1
25
45
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2198/40182/BNeilsonJFNeilsonJFv1.2.pdf
dcaeed662d00c7fb69a5c420288b3f26
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Royal Air Force ex-Prisoner of War Association
Description
An account of the resource
97 items. The collection concerns Royal Air Force ex-Prisoner of War Association and contains items including drawings by the artist Ley Kenyon.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Robert Ankerson and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-01-29
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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RAF ex POW As Collection
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
JF Neilson's memoir
A Love/Hate Relationship with a Halibag
Description
An account of the resource
Growing Up -The Hard Way WAR -1939
He joined the Local Defence Volunteers at first then realised he did not want to become infantry. He did mount road blocks and fire watches. He applied to join the RAF and was accepted. Training was at Blackpool, then Bicester, then Fairoaks.
At Heaton Park he was assessed as a future Navigator and was sent to Canada via New York on the Queen Elizabeth.
Then they were sent by train to Three Rivers, Manitoba via Moncton.
On completion of that stage of the training he came back via Liverpool. Further training was at Lossiemouth then operations at Leconfield. His aircraft engines started losing power on the way to Stuttgart and he bailed out. After some time they were captured by Germans.
They were sent by train to Frankfurt for interrogation then onwards to Stalag Luft VII. As the Russians advanced they were marched to Stalag III. They were eventually helped to escape by the Americans and he ended up in Brussels before being flown to the UK. This section ends with photographs taken during his training.
The Long March.
A document written by a Senior British Officer to the Russian authorities. Food supplies were inadequate and the Russians refused to allow the Americans to release the prisoners.
Report of a Forced March made by Occupants of Stalag Luft 7, Germany.
The report describes in detail the miseries endured by the POWs on a daily basis.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
JF Neilson
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Blackpool
Scotland--Gourock
United States
New York (State)--New York
Canada
New Brunswick--Moncton
Manitoba
England--Liverpool
Wales--Anglesey
Ireland
Atlantic Ocean--Firth of Clyde
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Stuttgart
Scotland--Edinburgh
France
Germany--Hamburg
Poland
Belgium--Brussels
England--London
Scotland--Airdrie
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Nuremberg
Europe--Elbe River
Scotland--Stirling (Stirling)
Germany
New Brunswick
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BNeilsonJFNeilsonJFv1
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Civilian
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
28 typewritten sheets
4 Group
640 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
bale out
Blenheim
bomb aimer
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
C-47
civil defence
crewing up
Dulag Luft
entertainment
evading
firefighting
flight engineer
Flying Training School
ground personnel
Halifax
Hampden
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
Home Guard
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Manchester
Me 110
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
navigator
Operational Training Unit
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Bicester
RAF Church Fenton
RAF Cosford
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Leconfield
RAF Lossiemouth
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Padgate
RAF Riccall
Red Cross
Spitfire
Stalag 3A
Stalag Luft 7
the long march
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
Whitley
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2200/40164/MDarbyCAH927893-180202-08.1.pdf
4ad37b191d7fb8ce2f55434aba9777cd
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
Darby. Charles Arthur Hill
Darby, CAH
Jack Darby
Johnny Darby
Description
An account of the resource
203 items. The collection concerns Charles Arthur Hill Darby (1915 - 1996, 154676 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, photographs, documents and correspondence. He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 186 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Richard John Darby and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-02-02
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Darby, CAH
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Title
A name given to the resource
F/O CAH Darby No 154676 - Letters home
Description
An account of the resource
A list of all the letters sent home by Jack from 6 February 1943 to 13 November 1945.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Blackpool
England--Manchester
Canada
New Brunswick--Moncton
Alberta--Lethbridge
Alberta--Edmonton
United States
New York (State)--New York
England--Filey
England--Harrogate
Northern Ireland
England--Claygate
Germany--Rhineland
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Trier
Germany--Bonn
Germany--Neuss
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Homburg (Saarland)
Germany--Chemnitz
Germany--Wesel (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Recklinghausen (Münster)
Germany--Bochum
France--Aube
Netherlands--Hague
Netherlands
Germany
New Brunswick
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
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
26 printed sheets
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MDarbyCAH927893-180202-08
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
16 OTU
1661 HCU
186 Squadron
622 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
bombing
Cook’s tour
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
navigator
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Acaster Malbis
RAF Barford St John
RAF Bishops Court
RAF Burn
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Scampton
RAF Stradishall
RAF Syerston
RAF Tuddenham
RAF Upper Heyford
RAF Winthorpe
Stirling
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2214/40046/SDunnFT1319229v10002-0001.2.pdf
15d7935091da3140e2bba8cf7cc7e8e2
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Title
A name given to the resource
Dunn, Frederick Thomas
Dunn, FT
Description
An account of the resource
45 items. The collection concerns Sergeant Frederick Thomas Dunn (1319229 Royal Air Force) and contains his logbook, memoir, correspondence, clippings and photographs. He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 102 Squadron and was killed in a mid-air collision on return from Berlin 22 November 1943. <br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Josephine Guinness and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. <br /><br />Additional information on Frederick Thomas Dunn is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/207983/">IBCC Losses Database.</a>
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-02-14
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Dunn, FT
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
My life in the RAF - chapter 1,2 and 3
Description
An account of the resource
Autographical account of life at the beginning of the war including service in ARP in Swindon. Reasons for volunteering for the RAF. Registered for military service in February 1941. Waiting for call-up. Induction at St John's Wood London and sight-seeing in London. Journey to Stratford and description of initial training at 9 ITW. Describes wartime journey for leave. Continues with move to West Kirby camp. Goes on to describe another period of leave. Moved to camp for under training aircrew at Heaton Park, Manchester. Moved to Liverpool to embark for voyage overseas. Goes on to describe voyage in November 1941. Stopped at Freetown Sierra Leone but not allowed ashore. Continues voyage to South Africa. Continues to describe activities on the voyage including sports with Army personnel on board.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
F T Dunn
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941-02
1941-10
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Wiltshire
England--London
England--Warwickshire
England--Stratford-upon-Avon
England--West Kirby
England--Manchester
England--Lancashire
England--Liverpool
Sierra Leone
Sierra Leone--Freetown
South Africa
England--Swindon (Wiltshire)
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Thirty-six page handwritten document
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SDunnFT1319229v10002-0001
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription
Is Part Of
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Dunn, Frederick Thomas. My life in the RAF
Air Raid Precautions
civil defence
Initial Training Wing
military living conditions
military service conditions
RAF Heaton Park
recruitment
sport
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2200/39874/EDarbyCAHWellandJ430228.1.pdf
bd2560d0fea31a7e81151e551ecb1e63
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Darby. Charles Arthur Hill
Darby, CAH
Jack Darby
Johnny Darby
Description
An account of the resource
203 items. The collection concerns Charles Arthur Hill Darby (1915 - 1996, 154676 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, photographs, documents and correspondence. He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 186 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Richard John Darby and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-02-02
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Darby, CAH
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Letter from Jack Darby to Jean
Description
An account of the resource
He has suddenly been transferred overnight and boarded a troopship. He has been working an hour a day as a mess orderly. He says the food is good.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jack Darby
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-02-28
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. Correspondence
Format
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Two double sided handwritten sheets and envelope
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
EDarbyCAHWellandJ430228
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.
1943-02-28
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Manchester
RAF Heaton Park
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2200/39873/EDarbyCAHWellandJ430214.1.pdf
1970063e7cc9257bd533c5ff1a749449
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
Darby. Charles Arthur Hill
Darby, CAH
Jack Darby
Johnny Darby
Description
An account of the resource
203 items. The collection concerns Charles Arthur Hill Darby (1915 - 1996, 154676 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, photographs, documents and correspondence. He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 186 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Richard John Darby and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-02-02
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Darby, CAH
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Letter from Jack Darby to Jean
Description
An account of the resource
He thanks her for her letters. He is back in Manchester and he is not amused. Jean has joined a choral society and he makes flippant comments about her singing.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jack Darby
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-02-14
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Manchester
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. Correspondence
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two double sided handwritten sheets and envelope
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
EDarbyCAHWellandJ430214
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-02-14
RAF Heaton Park
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1866/33370/MSmithAC1459147-170607-06.1.pdf
56dedcbb3b3939604f8690887f05eabb
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Title
A name given to the resource
Smith, A C
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
2017-06-07
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Smith, AC
Description
An account of the resource
27 items. The collection concerns Sergeant Allan C Smith (1459147 Royal Air Force) and contains documents, correspondence and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 166 Squadron and became a prisoner of war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by C Smith and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[back cover]
[page break]
[front cover]
RAF
HEATON PARK
MANCHESTER
[picture]
[page break]
CONTENTS
Introduction by the Commanding Officer – Page 2
General Topics – 3
Some Times to Remember – 8
Out of Bounds – 9
Pay Parade Information – 10
Disciplinary Matters – 11
Medical Matters – 14
What you should have done on arrival – 15
What you should do on departure – 16
Local Information – 17
Spare Time Occupations – 19
Short History of Heaton Park – 21
Sites of Buildings and Park Gates – 22
Voluntary Church Services – 23
Some Notes on the P.N.B. Scheme – 24
[page break]
R.A.F. STATION
HEATON PARK
MANCHESTER
A Guide for Newly-Arrived Cadets
[page break]
Introduction by THE COMMANDING OFFICER
I am sure we are all animated by one desire – to beat the enemy at the earliest possible moment.
You want to do your bit by flying and we will do all we can here to help you get into the air without delays.
Each Cadet who succeeds in his training at the earliest possible moment will shorten the war, and each Cadet who falls by the wayside lengthens the war.
You are all Cadets, and wear a flash in your caps to denote your selection and importance as u/t air crew, not to mention that many of you are also potential Officers.
I ask you to appreciate the dual importance of being a Cadet at the moment and of the job of work you have voluntarily undertaken, and not to clog the machinery by any faults of your own.
This brochure has been written to help you.
"This above all: to thine own self be true
And it much follow, as the night the day,
That thou can'st not be false to any man.”
2
[page break]
GENERAL TOPICS
[cartoon]
1. WHAT ARE WE HERE FOR?
Mainly to wait about pending your departure elsewhere, since Heaton Park is an assembly station and despatch centre. Under the P.N.B. Scheme, all air-crew personnel are posted here from I.T.W., and are attached from here to E.F.T.S. grading courses or N.B. courses. You come here after your I.T.W. course to await the result of your classification by the A.C.C.B., and you return here after your attachment to E.F.T.S. or N.B. course to await dispersal elsewhere.
As you have already had explained to you, the A.C.C.B. has the last word in deciding whether you are to become pilots or enter one of the N.B. trades, and a senior officer of group will tell each man personally how he is affected. Unfortunately, some of you will be disappointed, as you can't all be pilots. The demand for the different classes of aircrew is dictated by the needs of the war, and it is obvious that the modern aeroplane needs more than a pilot to man it. Therefore, while we do indeed sympathise with you, we cannot do a thing for you about it at this station. We can only advise you to stick it: you will get plenty of action in due course, whatever air-crew trade you are in.
2. WHAT IS THE ADDRESS?
That's easy:
9999999 L.A.C. Blank, G.G.,
– Flight.
No. – Squadron,
R.A.F. Station,
Heaton Park,
Manchester.
This is all. The letters A.C.D.C. must not be used.
3
[page break]
3. WHAT DO WE DO HERE?
That's one of our worries. But it chiefly consists of parades of one kind or another – and meals, though there is plenty to do in your spare time. (See gen. on later pages.) There is a lot of kitting to be done and deficiencies are attended to before you go. A daily training syllabus is drawn up, under which you are kept pretty fully occupied during working hours. For this purpose you are detailed by flights for Navigation, Signals, P.T., Drill, Armaments, Clay-Pigeon Shooting, Games of various kinds, a few general lectures and talks, an occasional ceremonial March Past when distinguished visitors are here, and now and then, a Pay Parade. The Luckier ones get selected for Station Co-operation Parties (a dignified name for camp fatigues), on which you may try your hand at gardening or collecting salvage or cleaning up the Naafi. But on the whole you don't have at all a bad time here, and we have heard of some cadets who were quite sorry to leave Heaton Park. (These, of course, were immediately put on our Roll of Honour.)
[cartoon]
"STATION CO-OPERATION"
4
[page break]
4. WHAT IS THE DISCIPLINE LIKE HERE?
Pretty strict, and it would be stricter if we had the staff. But nothing like so strict as where you go from here. Punishments are severe for offenders, but life is pleasant for those who play to the rules. SO SEE THAT YOU KNOW THE RULES. (That's partly what this booklet is for.)
5. WHAT DO WE DO OFF PARADE AND IN THE EVENINGS?
What you like, within reason. You can go into Manchester or amuse yourself inside the Park. But, if you do go out, remember that you need a pass for anywhere outside a radius of five miles from Headquarters. The centre of Manchester is about four miles from here, but some places there are out of bounds. You must be back in camp by 23.00 hours or 23.59 on Fridays and Saturdays, unless you have a late pass. It isn't any good telling your Squadron Commander that you missed the last bus or train; there's always a long queue for these late in the evening, so catch an earlier one and be on the safe side.
6. WHERE IS MY SQUADRON OFFICE?
Well, if you haven't found that by now, something is wrong with your navigation. But, to make quite sure, we'll explain.
No. 1 Squadron Office is inside Headquarters buildings. Go up to Cafeteria No. 1 and follow the path which goes beside the kitchen yard. You will come to a door with a Home Guard notice on it, but you don't go in on the ground floor; you ascend the stairs on the left. Turn left at the top, and the Squadron Office and Orderly Room are on your left.
Since this booklet went to print, however, No. 1 Squadron Office may have been moved to its new site, a few hundred yards on the left of the road leading from Heaton Park Station Gate.
No. 2 Squadron Office is in a hut beside the new Naafi building by the lake side.
7. WHERE IS THE N.A.F.F.I.?
See above reply for the No. 2 Squadron Naafi. The original Naafi is farther along, about opposite the boathouse. This is for the use of No. 1 Squadron, but it is a fair distance from Headquarters. If you happen to be up there before the morning Break, keep an eye on your watch, as you don't get very long, and there isn't time to loiter.
There will be other Naafis when the camp is finished.
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8. WHAT ABOUT LETTERS AND TELEPHONE CALLS, etc.?
N.C.O.'s in charge Flights collect and distribute the morning mail.
If a parcel comes for you, your name is posted up on a board in the Cafeteria, and you call at the Post Office to collect it. (The Post Office is on the same corridor as No. 1 Squadron Office, and just beyond it on the right.)
Registered packages are distributed at the Adjutant's Office at Squadron Headquarters at 16.00 hours daily (12.00 on Saturday). You are informed as above for parcels when there is anything for you.
N.B. – You will need your 1250 when you go to fetch a registered packet.
There is a Post Box in Cafeteria No. 1, and letters are collected at 07.30, 14.00 and 17.15 hours daily.
Telephone calls may be made from the public Call Box which is situated at the angle of the road to St. Margaret's Gate, just beyond the entrance to the M/T yard. Charges are at the usual Post Office rates.
To get to the Adjutant's Office, you proceed as for No. 1 Squadron Office and Post Office, but go along the corridor and up the stairs at the end. At the top, turn left when you face the office of the Senior Administration Office, and the Adjutant's Office is plainly marked at the top of the main staircase.
9. WHAT ABOUT OUR LAUNDRY?
Unfortunately it is not possible to arrange laundry facilities on this station, and you will have to wash your own pants in your spare time. You see, you might be here only a day or two, and we do not know from one day to another when you are being posted.
10. CAN I TAKE PHOTOGRAPHS IN THE CAMP?
No. Not even of your favourite Sergeant.
11. WHAT ABOUT A 48-HOURS' PASS?
Wherever possible we try and give you a 48-hours' pass at least once while you are with us, because this helps us to get a 48 too, but, owing to the short notice we often get of postings out, we've got to be darned careful and naturally it is all subject to the discretion of your Squadron Commander.
If you have urgent domestic reasons for leave, go and ask your Squadron Commander about it, but don't forget that, as far as we are concerned, "you've had it" before you get here.
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12. HOW CAN I SEE MY SQUADRON COMMANDER OR STATION COMMANDER?
Make an application in the official letter form and hand it to your Flight N.C.O. You can rest assured that you will get prompt attention and a sympathetic ear from all your officers. We are not in the habit of leaving things till to-morrow and we want you to know that the "Wingless Wonders" on this Station are only concerned in seeing you get your wings up quickly and without a lot of discontent.
13. WHERE CAN I FIND D.R.O.'s?
In the Cafeteria on the notice board – and, for heaven's sake, read 'em.
14. CAN I BE BILLETED OUT?
Yes, provided our own or your parents home is in the immediate vicinity of the Camp. See your Squadron Commander about it first and, if he hasn't got a liver, he'll give you permission and will probably tell you that you will have to live in Camp the last day or two before your posting date. Outgoing drafts leave here at unearthly hours in the morning, and you can't be expected to lug all your kit several miles into Camp at 3 a.m.
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"LUG YOUR KIT INTO CAMP AT 3 A.M."
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SOME TIMES TO REMEMBER
WORKING HOURS 8.30 – 17.30
Meal Times: – vary according to numbers and squadrons between:
Breakfast – 07.00 – 08.30
Dinner – 12.00 – 13.30
Tea – 16.30 – 17.30.
Back in Camp: 23.00
23.59 on Friday and Saturday.
Lights Out: 22.30. (Blue lights in huts may be on later.)
Working Parades: – 08.30, 13.30;
08.45, 13.45.
These times are also subject to variation.
Church Parade: Usually 09.15 on Wednesday mornings.
Sick Parade: 09.00 daily at Medical Inspection Room.
Visiting Hours, Station Sick Quarters: 14.00 – 17.00 on Saturday and Sunday
Registered Mail: 16.00 daily at Adjutant's Office. (12.00 on Saturday).
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OUT OF BOUNDS
These places are out of bounds. (Nevertheless, there ARE places in bounds:)
INSIDE THE CAMP:
All parts of Station Headquarters, including Officers' and Sergeants' messes (except for Officers, Sergeants and personnel on duty).
Station Sick Quarters (except for authorised visiting hours).
M/T yard and office.
All Boiler Houses.
Works Department and Fuel Compounds.
Cookhouses and Ration Stores.
N.A.A.F.I. staff quarters.
Telephone Exchange.
Home Guard Offices and Quarters.
Wireless Station.
All Balloon and A.A. sites.
Football Pitches (except for organised games).
Conservatories, Nurseries and Greenhouses.
The Dower House (except for W.A.A.F.).
OUTSIDE CAMP:
Anywhere outside a radius of five miles from Squadron Headquarters, without a written pass.
The following places in Manchester:
George and Dragon Hotel, Swan Street.
Castle Hotel, Oldham Street.
Liston's Bar, Swan Court, Market Street.
The Rain Bow, Spring Gardens.
Bedford's Garage and Cafe, Manchester Street, Middleton.
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PAY PARADE
We don't suppose you will miss a Pay Parade, but you might overlook some of these points.
1. Pay Parades are held fortnightly on Fridays, and are generally held in Cafeteria No. 1 at 11.15 and 13.45 hours.
2. You are informed that you will not get any pay unless Part 2 of your Pay Book (Form 64) is in the possession of the Pay Accounts Section here.
3. If you leave this station as a reserve on a draft, and afterwards return here again, you must hand in your Pay Book immediately.
4. Cadets going on draft will be paid under special instructions to be issued as required. Don't worry, you will be told when.
5. Cadets posted to another station after the Sunday preceding the usual fortnightly Pay Parade (we hope you can work that out) will receive ten days' pay by casual payment before proceeding.
6. No other casual payments will be made, except in very urgent circumstances. And then the reason for the request must be endorsed and the payment recommended by your Squadron Commander or a Head of a Department. So don't blue [sic] all your pay and come to the Accounts for some more.
7. Any questions re pay to be submitted to Pay Accounts Office on Mondays, between 14.00 and 17.00 hours. We can't answer your queries at the Pay Table; there isn't time there.
8. Cadets are reminded that they must produce their Identity Cards (From 1250) to the Witnessing Officer when they come up for their pay. It surprises us that so many apparently still do not know of this procedure.
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A FEW POINTS ON "DISCIPLINE"
There is a lot more than this to it, but these are the main points to be observed:
1. DRESS.
At this station you will, we hope, always be correctly dressed. That means (a) no battle dress, (b) no articles of flying clothing, (c) no shoes are allowed. In summer weather (yes, we do have this in Manchester), jackets are left off, but you must then wear a belt, not braces; ties to be fastened down or tucked in between second and third shirt buttons, not flapping in the breeze; shirt sleeves folded up above the elbows.
2. RESPIRATORS.
The rule is that they will not be carried except:-
(a) When you leave your unit for a period exceeding 24 hours.
(b) When you are on guards or pickets.
(c) On Tuesdays for Respirator Drill.
(d) On days detailed for Gas Exercises.
3. WHEN MOVING ABOUT THE CAMP
Cadets must walk briskly. (That need not be 140 to the minute), and in an orderly manner. If you are called by an officer or N.C.O., you must report at the double. There are some quaint ideas among some people about what 'at the double' means.
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"IF YOUR MUG IS DAMAGED"
4. CROCKERY.
Mugs are issued to you against your signature when you arrive at this station, and returned by you when you leave us. If your mug is damaged on return you will have to pay the cost of a new one (about 7d.), so look after it.
On no account remove plates from the Cafeteria, and be careful how you use them. Crockery is not easy to get these days (as witness the things they get you to eat out of when you go home on leave). If you want to take away a souvenir of Heaton Park, take a piece of mud – there's plenty of that, but don't take it all, because we like to do a bit of mud-slinging amongst ourselves sometimes.
5. SALVAGE.
Don't be a litter lout. There are Salvage bins all over the place, and, apart from the question of tidiness, the country needs all the salvage it can get.
6. BILLETS.
If we have billeted you out, play the game and treat your billet as if it were your own home. If you had to billet a service man in your own home, you'd probably spend your time following him round with a duster, but you will find that the people of Prestwich are hospitality itself, so give them all the help you can. They have a very high opinion of R.A.F. Cadets billeted on them so far, and it is up to you to maintain that standard.
When you are posted from this Station, don't forget to return the key of the house to your billeter, if she trusts you sufficiently to give you one.
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7. SECURITY.
Whenever you are out of Camp, for heaven's sake keep your mouth shut about what goes on inside Heaton Park. What we do here may not seem terribly vital on the face of it, but we can assure you that people will pester you for information wherever you go, particularly in the various hostelries. When you are posted you can celebrate your departure from Heaton Park to your heart's content; but [italics] keep your mouth shut [/italics], and don't write anything either.
If someone outside tells you the date and time of your posting, come and tell your Squadron Officers, and help us to trace any leakage of information.
8. DISCIPLINE ON PARADE.
We expect a very high standard on all parades, and particularly we expect you to know the difference between standing at ease and standing easy. If you could watch parades from the upper windows of the Headquarter's building as we often do, you'd realise why we stress this. After all, the backbone of the Services is built up on strict discipline (that is why we won the last war), and the man who doesn't know how to obey an order is merely putting a weapon into Hitler's hand. It isn't clever to flop all over the place on parade, and we've noticed that individual Cadets are darned proud if they are in a smart Flight. The smarter you are, the prouder you'll be, and it's up to you to show the taxpayer that he's getting his money's worth.
9. GENERAL BEHAVIOUR IN CAMP
We are all the guests of the Manchester Corporation, and the people of Manchester have lost a good recreational park to us for the duration of the war. All good Mancurians [sic] are rightly proud of their Park and have had to say good-bye to it for a while. So please remember that the whole of the Park, and particularly the Headquarter buildings, are in our hands, and it is up to all of us to see that the hard-working people of Manchester who have temporarily been deprived of their fresh air are not disappointed after the last Jerry has been shot down from the sky.
10. VEHICLES IN CAMP.
No Cadet may drive a motor car or motor cycle in Camp, nor ride on the pillion of a motor cycle.
11. PERSONAL MATTERS.
It is most important that any changes in address of next-of-kin, notices of births, marriages and deaths in your own family, should be reported to the Orderly Room without delay.
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MEDICAL MATTERS
1. Flight N.C.O.'s will ask at each morning parade for names of those reporting sick. These Cadets fall out later on the Flight Sergeant's order and proceed to the M.I. Room under the N.C.O. detailed to take them. After treatment Cadets report back to their Squadron Orderly Room. Some of the old sweats among you will probably report sick on a very minor complaint, hoping to escape some of the day's programme, so we'll tell you that the S.M.O. has a very keen nose for smelling these old sweats out. In any case, if you do this, you'll possibly miss some vital parade such as a Clothing Parade, and it isn't very helpful to your Squadron Officers who've got quite enough work on their hands anyway.
2. Sick Parade begins at 09.00 hours at the M.I. Room, which is situated at the extreme end of Headquarter buildings beyond the flagstaff.
3. If you are sick in billets, particularly at night, and require medical attention, you should get a message to the M.I. Room to that effect. So make sure you know where the nearest Cadet is billeted and make him get a message up to Camp for you.
4. When you report sick, you must have your small kit with you, including towel, knife, fork and spoon, and your anti-gas kit, in case you are lugged off to S.S.Q.
The S.M.O. is a very experienced doctor, and service-minded as well. Once he was telling us about all the appendixes (or should it be appendices?) he had removed in civvy-life and all the thousands of bodies he had cut up, and he finished up by saying: "And from all these operations, all my patients returned successfully.”
5. Finally, your attention is drawn to K.R. and A.C.I., para. 1,102 – (that's the one about V.D.).
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WHAT YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE ON ARRIVAL
Perhaps this information may not be of much use now, but it may be useful if you come here a second time, and you can pass the gen on to some of your pals who you know will report to us later. In any case, you will be able to check up and see if you've done it all.
1. Arrive on time, or earlier. 12.00 hours is the time for all arrivals on this Station, and, if you have been on leave and your pass is made out to 23.59 hours, it is incorrect. We can't do anything with you at that time, and you will be noted as an absentee. If you are late through no fault of your own and your train was delayed, get the R.T.O. to endorse your pass, so that we have concrete evidence. Take that as a tip for all your service life.
2. Don't arrive in Manchester in the early hours and telephone frantically to us for transport:-
(a) You won't get it.
(b) You will make your own way here by electric train to Heaton Park from Victoria Station.
3. Don't come here and tell us that you have lost all your kit or flying clothing on the way. Lots of cases of theft have occurred in transit, so keep a sharp eye on your belongings, and remember that your kit costs a devil of a lot of money, and that we've got plenty of Forms 664B waiting to be filled up.
4. When you've arrived in Camp, proceed at once to the Reception Hut, which is at the south side of the Hall by the flagstaff, and they will take your particulars down in there. – (No, NOT those sort of particulars, – they're taken down on your F.F.I. parade.)
5. Many of you will be sleeping in tents during the summer weather. These have floor-boards, and you are issued with 'biscuits,' blankets and sheets, but, for your own sake, use your ground-sheet as well (Manchester is notoriously wet). During working hours leave your bedding neatly folded in the correct manner, as at I.T.W., and DO NOT SMOKE inside the tent, because the fabric is highly inflammable, and we don't want to see you going up in smoke yet awhile.
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WHAT YOU SHOULD DO BEFORE DEPARTURE
1. See that you are on time for the various special parades such as kitting, pay parades, etc. If you are missing when you are wanted, the whole draft may be held up unnecessarily and you yourself will quite probably be taken right off the draft without further question.
2. Mark your kit-bags strictly as instructed, and do not ornament them with any fancy design.
3. If you are on an overseas posting, pack all your personal kit in the small kit-bag issued to you at this unit, and all the kit you do not want to use on your travels in the two D.S. bags. Remember that you will not be able to get at these latter for many days to come.
4. Be certain to collect your pay book before you leave, Part 1 from the M.I. Room and Part 2 from the last pay parade you attend.
5. Have your Deficiency List and Flying Clothing Cards complete.
6. Don't lose the alphabetical and numbered card that will be given you on the day of your departure. This is very important and you will not get very far without it, so put it in your right-hand tunic or greatcoat pocket together with your 1250, so that both can be quickly withdrawn from you at the right time.
7. When you leave here you will be in a conducted party, and you won't have time to get a drink on your way to the station or give a parting kiss to some of the numerous blonde jobs you'll find waiting for you at the station. You may stop for tea at an intermediate station on your way, so have your mess-tin handy because nowadays there are no mugs for the issue of tea. Get back into the train just as soon as you can and don't get lost, for otherwise Air Ministry wires will be buzzing furiously to locate you all over the country, and, apart from the unnecessary expense and trouble to other people, the consequences to yourself may be dire in the extreme, when you [italics] are [/italics] found.
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LOCAL INFORMATION
This data has been compiled for your benefit and is correct up to the time of going to press, but alterations are bound to occur and it is advisable to check up before any services are utilised.
ELECTRIC TRAIN SERVICES.
Heaton Park Station to Manchester (Victoria).
Weekdays. – Half-hourly at 32 and 52 minutes past the hour with 10 or 20 minutes service between 7.12 and 9.22, 11.22 and 14.52, 17.32 and 20.22.
Last trains: – 22.22 and 22.52.
Sundays. – 9.32 and hourly to 20.32, 21,42 and 22.42.
Manchester (Victoria) to Heaton Park.
Weekdays. – Half-hourly at 10 and 40 minutes past the hour with 10 or 20 minutes service between 11.40 and 14.10, 16.10 and 19.10.
Last trains: – 22.10, 22.40, and 23.10.
Sundays. – 6.55 and 7.50, then hourly to 20.50, 22.00 and 23.00.
Victoria Station is out of bounds to all Cadet personnel from 2.45 hours nightly (23.15 hours on Friday and Saturday) unless in possession of a Pass Form 295.
BUS SERVICES.
From Manchester
To Grand Lodge Gate – Services 62, 73, 35, 75 and 35X.
To Heaton Park and St. Margaret's – 73, 35.
To Middleton Gate – 59.
To Polefield (Heywood Road) – 33 (but not on Sundays nor after 8 p.m.).
To Prestwich Village – 22, 24, 17.
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[a] CINEMAS. [b] Telephone:
Local.
[a] Odeon, Bury New Road [b] PRE 2227
[a] New Plaza, Bury New Road [b] PRE 2023
[a] Heaton Park, Bury Old Road [b] PRE 1535
[a] Mayfair Junior, Whitefield [b] –
[a] Premier, Cheetham Hill [b] CHE 2076
[a] Rialto, Bury New Road, Broughton [b] BRO 1367
[a] Tower, Gt. Clowes Street, Broughton [b] BRO 2643
Manchester.
[a] Gaumont, Oxford Street [b] CEN 1323
[a] Odeon, Oxford Street [b] CEN 3984
[a] New Oxford, Oxford Street [b] CEN 3402
[a] Palace Theatre, Oxford Street [b] CEN 0184
[a] Gaiety, Peter Street [b] DEA 4111
[a] Theatre Royal, Peter Street [b] BLA 9366
[a] Opera House, Quay Street [b] BLA 1787
[a] Market Street Cinema, Market Street [b] DEA 4771
[a] Deansgate Picture House, Deansgate [b] DEA 5252
[a] Tatler News Theatre, Oxford Road Station Approach [b] CEN 6015
[a] News Theatre, Oxford Street [b] –
CANTEENS.
Manchester.
Y.M.C.A. Hostel, Peter Street, near Midland Hotel and Central Station. Forces Canteen at London Road and Victoria Stations (open all night).
Local.
Congregational Schoolroom, Cheetham Hill, open 16.00 to 22.30 hours.
W.V.S. Canteen at Deyne Bank, Rectory Lane, Prestwich. Open 15.00 to 22.30 hours. Reading, writing and games facilities.
Y.M.C.A. Canteen, Heaton Park Congregational Schoolroom (100 yds. down Newtoun Street, near Heaton Park Station). Teas, suppers, reading and writing facilities from 16.00 hours.
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SPARE-TIME OCCUPATIONS
Recreative Facilities available to R.A.F. Personnel and W.A.A.F. Personnel.
1. BOATING.
The Park boating lake is open for boating each day from 14.00 hours to 21.00 hours.
Charges - Skiffs, 3d. per half hour; (single) 6d. per hour.
Inrigger, 2d. each per half hour; (two or three), 3d. each per hour.
2. GOLF.
The 18-hole golf course near Heaton Hall is open for play from 09.00 hours to 21.30 hours. A limited number of golf clubs, etc. are available at the clubhouse free of charge. Golf balls may be purchased from the clubhouse from 1s. 3d. each. Charges – 6d. per round.
3. TENNIS.
The four courts opposite Barrack Stores are open for play from 09.00 to 21.30 hours. Racquets and balls may be obtained on loan, free of charge, from the Sports Store in Headquarter's building. Personnel using courts must use correct rubber-soled shoes.
4 CRICKET.
The Station cricket team plays matches every Saturday and fulfils frequent mid-week games. Net practice takes place near St. Margaret's Gate every Tuesday and Thursday from 18.30 hours to 21.00 hours. Interested Cadet cricketers will be welcomed and, if keen to turn out on the Station side, should hand their names in to the Sports Store as soon after their arrival as possible.
5. BOWLING.
There are three bowling greens (two crown, one flat) open for play opposite Heaton Hall front entrance.
Hours. – 13.00 to 21.00 hours (except Sunday).
Charges. – 1 1/2d. for two hours, 1d for additional hour, bowls provided. Players must provide themselves with suitable rubber-soled shoes.
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6. SWIMMING.
An open-air swimming pool (50 yds. by 20 yards.) with suitable dressing room accommodation, is situated near No. 2 Squadron Headquarters. It is available for [italics] recreational mixed bathing [/italics] each evening from 18.30 to 21.00 hours; on Saturdays from 14.00 to 17.15 hours, and on Sundays from 09.00 hours to 12.30 hours, and from 14.00 hours to 17.15 hours. Bathers must provide towels and adequate swimming apparel.
The Sports Store staff will gladly provide the necessary playing equipment for inter Flight or inter Squadron challenge matches, should these be desired.
7. SOFT BALL.
Soft Ball kit is available in the Sports Store and will be available on application to personnel wishing to avail themselves of its use.
8. CYCLING.
Information concerning cycling section activities may be had from Sergt. Dean in S.W.O.'s Office.
Enquiries in respect of any recreative activities not mentioned above will be welcomed at the Sports Store, and efforts will be made to accommodate interested parties according to their tastes.
9. STATION DANCES.
An All-ranks Dance is frequently held in the Cafeteria No. 1, commencing at 9.30 hours, price 1s. Notices about this and also local dances are published at the end of D.R.O.'s.
10. STATION DANCE BAND.
A Dance Band is run by this Unit chiefly by members of the Permanent Staff, but good players amongst the Cadets who are willing to assist would be welcomed.
11. STATION BAND.
Any Cadet who can play an instrument with the Station Band should see Sergt. Watkins. The Band functions at occasional ceremonial parades when distinguished visitors are here, and so far have put up a good show.
12. CONCERT PARTY.
We have organised several concerts and revues in aid of the R.A.F. Benevolent Fund and local Warships Weeks, etc., and again the performers have mostly been drawn from the Permanent Staff, but in one or two of these shows Cadets, who have had experience of work on the stage, have offered their services, and further offers are welcomed. Cadets who are able to assist should contact the Station Entertainments' Officer, P/O. Boddington, through their Flight N.C.O.
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HISTORICAL NOTES
Heaton Park was formerly the estate of the Earl of Wilton, and was purchased by the Manchester Corporation in 1902 for £230,000. It contains 650 acres of parkland and Heaton Hall was made into a museum and art gallery. The Manchester Corporation laid out many rose-beds and flower gardens, and in the season the Rose-Gardens and large walled-in Old English Gardens are well worth seeing. Rhododendrons and azaleas also make a good show in the early summer. Since the "Dig for Victory" campaign started, large tracts of land have been taken over for food production, as you will notice.
Six hundred years ago the land was part of the estate of the Langleys of Agecroft Hall, but passed in the 17th centry [sic] to the Egerton family. Sir Thomas Egerton was created the first Early of Wilton in 1784.
The second Earl of Wilton was a great sportsman and organised a series of race-meetings in the grounds from 1827 onwards. The great event was the race for the Manchester Cup, and the Earl of Wilton won this with his horse Jagger on the last occasion it was run at Heaton Park in 1838.
Many well-known people visited Heaton Park in those days, including Fanny Kemble, the actress of the 19th century, the Duke of Wellington and the midget general Tom Thumb.
The imposing archway which stands near the lake was originally the facade of the Old Manchester Royal Infirmary. Most of the present Hall building was designed by James Wyatt, R.A. (1746 – 1813), but is of little architectural interest. The interior decorations and the main staircase, however, call for special mention and there is much elaborate gilding in rather a florid style.
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Sites of Buildings on the Camp
Where are:-
Barrack Stores – immediately opposite the Hard Tennis Courts along the road to St. Margaret's Gate.
Equipment Stores – on the left before you get to the Middleton Road huts.
Barber's Shop – near S.H.Q. at the top of the Grand Lodge Road.
Padre's Office – next to the Barber's Shop.
[map]
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Voluntary Church Services
1. The Padre is in his room at 07.30 hours Sundays and weekdays to celebrate Holy Communion, and the service lasts about 20 minutes.
2. VOLUNTARY CHURCH SERVICES – Sundays.
Church of England.
St. Margaret's.
Sung Eucharist 09.00 hours.
Matins 10.10 hours.
Y.P. Fellowship 14.00 hours.
Evensong 15.30 hours.
St. Hilda's, Whittaker Lane.
Sung Eucharist 09.15 hours.
Evensong 15.30 hours.
Methodist.
Heaton Park Methodist Church, Bury Old Road.
Services 10.20 and 18.00 hours.
Congregational.
Heaton Park Congregational Church, Newtoun Street.
Services 10.45 and 18.00 hours.
Roman Catholic.
Our Lady of Grace, Fairfax Road, Prestwich.
Sunday 08.00, 0900, 10.00 and 11.00 hours.
Jewish Synagogues.
Holy Law Synagogue, Bury Old Road (near Grand Lodge).
Heaton Park Congregation, Ashdown, Middleton Road.
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A Few Notes on the P.N.B. Scheme
Your attention is drawn to two recent A.M.O.'s dealing with the above.
The first is:-
INTRODUCTION OF NEW AIR-CREW CATEGORY OF AIR BOMBER.
1. It has been decided to introduce a new category of air-crew to be designated air bomber.
2. Age limit. – Candidates must be 18 or over, but under 33 years of age on the date of recommendation.
3. Duties. – An air bomber will be required to locate, identify and guide the pilot on to the target, and to bomb it; to assist in the navigation of the aircraft between base and target area by map reading; and to act as an air gunner in defence of his aircraft.
4. Mustering, classification, etc. – Candidates will graduate, while under training, as follows:-
[a] [italics] Stage of Training. [b] Rank and Group. [c] Pay. [/italics]
[a] Initial Training Wing. [b] Aircraft, 2nd Class Group V. [c] 2s. a day.
[a] Further Training [b] Leading Aircraftman. Group II. [c] 5s. a day plus flying instructional pay of 2s. a day.
Operational Training Unit Sergeant, air bomber. 12s. 6d. a day.
5. Conditions under which serving airmen will be remustered – For the present selections will be limited to air-crew personnel already selected for pilot or observer training, including suitable airmen who have been suspended from such training and are awaiting disposal. At a later date, the field of selection will be extended to include serving airmen of all trades who are eligible under the conditions set out in para. 2 above. Those selected will, during training, retain their existing temporary rank or classification and pay, if more favourable, until such time as the conditions set out in para. 4 above become more favourable. Warrant Officers or Flight Sergeants will, on classifying, be remustered to air bomber in the rank of sergeant.
6. Commissioning and Promotion. – (i) Grant of commissions. – Airmen will be eligible for the grant of commissions in the general duties branch on completion of training and subsequently, in a like manner, to pilots and observers. (ii) Promotion of Airmen. – For the period of the emergency an overhead proportion of posts will be established for air bomber in the ranks of warrant officer and flight sergeant, with pay at the same rates as air observers.
7. Badge. – A further order will be issued in due course as regards the badge worn by air bombers.
The second and more recent A.M.O. deals with:-
DUTIES OF AIR-CREW CATEGORIES.
1. Following a recent review of the policy relating to the employment of air-crew personnel, which led to the introduction of a new air-crew category of air bomber, it has been decided to change the title of air observer to navigator, those with special qualifications being indicated by annotations as shown in para. 2 below.
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2. The following is a brief summary of the various air-crew categories under the new policy, with the duties appropriate to each:-
(i) Pilot.
(ii) Navigator. Duties. – Navigation, operation of gun in an emergency.
(iii) Navigator (B.). Duties – Navigation, bombing and gunnery.
(iv) Navigator (B.W.). Duties – Navigation, bombing, wireless operation and gunnery.
(v) Navigator (W.). Duties – Navigation, wireless operation, operation of gun in an emergency.
(vi)Navigator (Radio). Duties – Radio operation, navigation.
(vii) Air Bomber. Duties – Bombing, map reading, operation of gun in an emergency. To act as pilot's assistant, where there is no flight Engineer, to the extent of being able to fly straight and level and on a course.
(viii) Wireless Operator (air gunner). Duties – Wireless operation and gunnery. Wireless operators (air gunner) in general reconnaissance units have to be qualified in radio in addition to their normal qualifications.
(ix) Air Gunner. Duties – Gunnery.
(x) Air Gunner (wireless operator mechanic), air gunner (Flight mechanic A), Air gunner (Flight mechanic E). Duties – To carry out the duties of their trade in heavy aircraft of Coastal Command. Gunnery. Air Gunners, (Wireless Operator Mechanic) in general reconnaissance units have to be qualified in radio in addition to their wireless operator mechanic and air gunner qualifications).
(xi) Flight Engineer. Duties – In addition to the duties in connection with engine instruments as detailed he will act as pilot's assistant to the extent of being able to fly straight and level and on a course. To operate gun in an emergency.
3. Airmen previously mustered as observer will be remustered to navigator (B), navigator (B.W.). navigator (W), or navigator (radio), according to their special qualifications and the duties they are required to undertake under the revised policy.
4. Remusterings. – Table of Equivalent Categories.
[italics] Former Category of Air Observer. New Category. [/italics]
(i) Airmen who have successfully completed the normal courses of intruction [sic] in navigation, bombing and gunnery. [italics] New Category [/italics] Navigator (B).
(ii) Airmen qualified as in (i) above and additionally qualified and employed as wireless operators. [italics] New Category [/italics] Navigator (B.W.)
(iii) Airmen who have successfully completed a navigation course only and are additionally qualified and employed as wireless operators. [italics] New Category [/italics] Navigator (W)
(iv) Airmen mustered as observer (Radio). [italics] New Category [/italics] Navigator (Radio)
SYDNEY ASTLE LTD., PRINTERS, 41, GRANBY ROW, MANCHESTER. 1
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RAF Heaton Park Manchester
A Guide for Newly-Arrived Cadets
Description
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A guide containing information about the camp and how it operates, pay, discipline, local information, recreation, churches and aircrew categories.
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28 page printed booklet
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eng
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Text
Text. Training material
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MSmithAC1459147-170607-06
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Royal Air Force
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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IBCC Digital Archive
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Great Britain. Royal Air Force
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England--Manchester
England--Lancashire
Great Britain
Contributor
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Sue Smith
aircrew
RAF Heaton Park
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1857/33186/SAdderM175073v10044-0001.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1857/33186/SAdderM175073v10044-0002.2.jpg
1854b7de53229a0260fe35fc96bfab86
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1857/33186/SAdderM175073v10044-0003.2.jpg
a1b4c24f0b3354d9c994b71478725a81
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1857/33186/SAdderM175073v10043.2.jpg
c3b447ee3e8ec278440b9db4072baae6
Dublin Core
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Title
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Adder, Mervyn
M Adder
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-05-29
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Adder, M
Description
An account of the resource
88 items. The collection concerns Pilot Officer Mervyn Adder (1922 - 1944, 175073 Royal Air Force) and contains his diaries, correspondence and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 44 Squadron and was killed 15 March 1944. <br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Mary Sprakes and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.<br /><br /><span data-contrast="none" xml:lang="EN-GB" lang="EN-GB" class="TextRun SCXW207633627 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW207633627 BCX0">Additional information on<span> Mervyn Adder</span></span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW207633627 BCX0"><span> </span>is available via the</span></span><span class="EOP SCXW207633627 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":200,"335559740":276}"> </span><a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/100101/">IBCC Losses Database.</a>
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[inserted] Can you make him do anything about it? threaten his discharge. I have sent him a card & it seems such a shame to let them “shove” him in as a navigator when he has done so well. [/inserted]
1459790 L.A.C. Adder M.
Hut 65,
No 2 Squadron,
R.A.F. Station,
Heaton Park,
Manchester
Saturday
Dear All,
Thanks for the letters Mother and the discs which I received yesterday morning and I was jolly glad to hear from you as I was feeling rather browned off. [inserted] [underlined] Mother says will you please write to him. [/underlined] [/inserted]
They have decided by some mysterious means, perhaps pinpricking, that I should be a Navigator instead of a Pilot, and you can understand what I felt like when I heard the news the other day. What I cannot understand is that I go Solo, enjoy and think I do well [deleted] [two indecipherable words] [/deleted] [inserted] flying [/inserted] and become a Navigator, yet another chap in our Hut doesn’t manage to go Solo and becomes a Pilot – it stinks.
[page break]
Before I got over the change I thought I would go and see the C.O about it, when I cooled off I saw it wouldn’t do any good and I wouldn’t be a Pilot now – for anything. I am going to try to be a good Navigator and forget I ever wanted to be a Pilot as after all there is a War on, and whatever we do it is equally important and will help towards winning the War.
Life here is rather pleasant, except of course for the weather which is very damp, and we have already enjoyed a fair amount of rain since arriving in Sunny Manchester. We do very little during the day, there are so many of us here that we are usually put on odd jobs such as helping in the cook house, digging, Fire duties and occasionally do P.T and perhaps attend lectures although so far I haven’t done anything in the above line of duties spending most of my time
[page break]
in the Hut writing letters. I am due for cook house duties tomorrow afternoon which isn’t so bad as we get the following afternoon off.
There is a boating lake in our Park so I went for a row yesterday afternoon until tea time, which is at half past four – nice and early and gives you plenty of time to get out at night.
I went to the Palace last night with four other chaps it was a grand show Arthur Askey the star turn and was he funny, much better than seeing him on the pictures or hearing him on the wireless. I am going into Manchester this afternoon with the lads to have a look round, and then afterwards I expect we shall go to a show.
I don’t think I have anything else to tell you at the moment so I will say cheerio for the present.
All the Best
Mervyn.
[page break]
19 September 1942
This is when I believe this letter was written. It is particularly interesting as, after it was received by the family, Edith then sent it on to my Dad with the notes to tell him to write to Mervyn who was devastated at not being selected to be a pilot. Mervyn heard from Edith on 22 September and from Dad on 25 September so they were all quite concerned about him.
Mervyn had just arrived at Heaton Park on 15 September. He saw Arthur Askey live on 18 September. On 20 September he was on cookhouse duties but managed a row out on Heaton Park boating lake also on that day.
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Title
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Letter from Mervyn Adder to his family
Description
An account of the resource
Letter and explanatory note. Thanks them for letters. States that he is browned off as they had decided he should be a navigator rather than a pilot and describes his feelings about this news and what he did about it. Comments on life in his location and the poor weather as well as his activities which include boating, theatre and going into Manchester.
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M Adder
Format
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Three page handwritten letter and printed explanatory note
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Correspondence
Text. Personal research
Identifier
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SAdderM175073v10044, SAdderM175073v10043
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Manchester
England--Lancashire
Date
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1942-09-19
Temporal Coverage
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1942-09-19
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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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Pending text-based transcription. Under review
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
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Tricia Marshall
aircrew
navigator
pilot
RAF Heaton Park
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/890/31595/BHumesELHumesELv1.1.pdf
f68cd73a388d83878846349fc41dd95f
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Title
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Humes, Eddie
Edward L Humes
E L Humes
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Eddie Humes (b. 1922, 642170 Royal Air Force), RAF personnel document and a memoir. After serving in Balloon Command, he flew operations as a navigator with 514 Squadron
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Eddie Humes and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-08-26
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Humes, EL
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Roger Marsh of the ‘Action Desk — Sheffield’ Team on behalf of Edward L. Humes, and has been added to the site with the authors permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.
Introduction:
"Just Another Story" was written, at the suggestion of Yvonne Agnes Kennedy, who felt that my experiences, whilst serving with the R.A.F. would make interesting reading to those who knew me. My thanks go to Clive Hill, the nephew of my flight engineer, who spent many hours researching the loss of Lancaster II LL639 and who kindly gave permission to use the photographs and sketch maps included in my story.
E.L. Humes.
Chapter 1: Early Days
Early in May 1939 I was struggling to decide whether to embark on a career in the R.A.F. or to set out on training for the teaching profession. My parents were not happy with the first and many and sometimes heated were the discussions we had over the subject. Finally they agreed to my wishes and I visited a recruiting office to discuss the matter with officials of the Force.
It appeared that I was not sufficiently qualified for duties as a member of Air Crew, but was advised to enlist and try again when I was a member of the Service. In hindsight I am not sure that this was good advice, nevertheless, I enrolled as a flight mechanic. This might just satisfy my desire to be working with aircraft.
After completing my recruit training I was ready to begin my course, but I was to be disappointed. The declaration of War was imminent and all sorts of changes were being made in the R.A.F., along with many others. I was posted not to an airfield for training in my chosen trade, but to an airfield without any planes.
Protest as I may, I was informed that, "You are in the Air Force now," a phrase I was to hear many times over the next seven years. Nothing for it but to get on with it and become an efficient balloon operator. The training was not too hard, either physically or mentally, and I enjoyed the course but the worst was yet to come.
War was declared. The good life came to an end and I found myself posted to the Essex County Cricket Ground to join a small group to operate a barrage balloon.
What a disappointment! Ten of us housed in a Tennis Pavilion with only minimum facilities, how was I to know that this was going to stand me in very good stead in the years ahead?
Occasionally, I got a break for I was selected to represent my squadron at football, and it was after a match that I met an officer who again whetted my appetite for aircrew. There was a way. I must apply to re-muster. There was no hesitation on my part and I was granted an interview to attain my suitability for the new venture. It was now obvious to those in command that I was far from happy with my present role. To my horror I was moved to serve on a drifter in the estuary of the River Thames. Six airmen and six ex fishermen living in the most deplorable conditions I had yet encountered. We were anchored in position and at the mercy of the changing tides. Besides this
[page break]
we were often attacked by marauding fighters of the Luftwaffe, that often got to us before we could raise the balloon to its operational height. Wanting the chance to retaliate, I dared to ask when I might receive my posting to air crew training. Surprise, surprise, I was sent to Cardington to take a course on DRIVING. One good thing was that it was Heaven after the rigours of the previous months. The course was so very interesting that for a while I forgot aircrew training. Another plus was that I was now with people of my own age group, more or less. All good things come to an end. At the end of the course I was posted to a small hut in the East End of London- Blitz and all. This was to be my home until I got my wish.
Stories of the Blitz are legion, so I will not bore you with mine. SUCCESS AT LAST!
Great news! Report to St. John's Wood, London to commence Air Crew Training.
I could not get there quickly enough. Soon I was having tests for suitability in many fields. The majority of my colleagues were of my own age group once again, and although I was classed a raw recruit, I did not mind one little bit. "Square Bashing" was no problem to me as I had done it all before. Discipline was not hard for me as I had already had almost two years of life in the R.A.F. medical checks, attitude tests and many other tests were carried out and finally, I was on my way to St. Andrew's in Scotland for Initial Training.
Life was so exciting! Studying the mysteries of basic navigation, Morse Code, meteorology and lots of other subjects in the hallowed cloisters of St. Andrew's and in my leisure time, becoming familiar with my fellow trainees made the time pass very, very quickly. Even the weather was glorious!
The time came to show how well I had studied. Exam followed exam. Would it never end? At last came the news I had waited for. I was over the first hurdle. Where to now? Across the River Tay was a small airfield which had been taken over by the R.A.F. This was my next destination. The accommodation was superb, but what was more exciting was that there were aircraft. Real aeroplanes. Only Tiger Moths, but for the coming weeks, I would be having lessons on how to fly. The weather was not always kind at Scone, but I was eventually allowed to fly solo. Such a Wonderful experience, but sadly, I now had to move on to the next part of my course. I had a couple of weeks leave, which enabled me to tell my parents and others just how much I was enjoying myself.
Heaton Park, Manchester was to be my next place of rest. Rumour had it that the stay here would be for a couple of weeks, and then there would be an overseas posting to further training. This was not to be. The Air Ministry had decreed that as there was a glut of people wishing to train as Pilots, there must be some change to provide crew for the other positions in Bomber aircraft.
Lowly airmen that we were, there was no way that we could work out how the selection was made. A group of pilots who had already flown against the Luftwaffe, were reclassified as navigators and bomb aimers under training. Needless to say, this was not at all satisfactory, and the last we saw of them was their leaving camp for the Belgian Embassy!!!
[page break]
What of our small group? Nineteen were to train as navigators, and one as a pilot. Within two weeks the u/t pilot was on his way somewhere overseas. The rest of us spent our days doing very little other than attending morning parade and enjoying the rest of the day, doing whatever we thought best. After twelve weeks, this routine became extremely boring.
Manchester was no longer an attraction as the weather was wet and cold, not to mention the fact that our Nissen hut was very damp and very cold, and we should really be abroad to continue our training.
As the senior airman, I was delegated to meet the station adjutant to ascertain when we would be posted. He was as surprised as I was. Officially we were not on the station! "Go home for two weeks (or more) and you will be advised of your next posting." During the third week I was told to report at Bridgenorth in Shropshire to begin the next phase of navigational training.
On arrival, I found that once again I was on a unit without aircraft. Never mind, my colleagues from Heaton Park were also there. I was not going overseas.
Discipline and hard study were now the order of the day. Advanced studies in the art of navigation and all subjects connected therewith. Little time to spare. Even Christmas was a mere day from studies. Examination time again. Results were published and I heaved a sigh of relief, when I found that I was considered suitable to continue with the course. As the next stage was to put all that I had learned into practice, then there must be aircraft at the next stopping place.
Flying at Last
Advanced Navigation School, Dumfries. This was to be the nearest I was to get to a posting overseas. Yes, there were aircraft on the station. Several Anson and one Botha aircraft were used as flying classrooms. The time had come to put into practice all that I had been taught. Basic ground training continued but now we had to use our knowledge to follow a route and return to Base, quite often with a pilot whose knowledge of English was sketchy, and who was apt to turn off course to see some beauty spot he had heard of in his schooldays in Poland or France, or some other European country. Two trainee navigators were allocated to each trip, one to plot the outward journey and the other to plot the course for Base. Although mistakes were made, it gave each a great sense of achievement to complete the trip without having recourse to the pilot, asking for a positional check to obtain a new starting point.
Aerial Photography was very difficult for me. I was small and to me the camera was HUGE. To hold it pointing out of a window was almost a physical impossibility, especially when the pilot banked to look at the ground below. I often thought of what might happen to me back in Dumfries if I should ever loose the camera out of the window at three or four thousand feet. Despite the hazards I got results which satisfied the instructor, and was ready to commence night flying. What is more, I had struck up a good understanding with my fellow pupil, which I hoped would stand us both in good stead during the coming weeks of night work.
This was not to be. By now I should have known the ways of the R.A.F. better. A new intake of "trainees" arrived on the station. They had completed their course abroad and were sporting the coveted Brevets. The partly trained rookies were paired off with newly qualified navigators for night
[page break]
flying. The new boys had never flown over a completely darkened country side and many were the arguments in and out of the aircraft. It was no joke to take over navigation from a person who had got himself hopelessly lost. By this time, we "home trained" navigators were proving pretty hot stuff at the task! Or so we thought. Training seemed to take an eternity and I was relieved when final exams took place. How would I do this time?
I passed but was not present at the presentation of our Brevets - I had been injured in an inter flight football match and was to spend the next three weeks in the station Sick Bay. Still I was now a navigator and proud to wear the insignia and the three stripes which I received.
642170 Sgt. Humes E.L. (Navigator)
Celebrations went on for many hours, both at Dumfries and in Carlisle, which was not too far away. Home again to enjoy what I thought was a well-earned leave. Stay there until you receive your next posting. I hoped that the Heaton Park episode would not be repeated.
It wasn't. After three weeks I was to report to O.T.U. Chipping Warden where I would join a group of newly qualified pilots, bomb aimers, wireless ops. and gunners to form an aircrew.
One Step Nearer to Operational Flying
Chipping Warden, was an R.A.F. operational flying training unit. The aircraft used were Wellingtons and the training staff were almost 100% ex-operational aircrew. The atmosphere was so exhilarating!
For a week or so, we had lectures etc., and we mingled with the trainees in other flying categories. There were pilots, navigators, bomb-aimers, wireless- operators and air-Gunners from almost every country in the British Empire. The time arrived when I was approached by an Australian Pilot and asked if I would like to join him in forming an aircrew. I had noticed Noel at a discussion group a few days earlier, and had been impressed by his attitude, of course I would join him.
Our next task was to find a Bomb-Aimer suitable to us both. Jack Moulsdale (RAAF) had started his flying training in Australia at the same time as Noel, but had not qualified as a pilot. Undaunted, he continued his training and became a bomb - aimer. It seemed to me that it would be a wise decision to have someone else who had experience of flying an aircraft in our crew. Now to find a W./Op.- how the title drops from the tongue - now I was aircrew. It was left to yours truly to make the choice; even up the score; find a Brit. All agreed that the well built Scot would fit the bill. Jock Hughes became the fourth member of our crew. In order to complete our Wellington crew, we needed an Air-Gunner. The four of us looked around carefully and decided that the tall, quiet Australian was the best bet. He agreed to join us.
Now we were a crew. From now onwards we had to work hard to become a unit, not just airmen wearing brevets, but a group who must learn to trust and depend on one another. Various ground exercises were carried out until we each knew what was expected, should we ever become involved in any problem, major or minor.
Flying training began in earnest. Cross country flights in which I had to prove myself as an able navigator. Practice bombing and infra-red photography, where Jack had to show his prowess at hitting the target. Jock had to impress us with his ability to send and receive radio messages and
[page break]
to obtain navigational data, which would assist in locating the position of the aircraft. During these flights, Reg would operate his rear turret and become used to life in a small rear-turret. There were, of course, times when we "flew for real". Fighter simulation and long night flights of four hours or more to prepare for the tasks ahead.
On one occasion we were instructed to join eight other aircraft in a six hour night cross country exercise, which would involve every aspect of what we would be likely to meet on an operational flight, without the "flak". Things became complicated when a blanket of cloud covered the whole of the British Isles. Radio silence was essential and navigation was carried out using the courses worked out at the morning briefing. I cannot say that I enjoyed the first couple of hours! Suddenly I had the opportunity to practice the astro navigation I had enjoyed so much. One shot only. Could I rely on it? I had no option. A slight alteration of course was needed. We continued on our way, all praying that my fix had been correct. Infra-red photographs were taken by Jack on pre- flight time schedule. Eventually we crossed our fingers, by my reckoning we were within a few miles of Base. Imagine our relief when we received a message giving a course to fly to complete the trip. We were only a few minutes away.
On landing, we discovered that six of the eight aircraft which had left with us, had landed in various parts of the country, one had crash landed in Ireland. As far as my crew were concerned they had found a useful navigator.
Chapter 2: 1678 Conversion Unit
Two weeks leave and then report to Little Snoring. What a peculiar name. What a wonderful surprise. Sitting on the aerodrome were four engined aircraft, not the usual Lancaster but a type with Radial engines. This was to be our operational aircraft. All we had to do now was to show that we were capable of flying as a crew.
First we needed extra hands. Clive Banfield became the flight engineer and Clem Hem was our mid- upper gunner. Clive was English and Clem Australian. Four Australians and three Englishmen. The youngest was twenty one, and the eldest, thirty six (this was not quite the case as I discovered many, many years later, that Clive had falsified his age in order to leave a reserved occupation to fly.)
Very quickly we gelled into a crew again. "Thack" was the first to experience the thrill of flying in the Lanc II. He sang its praises and we were not disappointed when we had our first flight. Once again we had to carry out the drills of cross- country flying, Fighter affiliation, night- flying and the like but there was an additional item- Low flying! Here was a new slant on navigation. Map reading was not easy at the speed we flew in the new aircraft. Gradually everything slotted into place. We soon understood why Clive had been added to the team as the multiplicity of controls was more than one pair of hands could cope with. This quiet, confident man was just what we needed.
Our training schedule was moving along nicely, but halted when early mist and fog made flying impossible. The Nissen huts in which we were billeted were cold and damp, and so miserable to spend the days in. I was reminded of the old days in Balloon Command. The ground courses had
[page break]
been completed and we longed to be told of our posting to an operational unit, but we now had to train in using a new navigational device- Gee H. This was a new method of using radar to reach the target and to release the bomb load when visual signals coincided on a screen on the nav. table. This was not a very thrilling exercise for the other crewmembers, and we were all very pleased when I became proficient and the monotonous training flights were completed.
Now came the news we had waited so long to hear. We were to join 115 Squadron for Operational duty! Whilst we were on leave we received orders to return to Foulsham, not to join 115 but to become the nucleus of a newly formed Squadron-514. Our base was to be at Waterbeach in Cambridgeshire. We were allocated an aircraft and transferred all our personal equipment in it to our new home. Some crews had to carry out a raid on Germany on their way to Waterbeach.
Luckily no aircraft were lost.
I cannot describe my feelings on stepping out into the atmosphere of the new unit. Noise and bustle everywhere. The station had been completed shortly before war was declared. Our quarters were to be in red brick barracks and there was hardly a Nissen Hut in sight. Hot and cold water - such luxury!
Again "Thack" was to be the first to fly an operational mission. He was second pilot to a more experienced man before being allowed to captain his own crew on bombing missions. All flying was now in earnest. More Gee-H. Dinghy drills, escape drills, low level flying and all the exercises we had carried out so many times before. It was somewhat nerve racking, waiting to hear the word that we were to be on Ops at last.
The order of battle showed that we were to fly "for real" on 25th November 1943. 'Power and Majesty'
Posing for company photographs provides the rare opportunity for an Armstrong Whitworth test pilot to put on 60° of bank and show what a Lanc. II can do, Delivered to No. 408 (Goose) Squadron RCAF at Linton - on - Ouse, this machine (DS 778) was, like so many, destined for an early demise, failing to return from Kassel on 22/23 October 1943, barely two months from the day this picture was taken.
Photo: Hawker Siddeley / AWA. Ref: 'The Lancaster at War 2, Garbett & Goulding. Pub- Ian Allan Life on Squadron.
Little changed; now we were an aircrew and believed that we were equal to any flying task allotted to us. Air tests had to be carried out and also the various drills which would keep us up to operational standard. Each morning, we looked at Flying Orders hoping that we would be listed for "ops." registering varying emotions. The more often we carried out a raid over enemy territory, the quicker we could complete our tour. None of us had any thought that we would not complete our thirty operations.
There was a lot of banter and, more often than not, it would include arguments between the many members of the Commonwealth who made up the squadron. Who provided the best crews? Why was it so cold and wet in England? Football matches, cross country runs and other sporting events, which pitted Aussie against Pommie, Scot against Welshman, and West Indian against
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New Zealander. Of course not all free time was spent on camp for the city of Cambridge was not very far away and transport was frequent. The city was a place of recreation for other Forces, both air and ground. Many were the disputes between members of the American aircrews as to who did the best job and these arguments did not always end peacefully. Fortunately I was a "pacifist," so kept well out of the way when the discussions became heated.
I was so pleased to be selected for the Squadron Football X1. Each Saturday and quite often on weekdays we played matches against local teams, Cambridge University included. I cannot remember having to withdraw because of operational duties.
Numerous stories written about life in Bomber Command tell of boisterous nights in the Officers’ or Sergeants’ Mess but I have no recollection of such events in the Mess at 514.
Ground crews and operational personnel built up a great rapport. Each aircraft was meticulously cared for and on many occasions, ground crews waited for the return of "their" aircraft. Should an aircraft fail to return, there was great distress but soon those responsible for maintenance would transfer their allegiance to the replacement aircrew.
Christmas Day was an occasion when senior ranks showed their appreciation for the work done by ground staff by serving the midday meal. The Australian members had saved a good portion of their parcels from home to pass on as thanks to our own ground crew. Fruitcake, chocolate bars, tinned fruit and all manner of goods which were hard, almost impossible to obtain in England, were eagerly accepted.
Life returned to normal the following day. Christmas 1943 was very cold indeed and all personnel not engaged in other duties were ordered to assist in removing snow from the runways. Surely ops. would not take place that night. After all the hard work, the "Stand Down " was given. Normal flying was resumed on 26th December.
Throughout December 1943, January, February and March 1944, the crew continued operational flying. March 30th was the most terrifying night when the city of Nuremberg was the target.
Something was drastically wrong as aircraft were shot out of the sky. Over 100 being the victims of anti- aircraft fire and the relentless attacks by enemy fighters. More allied planes were lost on the way back to bases in England.
Thackray's crew survived.
Triumphs and Disaster
Our first operational flight as a crew was to be to Biarritz. In company with ten aircraft from other squadrons in 3 Group, we were to drop mines in the harbour there.
Whilst Thack and the rest of the crew carried out flight tests, I worked on the route we were to follow, and how I worked. Nothing could be left to chance! The day passed so very quickly and soon we were sitting down to the pre-op meal. Now we were operational. Parachutes and Mae Wests, fitted we boarded the aircraft. We taxied to the runway and at last received the green. In a few minutes we were airborne. Soon we had reached the English coast and were heading south over France.
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There was no sign of the other planes which were supposed to accompany us, but we flew on and on. As yet no enemy aircraft was sighted nor were we troubled by flak. Surely things couldn't be this easy. Biarritz! On time and on target. Where were the others? We circled for a few minutes and as there was still no sign of other planes, we decided to release our mines and turn on course for home. The return flight was no more exciting than the outward journey until we crossed the English coast, where we were immediately picked up by searchlights and directed to the West where we finally landed at Exeter, many miles from Waterbeach! Two things arose from the resultant enquiry. First, we should have received an "operation cancelled" signal before crossing the coast on the outward leg, and secondly we had been mistaken by the Observer Corps for a Wellington on a training flight that had got lost and broadcast a " May Day" signal. The searchlights had carried out the rescue procedure with us instead of them. We finished our first op. accompanied by an armed guard and of course had a tongue lashing from our various section heads. Apologies were forthcoming when the truth of the story finally came out.
Berlin was to be our next port of call. My nerves jangled for the whole of the day and I checked and re- checked every part of my pre flight plan. I settled as soon as we were airborne. This is the job I had been trained for during so many long months. What is more, I was responsible for the lives of six others, or so I told myself. Very few words were spoken during the flight. We were all on a knife-edge. Bomb aimer to Skipper, " Target directly ahead." Relief; little of note had occurred on the outward leg and obviously my route planning had been O.K. I did not wish to look at the burning city, I was quite happy to listen to the observations of the crew. We turned on the course for home and Thack let out a horrendous cry! An aircraft was turning immediately ahead. Surely we were not going to end the trip by crashing into a friendly aircraft. In seconds the danger was over but I needed to work out a slight adjustment to our course. From my position I could see nothing but listened to the comments of the others. I was scared, the aircraft shook and rolled but this was simply because we were flying in the stream of other planes. Searchlights groped around the night sky and I could see these. In next to no time Jack was able to report the sighting of the enemy coast and a short time afterwards, the marvellous news that we had crossed the English coast. Soon we were over Waterbeach, home, safe and sound. December 2nd 1943 was a date I shall never forget.
Debriefing over, we returned to barracks and turned in. Sleep would not come as I lay thinking of the events of the day. I was not alone for the other crewmembers were also reliving the events of the night of our very first operation over Germany.
Chapter 3: ABANDON AIRCRAFT!!!
The day was 11th April, the year 1944. Our target was to be a fairly easy trip to Aachen, perhaps our shortest flight over Germany. The usual preparations were made and in the early evening we set course for the target hoping to return well before midnight. All went well and we dropped the bomb load over the city and set course for home.
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Disaster struck! The port outer engine caught fire. It seemed that we had been hit by flak, as none of the air gunners had sighted enemy aircraft. Noel ordered us to prepare to abandon which meant that all secret equipment and navigational and wireless codes had to be destroyed. Gunners had to leave their turrets and all had to head for the escape hatches, except of course for Thack. For a few moments we flew on. Clive was doing his utmost to extinguish the blaze and believed that we would be able to continue. The blazing engine fell away. The end was near, as the pilot could no longer keep control.
ABANDON AIRCRAFT!! Jack answered at once. Reg reported that his turret would not operate. Jock said that he would try to help Reg, and Clem responded that he too would move to help with the rear turret. Clive was not at all pleased that we were to abandon. As for myself, I headed for the front escape hatch passing both Clive and Thack, who was still at the controls. As I reached the top of the steps, I was astounded to find the escape hatch open, but Jack's parachute pack was still in the container. There was no sign of him!
I had no time for further thought, for at that moment the nose of the plane dropped and I found myself trapped by my legs. To this day I do not know what was preventing me from leaving the stricken aircraft. What was I to do? Without any further thought, I pulled the ripcord. I felt a sharp pain in my legs but to my great relief, my ‘chute pulled me clear of the aircraft. I drifted towards the earth, but could see nothing nor could I hear a sound. I prayed to almighty God for his help and cried out for my mother. All this had happened in seconds.
I assumed that I was drifting downwards but could not be sure where I was going to land. Crash! I had landed in undergrowth but where? I did not have the slightest idea. Minutes passed, I could feel that my uniform was in tatters and that I was bleeding profusely. Strangely I felt no pain. I heard movement and immediately began crying for help, but was warned to be quiet. Obviously it was not German soldiers in the immediate vicinity. Helping hands picked me up and untied my Mae West; I had responded to training and had by instinct got rid of my parachute silk on hitting the ground. When I awoke I was lying on something very soft, but could not see what it was. My right leg gave me a lot of pain and I ran my hands over it. It seemed to be a peculiar shape.
Gradually my hearing improved and I could hear voices in what seemed to be prayer. As yet, I could not see where the sound was coming from, but realised that I was being addressed in English. A doctor had been called and he was advising me that there was nothing he could do to treat my wounds, but that he would make me comfortable until the Germans arrived. A couple of pieces of wood from the garden fence were used to make splints for the leg that had sustained a very bad fracture. My face and hands were washed clean of blood that had come from multiple scratches. After making me comfortable and allowing me to sleep for the remainder of the night the Germans were called. As soon as they arrived the atmosphere changed. What had been a quite room now became a very noisy area indeed. I was to be taken away by them, but it appeared that the family would not permit the enemy to move me from the sofa on which I was
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resting. Finally I was carried, still on the sofa, to the waiting lorry. I discovered some 50 years later that the family name was Conen and I had the pleasure of meeting the only surviving member.
A GUEST OF THE GERMAN NAVY
Somewhere around teatime, my guards deposited me at a hospital staffed by German navy personnel. I was well scrubbed and put into a nice clean bed. A meal of Black bread, cheese from a tube and the foulest tasting coffee was given to me. All the time I was eating, sailors wandered by to take a look at the English captive.
My next real visit was from a medical officer who explained that there would be a need to operate on my leg in the next few hours. He was quite friendly and was in no way what I had expected.
Maybe this was part of the softening-up process I had been warned to expect in those briefing sessions in training. Some time later I was taken to the operating theatre and knew no more until I woke up in a private room with a large picture window on the left and a pair of doors to the right of my bed. There I lay, with my leg in traction but with no sign of a plaster cast. A large iron framework kept the sheets from weighing on my legs. Looking further to my right I saw a German sailor standing guard inside the doors and beyond him, another sailor, both with fixed bayonets! I was told afterwards that these guards were there to keep Belgian people out, for there was no way I could possibly escape.
What lay ahead of me? Meals were delivered on time and once I had become used to the black bread and acorn coffee, the rest of my diet was quite pleasant. Strangely enough, I felt very little pain and I was able to see quite well. After a few days my Rosary was returned to me and it transpired that one of my guards was a Catholic. Now we had a talking point, but he was not particularly interested in teaching me German, but wished to improve his English so that he would be able to converse with English citizens when Germany defeated England! Sign language was used more often than words in the first instance, but we got along very well indeed.
At first, time passed pretty quickly. When night fell I would listen for the sound of allied aircraft passing overhead and try to work out where they might be going, by working out the time that elapsed between the inward and outward journey. Sometimes an airman would be brought in to occupy the second bed in the room, and I would become updated with the progress of the war. Sadly, there was seldom a time when any of these new aircrew members stayed longer than one day. As the weather outside improved I began to yearn for a move to somewhere among English speaking prisoners. I was aware that there were no prisoners from the allied forces in the hospital in which I was being treated.
Early in June, fighter activity began to increase quite dramatically and the air raid sirens were often sounded. Each time this happened my guards disappeared and I soon found out that part of their duties was to man part of the air defences. I cannot remember the date, but one evening, I noticed that the night sky was rapidly illuminated with brightly coloured flares. This could only mean one thing - the area was to be the target for that night ! ! !
I was right. Sirens wailed and anti-aircraft guns blasted away at the allied aircraft. Soon, bombs began to fall and I heard explosion after explosion. Surely I was not going to be a victim of action
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by the R.A.F? Soon I had my answer for my bedroom shook and glass windows broke. The noise was horrendous and because of my situation, I could take no action whatever to hide away or to reach shelter. Just as I pulled the bed sheets over my head, I felt an almighty crash and wondered what the outcome of this was going to be. Gradually the noise subsided and soon I was able to risk turning down the sheets. The window and doorframes were lying across the cage that protected my legs, and I saw searchlight beams and ack- ack bursts. THE CEILING HAD COLLAPSED! ! ! ! I was alive but terrified. What would happen to me now? One of my guards visited to check on my condition, but it was some hours before I was made aware of the extent of the damage caused by the raid. My room was reasonably sound when compared to the rest of the hospital.
A Change of Surroundings.
As the morning passed, I could hear the sound of rescue crews moving about the hospital grounds. Now and then there would be an almighty crash as a building toppled. Fires burned brightly and soot fell, making my once white bed linen look very dirty indeed. I thought for a time about the times when I had been bombed back in England and how enemy fighters had attempted to destroy the barrage-balloon sites on which I served, but I am afraid it gave me little comfort.
There I had been among friends, but now I was among enemies. How would they re-act to the night's events? I was soon to find out.
From the background of soot and smoke, there appeared the figure of one of the surgeons who had cared for me over the previous weeks. His apron was bloodstained, and in his hand he held a scalpel, likewise covered in blood! What was he going to do to me? He soon put my mind at rest and after referring to the air-raid being carried out by my friends, he told me that although I should be in traction for a further four weeks, there was nothing that could be done but to remove the pin and other items, and transfer me as quickly as possible to another hospital.
No sooner said than done! I just had to grit my teeth, hold tight and the job was done. A lorry was drawn up to the ruin and a stretcher was brought from somewhere, and I was loaded aboard for my journey, no guards this time. Off we went, sometimes dodging the potholes, but more often than not there would be an almighty jolt as we hit what I presumed was a crater. Suddenly the stretcher left the floor of the vehicle and I was deposited on to the boards. I felt more pain than I had felt since leaving the aircraft, but try as I may, I could not get the attention of the driver.
Another gritting of teeth until we reached our destination, which turned out to be a "Rest Home" for German officers.
I got little sympathy and was informed that there was not the facility to deal with my new injury, which was a re-fractured femur; the fall had undone the work that had been done. Soon, I was on my way again to another hospital, somewhere in Brussels. I was hungry, dirty and in quite some pain, but at last I reached my new home. The hospital sister was not at all pleased at the state I was in. She was unaware of what I had been through and commented that surely no soldier would set out on a mission in the dirty state that I was in. "Stand up and follow me to the bathroom," she said. Only when I had convinced her that my leg was broken did she realise the predicament I was
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in. Immediately her attitude changed. She became an angel and remained so for the rest of my stay.
Now spotlessly clean, I was placed in a bed in a barrack room along with twenty or so captured allied aircrew, and learned that I was in an annexe to a German military hospital in the centre of Brussels. They were not too happy to hear that I had been captured several weeks earlier, and thus could not give news of the allied advance through France. To be honest, I was pleased to know that our forces were on their way. My next information was that I would have twenty-four hours to talk about my predicament and then the subject would be taboo. My "Angel" returned to prepare me for an operation on my right femur.
She explained the whole process and commented on how lucky I was going to be to have a leading surgeon carrying out a recent technique, to put my bone together again (I have since learned that the procedure was known as The Kuetschner Nail Method). Off we went to the theatre, and the surgeon began his task. He was far from happy when I yelled with pain! I had felt his scalpel cut into my upper leg!! Initially he did not believe me, but quickly realised that the spinal anaesthetic had not done its work. At once he took steps to remedy the matter and my next memory was that of waking up in bed, again in traction, and being cared for by a young lady in white. Was I in heaven? No, I was back in the P.O.W. ward.
The following morning, the operating surgeon came to check on my well-being and to apologise for the slip up of the previous day. He told me that the operation had gone well and that I would be in traction for approximately twelve weeks. Where had I heard that before? Now I was able to learn about my fellow prisoners and to catch up on the progress of hostilities.
My colleagues were from all parts of the Commonwealth, U.S.A and France, and there was even a prisoner with Russian nationality. Their injuries were of many kinds. Severe burns, broken limbs and some had limbs that had been amputated. I was only a small player.
Chapter 4: ON THE MOVE AGAIN
Many and varied were the tales my fellow patients had to tell. One especially, bears repeating. After the aircraft had been hit, the radio-operator had moved to leave his position when the aircraft broke up and he was left hanging from a piece of wreckage, but he was still wearing his helmet with the inter-com plug connected. His parachute opened and pulled him from the aircraft but not before he had removed the plug. Suddenly the unit gave way and the cord from the headset caught in the lines of the `chute. He landed unable to move. He arrived at the hospital fully conscious and able to speak but it was quite a few weeks before he was able to use any of his limbs. Part of his recovery programme was to attempt using a concertina. The last time I saw him, he was still struggling.
Each new arrival brought news of the progress of Allied forces; often their stories were very much different from the propaganda given out by the German radio, and the tales told by the staff of the hospital. The weeks passed quickly, and as August approached, the sound of heavy gunfire increased. The news from Belgian workpeople was that the allies were now close to Brussels.
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Each day we waited for good news but it seemed to us that movement had come to a halt. Perhaps the forward push had ceased or the powers that be had decided to by-pass the capital. On the 6th September, we had a visit from the senior officer of the hospital staff. He was ready to leave us in the hospital if the senior British officer would sign a document stating that we had been treated well during our captivity. We were overjoyed and were 100% ready to agree! The day passed agonisingly slowly and the night was full of the noise of artillery fire. There was nowhere for us to find shelter so we hid our concern by singing the tunes of the time.
