time I had a flight and that flight, it was a mixed flight of British, French, Belgians and we graduated, we graduated from there and were given various jobs around Scarborough until I was posted to Scoon, now at Scoon in Scotland that was where we got, we got training on Tiger Moths, and then from there, after that was we, we seemed to be doing all right, we were sent to Brougton in Furness where we, where we did a commando course on, in other words it was an escapees course. If anything happened and you were on the other side then you knew what to do to try and get away, and that was where my army training had come in very good and I was appointed a section leader. After that we were posted to, to Heaton Park, Manchester and that is where we were either billeted on homes around the perimeter of the park or actually in the park. Firstly we were actually on the perimeter with a family and, um, that lasted for about two weeks, and then for about three weeks we were actually billeted in Heaton Park in Manchester, and um, then of course we were given various courses etcetera, etcetera, and, um, during that , during that time you got selected for, for to go for training in different parts of the Commonwealth and Empire. At the beginning I was actually getting posted to go to Rhodesia and the reason we knew that was because of the kit that we were getting, not South Africa but Rhodesia. We got on board the ship in Liverpool and um, on the Mersey, and we got on, we got on board the ship there and, um, it happened to be a ship that I knew very well which was brand new at the beginning of the war and I’ve actually got a model of it here, and um, we, we set sail and, um, one evening I, I was presuming that we near the Bay of Biscay, I turned round and I said to my friend, Alec Kerr, I said ‘Alec this ship is going the wrong way’, he said ‘you and your [inaudible] navigation, how do you know?’ I said ‘I’m looking at the stars’ and we landed back up in Liverpool again, we presumed then of course that the word had got out, that was probably a fleet of U-Boats hovering round about the Bay of Biscay and um, they changed their mind about sending us on that ship, which was called the Andes [spells it out]. We got back into Liverpool and we were there about um, two days on board the Andes, and the next thing we were told that we were being transferred onto another ship and um, I looked across and there was a three funnel boat over there, and, I said to this chap Alec, Alec Kerr, I said ‘Alec that’s a five, three, four over there’ he said ‘what’s a five, three, four?’ I said ‘I’m not telling you that’s a secret’. Well the five, three, four was the Queen Mary, the five, three, four was the number that the Queen Mary had in John Brown’s yard in Scotland, in Glasgow when she was getting built. Anyway we got on board that ship and the next thing we knew that we were in New York and we were there overnight, and the next thing we knew we were on the train and we were bound, bound for Canada and we went all up the, the East Coast of Canada and we arrived at Moncton, New Brunswick, and that was the home station in Canada for air crew who were going to be training under the Commonwealth Air Training Scheme. We were there for ten or twelve days, um, not in winterwear as it was six months of the year in Canada, you get a lot of cold weather and um, they just said ‘oh we don’t know anything about you, we’ll get a message one of these days and we’ll give you some uniform’ , so we walked around there um, at one time I used to say like a [inaudible] nanny, but as I say, in Canada there we walked along like squaws because we covered ourselves in blankets to keep warm, but that was only, that was only a gimmick, once you were inside you were nice and warm. Eventually we got kitted out we with Rhodesian Air Force kit which was very good indeed, it was far superior and a lot more modern than what we had previously, for items like shirts the collars were attached instead of getting two collars with a shirt, the great coats were extremely different and the average cloth was a lot finer, anyways that was one of the good points that we had there. The next thing we knew was that we were, I’d say sent across country and um, that was to be going on to various stations now – this was where our actual training began and we had landed in Moncton and then from there, as I say, we travelled by train across to Dauphin, Manitoba, and Dauphin, Manitoba was just a little bit bigger than a village at that particular time but it was really getting populated with the Royal Air Force and the Royal Canadian Air Force, and um, that is where we had bombing and gunnery courses on Ansons and Bolingbrokes. The Bolingbrokes, of course, was the Canadian/ American version of the Blenheim Mark IV which was a very good aircraft. We graduated from there and we went from there to aye, err, Portage la Prairie, Portage la Prairie, I’ve got photographs here and there we are at Portage la Prairie which is, and was, and still is today, one of the major stations of the Royal Canadian Air Force. I said today because I have met wing commanders and group captains who have just recently been in charge of Portage la Prairie, and that is where we did the Air Observer School, that was Air Observer School Number 7 which is navigation etcetera, etcetera, and that was on Ansons and Cranes. We, err, we had a mixed bunch there of New Zealanders, Canadians, and British and we actually graduated from there and um, that is the photograph of it there see.
AS: And you’re on the front row, second from the left.
BM: That’s right [laughs] yeah. That is when I became an air observer, the air observer, of course, has got another name but in this interview I won’t say what it was called.
AS: You told me before.
BM: [Laughs] that’s exactly what it was, yes. Anyway, as far as we were concerned we err -
AS: I think could I, could I maybe I could say it
BM: Yes
AS: For the record you were known as the flying arseholes.
BM: That’s quite correct [laughs], that is quite correct, yes. Now um, with that, we were, we were given our wings there and that was a great occasion because we were made up to sergeants which was, the lowest rank by that time that you could have as air crew. Quite a lot of people don’t understand and don’t know was that right through, for a couple of years the war was on, there was fellow air crew were either AC2’s or AC1’s or LAC, leading aircraftsman and it was only after a while that the rank of sergeant was introduced for minimum rank for aircrew, there’s quite a number of people never knew about that but um, having come through the air cadets etcetera, etcetera, we knew people who were actually flying in operations who were leading aircraftsman and had done quite a number of operations as such and were never recognised as anything else. If they got shot down they never got promotion, they were still at the end of the war leading aircraftsmen. Then um, from Portage la Prairie, um, we got a jaunt down, down to America, I think it was just a matter of, they didn’t know what to do with us for a while and we went down to Florida, and we were flying on Catalina Flying Boats and doing maritime navigation which, from a place called Pensacola. We were there a few weeks and the next thing we knew we were back to Moncton, New Brunswick in Canada, and of course there wasn’t six feet of snow this time, it was a lovely spring cum summer day in Canada. We, we were there for just a few weeks and um, we were told we could have two kit bags and we said ‘why two kit bags?’, ‘well one kit bag you can travel with and if you get a flight back to the UK then that other kit bag will be sent on to you later on’. I was quite happy in one way, I didn’t need to fly back, I got on board a ship and then we were taken from Moncton, New Brunswick to Halifax, Nova Scotia. And when we got to Nova Scotia I recognised the ship and I said to my friend, I said ‘oh I don’t like that one’ and he said ‘why is that Bill?’ I said ‘because that’s the Empress of Japan’, he said ‘what!’, I said ‘yeah that’s the Empress of Japan’. Anyway we got on the ship and by that time it was called the Empress of Scotland, they had changed its name during the war from the Empress of Japan to the Empress of Scotland, and we boarded that and we were put onto D deck which is a long way down and um, when we, we tried to get up for the, for the boat drill for emergencies we found that we were only halfway up, so anyway we thought of a plan. If there is going to be an emergency and they want us up on deck why don’t we try and get a place to sleep on deck because it was summertime, anyway we weren’t allowed that. Anyway we eventually landed in the Clyde and from the Clyde we, we got on the train and we went to Harrogate in Yorkshire, and we were held at Yorkshire, in Harrogate for a short time and um, from there I was sent over to Halfpenny Green. Now Halfpenny Green was a mixed unit it was, a normal navigation advanced school for navigators so and there was also an advanced school navigating on, what will I say, um, yeah, this was to become a specialist on map reading, not just normal navigation a specialist on navigation by map reading and that was the section that I was detailed for. When I asked the ‘chiefy’ why I was a chosen, he said ‘why’ he says ‘because we found out that you’re a country boy’, ‘Oh,’ I said ‘that’s nice’, he said ‘also you’ve been around quite a bit’, I said ‘oh thank you very much’. Anyway, ‘chiefy’, the reason I called him ‘chiefy’ was because he was a flight sergeant and the reason you called them a ‘chiefy’ was because when the Royal Air Force and the Naval Service had been amalgamated during the First World War, a lot of the people from the Naval side came across and they were Chief Prison err, Chief um, Chief Petty Officers and they were the chaps who became the first flight sergeants in the Royal Air Force and the name ‘chiefy’ has been there ever since, ‘cos’ if you called someone a ‘chiefy’ today they wonder what the hell you are talking about, but anyway we could often make a few bets on that one, that’s on the side. But Halfpenny Green, we were flying there on the advanced Ansons, Mk V Ansons, which um, had completely closed bombing doors etcetera, etcetera, and of course it was ideal for map reading because your maps weren’t getting thrown about in the lower part of the cockpit when you are trying to do the map reading, but we didn’t realise why it was done, but in the Air Force, once you joined up, you volunteered ever after that, you did what you was told. Right now, I managed to go through that course, came through with very good marks and um, I was then posted to Desborough, um, at Desborough. We were crewed up and that was part of a Wellington crew and um, also flying there I was flying as second dickie, in other words we only had one pilot and um, I got the job within the crew of being the person to be able to, err, take off and land and of course do a bit of flying in between, in case of emergency I could always land the Wellington. That was because of the position and the type of training that we had got in the past. Now from, from Desborough we um, we were transferred to various stations and where I went to, I went to a place called Tempsford. Now Tempsford was one of Churchill’s most secret aerodromes, airfields, when you got there you had to, you had to sign the Official Secret Act which was slightly different from the one that you normally took. In other words this was top secret, anything you said outside of that aerodrome you could be held responsible, and taken into custody, or shot, if it was got the wrong way. The reason for that that came up during your last week of being at Tempsford. Now at Tempsford we, we were crewing with various people, the reason I say that is because being an observer from time to time I wasn’t with the, the same, same pilot, although for some time I was with a chap called Neil Noble and also with err, a young PO who was a chap called Murray, anyway that was very good indeed. Noble was from New Zealand, and err, he was an excellent chap and he was also a country boy and he was excellent for the type of flying that we were doing and likewise was Murray. Now what happened was that during that time at Tempsford that is where we did flying of taking people out and into France, quite often it was on, it was on Lysanders and you didn’t have much room in Lysanders because err, it being a small one engine aircraft and you were flying low and you were actually taking these people into France. It wasn’t the first time that we had to bring people back from France and on various occasions, the group had actually brought back four gentleman who later on became Premiers of France and they actually also were leading lights in the resistance movement, what we called the Maquis. Now one of the things that happened at Tempsford was that um, we later on had an aircraft and this aircraft was called a Hudson, now that Hudson was an aircraft, American one, which was designed to land on the prairies in America. It was heavily undercarriaged and it was ideal for what we did, it was a way from the Lysander with the single engine and was a twin engine aircraft and what was happening there was that we were carrying a lot of heavy goods for the Maquis. That was the bombs, sticky bombs, all sorts of bombs like that, grenades, ammunition, weapons, oh up to medium sized weapons which they could use without using vehicles to carry them about. Now there was one particular trip when we were on the Hudson and we were on one of the airfields that had been selected by the Maquis, now what had happened was the Maquis people, quite a number of them, had been brought over to the UK and they were given special training as to get airfields that we could land in, the idea being was that the drop zones or picking up and laying down of agents, and it was essential that they were kept on this secret list ‘cos only a few minutes normally that we were on the ground. On this particular occasion what happened was that we came into land and we landed very well, we got to top of the, I call it run section, we turned round and as we turned round we began to sink in the mud, well it felt like mud to us, I suppose it was only a wet piece of ground, and we sank down, and um, I said to the skipper, ‘oh were in trouble’, he said ‘oh we’ll get off all right’, so anyway the Maquis arrived and they got all their stuff out and um, the leading agent there was a lady and she cleared an area, got all the Maquis away and we were ready to take off and then we realised that we couldn’t get out the mud, or whatever it was. So anyway we were about ready for to put the bomb in the air trap and blow it up and then get the hell out of there, but anyway she said ‘no’ she said, ‘we think we’ll get you out of there all right’ and she got the people from a nearby village to come to try and help us out because they were on their way up they met what they call the German sergeant who was in charge of the village and he said ‘right where are you people going?’, ‘oh your big black aircraft, your big black aircraft is on the ground there and if we don’t get it out of the mud the Gestapo is going to shoot us and they’ll shoot you as well’. So his retort was back to hers was that he would look after the village, they could go and get the aircraft out, so anyway the people got all sorts of equipment and we managed to take off again, that was the longest that we were ever on the ground until a few years later, it certainly felt like hours and hours and hours but was, it was just over an hour and a quarter on the ground which was an extremely long period and we got away.
AS: Was this work part of what was known as part of the Special Operations Executive?
BM: We were working with the SOE, yes that’s exactly what we were doing. Now that was one of the moments where various escapades like that but that that was the one of the longest times on the ground. Quite often we landed in a field and of course one or two of the fields had been used in the past for gliders but of course nobody had been near them in years, not even the Germans had used them and that was why they, the Maquis, had actually selected them for us, and they had um, they hadn’t done any work on them as such just hoping that the odd tree stump or that, that we landed in was, would be avoided which they were quite good. There was quite often a brush, as we called it, on the ground but we managed to sweep that aside when you are landing and take off. Now the thing about that was that um, the area dropping and picking up and laying down of agents was essentially an extreme secret list and only a few minutes were allowed between knowing the target area and the take off and only the crew members concerned knew exactly where. As little contact as possible was allowed between any agents and the crew, I don’t care what people say, Americans and different books nowadays I will call them ‘Joes’, as far as we were concerned we had as little contact as possible so that if anything happened to them or happened to us we couldn’t divulge anything and neither could they, because later on Hitler had said that anybody with knowledge of the situation would be shot as spies, so as little contact as possible was allowed between any agents and the crews. The airfield contacts or landings were seldom used again and again, although there were one of two were very suitable among them was Paris and Chateauroux and various other ones, these were the favourite ones that they were ones that were used quite a few times.
AS: When you were working, when you were on those flights you were acting as an observer?
BM: An observer yes.
AS: And what was the role of the observer?
BM: An observer was, it was a navigator but also you did everything, you did everything.
AS: So, you were a backup if something?
BM: That’s right. The observer learnt to fly, that was one of the other things an observer did, later on of course that was taken over by, on the bigger aircraft, by the flight engineer, but in the early days that was the observer that did that, aye. Now later on, later on during the war once it became apparent with the advance of the allies in France, the role of 138 Squadron and 161 Squadron was diminishing so what happened then was that 138 Squadron we went back to Bomber Command and with that we went to Langar where we actually um, we actually flew on Lancasters and then the Lancasters and then of course we were, I’d say we were part and parcel of the Bomber Command operations and that was from Tuddenham, and at Tuddenham we lay alongside 90 Squadron which was one of the main, main squadrons that occupied Tuddenham right through during the war.
AS: And what year was that, that you became part of Bomber Command?
BM: That was beginning that was the beginning of ‘44-‘45 and that was from, we started there, the actual squadron according, according to the history, was that everything came into being in March of 1945 but of course it was long before that we were [inaudible] but that’s just from the history books. Later the events all changed and we were sent to Langar to receive conversant to Lancasters, which turned out to be the light of my life as the aircraft which was the one that I favoured best, and from Langar we went to Feltwall, Mildenhall, Methwold, and Stradishall for other special duty training and eventually to Tuddenham. We took part in many of the operations but on the big one to Potsdam our Wing Commander Murray took over as captain of the night. Now that Wing Commander Murray was a pilot officer that I flew with, aye, early in my career with 138 Squadron and he became eventually the, the squadron leader, wing commander for 138 squadron, he took charge of that. Along came the Operation Manna which gave us great pleasure in being part of and likewise to Juvincourt where we brought home many of our fellow air crew members who had been prisoners of war, and after a few weeks of PRDU work at Tuddenham we were allowed to transfer to RAF Benson where we took over our own Lancasters and became part of the operating across Europe and photographing the whole of Europe for um, the secret stations that Churchill had wanted when he was Prime Minister. So that was there crew there, the other air crew in Bomber Command where we did all our operations.
AS: And were you still working as an observer at this stage?
BM: Yes, yes
AS: You were still an observer?
BM: Aye
AS: And this is your crew next to a Lancaster?
BM: Yes, that’s the crew that we eventually had, yes.
AS: And which one is you Bill?
BM: [laughs] Probably go with the height you’ll maybe get me, [laughs] can you recognise me?
AS: I think you are the one on the left on that side on the right.
BM: Yes that’s me [laughs], that there the tallest one actually became the rear gunner .
AS: And were you always with the same crew?
BM: Once we, once we got to Tuddenham we were all with the same crew yes.
AS: So these are the same, so this is the same people?
BM: That’s right yeah.
AS: And obviously you all made it through the war?
BM: Oh yes.
AS: ‘Cos a lot did not.
BM: No, that is quite correct we were lucky.
AS: So when you were on the bombing raid can you tell me exactly what your role would have been?
BM: Oh we were, there were two things so we acted as a full navigator and sometimes as an electronic navigator and also a bomb aimer as well ‘cos we were qualified to do all these jobs.
AS: So you moved from one role?
BM: One role to another yeah.
AS: To another.
BM: In our crew everybody could do everything else except on the Lancasters. The skipper Neil Noble and, and myself were doing the flying, and also our flight engineer ‘cos he only joined us on the Lancasters ‘cos when we were flying in the Wellingtons and that we didn’t have, we didn’t have a flight engineer. The flight engineer were only brought on when we started with the Stirlings and Halifaxes and then the Lancasters.
AS: Can you tell me what it was like to fly the Lancasters as opposed to the Wellingtons?
BM: Oh yes, it was a much easier aircraft to fly than even the Wellingtons and the Wellington was a good one to fly.
AS: In what way was it easier?
BM: Well the, the, the controls were simpler, it was easier to control them than it was some of the former aircraft.
AS: And can you describe the procedure when you went on a bombing raid?
BM: Right, well what happened was once you were crewed and once you had done a few operations like mine laying and things like that, minor operations and then of course you were selected by crews that you moved up the ladder a bit and then of course you were formally taken on to the, I would say, the senior strength of the squadron, but our squadron did not like to put rookie crews onto the heavy stuff at first, you got a baptism of fire by, as I say, doing the mine laying jobs and various other ones which you weren’t so likely to have been involved in heavy enemy fire etcetera, etcetera. We were thankful for that because you were given that training and there was actually training in the actual thing. So what happened was that once you, once you were there then of course you had briefings where the whole crew was together, then of course you had briefings where there was selected sections of the aircrew, mainly the pilot, navigator, and quite often the flight engineer and radio operator were involved. When we were doing special duties with Lancaster’s we had the whole crew together ‘cos we felt as if everybody should know exactly what’s going on and not be a surprise to anybody with what we were doing because quite often there was raids that was known to only a section of a squadron and sometimes a full squadron, whereas if it wasn’t a joint operations with the other squadrons, or the other squadron are out and you lay down so that was how it went, but you were actually given as much information as possible about the targets, about where you were going, the flight, the enemy aircraft etcetera, etcetera.
AS: How many missions did you fly with Bomber Command?
BM: About thirty six.
AS: That was quite a lot wasn’t it?
BM: Yes it was quite a lot.
AS: It sounds as if you were lucky to pull through because?
BM: I was extremely lucky, I was extremely lucky, because with 138 Squadron we had, we had quite a [long pause, shuffling papers], with 138 Squadron, 138 Squadron had taken in nine hundred and ninety five agents, they’d taken in twenty nine thousand containers and they’d taken in over ten thousand packages. We lost seventy aircraft and three hundred aircrew, our motto was ‘for freedom’, that was 138 Squadron you know.
AS: Yes you had different people on different stations?
BM: Right, now also what did happen was that with 138 Squadron we had a flight of Poles, Polish chaps. Now what happened with them was that they was declared by the German forces that if the Poles were shot down they were to be treated as spies, so I didn’t like the idea of that and all the ones on our flight I taught them a bit of Gaelic, I gave them little addresses from on all the outer isles on the west of Scotland and I gave them Scottish names, and I told them if they got shot down they would have to use them as identification plus their rank and number, and I, ‘cos I do know that quite a number of them actually survived like that because they pretended to be Scottish, Gaelic, and where they pointed to on the map was where they came from and it was a real island but I gave them all different islands, and of course when they were on the squadron if they spoke to anybody they had to say who they were and not who they were in Polish.
AS: And why the Poles singled out for special harsh treatment?
BM: Oh because their country had been occupied by the Germans. They took it that they were, if they did that they were actually against them that was the end of it.
AS: Mmm, when you um, when you were flying with Bomber Command how often, you said you had thirty six missions, how far apart were they, were you?
BM: Well sometimes you might be on three nights in a row, sometimes it might be two, two in one week, but it was surprising just how much, just how of course some operations like mine laying and things like that were considered quite minor ones so you probably fitted them in in between times.
AS: And went you weren’t actually flying when you were on the ground how did you occupy your time?
BM: We kept ourselves fit, we played a lot of squash or we played a lot of rugby that was the two things we did as a crew because we could play together, and we were together, we were a crew.
AS: And when you were not flying you stuck together as a
BM: As a crew yes. We used to have, in the Nissen huts, we normally had two crews to the hut and we pretty well stuck together.
AS: And what sort of conditions were you living in, was it, were they good conditions or?
BM: Well, well when we were one squadron there was err, there was a Nissen hut set of accommodation which was two crews, as I say two crews about fourteen men to a hut and a potbelly stove in the middle and then of course your, your, your mess and that on the squadron was a Nissen type building. There was one or two squadrons which were peacetime ones, the RAF Benson was a peacetime one and there’s still peacetime one, but Methwold and quite a few of these other ones were established pre-war and the accommodation was slightly better, but anything that was rushed up during the war time was normally the Nissen huts.