As dawn broke, the sound of gunfire decreased and the sky was red with flame. Surely we would be recaptured in an hour or two! The doors of the annexe burst open and a number of German troops appeared. To our horror they wore the uniform of the S.S. Thoughts of being recaptured were dashed as the officer in command refused to accept the document signed the previous day. The walking wounded were ushered away and the bedridden lifted into wheelchairs. I was released from my traction, given a set of crutches and told to make my way to the bus, which was waiting. I soon had the knack of using crutches for the S.S. were in no mood to hang about. When it was clear that there were no other Allied prisoners left in the hospital, the bus moved off and we turned into the main square where we saw the Palais de Justice burning fiercely. There seemed to be thousands of troops moving about and heading out of the city. Slowly, yard-by-yard, we passed among the crowds, and at last reached the road signposted "VENLO". We were on our way to Holland but much was to happen before we reached our goal.
The roads were packed with retreating German troops and fleeing Belgian citizens. Every available type of transport was being used to leave the capital, and there was barely enough space to pass that which had already broken down. Dead animals littered the roadside. Horses lay with their feet in the air, dead either from attack from the air or just sheer exhaustion. Broken down vehicles littered the highway, their owners frantically seeking alternative means of escape. This was organised retreat? Suddenly, above the din, we heard the sound of fighter aircraft and then recognised the planes as Typhoons, not only that but our Senior British Officer made us aware that they were from his own squadron!!!
Within seconds the pilots began their attack on the fleeing troops and it was plain that we were not to be spared. The bus stopped, but our guards would not allow us to dismount and seek shelter.
They were armed and we were not but the S.B.O. took his life in his hands and hurled himself at the nearest guard who immediately dropped his rifle and, together with his colleague, left the vehicle. We helped one another off the bus and headed for farm buildings nearby. The pigs were hastily evicted and we took their places. The sty was strongly built and we felt a good deal safer. Three of the walking wounded decided that this was an ideal opportunity to attempt an escape.
I know for certain that one, Sgt. W. Durland was successful, for his story was told in the records of 514 Squadron which was my own squadron. I have not heard the outcome of the others who made the attempt. At last the aircraft broke off their attack and we were ordered to re-board the bus which was undamaged and we noticed that there was no Red Cross insignia, Squadron
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Leader Brannigan was not too sure that a red cross would have made very much difference to the attack, as the bus was slap in the centre of the fleeing convoy. Slowly we moved on again.
The damage reeked on the fleeing army was horrendous and one could only feel pity for the wounded and dying, as each person in the convoy seemed bent on one task - to reach shelter and perhaps safety. As the day drew to a close, we felt a little safer, for we were aware that fighter aircraft would not operate in the dark and bombers would be too expensive to use against targets such as a fleeing convoy.
It was quite dark when we drew into the suburbs of Venlo, but we now came under attack from Dutch citizens who thought that we were German soldiers being carried away from the front-line. Fortunately no great damage was done and at last we were deposited at a Convent near the centre of the town. Our first thought was, "When are we going to get something to eat?" and then we became puzzled as to why we had been taken to the very top floor of the Convent.
The second question was answered by the Mother Superior who informed us that the senior German officer in the town did not want the responsibility of looking after us, perhaps if we remained hidden on the top floor advancing German troops would pass us by. You will remember we had heard a similar tale before.
For four days we remained hidden. We had reasonable food and excellent facilities. Perhaps this time we would be recaptured. It was not to be. On the morning of the fifth day, one of our number decided to investigate the troop noises in the street below. Sadly his appearance on the balcony was noticed by the civilian population below. They waved and he acknowledged their greeting, but was spotted by a soldier who was passing by. It had to be a member of the S.S.! Within minutes, we were taken into the grounds of the convent and I believe that the others felt as I did, we were going to be executed !!! To our great relief, this did not happen. A few hours later we were put aboard railway wagons to be transported into Germany.
INTO THE THIRD REICH
At the railway station, we were kept strictly apart from the civilian travellers who were boarding trains for various parts of Germany, and we were ushered towards a row of cattle trucks standing in a siding. The doors at the side of the trucks were open and we could see barbed wire, which was stretched across the width of the truck separating the interior into two sections. On the left were a number of palliasses, and to the right a cast iron wood burning stove and three bunks. We realised that this was to be our mode of transport for the next leg of our journey.
The guards occupied the section with the stove and we were to travel in the other section, but where we were heading, no-one would tell us. We came to the conclusion that our trip was not going to be a long one, for there was no food or drink aboard. The doors slammed shut; we heard the locks on our side being closed and then we were on our way. There were eight of us, and three very old men acting as guards. It was very dark and the soldiers had no wish to converse just yet but as we moved into the countryside, we learned that the men were really "Home Guards" and were terrified of authority, and for some reason, equally terrified of us. We had been classified as dangerous prisoners!
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Uncomfortable as it was we gradually fell asleep, only to be woken up by a string of German oaths and the sight of one of the guards frantically trying to beat out the flames coming from his very long ersatz overcoat. He had got too near the stove, which was now glowing in the dark. His companions came to his aid, and soon all was quiet, except for the injured guard who was now afraid of his fate when he came to the end of his journey and would have to report the incident.
There was nothing we could do to help treat his burns, for we were separated from him by the barbed wire screen. As evening approached, the following day we pulled into a siding and the doors were opened. We had not travelled far as we could hear voices calling, "Dusseldorf!
Dusseldorf”- this was our destination.
We dismounted and after a few moments, our party was separated into two groups, the RA.F. to one side and the U.S.A.A.F to the other. The American section was put aboard a bus and immediately moved from the station. We never saw them again. As for us, we boarded a truck and moved out of the city. The journey to our destination did not take very long and we eventually stopped at a camp which we soon realised was a Workers Camp.
It was divided into four compounds, which housed French, Italian, Polish and Russian citizens who were forced to work in the locality. Our quarters were to be in the French section and a few hours after our arrival, we were allocated three Russian prisoners to serve our every need. It was not too long before we realised that there was a definite pecking order at the camp.
After the Germans, the French were the pampered race. The Italians came next, followed by the Polish inmates and a very very long way behind came the Russians. Germans did not stand guard over the Russian compound, they left that to the Polish group and the Russian group provided the guard for the Polish compound ! !
At this stage we found it very difficult to comprehend the attitude of the Germans towards the Russian and the Polish people, after all, we had not been subject to the rule of the Nazi regime, and as yet, had met none of the cruelty meted out to the races they, the Germans, had conquered. Not many days were to pass before we saw examples of such cruelty, and it was with disbelieve that we saw Russian captives digging holes in the ground, into which they placed their dead comrades.
At least the Polish dead were given a decent burial service, and had fellow countrymen saying a prayer or two at the graveside and in some cases, placing a small wooden cross to mark the spot where the internment had taken place. Why were there so many deaths among these two races? The Russian captives would be given food only if they carried out a day's work and this explained why they were so eager to be our "servants". The food we gave them was perhaps sufficient to keep them alive for a few days longer, and even to build up their strength to resume the work they were ordered to carry out for their German captors, so obtaining further rations.
It was so sad to witness the actions of these poor creatures when they scrambled for a cigarette end, a crust of bread or any other morsels discarded by us. They took enormous risks to find a hole in the barbed wire, through which they’d visit our quarters and offer to carry out the most menial tasks for a very meagre reward.
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Our next concern was more to do with ourselves, we seemed to be receiving rather a lot of French Red Cross parcels and the British parcels were turning up in the French section, but were issued to French workers. Really it was the shortage of English cigarettes and chocolate that triggered the enquiry.
The British Red Cross parcel was superior in every way to the French one, and the contents much greater in both calorific value and for the purposes of bartering. At the meeting we held with the French quartermaster, we discovered that the French believed that, as they were used as workers by the Germans, they were entitled to the better products in the British parcel. It must be noted here that Senior N.C.O.s and Officers were not obliged to work for the enemy and very rarely did so.
The plight of the other inmates in the camp was not considered by the French. The atmosphere was somewhat strained for the next couple of weeks and I think both sides were happy when it became known that the R.A.F. were to be moved on, again no hint of our destination was given. The day of our departure arrived and I was asked by the Medical Officer in the camp to forego my crutches and use sticks in future. With some hesitation I acceded to his request and was able to walk out of the compound.
We were ferried to the station at Dusseldorf and saw a city devastated by bombing. The majority of the workers in the repair gangs were women, and we discovered that these were Russian. They looked wretched. Armed guards surrounded the area in which they were working. Quickly we boarded the cattle trucks, which were similar to those in which we had travelled from Venlo.
This time there were no incidents. Eventually we disembarked at a town called Menningen in the district of Thuringia. Our home was to be in a beautiful Opera House, which had been stripped of its finery to accommodate large numbers of P.O.W.s.
The residents were for the most part captives from the Arnheim operation, but there were also many aircrew held in the wire compounds. Entertainment seemed to be the order of the day. Impromptu concerts seemed to take place daily, added to which was the opportunity to view a group of circus performers who were camped outside the fence. Somehow, they seemed to have dodged the call-up.
Food was of the highest quality, or maybe we were now becoming used to taste of ersatz; ersatz that was frequently embellished with the contents of Red Cross parcels. Almost daily the number of prisoners grew and it became obvious that some would soon have to be moved on, but no one really wished to go. Despite the overcrowding, the camp was reasonably comfortable. Perhaps this was because it was classed as a re-habilitation unit. It was with some regret that we took the journey to the station, there to board compartments of an ordinary passenger train but still guarded by Home Guards.
It was night time when we neared Frankfurt, and the train was diverted into a siding as an air raid was taking place on the city. We disembarked at around ten a.m., and as we left the platform, we were attacked by German citizens who wanted revenge for the raid which had taken place the previous evening. Who could really blame them? Our guards fixed bayonets and eventually drove
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the angry people away. Not all were happy to leave, and some followed the tramcar, which was to take us to the interrogation centre just outside the town. Bricks rattled against the coachwork.
Metal bars were used to smash windows, but our guards stuck to their task and we escaped without injury.
Chapter 5: STALAG LUFT 1XC KRAYSBURG
The dreaded DULAG LUFT !!! So often the subject of talks back in Britain. Here we could expect to be questioned on the activities of the R.A.F. and secret equipment of the Allied Forces. We had been instructed to provide only our Service number, Rank and Name and under no circumstances to enter into any discussion.
At once we were placed in cells which had only a bed on which was a straw palliasse, and by the door a device to attract the attention of the guards when the "Call of Nature" came. This gadget was used frequently so keeping the guards busy, they were not happy about this ploy to keep them on the move and the language they used to describe the prisoners was pretty choice. A childish prank but effective.
Messages in Morse code were tapped out on the walls between cells and on pipe work, but the contents were not within my knowledge of the Morse code even though the use of the code had been part of the navigator's course. Food was very poor. As the first day in solitary confinement drew to a close I realised that this was the first time I had really been alone since my capture, I was on my own.
There was no window in the room that I occupied, so I tried to get to sleep and to prepare myself for the interrogation I was to face very soon now. Would it be as testing as I had been led to believe back in England? The heat in the cell was overbearing and there was practically no ventilation, so it was no great surprise that I slept very fitfully and by morning I was not a very happy P.O.W.
The introduction to the camp was so weird. Between the entrance gate and the outer fence were a number of small wooden structures that looked exactly like dog-kennels, and each one of us was told to creep into one of these leaving our kit outside. There we remained for some time until ordered out again and told to retrieve the items that had been left outside. Next we were given a number and admitted into the main compound. The number was that of the barrack room we would occupy for the time we would be at the camp.
There was a reception committee and a barrage of questions about the progress of hostilities, but alas, there was little we could add to what they already knew for the majority, had been captured much later than we had. At last there was time to look around the room. It contained four sets of bunk beds, each with a paper palliasse filled with straw, supported by a few wooden boards. A small cupboard took up the space at the side of each set of beds. Near one wall was a cast iron stove with a chimney disappearing through the ceiling. Strung between the walls, were lines of string on which hung articles of clothing that had recently been washed. A shuttered window took
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up part of the remaining wall. It did not take long for me to be introduced to my room mates and to be advised which "mess" I would join.
Next I was told of procedures and the daily routine of the camp. In no time at all I was asleep. "Raus!! Raus!!" Such a banging and clattering, it was time to rise, dress and present our selves for roll call. What a motley collection! There we stood in ranks of five, lined up on three sides of the huge open square. German soldiers counted us five by five and informed the senior N.C.O. of the total number present. On a cold, bleak day this procedure lasted for no longer than 20 minutes but when weather conditions were good all sorts of pranks were played to keep the prison staff employed for anything up to two hours.
Each block was allocated a time for taking a shower-cold- and once each week there was the luxury of a hot shower if you managed to get a place at the head of the queue. On odd occasions clothes could be bagged and passed through a steam plant but this procedure was not popular as clothes tended to shrink so the cold water wash was the most sought after. The food we were served was appalling but we were informed that it was the same as that served to equivalent ranks in the German Forces, this was very difficult to accept and it made us eternally thankful for the extra items we received in the Red Cross parcels now regularly provided.
Perhaps it would be beneficial to mention what the parcels contained.
A British parcel would have in it basic items for providing nourishment, such as tinned bacon, tinned sausages, tinned margarine, dried milk, chocolate, prunes and a supply of cigarettes and other sundry items.
An American parcel would contain similar articles but the sausages would be replaced by Spam and there would be a larger tin of dried milk, the prunes would be replaced by raisins and in addition there would be toilet soap, much loved by the Germans and so very useful for trading purposes.
A Canadian parcel would be a mixture of the two, and parcels from France and the Commonwealth would generally be in a bulk delivery and passed to the kitchen for general use. The cardboard, string and empty tins were hoarded and used for many, many purposes. It was truly amazing what could be done by tradesmen who enjoyed practising their civilian skills in the re-cycling of tins etc.
Empty "Klini" tins were just the right size to fit the chimney of the stove and gradually the stove would be extended to-wards the middle or the floor so enabling more people to benefit from the heat generated, unfortunately, just when the stove had reached the centre, the German guards would organise an S.S. visit and not only the stove would be dismantled but many items were confiscated, and food that had been carefully stored, scattered and made quite unfit to eat. In retrospect it seems a futile pastime but at the time, it was a question of trying to outwit the enemy. Day by day the camp became an organised society. Rules of behaviour were drawn up and strictly adhered to, this was very necessary for the well being of all concerned.
Educational sessions became the norm and talks and lectures provided an additional interest for those not interested in studying for examinations, the results of which would be accepted on return
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to the UK Again materials and exam papers were provided by the Red Cross.
Entertainment was a must. Regular concerts were organised and again the inmates showed great prowess in making scenery and costumes from "bits and pieces".
News of the progress of hostilities was produced from I know not where, but there was a clandestine radio in use. Bulletins were issued on a daily basis, and of course, each new batch of prisoners was questioned on initial admission to the camp.
At the beginning of December, the weather changed for the worse. Snow fell and the temperatures dropped alarmingly. The walks which had been taken daily, now became runs but physical effort burned up energy and food supplies were not good, however, a supply of ice skates arrived, and soon work started on constructing a makeshift ice rink. The Canadians among us were overjoyed as gradually the rink took shape. Promises of skating lessons were made and for a few days hunger was forgotten.
Christmas would soon be with us and of course an entertainment to beat all previous efforts was to be produced.
A few days before these marvellous dreams were to become reality, there was the sound of aircraft overhead, not British, not German, but on closer examination, these were found to be Russian planes. What was happening? The news bulletins had said nothing of this but it now became obvious by the behaviour of the German troops that something was amiss.
We were ordered to leave the outdoor areas whenever an air-raid siren sounded. Sadly, one airman lost his life when he re-acted too slowly to this order. Perhaps the reader can imagine the tension that now built up within the camp. Few were brave enough to leave the barrack blocks and arrangements had to be made to ensure that those bringing food from the cookhouse were not made targets, should a raid occur on the journey. The number housed had been increased because places had to be found for new inmates that now included Glider pilots, victims of the raid on Arnhem.
Twelve bodies now filled the space previously used by four. It was essential that discipline was maintained and thanks to previous training , it was. A few days passed and the sound of heavy artillery was heard. There was little doubt that the Russian forces were not too far away. Were they aware that we were in the area? My mind went back to the advance on Brussels and the hope we had of being released. No promises were made this time. We received orders to gather our scant belongings together and prepare for a long trek to a camp within the German border. No transport would be available and the snow was still very deep. How would we survive? Makeshift rucksacks were made as were sleds that would carry food and equipment during the coming days. Some acted in groups but the majority elected to be responsible for their own future.
Christmas Day 1944. The gates of the camp were opened and we set out on our journey. The guards took up their positions either side of the column, thankful that they were not being left to face the advancing Russian forces. No longer were we the enemy, but a means of escape into the Fatherland.
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Not many hours had passed when we realised that civilians had joined the column. Old men, women and children, all striving to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the enemy. They were terrified that they would become prisoners of those who their own propaganda had warned were little better than animals. It was not long before mothers asked us to care for their children, and overnight, we found that we had been left with several young boys and girls, hoping that they would be safe with us. Obviously this was not possible, and at the first village we reached, we made provision for them to be transported by the German authorities. I often wondered what became of those children.
The greatest barrier we faced was at the River Oder. There was a town on our route -0ppeln- but we would not be passing through this town, but would walk across the frozen river. Now we were in Germany proper. The next stop on our journey would be the huge camp at Llamsdorf. This camp had been used as a camp during World War I. Now it was home to thousands of prisoners of every nationality where Germans had occupied the country of origin.
Chapter 6: LLAMSDORF AND BEYOND.
This camp filled me with foreboding. It was huge and the inmates looked so intimidating as they took their daily exercise. Gaunt figures in clothing which had seen better days, faces deeply etched showing that they had not had quite so comfortable a time as we who had just joined them. Many had spent several years in Llamsdorf and were looking towards the final days of captivity.
We soon learnt that although the appearances were poor there was still spirit and determination within the wire. The family atmosphere of Kraysburg was absent but the organisation necessary to provide a reasonable code of conduct was definitely in place. The quarters I was allocated were cold and damp; the only heating coming from the personnel living in the cramped space. Personal hygiene was not of a very high standard and the attitude of my companions bordered on hopelessness. My thoughts turned towards getting myself moved to some other section of the camp where life would not seem so dreary. I was not prepared for events of the next few days.
As at Kraysburg, a make shift open-air ice-rink had been constructed and tiered seating had been installed. Obviously not all had the same approach as my room-mates. Crowds gathered in the freezing air to watch an ice hockey game between a Canadian side and a side made up of various nationalities. It was exciting and many looked forward to further contests as well as using the rink simply for amusement.
I was granted my move, but after only a few hours, was ordered to pack what few possessions I had and join a group of sick and lame colleagues for onward transfer. Enquiries revealed that our small group was being transferred to yet another camp where we would be medically examined to determine whether or not we were suitable for repatriation. A couple of hours train journey took us to a camp specifically for army N.C.O's. The rest of the day was spent preparing ourselves for inspection when we appeared before the panel of Swiss Red Cross Medical Officers who would decide our future. Would I be repatriated? "No!" was the short answer but I would remain at the new camp. Here was a camp where 90% of the inmates had been captive since Dunkirk. The
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organisation was superb! Units in which I had been stationed back in the U.K. were not any better than this. I am sad to say that I cannot remember the name of this camp. Every inmate seemed to want to help the newcomer. Of course this could not last. This had been the story of my life for almost a year. The Russians were coming. This time I was able to ready myself for the next move. We were advised to gather in groups of four and to ensure that there was not more than one "Disabled" person in each group. When all was ready we evacuated the camp and set off to face what was to be a pretty horrific experience.
During the daylight hours we rested in pine forests or on farms on our route south. At night we walked and walked and walked. This arrangement was made so that our winding columns would not be mistaken for marching German troops and so become targets for any roving aircraft.
Whenever possible we would stock up on food. Crops would be raided and farmyard animals killed to provide sustenance for hungry mouths. I was appointed quartermaster for our small group mainly because I was not ruthless enough to carry out the pilfering necessary to sustain the four of us, whereas the others had become skilled in the art during the long years of working on German farms and in factories. I was most fortunate and shall be eternally grateful to my colleagues.
After several weeks of "marching" we arrived at a railway siding and were ordered to board cattle trucks for the next leg of the journey. Forty men and their equipment to each truck!!!! How degrading this was cannot be imagined. Toilet facilities were none existent and as each stretch of the journey was carried out during the hours of darkness, it was such a relief when dawn came and the doors to the truck were opened. Cold though the weather was, there was no hesitation should there be a stream nearby. The first task was to wash and prepare for the next night's journey. Now there was not a supply of Red Cross parcels and we relied upon the rations provided by our captors, these were very meagre indeed. Tempers frayed but astonishingly there was no pilfering of supplies.
After almost three weeks travelling back and forth across the operating rail system we came to a halt at a major railway station. PRAGUE! Much to our surprise we received hot soup from ladies who were the equivalent of the W.V.S. and we were allowed to draw water from the boiler of the engine to make tea (those who still possessed tea leaves), but sadly, our stomachs could not cope with the intake of potato soup and brackish water, many P.O.W's were very sick indeed. Another day passed and once again we journeyed along the rail system until there was just nowhere to go by rail.
Trucks were unloaded and prisoners and their guards set off over the countryside. At about this time the older guards were taken away to bolster the army elsewhere and their places taken by schoolboys enlisted in the Hitler Youth Movement. The situation was very delicate as the majority of these young boys were fanatical in their hatred of the enemies of the Reich. Time and time again they treated their prisoners cruelly and took little notice of the older members of the guard. On at least two occasions, prisoners were killed because of their failure to respond quickly to instructions from some youngster. When a batch of Red Cross parcels appeared there was increased tension as these were strictly for distribution to captives, and the new guards were
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loathe to hand the parcels over. Common sense prevailed and the daily routine continued. On and on we roamed unaware of our destination or indeed the final outcome.
An overnight stay at a camp near Munich, too crowded to receive any other bodies, simply helped to fix our position and to receive news of the progress of the war. A few more days and our section of the column was ordered to stay in a primary school building in the Austrian village of Kirschberg. Now we were in the American battle area. We settled into our new billet under the watchful eyes of the local population, and slept through the sound of gunfire and raiding aircraft.
Dawn broke and there was no sign of guards of any age. Walking out of the school I saw many inhabitants walking towards a church nearby and on enquiring whose feast day it was, I received the answer, " The war is over."
On the 7th May 1945 a troop of American soldiers appeared and gave the official news. They left sufficient food and other items to supply a small army. With great care born out of weeks of shortage, we divided the rations and prepared to be taken to an Allied base.
It was such a strange feeling to be free to wander where we pleased. There was an airfield at Strauben a few miles away and it was towards this that we headed, only to find that every aircraft had been destroyed and so were unfit for our use. Nothing for it, but to wait for the U.S. Army to return and arrange for us to be transferred the United Kingdom. The food we had been given was strange to us, the white, fluffy bread and real butter seemed to be so unappetising after the rough rations we had become used to.
Almost a week passed before an army truck arrived, and our journey home began. Our destination was the airfield at Rheims in France and on arrival, we saw several Lancasters with crews. These were to be the means by which we would finally make the journey home. Groups of ex- prisoners were allocated to each aircraft, told to hang on to anything they could and in a very short time we would land at an RA.F. base at Wing. Once again there was disappointment for my group. The Navigator for the aircraft had "gone missing". Wasn't I a Navigator? The pilot was quite prepared to trust my ability to map read until he could pick up radio contact. So, away we went and each occupant of the aircraft was allowed in turn to visit the flight deck and view the white cliffs of Dover as we approached England.
After landing at Wing we were escorted to a huge marquee where we suffered the indignity of being fumigated, given a cursory medical examination and then the luxury of a very hot shower. Almost three and a half stones lighter and almost unrecognisable from the person who had left on the disastrous trip to Aachen - I was home.
Chapter 7: FIFTY YEARS ON.
The next two years were somewhat confused. I was still a Navigator but, because of the injuries I had received, I was no longer considered medically fit to resume flying duties. Added to this the
R.A.F. had a surfeit of flying personnel, now that hostilities had ceased. What was I to do? I had no desire to serve as a member of ground staff. I chose to accept discharge.
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I attempted to contact the families of my crew but had little success. Only one person replied to my letters. It was to be some fifty years before contact was made and this came about in strange circumstances.
In 1990 I attended a Squadron Re-union at Waterbeach and was asked if I had any item which could be displayed in a Museum which was to be housed at the airfield, now the home of the Royal Engineers. I felt that my P.O.W. Idenitity Card would be of some interest among the stories and photographs of operational sorties. Little did I know that this exhibit was going to open up again the search for relatives of my crew! On the 27th October 1992, Mr. Clive Hill, who was the nephew of Clive Banfield, our Flight Engineer, visited the museum in his search for information concerning the flying career of his late uncle. As he was leaving the building he spotted the Identity Card and at once realised that, as only one 514 Lancaster did not return on the 11th April 1944, the person in the picture must be the sole survivor he had been trying to find.
Several letters and telephone calls resulted in a meeting being arranged at my home on 6th April, 1993. Contact was established with Bill Thackray in Australia, and soon family members of other crew members had been found. Despite all Clive's efforts, there was no trace of the Wireless Operator or the relief Navigator.
In May, 1995 Bill Thackray and his wife Hazel, travelled to Europe and spent some time visiting the War Cemetery where the six members of Lancaster LL639 were interred. They too visited the Museum and called on us at Worksop. It was possible for Clive to join us and, of course, I was able to enlighten them regarding the fateful night, 11th April 1944. Many relevant questions were asked and answered and it was resolved that we would be keeping in touch from that day forth. For the following two years, Clive continued with his research of the incident. He spared no effort in obtaining data regarding the incident and produced an account of the last hours of the aircraft and crew, finally drawing the whole story together in a highly illustrated book, "Investigation into the loss of 514 Squadron Lancaster II LL639 on 11th April 1944." His research had taken him to the village of Molenbeersel in Belgium where he met the remaining member of the Conen family who had been so kind to me and several others, who had witnessed the crash or had been young children at the time and heard the story from their parents.
Obviously the matter could not rest at that and soon arrangements were in hand to erect a memorial to ensure the incident would not be forgotten -
A site was cleared and the villagers built a structure to house a plaque concerning the event. The date for the dedication was set and Mrs. Hill (the sister of Clive Banfield), her husband, myself and my wife, Clive and Judith and several residents were present at the dedication. Nothing was too much trouble for the people of the area who were still full of praise for those who had released them from the strain of the years of the Second World War.
The friendship formed over that weekend has not been allowed to lapse. The inscription on the plaque reads:
THIS MEMORIAL WAS ERECTED AS A TRIBUTE TO:
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P/O N.W.F. THACKRAY PILOT RAAF
SGT. C.W. BANFIELD FLIGHT ENGINEER RAFVA SGT. R HUGHES WIRELESS OPERATOR RAFVR F/SGT. J.R. MOULSDALE AIR BOMBER RAAF F/SGT. C.H. HENN M.U. GUNNER RAAF
F/SGT. R.E BROMLEY R. GUNNER RAAF
WHO DIED WHEN THEIR AIRCRAFT - LANCASTER LL639 OF 514 SQUADRON RAF CRASHED AT THIS SITE ON 11 APRIL 1944 RETURNING FROM A
NIGHT BOMBING RAID TO AACHEN
ERECTED IN THE PRESENCE OF THE SOLE SURVIVOR SGT. E.L. HUMES NAVIGATOR RAF
AND MRS A.G. HILLSISTER OF THE FLIGHT ENGINEER
'NIL OBSTARE POTEST’ 11 JULY 1990
PRISONERS OF WAR 514 SQUADRON F/Sgt. J.D. ALFORD 2/12/43 BERLIN R.A.A.F.
F/O. S. BAXTER 3/8/44 BAL DE CASSON R.A.A.F. Sgt. A.J. BLACKSHAW 2/2/45 WEISBADEN
FALL J.M.J. BOIJRKE 21/1/44 MAGDEBURG R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. M.J. BOURNE 12/6/44 GELSENKERSCHEN Sgt. F.W. BROWN 11/5/44 LOUVAIN
Sgt. J. BREWER 21/1/44 MAGDEBURG F/Sgt D.R. BURNS 11/9/44 KAMEN
Sgt. G.H. BURRIDGE 2/2/45 WEISBADEN F/Sgt. F.J. CAREY 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. J. S. CAREY 30/1/44 BERLIN
F/O J.E.S. CLARE 21/1/44 MAGDEBURG R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. J. CLARKE 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. F. COLLINGWOOD MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. P.G. COOPER 12/6/44 GELSENKIRCHEN F/Sgt. H.J. COSGROVE 30/3/44 NUREMBERG
P/O A.B. CUNNINGHAM 11/5/44 LOUVAIN R.N.Z.A.F Sgt S. G. CUTTLER 21/1/44 MAGDEBERG
P/O H.G. DARBY 30/3/44 NUREMBERG F/Sgt G. DAVIS 20/12/43 FRANKFURT F/O K.D. DEANS 22/3/44 FRANKFURT
Sgt. E.G. DURLAND 12/8/44 RUSSELSHEIM
W/O W.E. EGRI 3/8/44 BOIS de CASSAN R.C.A.F.
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F/O F.J. EISBERG 21/11/44 HOMBURG Sgt. W.H. ELLIS 21/11/44 HOMBURG
F.O. M.S.C. EMERY 2/12/43 BERLIN F/O G.C. FRANCE 21/11/44 HOMBURG Sgt. R. GALLOWAY 2/12/43 BERLIN
F/Sgt E.F. GARLAND 28/7/44 STUTTGART R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. H. GILMORE 3/ 8/44 BOIS de CASSAN
Sgt. G.F. GOOD 11/9/44 KAMEN
F/Sgt R.L. GULLIFORD 30/1/44 BERLIN
F/Sgt. B.S. HAINES 18/11/43 MANNHEIM R.A.A.F F/Sgt A.D. HALL 30/ 3/44 NUREMBERG R.N.Z.A.F. F/Lt. G.H.D. HINDE 2/12/43 BERLIN S. Rhodesia Sgt P. S. HOARE 22/3/44 FRANKFURT
Sgt. G.M. HOLT 12/8/44 RUSSELSHEIM
F.O. P.J.K. HOOD 30/3/44 BERLIN F/Sgt. E.L. HUMES 11/4/44 AACHEN
T. Sgt. M.G. LANTHIER 30/3/44 BERLIN U.S.A.A.F.
P.O. LWC. LEWIS 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. R.B. McALLISTER 23/4/44 BERLIN R.C.A.F.
F/Sgt. J.R Mc.CLENAGHAN 3/8/44 BOIS de CASSAN R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. C.G.E. McDONALD 30/3/44 NUREMBURG R.C.A.F. F/Sgt A. Mc. PHEE 30/3/44 NUREMBURG
F.O. W.D. Mc. PHEE 22/3/44 FRANKFURT R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. C.D. MEDLAND 21/5/44 DUISBERG
F/Sgt. J.E.MALONEY 23/12/44 BERLIN R.A.A.F Sgt. S.W. MOORE 2I2/45 WEISBADEN
F/Sgt K. MORTIMER 30/1/44 BERLIN Sgt. W. MUSKET 2/12/43 BERLIN
F/Lt. C. W. NICHOL 22/3/44 FRANKFURT F/O. R.J. RAMSEY 11/5/44 LOUVAIN Sgt. J.D. REID 3/8/44 BOIS de CASSAN
F/Sgt. R.J. RIGDEN 12/9/44 FRANKFURT
F/Sgt. A.J. ROBERTSON 30/1/44 BERLIN R.A.A.F. Sgt. G.F. ROBINSON 28/7/44 STUTTGART
F/O. K.S. ROBINSON 26/8/44 KEIL
Sgt. C.L. ROBINSON 11/9/44 KAMEN R.C.A.F. F/Sgt V.J. ROLLINGS 30/3/44 NUREMBURG Sgt. J. SCULLY 3/8/44 BOIS de CASSAN
Sgt. R.C. SIME 22/3/44 FRANKFURT R.C.A.F.
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Sgt. R.L. SMITH 21/11/44 MAGDEBURG Sgt. W.J. STEPHEN 21/12/43 BERLIN
F/Sgt. G.H, STROMBERG 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. F.C. TOWNSHEND 22/3/44 FRANKFURT
P.O. C.O. TURNER 12/9/44 FRANKFURT F/Sgt. L.J. VENUS 21/5/44 DUISBERG
P.O. V.H.J.VIZER 21/1/44 MAGDEBURG F/Sgt. E.J. WALLINGTON 30/1/44 BERLIN Sgt. H.H. WICKSON 30/3/44 NUREMBURG F/O R.J.S. WILTON 30/3/44 NUREMBERG
F.O. D.A. WINTERFORD 11/5/44 LOUVAIN
F/Sgt R.J. WOOSNAM 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU
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
Just Another Story
Description
An account of the resource
Recalls joining the RAF as a flight mechanic in 1939 and then employed as a barrage balloon operator. Describes his subsequent selection for aircrew and training in London, St Andrews, Manchester and in advanced navigation at Dumfries. Next covers operational training on Wellington and beginning to crew up. Continues with conversion to Lancaster at RAF Little Snoring. Eventually posted to RAF Foulsham to join newly formed 514 Squadron which then moved to RAF Waterbeach. First flight on the squadron was 25 November 1943. Continues with description of life on the squadron and mentions operational flying through December 1943 and January to March 1944. Mentions first operation to Biarritz and operation to Nuremburg on 30 March 1944. Continues with account of being hit by anti-aircraft and set on fire on operation to Aachen. Describes bale out, injured leg, capture and time in hospital Writes of approaching allied troops and fighting and being transported by Germans to Venlo in Holland and then into Germany eventually to Stalag 1XC at Karysburg. Describes life and activities in camp and approach of Russian forces. Continues with account of long march back to Germany. Gives account of time at Stalag VIII-B Lamsdorf and preparations and journeys for repatriation. Tells of eventual liberation by United States troops and return to the United Kingdom. Continues with account of post war and getting in touch with relatives of his crew. Concludes with the building of a memorial in the village of Molenbeersel in Belgium and lists the members of his crew who died as well as prisoners of war from 514 squadron.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Essex
England--London
England--Bedfordshire
Scotland--St. Andrews
England--Manchester
Scotland--Dumfries
England--Norfolk
England--Cambridgeshire
France
France--Biarritz
Germany
Germany--Aachen
Netherlands
Netherlands--Venlo
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Bad Sulza
Poland
Poland--Łambinowice
Germany--Munich
Belgium
Belgium--Limburg (Province)
Germany--Nuremberg
England--Lancashire
France--Palaiseau
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1939
1943-11-25
1944-03-30
1944-04-11
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
R Marsh
E Humes
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Twenty-six page printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BHumesELHumesELv1
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
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
12 OTU
1678 HCU
514 Squadron
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bale out
bombing
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
Botha
crewing up
Dulag Luft
flight mechanic
Gee
ground crew
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 2
memorial
military living conditions
military service conditions
navigator
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Cardington
RAF Chipping Warden
RAF Dumfries
RAF Foulsham
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Little Snoring
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Wing
Red Cross
sport
Stalag 8B
strafing
the long march
Tiger Moth
training
Typhoon
Waffen-SS
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/584/31580/BHookingsEWHookingsEWv1.2.pdf
ce818869fb668740b8ff19720151de37
Dublin Core
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Hookings, Eric
E Hookings
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IBCC Digital Archive
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Hookings, E
Description
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Three items. An oral history interview with Eric Hookings (184315, Royal Air Force) and two memoirs. He flew operations as a pilot with 619 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Eric Hookings and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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2015-10-24
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Chapter One Early Days 1920 was a very special year, George V was King of England, David Lloyd George, the Liberal Statesman was Prime Minister; the Peace Treaty was ratified, the first meeting of the League of Nations took place, there was prohibition in the USA and, on July 8th I, Eric William Hookings was born in Clapham, in southwest London ! Before their marriage my father William Herbert Hookings served in the 1914 -18 Great War with the Royal Horse Artillery Regiment and my mother Rosina (nee Barber) was Nanny to the children of a Captain Talbot whom she accompanied, along with his family when he served some considerable time in India. I was the first child of William and Rosina but within two years I had a brother Dennis and there followed five years after that a little sister Barbara. It was the middle of the Great Depression and there is no doubt that we were poor, we all lived in two dark and dingy rooms in Battersea that were rented from a Mrs. Lye, who terrified me. To me she appeared as the wicked witch and one of my first memories was an occasion when my parents had left me to look after my brother whilst they went out for an evening. I must have been about seven years old and - as usually occurs my brother started to cry for Mum and Dad. I had no idea what to do and eventually Mrs. Lye appeared bringing us food and drinks. This terrified my brother and I even more for we were both convinced she was trying to poison us ! She really was a horrendous figure, always dressed in long black clothes and wearing a bonnet. From a very early age I was fascinated by the local markets and regularly accompanied my mother on her shopping trips. The noise hustle and bustle, the smells and the general atmosphere caught my imagination and I wanted to be involved. 2 On one occasion my mother took me with her to buy her vegetables and I can recall the allure of the balance scales, with their brass weights. They were irresistible, especially the four-ounce weight with a hole in the middle and one day I secreted one from a market stall. I slid it into my pocket unnoticed and that night threaded it onto a piece of string and hung it above my bed. It was wonderful to have this object swinging above my bed and I imagined it to be a pulley. But my happiness was to be short lived for the knocking of the weight against the bed head brought my mother into the room to see what on earth I was doing. Her “What have you got there ?” and “Where did you get it?” was followed by “Tomorrow you will come back with me, return the weight and apologise” mortified me, But early next day I was dragged back to the market and red faced, made to apologise for my misdeed. I still hold that fascination for markets of any kind and as you will see if you have the patience to read on, buying and selling became my life. My mother was a very strict disciplinarian, probably her nanny training and I recall the day she took me to the barbers for a gentle trim as she requested of the barber. Off she went on one of her many errands leaving me to wait my turn. She returned to find me with the shortest haircut imaginable, I had been scalped. She yelled at the barber that he had given me a short back and sides and that I was not the sort of boy who wore his hair like that. I had visions of the barber sweeping up my hair and trying to stick it back on to my head !! 3 The highlight of our week was Sunday when father would be at home with us. During the winter the muffin man used to sell his crumpets and muffins from the tray he carried around on his head and in summer it would be the ice cream barrow selling what we called ’hokey pokeys’ or cornets as they are now known. There was never much money, father was the only one who worked and he supported mother and three hungry children, all squashed into two rooms, but somehow they found the means to one or other of these Sunday treats. Time came for me to start school and mother searched for an appropriate school to accommodate her eldest son. The local school was not good enough, mother felt this to be rather rough and not of a high enough standard for me, for as well as being a strict disciplinarian she also had what was deemed as ‘ ideas somewhat above her station‘, Consequently, although certainly not of that faith, in 1925 I was enrolled into St Joseph’s Roman Catholic School in Battersea. It was not too long after joining the school that mother’s ideas of her ‘little gentleman’ were questioned, for during one of the playground games that we played - British Bulldog, which was a rather strong physical game that involved trying to tip each other over whilst on the ‘piggyback’ of another, I was thrown headfirst into a brick wall and knocked out my two front teeth. Short back and sides and no front teeth, always-grubby knees under my short trousers, and with a strong south London accent, I must have been a charmer. 4 We were poor but very happy, there was always food on the table and clean clothes on our backs, father worked very long hours and it seemed, mother always washing, ironing and cleaning our spotless little home. In 1926 came the General Strike throughout Britain and although only five at the time I can still recollect crowds of men standing at street corners looking tired and hungry whilst begging for work. The street fights between the strikers, strike breakers and police were to me really frightening. My father was fortunate enough to be employed as he had, since leaving the army. He was a dray man working with the horses he so loved. He would leave home at 6.00am every Monday to Saturday and not return home until 9.00 pm at night, tired and exhausted. I adored my father and would stay awake waiting for him to come home, I would then sneak from my bed, sit on his knee and help him eat his dinner (pinching quite a lot of it as I recall). The highlight of my life was to be taken to work by my father during weekends and school holidays. I dearly loved the two huge horses and was so keen to help him bed them down and feed them in the evenings. It was my father’s job to collect waste paper from commercial outlets and private homes and to take this to the salvage depots, today known as re processing. Off we would set each day with me feeling as big and important as my father, we would harness up the horses into the huge dray cart and, complete with my big toothless grin would set off around the London that I grew to know so well and come to love. 5 My father taught me to be most respectful and polite and to touch my cap, especially if we were given tips ! But for me the best and most exciting part of the day was to stop at one of his favourites local cafes that he frequented with all his mates and to thoroughly enjoy a huge mug of steaming tea and a great slice of bread and dripping. I was a man of the world ! 6 Chapter Two Moving On One of the highlights of my father’s job was to participate in the Easter Parade, held annually in Regent’s Park in London on Easter Monday, I would rise with my father before dawn to prepare the horses and drays for their entry into the competition for the smartest and best turned out horse and vehicle. There were drays to be scrubbed, brasses to be polished, paint to be washed and for the horses there was grooming until coats gleamed, manes and tails combed and plaited and decorated and their shoes blackened until you could see your face in them. I was never happier, working with my father along with his workmates, in an atmosphere that crackled with excitement and anticipation. At the back of each dray would be placed a couple of kegs of beer - just a little refreshment for father and his pals before, during and after the parade. The family was included in the parade and mother scrubbed and polished her offspring with equal gusto to that of father and his horses. The horses and drays, full of well-presented families would line up in Regents Park and slowly walk through the park to the judge’s stand where they would be inspected by (as I recall) rather portly gentlemen in suits and waistcoats complete with gold watch chains and bowler hats. Competition was very keen for the enormous prestige of winning the ‘Best in Show’ rosette which could result in not only a small financial reward from the boss but the respect of fellow draymen for that year. My dear old dad had won several times and the horses stable was well decorated with rosettes for Best this and Top that. He was a well respected man whom I adored. 7 There was one particular parade I shall never forget, I must have been about ten years of age. My father had a pal called Tommo, he was a very short, bow legged fellow who liked his pint or six of beer. He was funny, always smiling and laughing and together he and my father got up to all sorts of pranks. Mother did not exactly approve of Tommo she thought he led my father astray ! Never ! it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. We had all risen very early on this particular Easter Monday and arrived at the depot for hours of preparation, mother arrived later with Dennis and baby Barbara and we set off in the dray, for Regents Park. Now quite naturally, all this hard work makes a bloke really thirsty doesn’t it ? Consequently the two kegs of beer and I think a third one had been thoroughly enjoyed by Dad and Tommo. I was given the honour of sitting up front beside my father and I felt so proud to even be given the important job of holding the reins. The two giant horses were well used to the parade and moved along by themselves automatically. It was a slow task for each entry had to be inspected and judged so it was stop and start all the time but the horses knew the routine and lumbered along accordingly. By the time it was our turn to be judged father and Tommo had consumed a great deal of the contents of the kegs for it was a very warm day. I was holding the reins tightly when suddenly there was a gap in the queue and the horses lurched forwards. Totally unprepared for this sudden movement, father, whose attention had been diverted at that second, fell over backwards into the dray, arms and legs waving hat rolling away and face very red with not just the heat and humiliation. 8 My mother was furious and berated him all the way home for the embarrassment he had caused her. Father and Tommo - they just laughed and spent many a long and happy hour in their local pub telling this tale. We had even won one of those much coveted and prestigious rosettes ! 1930 brought about big changes, not only in my and my family’s lives, but worldwide too. The area in which we lived, Battersea, was recognised as being ‘the slums’ and in the early thirties a clearance programme of the whole area began. There were five of us still squashed into the two rooms at Mrs. Lye’s so we were one of the first to be moved. We were allocated a council house in Morden and what a fantastic change it was from the damp and dingy unhygienic conditions in which we were all squashed, to a brand new house that not only had a garden but it had running water, a real bath and an inside toilet ! To have a bath, which always seemed to be on a Friday night whether we felt we needed it or not, one had to first light the fire under the boiler in the kitchen, then fill the copper with buckets of water, sit back and wait for it to boil. Above the copper was a large round pump complete with a long wooden handle which, when you pushed it back and forward pumped the water upstairs and into the bath. There was a cold water tap above the bath but that was not really necessary for by the time the water had travelled through the myriad of pipes to the bath the water seemed to be tepid anyway. Dennis and I regularly fought to be ‘pump boy’ and after the tin bath in front of the fire the pure luxury of having what we thought of as a real bath was beyond our dreams. Being the eldest I was allowed to have first bath with the rest of the family coming in after me with the bath being ‘topped up’ for each following member. 9 Chapter Three ‘Allo ‘Allo - Wot ‘ave we ‘ere then ? So thrilled were we to have such luxurious accommodation, the whole family rallied round to create a home of which we could be proud. The garden was dug and bricks were found to lay little paths and we all lent a hand to paint, distemper, clean and polish and dig and plant vegetables. The best item for me in our new home was an indoor toilet, no longer would I have to trail downstairs in the middle of the night and out across the dark frightening yard in all weathers where I knew the bogeyman was waiting for me. It was bad enough during the day, but there had been times when I over indulged in rare green apples that resulted in the old ‘gippy tum’ - now that was horrendous. The only person inconvenienced by our move was my father, the move from Battersea to Morden resulted in his taking the tube train to Clapham and then the bus to Battersea Bridge which still left him a considerable distance to walk to his place of work where he had to be at 6.00am every Monday to Saturday. He then had to reverse the procedure to return home where he would arrive after 9.00pm - exhausted. Every cloud has its silver lining however and father’s was the fact that he now lived nearer to his old mate Tommo. Every morning Tommo would appear wearing his big grin and off they would go down the road, whistling their way to work. How I loved those days when there was no school, for I could go with them. If I was not up and ready by the time Tommo arrived he would rush in to my bedroom, rip off the bedclothes and tweak my big toes, a very painful torture that soon had me hopping around throwing on my clothes in haste. 10 A new area to live, meant a new school for me and mother registered me into the Number Three Council School at Morden. This school had a very good record for the education it offered. I enjoyed Math’s, particularly in relation to pounds, shillings and pence and Science but English was a mystery and spelling way beyond my comprehension the latter, a fault that still baffles me at times. As with many council estates, the kids formed ‘gangs’ and I tagged along with a gang of about eight or nine lads of my age. We got up to mischief - naturally for boys, but our mischief was to tease girls, play knock down ginger and generally play very tough, physical games. Being the ’new boy’ on the estate, I was proud to be asked to join what was considered to be the ‘best’ gang in the area, especially when they asked me to tag along with them when they were going to the rail station to get some chocolate from the machines on the station platforms. “But I haven’t got any money” I had to admit, thinking it would mean my exclusion from the best gang. “You don’t need money” they explained and I followed along full of admiration for a gang that could have such treats given to them for nothing. Arriving at the station, we all crowded around the machine that spewed out chocolate bars and I watched in amazement as each member fed a flat disc the size of one penny, into the money slot and then pulled out the draw that to reveal their prize of a bar of chocolate ! “Come on Eric, you want one don’t you?” they whispered pressing one of the magic discs into my hand. Not to be outdone I took the disc, fed in into the machine and lo and behold, there was my bar of chocolate ! 11 So enthralled in what I had achieved, I failed to notice how quiet it had become and as I turned, a large hand grabbed me by the collar of my jacket almost lifting me off the ground. “Allo ‘allo ‘allo what ‘ave we got ‘ere” a voice shouted in my ear as he spun me round and I was confronted by the biggest policeman I can recall ever seeing who demanded to know just what I thought I was doing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I wailed, wriggling with terror, noting that all my newfound mates had disappeared. Within minutes a large black Wolsey police car complete with ringing bell had pulled up and I was unceremoniously bundled into the back and taken to Wimbledon police station, where I was thrown into a cell. Locked up all alone in a police cell at ten and a half years of age is terrifying, my mates had scarpered, I had been arrested and worst of all my bar of chocolate had been confiscated ! There were not many houses in the area that had telephones in the 1930’s and I was compelled to wait in that awful cell until the police had called to my home, told my parents of their errant son and brought them to the station to collect me. It was past ten o’ clock and I was cold, hungry and very frightened but that was nothing to the anger portrayed in my mother‘s face when I was released into her care. She had strict instructions to report with me to the Magistrates Court next day and I was brought before the Magistrate who asked me many questions about my relationship with what I had thought to be my mates. I can never thank my mother enough for the way in which she supported me throughout that awful ordeal, a tiny figure in that Courtroom who begged for me not to be punished for I really was a good boy. I was let off, but the worst punishment was my mother’s anger and the fact that I was never allowed to join another ‘gang’. 12 Chapter Five My working life begins I have always had a very sweet tooth and used to frequent a little sweet stall outside the school gates. When that sweet stall came up for sale I bought it - my first venture into the world of commerce. It cost me two shillings and sixpence - a whole half a crown ! The stall had previously been owned by a boy who was leaving the school and, having noticed how popular it was I had been most interested and longed to have one like it, for a considerable time. I asked the owner of the house adjoining the school if I could leave my new possessions in her back garden, - and complete with scales and weights and a cover I parked my sweet stall there each night, paying her a few pennies a week in rent for her letting me do so. I was there selling my sweets not only before school but every playtime and lunch break and after the school closed too, selling my selection of toffees, bulls eyes, chocolate and humbugs and tiger nuts, that I purchased from Ivycon , the sweet wholesaler nearby in South Wimbledon. My best seller was Kay’s toffee, which came in 12” by 8” trays, complete with little hammer with which I would break up the toffee. I became quite adept at weighing out 2 ounces of toffee with my fingers strategically placed under the scoop ! I kept my sweet stall until I left school at thirteen and made quite a lot of pocket money from decaying the teeth of my peer group at school ! Whilst shopping in Sutton one day my mother saw a notice in a shop window for an errand boy, the shop was Talbot’s, a high class fruiter and grocer and without further ado she marched in and put my name down for the job. 13 The pay was half a crown a day - half a crown being 2/6 or twelve and a halfpence today and the shop’s idea of a ‘day’ was from 7.30 am until after all the shop had been cleaned out, usually around 10.00pm. I got the job and every Saturday and during school holidays I was there, keen as mustard and very eager to learn. My work included unloading the delivery lorries, packing the stock, filling the shelves, cleaning the shop and best of all, making the deliveries to customers. The good point was that Sutton, being quite an affluent area in those days, the tips were good ! I ensured that I was most polite as my father had taught me, I was helpful and obliging and consequently I did quite well financially. The bad point was Sutton Hill, a very steep gradient that I had to climb with my trade bike loaded so high that I could hardly see over the top of the boxes that were stacked over the front wheel. I huffed and puffed up that hill, my heart beating nineteen to the dozen but the thrill of freewheeling back down with legs sticking out each side of the bike made it all worthwhile. There was one special delivery that I really enjoyed making and which I recall so vividly, I must have been around twelve and just becoming aware of the difference between the sexes. At one particularly large house in Sutton, the lady of the house always answered the door wearing a rather low cut negligee, with my eyes glued to her cleavage, I soon learned that if I placed the box of groceries on the door step, rather than handing them over to her, as I had been taught to do, she would have to bend over to pick up the box, thus giving me a further glimpse of the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. No wonder I returned to the shop with a smile on my face ! 14 Earning half a crown a day made me aware of money and I was very interested in acquiring more. All the money I could save was intended for one purpose - to buy my own brand new bicycle and eventually I achieved my goal and bought myself a Sturmey Archer, three speed, drop handle bar, red racing bicycle ! The world was mine to explore and with my pals I set off early on Sunday mornings to places like Southend on Sea or Folkestone. I bought a tiny tent and sleeping bag and other camping paraphernalia and with my many friends I had now made we would set off at weekends and holidays in the summer to enjoy the fresh air, fun and much, much laughter - idyllic days. 15 Chapter 5 Growing Up Leaving school, I had to sell my treasured sweet stall find full employment. Talbot’s had been such an experience for me and I grew to enjoy working with the fruit and vegetables, meeting customers and of course earning money. Consequently when Mr. Talbot offered me full time employment I was over the moon. Talbot’s were well known and respected for the high quality and exotic fruit and vegetables they sold, Avocados, Custard Apples, Mangos, Passion Fruits and many others which have become common place today. One of the specialties were Corbert Grapes, an English grown grape. I can still recall seeing these lying in their individually constructed baskets, they were the top of the range and so expensive but Talbot’s had a clientele at the top of the hill that requested such delicacies and luxuries. The next opportunity that Mr. Talbot offered me was to join him on his early morning trips to Covent Garden, the biggest fruit and vegetable market in the country. Corberts and Munros were the suppliers of all the high quality imported produce for Talbot’s and I was thrilled to be able to see for myself how we actually obtained our supplies. Covent Garden fascinated me, porters rushing around wearing their flat hats upon which, with great dexterity they carried as many as ten large bushel baskets, piled high with the fruits and vegetables that were in season. The excitement was catching and I loved to mix with all those fascinating cockney characters, watching listening, discovering and learning so very much that although I did not realise it at the time would put me in good stead for my future life. 16 The early morning start that going to Covent Garden involved meant that my day began at 6.00am, but this was greatly rewarded in two ways, the first, by sharing the tea breaks with my fellow buyers, at the working men’s cafes, where we ravenously devoured great mugs of tea and thick chunks of my beloved bread and dripping but the second, was Mr. Talbot’s car. The car was a very large Ford Lincoln which boasted a special body with folding seat in the back which enabled six people to travel in the huge vehicle in the three seats in the front and divided by a glass partition -three seats in the back. I not only had the pleasure of going with Mr. Talbot to Covent Garden in this car but occasionally, on a Wednesday afternoon ( half day closing) Mrs. Talbot, who had taken quite a shine to me would invite me to join her on one of her weekly trips to Brighton ! She would take me to the Ship Hotel in Brighton for afternoon tea - what a treat for such a young lad from such a poor background, not only the ride in the fabulous car but the opportunity to eat such tasty food- especially the cream cakes ! There were many employees at Talbot’s but my ‘pal’ was Harold. Harold was a couple of years older than I was, although he acted as if he were much younger. He was a determined body builder with aims of becoming ‘Mr. Atlas’ the hero of all young men in the 1930’s whose muscular body adorned many an poster with the slogan “You too can have a body like mine” if you used whatever product he was advertising ! We would compete to see who could lift the heaviest weights and who could carry them the furthest, with sacks of potatoes being the burdens. Oh the energy and exuberance of youth! 17 Chapter Six Me and my bike ! Between 1935 and 1938, my new found friends, shop assistants, delivery men and office workers would meet in the local cafe, near to Talbot’s store. It specialised in spaghetti and beans on toast which we invariably followed with a Lyon's fruit pie, washed down mugs of strong tea. This, I thought, was the high life of cafe society. One day, the more senior members of Talbot’s staff decided to have a race and, borrowing trade bikes from the delivery boys, which had a large wheel at the rear and a small wheel at the front over which sat the trolley on which the large delivery baskets were placed, we decided to race down Sutton Hill. My bike was the one that still had the large wooden boxes full of oranges in front, securely tied down of course - or so I thought. Off we set at break neck speed, pedaling like fury, hoping to be the first one to be able to reach the point where we could free wheel the rest of the way, thus assuring first place. Half way down the hill, the top box of oranges began to wobble and before long it fell off into the road, taking with it the rest of the boxes which scattered in all directions bouncing out their contents of oranges into gardens and gutters, under prams and push chairs and motor cars and charabancs ! I did not win that race and instead I was left, rather shamefacedly, to salvage what I could of the oranges and their boxes which had by now been reduced to matchwood. How is it I wonder that whenever I am in trouble there is always a policeman about ? I looked up, and there he was, looming over me watching, with a meaningful glint in his beady eye. His remark that I should be more careful or I might have an accident was I thought quite unnecessary but I got away with it this time ! 18 Fred, one of the lorry drivers at Talbot’s gave me my first introduction into driving a motor vehicle. Although not exactly law abiding, for the laws of the road were nothing in comparison to what we have today, I discovered I had a natural flair for the motor engine and I relished the opportunity to get behind the wheel of the company van on every occasion, which for a mere fourteen year old at that time was quite a feat. Another employee called Webb, encouraged my love of cycling and with my Sturmey Archer drop handlebar bike I was easily led to purchase all the gear, which included a pair of double seated corduroy cycling shorts, cycling shoes and an alpaca jacket - I was the king of the road ! Thus, fully equipped we would set off on Sunday mornings in the summer to take part in the cycling speed tests that were held on a new bypass in Kent that had recently been opened, I still have the photographs of me looking a treat - even if a dated one. Hormones and pubescent urges were now changing my body and I was becoming very interested in the opposite sex, especially one young lady who worked in Talbot’s office. My parents never explained the intricate details of any birds or bees and even today, I still regret my innocence at not having any idea of how to approach a young lady and ask her to accompany me on a ‘date’. Having left school a few days after my fourteenth birthday I felt, in 1936 at the age of sixteen that I should be making some progress within my career, if I was to have one. I had obtained a great deal of experience within the world of fruit and vegetables and I felt confident enough to approach Mr. Talbot and ask for a step up his ladder and try my hand at buying the produce for the shop. 19 Fortunately as it turned out, this was denied me and Mr. Talbot insisted that I continue learning about the origins of the produce and that I sustained display work that involved the baskets of fruit that I had become most proficient in arranging. I found solace however in my cycling and each weekend my friends and I would set off for faraway places such as Southend on sea, Margate or Portsmouth. Another favourite haunt for me was Croydon Airport for I was fascinated by aero planes even in those early days of my youth. I loved to watch the little ’planes land or take off, knowing their destinations were Paris or Amsterdam, places I longed to see, but never imagined that I would. One evening whilst cycling toward Croydon, I saw a vast red glow in the sky and I realised it must be an almighty fire. Cycling as hard as I could, I tried to get as near to the fire as possible, which I could see was on the far side of Croydon but it was impossible to get very near and I went home quite disillusioned. Next day the newspapers were filled with the tragic story of the huge fire that I had seen and I realised I had witnessed the burning down of the famed Crystal Palace ! 20 Chapter Seven Grown up responsibilities. At sixteen I felt a restlessness with life in general, I liked my job but felt the frustrations of not getting anywhere. I was therefore most delighted when a friend, who managed Bernard’s, (another famed fruit and vegetable merchant in Kingston upon Thames) told me of a vacancy in their shop for the position of an Assistant Manager. I attended an interview and to my delight I got the job ! Gladly I accepted the position and was delighted to be given the task of arranging all the window displays and the fruit baskets. I knew I had some artistic talent and appreciated the fact that they recognised it. The only real issue that I missed were all the ‘perks’ of working at Talbot’s. On a Saturday evening Mrs. Talbot would tell me to go through all the remaining stock and pick out all the fruit that was specked or damaged and to take it home to my mother. Mother would make fruit salads and pies that were so gratefully appreciated and a fine contribution to the diet of the family. Working at Bernard’s, gave me much more varied experience of the trade plus the fact I was now earning two pound and ten shillings per week, which was a great boost to my morale. After eighteen months I was offered another job, this time it was with A A Smith of Stoneleigh - it was the position of manager ! It was great to be sought after and not to have to ‘job hunt’ as so many of my friends were having to do. The pay rise gave me an income of three pounds per week and I so gladly accepted the position for unemployment at this time in 1937/38 was rife. The shop that I was given to manage was situated in Ewell in Surrey and with my own shop and a staff of three I was a king ! It was hard work with weekly targets that I had to achieve but, I was keen and those targets were achieved. 21 Opposite the shop in Ewell was a ladies hairdressing salon that employed several very attractive young ladies. I made great friends with some of the girls and we all used to go off cycling on our half days off. For me once again it was the old story of not knowing how to handle a situation that involved the opposite sex. My body was telling me what to do but my brain left me floundering ! My relationships with the girls may not have been very adventurous but my work improved greatly and I was complimented upon my creativity in the display work of the fruits and vegetables in the windows and for my fruit baskets that were works of art, Mr. Smith valued my work so much that he gave me a pay rise of ten shillings which was over a 15% raise. I worked at the shop in Stoneleigh until I was eighteen when I was approached by Mr. Smith with what I felt to be a great proposition. He explained that his shop in Streatham was not doing too well - in actual fact the whole shop needed revamping and he thought that I may be the person to undertake the whole project. Streatham certainly was not such a pleasant shop as that which I left behind in Stoneleigh, but, I was keen and full of determination to make a success of it. Starting work very early each morning I worked until late at night, decorating and cleaning the shop, creating displays of fruit and vegetables and turning the whole outlet into a very attractive and thriving business. This, in time led to another rise in my wages, a ten whole shilling increase which now made my weekly wage £ 3.10 shillings and at the age of nineteen I was now earning more than my father ! 22 Chapter Eight Discovering Girls. One of the pleasantries of working in Streatham was the proximity to the Ice Rink and the Locano Ballroom and very soon, along with my mate Harold, I learned the art of ice skating and ballroom dancing. This of course led me to start to take more pride in my appearance and, with my new found wealth of £ 3 .10 shillings per week I felt able to do so. Gaynors of Mitcham Green and another branch in Sutton both sold Guards clothing which I cherished and I became hooked. Guards were middle market outfitters and I bought several sports jackets, trousers and even an overcoat from them. I thought I was the cat’s whiskers in my new clothes and, what with these and my new Hercules Sturmey Archer, three speed, drop handlebar bicycle that was costing me 2/6 per week in hire purchase, I knew I was just that! My first encounter with the opposite sex had been was a disaster. It was in 1936 when I was working at Talbot’s in High Street, Sutton. The secretary to Mr. Talbot was, in my eyes, the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She wore very high heels with stockings with seams down the back, she had a tiny waist and beautiful bosoms over which she wore Crossover blouses. Her lips and nails were high gloss red and I was captivated. Her boyfriend was Fred, the van driver who had film star looks which made me green with envy but, after deliberating and agonising for weeks I plucked up courage and asked her if I could take her to the cinema. Her reply was with a winsome smile as she patted me on the head was “ Come back and see me Eric when you have grown up!” What a put down, I was puce with embarrassment as I crept back into the store. It took me weeks before I could speak to her again. 23 The first real girlfriend that I had was Doreen who lived in Moleshill in Surrey. In 1938 friendship was just that, for relationships between the sexes rarely progressed beyond hand holding and a little ’Goodnight kiss’ on the cheek. We were just two innocents who had no idea - and who were too afraid to take our relationship any further. We used to go out for days, visiting Madame Tusuards or just sightseeing in London. The problem was Doreen, whose father worked for Costain’s the builders, lived in Moleshill whilst I lived in Morden some miles away. The last Green Line bus each evening left at 9.30 pm and if I missed that it would take me hours to get home. I had a mile to walk from Doreen’s home to the bus stop and then another mile when I got off the bus in Morden so I was very aware of time. However the inevitable happened one night when after a rather protracted goodnight kiss I ran to catch the bus, only to find it pulling away from the stop and no amount of waving or shouting could stop it. It was an eight-mile walk home and the reception I received from my mother when I did eventually reach home was not exactly welcoming. An eighteen year old earning what was a very good wage, having a very attractive girl friend whom he did not know how to handle and who still lived at home with his parents and brother and sister was bound to feel frustrated and things began to get a little tense and fraught. I recall so well asking my mother if I could bring Doreen home to meet the family or if I could bring her home for Sunday afternoon tea, her reply was “ What do you want to do that for ?” “Well” I replied “ I want you to meet Doreen”. “Huh” she said “ I don’t want to meet Doreen so the answer’s NO” We had reached stalemate ! , 24 Doreen eventually moved to Dagenham and, after another fracas with my mother I, after threatening many times to leave home, eventually packed my bags and set off for Dagenham. Doreen’s mother welcomed me but insisted that I let my mother know where I was - a wise move but I was sure my mother did not want me. After five days a telegram arrived for me at Doreen’s home, it was from my mother and read “Please Come home” - Mother. I had had enough adventures for a while, admitted that I was homesick and with my tail between my legs, I returned to Morden. My friendship with Doreen ended amicably a short while after this incident, she found another boy friend and I buried myself into my work. 25 Chapter Nine Threats of Aggression. Thoughts of a possible war were on everyone’s mind during 1938 and early 1939 but Mr. Chamberlain, the Prime Minister at that time, reassured us all, as he waved the famous Peace Treaty that had been signed. Peace in our time was agreed and there would be no war. The media thought differently and the continuing news that we, as a nation were rearming, building Hurricane fighter planes, tanks and weapons, prepared the country for the anticipated announcement at 11.00am on Sunday September 3rd that we were indeed at war with Germany. Within hours the first siren - the wailing scream that warned of imminent enemy attack sounded, caused panic ,but instilled into all the urgency of defending ourselves. My family along with hundreds of others began the task of filling sandbags, building Anderson shelters in our gardens and preparing for what was a anticipated to be a quick fight that would be over by Christmas. With no disrespect to my bicycle, for I had great love for my chariot of speed, I bought myself for the princely sum of £ 5.00 a 250 cc Velocet motorcycle, much to the chagrin of my mother who predicted dire happenings on such a machine. However, aboard my noisy machine, I set off along with many other nineteen year olds of that era - to fight the war ! I had given a lot of thought to volunteering and knew even then that there would be no way that I would join the Army for the tales my father had told me of his harrowing experiences in the 1914-18 war, the mud, the filth, death, fear and the sheer futility of the whole debacle made me vow to never become a soldier. It was the Royal Navy for me for I was already familiar with the names of the ships that I had seen off Spithead when I had cycled to Portsmouth and I could envisage myself on the bridge of one of these giants, complete with binoculars, looking out for the enemy. I had forgotten that I was always very sea sick - even in a rowing boat !, 26 I arrived at the recruiting office, along with many others who were volunteering and carefully explained to the officer in charge, my intentions. I had thoughts of signing the dotted line and emerging wearing my navy blue bell bottoms. Nothing prepared me for the conversation that ensued: “Please sir, I want to volunteer for the Navy” “Yes of course my lad, just fill in these forms” I sat and laboriously filled in the spaces “ Right now, off you go and we shall consider sending for you in six months’ time” “But, I want to join NOW sir” “Impossible - how do you think we could manage if we enlisted all the young men who are volunteering? You have to be trained and pass all medicals and that alone may take weeks and still you may not be accepted. Anyway we haven’t got enough training personnel to cope with all the volunteers that we have already, so off you go and we shall see you in six months” I was disappointed and completely deflated but, it made me think very hard for there was every possibility that I would be ‘called up‘ into the Army and I would move Heaven and Earth to avoid that. What about the Air Force ? Well, I liked the colour of their uniforms and I loved to watch the planes at Croydon, so why not give them a try - in fact anything to avoid the Army. The RAF recruiting officer kept me waiting but eventually, after taking my details, he told me I would have to have a medical and then - if I was suitable and fit, I would be contacted. I explained to him that I was on the waiting list for the Royal Navy, to which he roared “Well go away and make up your mind either say YES NOW or go away and WAIT TO BE CALLED UP !!!” The thought of being called up into that khaki uniform was enough for me and I signed up for the Royal Air Force with haste ! 27 Chapter Ten Into Uniform. A couple of weeks later I was summoned to Uxbridge for my attestation to see how bright or thick I really was and the dreaded medical where they really did the things that blokes dread or enjoy ! I obviously passed for eventually I was summoned or ‘called up’ and sent to Blackpool in July 1940 much to the consternation of my family, especially mother who once again found her eldest son leaving home. The shock of change was enough to make me bald let alone having my head shaved, uniforms, kits, square bashing and those dreadful boots - what a change of life from my cocooned home life with my job at the greengrocers and my dancing, ice skating and cycling. Even the weather was such an extreme change, from cosy Morden to the cold windy sea front in Blackpool and the eternal marching up and down and getting up at what always seemed to be the crack of dawn. They say Lady Luck always looks after her own and I really was one of the lucky ones for instead of being billeted under canvas as were so many of my compatriots, I was placed with a delightful Landlady on the south side of Blackpool who not only issued us with our own front door key but also fed us extra tit bits for we were always hungry. The food that was given to the hotels to feed us was never enough for young chaps. There were six weeks of initial training and, by the end of those six weeks we had become men. We had discovered the Tower Ballroom and the attractions to the opposite sex of men in uniforms ! 28 Following my initial training in Blackpool, I received my first posting, it was to R A F Nottingham which was a front line aerodrome. From here flew squadrons of Fairey Battle ‘planes to attack the French coast down as far as Brest and across eastwards to Holland. The Fairey Battle aircraft which had a single engine was a sturdy and strong ’plane and although very slow, it was all that England really had in those early days. We suffered very heavy losses with these ’planes, the worst night being when Maastricht in Holland was bombed - twelve ’planes left England for this raid, from which not one single aircraft returned. Being a new boy I was given every conceivable job from guard duties, police work, kitchen duties, patrols, and manning the gun pits to loading the bombs and ammunition on to the Fairy Battle aircraft. I was trained to use the Lewis machine gun and one day I was posted to the outskirts of the airfield, to a gun post near to the bomb dump. It was a cloudy, dull day, I was on duty on this site from 8.0am until 4.00pm and I recall being rather bored. Suddenly, out of the clouds appeared a German Junkers 88 plane which began to strafe the airfield. I flew to the Lewis gun and opened fire but - the Lewis gun was really rather unreliable and it jammed after about twelve rounds. The pilot of the Junkers 88 however had spotted my gun firing at him and he came toward me and I realised he was dropping a stick of bombs straight in my direction. One bomb hit the area between me and the bomb dump and the blast from its explosion sent me flying through the air, my steel helmet went one way and I went the other. I was knocked unconscious and later recovered in the hospital to the realisation that if this was war then it could be rather dangerous. 29 Winter in 1940 was one of the coldest on record and one bitterly cold night I was posted to guard duty in the edge of the airfield. Being so cold, my duty hours were just from 4.00pm in the afternoon until 8.00pm in the evening. Feeling completely isolated I stamped around trying to keep warm and thinking of very little but getting back into the billet and having something hot to eat and drink. Snow started to fall which quickly, in the icy wind that was blowing, became deep drifts. I was freezing cold, tired, hungry thirsty and very lonely. Eventually, through the snow I saw the small slits of light that emitted from the blacked out headlights of the lorry carrying my relief but then, to my dismay, I began to realise that it was making no progress towards me at all. After an hour of peering at these distant lights I knew there was no way that the lorry could reach me for the snow by now was very deep and still falling heavily. Suddenly the field telephone in the sentry box rang and I was told that although every effort was being made, it was highly unlikely that my relief could get through to me that night but, they would try to get me some hot food. The night wore on and I knew that there was no way anyone would be able to reach me and any thought of hot food was completely out of the question. What I did not realise was that in the next field was a large herd of cows who decided to meander up to the barbed wire fence at the edge of the airfield where I was stranded. The twenty year old city boy, who had never been near a cow was terrified ! I had no idea if they were cows who may have a bull amongst them who might take an unhealthy interest in poor lonely little Eric. What would I do if they got over the fence and came nearer ? I had no idea at that time how glad I would be a few years later to cuddle up to cows for warmth and shelter - but that is another story. 30 It was in November 1940 whilst stationed at RAF Newton, Nottinghamshire that I was summoned to the administration office and told that my parents, living in London had been ‘bombed out‘! I could not obtain any information as to whether they were safe or even alive and, in spite of my begging for information I was told nothing. I was just told to report to the Commanding Officer and request more information for, in spite of the dreadful fear that I felt and my deep, deep concerns, I was in the RAF and had to go through the regulatory offices to find more information. All leave had been cancelled and only compassionate leave was allowed. To my mind this was compassionate enough, but I still had to appear before him to try to get a pass to travel to London. That Commanding Officer was not at all sympathetic or understanding and showed not one iota of concern, his words to me were “ If every time a bomb falls I he let airmen go home to see if their family are OK then the RAF will be nonexistent“. I stood my ground and eventually he relented and gave me a 48 hour pass. 48 hours to get from Nottingham to London and then back - hitch hiking - for there were no trains and I could not have afforded the fare anyway. He stuck to his guns and told me to take it or leave it. I took it and wasted not one minute collecting clean underwear, my razor, warm clothing and what money I could scrape together. A service uniform was an asset in 1940 and I was able to thumb lifts quite easily - a venture not entirely recommended today but although there were petrol restrictions, there were still vehicles on the roads and I found my way to London. I eventually arrived at my parents home in Netley Gardens late at night, but was distraught to find that where the house has stood, there was now just one large gaping hole in what used to be our lovely little front garden. 31 Fortunately for me an air raid warden was just passing and he directed me to the local community air raid shelter where, to my immense relief I found my parents, brother and sister safe and very much alive. It seemed that a land mine had been dropped onto the house whilst they were in the Anderson shelter in the back garden, which father, Dennis and I had helped to dig. They were alive but had lost everything we ever possessed. Eventually they were all re housed, again with another family in lodgings and were compelled to stay in these cramped, stressful conditions for some time. It was fortunate that they all got along pretty well but nevertheless the strain must have been horrendous. I spent quite an enjoyable Christmas in Nottingham in 1940 and if I have any regrets it is that memory has erased the names of the majority of my fellow compatriots who were there and I did not take the addresses and means of future contact for those good pals that I made. Weekly dances were held at the village hall for all the local residents and the RAF boys, probably to promote friendships or what today we call good relation exercises. The floor was the most uneven, badly knotted floor boards that I had never before encountered, but we did not care although there was some doubt as to whether or not the floor would give way under the stomping in unison feet, all clad in heavy duty, air force issue, boots. Saturday nights found us full of trepidation, hearing the three piece band and eagerly viewing all the girls who seemed to sit on one side of the hall whist we sat on the other side watching them watching us ! We certainly knew how to enjoy ourselves for we were taken from the RAF base to the dance hall and then shuttled back after midnight - there was no such thing as being drunk whilst driving for us ! 32 One evening, returning to our billet after what I considered to have been a great night out, one of the chaps in the billet called out “ Eric, I have been watching you dancing this evening and I must say you are just too fussy - you look for all the pretty girls and will only dance with them! When I go dancing, I look for all the cross-eyed girls wearing glasses for they are so grateful to have someone dance with them they are far more eager to go little further - if you get my meaning”! I did, but still did not know how I would handle such a situation like that, if it arose. I did enjoy my stay at RAF Newton, it was a full time active aerodrome and there never seemed to be a dull moment in squadrons 103 and 105. My awareness of the uncertainty of life was realised when I saw these little Fairy Battle planes - the front line of our defences take off, whilst knowing full well that they may never return. I was very proud to serve them and to have served at RAF Newton. My family meanwhile had been rehoused and their new address was 74, Abbotsbury Road, Morden in Surrey, it was a council house, having three bedrooms, one for mum and dad, one for Barbara and the one that Dennis and I shared. However the best thing about that house was for me Joan - the girl next door, she was lovely, had a superb figure, smart and was very pretty. We dated many times, went dancing, walking and lots of canoodling in fact I think she really was my first love. Marriage ? At this time in my life I felt far to young to even contemplate it for the most important thing in my life was my career and learning to fly. 33 Chapter Eleven Air Crew wanted. Time, is seemed just flew by along with all those aircraft, but, one day my life changed forever. Whilst walking past a bulletin board, I spotted a notice which read : ‘AIR CREW WANTED, IF YOU WISH TO VOLUNTEER, APPLY TO THE ADMINISTRATION OFFICE’ My hopes and imagination soared and I envisaged myself up there in the wide blue yonder, flying my own little Fairey Battle. I applied! To my amazement my application was accepted and I was posted back to London not to south London and near to my old home, but to near Lords Cricket Ground and London Zoo. I was billeted in the most lavish accommodation I had ever encountered, opposite Regents Park, where there are the most magnificent buildings divided into sumptuous apartments that boasted marble bathrooms with fittings to a luxurious standard and furnishings throughout the apartment that appeared to have just been left by the owners. There I was, twenty one years old, from the poorest part of the city, living in such splendour! Such extravagance I had never before beheld and I reveled in the grandeur. I stayed in the apartment for several weeks whilst completing my training, which was actually staged in Lords Cricket Ground with meals being eaten in vastly different accommodation - London Zoo !!!!! The rarer animals had been removed for safety but it looked as if the food which we were served was that which had been rejected by them before they left. Our daily routine of PT before breakfast, followed by lectures and schooling throughout the day was tiring, but not so tiring as to realise that we were in the West End and the nights were ours to live it up. 34 Our only misfortune was that we were all so poor, that everything was beyond our reach but, I was young, I was keen I was ambitious and eagerly anticipating my future. At the end of the training period I, along with everyone else took the examinations to see just how far I could go. My results were not good and I realised how limited my chances were of ever making air crew. Through my lack of schooling and basic dearth of education I had failed miserably. My saving grace was that although my answers upon that examination paper were not all correct, the ’layout’ was acceptable and, it appeared, that I had managed to grasp the fundamentals of what my tutors had tried to teach me. I was called before the examining board, five gentlemen of varying ranks and - standing to attention I was told “ Hookings, sorry to have to tell you, you have failed this examination - BUT” and I held my breath “although you have failed, we believe you do have potential and, with the possibility of further education there is a chance that you may pass next time” The Chairman of the examining board then asked me if I would be willing to attend a six week course of further education and then re sit the examinations. Would I be willing ??? My heart leapt with joy and I more than eagerly agreed to accept this second chance rather than be returned to the ranks as a failure. I was not alone for there were several of us who had failed this initial exam who were offered a further opportunity to prove that we were capable of doing far better things. My posting, when it did come through thrilled me to bits for I was to go to my old haunt of Brighton, the seaside town with which I was so familiar. I eagerly boarded the transport, leaving behind the luxury, and set off for my second home where I found much to my delight that we were to be based at the Metropole and the Grand Hotel where years before I had taken tea with Mrs. Talbot ! 35 Once again I was blessed with luxury, I had a superb room overlooking the sea the best plus however, was that our food was considerably better and this time our meals were eaten in the huge dining rooms and not in the local zoo. Although there were plenty of opportunities to go out and have a good time, the majority of my time was spent studying, doggedly persevering with what I should have learned whilst at school. I was so resolute for I had been given this second chance and I was determined to take it. My time was spent between lessons, drills, PT and studying, leaving very little time for play. One of the most fascinating lectures was hygiene, which at that time I did not comprehend its importance, however in my later years and experiences of close communal life, the value of these lectures were proven to be so very beneficial. Final examination day arrived and we were sat at desks and papers handed out which, to my delight appeared comprehendible. As the papers were finally collected I heaved a great sigh of relief, knowing I had done my best and now what would be, would be. That night along with my pals I certainly went out and enjoyed myself and, to my great delight a few days later I was told I had passed and was now officially AIR CREW ! Whilst awaiting my transfer to the Initial Training Wing for pilots, I stayed on at Brighton, studying navigation, aircraft recognition and the simple basics of flying. The Brighton public baths were commissioned by the RAF for the exclusive use in training crews in the basics of survival, rescue and other such events that may happen over water and, what with the swimming, drills, exercise and fresh air, I think I was at the peak of my fitness. 36 Chapter Twelve Stratford on Avon The war at this point was uppermost in our minds, the Battle of Britain was over, heavy fighting was taking place in North Africa and we were all very much aware of our responsibilities. We were continually worrying when our training in full would begin and just where we would be posted. The relief of having passed all my exams was so reassuring that I must admit my social life improved considerably at this point. The town centre of Brighton was considered to be safe but the beaches were full of mines and covered in barbed wire which rather curtailed any amorous adventures on the beach late at night. I compromised ! Eventually my posting came through, I was to go to Stratford on Avon that lovely old town in the Cotswolds so steeped in history and, to crown it all, the Gods were still with me for I was again billeted in great comfort, in the Linton Hotel on the banks of the river Avon. In 1941, rivers were not as they are today, polluted and unfit for swimming in, but were clear, clean and a pleasure for bathing. During my stay in Stratford on Avon in the summer of 1941, the weather was perfect, long hot summer days, staying in a hotel next to the old water mill - I was in paradise. We would swim, boat, visit the theatre and thoroughly enjoy the town and its history and culture between our intense periods of study during which I discovered aerodynamics and solved the mysteries of flying. Our corporal in charge of our group would daily, proudly march us through the centre of the town to the local cafe where we would all ravenously fall upon piles of tea and toast. We were a rather arrogant group, with our ‘chip bag’ hats with the white flashes that denoted we were air crew but, the local residents accepted us and we were warned and emphatically drilled not to cause any trouble. 