AS: Now after the war, what, how did you, what happened after the war?
BM: Well what happened after the war, like what I said earlier on, was that we did some PRDU work from Tuddenham.
AS: What’s PRDU work?
BM: That’s Post RAF Reconnaissance.
AS: Ah.
BM: What we didn’t realise it was like a programme to see if we were suitable to do the job and there was three crews were picked, three, with their aircraft and we were sent over to RAF Benson and we then came under PRDU people there and, err, we photographed the whole of Europe, north to south and east to west, and we photographed the likes of the city of London, and other big cities from two thousand feet. Towns like Woking and this area would be from about five-six thousand feet and um, then the general countryside was anything from ten to twenty thousand feet, and we did that for the whole of Europe. We also had bases all over the country and also had bases in Norway, bases in South of France and various places like that, so what we actually did was that at one time, one time we landed at one, one particular station and it had been used as a transit camp and we woke up in the morning scratching like hell and we found out we had scabies so of course that was us isolated. We go back to our own station and we were isolated by the, by the medical people until we got rid of it, and then we, what we said, wherever we went after that we took our own kit with us so we didn’t get scabies.
AS: And this would have been after 1945 you were doing this?
BM: Yes
AS: And how long did you stay in the RAF for?
BM: Middle of 1946.
AS: And, and what did you do after you left?
BM: Well I went back into the building industry, and um, it wasn’t that long before I went to Rhodesia where I was supposed to have gone with the with the Royal Air Force and the idea there was that a federation was starting up between Nyasaland, Northern Rhodesia and Southern Rhodesia, and um, I went out there and I went out as a general building foreman, and instead of staying four years with the company that I worked for I stayed fifty years. I built schools, universities, colleges, hundreds of local houses, all over the territories, and then of course gradually it worked out that Rhodesia was the only one that didn’t get its independence, Nyasaland 1963, Nyasaland was given independence then and became Malawi, and more or less at the same time Northern Rhodesia, which had been a Crown Colony run from Britain, they also had theirs, but Southern Rhodesia, which became Rhodesia, had been a self-governing colony since 1926 and they were not granted independence. And what happened was in 1926 there had been a vote there to say if whether they were going to pick up as a province in South Africa or stay as Rhodesia as an independent self-governing colony and the vote was to stay as Rhodesia self-governing colony, so if they’d had went the other way it would have been a province of South Africa.
AS: So what year did you come back to the United Kingdom?
BM: I only came back twelve years ago.
AS: Oh gosh. So have you, after the end of the war have you kept in contact with your crew mates?
BM: Oh yes, well I’ll tell you what, Jimmy Dugg, his great grandson is Israel Dugg who played full back for the All Blacks against the Springboks on Saturday and various other ones.
AS: So you kept in contact with them?
BM: Oh yes.
AS: Did you, um, I mean after the war?
BM: What happened in Rhodesia, put it this way what happened there was that I had, in the short term, I had reinstated the family business in the building trade, I found out that the contracts were not being run honestly as far as I was concerned and that’s when I said to my brothers ‘you can have the company I’m going abroad’, I had thoughts for Canada, I had thoughts for Australia, I had thoughts for New Zealand, and at the time they wanted people to go to what was going to become the Central African Federation, um, and that’s where I decided to go to. I had no regrets, no regrets at all. I was there from 1952-53 right up until I came here, came back here and that was in 2003, but during that time, as I said before, I built schools and hospitals and other things all the way through. I even, in 1960 the Queen Mother had come out previously and laid the foundation stone of the hospital in Blantyre, Nyasaland which she named the Queen Elizabeth Hospital then she came back in 1960 and declared it open, now of course it wasn’t just a hospital it was like a major township around the hospital that we built that what took us so long, anyway what did happen when we had a ball at Zumba, the capital, after she had declared it open etcetera, etcetera, and the following the morning the Governor, Glynn Jones came to me and said ‘I’ve got a job for you’ I said ‘No, no, no I don’t need no freebies sir’, he said ‘it’s for the old lady’, I said ‘what’s that’, he said ‘I want you to build a racecourse for her,’ I said ‘what! I don’t know anything about building racecourses’, he said ‘go and find a plan somewhere’ he says ‘I want you to build a racecourse for her’, I said ‘all right how long have I got?’ he said ‘you’ve got ten days’. So anyway I got my own crew which was about fifty-sixty chaps and I went along to Zumba Prison and I got hundred bandits from there, short term bandits, and I asked for all the ones who had been Queen Victoria men, or King George men, or Kind Edward men, people like that and I got volunteers and I looked after them. I said they would be rewarded which they were, properly and kindly, etcetera, etcetera, and we did the job, and instead of what you do today, putting up things in canvas, I did it all in pole and thatch, and um, she, what happened is that she went on the Ilala which is the ship that plies up and down Lake Nyasa, and Lake Nyasa is three hundred and sixty five miles long and fifty two miles wide and there are various ports along it that the Ilala used to either go into or stand off and it used to take cattle, people passengers, VIP’s everything, there were ten or twelve cabins on it so it wasn’t a small one. It was actually built in, in Scotland and taken out in pieces to a place called Monkey Bay where it was put back together again and floated on Lake Nyasa and she has been going there ever since [laughs].
AS: Excellent. Can I um [end]
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Interview with Bill Moore. One
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Andrew Sadler
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2015-07-28
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01:10:53 Audio recording
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eng
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AMooreWT150728
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Polskie Siły Powietrzne
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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.
Description
An account of the resource
William Moore was born in Dunoon, Scotland in August 1924 and joined the Royal Air Force after spending some time in the Air Cadet Defence Corps and in the Air Training Corps. He volunteered for the Royal Air Force at the age of 17 and completed his training in Canada, after which he qualified as an air observer.
William flew Ansons and Cranes and learned navigation in America on Catalina flying boats. He also tells of flying Lysanders and transporting agents for the Special Operations Executive into France. He also tells how he helped Polish airmen with different information to keep them safe if they crashed.
William flew a number of aircraft including the Lancaster, Stirlings and Halifaxes at different locations and was on 36 operation with Bomber Command, taking part in Operation Manna. He served with 138 Squadron and 161 Squadron. He also tells of his life after the war, when he went to live in Rhodesia where he helped to run the family business before returning to Great Britain in 2003.
Please note: The veracity of this interview has been called into question. We advise that corroborative research is undertaken to establish the accuracy of some of the details mentioned and events witnessed.
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
United States
France
Germany
Netherlands
England--Bedfordshire
England--Suffolk
England--Staffordshire
Zimbabwe
Africa--Lake Nyasa
138 Squadron
161 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aerial photograph
aircrew
Anson
Catalina
flight engineer
Halifax
Hudson
Lancaster
Lysander
navigator
observer
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Photographic Reconnaissance Unit
RAF Benson
RAF Desborough
RAF Halfpenny Green
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Tempsford
RAF Tuddenham
reconnaissance photograph
Resistance
Special Operations Executive
Stirling
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/644/8914/ASpencerR150720.2.mp3
d4c05bf720e977abfa2ad1246750e227
Dublin Core
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Title
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Spencer, Reg
R Spencer
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Spencer, R
Description
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An oral history interview with Reg Spencer (Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a wireless operator with 514 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
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2015-07-20
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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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This is David Kavanagh for the International Bomber Command Centre interviewing Reg Spencer, Mr Reg Spencer at his home.
DK “and your schooldays?”
RS. “Schooldays were, I was born in Wembley Middlesex. Unfortunately my father, who worked up in Westminster area on electricity sub stations, unfortunately he was deaf and then he went blind, so he was deaf and blind and had to give up work so he decided he was going to buy himself a plot of land down in Essex and build a bungalow, is this .. ok then? Which he did at a place called Point Clear, which is near St Osyth in Essex. So I ended up going to school in the village of Essex until I left school in nineteen thirty nine. Then of course the war started in nineteen thirty nine in September. Prior to going to the air force, I was working basically on farm work, all kinds of farm work ending up on a threshing machine and what not.”
RS. “I joined the ATC at Clacton on Sea prior to going into the air force, so I was in the ATC for three or four years before I was called up for National Service in nineteen fortythree, February fortythree when I was eighteen years old on my eighteenth birthday. I Went to RACA at St Johns Wood which was Lords Cricket ground aircrew recruiting centre. From there we had two or three days having inoculations and getting kitted out and one thing and another. From there I was posted to Bridlington, Yorkshire for ITW which was Initial Training Wing. We were there three or four weeks doing square bashing and various lessons. One of the things we had to do was go out towards the sea over the promenade and have clay pigeon shooting and em being an ex farm worker when we had to shoot rabbits and one thing and another, I knocked out four out of five clay pigeons as they were in those days. So I thought I was going to end up as a gunner as some sort in the air force, but from there I was posted to number two Radio School at Yatesbury for Wireless Operator training. I was there for two or three years [sic] and from there I went to a little place called LLandwrog in North Wales for operational training which was, ere, flying Ansons and we went there for three or four weeks. From there we went to Desborough flying Wellingtons for another three or four weeks. When we went to Desborough we were all chucked into a hanger sort of thing, all aircrew people Wireless Operators like myself, Gunners, Pilots, Engineers and there you crewed up. You just walked about and if someone said “have you got a crew?” you said no. “Would you like to join us as a Wireless Operator, you said “yes.” So we eventually made a crew up at Desborough.”
DK. “I have always been quite interested in how you crewed up. How you all got together and made your own crews rather than being ordered to. Did you find that worked well?”
RS. “ It seemed to because although we were only a crew for a short period we were quite happy and worked together, so on that basis it worked. A lot of people thought you were ordered to be a crew but no you were all chucked into the pile and you sorted yourself out. So we were at Desborough for some time on em, Wellingtons just ordinary cross country flying, fighter affiliation that sort of thing. From there we went to a place called Woolfox Lodge not far from you. That was Heavy Conversion Unit, so we went onto Lancasters at Woolfox Lodge, again there for a short period [short pause-“we can edit that out”] Woolfox Lodge, Heavy Conversion Unit, so that was our final training. From there we went to 514 squadron at Waterbeach. We arrived there in the February.”
DK. “If I can take you back, you trained as a Wireless Operator there?”
RS. “At Yatesbury, yes ok [slight pause] Yes we arrived at Waterbeach in forty five which is late on in the war and em, we carried out several operations over Germany.”
DK “and which squadron was this with?”
RS. “514. Yes at Waterbeach. Several operations over Germany. Eventually the European war was coming to a close and it was agreed with the Germans and with the Americans that we could fly over Holland and do Operation Manna which you obviously know of. I did three trips on Operation Manna over to Holland and also at that time as the war finished we were flying to France to bring back our troops who had been Prisoners of War under German occupation. Also we were flying to Italy doing the same operation bringing people back from Italy who had been Prisoners of War.”
DK. “How many operations did you do, bombing operations over Germany?”
RS. “I would think fourteen or fifteen something like that.”
DK. “And how did you feel with the Manna Operations, did you see the Dutch people?”.
RS. “We could see the Dutch people, prior to taking off.”
[Interruption by a telephone ringing in the background.]
RS. “Where did I get up to?”
DK. “operation Manna”
RS. “Operation Manna, yes when we went to get our parachutes we were given permission to help ourselves to very cartridges which were used for distress purposes and one thing and another.”
DK “I will just move the phone in case it interrupts”
RS. “So as we approached the target and mind you, you are only over the target for a second sort of thing, I stood by with very cartridges and was firing them as were other people, so it was almost like Blackpool illuminations, which the Dutch people appreciated, you could see them on the ground waving to us up there. You could also as you went over occupied territory see Germans standing at the cross roads in their sentry boxes and that sort of thing. You could also see one or two tanks and that sort of thing but em, yes I did three operations on Operation Manna.”
DK. “how did that make you feel when the Germans weren’t shooting at you, they were holding to the cease fire?”
RS. “That’s right, yes the agreement I think was that we were allowed to fly down to fifty feet and they would not attack. If we did any as you know they were quite free to em, open fire against us.”
DK. “But the Italian, bringing prisoners back from there er, that was quite entertaining because you met people who had been Prisoners of War for three or four years and one particular little instance that happened, we had loaded up and they had about twenty troops sitting on the floor of the Lancaster and the em, chap who sat next to me when we took off he said “how long will it be before we get back to England?” I said four, four and a half hours I suppose. He said “will you let me know when we get to the French coast?” I said yes sure. So we approach the French coast and I said to him it’s the French coast down there. Just where the Wireless Operator sits there is a very small window and you can see just in front of the engines the ground and what not. So he leant over “yes the French coast and will you let me know when we get to the English coast, how long will it be?” I said about five to ten minutes that all. I said to him “there’s the English coast over there” and as he came over he was sick all the way down the back of my neck and being a prisoner of war poor chap it stunk to high heaven. Anyway we landed at Ford in Suffolk where the WVS and the NAAFI were waiting to receive these troops and as I got to the hatch to go out a volunteer WVS or something like that said “come on darling we’ll soon get you sorted out.” I said I was one of the crew. Anyway they washed it all down and I got over it so that was that little funny incident that happened.”
DK. “Eventually after Operation Manna and em, bringing troops back from Italy and France of course the war finished and of ninety per cent of aircrew I should think were made redundant. They were just told they were not flying anymore, you got to remuster to finish your National Service. So from there we were taken to Bruntingthorpe, thousands of Aircrew were at Bruntingthorpe all coming from different squadrons and what not. We were interviewed asked what would you like to do to finish your service of. So I thought when I was on the station motor transport seemed like a nice job driving about the airfield, so I volunteered for that. Eventually I was posted to Blackpool for a motor driving course which like the other nineteen on the course, we all passed. From there you were supposed to fill in a form to say where you would like to be posted to. Well my parents were living at Clacton on Sea and my wife was living at Wembley with her Mother. So I put down East Anglia or the London area and one of the chaps in the billet said “what have you put down?” and I said “either London or East Anglia.” He said “you will end up in Scotland or Wales,” so I said “well see.” By pure coincidence I was posted to the White City, you know the White City in London which is a Maintenance Unit for the MOD and we had Humber Snipes there. Beautiful cars and we had to go up to London and take somebody wherever they wanted to go and back to the White City. When I first got there the adjutant said to me “I’m sorry but we haven’t got any billets here, we have some places where you can lodge.” He said “do you know anyone in this area?” I said “well my wife lives at Wembley” “ah well we’ll billet you at Wembley” So I ended up em with my kitbag, knocked on the door at home and my wife opened the door “hello what are you doing here?” “I’ve been billeted on you” and I stayed there for three or four weeks. She was being paid by the Air Ministry until I was then posted to Bicester. Do you know Bicester? That was a maintenance unit. And em, all round the perimeter track either side they had vehicles of all sorts and it was my job to go round with a compressor on a little low loader Bantam, with two airmen and have a look to see if any of the tyres on the vehicles were flat or spongy, stop and pump them up. [Pause] Then eventually we were detailed to move a lot of the vehicles from Bicester up to Carlisle which was another Maintenance Unit. So we used to get a lorry or trailer on the back or bowser of something and go up to Carlisle Maintenance Unit and make our own way back by train. And em from Bicester I went to Pershore in charge of a parachute department, issuing parachutes and one thing and another there. I was only there for a few weeks and I went back to Kirkham near Blackpool, transport again and from there I was demobbed, nineteen fortyseven.”
RS. “When I went from 514 squadron we volunteered to go to 617 squadron which was training for Tiger Force and we went there about June forty five. Off course the European war finished in forty five in August so em, we didn’t have to go to the Far East all the Aircrew were made redundant and I went on to motor transport.”
DK. “How did you feel when you didn’t have to go onto Tiger Force now going to the Far East. How did that make you feel?”
RS. “Well at the time we were like anybody else in the Air Force, we were volunteers and we were keen I suppose to go out to the Far East and carry on with the Japanese, because we were going to be re-equipped with Lincolns instead of Lancasters, that was supposed to be a better aircraft as far as defence was concerned. As we said the Japanese war finished and we didn’t have to go, but having thought about it, even with our Lincolns to go out to the Far East against the Japanese with their Kamikaze sort. You didn’t know if you were going to do one operation or, if you were going to be fortunate enough to go on to the end of the war sort of thing, so that was that.”
DK. “Can I take you back a bit further as a Wireless Operator, what were your duties on the aircraft?”
RS. “Well basically you had to check in every hour with em er home base sort of thing, to see if there had been any change. Sometimes, not that it happened to us, sometimes it would be called off and you would just come back. Or there would be a change em because of wind direction or something or other you would have to advise the Navigator to veer to the right to get there or one thing or another. You were there also for em emergencies, if you were running out of fuel and you couldn’t get to Base, you would have to get in touch with Base or get in touch with Headquarters and they will say instead of coming to Waterbeach go to Woodhall, Woodbridge not Woodhall the emergency landing. We did loose an engine once going out actually and we talked to the crew and decided to carry on. Coming back the Pilot said “we have one engine missing” so they said “divert to Manston” So we went down to Manston which had one of the overshoot runways, at the end they had sand or gravel or something so you could overshoot to land. At that particular time when we were coming back I stood up in the astrodome, “you know the astrodome” which is just near the Wireless Operators seat and stood there looking out, you know, there’s an aircraft over there. So I said aircraft “so and so, so and so, so and so” and the Rear Gunner swung round and the Mid Upper and they said “where abouts? oh, oh, I can see it” and it gradually came in like that and got to within shooting distance sort of thing and it turned out to be a Mustang. He came along and waggled his wings like that, he could see us. We said ok and that and he just peeled off and off he went. We made it home on our own. Other than that we had no damage to the aircraft at all.”
DK. “Your operations before Manna, they were to Germany?”
RS. “Yes they were to Germany. The furthest down we went was to Regensburg, that was an eight hour trip which was the longest trip. Others were going into Germany, three hours out and three hours back sort of thing. Keil, we went to Keil two and a half hours, three hours I suppose. The most of them were daylight we only did two or three night operations. The first night we went we had the Group Captain who was the Station Commander at Waterbeach. He came as second pilot to see that were acting as a responsible crew and then we obviously went off on our own.”
RS. “I shouldn’t say it really I suppose but I consider it the best four years of my life, because in many respects I lived in Essex as a farmers boy sort of thing and just elementary education at the local church school. I wasn’t high and mighty with education and whatnot and em when I got into the billet with the lads and that sort of thing, comradeship and going out together and whatnot em. I think in fact I wanted to stay in. When I was at Kirkham with the em, transport there was a chap in our billet, his job was, his job was, driving a Group Captain about [pause]. He had a Humber Snipe, the Group Captain would say “ I want to visit so and so” might have been up in Coningsby or whatever and he would take him. Of course being the Group Captains driver he was treated on the Station as if he was the cats whiskers. He said it was a nice job, So I said “why are you packing it in?” “The wife wants me to come out, so I’m going out. Why are you interested in the job?” So I said that would be ideal for me. So I phoned the wife and said I had a chance to stay in the Air Force.”
Mrs RS. “Doing what?”
RS. I said “being chauffer to a Group Captain”
Mrs RS “ oh that’s not much of a job is it?”
RS. “It’s quite a good job really”
Mrs RS. “No you come out. How long are you going to be in for?”
RS. I said “three years”
Mrs RS. “No you come out.”
RS. So eventually I took her to her word and I came out.
RS. “But when we were going to, another little story, or thought we were going to Tiger Force I spoke to the Wife and I said to her, “how about us getting married?” ‘cause we were already engaged, so she said “I don’t know, what happens if you go out to Japan?” So I said “don’t look on the dull side, you will get marriage allowance and you will be able to save that if you can, so when I come back you will have a nice little nest egg to set up home” So we decided to get married on August the eighteenth, nineteen forty-five. So I went to the CO that my wife and I, girlfriend want to get married. “Yes alright then, when is it?” So I told him, so and so and so and so, seventy two hours leave. So I came home to Wembley where the Wife was living. Half the Crew came down with me when I got married and I don’t think they do it so much in these days, but the Best Man stood up and read telegrams of congratulations and whatnot and there was one there from the CO, well the adjutant to say that my leave had been extended eh.” [pause]
DK. “When would these have been taken?” [Probably reference to photographs]
RS. “At em Yatesbury, that’s a fallacy really, that’s in the ATC. And that’s em.”
DK. “you look particularly young there.”
RS. “And I was, I was only eighteen when I went in the Air Force. [unreadable] with the old white flash which indicated you were under training. And we were nearly all told to go down to the local photographer and have your photograph taken, and of course they put us all in Irving. They weren’t on issue to us in the Lancaster, ‘cause of the heating was ok and you did not need them.”
DK. “ What was your thoughts er as to the Lancaster itself compared to the earlier aircraft that you flew in the Wellington you did your training in?”
RS. “Oh there was no comparison really.”
DK. “did it give you confidence”
RS. “Oh yes, yes we used to take off and never gave it a thought that you wasn’t coming back.”
RS. “Carrying onto the story of getting married em, seventy two and they pushed it up to seven days and em, we got married and this year it will be our seventieth anniversary.”
DK. “Congratulations.”
RS. “So that was” [unreadable]
DK. “What about your crew themselves, did you stay in touch with your crew after the war?”
RS. “No, Vi could you go and get my Log Book, it’s in the top drawer?”
RS. “No I tried several times to get in touch with them, ‘cause when we went to Bruntingthorpe when all the crews went down there. You were just told to get in that lorry or get in that lorry sort of thing depending on what trade you wanted to follow up, they just disappeared, but I tried several times to get in touch with them. But em and em and of course the crew were made up of a Pilot and he came from, I don’t know, he was South African he was out training pilots out there.”