37 I spent six months in Stratford on Avon and I recall those as being one of the happiest times of my life. The camaraderie, the fun, the feeling of achievement, the excitement and the anticipation of our unknown futures, were the essence of life. The thoughts of failure never occurred to us, for we were all so keen to achieve our aims and ambitions - to learn to fly. Unfortunately for some there was failure at this stage, but not for little Eric ! After my six months at Stratford on Avon I was posted to Heaton Park, just outside Manchester which was the place of dispersement for Air Crews, it was from here we were sent to points of the globe that were considered to be ‘safe‘ for us to learn to fly - Rhodesia South Africa, Canada and of course the United States of America. There were thousands of men living here, the majority living under canvas, in tents which was not the most comfortable billet in which to be found in Lancashire in the middle of winter ! Again I was blessed, I was billeted with a young couple in their house nearby. They made me so welcome, offering me the freedom of their house, giving me the key, telling me to come in whatever hour I wished and what is the most generous - they offered to share their food with me. This I could not accept for I was well fed by the RAF whilst they were on the meager allowance of rations that were allotted to the civilian population of Great Britain. I could not accept this hospitality but felt myself again to be so blessed by the generosity of people. I spent many weeks at Heaton Park patiently waiting to learn where I was to be posted and then came that fateful day - I had achieved the best posting that I could have wished for, I was off to the United States of America, via Canada ! 38 Chapter Thirteen Off to see the world. Anticipation, excitement, fear of the unknown, these were the mixed feelings that we all had for several weeks, whilst we constantly searched the notice boards for the dates of our departure. We were allowed a short embarkation leave, under strict instructions (which meant to us the fear of being shot) not breathe to a soul where we were to be posted. My parents were aware that I was going overseas but to them the fact that they knew not where, only added to their worries. Added to their fears, apart from the nightly air raids over London was the fact that my younger brother had been called up and was, like me, now serving in the R A F. Eventually the call came and I was posted to Greenock in Scotland - for the first time in my life I had ventured beyond the country of my birth and I was ensnared in the vast changes that travelling those few hundred miles made in Great Britain. The dock where we were to board our ship - as yet unknown to us, was a hive of industry, noise, fumes, smells, people rushing everywhere in what to me was organised chaos - it was Covent Garden early in the mornings all over again, but with far different smells and voices with strange accents that so few of us could comprehend. And then I saw her, the biggest and most wonderful ship that I could only dream of travelling upon - The Queen Mary ! I had seen pictures of this wonderful lady sailing from Southampton and here was little old me about to board her - I felt I had arrived and somehow at this stage in my life I knew that this was to be the beginning of the style of life that I would endeavour to always enjoy. 39 I did have deep consternation about the large hole in the side of the ship and felt depressed that we would have to wait again whilst they repaired her. Wrong ! large chains were placed around the hold of the ship and the hole was blocked We were to sail in her in that condition and we were ordered to muster on her deck. How long could my luck last I thought when I was allocated my accommodation, in the most luxurious cabin imaginable ! Here was I a little nobody from Battersea aboard the most opulent ship in the world, wallowing in untold comfort. It was just too good to be true. How much would this have cost me I pondered, if I had to have paid for this trip in peacetime ? What a marvelous run of luck I had enjoyed in all my accommodation since joining up - but, could it last ? We left England filled with trepidation and the fears of the unknown, wondering if we would ever see our homeland again. Our real fears were realised when next day the Captain summoned us all onto the decks to instill in us the life boat drill and dangers we may encounter crossing the submarine infested waters of the Atlantic ocean. He explained to us how the ship came to be holed. On the homeward journey, the Queen Mary when entering the mouth of the river Clyde, sliced through the ship that was escorting her, the Curacao. The zig zag action that both ships were taking to avoid the submarines put them on to a collision course and the Queen Mary, being such a huge vessel and so fast was unable to stop and consequently she sliced through the Curacao. The Curacao sank with a loss of two thirds of her crew. From a crew of 430 men, only 101 had survived The words of the Captain regarding our safety still ring in my ears “ Any man who has the misfortune to fall overboard during our voyage will be responsible for his own life” 40 If there is an opportunity, he will be thrown a life belt, but, there will be no prospect to stop, turn around and search for that man for the Atlantic is filled with U Boats, just waiting to torpedo us. It is far too dangerous for us and we shall not put the lives of hundreds of men at risk for the sake of just one man” The message sent a chill of fear through us all and brought home to us the stark realities of war. Because of the damage that her been incurred to the ship, we did not put in to our intended port of disembarkation - Halifax in Nova Scotia, instead we sailed in to Boston Massachusetts, U S of A where the ship could be repaired. The journey which in peace time would have taken four days, took us six, for our course was far from straight, and the Queen Mary although she could out sail and U boat took the evasive zig zag pattern of sail, changing course continually. Glorious sunshine and a calm Atlantic made our crossing perfect and we felt as if we were on holiday on a luxurious cruise ! We learned of the submarines that were in certain areas from the ship’s crew, but although we felt safe, we were somewhat relieved to eventually see the shores of the United States. What a shock to our systems when we disembarked, for having left the blackouts of the U K, here we were in a fairytale world of brilliance, with well fed, smartly dressed people, all seemingly blissfully unaware of what was happening on the other side of the Atlantic ocean. 41 Chapter Fourteen The wonderful U S of A My posting was given to me as we left the ship and to my delight, I found I was off to Ponca City in Oklahoma - sounded like an Indian reservation to me but, before I could find out just what Ponca city was like we all had to go to Monkton in Canada to be officially designated and dispatched. I did not care one iota which way we would travel, this was my first time out of England, I had escaped the blackouts, the food shortages and the constant fear of air raids. My only worries were for my family, pals and many girl friends I had left behind. Leaving Boston, we travelled by the most wonderful train I had ever seen, passing through Maine and New England which was at its most glorious best - in the Autumn or the Fall as I learned it was called. I had never seen foliage of such brilliance nor such vast landscapes. This beauty coupled with the excellent food we were served upon that train gave me the first insight into a world that little old Eric from Battersea could never have envisaged. We travelled through Toronto and Montreal where to our surprise, we found ourselves caught up in a parade. So caught up were we all in the excitement of seeing, for many of us for the first time, the beauty of Canada that we had not realised that it was November 11th and the parade was for Armistice Day. Monkton as I recall, was just a whirl of to’s and fro’s, papers to fill, goodbye’s to be said to friends we had made, who were off to different flying schools, classes to attend where we learnt the customs and ways of our host country and where we learnt this difference between British English and American English. Then the longed for day arrived and I was off to learn to fly - off to Ponca City in Oklahoma, to the Number 6 British Flying Training School, known locally as the Darr Flying School. 42 The first few days were spent acclimatizing ourselves with the layout of the station, our billets and of course the completely different way of life we were all discovering. Much to my surprise, one morning whilst on parade, I was called out of line and told to report to the Officer commanding our group, fearing the worst, wondering what I had done as well as imagining my self being shipped back to Blighty, I knocked upon his office door. To my delight I found I had done nothing wrong, instead I had been selected as the Leader for Group A - a group of very keen chaps. Peter Watson, a fellow new arrival was to be the leader of Group B. The idea of splitting us into Groups was one of pure competition, for we were not only pitted against each group but also against other Sections some of whom were far advanced in their training, from us. Although called the British Flying School, it was not only British Airmen who were stationed there for there were many Americans too. Our instructors were not servicemen but instead were civilians with a vast amount of knowledge and experience of flying. Friendly rivalry between the ’Poms’ and the ’Yanks’ , excellent food, comfortable dormitories and the feeling of security allowed us the ability to give our entire concentration to what we had all come so far to achieve - to learn how to fly. The course was not a ‘walkover’ by any means, nor was it a holiday although it was obvious that some there had thought that was what it was to be. Within a very short while some began to fall by the wayside, either through their basic inability to grasp the fundamentals of flying, not being up to the standards set and failing their examinations or even the basic fear of flying. Our course in which eighty keen individuals began finished with only 33 of us passing, which was apparently about the norm expected. 43 Not all of those who failed to learn to pilot an aeroplane were sent back to England, quite a large majority were redirected back to Canada where they trained as Navigators or bomb aimers. The next nine months were to be the most important in my life, I was aware of the intensity of the course, I knew I would work and study harder than I had ever done before , I realised the enormity of the responsibility I had undertaken but, I knew that I wanted to succeed and I wanted to go home to England wearing a pair of precious R A F WINGS Our early lessons were very elementary, we learnt what keeps a ‘plane flying and about lifts and drags‘. It would have been difficult to find more enthusiastic young men who were so keen and who had the hunger to learn how to fly. This was all so interesting, but for me all I wanted to do was to see and climb in and inspect the ‘planes and have the opportunity to touch the controls ! Our flying instructors were Americans and our daily routine began with the famous American breakfast which consisted of streaky bacon and pancakes with maple syrup - different but we loved it. Then it began and for six days out of seven we drilled, took PT, attended lectures and we learned to respect, concentrate and to OBEY ! The rules had been set down long ago by experienced pilots and drummed into us was the fact that you never ‘did your own thing’ The normal time for completion and for being able to fly solo was from seven to ten hours and after that we knew that we would have to be moved on. 44 Chapter Fifteen Going Solo. For me, the most frustrating fact was that I had to sit in the seat behind the instructors I wanted to be in the front and to see where I was going. I had already had twelve hours of instruction and I knew the time was fast approaching that would be make or break for me. I just could not get my head around the way to land the ‘planes softly and I bumped and skidded, hopped up and down and really made a mess of things. Finally I was given notice, and I was told to report to the Chief Flying Officer next day, for what was to be my final chance. This was it, all ‘my boys’ had passed and that night were going out to celebrate and yet here was I their section leader and I had not even passed my examination. They invited me along to what I felt was to be our final night together and I thought ‘What the heck - just go’ I was not a drinker, just the sniff of the barmaids apron would put me under the table but I was determined to go out with all my pals that night although I knew I had to be at the flight office at 7.00 am next morning. We crawled back to the airfield around 2.00am and slipped quietly under the barbed wire perimeter fencing. I could not face going back to the billet with the lads and all those happy smiling faces, so I walked straight to the flight room where I set up my kit and putting my head on my rucksack promptly fell asleep. At 7.30am next day I was on parade and waiting for the CFI. He appeared and standing to attention, I greeted him with a smart “ Good Morning Sir” “Get in the ‘plane Hookings with me and taxi out to the runway ready for takeoff. You are in control” he said. “I want you to make a full circuit and then come in to land” Full of trepidation I did as I was told, I reached the end of the runway lifted her up and I was off. 45 During the requested circuit I looked into my side mirror and saw his steely eyes staring back at me, instead of fear I felt that this was my chance to really prove that I could fly and I approached the runway ready to land, full of determination. I kissed the ground and made the most perfect landing possible and thought to myself “I think I have done it !” “Well done Hookings” the CFI said “ Now taxi back to the flight office, let me get out then make another full circuit and land” I had satisfied the CFI and now it was up to me to prove that I really could go solo. There I was. In takeoff position, waiting for the flashing signal from the Aldis lamp to signify I was free to go. It came and I began to roll. Three hundred feet - great - whoopee - marvellous then - whoops, I have to land this thing ! My landing with the CFI had been marvellous but, could I do it again ? My approach was good, although I felt nervous, now was the moment to kiss that ground again but no, touch again, then again and again, I bumped up and down on the runway and my heart sank - it was not good. I got back to the flying office and approached the CFI “ I am sorry Sir” I apologised “ I have made a bad landing” I expected me to tell me that I had failed. “ A bad landing” he queried “that was not a bad landing, it was a safe one, you did everything you have been taught and you have passed. Now enjoy your day.” I could have kissed him but instead thanked him profusely and walked back to be with my boys with my head held very high. The time had come for us to move on -perhaps a bit of leave and then for our advanced training and the final course examinations and those set of wings for those who were to pass. 46 I had completed my first solo at last, it had taken me far longer than anyone else in my Group and my fellow comrades as well as myself had begun to despair that I, the Group leader would not make it because I could not pass my first flight examination. What a feeling of relief it was to be ‘in control of my life again’ and to retain my dignity as Leader. My first plane that I flew alone was a P17 Stearman it was heavier than the Tiger Moth but it was the first training plane used in the USA. The problem with this particular little craft was that it tended to ‘ground loop’ on landing. I was one of the lucky ones, fortunately it never happened to me, but to those that it did I knew it was a very frightening experience. The world was mine and for the first time in my life I knew the feeling of freedom, I could take off alone, fly across the countryside, do my own map reading and explore Oklahoma from the air. As I gained more experience and confidence it was time to go back to school and I was put in to an aerobatic instruction class. I admit this did concern me somewhat but the instructors were adamant that we were not allowed to attempt any feats below a certain height thus possibly giving us more space and time to correct what we were doing. Me ? Well I was always up there in the clouds, not the 3,000 feet that the instructors told us would be a safe height, but I was 5,000 to 6,000 feet, thus giving myself plenty of time if I did get into any difficulty to straighten out and fly right ! One of the most exciting feats in aerobatic flying is the ‘spin’ where you have to gently pull up the nose of the ‘plane until you stall and then, when the wing drops you will spin into that direction and you will find yourself going down toward the ground. 47 The first time that I did this I was more than a little anxious but I had listened to my instructor and, by applying the opposite rudder, although the plane was still descending , it stopped spinning. I pushed the stick forward and, with the blood draining from my face, the ’plane levelled out and I was safe. Although the course was very intense, we were learning to fly in the correct manner, putting in long hours of study and practice but, we still found time to go out to play ! 48 Chapter Sixteen Generous Hospitality We were free in the evenings and at weekends and considered ourselves to be very lucky, for the local people who lived in Ponca City were so kind and hospitable to us ’poor RAF chaps who were so very far from home and missing their families.’ These kind people would arrive at our base in their cars to collect us and take us to their houses, feed and entertain us and make us feel so very much at home. One family in particular that ’adopted’ me had a very attractive daughter who took a shine to me, she was allowed to drive her father’s car and we would go off for hours visiting local hostels but, there were conditions laid down for her to have permission to take me out and her father lending us his car - I had to attend church every Sunday. Being compelled to attend church every Sunday with the Training School and then again with my adopted family should have improved my religious knowledge and also my morals but in 1943 to put your arms around a girl was risky and to kiss her Goodnight was considered to be rather ‘fast’. The weeks flew by, hours and hours of lectures covering all subjects such as flying, navigation, personal hygiene, mathematics, astronomy, cloud formation and such like. Somehow personal danger never seemed to occur to us, for we were all so keen to learn to fly, to then go back home and do our bit but, mostly to get those pilot‘s wings. Then came that final day of examinations and to my utter delight I passed and for those of us who did so it was up and away for a two week furlough as the Americans called it. I had made a good friend of a fellow trainee pilot called Ray Harvey and he and I set off to explore the US of A, beginning with Wichita. 49 Accommodation had been provided for us throughout our tour in what is the equivalent of our YMCA, but it was far more upmarket than any YMCA that I had seen. Our greeting in Wichita was so welcoming, there were special more ‘mature’ ladies whose duty it was to meet and greet us and when they heard our accents they were fascinated and asked us to just carry on talking to them. They wanted to know who we were, where we were from and even - “In which U S State was England” Each day we were collected by ladies who accompanied and mothered us during our stay. One of the first visits was to the huge Boeing Aircraft factory and it was here that I met Pauline and Ray met Fiona ! The hospitality they showed us was like nothing we had ever known, food and drink flowed and we were entertained and treated like royalty wherever we went. Pauline and I became firm friends and wrote to each other for many months of my stay in the United States and we were later, invited to visit Pauline and Leona their homes in Dallas. It was two months before that opportunity arose , for we returned from our leave in Wichita only to be summoned into the main hall of the flying school in Ponca City and told what our next course was to be. I was directed to course number 11 which was the elementary class for advanced flying. The C O told us that the aircraft we were about to learn to fly would be much heavier, fly faster and have different dihedrals for landing. It was back to school for us to learn to fly what was to become one of my favourite aeroplanes - the Harvard. It was not just the flying of ‘planes that we were to experience, we had flying lessons in the mornings and after lunch I was back at school sitting in our basic classrooms. 50 The AT6A or the Harvard was a completely different craft from anything that I had ever flown, there were rev counters, fire extinguishers, retractable undercarriages, instrument panels, oil pressure gauges, pitch controls and so many other dials and panels, it blew our minds. We flew in pairs for it was essential, as we were doing ‘cross country runs’ that one could fly the ’plane and one could navigate. Ray Harvey was my flying companion, we got along so well together and became very firm friends. Night flying was a completely new experience that was at first very frightening, little did I know at that time how much night flying I was later to experience. I consider myself to have been most fortunate at this school of learning for, having taken 13 hours to learn to fly solo, I passed all my examinations and tests and was the first in my group to fly solo on the Harvard. I did it in only three hours and forty minutes and broke the school’s records ! What a wonderful feeling that was, my normal height was 5 feet 11 inches but on that day I was over 7 feet ! It was not long after ‘soloing’, that I was instructed to take cross country solo flights - at night ! The weather in Oklahoma is normally calm and settled - one of the main reasons for us learning to fly there but, one particular night I recall so well. I set of alone and flew off in to the wide blue yonder and eventually, one and a half hours into the flight I realised it was time to turn back. What I had not noticed was that the cloud which was at 5/10ths had become 8/10ths ! We had been taught not to reduce height through cloud because you did not know what was underneath so, my only alternative was for me was to make contact with base and ask for help. 51 The spins, rolls and stalls that I had learned and practiced were fine but they were of little use to me now, I had to rely upon my lessons learned to ‘blind fly’ and regretfully these were not, as I recall, my strongest point. Now keep calm think hard, what do you do when you can’t find your way home in a London smog ? Ah - look for landmarks ! OK but there are not land marks at seven thousand feet, in thick cloud. Got It - Beacons, they would indicate where I was. I saw a break in the clouds and slipped down through it and to my relief I found the beacon signal and railway lines and with these ‘landmarks’ I was able to find out where I was and finally make my way back to base. What a relief to land, I was shaking with tension, relief, fear - I don’t know what, but I saw my instructor approaching and to his question “Is everything OK Hookings ?” I smartly replied “Yes sir” but then admitted “I was so scared” Leave came round again and both Ray and I set of for Dallas to meet Pauline and Leona, two of the most attractive girls who had been part of the ‘welcoming committee’ when we had first arrived in Ponca city. We had the most wonderful holiday, good hotel, excellent food, generous hospitality from so many of their friends who were all so keen to meet the two boys in funny uniforms, who spoke so strangely. I never did get to meet Pauline’s parents for the week just flew by and before we knew it we were heading for the train to take us back to base. Pauline and Leona drove us to the rail station and as I hugged Pauline goodbye, she slipped a letter into my hand and said “Don’t open this until you are on your way” Through tears and kisses the train pulled slowly out of the station and I eventually sat down and looked at the letter she had given me. What was it ? Had she fallen in love with me ? Was I to get married in the U.S of A ? No, she had a regular boyfriend who was a great big Marine (I had seen the photographs) 52 I opened the envelope with trepidation and there with a wonderful letter of thanks for being such a good friend was a crisp 50 dollar note ! I had never seen such money - it would keep me in coffee and doughnuts for weeks ! What a wonderful friend, she was not only beautiful and fun to be with but she was so kind and generous to boot. 53 Chapter Seventeen Those Coveted Wings The day finally arrived for the presentation of those well-deserved wings. Wings signified that you had passed all exams necessary to become a pilot. The RAF’s type were a set of cloth embroidered, gold coloured pair of wings set each side of the RAF crown and emblem and it was the ambition of all those remaining in my group to achieve the receipt of this much desired badge of accomplishment. From the original thirty five men who had begun their training in my group there were only eighteen of us left who had passed all the exams, tests and assessments and who had achieved their desired status as a pilot. For those who had, for some reason or other, not passed exams or were not considered capable of becoming pilots, it had been a return to Nova Scotia where they’re trained as navigators or bomb aimers or for some it had been back to England. I marched my proud little group into the parade ground and we stood to attention before the Commanding Officer - a Wing Commander Ball and I can envisage his face today as he called us out individually and I remember the pride I felt as it was my turn to stand before him and have this wonderful badge of triumph pinned to my uniform. I imagined the pride I would have when showing these wings to my mother who had been quite convinced that I would never reach this status. I had been so determined to become a pilot and now I had scaled those heights and difficult days to reach my goal. The euphoria of getting my wings was quite short lived, for a few days later I was summoned before Wing Commander Ball once again, this time to learn of my rank. I felt confident that I had been an asset to the course with my leadership skills and my position as ‘section leader’ and beating the school record for going solo. 54 The interview did not go as I had hoped, I thought it would be just a matter of “Congratulations Hookings” and the presentation of my Commission but, unfortunately Wing Co. Ball spoke to me about my education and concentrated upon the fact that I had left school and my basic education at the age of only fourteen years of age and, because of that, in his eyes I was not his type for officer material ! I was given the rank of Flight Sergeant which to me was most demoralising. The time came for us to eventually all say our Goodbye’s and, although very sad, I was pleased to be going back to England for, having volunteered for Bomber Command, I was anxious to complete my training back in the UK. This meant I would either be flying twin or multi engined planes. We boarded the train for Monkton in happy spirits, loaded with gifts for our families and girlfriends, but for me it was a heavily laden chap who had two kit bags full of food for Mum, Dad and my family to enjoy. Two days later we arrived in Monkton, Nova Scotia to be told that we were awaiting shipment but that could take up to three weeks before embarkation came. I was free of all training and school work and felt this would be my last chance to really let my hair down and enjoy the beauty of Nova Scotia. I visited the local beauty spots but my one outstanding memory is that of the local ice cream parlor where my pals and I devoured large quantities of such delights as knickerbocker glory’s dished up in huge glasses and topped with tropical fruits all served by a young lady I shall never forget. It was Gladys, who always saw that my ice cream was the biggest, had the most cream, Wafers and fruits and all served to just me with a beautiful smile. We got along famously and I was even invited to her wedding bit, I could not attend for very soon we were told of our intended departure from the United States. 55 Since joining the Royal Air Force I had enjoyed all the trappings of luxury, from the Grand Hotel in Brighton, to the luxury flats in Regents Park and the opulence of the transatlantic trip aboard the Queen Mary and I hoped we would be returning home in the same manner. We were notified of our sailing from Halifax but, to my horror came instructions that we were only allowed to take one kit bag on board. - What could I do with all the goodies that I had saved ? I did not want to disappoint my family and so the ‘Hookings enterprise’ had to come to the fore and I set about sewing two kit bags together - making one VERY large one, which I filled with tins of del Monte fruit for mother, tins of ham for Dennis, silk stockings for Barbara and for Joan, the girl next door and the love of my life, perfume and luscious lipsticks ! In fact any goods I could carry or squeeze into that gigantic double kit back which were completely unobtainable in the U K. The luxury liner to take us home ? Was it to be those so comfortable beds aboard the Queen Mary ? We all hoped so for we had become very accustomed to the good life and had come to expect the best and now - now that we were fully trained pilots we all felt sure we would be treated in the grand style and well respected. We duly arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia and loaded to the gunnels lugging my double kitbag I, along with all my fellow group and many more men from other training stations set off for the docks. 56 Chapter Eighteen Back to dear old Blighty We arrived and frantically searched the docks for sight of that beautiful liner, the Queen Mary but there was nothing but an old French rust bucket, the Louis Pasteur, that was looking very much the worse for wear. This could not be it we all thought. She will never make it across the Atlantic. Officialdom could not have been so thoughtless as to spend all that money on training us to perfection only to let us sink in mid Atlantic ! It seemed my luck had run out at last and to cries of “All Aboard” we climbed the gangplank with our hearts in our boots and queued up to (as we expected) be allocated our cabins. “Officers this way please sirs” came the cry “All other ranks to the front of the ship” Front of the ship ? Where was my cabin ? It was at this moment my feeling of intense dislike toward Wing Co Ball rose into my throat - he had not given me my commission and I was just another ‘oike’ in the general melee of serving men. It was hard to accept. A steward passed me and I asked him to direct me to my cabin - “Cabin mate ? There ain’t any cabins for you, so you better get moving so you can grab yourself a hammock I climbed down into the bilges of this detestable vessel and found a large area with hammocks strung across strategic points, most of which had already been claimed. There were no portholes for we were well below the water line, the air was stale and I had nowhere to stow my precious cargo. “ Move along there” came the cry “We are sailing” I looked around in despair. A hammock for me ? Just how stupid could that be ? I could not get in to it and when eventually I did manage it - I fell out ! I hated it, I was sea sick and I just wanted to get back to Blighty or go back to Ponca City. 57 The crossing was dreadful, the weather was bad, I was very seasick, we were not allowed on deck, time dragged and the journey seemed endless. For safety and confusion to the enemy we did not sail straight across the Atlantic but instead zig zagged across making the journey all that much longer. There were several scary moments when hatches were battened down and we were told there were U boats lying in wait in the vicinity. The Louis Pasteur had no escort and we knew that if we were hit there would have been very little chance of survival. It was very frightening and I came to realise how lucky I was to have been put ’on standby’ by the Royal Navy when I had applied in 1940, for I would never have made a good sailor. It was going to be so much easier being a pilot - or so I thought ! It took us five long days and nights to get back to England and the relief we all felt after being cooped up in that God awful ship was heartfelt when we were told that we were docking in Liverpool. We hastily gathered our possessions and we were told to prepare to disembark and go through customs. CUSTOMS ? I had not given a thought to customs. What on earth could I do with a double kitbag filled with what would be considered contraband ! I would be locked up, demoted, or even worse have all my goodies confiscated. What was I to do ? We left the ship - albeit thankfully and queued to go through the custom shed. It was glorious to set foot back in England but the accents of the dock workers left me quite flummoxed, I had not heard the Liverpudlian accent before and I wondered if I could explain myself and be understood by them ? 58 I need not have worried, the time came for me to go through and declare all my kitbag contents and I approached a cheery chap who greeted me with “Hello, Have you had a good crossing? “No,” I replied “ It was rough and I fell out of my hammock” “Sorry about that” he said “Have you got anything to declare ?” I had to come clean and I told him of the things I had things for my mum, dad and sister. “Oh ! They will be pleased” he said as he waived me through “Enjoy your leave” I had done it. I was going home and I had my precious cargo still intact, Whoopee ! I lugged my heavy kitbag to the office that had been specially set aside for us and I collected my leave pass and my train ticket to Kings Cross and Euston. And after saying fond farewells to all my pals and promising to keep in touch, I set off for the station and home. The welcome I received was overwhelming and the gifts I bore just knocked them all sideways, the food for mother and father who was still working for Phillip Mills, the paper recyclers, the lipsticks for Barbara were so appreciated and the special gifts of stockings for Joan were welcomed with more than open arms ! Dennis had joined the Royal Air Force during my absence and was stationed in Cornwall, but he managed to get a spot of leave and we all celebrated in style. Here I was at last a fully-fledged pilot in spite of mother’s doubts, she was so proud of me that one day during my leave, she asked me to meet her from ‘work’ to take her shopping. She had a job in the local munitions factory situated in Lombard Road, SW19 . When the girls all came out of the factory and saw me complete with a full set of ‘wings’ they were so surprised, but the look of pride on my mother’s face was enough to make me realise just how much she really cared about me. 59 I thoroughly enjoyed my leave, I met up with lots of my old prewar pals who, like me had ‘joined up’ into various armed services but who were either married or had steady girlfriends. Here I was, twenty three years old, due to go onto operations from which who knew what would happen and I did not really have a ‘steady’ girlfriend, I just loved them all. I had the girl next door to my parents -Joan - Joan was beautiful, very sophisticated with a superb figure and who, in spite of the clothing shortages always looked so smart - I loved her dearly. We went walking, to the cinema, dancing and did all the things that girls and boys did in those days but, everything stopped at that ‘goodnight kiss on the doorstep’ Joan was very correct ! There was one thing that I never did and that was to introduce Joan to my friends - she was so special to me that I feared that I would lose her to one of them. Joan and I had been walking out together for some time and I realised that we should make some sort of commitment so, at Christmas I asked her to marry me and we became engaged. I bought her a ring and we had a shindig to celebrate with our families at the Park Farm Club in Cheam, and danced the night away . I knew that before long I would receive my posting to an aerodrome in the UK where I would amongst other things learn to fly heavier ‘planes, adapt to night flying in the UK and to learn to fly ’blind’, that is totally using your instruments. 60 Chapter nineteen. Posted in the United Kingdom I knew that my mothers work was hard, dirty and dangerous but I was not prepared for the nasty accident that occurred whilst I was on leave. She caught her hand in a machine and was badly injured and totally incapacitated, having to go into hospital for surgery. I was the only one at home, Dad having to go off to work all day along with Barbara and Dennis having to return to his post as an aircraft fitter so it was obvious that I was the one to look after mother. Naturally - or ‘Sod’s Law ’ as I called it, my posting came through at this time - it was to Banff in Scotland. I did not appreciate that one iota, all those mountains, valleys and mists and me just a sprog pilot to boot. I reported to the C.O. and explained my home situation and to my relief I was rerouted a week later to South Cerney in the beautiful Cotswolds. With mother recovering off I went to Oxfordshire, looking forward to discovering England from the air, but it was straight back to school for me where for several weeks I learned aircraft recognition, weather situations and how to fly in them, night flying and the dreaded - blind flying. Eventually it was back to flying and I was in love and it was not just with Joan, but with the twin engined ’ Oxford’ aeroplane. The Oxford was a neat, compact little ‘plane that was easy to handle and I got along famously. I learned to ‘blind fly’ using only instruments, more navigation and aircraft recognition I passed all my exams on twin engined ‘planes and awaited my posting to operational combat, but this was not to be, for I was posted to RAF Maddingley in Herefordshire where I flew the DE Havilland Rapide - another twin engined ‘plane that I enjoyed immensely. 61 My duties involved teaching other personnel to become crew members, there were wireless operators, navigators, gunners, bomb aimers and engineers all of whom, although they had completed their basic training, had never flown before. Their reactions varied from delight to sheer terror. I also regularly flew aircrew and other personnel up and down the country where they were to attend meetings of the War Office My social life was hectic, the uniform attracted the girls and I was in heaven. In the United States I had learned to jive and to jitterbug so I was in great demand - pure bliss ! In the local pub I had befriended a Mr. and Mrs. James, local farmers who invited me to stay with them occasionally whilst off duty. They had cows, horses, sheep poultry and a large orchard - the fresh air was nectar and their hospitality extreme. One point of issue upon which Mr. James insisted was that I never went near his prize bull, a massive beast that he kept for breeding. It looked continually angry and there was really no need for Mr. James warning, I avoided it like the plague. There were many land army girls working upon farms in the area and one in particular took a shine to me. She worked on the farm that was at the end of the runway and whenever I took off she would be there waving to me and blowing me kisses. Food was plentiful on the farm and she supplied me with continuing gifts of pork, bacon and butter which I duly carefully packed and sent home to my family who were always hungry in war torn London. The precious eggs that she gave me were stored gently packed and then taken home with me on weekend passes. At the time I did not realise just how glad of this extra food my parents were. My rank of Flight Sergeant, stood me in good stead for better accommodation, access to the sergeants mess and improved food, it also gave me a lot more responsibility which, on one occasion I regret I abused ! 62 We regularly visited Hereford where we would attend en masse the dance halls, the station provided us with transport for these visits which consisted of an old ‘Dennis’ ‘bus which had a six foot overhang from the back wheels. It was a rickety old 1930’s banger but it carried us back and forth to our nights out without many mishaps. One particular Saturday night Flight Sergeant Hookings, who did not usually drink alcohol , for as I have said, one sniff of the barmaid’s apron would render him unconscious - decided to imbibe rather copiously. All was well until it was time to go home where, being the most senior rank I was in charge of ensuring all those personnel who got on the bus at the station and off at the dance hall did the same in reverse to come home. The ‘bus started off before I had chance to count heads and as I was standing up at the time the sudden jerk and lurch of the old bus shot me from one side to the other and my elbow went clean through one of the windows. There was glass everywhere much to the amusement of my charges. Had I been sober no doubt I would have been more steady but the result of my overindulgence meant that I was called up before the Commanding Officer next day where I was severely reprimanded and told that with my rank I should set an example to other ranks. Expecting worse to come I was greatly relieved when he said that because I was doing so well with my flying, there would be no withholdings. I had hoped to be placed in operational aerodromes but neither South Cerney nor Maddingley were so and my duties consisted of transporting Military Personnel all over Great Britain as well as training air crew. 63 Chapter Twenty Promotion In March 1944 I was promoted to Pilot Officer and I was transferred to Buntingthorpe an Operational Training Unit and it was here that I converted to two engined Wellington Bombers and where I formed my own aircrew and where, as a team, we trained qualified and became a skilled bomb raiding team. The Wellington Bomber was a medium sized two engined ‘plane, made by Vickers factory that was only a few miles from my home and for the next eight weeks we as a team learned to handle a ‘plane with a bomb load. We flew out to the Wash in the north sea where we learned to bomb aim under dual instruction until after four weeks we were on our own. My team consisted of five sergeants - Ron Walters my bomb aimer, Ron was 21, very smart, with a moustache and a great big smile. Butch Crony who was 23, Butch had a very dry sense of humour, he knew his job so well. He was my Navigator. Rex Temperman from Tasmania was my Radio Operator, Rex was 26 and smoked like a chimney. The two gunners were Alex Norris and Ted ‘Timber’ Woods. Alex was the rear gunner and Timber was the upper gunner, two great and very funny Midland lads. We shared and so enjoyed each other’s company in those planes where we became a big happy family. At weekends I would manage to get the occasional pass and would rush down to London to take Joan dancing at Park Farm Club but, I must admit that I enjoyed female company so much that during the week whenever I had the chance I would be visiting the local ‘hop’ and made good friends with many a local beauty. One day my sister Barbara came to the base to see me, she brought with her a girlfriend - Mary who I found to be good company and a good dancer. 64 As our training to fly Wellingtons went from strength to strength I became very much aware that ’blind flying’ was not so easy for I did not care to have to rely totally upon instruments to fly, it was natural for the mind to take control and to believe that you were right and the instruments at fault. One day that actually happened and I lost control of the ‘plane but, luck was on my side and I broke through the cloud only to find we were flying at a rather undesirable angle. I had instructed the crew to ‘belt up’ for we were going to really try some blind flying. We dived in and out of clouds and ’played around’ for about half an hour going across country and I really had a good feeling of confidence then, I found a real heavy cumulus cloud which meant plenty of turbulence and flew straight in. I quickly discovered that I was really no good at blind flying and became extremely worried as to where I was. The crew became very quiet and I felt that I had lost complete control. The answer was to tell the crew to bale out and, as I was about to do just that, I found a clear area. It had been a nerve racking experience. However the opportunity to fly those wonderful Wellington bombers was brilliant for us all, we dropped 14 lb. practice bombs in the Wash and I am pleased to say we had pretty good results, mainly because we worked so well as a team Our next posting was to RAF Wigston in Leicestershire, which was an Operational Conversion Unit and what a shock it was for me to see the great lumbering Stirling four engined bombers. They were so high up from the ground and looked to me to be a gigantic challenge. It was back to school once again for all of us, where we were to confront the liabilities of this great monster. An engineer joined us here - a crew member we had not needed in previous ‘planes his name was Sergeant John Tate who was to become the most important man in my life in 1944 ! 65 As with every conversion especially transferring from a twin to a multi engined ’plane, a lot more individual attention and concentration was required especially when ‘taxiing’. This necessitated moving the nose of the plane from side to side to do which, we had to use just two of the engines. Our training here was individual, I concentrated upon flying, John upon the engines, Butch upon the new navigation system, Rex upon the radio equipment, Ron upon bomb aiming and the two gunners Timber and Alec concentrated upon target practice. This training school was considered to be capable of bringing us up to full operational standards. Having experienced quite a few trips with my flying instructor who in his wisdom decided that I was ready for my first solo, the crew and I were more than thankful when that day arrived. When flying the Stirling along with the instructor, it was he who assisted with the throttle control and lifting the undercarriage but, to fly solo it was up to John to undertake these duties for the very first time which at the age of 19 was a huge responsibility. We HAD to all work as a very close team . Normally the first solo would involve only one circuit of the airfield with the instructor standing by the control tower watching your every move carefully and confirming that he had made the right decision in letting you all go solo ! Progressing through the course we were to spend a lot of time cross country night flying with ‘blind flying’ through cloud. All of which was to prove invaluable in the tasks that lay ahead of us. 66 The dangers of flying at night could involve the highly perilous position of being caught within the beams of a searchlight. If this happened to be the ‘master beam’ the pilot would become blinded instantly for this ‘blue beam‘ was of such brilliance that nothing outside the ‘plane or your instruments inside were visible. To practice this experience we became involved with the Army in Bristol. The severity of the blue beam and the dangers even on a training exercise necessitated us having a special code that informed them of any dangers we were in whilst being caught in that dreaded beam. On my practice run, I admit I was ill prepared for the strength of that searchlight’s shaft of light but I had been trained and knew what I should do. I maneuvered, dived, turned, flew into the beam rather than away from it as I had been taught stood me in good stead of getting out rather than becoming more subjected to more dangers. But, I was trapped and I realised that we were all in great jeopardy. I knew that I had to issue instructions to Rex, my wireless operator for there was no way I could get out of that light. However, just as I was about to switch on the intercom to Rex, the Army must have realised that I was in difficulty and switched off the beam. Even when that light was switched off I was still blinded and it took me quite a few seconds to straighten up and fly right ! Upon landing we left the ‘plane and stood in the airfield having a chat and for those who did so - a smoke. “ Skipper - what the heck happened there ?” was the general question. “We were thrown about - worse than being on boat in a stormy sea, were we in danger ?“ How could I admit that we really were, but this had just been practice …. What would I do if it was the real thing ? I was becoming very aware of the hazardous risks that were out there. 67 Chapter twenty one Having left Wisley in Leicestershire with the experience of flying a four engine ‘plane, we were posted to Scampton in Lincolnshire where we were to ’convert’ onto Lancaster’s and eventually to operations. Our squadron was to be 619 which was alongside 617 Squadron now famed for the Dambusters raid and the sinking of the Tirpitz. Our conversion onto the Lancaster was pretty quick and before long I was enjoying being in control of that monster. An important factor was to be au fey with take offs and landings for the Lancaster was a much lighter ’plane than the Stirling bomber had been. The landing of a Stirling was a matter of dropping it onto the runway whereas the Lancaster enjoyed ‘floating’ down. A part of our training was practice bombing, which took place over the Wash - far more interesting for the crew as they were able to participate rather than just being involved with taking off and landing. Weather played a most important part of what we did or did not do and on one particular windy day with a cross wind blowing I became aware as I approached the runway that I faced a difficult landing. I realised that I would not make it on that first approach and at a height of about twenty feet I shouted “Overshoot”. This command to the crew meant for one thing that the engineer had to hold the throttles in place whilst I held the aircraft steady. Continuing down the runway ready to take her round again and having reached the required height I called to John the engineer “ Wheels up” 68 “Skipper” came the reply “They are already up !” When I heard that I realized what a narrow escape we had for if we had landed with no wheels down sparks certainly would have flown ! Over the intercom came the voice of the Squadron Commander “Hookings I want you to go to the satellite ’drome, land and report back to me” Having carried out his instructions to perfection I knocked on the door of his office hoping that he would praise me for my skills in holding the aircraft steady. That was not to be, for his concerns were the fact that we were only inches from the ground with no undercarriage down. “ Why did you give instructions to pull up the undercarriage ?” he queried. “No sir I did not, it was just a misunderstanding between pilot and engineer” I explained. His reply was sarcastic “ We lose enough ‘planes over Germany Hookings and we don’t need your help to lose more over here ! Now go away, concentrate upon your training and make sure it does not happen again” Duly reprimanded I did just that and never was so inattentive again. My private life however was very good for there were far more occasions to socialise with the local girls at the village hops and occasionally my sister Barbara and her friend Mary would come to see me again, staying at the parents home of a Naval friend of mine - Tony Rasketts. 69 In August 1944 we were transferred to RAF Strubby in Lincolnshire, to join an operational squadron. Strubby was five miles west of Maplethorpe and our squadron was 619. I found squadron life to be entirely different from that of any previous training. I was amongst experienced crews who had flown many missions and I felt very much the new boy with a lot to learn. In training you saw the same faces almost without fail, but within a squadron it became commonplace to realise a pal was missing or there were those dreaded empty spaces at the breakfast table. I realized that one day it could be my turn and I reflected death or injury. In fact gave instructions to John my engineer that if I was ever injured whilst at the controls, he was to inject me with the morphine that was always carried in the survival kits, for I was the only person who would be able to fly that ‘plane. My only other alternative would have been to order the crew to bail out. Never in my wildest imaginings did I contemplate what was to happen to Eric Hookings ! After the first couple of weeks I settled into squadron life. Although not committed to operations as such, we as a crew were directed to the bombing range on the east coast of England to practice, practice and then practice. As a crew we became a very happy bunch who were contented with our results but for me, I was so looking forward to going on my first operation as second ‘dickey’ or copilot. The one incident that remains so clearly in my memory was one of the days we spent practicing low flying over the Wash, off the coast of Lincolnshire. 70 We had been directed to fly our Lancaster’s whilst overland, at a height no lower than 1,000 feet but the sea gave us our opportunity to low fly. On this one occasion whilst at a very low height I had a call from my rear gunner Alec “ Skipper - we are a Lancaster bomber - not a bloody submarine, take her up for God’s sake ” as I started to pull up I realized that my tail had been only about twenty feet from the waves. Now that was low flying! 71 Chapter twenty two… There was no doubt in that we were a very happy crew working together in good harmony, with lots of fun and laughter. However, our objectives were recognized as being very serious and our lives were dedicated to practice, practice and then more practicing. How to handle an emergency should one arise was imperative. We were taught what to do if we were (for whatever reason) forced down into the sea. We trained on how we would leave the aircraft and get into the large dinghy that was on board, then to send out that signal upon which our lives could depend. The other actions we practiced so many times was how to leave the aircraft if, God forbid that we had to bail out over land. We were told that if there was a fire in the engines or cockpit it was the duty of the engineer, John Tate to press the gravimeter or fire extinguisher button, for my actions were to ensure the fuel supply system was turned off and the plane put into a dive that we hoped would extinguish any fire. As anxious as we all were to commence operations it was crucial for me to gain further experience and I was ordered to act as second pilot on a bombing raid before taking charge of any operations with my own crew. I was summoned to a briefing, introduced to the crew and informed that the ‘target for tonight’ would be the Bergen submarine pens in Norway. The actual briefing covered the types of bombs we would have onboard, target indicators and their special color significance and the importance of knowing which color flares would indicate the enemy and not our own forces. Navigation aids and the weather was also of such importance to us all. 72 We taxied out and, for the first time I actually was in control of taking off the mighty Lancaster with her full load of bombs on board. What an experience it was and I heaved a sigh of relief when I completed it successfully. The crossing of the North sea was uneventful, we saw no enemy aircraft and the weather was kind but, problems arose when we arrived in the target area. The weather had closed in and with the cloud base at 9/10ths the master bomber was unable to drop the target indicator flares. After circling the area for 30 minutes we were directed to abort the operations and we headed for home. I was sad that we were unable to fulfill our intentions but my concentration was brought sharply into focus when, on our way back across the North sea we ran into a severe electrical storm which was more than a little disconcerting, with lightning flashing across the aircraft which still had the full bomb load. We eventually crossed the coast only to be told that, due to bad weather we would not be able to land at our own base ! We were transferred to a nonoperational base further up the east coast where the weather was clear. Here I was, not only having to try to land with this full bomb load, but also to have to land onto a strange airfield ! It was my good fortune that on this occasion I had with me the full assistance of the experienced pilot and, between us we managed to get her down. Thankfully all the ‘planes on this sortie also landed safely and it was a relieved bunch of boys that went into the mess for our eagerly awaited bacon and eggs, followed by a good sleep. 73. We awoke next morning to good weather and, as our base was only twenty flying minutes away, we were eager to get going. We each arrived at our individual aircraft only to find to our utter horror some ‘nonoperational based officer’ had given instruction to ground staff to fill our fuel tanks to the top !!! This resulted in us all not only having to embark on the difficult take off with full tanks and bomb loads but, we were also unable to land at our home base due to the all up weight of those fuel tanks and bombs. We were ordered to fly out over the sea and drop our bomb load ! What a waste ! So, we flew out, bombed the North sea and flew back to home base ! What I had been up to with the crew of another ‘plane was of great interest to my crew and they were anxious to discover if I had any contact with the enemy ? It was September 1944 and we were soon making preparations for our own first raid as a full crew and that call appeared on the Daily Record board, a few days later. We were summoned to the briefing room and told that our target was to be Dusseldorf and our squadron 619, would be in the first wave. We now put into practice all our training routines, weather, type of bomb load, flares etc. and eventually went to our messes, they to the sergeants and me to the officer’s mess for our bacon and eggs. Assembling at our respective dispersal point, complete with parachutes we awaited the transport to our Lancaster bomber and I suddenly became most apprehensive. It had arrived, I was there, this was it, my ’plane was waiting to be boarded, I was in charge of this ’planes mission and I was responsible for the lives of those six brave boys. 74 I signed the 700, which was the logbook pertaining to the mechanics of Aircraft, confirming all was in order and we boarded, went to our fixed positions and commenced our checklists. I started the engines, carried out cross checks and proceeded to taxi out. Eventually, after what seemed a lifetime I saw the green light from the Aldus lamp giving me the all clear for takeoff. It was an emotional Eric Hookings that roared down that runway at Strubby, I was fully aware of what I had to do and of my responsibilities but after takeoff and once I got to 2,000 feet I settled down and accepted my fate. As we crossed the English channel we - as was the normal practice - tested our guns, the navigator Butch Croney set our course and we joined into the main force of over 900 bombers. There were no enemy ‘planes on our outward bound flight but, our concern was collision, for there were so many of us and the danger was in the slightest touch of a wing that would spell disaster. All the crew was on intensive ob’s for this and at one time the shout from the mid upper gunner Timber Woods “Skipper, watch out there’s one right above us” brought us to the reality of close formation flying. We neared our intended target and I could see nothing! No action from any other ‘planes, no flares, no fires and I wondered if we really were on the right course. Butch reassured me that we were and reportedly told me we were in the target area and I consequently ordered the bomb doors to be opened. Ron Walters, the bomb aimer made his way to the bomb sights and within a few moments the whole scenario changed. 75 Searchlights beamed up at us, heavy flack was everywhere and we were in the thick of it. Ron gave me the directives “Left skipper” or “Steady” or “Right” It was my duty to keep the ‘plane as steady as I possibly could so that he could line up his sights onto the target. Ron’s cry of “Bombs away” was a relief to us all and it immediately became my urgent duty to get our craft out of the danger area as soon as possible for there were a great number of ‘planes behind me with sights set on the same target and I had to get out of their way. This I did by putting the ‘plane into a very steep downward turn which gave me the maximum speed to get away from the target. In view of the amount of flack which we encountered, my first responsibility was to check that the crew were all OK. I knew that we had been hit, but where and how serious was it ? All reported back that they were safe and we set our course for home. We landed at Strubby in the early hours of the morning, a very happy and relieved crew. We had completed our first mission successfully and our delight was increased tenfold later by learning that we had hit the target - the marshalling yards in Dusseldorf. As we left the ‘plane we became aware of the fact that we had been damaged, there were shrapnel holes all over the ‘plane and, amazed at the damage that been incurred and we thanked God for our safe return. 76 “Gardening Raids” were so called because we undertook such tasks as ‘planting’ mines and attacking enemy shipping. It was on one such raid that, after briefing, we prepared for takeoff and having checked with the crew that all was well I proceeded down the runway on full power. The tail was up, giving me full control of the rudders and as we approached lift off speed, the port outer engine lost its power, causing the aircraft to veer off the runway at an angle of 45 degrees. A quick decision was called for and I immediately pulled back the column and issued instructions to the crew to get to the rear of the ‘plane as the nose of the Lancaster was trying to bury itself into the ground! Fortunately that ground was soft from earlier rain but nevertheless we were sinking into the mud as we headed toward the watchtower. Our aborted takeoff had left a very muddy Lancaster, a deeply furrowed airfield and a badly shaken crew ! I was more than a little pleased to find out that our next raid was to be in daylight and even more pleasing was the fact that we were to have fighter escorts The target was Meebeck ( Homberg) oil installation depot. It was a pleasure to be able to see where we were going instead of flying by instruments and the feeling of protection afforded by our fighters was reassuring, we almost enjoyed the flight ! Reaching the target however was a different scenario especially when we were greeted by flack which became very severe and we appreciated the knowledge that those fighter boys were always in the background warding off aerial attacks. Of the 18 Lancaster’s from 619 squadron that set off upon this raid only seventeen returned to base, the missing ‘plane made it back as far as Woodbridge in Suffolk but crash landed killing the entire crew. 77 Having completed several missions we settled down to a working routine. Never complacent we had complete faith and trust in each other and became a ‘happy family’ always looking out for each other. Off base we could mix socially and many times we jumped aboard the camp bus for a night out in Skegness where I in particular could really enjoy the dance floors. Having become a jitterbug champion in Bedford (flying a plane was not all that I learned in Oklahoma) I was quite popular with the girls and could hold my own against any GI challengers. Saturday November 4th 1944 a crowd of us from 619 Squadron were enjoying ourselves in one of the dancehalls in Skegness when a particularly attractive young lady who was an excellent dancer caught my eye. I asked her to dance and could not let her go for she was as light as a feather and a joy to partner. We got along famously, she had a good sense of humor, told me she worked in Boots the chemist and later even escorted me to the ‘bus back to camp. We all had to leave sharply on time for we were all on standby for missions from the next day. Having all had such a good evening out, we were loath to leave but duty called. As I gave her a goodnight kiss, I asked if I could see her again to which she replied “ Eric - I would love to see you again but, I have a bad record, for every flyer that I have arranged to see again, never comes back !” I laughed and assured her that it would never happen to me…………………
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Title
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Eric Hookings's life story book 1
Description
An account of the resource
From birth in 1920 until operational pilot in 1944. Covers early life in Battersea and Morden in London, family life, school and first jobs after leaving school at 14 years old. Describes family experiences at beginning of the war volunteering for Navy at first and the the RAF. Describes initial training at Uxbridge and Blackpool and duties at his first postings to Nottingham and RAF Newton. Mentions that his parents were bombed out in London but survived. Describes volunteering for aircrew and passing exams at second attempt. Covers initial aviation training at Stratford-upon-Avon and Heaton Park (Manchester). Posted to United States for flying training. Describes journey across the Atlantic to Canada then on to Ponca City Oklahoma where he trained on PT-17 Stearman and Harvard. Covers journey home and training on Oxfords at RAF South Cerney and at OTU on Wellington at Bruntingthorpe where he also started to crew up. Continues with training on Stirling at RAF Wigston and eventual to RAF Scampton for conversion to Lancaster. Joins 619 Squadron at goes to RAF Strubby from where he flies his first operations, which he describes in detail, gardening and to Germany to attack Homburg.
Creator
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E Hookings
Format
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Seventy-one page printed document
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eng
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Text. Memoir
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BHookingsEWHookingsEWv1
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--London
England--Middlesex
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Nottingham
England--Warwickshire
England--Stratford-upon-Avon
England--Manchester
Canada
Ontario--Toronto
Québec--Montréal
United States
Oklahoma
Oklahoma--Ponca City
England--Gloucestershire
England--Leicestershire
England--Lincolnshire
Germany
Germany--Homburg (Saarland)
Ontario
Québec
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1920
1939
1944
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
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David Bloomfield
6 BFTS
619 Squadron
aircrew
Battle
bombing
British Flying Training School Program
crewing up
Flying Training School
Harvard
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
love and romance
mine laying
Oxford
pilot
RAF Bruntingthorpe
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Newton
RAF Scampton
RAF South Cerney
RAF Strubby
RAF Uxbridge
Stearman
Stirling
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/478/31022/BBrookMBrookMv1.1.pdf
4cd3acd12de048eadb4febb65de3b363
Dublin Core
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Brook, Maurice
Dr Maurice Brook
M Brook
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Brook, M
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with Flight Lieutenant Maurice Brook (1640523 Royal Air Force), his memoir and a squadron photograph. He flew operations as a navigator with 625 Squadron.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Maurice Brook and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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Transcription
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[centred]By Request
A RETROSPECTIVE [/centred]
Bomber Command No. 625 Squadron
[picture of a Lancaster]
No. 625 Squadron
[picture of badge] Motto: “We avenge”. Badge: Within a circular chain of seven links a Lancaster rose. The Lancaster rose is indicative of the aircraft used by the squadron, and the seven links the number of personnel comprising an aircrew.
King George VI, March 1945. Authority:
No. 625 Squadron was formed at Kelstem, Lincolnshire, on 1st October 1943, as a heavy-bomber squadron equipped with Lancasters. It formed part of No. 1 Group and between 18/19th October 1944, and 25th April 1945, took part in many major raids on enemy targets. Following its final bombing mission it helped to drop food to the starving Dutch people, ferry British ex-POWs home from Belgium and British troops home from Italy.
Bomber Command WWII Bases:
Formed 1.10.43 as No. 625 (Bomber) Squadron at Kelstem. Main nucleus-posted in about middle of month-was “C” Flt of 100 Squadron.
Kelstem, Lincs: Oct 1943-Apr 1945
Scampton, Lincs: Apr 1945 onwards
Bomber Command WWII Aircraft:
Avro Lancaster B.I,B.III: Oct 1943 onwards
Code Letters:
“CF”
[centred] Maurice Brook February 2011 [/centred]
[page break]
For years I resisted family requests to talk about my experiences as a navigator in Bomber Command. Apart from a natural reticence of not wanting to “shoot a line”, to use RAF slang, I knew that memory alone could mislead, as proved to be the case. More important was a selfish concern that real but unpleasant and perhaps unmanageable memories would emerge. Virtually daily, in quite[sic] moments, I have brief flashbacks. Conventional wisdom is that this is evidence of post traumatic stress disorder. My argument, which disconcerted a conference of psychiatrists, is that it is a biological mechanism for coping and providing there is no evidence that it interferes with normal functioning there is no need for treatment, which might undermine effective coping.
Last year, I was told that, “I owed it to the grandchildren at least, to make them aware of what an earlier generation had done in extreme youth. Ever son-in-law, Clive, remembered a wish I had once casually expressed for a final visit to Lincolnshire, a Lancaster bomber and perhaps visit the hotel where the Dambusters were housed. Out of the blue, he telephone last Autumn to say he had booked a VIP day in April at East Kirby airfield. There, among other things, there would be a ride in a Lancaster on the ground. The previous night was to be spent at Woodhall Spa, the very hotel used by the Dambusters. With that breathtaking announcement made, in his usual persuasive way, he suggested that as a quid pro quo I might respond to the requests to write about my experiences.
My navigator’s log book was stolen when we moved house from Effingham and memory can be false after over 60 years. To be as accurate as possible, I got my service record from the RAF and paid a researcher to cull the squadron records in the National Archives. I had tried to do this some years ago, but found the microfiches almost unreadable. The experienced researcher did a reasonable job, but may have missed some operations. To my surprise, it proved the unreliability of memory. I would have sworn I joined 625 squadron in the winter of 1944, but the record shows I did not do so until early March 1945. What I recollected as months was only weeks, which itself says something about the impact on me of the experience.
So, as they say, “to begin at the beginning”.
[centred] 1939 – 1941 [/centred]
I was on school holiday when my mother and I listened to Neville Chamberlain’s broadcast, September 3rd 1939, telling us we were at war with Germany. A neighbour came in, whose husband, like my father, had been permanently damaged by service in the first world war, which had ended only some 20 years earlier. I remember her saying to my mother, “at least your lad is too young to have a go.”
At school there was an awareness of the threat to freedom from fascism. We had Hitler’s Mein Kampf and Mussolini’s biography in the school library and were urged to read them. One master was a Jewish refugee who had escaped with his young daughter in 1938. Some of the boys had been on a school trip to Germany in 1938 and returned with Nazi
[page break]
memorabilia given to them by members of the Hitler Youth. Throughout 1938 preparations for defence were apparent, such as air raid shelters being built on the school playing fields, gas masks being issued and air raid practices.
I was able, with bicycle, to join the Air Raid Precautions Service as a messenger boy. This involved spending nights in the control centre at the local council offices, waiting to be sent with messages if telephones were put out of action. Not much happened and my usual duty was to be sent out, in the blackout, to buy fish and chips. One night, in early 1940, there was a raid on Leeds as I war returning with fish and chips. There was a drone of engines, searchlights and then anti-aircraft guns opened up. A piece of shrapnel hit my steel helmet, but somehow cut my lip. That was my initiation which, of course, gave me status in the control centre as their first real casualty. I told my parents that I had, “bumped into a wall in the blackout” and was told to be more careful.
During 1940, the school summer holiday was cancelled and the staff arranged a special programme: learning to play bridge, producing a play, music appreciation, outdoor games etc. One highlight was a demonstration of unarmed combat by the headmaster with the school caretaker. The Home Guard was being formed, initially called the Local Defence Volunteers. Our headmaster was the captain and the caretaker was the senior warrant officer. A squadron of The Air Training Corps was also formed, with the headmaster as CO and the caretaker as warrant officer. We were taught basic navigation, mathematics, aircraft recognition, morse code, drill etc. We had a week at Holme on Spalding Moor, then a base for Hampden bombers. We saw them take off after dark one night on a leaflet raid. Our first flight was on an Avro Anson and I was airsick. I was never airsick again until May 1945. Fooling about with my school-friend Walter Murton, I jumped through an open window in the NAAFI but didn’t duck enough and cut my head on the upper frame. The MO stitched it up and I was swathed in a turban of bandages, which gave rise to all kinds of speculation when we were back at school. Unfortunately, it put Muriel, who was in the same class, off for a time.
Dunkirk brought home to us all how desperate the situation was. We had a military hospital not far away and the head used to arrange for groups of wounded soldiers to come to the school and be given tea by the girls. We had a young staff who were beginning to leave, to go into the army or air force. They were being replaced by men from retirement and young women. Older brothers were already involved, one as an air gunner, whose schoolboy brother brought a clip of live machine gun ammunition into school and no one turned a hair. The brother of one of my primary school teachers was a Halifax pilot and cycling home from school I sometimes saw his plane circling over my home village of Outwood before going off on a raid. He was lost after a few operations. The headmaster had some of the older boys to his home at weekends where we were taught and practised rifle shooting. We also spent hours cleaning grease from case loads of old American rifles and making sure they were in working order. All this activity was a practical response to Churchill’s call, “to fight on the beaches and the landing grounds, etc., - we will never surrender.” Invasion really seemed imminent and we were preparing for it.
I had become a sergeant in the Air Training Corps and the RAF were offering university bursaries for suitable candidates volunteering for aircrew. The minimum age was 17 ½ , which I was in October 1941. My father agreed, reluctantly, to sign the papers and I made
[page break]
an advance application. This was accepted, after a long medical and intelligence test, in July 1942, at a centre in Viceroy Court outside Birmingham. I was then sworn in as a member of the RAF Volunteer Reserve, becoming the property of the RAF.
CAMBRIDGE
The RAF deal was that their bursary covered attendance at a university first year engineering course, and completing the initial aircrew cadet training at the RAF proper, by simultaneously being a member of the university air squadron. Long vacations were suspended during the war, so the normal degree was covered in two years. The first year equivalent was from October to March.
In October 1942, almost 18 years old, I arrived at Christ’s College. Walter Murton, accepted under the same scheme, went to Corpus Christi. I had two rooms with coal fires. A ‘scout’, old enough to be my father, cleaned, made the fires, got the coal in etc. One of the many new and not entirely comfortable experiences. Wearing of academic gowns was compulsory for undergraduates and you had to be back in college by 10-30pm or the gate was locked on you. The lecturers were first class and eminent in their fields. We did aeronautical engineering, applied mathematics, some meteorology, physics and electronics. Practicals were done in the Cavendish laboratories. To be in these famous labs and lecture theatres was something to remember. Other aspects of university life were enjoyed. I joined the Harriers and went running every Wednesday afternoon, likewise rowing, another new experience. Sunday evenings were often spent at the University church listening to first class speakers. There were many free lectures in the evening by well known politicians of the time, often firebrands: Krishna Menon I remember: Lord Gort, ex-governor of Gibraltar talked about his angel and god experience when governor of the beleaguered Rock, and communist Harry Pollitt. Sundays, arranged by the Communist Society, I spent with many other students on a bench at the Eye factory mindlessly stamping out rivets or washers to aid the war effort. It was a useful insight into the monotony of unskilled factory work.
The university air squadron was commanded by the headmaster of the Leys public school, but the staff were all RAF. We wore RAF uniform with a University Air Squadron shoulder badge and a white flash in our caps. The training was intensive. The New Zealander drill sergeant told us that when he was posted to the CUAS the CO said he was to remember that, “these cadets are the sons of gentlemen and are to be treated as such”. An interesting insight into prevailing snobbery. Amusing and tedious but it had a purpose. The CO’s comment I suppose had some substance in that period. We had several titled members, some sons of very senior RAF officers and army generals, the son of the then chairman of ICI. Needless to say, the effect on this New Zealander (colonial was we all then saw him) was that he made life really tough for us. We became good at drill and his inspections made sure we were super smart with polished buttons etc. Morse signalling was practised until it was second nature and we learned to take down messages with interference fed into the system. Aircraft recognition was practised by a brief flashes on the screen. In time we got to be over 90% accurate. More navigation teaching and an introduction to astronomy by learning the main
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constellations and important stars and planets. With Britain blacked out star gazing was easier than it is now. Social aspects were not neglected. Formal mess dinners were held with speeches and silly games afterwards and etiquette rules taught about behaviour in the officer’s mess - never go in your greatcoat, or wear your hat or fail to speak to the CO if he is in there, how to pass the port and so on. The whole ethos was that we were to show that we were demonstrably better than the normal RAF intake and I suppose it rubbed off in encouraging higher achievement.
After university and air squadron exams most of us had about two weeks at an aircrew reception centre, in commandeered luxury flats at St. John’s Wood eating in the zoo restaurant. From the RAF records I have obtained, I see my character was then rated as “very good” and “ recommended for a commission”. You were never told about your appraisals in those days. Time was taken up by more medicals in the pavilion at Lord’d: tests for night vision and ability to cope with spin. We did daily PT in the open under the shadow of anti-aircraft guns in Regent’s Park. One of the group in my ex-luxury room with eight airmen was a dedicated member of The Oxford Movement, who rose early every morning to say his prayers, but he was well tolerated and no one made fun of him.
From St. John’s Wood it was back to Cambridge as proper RAF airmen. This time living in Selwyn College, part of which had been commandeered. We were there about a month and given Tiger Moth training at Marshall’s field outside Cambridge, before being posted to Heaton Park Manchester, where I was billeted in the spare room of a couple in Crumpsall. He was an ambulance driver in Manchester and had already experienced raids. Other members of the family lived nearby and I soon learned that one son was a Japanese prisoner. I walked each day to Heaton Park for breakfast and all other meals. Apart from frequent daily inspections the days were taken up with useless tasks to keep us occupied as we were there awaiting a troopship sailing to Canada.
CANADA
Late autumn, 1943, hundreds of us were gathered in a large hangar at Heaton Park, given ration packs and marched to board a train, which travelled through the night reaching what some recognised as Glasgow docks the next morning. There we were marched onto a liner (either the Andes or the Aquitania) converted into a troopship. Every inch below decks was occupied with bunks or hammocks. we were given timed tickets for one meal only a day and practised lifeboat drill several times. Late afternoon we slid out of Glasgow and started the lone crossing relying on speed and zig-zagging to escape U-boats. Hygiene was primitive. Showers were just about possible , using special soap for salt water, but it wasn’t advisable in case of attack. Each day, the deck mounted gun was used in target practice. I think the journey must have been about three weeks. One dawn, we saw the impressive Statue of Liberty as we entered New York Harbour. The water was covered in floating debris. Not a pretty sight, but a relief to be there..
Train from New York to Monckton, New Brunswick, another aircrew reception centre. I
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was there long enough to be accepted into the hospital laboratory as an assistant. That made the days pass, but got me on a disciplinary charge for missing a parade. This remains on my record. From Monckton to London Ontario and the air navigation school, using Avro Ansons and civilian pilots. For the first time, navigation theory was being put into practice. Alongside daily lectures and practicals we flew on given routes around the Great Lakes at night, using ground observation (no blackout there) and code flashing beacons strategically placed. Some astro-navigation was involved, but no electronic aids. The pilots presumably always knew where they were, but they always obeyed trainee navigator instructions. More than once, planes were flown across Lake Erie to land short of fuel many miles from London. I avoided such embarrassment, but learned what it was like to be uncertain of your position and yet get yourself out of the difficulty.
[photograph]
Trainee Navigators Avro Anson. London, Ontario.
Temperatures at ground level of minus 20F were not uncommon as was regular snow, but flying was never suspended. With no blackout and abundant rich food, the contrast with the Britain we had left was marked. The other big impression was how big everything seemed to be, railway trains, cars, buses, wide roads and lots of space everywhere. I wrote to Muriel practically every dyad she did likewise. There was a special form we had to use that was transmitted electronically: an aerogram, I think. You wrote in black pen and the recipient received a photo-reproduction. The process was surprisingly quick, but you had to be careful what was said because they were all censored. The cadets on the course were from all backgrounds. An ex-Newcastle policeman and a miner, both in their thirties and with families. They had reserved occupations which exempted them from normal military service, but volunteering for aircrew always took priority. Also, there were virtual schoolboys like me; a couple of air gunners who had re-mustered after operational experience and a young East End Jew boy with a scar on his face from an air raid in which his girl friend had been killed in his arms. The instructors were Royal Canadian Air Force,
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mainly peacetime teachers, one of whom I met later in the UK at Operational Training Unit preparing to go on operations as navigator.
At the end of February 1944, I graduated from Navigation School and was commissioned as a pilot officer in The Royal Canadian Air Force, aged 19. A free month followed, hitch hiking in the USA prior to reaching Halifax, New Brunswick, to join the designated return troopship (Andes or Aquitania). The only difference in conditions on the return trip was that officers were separated from the sergeants.
[photograph of Pilot Officer Brook in March 1944]
Newly Commissioned
[centred] HOME AGAIN [/centred]
We docked in Liverpool to a quayside military band, before taking a special train to Harrogate, where the RAF had taken most of the major hotels for aircrew reception. It was a bus ride from home and I took advantage whenever I could. With a two day pass I could get to see Muriel wherever she was stationed in the army. I got myself a temporary job in the adjutant’s office censoring mail, primarily so I had access to the blank passes and could write and stamp my own.
Posting to an Advance Flying Unit at Millom in Cumberland followed. Here, navigating in blackout conditions on Avro Ansons without radar aid was the norm, having respect for the mountainous terrain in the area. The given route and height left little room for error. Crashes did occur as a harsh penalty for error. We were taken to swimming baths where we had to wear dark glasses, jump fully clothed, wearing Mae Wests (lifejacket) from the top diving step into the pool, locate a dinghy that was upside down, clamber in then blow a
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whistle to attract other crew already in the water. It was cold, unpleasant, physically draining but obviously potentially a survival skill.
By August I was considered proficient and posted to an operational training unit (OUT) at Husband’s Bosworth, a wartime airfield in Leicestershire.
[centred] OPERATIONAL TRAINING [/centred]
All new arrivals for the OUT course spent the second evening together in a large mess room. We were to sort ourselves out into crews for Wellington bombers. Being cautious and diffident, I did nothing at first but watched the scene with a mixture of amusement and cynicism. Within the first hour a dapper, mature, commissioned bomb aimer (itself unusual), came to me. He said he was Jim, had found a pilot and wanted a navigator, was I interested? So I said yes and joined the pilot (also commissioned) who was not much older than me but I judged him as less mature, but I was committed. Two sergeant air gunners asked to join us and we learned they were the sole survivors from a crash in training. The rear gunner was 18 but the mid-upper was 35, like Jim. Jim has chosen to be a bomb aimer because the statistics showed they had a high casualty rate, like rear gunners, and he had an unhappy marriage and wanted out with some glory! Later, he met a future wife and changed his views. Ron, a bright yellow wireless operator asked if he could fill the vacancy he recognised. He was welcomed as being very experienced, after being a ground wireless operator in West Africa. His colour was a side effect of the anti-malarial treatment used at that time and it took years to fade.
The next day, training started on Wellingtons and I had an introduction to Gee, a navigation aid that worked by receiving oscilloscope signals from widely dispersed transmitters. By plotting the readings on special maps, a good fix of ground position was possible until, as I soon learned, German counter measures could confuse signals. OTU. Included practice parachute jumps from a tower, lectures on how to contact the underground, how to behave as a prisoner of war and basic survival techniques. We also, in turn, observed other crew members in a tank as the oxygen level was reduced. They showed inability to do simple sums or drawings, yet were supremely confident they were doing well. This taught us the need always to use oxygen about 10,000 feet. It was my job to instruct the crew, “oxygen on.”
As a crew we had to practise bombing on a range almost daily, machine gunning a towed target drogue and fighter affiliation exercises in which the object was to evade a theoretically attacking fighter. Inquests after exercise identified errors. Most al all, we had a series of night raids, under code numbers, to carry out. These specified routes with many turns at sharp angled where sloppy timing of the turn would put you outside the line of the next course to follow. In a real raid this would put you outside the mainstream and therefore increase vulnerability. We were to follow the given routes and return to base exactly on the estimated time of return. Some of these routes took us briefly to enemy territory, which exposed us to searchlight and anti-aircraft activity and kept the gunners alert to night fighters. Sometimes we dropped ‘window’, foil strips, to confound radar. Aircraft were occasionally lost to enemy activity. It was this OTU period that must have created my false impression of when I started operations proper, as the exercises were very realistic.
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Whenever I could get away I went to where Muriel was stationed, meeting her as she came off duty or saying goodbye as she went on duty. The bridge over the Dee, at Chester, was one place, near Western Command Headquarters. Goodge Street station was another haunt, when Muriel was with General Eisenhower’s signals centre located in tunnels underneath the platforms. There was a café near Goodge Street where we sometimes had the luxury of a hot orange drink that was off the ration.
February 1944
[photograph of Maurice Brook with Muriel]
Our young pilot was not good at putting the crew at ease, because his own obvious tensions were transmitted by his tone of voice and forgetfulness. For example, on take off he left his oxygen mask microphone switched on and dangling, so that the engine roar was amplified and transmitted to the whole crew, making it impossible for anyone to pass a message until we were well airborne and passed the critical danger period. He was told about it, but consistently forgot under pressure. On our last training flight an instructor flew with us to assess the crew. It was a filthy night, with thunder and lightning and very strong winds. At one stage, with a headwind, I thought I was in error. My calculation of ground covered suggested we had hardly moved and we seemed to be stationary over Anglesey. The wireless operator received a diversion instruction, away from our weather-closed airfield in Lincolnshire to one in the west country. I calculated a new course and time of arrival at a specified airspeed and we got over the right spot, though the weather was still bad. It then became clear that our pilot was so stressed he could not go through the landing drill and he began to prepare us to bail out. At that point the instructor took over as captain and managed to land just before the fuel ran out.
We returned to Husband’s Bosworth the next day and were sent on a week’s leave prior to being posted to a four engine conversion unit. On return, Jim and I quickly found that we shared serious reservations about our pilot. The gunners, already extra twitchy because of their accident history, and the wireless operator told us they were unhappy and expected the officers in the crew to do something about it. Jim and I went to see the adjutant to say that as a crew we were unwilling to continue flying with this particular pilot. It was a delicate
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task because, although all aircrew were volunteers, refusal to fly was treated as ‘lack of moral fibre’. Reduction in rank and disgrace followed. However, the adjutant surprised and relieved us by saying, “you will be posted as planned but your pilot will remain behind for further training.” “A new pilot will be waiting for you at the conversion unit”.
[centred] Four Engine Heavy Conversion Unit [/centred]
It would have been around October, when we arrived at Sturgate, a base near Scunthorpe, for training on Halifax, four engine bombers. We were introduced to Dave Lennox to be our new pilot and captain. Already a flight lieutenant with many hours of instructor service in Canada, he had joined a Scottish regiment in 1938, risen to regimental sergeant major, been to France and back through Dunkirk. Then he had applied to re-muster as aircrew and trained as a pilot. We also acquired a second pilot as flight engineer, making a full crew of seven.
From our first practice flight, Dave established his authority and inspired confidence in us all. He was calm, ensured we only used the intercom for messages not chatter, repeated my instructions and followed them exactly. Once, on take off just before becoming airborne, he said quite calmly, “We have burst a tyre”. We completed the exercise for the day and as we prepared to land he said, “take up crash positions, I am going to try to put the burst tyre on the grass and the other on the runway, but we might tilt over.” He landed smoothly and stayed upright. What a relief and what a further confidence boost for the crew.
The weather was freezing and the Nissen hut in which we were housed had no fuel. The first night, after dark, a group of us went to the fuel compound, which had a high wire fence with barbed wire. By standing on the shoulders of a big chap on the ground, throwing a greatcoat over the wire, I (being relatively light) was able to get over the top, hang down and then drop. A bucket came over with a rope attached which I filled and returned three or four times. Finally I did a monkey crawl up the tope and was pulled up and over. The whole process took less than 15 minutes and was over before the patrolling guards came round again.
Then, a strange thing happened. I was posted to Hereford to No 1 Aircrew Officers School. I found Walter Murton also had been posted there from his further pilot training. We were given intensive military training by the RAF Regiment and taught to use a variety of weapons, unarmed combat, grenade throwing, stalking a sentry. We had to undergo assault course training over a wall, under wire, through water, jump off the back of a moving lorry in the dark somewhere in Wales and make our way back to the unit. The only explanation we were given for this bizarre treatment was that it was necessary to train a number of aircrew officers so they could lead the defence if an airfield was attacked. The school is now the base for the SAS. I failed to finish the course because I ended in hospital, paralysed, suffering from exposure. A week in hospital with daily physiotherapy put me right, though I had to endure daily visits from the local vicar, who seemed to have got the idea I must have come down in the sea! However, it got me away and back to the proper air force. When Walter returned he was trained as a glider pilot for the Rhine crossing where he would have had to lead his infantry passengers after they landed.
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[centred] 625 Squadron and Operations [/centred]
The preliminaries
Later than I originally thought, possibly for the reason I explained earlier, the crew were taken on March 2nd 1945 to Kelstern, a wartime airfield in the Lincolnshire Wolds, near Louth. We were met by the squadron commander, who outlined a familiarisation on Lancasters before we would be ready for operations. We three officers shared a small room in a Nissen hut, the sergeants had beds in a barrack room for about 20, heated by a central coke stove. Though nothing was said, we were all aware that we were probably occupying the places of missing aircrew as the squadron commander said nothing about crews that had recently left because they had completed their tours (30 operations). For the sergeants, I felt sympathy. Sometimes, usually during a morning, the belongings of one or more residents from their hut would be removed, because they had not returned the night before. “Gone for a Burton” was the slang expression. This was a derivation of, ‘he went for a beer and hasn’t come back’. A day later, the beds would be re-occupied by newcomers. Thinking back, we all seemed to avoid developing friendships with members of other crews, an understandable defence mechanism. Unlike an army unit, there was no feeling of dependence on and mutual responsibility for one another. The reliance and complete trust was confined to members of each individual crew.
We were introduced to our Lancaster. V for Victor but also V for victory, just returned to service after an overhaul. It had already a distinguished survival record, with over two tours to its record. A “lucky plane” was our assessment, which did great things for morale, even before we got inside. Inside, it was compact, with just enough room for each function. Whereas the Halifax seemed like a spacious airliner, the Lancaster felt like a proper war-plane.
Our first Lancaster. V – Victor [photograph of the Lancaster]
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My ‘office’ was next to the wireless operator and only a step away from the astro-dome. I encountered two new navigation aids. The first was an air position indicator (API). Once set with the latitude and longitude of a start point, it automatically integrated every subsequent movement of the aircraft in direction and speed. This gave a continuous reading of exactly where the aircraft was above the ground, assuming no wind. Of course, there always was wind, otherwise a navigator would have been redundant. The API improved precision, compared with the previous method of noting changing direction, airspeeds and duration of each of them, then doing a series of time consuming mathematical calculations. A second, new navigation aid was called H2S. I had a screen on which a rotating beam showed illuminated ground objects, detected by a revolving aerial under the aircraft that transmitted an electronic beam to earth and picked up the reflections. Towns, clusters of buildings, lakes etc., showed up on the screen as glowing smudges. We had special radar maps that more or less reproduced what the ground objects would look like on the screen.
We were photographed as a crew, for the squadron record.
Don Abbott – flt. Engineer Wally Birkey – rear gunner Ron Wilsdon – wireless op. Ken Cowley – upper gunner Jim Harbord – bomb aimer Dave Lennox – captain Maurice Brook – navigator
[photograph of the crew]
We had to avoid shaving for five days and then were individually photographed in shabby civilian clothing. We were given the prints to carry so that if we were being helped by the underground they could use them to make false permits as foreign workers.
Daily flights took place to become familiar with the aircraft. Dave practised aerobatics and evasive action and said Victor handled like a fighter. We had bombing practice near Gibraltar Point. The gunners had target practice and I had to master the new electronic aid and use of the API. According to the records from the National Archives, we were on the squadron for two weeks before our first operation. My recollection was of a much shorter period. Moreover, I recollect Stettin, Essen, Frieburg and Munich as operations. None of these appear in the archive record, so I could be wrong.
I seem to have spent a long time on the preliminaries in this account. I suspect it has been subconscious behaviour to delay coming to terms with the real thing, which I must now do using the archive record only.
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The real thing.
One would think that our first operation would be one to remember, yet I have no memory whatever. On March 15th., the record shows we attacked Misberg, near Hanover. We took off at 17-53 and landed back at 01-09. Surprisingly, those 7 hours are a memory blank.
There was a routine on an operational station. In the morning a tannoy (loudspeaker) message “all operational aircrew to remain on base”’ meant operations were likely but not certain. The officers mess had a small blackboard headed, ‘Battle Order’. If an operation was confirmed, the squadron commander chalked the names of the captains and navigators on this board and a likely time of briefing. By then, ground crews would be moving trolly loads of bombs to each aircraft and bowsers would be delivering fuel. Jim used to go out to check the ‘bombing up’ and the gunners checked or preferably loaded their own ammunition belts. There would be much speculation about the target as there was a ratio between bomb load and fuel load that helped in guessing the likely distance. I used to go to the intelligence room or the navigation room to collect up to date maps and note reported changes in enemy anti-aircraft and fighter placements.
The Tannoy would indicate the briefing time and crews would amble along to the crew room and change into flying kit. Silk underwear and under gloves, then woollen, then battle dress, a Sith & Wesson 48 and ammunition, Mae West (lifejacket) and parachute harness. During this process, the ample toilets were much used. Parachutes were collected, each directly from the WAAF who had packed it, also a small plastic box of escape kit. This contained forged money, maps printed on thin fabric capable of also being used to strain water, water sterilising tablets, a simple fishing line and some glucose tablets. We also each got a thermos flask of cocoa.
As you entered the briefing room, you read over the door “Press on Regardless”. In the briefing room, each crew sat at a trestle table facing a raised platform A curtain covered the end wall. In would come the station commander and acolytes. The curtain was dawn aside revealing the target and the designated routes in and out. These were never direct, especially inward, with frequent marked changes of direction. The meteorology officer would brief on weather en-route and on return. Bombing leader explained the bomb loads, bombing heights and the target markers (coloured flares) to be dropped by pathfinder force. The C.O. explained the reasons for its target selection and the total number of aircraft taking part in the mission. This was usually several hundred. After questions, all left except the navigators. We made careful notes of the turning points and target times. We were also taken to our dispersal sites in a blacked out bus driven by a WAAF. The engines were usually already running. I would greet the ground crew and clamber aboard.
Once I had reported my arrival Dave would taxi out. As we rolled along the perimeter track, I would pin down my charts, check the API and that the altimeter was correctly set, prepare the first log entry which would read “airborne”. By then we would be at the runway. An airman would check the tyres and give a thumbs up to Dave. Then from a caravan at the other end of the runway a green Aldis lamp would flash. There was complete radio silence and pre-arranged drill had to be followed. The engine would roar with the brakes still on,
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then as the aircraft strained, the brakes were released and we began to roll, gathering speed. Dave would call, “full power” as he with the engineer pushed the throttles forward and held them there. Hurtling down a runway, sitting on tons of high explosive, was always a period of tension. The aircraft seemed to stick to the ground until, slowly, it became unstuck. A steep climb began and the undercarriage was retracted. We were on our way. I had a bit of a ritual in logging the exact time in minutes and seconds that we left the ground.
Each aircraft took off as it was ready. Once airborne we had time to kill. I usually gave dAve a course that took us over my home territory and then turned him to meet our first departure point on the given time. Frequently, the UK legs were Reading then Beach Head, after which the route varied according to the briefing instructions. Residents of Reading would have endured the noise of several hundred aircraft as they formed the stream going south. I could get accurate Gee fixes of ground position and Jim would usually confirm the time of crossing each coast, from which, using the API, I would calculate my first wind speed and direction. This was used to calculate the compass course for the next leg. As we reached 10,000 feet I would check that oxygen was on for each of the crew. Our operational height was usually between 10 and 15 thousand feet.
March 16th., we were briefed for a major raid on Nurenberg involving 277 aircraft. This I do remember. Gee signals were soon being jammed and fake signals were appearing, so I was glad to use H2S, difficult though it was to link the responses on the screen to the charts in front of me. There were many changes of direction towards the target. Precise timing of a turn was essential to remain within the stream. For example, on an accurate turn, 30 seconds wrong could put the aircraft outside the stream when on the new course and therefore vulnerable. We had a drill. I would warn Dave, “prepare to change course to….” and I would give a compass heading. He would acknowledge and repeat the given heading. As the time to turn approached, I would do a verbal count down ending in “now’ and there would be be an instantaneous change of direction. Frequently, the aircraft would vibrate as though running over cobbles. This cheered the crew because it was due to the slipstream of another aircraft and meant that we were still in the mainstream. Only later, on a daylight mission did we realise how close you had to be to get this effect! Ron had a long trailing aerial that he reeled out below the aircraft and this was regularly chopped off by the propellers of following planes. As we proceeded to the target, Jim and others kept reporting fires on the ground. Nearer the target, Jim took over guidance leading to the bombing run. After take off, this was the next certain period of extreme tension. For several minutes, Dave would have to fly level and respond to, “left left, right right, steady, steady” as Jim lined up his bombsight on the target markers laid by pathfinders. I would follow on the H2S, with my thumb on a bomb release button which I could use, if Jim became unable. All the while, we would rock from time to time from nearby anti-aircraft bursts and occasionally a searchlight would light up the cabin, but thankfully pass over without locking on. “Bombs gone” from Jim would be accompanied by an upward leap as the aircraft suddenly became lighter. “Steady, steady,” would be Jim’s calm injunction for several seconds more until the camera had operated, recording our ground bursts. These were analysed on return for accuracy. “Camera off” would be Dave’s signal to open throttles and turn on the course I had given him to pre-set on the compass before starting the bombing run. The long return then began with Dave usually checking that the gunners were awake and alert. We had taken off at 17-45 and landed back at 02-05 and bombed from 16500 feet. Climbing out after landing, as the engines stopped, the overwhelming impression was of a
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peaceful silence and the smell of clean air. A quick briefing of the ground crew about any mechanical problems and into the crew bus and to the de-briefing room. Here, a WAAF intelligence officer sat behind a table and we sat facing her. We had been given a mug of cocoa laced with rum by the chaplain, who had usually had one for himself each time. On the wall was a large table listing crews, take off time, estimated time of return and comments. You noted the ones marked overdue, sometimes crashed, ditched or missing. 3 of the 26 planes dispatched had not returned. The weather observations I had to make en route were reported. Jim gave his report of target marking, etc. When the number of fires was reported, as though the enemy had marked the route, we were told these would be aircraft burning on the ground. These words had schilling effect, reinforced by the news that soon emerged that 24 (8.6%) of the total force of 277 had been lost, an unsustainable rate of attrition. Bacon, eggs, sausage, beans in quantity and it tasted good. Back to the hut and dog tired we were soon asleep.
March 18th., Hanau was the target, taking of 39 minutes after midnight and landing back at 07-47, bombing at 04-35 from the relatively low height of 10,300 feet. It was a lively trip, with several night fighter warnings that caused stomach churning, as Dave took violent ‘corkscrewing’ evasive action. Two members of another crew returned wounded, but safely.
There was a brief closure for very bad weather, then on March 22nd we were off to Bruchstrasse, for a relatively uneventful trip of 6 hours, from 01-08 to 07-05, bombing at 04-19 from 17,000 feet.
The next day we were briefed for a specific target in Bremen : Bremen railway bridge the record says. I thought it was Bremen docks, but I suppose they could be the same. Less than 5 hours, up at 19-47 and down just after midnight, after bombing at 10-05 from 16500 feet. The camera recorded clear direct hits right on target, which reflected well on the crew and especially Dave and Jim.
Target photograph - Bremen - 23 March 1945
[photograph]
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By now, I think as a crew we had acquired some recognition within the squadron and we were selected to radio back to base the wind speeds and directions I was using. Aircraft from other squadrons were similarly detailed. The responses were collated at base and an advisory wind radioed to the mainforce to use or not, as each navigator decided.
Two days after Bremen, we did our first daylight operation. On March 25th Hanover was the target. We left at 06-37 reached target at 09-47 and were back for lunch by 12-26. In daylight on a perfect sunny day of blue skies, we realised how close you had to be to the aircraft in front to feel the slipstream effect. It was a sobering thought. As we left Hanover I looked back from the astro-dome to see a column of dense black smoke rising to nearly our bombing height of 17000 feet. I remember feeling a surge of sympathy for the burgers on that Sunday morning, coupled with the thought that there would have been plenty of warning to give them time to reach shelters.
On March 31st, another clear Spring day, a major daylight operation was directed at long-suffering Hamburg. The bomber stream was accompanied by American Mustang and Lightening fighters, but we soon encountered anti-aircraft fire. The gunners reported an aircraft to our starboard on fire. I looked out of the astro-dome and saw it flying level with thick black smoke pouring out. Then it slowly, very slowly, began a dive. We were all hoping to see parachutes. Eventually, three bundles fell out, all on fire. No parachutes opened. Then it was back to work. There was less dog-legging on the escorted raid, so we were up at 06-35 and back by 11-41, reaching the target at 08-52 from 17,000 feet.
Enthusiasm for escorted daylight raids seemed to be growing in the command, as April 3rd was the day for another. This time to army barracks at Nordhausen, a very specific target which we were to identify ourselves and not rely on pathfinder force. We were up at 13-28 and reached the target successfully at about 16-15. It was cloudy as Jim started the bombing run and just as he was approaching the target it was covered by cloud. Jim, properly and unusually, aborted the run. Anti-aircraft response was desultory and Dave decided to go round again for another try, whilst I would track on H2S ready to act if cloud remained. Cloud remained. I had a good image outlining the barracks and pressed the bomb release. Photographic reconnaissance later that day showed successful destruction.
Two days later, April 5th, we were transferred to Scampton, near Lincoln. This was a permanent RAF base and had been home of 617 squadron, the Dambusters. The officers mess had portraits on the walls of VC’s won from Scampton. Living was more comfortable than Nissen huts and some of us had long serving civilian batmen.
April 9th was memorable and provides one of my regular flashbacks. We were detailed to lay mines in Kiel harbour. Taking off at 18-15, we flew with the mainstream for most of the route, until it turned south to the main target and we carried on alone to Kiel. My job was to navigate to a promontory to the north of the harbour, where Jim would take over visually. This was successfully achieved, and we started the pre-determined time and distance run, along which Jim dropped mines from 14,000 feet at 22-46. Needless to say, as a lone aircraft we had the full attention of both ship and shore batteries, but the drops were made and Dave accelerated on the course I had given him in advance.
Soon afterwards the flight engineer reported an engine on fire. It was quickly extinguished
[page break]
and ‘feathered,’ ie. stopped with the propellers fixed in position. It was not long before there was trouble with another engine, fortunately on the opposite side from the first failure, which also had to be feathered. It had probably been damaged by shrapnel from a near miss. For me, the consequence was loss of all electronic aids, as these engines had generated the electric current. I knew that Dave’s course needed alteration, but how? My first priority was to be sure we avoided the fortified islands of the Heligoland Bight, so I gave Dave an alteration that I guessed would keep us over the sea, well to the North. The next problem was how to get back, bearing in mind that we were slowly losing height and were uncertain of what might next go wrong. Ron got radio fixes on European radio stations, the location of which he knew, but these were not very useful. Bearings on the BBC, which would have been ideal, were impossible because those transmissions were revolved continuously and rapidly around different transmitters, precisely to prevent them being used as direction finders. It was cloudy, but breaks appeared. From time to time I could locate the Pole star, so I got out my sextant and got Ron to note the precise time I took a shot on it. Using tables, which I carried, I could work out our latitude from the sextant reading and the time it was made, measured to the second. I made an estimate of the wind from the last determination made outside Kiel and did a judgement modification for the lower height and changing air pressure from which I gave Dave a new course, behaving verbally as though I knew exactly what I was doing.
My reasoning was that if I kept him on the right latitude we would reach the English coast where there were two emergency airfields: Manston in Kent and Woodbridge in East Anglia. If we came down in the sea, Ron would have time to radio base with our course and latitude, that would help air sea rescue. It was moonlight and as luck would have it we reached the coast. Jim soon recognised where we were, virtually on course for Lincoln! We landed at 02-00 and the plane was taken out of service.
No time for worrying about what might have been. The next night we were briefed to attack an oilfield in Czechoslovakia at Plauen. A long. long, way, that was met with murmurs of disbelief when the curtain was drawn aside at briefing. It was a wet night and a visiting orchestra had come to give a concert in one of the hangars. They came to the take off point to wave us off at 18-27. We reached the target, not without incident, and bombed nearly five hours later, at 23-12 from 17500 feet A large fire was raging as we left. I never looked out but the cabin was illuminated and the gunners expressed their awe. It was nearly four hours later, at 03-02 when we landed As we turned off the runway, the engines stopped with all the fuel gone. One aircraft failed altogether en route, one was missing for several days but eventually turned up, having had a forced landing in our zone of Europe after running out of fuel.
Four days later, we had caught up on sleep and had Potsdam as the target, which was much the same as Berlin for opposition. Assuming that Gee would be heavily jammed, I studied the H2S charts and especially the shapes of numerous lakes in the are, [sic] to improve the chances of identifying what I would see on the screen. This also was a long trip. Take off was 18-08 and the heavily defended target was bombed over four hours later at 22-58 from a height of 19,500 feet. This highest operation we did was no doubt intended to make it more difficult for anti-aircraft gunners. In another four hours plus we were back, at 03-20, This was our last offensive operation.
A daylight raid on Berchtesgaden, Hitlers mountain retreat, was next but our crew was
[page break]
withdrawn. It was soon after dawn, as we stayed in the crew room waiting for the others to return we saw the trail of a V2 rocket that had been fired. It was an awesome sight and a reminder of the dangers still posed to London and our Southern cities.
On one operation, I can’t recall which, we were asked to take a major from the Royal Artillery responsible for London air defence so he could study German tactics. They had developed sensitive radar controlled searchlights working in groups. A master light was bright blue. Once it located a plane, several white lights locked on, apparently automatically, making evasion difficult. The guns seemed to be linked as well. As we approached the target he was busy making notes and seemed disappointed that we had not been illuminated. Then we were. Instantly, Dave went into a steep corkscrew dive, then climbed steeply, successfully getting out of the beams. Our major was very quiet after that and when we got back said he didn’t know how we coped.
Remaining alert throughout was always a necessity and when the home airfield was reached extra vigilance was needed. German night fighters would try to follow landing aircraft and catch them at their most vulnerable. Although radio silence was observed at take off, there was full radio contact with the controllers on return and their calm warm voices were always cheering, especially if an aircraft needed special clearance to get down quickly. One morning, at about dawn, we arrived at Kelstern when there was low level fog and the airfield was obscured. Dave heard the controller give clearance to an aircraft ahead and then to us. He kept getting glimpses of the one in front and then lost it but picked up the perimeter lights and landed quickly. As he touched down he said, “wrong airfield”. Our perimeter lights were adjacent to those of our sister station Binbrook and his error was understandable.
Mercy Missions
The assumption that the war was coming to an end did not mean there was any significant reduction in opposition. It its not widely known that after Dresden, in February 1945, some 7000 members of over 1000 aircraft of Bomber Command were lost ; over 10% of the total losses of over 55,000 aircrew from the command throughout the war.
Five days after Potsdam, we were called to a special briefing as we saw army lorries arriving. We were told that the Dutch population was in dire straights from starvation. The German Command had refused a request, through the Red Cross, to allow army lorries to cross the border with food supplies. When asked to allow safe passage to an air drop, they had also refused. Nevertheless, we were told that we were not to fire unless fired upon.
The first dropping zone was a racecourse near The Hague. There was a murmur of apprehension when we were told that 50-60 feet was the height from which to drop. This was about what the Dambusters did, but only after a lot of low flying training. Off we went at 11-29 am with bomb bays full of tons of basic food. Normal navigation was not possible or necessary. I stood behind Dave with a map and basically it was like guiding a fast car. As we swept over the houses and streets we could see adults and children waving excitedly. Some were weeping, soon so was I as still do when reminded. You could have recognised anyone, we were so low.
The doors were opened above the racecourse at 13-29 and it was soon covered in crates of supplies. We had a chocolate ration which we tied in handkerchief parachutes, which Wally threw from the rear turret. We saw German machine gunners swing their weapons towards us and Wally did likewise to them, but no one fired. It was probably the combination of emotion and the effect on the eyes of such low flying that I was airsick for the second time in my life. The squadron records say we dropped from 400 feet. This I cannot believe. We were below church spires and just above chimney pots.
There was a sea fret as we turned for home, which obscured the visual horizon. Instrument flying, so low, was hazardous and altimeter readings could not be relied on if there had been a change of air pressure. In the midst, we were aware of a blinding flash ahead of us lasting a few seconds. When we got back and reported this, we learned that an aircraft from another squadron must have exploded on hitting the sea.
The next day there was another flight, aptly named Operation Manna. We were excused, but I volunteered to substitute for a sick navigator in an Australian crew. We were airborne at 11-03 and landed back at 14-33, having dropped supplied near The Hague. The same street scenes were seen. Flying with this Australian crew was a new experience. There was banter and chatter most of the time and the pilot seemed to revel in seeing how low he could get.
As soon as the war had ended, many of our army prisoners were being released in Europe and a quick return home was needed. On May 11th., we flew to Brussels airport as part of Operation Exodus, where we collected 24 released soldiers. They were packed into the back, between the spars and I gave them a lecture to the effect that if they oved none of us would get back. Their weight in the back affected the trim of the aircraft, for which Dave had to correct. Any change in the trim, especially at take off, could be dangerous. One aircraft crashed on take off, killing all on board. A sad homecoming for some. We flew them to Dunsfold, where they were quickly processed and sent on leave.
Our job was done. We never flew together again. Of over 7,300 Lancasters built, V-Victor was one of only 34 to complete over 100 operations.
A final line-up Mary 1945
[photograph of the crew with their Lancaster]
[page break]
[centred] PEACETIME [/centred]
We soon had a Labour government, that was keen to arrange orderly release to civilian life and keep the troops occupied, especially with the war with Japan still active.
I spent a lot of time as liaison officer to a Polish squadron at Dunholme Lodge, and heard moving stories of their lives. Most of them had left Poland in 1939, knew nothing of their families and were wary of returning to a communist regime. Many of them had transferable skills and were able to remain in this country.
I also spent time with the unit education section that was preparing to run educational courses in a big way.
The atomic bomb ended the Japanese war and our squadron stand by for Tiger Force to go to Japan was ended. I was called to Bomber Command headquarters to see group captain Neville. The upshot was my promotion to Flight Lieutenant to return to Scampton and create and run a big educational operation. This was a new experience which involved day and evening courses for over 400 men and women. For the domestic science course, I remember sending the two WAAF instructors to RAF supplies at Cottesmore with blank requisition forms, signed by me as Bomber Command HQ. They came back delighted, with rolls of parachute silk, aircraft linen and cotton etc. Needless to say, their classes were well attended and several wedding dresses were created from parachute silk. We were given a large library specially ordered for the Educational and Vocational Scheme. I was busy and stretched, but it worked. Eventually, I was asked to remain and promised further promotion, but this was not what I saw as the future.
With peace assured. Muriel and I arranged to be married in February 1946 against not a little family opposition. In those days, you needed parent’s permission to marry if you were under 21. Muriel was 21 in February 1945 and I reached this majority in October, so we were able to do what we wished and crumble the opposition.
[photograph of Maurice and Muriel when they married in Bude, Cornwall in February 1946]
Dublin Core
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Title
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A retrospective - Bomber Command No 625 Squadron
Description
An account of the resource
Opens with some details of 625 Squadron and introduction with reasons for writing. Writes of beginning of the war when still at school and experiences before joining up. Mentions activities with Air Training Corps and being awarded an RAF bursary to attend Cambridge university as a member of the RAFVR. Relates experiences on the university air squadron. In 1943 departed for training in Canada describing the journey and training as navigator. Goes on to describe training back in England on Anson, Wellington and Halifax. before going to No 1 Aircrew Officers School at Hereford. Was posted to 625 Squadron on 2 March 1945 at RAF Kelstern flying the Lancaster. Writes of his experiences on the squadron including operations to Misburg , Nuremburg and other targets. After cease of hostilities describes operation manna sorties to Holland and prisoner of war repatriation flights. Concludes with peacetime activity and reflection on his time in the RAF. Includes some photographs of people, a target and aircraft.
Creator
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M Brook
Date
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2011-02
Format
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Twenty-two page document with photographs
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Photograph
Identifier
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BBrookMBrookMv1
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Conforms To
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Pending review
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Cambridge
England--London
Canada
New Brunswick--Moncton
Ontario--London
England--Cumbria
England--Leicestershire
England--Herefordshire
England--Hereford
Germany
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Hanau
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Nordhausen (Thuringia)
Germany--Plauen
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Potsdam
Germany--Berchtesgaden
Netherlands
Netherlands--Hague
Ontario
New Brunswick
Temporal Coverage
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1943-10-01
1940
1941-10
1942-07
1942-10
1943
1944-02
1945-03-15
1945-03-16
1945-03-18
1945-03-22
1945-03-25
1945-03-31
1945-04-03
1945-04-09
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David Bloomfield
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
1 Group
625 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aerial photograph
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
bombing
briefing
coping mechanism
crewing up
debriefing
Gee
ground personnel
H2S
Halifax
Lancaster
love and romance
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
navigator
Nissen hut
nose art
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
P-51
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Husbands Bosworth
RAF Kelstern
RAF Millom
RAF Scampton
RAF Sturgate
searchlight
target photograph
training
V-2
V-weapon
Wellington
Window
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1181/30735/BWagnerHWWagnerHWv1-01.1.pdf
e0571529641f83a364bcf25b44a796ff
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The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Wagner, Henry Wolfe
H W Wagner
Description
An account of the resource
15 items. Two oral history interviews with Sergeant Henry Wolfe Wagner (1923 - 2020, 1604744 Royal Air Force), his memoirs, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 51 Squadron from RAF Snaith and became a prisoner of war. He was demobbed in 1946 and returned to education where he remained until his retirement.
The collection was catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-05-04
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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Wagner, HW
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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[front cover]
“…. we need someone with integrity, distinction and honour …
We need someone like H W Wagner”
[/front cover]
[page break]
Extract from “Those Who Fall”, by John Muirhead, a Flying Fortress pilot. Published b Transworld Publishers Ltd., 61-63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA.
“Everything happened that I have said happened, but it’s memory now, the shadow of things. The truth lives in its own time, recall is not the reality of the past. When friends depart, one remembers them but they are changed; we hold only the fragment of them that touched us and our idea of them, which is now a part of us. Their reality is gone, intact but irretrievable, in another place through which we passed and can never enter again. I cannot go back nor can I bring them to me; so I must pursue the shadows to some middle ground, for I am strangely bound to all that happened then.”
[page break]
2
[centred] Your life is waiting for you, H W Wagner. [/centred]
[centred and underlined] CARPE DIEM. [/centred and underlined]
The title is, of course, from the Latin poet Horace, of if you prefer his full name, Quintus Horatius Flacus [sic], in his book of Odes, and I will translate it for those of you who have not had the benefit of a classical education. It means “Catch hold of the day”, with the implication “and squeeze every drop of value you can out of it.” The quotation continues Quam minimum credula postero (trusting[?] the next day as little as possible) – because it might never come. While on the subject of Horace, another quotation of his seems to me to be suitable, although you may well not agree, except possibly insofar as it applies to your good self – Integer vitae scelerisque purus (a man of upright life and pure from guilt.)
Having been always interested in flying, it seems to me that life is like a take-off, circuit and landing, and I have divided this account accordingly.
[underlined] UPWIND LEG [/underlined]
The upwind leg has two parts – rolling along the runway to reach flying speed, then climbing to circuit height.
[underlined] Take-off. [/underlined]
[photograph of two young children with their mother]
I was born on 24 March 1923. In the photograph, I am the little chap in the middle. My mother on the left, of course, and my elder brother John on the right. There were destined to be two other
[page break]
3
brothers after me, Richard and Brian. Richard was only a year younger than me, and due mainly to the similarity in our ages he was the one who was always closest to me, although I never had anything against the others.
[newspaper cutting]
[centred and underlined] Henry Stanhope [centred and underlined]
[centred] Henry the Seventh hits the charts [/centred]
One of the more engaging trends last year was the elevation of “Henry” to the top ten of first names, as disclosed by Mrs Margaret Brown and Mr Thomas Brown in The Times last week. It now occupies seventh place, enjoying – without the benefit of royal patronage – its most significant renaissance since the early Tudors.
To the 47 boys whose parents proclaimed their choice in the columns of this newspaper, I say “Welcome” – before adding a short introduction to the life that lies ahead of them. They should not be deceived for instance by those dictionaries of surnames which one thumbs through in W. H. Smith’s but never actually buys. These will tell you that it means “head of the house” and no doubt to the Plantaganet kings it seemed peculiarly apposite.
“Henry!” to the modern cartoonist, however, is a little man with a toothbrush moustache and half-moon glasses, washing up in a frilly apron while his virago of a wife slumbers next door in their surburban sitting room. The best portrait to be hoped for is that of an elderly Tory in hairy tweeds unloading his Scotch in the gunroom while his equally hairy wife is bullying the vicar at the village fete. The image is rarely swinging.
Nor is it a name which lends itself to some comfortable sobriquet or short-form – which, of course, is one reason why mothers like it. At school they solved it by calling me Stanhope, at college by switching to “H”. During National Service, fellow gunners, nonplussed by having a Henry in their midst toyed with “Harry” but settled for “Stan”, which struck a more agreeably percussive note in the barrack room. My first editor, on being introduced, scratched his head doubtfully and said he had a cocker spaniel called Henry. “What should we actually call you?” he asked.
At school I would gladly have swopped the dynamo on my bike for a name like Bob, or Bill or – as it was in Wales, Glyn, Gwyn, Bryn or even Geraint. Boys see safety in numbers and being called Henry was only one up on being Christopher Robin. Survival had to be fought for.
It is however a name one grows into and, in middle age, can offer some interesting advantages. It is, for instance, not easily forgotten and one which acquires a life of its own. Who would think of referring to Irving, Cooper, Kelly, Jackson, Kissinger or the fictitious Higgins (“Just you wait, ‘enry ‘iggins”) without their given name (“Christian” now being considered ethnically discriminatory)? An invisible hyphen welds them together like bacon and eggs.
There are also, as yet anyway, not enough of us in the English-speaking world to cause confusion. Having said that, it is arguable that when two Henrys do appear in the same office, battalion or school, the mix-ups are almost embarrassing.
They can also at times be quite flattering. In the elitist circles of East Coast America in the 1970s, to be called Henry was almost a passport to any dinner party in town. “There’s no disputing that Henry has a really first-class mind”, I once heard a Harvard professor say, unaware of the warm glow of pleasure he was causing six feet behind during that brief moment of self-delusion. I have never been confused with Henry Cooper, but that is perhaps because he is really called ‘Enery – though I would never do so to his face.
My “hooray!” for the 1982 Henrys is not therefore unmuted. Our image needs polishing. When someone calls “Henry” I still want to turn round – not just carry on walking like the Toms, Dicks and Harrys (no doubt corruptions of the original) who can always assume that it’s not meant for them. Back to the sink ….
[/newspaper cutting]
My mother and father were both Irish, which of course makes me Irish by birth, although later in life I took out naturalisation papers to become a
[page break]
4
British citizen. Of my father’s family I know nothing, but my mother came from an upper-class county family, the Strongs. I still have a salver with their family crest in the centre. We lived in a big house on the shores of a bay at Strand Hill, in County Sligo. The only person I can remember there is my grandfather, a grand old man with a white spade-shaped beard, who smoked a pipe. There being no such things as pipe-cleaners in those days, Richard and I brought in feathers for him, saying: “A fedder for Pa’s pike.” Regrettably, I knew little of my father; it was obviously not a happy marriage, and my parents separated when I was above five. I do know, however, that he was a man of many parts – he had a degree in theology from Trinity College, Dublin, a qualification in dentistry, and he was a well-known sporting shot, contributing to a magazine called The Shooting Times and British Sportsman. For my mother’s part, she was a keen hockey player, and also an Irish county golfer.
When I was three or so, we moved to England, for reasons unknown to me, and our first home was in a village called Sonning Common, near Reading. We lived in quite a large house called The Laurels, with a large orchard (apples, pears, plums, greengages, damsons and cherries) and a one-acre field at the back. There being no refuse-collection in those days, there was a big hole at the far end of the orchard, known as the ashpit. When it was full, another one had to be dug. In the field, my father had a clay-pigeon trap, and used to gather cronies there from time to time for shooting parties. He had a gun-room in the house, with possibly about thirty guns of various calibres, and several hundred cartridges, and Richard and I used to go in there and play – what madness to let two little boys loose among so much lethal apparatus. An old chap used to come and cut the front lawn with a scythe, and one day we threw cartridges at him out of the window, which pleased him not at all. Another room was the dental surgery, which terrified us when we were called in for treatment, as dental surgery was in its infancy in those days, and equipment was primitive. You could be sure of a painful session there. I remember seeing in one of the magazines a picture of
[page break]
5
a set of false teeth, and I thought to myself: “They don't just take out the teeth, they take out the whole top of your mouth as well.”
Two years after arriving there, my father left, and I never saw him again. My mother was left to bring up four boys on her own, with occasional financial contributions from my father, and a hard time she had of it. Heating was by means of coal fires, cooking was done on an old-fashioned range, lighting was an Aladdin pressure lamp and candles, and there was no hot water. Monday was washing-day, using a coal-fired copper, so Monday dinner was always cold meat, the remnants of the Sunday joint. Other days, it might be stew, hash, or corned beef, with rice or macaroni pudding. Breakfasts were always porridge, and tea was bread and jam, with cake on Sundays. Shopping was done at Plumb’s stores, down the road, where there were no packed foods – everything was weighed up and served separately, and there were chairs for people to sit down and gossip to the shopkeeper while the order was being made up. Biscuits came out of big tins with glass tops, butter was cut off the block. A jug was left out for Mr. Saunders, the milkman, who came round with a horse and trap and carried a small pail of milk up to the door, replenished from a big churn in the trap. An old biddy, Mrs. McCallum used to deliver paraffin from cans hanging on the handlebars of her bicycle. Sweets were a rarity, but now and again we got a halfpenny to spend, with which we usually bought a Chicago Bar, a bar of evil-looking (and tasting) toffee, but which had the merit of being very long-lasting.
One Christmas, Richard and I got a small bicycle each, known as fairy-cycles, with hard tyres, and we could safely be released to ride round the village, there being hardly any traffic on the roads. Once a week, we used to go into Reading by Thames Valley bus, for bigger shopping, and used to finish up with tea and toast in the Lyons Corner Shop.
Such was the way of life in those days, and although my mother had plenty of worries, it was no hardship to us boys. We went to the village school, presided over by “Gaffer” Forder. I did two years
[page break]
6
there, the first year in Miss Cobb’s class, and the second year moved up with the dreaded Mrs. Clayton. While at Sonning Common school, I made the acquaintance of Geoffrey Dolphin, who remained a lifelong friend.
At the age of seven, then, we moved to Henley-on-Thames, to quite a nice house in a quiet road, St. Mark’s Road. This even had the benefit of gas-lighting downstairs, otherwise illumination was still by candle. There was a large walnut – tree in the back garden, which we were always climbing. John was sent off as a boarder to the Bluecoat School in Reading, and Richard and I started attending the National School, a grim fortress-like granite building very different from a village school and peopled by hard urban nuts of a type that we were not accustomed to, so we quite often had a rough time. The Avery’s, Blackall’s and the Fowler’s come to mind. Richard went into Mrs. Plumb’s class, I being a year older went into Mrs. Piper’s class, and she was much addicted to frequent use of the cane. In fact, I got it on my first day there. Lessons in those days tended to be of the repetitive rather than the interesting variety; this particular geography lesson consisted of repeating the names of mountains in Britain, from north to south. Of course, the names meant nothing to me, nor did they, I suppose, to anyone else in the class, but those who could not remember them were lined up in front and received a stroke of the cane. The most feared teacher in the school was Mr. Ackroyd, who was even more liberal than Mrs. Piper in his dispensation of correction; at the end of “playtime”, he blew a whistle, whereupon everyone stood stock-still. At a second blast, everyone moved to a place where their number of class was painted on the playground. Then he would shout “Classed, right and left turn”, and you turned in the direction of your classroom. One day, I turned in the wrong direction, and received a stroke of the cane for “disobedience”. Physical education consisted of what was known as “drill”, and this meant standing in lines on the playground and obeying order such as “touching the toes”, “clapping hands above the head”, and “running on the spot”. What strides have been made since, in the way of gymnastic exercises with proper equipment!
After two years at the National School, when I was nine, the
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educational system was reorganised, and Richard and I went to a junior school, called Trinity School, run under the auspices of Trinity Church, where I was married twenty-seven years later. This was presided over by Mrs. Billingham, known as Governess, and under whose instruction I first started taking a real interest in learning. At the age of eleven, there was an examination to determine who would go to Henley Grammar School and who would return to the dreaded National School, and I was relieved to be one of the successful 23%. By this time, we had moved to a council house in Western Avenue, the family circumstances having become even more [indecipherable word]. It must have been something of a strain for my mother, having to buy uniform, games kit and P.W. kit, but there was a small grant from the Grammar School foundation Trust to help those who found the going difficult. At Trinity School, I became friends with Jim Clark, who is still a good friend, and especially of Jim Davies, who lived just down the road from us. Jim Davies was a Fleet Air Arm fighter pilot, on Corsairs, during the war. Afterwards, he took a degree in law at Oxford, then worked in the Attorney-General’s office. He was killed in a Douglas DC 10 crash after taking off from Paris; a baggage-door had not been properly fastened, and it opened in flight. The ensuing decompression buckled the floor, which jammed the controls, and all aboard were killed.
This concludes the runway section, then. The aircraft is nicely on the move, has flying speed, and the way ahead, barring accidents, is clear, and there is plenty of room for manoeuvre. The next section of the circuit is the climb-out, gaining height, looking round and feeling the air.
[underlined] Climb-out. [/underlined]
The climb-out begins with the commencement of education proper at Henley Grammar School. I arrived there in September 1934, with Jim Clark. Education was undertaken seriously before the war – you had to work hard in order to qualify for a good job. I had no idea what sort of work I would eventually do, there being no careers guidance in those days. But part from
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the underlying seriousness, there was no worry attached to the whole business, and it was an enjoyable time. This is the little lad who started at the Grammar School at the age of eleven.
[photograph]
In the 1930’s, competitiveness was encouraged in both sport and games. Nowadays, it is actively discouraged – no sense of inferiority must be allowed to develop, even among those who know they are inferior. Any attempt to be better than the rest is frowned upon, because it would tend towards divisiveness and the creation of an elite, so everyone must conform to a lower level. But in those times, prizes were awarded for academic achievement and medals and cups given for sporting excellence – there was every encouragement to do better. So everyone worked to the best of their ability, and I do not think anyone suffered for that reason.
About the time that I started at the Grammar School, I took my first tentative steps in the world of golf. Richard was the moving spirit behind this, and we bought ourselves a putter each from
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Woolworths, price six denarii, and we used to take them up to a field about a mile away and just hack about. Jim Davies joined us too, and nearly all our spare time was spent in that pursuit. Balls were obtained by looking for them in hedges adjoining the gold course. Finding more than enough for our needs, we thought about how we might turn them to profit. We used to make the occasional cycle journey into Reading and sell them at a sports shop. A dozen would bring in three shillings or so (about 15 pence in modern money); later, we developed contacts among local golfers, notably Tom Luker and Bert Butler, which saved the trip to Reading. Most of the money was saved with the intention of buying a bag of clubs each, but 3d. a week was spent on the Saturday afternoon visit to the cinema and 1d. on sweets. When enough money was saved, we went into Reading and went round the Junk-shops, obtaining a bag each (and scruffy old things they were), and a motley selection of old rusty wooden-shafted clubs. And so we were in business. There was no way of joining Henley Gold Club, golf being the preserve of the upper crust, but there was a nine-hole course on a public common at Peppard, some four miles distant, where one could play for 10/6d. a year. We cycled there whenever time and weather permitted, clubs over the shoulder, sandwiches in saddle-bags. Jim Davis was with us in this venture, and you couldn’t have found a happier lot, day in, day out, through holidays. Through a good deal of my life, I have had enormous pleasure from golf, and met so many friends. Golf is a great leveller, and when a man is on the course, his wealth and social status matter not a scrap. What is important is his attitude to the game. A young American golfer of great promise, Tony Lema, who was regrettably killed in a light aeroplane crash on his way to a tournament, wrote in his book “Champagne Golf” – “Golf is the one game that really gives a man the opportunity to play the gentleman.” One does occasionally come across the other sort on a golf course, but they are not true golfers, and may
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be disregarded.
Another activity which took up some of our time, mainly in summer, was kite-flying. The materials were inexpensive, as we made our own. My mother would cut up old curtains into large octagons, about two feet across, hem them, and stitch a pocket in each corner. All that was needed was 3d ball of string and a fishing - net. Fishing net? Yes. The net itself was discarded, the bamboo split down the middle and used to make four struts. Many an afternoon we spent sitting on the grass gazing up at the kites and giving an occasional twitch on the string. Threepenny gliders, launched by catapult, also provided a lot of entertainment while the kite string was tied to a fence.
Next - door to Jim Davies lived a young lad with the reputation of being something of a crazy inventor. His name was Reggie Cripps. One scheme he thought up was that if old armchair springs were attached to the bottom of an orange-box, it would, if dropped from a few feet with him aboard, bounce ever higher and higher. Where he thought it would all end I don’t know. A preliminary trial resulted in a dull thud. He suggested attaching a multiplicity of springs and dropping him from the roof of his shed, but we declined to participate. Another idea was that he should jump out of his bedroom window, using his mother’s umbrellas as a parachute, but his mother enters a firm nolle prosequi.
Throughout my time at the Grammar School, staff wore academic gowns, which was a novelty for me. In my first year, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Clifford, who taught me my first words of French. Boys sat on one side of the classroom, girls on the other. Next to me sat Anthony Griffiths, son of the local Baptist minister. I met him again in May 1945, in Germany. Part of the camp I was in was being moved by train, and the train was in sidings at Luckenwalde station. Walking along beside the track, I saw an officer who looked familiar, and asked if his name was Griffiths. He had been a Spitfire pilot, and was shot down on a sweep over France. Also in the same class was Dougie Blows. We used to stay behind after school, until quite late, playing Fives, and indulging in practical jokes with bicycles in the sheds. One
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trick was to slacken off the nut, turn the saddle round and tighten the nut again. Another was to suspend bicycles up the trees, another to weave thin wire in and out of the links of the chain. A further member of the class was Nelson Swinney, who had the enviable reputation of being the only boy able to spit over the fives-court wall. In this class too I renewed the acquaintance of Geoff Dolphin, and we remained together throughout our Grammar School career.
Early on, I was given the nickname Otto, which remained with me while I was at school.
At the end of the first year, I was presented with the Form Prize, a copy of “Captains Courageous”, which I still have.
Physical education was in the hands of Mr. Clifford, and although in the gymnasium where there was some apparatus, it was not very imaginative. Sport was rugby football, which I considered a rough game and to be avoided if possible, if not possible, keep as far from the ball as you could - if caught in possession of the ball, you were likely to be done over. This attitude persisted for a couple of years, then I did get caught in possession of the ball and realised that the only thing to do was to make a run for it. Having got away with it unscathed once, I did not mind so much having a go a second time, and gradually began to enjoy the rough and tumble of the game. So much so that for my last three years at school I was a regular member of the First XV, and received rugby colours. This entitled one to wear a special cap, dark blue velvet with gold piping and tassel, when going to play in matches. I played rugby for many years thereafter, and derived as much enjoyment from it as I did from golf. I still enjoy seeing a good rugby match on television. Summer sports were cricket and tennis, but I never made much of these. I liked watching cricket, and found my niche when I was appointed first-team scorer.
In the second year, the study of Latin was introduced, taught by the somewhat austere Mr. “Fuzzy” Phillips, and I soon realised that the languages were my strong point, not the sciences. I found science interesting but did not excel at it. Mathematics I found
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very difficult, and spent many hours poring over problems on the nights when there was Maths homework. I used to retreat to the front room to do my two hours or so of homework in the evenings, illumination was provided by a guttering candle, as it was in all the bedrooms - there was only gaslight in the dining room, and that was none too brilliant. There was no temptation to skimp homework, as there was no television or any other distraction.
And so the years passed until I entered the Fifth Form, the year of the school certificate. To pass this, to get a certificate at all, one had to pass in a certain range of subjects - English language and maths were obligatory, also a language, then a choice of history or geography, then a practical subject, where I just scraped a pass in art, having minimal ability in that subject. If you did not get a School Certificate, you stayed in the Fifth Form for another year to have another rack at it. If you passed, you moved into the Sixth Form for a two-year course leading to the Higher School Certificate. The work was of a different dimension altogether, far more advanced. To get a certificate, you had to pass in two subjects at Main level and two at Subsidiary level. I took English and French at Main level, and Geography and Latin at Subsidiary level. At least, that was my intention, but the Headmaster, “Sammy” Barnes enquired why I was not also taking mathematics, having passed therein in School Certificate. “I’m no good at maths, sir”, I said. “Wagner, you’re taking maths,” he said. “Yes sir”, I replied, and I was unwillingly plunged into the calculus, co-ordinate geometry, the binomial theorem, and the like. English was in the hands of Miss Smith, a lively young thing; French was taught by the deputy head, Miss “Misery” Hunter, Latin by Mr. Darling, who also took P.E., maths by Mr. Potter, and Geography by Mr. Bryant, who was later killed in the war. I passed in all these subjects, which qualified me for University entrance.
At the beginning of the Lower Sixth year, I was made a prefect, and a year later captain of Periam House. Meanwhile, the
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golf had gone on pace. We played at Peppard until the end of 1937, with the occasional day on Henley golf course when we had 2:6d to spare (12 1/2 pence in modern parlance.) We knocked up the Henley professional, Bill Pedler, at 8 a.m. to pay the green fee (which pleased him not at all), played one round, then another half a round, had the sandwiches which we brought with us, finished that round, played another round, went home for tea, and played another round in the evening - 72 holes in one day - good value for 12 1/2 pence. At the beginning of 1938, we enquired about joining the junior section of the club, but this was beyond our means. However, they would admit us to the Artisan section for £1, which we gratefully accepted. A full 18-hole golf course and no more bike-rides over to Peppard. And we made good use of the course, being on it at every possible opportunity.
September 1939 and the war came. It was not unexpected, but to us boys it did not mean a great deal. We expected it to be over quite quickly, never dreaming that we would become embroiled in it ourselves in the fulness of time. Preparations had been going on for some time in the past - gas-masks had been issued, evacuees came from London (and to our horror stooped so low as to dig in the bunkers on the golf course as if they were on the beach.) This was the beginning of my second year in the Sixth Form, working for the Higher School Certificate. To pass this you had to get six units (two for a subject at Ordinary level, one for a subject at Subsidiary level, get them any way you liked.) I took an extra one, Mathematics, at the instigation of the Headmaster (I see I got this slightly wrong on the previous page, but now have the certificate for your kindly perusal.) Studies were somewhat interrupted by the fact that we had to share our school premises with a school evacuated from London, Archbishop Tennyson’s School. We worked in the mornings, they had the place in the afternoons, leaving me free in the afternoons to sneak off occasionally for a game of golf. Also, Richard and I bought a folding two-seater canoe, on instalments, paid for with money we earned finding golf-balls, and we often
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took it out on the Thames when weather permitted.
To go back to the day war was declared, Sunday 3 September. We listened to the sad announcement by the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, on the radio (or wireless, as it was called then), at 11 a.m. Shortly afterwards, the air-raid sirens sounded, and gas-masks were brought to the ready - nobody knew what to expect. It was a false alarm though, and soon afterwards we settled down for our Sunday dinner. Then Richard and I set off over the golf-course. It was completely deserted except for us two. At one tee, adjoining the road, we were taken to task and heartily condemned by a passer-by for indulging in a frivolous pursuit at a time of national catastrophe, but it is difficult to see how we could have helped by staying at home. With the departure into the Services of most of the greenkeepers, labour was short, and Richard and I volunteered to go over on Fridays and mow a few of the greens for week-end play, as did other members of the Artisans. Big shots among the Artisans in those days were Bill Steptoe, Cyril Moss (handicap 1), Alf Smith, Percy Clayton, and George Piggott (“I can’t never ketch ‘old o them shots, I can’t, no, not them shots”, speaking of the lofted chip.) I understand his feelings, because I am not much of a dab at them either.
My elder brother, John, went into the Army, the rest of us were still at school. Rationing began to bite; breakfasts were usually scrambled dried egg, dinners either sausage-meat or fish, and tea was bread and jam. We each had our own pot of jam (1 lb. / month), and we would sit miserably at teatime wondering whether or not to have another slice and keeping an eye on the level in other people’s pots. There was also some very dubious meat or fish paste about.
And so we made our way into 1940 and the end of my school career. I had by this time made up my mind to go to University and subsequently into teaching. There was no careers guidance in those times - you had to make up your own mind what you would like to do. I was accepted for Reading University, travelling in each day by bicycle (7 miles), and home in the evening, in all
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weathers. At this time I made the acquaintance of Ken Ablewhite, who had gone to the University the year before, and we used to do the journey together.
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[university shielf]
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
LOCAL EXAMINATIONS SYNDICATE
HIGHER SCHOOL CERTIFICATE
This is to certify that HENRY W WAGNER of Henley Grammar School
Passed the Higher School Certificate Examination in July 1940 having satisfied the general requirements of the examination and having reached the standards shown (Advanced, Ordinary, or Subsidiary) in the following five subjects:
French Ordinary
Geography Ordinary
English Subsidiary
Latin Subsidiary
Mathematics Subsidiary
Index number 570
Place of examination Henley
Date of birth 24 March 1923
[signature]
Vice-Chancellor
THE BOARD OF EDUCATION accept the examination as reaching the approved standard.
Signed on behalf of the Board of Education
[signature]
Assistant Secretary
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We used to leave home at 8 a.m. in order to arrive for the 9 o’clock lecture, work till 12.30, have lunch in the Buttery, work again in the afternoon (usually in the library, as there were no afternoon lectures), have tea in St. David’s Hall (tea, toast and jam, and a lardy cake), then work in the evening until about 8 o’clock. It called for a good deal of self-discipline – you could waste an awful lot of time if you were so minded. Geoff Dolphin, whom I have mentioned before, also joined us at the University. In the first year, I had to study four subjects, two of which would be subsequently dropped. I took French (Professor Dessignet[sic], Dr. Bowen, Miss Paton, Miss Dale), Latin (Mr. Cormack), Geography (Professor Miller and Miss Campbell) and Logic (Professor Hodges). This first year course was called Intermediate Arts. In the sporting line, I played rugby, and even did a bit of rowing.
In the summer of 1940, before going to the University, I worked on a farm with Ken Ablewhite. Labour was scarce, and farmers were glad of anyone who could help them out. The days were long and tiring, but the work was very satisfying, especially as there were a couple of lively land-girls working there as well – Pat Pepper (as hot as her name suggests), and Mary Kew. We indulged in turnip-hoeing, sheep-dipping, silage-making, and harvesting until it got too dark to work any more. Dick Green, the farmer, used to lend me a 12-bore when the corn was being cut, and I supplemented the meat-ration at home with quite a few rabbits.
At the University, the men all enrolled in the Officers’ Training Corps with a view to joining the Army. This was not at all to my liking, but I did it because everybody else did. Wednesday afternoons were given over to training, wearing Army uniform, and consisted of drill, weapon-training, tactical exercises, etc., under the supervision of Captain Gillett and Sgt. Major Warwick. After a few months, an Air Training Corps was started, and I thankfully transferred to that. Flying had always been a great interest of mine, and the A.T.C. was much more to my liking. The Commanding
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Officer was Professor Miller, with the rank of Squadron Leader, but he knew little about the Air Force. All the administration was done by a regular R.A.F. Officer, Flt. Lt. Jordan. He had been shot down in a Hurricane and was badly burned about the face. He was assisted by Sgt. Linton, a W/Op Air Gunner, who had been shot down in the desert and had walked back to our own lines. He mounted a Vickers Gas-operated machine-gun in the grounds, and always manned it when the sirens went, hoping for a crack at a low-flying German aircraft.
As I said, flying had always interested me, and I had my first flight five years before the war began. It was just a matter of good luck, as paying for a flight was obviously not on. Sir Alan Cobham’s air circus was due to come to Henley in 1934, and by way of publicity coupons were printed in the Henley Standard, the first to be drawn out to be awarded a free flight. I went round all the hours in the neighbourhood asking if I could have their coupons, and sent in a whole batch. One of them brought home the bacon. The flight was in an Armstrong-Whitworth biplane which seated about 12 people, and lasted for some 20 minutes, over and around Henley. The next flights were undertaken when I was in the University Air Squadron; Flt. Lt. Jordan used to put up a list in the week of those wanting to fly on Sunday afternoon. He allocated the flights as equally as possible. We flew in various 2-seater Miles aircraft from Woodley aerodrome.
After working at Dick Green’s farm in the summer of 1940, Ken Ablewhite and I bought a motorcycle each. I got a 150c.c. Royal Enfield two-stroke for £15 and Ken got a 150c.c. Excelsior for £17.10.0d. Neither of us had ever ridden a motorcycle before, so the dealer that we got them from took us into an alley that ran behind his yard and explained the process and let us have a go for a few minutes, then he turned us loose to ride them back to Henley, without any tax, insurance or driving licence. Now and again we used them to go in to the University, but not often, as there was not much petrol allowed on the ration. Before long,
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I changed my Royal Enfield for a 250c.c. O.K. Supreme, a 4-stroke, which was a great improvement.
[photograph of Henry]
Photograph taken for identification purposes on joining Reading University Air Squadron.
[photograph of Geoff Dolphin]
Re the photo of me taken for Air Squadron purposes:- a pupil at the Queen’s Girls’ School, Wisbech, saw it and said: “Cor, I wish I’d ‘a knowed you in them days, Mr Wagner.” I said: “What’s the matter with me now, then?”, and she said “Well, it aint the same, is it.” I signed, and said: “No”.
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[photograph] Family photograph taken in 1940. Me in the blazer, next to my brother John. Brian on the right and Richard on the left. [/photograph]
And so we move on into 1941, in the summer of which I took, and passed, the Intermediate Examination of Arts. I started keeping diaries about this time, and some of them are still to hand, so I have many reminders of details which I would otherwise have forgotten. I note, for instance, that the air-raid siren was a frequent occurrence, even in the daytime, but there was never anything near Henley. The nearest bombs, and they were only small ones, fell at Doble’s farm, Shiplake, about three miles away. In this second year at the University, I took up cross-country running, and was a regular member of the team. Matches took place on Saturday afternoons, usually with two other teams from other universities taking part. The distance was 8-9 miles, and I noted, on one occasion “going was easy at first, but rather hard after halfway, mainly over soaking boggy ploughed fields and wet muddy lanes.” The 1941 diary is remarkable to me now for the amount that I managed to cram into each day. While actually at the University, every possible moment was spent working, often until 9 p.m. or later. And yet I seemed to go to the cinema at least twice a week and play golf at least twice, with swimming canoeing and a multitude of other activities
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thrown in, particularly at week-ends and in the vacations. In the summer, I worked again with Ken Ablewhite on Dick Green’s farm.
In September, having passed the Intermediate Arts examination, I returned to the university for one more academic year, to take First Year Finals in the summer of 1942 – call-up into the Air Force was deferred until after that examination.
On 8 December 1941, the Japanese attacked the American fleet at Pearl Harbour, and thereafter a state of war existed between Japan on the one hand and America and Britain on the other.
After the Christmas term ended, I worked in the Post Office at Henley, sorting letters and parcels. Extra staff were always taken on in the run-up to Christmas, and the pay was very welcome.
In June 1942 I took First Year finals and reached an acceptable standard, studying French with subsidiary Latin. This left one more year to complete the degree course, but there I had to leave it. For me, that completed the upwind leg. The circuit had been planned out reasonably well and everything seemed to be in working order. I knew where I was going, barring accidents, attacks by Gremlins, and that sort of thing, but there was the matter of the war to be dealt with first, and this constituted for me the
[underlined] CROSSWIND LEG. [/underlined]
Towards the end of August 1942 (the month in which I got the only hole-in-one I have ever had, playing a friendly game on Henley Golf Course with one David Mitchell), my call-up papers arrived and I duly reported to the Aircrew Reception Centre (ACRC, known as Arsy-tarsy) at St. Johns Wood in London. After a medical along with other members of the University Air Squadron, we were moved to a big block of what were before the war luxury flats (although there was not much luxurious about them then) called Viceroy Court, at Regents Park, to await events. It was the normal practice for prospective aircrew to be sent to an Initial Training Wing (there was one at Ilfracombe), but since we had done our initial training in the University Air Squadron, we were spared that, and went to a holding unit at Brighton, billeted in the Metropole Hotel, right on the front,
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which had been taken over by the Air Force for the duration. While there, I had this photograph taken. They must have done a brisk trade at Empire Studies because all the Air Force personnel seemed to patronise them.
[photograph]
People say to me sometimes: “Why did you join up? You were of Irish nationality and therefore not under any obligation.” But I felt that this was now my country, and that the obligation did exist. Then they say: “Well, why volunteer for aircrew then?” But the adventure of flying always enticed me; I felt that that was a job I could do as well as the next man, and that therefore there was no excuse for chickening out. Admittedly, there was not much chance of coming safely out at the other end, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles.
After a fortnight or so, postings came through to various Grading Schools. These were elementary flying training schools where prospective pilots or navigators were given a 12-hour course on Tiger Moths. Most were hoping to be pilots, of course, but instructors decided on suitability. I went to Brough, near Hull, and came under the instruction of Flying Officer Rothbone (later killed when a pupil landed a Tiger Moth on top of the one he
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was taking off in.) I went solo after 9¾ hours, about the average time, and was graded as a pupil pilot.
From Brough, I went on leave, and then back to Brighton again, this time billeted in the Grand Hotel. The time there was spent in drill, P.T., signals, aircraft recognition, navigation, armament, and clay-pigeon shooting. After some three weeks there, we were warned for posting, and one night, left Brighton on a special train which drew out at 2.30 a.m., arriving at Heaton Park, Manchester, at 11 a.m. Heaton Park was where those on overseas posting awaited their draft to a ship, and was a miserable hanging-about restless sort of place. Manchester is a rainy place anyway, and this was in January 1943. It was usually fog-bound and gloomy, and I was in a billet in Salford, some miles from the camp, a damp dingy tenement. Thankfully, I was not there long before my draft came through, and proceeded by train to Blackpool. All those on draft were dispersed round boarding-houses with typical seaside landladies. Tropical kit was issued, so we knew we were off somewhere warm. Three kit-bags had to have numbers and names put on in Indian ink – ordinary, flying, and tropical. That evening, Lee was one of the first away for the evening’s drinking; Bassingthwaite never got away at all. The time at Blackpool was spent just hanging about waiting – attending lectures, drill, route marches, going to the cinema, and that sort of thing. Finally, after about three weeks, towards the end of February, orders came to move. We went by train to Liverpool, marched to the docks, and embarked on a troopship, the S.S. Strathmore, 23,000 tons, and got organised on board, initiated into the process of slinging hammocks. These were slung from bars in the ceiling, and were difficult to get into because they were inclined to throw you out again. Also, the bars were too close together, with the result that you head was looking directly across at your feet. I soon gave up hammock-slinging, and laid mine out on the floor, but I was on the lowest deck of all, below the waterline; one of the propeller shafts ran just under the floor and thumped – thumped away all night, so sleeping was not the rest it should have been. The next day, the ship set sail from the Mersey and headed out round the north of Ireland.
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The sea was green and rough; almost everyone was seasick, and the evening meal was tripe and onions swimming in milk. There were not many takers. Life on board was pretty leisurely – there were a few lectures, frequent action-stations practice, but most of the time was spent reading and talking, and just sitting in the sun as the weather got progressively hotter. The ship was not in convoy, but sailing alone with one destroyer escort. It went far out into the Atlantic, then turned east, and ten days later land was sighted, and we entered harbour at Freetown, where the heat was stifling. There were many other ships in the harbour. The destroyer released depth-charges outside the harbour, having presumably detected a submarine. Three days later, the ship put to sea again, and in another fortnight arrived in Durban, South Africa. We then went by train to the Imperial Forces Transhipment Camp at Clairwood, just outside Durban. South Africa was a new world to all of us, far removed from the austerity of England. There was no black-out, and the shops were full of things unobtainable at home. The first things I bought were a big slab of chocolate and a tin of sweetened condensed milk, both of which I consumed as soon as I got back to camp. I used to go to the cinema every day in Durban with Peter Taylor and Maurice Gregson, and often we went swimming. Only one other thing stands out in my mind about that time, which was an organised visit to the Lever Brothers soap factory. I have always enjoyed visits to factories – Huntley and Palmers biscuit factory in Reading, Fry’s chocolate factory in Bristol, the Tusker Brewery in Nairobi.
After some ten days at Durban, we entrained for a two-day journey up through the Drakensberg mountains to the high veldt, to get another holding unit at Nigel. This was on an aerodrome, on Advanced Flying Training School where pupil pilots trained on Oxfords. A week later, postings came through, and we were dispersed to various Elementary Flying Training Schools to train on Tiger Moths. I came under the instruction of a South Africa officer, Lt. Goddard, not the easiest of men to get on with and somewhat anti-British. Circuits and landings was the first part of the programme, for which
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We flew about 20 miles to Rietgat, [sic] a small auxiliary aerodrome, just a part of the Veldt fenced in by barbed wire. Apart from circuits, the flying was done from the main aerodrome at Kroonstad, Orange Free State. Eventually, I had a solo test with Lt. Hooper, and did two solo circuits, going on later to solo steep turns, spins and loops. Three thousand feet was the statutory minimum for loops, but I always went up to four, being a great believer in plenty of height. They always say that the two most useless things in flying are height above you and runway behind you.
When I had done 10 1/2 hours solo, an incident occurred with Lt. Goddard which put paid to my aspirations to becoming a pilot. We flew to Rietgat [sic] and carried out various exercises, then Lt. Goddard said: “Just do one solo circuit, Wagner, then we'll go back to Kroonstad. Don't take long over it, because I'll have another pupil waiting.” He took out his control-column, secured the straps, and off I went. As I said, it was a very small field, and as I came in over the wire, I could see I was too high, so I opened up and went round again. This time also I could see I was too high, and opened up again. I saw Lt. Goddard standing in one corner of the field waving his control-column in the air and obviously in a rage. The third time, I was on the high side again, but I thought to myself that I had to get down at all costs. The Tiger Moth ran and ran – having no brakes, I could not arrest its progress, and it stopped about two yards from the wire, too close to turn it under power. So I undid my straps, got out, caught it by the tail-skid, pulled it back a few yards, turned it, got back in, and taxied back to where Lt. Goddard was waiting. “Right, Wagner,” he said, “fly me back to Kroonstad and make a good job of it because it is the last time you'll be at the controls.” And regretfully that was the end of my pilot training. I was “washed out”, as the saying went, and was, of course, very disappointed. Within three days, I was on my way to Roberts Heights, Pretoria, where I was re-graded as a Navigator. The three weeks I spent there were just time-wasting, doing odd jobs and often going into Pretoria to the cinema, waiting for a vacancy at a Navigational Training School. Eventually, a posting
[picture of Tiger Moth “I could fly one of these before I could drive a car”.]
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came through to 43 Air School, East London, which was quite a long way off. The train journey was through some spectacular scenery, down through the mountains to the coast. This was an Initial Training School where the rudiments of navigation were taught. I was, in fact starting again from scratch. Here, I met Graham Walker, who had been at the University Air Squadron with me, and who had been graded as a navigator from the start, and we kept together. For the first three weeks, nothing much happened, and Graham and I spent most of our time in town, going to the cinema, or swimming in the Indian Ocean from Orient Beach. We did quite a lot of P.T., had a few rugby games and had a lot of rifle and ordinary drill. While doing rifle-drill one day, the Station Warrant Officer, W/O Barnett came out to watch. He was a big fat man with piggy little eyes, a most unpleasant character. Observing the manoeuvre “Put down-arms”, when the rifle had to be laid on the ground, he remarked: “you bloody lot remind me of a lot of Waafs getting down on a jerry”, and I thought to myself: “What a common man, what a low lad.” Eventually, the course proper started, with lectures on DR navigation, plotting, meteorology, armament, signals, radio-navigation, aircraft recognition, compasses, and astro-navigation. This was all very concentrated stuff, and lasted for ten weeks, ending with an examination.
At the end of the course, postings came through, and I went with two friends, Graham Walker and Dave Wright, on an overnight train journey down the coast to Port Alfred, a small town miles from anywhere. This was where the practical navigation was done, interspersed with lectures. We were billeted in tents. There was a beautiful beach, almost deserted, where huge rollers came in from the Indian Ocean, picked you up and tumbled you along through the surf. There were sharks outside the line of breakers, so you had to be wary about going any further out.
the Flying Training was done in Ansons, with South African Air Force pilots. Their Ansons did not have hydraulics on the undercarriage, and it had to be wound up by hand, which was an awful chore. All right letting it down though. On alternate flights,
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one was either first or second navigator; the first navigator was responsible for plotting, wind-finding, working out courses, ground-speed and time of arrival, while the second navigator did photography and obtained fixes and bearings using the Astro Compass (which was not a magnetic compass but more of a bearing-plate) – all very well in the clear daylight skies of South Africa, but not likely to be much use in Europe where the ground was mostly obscured by cloud and everything was blacked-out at night. Also the second navigator took sights on stars, using a sextant, but astro fixes were far from reliable. Sights had to be taken on two stars and the readings converted into position-lines, using the Air Almanac. It took about 20 minutes to get a fix plotted, by which time you were about 40 miles further on.
And so the course went on until the middle of December. There were written examinations in all subjects. The last flight was a long navigational exercise, from the eastern side of the country to the western, and was by way of being a celebration. Base – Uitenhage – out to sea – George – Oudtshoorn, - Youngsfield (just outside Capetown). We stayed two days at a hotel in Capetown, and were disappointed not to be able to go up Table Mountain, as the weather closed in. We flew back to Port Alfred, and that was the end of the course.
[Picture of The Lagoon, Port Alfred]
On 23 December 1943, the passing-out parade took place, and brevets were pinned on with all due formality.
[Navigators Brevet]
Sergeant’s stripes were sewn on later onto best blue, battle-dress and greatcoat. That evening, there was a flight dinner at the Bathurst Hotel in Port Alfred. The traditional services Christmas dinner took place on the 25th, all serving being done by the officers.
[Air School logo on menu]
43 AIR SCHOOL
PORT ALFRED, South Africa
Christmas, 1943
DINNER
Fried Stock Fish and Butter Sauce
Roast Turkey and Boiled Ham
Roast Potatoes
Boiled Potatoes
Green peas
Cauliflower and White Sauce
Christmas Pudding and Brandy Sauce
Fruit, Nuts, Sweets, Mince pies,
Beer
Toast: Absent Friends
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We left Port Alfred on Boxing Day, for the 2½ - day journey back to Clairwood Camp, Durban. There was the usual splitting-up of friends on posting, but by this time I was in company with Leslie Shawcross. This Shawcross had crashed on a low-level map-reading exercise, when the pilot flew too low and the aircraft skated across the countryside, so he had had a narrow escape, very nearly being yet another of the many thousands killed in training.
[photograph] ‘No. 5 Air Navigators Course’ [/photograph]
And so we move on into 1944. At Clairwood, we were members of the Sergeants’ Mess, and this was quite a luxurious place, with very good food and a bar. There was plenty of free time and no harassment, as we were just waiting for a ship back to England. We were not waiting long – on 6 January we embarked in Durban Harbour on the S.S. Arundel Castle, 19,000 tons. We were on an upper deck this time, sleeping in bunks instead of hammocks. Unfortunately for me, mine was the top of a stack of four, right under an emergency light which had to be left on all night and shone directly onto my face. Furthermore, a card-school gathered below and played all night, with frequent calls of “Twist”, “Bust”, “I’ll see you,” so sleep was intermittent. Life aboard was generally very leisurely, with the
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occasional gun-crew, look-out or messing duties, and most of the time was spent reading, talking or seeing cinema shows.
On 7 January, we were tugged out of Durban Harbour, and steamed around waiting for the convoy to assemble. On 12 January, we entered Mombasa Harbour; little did I know I would be there again 23 years later. We left that same day, headed out to sea and then turned north. On 17 January we entered harbour at Aden, left the next day and steamed into the Red Sea, and thence to the Gulf of Suez, where we anchored. Aircrew destined for the Middle East disembarked here, mostly South Africans.
A pilot, Flt. Sgt. Fillmore, lent me a book of Tennyson’s poems, which I enjoyed reading over and over again. My favourite was The Song of the Lotos-Eaters, and the most poignant is Crossing the Bar, which you will find at the end of this book. I have always liked reading poetry (proper poetry, that is, not what passes for poetry these days), and am quite happy reading again through old friends in An Anthology of Modern Verse. Think of all the philosophy of life wrapped up in this one:-
[centred and underlined] IF [/centred and underlined]
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors[sic] just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
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Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling
Back to Port Suez – no, that wasn’t its name, it was Tewfik. Although the ship was anchored some two miles off-shore, an all pervading smell of burning tar and sulphur wafted out over us, its purpose being, so we were told, to counteract an outbreak of bubonic plague on shore. The ship steadily filled up with naval and R.A.F. personnel heading for home, and there was little room to move about. On 2 February, we entered the Suez Canal. About half-way along the Canal, it passes through the wide expanse of the Bitter Lakes, and it was the practice for north and south-bound convoys to pass each other at this point. There was a lot to be seen there – ex-Italian warships, submarines, flak-ships, army camps, gun-positions. All those aboard the troopship were able to indulge in the luxury of
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shouting abuse and obscenities at Military Police on guard at the gate of an army camp, about twenty yards away. The Canal is very narrow, and there was only about ten yards to spare on either side of the ship. At Port Said, after passage through the Canal, we took on oil and water from tankers, joined a convoy of four other troopships and three destroyers, and moved out into the Mediterranean. Torches and emergency rations were issued, as the northern coasts of the Med. were still in German hands and there was still enemy activity, although by this time the North African coast was in our hands. This coast was plainly visible to port, between Tobruk and Benghazi. Four days later, the coast of Sicily was sighted. The rest of the convoy went off to Italy, and the Arundel Castle was Stirling Castle entered harbour at Port Augusta. We left next day, joined a new convoy, and headed west, the next stop being at Algiers for one day. This was the last stop on the way home. We passed the lights of Tangier to port, went through the Straits of Gibraltar, round the north of Ireland and into the Mersey. Disembarked immediately, and proceeded by train to Harrogate. There was not much to be done there – kit inspection, medical, documentation – and at the end of February I went home to Henley on leave, for three weeks, returning to Harrogate thereafter.
After a few days at Harrogate, a posting came through to Whitley Bay, Northumberland. This was yet another holding unit. Aircrew were churned out from the training schools, then gradually moved up the line as vacancies occurred, heading inevitably for the squadrons – there was always an ample pool of trained men to draw upon. In Whitley Bay, we were billeted in ex seaside boarding houses, run by typical seaside landladies, and very sparsely furnished, food to match. There was much hanging about, parades, kit inspections, route marches, drill and lectures. On one occasion, even, I was detailed to dig the front garden of the boarding-house. I was not sorry to leave Whitley Bay.
The next posting was to an Advanced Flying Unit at West
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Freugh, near Stranraer, in Scotland. There was, of course, more waiting about while things got organised – lectures on the Browning gun, firing it on the range, dinghy drill, hydraulic systems of aircraft, flying control, night-vision, beacons and occults, radio procedures, astro, parachute drill, and “airmanship” (which covered just about everything). Here, I made the acquaintance of “Biff” Brewer, so-called because he was a keen golfer. Fortunately, the Sports Officer was also a keen golfer, and he often gathered together a few officionados and took us to Portpatrick Golf Club, where the professional had sets of clubs which he loaned out. It was a good course, along the cliff-tops, from where you could see Ireland across the water. There was a flying-boat base at Stranraer, and Sunderlands could be seen taking-off and alighting in the lough.
At West Freugh, these photographs were taken. They were intended to be handed to resistance groups in the event of being shot down, to aid in the preparation of false papers. These were known as [indecipherable word] photos.
[three facial photographs]
Flying training was done on Ansons on this course, an extension of the work done in South Africa, but under more difficult conditions. The weather was much worse, and on night-flying there were no lights to be seen, only the beacons and occults, and more use had to be made of radio bearings. The routes were generally N.W., over the Irish Sea, where there would be less traffic, a typical one being Base – Ayr - Rathlin Island (N. Ireland), - Dungannon – Peel (Isle of Man) – Base.
This course lasted six weeks or so, then the next posting was to an Operational Training Unit at Abingdon. There were talks
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on new aspects of navigation, such as navigating on the climb and descent, and on Gee, a radar device which enabled the navigator to get an instant and very accurate fix – no more need for getting position-lines and transferring them as necessary. There was much practice in plotting in the navigational trainer. There were also talks on the German Air Force, and other Intelligence matters, and on Escaping and Evasion.
At Abingdon, crewing-up took place. Twenty pilots, twenty navigators, twenty bomb-aimers, twenty wireless-operators and forty gunners were assembled in a hall and left to their own devices. It was up to each one to slot himself in, and in the end twenty crews emerged. My own crew consisted of :-
Warrant-officer Wilfred Bates – pilot (Newcastle)
Myself as navigator. (Henley-on -Thames)
Sgt. Leslie Roberts – bomb-aimer (Liverpool)
Sgt. Jack Jones – wireless-operator. (Lampeter, Wales)
Sgt. Thomas Worthington – mid-upper gunner. (Liverpool)
Sgt. Robert Thomas – rear-gunner. (Whitehaven)
There was no need for a Flight-engineer at this stage, as training was carried out on Armstrong – Whitworth Whitleys, which only had two engines. Later, on Heavy Conversion Unit, we were joined by Sgt. Eric Berry (Sale, Cheshire).
The Whitley was a heavy bomber in service at the beginning of the war, but since superseded. It was not a pleasant aircraft to fly in, being very cramped, cold, lumbering, and having no radar navigational equipment. Also it was very difficult to get out of in an emergency. The wing chord was very thick, the two wings being joined by a narrow tunnel across the fuselage, through which one had to crawl to reach the escape-hatch, encumbered by heavy flying-gear and a parachute-pack. It was engined by two Rolls-Royce Merlins. The Whitleys we trained on were tired and worn-out, and would not get above 12,000 feet.
As runways were being laid at Abingdon, we moved to Stanton Harcourt, a satellite for Abingdon, and flew from there.
[picture of Armstrong – Whitworth Whitley.]
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[photograph] Warrant-officer W.A. Bates. Pilot.
[photograph] Sgt. L.G. Roberts. Bomb-aimer.
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[photograph] Sgt. T.W. Worthington. Mid-upper gunner.
[photograph] Sgt. E. Berry. Flight-engineer.
The flights in the Whitley were, of course, longer than those in the Anson, a typical one being Stanton Harcourt, Newquay, Milford Haven, Stanton Harcourt, about 4 1/2 hours, including an hour or so on the bombing-range. One trip I have noted shows some of the difficulties that could be encountered : “Took off in fine weather 10.30, but ran into cloud half-way to Newquay. Started to descend, but the
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cloud got lower and thicker. Climbed to 12,000 feet, but icing started, so went down to 7,000 feet, still in cloud. Spotted a hole in the clouds, and went down through it to have a look. Identified position as Falmouth. Headed north, homed along the St. Eval beam, landed, and had dinner. Took off again 1500, and flew low along the coast, looking upwards at the cliffs of Hartland Point as we passed. Cut inland at Burnham and flew eastwards via Swindon through low cloud and bad weather, back to Stanton Harcourt.”
Apart from the long trips, there were many shorter ones, such as practice on the bombing-range and fighter affiliation, and quite a few navigational trips in Ansons while pilots were on familiarisation on the Whitleys.
The OTU course finished early in August; we returned to Abingdon, and a couple of days later went on leave. After leave, the next posting was to 4 Group Aircrew Training School, Acaster Malbis, near York. Being now in 4 Group meant that we would be operating on Halifaxes. Training School it might have been, but it was in fact yet another holding unit. Nevertheless, there were lectures on many diverse topics, such as broadcast wind velocities for bombing, pathfinder techniques, pyrotechnics, oscilloscopes, dinghy radios, hydraulic systems, German targets, flak, H2S, air-position indicator, homing on Gee, airborne lifeboat, - all good stuff.
The next move was to 1652 Heavy Conversion Unit, Marston Moor, near York. Here, we were introduced to the Handley Page Halifax, Mark III, on which we would be operating. Pilots had to learn the technique of flying a large four-engined aircraft, and the rest of the crew had to familiarise themselves with their positions in the aircraft and new equipment, as well as the general layout of the aircraft, such as flare-chutes, escape-hatches, oxygen equipment etc. The Halifax was engined with 4 Bristol Hercules sleeve-valve engines, and its all-up weight was some 30 tons. It did not quite match up to the Lancaster in performance and weight-lifting, but it was a good airman’s aircraft, solid, robust, and very dependable – it could take more knocking about than a Lancaster. It cruised at about 230 knots indicated airspeed when light, 210 when loaded. Fuel consumption was .9 air
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miles per gallon, and could carry about 5 tons of bombs, depending on the distance of the target. The bomb-load was usually mixed - perhaps one 2000 pounder, two thousand-pounders, four 500 pounders, and the rest made up of incendiaries, either 30-pounders or canisters of 4-pounders. The aim being to knock the target about and then set fire to it.
Here, we were joined by Sgt. Eri Berry, flight - engineer, and were now a complete crew of seven.
[photograph]
The first few Halifax flights were for W/O Bates to learn how to handle the Halifax and get used to doing so, including 3-engined flying, and for the bomb-aimer to drop practice-bombs on the range, so there was not much for me to do - just keep tabs on where we were. Even if lost, it was easy enough to get a Gee Fix and give a course for base. Air - to - air firing, for the benefit of the gunners, took place out to sea, beyond Flamborough Head. Flying was often cancelled through bad weather, or because of unserviceability of aircraft, since these were rather tired ex-operational aircraft, or ones
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which had been damaged by accidents. After about a fortnight of this sort of thing, the time came to venture further afield. The first attempt was a failure - Base S/C climbing to 16,00 feet - March - then the port inner engine packed up, so the propellor was feathered and we returned to base. It was another fortnight before we did a navigational trip again, the only flying in the meantime being night circuits. Much of the time in between was spent going into York to the pictures with one or more of the crew, or drinking in the Boot and Shoe or Spotted Ox at Tockwith, the nearest village.
A typical cross-country was Base - Darlington - Goole - Bury St. Edmunds - Market Harborough - Coventry - Nottingham - Base, but equipment of some sort often went wrong - one of the engines, Gee, H2S, DR compass - involving an early return. Sometimes we did not even get off the ground , as equipment proved unserviceable on being tested, or flying was cancelled at the last moment. If anything went wrong with the flying of the aircraft, there was a very efficient service known as Darkie (you couldn’t get away with that name nowadays.) The procedure was to call Darkie, and on enquiring the nature of the emergency , type of aircraft, whether heavy or light (i.e. bombs on or not), they would give a course to fly to the nearest aerodrome which could accept the aircraft, and monitor your progress to it. One such occasion reads “after 20 minutes, port inner packed up. Called Darkie, and landed 2125 at Bottesford, near Nottingham, a Lancaster Conversion Unit. Reported in at Flying Control, drew blankets, had supper, and turned in. Left 1340 the next day and flew back to base.”
At the end of the Heavy Conversion Unit course, the sausage-machine churned out the next, and final, posting, which was to 51 Squadron at Snaith, not far from Doncaster. We were now a fully trained crew, ready to be let loose on the Germans. All the crew were billeted together in a Nissen hut, which was shared with one other crew. Most of the daytime was spent in the Navigation Section or in the Bombing Section with Robbie, doing nothing in particular, playing draughts perhaps, or Chinese Checkers. The radio was always playing, a popular tune at that time being “Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar…..” I became heartily sick of that tune, and still dislike it even now. Another
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popular tune was “I hate to see that evening sun go down” (true enough), and, prophetically, “Don’t fence me in.”
The first few flights were familiarisation of various sorts - practice bombing, air-to-air firing, fighter affiliation. On the first flight, we did 3 circuits, then a tyre burst, so that was the end of that. On the first cross-country, which was up to Scotland, down to the Isle of Man and back to base, bad weather prevented us landing there, and we were diverted to Melbourne, returning to Snaith the next day. The next cross-country was Base - York - Belfast - Liverpool - Sheffield - Base, and was for practice in using the navigational aid H2S. If you will look back to the picture of the Halifax, you will see a bulge under the fuselage back towards the tail. This contained a rotating scanner. When radio waves were transmitted from it and hit something vertical, they were reflected back and showed as white patches on the appropriate receiver at the navigator’s position. Thus towns showed up extremely well and could be identified from a special map. Open ground showed up quite well; from water, there was no return. Controls on the set enabled the navigator to get his bearing and distance once the pinpoint was identified. Here is a photo of the H2S screen taken on a cross-country, while heading out over the Irish Sea. It says on the reverse “29.10.44 // 14,000 feet. 282˚ T. ISLE OF MAN. Range marker 10 miles. Sgt. Wagner.”
[photograph]
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The white patch towards the bottom is the northern tip of the Isle of Man. The white line going towards the left is the aircraft’s heading 282˚ True. The black line in the centre was over the northern tip of the Isle of Man when I took the bearing, which was shown on a rotating ring round the outside of the screen. The large circle was the range-marker, which I had set at 10 miles - 10 nautical miles, that is - we never worked in m.p.h. and statute miles, but knots and nautical miles.
Here is an example of a navigator’s log, and it gives some idea of how unremitting a navigator’s job was. An X means that the fix was obtained from H2S. The first fix is shown as X 173 YORK 13, which means that the aircraft was on a bearing of 173˚ from York, and 13 miles from the centre.
[missing photograph]
For the benefit of those of you who know nothing of the navigator’s craft, I will give a very brief description of the bare essentials. If you pointed a car at a destination on a limitless extent of tarmac, and proceeded at a set speed, you would arrive at that destination,
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and you would know how long the journey would take. Not so in an aircraft. The aircraft is suspended in a moving body of air, and where that air is going, the aircraft also goes, in the same direction and at the same speed, as when you have a goldfish in a bowl of water, so due allowance has to be made for wind speed and direction. “Well, once you know the wind speed and direction - - - - .” All very well, but first you have to find out what it is; then, it keeps changing, so you have to go on finding out what it is. Why does it keep changing? Imagine flying from A to B across an area of low pressure (see digram.) The wind-pattern in areas of low pressure is as shown by the arrows.
[diagram]
A comparison between where the aircraft actually is and where it would be if there was no wind gives the wind speed and direction, but it constantly needs updating.