DK. “he was South African?”
RS.”Yes and he came back here because he wanted to get onto Operations, so he came back here. So that was the Pilot and then there was the Flight Engineer who also got his wings em for flying, he remustered as Flight Engineer.”
Mrs RS. [Some garbled talk] “A bit old fashioned now, but there was the Crew and he was the Best Man, Eric was the Best Man”
DK. “Eric was the Pilot, was he?”
Mrs RS “No the Pilot did not come”
DK. “Give it to me please, that’s not the one I was thinking of, there is only four of them there. I thought I put a photograph in here this morning, there we are”
DK “Ah, that’s the whole crew”
RS. That’s the whole crew, that was the Pilot, his name was Winkworth.
DK. “South African?”
RS. “Yes but we used to say, just Skipper or otherwords. That was Eric Coxon, Flight Engineer and he has wings as well and he remustered, he passed his Pilots obviously because he got his wings and then. This side we used to call him Pat because he was Irish, Navigator, and this one we use to call him Slaughter, Eric Slaughter, so we called him Todd, ha ha, he was the Bomb Aimer. That’s myself and Paddy, little Irishman there, he was the Rear Gunner, we always called him Paddy. He was an amateur boxer pre Air Force days. And of course the other one was a chap named Jock Shields, Scotsman, he was Mid Upper Gunner. That was the Crew, but no I haven’t managed to get in touch with any of them at all.
DK. “And were the rest of the Crew, British, English?”
RS. “No we had two Irishmen and a Scotsman.”
DK. “Two Irishmen, a Scotsman, South African”
RS. “Two English, yes.”
DK. “ That was something very much about Bomber Command, very cosmopolitan organisation of people from all across the Empire?”
RS. “That right, it was the same when we went to Manna up in Lincoln some months ago. The number of people there that were from New Zealand, Australia, Canada, all over the World who had been in Bomber Command.
DK. “Ok Thanks for that I will stop you 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
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Interview with Reg Spencer
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
2015-07-20
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ASpencerR150720
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
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00:27:50 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
Wembley born, but educated in Essex, Reg Spencer left school in 1939. In 1943, on his 18th birthday, he was called up for National Service. Following initial training at RAF Bridlington he was trained as a wireless operator at No. 2 Radio School at Yatesbury, before being operationally trained on Anson aircraft at Llandwrog in North Wales. Reg reflects on how, following his operational training, there was no formal aircraft crew selection, rather all new aircrew - gunners, pilots, engineers etc – congregated in a hangar and “you sorted yourselves out” into crews. Crew training on Wellingtons at Desborough preceded a posting to the Heavy Conversion Unit flying Lancasters at Woolfox Lodge and then in 1945 onto operational duties with 514 Sqn at Waterbeach.
Operational duties included up to 14 bombing operations over Germany, three trips on Operation Mana and a number of flights bringing prisoners of war back from France and Italy. Reg also describes the typical duties of aircrew wireless operator -staying in contact with base operations and keeping the crew informed of any operational changes. When the war ended Reg re-mustered to work in Motor Transport and was posted to the MOD Maintenance Unit at White City and then on to the Maintenance Unit at Bicester. He finished his National Service at Kirkham near Blackpool. Reg married in 1945. At the time of the interview they were approaching their 70th wedding anniversary.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Chris Cann
514 Squadron
aircrew
crewing up
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
love and romance
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Desborough
RAF Llandwrog
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Woolfox Lodge
RAF Yatesbury
service vehicle
training
Wellington
wireless operator
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/360/5767/LFreethR1319543v10001.1.pdf
432d56a5d548ab9c682b4566db2f44e1
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
Freeth, Reg
Reg Freeth
R Freeth
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with Sergeant Reginald Freeth (b. 1921, 1319543 Royal Air Force) his logbook and a squadron photograph. Reg Freeth trained in South Africa and served as a bomb aimer with 61 Squadron first at RAF Syerston then at RAF Skellingthorpe.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Reginald Freeth and 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
2016-05-31
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
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Freeth, R
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
Reg Freeth's South African Air Force observers or air gunners log book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LFreethR1319543v10001
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Creator
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Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Language
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eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Description
An account of the resource
South African Air Force observers or air gunners log book for Warrant Officer Reg Freeth, bomb aimer, covering the period from 7 February 1942 to 8 October 1945. Detailing his flying training, operations and Instructor duties. He was stationed at SAAF Queenstown, SAAF Port Alfred, RAF Millom, RAF North Luffenham, RAF Winthorpe, RAF Syerston, RAF Skellingthorpe, RAF Harrington, RAF Bruntingthorpe, RAF Westcott, RAF Finningley, RAF Little Horwood and RAF Wing. Aircraft flown in were, Anson, Oxford MkI, Wellington MkIII, Manchester, Lancaster I & III, Martinet, Wellington MkX. He flew a total of 16 night operations with 61 Squadron to Dusseldorf, Bochum, Cologne, Dortmund, Essen, Gelsenkirchen, Nuremburg, Munchen-Gladbach, Berlin, Hannover, Hagen, Frankfurt and Stuttgart. His pilots on operations were Sergeant Madgett, Flight Lieutenant Talbot, Pilot Officer Graham, Sergeant Strange and Flying Officer Turner.
Contributor
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Mike Connock
Format
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One booklet
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
South African Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
South Africa
England--Cumbria
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Rutland
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Essen
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Mönchengladbach
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Stuttgart
South Africa--Port Alfred
South Africa--Queenstown
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Hagen (Arnsberg)
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944
1945
1943-02-28
1943-03-01
1943-05-23
1943-05-24
1943-05-25
1943-05-26
1943-05-27
1943-05-28
1943-06-11
1943-06-12
1943-06-13
1943-06-28
1943-06-29
1943-07-03
1943-07-04
1943-07-08
1943-07-09
1943-07-10
1943-08-27
1943-08-28
1943-08-30
1943-08-31
1943-09-01
1943-09-27
1943-09-28
1943-10-01
1943-10-02
1943-10-04
1943-10-05
1943-10-07
1943-10-08
11 OTU
1661 HCU
26 OTU
29 OTU
61 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
bomb aimer
bombing
Bombing and Gunnery School
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 3
Manchester
Martinet
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
RAF Bruntingthorpe
RAF Desborough
RAF Finningley
RAF Little Horwood
RAF Millom
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Skellingthorpe
RAF Syerston
RAF Westcott
RAF Wing
RAF Winthorpe
training
Wellington
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/348/3517/PWaughmanR1501.1.jpg
ea7d7d15f3b9f96826258b16ff6e1ae6
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/348/3517/AWaughmanR150803.1.mp3
4b20ad44c8f089eeec0544eae42cc539
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
Waughman, Rusty
Russell Reay Waughman
Russell R Waughman
Russell Waughman
R R Waughman
R Waughman
Description
An account of the resource
Two oral history interviews with Russell Reay "Rusty" Waughman (1923 - 2023, 1499239 and 171904 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a pilot with 101 Squadron.
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
2015-04-01
2015-08-03
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Waughman, R
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
RW: All wrote a little letter and signed it and sent it to the station commander who interviewed us and said, ‘This constitutes mutiny.’ So, with all our explanations of what went on he accepted that the fact that we’d been left off the draft and the corporal [?] corporal from West Kirby was actually charged for taking bribes to take, put people on, take people off drafts and put friends on. So, there we are. There we are. We’ve got no records, no kit, no nothing so we had to start again. So we didn’t do the, so we went and did our IT, initial training, again at Stratford on Avon which was rather nice, very fine. Nice place Stratford. I think I had my first girlfriend at Stratford. She was a very, she was a nice little girl. I often whatever happened to all these creatures looking back on all these times but there we are. We did our initial training again and from there of course we had to learn to start playing with aeroplanes and to start with we had to make sure that we were alright and worth sending overseas. We had to go to Codsall at Wolverhampton and er on a Tiger Moth just go solo. As soon as you got, went solo that was it finished until you were posted overseas and we went, went over to Canada on the Empire Training Scheme on the little ship called The Battery a converted Polish ship which was very comfortable, very nice. Very congested of course. And we landed at St John’s in Canada, down to Moncton which was the holding unit and then we travelled all across Canada on a public train to Calgary and the little aerodrome there was called Dewinton, which was just south of Calgary. We’d been there, back there since and Dewinton is now a suburb of Calgary which is incredible when you think of it. And that was nice and we were learning to fly on Tiger Moths and the Stearman. The Americans, the Boeing people had sent up sixty Stearman to the air force for people to learn to fly on. So we trained on both the Stearman and Tiger Moths and of course having finished the course I was a bit slow learning so I was, I think they were a little concerned about what the state of flying was. I was, I’ve always been a slow learner and I had a wash out check with the CGI on the station who very kindly allowed me to carry on and really from that time I never really looked back. It was really quite remarkable. And for some reason, I don’t know why, looking back I don’t know why they ever asked it but they said, ‘What do you want to become? What do you want to join? Fighter Command or Bomber Command?’ And you can imagine about ninety nine percent of us said Fighter Command so I was sent to Bomber Command which meant going down, back down on to the prairies to Medicine Hat and Moose Jaw learning to fly on the Airspeed Oxford and we had great times there. One thing we learned there which helped us later on in flying experience was the fact that we used to go off on a cross country with two pilots, no navigator, just one acting as pilot and one acting as navigator and switched over halfway through and we saw on a lake, which looked rather nice, we said, ‘Let’s low fly over this lake,’ which we weren’t allowed to do of course, which we did. Little did we know that there were ducks on the lake which rose up and we clattered through these ducks. I ended up with a duck wrapped around my face. We had six duck in the aircraft. Fortunately, they ended up in the engines nacelles, they didn’t damage the engines and of course when we got back we had a right old rocket from the, from the boss but the fact that we got the aircraft back between us and landed they allowed us to carry on. But I had to go to the dentist the next day on camp and the dentist said, ‘Oh you were the bloke who flew that aeroplane.’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘We had duck for dinner.’ And then I sat back. And of course that was sort of an experience which helped us much, much later in life, in flying life, which was quite remarkable. And so of course having finished that course you took the little white flash out of your cap which was indicated that you were UT aircrew and took that out and you sewed on your wings in and then, oh, you were a pilot which was quite, which was quite remarkable. And of course you had to get back home so we forgot all about aeroplanes for quite a little while, travelled right back across Canada down to New York where we joined the Queen, Queen Elizabeth to come back home on the Queen Elizabeth and that was, wasn’t in convoy. We just pointed east and set off. It was quite, so new to us. We were so naïve and that was just a wonderful experience except on the Queen Elizabeth there were seventeen thousand others and we had a first class cabin along with eight other people which, you were sleeping in bunks with a chappie’s bottom above you rubbing on your nose, you know. But it was a wonderful experience. Two meals a day and it was wonderful. We lost two people overboard er but the boat didn’t stop they just threw life belts over and, poor souls. But there were Americans, nurses, Americans, Canadians, all coming back, back to the UK. Got back to Gourock up on the Clyde and then of course we had to find somewhere to go and be rehabilitated. We went first of all to Harrogate and then down to Whitley Bay and then back down to Oxford where we had a little rehab course on Oxfords just to get your hand back in again on Oxfords. That was at Kidlington, at Croughton, just outside Oxford. And the course, then of course you had to go to OTU Operational Training Unit and that was an amazing experience when we were flying the Vickers Wellington, the old Wimpy. When we got there of course you had to get a crew. You had a get a five man crew for the Wimpy and the system as I’m sure everybody knows was the fact that they got all the pilots, all the navigators, all the wireless operators a gunner and no engineer at the time and but the, and the navigator and put everybody into this big room and said, ‘Sort yourselves out into crews.’ And they used to go around and say, ‘I haven’t got a navigator. Are you a navigator? Can you fly? Do you want to fly with me?’ and this sort of system is amazing and the system worked. It really was incredible. And my crew had, you had no idea of the background of these people and my crew turned out to be the most wonderful collection of blokes and we flew really as a crew and not just a skipper and bods behind we just, and it worked out wonderfully well. Just to give an idea what they were my bomb aimer up front he was, had a little gypsy existence over in Manchester, a dapper little man, he used to come on operations with a crease in his trousers which was unheard of. My engineer, we had two engineers, I’ll relay about that a little bit when we come to flying. Les, my, I shan’t give his name because it so happened that he couldn’t cope on operations. He was just more or less a young lad working in an office. My navigator Alec, Alec Cowan, he was a real, he was a wonderful navigator, wonderful navigator. He lied about his age to join up. He joined up when he was sixteen and he was operational flying with us at eighteen. We didn’t know at the time. We didn’t find this out until sixty years later which was just as well. We were sitting in the pub at, at Lincoln at our reunion and we were saying, we had just had our eightieth birthdays and we said. ‘Oh we just had our, when’s your eightieth birthday Alec?’ And he said, ‘Well, it’s not for another two years yet.’ So that was the first time we, we found out what he was and he was just really more or less straight from school but he really was a most wonderful navigator. Taffy, a little wireless operator, he was a character. Oh, he was a mad little nut he was. We tried to find out where he was after the war and we discovered that his background was in Aberdare and his uncle had a pub and I think he was helping out in his uncle’s pub and I think he took that up for the rest of his life and I wouldn’t say he was a rebel, he was a wonderful character. His mischief, terribly mischievous bloke and we still keep in touch now. He’s a very, very close friend. A lovely little friend, Taffy. My engineer, I eventually had another engineer. A chap called Curly, Curly Ormerod and he was on the situation where he didn’t fly with his skipper who was shot down and killed and he didn’t fly that night he, because I had to get rid of my first engineer Curly was a spare engineer and he joined us and he was a, worked for the council in Oldham I think it was where he was a trainee engineer and just, only a young lad, he was twenty and my special duty operator because of the special duties he was my special duty operator, he was an Austin apprentice and he wanted to join the air force as a pilot but the waiting list for the pilot training then was quite long and he couldn’t wait that long so he volunteered to join as a gunner. We’ll explain a little more about Ted when we come to what they did in the aeroplane. Tommy, my mid upper gunner, he was a council worker in Rotherham and he was the old man of the crew. He was twenty six. The next one down was twenty. I was twenty at the time which was incredible when you think of our kids at twenty. You know, I’m sure if the same thing happened again now I’m sure the responses from the children, the young youth, would be the same but he was, he was married and he had a bit of leave on the station because his wife produced a baby. So, poor old Tommy, he had rather a tragic death after the war but still that Tommy. And my rear gunner, he was a Canadian. His father, an Englishman who had a funeral service, funeral service which he developed in Vancouver in America and Harry through his father’s English experience although he joined the RCAF he came over and joined the RAF as a Canadian. Again, these lads, you know although these vast different backgrounds we all gelled and we all worked together wonderfully well and what they did with us they kept us alive, you know and it really was wonderful. And I, myself, I couldn’t, I didn’t have any education at all. I went to school but because of my illnesses I went to school to start with at the age of five in Newcastle and then I became desperately ill and I was in bed for six months as a young teenager with TB so I couldn’t take place in sport or anything like that so when they came to doing exams when they did the scholarship in those days I went to school just before I was due to take the scholarship and of course I didn’t pass. So there I was. I was, I couldn’t go to a secondary school so I was sent to what they called a training school for the shipyards and it was a sort of engineering training school where at the age sixteen I started to learn about art and drawing, machine drawing and this sort of thing. It was, I enjoyed the school. It was nice but I had no exam, no exams at the end of it so when I, when I joined up I had no matric, no school cert, no exams at all. So how on earth I was ever passed. The only thing that helped I think when they were testing for the attestation was the fact that I became, I started off on the stage at the Newcastle Rep Theatre for a, for a year a bit while I got a position as a pupil surveyor at an architect surveyors office in Newcastle and there I used to do a lot of surveying work using angles and trade vectors and things which helped in the navigation exams and I think that helped me to pass the attestation exams in London. So there we are. There, you’ve got a crew. But we mentioned Ted, the special duty chap, Ted Manners, but he didn’t join the crew at OTU at all because we only had the five man crew and we didn’t know about, anything about special squadrons then of course and of course having finished at Operational Training Unit on Wimpies we were posted to a Heavy Conversion Unit which was at 1662 Conversion Unit at Blyton and of course with the demand for Lancaster aircraft and operational aircraft they had very few Lancasters available. The ones they had available were really the ones that weren’t fit for operational flying so we started to learn to fly four engine aircraft on Halifaxes, on ‘Halibags.’ A nice aeroplane to fly but not quite as amenable as the Lancaster from our experience later on but that was, that was nice, that was fine and of course on the station, on the same station they had what they called an LFS a Lancaster Finishing School so when we’d gone solo on the Halibag we went on to join this LFS, the Lancaster Finishing School and this was on Lancasters and they were a different aeroplane all together. It was a wonderful experience and experience we never expected to have in my life. But I had a little problem. Although my height was right I’ve got little short legs and when you’ve got twelve, four engines of twelve eighty horsepower all taking off with each engine, each propeller going around with three thousand revs you get a lot of torque, a lot of swing on take-off and with my little short legs I was having a hell of a job keeping these bloody black things straight down the runway on take-off so I was a little bit later finishing my training conversion than my friend Paul [Zaggy] who I’d trained with, been in parallel with for many, many months. And when we finished, when he’d finished his course he was posted to 101 squadron and when my turn came about two or three days later I asked the flight commander, ‘Can I go and join my friend Paul on 101 squadron because we’d been friends for a long, long time?’ And his response was, ‘Well,’ he said, ‘It’s a special duty squadron and we only send the best ones there.’ And I said Oh God that was a bit of a comedown. Anyway, a couple of days later he said, ‘Right, Waughman, 101 squadron. Off you go.’ And I said, ‘Well what’s this special duties thing?’ He said, ‘Oh you’ll find out when you get there.’ He didn’t know actually from what we found out later. And when we got to the squadron the day we arrived on the squadron my friend Paul had been killed the night before. And that, you suddenly begin to realise this is serious stuff, you know and you didn’t really think about it beforehand but then it became realistic. You did a couple of cross countries to get your hand in on the squadron experience and then we were given a special duty operator. An eighth member of the crew who spoke German, a German speaker operator and he was flying, was using this equipment called ABC. This ABC equipment started down on the south of England where there were fifteen stations with very fluent German speaking operators who could talk to the German night fighter controllers and jam their signals to their fighters, instructions to their fighters but it only had a range of a hundred and forty miles so that didn’t cover the deep penetration raids in to eastern Europe. So, Sydney Bufton, one of the air ministry boffins said well let’s put it in an aeroplane so they put, started putting them in. It took about three thousand hours to fit this equipment in to an aeroplane and quite an expense and this was allocated to 100 squadron. Now, 100 squadron were also having H2S which was a ground scanning radar and the power unit on the Lancaster mean you couldn’t cope with the ABC and the H2S so they chose the next squadron down which was 101 squadron. So 101 squadron became the special duty squadron flying this ABC and what they called the stuff on the ground station was called Jostle and it had a code name of Corona. Hence it became the Cigar and it was known as ground Cigar and of course when they got it stuck into an aeroplane it became ABC which was Airborne Cigar and Bufton wrote to the air ministry saying that in future correspondence all reference to Airborne Cigar aircraft will be known as ABC in future correspondence so hence 101 squadron became the ABC of the RAF which is remarkable. What Ted had, he had a little three inch cathode ray tube where he could pick up the frequency of the night fighter controllers and lock a little strobe on these, on these, on his screen, cover that with the aircraft’s, aircraft strobe, lock that on and he’d locked on to the frequency of the German night fighter controller’s instructions to the fighters. Having decided that on another little switch where there was German speaking because there were Poles, Czechs and things, once he’d decided that he pressed another little button which blasted engine noise out on that frequency and jammed the signals. And it was a wigwog noise woooooo oooo oooo and the Germans called that, they had a name for this and it was called dudelsack and I think it’s quite an appropriate little description ‘cause dudelsack means bagpipes. And so we had this ABC equipment which is wonderful stuff and this started operating in September, in ‘43. We didn’t join the squadron until November ‘43 and on the first raid the first, one of the first instructions that the special duty operator received from the German signals was, ‘Achtung. Achtung. English bastards coming.’ And that was one of the first instructions they had but sadly, one of our aircraft on that first raid was shot down and the Germans had the system right from the beginning but even the [telephones] people knew of the system but they couldn’t really work out all the technology of it at all so that was quite the thing. That was one of the things that added to the attrition rate on our squadron, the fact that the German night fighters could home on to our transmissions ‘cause we were using their frequencies so they could home on to us and the ABC aircraft were used on every major bombing raid that went out and the idea was that our aircraft were staggered every ten miles through the whole bomber stream. We acted as a normal bomber aircraft with a reduced bomb load, only slightly, well I suppose so I don’t think it ever happened actually but the equipment weighed something like [six or seven hundred pounds] plus another operator so it knocked our bomb load down a little bit and we had three enormous aerials transmitters on the aircraft. Two on the top and one under the nose and these were nearly seven foot long. It didn’t affect the aerodynamics of the aircraft whatsoever. We didn’t, we wouldn’t have realised they were there and we just there we were and our first raid, when we went off on our first raid my little engineer, there was something strange about him he didn’t seem really with it at all. Anyway, so we found we were getting in a bit of a mess and got in the way so, with experience I think we could have carried on but being so inexperienced we came back, we aborted the trip. So, we were, this was just at the very start in November of the Battle of Berlin and this was a trip to Berlin and the WingCo wasn’t too happy about it, WingCo Alexander. And our next operation a couple of nights later again was to Berlin and Les, my little engineer, nineteen year old, we had an engine on fire, a starboard outer went on fire and he just couldn’t do anything he just sat on the floor and just shiver and shake he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t do any of his work at all and I had to, the graviner button on the Lancaster is down on the right hand side of the instrument panel and I had to half get out of the seat to cover all this lot. He couldn’t do any of the fuel control systems at all. So, anyway when we got back I reported this to the wing commander who said, ‘Well you know I suppose you’ve done the right thing,’ and Les, this, my little engineer left the squadron that day, that afternoon. Whether he was made LMF which they usually do in those days we never did find out but he never should have been because he never refused to fly and this is what happened to a lot of Bomber Command aircrew who were literally shit scared. They really were and that was really a physical thing as well and these lads who knew what the conditions was never, they’d rather face the guns of Germany rather than have the stigma of LMF stamped on their documents and this LMF stamped on their documents followed them wherever they went afterwards and this information is kept by the record office and isn’t being released until 2035 so by that time none of the people will be alive to get any slur on their character. So we lost our little Les and this is when we got Curly who didn’t fly with Les the night he was shot down so we acquired Curly as an engineer. Wonderful character. Again, another great tease at the, he was a nice man though but we gelled as a crew and really in those days you did become slightly insular because you worked as a crew and trained as a crew and you played as a crew and I must admit we, we drank a lot. Eight pints a night wasn’t out of the way you know and this was part of the relaxation system for the, for the air force. Because of this Harris wrote to all station commanders, again we found out this much, much later, only fairly recently, the fact that a directive had been sent to the station commanders saying that no Bomber Command aircrew must be used on station duties unless it affected the running of the station and intimated that the relaxation activities must be condoned. Which, as far as that was concerned, was young lads full of testosterone was beer and women and it sounds a bit crude but the girls and boys on the station were really wonderful. They were really good companions. They knew what the system was and they complied and they were really lovely. We had one little girl who used to look after us in our little hut, in our little nissen hut which was, which was just a corrugated iron nissen hut and she was a little Welsh girl with a little doggie and she was known as the camp bicycle ‘cause everybody rode it, you know and these are the sort of the things that went but it wasn’t pornography it was just an accepted way of release of stress and one of my friends who I knew very well he used to say, ‘Well, thank God for sex. It’s kept me sane.’ And this was just a means of release of stress on the aircraft. And a lot of it did happen in Bomber Command sadly and it caused people to lose their lives which is rather a shame but you know those lads who flew and knowing their condition like that they were really the bravest of the brave, you know. They really were. Wonderful. And it kept Bomber Command going. But LMF, they didn’t have so many LMF. I think there weren’t a huge number cases of LMF but it was a rotten stigma and of course then having been on the on the, on the squadron with our ABC equipment we were involved very much with the German night fighter system and this was organised by a chap called, oh I’ve forgotten what they called him now, I’ll think of it in minute but he organised that the, all of eastern Europe, western Europe would be split in to five boxes. The Kammhuber. Kammhuber, the Kammhuber Line and this in each box each controller had control of their fighter system and they had a couple of systems there where they had, called Wilde Sau and Zahme Sau which is Wild Boar and Tame Boar and with the Wurzburg radar they could direct a fighter in to the bomber stream and nearly always ME109s and they were the Wild Boar who could go and find their own aircraft to attack and the Tame Boar was with Wurzburg and Freya aircraft systems whereby they could direct an aircraft almost on to an individual aircraft which was quite alarming as it turned out. We had experience of that and they developed a system called Lichtenstein whereby you see these aircraft with German aircraft they nearly all the ME109s with an array of aerials around the nose and they could actually home onto an individual aircraft and because of our ABC equipment we were very, very vulnerable. They could home on to the ABC equipment and the H2S and they developed the system called Naxos and SN2 which was very, very effective indeed and they could home directly on to aircraft and counter, counter measures for our broadcast so we had, they had a system where they could home on to our aircraft. We had a system where we would counter measure their counter measures, counter measure their receptions and they developed a [Frensburg] which counter measured our counter measures and we developed counter measures that would counter measured their counter measures and so on and the electronic wall we learned afterwards really was quite terrific but the German night fighter system was, really was very good. And they had with their, with their Wurzburg searchlights, radar controlled searchlights, radar controlled guns they had what they called predicted flak and predicted searchlights and when you were flying along you’d see this characteristic big blue searchlight appear which would wave backwards and forwards and as soon as it picked you up on the radar it flicked on to you and you were flying in their searchlights and all the searchlights roundabout would come on. You’d have perhaps forty, fifty, sixty searchlights flying with you and you were flying in daylight and of course the night fighters used to get in amongst you then but we had systems of flying. We flew the corkscrew pattern which flying a corkscrew pattern more or less like a horizontal corkscrew. It was bloody hard work when you’ve got a fully loaded aircraft. You lost a little bit of height doing it but it was really effective and the sad thing is when gunners, some gunners saw these things and gave instructions like say, ‘Dive starboard go’ and something like this some of the captains said, well, ‘Why?’ And of course by that time it was far too late but this corkscrew pattern did help enormously to evade the things and on the predicted flak it was quite a characteristic burst of flak. They usually put out a box system of flak where they just covered this area completely with anti-aircraft fire and you had to fly through this box of fire but they had this predicted flak whereby they could send up the shell which would burst in the characteristic sort of development and if you saw this behind you, if you were lucky enough, you knew this was predicted flak so, and you knew it’d take forty five seconds for the Germans to reload their guns, fire their shells and for the shell to burst so you turned off forty five degrees, and flew for about forty seconds then turned back ninety degrees and hope the next one burst behind you. This happened to us once and we nearly ended up in the system for twenty five, twenty minutes just doing this evasion all the time. Similarly with the searchlights, the searchlights I caused a bit of hilarity one night when we got back to debriefing saying that we were attacked by searchlights over Hanover but we were in searchlights for nearly half an hour trying to get out of them which, but with these sort of things happened on raids and so of course there we are we are flying on a squadron and it was daily life of being on the squadron. When you woke up in the morning usually late, after breakfast or early after lunch you went up to flights and on the wall you saw a battle order and could see your name on the battle order and all the battle order told you was A) you were flying, the crew you were flying with, the aircraft you were flying in, and the time of briefing, and the time of meal and when you saw that the first thing you did was go and change your underwear which is, which is, it really was. To say that you weren’t fearful, you know, it was very, it was very anxious, became very anxious because you had no idea where you were going. It was just you were on the battle order that night. So we used to go up to flights and check the aircraft, the serviceability of the aircraft, meet the ground crew, wonderful ground crew I had, and there you’d ask what the petrol load was and what the bomb load was and if you had lots of petrol, not so many bombs you knew you were going a long way. Vice versa if you had lots of bombs and not so much petrol you weren’t going so far so you had some idea what the thing was going to, what the raid was going to be about and then at briefing of course, on the wall, we were all in nissen huts by the way, little tin huts, on the wall they had a big map of Europe covered by a map, a curtain and when you all sat down and all got collected together they drew the curtain back and there was the red line which was a tape showing the route to and from the target and if it was a long distance target, Berlin, Munich, these groans used to go up right through the briefing and then you were briefed by the various section leaders, the met officer, the armament officer, navigation officer and there of course then you had to get out to the aircraft so we went in to the crew room, got our kit on and the girls in the parachute section, [collect your] parachute section, they were great. One little girl one day said, ‘Let me have your battle dress.’ And she took my battle dress off, took my wings off and sewed a lucky three penny piece under my wing. And these are the sort of things that went on. Wonderful characters. And you had a locker where you kept your kit in the locker and when you were flying the rear gunner had what they called a Sidcot suit which was an electrically heated suit but the rest of the crew you could really manage with just a thick jumper and battle dress. Some wore some form of overall but the costumes were really quite, quite ordinary. You had flying boots. We had, originally we had the brown fur lined flying boots and after that we had the escape boots, black escape boots, whereby they had a little knife concealed in the boot where you could cut the top off and leave a little, like a pair of shoes when you got shot down. There we are. We’ve got our kit, we’ve got our kit we’ve got to get out the aircraft so the crew buses arrived and we had to get out in to the, in to the aircraft but the atmosphere was quite electric, you know. They had sort of two sort or reactions. Some people were verbose and talked and over talked which was out of characteristic and some were just clammed up and just didn’t talk at all. So, when you got to out to the aircraft you just checked and went around and did a normal flight check for the aircraft, waiting for the signal to taxi out and of course once you got there, once you got in the aircraft there was no outside communication whatsoever ‘cause the Germans could pick up. In fact with their radar system they knew that the raid was going to take place and they knew the height you were going to fly at, they knew the course you were going to fly and the speed you were flying at but they didn’t know where you were going. So, we were waiting at the aircraft for the verilight to tell us to go and taxi out and of course the other little superstitions, you know the old tale of just a bit of luck you wee’d on the tail wheel. The lads used to wee on the tail wheel. We never did of course but er [laughs]. My rear gunner Harry, being stuck at the back he didn’t feel a part of this the bombing lark at all so he used to take a couple of empty beer bottles with him and when we were over the target his contribution to the bombing was to throw out a couple of empty beer bottles. This, this on one occasion when we were waiting to get on the aircraft the station commander, Group Captain King used to come around and just say, ‘Hello lads.’ Wished them all best of luck. Thinking of a man like that knowing, sending all these lads you know that a third of them aren’t going to come back, you know. What went through their mind must be, must be awful. Anyway, when the group captain saw Harry without his beer bottles Harry explained. ‘Oh I haven’t got my bloody beer bottles.’ He said, ‘Right. Get in the car.’ Dashed down to the mess, got a couple of beer bottles and drove him back again so Harry had them. Whether he drank them or threw them out full we never did find out but Harry had his beer bottles. I had a little, I wasn’t superstitious, touch wood but my cousin Mary, I’m very fond of Mary I think our parents were getting a little bit worried but Mary she gave me a silk scarf, a little RAF silk scarf which I wore on every operation I went on and I wore long johns, used to wear the long johns on the flying and I thought well if I change my long johns I’ll, you know, I’ll change my luck. We had two pairs. One for wearing and one for washing. I never had mine washed and I wore the same pair of long johns for thirty operations and the lads used to say, ‘Well you took them off and stood them up in your locker’ and you can imagine the odour on the aircraft with all this sort of thing going on must have been pretty awful. You didn’t notice it at the time. But another thing I had was my dad, one of the talismans for naval people was a caul and the caul is a sack a baby is born in and my dad was given one of these when he, when he first joined, when he started operations in the navy in the First World War and I was on leave just before I was joining the squadron. They knew I was going to go on an operational squadron and I was standing, I was standing by the stove in the kitchen and my dad came up and he wasn’t a very effusive man and he said, ‘Here’s this,’ and he gave me his caul in a little tin box which I’ve still got and that’s over a hundred years old and he said, ‘There you are. Good luck. I love you.’ And that was really a three hankie job, you know. A wonderful little man. But there we are I had my caul and I didn’t take it on operations but it kept me alive and these are the sort of superstitions you had but we weren’t on because of the job we were doing we weren’t allowed to take any sort of document, photographs or anything at all because of the very secret nature of our, with the work we doing. It was treated very, we weren’t allowed to take any photographs on the squadron at all. We did. And everything was kept very, we weren’t allowed to discuss it anywhere outside but A) our aircraft was parked at dispersal, we were W which was far end of dispersal just by a fence and the main road was just outside and I don’t know what guarding they had on the aircraft but anyway part of the secrecy thing was not having to take any documentation. When we got our sandwiches they were wrapped up in newspaper so they had a good, they could have had a good idea what was going on. So there we were, off on operations and operational flying became to start with you were so inexperienced that you didn’t really realise what was going on and the casualty rate in the first five operations was something like forty percent which was as high as that and it really was. It became quite an alarming thing. We didn’t realise at the time. We only found out this many years afterwards. So our squadron were very vulnerable and once we got past the five operations squadrons, five operations you really became quite fatalistic. You just, you were doing a job and accepted what you had to do and you expected you were going to die and it was quite a strange relationship that you had and you had a bit, a little bit of sick humour and I’m sure folk know of the grim reaper, the old skeletal figure with his scythe and with his scythe you got the chop and we used to say, when you were talking, standing by somebody, put your hand on his shoulder and you said, ‘Death put his bony hand on your shoulder and [live] chap I’m coming,’ you know and if you were in the mess and one of your comrades has been killed and gone you used to drink his health and you used to say, ‘Here’s to good old,’ so and so, ‘And here’s the next one to die.’ So this sort of atmosphere existed. Some people had premonitions you know and my mother, my mother was an old witch really she used to have dreams and things and she had a dream one night that things weren’t going to go right and she tried to contact the station to see what was going on and of course she couldn’t because the station was completely isolated and that was a night when we had an awful lot of trouble. But she had this idea. And one of the girls on the squadron one of the little WAAF officers, on the Nuremberg raid, said to her fiancé Jimmy [Batten] Smith she said, ‘You’ll be over the target about ten minutes past midnight.’ She said, ‘Right, I’ll set my alarm clock and I’ll think of you when you’re over the target.’ She woke up about 11 o’clock, half past ten, 11 o’clock and knew something wasn’t right and she switched on her light and listened and couldn’t find anything, anything about it at all and Jimmy, over the target, as soon as he left the target, just at the time, he was shot down and killed so he never got back. There’s another, our Flight Commander, Squadron Leader Robinson he was a wonderful, he had very, very rapid promotion because our previous flight commander was killed and he was promoted from flight lieutenant up to, straight up to squadron leader within a matter of weeks and he became our squadron commander er flight commander. Wonderful little man. And he had a rear gunner who was seconded from the American air force and this American chappie still had his brown overalls and American flying kit and they were in the mess and the lads were playing crib and poker and he, this Jones a chap called Jones, won the, won the kitty and I can see it now a little pile of ten shilling notes which he won which he when he picked it up he said, ‘Shan’t be needing this.’ And gave it all away. That night, on the raid, on the twenty ninth raid they were all killed. So whether they had these sort of premonitions, you know, it was quite remarkable and one of the bomb, when I came off leave one occasion we only had a short, a few days leave the bombing, the armament officer, only a young lad, he looked strange and I said, ‘Are you alright, Geoff?’ And he said, ‘Well, funny thing happened,’ an aircraft had crashed on take-off and hit part of the bomb dump and he jumped in his little wagon to go out and see what he could do out there and when he got on the perimeter track near where the bomb dump was there was a chap waiting and saying, ‘Don’t go down in there. They’re all dead.’ This chap was covered in blood and whatever. He said, ‘Don’t go down in there. They’re all dead.’ But he said, ‘I must.’ So when he went down to see the, what was going on he found the body of the man he’d been talking to on the perimeter track dead in the hut. So, and within a few weeks he was white haired. And these sorts of strange things happened you know it’s a, it’s a, you didn’t realise at the time all the significance of all these things but there we are. One of the things that happened, on one of the early raids when we went and poor old Bomber Harris, he didn’t like the idea at all but they developed what they called the transport plan whereby they were bombing railway martialling yards, [tank?] depots, station er station signal boxes and train stations to stop goods going down for the pre-invasion, for the German pre- invasion and so this was the transport plan and Harris didn’t like this but we went off on one raid to a place called Hasselt which was on the Belgian/German border, railway martialling yards and we got within about ten minutes of the target. This was all at night. This was all night flying of course in cloud, mainly in cloud and my engineer who was looking out the window said a very rude word, something about fornicating in hades and the next thing we knew this other aircraft hit us slap on the side and we just crashed into this, the two aircraft just crashed together and we were, he was slightly underneath us and his propellers cut through our bomb aimer’s compartment, just behind Norman’s feet. He was lying down ready to bomb. His mid upper, his canopy, the other aircraft canopy took off our starboard tyre, his turret, which was sticking up at the top of his aeroplane carved through our fuselage at the back, left a big hole in the back. We lost part of the tale plane. Lost all our electrics. Harry, the rear gunner was knocked unconscious, only temporary and we were a bit of a mess and thereby we, we were sitting, I didn’t see all this going on but the crew saw what was going on and when we hit this aircraft we were literally sitting on top of it and his propellers were churning through our little bits and pieces and we were in a bit of a mess and afterwards I was asked to write a little resume of what happened in the collision just for purely records sake and to give it a title of the most significant thing that happened, you remembered, on the trip and the most significant bit was sitting on top of this other aircraft with no control over your aircraft whatsoever. All the controls were just limp and wobbly. So, nothing. So, I called this the title of this thing, ‘It went limp in my hand,’ which was highly censored. I wasn’t allowed to do that. So this report went through and in consequence we had to do, coming back, we had to do a crash landing. We had Fido on the station and the Fido system was a sort of a little triangular system with the fuel pipe on the top and the gaps of about ten metre gaps within each section and unfortunately our dud wheel skidded between the gap and the thing and the other one bounced over the top of the pipes and just put a little dent in the top and there was a casualty that night sadly. We were skidding towards the control tower in the dark and we were getting very close to the control tower and all the staff on the control or most of the staff on the control tower and the little girls, came out to watch this idiot bend his aeroplane and as we were skidding towards it one of these girls jumped back and sprained her ankle and that was the only casualty that night but there were sort of talks of decorations and things but it never happened so I was very kindly given a green endorsement in my logbook and mentioned in despatches. That’s in the logbook now still but if it had been a red one it would have been an adverse report but a green one was a pat on the back sort of thing so that was, that was quite nice but there of course that aircraft was written off. As far as the squadron it was written off it had to be repaired and rebuilt but we discovered that two main longerons going along the back of the aircraft were badly damaged and had we to have taken evasive action no doubt the aircraft would have broken up and we realised that a lot of damage at the back because we had a big hole in the floor and I told Harry, the rear gunner, I said, ‘Harry, pick up your parachute, come up front just in case anything else happens.’ And he said, ‘No. I’ll stay here and keep a look out.’ And these are the characters that they were. Wonderful characters. And that wasn’t the only thing that Harry did. We went on one long trip and his electrically heated Sidcot suit failed. He never said a peep, never said a word and when we got back seven and a half, eight hours later getting out the aircraft they said. ‘Where’s Harry?’ ‘Oh he must still be there.’ So I popped into the aircraft, opened his door and there he was sitting with an icicle from his face mask as thick as my wrist down between his legs. He couldn’t move and he’d never said a peep he just kept on doing his job. He was in sick quarters for nearly three weeks and that affected him for the rest of his life. And this is what these poor lads got up to. It really was wonderful. I was so lucky with the lads I had as a crew. Wonderful and very conscientious lads. So there we are. We got back and of course the aircraft had to be taken away and we had to get a new aircraft. Our first aircraft was W with the squadron letters were SR and we had a W, W ABC all the way through. We had W, so we had W and there was a song of the day called. “Coming in on a wing and a prayer.” So I thought. ‘Oh lets,’ and there’s a P O Prune character so I painted on the front of the aircraft this P O Prune character with wings and “On a wing and a prayer” coming underneath and of course that was the one that we crash landed. That disappeared. That went. And we get a new aircraft almost immediately. Well, they got another aircraft almost immediately straight from MU and, ‘What are we going to put on the nose. What nose art were we going to have?’ And when we got out of dispersal to see the new aircraft Jock Steadman or Willy Steadman, Willy Steadman our Scottish in charge, NCO in charge of the aircraft he’d already painted on the aircraft Oor Wullie and Oor Wullie was the cartoon character from the Glasgow Sunday Post and that was the aircraft which gets all the publicity now and we did more operations in the other one than we did than we did in this one but they were wonderful aeroplanes to fly. Really, really were. So, anyway, there we are. We’ve got a new aeroplane and another operation we went on was to Hasselt which was another transport plant target whereby 5 group and 1 group were involved. A hundred and seventy three aircraft from each group. We were scattered all the way through the raid, just our squadron, so we were going to Hasselt which was French had been French military base which was the biggest military base in Europe at the time right on the edge of the village of Mailly and we were briefed to bomb very, very strictly. We didn’t want to kill anybody in the village so we had to be very precise, we were told to be very precise with our bombing so, and we were to assemble at a point just north of Mailly called Chalon whereby you waited there to get instructions from the master bomber, Cheshire who was the master bomber to go and bomb. He was really being very precise as well and he wasn’t satisfied with the marking so when the first group of a hundred and seventy three aircraft from 5 group arrived at Chalon, encircling the beacon, circling the area, it wasn’t a beacon as such but circling the area and being, the aircraft being delayed and delayed and delayed this second group caught up with the first group so there was something like nearly four hundred aircraft milling around waiting for instructions to go in and there just happened to be three German night fighter stations handy and they got in amongst us and it really was chaotic. There really were all sorts of awful things going on. The result of the raid was a very successful raid but the loss was over eleven percent. They sent just under four hundred aircraft and we lost forty two but there was only one aircraft crashed in the village where a French man were killed so that was compensation in a way. So when we were circling this beacon the RT discipline disappeared. You weren’t supposed to talk outside because the Germans knew where you were going, where you were coming from but the RT discipline just went that night and a voice came over the air to the pathfinders, ‘Pathfinders. For God’s sake pull your fingers out. I’m on fire. I’m being been shot at.’ And a very broad Australian voice came over the air, ‘If you’re going to die, die like a man.’ And this was the sort of thing that went on. The problem was that the American force [AFM?]were broadcasting on a similar frequency and it was the signals weren’t getting through as well as they ought to but anyway of course, when we got the order to go in and bomb it was just like Derby Day. All these aircraft ploughing down on the target. It was successful but we had a problem. We’d just dropped our bombs and we’d had an aircraft, something rattle us about with an updraft coming up and that. It was a bit rough but we’d just dropped our bombs and Norman, the bomb aimer, lying down in the front, he didn’t have time to say anything he just said, ‘Oh Christ’ and an aircraft blew up underneath us and turned us over. We were upside down and I can say I half rolled a Lanc [laughs]. So there we were, upside down at eight thousand feet and coming out you just couldn’t pull it out like that because the high speed stalled the aircraft so it took us a little while to come out and we were down to about a thousand feet by the time we sorted things out. Going very, very fast way beyond the [all up] speed of a Lancaster. We were doing nearly four hundred miles an hour. Four hundred knots as it was in those days and, but the aircraft just had scorch marks and a little bit of creaky stuff but there we are. Once you got sorted out you checked on the crew. ‘Alright, Harry?’ The rear gunner. ‘Yes skip.’ ‘Alright, Tommy?’ ‘Yes.’ Wireless op. ‘Alright, Taffy?’ And the response I got was, ‘Blood. Blood,’ and I thought, ‘Oh Christ, what’s happened?’ So I pulled the curtain back and there’s Taffy wiping his head and that’s all we knew and, ‘Oh God, what’s happened to Taffy,’ and Taffy, what happens when you’re flying at those, those temperatures, those heights, temperatures, the lowest temperature we had was minus forty seven and you had an elsan at the back of the aircraft which if you went and used that if you sat down on the elsan like that and you left a bit of your behind, behind ‘cause it was like you’d have an ice cube sticking on your fingers. You couldn’t do that so what the lads had they had a large [fuel] tin with the top cut off which they passed around the aircraft as a pee can and this pee can was kept down by the wireless operator which was the warmest place ‘cause it didn’t freeze when it was down there. And Taffy said now you can still see this pee can arriving with negative gravity and tipping all over him. When we were falling, coming out, recovering from the dive which we got in to and of course when you got back there was no question of going to get cleaned up. You had to go straight to be debriefed and of course he wasn’t exactly flavour of, flavour of the month which was, which was poor old Taffy. Still gets his leg pulled unmercifuly about that.