Furthermore, the speed of the aircraft varied considerably through the air (and so over the ground), depending on height. Air becomes less dense the higher you, so there is less resistance to the aircraft flying through it. And density, of course, varies with the temperature - the warmer it is, the less dense, so temperature had to be taken into account as well. To complicate matters even further, aircraft on operations did not maintain a steady height for long; if they did, it would make matters easier for the Germans - they could inform their night-fighters of the height of the stream, and also fuse all their anti-aircraft shells for that height. So almost all navigating had
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to be done on the climb or descent. This meant that not only was the wind changing because of the particular weather pattern but was also different at different heights, as was the airspeed. So the navigator had to calculate and estimate what was likely to happen, without much hard information to go on.
Of course, on an operational sortie, the bomber-stream approached the target by a roundabout route, never heading towards it till the last few minutes, to keep the Germans guessing. Even then, it might divide say ten minutes before H-hour, and attack two different targets simultaneously, to divide the night-fighter force. There might be five or six different ‘legs’ to fly before reaching the target. Supposing the distance “out” was 600 miles, if you did not arrive within three minutes (early or late) of your allotted time, the Station Navigation Officer would want to know all about it. He would likewise be none too happy if at any time, “out” or “home”, you had strayed more than three miles off track. It was, of course, in your own interest to stay exactly on track – safety in numbers – night-fighters would prefer to catch solitary stragglers out of the main stream.
Pilots had a small route-map with the turning-points lettered, and I often got the query: “Pilot to navigator. Where are we, Wag?” and I would answer, for instance: “Leg[?] C to D, about 1/3 of the way along, on track, half a minute late.” It must have been monotonous for him sitting up there looking out into the darkness, turning as directed, but not having the faintest idea of how it was going or where we were. Although the bomber-stream contained several hundred aircraft, you never saw another one until in the vicinity of the target. You know all about navigation now, do you? Well done. As you appreciate, navigation was not on exact science, but more of an approximation. The art of the craft, if I may so put it, was to reduce the uncertainty and keep it within tolerable limits. Overleaf, you will find a letter taken from Picture Post, a popular magazine of the time, written by a member of a bomber crew, appreciating the navigator’s work.
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[newspaper cutting] The Key Man of a Bomber Crew
I am an American serving with the Royal Air Force, and have been serving since the outbreak of the war. Being a member of a bomber crew, and really knowing what goes on, I’m amazed at the way the British Press, including yourselves (“The Last Hour in a Lancaster,” May 15), refer to certain members of the crew as the “key man.” There is a “key man” in a bomber, but it isn’t the flight engineer, pilot, rear gunner, or wireless operator – it is the man whom Bomber Command refer to as the “key man”, namely, the navigator.
When we are flying over enemy territory, I often look at the other members of the crew (who, by comparison, are having an easy time), and then look at the navigator, who is working from take-off to landing. I realise then that it is from that map-strewn table that my destiny is controlled. The control column may be the nerve centre, but it is the navigation table that is the brain of an aircraft.
An Ally, R.A.F. Station, Somewhere in England. [/newspaper cutting]
To return to Smith, 16 November 1944. Woken 0740 by an airman and navigators were told to report to the Navigation Department for preliminary briefing for operations. This was so that navigators would know the target in advance (being warned to keep their mouths shut about it), and be able to get part of their work done beforehand. This consisted of marking turning-points, drawing in tracks on the charts, measuring the compass bearing of each and the distance, and seeing that everyone was in agreement. Then we had breakfast, at 0920, and went to the Briefing Room at 1000, with complete crews, for the main briefing, attended by the Commanding Officer (Wing-Commander Holford), Navigation Officer, Bombing Leader, Met. Officer, Intelligence Officer and Armament Officer. Afterwards everyone repaired[?] to the locker-room and put on flying gear. This consisted of inner quilted flying-suit, outer gaberdine suit, flying boots lined with lambswool, and parachute-harness. Contents of pockets were handed in, helmet, goggles and oxygen-mask picked up, as well as three pairs of gloves (woollen, silk, and leather gauntlets), microphone and intercomm[sic] lead. I carried the gloves only for use in emergency, in case of fire, and goggles for the same reason. If so desired, one could draw a revolver and six rounds, which I always did. You never knew when it might be needed; one of the great fears was coming down in the target area, where the natives would be vicious, and five rounds could be used on the Germans, the last one being kept for personal use. * So, with all this gear and parachute-pack and navigation bag containing all the necessary equipment (pencils, rubber, ruler, charts, Douglas protractor, dividers, Dalton computer), I repaired to the aircraft (C6A) together with the rest of the crew. We took off at 1250 and did a Radius
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Extract from “The Bomber Battle for Berlin”, by Air Commodore John Searby DSO DFC, published by Airlife Publishing Ltd, 101 Longden Road, Shrewsbury. [inserted in red] COPYRIGHT? [/inserted in red] [inserted] Applied for and granted. [/inserted]
Confidence in the skill of the navigator came only second to that placed in the captain: This aspect of the work of the crew has not always received the prominence it deserves, though somewhat earlier in this narrative I have made the statement that Bomber Command stood or fell by the quality of its navigators; and this is true. To be ‘lost’ over enemy territory was a frequent occurrence in the early days of the bomber offensive, as we have seen, but the consequences were nothing like so frightening as later on when the night sky was stiff with opposition. With a multiplicity of aids available after 1942 and in the context of a streamlined technique with Pathfinders to light the way there and back such incidents were few. However, on some occasions, when windspeed at altitude was unusually high, it could happen and could be damaging in the sense that security of the crew was impaired – seemingly – and those not in the know, such as the gunners, were entitled to feel anxious. We all took the navigator for granted – both captains and the remainder of the crew alike – he had the answers and was expected to produce them at the drop of a hat. A competent and confident navigator was a powerful factor for morale from first to last – courage, determination and the will to press on in the face of flak and fighters was one thing; but only the skill of the navigator could ensure that the effort was taken to the [indecipherable word] spot. The demands on his services were frequent, and we all heard with relief the familiar voice over the intercom on the way home: “Dead on track, Skipper – you should see the coastline in a few minutes – you can start letting down any time now.” A shaky navigator could be an uncomfortable thought in the minds of the rest of the crew – so much depended on him, and whatever the situation he must remain cool and capable of using his head quickly to calculate the new course to get us out of trouble. With punctured tanks, and the fuel running low, a single mistake on his
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part could result in a ‘ditching’ on a winter’s night with a rough sea below: likewise, he could run us over heavily massed defences such as the Ruhr perimeter by miscalculation. When the unexpected arose he was the first to be asked if we were still on the correct track and if not, then why not? Like the policeman – his lot was not a happy one.
And another reference later on:-
Navigators bore a heavy responsibility in getting aircraft to the target. Theirs was an unenviable task, subjected to a constant barrage of noise, working in the worst possible conditions, interrupted occasionally by enemy action and ‘nagged’ not infrequently by requests for information; they were expected to remain oblivious to all external alarms.[?]
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of action. This was necessary so that the whole squadron could set course over base at the same time. In order not to have a lot of aircraft milling about in the circuit at the same time, each navigator was given a track outward from base, towards the NW, each a few degrees different from one another so that aircraft coming back did not collide with any still outward bound. It was up to each navigator to determine his course to fly to maintain that track, and how long to fly it before turning to arrive over base at the appointed time of departure. In this case it was 1340, and the target was Julich, a small town not far from Aachen, only just inside Germany, being used as a supply and transit centre for the front-line forces, so we were not long over hostile territory. Bombing height was low, 10,000 feet. There was a little flak and no fighters. At the same time, a force of Lancasters was attacking Duren, a similar town a few miles to the south. It was an uneventful trip, but very effective, as this clipping from next day’s Daily Telegraph shows:-
[newspaper cutting] Two Rhine Towns Written Off
Photographs of Duren and Julich taken two days after they were attacked by very forces of R.A.F. bombers on November 16 show a close concentration of bomb craters almost without parallel in any previous attack by the R.A.F.
The centres of both these recently fortified towns, which were among the main defences of the Rhine, have been completely destroyed. [/newspaper cutting]
The following day, bombing photographs were on the board in the Intelligence Room. A camera was always operated a certain number of seconds after the bomb-release was pressed and took a photo of the point of impact. Our photo was in the centre, and enlarged, and showed the best strikes of the squadron, 200 yards from the centre of the town.
The second operation took place on 18 November, and was another daylight trip. The target was Munster. Navigators’ briefing was before breakfast, main briefing after. Took off 1245, radius of action, and set course 1325. Flak was light, no fighters were seen. Munster was covered by cloud. Concentration appeared poor on this attack. A word here about target-marking. There were two methods, Newhaven and Wanganui. Newhaven was used when the target was clear of cloud.
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Pathfinder “illuminators” would go in first and drop white flares, by whose light the second lot of pathfinders could identify the aiming-point. As near to this as possible they dropped the appropriate marker-flares. There were several different sorts – red shooting yellow stars, green shooting red stars etc. - and bomb-aimers knew which to look for. This did not give the Germans time to confuse the issue with their own flares some distance away. Most large German targets had decoy sites a few miles away where fires were often lit to simulate and attack, and these did a [sic] times attract a number of bombs. Wanganui marking was used when the target was obscured. Pathfinders dropped parachute flares upwind of the aiming-point, or rather upwind of the centre of the town. These burned for two minutes or so, and bomb-aimers aimed at them. This method was obviously not so precise as Newhaven, but it ensured a good spread of bombs, hopefully in the target area. Flares had to be continuously renewed throughout the attack. Always, some pathfinders were Wanganui-equipped, just in case the target could not be seen. So, after, at briefing, the instruction was: “Newhaven, with emergency Wanganui,” If all else failed, and nothing could be seen, bombs could be dropped by making use of the navigational device Gee. This was accurate to within 1/4 mile or so, and was therefore acceptable for this purpose. The bombsight was not used, and bombs were released on instructions from the navigator. Gee, however, could not be used on distant targets; it depended on signals sent out from England, and was susceptible to jamming. As one proceeded further away from the transmitting stations, the signals became weaker, and more difficult to identify, and on the cathode-ray tube gradually disappeared among all the clutter provided by the Germans. On some raids, a Master Bomber would orbit higher up, watching progress and giving instructions. There was a natural tendency for bomb-aimers to release the load a few seconds early, and this progression led to a “creep-back”, so that the Master Bomber had to advise a change of aiming-point. I heard once an instruction from
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him: “Apple Pie to main force. Bomb upwind edge of smoke.” And then later, when we were on our way home:” Well done, chaps. Now get off home and have your breakfast.”
On return from the Munster attack, Warrant Officer Bruce crashed in collision while waiting to land. After putting all the gear away, crews were de-briefed by specialist officers who took notes on how things had gone, and anything unusual that might have happened, and while this was going on, mugs of thick cocoa were provided, and tots of rum. I always took the rum neat, but there were some who tipped it into their cocoa, and almost unbelievably some who refused it altogether. After this second operation, we went on leave for ten days, during which Bob Thomas, our rear-gunner, got married.
Two days after return, operations were notified, the target being Essen, in the Ruhr. Navigators' briefing took place at 8 p.m., main briefing at 11. Took off 0226, radius of action, set course 0311. Usual route, base - Reading, - Beachy Head – over to France. Arrived over target 2 minutes late, bombed Wanganui flares 0539, arrived base 0823. De-briefing, breakfast, went to bed and slept till 5 o'clock. Heavy flak, some fighters in the target area, and this would be a suitable juncture to digress for a few words on flak. Intelligence knew where the heaviest concentrations of flak were, and aircraft were routed to avoid them, but there was no dodging it on the approach to, and over, the target. Bombing heights usually varied from 21,000 to 18,000 feet, different waves being allocated different heights. The Germans, knowing this, could only spread their shells about, barrage fashion, filling the sky with as much explosive as possible, in the hope of catching someone at random. The greatest concentrations were naturally north, west and south of the target, and it was not possible to avoid them. You could not go over the top because the aircraft, loaded, would not go high enough; you could not go round the outside because fighters lurked there, and anyway everybody would be coming in at different angles, causing collisions galore; you could not go underneath because of the risk of “friendly” bombs falling on you. So the only thing you could do was get your head down and run the gauntlet hell for leather through the middle, hoping that nothing
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had got your name on it. I only looked out twice over the target; it was like a fairground on Saturday night – target indicators, fires burning, photo flashes going off, anti-aircraft shells bursting, searchlights. After that, I just didn't want to know, preferring the scholarly calm of the “office.”
Here, I attach an account of the briefing for the Essen raid; you will see how much intricate organisation went into planning an attack. [account missing]
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Following the briefing and report on the operation, there are notes on some of the many devices used to outwit the Germans. References to “Window” may need some explanation. These were strips of metallised paper, cut to the wavelength on which German radar operated; each strip gave off briefly an echo on their cathode-ray tubes, the same as an aircraft did, with the result that their screens were hopelessly confused and it was impossible to pick out individual aircraft. It was first used in the fire-storm attacks on Hamburg, and vastly reduced flak casualties. There were two sorts, the broad and the narrow, the second working on night-fighter frequencies. Here is a strip of the narrow. [inserted]
The following night, there was an operation on Duisburg (docks and transport.) It was an uneventful trip. Took off 1640, radius of action, set course 1714. Base – Reading – Beachy Head – France – Duisburg. Surprisingly, flak negligible, no fighters. Bombed 2006 on Wanganui flares, arrived back at base 2340, supper, and into bed 0100.
The next operation was two nights later, on Hagen, in the Ruhr. Set course 1814. Over Reading, the port inner engine failed, so we went NE and jettisoned the bombs in the North Sea beyond Flamborough Head, and returned to base.
On Monday 4 December, there was a short local trip, down to Derby, followed by a blind bombing run on York, using H2S. A further word about H2S here. It was quite accurate on a fairly large target (provided it had been positively identified first – not much use though in a large conurbation such as the Ruhr.) The bombs were released on instructions from the navigator. I did not like using H2S for any purpose, and steered clear of it except in case of necessity. German fighters were known to home onto its transmissions, so I left it switched off as far as possible.
At this juncture, it would be appropriate to digress for a while (with your kind permission, of course), and describe briefly the modus operandi
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of the German night-fighter force. The ever-increasing activities of Bomber Command forced the Germans to withdraw large numbers of fighters from other fronts, so there were plenty of them about, mostly in Holland, northern France and western Germany. The single-engined types were Me 109’s and FW 190’s; the twin-engined were Me 110’s, Me 210’s, a small number of the later Me 410’s and most effective of all, Ju. 88’s which started out early in the war as bombers but were later converted largely to night-fighting. The single-engined aircraft operated on a system which the Germans called “Wild Boar”; they were vectored onto the bomber-stream and left to their own devices, to find and attack as best they could. The twin-engined operated on the “Tame Boar” system and came under close control from the ground; they were also equipped with radar, so that once they latched onto a target they were hard to shake off. The two standard methods of evasion were a violent “corkscrew” or a violent diving turn to port or starboard. Knowing that its presence had been detected, a fighter would often go and try its luck elsewhere, trying for a more unwary victim.
Now, if you had taken the trouble to read that list of various devices in the plastic envelope a couple of pages back, you would have noticed the one called Mandrel. Aircraft of 100 Group (Counter Measures), usually Stirlings (which were not fit for bomber operations because they could not get up very high), flew a “race-course” pattern out in the Channel, jamming the German Wurzburgs, which were long-range radar detectors. The Germans therefore knew that a raid was pending, but did not know where the main force would emerge from behind the screen. So they had two radio beacons a long way from each other, called Otto and Ida, and fighters orbited these beacons waiting for the main force to manifest itself, and when It did, half of them anyway were in the vicinity. It became the practice for the R.A.F. to insert a Mosquito among those orbiting these beacons, and he might be lucky enough to get a couple before they rumbled what was going on, and dispersed. At any rate, it made them nervous and threw them out of gear. This operation was known as a Mahmoud. There were many other operations designed to
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deceive and disrupt - a Mosquito would lurk near every fighter aerodrome, and catch fighters taking off or returning to refuel. “Spoof” raids would be taking place by smaller forces on widely-separated targets, or just several aircraft dropping target-indicators and then nothing else happened.
In the second half of 1944, the Germans hit upon the most effective way of dealing with a bomber once it was found and identified, so simple that it is amazing it was never thought of before, and it was a long time before anyone twigged what was happening. Early in the war, more aircraft, notably Wellingtons, had a turret underneath, but the fitting of these was discontinued, so there was no protection from below. Two tail-warning and downward-looking radars, Monica and Fishpond, were fitted, but these were removed when it was found that the Germans were homing onto them. Realising that they had a clear field from underneath, the German Fighter, invisible against the dark background below, would gradually increase its height until it was some 150 to 200 feet below the bomber, with the bomber silhouetted against the lighter sky above and its exhaust flames clearly visible. On the same course and at the same speed, the bomber was a sitting duck. German twin-engined fighters had a cannon sticking out through the roof, and the gunner could let rip with a no-deflection shot. They always aimed for the starboard wing-tanks, not the fuselage where there would be a risk of detonating explosives on board. Having thus set the aircraft on fire, they departed in reach of other prey. They carried no tracer among their ammunition, so that there was no give-away, and a bomber seemed to others round about just to catch fire for no apparent reason.
To return to Snaith. On Tuesday 5 December, the warning was given at 1130 for operations that night, the target being Soest, on the eastern edge of the Ruhr, which meant flying all the way round the industrial and heavily-defended complex. Main briefing 1415, out to aircraft, back for alterations to the flight plan, out to aircraft again, took off 1700 and set course 1800. Arrived over target 2 minutes late. Bombed on Gee, as the bombsight was unserviceable. Flak heavy over Hamm on the way in, light over the target. Arrived back at base 0200, a nine hour trip. Four
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aircraft went missing on this attack.
The following night, operations were laid on against Osnabruck. Took off 1600, set course 1625. Down to Reading at 2,000 feet, and saw Henley on the port side on the way. Passed over Reading bridge when workers were on their way home and the lights of vehicles were clearly visible. The sky was full of aircraft heading S.E. Climbed through icing cloud, proceeded on time over France and so to the target, one of the first aircraft in. Bombed on Gee. Out north over Holland, arriving back at base 2210, a six-hour trip. Flak very heavy over target. Eight aircraft missing from this attack.
The next day we did dinghy-drill in a reservoir, very cold, wet and muddy. On the 9th we did a practice flight, three simulated bombing runs of York, followed by practice-bombs on the range. On the 10th, roused at 0245 for operations, but cancellation came through after main briefing, the target being Bielefeld (presumably the viaduct.) This was laid on again next day, but cancelled again when everybody had got their flying-kit on. On the 12th, an operation was laid on against Essen. Flight-planning 1200, main briefing 1330. Took off 1600, set course 1620, bombed on Wanganui flares 1939, and arrived back at base 2200. Heavy flak in target area, as was to be expected over the Ruhr. Six aircraft failed to return. On the 15th, an operation was laid on against Dortmund, but later cancelled.
On the evening of the 17th December, briefing took place for an attack on Duisburg at 2230, then we had supper. Took off 0300 on the usual route via Reading and Beachy Head, and out over France. The weather deteriorated rapidly, wind velocity rose to over 100 knots, and the meteorological forecast was very wrong, so that the main force became widely scattered. Tried to make up a bit of time by cutting corners, but nevertheless arrived over the target seven minutes late. No marker flares were seen - with that wind velocity they would not have been much use, so we bombed using Gee. Soon after turning for home, we were set upon by a twin-engined fighter, which was driven off three times by our gunners. There followed a short interval when he seemed
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to have gone elsewhere, but such was not the case.
Here, I will digress once more (“what, again? Oh, all right then, if you must.”), and consider the possibility of surviving a tour of operations, I have already indicated that they were not very great. A tour consisted of 30 trips; average losses about 4%, therefore after 25 trips, a man was statistically dead, and therefore again the average man could expect to last 12 or 13. Some of course went on their first and some on their thirtieth, and obviously you needed a lot of luck on your side - it was not so much a matter of skill as of luck - a flak shell could catch any crew, no matter how skilful. As to the attitude of aircrews in general, there was a certain amount of fatalism involved, induced by the perithanatic situation in which they found themselves. I hope you will bear with me while I explain perithanatic for the benefit of lesser mortals than yourself. It comes, of course, from the Greek “peri” meaning ‘around’ (perimeter, peripatetic, periscope), and ‘thanatos’ meaning ‘death’ (euthanasia), and psychologists say that when in this situation there is an acceptance of what is going to happen and it ceases to worry. Personally, I never saw in others any evidence of fear - apprehension, yes, but not fear. When I say that the average man could expect to last 12 or 13 trips (i.e. rather less than half a tour,) this is borne out by the overall statistics of Bomber Command for the whole of the war - some 100,000 men flew with Bomber Command, and 57,000 were killed (i.e. rather more than half.) Today being Remembrance Sunday, I am reminded of a remark by Richard Dimbleby, commenting on the service at the Cenotaph: “Those that took the wings of the morning, or set their course by the stars into unimaginable dangers - - -.” The hazards were well enough known, though, “and their name was legion, for they were many.” - flak, fighters, mechanical malfunction, icing, cumulo - nimbus clouds and lightening, base fogged in on return, shortage of petrol, collision, fire, to name a few. In church the preacher, Canon [deleted] one indecipherable word [/deleted] [inserted] Hartley, [/inserted] an ex-prisoner of the Japanese, said: “I wonder how long Remembrance Day will go on. Until, I suppose, there is nobody left who remembers.”
To return to the situation in which we found ourselves. After
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three or four minutes there was a series of rapid thumps from the starboard wing, and almost immediately the Flight Engineer said: “Wilf, we’re on fire.” I looked back from my position down in the nose, and could see that there was a roaring mass of flame where the wing-root joined the fuselage and that the situation was obviously beyond control - burning petrol swilling in from the tanks, round the oxygen bottles, which would explode in due course. There was only one thing to do, which was to get out, and that right speedily, because one of two things was going to happen in a very short time - either the tanks would explode or the main-spar would melt and the wing would fall off. So even before the order came to abandon the aircraft, I was already buckling my parachute pack onto the harness. My seat, on springs, folded itself against the starboard wall when I stood up; I kicked away the legs of the navigation table, which folded itself down onto the port wall, leaving an open space on the floor with the escape-hatch in the middle. This was the way out for the three of us in the nose - myself, bomb-aimer and radio-operator. The mid-upper gunner would use the entrance - door half-way back down the fuselage, but the turret was difficult to get out of, and it took time. The rear-gunner would swivel his turret and drop out over the end, but again the turret was not easy to get out of, and furthermore his parachute pack was stored in the fuselage outside the turret. The pilot and flight-engineer would use whichever exit they could get at most quickly. I opened the hatch, raised it above the vertical, lifted it off its hinges, and dropped it through the hole. I then sat on the forward edge of the hatch and dropped through. A few words of explanation about how the parachute harness was designed. The pack was clipped onto two buckles on separate straps which came down from the shoulders and were attached to the main harness-straps by two pieces of string. The intention was that when the parachute opened, the string would snap, the pack would swing upwards, and you were left suspended from the shoulders. As I dropped through the hole, though, the pack
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caught on the rear edge, snapping the string, so that by the time I was in free fall, the pack was way up above my head, and to make matters worse the release-ring was facing backwards, so that I had to scrabble about to find the release-ring behind the back of my head. It was a relief, therefore, when there was a violent jerk as the parachute opened, and I was safely on the way down. The aircraft had been at a height of 14,000 feet, and the descent would take about 1/4 hour. After a few seconds, there was a whoomph as the tanks blew up, and I did not know whether anybody else had got clear. There were flashes of light and a rumbling in the distance, which I took to be thunder, but realised later were anti-aircraft fire, also, it was raining hard. As a factual observation, and with no intent to blow my own trumpet, there was no feeling of fear or panic in me - fear only comes when one has an alternative, and in this case there was not one, there was only one thing to do - rather a feeling of annoyance that when I got down I was going to be caught and stuck inside for the rest of the war. One of the advantages of being the navigator was that I had a pretty good idea of where we were; I knew we were over the British side of the lines, but knew also that there was a strong westerly wind which would probably carry me back inside Germany. If you take an average wind-speed on the way down of 80 m.p.h., I was going to drift some 20 miles. It was about 6.30 a.m., and still dark - perhaps just a hint of daylight - “dawn’s left hand was in the sky” (Omar Khayyam) - so I could not see where I was going to land, and in fact plunged down through branches of a tree and hit the ground. The advice was that when you landed, you were supposed to roll your parachute up and hide it. I realised that this was not on, as it was draped over the tree; furthermore, it was an apple - tree in the back garden of a house, and the curtains in one of the bedroom windows parted and a face peered out. So I took off my life - jacket, dumped it, and went down the side path and out of the front gate. Turning left, I heard the sound of marching feet approaching, so I turned right, and in a few minutes was out of the village and in open country. It was now getting light, and the thing to do was to find concealment wherein to [deleted] ly [/deleted] lie up for the day. Soon I found a wood of fir trees, and took
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refuge. First, judging by the sound of gunfire from the west, I knew I was in fact inside Germany. Then I examined the contents of my evasion-pack. This was a flattish plastic box, slightly curved to fit inside the thigh-pocket of a flying suit. It contained a map on silk, razor, rubber water-bottle with a packet of Halazone water-purifying tablets, energy tablets, Horlicks tablets, barley-sugar and chewing-gum, also a small compass of about 1” diameter. And there was a small slab of nut toffee.
My clothes were by this time wet through, and it was cold as well, so I did not have a comfortable day. Set off walking south, as soon as it was dark, keeping clear of the roads and going across country, over ditches full of water, through fences. The intention was to walk into France where I might make contact with the Resistance, and knowing the language would be a help. At daybreak, heavy rain came on again. Hid in a small fir plantation, after taking off wet flying-suit and boots, but could not sleep due to cold and general discomfort. Children with their mother and a couple of dogs passed within a few yards of me, but apparently did not see me. I ate three Horlicks tablets, one piece of toffee and a piece of barley-sugar, which I planned to be my ration for two weeks. It was a bad time of the year for evasion, there being nothing in the fields in the way of berries, fruit or vegetables. I drank from streams or troughs, using the water-bottle and purifying tablets. Set off again at dusk and walked till about 4 a.m., then came across a barn and stepped inside. As soon as it was properly light, I saw that there was a loft full of hay, with a ladder leading up to it, so I went up there, took off wet flying-suit and boots, stuffed them with hay, burrowed well down, and went to sleep. Not that stuffing them with hay did any good – they were still wet and cold when I put them on again. Pushed on again when it was dark, over the waterlogged fields. At daybreak I saw what appeared to be a dilapidated farmhouse, and I approached it with the intention of sleeping therein. It was occupied though; a middle-aged woman came out, and must have recognised me for
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what I was. Obviously, though, she was not in any position to cause trouble; I followed her inside and made sure there was nobody else in residence. She indicated I was to sit at the table, and gave me a few small apples, two slices of bread and two cups of coffee. It was by now broad daylight, so after leaving, there was not time to look for a good place of concealment[?]; the best I could do was a copse with wet brambles in it, so I hid up there for the day, although it was only half a mile or so from the farmhouse and one could expect the German woman to alert the authorities. There was not much sleep that day because I kept waking up with severe cramp, induced no doubt by wearing wet clothes for so long. I decided it was no use going on south, the distance being too great, so I turned back north towards Holland. The reasoning was this :-
[diagram]
There was no way of getting through the lines by going due west – anyway, the River Rhine was in the way, and that would be well-guarded. However, the British advance northwards into Holland had been very rapid, and looked like continuing, so I thought I would head NW round the corner in the lines and either hide up or maybe fall in with the Dutch resistance until the fighting moved on further north. An outside chance, but any chance is better than none.
That night, 21 December, it rained hard again. Towards dawn, I wandered about looking for somewhere dry to sleep. Stayed for a while in a shed beside the road, then it stopped raining so I carried on for another three miles. Found a stack of loose straw, so I dug some out and made a cubby-hole in the side, climbed in and went to
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sleep for the day. Got out at dark, put on flying suit and set out again. That night, it froze, and my flying-suit, being wet, froze stiff and the zips would not work so I could not get at my ration-pack. Suffered pains from cramp again. Walked all night, breaking ice on puddles to drink from. By this time, for various reasons all added together, I was getting light in the head and not thinking very clearly. I came to a railway embankment and climbed up. When I got onto the track, I thought: “This is stupid, all I have to do is walk along till I come to a station and get a train home.” So I turned left and walked along the track for about 20 minutes; seeing the lights of a station ahead, and hearing voices, brough me to my senses, so I got down off the track and pushed on. At daylight, bedded down in a partly-cut wood of fir trees. American bombers passed overhead. Pressed on again at night, and without thinking what I was doing, went through a village instead of skirting round it, as usual. At the far end, there was the click of a rifle-bolt, and a voice: “Halt, wer da?”, so I knew that was the end of my run. “Englische flieger,” I said, and the reply came: “Hande loch[?]”. I had run into a sentry-post. The soldier approached and indicated with his rifle that I should go into the post, which was a dug-out about ten feet square, entered by going down some steps. In it, there was a table, a chair, a bench, and it was heated by a wood-burning stove and lit by a pressure-lamp. The sentry was an oldish chap, well-meaning and obviously not one to make life difficult – he didn’t want any trouble, and I was in no state to give him any anyway. I patted the chest of my flying-suit and said: [five foreign words] and he indicated I should put it on the table, meanwhile keeping me closely covered with his rifle. He indicated also that anything else in my pockets should be put on the table. After that, the atmosphere became less strained, and he provided me with a bowl of soup. Then, seeing my clothes were wet, he told me to take them off and he hung them in front of the stove to dry, giving me his
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blanket to wrap round myself, and indicating that I should lie down on the bench and go to sleep. In the morning he permitted me to shave, using the razor from my evasion-pack, and then gave me a slice of bread and some of his meat-paste. As I said, not a bad old chap at all. By this time, his relief had arrived, and being apprised of the state of affairs, went to fetch another man. With this new man and the old original guard, I walked 8 km. to a fighter aerodrome at Alpen. This was on Christmas Eve. I was taken into the Officers Mess and subjected to all sorts of questions (but not of an operational nature) by those gathered therein. None, as it happened, could speak English, but one spoke French, and he translated for the rest. He asked how many times I had been over Germany, and when I said “eight”, he said that was nothing, he had been over London 66 times. They were interested in my flying gear, and also in the contents of my evasion pack. They gave me some of their dinner, which was a sort of spaghetti bolognese, but I was shunted aside into an alcove to eat it on my own. I was then handed over to their Service Police and made to sit on a stool in the middle of the room, watched over by a surly individual with a rifle. After several hours of this, my back ached, so I moved the stool against the wall, but an outburst and rifle-waving indicated I should stay where I was put. That night, I slept down in a warm cellar, locked in.
The next morning, that is on Christmas Day, I left Alpen with one guard; we walked five kilometres, then got a lift in a car to the nearest station and went by electric train to Dusseldorf. This was one of the R.A.F.’s main targets, and was much knocked about. On the platform I noticed a rat-faced little man going from person to person, talking to them and indicating me with a nod of the head. A few started drifting in my direction, and I didn’t like the look of things at all, but the guard saw what was happening as well and unshouldered his rifle, which caused them to lose interest. Bomber-crews were known throughout Germany as terrorflieger – (terror-flyers), which
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I used to think was unfair, as we were only going about our lawful business, and I don’t suppose German Airmen considered themselves as terrorflieger when they were bombing English towns. On the other hand, one can understand the attitude of civilians. The carpet-bombing of German towns was aimed at breaking the will of the nation as a whole to continue the war, by means of terror and destruction – any factories, military installations or transport facilities were a bonus unless they had been specially pinpointed for attack.
We waited for an hour in the waiting-room, then got a train to Frankfurt-am-Main, via Hagen and Giesen; Giesen had at one time been subject to attack, as the sidings were littered with smashed goods-wagons. It had started to snow by this time, and it was bitterly cold in the train. Civilians sitting opposite were much interested in the nature and qualify of my flying-gear, especially the boots. On detraining at Frankfurt, we walked a few km. to the Aircrew Interrogation Centre at Oberursel and I was handed in to official custody. My flying-gear was all taken away, except for the boots, and I was shoved into a cell in solitary confinement. The cell measured about eight feet by four; there was a bench along one wall with a blanket, a small barred window high up, and a light which never went out. There was a radiator below the window which came on at times during the day, but was off at night, so that it was hard to sleep because of the cold, and to make matters worse, footwear was taken away at night. There was a spyhole in the door, and beside the door, a handle. To go to the toilet, one pulled this handle, which caused a signal-arm to clang down in the corridor outside; this brough along a guard who escorted one back and forth. Outside each cell was a box containing sheets of toilet-paper; the first time, I took two sheets, but it was made very plain to me that the standard ration was just one. Hard luck on anyone who happened to be suffering from a common prisoner-of-war complaint known as the squitters or
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screamers. The daily allowance of food was four slices of bread, one plate of soup and two cups of warm weak coffee without sugar or milk. I presume the object of this solitary confinement, without seeing any one else and with absolutely nothing to do was a sort of weakening-up process, to make one more willing to talk when the time came for interrogation. It didn't bother me a lot, though, as I have always been somewhat solitary by nature.
After two days, I was taken out in the evening and up to a comfortably-furnished softly-lit room, smelling richly of cigar smoke, where an officer started off with general small-talk, then came to Air Force matters. The Geneva Convention states that all a prisoner is obliged to do is give his number, rank and name, which I did. He asked how long it was since I was shot down, and I saw no harm in answering that correctly, but when he said “That would be the night of an attack on Duisburg”, I thought I had said quite enough, and when he asked about squadron number and type of aircraft, I said: “You know I can't give details such as that, sir.” He persisted for a while with other questions, then gave up, and I was taken back to the cell for another couple of days, returning to the same interrogation room and interrogating-officer as before. This time, the approach was somewhat different. He began by remarking on the fact that I wore no identification discs. There were two of these, one round red one and one oblong green one with the corners clipped off. The were made of some sort of fibre, and the red one was fireproof. They were normally worn round the neck, but the string on mine had broken the day before the last flight, and I was intending to renew it when I got back. The dialogue went something like this:-
“There are two things that worry me about you, Sergeant Wagner. Here we have one single man in R.A.F. uniform who cannot, or will not identify himself, and who moreover claims a German name. How do I know you are who you say you are? Some details of your last flight might help to clear things up.”
(I could see what he was getting at – a veiled threat – but I
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explained the matter of the identity-discs, and said I could say no more.) He continued: -
“The second thing is that here we have an airman who has been wandering about in Germany for six days, claiming to have been shot down, but we have no others of the crew, and to crown it all, no wreckage of an aircraft that he came from. How do you explain this?”
“I jumped out over Holland and drifted back into Germany on the way down. Presumably the aircraft disintegrated over British-held territory.”
“Well, as it happens, Sgt. Wagner, I know more about you than you think. You come from 51 Squadron, Snaith, flying Halifaxes. The Commanding Officer is Wing-Commander Holford, and.....”(He went on to name the Navigation Leader, Bombing Leader and Signals Officer.) “You see, I have had other crews from 51 Squadron, and they have said more than you are saying. Now, what I would like to know are what operations you have been on, and what was your route and height to Duisburg. And what was the bomb-load.”
“The bomb-load was no concern of mine – I don’t know what it was. The height varied continually, and I can’t remember the exact routeing. Even if I could, the Geneva Convention only permits me to give Number, Rank and Name.”
At this stage, he desisted, and I was returned to my cell. I was roused at 2 a.m. and given a piece of bread and a cup of coffee. Departed 4 a.m., and walked with about fifty others, mostly Americans, to the station. Waited about for two hours in the cold, then went by train to Wetzlar, not a long journey, about two hours. Marched 4 km. to a camp, searched, given a P.O.W capture-parcel, and allocated a billet in a room of 3-tier bunks containing some 20 men. The Capture-parcel was a small fibre suitcase containing pyjamas, towel, socks, shaving-kit, soap, darning-holdall, toothbrush and toothpaste, comb, chocolate,
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and pipe and tobacco or cigarettes, and came by courtesy of the Red Cross. I dumped this on my bunk, stood up, and recognised the man in the bunk above. This was John Trumble, whom I had done some of my training with in South Africa, and we remained together through the hard times that lay ahead. His face lit up, and he said: ”Waggie!” and I said: “Hello John. A right old turn-up this isn’t it?” He had no other members of his crew with him either, so we teamed up. We spent six days altogether at Wetzlar, which was what would be called, I suppose, an Aircrew Disposal Centre, always cold and hungry, and that took us over into January 1945.
I stayed together with John through many difficulties for the rest of the time in Germany and returned to England with him. I stayed with him for a few days in the summer of 1945, then unfortunately we lost touch with each other, as so often happened in those days. It should not have happened, but it did. I often wondered what had become of him, and after writing the above, resolved to make a determined effort to find him. I knew his address was, in those times, Pottene Park Farm Devizes, but he had no connection with the farm, just lived in a rented cottage there. I thought of writing to the present occupier of the farm, asking him to send my letter on if John was still local, or perhaps he could look in the local telephone directory and see if he was listed. Then it dawned on me – “Phone directory, that’s it”, the library in Wisbech having directories for the whole country, about sixty of them. So I waded through some forty directories, and found several A. Trumble’s, but by a bit of good luck John always used the whole three Christian-name initials, A.H.J., and I located him in a village near Truro. If his name had been Smith or Jones, this method would not have been practical, of course.
There follow now some extracts from a diary I kept at the time, with some notes where further explanation is necessary.
5 Jan. 1945. Posting-lists up in the mess-hall. I am going tomorrow with John to Stalag Luft 7, Bankau, Silesia.
6 Jan. Marched down to station in the afternoon, after being searched and given
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a packet of chewing-gum each. Entrained in 2 cattle-trucks, 25 to a truck. One Red Cross parcel between 2 issued for journey. Half the truck occupied by guards.
7,8,9 January, on the train.
10 Jan. Detrained 0800 and walked up to the camp through deep snow. No greatcoats. Searched. Got a billet with John, & we got organised in a combine with 2 others for food-parcels and meals. Filled a paillasse with wood-shavings.
11 Jan. 1 Red cross parcel per man per fortnight promised, and reasonable German rations. First parade 0915 & the other at 1615. Quite a good library. Snow on the ground all the time, and very cold. Got greatcoat. Walked round perimeter track occasionally.
14 Jan. Went to church service in the evening. (The camp padre was an Army officer, Captain Collins. Air Force padres were, in the nature of things, unlikely to be captured. Captain Collins was a remarkable man, but more of him later. A very large proportion of prisoners attended church services, not I think because there was nothing else to do but because a belief gave a man something to hold onto in difficult times.)
One evening, there was a Russian Air-raid in the vicinity of the camp. I had just put margarine and honey on a slice of bread when the sirens went and the lights were put out, so I put it down on a stool and went to look out of the window. When the lights came on again, no bread. Accusations of theft, but everybody denied responsibility. Then I saw a mangled piece of bread stuck to the rear of another man’s trousers. I scraped it off and ate it.
18 Jan. Warned to be ready to evacuate the camp as the Russians were getting close. Packed case, packed as much food as we could, and wolfed the rest. I was ready to carry case, food parcel, and blanket wrapped round neck. Had to wear flying-boots as no ordinary ones were available. (These were lambswool lined, loose-fitting, and not designed for walking.) Very close Russian bombing. Sleepless night, as we had to be ready to move off any minute.
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(By this time, I had been issued with this identity-tag, and was officially “on the books.” In the event of death, the lower half was broken off and kept for records, the other half was buried with the body.)
[inserted]
19 Jan. Departed 0500 in bitter weather, after hanging about in the cold for a long time. Marched all day, 27 km. to Winterfeld. Had to eat snow as no water was available. spent the night wedged in a very small barn – hardly slept at all.
20 Jan. Wakened 5 a.m. and set off again. Marched all the morning, 12 km. to an abandoned brick-factory at Karlsruhe. Warm and dry. Had something to eat, a brew of coffee, then went to sleep. Feet very bad with blisters, so tied boots on with wire. Started dragging case inside the lid of another abandoned one, towing it along with a bootlace. Much kit jettisoned by the side of the road. Left 2000, as the Russians were getting close again. Marched without stopping all night.
21 Jan. Crossed the Oder 0500 – bridge mined, ready to blow up. Stopped in a village, but no accommodation was available, so pressed on another 5 km., making 41 km. in all (i.e. 25 miles). Many chaps dropped out during the night because of bad feet and exhaustion. Arrived Barrkwitz 1100. Got bed-space in a barn and had something to eat. A bull charged in scattering everybody. When it was ejected, went to sleep.
22 Jan. Roused 0300, as Russians were still pressing on Issued with a few carraway biscuits. The Germans had a bit of a job getting the chaps moving again, and there was some shooting. Pushed on 16 km. to Jenkwitz, arriving at noon. Moved some cattle out of a barn and got a bed-space organised. Warm, but very damp and smelling strongly of cattle. Ration 1 cup of coffee, 1/2 a biscuit and marge.
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(Coffee issued by the Germans was made of acorns roaster and ground up, and with milk and sugar from Red Cross parcels was not too bad at all.)
23 Jan. Left 0900. Marched 25 km. to Wassen[?]. Small bread issue and 1 cup of soup.
24 Jan. Spent the day at Wassen[?] trying to get some rest.
25 Jan. Left 0600 and marched 27 km. (17 miles) to Heidersdorf.
26 Jan. Stayed the day at Heidersdorf. Ration 2/5 of a loaf, and marge.
27 Jan. Left 1100 and marched 24 km. to Pfaffendorf, arriving at 1700. Small barn, wretched cramped bed-space, underneath a ladder – grain falling down from above all the time. Made up a double bed with John.
28 Jan. Left 0400; did 22 km. to Stansdort, in bitter weather, a fierce cold wind and driving snow. (You could rake your finger-nails down your face and not feel a thing, a real blizzard.) Arrived noon, dead-beat. Ration 4 biscuits and ½ cup of soup. (The German soup was watery in the extreme. There were two varieties – a) made from shredded dried turnip, and b) a less popular variety made from a very dark green cabbage of some sort, like spinach, known to the consumers as Whispering Grass, after a well-known song at the time.) Cold uncomfortable bed-space. Left 1830, still dragging case – nothing jettisoned. Collected 2 packets of hard biscuits (8 in all) outside a town after 3 km. Walked all night through a fierce blizzard – heavy snow, roads sometimes blocked, so had to clamber through drifts. Much transport abandoned. Many more chaps dropped out during this night.
29 Jan. Very heavy going. Slow halting freezing march. Arrived Peterwitz 0200 in an exhausted condition. Got a good warm ample bed-space; made a double bed with John and turned in, too tired even to wait for soup from the field-kitchen.
30 and 31 Jan. Spent at Peterwitz, resting.
1 Feb. Left 1000 and did 17 km. to Prausnitz.[?] Snow thawed half way, so had to start carrying case, and found it very heavy. Small dirty farmyard, absolutely crowded. However, got a good dry bed-space upstairs
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in a barn, by a water-cistern. Much brewing of coffee and porridge on fires in the farmyard. Soup twice a day from the field-kitchens.
[underlined] 2, 3, 4 Feb. [/underlined] At Prausnitz. On the evening of the 4th, issued with marching rations – 1/3 loaf, 1/3 tin of liver-paste, & some margarine. Although you could not style our progress as “marching” – we shambled along in a dejected shabby column, with German guards along the sides accompanied by Alsations.
[underlined] 5 Feb. [/underlined] Roused 0400; left 0700 and did 7 km. to Goldberg. Slight rain. Stole some sugar-beet along the way and gnawed at it. Packed into cattle trucks at the station, 55 men to a truck, and locked in. (These trucks, common on the continent, bore the legend 40 hommes, 8 chevaux, so we were well over the limit. There was not even enough room for everyone to sit down. There was a small barred window in each corner, also one large tin for toilet purposes. The vicinity of this tin was not rated very highly.) Travel slow, with many long halts of 7 to 8 hours.
[underlined] 6, 7, 8 Feb. [/underlined] On the train. Very hungry. Ate some spoonfuls of flour, barley and sugar mixed, from a cocoa tin. No water. Bought a crust of bread from Eddie, which he found beside the track, for tobacco.
9 Feb. Arrived at Luckenwalde, 23 miles S.W. of Berlin, 0800, feeling very weak. Marched 5 km. up to the camp, Stalag IIIA. Much hanging about. Brewed coffee. Queued up all the afternoon and had a hot shower. Got a billet with John – not too bad a position, on the floor on wood-straw, underneath a window. Warm and light anyhow, and room to stretch out. Porridge and potatoes from the Germans and a cup of soup from our own field kitchen.
10 Feb. Changed into pyjamas and washed dirty clothes. Had a shave.
11 Feb. German rations 1/6 loaf, 5 potatoes, 1/3 litre of soup, and German tea in the morning and evening. (This tea was a herbal mixture, and with milk and sugar made a reasonable drink. A count was held in the mornings early, to find who wanted their tea brewed and who wanted the mixture dry, to smoke – it was just like herbal tobacco. The potatoes were grown in a field near the camp, the crop being fertilised with the contents of the latrine (or “abort” in German), and were boiled in their skins.)
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[Newspaper cutting from “The Prisoner of War” dated May 1945, detailing the journey of prisoners to Stalag Luft VII and the conditions in Stalag IIIA, Luckenwalde]
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12 Feb. Wrote home. (This letter, however, did not arrive.) Bad attack of dysentery, which made me even weaker – nearly everybody had it. (This was brought on by eating raw or undercooked food, insufficient bulk, the freezing conditions of the march, and by general weakness and lack of resistance. For the first few days at Luckenwalde, everyone just lay on the floor, listless and apathetic, except for occasional dashes to the abort – not everyone made it in time!)
14 Feb. Usual day, weak with hunger and dysentery.
16 Feb. and thereafter, a succession of wretched days, very little food. Listened to BBC news brought round and read out daily in each barrack block, received on an illicit radio. This was known to the Germans, but they failed to unearth the set. Anyway, even if they did, there were others in reserve. Shaved and washed once a week. Two roll-call parades in the freezing cold every day, between 30 minutes and an hour each.
[photograph of the bunks]
Three-tier bunks of the type encountered at [indecipherable word] prison camps such as Bankau. At Luckenwalde we just lay on the floor.
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[photograph of ‘feeding quarters’]
Feeding-quarters for a “combine” of six.
[photograph] Luckenwalde. Bringing up one barrock-block’s daily ration of soup. The tub was known as a “keevil”. Blankets airing on the barbed-wire. [/photograph]
This was not the outer perimeter of the camp – there was the no-man’s land of some 50 yards, then the proper fence interspersed with towers (known as “goon boxes”) occupied by machine gunners. The term “goon” was used slightingly of all Germans, named after a comic-strip of the time – The Goons were a stupid shapeless lot of sub-humans. All
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Germans were treated with contempt by R.A.F. Prisoners.
[photograph of prisoners exercising}
Prisoners from the “cooler” at exercise. The usually got there for insulting the guards.
[photograph of soldiers in compound]
American compound. The Americans were late arrivals; all the huts were occupied, so they were accommodated in tents.
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[photograph of soldiers cooking]
Americans operating their cooking-stove, known as “blowers” or “Smokey Joes”, worked by means of a forced-draught propelled along a tunnel by a fan. All made from good-tins and pieces of wood. John's and my Smokey Joe stood on a base detached from over the doorway to the abort. The abort, by the way, was in a long hut, wooden box-like structures, perforated at suitable intervals, over a deep trench, and accommodating about 30 people. It was a social meeting-place and the centre for gathering and passing on rumours.
27 Feb. On fatigue. Slept last night fully dressed because it was so cold. Up 0600, in the dark, collected keevil and went down for tea. Parade. Breakfast. Another parade for blanket inspection. Had a wash and shave in cold water in a dirty wash-place. Afternoon roll-call 1700, then a Red Cross parcel issue, one between four, which greatly improved morale. Shared it out and had some real food. Then the sirens went and the lights went out, so turned in.
Parcel issue was not usually as convenient as this – it was often one between seven or one between nine, which made sharing difficult. Some people made nearly all the contents of their parcels into a sort of solid cake, known as “glop”, but we preferred to use one item at a time.
In 1982, I went to a Stalag Luft 7 reunion at Nottingham,
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and this is the menu and address to those present. Note the amounts stated in the menu, maintaining the tradition of difficult share-outs. How do you share six prunes between ten?
[menu missing]
Klim was dried powdered milk from American Red Cross parcels. The Limburg fish-cheese is worthy of note. It came in wooden
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boxes which, when opened, revealed about twenty oval flattish cakes covered with some sort of skin, and gave off an appalling stench. The only way of eating this delicacy was to strip off the skin, liberally douse the content with pepper and salt, hold your nose, and consume the cheese with the utmost despatch. There were not many takers, so there was plenty for those with stomachs strong enough to take it, but over-consumption could precipitate an attack of the squitters.
A few other items from this programme:-
Amongst the “sporting activities”, we find Louse Hunting. Lice thrived in the crowded insanitary conditions. If you have not had the privilege of encountering any, they were flat dirt-grey insects, hard-shelled – if you squeezed one between your fingers, it had no effect. The lurked in the seams of clothing, so had to be winkled out and crushed between thumb-nails, and there was a little spot of blood if they had recently fed. They carried, of course, the germs of typhus, and the Germans were always much perturbed to hear of increased infestation – any plague would have swept like wildfire through the camp, and while I don’t suppose the effect on prisoners would have worried them a great deal, it would eventually have affected the Germans themselves.
Dog-walking to Kreuzberg. Kreuzberg was the nearest town, and any prisoner requiring dental or medical treatment had to walk there, accompanied by a guard and the inevitable Alsatian.
Goon-baiting, which accounted for the majority of the inmates of the “cooler”, and was a popular sport aimed at making the Germans feel uncomfortable. I don’t think it took place much in Army camps, as soldiers were used to taking orders and doing as they were told, but aircrew were more rebellious independent spirits inclined to follow their own dictates. In a bomber-crew, for instance, the pilot was the captain, and any decision must ultimately be his, but he rarely had to give orders; in case of necessity, he took advice from the appropriate crew-member, a specialist who knew more than he did, weighed up the advice and then made his decision, but it was more a matter of consensus than orders. Goon-baiting usually consisted of telling the Germans that their country was finished, in ruins, that
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they had been misled, and that things were going to be tough for them. Ferreting came into the same category of making the Germans feel uncomfortable and inferior. A ferret was a member of the camp staff who prowled around looking for illegal activity, and was dealt with by the “duty pilot” system. The airman on duty, accompanied by a runner and a tail, would take up position at the entrance to the compound. When a ferret appeared, his name and time of arrival would be written down, making sure that he knew what was happening. The runner was sent off to go into each hut and call out : “Goon in the block”. The “tail” followed closely behind the ferret, making his presence felt. If the ferret turned round and remonstrated with him, he melted away into the crowd and a replacement took over. The object of all this was to inform the Germans that the compound was our preserve and that they only came in under sufferance.
And now a tribute to Captain John Collins, the Stalag Luft 7 padre. Read again the paragraph that describes him; every word is true, but words alone cannot do him justice. Where most of us were trudging along, heads down, concerned only for ourselves, he would appear at different parts of the column, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down, so that everybody had a share of inspiration from his company. I can picture him now, face reddened by the blizzard, always cheerful, always optimistic, his arm round the shoulder of a man beginning to despair, carrying his gear for a little way as well as his own, then a pat on the back and off to find someone else. And the man he had just left thought: “If he can bloody well do it, so can I.” Truly a “man among men”, and I am sure his inspiration did save lives.
I kept some record of day-to-day events while at Luckenwalde, on odd scraps of paper: here is one such, written on the end-paper of a library-book, and making the best use of available space: -
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[pencilled notes indecipherable]
and on another scrap, a drawing of a Halifax; John, being a Lancaster man, asked me to do it so that we could see the differences between the two types:-
[pencil drawing]
MH were the identification letters of 51 Squadron.
16 March. Germans cut rations to potatoes every other day, 1/6 of a loaf a day, and half margarine and sugar rations.
21 March. Cold. High wind blowing dust all over the place. Difficult day for Smokey Joe – cut up a Klim[?] tin and made a windshield for him. Issue of 1 American Red Cross No. 10 per man – prunes, chocolate
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peanut butter, tuna, plum jam, Camel cigarettes. 3 wrapped chocolate for raisins. News good today – Worms, Ludwigshafen, Neustadt and Homburg taken. Germans in chaos all along the line.
24 March. Twenty-two today. They’ll probably be thinking of me at home and wondering what sort of birthday I’m having. (There had been no news for them from 19 Dec. to 6 March, so they had only heard less than three weeks before.) Shifted dirty straw from bedspace and burned it, in response to an anti-typhus purge by the Germans, so we lay on the bare boards thereafter.
27 March. Issue of the dreaded Limburg fish cheese. Got a bundle of wood from a Russian for 2 cigarettes. Diphtheria broke out in our barrack – block – enforced gargling the opening of windows.
30 March. Good Friday. Washed, shaved, & put on hair-grease. (This was an issue of an evil-looking black grease, much resembling axle-grease, which it may well have been. Goodness knows why they issued it.) Cleaned shoes. Parade by main gate 0920 for church – The Seven Words from the Cross, by Captain Collins.
2 April. Day dragged interminably. Made some prune jam, but it was cold and windy, a bad day for Smokey Joes.
5 April. Issue of 1 American Red Cross No. 10 per man. One more and they will all be finished – time to tighten belts again. Destruction of German rail-system and rolling-stock by the R.A.F. prevents supply of more parcels.
11 April. This evening, it was announced that a partial evacuation from Luckenwolde would begin tomorrow. All officers going, & N.C.O.’s from Barrack 3 and 33 from Barrack 7. John and I volunteered to be among the 33 because we thought the others might not get transport and would have to march. Packed kit and shared our food for carrying; we had a whole case full of tins of food stored up, a little from every parcel.
12 April. Called out to move off after soup 1100. Much checking and roll-calls. Search, just before which we had to get cracking in a hurry and puncture all our tins. Nothing taken, except they took one of John’s blankets. Marched down to Luckenwolde station. We had our
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blower[?] with us – John insisted on bringing it, and just outside the station we set it down and had a hot brew, which was very welcome although it was a hot day. Issue of 40 cigarettes per man. Entrained in cattle trucks, 40 per truck. Stole porage[sic] oats from a nearby train. (Looking up through the floorboards of a truck, we saw sacks inside. On being slit open with a knife, a steady stream of oats came through a wide crack, which was much appreciated by those in the vicinity.) Sleeping-space cramped, but I have been in worse. Very hot and stuffy – no ventilation.
13 April. Up 0600 & brewed up. Had bread, then stewed prunes. Talk by Wing Commander in charge of the party. Bombing of the line down at Treuenbrietzen means we can’t leave here for some time. BBC news read out during evening, also it was announced we go back to camp tomorrow.
14 April. Up 0600. Porridge, thin bread. Results of trading with German civvies – ½ loaf, 2 onions, 6 eggs, 30 saccharine tablets, and 4 lbs of potatoes for 65 cigarettes and 2 bars of soap. Marched back to camp and got organised in our same barrack. While we were away, 2 R.A.F. chaps shot trying to climb the wire – “stir-crazy”, I suppose.
17 April. Issue of 1 parcel between 2. That is the last now. Water turned off nearly all day.
18 April. News good today. Our advance appears to have slowed down, but the Russians have started a big push on the Berlin front, and are doing well. Organisation going ahead for running the camp ourselves when the Germans leave.
20 April. Bombing of Potsdam and Wriezenburg[sic] by U.S. heavies. Lovely fine day. Clouds of smoke over target. Made out a list of food in stock and rationed it to last 5 weeks. This evening there was a feeling in the air that something was going to happen, but there was no definite news. Russian artillery plainly heard, red glows in the sky.
21 April. Heard German staff moving out with lorries, tractors and cars during the night. Not called out on parade this morning. A few German guards still left, but not many. Russian tank crews brought in – short imprisonment for them. Looting of German staff quarters, but not much to be had. Prisoners record-cards from the camp offices were distributed – here
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is mine:-
[blank page]
Dull rainy day. Wing Commander Beamont[?] (who later became chief pilot for English Electric, and was in charge of test-flying Camberras and Lightnings), announced that the Germans had left, the camp was surrounded, and the Russians were fighting in Luckenwalde and Juterbog last night.
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22 April. Slept fully dressed last night in case we had to make a dash for the trenches. French and British flags flying at the gate, and a big red Russian one over the cookhouse. White flags at intervals round the perimeter barbed wire. At 1030 Russian tanks and lorries arrived in force. All the Russian prisoners were given rifles and moved out straight away, anxious to kill Germans. (Russia was not a signatory to the Geneva Convention for treatment of prisoners of war, and they had a terrible time of it in the camp, almost starved or worked to death. The same treatment was accorded to German prisoners held by the Russians.)
Artillery duel just outside the camp in the evening, between Germans hiding in a wood and a party of Russians.
[pencilled notes indecipherable]
The next few pages are photo-copies of the part of Wing Commander Beamont’s[?] book The War in the Air, which deals with the liberation of Luckenwalde.
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THE WAR IN THE AIR
then came the end in Europe. For some it was sudden: the nights suddenly quiet because no engines had to be tested for the dawn; the days suddenly long because they knew there would be a tomorrow. But for others, in the prisoner-of-war camps, it was a more drawn-out affair.
THE LONG LIBERATION
10th April. After weeks of better and better news, and of resigning ourselves to waiting for a few more weeks until final liberation, strated [sic] by our fighters, it will be an amazing stroke of fortune (and I know well enough what 20-mm can do to trains). However should this move come off, my policy will be to try and stay behind with the sick. This is the allied target area – not Munich.
Two days ago we saw a Mosquito release a cloud of leaflets overhead at about 20,000 feet. Intelligence reports that the contents are telling Russian prisoners-of-war that they will be liberated within ten to fifteen days.
The Russians have been literally starved by the goons and are dying in dozens of TB. The hospital is crammed with them. We had collections of food which we can hardly spare for them. Meanwhile great preparation of emergency food. Am fairly well off this time. One lives and learns. Over and above the Red Cross parcel I have acquired six chocolate bars, a tin of fish and three pounds of chocolate pemmican by judicious trading during the past weeks. So even without food from the Germans I should have nearly two weeks food at a bare living rate. In addition I have just traded a blue sweater and a pair of Jack Sharkies for two boxes of prunes, value 2s. 6d. But two days' food.
Midday. Germans announce officially that we move tomorrow. Have sent name in as unfit to travel – this is only partially true. But one risk is as good as another and I prefer this one as a fat better chance of liberation.
11th April. We have informed the Germans that this move is being carried out entirely without our co-operation. The only possible reason must be that we are intended to be held as hostages in the last stronghold in the mountainous area of Munich.
3 pm, Thursday, 12th April. After another night of tension, the camp was marched out to entrain for the incredible journey through the battle area to Munich this morning. As a notable change from the normal practice the move took place to the endless accompaniment of 'bitte,' absolutely no 'Raus! Raus!” at all.
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Even more amazing, my scheme has come off. I have been left behind with the sick bods against all the advice of the well-meaning older kriegies who were, I think, suffering from a surfeit of sour grapes. This was the best chance, and now, not three hours after the main party had gone, comes the news that the allies have cut the Magdeburg – Berlin autobahn. They could be here tomorrow.
The suspense is something of which I have never experienced the like. Waiting for a big low-attack show is a tea party in comparison! Atmosphere is electric.
The German officer on appel said, when I asked permission to remove a partition in a block for a new camp office: ‘One does not start a new building at five to twelve.’ At least they know the form.
The main party was still reported at the station, having spent the night in the trucks waiting for an engine which the Reichbahn [sic] people think is unlikely to materialise.
At 9.30 pm we received word that the boys were coming back as transport is impossible. Tank spearheads are reported at Brandenburg, Wittenberg – thirty miles from here – north of Halle and Leipzig. We are directly in front of the three-pronged thrust, and nothing short of fantastic ill-fortune can prevent our freedom in the next few days.
Saturday, 14th April. We worked late into last night trying to repair the damage in the blocks, caused by the departed kriegies themselves. In seven barracks there was hardly a serviceable bed. After appeals we received about fifteen per cent assistance in the big job of making sure that the returning boys would have at least a place to sleep. It is galling, the number of men who are not in the least concerned about the welfare of their friends and think only about themselves.
Still, somehow we arranged things and this morning the first party came in at 10 am, to the accompaniment of clapping and cheering from the Poles, and a loud chorus of ‘Hey, hey, the gang’s all here!’ from the Americans, accompanied by a trumpet, a violin and a mouth organ.
During yesterday’s appel we held a two minutes’ silence at attention in memory of Roosevelt who died yesterday. Particularly effective as the Americans were not on appel at the time, and remarkable
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because the company of German guards, who had paraded and were about to march off, remained at attention with us.
Reminder that the Germans are still in control came last night when two RAF NCOs attempted to climb the wire at the eleventh hour. One attacked a sentry with a bottle and was shot and killed. The other wounded. Bloody fools.
15th April. Terrific raid on Berlin suburb about twelve miles north of here last night. Made London show seem quite insignificant. Incredible din and display. Patton has a security blackout on the drive across the Elbe at Magdeburg. It is fifty miles away and is heading for us. Groups of kriegies stand in the compound all day staring south-west.
The atmosphere has more than expectancy, however, as the abort, always unsavoury, has sprung a leak.
Today’s big tragedy – I sat on my pipe and broke it.
Monday, 16th April. Tantalising news that the camp at Magdeburg to which the remainder of Luft 3 were sent from Sagen, has been liberated intact! When will our turn come?
Tuesday, 17th April. Another great Fortress raid passed over this morning. Mustangs and Thunderboirs [sic] are constantly in sight. Every thud and explosion, every flash of light in the sky is taken to be an indication of the advancing Americans.
Stalag II A consisting of some 4,000 Allied soldiers was evacuated into this area last week and, having arrived, had nowhere to go. They are living in the open, with no food supplies and no medical attention, and are in a tragic condition. The SBO sent our last reserve of Red Cross parcels to them yesterday together with two doctors and drugs.
Four hundred Russian sick were suddenly taken from our camp yesterday for destination unknown.
Wednesday, 18th April. Day after day, rumours add to the tension. The Russians are advancing fifty miles to the east, the Allies form miles to the west and south, but we are still here! The new optimisty [sic] has not borne fruit and now there is a new situation: no more Red Cross food.
Thursday, 19th April, night. The strain of boredom of the last few days was relieved at midnight when the Wing Commanders were routed out for a meeting with the SBO. His office was crammed with
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a circle of figures crouched round the table upon which lay a map of the area and two guttering lamps. He told us that the Russians had broken through south-east of us, were less than thirty miles away, and that the Germans proposed to march the whole camp unit of 4,000 prisoners-of-war in hostile country with no destination and no supplies of food or drugs, and most probably no shelter. The whole district is a battle area and such an action on the part of the goons cannot but have tragic results.
Friday, 20th April, morning. Still no further action by the Germans. We have our remaining food stocks packed and ready. Whether we go or stay, there will be no more food in a week’s time. With the possibility of freedom nearer than it has ever been, the chance of getting the chop is rather great. But to hell with the war! The only course is to relapse into one’s normal state of mental rigidity and sunbathe.
Saturday, 21st April. The most amazing day of my life. All night fires raged, guns thundered, and cannon shattered and at dawn a violent tank battle took place at Luckenwalde. Juterbog, twelve miles to the south, is in flames. FW 190s are ground-strafing within sight at all times. In short we are in the front line.
(By now most of the German guards had deserted, leaving the prisoners in charge of their own camp).
We are in the most critical of all stages now. Nearly free but without news of relieving forces, and in this country of brutality and horror anything might happen yet.
We know that the Russians are all round us. Perhaps they will be here tomorrow. I win £30 if they are. It is grand to have a job again. Quite a strange thing using a telephone!
Hell! An FW 190 has just strafed the whole length of the camp. I must go and see if there have been casualties.
Midnight, and no casualties. The organisation is almost complete. Amazingly enough the telephone network is operating and I have a set in my temporary office-cum-bedroom now. Very tired, have checked and arranged pickets on the of the NCOs’ compound.
Sunday, 22nd April, midday. Russians are here in force. Fighting all round. Local tank commander’s attitude is very brusque and dogmatic. I don’t think they like us very much. Tanks charging up and down have torn up our communications and in places the wire.
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The French are hysterical, the British a little less so, and the Norwegians are calm. The Americans are reported only a few miles away. I hope they get here before this comedy becomes a tragedy.
At long last the Red Air Force’s close support Aira-Cobras, Yaks, and Stormoviks fly above us. So do the Luftwaffe, putting up a brave show to the last. It was fascinating to watch a silver dart of a Messerschmitt delta jet dive straight down on to a formation of forty Fortresses, then Bang! bang! and a Fortress fell away while the Me 163 shot straight up into cloud.
In another scrap two Me 109’s shot down three out of twelve Aira-Cobras without loss. The Aira-Cobras were flying in formation under cloud. I caught a glimpse of the 109s as they dived straight astern, shot down two of the Cobras, and whipped up into cloud leaving the rest of the formation running round in circles wondering what had happened. Farther on the Me 109s came down again through another hole in the cloud and destroyed the third Aira-Cobra. They suffered no loss themselves.
1 pm. The Russians depart leaving us in temporary control. They have brought up a quantity of flak already, so it seems as if the area is nearly stabilised. However there are still plenty of bangs, and plenty of great unneighbourliness in this area.
The news announces tanks penetrating deep into Berlin.
Evening. Violent fighting in the woods to the north. Shells whistling and screaming overhead, and 109s dive-bombing the autobahn. The Russians have added heavy flak to their set-up here. The din is fantastic. More fierce fighting on the boundaries and cannon-strafing by Junkers 88s. Two Serbs and a number of Russians killed in the fighting round the camp. Violent action between a Russian tank and Germans as it left the main gate. The Russians seemed to win. They have taken General Ruge with them to fly him to Moscow. This leaves the SBO as the senior Allied CO.
(Undated.) Told officers and pickets to dissuade the men from going through the wire if possible, but if told to ‘b------- off’, to ‘b-------- off’ promptly and avoid incident. Then talked to the chaps in the blocks and reported to the SBO. Suggested that all compounds should be open, giving free circulation throughout the whole camp but within the wire. Bed at 2.30 am. Strafed by a Ju 88 at 4 am. Cannon shells all over the shop but fortunately no casualties.
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[typewritten script from The War in the Air]
1945
8 am. Another direct threat to officers. Three sections of the wire cut away and Army NCOs loose. The RAF hanging-fire though pretending to follow Army lead. Walked into each barrack and addressed the men. Think I put the position over and am more certain than ever the trouble is due to just one or two bad characters. At one point nearly used the SBO’s authority to throw the worst types into the cooler, but steered clear. Am sure freedom of circulation within the whole camp would ease the situation.
This is the worst couple of days in my experience without exception. The feeling of the possibility that we might lose control of a mass of desperate men, under condition of front-line war and artillery shells, machine-guns, rifles, aircraft cannon and bombs going off all round, is inclined to be unpleasant. I think we can hold our own, but it is not a comfortable position.
Russians killed off four German wounded hiding in the woods. Nice people!
Stormoviks and Yaks in great numbers today. They seem to operate well on their side of the front! Dog-fights between four Aira-Cobras and one Me 109 overhead this afternoon. The Russians seem to weave violently at all times. The Yak is a good little fighter in the Spitfire class.
Our pet Junkers 88 low-strafed us with front guns again in the moonlight. Plenty return 20-mm fire from the town. Very interesting to be at the other end for a change. I admire these Luftwaffe boys for carrying on to the grim end.
A Russian patrol found four French POWs in a house outside the camp with some women. Russians shot and killed the Frenchmen for refusing to obey an order. They probably wanted the women for themselves.
Our own trouble has died down for the moment. We have averted a riot I suppose, but in actual practise discipline as such is gone.
Wednesday. Still no Americans. This waiting is tricky. Plenty of food now when at odd moments I can find time to eat. Yesterday I had my first hot drink and a meal of bread and rhubarb at 3.30 pm. The Russians are giving us all they can. Very friendly now and much back slapping, but no respect.
Thursday. Situation tense again in my compound. NCOs are not the
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slightest bit prepared to meet the officers half-way, and are quite certain that we are there to make life unpleasant.
In all this turmoil the thought that we are no longer in fact prisoners-of-war and should be home soon is difficult to grasp and is not in the least exciting.
Saturday. So ends this demoralising week of passing on and handing out orders that one knows perfectly well will not be carried out. Held a roll parade to check ration strength this morning. The men took a lot of persuasion and diplomacy to turn out for that. Last night the news of a link-up between the Americans and Russians at Torgau cheered everyone immensely. The later report that a jeep bearing three American war correspondents had been seen on the way to Berlin should do much to settle the present unrest.
Watched a Mig shoot down a 190 in four short bursts. Very pretty.
Wednesday. Ten days since the Germans left. One of the biggest battles we have seen is now raging on the north-east and northern borders of the camp. Rifle and tommy-gun fire is incessant and mortar duel is in progress with us in no-man’s land. The radio has announced the release of all camps taken by the Americans and British, but has said nothing of us. Our people must be worried. So are we.
Thursday, 1800 hours. The first Yanks in the camp. Two war correspondents in a jeep from the lines at Magdeburg. They are taking taking Beatty, our press correspondent, back with them tomorrow and he will fly to Eisenhower’s headquarters with our records. Maybe things will start moving. All the boys want to push off west and are doing so in increasing numbers. I would be right with them if I hadn’t this damned responsibility. Wrote a brief note home and put it in the jeep. It might get through.
Friday. Sunshine. Many more people walking west. Two hundred of the men from this compound alone walked out yesterday. The position is intolerable. We can and should march the camp west to the Elbe with of course the Russian’s approval. The Americans are at Wittenberg. Only thirty miles away – one day or so on a bicycle.
1600 hours. American colonel from Davescourt headquarters here, said our evacuation starts at once! Trucks arriving tonight and we shall be flown home. Can it be true! Shall we, shall I be out of this country of death and home in England? It is almost too much to expect.
Wing Commander ROLAND BEAMONT’S dairy,[sic] quoted by EDWARD LANCHBERY
It was too much to expect. The Americans sent the trucks, the Russians sent them back. It was another two weeks before they got home.
[/typewritten script from The War in the Air]
[page break]
Enclosed below is an account of the last days at Luckenwalde from my own point of view, and the journey home.
[pencilled notes indecipherable]
On one of our private forging parties, John and I fell in with some Polish prisoners who had been employed at the factory making V1 flying bombs. None of us could speak the other side’s language, so everything was done by signs. We went back to their billet with them, and they produced enamel mugs and bottles of spirit, looking like lemon-barley water, which we gathered was fuel for the flying-bombs, and must have been almost pure alcohol. Some was poured on a table, a match applied, and it went “whoomph.” We imbibed a fair quantity of this, and were soon blotto. We staggered back to camp and sagged down to sleep it off; woke up with a raging thirst and had a drink of water. This had the effect of re-activating the spirit, setting the whole
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[pencilled notes indecipherable]
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business in motion again, so we were back in square one.
I see “Stinger” is referred to here and there. This was Staff Sergeant Nettell of the Glider Pilot Regiment, the senior N.C.O. in our hut, and something of a comedian. Rumours were rife towards the end, our prisoners were somewhat apprehensive about what the Germans might have in store for them. One day, Stinger came into the hut, called for silence, and announced: “Everyone in this hut – is to parade outside in five minutes time – to march down to the stores – to draw picks and shovels – to dig their own graves.” I thought: “So it’s come to that, has it?” There was a stunned silence for a moment, then laughter broke out – Stinger and his jokes again!
The Russians were very reluctant to let us go, and our impatience mounted. American army lorries arrived on 6 May to take us away, but the Russians sent them away empty. The next day, prisoners started off trickling away on their own, walking westwards, and John and I set off in a part of about a dozen. After walking about 7 miles, we met another convoy of American lorries heading for the camp. One of them picked us up, turned around, and set off towards the west, finishing up at a P.O.W. reception centre at Schonebeck, in what was a Junkers aircraft factory. So on 7 May we were once again in safe hands. The war officially ended the next day with unconditioned German surrender.
11 May.
Embarked in lorries and proceeded via Magdeburg and Brunswick to an ex-German fighter aerodrome at Hildesheim. Had a hot shower and a de-lousing. In the latter operation, an orderly put the nozzle of a large syringe down the front of one’s trousers and sent a blast of DDT round the interior. Assigned to an aircraft party. Got a Red Cross parcel containing soap (toilet, tooth and shaving), shaving-brush razor and blades, 2 handkerchiefs, tooth-brush, face-cloth, toilet-bag, 50 cigarettes and ½ lb of chocolate. Soup, bread, coffee and a K-ration for tea.
12 May. Called out to the aerodrome after breakfast. A steady stream
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of Dakotas was coming in, filling up and taking off again. Took off 1600, flew over the devastated areas of the Ruhr, and landed at Brussels 1800. Tea and biscuits from the Naafi waggon. Transported in lorries to 42 R.H.U. at Louvain, about 12 miles out. Deloused once again.
13 May. Taken back to Brussels Airport in the afternoon, got aboard a Dakota and flew back to England via Ostend and the Thames Estuary. Landed at Wing, near Aylesbury. Deloused yet again – they must have thought those lice were pretty hardy characters, to have survived two previous assaults. After more tea and biscuits, transported to Bicester aerodrome, where we stayed the night. Bacon and egg, bread and marmalade, for tea.
14 May. Train to Cosford, near Wolverhampton. Given new uniform and kit, went through documentation, give ration cards and leave passes, and pay. Medical exam.
15 May. Left late in the afternoon, travelled through the night, and arrived at Reading 0430. Two hours to wait for a train to Twyford, and another ½ hour for one to Henley. When I arrived home the rest of the family were still in bed and I had to knock them up.
The following letters are in order, as received by my mother. The original telegram has not survived, but it read: “Deeply regret to inform you your son Sgt. H. Wagner failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning. Pending receipt of written notification no information to be given to the Press.”
* Letters on page numbered 90 onwards.
[page break]
[newspaper cuttings relating the heroism of the aircrews of Bomber Command]
[page break]
[Three newspaper cuttings on Bomber Command – the third worded as follows:]
The campaign fought by Bomber Command was the longest and the most sustained in British military history. It lasted from September 1939 to May 1945. It cost the lives of 57,000 of its aircrew – Britons, Canadians, Australians, New Zealanders, South Africans – a total which represents well over half of all those who flew on operations. Nowhere else was the casualty rate so high, perhaps because nowhere else was battle joined with the enemy on such a continuous and relentless scale.
They were all young men, all highly-trained. They came to England from all over the Empire, to volunteer for and to create the last Imperial force there would ever be. In the darkest days they were a symbol that ultimately their world would triumph, whatever the cost. They were a special breed, on a special crusade, and possessed it seemed of a special courage. They did not ask to live, but only to win.
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51
in charge, rumours were rife, and prisoners were somewhat apprehensive about what the Germans might have in store for them. One day, Stinger came into the hut, called for silence
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89
of Dakotas was coming in, filling up and taking off again. Took off 1600, flew over the devastated areas of the Ruhr, marvelling at the damned good job we had made of it, and landed at Brussels 1800. Tea and biscuits from the Naafi waggon [sic]. Transported in lorries to 42 R.H.U. At Louvain, about 12 miles out. De-loused once again, tea, and turned in.
13 May. Taken back to Brussels Airport in the afternoon, got aboard a Dakota and flew back to England via Ostend and the Thames Estuary. Landed at Wing, near Aylesbury. De-loused yet again – they must have considered the lice pretty hardy characters to have survived two previous assaults. After more tea and biscuits, transported to Bicester aerodrome, where we stayed the night. Bacon and egg, bread and marmalade, and tea.
14 May. Train to Cosford, near Wolverhampton. Given new uniform and kit, went through documentation, given ration cards, leave passes, and pay. Medical exam.
15 May. Left late in the afternoon, travelled through the night, and arrived at Reading 0430. Two hours to wait for a train to Twyford, and another 1/2 hr. for one to Henley. When I arrived home, the rest of the family were still in bed, and I had to knock them up.
There followed several days of seeing old friends and places again, writing to parents of the rest of my crew, playing golf, servicing motorcycle and generally relaxing and feeling glad to be home again and to be able to wander as I pleased. The following letters are in order as received by my mother. The original telegram has not survived, but it read; “Deeply regret to inform you your son Sgt. H. Wagner failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning. Pending receipt of written notification no information to be given to the Press.”
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90
No. 51 Squadron,
R.A.F. Station,
Snaith,
Nr. Goole,
Yorkshire.
Reference:- 51S/801/251/P.1.
18th December, 1944.
Dear Mrs. Wagner
It is with the deepest regret that I have to confirm the news already conveyed to you by telegram to-day, that your Son, 1604744 Sergeant H.W. Wagner, failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning.
Your Son was acting in his capacity of Navigator in an aircraft which took-off during the early hours of this morning to deliver an attack on a target at Duisburg, and I regret that nothing was heard of the aircraft or its crew after the time of take-off.
The loss of this crew is a sad blow to all of us here, particularly so in the case of your Son, who was looked upon as one of our outstanding Navigators, and who commanded the respect of all. We cherish the hope that he and his companions may yet prove to be safe and well, though prisoners of war.
Your Son's personal belongings have been gathered together by the Station Effects Officer and forwarded to the R.A.F. Central Depository, who will send them on to you in due course.
I would like to add that the request in the telegram notifying you of the casualty to your Son was included with the object of avoiding his chance of escape being prejudiced in case he was still at large. This is not to say that any information is available, but it is a precaution which is adopted in the case of all missing personnel.
Please accept the deepest sympathy of myself and all the Officers and Men of the Squadron.
Yours Sincerely
H.A.R. Holford
Wing commander, Commanding,
[underlined] No. 51 Squadron, R.A.F. [/underlined]
…./Over.
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91
AIR MINISTRY,
(casualty Branch),
73-77 OXFORD STREET,
LONDON, W.1
22 December, 1944.
Madam,
I am commanded by the Air Council to express to you their great regret on learning that your son, Sergeant Henry Wolfe Wagner, Royal Air Force, is missing as the result of air operations on 18th December, 1944, when a Halifax aircraft in which he was flying as navigator set out for action over Duisberg [sic] and failed to return.
This does not necessarily mean that he is killed or wounded, and if he is a prisoner of war he should be able to communicate with you in due course. Meanwhile enquiries are being made through the International Red Cross committee, and as soon as any definite news is received you will be at once informed.
/If
Mrs. J. E. Wagner,
14, Western Avenue,
Henley-on-Thames,
Oxon.
[page break]
If any information regarding your son is received by you from any source you are requested to be kind enough to communicate it immediately to the Air Ministry.
The air Council desire me to convey to you their sympathy in your present anxiety.
I am, Madam,
Your obedient Servant,
Charles Evans
98
[photograph]
A photograph of the cemetery in Holland, sent to me a few months after the war by Mrs Worthington, mother of our mid-upper gunner.
[photograph]
A close-up of the crew's graves before proper head-stones were fitted.
[page break]
89
of Dakotas was coming in, filling up and taking off again. Took off 1600, flew over the devastated areas of the Ruhr, marvelling at the damned good job we had made of it, and landed at Brussels 1800. Tea and biscuits from the Naafi waggon [sic]. Transported in lorries to 42 R.H.U. At Louvain, about 12 miles out. De-loused once again, tea, and turned in.