CB: I’m going to suggest we have a break.
RW: Yes fine.
CB: For a moment. So thank you very –
[pause]
CB: What it’s doing? We’re now recording again.
RW: Yeah.
CB: I’ve tried to do the playback but that didn’t work so we’re recording again now and I’m just hoping everything’s worked because it’s so good and I’m just looking at the numbers.
[pause]
CB: Right. So we’ve come to the point where you were inverted.
RW: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: Would you just like to describe before we go on to other things just how did you get the aircraft upright?
RW: Well -
CB: Because you can’t turn, roll it. Can you?
RW: Well we had to, to a certain extent with being upside down. You just imagine an aircraft being upside down you had to get it the right way up and the only thing you can do is turn it around so while we were plummeting, plummeting downwards and getting rather fast we sort of half rolled the thing out. Sort of almost like a very poor barrel roll that we flew. So, we were upside down and you turned over and came out sort of in that direction so you didn’t do a full roll. It was sort of almost like a half roll like almost like a half missing out the last bit of a barrel roll.
CB: Yeah.
RW: Coming out but because of the weight it was hard work but you didn’t think of it as hard, you didn’t think of it as work at the time you just sort of had to get out of it. Get it back.
CB: Yes, of course.
RW: Flying again but, and you just couldn’t pull the stick back and get the aircraft flying again because you could develop what they called a high speed stall cause the wing stalls at fourteen degrees and if you’re mushing down it increases the angle of attack very rapidly and you get what was called a high speed stall so this is where the training came in with these other flying, these little experiences we had in training. So, we just really tried to come, come out as gently as we possibly could. You certainly had to pull back on the stick to get control but trying not to mush it down so you really tried to fly it out which we did in the end, going very, very fast.
CB: You say we. Was the engineer helping you?
RW: Yes, well all he could do was pull the throttles back or push the throttles forward apart from being spread, spread across the floor. You know, the poor navigators instruments are all over the place. In that respect think of the navigators instruments all over the place my little wireless op oh he was a little terror and my navigator and he were chalk and cheese, vastly different characters and one occasion my navigator asked for a QDM from the wireless operator and Taffy said a very rude word telling him to go away and Alec looked back and found there was Taffy with his radio set, the old 1154 55 bits of the set on the floor trying to repair it and he couldn’t give him a QDM but he said [?] [laughs] so that was the atmosphere but they were a great crew, great crew. But there you are. We pulled ourselves out and we got ourselves out and we got back with having done the crash landing as I say. But the raid that I think affected us more than anything was the Nuremberg raid. The raid on Nuremberg. It was the raid that really should never have happened but we just discovered this afterwards reading books and things the fact that the, the uncertainty in Bomber Command headquarters about whether it should go on or shouldn’t go.
CB: It was to do with the fog, wasn’t it?
RW: Pardon?
CB: It was to do with the fog.
RW: Yeah. Yeah, well apparently there was a front coming up over Germany and the idea was that the route was going to be clear and the target was going to be er the route was going to be cloud covered and the target was going to be clear but the movement of the front wasn’t right and of course the, all the route was clear and the cloud over the target and the winds were wrong, all wrong.
CB: Oh.
RW: And all the hundred odd mile winds and this sort of thing were going on and nearly all in the wrong direction. Even the pathfinders, even the wind finders didn’t get the right places for the right system for the wind and so some of the pathfinders were marking Schweinfurt and different targets and Alec, my navigator, who was insistent on being a very precise little man he got us to the target and we actually flew to the target but by the time we were flying out the operation was delayed. Put back, put back and put back twice. So, we were going to bomb about five past twelve sort of thing like this. And we went off, a little bit in daylight taking off and we got, when we got to the French German border we’d seen sixteen aircraft shot down and to do what you used to do you used to report this to the navigator and he’d log it so they could get a record of where the aircraft went down and when he got to sixteen Alec said, ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’ So, we didn’t tell him anymore but we saw no end of stuff and coming across we were supposed to come south of the Ruhr which we did but a lot of people went straight over the top of the Ruhr and the carnage there. And just on the controversial long leg, what they called the long leg which was from the French from France right across to northern, north of the target, north of Nuremberg there was a two hundred and sixty five mile leg which was unusual ‘cause you usually had diversions and that sort of thing and it just so happened that there were two German night fighter beacons on the route Ider and Otto and it just so happened that their night fighters were assembling at the beacons all at the right time for them. So, there we were, we were ploughing along. We were very, very fortunate. We managed to keep out of trouble. We did have trouble but nothing drastic so we carried on and what we saw over the beacons was quite considerable. Lots of aircraft being shot at. We could see the tracers, German tracers going on, and this was a raid where the Germans first used the system called schragemusik whereby instead of having guns firing directly at the rear gunner they knew that there was no ventral armament on the Lancaster at all so this very astute German chap said, ‘Well, let’s have the guns pointing upwards,’ so they had two 20mm cannons pointing up, about sixty degrees. So, they used to fly underneath you and you knew nothing. You didn’t know they were there at all until the shells started to fly past. We, we were lucky. On one occasion we saw the shells coming upwards to us just on our starboard side so we managed to take evasive action but we didn’t know what it was, we didn’t know why they were coming up that way until many years later when we discovered they had this schragemusik and one German shot down forty two aircraft using that equipment. He did five in one night which was amazing so this added to the attrition rate of the raid at all. We were very, very fortunate. Alec, the navigation was spot on and we passed a target which we saw in the distance Schweinfurt which was being bombed which we didn’t know it was Schweinfurt then but we said, Alec said, ‘That can’t be right.’ So we carried on and actually arrived at Nuremberg which was cloud covered and we just, Norman had just happened to see a break in the little clouds so we bombed there. I think we bombed Nuremberg. We were certainly over Nuremberg. Whether we actually bombed Nuremberg you can’t really say because we couldn’t take a photograph because of the photoflood. It wouldn’t show anything on the photo apart from cloud but there was a massive explosion on our, on our left hand side which apparently somebody had hit a munition train just outside Nuremberg and this had this enormous explosion so we knew something had happened. And of course we had to come back when it was a long leg. There was some fighter activity on the way back but it was such and the lads when they used to go on these raids the lads, I didn’t get involved but the lads used to have a kitty. They put some pennies in this kitty and the ones who guessed the most number of aircraft shot down or most accurate number of aircraft shot down got the kitty and Curly my engineer got it that night because he said a hundred. He estimated a hundred and when we got back for debriefing the intelligence people were very sceptical about the thing. Oh it couldn’t have happened no its near going to happen but when our squadron records came in we sent twenty six aircraft that night and we lost seven which was nearly a third of the squadron that night. Sixty people, you know, all gone that night and it left it was really strange. It was. We were like zombies, you know. We just walked around. Not upset. Just mind blown and we went back we couldn’t sleep. We just walked around until daylight and the squadron didn’t operate for a little while after that. But what happened with the, when we got back used to go for a flying meal when we, when we got back and when we got back to the mess there were no waitresses there at all. All the meals were left on the counter and a little notice on the wall saying, ‘Please help yourselves.’ And all these girls had gone into the restroom and they were crying their eyes out ‘cause of the losses on the squadron. You know, they really felt the effect of that. Moreso than we did in many respects. Norman, my bomb aimer, who was always girl mad for the ladies wanted to go and console them but the WAAF officers said. ‘No. Leave them to it.’ And so we had to help ourselves to the meal and this was the atmospheres they had on the squadrons you know. The thoughts of the people working. When you think of a squadron where you’ve got something like anything a hundred and eighty, two hundred aircrew you’ve got something like two thousand, two and a half thousand ground staff who without them we couldn’t have kept flying, you know. So they, and they don’t get the credit that they justly deserve and our ground crew were wonderful. Little Willy [Severn] and Nobby Burke and they were part of the aircraft, they were part of the aircrew and I kept in touch with them for many, many years until he died just a few years ago at the age of ninety seven.
CB: Really.
RW: Lived up in Glasgow and Perth, near Perth and when I visited him and his lovely wife Annie he used to sit in his room all by himself just looking out the window and saying, ‘Aye. Och aye. Aye. Och aye,’ and remembering all the things that were going on. We were very, very fortunate on the squadron he was on the squadron for many, many months. He joined the squadron up at Holme on Spalding Moor and he only ever lost two aircraft so we so lucky to be with him. Mind you, we lost an aircraft for him which was, didn’t go down very well. So, but again, again these characters you’d come back with holes and bits missing and they’d be waiting for you when you got back and they’d get these things sorted out and repaired more or less for the, for the next night so, in all sorts of weathers. The, being a dispersed camp we didn’t have any hangars to work in. All the aircraft were stacked outside and, you know, in February ‘44 we had something like three foot of snow and sixteen foot snowdrifts and the station was cut off completely and these lads were working on the aircraft changing plugs, doing servicing on the aircraft. They worked, Willy said they worked in pairs. When one was working and his hands got frozen he went and warmed up. Another chap took over so they were working outside in all these sorts of conditions.
CB: There were hangars but they couldn’t put the aircraft in was it?
RW: Well, there were hangars when they had major things to do. Engine changes -
CB: Right.
RW: And these sort of things. They would take them in for major servicing. [Eight star] servicing, for a major servicing but apart from that they were just kept outside in the cold and the wet and in the war it could be anything.
CB: I’m going to stop there again because we are going to have a cup of tea.
RW: Yeah.
CB: Thank you.
RW: Oh lovely.
[pause]
CB: Right, so we’re back on again now.
RW: Yeah.
CB: And we’re just doing the -
RW: You finished the -
CB: Rerun of the Mailly but I think it’s useful because I’ve heard this, somebody mentioned before.
RW: Yeah.
CB: Of the attrition -
RW: Yeah.
CB: And because of the milling around -
RW: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: So why was it that the marking was so delayed causing the traffic jam?
RW: Well the again Cheshire was a brilliant pilot and a brilliant pathfinder and he was a perfectionist and again, forgive me if I’ve mentioned but the briefing that we had as the ordinary aircrew main force was to be very precise with the bombing because we didn’t want to hit any of the village. The village next door to the target. And he was being the same and he wasn’t satisfied with the markers that were going down and he said, ‘Well, don’t come in. We’re remarking.’ So he was re-marking the target to get in to the correct position for, for the [Mailly] raid and because of this it was delaying. It was, saying delayed you’re only talking about minutes. You’re not talking about hours, you know, but five minutes, ten minutes. An awful lot can happen in five, ten minutes and he was waiting until the markers got, really got them organised because there were two marking spots. One east and one west. One on the railway. One on the barracks because it was timed for midnight because this was the time when the people were coming back to their billets and were getting their, and they [wanted to kill the] troops.
CB: Yeah, of course.
RW: Troop concentrations so he was being as perfect as he possibly could and in consequence with the markers not being as accurate as he liked he stopped it and said we’ll remark again.
CB: Because it’s a French target?
RW: Because, well, not so much a French target. The target which was right next door to the French village.
CB: Yeah.
RW: And he didn’t want to kill -
CB: That’s what I meant. Yes.
RW: Didn’t want to kill, bomb the village. So, we were briefed and presumably they must have been briefed as well to be as perfect as they possibly could on their marking so as not to kill French people.
CB: Course.
RW: So this, and this came to light too, many, many years later here, by a little girl who was doing her degree at the Sorbonne in Paris relating to British and American efforts during the war and she came here and interviewed me here and stopped here for quite a little while and had a little chat about the Mailly raid and this sort of thing and she was quite concerned, you know. She was only what twenty, twenty one year old but she was only concerned about the fact that that attitude was taken to stop people, French people being killed. She got a first degree anyway which was rather nice.
CB: You obviously briefed her well.
RW: Yes, we still send Christmas cards to each other. I haven’t seen her for years and years and years. I wonder what she is doing now, whether she is married or what. But she was a nice little girl and I’ve got some pictures of her somewhere in there.
CB: Yeah.
RW: So, yes, so the, that was the result of the Mailly raid and the Nuremberg of course, raid, as well of course had although we’d had a lot of damage on other raids and quite traumatic things on other raids the Nuremberg raid left the biggest scar than any, mental scars was far, far greater than the physical scar and that really got sunk home when you realise what the attrition rates was. And the reports I think say there was ninety six, ninety seven aircraft shot down over the target but there were over a hundred wrecked completed so there must have been about a hundred and sixteen, a hundred and twenty aircraft written off altogether with all those, not all those aircrew but I think there was something like five hundred and sixty five, five hundred and five hundred and fifty aircrew killed that night, one night. The Nuremberg raid. And there were more aircrew killed on that one night then there was in the whole of the month of the Battle of Britain, which, you can’t compare the sort of flying that we were doing but the figures are quite remarkable when you think of what was going on. But being thickies as we were we knew it went on and we didn’t realise the implications of what was going on. We just got on with and had to do a job. But again, we had the trip, we had a little experience which was a trip to Munich. We were briefed for nine hours twenty five minutes petrol and we were given nine hours forty odd minutes petrol to fly on with instructions to land in the south of England if we had problems with getting back with the fuel consumption and it was again the weather wasn’t as forecast so we chugged off to Munich. Rather a long haul. A very long haul. Beautiful scenery over the Alps. We cross the Alps three times it was wonderful. Twice because it was twice the target and coming back we had problems. We lost part of a port wing, part of the leading edge of the port wing, we lost instruments, lost the pitot heads so that caused us little problems. Not exactly flying by the seat of our pants but -
CB: But you had no air speed indicator.
RW: So we were chugging back and as we say the leading edge of the port wing had disappeared somewhere and we’d had icing on the props. That was the amazing, we used to get icing on the propellers. And these were flying, the icing used to fly off and rattle against the side of the aircraft. It was just like flak for hitting the side of the aircraft and I’ve still got a bit of flak that came into my aeroplane. It’s on the table over there. Yes, so coming back it took a lot, lot longer than we anticipated and we were rather slow coming back to the extent that we were coming back over France in daylight and we were getting halfway across France and we saw these two little specks appearing flashing towards us and, ‘Oh Christ, what’s this going on?’ A couple of spitfires. They had been sent out to escort us back. So we were escorted back but with the engineers and navigation and fuel conservation we got back to Ludford having flown for ten and a quarter hours.
CB: Wow.
RW: But again the ground crew had that aircraft ready again for the next night which is, which is, what they get up to is wonderful. So they’re the sort of things that happened on raids. Another story, we came over Stettin one night. We lost two engines, two starboard engines. We managed to get one going half again so we came back from Stettin on two and a half engines.
CB: Was that flak damage?
RW: Yeah. Yeah. That was flak damage yes and when we got back Curly, he was a dreadful tease, he used to tease the WAAFs dreadfully and this poor little girl he teased her so much that when he was having his meal, operational meal she said, ‘I’m not going to serve you with your meal, cheeky bugger. I’m not going to serve your meal.’ He did get his meal of course but she wouldn’t serve him. And coming back off this trip we were so late we were, everybody, the committee of adjustment had been in and started to take our kit away. They didn’t think we were coming back but when we got back we got to the mess and this poor little kid was in tears, ‘Oh I shall never do that again.’ This was the atmosphere of these kids and girls. Wonderful. They were the sorts of things that happened. My last, very last operation was to again a transport plant target which was the original D-Day which was on the 4th 5th of June and like on the briefing we knew we were on the battle order but we had no idea where we were going and when we got out to the dispersal and asked what we were, what the petrol load and bomb load was Willy said, ‘Eeh,’ he said, ‘You’ve got full tanks and overloads and no bombs.’ And you were thinking, ‘Oh God. What’s going on? Are we going to Italy, Russia, whatever.’ No. What was happening we were flying a square circle around the invasion beaches giving false instructions to some of the shipping people imitate a convoy and also reporting on the fighter activity, German fighter activity to report back to help with the invasion and of course the invasion was put back twenty four hours because of the weather. So they took our overload tanks on, put a few bombs on board and we went off and we bombed Sangatte. Didn’t do a very good job obviously. So, that was our very last trip, Sangatte, and when we got back, because of the weather, very adverse weather we were diverted to Faldingworth which is only about thirty odd miles from Ludford, our base and we slept on a chair in the mess for the rest of the night and when we got up in the morning and having breakfast the station commander, Group Captain King arrived and he said, ‘Come on. I’m taking you back.’ I said, ‘Well I’ve got an aeroplane outside you know.’ And he said ‘You’re not touching another aircraft on the squadron. That was your last operation.’ So we just left the aircraft. How they got it back I don’t know but he took us back in his little hut, little, his little van. We went back and that was my last operation and mentioning our attrition rate on the squadron, in early 1944 our attrition rate was something like sixty two percent.
CB: Gee.
RW: Which was, you know, it’s unbelievable when you look.
CB: This is because they were targeted specifically.
RW: Yeah. Targeted. Very vulnerable. A) Because they could home onto our frequencies and B) Because we were on every bombing raid that went out. So there we are. The next morning I had to go and have a little interview with the station commander to give a pat on the back. He was a lovely chap Group Captain King. Curly, my engineer had finished because he’d done an operation with his previous crew he was finished the night before and he’d been out on the booze. Went down in to Ludford on the booze and when I had the interview with Group Captain King the following morning he said, ‘Your bloody crew.’ And, ‘Oh God. What’s going on?’ And he said, ‘Your engineer was down in the pub last night spouting about what he got up to and whatever and there just happened to be an intelligence officer there.’ And he just, no he was just pulling my leg really in a way but he said yes thank you very much for what you’ve done and I was given my green endorsement for the Mailly, for the raid where we had the mid-air collision and he had a curtain covering a chart on the wall which gave the crew statistics on the wall and he pulled the curtain back and he said, ‘There you are. You are the first crew that has finished as a crew for over six months’. Yeah.
CB: Amazing.
RW: And you didn’t even realise then. Appreciate what you -
CB: Yeah.
RW: What the attitude was but it really was remarkable and then of course I wasn’t allowed to touch a Lancaster again ever. Until 1977. Until the 101 squadron had a 60th anniversary of the formation of the squadron and they tried to get, I was asked. Martin Middlebrook was involved and he wrote a book and he was, he used to live not far away and then he was trying to get all of our crew together again and did I know where they were. And I had a few addresses so we managed to find 5 of us and we couldn’t find Taffy, could never find Taffy and we tried to find Taffy and we got in to contact with the people of his uncle who ran a pub and he wouldn’t tell us where he was and we assumed he was either in jail or in hospital but there, he’s still about but he never knew anything about it. But anyway, we had this meeting with five of my crew were there in 1977 in Waddington at 101. The Lancaster was there and at the dinner the previous night the PMC stood up and gave a little chat and said, ‘You’ve got the Lancaster here. It’s had an oil leak it needs an air test in the morning. We’ve got a crew here.’ So we flew in the Battle of Britain Lanc and did about a twenty, twenty five minute air test.
CB: Fantastic.
RW: In the Battle of Britain Lanc which was quite a thrill, quite a thrill.
CB: Amazing.
RW: And it’s wonderful that they’ve kept the thing going.
CB: Yes.
RW: It’s great. So after the war, I stayed in the air force after the war.
CB: Yes excuse me for interrupting but after the ops what did you do then because we’re not at the end of the war?
RW: Oh no. Yes. Yes.
CB: We’re still a year away.