13 May. Taken back to Brussels Airport in the afternoon, got aboard a Dakota and flew back to England via Ostend and the Thames Estuary. Landed at Wing, near Aylesbury. De-loused yet again – they must have considered the lice pretty hardy characters to have survived two previous assaults. After more tea and biscuits, transported to Bicester aerodrome, where we stayed the night. Bacon and egg, bread and marmalade, and tea.
14 May. Train to Cosford, near Wolverhampton. Given new uniform and kit, went through documentation, given ration cards, leave passes, and pay. Medical exam.
15 May. Left late in the afternoon, travelled through the night, and arrived at Reading 0430. Two hours to wait for a train to Twyford, and another 1/2 hr. for one to Henley. When I arrived home, the rest of the family were still in bed, and I had to knock them up.
There followed several days of seeing old friends and places again, writing to parents of the rest of my crew, playing golf, servicing motorcycle and generally relaxing and feeling glad to be home again and to be able to wander as I pleased. The following letters are in order as received by my mother. The original telegram has not survived, but it read; “Deeply regret to inform you your son Sgt. H. Wagner failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning. Pending receipt of written notification no information to be given to the Press.”
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90
No. 51 Squadron,
R.A.F. Station,
Snaith,
Nr. Goole,
Yorkshire.
Reference:- 51S/801/251/P.1.
18th December, 1944.
Dear Mrs. Wagner
It is with the deepest regret that I have to confirm the news already conveyed to you by telegram to-day, that your Son, 1604744 Sergeant H.W. Wagner, failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning.
Your Son was acting in his capacity of Navigator in an aircraft which took-off during the early hours of this morning to deliver an attack on a target at Duisburg, and I regret that nothing was heard of the aircraft or its crew after the time of take-off.
The loss of this crew is a sad blow to all of us here, particularly so in the case of your Son, who was looked upon as one of our outstanding Navigators, and who commanded the respect of all. We cherish the hope that he and his companions may yet prove to be safe and well, though prisoners of war.
Your Son's personal belongings have been gathered together by the Station Effects Officer and forwarded to the R.A.F. Central Depository, who will send them on to you in due course.
I would like to add that the request in the telegram notifying you of the casualty to your Son was included with the object of avoiding his chance of escape being prejudiced in case he was still at large. This is not to say that any information is available, but it is a precaution which is adopted in the case of all missing personnel.
Please accept the deepest sympathy of myself and all the Officers and Men of the Squadron.
Yours Sincerely
H.A.R. Holford
Wing commander, Commanding,
[underlined] No. 51 Squadron, R.A.F. [/underlined]
…./Over.
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91
AIR MINISTRY,
(casualty Branch),
73-77 OXFORD STREET,
LONDON, W.1
22 December, 1944.
Madam,
I am commanded by the Air Council to express to you their great regret on learning that your son, Sergeant Henry Wolfe Wagner, Royal Air Force, is missing as the result of air operations on 18th December, 1944, when a Halifax aircraft in which he was flying as navigator set out for action over Duisberg [sic] and failed to return.
This does not necessarily mean that he is killed or wounded, and if he is a prisoner of war he should be able to communicate with you in due course. Meanwhile enquiries are being made through the International Red Cross committee, and as soon as any definite news is received you will be at once informed.
/If
Mrs. J. E. Wagner,
14, Western Avenue,
Henley-on-Thames,
Oxon.
[page break]
If any information regarding your son is received by you from any source you are requested to be kind enough to communicate it immediately to the Air Ministry.
The air Council desire me to convey to you their sympathy in your present anxiety.
I am, Madam,
Your obedient Servant,
Charles Evans
98
[photograph]
A photograph of the cemetery in Holland, sent to me a few months after the war by Mrs Worthington, mother of our mid-upper gunner.
[photograph]
A close-up of the crew's graves before proper head-stones were fitted.
[page break]
99
[photograph] Some of the graves. This photo was taken about 1982 by Mrs. Worthington's daughter, Joan.
In 1989, I saw a notice in “Airmail” inserted by a man who had visited Venray and seen the graves of 12 R.A.F. Men. He named them, and offered to send photos to relatives. I told him the names of my crew and the circumstances that led to their being there, and he sent me the following photographs.
[photograph] Warrant Officer W.A. Bates, pilot.
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100
[photograph] Flight Sergeant L.G. Roberts, Bomb-aimer.
[photograph] Sgt. E. Berry, Flight engineer
[page break]
101
[Photograph] Sgt. T.W. Worthington, Mid-upper gunner.
[photograph] Sgt. R. Thomas, Rear-gunner.
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102
Shortly after the war, I applied to join the Caterpillar Club, membership of which is limited to those who have saved their lives by means of a parachute. The club was founded by Leslie Irvin, who invented the modern parachute.
[inserted] Membership card to the Caterpillar Club. [/inserted]
In the middle of June, I went to stay for a couple of days [inserted] with John [/inserted] and his long-time girl-friend (now his wife) Vilna. They lived in a cottage at Potterne Park Farm, Devizes, Wiltshire. A very pleasant visit it was, the last time but one that I saw them for 44 years. But more of that later. We lost touch; it shouldn't have happened, but this sort of thing often did.
My leave expired on 11 July 1945, and I returned to Cosford. This was only for a few days, for the purposes of medical examination, documentation and getting fitted out in full kit. It was a time of unease, restlessness and doubt. I knew only one other person there, Frankie Sedgewick, who had been with John and me at Barkau and Luckenwalde. He was a great virtuoso on the piano and the accordion; although he could not read music, he knew all the tunes, and had a wonderful sense of rhythm. Before we left Barkau for the march, he had become the possessor of a beautiful accordion, thanks to the Red Cross. On the point of departure from Barkau, he slashed it with a knife, tears streaming down his face, and said: “I can't carry it, and those bastards aren't having it.”
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and said: “I can’t carry it, and those bastards aren’t having it.” He had been a member of a Stirling crew, shot down dropping supplies at Arnhem. The aircraft belly-landed on a road, skated along it and ground to a halt. The crew evacuated – Frankie into a ditch on one side, the other six into a ditch on the opposite side, all under fire. The six were on the British side and got away; Frankie was on the German side and got pulled in.
By the 15th of July, I was back on leave again, until the end of August. I spent those six weeks working on harvesting at Dick Green’s farm, playing golf, going swimming, and generally having a relaxed and leisurely time among friends. The war with Japan ended after the dropping of the two atom-bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki on August 6th and 8th, as it was all over. On 29 August I reported to R.A.F. Wittering and remained there for nine days, but there was nothing much to do and no real reason for being there – the only purpose it served was to demonstrate to us that we were in fact still in the Air Force. Then there was a 48-hour pass, for which I went home, then back to Wittering again, then off on leave again.
In October, I went up to Liverpool to stay with Mr. Roberts, father of our bomb-aimer. While there, we went to visit the Worthingtons before returning home a few days later, but it was not long before I was back there again, for a fortnight this times, and the affair made good progress. It looked as if this might be it.
I applied for early release from the R.A.F. so as to continue my degree course at Reading University; this was granted, and I was demobilised shortly before Christmas, ready to start at the university again in January 1946.
This would seem to take us to the end of the crosswind leg, and it is now time to turn onto the downwind leg. This one is the longest of all the legs of a circuit, and the most peaceful. Everything should be organised and running smoothly; there is nothing of any urgency requiring to be done, and one may proceed with dignity and decorum towards
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the next turning-point, meanwhile watching the world go by.
[underlined] DOWNWIND LEG. [/underlined]
In January 1946 I returned to Reading University. When I left, I had one year to do for my degree, but now I had two extra terms, which were quite welcome as they gave me an opportunity to settle down again. I was only doing two subjects (as usual for an honours degree) – French and Latin. The French consisted not only of the language itself but also translation into French and from French, classical literature, modern literature, old French, the development of the language from Latin, essays and a considerable amount of reading. In term-time, and even during holidays, I worked very hard, often on into the night. During leisure times, I played a lot of golf, usually with my brother Richard, at Henley Golf Club. He was always a better player than me; where I would be hoping that my second shot finished somewhere on the green, he would be seen picking the spot on the green where he proposed to land his ball. During the summer, I worked on Dick Green’s farm, mainly on harvesting, and often borrowed a gun from him to go rabbiting. Tight rationing was still in force, so a rabbit was always welcome as an alternative to the dreary diet of sausage-meat or fish. Being a hot summer, I frequently went after work for a swim at Shiplake Swimming Baths, on the River Thames.
Joan came down from Liverpool for a week, and I went up to Liverpool and stayed with her family, and also spent a fortnight with them on holiday in North Wales, near Prestatyn. We became engaged during that summer, but early next year it was all over. Looking back, the affair was doomed to failure, because we could see so little of each other, living such a long way apart. There was neither the money nor the time for frequent visits, and the flame flickered and died.
1947 was the year of my final examinations, and I continued to work as hard as ever, reluctant even to give up time to play golf. I did join the University cross-country club, and used to run in
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team matches against other universities and athletics clubs on Saturday afternoons.
In June, I sat the final examinations for my degree, and when the results came out I found I had passed the B.A. with Honours in French, Class II Division 1. I did not expect a Class 1 degree, as these were rarely given. It must have been a close thing, though; some weeks afterwards, I met the Professor of French, Professor Pesseignet, and her said: “I would have liked to give you a First, but there were other considerations.” (He did not specify what they were.) However, Class II Division 1 was classified as a “good Honours degree”, so I was quite satisfied. Class II Division II was a run-of-the-mill degree, and Class III was for those who only just scraped through.
I acquired another motorcycle that summer. I disposed of the old 250 c.c. O.K. Supreme and took over a 500 c.c. high-camshaft MSS Velocette, a far superior machine in every respect. One evening, I went over to Maidenhead to help my friend Geoff Dolphin do some work on his 350 c.c. Royal Enfield. When the job was done, we repaired to the local for some refreshment and got talking at the bar to a Mr. Jupp. He ran a holiday-camp for London youth-clubs in the Isle of Wight, and asked if I would like a job helping in the cookhouse for a few weeks. Having nothing lined up in the way of holidays, I accepted, and went down there several days later. One evening, I was sitting at a table outside, reading, when a girl came and sat down and started reading too. After half an hour, I said: “That’s another book finished,” and stood up to leave. She said: “Would you like to read the paper?”, so I said: “Yes, please”, and she went and got her Daily Mirror. (Years afterwards, she said to me: “I didn’t know how near I was to losing you, offering you the Daily Mirror.”) When it got duck, I said: “It’s too dark to read any more. Shall we take a ride up to Culver Point?” and that is how it all started. Before leaving her that evening, I said: “Are you committed to anything tomorrow?” When she said no, I said: “I have to go up to Brading in the morning to get the cakes for the canteen. Then we could go along to the other end of the island, to the Needles and Alum Bay, and have
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something to eat on the way back. Would you come with me?” By the time that day was over, the friendship was pretty firmly established. Many years later, I said to her: “Why me?”, and she said: “I liked the look of you.” Honest to the nth degree.
She also said: “I threw myself at you, didn’t I?”. I said: “No, you didn’t throw yourself. All you did was open the door. What you were saying, in effect, was: “If you like what you see, do something about it.” The ball was always in my court, it was always up to me to make the next move, if I wanted to.”
The following day, as she was leaving for London again, I said: “Write to me”, and she said: “No, you write to me,” and I realised that of course it was not up to the girl to do the pushing, that was my job. This is the photograph she gave me as she left, with her address on the back. [photograph not included]
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[certificate]
UNIVERSITY OF READING.
It is hereby certified that HENRY W. WAGNER has been duly admitted to the Degree of Bachelor of Arts of this University. (Honours School of French Class II Division 1)
[signed] E. Smith [/signed] Registrar.
July 5, 1947. [/certificate]
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[photograph] [inserted] All my love, Darling, Joan xxxx [/inserted]
and this is one I acquired later, taken when she was a little girl.
[photograph]
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And so the affair progressed; we were very happy in each other’s company, and I quickly got to know her as a gentle, understanding, kind-hearted, undemanding and completely straightforward and honest, completely unselfish, and those characteristics remained with her, unchanged, for as long as she lived. There were never any words of anger, recrimination, accusation or petty temper between us. It did not take me long to realise I had got a good one.
Sometimes, I went up to London, to her home, for the week-end, sometimes she came to Henley, and we saw each other very frequently.
In the autumn of 1947, I went back to the University for one more year, to take a Diploma in Education, a necessary qualification for teaching in grammar schools. After finishing the course, I toyed with the idea of going into the R.A.F. Education Branch, but by the time the paper-work was all completed, I found out that the main requirements were for teachers of English, mathematics and physics. By that time, it was too late to apply for jobs in state-schools, but I got a job at Bodington College, Leatherhead, Surrey, a private boarding-school for boys 11 - 18, and started there in September 1948.
[photograph]
I taught mainly French and Latin, with some English, mathematics
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[missing photograph or document]
and geography. The classes were small, the fees high. The boys all came from upper-class families, and were easy to get on with. Masters were in contact with them a great deal in leisure-times. I used to run a model aircraft club, and we flew diesel-engined control-line models on the playing-filed when weather permitted, and built or repaired them on
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[University of Reading Diploma]
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dark evenings or in wet and windy weather. I was in charge of Rugby Football, and this led to many discussions on team selection and tactics. There were lessons in the evening instead of the afternoon, leaving afternoons free for games - I either played or refereed. There was always a match against another school or a club on Saturdays and sometimes on Wednesdays as well. In the summer I umpired cricket.
The headmaster, the Reverend J. G. Wilkie, was a man of liberal views on education, only hard on those who transgressed the boundaries of good conduct and gentlemanly behaviour. Prefects were allowed to smoke in their studies, and to brew coffee, and often when I was on duty and had seen all the boys into their dormitories and put the lights out, some of the prefects would say: “Come in and have a smoke and a cup of coffee, Mr. Wagner, and we’ll talk about Saturday’s team.”
On alternate week-ends, provided I was not on duty at the school, I used to go up to London and stay at Joan’s; the other week-ends, I went by motorcycle to Henley, and Joan came to Henley by bus, and the love-affair progressed well. One day she said to me: “Henry, are you going to marry me?” I had taken this for granted, it had never crossed my mind that it might be otherwise. I realised that a girl needs to have it put in so many words, and it was remiss of me not to have made the situation clear before. So it was settled, and the wedding was fixed for August 1949. The greatest worry was where we were going to live, as only four years after the war housing was desperately short, and we had no money to start buying a house. Talking the matter over with the Headmaster, he said that there was accommodation available in one of the blocks round the old stable-yard, which we could have at a low rent. So I spent all my available spare time redecorating this, and eventually it looked quite nice. Furniture and carpets were acquired on hire-purchase - you had to have “dockets” to get these, - and Joan
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made curtains and gradually accumulated the bare necessities. I had a radio of my own, but televisions and washing-machines were almost unheard-of, and we did not hanker after them. Nor did we have a refrigerator.
[photograph] Badingham College, from the playing-fields. [/photograph]
[photograph] My Velocette, in the stable-yard. [/photograph]
[photograph] Joan on the motorcycle, taken at Henley. [/photograph]
[photograph] Joan on holiday (right) with her friend Joan Rampton. [/photograph]
Joan made her own wedding-dress and the bridesmaids’ dresses. Joan Rampton was the chief bridesmaid, and her (Joan Rampton’s) little sister the second bridesmaid. For our honeymoon, we
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would be going to Bantry, in the far south-west corner of Ireland. These are the photos we had taken for our passports. [two photographs]
The wedding took place at 11 a.m. at Holy Trinity Church, Henley-on-Thames. Richard was my best man.
[photograph of the bride and groom]
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[photograph of the wedding party]
[photograph] Leaving the reception. [/photograph]
This was held at a hotel just
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across the street from Henley station, so we did not have far to go to the train. Train to Fishguard, overnight ferry to Cork, bus to Bantry.
On our return a fortnight later, we settled in to The Cottage, Badingham College, Leatherhead, Surrey. One of my first jobs was to go down to the bank to get out some money. I came out of the bank, and was handing over some of the money to Joan when the cashier came out. He said: “Did you know your account was overdrawn, Mr Wagner?” I must have miscalculated somehow, and I said: “No. I suppose you had better have this back, hadn’t you?”, and he said: “Yes, I suppose I had,” and took it. Joan said: “Right, I’ll see about a job then,” and immediately went and got herself a job in a grocery shop. What with her money, an advance on my salary, and a loan of £60 from my brother John, we were able to carry on until we got ourselves sorted out. But money was always scarce, as I suppose it is for nearly every newly-married couple, and there were no luxuries. We used to go to the cinema twice a week – no golf, no drinking, and holidays were in caravans or boarding-houses, travelling by motorbike. The furniture was being paid off at just over £9 a month. Food was still severely rationed. We did not ask for much – we had each other, and that was enough.
I enjoyed my work, Joan enjoyed working and being with other people. She always liked to have other people round her, and even later in life when money was not so important, preferred to be working than staying at home. We still went to London and to Henley on alternate week-ends.
The even tenor of life continued at Badingham for another three years. In the summer of 1952, on our return from holiday in Colwyn Bay, the headmaster said that, owing to expansion, he needed part of our house. That meant we would have to go. There was no chance of accomodation[sic] in the “Stockbroker Belt” of Leatherhead, so I gave in my notice for December 1952.
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and set about applying for jobs in the vicinity of Henley, as my mother was willing to put us up until we got sorted out. I got one at Earley, on the outskirts of Reading, at Woodley Hill Grammar School, a boys’ school. This meant a journey of seven miles by motorbike, but that was no hardship except on bitter winter days or in heavy rain. Richard did some auctioneering for a firm in Henley, and they had space to store our furniture above the auction-rooms, so that cost us nothing.
So in January 1953 I started work at Woodley Hill, and Joan got herself a job in a shop in Henley. Richard, being a partner in a firm of estate-agents, would keep an eye open for possible living accomodation[sic] for us, but this was still in extremely short supply. After a few months, nothing seemed to be coming up, so I began to apply for a job in South Africa, where the conditions of life would be better and we would find somewhere of our own to live. Joan was in agreement – she was always willing to try anything, and never raised any objections in major decisions of this sort. But no sooner had I started to apply than Richard came up with something that suited us absolutely. A golfing friend of his, Gerald Mundey, lived with his mother and his sister Joy on a big estate up in the woods at Harpsden, about 1½ miles out of Henley; the gardener’s cottage had become vacant, and we could have it at the modest rent of £10/month. So we moved our furniture up there and settled in. It was fairly isolated, but we got on well with the Mundeys and Joan was still out all day working. I started playing golf again and joined Marlow rugby club. Looking back, it was selfish of me to be out at rugby on Saturday afternoons and often well into the evening, and then go golfing on Sunday mornings, but Joan never complained, although she would have been perfectly right to do so. Once, playing rugby against Kodak, up in London, I broke my right ankle, and had to spend ten days in Henley hospital while it was mending. I had a few more days at home, then went back to work, riding the motorcycle with one leg encased in plaster, the leg which operated the gear-change lever.
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[photograph] Marlow Rugby Club First XV. [/photograph]
I played right-hand prop, and sometimes hooker when the need arose. The regular hooker was Budworth, on the right in the front row. He used to fly Beaufighters against terrorists in Malaya before he came to us. His wife usually accompanied us on coach-trips, and was one of the few women I ever knew who drank pints of bitter. Colin Gill, left in the front row, had a glass eye; in the course of one game, it dropped out into the mud and the game had to stop while we looked for it. The bath accomodation[sic] adjoining the changing-room was a deep recess about ten feet square sunk in the concrete, and we would settle down in the hot water after a game with pints of beer standing on the concrete behind us. After a particularly muddy game, the contents of the bath would be not so much hot water as thin liquid mud. Songs were sung. An invitation came once through the post
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for me to attend a stag-party. At the bottom of the card it said “Singing by our own choir.” Joan said: “That doesn’t sound very exciting, singing by our own choir,” and I said: “Oh, but you don’t know what our own choir will be singing.”
Many such memories of Marlow Rugby Club come back to me, such as the stag-party that got out of hand; the piano was adjudged not to be functioning correctly. Beer was poured into it without producing any improvement, so the instrument itself was dismantled, without finding the cause, and by that time nobody in a state to re-assemble it. After that, the committee put a stop to further stag-parties. Then there was the occasion when a large stag-party, complete with strippers, was held in one of the pavilions at Twickenham, attended by several clubs, and those in the know will recall that I made a libation to the gods of rugby-football on the centre spot of the pitch. The amount of pleasure I have had throughout my life from golf and rugby is really incalculable. Before I stopped playing rugby, I was made an honorary life-member, for services to the club. The club ran seven teams.
[Marlow Rugby Union Football Club card front]
[page break]
[Marlow Rugby Union Football Club card page 1]
[page break]
[Marlow Rugby Union Football Club card pages 2 and 3]
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for me to attend a stag-party. At the bottom of the card it said “Singing by our own choir.” John said: “That doesn't sound very exciting, singing by our own choir,” and I said: “Ah, but you don't know what our own choir will be singing.”
Many such memories of Marlow Rugby Club come back to me, such as the stag-party that got out of hand; the piano was adjudged not to be functioning correctly. Beer was poured into it without producing any improvement, so the instrument itself was dismantled, without finding the cause, and by that time nobody was in a state to re-assemble it. After that, the committee put a stop to further stag-parties. Then there was the occasion when a large stag-party, complete with strippers, was held in one of the pavilions at Twickenham, attended by several clubs, and those in the know will recall that I made a libation to the gods of rugby-football on the centre spot of the pitch. The amount of pleasure I have had throughout my life from golf and rugby is really incalculable. Before I stopped playing rugby, I was made an honorary life-member, for services to the club. The club ran seven teams.
Fixtures Sept. 1964 – April 1965
1st XV Captain: R.J. WELSFORD
“A” XV Captain: G.L. SPINKS
EX “A” XV Captain: P. TRUNKFIELD
“B” XV Captain: D.L.G. THOMAS
CYGNETS XV Captain: R.H. RAGG
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[Rugby fixtures Sept 1964 – April 1965]
[Rules of the ruby club]
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Eventually and inevitably there was an addition to the family. Helen was born at the maternity unit in Henley, and Joan was so proud of her, and she was certainly a lovely little girl. These photographs were taken while we were still living at Red Hatch Cottage, some in the garden, some on holiday.
[six photographs]
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[seven photographs]
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[six photographs]
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[two photographs]
We had been at Red Hatch Cottage about four years. Happy days though they were, money was still tight. I had the motorcycle fitted with a sidecar on Helen's arrival, so we could still get about. But we wanted a home of our own, and there did not seem to be much hope of getting one. I used to go to the bank on Saturday mornings to get out enough money for the week; the bank balance was often down to below £5, and I dreaded a month that had five Saturdays in it.
One day, I saw on the staff-room notice-board a circular from the National Union of Teachers asking anyone who had any salary queries to get in touch with them. For most of my time at Badingham the school was not recognised by the Ministry of Education and did not therefore count as reckonable services under the regulations. However, before I left, it was inspected and recognised. I put the point to the N.U.T. - was there any possibility of having this service all recognised for the purposes of stepping up the salary scale? They replied that it was up to the Local Education Authority. So I put the matter to the Berkshire Education Authority. I was called to the telephone one day at school – yes, they would recognise all that service, put me four steps up the ladder and give back-pay also for those four years. This amounted to some £270. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. When I got home, I said to Joan; “They rang me up from Shire Hall today. They won't recognise that service.” Terribly disappointed though she must have
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been, she put her arm round me and said; “Oh well, you tried.” All the time we were married, she never made me feel inadequate, not good enough for her, although I sometimes felt that was indeed the case – she deserved better than me. She never was sarcastic, never criticised me or made me feel small. All she had to know was that it was my best that I was doing; it may not have been a very good best sometimes, but as long as it was the best, that was sufficient. But even if things turned out well and I had not done my absolute best, I would be gently reminded. Her whole philosophy of life was based on love; she believed in being in love, she loved her husband, family and home. And in return, she always knew she was well loved. I was glad to be able to give her the happiness and security that she needed. Indeed, our marriage was secure in every respect - “Secure:- without care or anxiety, free from fear or danger, safe, confident, in safe keeping, of such strength as to ensure safety” (Chambers's Twentieth Century Dictionary.) I found this cutting many years later, tucked into Joan's writing -case; it obviously appealed to her, embodying as it does her whole philosophy.
[newspaper cutting – from the New Testament]
But I digress; I shall return to this theme later. Hiding her disappointment, and knowing I must have been disappointed too, she didn't complain but tried to console me with: “Oh well, you tried.” I let it ride for a few minutes, then told her the good news, and she was absolutely delighted. We would have enough money for the necessary 10% deposit on a house and to pay for the removal. There would be nothing to spare for the extras that would be needed, but these things would come in the fulness [sic] of time. So it was not long before we were looking around at new houses being built, and eventually settled for one on Ravensbourne Drive,
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Woodley, about three miles out of Reading and not far from the school where I worked. We used to go over on Sunday afternoons and see the progress being made, and as soon as it was ready we moved in. There was a great deal to be done getting the interior comfortable to live in, but Joan was a great home-maker. The garden was a wilderness containing a lot of builder's rubble, but I set to work to make it look nice and pleasant.
[two photographs]
Ravensbourne Drive, taken from outside our house, looking down the road (left) and up the road (right)
[two photographs]
The back garden. The back of the house.
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It was a big job getting the garden in order, but I was much indebted to John for a great amount of help – he used to come over and give a hand whenever he had the time. We mixed and laid concrete along the back of the house and at the side, and made the path running up the garden. I bought a concrete sectioned garage which we put up. I laid lawns, made a sand-pit for Helen, made the trellis and put climbing-roses on it to divide off the vegetable-garden, and planted the willow-tree. Made a coal-bunker too – there was no central-heating in those days. A whole range of kitchen cabinets as well – it was a matter of making things then rather than buying them. And always words of praise from Joan for what had been achieved.
Joan used to take Helen out to a nearby park in the afternoons, where there were swings, and it was there that she met Jean Hindley, who had her little girl with her. Joan was never backward in making friends (Think again how she got to know me), and Jean and Derek have been friends ever since. I always call into see them when I go down to Woodley, and there is always a warm welcome. We also made friends with Babs and Dave Read who lived a couple of doors along, and held lively parties
[eleven lines obscured by photograph]
had pints of mild and bitter, so it was quite obvious he had at least one redeeming feature. He used to be a Petty Officer in the Navy, on the engineering side. As I got to know him better, I
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was happy to consider him a good friend – straightforward, even-tempered, he took life very much as it came. Gradually, other inhabitants of Woodley joined us, and quite a large contingent from Woodley used to go over golfing at Henley – Jim Trevaskis, Bill Spelman, George Wall, Frank Way, Jeff Morgan and Alan Thorngate. I held the post of captain of the Henley Artisans Golfing Society at the time, and for a number of years thereafter. We played matches against the artisan sections of other clubs, and Joan and Anne used to make the sandwiches and come over and organise the teas for us. Good days they were, golfing at Henley in good company. Sunday mornings were the usual time, and after the game we would repair to the Bottle and Glass at Binfield Heath to take pre-prandial refreshment and play darts with the locals. On Friday evenings also we used to go out to one pub or another for beer and darts. And Joan put up with all this without a murmur of protest!
The school moved to new buildings at Winnersh, near Wokingham. In those days, and in such a school, teaching was a pleasant enough occupation and the boys were in general easy enough to get on with. There were exceptions, of course, but in the main they were a decent lot. On a journey from the front of the class to the back it might be necessary to give the odd boy a cuff, but the usual reaction seemed to be: “Fair enough, he caught me out,” and that was the end of it. Not so in these days, though. An action of that sort now would result in reports to the Head, parents up to the school, letters to the Education Department, and so forth. I remember writing on one boy’s report once: “Oafish stupidity is his outstanding characteristic.” At a parents’ evening his father said: “I take exception to this remark, Mr. Wagner. Can you justify it?” “Yes”, I said. “This very morning, when I had got the class settled down to work, he came in late, hurled the door open, which wrenched the door-stop out of the floor, slammed the door, and went to his place without a word of apology.” “Yes”, he said, “I see what you mean. I shall take the matter up with him.” On the other hand, on the last day of the summer term, one of my Sixth Form
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French students said: “Would you care to some out for a farewell drink, Mr. Wagner?”, so off we went. This would cause some raised eyebrows these days. I remember saying to him: “Two years ago, you were an inky little lad in the Fifth Form, now you’re a gentleman,” and that was the way with many of them.
While at The Forest Grammar School, my head of department was Keith Fletcher, an extremely able man and easy to get on with. He expected his staff to do their job competently and conscientiously, he consulted and advised, he did not lay down the law but what he said went, and he did not suffer fools gladly. He was a friend in those times, and has remained a friend every since. We see each other from time to time.
In the fulness of time, there was an addition to the family, and Philip made his appearance. In those days, it was the practice for only the first child to be born in hospital, so Philip was born at home. [Three photographs of Henry with his children]
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[Six photographs of the family]
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Henry Wagner's life story. Part one
Description
An account of the resource
Hand written by Henry, Part 1 covers his early life and time at university. It goes on to cover in some detail his time in the RAF, his time training in South Africa conversion to the Halifax and operations on 51 Squadron. It also covers his time as a prisoner of war and his post war career as a teacher in both England and Kenya. This part also covers his marriage, two children and their first house.
Creator
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Henry Wagner
Format
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153 hand written pages with photographs
Language
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eng
Type
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Text. Memoir
Text
Identifier
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BWagnerHWWagnerHWv1-01
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
South Africa
Germany
Kenya
Germany--Winterfeld
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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IBCC Digital Archive
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David Bloomfield
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Henry was born Irish but later became a naturalised British Citizen. He talks of his early life in Ireland, going to school at Henley-on-Thames and went to Reading University. (Higher School Certificate p15). He joined the University Air Squadron. After passing his final year examinations he was called up and joined the RAF. (Photograph p 21).
He passed through the Aircrew Reception Centre in London, Brighton, and Liverpool, Henry found himself sailing to Durban, South Africa. He tried to become a pilot but failed a test in a Tiger Moth so was placed in the Navigational Training School. He met Graham Walker while there. On 23 December 1943 Henry became a Sergeant with a Navigator’s brevet. (Navigator brevet p27).
After moving through RAF West Freugh, Scotland, Henry was then posted to the OTU RAF Abingdon to learn more complex skills in addition to lectures about the Luftwaffe, Intelligence information and ‘Escape and Evasion’. Henry crewed up at Abingdon. (Photographs of crew p 34-5). The next move was to 4 Group Training School, and this confirmed for the crew that they would be flying Halifax Mark 3 aircraft. Here lectures were ‘all good stuff’.
The penultimate move was to 1952 HCU RAF Marston Moor to learn about the Halifax Mark 3 and meet Sergeant Eric Berry, flight engineer. (Photograph p37). Henry describes the duties of the navigator, the use of the ‘Master Bomber’, some of the anti-aircraft techniques that were used in the technological war. (Photograph using of the H2S p39, pieces of the ‘Window’ radar defence p50).
Finally, they moved to RAF Snaith. There Henry took part in raids on Julich near Essen x 2, Hagen (an aborted mission), Soest, in the Ruhr Valley, Duisburg x 2, Aachen, Munster, and Osnabruck. There was a degree of acceptance that they were statistically going to die during their duties.
Henry was returning from a raid when he appraised the pilot that there was a fire onboard. The pilot to decide to abandon the aeroplane, and Henry parachuted from his plane. He landed in the garden of a domestic house and explains the contents of his evasion-pack. He was captured, moved to the Aircrew Interrogation Centre was in Oberursel and then onto Stalag Luft 7 Bankau, Silesia. Here he rejoined John Trumble with whom Henry had undergone part of his training. There was an army padre at the camp and the influence Captain John Collins had on the POWs both at Stalag Luft 7 and when the men were marching to other camps is described. They arrived at Stalag 3A, Luckenwaldwe. Henry describes Red Cross parcel, daily life there, attacks of dysentery, and ‘Goon-baiting’.
When the ‘gen’ revealed the Russians were only 12 miles from the camp, the Germans abandoned them, and RAF Wing Commander Beamont assumed command of the camp. On 22 April 1945, the Russians arrived. They refused to release the POWs, so Henry and John walked 7 miles westwards where they were met by the Americans and taken to the Reception Centre, Schonebeck.
With VE declared and de-lousing completed they were returned to RAF Wing, Aylebury. He shows the graves of his crew (photographs p 99-101).
On demobbing Henry resumed his university studies and became a teacher. He married and had children. Henry went to a Stalag Luft 7 reunion in 1982.
Claire Campbell
1652 HCU
51 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aerial photograph
air gunner
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bale out
bomb aimer
briefing
C-47
Caterpillar Club
coping mechanism
crewing up
debriefing
Dulag Luft
evading
final resting place
flight engineer
Flying Training School
Gee
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
Heavy Conversion Unit
incendiary device
killed in action
Master Bomber
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
missing in action
navigator
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
perception of bombing war
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Abingdon
RAF Acaster Malbis
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Marston Moor
RAF Snaith
RAF West Freugh
recruitment
Red Cross
shot down
Stalag 3A
Stalag Luft 7
target indicator
target photograph
the long march
Tiger Moth
training
Whitley
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/540/28354/MGilbertAC186764-161013-020001.2.jpg
777f8cc3bcd7af693f687fdde9f9c741
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/540/28354/MGilbertAC186764-161013-020002.2.jpg
f0bd91891e564afcea9542fcf3d2b965
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
Gilbert, Alexander Charles
A C Gilbert
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Gilbert, AC
Description
An account of the resource
21 items. An oral history interview with Squadron Leader Alexander Charles Gilbert DFC (b. 1921, 1336682, 186764 Royal Air Force) his log book, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 9, 514 and 159 Squadrons. He was Awarded the Chevalier of the Légion d'honneur in 2020.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Alexander Gilbert and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-01-13
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
JIMMY
(In memory of Sgt. Jimmy Thornton)
From forty one to forty three
We lived our lives as one.
We trained and talked, drank and walked.
Our lives were in the sun.
From Blackpool. Brid to Heaton Park
And Aston Down as well.
Each station brought us near our goal
'Though some of it was hell.
Wintered in Canadian snows
Our brevets and tapes to earn.
Then back home to Harrogate
And still much more to learn.
Then the parting of the ways,
Our paths no more to cross.
From OTU to HCU
Then a crew for a squadron loss.
We flew, we fought by night and day
Our duty must be done
Without a though for future years
Till the fight was won.,
I tried to found out where you'd gone,
'Gone missing' so, they said.
Then I found in later years
Your name among the dead.
Your name 1s now emblazoned
On Runnymede’s great wall:
In letters clear of shinning gold
Your death reminds us all -
You lie in some forgotten field
Or in a watery grave.
Now I who live, am humbled
By your young life you gave.
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
Jimmy
(In memory of Sgt. Jimmy Thornton)
Description
An account of the resource
A poem about a colleague who was missing in action.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two typewritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Poetry
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MGilbertAC186764-161013-020001, MGilbertAC186764-161013-020002
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--Blackpool
England--Bridlington
England--Manchester
England--Harrogate
Canada
England--Lancashire
England--Yorkshire
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
arts and crafts
Heavy Conversion Unit
killed in action
missing in action
Operational Training Unit
RAF Aston Down
RAF Heaton Park
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/530/25820/MShawSR3002545-160211-110001.1.jpg
3ef7e44f2fb2a3d4bda204d64b841cd4
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/530/25820/MShawSR3002545-160211-110002.1.jpg
dac266b49ce2f65ecf29880d31cbde49
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/530/25820/MShawSR3002545-160211-110003.1.jpg
87e15334d0abd27fa9414f3f73b49764
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
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[circled 1]
[underlined] BOMBER COMMANDS OPERATIONS FROM EAST ANGLIA 42 – 45 [/underlined]
1) SHOW MAP OF RAF & USAF STATIONS ON SCREEN ENGLAND WAS FLOATING AERODROME.
AIR MARSHAL AFFECTIONATEY [sic] KNICKNAMED ‘BOMBER’ OR ‘BUTCH’ BY AIRCREWS SERVING UNDER HIM TOOK OVER BOMBER COMMAND IN 1942 (JAN). UP TO THEN WHITLEYS, MANCHESTERS HAMPDENS & WELLINGTONS HAD BOMBED TARGETS ALMOST INDIVIDUALLY NOT IN SQD STRENGTH. ACCURACY WITHIN 5 MILES RADIUS OF TARGETS AREA BOMBING ON 30TH MAY 1942. FIRST 1,0000 BOMBER RAID ON COLOGNE. O.[inserted] P [/inserted] T. [inserted] R [/inserted] UNITS USED ON THIS RAID 44 A/C LOST. 1,046 A/C TOOK PART.
[underlined] 2 [/underlined] 8th AIRFORCE DAY LIGHT RAIDS. IN STRENGTH. FORTRESSES. 10 MAN CREWS
AUG 17th 1943 SCHWEINFURT. 229 TOOK PART 36 LOST
OCT 14th 1943 “ 291 “ “ 60 LOST
[underlined] 3 [/underlined] [inserted] R.A.F. [/inserted] 1944 – 1945. UP TO 900 A/C OPERATING AT NIGHT
USAF – IN DAYLIGHT. 1,000 + 500 A/C FIGHTER ESCORTS.
[underlined] 4 NUREMBURG 30TH MARCH. 1944 [/underlined]
1,009 A/C OPERATED THAT NIGHT.
782 SENT TO NUREMBURG. 55 ABORTED 636 BOMBED TARGET OR CLAIMED.
95 A/C LOST. 75 SUFFERED DAMAGE. 22 CRASHED IN ENGLAND ON RETURN.
[underlined] AIR CREW CASUALTIES [/underlined] ON THIS RAID.
745. KILLED OR WOUNDED. 26 INJURED. 159 MADE PO.Ws.
[underlined] HAZARDS TO RETURNING AIRCRAFT. [/underlined]
FOLLOWING GERMAN NIGHT FIGHTERS. FRIENDLY ACK-ACK. AIR COLLISIONS. BOMBS FROM OTHER AIRCRAFT. FOG OR BAD WEATHER OVER BASES.
F.I.D.O. AT WOODBRIDGE & MANSTON CRASH STRIPS.
BESIDES BOMBER COMMAND. MANY AIRCRAFT FROM OPERATIONAL TRAINING AND HEADY CONVERSION UNITS.
STIRLING FROM DOWNHAM MKT. SEPT. ’43. THREE WEEKS OLD. 22 HRS TOTAL FLYING TIME SHOT UP BY N/F OVER HANNOVER. CRASHED AT BARROW.
[page break]
[underlined] 2 [/underlined]
IN OCTOBER 1945, OUR PARTY TRAVELLED TO KEMBLE RAF STATION WHERE LINES OF PRACTICALLY NEW LANCASTERS STOOD WAITING TO BE SCRAPPED. WE WERE GIVEN A BRAND NEW LANCASTER, FULLY EQUIPPED, TO STRIP DOWN, LOAD ONTO SEVEN LOW LOADING QUEEN MARY’S, AND TRANSPORT TO COLCHESTER. WITH THE AID OF A COLES CRANE, IT WAS ASSEMBLED COMPLETE IN A LOCAL PARK, AND THE PUBLIC ALLOWED TO INSPECT THE AIRCRAFT.
AFTER THREE WEEKS, THE LANC WAS STRIPPED AGAIN, LOADED UP, AND TRANSPORTED TO CHELMSFORD, FOR FURTHER PUBLIC DISPLAY. THIS TIME, THE SITE WAS ONLY FIFTY YARDS FROM A PUB, AND NEEDLESS TO SAY, IT TOOK JUST A LITTLE LONGER TO ASSEMBLE. AFTER THREE DAYS IN CHELMSFORD, THIS IDYLIC SITUATION WAS SUDDENLY BROUGHT TO AN ABRUPT END. A VAN ARRIVED FROM OUR NEWMARKET BASE TO TRANSPORT ME BACK. I WAS POSTED OVERSEAS.
[underlined] IN TRANSIT [/underlined]
I WAS ALLOWED HOME ON LEAVE FOR CHRISTMAS 1946, AND THEN TRAVELLED UP TO HEATON PARK, TRANSIT CAMP, JUST OUTSIDE MANCHESTER. EVERYTHING WAS FROZEN SOLID, SHAVING AND WASHING WAS DONE STANDING ASTRIDE A SMALL STREAM JUST OUTSIDE OUR NISSEN HUT. RAZOR IN ONE HAND, AND A MIRROR IN THE OTHER. THE DINING HALL WAS A JOURNEY OVER THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PARK, AND I CAN’T REMEMBER HAVING A DECENT MEAL THERE. MOST OF THE TIME, WE SPENT GUARDING THE COAL COMPOUND. AFTER BEING ISSUED WITH TROPICAL KIT, WE WERE PUT ON A DRAFT FOR THE AZORES. THREE DAYS LATER, THIS WAS SCRUBBED, OUR KIT BAGS WERE STAMPED MEDLOC, AND WE WERE BOUND FOR THE MIDDLE EAST.
[underlined] THE MEDLOC ROUTE. [/underlined]
IN LATE JANUARY, AT 6 AM ON A FROSTY, FOGGY MORNING, WE LEFT NEWHAVEN, ON THE DUNKIRK VETERAN, “EMPIRE DOFFODIL”. CROSSING A GLASSY, WAVELESS CHANNEL, TO THE PORT OF DIEPPE. THE RECEPTION CAMP WAS SITUATED ON A SEA OF MUD, DIFFERENT TENTED AREAS WERE REACHED BY CROSSING WOODEN DUCKBOARDS. AFTER A QUICK MEAL, MONEY CHANGED TO FRANCS, GIVEN A PACKET OF SANDWICHES, WE WERE MARCHED TO THE RAILWAY STATION, AND LOADED ABOARD THE “TOULON
[page break]
[underlined] 3 [/underlined]
EXPRESS” ANYONE THAT UNDERTOOK THAT PARTICULAR JOURNEY, WILL NEVER FORGET THE SHEER LUXURY THE TRAIN AFFORDED. THE FRENCH RAILWAY SYSTEM, DURING THE WHOLE WAR HAD BEEN HAMMERERED [sic] BY ALLIED BOMBERS DURING THE NIGHT, AND STRAFED BY FIGHTERS DURING DAYLIGHT. EACH COMPARTMENT WAS FITTED WITH WOODEN BENCH SEATS, FOUR EITHER SIDE, NO STEAM WAS LAID ON TO [inserted] THE [/inserted] CARRIAGES, AND FOR THE 36 HOUR JOURNEY, SLEEP WAS NIGH IMPOSSIBLE. THE TRAIN STOPPED THREE TIMES, AT BRAM, NEVEAX PALLIAX AND LIMOGES
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
Bomber Command Operations from East Anglia 42-45
Description
An account of the resource
A brief description of bombing activity during the war. Starting with the ineffectual early operations to 1000+ bomber operations. He lists some of the operations then details some of the hazards for returning aircraft. After the war Stan took a new Lancaster to a park in Colchester, then Chelmsford for public display. He then transferred to the Middle East on the Medloc route. Newhaven-Dieppe, train through France.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Stan Shaw
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Three handwritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MShawSR3002545-160211-110001, MShawSR3002545-160211-110002, MShawSR3002545-160211-110003
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--Colchester
England--Chelmsford
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Schweinfurt
Germany--Hannover
England--Newhaven
France--Dieppe
France--Bram
France--Limoges
Germany--Nuremberg
France
Germany
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Essex
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
bombing
bombing of Cologne (30/31 May 1942)
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
FIDO
Hampden
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Manchester
Operational Training Unit
RAF Downham Market
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Kemble
RAF Manston
RAF Woodbridge
Stirling
training
Wellington
Whitley
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1383/24045/PFordTA17110002.2.pdf
e766578dd97ec16e2bdf84925e8e1d50
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Ford, Terry. Album Two
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
Ford, T
Description
An account of the resource
67 items. Photographs concerning Terry Ford's training in Canada wartime and post war service. It contains some images taken inside an aircraft during operations.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
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
Empire Air Training Scheme Canada
15 October 1942 - 24 July 1943
Description
An account of the resource
Two b/w photographs from an album. They are annotated 'Heaton Park before we saw the boat'.
Photo 1 is of two boys walking along a path.
Photo 2 is one boy standing beside a washing line.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two b/w photographs on an album page
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PFordTA17110002
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
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
aircrew
RAF Heaton Park
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/834/18874/YGeachDG1394781v3.1.pdf
0ac2178ce957f882e1ba3691a9434011
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Geach, David
D Geach
Description
An account of the resource
<a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/218400/"></a>52 items. The collection concerns Warrant Officer David Geach (1394781 Royal Air Force) and contains his diaries, correspondence, photographs of his crew, his log book, cuttings and items relating to being a prisoner of war. After training in Canada, he flew operations as a bomb aimer with 623 and 115 Squadrons until he was shot down 24 March 1944 and became a prisoner of war. He was instrumental in erecting a memorial plaque to the Air Crew Reception Centre at Lord’s Cricket Ground in London. <br />The collection also contains a scrap book of photographs.<br /><br />Additional information on his crew is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/218400/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Harry Wilkins and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-03-14
Rights
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
Geach, DG
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Cover Page]
PJZ4 HUT 7
PER ARDUA AD ASTRA MIM
[/Cover Page]
[page break]
[underlined] BOOK 2 [/underlined]
COMMENCING MY FLYING TRAINING, AND MY ADVENTURES UP TILL THE TIME OF LEAVING ENGLAND
[page break]
[underlined] Saturday June 20th [/underlined]
Our first stage in flying training has commenced, we are no longer cheesed with periods of studying, drilling, & various other binding pastimes. Our journey from St. Andrews to Carlisle was pretty uneventful, we caught the connections, & arrived here at about 1 p.m. Dragging those two kit bags around was pretty deadly, & we were glad to dump them. All the lot of us, 19, are in a large room of a hut, rather a collection of huts called the town-centre. This is just opposite the station, the actual station is about 4 miles out from Carlisle & the name of it, is Kingstown.
I know it seems early to form an opinion, but we all dislike this place intensely. It is very hard to describe, but we have never known a place to cheese one so completely. The general air of the place & the slip-shod way it is run all contribute to discourage us more than anything.
[page break]
There is a civilian here parading around in a W/O's uniform although he has the badge of a civil airways on his arm. He goes under the title of S.W.O. - what cheek, & we have to address him as Sir. Although he is unable to put us on a charge he can give us an hours digging on fatigues, & he makes good use of that. From what we can see he practically runs this station, despite the officers.
That is one of the main faults here, the place is half R.A.F. half civvie, & a general fiasco ensues. The food is catered, & served by civilians, & one word describes it, disgraceful, honestly! I never thought food could be served out in such a state. It is not my personal feelings, everyone is the same, & one only has to see all the cadets eating hot meals in the Y.M.C.A. to realise it. The officers cant [sic] do much about it only request [?] the chap who is in charge of the mess to alter things, needless to say there isn't much difference.
[page break]
In a big gloomy converted hangar now called the 'Crew Room', why I don't know, are our lockers. We have one ordinary sized steel locker between two of us, & we both have to keep our flying kit, kit-bags, P.T. kit, & books in this, it is almost impossible to close the doors. P.T. is every day & we change behind the lockers, have a terrific long roll-call, run to a nearby field for about 10 mins. P.T. & run back again. Hurriedly changing we rush to the N.A.A.F.I. & find a large queue there, the time being 11.a.m. & the N.A.A.F.I. closing at 11.15 a.m. we never get it. So we never have a cup of tea while we are here in the morning.
Another annoying rule is that once we enter the gate in the morning at 8 a.m. we are not allowed out till 6 p.m. even during the dinner-time, so we drift around aimlessly. There being only 4 lavatories & 3 wash-basins available for the couple of hundred cadets here, we even have to queue for those necessities. Yes I have never seen a station where there are so many things wrong and so few right.
[page break]
The ground lectures are a farce, and they might just as well scrap them. First thing every morning or afternoon we have Aldis practise, [sic] & I have heard it rumoured that some people take it. We have had one Navigation lecture, stuff we did right at the beginning of I.T.W. Armaments, a chap came & nattered about the Browning Gun, the Signals Officer is a P/O an Observer from the last war, who seems slightly wrong in the head! A large part of the programme consists of going to the Cinema Hut for M.O.I [sic] films, of, the Enemy has Ears, variety, some of these bring home to one how vital it is to be guarded in conversation.
For entertainment each Sunday and Monday night they have a movie film, free, Bing Crosby & Bob Hope are on this Sunday in 'Road to Zanzibar'. Once a fortnight there is a dance in the mess and a good few women from the town come. They had one the evening we arrived it was a pretty good band. Well being tired I don't feel like writing any more so will close.
[page break]
[underlined] Wednesday June 24th [/underlined]
We have been here exactly a week now, & are wishing we had gone to Perth for it must be better than here. I don't know whether the A.M. realises it, but a place like this & a training system like these Grading Schools is enough to make anyone completely fed up with flying. I remember last week the first time I went up, I guess it was the biggest thrill I have ever had. Strapping myself in with the Sutton harness, I waited & then we gradually moved forward, gaining speed & all of a sudden I had a shock for looking over the side I saw the ground about 50 feet below us, I had not noticed that we had left it. Sitting there admiring the view I felt a strange sense of exaltation, as if I had left worldly things behind, & was all alone in the universe. I was jerked out of my isolation by the instructors voice crackling through the inter-com, & we began the business of flying.
[page break]
Being the first time the instructor didn't give me any of the patter, he just let me get used to the new sensation. I had rather a shock when he cut the motor, & announced he was going to practise [sic] a forced landing, although he didn't actually touch down he would have made it easily. Coming [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] [inserted] back [/inserted] he flew low along the course of the Eden, & this was great, I got a bigger kick out of the low level flying than anything. The following lessons were all graduated each hour for teaching one thing e.g. the first lesson - straight & level flying, then medium turns, climbing, gliding etc. on to take-offs. landings & spins. It certainly is marvellous how correctly trimmed the aircraft will fly by itself almost smoothly, yet as soon as we touch the controls she lurches about - gremlin trouble - maybe.
I think the whole idea of Grading Schools are a farce though, & every instructor & pilot on 'ops' that I have spoken to agrees. They maintain that it is impossible
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to discern whether a fellow will make a pilot in 12 hours or not, the time is too short. A fair amount depends upon one soloing in the time, & yet a fair few well known pilots today soloed after 12 hours. Another point is that the instructors can't take any real interest in a fellow for no sooner have they got him up to the soloing stage, when he goes & someone completely new comes in his place. So I guess no-one can blame them for feeling cheesed & not being able to give the individual attention to us that we need. All these points & the atmosphere of this station as well all go to make us lose heart in the flying & ask are we being given a fair deal.
From our point of view we definitely are not, for we know that if we had received our papers a couple of months before we did, we should have missed this scheme & gone abroad as usual, & stood
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a much better chance of getting our wings being, as we would be on a full E.F.T.S. course. From the A.M's [sic] point of view I suppose they are fully justified. They are short of Observers, & these new Air Bombers, so the easiest way is to just whizz a few [one indecipherable word] potential pilots off the course, & re-muster them. As they say it being for the good of the country our personal feeling don't count. It certainly is hard when you have set your heart on being a pilot, & volunteered for it to be just placed on one side, without a fair trial of one's capabilities. Still there it is, but it seems ever such a great waste of youthful enthusiasm & keeness [sic] to me, I can see, and also feel it myself, the old spirit gradually dying away & being replaced with a browned-off feeling, & a 'nothing matters' outlook. It is the way that this country has always been though, & I guess it always will be. Who are we to question the wisdom of the great.
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[underlined Sunday June 28th. [/underlined]
The end of the week, and a fast-moving week at that, things sure have happened speedily. Four of the boys have finished their course already & are going on leave tomorrow. This is embarkation leave, just in case we should get a pilot, which I doubt. Amongst those going are 'Nob' Davies & Cooper, they were withdrawn from lectures & their flying speeded up to four hours a day at times. Consequently they often reached a period when the instructors words would go in one ear & out the other, they just couldn't take any interest in it. Cooper soloed at 10 hrs 25 mins, but 'Nob' didn't. The way they are rushing us through with this flying, they are either desperately short of aircrew, or else are getting our 12 hours over with just because the training system is so choked & they have to get as many through as possible. I think the latter is the case, & as usual it benefits all but us.
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I guess I should have finished my flying by the end of the week, & be on leave, it seems rather absurd to be home on leave again, seeing I only left a fortnight ago - still I'm not grumbling. I had my 7 hour progress test with the F/Lt. in charge of C flight & didn't do too bad, I learnt afterwards I had 555 marks which is average. As long as they don't rush me with my flying I'll be alright. One of the fellows from St. Andrews have [sic] been taken off because he gets nervous every time he goes up. It's hard lines on him, for some people are made that way & he has gone through his I.T.W all for nothing.
There is a fair in the park in town & we will go there tonight, for it is Carlisle's stop-at-home holidays week & they have different attractions. Carlisle itself is quite a nice town, a lot more livelier than St. Andrews, & a very fine park. They have a large Y.M.C.A. here - the John Peel Hut, & it
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really is a fine place. If people only knew how much these places matter to service men I am sure they would receive more support.
Cooper has received a letter from a pal at Manchester who has been classified as a pilot. He said it is a matter of luck what percentage of pilots they require at the classification time, whether we get a pilot or not. I must say it doesn't sound too hopeful, still maybe whatever happens is for the best.
I did spins for the first time this week, it is a queer feeling when the aircraft stalls & lurches forward & the earth spins round & round. This was a thing I managed to get hold off [sic] quite easily & could do pretty well. My instructor did half an hours aerobatics yesterday & I hardly knew if I was on my head or heels. He is a real decent fellow though, never binds a bit even when I make silly mistakes, not like some instructors.
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[underlined] Wednesday July 1st. [/underlined]
My brief period of flying is over, it certainly was short & sweet, it lasted under a fortnight, & from that someone can tell whether I would make a pilot after a few hundred hours flying - maybe. Right at the last couple of hours my instructor was changed because another instructor didn't like his pupil, there was a switch & now my instructor has the chap. This other one binds more, but I [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] [inserted] was [/inserted] not worrying about that for I had [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] at last got my landings O.K. So he promised me half an hour to go solo on Tuesday, but it seemed that right at the last Fate took a hand. For on Tuesday I was called out of lectures & told I would have to let my solo go & do my last two hours, & get my 12 hours test over that morning. Feeling pretty cheesed I did & did fair in my test. They told me the fact that I was about to solo would go on my record yet I doubt if that will cut much ice.
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Today I & Jack Dawsett [?] have been dashing around with our clearance chits, trying to locate people, who don't want to be located. We managed to get them in the end & got our clothing settled. Because a few chaps flew on Sunday they issued Daily Flying Returns with everyone down as having 'Attended Lectures' being as we didn't know we omitted to sign, so Dodds the W/O fellow, put us on an hours digging tonight, our last night too, I'd like to meet him outside.
Still my outstanding thought, is thank the Lord we are leaving this place. Tomorrow we only have an F.F.I. & get our warrant & ration cards then we are away, & most probably will be able to catch the midday train - then home and some good food. I expect Mary will get a shock when she sees me. Ah! well I'll close this my last entry at Carlisle, my first flying school, & not the last I hope.
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[underlined] Sunday July 12th. [/underlined]
It is a week & a half since I have made an entry, only I never enter anything when I am on leave, don't combine business with pleasure in this case. I am now at my fifth station, as I have mentioned, Manchester in this case. After enjoying seven days leave I was due to report here on Friday at midday. To do that I would have had to catch the 4 a.m. train from Euston & sleep on the station all night. So I took the 8.15 am. with Jack Dawsett & practically all other cadets went on it as well. We arrived at London Rd Station about 1.45 p.m. & caught a 1d services bus to Victoria Stn. where we connected the train to Heaton Park. This type of train is electric & reminded me of a cross between a London Metropolitan Train & an armoured train. We finally arrived at the park at 2.30 pm. Nobody said anything, all was bustle & confusion, hundreds of cadets wandering around, harrased [sic]
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N.C.O's endeavouring to get some semblance of order, what a panic.
To anyone who has never been to Heaton Park the word "Park" is apt to be misleading. The place is over 500 acres of natural country, complete with hills, vales, woods, streams, lakes, and in peace-time must have been a really lovely place. It was originally owned by an Earl, his name escapes me, & he presented it to Manchester Corporation for a public park, which in its turn was taken over by the R.A.F. At the time of writing the mansion itself forms No. 1 Squadron's offices, the officers mess, & various other rooms contain service branches. The huge lawn is a parade ground - can hold over 2,000 men. The Cafeteria built for the public is our mess, & another one has been built for No 2 Squadron's Mess. In the natural theatre by the stage & pavilion are lots of tents & more by the tennis courts, & everywhere one looks, ugly Nissen Huts have served [?} themselves up.
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It certainly has spoilt the appearance of the park, but I'm afraid we don't care about the beauty a lot. We are constantly moaning about the terrific distances we have to walk from place to place on the station. Talk about dispersal, everything is miles away from anywhere else. Jack & I are in billets outside the camp, we are both in nice houses, I have good rooms. The only trouble being in the morning when we have about a 2 mile walk to get to the mess for breakfast. I always have to dig Jack out, & sometimes we miss it.
The food here on the whole is pretty good, & one thing there is plenty of it. Being as there are about a thousand cadets here, they certainly handle the queues quickly. Not so with the N.A.A.F.I. this is in the tea-bar that is by the boating lake, & it is a devil of a wait outside, then a mad scramble at the counter with no orderliness at all. Consequently tea fly's [sic] over everyone & tempers become short.
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We got fixed up pretty quickly on the day we arrived, issued with mugs etc. and all the usual performances were got through, that always have to be done on joining a new station. After some searching we located our billets & nearly dropped dead getting our kit-bags there. The following day we commenced the programme, what there is of it. Nothing is hardly done here, for it is just a Classification centre, & then a posting Centre. Discipline is very slack indeed nobody pays any attention to the N.C.O's & people slide off when & where they like, there is rarely more than 3/4 of the flight present when a check is taken. This is rather a rest cure in some ways.
I have met 'Nob' Davies & Cooper, they arrived on Tuesday, & are in tents! We have Saturday afternoon off, but have to come all the way over to the park on Sunday, just to answer a roll-call. For the church parade is held on Wednesday. Well, thats [sic] enough for now, I'll describe the station & Manchester more next time.
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[underlined] Wednesday July 15th. [/underlined]
Life just slips uneventfully by, and we [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] slide along in a regular rut. Most of our day is spent in dodging off, our sergeant is one of the nervous & conscientious type, & fusses like an old hen. The [deleted] trob [/deleted] trouble he takes to get us all in the open-air swimming bath is marvellous, but then he never succeeds. The fellows in camp are allowed out till 11 p.m. each night excepting Friday & Saturday when it is 23.59. Almost the entire camp pours into town, by means of the electric train service, or various buses.
Manchester is more after my idea of fun, for it is large like London, and very busy. There are bags of up to date cinemas, the prices are rather high though. There is a good theatre the Palace, they sometimes have productions there prior to them opening in the West End. Strangely enough there are poor facilities for troop canteens, one
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Y.M.C.A. which is always packed, a C.W.L. canteen, equally crowded, and a Forces Canteen on Victoria Stn. which is pretty good, but with limited accommodation like the others.
We certainly lead a gay life, and we pay for it, the money really pours away, we spend £2 pocket money a week easily. Admitted about 15/- a week goes on food in the cafes, but we also go to the films about 3 or 4 times weekly & dances twice. The Ritz Ballroom is a pretty good place, but gets very packed. There was a dance in our mess in the week & that was well crowded.
Coming back from town we catch a train they run at every ten past & twenty to in the hour & the late ones are very crowded but we generally make it. Jack and I get out at Bowker Vale the station before Heaton Park, as it is right by our billets, I don't stay out late though, about 10 to 10.30 p.m – so far.
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treated as children, & numbers, but never human beings, and last of all, these long hanging about periods, all tend to dull the edge of the keenest appetite. It certainly is a shame, there are thousands of young fellows who volunteered to join Air Crew, & I am not line shooting when I say we are treated as though we were the last people that were needed in this war.
We had Navigation the other day, in a long Nissen Hut, one can't really whip up any enthusiasm here. Most of our days are the same we always try to slip off early to tea, before the colossal queues appear, then we can get an early start into town. I believe we might get a 48 hr pass this weekend, I hope so, for I feel as though I have been away ages. That sure is a rush on the London train, and also coming back, Sunday night, still I wont [sic] mind that as long as I get home.
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[underlined] Tuesday July 28th. [/underlined]
Today is my 19th birthday, and has been quite an eventful day, I had a Greetings telegram from Mary & cards from the family & friends. Beside this however it was our classification day, & I am now a A/T Air Bomber. The parade was held this morning, we were all marched, through the rose gardens, down to a beautiful green, with a small lake, a truly peaceful spot. There we layed [sic] upon the grass & listened to the Wing Comdr. reading out our destinies. There were about 30% pilots out of this parade. I felt sorry for one fellow who was made a Navigator, he flew so well at Grading School, and went solo in a record time, that he had a letter of congratulations from Group. Yet after that he was made a Navigator, ah! well it is a funny system.
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[underlined] Wednesday July 18th [/underlined] [pages in wrong order]
The lady with whom I am billeted informed me upon my arrival that it would be unlikely I should be here more than 10 days, well, that has passed, so we are wondering how long we will be here, it won't be longer than 3 weeks I should say. 'Nob' is expecting to be classified Monday or so, I wonder what he will get. It is a weird way they appear to classify them, nobody knows how they do it. A fellow who got a pilot the other day was taken off the flying coarse after 5 hours & told he would never be able to fly. Still I wouldn't mind an Air Bomber, its [sic] a nice short course, & that's what attracts me at the moment. We may be classified at the same time as 'Nob' I hope so, might as well get it over with. There'll be some disappointments, I guess.
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There is a familiar cry at this place, "Stand Still!" Every time we are on parade someone screams that, an officer or an N.C.O. everyone of them love saying it. Parades are fairly lengthy here for after the roll calls etc. long lists of fellows are called out for various reasons. Then the N.C.O's in charge of the flights are called out at the double & their instructions issued regarding the day's programme. This place is apt to get rather deadly after awhile, life becomes too monotonous.
I hear they are opening a new N.A.A.F.I. for 2 squadron, this should ease the pressure on the other one. The complement of the station is growing for fellows are coming in & none being posted. The weather is lousy rain and more rain and one never sees a blue sky, oh! give me the Sunny South!
[underlined] Wednesday July 22nd [/underlined]
The Classification Parade was held on Monday, but our flight wasn't on it. 'Nob' Davies, was made an Air Bomber, he was pleased over that, Cooper a pilot, Brayshaw a Navigator, there were about 40% pilots, I should say a rather large total. I thought we should have been classified, well, maybe we will have our chance next week, if I get an Air Bomber I'll be happy.
We have been on Camp Co-operation lately, this is rather a farce. On a camp this size, & so short staffed, there are bags of work that has to be done by the cadets so different flights are detailed for these. They are varied these fatigues – beg pardon – if anyone should make the mistake of referring to them as fatigues, they can be placed on a charge. Anyway, we sweep clean, paint, build
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fences, tend vegetables, dig, and everything imaginable! Needless to say there is bags of skiving, (or slipping off) as its [sic] called. Salvage is the biggest dodge, practically all the cadets are on this after the Church Parade, Wednesday. The S.W.O. who is a decent little fellow, has 27 years service in, is pretty keen on salvage.
I am not feeling bitter or anything, when I express the sentiment that the Press should know the full details of Air-Crew Training, I am merely voicing the feelings of almost every cadet under training. For in practically every case one sees, keen enthusiasm, turn into a oh! – what the hell attitude, it is unavoidable. The Wing Comdr here, admits this but states this can't be helped, I don't think so, if it were all reorganised, by young brains we could really get somewhere This changing from station to station, being bound at by dumb N.C.O's
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I am pleased with myself though, if I can get a posting pretty soon, the course is only 12 - 14 weeks, & I shall be home on leave for Xmas as a sergeant. The stations we are posted to are Dumfries, Stourbridge, Isle of Man, & it is rumoured that there is a station opening at Reading, I would like to be posted there, its [sic] near enough to London. I am now in 'H' flight with a decent crowd of fellows, & a really smashing corporal, he's the opposite of the sergt [sic] we had, this one wangles us off everything, & gets plenty of opportunities for skiving. It was only a rumour we were having a 48, I didn't really credit it, for we had, had one the previous weekend. This certainly is a station for rumours, anything is believed here, postings, different methods of training, everything wildly buzzes around amongst the cadets. Now my next worry is when I shall be on a posting I guess, ah! well I shall remember my 19th birthday.
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[underlined] Saturday 1st August [/underlined]
Well, there is a posting of Air Bombers, but I am not on it, 'Nob' Davies is though. It was the first half of 'F' flight & as I am in H flight, we will have to wait awhile I guess. It is to Bobbington near Stourbridge I believe it is a pretty good station, they are due to leave tomorrow evening. So at last 'Nob' is on his way, 12 weeks & then he will have his tapes, [?] lucky guy.
We are definitely getting cheesed with this place, we can thank the Lord for having Oxenbury for a Cpl, he is about the best N.C.O. I've ever met. He gets us off different things & plays around, boy he sure takes a lot of the burden off us. I guess we'll stroll around this afternoon & have tea in John Lewis's cafeteria, that is quite a nice place, than finish off with a show. The cinemas are about the best choice for the
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dances are so crowded, we sometimes go to the dance in the Y.M.C.A. though. On our first Saturday here, we went to Belle Vue, I didn't think a lot of the fun fair, it was rather dear too. We went into the Speedway & enjoyed quite a good programme, we were going into the all-in wrestling after, but decided we didn't have time. What a job it was to get back, though, thousands of people dashing for the buses, huge queues everywhere. Phew! I thought we would never [one indecipherable word] but luckily we jumped on one & got back O.K.
They are having a regatta here on the lake, shortly, I don't mind watching as long as it isn't on our Saturday afternoon off, they can pull little tricks like that, all too easily. We have had Navigation again this week, we professed not to know the computer again, so the instructor went through that. Ah! well anything that averts work is a good thing.
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[underlined] Sunday 16th August [/underlined]
I haven't made an entry in this diary for a fortnight, owing to the fact, that there has been hardly anything to enter. Life has just slid along in the hum drum way it does at Manchester, without anything important happening. By every right we should have been on a 48 hour pass this [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] week end, [sic] it was our turn, but they jumped us heaven knows why, so two sergeants in our flight are going to have an interview with the C.O. about it. I hope we get it next weekend, heaven knows I need it, I feel I have been here for months.
This certainly is a meeting place for everyone, from all different times in ones life. I have already met Frank Young who was in my room at Hall Rd, he is a Navigator W/T, & will 'cake' the wireless, being [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] a wireless officer in the Merchant Navy, before he
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joined up. In my flight now is 'Bill' Bailey who was in my class at school, I never knew he had joined up, I had a great surprise, when I met him. Also another chap I have bumped into was Jimmy Twigson [?] who I worked with first of all, he is an Air Bomber, so far I haven't met any fellows from the office who joined up with me.
The regatta finally got cracking after it had been washed out once by a torrential downpour of rain, number 2 squadron won it. Last night we had a pretty good time, we generally get pretty tight in the Gaumont Long Bar, one of the few places that we can get Youngers at. I have had a letter from 'Nob' giving all the 'gen' on the course and it seems there is a fair amount of work more in fact than I thought. Still whatever it is the sooner we are on it the better.
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[underlined] Monday 24th Aug [/underlined]
Well, we had our 48 hour after all the week end just passed. The two sergeants had an interview with the C.O. & he expressed surprise that we had been missed, & agreed to grant one. We were lucky to get away a bit earlier than usual, and after a frantic struggle managed to catch the 2.15 p.m. from London Rd. What was more akin to a miracle was the fact that I acquired a seat, something very much out of the ordinary. I spent a most enjoyable week-end, & naturally finished up feeling pretty cheesed at having to return. Then followed the old scramble for the midnight train at Euston, with crowds of cadets everywhere. Then we would try to snatch some sleep during the journey & arrive in Manchester around five. The grey dawn would be breaking & there would be the lucky ones who were huddled up, waiting for an early train to take
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them into London on leave - how I envied them. Our eyes would be continually closing & we could hardly keep awake & then we would trudge to Victoria Stn. for the first train to Heaton Park. 48's sure are fun but hellishly short, & terrible to return from.
The past week we have had another corporal, helping Oxenbury, & what an object. He was in the band, & had two fingers in plaster maybe he caught them in his harp, & he had the queerest voice I have ever heard. Nobody could tell whether he was shouting Left or Right, or what, it was a perfect mess. He doesn't seem to be with us now thank the Lord. There are rumours circulating of an Air Bombers posting, but we have heard so many ones like this that we are inured to them now. I think I will go to the WAAF's dance at the Bowler [?] tonight, they are generally pretty good.
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[underlined] Saturday Aug 29th. [/underlined]
The rumours of a posting weren't rumours after all, we are actually going, but there is a lot of doubt & puzzlement in our minds. When they announced the place we were going to - Hastings, I nearly jumped for joy when I heard that, for I had never dared to hope I would be so near London. Then we found out that all the Air Bombers, 400 of them were going, which seemed rather strange, & now the news has gone circulating round, that this place isn't anything more than another Manchester - we just have to await a posting from there. I'll leave this entry awhile & finish it tonight, something may have turned up by then.
It is now night & our fears have been realised, the Wing Comdr. in his address to us, told us Hastings was another pool from where we would be posted. Still it is nearer
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to London, & I might be able to get home, it does seem silly to have a station so near to Jerry I think. We are leaving tonight, there will be a glorious beer [?] up before we leave I guess.
This afternoon there were the Inter-Squadron Sports, & although it was Saturday afternoon no-one was allowed to leave the camp, everyone had to watch it. Even us who were leaving that night, weren't allowed out for our last few hours, it doesn't seem much, when one mentions it, but believe me, when one experiences how you can be pushed & pulled around well it isn't so hot.
I think I'll trot out with "Bud" Flanagan tonight, on a pub-crawl, & drawn my sorrows. We have to report back at 9 p.m. for a check & supper & then after the usual delay, I guess we will be on our way. So it finally is goodbye to Manchester, I seem to have been here ages, ah! well, it wasn't so bad after all.
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[underlined] Wednesday 2nd Sept. [/underlined]
Here I am down in the sunny South again, & it certainly is a change to see a lovely blue sky again after Manchester. Yet what wouldn't I give to be back there I never realised how easy it really was. Still theres [sic] no time to cry over spilt milk and I'd better recount what happened when we left.
As I guessed we all went out and became gloriously tight, & rolled back into Heaton Park for the final checks. What a shambles – they first tried to call the roll in the dark - heaven knows why. Trying to do that with 400 fellows at least 300 of them well under the weather, was just asking for trouble. About twenty voices would answer for each name called out, as nobody knew who was present & who was not. Then some fellows began throwing pieces of earth at the officer holding the flashlight, gee! it was a fiasco.
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Then, finally it penetrated the official mind, that, it would be a lot easier if they went into the mess hall where it was light - so in we went. Here they got through a roll call of a sort, & as time was passing they decided we had better have supper. This was easily the best meal I have had at Manchester & one of the best in the R.A.F. It was fried egg, or was it eggs I wasn't sober enough to remember, & a lovely golden brown potato ball, it went down well I know. They finally moved us off then, & we were passed through the door one at a time, between two officers so they were able to get a proper idea of who was missing at last. 'Taffy' Evans was there tight to the eyebrows & screaming himself with laughter at another fellow who had a few flowers stuck in his great pack. All the time Taffy, unknowingly, had a terrific bunch of them, sprouting all over his pack & webbing! When he passed the officers, one reached out despairingly to stop
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him, but as if he said "oh! whats [sic] the hell", let him go.
We marched to the gate, laughing and singing, & there came to a halt, we waited half an hour & moved across into the station. The train arrived after a little while and we all dived in with the usual scramble for seats. I got settled with the three Scotties, Bob, Bill, & Jock, & tried to snatch some sleep. Our carriage had the windows hermetically sealed, & believe me, they put a good few men on troop trains, fellows sleeping on the floor & everywhere, phew! it was hot. Being a troop train it was going right through with no changes, a blessing. I awoke early next morning cramped & thirsty & attacked my meagre rations, some of which where bad. I had the devil of a shock when some while later we pulled into Willesden Junction, I thought we had crossed the Thames long ago. It was heart breaking to pass right through London & across Chelsea Bridge, so near & yet so far to home, but not a chance of reaching there.
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We picked up speed when we were clear of London, & were soon rushing through Tunbridge & on & on till we finally arrived at St. Leonards.
Our worst fears were realised when we saw our reception party, all the N.C.O's had smart uniforms, terrific creases, dazzling boots & buttons & worst of all brilliant white blancoed [sic] belts. It certainly was a home of bull we judged - & we were right. They fell us into line & away we went, with them constantly whipping up our step, I thought bitterly it won't be long before they have broken us in. After a tidy march we reached our quarters, Marine Court, a magnificent huge modern block of flats. What a target for Jerry I thought, about 12 floors of huge glittering white stone & glass. The usual settling in process followed, bedding, rooms, wash, eat, 'gen' chats by different officers & the C.O. details of parades, all the old routine, then time to ourselves. One's first job on such occasions is always to dash off letters with the new address to all & sundry. Being late, & myself being tired I'll close this until the next entry.
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[underlined] Sunday Sept 6th. [/underlined]
To continue with the life of this station, the C.O. seemed very gruff & hellish bad tempered at times, but he was alright if everything went right. A Flight Lieut Observer there, everyone hated the sight of, a supercilious cocky guy, a last war Obs. incidentally with Gen Service & Victory Medals up. Our squadron C.O. seemed one of the biggest baa-lambs under the sun a hell of a binder. I think everyone retired with some misgivings on Sunday night as to what the morrow would bring. Our rooms were lovely, I was in one on the 7th floor with three other fellows, the room had French windows opening onto a balcony overlooking the front & the rear, the balconies were out of bounds.
Reveille was at 6.15 a.m. and up we scrambled, & came down five floors to the dining hall. The food here was terrible & very little of it, there were scores of complaints that day, but very little action. We waited for awhile [sic] before we were served, here they have a ticket punching
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idea, that ensures nobody goes around twice for a meal, I can't imagine anyone that would. After breakfast we scrambled [?] beds, & then followed a rush of bulling brasses sweeping the room, & making bed packs, & then we dashed down in time for the parade at 8 a.m. This was held in a tiny street at the rear of Marine Court. After a helluva lot of 'attentions' & Stand at Ease', there came the familiar "For Inspection Open Order March", & then we came under fire. I have been on many inspections but never one like that, the A Sqdn C.O. P/O Stuttaford, was meticulous to the point of ridiculousness, ever such tiny faults were magnified into major offences, it was terribly cheesing. At last it was over & after the usual 'guff' about making ourselves 'lots smarter', the days [sic] programme commenced.
We were soon to become familiar with the curriculum, first we marched to the streets around Warren Sq for 2 hours drill. Foot drill after our I.T.W was long passed go it was binding, then we were marched back & given a quarter of an
[page break]
hours [sic] break, during which it was impossible to get ones nose in the N.A.A.F.I. & we weren't allowed out to any cafe's. Right after this we paraded in P.T. kit & ran about 2 miles to White Rock Park, where we had 2 hours P.T. & then ran back again. Dinner followed that, then the whole afternoon was devoted to a route march. It was hellishly long & I know it crippled a lot of the older N.C.O's the F/Sgt didn't show his nose in any again. This programme was adhered to rigidly every day of this week. In the end we began to wonder if we were on a Commando Course or what the hell. The bull was continued all the [one indecipherable word], the usual stuff of rooms being scrubbed with trimmings like polishing the brass on the window frames & black polishing gum boots. Our food has improved slightly but not a lot.
Yesterday we went to a local cinema for a 'gen' chat by a Flt/Lt. Observer, just off 'ops' who is taking a hand with a course they are organising. It seems to me rather a farce being mainly
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I.T.W subjects & hardly anything we will get on our course, we are too cheesed off to worry now though. There is leave as the C.O. graciously calls it one 36 hour pass once a month, & this is stopped at any time if there is any little thing wrong with the rooms. The laundry is a decent one here thank the Lord, but the system of giving out mail is chronic, instead of giving it out to each flight N.C.O. 'Chiefy' or F/Sgt Tate shouts it out for the whole squadron, bloody poor system.
He is one of the biggest binders I have met, & thats [sic] saying something here. On inspections in the morning, what with him, Stuttaford & half a dozen others screaming 'Stand Still', 'Take his Name', I realise what the Guards go through. One hardly expects it in Air Crew though. To make up for the lack of food in the barracks we eat a lot in the cafes, there seems to be plenty of food in town, luckily there are bags of fruit too. Gee! but I guess we will all heave a sigh of relief the day we leave here.
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[underlined] Thursday 10th Sept. [/underlined]
This certainly is a lot quieter than Manchester, when we drill in the streets it sends a shiver down my spine at times; They are all deserted & nearly all the large boarding houses empty & boarded up with broken windows paint peeling off, & cracked walls, it is a ghost town in some parts. Around London Rd there is plenty of life, though, & also in Hastings itself. Most evenings we spend in cinemas, the films are very old at times, but the seats are good, & at cheap prices too.
Our routine is the same this week as it was last, but I am feeling lovely & fit now. With bright sunshine most of the time & the sea air it is a lovely change. On Sunday I dragged my 'biscuits' [?] & pillow out onto the balcony & lay there sunbathing all day. Strangely enough most of us like the route marches now. Admitted Sgt. James (one of the best) generally takes them & we march 3 miles & then lay down in a
[page break]
field & sunbathe.
I now have a 'distinguished' post, I am 'A' Squadron's Messing Representative, and it was marvellous the way I was given the position. After returning from a route march one day, we were dismissed & I happened to be standing around with my hands on my pockets. 'Chiefy' Tate pounced on me immediately, "Name & Number?" he said, getting out his note-book, I argued thinking I was on a charge, but he took my name, & then said, "For having your hands in your pockets, you are A Squadrons messing representative", ho! ho! such is service life eh!
I think I shall put in for a pass this week end, for I'm getting a little cheesed & the way things go on this station one never knows when they will be cancelled. This certainly is the place for alerts, there's a warning every hour, but hardly any action at all. I'm expecting a real 'do' one of these nights. I hope it isn't tonight anyway for I feel really tired and want a good nights [sic] sleep.
[page break]
[underlined] Monday 14th Sept. [/underlined]
This is a fine bloody station I am now on "jankers", and this is how it happened. I got my week end pass after a bit of humming & hawing, & spending the Saturday morning on rifle drill. I caught the train O.K. & got home about 5.30, after a meal & a wash & brush up I went over for Mary. We had a swell weekend, well I say weekend it was only a day really, too short. However I caught the train from Victoria O.K. & although I had to stand all down I didn't mind it was a nice trip. All the cadets poured into Marine Court & handed in their passes & then so to bed. I got into my room and put on the light to get into bed, when in walked an S.P. & [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] took my 1250 for having the lights on after lights out. Holy Mackerel! "Lights Out" was at 10.45 p.m & this was just gone 11 p.m. & not allowed a light for a few minutes to get into bed. This is an example of red tape carried out to the maximum. Anyway we were marched before P/O Stuttaford
[page break]
& after him having his little bind, he awarded us 4 days – 4 days hell! in this place it equals 7 days on any other station just for a little offence like that – anyway today I started.
Its [sic] wonderful what scam they get for S.P's the sgt. in charge of the jankers parade screamed and bawled as if we were the most hardened criminals, oh! its [sic] not worth describing it. He gave me an ultimatum to get my hair cut tomorrow or else – . We worked for two hours from 6 - 8 p.m. cleaning lavatories – oh! to be in air crew. The parades each day are at 7 a.m. (that means early rising) 1 p.m. to make sure we can't get out in the dinner - time. Then 6 p.m. when we work till 8 p.m. parade again at 9 p.m. & at 10 p.m. Ah! well the first day is nearly over anyway. I hear that C Squadron when charged with the same offence were only awarded 2 days, there will be a do about this, the sooner we are off jankers the better.
[page break]
[underlined] Wednesday 16th Sept. [/underlined]
My jankers have finished, so short & sweet they were too. As I [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] prophesied there was a moan over C Squadron only getting 2 days & us 4, & it had its results this morning. We were on drill in Warrior Sq when old Stuttaford came round & called us out. In a big hearted tone he told us that owing to our rooms being very clean (he'd moaned about them the day before) he would let us off the last 2 days jankers. Quite an amusing effort on his part to save his face. Still we didn't bother to query the if's & buts we were off and that's all that mattered.
I nearly dropped in for it again this afternoon though – in fact I'm not sure whether I have or haven't. Being Wednesday afternoon I went to the Messing meeting and made the usual complaints over the food, which has improved considerably but is still fairly bad. After this I found everyone was down in the garage
[page break]
on Armaments, not feeling like this, I went up to my room & dropped my biscuits & pillow out on to the balcony & lay out there reading a pile of Daily Mirrors.
I heard footsteps in the building but took no notice of them, happening to look up I saw Stuttaford gazing, horrified at me. Boy! I thought here's where I really get it, opening the door he screamed "Come in here", there followed quite a scene, & finished by him shouting for Sgt. Tasker [?] to take my name & no. Tasker [?] was decent & he may do something for me, I hope so anyway.
Think I'll go to the cinema with Bob & Bill, "They Died with their Boots On" is in Hastings. This course or farce of a course is getting pretty binding, I'll be glad when its [sic] over I know the Sten Gun inside out. The Sgt. Pilots & Observers who take us are as cheesed as we are, so its [sic] a fine state of affairs
[page break]
[underlined] Monday 21st Sept. [/underlined]
Events moved fairly quietly up to the weekend, I was never charged for being on the balcony, so I guess old Tasker was able to get it "washed" [?] he's a decent old stick. I felt sorry for Taffy he had a pass for the week end & had arranged with his girl, for her to travel from Birmingham to London & he would meet her there. Then on Wednesday Stuttaford came round in an even worse temper than usual, and swore his mug (that is displayed on the bed lay out) was dirty. It wasn't much good arguing with him, Taffy was awarded 3 days 'jankers', Thursday, Friday, & Saturday. So he lost his weekend pass as well, & had to wire his girl, cancelling the arrangements – all that just for a drinking mug – reputed to be dirty, its [sic] funny what swines there are in the world. I'm gonna fight like hell for a pass on Oct 16th as Don and Betty are being married & I must be there.
[page break]
This morning what I had been expecting to happen did, it was like this:- The morning was devoted to a swimming parade in White Rock Baths, an event which was appreciated by all, even though we did have to pay 6d each to get in. We paraded promptly about 8.45 a.m. in the little street at the rear of Marine Court & away we marched. As usual we marched through the streets of the town & then out onto the promenade by Warrior Sq. Hardly had we marched onto the prom, when there was a roar of aero engines, which made us look out to sea hastily. There was a low lying mist which suddenly parted & two F.W. 190's flying about 20 ft above the water rushed in. Luckily they were between us & Marine Court, consequently being unable to fire upon us without altering course. Before we had time to move at all they lifted off the water & each released, the 500 Kgm bomb, they had slung underneath, at
[page break]
Marine Court.
There was a minor explosion as one entered, but being on D.A. we took advantage of the delay to dive for cover, then with a roar it exploded. The other missed the building & exploded in the small park behind. Everything had happened so swiftly & with such surprise that not a shot was fired at the raiders. We continued on to the Baths, but all agog to get back & see what had happened. As we turned onto the gradient next to Marine Court, we observed that the 7th, 8th, & 9th floors, above the dining hall were blown in & quite an amount of damage done to the 10th, quite a lot of damage for one bomb, but it wasn't a very solid place, more for show in summer time. I must record here, our true feelings when we saw the damage, onlookers standing around apparently expected us to burst into tears, but if they had, had the time we did there I daresay they would have acted the same.
[page break]
We cheered, & meant it, and cries of "Bullsh– Mansion Gone at Last", & Critchleys Palace Destroyed", (Critchley was reputed to have shares in every place we were billeted) greeted the night. One dear old soul gazing at us, & apparently hard of hearing for she couldn't have heard our remarks, said loudly "Ah! the 'boys' will get their own back for this", needless to say the 'boys' received this with obvious merriment. Bob, Bill, & myself had dinner in a cafe we weren't intending to hang around for hours, upon returning we were told to go down to the car park in the basement. Here lots of salvaged equipment was heaped & we settled down. Each floor was ordered upstairs in turn to clean their rooms or what was left of their rooms. At last came the 7th & up we trooped, [?] glad at last to get a look at what was going on.
Some boys on the salvage party were having a fine time slinging stuff around. Our room wasn't damaged except for a few cracks & the door
[page break]
blown in. We staggered up & down to the basement (9 floors in all) carrying kit bags & bedding, until we were cheesed & skived off for a rest. Leaning on the balcony of the 11th we watched the demolition party at work. The street below that we had paraded in 15 mins before Jerrie's arrival, was covered with large [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] blocks of stone & debris, so I'm glad they insisted on punctuality there. Anyway the demolition party were throwing pieces of stone etc. onto the pile and amusing themselves & the onlookers by aiming them at a lamp standard underneath, & in this way succeeded in completely ruining it.
About 5 p.m. we were told to parade on the prom, & were then marched past Warrior Sq about 110 yds. to the Eversfield Hotel which was our new quarters. It was a dark & dingy place, and we didn't like it as much as Marine Court, but Taffy & I got a room to ourselves, with our own wash bowl, quite lucky. Naturally our first action was tea, then unpack & well here I am
[page break]
[underlined] Friday 25th Sept. [/underlined]
I am writing this amidst constantly changing surroundings – on a train. You see, we settled down to normal work again on Tuesday lessons in the Victoria Hotel once more, & apart from numerous clothing parades for those who had to be re-kitted, & wangling of kit by a good few more everything went on the same. The C.O. came & shot an awful line about the bombing happening, because a few had disregarded orders & gone out on the balconies when a reconnaissance plane had come over at 25,000 ft a couple of days previous. He apparently overlooked the fact, that on the day of our arrival he himself had told us the Hun would know we had arrived. Even if this was so, he greatly under rated the German Secret Service (particularly active in Hastings), & also I would have liked to have met the fellow who could see a human being from 25,000 ft. Well everything was O.K until yesterday & I went to a messing committee meeting at Marine Court & had hardly returned to Eversfield when with a roar, 11 F.W's or ME 109's roared past the window about 30 fit off the deck. A few
[page break]
seconds later came the clump of exploding bombs, getting nearer, I ducked & waited. Nothing happened, so I looked out of the windows again, the raiders were already well out to sea, & three others who had been circling round in the sun ready to take a hand if any of our boys came along joined them.
About 11 bombs had been dropped, three up on the hill leading to the sports field one on a blind home, two by the Victoria Hotel, and three in Warrior Sq, where I had been a minute before. A single V.G.O. was mounted at each end of Marine Court, & one fellow got off a good few rounds at them – a good show. Unfortunately not like the Monday, when nobody was injured there were a fair few civilian deaths & casualties, also our boys didn't escape. They had been marching back from football, when they were spotted, a F.W dived & let his bomb go on the houses nearby & two others side slipped to roof top height & opened with cannon & machine gun. I think about 6 chaps were killed & 30 injured, it was a swine being unable to strike back.
[page break]
'Nobby' Clark appeared in the mess last night & said he had contacted the A.M. & we would leave Hastings as soon as possible. He was right too, they woke us up at 3 a.m. this morning & we packed, hung around & had breakfast & then left at 6.30 a.m. It was a 4 mile walk to the station – to carry 2 loaded kit bags it was impossible, I carried them for a bit, then dragged one, & finally sat down by the road with some others, really worn out. P/O Stuttaford came along carrying a suitcase (he had sent 6 fellows down to the station with his stuff) and shouted at us like pigs to get moving, my blood boils when I think of it. We struggled on for a bit, & then rested again - he screamed at us again then a Sgt took pity & said he'd take charge of us, & we hopped on a bus. We got in the troop train, I think there were about three and at 8 am. we moved off, our destination is secret, [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] but everyone knows it is Harrogate. It broke my heart to travel through old London, & not be able to get out. We stopped for a 1/4 hour about 2 miles from Mary's place, we expect to arrive in Harrogate about 5 p.m.
[page break]
[underlined] Tuesday Sept 29th [/underlined]
I certainly get around I'm writing this at Manchester & am on a draft at last. We were billeted in the Grand Hotel at Harrogate, & received us so well that after 13 hours on 2 sandwiches & an apple, they gave us two slices of bread, no butter, & a few pieces of cheese – a fine supper. People hear of the glory of the R.A.F. its [sic] a pity they don't hear how they train aircrew. I was put on a draft right away with 18 others, & we spent Saturday getting kitted out & wasting time. I am glad I shan't be staying in this hotel, it used to be a WAAF's billets. [sic] There is plenty of 'bull' here, polished floors & everything, lights put out with a master switch & everything. Saturday afternoon we looked round the town, it wasn't a bad place, high prices & queues & everybody endeavouring to forget the war, but bags of women, there being all the Civil Service, a WAAF & AT.S training place. I saw a girl I worked with before she was evacuated to Harrogate but didn't speak to her. We saw Abbott & Costello in " Rio Rita" in the evening.
[page break]
Next morning away we marched to the station, "Nobby" gave us a farewell talk, & W/O Roberts bound to the last, "Chiefy" Tate unbound a little but I doubt if the meant it. The journey to Heaton Park didn't take long and we arrived here Sunday afternoon & passed through the old familiar gates, we had a good meal upon arrival. As our so called embarkation leave was 3 months previous we were entitled to another 7 days & naturally expected to hear something about it. On Monday though we were paraded & marched straight off to camp co-operation. My God! nobody knew anything about us, the C.O apparently didn't want to see us, we could get no 'gen' from anyone, here we were on the point of going overseas & being denied a chance of saying cheerio to our people. Its [sic] funny how they can bugger you around when they fancy to. When we were entitled to leave & to be put on fatigues & told nothing that was too thick, its [sic] funny how C.O's appear devoid of human feelings. Well, we will just have to wait hear [sic] eating our hearts out.
[page break]
[underlined] Wednesday 7th Oct. [/underlined]
I am writing this aboard the Queen Mary now under the name of HMT 02. we came on board this morning. No leave was granted to us at all at Manchester, we hung around all that time & could have had 7 days leave easily. Nothing was done until the last two days, we did fatigues all the time. Pat Kinsella had an interview with the C.O regarding leave, but was told it wasn't definite how long we would be at Manchester, how delightfully vague, still I guess there is no good crying over spilt milk.
We were allowed out into town for the last afternoon and had to report back fairly early. There followed the same old roll calls and a fine supper, just the same as when we went to Hastings. We entrained just after midnight, at Heaton Park, & being a troop train it was crammed as usual with little ventilation. We travelled through the night & arrived at our port at 8.30 am.
[page break]
Our port of embarkation was Greenock & we stood by on a tender for a couple of hours, engrossed in the busy scene on the Clyde. Every variety of naval craft, destroyers, corvettes, transports, cruisers, an aircraft carrier, & scores of landing craft dodging about, truly a busy scene. At last we moved out to our transport which we could see was a large one, & by hookey! it was a size when we got alongside. We passed in through a door way down in her side, & were given a berth number. In each cabin, they used to be single or double I should imagine are 12-15 bunks, pretty crowded, its [sic] a lovely ship though. The dining hall is colossal, one can't imagine they are afloat, we shall have that fact borne upon us, after tonight I guess as we sail then.
I'll close this now & on my next entry we will be a 1,000 miles away from land. This closes this book, and my next one will be about our trip and my experiences over in Canada.
[page break]
CONCLUDING BOOK 2 AND FINISHING MY GROUND TRAINING IN ENGLAND.
[page break]
[Faint handwritten dates on outside of back cover]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Book 2, Commencing my Flying Training and my Adventures up till the time of Leaving England
Description
An account of the resource
Second of David Geach's diaries, describing his training for aircrew at Kingstown, Heaton Park, Hastings and Harrogate until his embarkation to Canada on the Queen Mary. Covers the period from 20 June 1942 to 7 October 1942.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
David Geach
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One handwritten diary
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Diary
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
YGeachDG1394781v3
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Carlisle
Scotland--Perth
England--Manchester
Scotland--Dumfries
England--Stourbridge
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Isle of Man
England--Reading
England--London
England--Hastings
England--Harrogate
Scotland--Greenock
Canada
Scotland--St. Andrews
England--St. Leonards (East Sussex)
England--Berkshire
England--Sussex
England--Worcestershire
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
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1942-06
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
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Joy Reynard
David Bloomfield
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
entertainment
Fw 190
gremlin
ground personnel
Me 109
mess
military living conditions
military service conditions
navigator
Navy, Army and Air Force Institute
Nissen hut
observer
pilot
RAF Heaton Park
sport
training
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/253/18670/PFellowesD1501.1.jpg
e88ffe00536dab58919683f9b4889b66
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/253/18670/AFellowesD160830.1.mp3
dd47a976b8ab40995415cad343d49553
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
Fellowes, David
David Fellowes
Dave Fellowes
D Fellowes
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items. Two oral history interviews with Flight Sergeant David "Dave" Fellowes (Royal Air Force), documents and a photograph. He flew operations as a rear gunner with 460 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by David Fellowes 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
2014-11-25
2015-04-06
2016-08-08
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
Fellowes, D
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AP: Ok.
DF: Why did I join the Royal Air Force? Well, we’ve got to go back in time. As a young lad my interest, or one of my main interests was in fact aeroplanes, my father was an engineer and he and I used to build model aeroplanes and fly them in the local fields. So I had this interest in aeroplanes, later I got, I had a bicycle, and when I had a bicycle I was able to ride out to various airfields, places like Brooklands, White Waltham, Cobham and see aeroplanes take off and land and I used to be this happy, happy little boy, well later on as I grew older the ATC was formed and I thought to myself, this is for me, so I joined the Air Training Corps and whilst I was in the Air Training Corps I did pass the air crew certificate of training and when I was seventeen I nipped up to the recruiting office and volunteered for the Royal Air Force. After a very short space of time I was sent off to a centre where I was given various tests and I was passed out as on a PNB course, they said, go home, oh and they gave me a VR badge and a number and that was it, I went home until the time I got called up.
AP: Right, so, when you were called up, can you go through the next bit?
DF: After having been called up I had this railway warrant, to send me to London to report to Lord’s Cricket Ground or somewhere very similar, to ACRC that’s the Air Crew Receiving Centre which were in fact large blocks of flats in the St John Wood area and also of course quite adjacent to London Zoo and it was here that we first got kitted out into uniform and one of the things I can remember about this uniform being kitted out, we went to Lords and we got our greatcoats and we were all standing in a long line with our greatcoats on and a corporal with a yardstick came along the back to make sure that every greatcoat was the same, bottom of the greatcoat was the same distance from the ground, this caused a little bit of a laugh really among some of us but anyhow we did it and then from there of course whilst we were at ACRC so we did various tests, night vision tests, various medical little tests to make sure that we were fit for aircrew.
AP: How about the next bit when you went to Crewe Station, how you managed to get into the RR, RAAF, Australian side?
DF: After I had passed out I was on, first of all let me go back, I was posted to an ITW down in Newquay and it was here that we did all our basic ground training for pilot, navigator, bomb aimer training, things like meteorology, how an aeroplane flies, everything appertaining to the Royal Air Force and aircrew. We learnt the Morse code, but not very well I might say. After ITW you passed out, you were sent then to a grading school and I went to number 15 flying Tiger Moths up at Longtown and it was there that I passed out and I went to Heaton Park outside Manchester, it was winter time, it was a horrible place, it was full horrible corporals, and we did nothing, there was a hold up on convoys going across the Atlantic or down to South Africa and whilst I was there a notice went up on a board and said, you can be an air gunner in four weeks or something like that, and I thought, that’s for me, if I want to get into this war, that’s what I’ll do so I did. I went to the orderly room, remustered and then I got sent down to number one AGS and it was here that I passed out and after passing out, sent home on leave, there I was, a sprog sergeant air gunner and I had a posting then down to 30 OTU at Hixon in Staffordshire. One of the places where we had to change trains was Crewe, to go then, go into Stafford, put on the train and in tumbled three Australian flight sergeant pilots, we got talking as one would and I said to one, whereabouts do you come from in Australia? And he said Sydney. I said, oh, I said, that’s a bit of a coincidence, but I have an aunt and uncle in Sydney they went out after the First World War, they have a sport shop. So he said, well, whereabouts do you know? I said, yes, they live in the district called Marrickville and the road is called Illawarra Road. Mh, he said, this is good, he said, what’s the name of your aunt? So I said, Mrs. Ivy Evans. Mh, he said, you wouldn’t like this, he says, my mother’s a chapel friend. So we had something in common, so he said to me, would I fly with him? And I said, yes, no problem, so there we were in a 30 OTU at Hixon, I was in his crew, the first one, then we set about looking for somebody else, we picked up an Australian wireless operator, Jack Wilson. We also picked up our bomb aimer, he was a Scot, from Glasgow, he was an apprentice telephone engineer, he was a handy lad cause they had a method of back dialling so we got cheap telephone calls, which was pretty good and our navigator, we looked for a studious looking lad, he was, he had a blonde hair, bushy eyebrows and he was a damn good trombone player, which was something else that we had in the crew. Then we found another gunner, after OTU, well, OTU lasted in two sections, first of all there is ground school and daytime flying, you go on leave for a week, come back and then we did night flying and more ground school. We did get into a bit of trouble there, I don’t think we were the best behaved crew, I know the worst case was our wireless operator, we were sitting in the Wellington waiting to take off and he was fooling around with his radio and he managed to pick up Glenn Miller playing In the Mood and of course he put it through to all our crew stations so we could hear it but alas also the authorities picked it up and oh well, we was in trouble for that but we got over it. And then from there we were posted up to 1656 I think it was, Heavy Conversion Unit on Halifaxes and there we converted onto Halifaxes and then from Halifaxes the skipper was told he was going to go onto Lancasters, so we did a three day course, I think it was the same place, could have been Finningley on the Lanc finishing and it was there that our skipper said, you boys had you like to come to an Australian squadron? And we all said, oh yes, that’s a good idea, why not? And so we were fortunate and we got posted to 460 Squadron at Binbrook. Now this was good because Binbrook was a pre-war station and had married quarters, all lying empty because you weren’t allowed to have your wives or families with you, so each crew was allocated a married quarter and ours was number 13, well, we weren’t superstitious so we settled in, you got a coal and coke ration, you went to the mess for your meals and otherwise you were just left to your own desert. The normal procedure when one joined a squadron was in fact that first of all the crew would be allocated to a flight, in our case we went to B Flight, Bob Henderson was the Flight Commander, he was a very nice chap, he then sent us on a, a nav-ex I suppose you could call it, we went on a long training trip, when we came back, what normally happened would be the captain, your skipper would go with a qualified crew on his Op to see what it was all about, but that didn’t happen to us, the Station Commander was a gentleman by the name of Group Captain Hughie Edwards VC DSO DFC and quite a character, and he turned round and said, oh, take Whitmarsh and his crew on their first trip on block, well, he did, the trip in fact that day was to Freiburg, down in South West, yes, South West Germany and away we went, it was very good, he was very good, he just called us by our Christian names and away we went, and we got just past the bombline, this was in 1944, and we were passing over an American sector, apparently, when all of a sudden we got hit by flak from the Americans, well somehow in those days there wasn’t such a very good feeling between the Americans and the Australians and also it upset us Brits too at the time [laughs], anyhow he did talk about dropping a bomb on them, keep them quiet but he didn’t. On we went to Freiburg but were warned that of course when we got there, you’d most likely do his usual trick, go down and have a look to see how main force were getting on. This he did and then of course, after he’d done what he wanted to do, we climbed back up and flew home. And that was my first introduction to operations. On 460 Squadron after you had kind of settled down, proved that you were up to the work and up to the job and you’ve done about five or six ops, you were given your own aeroplane. In our case our aeroplane was O-Oboe. Now the crew that flew Oboe previously came to see us off and we took it over on our first op in Oboe, when we got out there of course one of the things we were introduced to was the ground staff of which there were four, there was an Australian sergeant, he had lovely black, curly hair, he looked more like an Australian gypsy than anything else but he was in charge of the aeroplane, we also had an armourer, engine fitters and airframe fitter, now those boys were always there before we took off, they were always there when we got back and we were part of the team. They used to call themselves the dayshift, we called ourselves if you like the nightshift and it worked very well and of course the sergeant we used to see in the mess, no problem at all but the others, airmen, we used to take out, oh, every ten days or so, we used to take them down to the village pub and have a few beers together, we were part of a team.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with David Fellowes. Two
Description
An account of the resource
David Fellowes tells of how he used to build model airplanes and fly them in the fields when he was a boy. The son of an engineer, he first joined the Air Training Corps and then volunteered for the Royal Air Force at the age of 17. Describes his training at various stations and converting onto Halifaxes at 1656 Heavy Conversion Unit and then onto Lancasters. Remembers being posted to 460 Squadron at RAF Binbrook, from where he flew his first operation as an air gunner, when they were targeted by friendly fire on their way to Freiburg. Emphasizes the sense of comradeship arisen between the air crew and the ground crew.
Creator
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Andrew Panton
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-08-30
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AFellowesD160830, PFellowesD1501
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Australian Air Force
Contributor
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Peter Schulze
Spatial Coverage
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Germany
Great Britain
England--Cumbria
England--Lincolnshire
England--London
England--Manchester
England--Staffordshire
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Freiburg im Breisgau
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
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1944
Format
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00:13:55 audio recording
1656 HCU
30 OTU
460 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bombing
crewing up
ground crew
ground personnel
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
military ethos
military service conditions
Operational Training Unit
RAF Binbrook
RAF Finningley
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Hixon
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1258/17167/PBarronAJK1901.1.jpg
f6b3bac684a11f7127d93f5570e15270
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1258/17167/ABarronAJK190408.1.mp3
c98cabad42ac3ab3f8456bba3c8cb148
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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Barron, Andrew
Andrew James Kelton Barron
A J K Barron
Description
An account of the resource
Three oral history interviews with Flight Lieutenant Andrew Barron (1923 - 2021, 163695 Royal Air Force) He flew 38 operations as a navigator in 223 Squadron at RAF Oulton flying B-24s.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-05-10
2018-04-19
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Barron, AJK
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
NM: So, my name is Nigel Moore, it’s Monday the 8th of April and I am with Andrew Barron, in his house and he’s going to talk to me about his time in 223 Squadron as a navigator. So Andrew, can you start by telling me about your childhood and growing up? Where did you, where were you born and go to school?
AB: Well, yes, I was born in Chichester, I mean that’s a matter of fact, but my father was, as far as I know, he was a civil servant at the time. He’d fought in the First World War, he’d, he was born in 1893 and so at the outbreak of the First World War he was about eighteen or nineteen and I think he was in the Territorials then, and anyway he fought there, he was sent to Mesopotamia and we never talked about that, you know. I don’t think veterans of the First World War did talk about their experiences any really, much more than veterans of the Second World War: I think it’s taken the interest of our grandchildren really to spark off interest, you know. They’ve started taking an interest. Michael my son in law took us on a jaunt to the Western Front about twenty years ago and I was surprised at the number of young people, teenagers and early twenties and I think this is what has sparked our interest. As far as I am concerned, I’d been a student at the City and Guilds Engineering College in 1941 ‘42 when I joined up and prior to that I’d had an interesting career. My maternal grandfather had been in the Royal Navy, he’d been an engineer officer and I’ve often wondered since if his rather smart uniform and everything inspired my mother to push me into a naval career because when I was thirteen, thirteen and a half I was enrolled in the Royal Naval College, Dartmouth to become a naval officer. I had quite a, quite a pleasant time there really. We were, I’d, my father had been posted up to Wolverhampton in the early 1920s, I was born in 1923, I was about, I think about two years old when the family moved to Wolverhampton and I was essentially brought up in Wolverhampton and without realising it, I acquired a bit of a Midland twang, in fact enough that we were formed in to, we were, at Dartmouth, we were formed into tutorships, three of us would be assigned to a tutor for our education, such as it was, and my, one of my co-cadets, Charlie Badcock put the nickname on me of “Oiky Barron” [laugh] cause he had, he had picked up this twang. Obviously my parents either weren’t aware of it or didn’t assign any significance to it because, or I’m sure they would have done something about it. I often wonder whether it had any bearing upon my future career. Anyway, I spent three, three and a half years at Dartmouth and I got involved in some silly escapade. Somebody decided to pinch a rifle from the cadets’ armoury at Dartmouth and I happened to know a bit more about the, the makeup of the British standard military weapon at the time, the short magazine Lee Enfield, and they wanted these one or two guns that they’d pinched, they wanted them stripped down I think, so that they could hide them away more easily. Well Muggins knew a bit more about the rifle than any of the rest of them, so it fell upon me, and the result was of course it was very rapidly discovered and the miscreants must have, must have blabbed the name of their collaborators because I was up before the Commanding Officer in no time at all and the result of that was that in the spring of 1940 the Admiralty informed my parents that they didn’t think I was suitable material for a naval officer and so I was ejected. And this again was a subject which was never discussed at home. The war was on for one thing and my mother and young brother who was about three years old at the time, were evacuated to Wales where we rented a farmhouse for the holidays and so it was, it wasn’t a no subject, but if my mother had been on the spot she would no doubt would have probed my frailties, but she wasn’t, so she never did and father was, of course, commuting up to London. We lived in, we moved to Dulwich by the way just before the war and so nobody made any enquiries. My father just went to work and the first thing he did was to put me in to a crammers establishment in Holborn, the University Tutorial College in Red Lion Square, which just off Holborn to get my matriculation so that I could get into university and that duly happened and in the autumn of 1940 I was enrolled in the City and Guilds Engineering College to get a degree in Mechanical Engineering. I don’t know what I’d have done with it when I’d got it, but again the war was on so nobody knew what anybody was going to do with anything, in fact. And when I got to the City and Guilds I discovered that the University Air Squadron was still a going concern although they no longer did any flying training, they, if you joined the university air squadron at, in London you joined the air force as a u/t pilot, which I did in November 1941 and that had two advantages. One was that I acquired the airman’s number of 1398741 and having a 1 3 number had some advantages in the following few months and we did the ITW – the Initial Training Wing – which was the square bashing and all that sort of thing and so come the summer of 1942, by which time I had twice failed the, what was it, the not the, it was the, oh god I’ve forgotten what the examination was called, but it was the intermediate BSE. I suppose it was the equivalent of the higher, the higher matriculation, anyway it was the entry exam for the university and I failed that twice. It was in the days before they had – hm, what you call it – before it was, you had modular examinations; you took the whole lot and if you failed one subject or a couple of subjects you had to take everything again. And one, I think the first year I failed physics and passed chemistry and the second year I passed chemistry and failed physics, so I finished up in the July of 1942 without any academic qualification and I was called for the colours and by then they were all 1 8s so the fact that I was a 139, that was a bit of a one up to the other erks. Plus the fact that we’d been issued with the standard RAF uniforms with the standard brass buttons, not the chrome ATC buttons which we should have had as we were part of the Air Training Corps, and being a diligent young man, I’d polish my buttons very, very diligently, so diligently in fact that the raised portions of the eagles on my brass buttons had holes in them [laugh]. The drill corporals thought that was terrific you know; greatly admired that was. So there I was at ACRC, the Air Crew Receiving Centre, or arsey tarsey as it was generally know, as a, promoted to leading aircraftsman ready for the next stage. And the other thing I discovered that during that time the rules had changed and I was no longer a u/t pilot, I was a u/t pilot/navigator/bomb aimer, PNB. They changed the rules so that, you know, if you failed they had a wider field to put you into and I was posted, I spent about a fortnight I think at St John’s Wood and then I was posted down to Brighton to another receiving centre. I think that one was called, you know, I’ve got the documents there if you want the actual proper terminology, but it was the, I think it was an Aircrew Distribution Centre. And we were a very polyglot lot that was in our squad, we had several soldiers who’d re-mustered to the air force. They got fed up with, with you know, being soldiers doing nothing in Britain and there was some [emphasis] re-mustered aircrew. There was one chap I remember, Douglas, D.E. Batten who claimed to have been the rear gunner sole survivor of a Manchester which was shot down over Belgium in presumably 1940, late ‘40 or ‘41, or would have been ‘42, yes ‘42. I looked him up in Chorley’s encyclopaedic list of all the Bomber Command casualties and there was no mention of this chap’s name, so he, probably another line shooter who was, who just decided to change his trade, but yeah, I spent about a fortnight at Brighton, it was very pleasant, it was a nice summer, 1942, sunny and that. We didn’t apprehend the danger from the Messerschmitt 109’s which were sent over to strafe the gasworks just three or four miles up the road from where we lived in Brighton. So we carried on and then after about a couple of weeks I was sent to Sywell in Northamptonshire which was an Elementary Flying School, Flying Training School of the RAF’s to be graded as to our suitability for pilot navigator or bomb aimer. You did about twelve or fourteen hours in Tiger Moths and I emerged as a suitable candidate for pilot training. And then after that it was up to Heaton Park and I arrived at Heaton Park, Manchester, in about middle or late October, September, yes, September 1942, and to await posting to some school for pilot training. Well in fact I mouldered at Heaton Park for about five months because the rumour had it that one of the troopers had been sunk with great loss of life and so there was a hold up on cadets being shipped away abroad. But in fact what we didn’t know of course all the training was being held up to give priority to the troops being shipped to North Africa for the invasion of West and North Africa. So it wasn’t in fact until April 1943 that I was posted out of Heaton Park. In fact I was posted out twice. I was there all kitted up in my webbing and everything else and when my name was called out with one or two others and I was told I was off the draft and I was to go back to me billet. Well, no explanation was given, and like everywhere else at the time, you weren’t told if you didn’t need to know, you weren’t told and if you asked you were not very popular, you didn’t ask questions, you just obey orders. So I stayed there for about another two or three weeks, and then we finally did push off, we boarded this train and in the early hours of the morning we disembarked on the quayside which we later found was the Clyde and there was the bulk, the vast grey bulk of the Queen Elizabeth waiting to take us somewhere else. And I think, I say I, I can’t speak for anybody else, but because, I don’t think we discussed these things, I mean some blokes chatted to each other about what was going to happen and what was happening and so on. I didn’t, I suppose I was too well disciplined. Excuse me, I must go and have a pee I’m afraid, I’ve got a very loose. As I say, I mean as far as I was concerned, oh yes, we’re fireproof the Queen Elizabeth, you know, rocketing along at thirty.
[Other]: Are you all right darling?
AB: Yes thank you my darling.
[Other]: Apparently the docs have just phoned, they say have been trying to phone us all morning. The phone hasn’t rung.
AB: I thought we were fireproof, it wasn’t till I read quite recently that I discovered that we actually sailed from the Clyde about two days after the biggest convoy submarine conflict of the North Atlantic during the war. Two convoys left Canada, one was a slow convoy I think, something like about five to eight knots and the other was a fast convoy, eight to twelve or eight to ten knots, something like that, anyway, they sailed at a time they met more or less in the middle of the Atlantic and so did a whole lot of, what is it, I forget what the Germans called their, their groups of u-boats, their u-boats were sort of formed into groups of fifteen or twenty, something like that, and they were strung out in a line north south more or less in the middle of the Atlantic, and when one of them spotted anything interesting they’d send out a signal and they’d all converge on this spot. This had happened that there had been this tremendous battle I don’t know how many merchant ships and u-boats were sunk, but a great number, and we just missed that, it would have been, we wouldn’t have had a chance I don’t suppose if we’d been a couple of days earlier. Anyway we got to Canada and we were duly sent to a Manning Depot, the RAF Manning Depot at Moncton. I really don’t remember much about that. I was a, I think I was a, I wasn’t, you know, I wasn’t disinterested, I just, I never kept a diary of course, for one thing, and what letters I wrote home would have been fairly heavily censored and I’m quite sure that I wouldn’t have included anything interesting in them, if I had, and my parents didn’t bother to keep them or anything so I’ve no written record of what I got up to in Canada, it’s only just memory and as far as I was concerned Moncton, you know, the lights were all on, you could come out of the mess at eight or nine o’clock and then go to the cinema, you know, everything went on until the wee small hours, I don’t think the, none of the vittling or anything like that made any great impression on me. And anyway, in due course we were marshalled on to a train, again I don’t remember quite how spartan the train was, fairly spartan I expect, for our trip across Canada and I don’t know at what point we were informed where we were going, we just went and what impressed on me, I remember though being impressed by the Great Lakes, this, the fact that this train was umpteen carriages long and we wound our way along the north coast of I think it’s Lake Superior, the top lake anyway of the Great Lakes and you could see the front of the train from a way in the distance there somewhere, and we wound our way across and we stopped here, there and names were called out and men dropped off and they were posted to all sorts of exotic places like Saskatchewan and Assiniboine and Swift Current and so on and the only thing I remember of that was that somewhere out on this the over the Prairies which was flat as a pancake and featureless as a pancake and there was an edifice which would have done service as a bus stop in Britain and there were two or three civilians lounging against this building and two of them at least were fairly obvious of Red Indian origin and as the train pulled out sort of a couple of wags leant out and went [indian noise] these two chaps sort of lurched forward as if they probably would have hauled him out and done him if they’d, if the train hadn’t got away. Anyway, we ended up at Calgary as far west as the RAF’s aerodromes stretched and from Calgary we were, some of us were shipped up to an aerodrome called - what the devil was it called – Red Deer? No, that was the nearest town. Boden, Boden Ontario, Boden Alberta, and the nearest town was Red Deer and you know, a number of us got out and that was it and we did our, started this flying training and I got to the point where I was sent up on my first solo and I think I took about an hour and a half on this first solo; I know I touched down, several, more than once, several times, and sort of took off again because I didn’t think I’d made it properly and at the end of it I was sent up for another go around with the Chief Flying Instructor, at the end of which he said that he didn’t think I was suitable for pilot training, what did I fancy? And I thought to myself PNB, navigator bomb aimer. No, I don’t think I’d like to be a bomb aimer, what – fly to Germany in a blacked out bomber and drop the bombs and then fly home again. I had no idea that the [cough] that the bomb aimer in fact did a lot more than that: he helped the pilot, he helped the navigator, he helped anybody who needed it, and he manned the guns if necessary but I still didn’t fancy it anyway, I wouldn’t have fancied it. I’ll be a navigator. Then I thought no, I don’t want to be a navigator and fly in a blacked out bomber to Germany, I don’t know why I didn’t consider any other option of a navigator’s work. So I thought about it a bit more and then thought I’d be a Nav B, which was the navigator/bomb aimer which was the equivalent of the pre-war observer in the days when there was just a pilot and an observer. The pilot flew the aeroplane, the observer did everything else. He, he navigated the plane to wherever it was going and he dropped the bombs when they got there, he took the photographs if they wanted them and so on. So I said I’ll be a Nav B, which I suppose was quite a good choice and I was at the RC, Canadian Air Force Manning Depot, Edmonton at the time because obviously it was the nearest suitable dumping ground and there were a whole lot of Canadians on their preliminary training of course and a whole lot of Commonwealth airmen like myself who were having a go at something else, you know. There were chaps who’d been and got within a few weeks of getting their wings and had done something naughty, probably low flying, and been turfed out because the RAF was very strict on discipline like that, you know. You, they were very strict on low flying because a great many airmen killed themselves low flying because they thought they knew it all and they didn’t. And so I spent another two or three weeks at Edmonton which was quite good fun actually, we just mucked about and wasted our time, there was no training of any call, we weren’t taught anything, we could just do what we liked more or less and that’s what a lot of them did. The nerve had it or the word had it, that the Canadians had, they had big parade squares on all their stations and the Station Headquarters was built on the one side of this square and marked off with posts and everything and it had the flag, and when you went past the flag you saluted the flag. Well, that didn’t suit the Commonwealth airmen, particularly the Australians and that, and the Brits: they didn’t go for this saluting the flag so we would march all the three other sides of the square to avoid going past the flag. But the Australians took it one stage further: they commandeered the fire axes from the barrack blocks we were in because they all wooden barrack blocks and there were fire axes at strategic points and the Australians pinched the fire axes and chopped down the flag pole, anyway that was another thing. So then we were posted to, for the next training I was, for the next stage in our training and I was posted to Canadian Bombing and Gunnery School at Mountain View, Ontario, which is just about in the middle of Canada and that was about a, it was about a week’s journey, something like that and I was issued with a huge ticket, was about a yard or more long all folded up and sent on me way. For some reason, I don’t know why, I hitch-hiked down from Edmonton to Calgary, although the transportation covered this and that was interesting. I tried flagging down, um, what did I do? I think I tried, I tried flagging down a hearse and the chap said oh there’s a three hundred pound woman in there, I didn’t sort of really quite understand how heavy three hundred pounds was in human weight, and anyway they took me a few miles and then they dropped me off. I tried I think a young couple who were honey, honeymooning and they took me a few miles and then a vehicle stopped and it was full of Ukrainians because the Prairies were heavily, were heavily colonised by Central Europeans, the Ukrainians particularly, because when the American and Canadian railways were pushing their way through hostile Indian territory of course, were pushing their way through to the west they needed staff to, to live in settlements along the way which were refuelling stops for the railways, they had water and they had timber and of course that progressed as they wanted to, they wanted to settle these people, not just have them as, as settlers, so they canvassed Central Europe to find places which were similar in climate and soil where people would come and settle and live there and the Ukraine proved to be a very fertile place, and that’s where the North American tumble-weed came from apparently. The tumble-weed was endemic in the Ukraine and when they brought their seed with them, they brought the tumble-weed seed as well so the tumble-weed came from the Ukraine. Anyway, this car was full of Ukrainians and somehow crammed me in and took me a few more miles and I ended up in a van that was taking eggs to market in Calgary and then from Calgary I went west to see what Victoria was, Vancouver were like because my grandfather, maternal grandfather, had been in the navy in those parts, well so we understood anyway. He had a number of souvenirs of western Canada and China, we don’t quite know where those came from, anyway, I went there and then got on the train and about a week later I got out at a place, well I don’t know what the place was I got out, but anyway it was the railway station for Mountain View, Ontario and it was Canadian Number 6 B and G School. And that was very pleasant. We worked the Canadian system, that was we worked ten days and then we had a four days off, then we worked another ten days and another four days off and so on. It was a polyglot station too. Excuse me. We got a half a dozen New Zealanders, we got, we got about the same, I think, Canadians too. Some of them were sergeants and they were like the chaps back in England they re-mustered they decided that they didn’t want to stay in the Canadian Army doing nothing any more so they joined the, they re-mustered to the air force. There was one Canadian Jew, Moses Levine, and I think all the rest were made up of Brits, so it was a polyglot course. We spent about six or eight weeks there, very pleasant: it was the summer, it was hot as far as I, we were issued with khaki uniforms. The locals took us down on the beach, because we were on the shore of Lake whatever it was, Lake Eyrie or Lake, I think Lake Eyrie, we were on the shores of that and they took us down for a weenie roast [laugh] an introduction to these rather peculiar North American sausages, the weenies, the German sausages. And then at the end of that, oh we used to go up in twos and threes, it depended, we flew up in Ansons to do bombing, bombing training and Bolingbrokes to do gunning training. The Boligbroke was the Canadian, the Canadian made Blenheim and you had, I think you had four aspiring gunners and one lot of bullets had red paint on them, one lot had green, I think another lot had yellow and another lot were plain, and you used to fire at a Harvard which was, which was a trainer, single seat, well it was a, I say it was a single seat trainer, it was a trainer for the pilots who were destined to go on to single seat, to become single seat fighter pilots. And we were, the train on those things they used to count the number of coloured holes - if any - and you know, assess your ability from that. And then the gunnery, the bombing was done in Ansons, which dropped little, I think they were fifteen pound bombs, they were bomb shaped, and they let off a puff of smoke when they hit the ground and there were observers in towers on either side of the range and they used to line up on these exploding bombs and from that they’d assess your accuracy. So that was the bombing, the gunnery and then it was off to navigation school. Well up we went to Quebec. [Laugh] We got out there and they said: ‘No you’re too early, you’re not due for the next, you’re next due for the fortnight so, you know, buzz off on leave.’ So off we went on leave again! I and a few others decided to go down to New York and that was, as a boy one of my favourite articles of reading was the Great World of Adventure and they were death defying stories beloved of the old Victorians of the white man against the black man and the red man, and there were you know, tales of Africa and North America and all these forts, Fort Ticonderoga and other places on the, on the border between English America and well, it was of course French Canada. I don’t think the Americans ever, well they did see themselves, they had, I mean Louisiana and Alabama and these southern states were American, Canadian American but the northern states were French Canada and anyway I hitch-hiked and stopped off to have a look at places like Fort Ticonderoga and other places that I had read about which had been reconstructed and I remember I had a lift from an American naval lieutenant commander and he said what are you doing, I was going to New York and he said, oh I want to catch that bus or something, so he put his boot down and he had me on the edge of the back seat clutching the edge of the back seat as he went screeching along trying to overtake this bloody bus! He did in the end and I got on that and went down to New York and did all the sights, went up the Rockefeller Centre and oh you know, all the things, and being a very um, a very, what’s the word, erm, I can’t think of the word anyway, I didn’t know nothing about anything, I didn’t know what sex was, I didn’t know anything about anything like that, you know, and so, which is probably just as well cause I never got in to any trouble and I had a good enough time in New York. Then it was back to work and learning how to be a navigator and we were paired up for that and I was paired up with a, one of the New Zealanders, Johnnie Johnson, came from Christchurch, in er, he’d been a schoolteacher Johnnie Johnson had, and I enjoyed that, I did anyway, it was great fun. Learning where all the stars were. I remember when I was a small boy in Wales on holiday. I mean it was, I mean that was absolutely perfect viewing weather and my father trying to point out different constellations and it was just a jumble of, jumble of stars you know, and you couldn’t tell one from another, I mean now when you know the, you’ve been taught the stars I mean on a good night yes, so and so Betelgeuse and Bellatrix and all the rest of them and the Plough and that. They had a trainer, a celestial trainer which was like the thing they use in um, oh god, in museums and observatories where they have projections of all the stars and they can show you what any constellation looked like at any time within the last twenty, thirty, forty thousand years, something like that. Very interesting. If you, but again, many, many years before I came to appreciate the value of the stars. Anyway, so in due course I passed out in January 1944 as a Navigator B; I think I was top of the course, anyway, very near the top of the course, second or third. And again, did I have the inevitable leave? No, I don’t think I did actually. I think we were posted. Oh yes, I did have leave of course as I was commissioned and I had to get a uniform and everything, so I had ten days or a fortnight’s leave before boarding a train to go down to the Bahamas. Oh that was, you think oh gosh that’s a bit of a plummy sort of posting but in fact the general opinion was the chaps weren’t very keen on it because the buzz word was that all the chaps from headquarters in Washington and other places where the RAF had you know, posts buying aeroplanes, selling bombs you know, and doing everything else necessary for the conduct of the war, and the rumour was it had, rumour was it that these chaps used to swan off and have a good time there and you know, and keep an eye on the RAF cadets or whatever they were, who were training, but it was all bloody, bloody word of it, of any these chaps, not likely – I mean would you have gone down to the Parade Ground to see how the chaps are getting on? Or yes, I’d like a flight in a Liberator, or something else, whatever they were flying, you know, just to see how the chaps are getting on? Not bloody likely! You’d be off down the nearest well, place of disrepute. So in fact it was quite enjoyable, quite enjoyable and come August ‘44 there I was, it was different, again I was different from the others, it was a bit like arsey tarsey, you know, I was the odd bod, you know, I hadn’t gone through the Stansted - the Stansted? - the standard training rigmarole, I got to, I got to 111 OTU as it was called at Nassau in the Bahamas and me and the pilot were odd bods again because there were two sets of training: the first set of training was on the twin engined Mitchell, which was one of the American light bombers, it was the one that the Americans used to flew off the aircraft carriers to bomb Tokyo just to frighten the Japanese and anyway the normal practice was that you’d get two pilots put together and a navigator and they would be the basic crew of a B25. Well it didn’t happen with us. As far as we were concerned, old Pop Hedges, he was called Pop because he was twenty six, and he was quite old was Pop, worked for the [unclear] Smoke Company I think, in Watford, anyway he was, Pop and I were put together but we had a staff pilot too who was actually captain of the aircraft all the time and we flew all these exercises and so on and then we were posted across to Oaksfield which was where the Liberators operated from, the B24 Liberator which was the RAF’s long range reconnaissance anti-submarine aircraft, excuse me, and you were there crewed up with a pilot who’d, who’d um, no you weren’t actually, because the chaps who came across from, oh god, from what’d I say, Oaksfield, anyway, they came across, the chaps who’d been training on the, on the twin engined, came across as a captain and second pilot and navigator crew and they picked up RAF elements, wireless operators and air gunners who’d been shipped out from England and they made up Liberator crews. We came across and we were put under the command of a pilot, an RAF pilot who’d done about a half a tour with the RAF and was sent to the Bahamas to take a command. He was going to be a captain and so we were put under the command of a little Scotsman, Scotty Steel, and I was the second navigator to Freddie Freek, who’d done again, a half a tour as a navigator in Coastal and we had a half tour wireless operator, near time you went, near time I went I suppose., so that was it.
NM: Tell you what, Andrew that’s a good place to stop, for now and we will pick this up again.
AB: The demise of Andrew Barron at Nassau!
NM: Good place to stop, in the Bahamas isn’t it!
[Other]: Ah yes!
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 Andrew Barron. One
Creator
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Nigel Moore
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2019-04-08
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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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ABarronAJK190408, PBarronAJK1901
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Navy
Format
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01:02:46 audio recording
Description
An account of the resource
Andrew was born in Chichester in 1923. The family moved to Wolverhampton when he was about two years old and then to Dulwich just before the war. When he was 13 or 14 his mother enrolled him at the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth, where he spent over three years as a cadet. Following a silly escapade, he was expelled from the Royal Navy. He attended the City & Guilds Engineering College during 1941-42 to get a degree in mechanical engineering. Andrew joined the University Air Squadron and spent a few weeks at St. John’s Wood before being posted to Brighton to an aircrew distribution centre. He was then sent to RAF Sywell, an elementary flying training school. Following a few weeks on Tiger Moths, Andrew was sent to Heaton Park to await pilot training. In April 1943 he sailed on the Queen Elizabeth to Canada for a manning depot at Moncton. Andrew chose to be a navigator / bomb aimer and spent some time at Edmonton and Mountain View. They went to various bases for training on different aircraft and then to a navigation school in Quebec. After he passed out in January 1944 as a navigator, Andrew was commissioned and had leave before going to the Bahamas where he flew on B-25 and B-24.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941
1942
1943-04
1944-01
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Bahamas
Canada
Alberta
New Brunswick
England--Devon
England--Northamptonshire
England--Sussex
England--Dartmouth
England--London
New Brunswick--Moncton
Québec
Ontario--Belleville
Contributor
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Sue Smith
Anne-Marie Watson
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
aircrew
B-24
B-25
Bombing and Gunnery School
Flying Training School
navigator
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Sywell
station headquarters
Tiger Moth
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1246/16373/MNealeETH1395951-150731-0320001.1.jpg
8efd416f6f647ac0fb1325308edb97be
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1246/16373/MNealeETH1395951-150731-0320002.1.jpg
3d24a47baccef17dee8a2a34f07c4399
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
Neale, Ted
E T H Neale
Description
An account of the resource
123 items. The collection concerns Edward Thomas Henry Neale (b. 1922, 1395951 Royal Air Force) who served as a navigator with 37 Squadron in North Africa, the Middle East and Italy. The collection contains his training notebooks from South Africa as well as propaganda leaflets dropped by the allies in the Mediterranean theatre.
The collection also contains a photograph album, navigation logs and target photographs.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Alison Neale and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-07-31
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
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Neale, ETH
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
RAF Leave Form
Form 1672
Description
An account of the resource
Issued to Ted Neale whilst at Heaton Park.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-01-22
Format
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One printed sheet with handwritten annotations
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Service material
Identifier
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MNealeETH1395951-150731-0320001,
MNealeETH1395951-150731-0320002
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
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Great Britain
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.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-01
1943-02
aircrew
RAF Heaton Park
training
-
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
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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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Thomas, WK
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
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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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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[page break]
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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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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Dublin Core
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Title
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If you can't take a joke...
Description
An account of the resource
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
Date
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2005-02
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19 typewritten pages
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eng
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Text
Text. Memoir
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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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IBCC Digital Archive
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Pending review
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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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/1158/11717/PThorpJF1601.2.jpg
ff1f3350206f6261bc6dec0c3a9ef84c
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1158/11717/AThorpJF160412.1.mp3
fd9fa4392a3c236f3815a3bff1903dc9
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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Thorp, John Foster
J F Thorp
Description
An account of the resource
Four items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer John Foster Thorp (1924 - 2018, 1623333 Royal Air Force), a list of his operations, a page from a log book and notes on 467 Squadron and Lancaster R5868. He flew completed a tour of operations as a rear gunner with 467 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-04-12
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Thorp, JF
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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BW: This is Brian Wright interviewing Warrant Officer John Foster Thorp of 467 Squadron at his home in Bamford, Rochdale at half past one on Tuesday the 12th April 2016. Also present with us are his eldest son Derek and his wife Betty. Warrant Officer Foster, excuse me, Warrant Officer Thorp if you can just describe for us please your family set up. Where you were born and grew up? How many people in your family? Please.
JT: Yes. I was born in Manchester and I grew up in Manchester. In Higher Blackley mainly. And I was there until I was eighteen years of age at which point I went into the RAF.
BW: Was there only you in the family? Did you have any brothers and sisters?
JT: I have. I had one sister. She’s now deceased. But no brothers. No.
BW: And where did you, whereabouts did you go to school?
JT: I went to the local school first until I was fourteen. Sorry. The local school until I was ten. And then I went to North Manchester Grammar School, Chain Bar, Moston. And I left there in September 1939 when the war broke out and the school was evacuated but my father wouldn’t let me be evacuated.
BW: And so you stayed in —
JT: So I stayed at home. And when I became seventeen years of age I joined the local Home Guard which gave me some insight into military training.
BW: And did your sister remain at home at the same, same time? She wasn’t evacuated either or did, did she leave?
JT: She was in a different school.
BW: I see.
JT: So — yeah.
BW: And what prompted you to join the Home Guard at first? Why? Why them?
JT: Just to be military I suppose and wear a uniform. My father was in the ’14/’18 war, in the army and he told me, ‘Don’t go in the army,’ he said, ‘When you’re eighteen.’ So I, I had visions like most eighteen year olds of flying a Spitfire. So, I went to the RAF station, RAF recruiting office in Manchester and volunteered for pilot training. I was accepted. I eventually had to go to Cardington in Bedfordshire to have the aircrew medical and written examination. And then I was waiting then. I was on deferred service until I became a full age for military service. That’s turning eighteen. And, when was it? September 1942 I was called up to the RAF. And they, they had a general course for pilots, navigators and bomb aimers. They called it the PNB Scheme. And you took a general course in navigation, elementary navigation, meteorology, signalling, Morse code and RAF law. And other odds. Engines. Engines. And I did that initial training at Scarborough, Yorkshire.
BW: How long were you there?
JT: About four months I think it was. And then from there I went up to Scone in Scotland, near Perth, where there was a flying, flying school.
[recording interrupted]
BW: So, just to pick up we were, we were saying that you joined the Home Guard and been selected for pilot training and that you’d then completed your initial training and been posted back to Heaton Park. Coincidentally just a mile away from where your parents actually lived.
JT: Yeah.
BW: And your home was in Manchester. So, you were waiting there for your name to come up on a, on a list to either be sent out to Canada, South Africa or where ever.
JT: Further training. Yes. That’s right. And while I was at Heaton Park we used to have a morning parade and a roll call to make sure nobody had buzzed off home with being so frustrated waiting at the, at the — [pause] And so, one morning at the morning parade the person in charge of us said a course had been started for air gunners. And if anybody would like to volunteer to go on to this course then report to the office. So, like a lot of others, they wanted three hundred volunteers and they got over two hundred for these. You see, the point was that Lancasters, Stirlings, Halifaxes carried two gunners and they needed, so they needed more gunners than that. Than any other trade. And so I went and volunteered for air gunner and I was posted to Andreas in the Isle of Man. And there was one of two, one of three airfield on the Isle of Man. There was Andreas was the gunnery school, Jurby was bomb aimer’s and the Royal Navy had taken over Douglas Airport for their, training their Fleet Air Arm people.
BW: Where? What was the first base called?
JT: Andreas.
BW: Andreas?
JT: Andreas. A N D R E A S.
BW: Ok. And that was specifically for air gunnery was it?
JT: Air gunnery training. Yes. Yes. Used to go up on an, in an Avro Anson which had an upper turret and about six of you would go up with the pilot and then an aircraft would come along towing a drogue and you fired from the turret at this drogue. And then when they dropped the drogue on the airfield when you’d finished the exercise they counted the number of holes. And there was six of us firing at it so they divided it by six and that was your score. So, whether you’d hit it or whether you peppered it, you know.
BW: Yeah.
JT: That was the way they worked it.
BW: Nowadays they use, they use coloured paint on the, on the bullets but they didn’t then.
JT: No. No.
BW: They just — right.
JT: So —
BW: This is interesting because at this time in your life you’ve joined the Home Guard. You volunteered for pilot training. You’d been accepted as a pilot.
JT: Yeah.
BW: As you say in your view you were going to fly Spitfires.
JT: I wanted to.
BW: What, what changed in your mind to go for air gunner? What, why the change from pilot?
JT: Frustration.
BW: Simple as that.
JT: Frustration. Not making progress. And that was what it really was. And the same with a lot of other people. And so I passed out on the basis of the number of shots in the, in the drogue. I passed out as an air gunner. As a, they gave me the rank of sergeant and the wing. I got my AG wing. And I was then posted to Upper Heyford in Oxfordshire which was a base where pilots, navigators, bomb aimers, radio operators and so on came there and they formed into crews. And what happened with the pilot this was the, of course the skipper of the crew and he used to be wondering around with a piece of paper and a pencil and he’d go up to a person and say, ‘Have you got a crew yet?’ ‘No sir.’ ‘Would you like to go in my crew?’ Well, an Australian, an Australian flying officer. Flying officer rank pilot said to me, ‘Would you like to join my crew?’ So, I said, ‘Yes. Yes.’ He seemed a nice fellow and I said, ‘I’ll join your crew.’ So he said, ‘First of all, before you definitely decide,’ he said, ‘I’m on retraining because I had a crash and my bomb aimer was killed. We were flying in a Wellington and one engine cut out’. The Wellington didn’t fly very well on one engine and that’s why he crashed. And so I said to him, ‘Well,’ I said, ‘Everybody is allowed one crash.’ So, I said, ‘I’ll join you.’ And I never regretted it. He was a smashing fellow. He was about, I think he was thirty years of age. Which was getting old in flying ranks you know, really. And he said, ‘Come on then. Now you’ve joined me,’ he said, ‘What’s your name?’ So I said, ‘John.’ ‘Right, Johnny.’ And I was Johnny from then on, ‘And, I’ll introduce you to the, I’ll introduce you to the crew. The other members of the crew,’ he said, ‘I’ve been looking for a rear gunner,’ he said, ‘And that’s the final one I wanted.’ So, I said, ‘Ok.’ And there was Herby Phillips the navigator, Canadian. Eric Clem was the mid-upper gunner. Poor Eric never, he didn’t last the war. He was killed. And then there was [pause] do you want the names if I can remember them? There’s Herby Phillips —
BW: Yeah.
JT: Who was the navigator. Canadian.
BW: Eric Clem was the Aussie.
JT: Pardon?
BW: Eric Clem was an Aussie. Is that right?
JT: Eric Clem was an Aussie. Yes. Eric. Yes.
DT: He was your mate wasn’t he?
JT: Pardon?
DT: Eric was your mate.
JT: Can you throw me that red book? That red book off there please.
DT: Yeah.
JT: I made a list of it the other day and — thank you very much.
BW: Was your pilot called MacLaughlin?
JT: David MacLaughlin was the pilot and when he introduced himself he said, ‘My name is David MacLaughlin,’ he said, ‘While we’re flying you call me skipper. But all other times it’s Mac.’ Showing the lack of rank. Not pulling rank you see. So, anyhow, oh dear. I damaged it [pages turning]
DT: Do you want to carry on talking dad?
JT: Here we are.
DT: And I’ll have a look for you.
JT: There we are, Derek.
DT: You’ve got it.
JT: David MacLaughlin pilot. Aussie. Herbert Phillips — navigator. He was Canadian Air Force. The bomb aimer I could never, I can’t remember his name. He was rather a fellow who didn’t mix very well.
BW: Was it Craven? Does that sound familiar? Craven.
JT: Yeah. It does. George Craven was it? Have you got a list of them somewhere? [laughs] Albert Smith, the radio operator. He was from the northeast of England. Reg Hodgkinson was the engineer. He was, he was from Warrington. Eric Clem was the mid-upper gunner. Australian. And myself then. Rear gunner.
DT: Didn’t you start out with another mid-upper?
JT: Pardon?
DT: You started out with another mid-upper gunner didn’t you but he wasn’t able to — ?
JT: Well, we had one. A Canadian. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t stand altitude flying. He used to pass out if he got up to altitude. So that’s when —
BW: And so you swapped him, did you?
JT: Pardon?
BW: You swapped him, did you?
JT: We swapped him. Yeah. Yeah.
DT: It was, was it his skull? His skull hadn’t closed up properly.
JT: That’s right. Yeah.
DT: And there was a hole in the middle of his skull. And when he went up to altitude he passed out. So he was —
JT: Medical problem.
DT: Medical. Yeah.
BW: Wow.
JT: He was a Canadian.
BW: And George Craven. Was he an Aussie or was he, was he British?
JT: George Craven. He was an Aussie. Yeah. But Eric Clem, I said he didn’t last the war. He, he’d done, he did twenty ops with us. Twenty trips with us. Eric. And then he was taken ill with tonsillitis. Went into the sick bay and when he came out he didn’t re-join our crew. And he joined another crew and went, he went to Stuttgart and didn’t, they didn’t come back. He was my room-mate actually. We shared a room. He was a very special little chap. He was twenty nine years of age which was getting on for aircrew really.
BW: Where did you live with the crew? Were you in a Nissen hut or were you in married quarters on the station?
JT: At Waddington? Waddington. Well, it was, was a peacetime base so they had proper built up accommodation over the sergeant’s mess. There’s accommodation for sergeants and like I say I shared a room with Eric until he was killed.
BW: And at this time, you, you’ve met the crew at Upper Heyford and you then were posted as a crew to 467 Squadron at Waddington.
JT: Well, well at first we were at Upper Heyford. We were flying Wellingtons in training. Crew getting, crew getting used to being a crew. Crew training.
BW: What did you think of Wellingtons?
JT: They were alright. Good solid aircraft. Yes. A bit heavy and all that but we didn’t fly in them operationally. It was purely cross-country flying. Bombing practice and things like that. Just straight general training. And then we went from there to Stirlings to swap on to four-engined mark types. Be on four engines then. And that’s where we picked up a navigator - flight engineer. And then from Stirlings we went on to Lancasters. Just a short session. Conversion on to Lancasters and then from there to Waddington.
BW: And do you recall the Conversion Unit where you flew Lancasters?
JT: Was it Wigsley? Was it Wigsley? I’m not sure. I thought it was Wigsley. We went around a bit. No. That was Stirlings. Not Syerston were it? [pages turning]
BW: But as you say you weren’t flying operations at this time. You were just learning to work together as a crew.
JT: To knit together as a crew. Yeah. Yeah. Everybody was still being trained to some extent. Syerston.
BW: I see.
JT: Syerston. That’s where we converted on to Lancasters.
BW: And how long was your course there? How long was your course there? Do you know?
JT: Syerston? Was about a fortnight. Three weeks. It was purely getting used to that type. I mean we’d converted from Wellingtons on to Stirlings for multi-engine. Four engines. And then we’d gone from Stirlings then on to Lancaster conversion because Lancasters were in short supply, you know. Being they were building up the Lancaster force on Bomber Command.
BW: So, so what time, what sort of stage of the war was this? Was this ’41, ’42? Or —
JT: That was in April 1944. That was before D-Day that was of course.
BW: And how did you rate the Stirling aircraft? How did you find them?
JT: It was fairly solid but it was a bit cumbersome. Lumbered along you know. And the thing that struck me really was I was, I was airborne before everybody else because it was quite a long fuselage. They put the tail up to keep the nose down while, while they’re going down the runway and I’m up in the air and everybody else is down on the ground.
BW: And so when you moved then to Waddington to join 467 and start on Lancasters what was your, your impression then? What was the feeling between you and the crew about getting on to Lancasters? Was it like moving from a biplane to a Spitfire? Or was it —
JT: No. From my point of view it was always the same because it was just a turret. Flying in a turret, you see. More and more different for the pilot really and the engineer and that. But from my point of view I just sat in the turret there.
BW: Did the aircraft itself feel different? Lancasters are notoriously cramped.
JT: Yes. It was a comfortable aircraft to fly in. Yes.
BW: You found it comfortable.
JT: Yeah. Found it comfortable. Yes.
BW: And you joined in April ’44. I suppose a similar time of year to what we’re in now but this is in the run up to D-Day which we know now.
JT: Yeah.
BW: Did you sense anything about the coming invasion? Invasion.
JT: No. Not really. What happened, there was a tannoy, you know. The tannoy loudspeaker system around the airfield and there was a tannoy message went out, ‘Will all crews of 467 Squadron report to the briefing room.’ That was one afternoon. And the commanding officer of the squadron told us that, they didn’t say it was D-Day of course because it was still secret then so much but he said, ‘You may be called for an early morning flight. Operation. So, get in to, get, get to bed early tonight and make sure you fully sleep.’ Slept like you see. And about 3 o’clock in the morning there was a hammering on the door and [unclear] much shouting on the corridor. People were being sent to waken all the crews up. And Eric and I got up, got dressed went down to the mess. Had a meal. The usual meal of bacon and egg and all that kind of thing. And, and then from there out to briefing and then we went out to the aircraft. And the thing we noticed as we were going out to the aircraft was they’d painted black and white stripes underneath the wings for recognition purposes. And we, we took off on D-Day morning about, I think it was about 3 or, about 3 o’clock in the morning or something like that. June the 6th [pause pages turning] D-Day. Excuse me. A bit slow.
BW: That’s alright.
DT: You’d done a few ops before then hadn’t you dad?
JT: Pardon?
DT: You’d done a few ops before then hadn’t you?
JT: What? Before D-Day?
DT: D-Day wasn’t your first.
JT: Oh, we’d only done a few before D-Day. Yeah. 2.40. Take off 2.40. St Pierre du Mont in France. That was 2.40 in the morning. And D-Day was quite a thing with us because we went, we went out at like I say 3 o’clock in the morning and as we were flying over, coming back, flying over the Channel — over the Channel there was a vast armada of ships going out. They were going to the landings. And I was going to say about them [pause] anyhow [pause] we flew back, we flew back to our base and they told us then that the D-Day landings, the landings had taken place. And, and again in the afternoon he said you’d be wanted again this evening for a flight. And that was midnight. Now, this was an interesting day. At midnight on D-day. And we took off and of course the Germans always anticipated that the invasion would take place from Dover to Calais. The shortest distance. And they’d stationed a lot of armour and troops south of Calais ready to repel the invasion but it came — it never came. And, so, we, we were detailed on that night of D-Day to bomb some railway, railway tracks. To stop this armour and these troops being transferred from south of Calais, taken over to, to Normandy to, to attack the British forces you see. Anyhow, as we rolled out about, just about midnight almost. Queued up to go on to the runway and then eventually our turn came. We went on the runway. We started, charged up the runway. We were about three quarters of the way along and heard a very loud bang like an explosion. Mac, Mac, in his Aussie twang said, ‘What the bloody hell was that?’ [laughs] And of course nobody knew. Anyway, he pulled it off the ground. We were about three quarters of the way down the runway so we couldn’t, couldn’t stop. We were too far. So, he pulled it off the ground and we carried on and after a few minutes he said there was no, whatever it was it hadn’t affected our controls. So, and the flight engineer said the engine readings are normal. So, Mac said, ‘Ok. We’ll carry on.’ And we carried on, we bombed and we started back and as we crossed the south coast Mac radioed to base and told them we’d got this. Oh no, sorry, before we got to there, as we got to the Channel Mac said, ‘We’d better check the undercarriage,’ and as the wheel went down a big black object flew past my turret. And the engineer looked out. He said, ‘We’ve lost our starboard tyre.’ That big bang was a tyre bursting as we were taking off. So Skip, Mac radioed base at Waddington and told them that we were having this problem. And another thing was as we were heading down towards, towards Waddington we got a constant speed unit in the propeller, in the propeller was, went faulty and we had to shut an engine down. So we were on three engines then. Anyhow, that was on the way to Woodbridge in Suffolk where there was an emergency landing place with a big runway and such. They were kitted out with ambulances and fire engines and all sorts there ready for emergency landings. And so I thought well how was Mac going to get this down, you know, with only one wheel? Anyhow, he went in. He kept this wing up with the dovetail, with the bad wheel and he landed on one wheel and the tail wheel and rolled down the runway and gradually, as we lost speed this wing dropped and the hub that was left after the tyre had gone, the hub hit the ground and we spun around and off the field. Off the strip on to the grass at the side. So, it was a marvellous bit of flying really. To fly a big aircraft like that on one wheel. Yes. So that was D-Day night.
BW: And so you didn’t, you didn’t get out to the target in France? You had to divert before you got there. Is that right? Or did you —
JT: Yeah. No. No. We got to the target. We bombed.
BW: You got to the target. Bombed the target.
JT: And on the way back but we didn’t, we didn’t know what the problem was then. It was only when we started on the way back and we started thinking about what was it? This noise and all that. And Mac put the wheels down and the engineer told us that we’d lost our starboard tyre. So, that was when we first knew about it.
BW: And did you get to find out how successful your attack on the target had been after all that?
JT: Sorry?
BW: Did the, did you get to find out how successful your attack on the target had been after all that?
JT: No. We never did. No. You’d usually get an aiming point photo. They had this, the camera and it was geared up with the bomb, bomb release and it switched, switched on when the, when your bombs had landed. And it should show your bombs. The effect of your bombs. A little camera.
BW: And this aircraft you were flying in at the time, I believe it was S Sugar. Is that right?
JT: Pardon?
BW: I believe the aircraft you were flying in at the time was S Sugar. Is that right?
JT: No. We flew in S for Sugar on our first operational flight.
BW: Just your first one.
JT: First one. June. 28th of May I think it was.
BW: Yeah.
JT: It was S for Sugar.
BT: Handy that log book, isn’t it?
JT: Hmmn?
BT: Handy that log book.
JT: Yes.
BT: Are you looking for something?
JT: July. May. June. What were we talking about? It’s got a W. It wasn’t W. That’s [pause]
BW: Yeah. So that, that’s your first, your first trip.
JT: Well, that was a special exercise, that was a —
BW: But then after that the aircraft you were in on D-Day wasn’t S Sugar then was it? It was, it was another one.
JT: Not D-Day. No.
BW: But that first one you flew in went on to be a well-known Lancaster didn’t it?
JT: It is. It’s, I’ll tell you something about that a bit more [pause] Oh yeah. There. 28th of the May. S for Sugar. 28th of May that.
BW: That’s it. Yeah. Bombing Cherbourg.
JT: Cherbourg. That’s it. So, actually it wasn’t our first. Yes. It was, it would be our first op that. First op because that was a special exercise. That was a special exercise when we flew in it. It was something to do with the radar check on something. And that’s our first trip. That was S for Sugar. Divert a little.
BW: And these are photos that you’ve got of the aircraft in the RAF Museum at Hendon. Is that right?
JT: These. No. No. No, these are Derek’s.
DT: My daughter.
JT: Two grandsons.
DT: My daughter and her husband and my grandsons went down to Hendon.
BW: I see.
DT: A few —
JT: Went down there and —
DT: Well, a few months ago and they took a load of photographs because of my dad’s association with it. They made a little booklet up for him and —
BW: Right.
JT: They allowed them, they allowed them in the prohibited area didn’t they?
DT: Yeah. They did. Yeah.
BW: Yeah. Well, that’s good of them.
JT: There they are.
BW: Yeah. That’s them in front of your turret.
JT: Yeah.
BW: And have you been to the same aircraft in Hendon? Have you seen it yourself?
JT: Well, I’ve been there a couple of times. Yes, and introduced myself. And they sent a young lad, a young chap with us who was on the section and he said he could he could take you to the aircraft. He took us down there and he undid the door and let us climb in. He said, ‘I can’t,’ he said, ‘I don’t know a lot about it,’ he said, ‘Because I’ve only just come on this section. So, I can’t tell you a lot about the Lancaster.’ I said, ‘Well I’ll tell you shall I?’ [laughs]
DT: Is that when you said it didn’t smell the same?
JT: Pardon?
DT: It didn’t smell the same.
JT: No. No. That was one thing that struck me was the smell. And then I realised a long time afterwards that there was no fuel in it, you see. It was an exhibition piece. There was no fuel in it for precautions. Safety precautions. So the aircraft didn’t smell the same [laughs]
BW: And when you were going on ops it presumably had a heavy smell of fuel in it.
JT: Oh yes. Yeah. Well, it always did when you were going on ops or not, you know. You could always smell the aircraft. Yeah.
BW: And when you were preparing for these early trips what sort of things did you have to do? What, what were you doing yourself to prepare for the, for the operations?
JT: Well, of course you had, you had your meal first and you were waited on by WAAFs. They volunteered to wait on us. A courtesy measure, you know for the lads that were going on ops. And anyhow then you went to, along to the, one of the hangars and they got to give you your flying rations. Which were boiled, a packet of boiled sweets, packets of chewing gum and [pause] what else was there? Boiled sweets, chewing gum, oh a block of chocolate. And depending on how, how long the flight was going to be depended on when you got two bags of chocolate [laughs] And then you went and picked up your parachute. You’d already picked up your flying gear from your locker and you picked up your parachute from the parachute store. And then you’d go out to the crew bus and they’d take you out to the aircraft. And that was the only preparation we did really. Picking up stuff we needed. Yeah.
BW: Did you attend the briefing with the rest of the crew?
JT: Oh yes. Yes. Oh yes. They had a long table. A long, you know, a collapsible table and benches, seat, chairs. And each crew used to gather around a table and the navigator usually had a map in front of him and he was already working on a flight plan. Yeah.
BW: And when you see it in films, where they unveil a map on a wall, was that the same kind of thing or different?
JT: Yes. Yes. Sometimes. I mean, once everybody was in they shut the door, the blinds were down and everything and then there was a map on the wall with a tape, a red tape going from your base down to where ever the target was. And the squadron commander would give, first give a chat about what the target was for and why it was picked for a target. What was being done there. Aircraft production or bombs or whatever. And then of course the Met officer. The meteorological officer would then give the weather report for the flight. What it was expected to be like over the target. Clear or not and, and what it would be like when you came back. And diversions. Possibly diversions if, if your airfield was fogged out. Of course Lincolnshire. You got quite a bit of mist in Lincolnshire. And you had to perhaps plan to be away from home when you come back.
BW: Most of your targets at this time are over France in preparation for D-Day. Did you get to fly over Germany at all?
JT: Oh yes. Yes. I’ve never logged precisely how many of each. Each way. But —
BW: Was there a difference in the operation between targets in France and Germany? Did you, did you feel one was more dangerous than the other? Or one was easier than the other?
JT: Well, Germany was obviously — particularly in what they called the Ruhr Valley. That, that was a bad place to go. And I can’t think what we used to call it now but I mean we were at Cherbourg, France which is only just on the coast you see. It isn’t so bad. We did one flight to Königsberg on the Baltic and the actual time was ten hours or something like that. So, it was a long flight. Down Stuttgart. That was where Eric was killed. But this wasn’t, he wasn’t on this flight. That was a eight hour. Eight hours. You notice, you notice the writing changes because Mac, the pilot’s, captain, the crew captain used to collect all the logbooks for his crew and he used to mess about with the logbook, you see. And Mac said to me, ‘You’re not putting enough information on. I’ll keep your logbook for you in the future.’ And that’s why. Why the writing changes.
BW: I see. So —
JT: I just used to put Ops — [unclear] Ops — St Pierre du Mont and then, but Mac put all sorts of, these sort of things down,
BW: What has he put on that one?
JT: Which one?
BW: What has he put on this one?
JT: “Ops Rennes. Landed at Skellingthorpe. Diversion was unsuitable.” Skellingthorpe was next door to our base. Next door to Waddington. There was Skellingthorpe, Bardney and Waddington were in a little group. That says, “Landed at Skellingthorpe.” It must have been fog. So, we were diverted there. I think we did about a third were German and the remainder were France because it would be about D-Day. Around about D-Day of course when we were very much involved in things. Königsberg, East Prussia. Ten hour fifty.
BW: And on such long trips like that how did you keep yourself occupied?
JT: Keeping my eyes open [laughs]. That was important. Yeah. Keep a look out you know. At night time of course. I remember one instance we were on a daylight operation actually. We were flying along and we were coming back and another aircraft just in front of us like that and I saw a Junkers 88. A fighter, German fighter, the 188 which had radar on the nose. And we were flying along and I saw this 188 so I told the skipper like, I said, ‘Junkers 88 starboard quarter. Starboard quarter level.’ So far, such a range. I forgot what it was now and so he said, ‘Keep your eye on it.’ Anyhow, the mid-upper gunner said, ‘I think he’s creeping up on this other Lancaster. And they don’t seem aware that he’s there. He’s coming up on them.’ I said, ‘Shall I fire a burst at him?’ So, the bomb aimer was a bit, you know. The bomb aimer said, George, he said, ‘No. No,’ he said, ‘Don’t you fire at him,’ he said, ‘He may come and turn on to us.’ I said, ‘Well we can’t sit here and watch. And watch him shoot that fellow down can we?’ I said, ‘Let’s give him a warning shot.’ And that’s what I did. Skipper said, ‘Yes. Go ahead.’ So, I gave a warning shot at this Junkers 88. And then the rear gunner of this other aircraft then opened up. And our mid-upper opened and he just dived away. The 88. And so then it was where had he gone to? Had he come around or was he coming around the other side. Where was he? Was he going to be a bit spiteful at us depriving him of his target? But we got away with it.
BW: And the other aircraft remained unscathed as well.
JT: Oh yes. Yeah. Yes.
BW: And when you fired that burst what, what sort of guns are you firing? Are they the 303s or did they change to the .5s at this time?
JT: The 303 Brownings. Four. Four 303 Brownings. And they were [pause] Yeah.
BW: How did you rate them? Did you find them effective weapons?
JT: Yes. Yes. I mean when I fired at this 88 I could see my bullets striking his [pause] they had the port. The port engines. They call it covers. Striking the cowlings on the, on the starboard. On the port engine. But how effective it was I don’t know. It didn’t shoot him down.
BW: But it winged him.
JT: Yes. It frightened him off perhaps.
BW: And was that the only time that you fired your guns at a target?
JT: No.
BW: Or did you get opportunity to use them on other occasions?
JT: Well, had one or two pops off at different ones. But we weren’t, we weren’t really, I wouldn’t say attacked. We were never attacked by a fighter. I got the impression if you fired at them and showed them that you were awake they went off. They weren’t interested. Yeah.
BW: So, just coming back to the start of a mission. When you get in to the aircraft to get into your turret what sort of actions are you going through then? What do you do to settle yourself into the turret?
JT: Well, just get in. Check the gunsight is lit up and of course plug into your intercom so that you’re in communication with the skipper and others. Couple up to the oxygen system. And you’re sitting on, in the latter part you were sitting on a parachute as a cushion of course.
BW: A seat pack.
JT: Yeah. A pilot, a pilot’s type pack they called it. Meaning the other one is the observer pack they called it. That was the one with the chest. Chest pack.
BW: But when you were carrying your ‘chute you had the seat pack. You, you sat on your chute. You didn’t stow it.
JT: Sat on it. Yes. Sat on the parachute. That was an advantage being in the rear turret really because if you had to bale out you turned the turret on the beam so that you were facing that way as you were going along this way say. Open the doors behind you, uncouple your, your plugs and pick your knees up and roll out backwards. And you sit on your parachute. So it was an easy place to get out of. Safest place. Safer than the mid-upper. I wouldn’t have liked sitting on the mid-upper turret.
BW: Did you ever, you never swapped positions?
JT: No. No.
BW: Or flew in that position at all.
JT: I didn’t want to.
BW: You stayed purely rear turret.
JT: No. As a mid-upper he’d got to come down out of from his turret. Down the roof of the bomb bay. Down on to the back. Back end. And then turn to the door, open the door. And if the aeroplane was going like that that, you know it was a bit of a job.
BW: But you never had to bale out.
JT: Oh no. No. I got it planned in my mind. I knew just what I would do.
BW: And what did you, what was your plan if you had to bale out?
JT: To bale out? Well like I say —
BW: You would turn the turret around and bale out but did you, did your plan extend to what you would do on the ground once you were down there?
JT: No. Well, some of the lectures you had were on escape procedures and all that kind of thing. To try and get what they called a home run. You’ve been aware of all this haven’t you? What’s your connection with the RAF?
BW: Me personally? I, I had a couple of years in pilot training in the mid-80s but it was, well for me personally, I was nineteen, twenty years old and, you know flying a jet at that age was ultimately not something I was cut out for so, you know, I left. But in the same manner that that you were briefed on escape and evasion procedures we had as well. And we had exercises in the country about things, you know. You were briefed on what you could expect. And of course flying over enemy territory you had escape kit as well, didn’t you? You had things like silk handkerchiefs with maps on them.
JT: Oh yeah. Yes.
BW: Compass in buttons and things like that.