RW: Yes. After the operations, yes normally you were, your crew tended to try and keep as much of the crew together and were posted away and most of the crew were posted to 28 OTU. And I was sent to 82 OTU. I never knew why or found out why. Typing error? Whatever. Anyway, I arrived at 82 OTU which was all Australian station and I was one of the very few Englishmen there as aircrew. One of the only aircrew there as an examiner, screen pilot, and they didn’t think much of this pommie bastard arrived in their midst and it wasn’t exactly a comfortable place to be but I’d only been there a couple of weeks when I had a bit of a problem, a symptom from the flying in the war. I had a perforated ulcer. Again, attributed to stress, whatever. So anyway, I had this haemorrhaging and I went sick, reported to the Australian doc, went sick and he didn’t think much of this whinging pommie bastard so medicine on duty. That was, that was, that was it. We just, and very shortly after that I was posted to Gamston where, which was a Wimpy OTU so I was flying in Wimpies there. Met my first fiancé there which was a lovely little WAAF in the camp. Audrey, Audrey Simms. Again, my luck held out, a lot of luck was involved on the squadron, tremendous lot of luck on the squadron and again my luck held out. My friend, Tommy Thompson, who’d been on operations, same as myself, screened and I was also the sports officer on the squadron and I had to do an air test as well and Tommy said, ‘Well you go and get the sports kit.’ On Wednesday afternoon the whole place shut down in those days for sport so I went to get the sports equipment and Tommy did my air test in a Wimpy and the Wimpy blew up and he was killed. Poor chap. Poor Tommy. And the only way we could recognise him when we found him was his ring on his finger. And he was a Geordie like myself and I was given the task of organising his funeral, went up to his funeral and because he didn’t get married during the war he got married very shortly after the end of his tour. He didn’t get married until after he’d finished his tour and his wife was expecting a baby, lived at Wallsend near Newcastle and of course I had to go to the funeral and there was this poor lass and it was rather sad. Yeah. So, these are the sort of things that happened and the luck you can achieve on these sort of things. So, anyway, because of my sins and flying I was due to go back on a second tour, supposedly on Mosquitoes, in early ‘45 but the attrition rate had dropped considerably at that time and there was a glut of aircrew coming though so they said, ‘Don’t come back on operations.’ So I was sent down to Lulsgate Bottom which was an instructor’s school. So I went down to the instructor’s school at Lulsgate Bottom which is now Bristol airport and I had a nice time down there learning to drink scrumpy which was, which was great. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely place down there. I enjoyed it very much. Again had little problems with the instructing. Flying with the instructor one night and the radial engine, the pot burst and the pistons were coming out through the through the canopy around the engine. So we had a little single engine landing there but that was fine. I ended up there and became an instructor. So the instructing I was sent to be a place called Desborough. I had the choice of going to Carlisle or Northampton so I chose Desborough and I was stationed there as a screen pilot and flying instructor, Wimpies. This story extends a little bit. A very good friend of mine who became my first fiancé her friend she was stationed, became stationed at Wyton, Cambridge and my friend and I used to go and visit her and he, Jock Murray, he was a married man. He had a girlfriend as well, a WAAF at Wyton so we used to go and stay at the George hotel at Huntingdon when she was there but sadly we were sitting on the banks of the river at Earith. I’d already bought the engagement ring and whatever and she said, ‘I’m sorry but that’s it’ and she went off with a married pilot on Wyton, pilot and that was it. I came back to Desborough rather tail, my tail between my legs sort of thing and my squadron commander, he knew what the situation, we were very good friends and he knew what was going on and one of the pilots who had been at Wyton on big stuff he was converting on to Dakotas and that’s what we were doing in Desborough and he came to Desborough to be converted on to Dakotas. He didn’t, I knew him but he didn’t know me and my flight commander, Lofty [Loader] he said, ‘You have him as a pupil.’ So I had this poor soul as a pupil. All the first details in the morning and all the last details at night. He complained to the boss and he said, ‘Nothing to do with me. Get on with it.’ But he was brilliant. He was a good pilot but he didn’t know anything about that at all. And again strange things happened at Desborough. When I was there another crew came through at, which er, yes this other crew came through whereby the pilot had a wireless operator who eventually joined the company I joined after, after the war as a wireless operator and I had to screen the crew on a cross country out over Wales. A claggy night. Not a very nice night at all and his skipper didn’t say, ‘I don’t think we ought to go. The weather.’ ‘Oh it’s all right,’ Well the weather we flew in the war we flew in all sorts of weather. They said, ‘Oh no it’s alright Alfie,’ So, off we went and coming back they asked to get a QDM and he couldn’t on his little set. He couldn’t get a QDM and fortunately I had been to the Empire Radio School and, and, and knew a little about electrics so I went back, got this bearing, give it to the skipper and when we let down there was Desborough the identification lights DE flashing, I said, ‘There you are. That’s how it’s done.’ And I had to give this wireless operator an adverse, not exactly an adverse report but not a very favourable one. He eventually became a director of the company I was working for and he didn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t like me very much at all because I was one of the lower minions in the works and he was a director of purchasing. Not a nice, not a very nice chap. Anyway, there we are so that was, that was little situation but Desborough from there I went and was posted to Transport Command, had to go into Transport Command and there I was flying Dakotas and doing mainly conversion work flying Dakotas. I had some very nice jobs to do and stationed at Oakington. This was in 1947 when I first went to work in Oakington and I was the flying wing training officer for four squadrons 10, 27, 30 and 46 squadrons and this was early ‘48 when the thought of the airlift came into being and this was quite an amazing situation because the squadron as I say had this four, the unit had the four squadrons on board and I was working with all the four squadrons. Then when you are going on the airlift all the aircrew had to be completely categorised and had to have a current incident rating so I was kept very, very busy. One night well one month one day I did something like ten and a half hours flying testing just to get them ready to go on the airlift. So, there we went and when we got them all, got them all off we, the WingCo said, ‘Right have a few days left, go on the airlift for a month and have a rest.’ So that was fine so I thought now do I go home and see my mum and dad or do I go and see my fiancé. I was getting married in October. And I said, ‘Hmmn I’ll go and see my fiancé,’ which I obviously did. Went back on the airlift and when I got to [Rumsdorf] which we were then I went to see the flight commander chappie in charge of the flying and I said, ‘Where do I go for briefing?’ And he said, ‘You don’t.’ He gave me a piece of, a sheet of A4, ten sheets of A4 with all the instructions on and said, ‘Go away and read those, inwardly digest. You’re flying in the morning.’ And that was it. That was it. And it was strange how the flying did, is it alright talking about the airlift?
CB: Absolutely. Yes. Yes.
RW: Yeah, because this is forty, a long time after the war but there we are. How the airlift came about was the fact that the Russians had taken over Berlin and they wouldn’t allow any people into Berlin for about eight weeks. So nobody was going in and they really split Berlin in half. They took over the east sector but they had to keep the airlift going, had to keep the situation going because the embassies of the French, British and American embassies there so they had to keep flying going in. They couldn’t stop the flying but they could affect the roads. There were originally six corridors going in but the Russians said you don’t need six. So they cut out, cut the north one out and the south one out and the east one out so they only had three corridors going in. The Americans were doing the, the southern one and we were doing the north one and we all came out on the centre one. But when they started the airlift all this happened in a very, very short period of time. The Americans, a chap called Lucius Clay was in charge of the system flying then in Berlin and he called every possible aircraft back from the states, even from Alaska, to come down to [?] which was the southern part of Germany and, to organise the thing properly he asked a chap called [Tupper, Tupper?] who was in charge of the Burma hump flying over the hump in Burma and he was asked to organise that. The first trip he went on, this was the very, very beginning all, all the Americans were there first and they’d gone off he went off on one of these very first trips and when he got to, got to Berlin there they were going to land at Tempelhof. He found there were aircraft stacked from five hundred feet to five thousand feet and everybody, all the Americans, were clamouring like mad to get permission to land and there was very little organisation at all. Two aircraft, two of the American aircraft had crashed on the runway. One crashed on the runway and was being repaired, and went on the fire and the other crashed and gone over the end of the runway. Nobody was killed but [Tupper Tupper] realised what was going on. He sent all the aircraft back to base even with their loads and got landed himself at Gatow at er [Wunsdorf] and at Tempelhof, landed at Tempelhof and he wrote out orders and all regulations for all flying on the Berlin airlift. Each aircraft had a different speed, different height to fly and all, all went, all went off and when we were at [Wunsdorf] at the time and when you went off you flew to a beacon north of Ber, we flew to a beacon at [?] just north of Berlin where you, when you arrive there you gave instructions, or you were given instructions of how to land and what your load off and we flew in everything. Literally everything in to Berlin because when the Russians took over they closed their frontier and they closed the, all the rail, road and water transport into Berlin and there was something like two million two hundred thousand West Berliners with twenty seven days rations of everything they’d left and they’d taken the generators from the power stations away, they’d taken the gas and that was all rationed and these poor Berliners were left with twenty seven days of nothing. I was very fortunate. I gave a little talk to some aircrew at Leamington and one of the chaps brought along a German lady who had been a little girl, a young little at the time the Russians took over and she was, she spoke English quite well but a very, very strong German accent and she of course she was quite an elderly lady then and she said she and her elder sister, she was young teenager and her sister was seventeen, eighteen and they were walking through Berlin and the Russians came along, a group of Russians came along and they herded all the girls and women they could possibly find into this building. The older sister knew what was going to happen and she hid this young lady, was a young lady, hid her and all the rest were gang raped for the rest of the day and she said, she was telling me that her sister never ever spoke of that again. She couldn’t talk about it. There was something like two million women raped. Two thousand committed suicide. You know, and these figures you know and the Berliners were so appreciative of what we did. We literally flew in everything. Naughty story. When we were on taking a few coal fuel and flour everything in and when you got to the beacon as I say you had to call to get landing instructions and declare what your load was so you could be directed to the correct unloading bay when you landed and the Germans were doing this and they could turn an aircraft around in eight minutes you know. Incredible. So there we were we were going towards this beacon and I said to the wireless op cause I didn’t have a crew I had the nav leader and the signals and I said to Jacko, ‘Call up and get us instructions.’ So he gave instructions and they said, ‘What is your load?’ And he said, ‘Medical supplies. Mainly manhole covers,’ and they were all sanitary towels. It didn’t end there because when we landed we were directed to the heavy unloading bay and we weren’t exactly flavour of the month. We didn’t half get a rocket but there again when you were flying in there was no question of doing an overshoot and going around again. If you couldn’t land you just had to go back to base and start again.
CB: Yeah.
RW: And when you were there they had all your aircraft lined up. Your day was split into three eight hour shifts and you were doing as many raids, as many sorties as you could in eight hours and then you had the next 8 hours off and then you flew in the next 8 hours and this went on seven days a week, 24 hours a day. Day and night. There was only one day it never happened and that was through extensive fog. So, and when the aircraft were lined up the ground crew had to do a pre-flight test on every aircraft and part of their equipment the wireless operators, wireless, ground wireless operators were a pair of bellows and when they got on the aircraft they used the bellows to blow this, the flour and coal dust off the instruments so they could check them. So this was the sort of thing that was going on. When we were at [Rumsdorf] they also had the York there and the payload of the York was something like what fifteen thousand pounds and the Dakota’s about seven and a half and one of our skippers said, Flight Lieutenant Sheehan, he went off in the Dakota and he said, ‘It’s like a brick. It’s like flying a brick.’ And he had an awful job getting it off the ground, an awful job getting it there, an awful job landing it and when they landed it they found they’d put a York load on the Dakota so he was flying at double his all up weight.
CB: Gee.
RW: And it says a lot for the skipper and the aircraft you know.
CB: Absolutely.
RW: You know, these sort of things went on. Amazing. But that was a long time after, after the squadron. And on the squadron looking back and talking to people on the squadron about the squadron about the air force in general they said, ‘Well you know in our group, in one group we were losing seventy aircraft a month.’ Every Bomber Command station lost nine hundred aircrew. You know, it’s amazing the figures that went on like that and a gentleman did some statistics working out how it affected a hundred air crew and of the hundred aircrew fifty one were killed. Twelve were shot down and badly injured, five were badly injured so they couldn’t fly again, three were, so three were killed on landings back at base, twelve became prisoners of war and one escaped to come back and of the remaining of that hundred aircrew only twenty four remained. Nearly all with some medical problem afterwards which, is you know, is -, I had my share. The sort of things that happened they said personally the sort of things that happened to me afterwards apart from this ulcer which affected me for most of my life until I was here at Desborough, at er Kenilworth when I moved in here and one night I had a massive haemorrhage. I couldn’t get upstairs and the doc came and it was a peculiar system he had. I was not allowed food, I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed, I wasn’t allowed to do anything with work and I lived on an ounce of milk and water for six weeks. Couldn’t do anything and I remember sitting down where we are now sitting now watching the television, watching the cricket with the doctor, chatting about what was going on and it was amazing. In consequence I can eat anything, anything at all doesn’t bother me but alcohol doesn’t like me. I can drink it but I can enjoy it for about a week afterwards so you know I don’t drink very much now. I’ve had my share. But this is the sort of thing that happened and what still happens now. One operation we were on going on to the Ruhr and the Ruhr, the old Happy Valley and we were approaching the Ruhr and it really it looked deadly and the flak, there was an old saying, the flak was so thick you could get out and walk on it and it was like that searchlights, fighters going on and the first time I ever experienced terror and it was most peculiar. I’d heard about it but I’d never experienced it and I literally was shaking and really I couldn’t do what I was supposed to do so I dropped my seat so I couldn’t see outside and funnily enough I said a little prayer that I hadn’t said since I was about six years old. Mum and dad used to sit by the side of my bed and say this little prayer which ended up, ‘If I die before I wake I pray the lord my soul will take.’ Why I said it I don’t know, no idea but I said this little prayer and the terror disappeared and I raised my seat and I could just carry on. You’re still frightened of course but all the terror disappeared. And we had similar situations again afterwards but no terror so whether the power of prayer you know whether this happens or not. Some of the lads we used to take the mickey a bit ‘cause they used to kneel down by their beds and say their prayers or kneel down by the aircraft before they got on and said their prayers and thought they were a bit sissy until you had this sort of experience yourself and then you realise there’s something in it. It’s all, I’m sure it was all mental you know. Some of these sort of things happened. When I laid my head down on the pillow even now, not every, if I’ve been reading a books like some of the air force books and service books that come out now, if I’ve been reading these books about aeroplanes and I put my head down on the pillow I can see flak bursting and little sparks flying about. It doesn’t affect me. I’m fine. No problem at all and this sort of thing, you know, just reminds you of the old days and now talking about it so much now it’s almost like a myth, you know. As if you’re telling fairy stories. Did I really do it, you know but yes it does once you’ve experienced those sorts of things you never forget them. They’re always there. And some, some fixed more than others. We had one navigator who, they were badly shot up and some of the, a lot of the crew were injured. The aircraft was on fire and he got out of his seat to walk back to the, the aircraft was still flying, he walked to the back of the aircraft to jump out the back. No parachute. Some of the crew stopped him and said, ‘No. Don’t.’ He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t speak. He was just a zombie completely. Couldn’t speak and when he got back, they got back alright he never spoke. Never spoke at all. Went to the sick quarters for a couple of weeks. Never spoke, could understand a thing and he was sent to the service hospital at Matlock, the psychological hospital at Matlock and he was there for several, a couple of weeks and he never spoke until one of the nurses dropped an instruments in a tin tray and he woke up. He said, ‘Oh Christ, they’re on fire. They’re on fire.’ And he got his speech back again. He was invalided out of the service as you know unfit for flying. He was alright but that experience he had of these weeks of not talking you know and this is the sort of thing that happened to these sort of folks and, you know, when you think of the experiences you had and how bloody lucky you’d been all these whiles. And, your luck. Yes, I think you bought yourself your own luck to a certain extent. In my crew, were such that although vastly different characters, we were all great comrades and great friends. Great friends. And you know this helped enormously the operational flying, in my instructing and examining after the war when Oakington was closed down and all the four squadrons dispersed 30 squadron was posted to Abingdon and having, me being flying wing training, I thought I was out of a job. 30 squadron had taken over a VIP element from 24 squadron and for my sins I was posted to 30 squadron at Abingdon to become the training officer on 30 squadron and to get our qualifications, to get my, I had to go to Central Flying School to be examined and that was quite the thing. The fact that I had an instrument rating and the fact that I had done something like fifteen hundred hours instrument flying I was allocated a master green instrument rating and I became examiner and when I went down to the Central Flying School to become an examiner and a tester, an instructor, the instructor there, Flight Lieutenant Walker, a lovely man, when we finished the [CGI], said ‘There is a book. Take it away. Read the chapters about training and it’s all about what you learn about.’ And it was a book called the “Psychological Disorders of Flying Personnel” and the chapter on training illustrated the fact that you know even experienced people when being examined had a little bit of panic. It’s a bit of the white coat syndrome of the doctor with his stethoscope and things and you couldn’t really operate as you normally could and this was a chapter about that sort of thing. And this psychological business he gave me this book to take back home. And when I got back of course I used to examine all the crews but each crew had to be examined completely once a month. They had to do certain training exercises. One per month and the VIP pilots had to do the same as well but the VIP pilots were like a class apart. They wouldn’t have a, they insisted on having a separate crew room from us roughies and strange things happened with them. One occasion one of the pilots a chap called Van Reinfeld had to do a VIP trip the following day and he hadn’t done a little night, night flying exercise and I said, ‘Well it’s alright. I’ve got a spare navigator. You can do your little trip tonight. I’ll put you on early, you’ll be alright for tomorrow.’ And he said, ‘Well I can’t do it.’ He says, ‘My navigator has gone in to Abingdon and I don’t know where he is.’ I said, ‘I’ve got a spare navigator. It’s alright. It’s only a training trip. It’s not a VIP trip.’ And this chap, the replacement, a chap called Baxter who was a coloured boy wouldn’t fly with him. Refused to fly with him and I said, ‘Well you don’t, if you don’t fly with him you don’t get your trip tomorrow.’ He went to see Squadron Leader Reese the squadron commander and he said, ‘It’s nothing to do with me it’s to do with the training.’ And he went back and I said, ‘Well if you don’t do it. You don’t fly.’ And he went into Abingdon and scoured all the clubs and pubs, found his navigator, came back, flew late in the morning, early in the morning the next day and went off to do his trip the next day and that’s the sort of atmosphere they were. And the principal job of the Transport Command at 30 squadron were again, like all transport was glider towing and paratrooping and there was a big operation called Operation Longstop which was going on at Old Sarum and all the crews had to go down and join in the exercise and of course every pilot had to have an aeroplane. There wasn’t enough aeroplanes to go around and I was given an aeroplane and a pilot to fly with me who was a VIP pilot called [Ria.] He said, ‘I’m a VIP pilot. I don’t fly second dicky.’ And he wouldn’t fly. Refused to fly with me. Again, he saw the flight commander down at Old Sarum and the boss said. ‘Well if you don’t fly you don’t fly at all. Go back to base. Get back to base.’ He sent him back to base and these sort of characters they were an elite apart, you know. Brilliant fliers no doubt about it brilliant fliers and as I say we had to go down to Central Flying School to be examined and when you’re examined if anything went wrong and you didn’t fail any one part of the exercise two of the exams you had to write, reply a hundred percent. Safety and regulations, these sort of things and when you were, one of the exercises you had it do you were given all the met readings from various stations and you had to plot a synoptic chart and give a forecast for the next day, until midnight the next day, which I did and I said possibly get some rain by lunchtime tomorrow and whatever down the south of England and he called a Met man in and he said, ‘Oh that’s not going to happen. That’ll never happen.’ So I didn’t pass that exam so I had to go back, wait another month before I was going to be examined again. Blow me, the next day it started to rain so I rang up old Walker at Central Flying School and said, ‘Have you looked out the window?’ And he said, ‘You jammy bugger,’ he said, ‘I’ll put it in the post.’ So it was a great atmosphere. A wonderful atmosphere and 30 squadron had a wonderful atmosphere. Still has now. Still does wonderful work now. But the flying it left a great character in my life but I was married by then of course and we had a wonderful life with my wife in peacetime air force. Sadly, she became terribly ill when we were at Oakington and she started having terrible haemorrhages and this sort of thing and the, our local doc said, ‘You’d better take her home’ so we took her to her home in Desborough near Kettering and my mother who was a state certified midwife, she’d nursed all her life said, ‘You know the prognosis of this isn’t very great,’ you know and discovered that she had what they called a [? deformed] mole which is a pregnancy like a bunch of grapes and indicative of cancer. And they did scrapes they didn’t do scrapes in those days but they couldn’t find it and it was the cancer was deep seated in the womb and my mum said, you know ‘She can’t live very long.’ She was only about six months, nine months perhaps at the most so I resigned my commission to come out to look after her. Haven’t been, my last posting just about this the time this happened found was AOC far east to go VIP pilot, the AOC in the far east which I had to keep delaying, delaying, delaying because of Pat’s illness and eventually that was cancelled completely so I didn’t go. So, I resigned to come out on the condition that I renewed my qualifications every year and stayed on the reserve until I was, 1960 um and came out and poor old Pat died about ten months afterwards and with my lack of education I couldn’t get a grant to do any, I was hoping for a grant to go teaching but I couldn’t get a grant because I had no certificates or educational certificates. Fortunately, Pat, my wife’s father owned a factory. A packaging factory. So he said, ‘Come and work for me.’ So I went and worked in his factory on the marketing and sales. I can say for twenty seven years I travelled in cardboard boxes which was very kind of him. I got along very well with the old man. He was quite an eminent military man himself. Thinking of that sort of thing when I was at Abingdon, Oakington, I was going to get married and I was told I had to get permission to get married otherwise I wouldn’t get my marriage allowance ‘cause I was a little bit too young. So I was told I had to have an interview with the station commander which a chap called group captain [Byte Seagal] so I went and had an interview with him and my dad because of his health couldn’t do any serious work and he used to work for the Coop looking after the horses for the Coop stables so when we went for the interview with group captain [Byte Seagall], a peacetime group captain trying to get everything back to a peacetime protocol he said, ‘Who are you marrying?’ I said, ‘Well, Pat.’ ‘What does she do?’ And I said, ‘Well she does typing and bit of filing in an office.’ ‘Oh that’s interesting.’ ‘What does your father do?’ And I said, ‘He looks after horses.’ He said, ‘Newmarket?’ I said, ‘No. Coop.’ And this didn’t go down very well at all. And he said, ‘What about your father in law then?’ And I said, ‘Well he was colonel in chief of the Northamptonshire regiment. He got the MC in Gallipoli.’ ‘Ah now isn’t that interesting.’ I said. ‘My mother, my dad was in the navy. He got the DSM in the navy. My mother got the Royal Red Cross.’ ‘Now isn’t that interesting.’ Yes, I can get married. So I got permission to get married. And they were trying to get things back to peacetime protocol but after the war people like myself were asked to go up to Cranwell which was a training, a major training school then for aircrew and just to meet the people, not to meet, just to chat to the students and pupils and met one young man called, oh dear [pause] His dad was the president of the Nuremberg raids. Oh, what did they call him? Anyway, he was, he was his dad was this very eminent gentleman. Martin, [pause] oh dear, old age and memory don’t go very well together. Anyway, this gentleman he was on the Nuremberg trials. He organised the Nuremberg trials for the post war Germans and his son was on the Cranwell course and he eventually came down to 30 squadron and I said to him, you know, ‘What’s the last thing they taught you at Cranwell then?’ And they said, he said, ‘Don’t get associated with wartime commissioned officers.’ Because, in February ‘44 the directive came about saying all captains of heavy bombers had to be commissioned and my commissioning interview was with the accountant who gave me a cheque for ninety quid to go and buy a uniform with. Yeah. What do they call the chappie on the Nuremberg trials? Very eminent man. Very eminent barrister.
CB: Yeah. I can’t remember.
RW: Pardon?
CB: I can’t remember.
RW: No. Can’t remember. Anyway Martin didn’t like this system in the air force at all so he resigned and came out. But that was the sort of thing that was going on in those days and I was very, very fortunate to be able to have a job to work. I stayed and played with cardboard boxes. For two years I had to go to Marshals and be re-examined for, just to keep your hand in that all it was part of the condition for resigning. I did that for two years and the first time I went the instructor there said. ‘Well go on and do the exams and, what did you do?’ I told him what I did. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Bugger it. Go on. Take a little chipmunk and take off. So I used to fly over Desborough and around the school where I was teaching and [laughs] no that, and I started learning, I taught myself aerobatics because the transport flying which is dead straight and level sort of stuff and I’d never flown aerobatics at all apart from slow rolling the Lancaster. It was great fun. Great fun. But they only did that for two years because they said it’s getting expensive and we’ve got squirty things now and so -
CB: Yeah.
RW: Just keep on the register.
CB: Yeah.
RW: And I was in the reserve until 1960 so really I had a wonderful career.
CB: Yeah, brilliant.
RW: Wonderful -
CB: Can I -
RW: Experiences I’ll never be forgetting and played an awful lot of luck and met some wonderful people and wonderful friends and with my crew when the squadron formed the association from flying together in 1977 the squadron chappie called Goodliffe formed the squadron association and from then on we found all eight of my crew and all eight of us used to meet every year.
CB: Fantastic.
RW: Until 1990 when we all met at Ludford in 1990 and the Coningsby, the Battle of Britain Flight said, ‘Would you come down and do a little exercise down here with a full crew.’ And Tommy, my mid upper gunner, wouldn’t go so we never went and a couple of months later he died so whether he had some sort of premonition, you know.
CB: Extraordinary.
RW: But anyway nevertheless all 7 of used to meet until, and then the rear gunner dies and all eight of us, all six of us used to meet and a couple of years ago my special duty operator died so all five of us -
CB: All five.
RW: Are still round about and very, very different states of health and all creaking a bit. I was being very lucky. I had open heart surgery.
CB: Oh, did you really?
RW: It was only three years ago and got a zip fastener up the front but if it hadn’t have been for again like the services, like with family if it hadn’t have been for family and my mum looking after me with diphtheria when I was a little boy and my daughters and family looking after me afterwards when, when I had when I had the operation for the heart I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat and my daughter Catherine who is, she is now the ward manager sister at the coronary care unit at Warwick Hospital she took me into hospital on her day off and did an ECG and a blood test and the cardiologist just happened to be walking past and he said, ‘What are you doing here?’ You know, and he took the blood away and came back and he said your bloods alright but it’s not, you’re not going anywhere. Don’t go home. So within just over a week I’d had open heart surgery.
CB: Gee.
RW: And I was back home again.
CB: Amazing.
RW: Yeah, it’s amazing.
CB: I’m going to stop you there.
RW: Yes, that’s about it I think, Ok.
CB: Because we both need a – [pause] right we’re restarting again after a brief comfort break and the bits I just want to ask you about, Rusty is first of all the ranking system. So you went in as an aircraftsman second class.
RW: I went in as an AC2.
CB: And how did the promotion system work until you were –
RW: Yeah. Well, usually after about six months you were promoted an AC1 and then after another short period of time you became an LAC, leading aircraftman. And I was a leading aircraftman when I went and did my flying in Canada and it was from then after you’d finished and completed your training successfully that was when you were ordered your flying brevvy and you became whatever grant, whatever grade you were going in to. Fortunately, and with a lot of luck involved I became a pilot. And having, became a sergeant pilot. Some, about three or four of the course that we were on we lost about forty percent of the course on washouts. You know, it was incredible because the training was very, very precise. I must say it was very, very good. Looking back it was remarkable. So there I was a sergeant pilot and promotion as an NCO was roughly six months and you got an increase and promotions so by the time I was, got on the squadron I was a sergeant pilot and then I very soon became a flight sergeant pilot and that was in ’43. End of ’43. And in early ‘44 the directive came from the air ministry that all captains of heavy bombers had to be commissioned so I was given the cheque for ninety quid by the accountant and told to go and buy a uniform so there was no formal interview at all. It was just a thing that happened. In consequence, the social class, in a sense, disappeared because there were people commissioned from training and they tended to be a little bit elitist and some of the crews had done previous tours and tended to be all commissioned and usually flight lieutenants and all this sort of thing so they were nearly all a little bit aloof but we were just the roughs. Not like the pathfinders. Gibson and the pathfinder force really didn’t socialise with the NCOs at all. Didn’t speak to them, didn’t talk to them but it wasn’t like that on the squadron. Really, apart from doing your job you were all the same. And the, the, our WingCo was a wonderful man in that respect. He knew everybody’s name on the squadron. Ground crew and air crew. Wonderful man. Old Alexander. Wingco Alexander.
CB: What sort of age was he?
RW: He, he’d be getting on about. He’d be early 30s I think [laughs] so. He died not such a long time ago. A little story about Wingco Alexander which, of course, a little bit about the war. His batman, Ward, a little chap called Ward turned out to be a homosexual and he was sacked from the service because in those days homosexuality was virtually a crime and he was sacked from the service and when I used to go home on leave and my brother was being in the army my mum was nursing a very eminent north country barrister called Lambert, Pop Lambert. Mum used to, got the job to nurse him because she could swear as much to him as he swore at her when she put him to bed and he used to love my, my brother and I and my mum to go down and have dinner with him and it was finger bowls and butlers and things like this so it really was quite out of our class altogether and when we were sitting down having dinner this night and the butler came in with the finger bowls and he looked at me and said, ‘Hello Waughman.’ And I said, ‘My God. Ward. What are you doing here? You were Alexander’s batman.’ And that went on, he went out and Pop said, ‘How the hell do you know him?’ And I said, ‘He was our WingCo’s batman. He was sacked because he was homosexual.’ And the poor soul. Pop gave him the sack a week later. He just wouldn’t have him around and this was the attitude about homosexuality -
CB: Yeah. Yeah.
RW: In those days. The lads used to go out queer bashing. You know.
CB: Yeah.
RW: Yeah. There was no gay business in those days at all, sort of thing. But that’s the sort of thing that happened. So, anyway, I was flying, became pilot officer and on the squadron I became towards the end of my tour I got promotion to flying officer and ended my tour as a flying officer and subsequently with the jobs I got as the training officer, again it was timed promotion really in a way. I became a flight lieutenant and most of the screening and examining and training I did then was as a flight lieutenant until I was posted to Singapore and never got there, flying as a VIP pilot AOC Far East. I never got there. Had I, had I gone I would have been promoted to squadron leader. No. I would have got the rank of squadron leader. Which would be temporary acting unpaid. So when I left that job I reverted to my previous rank again so that would be a rank mainly because you were socialising with VIPs but that never came about. So whether I don’t think I would have advanced very far in the air force at that time because I was a Geordie like, you know from up north, a very uneducated man, and I don’t think I would have advanced too far in the service.
CB: Ok.
RW: Although I got on very, very well with the people.
CB: Yeah.
RW: It was great but I think the social side, the social class system would have meant that I’d perhaps have made wing commander but I don’t think I would have got any great senior rank. Again, partly that’s my thought. Whether it would have happened or not. My navigator, he was an educated lad and very good lad you see he lied about his age to join up, operational at eighteen. He stayed in the air force after the war, did very, very well indeed did all sorts of very important flying. He ended up as a squadron leader and stayed in the air force after the war and he was very well thought of in the service. Most of the other lads left the service. Except Taffy. He stayed in the service. He became, he stayed as a sergeant I think all his life and I think he drank his way through the service but er -
CB: And he was always on the ground.
RW: Always on the ground, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yes he did, he did fly a second tour. Some of the crews did second tours. He was on the second tour and he was on the last bombing raid that went to the Nuremberg and the Buchenwald raids. And Manna, Operation Manna. Norman, my bomb aimer, he stayed in the air force. He stayed although he had some elevating jobs he never rose above the rank of flight lieutenant because he was out in Burma and he was on the squadron in Burma. This was very shortly after the end of the war and the war was still going on in Burma and he was duty officer one weekend and the Scotch troop was getting knocked about in the jungle so he laid on a strike which was successful and got back. I think they only lost a couple of blokes which was really remarkable. Got everything back and he had to see the CO the next day who said, ‘You don’t, you didn’t have the authority to lay that on’ and he was court martialled and in the, in the court martialling that was it you know but he went on and he eventually when he got back to the UK, got sent back to the UK and he didn’t have a job and he had a friend who knew somebody who knew somebody and he went to work down at, down in Halfpenny Green down Pershore way working on TSR2 and he did some work on TSR2 and then did an awful lot of flying in Buccaneers, err Buccaneers um Canberra’s flying all over America doing line over mapping and this sort of thing. Got himself an MBE. So Norman who now lives in the tax haven Andorra is MBE DFC AFC, yeah. But lovely guy.
CB: Ok so that’s a good intro thank you -
RW: Yeah.
CB: To the awards.
RW: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: So how did that come about for you and for him as well? How many of the crew were decorated?
RW: Well the sad thing is I’ve still got it but thinking about the decorations for crews and that sort of thing I’ve still got a got a bit of a conscience about the DFC because at the end of the tour of operations nearly every skipper got a decoration and I got a DFC but the crew didn’t get anything and the crew were doing half the work. They kept me alive, they kept us all alive they were doing exactly the same job as I was doing, under the same circumstances. Same risks. The same with all the Bomber Command crew but none of them got a decoration. My engineer Curly did eventually get a DFM.
CB: On the second tour -
RW: But none of the -
CB: Was it?
RW: None of the crew got any recognition whatsoever I think what Harry did was the rear turret and think what rear gunners did sitting watching shells flying at you having a little 303 gun to fire back at a 20 millimetre shell you know um and the casualty rate for rear gunners was, really was something and there was a lot of decorations which should have been. We had one crew which were very, very badly knocked about and from what I gather afterwards the station commander recommended the skipper for a VC which, and the crew did all sorts of wonderful things the skipper was hit three times and all sorts of things went wrong and got the aircraft back but this was turned down and we gather that the reason was that he wasn’t just getting the crew and the aircraft back he was getting himself back as well. So five of the crew got CGMs that night so the decorations system I’m sure it’s the same in all the wars that a lot of people who deserved them didn’t get them because it was unknown. One, one situation whereby unless an action was seen by an officer it didn’t count.
CB: Right.
RW: So -
CB: So the Queens Gallantry Medal.
RW: Yeah.
CB: The CGM.
RW: Yeah.
CB: Was a pretty good award.
RW: Well it’s the next one down from the VC.
CB: Exactly. Yeah. Absolutely. The whole crew got it.
RW: Yeah. Yeah. Five of the crew got it.
CB: Yeah.
RW: So you know the awards system obviously they have to have some rules and regulations, you know. I was told by, the by people afterwards after my crash landing getting the aircraft back the thought was the immediate award of the DFC but that didn’t come about.
CB: So when did it happen?
RW: That was in May, March
CB: When you came to the end of your tour.
RW: Oh, it was the end of the tour.
CB: Was it?
RW: Not at the time. Not immediately at the time. It wasn’t until anyway there we are. My DFC was given to me by the postman and there’s a nice little letter in there from King George saying I’m sorry, implying that he’s too busy too busy to see I’m sending it through the post but thank you very much. So, so that was given to me by the postman.
CB: Extraordinary.
RW: Subsequently, when I got I was very fortunate after the war I was awarded the MBE and -
CB: But you got the AFC. So what was that -
RW: I got the AFC.
CB: So what -
RW: I didn’t get the MBE I got the AFC.
CB: The AFC, yes.
RW: Yes, the AFC.
CB: So what was the circumstance of that?
RW: I’ve no idea. I’ve tried to find out but the only thing I’ve ever, people have been able to say meritorious service but I’ve no idea why. I think it was a brown nose job really you know, being in the right place at the right time. I can just imagine from what I’ve seen afterwards the air ministry would be issued so many medals to be issued to the command. Got down to group. Group allocated the medals out. Group was passed out to stations, stations allocated medals out, passed down to the squadrons and what was left for the squadron they had to find someone to give them to and I think I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. So, no reason why I -
CB: No specific event that you can -
RW: No specific event. Nothing -
CB: No.
RW: At all. No. So, it was again poor luck.
CB: What about this other man you talked about who’d been in your crew before who got DFC, AFC?
RW: Oh, Norman. The bomb aimer.
CB: Yes how did he get those?
RW: Well.
CB: Did he get the DFC at the end of the tour?
RW: Afterwards he, he -
CB: Was he commissioned by then?
RW: He eventually ended up on pathfinders.
CB: Oh right.
RW: Yeah, he did a second tour.
CB: Ahh.
RW: Didn’t do a full second tour but he did a lot of second tour on pathfinders and he got his DFC for that and he got his AFC for what he was doing in research down at Pershore down there and his MBE was for the work he did on TSR2 and the, and the work he was doing with the, with the Canberras.
CB: Yeah.
RW: Yeah and Curly my engineer he eventually got the DFM just after -
CB: On his second tour.
RW: After he left us he got the DFM and he from a very lowly back, we’re all from very lowly backgrounds, working class backgrounds his son Paul was at grammar school and there was a thing, a big trip they were going to do, which he could do which would have affected his career quite considerably from the school and Curly couldn’t afford it so he sold his medal.
CB: Right.
RW: To pay for his son to go through school. His son ended up as a very eminent statistician broadcasting, writing articles, touring the world doing this sort of thing and he still brings Curly to the reunions.
CB: Oh does he? So he feels that’s good value.
RW: Yeah. Yes, Yeah but poor old Curly he missed his medal a lot and a chappie called [?] it’s in there he bought Curlys medal.
CB: Oh.
RW: And there you are. He bought Curly’s medal. He was a medal collector and he also involved with [?] he’s a Frenchman working, working with the [6th airborne div] on the invasion things and he bought Curly’s medal and through the squadron he found out that Curly was on the squadron cause he got in touch trying to find out who’s it was and he invited Curly over for several years, every year to get his medal. Well the first year well he couldn’t get his medals back, well he didn’t, he was allowed to wear it but he very kindly let him wear his medal and showed him where his medal was and that’s the sort of thing, the sort of the lads they were. But -
CB: Can I go back to a particular experience -
RW: Yes.
CB: You describe -
RW: Yes, certainly.
CB: And that was the collision.
RW: Yes.
CB: So you’re on top of another Lancaster.
RW: Yeah. Yes.
CB: What happened to that aircraft?
RW: Well I didn’t see it at all. ‘Cause I was -
CB: No.
RW: A little busy keeping flying but apparently his propellers, as I said, chopped through our, just behind the bomb aimer’s feet and the bombing compartment up front. His mid upper, his canopy over the cockpit carved through our wheels and tore the canopy off.
CB: Yeah.
RW: And his mid upper gunner, his mid-upper turret was torn off as well and the boys said they saw Taffy who was looking out of his little window saw the aircraft falling away with the canopy falling off and the aircraft falling to bits so you can’t imagine what happened to the crew in the cockpit and the mid upper gunner sitting on top of the aircraft and they saw the aircraft falling away with no parachutes coming out. Of course it disappeared in cloud.
CB: Ah.
RW: And we were two thousand feet and then they saw the explosion on the ground.
CB: Oh.
RW: They found out afterwards that it was another Lancaster.
CB: Right.
RW: And they were able to identify what Lancaster it was and they were all killed of course. Unfortunately. How lucky can you be?
CB: Yeah and none of your boys saw it coming because you hadn’t got any view of it of underneath.
RW: No. Well the engineer was standing at his little window on the starboard side said he just saw it as it appeared and he didn’t see it at all.
CB: So you were flying straight and level.
RW: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: And this came up from underneath you.
RW: Yeah. Hit sort of sideways.
CB: Oh sideways.
RW: Sideways underneath.
CB: Which is why you can’t -
RW: Yeah and that’s why he cut across us and we sat on top of him. And that was, and you never thought about it you never thought about disaster at the time you were thinking preservation.
CB: No.
RW: And keeping the aircraft flying. We’ve got to fly. Yeah. Which fortunately it did.
CB: And a different question each of the crew has a different recollection of what was going on because they had different jobs.
RW: Yeah.
CB: You’ve already mentioned the danger of being the rear gunner.
RW: Yeah.
CB: How many times did your gunners shoot at other aircraft? Attacking aircraft in other words.
RW: In a way not as many as the attacks that we had because the idea was you didn’t use your guns unless you had to because it gave away your position so about what a half a dozen times, perhaps.
CB: Yeah.
RW: On one occasion we in the going over Germany we had [five] fighter attacks almost one after the other and if it hadn’t been for the diligence of the gunners we wouldn’t have escaped out of it, you know.
CB: You did corkscrews to get away from it.
RW: Corkscrewed out of it. And once you’ve started corkscrewing it’s no good, no point flying firing your guns.
CB: No.
RW: What did happen I was very fortunate I flew in both the, two of the aircraft who did the, the ton up aircraft who did over a hundred operations. One was in H How which was one of our squadron aircraft and the reason why I flew it was because our squadron was allocated the first two Rolls Royce turrets with the 2.5 guns in the back instead of the four 303s mainly we were the first one of the earliest ones to get it because of the attrition rate on the squadron we were given this the 2.5 and we were, WingCo asked us, well he didn’t ask us he told us to go on this operation and get into a position where the special duty operator could attract the fighter to us.
CB: Right.
RW: So we could try the guns out so we’re stooging along and there we are and Harry called up, he said, ‘Attack starboard quarter coming up.’ So we waited there and he got, when he got in the position where he pressed the guns, pressed the tits to fire the gun it didn’t operate. It didn’t go and we saw sparks flying past but fortunately there were lots of contrails around about so we nipped into the contrails and got rid, got corkscrewing and got rid of the fighter but when we got back the old boss was a bit concerned.
CB: Yeah.
RW: And he said, ‘We’ve got to have to find out what’s going on here,’ he said. And they discovered that they’d changed the anti-freeze grease on the guns and because of that we were told to go out the next night and try them out the next night. Which we did and unfortunately there were ten tenths cloud all over the place but we fired the guns and they worked alright. So that we flew and that was one of the reasons why we had the .5 guns. Because of the attrition rate on the squadron.
CB: Were they also on the mid upper?
RW: No. No, just the 2.5s in the mid upper gunner.
CB: Yeah.
RW: But again you don’t hear much about the mid upper gunners.
CB: No.
RW: But they were just as vulnerable as the others really. They were attacked from behind.
CB: They were an important lookout.
RW: Yeah, absolutely. Yeah. Yeah. We were so lucky the diligence of my crew and we were good pals. It wasn’t the skipper sitting up front dictating things. They were telling you what to do.
CB: Yeah.
RW: You had to make the final decision obviously but you were just a crew.
CB: What was the, what was the signaller doing?
RW: [laughs] As little as possible [laughs] he was a wonderful character, very mischievous and he always swore he was going to come on operations drunk and towards one of our last operations we were in the crew room and we were talking and he crept up behind me and patted me on the shoulder [drunken talk imitation] and I turned around. He disappeared and I turned around and I said, ‘You bugger.’ And he’d left a couple of WAAFs standing behind me. [laughs] This is the sort of character he was.
CB: This is an eighteen year old lad was he?
RW: Nineteen.
CB: Nineteen.
RW: He was nineteen. No. He was twenty.
CB: Oh was he?
RW: Around then yeah and this was the sort of character he was and he used to get bearings when nobody else could and he when the skipper wanted a bearing, a particular bearing, he’d get one and there’s an emergency frequency which you had to keep off and he used to get right on the edge of this frequency and pick up bearings that you weren’t supposed to have.
CB: So in practical terms.
RW: Yes.
CB: He was giving bearings all the time.
RW: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: Was he?
RW: Yeah and again very different from, very different from the navigator and mischievous little devil and I always remember one of the occasions which we remember very vividly was at Waddington after the war when we had our squadron reunion and we’d all had quite a lot to drink and we were getting back into our taxi and we were going to drop him off at his pub, the Wheatsheaf in Lincoln and on the way back he was relating in his very drunken manner how Norman, my bomb aimer lost his virginity to Luscious Lill in Grimsby and there was a policeman walking past the car and wanted to know why. This was the sort of character he was. He drank like a fish and on one occasion we went into Louth to have drink and they used to run a crew bus to run us into Louth and pick us up at half past eleven when the pubs closed and we were coming back and Taffy disappeared. He didn’t know where it was until we had a call from the police station saying we have a wireless operator from your station. A chap called Arndale. He’s in prison. And what he did, he had a skinful, gone down a lane to have a wee and there just happened to be a policeman there and half wee’d on the policeman so they took him in. We were on operations that, had to be on operations that night so I had to into Louth and pay ten shillings to bail him out from the police station to get him back. This was the sort of, wonderful characters and we used to go down the pub and drink enormously playing Moriarty and again, it was a form of relaxation.
CB: Yes sure.
RW: Getting rid of stress.
CB: Just a couple of things about the flying, excuse me.
RW: Yes that’s -
CB: What were you doing when you weren’t on operations?
RW: Well occasionally you did an air test. And perhaps did a little bit fighter affiliation practice being attacked by a fighter but generally your, you were completely relaxed to do whatever you wanted. There was no, no station duties whatsoever. You’d perhaps go up to flight and see what was going on with the others. Down the pub.
CB: But were you doing bombing practice in The Wash?
RW: Yes, there were -
CB: Were you doing circuits and bumps?
RW: I think, I think it was a place called Wainfleet.
CB: Yeah.
RW: Somewhere about The Wash where we used to do practice bombing little eleven and half pound practice bombs you know, practice bombs. Used to drop those.
CB: What height would you be flying when you dropped those?
RW: Oh about eight, ten thousand feet. You weren’t flying at twenty odd thousand feet.
CB: No.
RW: In those days and yes we used to do little air tests and things.
CB: Cross countries?
RW: Pardon?
CB: Cross country for navigation practice.
RW: Err not so much. You did those when you first got on the squadron and you, when you got the feel of the squadron you did a couple of cross countries then but after that no we didn’t have to do any cross countries at all and your relaxation was really resting and down the boozer, down the pub and I used to get into trouble. When we used to live in a nissen hut, little corrugated iron nissen hut and when the condensation, used to get the condensation inside used to run down the ridges and in the winter used to form icicles.
CB: Cause there’s no insulation.
RW: Yeah. No.
CB: No insulation.
RW: No insulation. No.
CB: No.
RW: And all we had was a pot stove in the middle of the room a little cylindrical pot stove which we used to go and try and rob people of their ration of fuel and burn furniture and all sorts of silly things and of course there were no ablutions or watering inside. The ablutions were outside in another hut with a concrete bench with taps on and that was all you had. It wasn’t a, Wimpy built the station in eighty days completely and there were a main roads. There was a main road into the station, a main road with flights, a perimeter track and a runway and that’s about it. And all the rest we were walking around on grass and mud as a matter of fact being called Ludford Magna they nicknamed the place as Mudford which is a -
CB: It was that bad was it?
RW: It was that bad.
CB: Right.
RW: But it was, basically apart from the stress of what was going on it was a happy station and this was reflected on the senior staff. The group captain and the WingCos in that place.
CB: But with the high attrition rate -
RW: Yeah.
CB: How, the senior officers would get shot down as well.
RW: Yeah.
CB: So how did the replacements work? Would it be somebody from the squadron already or would they post in a squadron leader or wing commander?
RW: I think it depended on who was available. Perhaps one of the flight commanders would be promoted or could be promoted and our flight commander, Squadron Leader Robinson he was a fortnight before he was a flight lieutenant but the flight commander was killed and with rapid promotion he is made squadron leader. So he became a squadron leader and it has happened that when a station commander who’d gone on operations, well WingCo Alexander a wonderful man, he used to come and take on a crew that had just arrive on the squadron. Take them on operations. So if there were lost they’d perhaps try and promote somebody on the squadron, from the flight to become station commander or bring somebody in with experience.
CB: Squadron commander you mean.
RW: Yes, squadron leader.
CB: Yeah.
RW: Bring in one of the senior officers to take over the station which didn’t happen on our lot. I know it did, it has happened but then rapid promotion for whoever is on the flight.
CB: Yeah.
RW: Which Robinson was. He became from the -
CB: Yeah. So -
RW: Yeah so this rapid promotion business was well deserved but Robinson became the, the flight commander when he was twenty five, twenty six. Yeah. Well, look at Gibson. He was twenty six, he was a group captain and the group -
CB: Yeah.
RW: Group captain in the service, yeah.
CB: Well did sometimes the station commanders fly on raids?
RW: Not the station commander. I know some of them did. Ours didn’t. Old Group Captain King. As far as we know he didn’t because we didn’t know everything that was going on but the Wing Commander Alexander who was in charge of all the flying as I say a new crew would come on the squadron and he’d take that squadron, take that crew that night. Normally, he did a second dicky trip which was an experienced to get experience on flying but when we started at the end, end of of ‘43 started the Battle of Berlin when the operations were called Gomorrah which was maximum effort err old Squadron Leader Robinson flight commander called me in and said. ‘Right you’re flying tonight.’ I didn’t get a second dicky trip but thinking of that sort of thing we used to have jinx. People in the squadron. Used to have WAAFs, you know, somebody little transport driver if they’d been out with this particular WAAF nearly everybody who’d been out with her got killed so she became a jinx, you know.
CB: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
RW: And we became a jinxed crew.
CB: Yeah.
RW: We took three different pilots on experience operations and all of them were killed.
CB: Were they?
RW: So they wouldn’t send any more people with us.
CB: No.
RW: Yes. Which is remarkable. So these jinx things did happen.
CB: How many hours did you fly in your thirty by the time you’d finished your tour of thirty ops?
RW: Something like a hundred and eighty three. Something like that.
CB: On, on ops.
RW: On ops.
CB: Ok.
RW: Do you want to see my logbook?
CB: I do. Please.
RW: Yes. When –
CB: We’ll do that in a minute but overall how many by the time you left the RAF how many hours had you flown?
RW: Oh that’s getting on a bit. I did something like two and half thousand hours.
CB: Did you really?
RW: Which, when you compare people flying now are talking about thousands of hours. Thirty, forty, fifty thousand hours. No, two and a half thousand hours I ended up with which was quite a long bit for, for the -
CB: When the Canadian Lancaster came over last year -
RW: Yeah.
CB: The senior pilot there, he’s on airlines, had done twenty seven thousand five hundred -
RW: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: Hours.
RW: Yeah. Amazing, yeah.
CB: I’m going to stop there for a moment. Thank you.
[Pause]
CB: Right we’re starting again.
RW: Right from the beginning.
CB: And what I’d like to do is to ask Rusty just to talk about the time from his birth really to a point at West Kirby.
RW: Yeah thank you. Gosh. That’s, well at ninety two it’s a long story. No, it’s not really but I was very fortunate in my bringing up. I was born in a place called Shotley Bridge in County Durham and my dad worked as a handyman on a colliery owner’s estate and there I don’t know whether it was because of the situation or what was going on we lived in a tied cottage and I got diphtheria. I was, I had mucous diphtheria quite a chronic illness in those days and my mum who’d been a nurse in a military hospital nursed me at home with that and mum and dad had quite different careers. My dad was in the navy. He was orphaned as a boy, a two year old boy and brought up by an elder sister who when he got a bit older didn’t want them so he was put in the navy in 1905 as a boy entry and he went through and became a naval diver. And my mum who was a nurse in the, a sister, a matron, assistant matron at a military hospital in Darlington. Went through the war and got herself a Royal Red Cross, Associated Red Cross which was one down from the nursing VC which was a considerable award. She was a wonderful lady. And dad with his naval experience on the Q ships got himself a DFM and he is a leading seaman which was rather unusual in those days ‘cause not very many lower rank NCOs, he wasn’t even an NCO, got a decoration. He got a DFM.
CB: A DSM.
RW: Yes a DSM. DSM, yes.
CB: Yeah.
RW: Distinguished Service Medal and he, having been orphaned, he didn’t have a home to go to and my uncle Stanley was in the navy as well and he brought dad home on leave up north to Newcastle and there he met my mum and my auntie and he married my mum which is, which is lovely but because of his health he couldn’t do any really serious work and he used to do handyman work on the colliery owner’s estate and eventually when he moved in to Newcastle he used to do shift work looking after the stable and the horses for the Coop and in those day they had something like four hundred and sixty horses in the stables. And the nostalgic smell of all that leather was, when I used to go to night schools to try and get some education his stables were just a bit up the road and I used to go and meet him at, class would finish at 9 o’clock, the stables used to finish at half nine. I used to go and meet him at the stables and have a cup of tea by the big stove in the kit room. Smelled wonderfully. Wonderful. And then we had to walk home two and a half miles. No question of buses. Walk home. And dad was, really was a very quiet, unassuming man. Mum was a nurse all her life stayed nursing as her career all her life and she really saved my life on more than one occasion. Nursing me at home with diphtheria and typhoid and then the consequence because we, because we lived in, had no inside toilet, it was only a cold tap and no electricity, gas, paraffin lamps. We had communal toilets outside on The Green at the back I obviously picked up the typhoid from there so my mum went out and set them on fire and burned them down. So there we are. I came back to Newcastle and lived in the city for a wee while and then as a young teenager then I got TB, I had a TB [?] and that kept me down very much so and I was in a wheelchair when I was twelve so my mum nursed me at home with the TB and in consequence my health suffered to the extent that I wasn’t allowed to play sport, I wasn’t allowed to go swimming, couldn’t do all the exercises that my brother used to do and because of the family teeth which weren’t very good and because of the medication I was taking my teeth were in a very poor state so I had all my teeth out when I was sixteen and in those days they didn’t put teeth straight back in away again they waited until your gums got hard and then they put some china teeth in in those days. China porcelain things and that ruined my early love life that did. Mind you I didn’t know what girls were anyway. As far as I was concerned they were the ones that danced backwards, you know, so my upbringing in that respect was very, very sheltered. In consequence I started to go to school when I was about four and a half in Newcastle on the City Road but soon becoming ill I had to stop school and when I did go back to school I was just, just under eleven when you took the scholarship exam at twelve and of course I didn’t pass the scholarship and I didn’t, my brother went to a grammar school. I couldn’t go to a grammar school. I went to a school where you learnt ship working and work on the, work with the prospect of going perhaps in to the drawing offices of the shipyard. All the local stuff. But there again I wasn’t allowed to join the scouts or play sports and yet and yet my dad used to love watching football and we used to go to Newcastle United and watch the football there from an early age, from about eight, so I got quite a bit of fondness for Newcastle United. So, there we are I was a very sickly child with very little education and of course in those days to join the services at the age of eighteen you were called up and you were directed into any of the services that they needed. Even go down the mines and become a Bevan boy which I didn’t relish so I told mum and dad my friend he was going to join up at seventeen and have some sort of choice of services you went into and dad having been in the navy I said to mum and dad I said, ‘I’m going to volunteer and I’m going to join the navy. Volunteer to join the navy’ And they said, ‘Yeah. With your health record you’ll never get in.’ So off I went down to the recruiting centre which was a school and in the navy classroom there was the navy recruiting officer and my own doctor, Doctor Wright and I thought. ‘If I go in there I’ll never get in.’ So, I went next door and joined the air force. And really they were very hard up. This poor chap with no teeth and a heart murmur and varicose veins and covered in psoriasis and I think the air force must have been very, very hard up and much to my amazement after going to West Kirby to sign on where you were attested and signed on and joined the air force at seventeen. And poor old mum wept buckets her poor little lad, her poor little innocent lad going to play soldiers um and of course from then you had to go down to London to ACRC, St Johns Wood to be attestation and see what air crew you were going to be. When you were first signed up and joined up I was told I could train as air crew which was amazing ‘cause, in view of my health. Anyway after being signed on and got the kings shilling, not that I got a shilling but had to swear on the bible down to ACRC where you had attestation where you had medicals and exams. The medicals we used to have were in the Lords Cricket Ground and used to line up just with your underpants on and arms akimbo with your hands on your hips and they were at the side with the hypodermic syringe and pumping this stuff into you and the doc used to come and do what they called an FFI, free from infection, whereby you walked down the front, dropped your trousers and they used to go down and examine you with a little stick and the back, they went around the back, they went around the back and said bend over and made me wonder what on earth was going to happen but there you are if anyone collapsed when you were there or fainted there they just produced all the work on the ground. They just gave the injections on the ground. So we being, being at the Lords Cricket Ground you know and of course the result of that, much to my amazement, I was told I could train as a pilot because when you first went there you were trained as aircrew UT aircrew with a little white flash in your cap to show you were aircrew, trainee aircrew. So there we are I was told I could train as a pilot. And of course from there you had to start learning about the air force so I was posted to Newquay down in Cornwall at the ITW Initial Training Wing where you learned about the air force, square bashing, how to salute and all these sort of things. The admin side of the air force. So having completed that we were posted to, I was posted to South Africa and issued with the tropical kit and off to East Kirby, West, West Kirby at Manchester er at Liverpool to catch the boat to go out to South Africa. And in the billets there when the time came all the people left except eleven of us who were left in the room all Ws. All Walls, Walkers all the Ws left behind and we were left there and the camp disappeared. They took all the men off the camp, all the operating men off the camp and there were just the eleven, we lived off the NAAFI for a week and not knowing what on earth was going on until the next posting that came in and they were all WAAFs. All the WAAFs came in and seeing eleven blokes in their billet you know wondering what on earth was going on. So did we. Then the WAAF officer said, you know, ‘What are you doing?’ Well. ‘We were posted to South Africa and we didn’t go.’ Ah draft dodging. So we were posted down to the B course at Brighton. The bad boys course at Brighton because of the because we were accused of draft dodging and down there we were up very early in the morning and booking in at half past eight at night which we didn’t take very much enjoyment out of this sort of thing and the parades were very, very strict and doubling and running everywhere and we complained to the orderly officer one day at a mealtime telling him, you know we shouldn’t be here. We haven’t done anything wrong and he didn’t believe it and he said, ‘Oh you carry on.’ So the eleven of us, we wrote a letter and we all signed it and sent it to the station commander who had us in his office and he said. ‘This constitutes mutiny,’ which is a court martial offence and when we’d explained to him what had happened he did a bit of an investigation, he said, ‘Oh that’s alright he said, ‘Alright just book in in the morning and come in at night time.’ So we had a few days, four or five day holidaying in Brighton just walking about and spending all our time in [Sherry’s] Bar I think it was and of course then we had to start again. And when we were posted we were posted to another ITW at Stratford on Avon but all our kit and all our records had been sent out to South Africa so nobody knew anything about us so we had to start again so we did all our ITW again at Stratford on Avon and that was very pleasant. We took over most of the hotels for lectures and bedding and I can say I was on the stage in Stratford on Avon which is quite a, quite a thrill mainly as we used the theatre as aircraft recognition. We had to go on stage to point out aeroplanes but that was quite an experience and of course having completed the course successfully there you had to go and prove that we could fly and go overseas so we were posted to a place called Codsall, just north of Wolverhampton where there was a civilian aerodrome where we were, had to go flying Tiger Moths and once we’d gone solo that was it, forgot about aeroplanes. Some of the poor souls couldn’t go solo and they were re-posted. So, fortunately, I managed it and on the Empire Training Scheme where they used to send trainees to South Africa, some to Australia even, some to Arnold Scheme in America. I was posted to Canada on the Empire Training Scheme and this was at a place called Dewinton which is just south of Calgary.
CB: So this is, what date are we talking about here?
RW: This, this was in early ’42.
CB: Right.
RW: Early ’42.
CB: Can I just go back to what you said earlier?
RW: Yeah.
CB: You were selected for aircrew.
RW: Yeah.
CB: But you must have gone through some kind of process that suggested you were suitable for aircrew rather than -
RW: Yeah.
CB: A ground crew job.
RW: Yeah.
CB: So what was that?
RW: Yes. When you were first signed on, volunteered as air crew, when you went to Padgate to be officially sworn in to the service you did some testing there. You did some examinations there and with, fortunately with my experience as a pupil surveyor doing vectors and things on the ground is a similar sort of thing they did in the air with wind resistance and this sort of thing and that helped me enormously to pass the ground exams and having done that minor exams there you were then told you could train as UT aircrew.
CB: Right.
RW: Becoming UT aircrew PNB.
CB: Yeah.
RW: If you couldn’t succeed as a pilot you could perhaps become a navigator or a bomb aimer PNB.
CB: Yeah.
RW: And I was fortunate to say I could train as a pilot. So we -
CB: Just, just to put that into context. Earlier you talked about your experience of then getting to leave school.
RW: Yeah.
CB: How did you get in to bring the surveyor?
RW: Ah the well I -
CB: Which was the basis for your selection.
RW: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: For aircrew.
RW: I had, the school I went to was a training establishment more than a school. Learning about draughtsmanship and this sort of thing -
CB: Yeah.
RW: To go on the shipyards and you had to leave there when you were fifteen, sixteen. So I left school, no idea of what sort of job I could get whatsoever. So my brother who was, he was a grammar school boy and very highly educated, a very clever lad, he used to work in his spare time at the Newcastle repertory theatre and this Christmas they were putting on a play called “The Circus Girl” and they were short of somebody to take the part of the monkey in the play and my brother said I’ve got a brother who is doing nothing maybe he’d be it so I became a monkey in the Christmas pantomime at the Newcastle rep which was great fun. The devils, they wore a uniform, skin monkey skin with not much else really. The devils used to put itching powder inside that actually. Not very nice. And of course then when the pantomime was finished they said, ‘What are you doing now?’ and I said, ‘Well, I don’t know. I’ve got to look for a job.’ They said, ‘Would you like to stop on?’ So I stayed on the Newcastle rep for nearly a year as an assistant assistant assistant stage manager and with the girls doing quick changes at the side of the theatre you learned an awful lot about life but my aunt who had a very good friend who was, worked, had another friend who owned and ran an architect’s surveyors office said would I like to go and work for them. So I went and worked at the architect surveyor’s office and became a pupil surveyor. I was doing the exams for the Institute of Surveying, ISF, and I passed their preliminary exams but they didn’t count because I didn’t have a matriculation or school cert so I was going to night school four nights a week learning about mathematics and history and I wasn’t getting on terribly well. I don’t think I would have ever qualified completely but very fortunately the war came along and having volunteered to join up I left surveying and became, and joined the air force.
CB: So that’s how you effectively qualified for being air crew.
RW: Yeah.
CB: Yeah.
RW: Yeah.
CB: Ok. Yeah.
RW: So the fact that I qualified for air crew, the fact that, not so much my health record although the medicals I had were very comprehensive medicals the fact that the mathematics I was doing for the surveying helped me enormously with the navigation exercises we were doing in the thing so that, I think, helped towards the fact that I was allowed to train as air crew apart from the fact that they must have been very short of aircrew and they wanted somebody [to fill the boots]. Yeah, so -
CB: Just a quick question about your initial training.
RW: Yeah.
CB: How many hours did you fly before you went solo?
RW: When we first went solo at Codsall in Wolverhampton it was about eight or ten.
CB: Right.
RW: Something like that. When we got out to Canada you really had to start again and you were doing sort of fifteen, twenty hours before you really were allowed to go solo.
CB: So I’m just interrupting now because this goes into the early part of the interview because it got missed.
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AWaughmanR150803
PWaughmanR1501
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Interview with Rusty Waughman. Two
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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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eng
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02:55:47 audio recording
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Pending review
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Chris Brockbank
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2015-08-03
Description
An account of the resource
Russell (Rusty) Waughman was born in Shotley Bridge, County Durham. Due to serious poor health as a child his education was interrupted. He describes his training with the Empire Training School in Canada. He was posted to 101 Squadron which was a special squadron with the ABC system. He describes some of the unusual aspects of squadron life such as premonitions and the close connections between everyone on the station. He had many close calls including having to right the aircraft which was flying upside down due to being blown of course by a nearby explosion. On one occasion he managed to keep his Lancaster flying despite a collision with another aircraft. On another occasion the aircraft was again damaged during an attack on Munich. However, as they made their slow progress back they found themselves flying over France in daylight and were amazed to see from the distance two Spitfires which had been sent to escort them home. He also took part in the Berlin airlift.
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Canada
England--Lincolnshire
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Julie Williams
101 Squadron
1662 HCU
82 OTU
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
Bombing of Mailly-le-Camp (3/4 May 1944)
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
briefing
C-47
control tower
coping mechanism
crewing up
dispersal
entertainment
faith
fear
FIDO
forced landing
ground crew
ground personnel
H2S
Heavy Conversion Unit
heirloom
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
love and romance
Me 109
mid-air collision
military living conditions
military service conditions
nose art
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
perimeter track
pilot
promotion
RAF Abingdon
RAF Blyton
RAF Desborough
RAF hospital Matlock
RAF Ludford Magna
recruitment
sanitation
searchlight
Stearman
superstition
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force