JT: That’s right. A compass. Two buttons. Two buttons. You’d cut them off and one had a little pin in it like that in the middle and a dimple in the top one and that was, made a little compass in those. Yes.
BW: Thankfully you never had to use them.
JT: No.
BW: You had a good pilot who got you back every time.
JT: Oh yes. Got me back. Oh yes. He was a good pilot.
BW: You said you got on pretty well as a crew altogether.
JT: Hmmn?
BW: You said you got on pretty well as a crew altogether.
JT: Oh yeah. Yes. We got on.
BW: But did you socialise together after the operations?
JT: Not really. No. No. Didn’t [pause] That’s one thing I regretted really. That we didn’t have a sort of a get together after. When we’d finished. Mac was awarded a DFC and when he was going he came to me one day he said, ‘I’m going down to London,’ he said, ‘And he didn’t say about his DFC but I found out afterwards.’ He said, ‘I’m going down to London,’ he said, ‘And they’re flying me down there,’ he said, ‘I believe you’re going to — ’ what is it called? Near Market Harborough. He said, ‘I believe you’re going to,’ so and so, ‘Can we drop you off there?’ So, I said, ‘Oh yes. If you don’t mind.’ So, I got my two kit bags and my other pack and all that and he said, he said, ‘I’m in a hurry,’ he said, ‘So, as quickly as you can.’ And I never got time to say anything to the other lads before I went. And I thought afterwards, you know, it was a bit rotten after flying together all that time.
BW: And so that sounds as though it was the end of your tour when that happened. Is that right?
JT: End of the —
BW: Was it the end of your tour when that happened?
JT: Oh yes. Yes. See they stipulated that you were required to do thirty five ops. The squadron’s commander decided how many trips you had to do to complete what they called a tour of operations. And different squadrons had different numbers. Some had thirty. Some had thirty five and ours was thirty five. Mac, when the crew first arrived on the squadron from training the pilots of course had no operational experience so, they used to send them on a trip or two trips if possible with an experienced crew. And to get, see what, what the Pathfinders approach to things, you know. Over the target and that. And the, I was going to say [pause] anyhow I never got the chance to say goodbye to anybody or exchange addresses or anything. So completely lost touch with them. That was it.
DT: That’s why you did thirty three ops wasn’t it?
JT: Pardon?
DT: That’s why you did thirty three operations and not thirty five.
JT: Oh well, we did thirty three.
DT: Because Mac had done two.
JT: Out of thirty five. Well, Mac did two of these experience trips so we needed thirty five. They said that’s it. So we only did thirty three.
BW: And you, you didn’t go on to serve with another crew. You stopped at that point and finished altogether.
JT: That was it, yeah. Yeah.
BW: And in your log there are some targets that you attacked at the end of June which were V-1 sites. Do you recall what was briefed about those at all? Were they static sites or just storage areas or —
JT: Well, there was Peenemunde of course which was attacked. That was where the Germans were concentrating their rocket activities. But no it was at a targets, you know. You were given a target and that was it. You go and do the job. It’s rather strange you know because our last trip was, was to Mönchengladbach in Germany. And we bombed there one night. That last one and that was it. And 1956 I think it was, our swim, we belonged to a swimming club, the boys and Betty and myself belonged to a swimming club in Manchester. And one of the boys had been in the army at Mönchengladbach and he had formed a friendship with youngsters in the swimming club there [unclear] himself. And he formed this friendship and then the club, their club decided to come over to England and have a joint swimming competition with our club. And it was from Mönchengladbach. And they asked us to, would our members accommodate some youngsters? So we said we’d have two boys. Having three sons of our own. And Heinz and Hans Peter. Hans Peter has died since but Heinz and his wife Sabina, we’re still in touch with them. We’ve been over a few times. They’ve been over here. And I’m walking around Mönchengladbach and think well I bombed this place a few years ago, you know.
DT: Didn’t they take you to a hill dad?
JT: Pardon?
DT: They took you to a hill that was built out of rubble.
JT: Oh yes. Yes. At the back of Sabina and Heinz house there’s this mound. Big mound grassed over and a path leading up so you go up and seats and a garden on the top. A memorial garden. And Sabina said to me one time, she said, her English was very good. She said, ‘Do you know what this is, John?’ I said, ‘What? No.’ So she said, ‘This is rubble from when they were bombed during the war.’ So, I said, ‘Oh dear,’ you know. I didn’t tell her we’d made it, we helped to contribute to it because they were a smashing couple. Yeah.
BW: Did you ever get to see any of the V-1s that you were attacking the ground —
JT: No.
BW: Targets for.
JT: No.
BW: It was just another —
JT: Another target.
BW: Another target.
JT: Yeah.
BW: There were a couple of times where you flew in support of allied troops. One was over Caen and the other was over Königsberg. Did you get to see any of the troops on the ground or were you too high for that?
JT: Oh, too, we would be too high. Yes. Yes.
BW: Your CO, I believe was a Wing Commander Brill.
JT: Brill. Yes. Yes.
BW: What do you recall of him? He was Australian, wasn’t he?
JT: Australian. Yes. Wing Commander Brill. Yes. Deegdon was the flight commander. A fellow called Deegdon.
BW: Deedon?
JT: Flight commander.
BW: And which flight were you in on your squadron?
JT: I can’t remember.
BW: Ok.
JT: No. I can’t remember. He was Australian. Deegdon. I’m not sure whether Brill was killed later in a flying accident. I seem to remember.
BW: Your last trip in your log is to, is it Rheydt. R H E Y D T is that?
JT: Rheydt. Rheydt. Yeah.
BW: Rheydt.
JT: Yeah.
BW: And there was a notable incident on the, on that that raid. Do you recall what it was?
JT: To Rheydt. That was Mönchengladbach. Rheydt. Mönchengladbach.
BW: And who was the master bomber?
JT: Oh yes. Gibson. Guy Gibson. He was killed on that raid. Yeah.
BW: Was there any information given to you about what had happened to him?
JT: No. No. No. I don’t recall. Guy Gibson. Yeah. Wait a minute, yes. Just a minute. I saw, I could tell you something on that. As we were coming back over Holland, we were coming back over Holland and I saw, looking down I saw this twin-engined aircraft on fire. Flying on fire. And it was obviously under control because I thought it was trying to force land. And I saw it hit the ground and burst into flames. And when we got back to base they told us Guy Gibson hadn’t reported back. And I never connected the two facts of seeing this twin-engined, this twin-engined aircraft on fire. I never connected that with him at that time and it was a long time after that that it really hit home that it, there was a possibility.
BW: Because he was in a Mosquito.
JT: A Mosquito. That’s right. Yeah.
BW: And killed over Holland.
JT: Yeah.
BW: It was said that he was heard giving the crews on that raid a pat on the back before turning for home. Was that something that you recall and was it something that was broadcast to crews? Were you able to hear something like that or, or not?
JT: Well, we would have heard. We would perhaps would have heard it over the intercom but I don’t recall anything of that. No.
BW: Were messages broadcast between aircraft that you could hear on the intercom as well or was that only between the wireless operators on each aircraft? Could you? Could you hear exchanges on any raids with other aircraft?
JT: No. I don’t think there was never much communication between aircraft. The master bomber used to, used to communicate with the crews and you know, call in. You were in a flight. You were a wave. You know, you were wave one, two or three. You were told that when you were being briefed. You would be on such a wave. And timings were based on that and [pause] but the master bomber would, if the target, if the aiming of the target, you know, they dropped a marker to, as an aiming point. If it wasn’t accurate they’d say add two or three seconds or something like that to, for overshoot. If the targets, if the flare drops there and the target’s there and you’re coming this way he’d say three. Add three. And you’ve got your bombsight goes through, through the marker and then you’ve got the one, two, three - bang. Drop yours.
BW: Yeah. So, if the marker has fallen short of the target.
JT: Short of the target.
BW: And you’re heading in the direction of the marker you then add three seconds in order to hit the target.
JT: That’s right. To do that.
BW: And when the master bomber was giving you those kind of instructions could you as crew members hear that on the intercom?
JT: Oh yes. We’d hear that. Yes.
BW: And were there occasions when you recognised master bombers perhaps? Like Gibson. Had you heard him before?
JT: Not really. You knew who the master bomber was. And Willie Tait was another one. Willie Tait. Guy Gibson. One or two. One or two were a bit unpopular because they made a cock up of it sometimes. Some of these master bombers.
BW: And did you get to meet Gibson or —
JT: I saw him once. When I was at the Isle of Man. When I was in training. And there was a squadron was walking along, marching along to a lecture and the chappy who was in charge of us said, ‘Oh, here comes the CO.’ And they were coming, a group of about four or five people. Officers. And of course eyes right, you know. That kind of thing. And one of them was Guy Gibson. Yeah. And it was after the dams raid so he was known, you know, and that. And that was at, that was at Andreas. Want to see if it is in the logbook? I’ve got his logbook here. A copy.
BW: How did you come by that?
JT: I forget now. Somebody gave it me.
BW: And what was, this was after the dams but what was his reputation?
JT: I couldn’t really say. Supposed to be umpty, a bit huffy sometimes, you know. This is when I was at Andreas. It would be somewhere about [pause pages turning] Trying to pinpoint when Gibson was [pause] he had a friend on the camp. Some other officer. And he’d come to visit him and he’d flown in to —
BW: I see.
JT: Andreas. To see his friend. That would be August ’43.
BW: Right.
JT: It was round about that time but if it’s in his logbook I don’t know.
BW: Yeah. The log here that you’ve got a copy of says September 16th 1944. This is a copy of Gibson’s own logbook. It says his last recorded trip was in a Lightning. Which would be a P38.
JT: Yeah.
BW: From Langford Lodge. So, prior to that he’d been flying Oxfords but interspersed with Lightnings and Mosquitoes. So —
JT: It doesn’t say his destination does it?
BW: Langford Lodge. To and from Langford Lodge. That’s all. But —
JT: No. I mean I wouldn’t have —
BW: It seems he’s not been long on that op. On those, on that tour. But when you were out over the targets of these places particularly over, over Germany what was, what was the area like? I mean, were you able to see much or was there frequently heavy cloud or were you able to see a lot out of the —
JT: Well, you could see a lot. You could see the, you could see the fires and things like that. And we were too high to see, see much you know. You couldn’t see people or anything like that.
[pause]
BW: You’d done, in total thirty three ops in just over four months which was pretty consistent flying really. Did you want to continue and carry on and do another tour?
JT: Well, I did. I went from operational flying on to instructing at OTU. Operational Training Unit. And then one of the pilots [pause] I’m trying to think which one it was [pause] One of the pilot instructors said to me one day, ‘I’m getting a crew together to go back on ops. Do you want to come with me?’ So, I said, ‘Yeah, I’ll come with you.’ So, and, well that must have been before, before June. June ’46 was it? ’45. Anyhow, he said, I said, ‘Alright, I’ll come with you.’ So, we went into the training and while we were in training we went to, we went to 100 Squadron for training and [pause] just casting my mind back and it developed then that the war was over. So, there was no point in us completing. And then he decided to cut down squadron strength and of course we were all old stages more or less — due for early de-mob. We were the first lots to be de-mobbed. So, so they made us redundant. Our crew. And, and then I was told I was going to 9 Squadron. At Waddington strangely enough. Back to Waddington. Of course, 9 Squadron was an old First World War squadron. Number 9. Oh and a chappy, Pete Langdon, he was the, he was the deputy commander of the squadron. And that’s when we went out to India. I went and reported to the 9 Squadron adjutant when I arrived. I was posted as a single, as an individual rather than with a crew. And I went in to the adjutant and he said, ‘Hello John, how are you?’ and he was, he’d been one of the instructors with me instructing. And so he said, ‘Did you come to join us?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘We’re going out to Hong Kong.’ So, I said, ‘Oh, I’ll come with you. I’ll join you on that.’ And anyhow, we finished up at Salbani in India. Which was a different place altogether.
BW: And what was it like out there?
JT: Pardon?
BW: What was it like out there?
JT: What? Salbani. Well, just, just out in the wilds. Out in the wilds really. There was, there was the airfield. The airfield, the railway station and that was about all.
BW: Did you get much time off? Off duty? Were you able to go off base into the nearby town?
JT: No. No. Didn’t go off. The nearest place was Calcutta. I went there twice. I went on the train and went twice. I got nose bleed and, I broke my nose when I was a kid you see and it used to bleed sometimes. They said it was the heat causing the rise in blood pressure. I went sick and they sent me to Calcutta to see the ear, nose and throat specialist. I went twice.
BW: How long were you out in India for?
JT: About four months. Yeah. Be four month. Yeah. January to April. January the 2nd we took off. Should have gone on the 1st but the weather wasn’t suitable. Flew to [pause] North Africa and then along over the desert to Karachi. Sorry. To Egypt. Egypt. Egypt to [pause] oh my mind’s going. From Egypt to —
BW: Would you fly to —
JT: Karachi. North Africa.
DT: You went to Italy first didn’t you?
JT: Pardon?
DT: Didn’t you go to Italy first?
JT: I went to Italy. I went to Italy on, that was Operation Dodge.
DT: Oh yeah. Yeah.
JT: Dodge they called it. The flying troops back. Flying the 8th Army chaps back. In fact, there’s a picture of them in. This aircraft was included in it.
BT: Are you warm enough love?
BW: I’m fine thank you, yes.
BT: Are you warm enough David?
DT: I’m fine, love. Yeah. No problem.
BW: Yeah. So they did. They did. Yeah, they did repatriate soldiers and POWs in Lancasters. Yeah. Operation Exodus.
JT: This wasn’t prisoners. This was the 8th Army.
BW: 8th Army. So, that’s an original photo of S Sugar with, as you say troops from the 8th Army about to board. And what were you? Were you still flying Lancasters out in India or were you flying something different?
JT: Oh yes. Lancasters. Yeah. Yeah. Glad. Yeah.
BW: And when you, when you returned back to the UK what, what happened then?
JT: Well, I got married. Didn’t we? [laughs] Yeah. 1946.
BW: And where had you both met?
JT: Hmmn?
BW: Where had you both met? Where did you meet each other?
JT: Oh, we grew up together. Lived in the same road, didn’t we?
BT: Lived on the same road.
JT: Yeah.
BW: So, you’d known each other for years before you joined up.
JT: Oh yeah.
DT: You lived at, what was it mum? You lived number 65.
BT: What?
DT: You lived at number 65 and dad lived at 57.
BT: 57.
JT: That’s right.
BT: So he knew all about me.
DT: And didn’t mess about.
BW: So he knew what he was getting in to.
BT: What love?
BW: He knew what he was letting himself in for.
BT: Oh, he knew what he was taking on. Yeah.
DT: There was no messing about because that was my mum’s dad.
BT: That was my dad. A policeman.
JT: A copper.
BW: I see.
DT: That was, that’s my grandad.
JT: She’s like her father.
BW: Yeah.
DT: He was a big man.
BT: Yeah.
JT: Thirty years. Thirty years in the police.
BT: Lovely fellow wasn’t he John? Really nice.
JT: Oh yeah.
BW: He looks like he, he’d had service too. Did he serve in the Second War or was he in the First?
JT: No. Well he’d got the defence —
BT: A policeman.
JT: He’d got, the policeman and ambulanceman and fireman all got the defence medal didn’t they?
BW: Alright. Thank you.
BT: He used to take the kids at that time you used to take the kids across, you know from, from the school to the other side of the road and they all used to run just so to take hold of his hand.
DT: He was huge. He was about — how tall was he? Six foot something.
BT: Six foot seven.
BW: Wow.
BT: Something like that.
DT: He was the police, the police tug of war team. He was the anchorman.
BW: I should hope so.
BT: Got some lovely presents. Some lovely prizes. Cups and things, you know.
BW: So, when you returned from India you got married and then you were demobbed.
JT: I was demobbed in, soon enough. I enrolled at St John’s Wood. Lord’s Cricket Ground, St John’s Wood. I was de-mobbed at Wembley Stadium.
DT: Didn’t you go on Lincolns dad?
JT: Pardon?
DT: Didn’t you go on to Lincolns?
JT: Ah yes. We went on to Lincolns for a short while. Yes.
BW: And where were you flying those from?
JT: Lincolns? [pause] Binbrook was it? Or Lindholme? Lindholme. Number 9 Squadron attached to Lindholme for —
BW: So, you wouldn’t have been months then doing that. Once you came back from India you wouldn’t be many months with 9 Squadron would you?
JT: Yes. I were with 9 Squadron until the end of the war. Until I was demobbed rather. When we were on Lincolns. I were demobbed from the 9 Squadron.
BW: I see.
JT: At Binbrook. Binbrook. When we came back from India.
BW: Once you left the RAF what did you go on to do then?
JT: I went, I worked for the CWS before. In Manchester. The Coop headquarters in Manchester. I worked for them before I went in the RAF and when I came out of course they had to give me my job back. And I went, I was in the sales accounts department.
BW: For the Co-op.
JT: For the Co-op. Yes. In their head office there and the chappy who was made the boss. The boss retired, the manager of the department. He’d stayed on extra years during the war and of course when peace came he, he opted for his retirement. And the chap who took over as boss, he’d married one of the CWS director’s daughters. So, of course he was a squadron leader in the RAF and when he came back he, they gave him, the boss gave him the bosses job when the boss retired. They gave him his job. And he said to me one day, I mean he had a bit of a soft spot for being ex-RAF as well. He said to me, he said, ‘There’s a vacancy in the taxation department,’ he said, ‘Are you interested?’ I said, ‘Yeah.’ He said, ‘It will pay better than this department.’ So, I said, ‘Oh yeah. Certainly.’ So I got the job in taxation. Company tax work. And very interesting it was. Cut and thrust with the Inland Revenue you know and sending, we used to do audits for various Co-op societies and I used to do the tax work then. So, what they had to pay in tax from the profits or how money we got back from them for the losses and such. You know. And I finished up as managing the department at one time. And then they merged. They merged with the auditors and you’ve heard of KPMG have you?
BW: Accountants.
JT: On London Road. And they merged with them so I was just about due for retiring then so I got out. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the work. Interesting.
BW: I can think of a few people who’d be, who’d be asking for your skills. I can think of a few people who would be asking for your skills these days.
JT: Oh yeah.
BW: Somebody who lives at number 10 I think.
DT: Yours was company tax wasn’t it? You were company tax. Not personal tax.
BW: Yeah.
JT: Company tax. Not individuals. It was company tax. Yes.
DT: But you used to fill my tax forms in and you’d say, ‘Cross that out. Cross that out. Sign. Tick that, tick that, tick that. Sign that,’ he said, ‘That’ll be thirty guineas.’
[pause]
DT: You managed to fly Lancasters as well didn’t you dad?
JT: Pardon?
DT: You managed to fly Lancasters.
JT: Oh, I did fly a Lancaster once. Yeah.
DT: Yeah.
BW: How did you manage that?
JT: Well, we had a pilot who decided that it would be a good idea if different crew members interchanged. So, he said, ‘Here John,’ he said, ‘Fly this.’ I said, ‘Oh aye. Go on.’ I got in the pilot’s seat. Flew it. But just straight and level stuff, more or less, you know.
DT: He wanted to make sure you got home.
JT: Hmmn?
DT: He wanted to make sure he got home in case, if he was hurt.
JT: Well, no this was after.
DT: That was after was it?
JT: After all. Yeah.
DT: Oh, I thought it was —
JT: No. Mac didn’t. No. Mac was, Mac was the pilot.
DT: Yeah.
JT: He was in charge.
DT: Oh right.
BW: Was he pretty strict about that sort of thing?
JT: Yeah. He were a good pilot.
BW: There’s a photo here of your CO and the Duke of Gloucester. Duke of Gloucester’s on the left there.
JT: He became —
BW: And your CO —
JT: Yeah. He was at, he was made the Governor General of Australia wasn’t he. So he came to an Australian squadron to say, when he went to Australia there he could genuinely, could say, ‘I’ve met the lads in England,’ you know. That kind of thing. Yeah.
BW: Do you recall that visit taking place? It would be about the time you were on.
JT: No. No.
BW: Waddington.
JT: I do remember actually. We were told he was coming but I, we’d been on operation that previous night and I said, I’m not getting up to go and see him [laughs] Yes.
BW: There was a couple of Australian crewmen in that photo too.
JT: Yeah. Wing Commander Brill. Yeah.
BW: Did you happen to know them? The other, the other crewmen. They’re named.
JT: No. I don’t. Where did you get this from? Got secret information. Got me here.
BW: That’s from the Australian War Museum that particular photo. But you shared that that base at Waddington with 463 Squadron as well didn’t you?
JT: 463 and 467. That’s right. Yes. Yeah.
BW: And did you get to mix with them at all from the other?
JT: Not really. You didn’t really know. You know there was just a mass of fellows and you didn’t know whether they were 463 or 467. The only, the only near association and strangely enough it was, that was through Derek. That mate of yours who [pause] they formed [pause] what do you call it? Oh God. What’s his name? His father. Johnson.
DT: Johnson. Max Johnson.
JT: Johnson. Johnson. That’s right.
DT: Peter Johnson. Max Johnson was his father and Max Johnson was on 467 Squadron wasn’t he?
JT: That’s right, yeah.
DT: Yeah. And he’s actually listed as one of the pilots of POS at the time.
JT: Yeah.
DT: Yeah.
JT: That’s right. Yeah.
DT: Another coincidence, Brian. I worked for a company. I worked in the chemical research department and I was seconded to a university in Australia to do a research project over there. I was there for two months I think it was. My wife and my daughter came with us and and in the department there was, I was talking to some of the lads in the lab and in the research area and I was saying, ‘Oh, my dad was in the Royal Australian Air Force.’ And they said, ‘Oh you want to come and see Doc Pete. A fellow called Peter Brownall.’ And they said he was on Lancasters during the war. So, they took me along to see this elderly university lecturer and we got talking. A really nice guy you know. And he says, he says what squadron were you with? I said, ‘What squadron were you with?’ So he said 467. I said, ‘Oh that was my dad’s squadron. 467.’ But he was slightly after my dad and I think he was just there, he was there just as the war finished. He’d done his training and he got on to the squadron but 467 then was at Metheringham. And so he was absolutely hacked off because the war had ended and he hadn’t been able to —
BW: Yeah.
DT: Go on operations.
BW: Participate.
DT: So, he was flown, he flew back then to Australian and took up his post as, I think a botany lecturer. Some sort of science lecturer, you know.
BW: Yeah.
DT: So I was talking to him and it was interesting. And there was a not a DVD but a tape of that time. This was 1994. A tape had been produced about, called, “The Lancaster at war,” and I told him about this. So, when I got home I searched out a copy of it and posted it off for him. And I got a really nice letter back you know, thanking me for this. And he said he’d had to go out and buy a tape player and people had been coming around and he’d been, you know he’d been showing this Lancaster thing, Lancaster tape to all his, all his pals. But he was a nice chap. And do you remember that cartoon that he gave me? And it was —
[recording paused]
BW: Last, I think, section to, to cover. Since your retirement and since you left the RAF how does it feel to see Bomber Command being commemorated after all this time? There’s now the Hyde Park Memorial and there’s the Spire in Lincoln?
JT: It should be. It should be.
BW: Have you been to the unveiling of the Memorial Spire in Lincoln?
JT: No. No.
BW: Did you go last year?
JT: No. No.
BW: So, you —
JT: I don’t think that should have been built in London. It should have been built in Lincoln.
BW: Well, the Memorial in Green Park was unveiled a few years ago but they are, they have unveiled a Memorial Spire at Canwick Hill which is what the Bomber Command Centre are responsible for. Have you, have you seen that? Have you been?
JT: No.
BW: No.
JT: I haven’t. No.
BW: But it’s in, and certainly I’m sure you’d agree it’s in the right place. You know, it’s —
JT: Oh, it is. Yeah.
BW: So, there’s a spire which is the height of a Lancaster’s wingspan and it has memorial walls made of steel situated around it. And that’s where the Centre will be built. The Chadwick Centre which will house the digital archive which, you know, this information is going to go into. But you can —
JT: I don’t know if I’ll ever get over to Lincoln now.
BW: Well if you do it’s, it’s worth seeing.
JT: Yeah.
BW: They had a, they had a beautiful unveiling ceremony last year and a flypast. Unfortunately, the Lancaster couldn’t make it but they got the Vulcan instead. And that was, that was really special. If you do get the chance do go and have a look. So, are you, are you glad these sort of commemorations for Bomber Command are coming about now?
JT: Sorry?
BW: Are you glad these sorts of commemorations for Bomber Command are coming about?
JT: Oh yeah. I am glad. Yes. There’s, because there are so many uniques in the army and so on, and navy and they were specifically honoured. And Bomber Command, I think people regarded them as dirty words because of bombing civilians. I think that’s been a failing really.
[recording paused while John leaves the room for a moment]
JT: A while later. A few years later I went to see him. He said, ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘The firm’s selling up. They’re merging with someone else,’ he said, ‘I’m retiring.’ So, he said, ‘Good luck,’ and all that. So, anyhow a few days later a partner from the firm came with a parcel and he gave me that. Gave me that picture. And I rang this chappy up to thank him for sending it and he said, ‘Well, it belongs to you more than it belongs to me,’ he said, ‘You did some good work for us,’ and all that and so —
BW: And that’s —
JT: He gave it me.
BW: And that’s how you acquired the picture.
JT: That’s how it came. Yeah.
BW: And so you’ve always, you’ve always got that association now with.
JT: [unclear] yeah.
BW: POS and you know.
JT: Yeah.
BT: That was good of them wasn’t it?
BW: And it’s, you know, on permanent display now in the RAF Museum.
JT: Yeah.
BW: So, that’s brilliant. So, when you, when you look back over your career in the RAF has it given you good memories, and?
JT: Oh yes. I’ve got good memories. Some good mates, and you know it was, it’s alright. It’ll be alright. Yes. I never regretted going. Yeah.
BW: We’ll move on to other things like the photographs and whatever. So, you know, for the, for the audio anyway I’ll leave it there for now. So, thank you very much for your time. For the interview. And for giving the information to the International Bomber Command Centre. Thank you.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Interview with John Foster Thorp
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Brian Wright
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-12
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AThorpJF160412, PThorpJF1601
Conforms To
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Pending review
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Format
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01:38:37 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
John Thorp was born and raised in Manchester where he attended North Manchester Grammar School. At seventeen he joined the Home Guard. When he was eighteen he volunteered for the RAF with dreams of becoming a pilot. While waiting at Heaton Park to transfer to further training overseas he became increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress. When invited to volunteer to train as a gunner he decided to accept because he wanted to progress. After training he was posted with his crew to 467 Squadron at RAF Waddington. Returning from the operation on D-Day he saw the massed armada waiting to sail to the landing grounds in Normandy. On take-off to an operation there was a loud bang heard throughout the aircraft. When they returned from the target they tested the undercarriage and the wheel flew past John’s turret. They had to effect an emergency landing at Woodbridge and the pilot completed a remarkable landing.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
India
England--Lincolnshire
England--Suffolk
Germany--Mönchengladbach
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1939
1942
1944
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
467 Squadron
9 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bombing
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
civil defence
crewing up
Gibson, Guy Penrose (1918-1944)
Home Guard
Ju 88
Lancaster
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operation Dodge (1945)
RAF Binbrook
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Upper Heyford
RAF Waddington
RAF Woodbridge
Stirling
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1124/11616/ASimmsL160807.2.mp3
d03ad22f9baad15ec57a6d9bef25f216
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
Simms, Lester
L Simms
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Lester Simms (1924 - 2017, 1812002 Royal Air Force). He was posted to 106 Squadron at RAF Metheringham as ground personnel before he was posted to Rhodesia to be trained as a pilot.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-08-07
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Simms, L
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
GC: This is an interview being conducted on behalf of the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive, my name is Gemma Clapton, the interviewee today is Lester Simms of 106 Squadron.
LS: Yes.
GC: Er, the interview is being conducted at [place omitted], on the 7th August 2012, 2016. I’d like to say thank you very much for letting me be here today.
LS: Right.
GC: Erm, can you just tell me a bit about life before the war and how you joined up, please?
LS: Er yes, I really had quite an interesting life, before it even started. I had the most terrible childhood, with two parents that should never have had, erm, should never have had children [laughs]. You want this too?
GC: Yes.
LS: With parents who should never have children. My mother was from a Welsh mining family, erm, Neath in Glamorgan, in South Wales, and my father was from a very rich family. He’d had public school education, it was a clash of different — I saw two different sides of life entirely before I even went into the RAF, erm, and one day, my father, who was a born Australian, just disappeared. I didn’t know what had happened, do you know when you’re young, you don’t know what’s going on, you take everything for granted as though this is what happens to everybody, but suddenly, my father disappeared. As it turned out, he upped left my, his wife, my mother and two, two boys and went back to Australia. Now what that period was, I have no idea. All I know is that some years later, we were living at a place called Nailsea in Bristol with my mother, my mother was a nurse, erm, I won’t tell you the bad side of my mother because I don’t think it should go down in writing.
GC: Okay
LS: But she was actually a nurse and an absolutely dreadful mother, erm, my brother and I were left alone at seven, eight or nine years old, I can’t remember how long it was, and we went to the ordinary common or garden, what were in those days known as elementary or council schools and I even can remember being ashamed of my mother, because I didn’t want the other children to see her, that’s how my young life was. But, suddenly [emphasis] one day, it must have been some years after my father had left home and gone back to Australia where he was born, erm, there was a knock on the door where we lived near Bristol, and my father just grabbed me by the collar, chucked me in his car and I never saw my mother again [pause]. In fact, I think ‘til I came out of the Air Force, I never saw my mother at all, so what happened, er, to my brother, I never did know. So what happened then was, I spent — my father was very itinerant, he moved all over the UK doing what he wanted to do, which was buying and selling motor cars, worked for some different companies, but I, I was all over, all over Britain, not going to school properly, with my father. He had a sister who was actually a multi-millionaire. One day I was told that I was going to a different school, so I was taken to Harrods, in London, completely kitted out, with things that I’d never seen in my life before, you know, a big trunk, and everything that, and sent to a public school, erm, Imperial Service College Windsor, which was the most dramatic thing for anybody to experience. There were, in fact, I remember, there were two Russian princes there, the Romanovs, what happened to them, I don’t know but, of course, the Romanovs all got, erm, killed in the revolution, but it was a school for, it was a school for ex-Army officers’ sons, Imperial Service College Windsor, which was next door to Eton in fact. Although it wasn’t Eton, but it was a very, if you like to say, a posh school, erm, this was very difficult for me to, to accept. You can imagine going to a school where they come, people would come from very rich stock and I’ve come from seeing what I saw and what I knew. My father was always, he was always, a sort of influence, influential, affluent sort of person, he was somebody who everybody would look up to, because he, he was six foot four tall, he’d been to two public schools, erm, he was also a, a cricketer, county cricketer and [pause] It was so, I suppose really and truly, I forgot my mother and took my father’s side in it. But anyway, to get on from there, I left that school in 19, in 19, I think I left the school, the war had already started, in 1939, and we moved with my father to a little cottage at Weybridge in Surrey, where funnily enough, Weybridge was, was the home of, erm, one of the aircraft manufacturing companies, and I was, actually on September 3rd 1939, I was at this cottage in Weybridge which was, maybe as the crow flies, or as the ‘plane would fly, maybe just a few minutes from Brooklands, which was an aircraft factory. On that day, it later turned out, I saw this German aircraft come down over my house and heard the machine gun going, and apparently, the aircraft workers, it was lunchtime, were all outside eating their lunches in the sunshine and many of them were shot up by this. It was a Heinkel bomber. I didn’t know anything about this, all I can remember was that aircraft with crosses on it, which I’d seen come right over my house, then heard the machine gun fire that’s why I never knew anything else, but that was at Weybridge. And then, from there onwards, I’d actually gone to school, so I’ve done it a little bit backwards, but sorry. Somehow then my, my brother appeared, I don’t know how, why or from where, I don’t know, my brother appeared on the scene and, erm, we were together for a while. Some of which, what happened, I can’t remember the, what happened in the interim years, to be honest with you, all I know is that when I was exactly 17 years old it went through anyway. I was with my father, I never saw my mother still, erm, it went through those years, and when I was 17 years old, which you can work out from the times there [laughs]
GC: Um
LS: I was born in 24, 17 — 1941, I volunteered for, I’d decided I wanted to be a pilot, my ambition, because I’d already got myself a motorcycle and I loved riding motorbikes, which I did up to about ten years ago actually, erm, I decided that I wanted to be a pilot. So I went along to the Air Force volunteer place, volunteered and said I wanted to be a pilot, they said alright, and in, I suppose [coughs], sorry, I suppose at the beginning of 1942, it must have been at the beginning of 1942, erm, they sent me to a place called Cardington in Bedfordshire, which was an RAF, it was the main barrage balloon centre of London, of Britain. It was, erm, I’ve forgotten, it was a Royal Air Force place, it had a certain flight num —squadron number, which I’ve forgotten. But, the RAF were using it as an aircrew recruiting centre for potential, potential pupils for aircrew. That was the pilots, navigators, bomb aimers, so I volunteered as a pilot. Everybody volunteers to be a pilot but it’s not so easy to get a pilot grading, you’ve got to, and I know for one thing, you’ll read in all the annals of the Air Force that, er, being a little bit of a snob, going to a public school, going to a university, got you into the flying in the Air Force and they wanted this kind of person in there so they could go and get killed pretty quickly. As it turned out, of course. But you did need to be, and the reason that, I know one of the reasons that I was selected for pilot training was as a result of the interview and the medicals I had. I was sent away, erm, oh sorry I missed a bit at the end of all this, ‘cause I’m going back a long time, so I don’t think I’m doing too badly at the moment [laughs]
GC: [laughs]
LS: [pause] I passed everything, I passed the medical, I passed the IQ test, everything else that you need, and you have to be something a little bit special to be a pilot, you have to have something about you to be a pilot, so, and I passed everything. So suddenly I was called in for the final interview there, at Cardington, I was called into the office, and a group of bigwigs was sat there with the scrambled eggs on the hat, as we use to call it. The top RAF officers had the gold on top of their hat, and they said, ‘Right, well, you have passed, you have passed your flying training, but unfortunately, you’re not old enough. We didn’t properly look at your age and you volunteered when you were 17, and you can’t come in until you’re 17 and a half’, so I had to wait six months. So I said, ‘Oh, what shall I do in six months?’ So they said, ‘Well, we’d recommend that in view of your interest in aircraft and flying, that you find an aircraft factory and see if you can work there’. Well, by strange coincidence, sorry, I’ll just turn this off now, by strange coincidence, I lived at Kingston on Thames. Now Kingston on Thames was the headquarters of Hawker Aircraft Company Limited, and I went along there seeking a job, explained to them who I was, and what I was doing there, and I was waiting to go for my pilot training, and I’d been recommended by the RAF to find someone like them. They welcomed me with open arms and they put me in the experimental department of Hawker Aircraft, and leading that was, leading that department, was a man called Sydney Camm. He’s one of the most famous aircraft designers in Britain, he designed the Hurricane, the Typhoon. I never actually saw Sydney Camm, but his office was there and I just worked under one of the top engineers there, and we did all sorts of interesting things, erm, mostly I was just a ‘gimme’, ‘gimme this’ or ‘gimme that’, and wherever I went [laughs] his name was Wrigglesworth, that’s all I remember about him, but one [bird clock chimes], very interesting thing, which was [bird clock chimes], which was very much, sorry, it’s a bird clock. [bird clock chimes]
GC: [laughs]
LS: [laughs] one very interesting thing that we did [bird clock chimes], which maybe you would like to perhaps record down there [bird clock chimes], is that we fitted the first, we fitted the first, we had the job to fit a Hawker Hurricane, with the first fifty millimetre canons underneath there. I went to a place called Manston, which is another famous bomber command, fighter command station. We went to Manston to do this [background noises], oh he’s ok [laughs], that’s alright, I’ll just have a drink. [pouring drink]
GC: Carry on.
LS: So, erm, I’m not quite sure now where I got to.
GC: The guns.
LS: As I say we, one of the, the most interesting job was — ‘cause the German fighters always had better armament than the British fighters though the Hurricane and the Spitfire only had relatively simple guns, and indeed Lancaster bombers only had the same guns that we used in rifles by the army, 303s. But they needed, they needed canons, which was what the German fighters had, so that we could, so that our aircraft could blow the German aircraft out of the war with canons rather than just bullets and so that’s why we fitted, what happened after that, I don’t know. All I know is underneath this Hurricane, we fitted two fifty millimetre cannons and that was the most important job I did there. But eventually in 1940, in September 1942, funny how I can remember the date, I was called to the Euston House in London and attested there, signed in as aircrew, and that started my career in the Air Force. Now, if you read any books on what happened to aircrew, initially, we all, even, there were grades of aircrew, there was PNBs, that was pilot, navigator, bomb aimer. They were the senior grades, but afterwards came wireless operators, erm, flight engineers, air gunners, all those people who were on a Lancaster, well there was seven on a crew on a Lancaster. So you had wireless operator, flight engineers and two air gunners and navigator. Sorry, the navigators were part of us, PNB was pilot, navigator, bomb aimer, but the rest were all the other grades that we used in flying, that’s, as I say flight engineers, bomb, flight engineers, erm, radio operators and air gunners. Anyway, so [pause] I was attested then we went, all of us, all aircrew, went to St Johns Wood in London, which was Lords cricket ground, and they’d taken over all around Lords cricket ground, some people were actually stationed on Lords cricket ground and were using the facilities there to introduce people, initially introduce people to the Royal Air Force. But I know we stayed in a block of modern flats and we went through absolute hell there. I mean, we were treated more like prisoners of war than people who had volunteered to give our lives, by stupid ex-ground staff training people, to train us in, in all the other things like marching and all stupid things [bell rings]
GS: [chuckles]
LS: Last thing you need when you’re up in the air.
GS: Yes.
LS: Right, so from there, this is the more interesting part now, I think we are probably coming to, sorry about this, you’ve got to get used to these darn things [background noises], otherwise I’d completely lose my breath through no oxygen [laughs]
GS: It’s alright.
LS: Then you, all you’ve got is a gasp [laughs]
GS: [Laughs]
Unknown: [Laughs]
LS: [Laughs] right, so then we spent, I’m not sure how long, probably a month or something, there being introduced. Right, so then at my time, you’ve then come to 1943. Now at that time, right up to that time, within a short time after that, probably within eighteen months, you’d be trained as a pilot and you’d be actual operational duties against the enemy, flying, flying to Germany and such. Wherever, wherever it was taken. I had actually, I missed a little bit, towards the middle of my flying training, they asked, ‘Did you want to be a fighter pilot or a bomber pilot?’ Well I never wanted aerobatics, I was never very, I didn’t, wasn’t enthusiastic about turning upside down and flying at ten thousand feet into a spin and then recovering. You wouldn’t have to do that with a heavy aircraft. So I choose bombers and that’s why, I went the second part of my flying course was SFTS, which was the senior flying training school. I would have gone on a different aircraft in a different, erm, different squadron if I’d chosen to be fighter command. That was even, in the same place in Rhodesia where I went to. Oh, course we haven’t got to that yet have we.
GC: [laughter]
LS: [laughs] Okay.
GC: He’s just trying to keep me on my toes.
Unknown: Yes [laughs]
LS: You could put this on the comedy hour!
Everyone: [Laughter]
LS: Okay so right. So then they had to know what to do with us, because the courses for pilots, for pilots was probably just, flying alone, was probably a year. But, as I said, the South Africa, Canada, Australia and Rhodesia were the main ones and we all had to wait for a course to be available. So what they did with us then, which happened to most aircrew, there was a place called Heaton Park in Manchester, which is very famous, erm, in the Manchester, it’s still going strong, Heaton Park. But we were sent to Heaton Park in Manchester, it was an aircrew holding centre, so they held us there until we could have a, a position to train as pilots or whatever else we were going to train as. But they couldn’t hold too many of us there, so when, I presume, when it became saturation point, they sent us, groups of us out to operational stations or to training then, you are then away from training aircraft, you’re then fully, fully occupied with operational aircraft. Which as far as I was concerned, would be Stirlings, Halifax, Lancasters or, erm, or those three. So, I dunno, we were there a few weeks at Heaton Park before they sent me out to my first posting, which was a temporary posting, prior to going to my flying training. And that was 106 Squadron, that was the Lancaster squadron at Metheringham. Now 106 Squadron was very closely associated, because it was next door, with 617 Squadron, which everybody knows is the Dambusters [pause], and 9 Squadron, which was another famous RAF, at Bardney they were. And from there, to a certain extent, I learnt what it was all about, although it should have frightened me, but it didn’t. Erm, I saw aircraft coming back being shot up, what I never knew was, I mean, we could lose three or four aircraft, it was only, it was only about twenty-two aircraft on each of these squadrons, but suddenly one or two would be missing. We were never told that, and incidentally neither were the other aircrew members of other aircraft, that their pals had been missed, they would have just missed them in the mess, maybe in the billets where they were staying, not, not see them anymore.
GC: Um
LS: Then people used to come in and take all their belongings and then they were sent back, all their belongings were sent back to their parents. So, I did learn a lot there. But what I did was, being a bit of a pub lad, erm, I palled up with one of the crews. Now they all went down to the local pub at Martin, which was right next to the airfield at Metheringham where I was, 106 Squadron at Metheringham we’re talking about now, I think you, that’s where I am, but next door was a village called Martin. Now in the normal way the aircraft, the airfield would have been called, it was taken over from farmland, the aircraft would have been called Martin, but it didn’t have a railway station, but Metheringham, which is the next [unclear] village, so they called it RAF Metheringham, but it wasn’t Metheringham at all, of course. But anyway, we come to the pub at Martin, which was The Royal Oak at Martin. I palled up with one of the crews, who’s, it’s a funny thing really, of course, I knew what they were doing, but I never realised that they were out to kill themselves, you know. ‘Cause I would meet up with Vic, his picture’s there actually [background noise], his picture’s there and I finally, because of doing what I was doing with 106 Squadron reunion and with the, erm, dealing with parental enquiries, anything that came to me, which is what I’ve been doing, I managed to find out he came from Barnsley, and I managed to find out actually, I found out his family. One of the, one of the daughters of his aunt sent me that picture and the aunt, who’s now well into her nineties, when she found out, ‘cause they didn’t know what happened. All they got was a letter to say that he’d been killed, erm, and where he was buried. He was buried actually in Durnbach, in a cemetery in Germany, we’ll come to that in a minute. But anyway, erm, I palled up with this crew and the interesting thing was, of course, when you were sent, I think there were six of us, sent out to this, this aircrew, just to get rid of us. Remember Heaton Park wanted us out of the way so they dispatched us, the first place was there, and then, of course, when you arrived there, you never had a job to do. You got no trade, you were waiting to be trained as pilots so they just gave us odd jobs, and some of the jobs were quite interesting. Of course, based at RAF Metheringham, was a system called FIDO, fog intensive dispersal of, which was, because in the winter, an aircraft couldn’t actually land at some of the airfields because fog would prevent the landings. So they, they created this thing, which was the whole length of the runway, the main runway, was a pipe surrounded, big iron, I don’t know exactly what it was, but big iron things like that and when an aircraft was coming in to land, it was petrol, they used ordinary petroleum, ordinary petroleum and they’d set it alight and the fog would go, because this massive, apparently it burned so many gallons of petrol in such a short time, but it would allow the aircraft to see the runway and land, and I can remember so often, so why I’m telling you this was, they said, ‘Well what are we going to do with you people?’ The commanding officer, so they gave us jobs, and one of them was to repair holes in the aircraft, sorry, not in the aircraft, in the runway, erm, and that was an interesting job, all kinds of interesting this time. I was one, the only one of my group ever who could drive, ‘cause I learnt to drive ‘cause my father always had cars and I learnt to drive when I was probably ten or eleven.
GC: [Laughs]
LS: So I could drive, so I was always the driver wherever I was and a driver was needed, I was always the driver. But anyway, so we used to go out to the airfield and we even had a concrete mixer, a mixer so we could fill the holes, we did all that. One or two adventures, I don’t think we need go into stupid things that happened, but, and then one day, this might be of interest ‘cause it’s quite funny, erm, two of us were appointed to paint the inside, which was called distempering in those days, that was the white stuff, it’s called emulsion now, but, but even private houses used, for the ceilings, it was called distemper. And they gave us this distemper and we first had to do the toilet, the men’s toilet and then afterwards we had to do the ceiling in the headquarters. Well the first thing that happened was, I had just finished distempering the men’s toilet, well the most famous, erm, squadron leader at Metheringham was Group Captain McKechnie and I was just finishing off in the men’s toilet, and the group captain walked in for a jimmy riddle, and he looked at me and he said, ‘What’s your name?’ I said, ‘Simms, Sir’, he said, ‘Looks a lot better Simms, well done’. And he sat there having a jimmy riddle and in the middle of his jimmy riddle he turned his head round at me, he said, ‘It smells better too Simms.’
GC: [Laughs]
LS: That was the group captain and he’s quite famous, I mean nobody knows[laughter], so anyway, that was the first, well the second thing that happened, the next day two of us were appointed to paint the ceilings, so we had two stepladders and then a plank going across the top. So, erm, we managed this, but one of the lads was at the other end and I was at this end. What I hadn’t realised was, he was on the other side of the ladder, with the distemper.
GC: [laughs]
LS: So I said, ‘I won’t be a minute’. [laughs] I got down, the ladder went up in the air, the whole bucket of distemper went everywhere [emphasis], we had to clear the whole, sorry, I remember it being absolutely hell. He was covered in whitewash ‘cause he’d gone right down in the middle of it [laughter], so that was the most interesting thing that happened there. But, getting to the more interesting points, I was posted away from there and as far as I knew, Vic was still there. I did on one occasion, I said, ‘Vic’, he was the rear gunner by the way, Vic, the one you’ve seen in the photograph, I said, ‘Vic, could you get me on a trip one day?’ I mean of all the stupid things to do, it shows, shows you the people like me didn’t appreciate what we were going to do in the future. I said, ‘Could you get me on one of these trips?’ He said, ‘I’ll ask the captain’. so I met him in the pub some nights afterwards, he said, ‘Oh’, he said, ‘You’re not allowed to come with us, it’s forbidden’. So, of course, I didn’t go and as it so happens he, I’ve worked it out afterwards, he came back off that trip anyway, but I disappeared, suddenly you were told you’re going somewhere else and I was taken away from there, I think probably after three months at Metheringham. But ingrained into my mind was an attachment, because it was the only real operational station I was sent to while I was waiting to go for my flying training, and 106 Squadron means a great deal to me, and that’s why I’ve run the reunions for the last four years, because the man who did it, died suddenly. His wife phoned me up, she said, ‘He just died in a chair’. And he wasn’t very old and he wasn’t ex-RAF, but his brother was and his nephew was, erm, and this is why I’m doing the job that he was, which he’d done for seven or eight years. But suddenly, he died and I sort of took it over, running the reunion, which I did for four years and also, erm, any enquiries that came in from 106 Squadron. We have a publication, Tom, I wonder if you, um, just this pile on the right, there’s some magazines under there, RAF magazines, just one of those. No, not that one, the printed ones [background noises], are they there? There’s a few of them there, just one of those. Yes, thanks. That’s our 106 Squadron publication, which comes out every three months, and you can see I’m there as the contact there.
GC: Yes. Um.
LS: So this is what I do, what I still do, although I don’t run the reunion side of it anymore. Running reunions is like trying to herd cats [laughter], it’s impossible. It is. Because you tell them when the reunion is and, ‘Oh, I can’t do that date’. Well I can’t change, so you just have to try to get people early enough, and if you do it too early, of course, they forget [laughter]. Anyway our reunions, which are very interesting, were held at the Petwood Hotel, which was the officer’s mess of the Dambusters, as you probably know, a very famous place, so every year, for the last ten years, we’ve had our reunion at the Petwood, which brings back fantastic memories. We’d go there on the Sunday, always at the beginning of July, and we’d stay there ‘til the Thursday morning, but on the Tuesday, Conningsby is where the Lancaster is, and the Lancaster flew over for us every year. The last two years it hasn’t flown because the engines been, one of the engines has been kaput, so we haven’t had it fly over. This time I wasn’t able to go because of this breathing problem which was in July, and so they had a Spitfire, ‘cause there’s Spitfires and Hurricanes based there, what’s left of them, are based there. As well as the operational crew, if the prime minister presses the button and Air Force are needed, that’s where they are, at Conningsby, you probably know that.
GC: Um
LS: But it’s true, they’re all ready to go if anything happens. But anyway, so, erm, the Lancaster is based there, this is where I’ve [unclear], but most people know that anyway. But it’s still, it’s still kaput. But so that’s it really, so I finished, not saying goodbye to Vic, but while I was out doing my flying training and sometime afterwards, out in, when I was out in Rhodesia, I got a letter to say that the crew had been lost over Stuttgart, erm, the only aircraft of our squadron that was lost that night. It was August the twenty-eighth, twenty-ninth, over Stuttgart and I think, pretty certain it was shot down by German fighters. But the only one of ours, there were actually two hundred and fifty aircraft that took part that night but we had only got, we had nineteen, we had eighteen went out and, er, one didn’t come back and that was Vic’s, so I got that letter when I was out in Rhodesia, erm, to say that they’d been lost. Of course, reading a lot of books on Bomber Command, which I have been doing, in fact I think I am reading too many [laughs], I think I’m reading too many, erm, that I’ve found out a lot more about what happened, and, anyway. So, ok, so I will quickly now go back, then I was sent back to Heaton Park without knowing, Vic was still flying when I left, his crew were going, in fact he was killed, actually, I’m not sure when I actually left there, so I must have left there some, I’ve got a feeling it was September, went back to Heaton Park and then from there I went to a Halifax, the same thing again, they’d take us in there, hold us for a few days then send us out to another, just to get rid of us, while we’re waiting. So I went to another, to a Halifax conversion unit, because probably aircrew, when they change aircraft, they have to go to a conversion unit. So the Halifax was the other big bomber and that was one at Selby in Yorkshire. Nothing particularly interesting happened there, I think I was probably there for the same period as I was at Metheringham, one or two months. We were just there, I can’t even remember what we did, then I came back again, into Heaton Park, for the last time, but then was sent out to a flying boat squadron, in north of Scotland, Mill Town, Sunderland base. When we got there, there was six of us again and they said, ‘Right, we want a volunteer’. So I volunteer for anything. So, ‘We want a volunteer’. So they said, ‘Are any of you drivers?’ I said, ‘Yes, I’m a driver’, and they said, ‘Right, we want a volunteer to drive the, to drive the crash, erm, the crash vehicle’. So, well I didn’t realise at the time, of course, what it entailed but so I volunteered to drive this crash vehicle. It was a crash on the airfield or anywhere else in the vicinity, you went out, and tried to help, erm, and that was fine, I can’t remember what else we did, all I know, that I always had this crash thing, the crash vehicle, near me. Fact, we used to take it down the pub at nights [laughter], ‘cause we were on the radio, we used to go down the pub [laughs]. I remember one night, I’m trying to turn round, knocked somebody’s fence down [laughter] in this crash car. You couldn’t see out the back, it was a big thing. But anyway, one night, we’ve been out, we got the message on the radio, there’s been a crash at a place called Lhanbryde in Scotland, and we found it very quickly and they said it was a Wellington and it had crashed, and I saw things there that were absolutely dreadful. Just mangled bodies, and the people had already got there, ambulance people had already got there, erm, and I could see things that I, well, there was a young woman alongside me and I put my arm around her, I said, ‘Are you alright?’ She said, ‘I’m a nurse’, she said [laughs] So, anyway, I saw things there which you would have thought would have put someone like me, there was only two of us on this crash thing by the way, I don’t know what the others were doing, I don’t know I’ve forgotten, but I remember, I couldn’t eat anything for about three or four days after seeing what I saw, what I’d seen, it was pretty dreadful. But anyway, back into Heaton Park and then the next thing, something very interesting happened, really. I was due to go to America, for the flying school in America, I got the most tremendous dose of flu’ and the medical officer, I was due to go to America the next day and he said, ‘You can’t go anywhere, look at you’. I was steaming. He said, ‘Stay here, you can go on the next —’ so I actually went to Rhodesia, which actually was much more easy going than America was. It was much easier for me, for my flying training to go and, I’ve got the flying in my book there, but there’s nothing there that’ll tell you anything. It’s just my log, my hours, there’s no, you know, you’ll come across, you’ve probably already come across, aircrew members that did trips, you see their log books where they flew that night and the results, but I haven’t got any of that, because I didn’t do any operational training. So then, so that’s what actually happened, erm, I went out to Rhodesia, we, I won’t go into that, but there was something like three thousand people killed in flying training accidents, so I had two near squeaks, erm, which I got out of, obviously ‘cause I’m here. But flying things, once the instructor sent me up in an aircraft that had been declared kaput and he’d forgotten to record it. I took off, and the next thing, the screen’s gone black in front of me and I realised I had to get down quickly, but I mean on take-off, that’s the worst time for any aircraft to have a problem, because you just go straight in, but luckily the engine kept going, I went round and landed. And another time it was spinning and it wouldn’t come out of the spin. I had to induce the spin and then recover, but luckily on that particular day, erm, instead of flying at night for practice, what they did, so we didn’t, the instructors, the airfield and everybody didn’t have to acclimatise themselves for night flying, erm, what they did with a twin engine trainer, sorry, a twin seat trainer, you would have a hood over you, so you’d go up in daylight but as far as you were concerned, in the back seat, it was night, so they did our night flying training with the hood. So I had to recover from a spin at night, so I had to put it in the spin, which is quite easy to do that, you stall the engines so the aircraft goes like that, and then you have to, and then it goes around and around. So you do this at ten thousand feet, erm, and the instructor sitting in the front said, ‘Right, now put her in a spin’. So I did and it wouldn’t come out, it would not come out. When you’re in a spin, you put the joy stick right forward and full opposite rudder against, if you’re going to the right, you rudder, I’d done all that, it would not come out of a spin. So I was going, I often wondered, would I jump, but I knew then that I would jump, so I’ve put the night flying hood back, and the main hood back, so then out in the open air and we’re still going round, and all of a sudden, the instructor shouted out, I remember so clearly what he shouted, ‘I’ve got her, I’ve got her!’ he shouted out [laughs], and all of a sudden, he only did what I’d done so how he did it, I’ll never know, maybe he put a bit of engine on or something, but it wasn’t going to recover. So that was the only exciting part really, and when I nearly had it. There were other little things happen, but that happens when you’re training to fly an aircraft anyway. So that was it so, at the end of, that was on single engine, you never would go into a spin with twin engine aircraft, because we probably wouldn’t come out. So you just had to learn, it’s all about controls of the aircraft, that’s why you did all these things under any circumstances, really. So that was the end of my flying training there and that’s when, at the end of, we were due to get our wings, now we come to the end bit there [pause], they called us all, there was a hundred and twenty started on the course, there was sixty of us left, they said, ‘Right well, we don’t need pilots anymore, you’ve got a choice. Sign on for three years with four years on the RAF reserve’. So you go back into civvy life, but you’d be available for call up any time. Well I wanted to come back to the UK, which, in a way, was a shame, because at that posh school that I went to, Imperial Service College Windsor, erm, there was another guy, one of the pupils there was a Rhodesian and when we got to Rhodesia, first thing I did was looked in the telephone book and there was a Watman, one only in the telephone book. It was his parents and they looked after us so well. But he, John’s father, was the president of the Royal Tobacco Company of South Africa and he offered me a job with my own aircraft as a site manager, going all round the airfields, all round South Africa, as a manager. I didn’t, I should have done it, but I didn’t. So I would have had the chance to have stayed out there, but I didn’t, anyway, war went on and maybe I would have had to come back. So I just came back and I was demobilised, I came out of the Air Force then, and then, as I said earlier, which is written in that thing that you’ve got, erm I didn’t know what to do with myself. My father was an officer in the Army, he came out of the Army, he’d got, my father had got no sense of economics, in spite of the wealth of his family, he’d got no sense of economics at all. We often never had anything, not even food sometimes when he was around, ‘cause he gambled all his money away, he was a gambler. But he decided, he’d got dreams about when he came out of the Army, he was going to open a filling station and have at the back, chickens and animals and things, this was his sort of dream. But he’d got no sense of economics whatsoever and, luckily for me, I’ve got a pretty good sense of economics, and I could see things were going wrong. I tried working with him, um, but it didn’t work. So I thought, what the hell can I do with myself now, as I never really had a proper home with him, because it was his home, and that wasn’t a home at all. He had a girlfriend who I hated, but anyway [laughs], so I decided maybe I would go back in the Air Force and see. So I went back in the Air Force, I told you earlier, they didn’t want aircrew anymore, so, they offered me motor transport, so I said, ‘OK, I’ll take it’. So I joined on a short term contract of about two years, I think it was, erm, to go back into the Air Force again, I thought, well, then that gives me time, I was still very young, I was only nineteen I think, time to make my mind up and do things properly again in the UK. But erm, so when I was sent to my first MT division, again they said, ‘We’re looking for volunteers’ [laughs], so I said, ‘What for?’ They said, ‘No’. They said to me, ‘Would you volunteer for something?’ I said, ‘What’s it for?’ He said, ‘Bomb disposal’. So I said, ‘OK’. So I volunteered for bomb disposal, and I had that two years that I was in there, on bomb disposal, because the RAF were responsible for all enemy bombs on RAF territory, erm, all enemy bombs on RAF territory and all Allied bombs, jettisoned bombs, as the bomber’s coming in and it’s got to land, it sometimes would jettison it’s bombs on farmland, so, we were responsible for those, getting those up. And also, if the Germans had dropped bombs on our airfield, we were responsible for, and that’s what I did. And there were one or two adventures there which I don’t think I should bore you with [laughs]. What? Yes? Oh. [laughs]
GC: [Laughs]
LS: Well, erm, funnily enough the most interesting thing that happened at a place called Farnham, erm, yes I think it was called Farnham, place called Warren Wood, which was near Elsingham, I think it’s called, it’s on the road to Norwich, was a huge American Army bomb disposal dump there. The Americans had gone and left all their equipment there. Well, there was a lot of stuff left there, and we had to dispose of all that. The only danger, gosh it was dangerous, digging up bombs, when we got down to a bomb, the local press would come and look at us, down the hole with this bloody great bomb, standing there [laughs], but there was no danger really [laughter]. The danger was, was that the Americans used a bomb called a composition B bomb, which went off without a fuse, erm, and we had to deal with those. And what was done with bomb disposal, you would get the bombs, you would find, when I was based at Waterbeach near Cambridge, erm, we had Lakenheath nearby, which was a big area, so we could take these bombs up to the airfield there and instead of blowing them up, what you did was, you put like a metal saw on the top, which circulated, so you strapped it down and then from a remote control, you drilled a hole in this bomb and if it went off, it just blew the equipment away, erm, but then once the hole is there and the adhesive was inside, we just steamed it out. It was, we were at some very interesting places and it was the one place again where I was very lucky not to be killed, er, because, I’m not too sure this should be written, but amongst the bomb disposal people that was with us, there was about ten of us I think, now again, I could drive, so I was the driver, so I was always flicking around getting the food and stuff, but I also had to do the bomb, I had to do the bomb duties as well. Just because you were the driver meant you had an extra job, you didn’t get extra pay for that, but you had the extra job of being the driver, so I had time to walk around this site, and it was a big, it was a big wooded area. Well one day, I’m walking around, and funnily enough, a dog had befriended us, so I got very pally with this dog and I used to take it for walks. Where it came from, I never did know [laughter], and I was walking this dog one day in a direction which I think I’d never been before, and all of a sudden, I came across this big metal hut, which was called a nissen hut, they were round things, and I opened the door and it was full of stuff in there, all cases and cases of ammunition [pause]. Well now I’m coming to the bit which I shouldn’t tell you about, but we had one of our members, he was a cockney from Walthamstow, and during that time, women couldn’t get nylon, but a lot of the parachutes were made of nylon and we had these cases of these, they were called fragmentation bombs, they were about that size and when they hit the ground they fragmentated, the pieces went all everywhere and killed everybody but they came down slowly on these ‘chutes and they were nylon. So this cockney bloke, he’d learnt how to pull these ‘chutes out and cut them off [laughs], without them going off. So he got me cutting, pulling them out [laughter], and then he went off to London with boxes full of these bloody ‘chutes and sold them and came back with some money [laughter].
GC: [laughs]
LS: Well one day, this is where it happened, when I was walking the dog and I came across this building, I went inside there and there were these big [emphasis] things stacked up in one of the racks at the bottom, well, they were about that length and about that round and hanging out of one was part of a huge parachute. I thought, my God, I’m in here.
GC: [laughs]
LS: So of course, I pulled it out, and as I pulled it out, I heard the fuse go. So I ran like hell [emphasis] outside and the next thing, the bloody thing exploded, and the fire inside was just, all bullets were going off everywhere and we got a crash crew, two, and they were both bloody Irishmen [laughs], they were both Irishmen they were running this thing, and I ran all the way to this crash crew and got them out, and I said ‘Quick, there’s been an explosion’. They wouldn’t go anywhere near it. Well of course, I was the guilty party, so [laughs], so I grabbed the hose off them, went right up to the door with all these bullets, I didn’t feel anything, I didn’t feel fright, and I’m trying to squirt the hose in there, and there’s all these bullets going off. Had it been, what it was, there were two, when you, when the Lancasters went in, but these would have been from American Flying Fortresses, ‘cause it was an American base, you illuminate the target at night, A, if it’s a photograph that you wanted, it was the photo flash bomb that went off instantly, and the cameras were already aligned in the aircraft, so it took a picture either of the target or the damage that you’d done. That was the photo flash bomb, that was a big flash. But the photo flood bomb was on a parachute and that went off, but all it did was shoot the parachute out so that the bomb came down and was taking pictures on the way down. So they actually could take the, still, you know, it would be, sorry [unclear], otherwise my voice goes, might be a good thing [laughter]. So luckily for me, well, these two Irishmen, they still wouldn’t come anywhere near it, they were in the truck and I pulled the lead from the truck, anyway I went back to base, I never did see that spot again. But one day, two very official gentlemen came down to us while we were in Bomb Disposal, they were from the Air Ministry, they wanted to interview me. So, of course, I couldn’t tell them the true story, that I was helping this bloke go to London with this–– [laughter], I couldn’t tell them, so I denied it. Do you know, they interviewed me for two or three days, they came back and they said ‘Do you know why we’re back? Because we don’t think, we don’t know why, but we think you’re not telling the truth. Because there was no lives involved, and yet why did you risk your life to go and put the fire out?’ And they said ‘Why did you do it?’ And, in the end they, do you know, they came back two or three times, can’t remember how many times, but in the end, I said ‘Look, ok, there’s this guy here who’s got a market in London––’ and I told them the story [laughs]. No! No, I didn’t, no, I didn’t! Sorry [laughter], I never told them that, I couldn’t tell them that. I said ‘What had happened was I’d actually pulled the, I’d set it off accidentally’. I said ‘I did, I set it off accidentally’. So I was severely admonished, I never got any punishment at all, it would just go down as a severe admonishment, but, of course, had I told them the truth, which is wrong, I didn’t tell them the truth, it’s out there now [laughter], if two people arrive tomorrow, I’m going [laughter]. No, they really had a go at me, but anyway. Funny how Bomb Disposal was fun because you’re always on your own, you never, we had one officer and one sergeant, they promoted me to corporal because I was, had done what I’d done anyway, so I got some promotion, finished up as a corporal, at my second stage in the RAF. Erm, and there was probably six of us, I can’t remember how many, but certainly one of them was this guy from Walthamstow [laughs], was a right cockney. We used to come back with a few bob [laughter], and that was it really, I was eventually demobbed and that was the end of it.
GC: As I say, can you tell us a bit about Rhodesia, I know you trained out there. What was Rhodesia like at that time?
LS: Well, of course, Rhodesia in those days was very British. I mean, our nearest town was Bulawayo, we called it Bullafoo, I forgot my tea [sound of drinking]
GC: We’re alright as long as the house doesn’t fall down
LS: Um?
Unknown: What’s going on?
LS: I don’t know. I thought she was after Bailey. Oh, is it on?
GC: It’s alright
LS: Oh. So very British there, so Bulawayo, there were mostly black people, the local people in Bulawayo. But the first place I was at was Bulawayo, and then, when I changed onto the second grade of flying, it was called Salisbury, which was the capital of Rhodesia at that time. It’s now called Cranbourne, sorry, here comes my whistle in my chest––
GC: We’ll stop soon.
LS: Erm, it was called Salisbury. So I was actually stationed there. Would you pass me those, those, no the older books, next, no next one, yes both of them will do, Tom, thanks. So I was actually out in Rhodesia [book pages turning] when, these are personal photographs as well as the RAF photographs, I don’t think there’s anything to interest you. But look, there’s Salisbury on VE Day where I was. I’m told these photographs are worth a lot of money because nobody would have got those.
GC: Um
LS: So I was actually there when VE was declared, victory was declared, so we got involved in the celebrations in Salisbury, erm, and I remember buying those from somewhere or other.
GC: They look like, erm, they look really Colonial don’t they ‘cause––
LS: Yes.
GC: ––They are really.
LS: Oh, very much so.
GC: Yeah
LS: Well Rhodesia was very British, the whole of South Africa was, apart from the Dutch, the Dutch side of South Africa. There was the Dutch side, and then the British side, and the Dutch were very strong, of course, in South Africa and they still are. Lot of the South African people have got Dutch sounding names, but there were a lot of British, erm, British people there.
GC: Right.
LS: Erm, there were Dutch communities and British communities. But really, so it was mostly black people, the man who, the black man who looked after me was actually a Zulu, of course, they’re just a tribe, the Zulus, but he was a lovely man. He was a man who I could ask to do things when I was doing my flying at EFTS, which is the first one. erm, and he was, as I say, a Zulu, but I can’t really tell you a lot else about Rhodesia. It was very wild. You know, an amazing thing happened, I’m in hospital, about last Tuesday, and suddenly one of these black nurses came, she did something, I can’t remember, because I’ve got injections all over me where they were sticking these needles all over me, and all of a sudden, I saw Mombai written on her thing. I said ‘Are you from Mombai?’ so she said, ‘Yes’, I said ‘In Rhodesia?’ she said ‘Yes’. Now Mombai wasn’t even a village. Was there a problem?
GC: No.
LS: Oh, oh, this is while I was in hospital. I said, ‘I can’t believe this’, I said, ‘Are you from Mombai?’ she said, ‘Yes.’ I said, ‘Well, before your time, probably your parents’ time, there was an airfield very near to Mombai and we used to take off the aircraft and at night, when I took off, you could see the native fires burning, ‘cause they lived in huts. You know, you could actually see the fires burning, but incredibly, the chances of me meeting somebody from Mombai was incredible, wasn’t even a village there, it was just called Mombai.
GC: Wow.
LS: The nearest place we used to go to was Bulawayo, which was seventeen miles away. I used to walk that a few times too, I never had a bike, we used to walk it at night.
GC: Is there anything else you can think about, erm, when you was back in England at Metherington, any other stories of your crew or your ground crew, or…
LS: Well, erm, probably is, it’s just a question of remembering, because my time was so varied, more than most people. Erm, I didn’t know many of the ground crew, erm, I think most I know, I mean Bomber Command, they had their own ground crew for each aircraft, you know, and at our reunion we used to have some ground crew members came back, but I think the last one died last year. He was a very interesting man, he was an armourer and he would arm the planes. I used to hear stories from him, but I never met any, even when I was on the operational stations, I didn’t meet any ground crew really. They were probably there, I was only interested in other aircrew and so there’s not really a lot I can tell you, erm, I’d have to go deep into my deep down brain [laughs]
GC: Well I’ll tell you what, I’d like to say thank you very much
LS: Alright
GC: I’d like to say thank you to Lester, to Holly, to Tom and to Bailey, erm, and it’s been a pleasure to meet you this morning. Thank you very much.
LS: OK, you’re very welcome.
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 Lester Simms
Creator
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Gemma Clapton
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
2016-08-07
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ASimmsL160807
Format
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01:00:18 audio recording
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
Zimbabwe
England--Lincolnshire
Zimbabwe--Bulawayo
Zimbabwe--Harare
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
Description
An account of the resource
Lester tells of his tough early childhood, and his first experience of seeing a Heinkel bomber flying over his home in Surrey to attack the Brooklands Aircraft Factory. He tells of how he worked in the experimental department of Hawker Aircraft Company, a department lead by Sydney Camm, who designed the Hurricane and the Typhoon. Lester also tells of helping to fit cannons under a Hurricane fighter. Lester joined the Royal Air Force at the age of 17 and a half, hoping to become a pilot. He was posted to 106 Squadron at RAF Metheringham, which was a Lancaster station, but he also worked with Halifaxes and Wellington Bombers. Whilst he was waiting for his pilot course - which eventually took place in Africa - he worked with the FIDO system, and his jobs also included filling holes in the runway and painting. Ernest also tells of his time as a crash vehicle driver, in the motor transport unit and his time working in bomb disposal. Ernest also involves himself in 106 Squadron reunions and correspondence, a job that he is very proud to be doing.
Contributor
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Vivienne Tincombe
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
106 Squadron
aircrew
bomb disposal
crash
FIDO
final resting place
ground personnel
Halifax
Hurricane
Lancaster
pilot
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Metheringham
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1038/11410/PMorrisPG1701.1.jpg
dbe8fd14d0cec7f62ab5484ff8161149
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1038/11410/AMorrisPG171010.2.mp3
2abe2291828666848d77cd6c852668b9
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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Morris, Peter
P G Morris
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Peter Morris (b.1925, 1813258 Royal Air Force). He flew operations with 90, 42 and 120 Squadrons.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-10-10
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Morris, PG
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
RP: This interview is being conducted on behalf of the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is Rod Pickles. The interviewee is Peter Morris. The interview is taking place at Mr Morris’ home in Collompton, Devon on the 10th of October 2017. Francis Platt is also present. Good morning, Peter. Could you start by telling us when and where you were born and what led you to joining the RAF, please?
PM: Well, I was born in East Ham in East London in the June of 1925. I lived in London throughout the Blitz and I suppose was full of bravado when the ATC started in 1941. I joined. And I decided to train as air crew. And after a couple of years in the Air Training Corps at seventeen I joined the Royal Air Force and I was accepted to train as either a pilot bomb aimer or navigator. I was called up just two weeks before my eighteenth birthday and I went initially on an education course because I left school at fourteen and I was keen to get my education better. And after that I went through the normal basic training for the RAF which was just the normal square bashing and so on. And I spent twelve hours flying on Tiger Moths to see whether I’d got the application to be a pilot. But I wasn’t too keen. And then after a lot more [pause] I then did more aptitude tests in London and it was decided that I should train as a navigator. And then I was sent to Heaton Park in Manchester which was a holding unit for air crew and I was there for nearly six months waiting for a navigation course. At the time they told us that the losses in Bomber Command were less than they were expecting. Well, as one in two got killed I wondered just how many they were expecting.
RP: Well, yes.
PM: And whilst I was there they called for volunteers to go to Hornchurch, just outside London to help repair houses damaged by the V-1 Doodlebugs and I went down there. Spent about a month repairing houses just killing time. And then we were called back to Heaton Park and then they decided they would send us, a group of us went to RAF Waterbeach to work on the bomb dump. The armourers just couldn’t cope at the time as there were twenty aircraft on the station and there were some that were doing two raids a day. And when you had to prepare all the bombs for it. So, we arrived at Waterbeach and the next day we were sent to the bomb dump and there we were shown the bombs that we had to prepare. There were four thousand pound bombs which needed a nose ring fitted because they had pressure fuses in them to help build the pressure up in the noses and the tail fin had to be fitted. And also the lugs which held the bomb on to the aircraft had to be screwed on. Then we had the thousand pounders and there you had to fit the tail units and also you had to fit, fit the fuses in the nose. The only thing we weren’t allowed to do, we weren’t allowed to put the detonators in because the detonators were very very touchy and they could go off with the warmth of your hand and so the armourers would fit the detonators. They would screw in the pistols so that was all ready. Another job we weren’t allowed to do were the long delay fuses because they had, not like the Germans, apparently they had a clockwork system. Our long defused, long delay fuses had acid and various forms of plastic rings and as the acid burned through the rings and then it let the firing pin go forward and set the bomb off. But they had an anti-handling device. You only had to turn it half a turn and it would release the trigger and the bomb went off. So we weren’t allowed to do that. The armourers had to do that. And of course the armourers put them on the aircraft. It was quite a job to think that everyone had to be hand winched up in to the aircraft. And we were there for about a month. The first day I was there we got there about 9 o’clock in the morning and I, still there 9 o’clock the following morning. We had spent all night. They brought food out to us at the bomb dump and we were just getting these bombs ready for them to get on the aircraft. And I remember sitting on a thousand pounder and I fell asleep sitting on it until someone woke me up. And then another job we had doing were packing incendiary bombs. As incendiary bombs they came originally a hundred and fifty in a canister and then they extended the canister so they could get another fifty in each side. So there were three sets of bombs in them and we had to fit another hundred and fifty incendiary bombs in these canisters. And these were small bombs. They were hexagonal shape and there was a small fire, a small pin which you had to fit so that it was kept shut by the can, by the hexagonal shape. And I remember one of the chaps, he happened to accidentally drop one and it went off. We were doing this in a hangar and he had the presence of mind to throw it out the door of the hangar. And the next thing we knew the fire brigade had arrived. They’d seen all the smoke going up —
RP: Yeah.
PM: From this incendiary bomb. But they were very touchy. We were, as I say we were there for about a month doing this and then they, we were called back to Heaton Park because they said that I’d got a navigation course and I was fortunate in many ways because the course was on the Isle of Man. At Jurby. And so I went across to the Isle of Man and qualified as a navigator there and finally qualified in May 1945 just as the VE Day had been declared. And then I went on to train on Wellingtons in preparation to go out to the Far East. And again they dropped the bomb and that stopped that. And from the Wellingtons we went on to Lancasters and I finally went, finished up on a squadron in Bomber Command. Number 90 Squadron at RAF Tuddenham in February 1946.
RP: So most of your war then was dealing with waiting for a course and then —
PM: Yes. Yes. I was, I was a good six months waiting for a navigation course.
RP: And then its VE Day and you don’t see any action.
PM: VE day. They didn’t know what to do with us when we finally qualified and we were sent home on indefinite leave and I had about six weeks at home. And then I got a telegram telling me to report to Number 26 Operational Training Unit at RAF Wing near Leighton Buzzard. And then that was on Wellingtons. And from there, as I say, through to Lancasters.
RP: So when, when you sort of realised that, you know, after the VJ day.
PM: Yeah.
RP: Were you, were you feeling relieved or disappointed? Can you remember?
PM: A bit of both. You obviously at that time you didn’t really know what it was like to go on ops and you always thought that’s what you joined for but at the same time you were relieved that you hadn’t have to go.
RP: Yeah. But did you, when you were at Waterbeach did you meet any of the air crew? Did you get to know any?
PM: No.
RP: You weren’t —
PM: No.
RP: In touch with any of them.
PM: No. No. I think they deliberately kept us out of the way of air crew because they knew what was happening and we didn’t.
RP: So, so only a month. You didn’t feel inclined to become an armourer then.
PM: Oh, no. No.
RP: Seen what they were doing.
PM: No. I wanted to be a navigator.
RP: So you qualified as a navigator. It’s now 1946.
PM: Yeah.
RP: So what happens then?
PM: Then in 1946 they brought out a scheme where you could sign on for three years in the RAF and four years Reserve and they’d give you a hundred pounds for doing it which was a lot of money in those days. And I decided I would sign on and so I signed on for the three years and four Reserve and I remained on the squadron. And then there was trouble out in Yugoslavia and we were sent as an advance party out to Malta to be prepared for going bombing Yugoslavia as they’d attacked one of our ships and also attacked an aircraft I believe. And we spent ten days there and then the whole thing fizzled out and we flew back home again. Then the squadron moved to RAF Wyton which was a permanent station whereas Tuddenham was a wartime base and we re-equipped with Lincoln aircraft. And whilst on Lincolns we had the job of testing the new auto pilot. And one of the jobs that we had was to test it to see how it went and operated under bumpy conditions and low level. At that time everybody’s gradually getting demobbed and there were only two navigators on the squadron at one time, myself and the nav leader. And so anything that happened one of us had to go along. And the navi didn’t want to go on this particular trip so I went along and they said, well we went to the Met Office and, ‘Where can we find bumpy conditions at low level?’ They said, ’How about the Nile Valley?’ And sort of tongue in cheek we said, ‘Great. We’ll apply for it,’ and they accepted. And so we then, we flew out to the Canal Zone in the Middle East and to start with we used the autopilot as the bomb aimer had a control in the bomb aimer’s position for doing bombing runs. We did some bombing runs in the desert there. And then we flew low level along the Nile up to Khartoum. So around about fifty to a hundred feet mostly, up along the Nile with the autopilot in all the way. And then from Khartoum we flew to Nairobi and again at low level. Not quite so low because it was mainly jungle we were flying over. Whilst at Nairobi it was Battle of Britain Day and they asked us if we would do an air display for them which we were quite happy to do. We did that and then again flew back the way we came out and back to RAF Wyton. I remained on the squadron then until, it must have been about the end of 1948. ’47. And one of the other navigators on the squadron had been posted to RAF Coningsby as an instructor on Mosquitoes. And they wanted another instructor there because I had done an instructor’s course when I signed on. They wanted people to be instructors and he volunteered me against my will to go on to Coningsby to fly on Mosquitoes. And I turned up at Coningsby and our job there was to train the navigators in using GH which was a blind bombing radar device. Of course, we couldn’t show them in the aircraft because it only, only held two people. So we had an Anson Mark 19 fitted out with all the gear on it and we trained them on that. But I wasn’t too happy flying in Mosquitoes. You didn’t have a navigation table. You had a piece of board on your knees. Your chart was pinned on it with drawing pins and all your instruments were on pieces of string all around because if you dropped it you’d never find it again. I preferred the heavies. And the nav leader there said, ‘Well, you’re not happy on these are you?’ I said, ‘No. I’d rather go back to heavies.’ They then posted me to RAF Lindholme to do a course to go back on to them again. And when they found out I was a qualified instructor they were one short and they said, ‘Will you remain as an instructor on navigation?’ Which I was quite happy to do. And so there I was training people to use H2S which was a radar which showed a picture of the ground underneath you. It was very primitive compared with what there is now but we were doing that. And [pause] and I remained there until nearly 1950. And towards the end of that time the wing commander flying called me in and said was I interested in taking a commission? And I said, well yes I was. I’d got nothing to lost. And I filled all my papers in and waited and waited. Nothing happened. The wing commander called me into his office. He said, ‘Very sorry. Your application’s been lost.’
RP: Dear me.
PM: ‘Will you fill them in again?’ Which I did. I filled them in and waited, and waited and waited. Nothing happened. And again he said, ‘We’re awfully sorry,’ he said, ‘But they’ve been lost again.’ So I filled in a third lot and again I waited and waited. I was getting a bit upset now because to start with I had now finished my three years and I was on no contract whatsoever with the Air Force to remain in.
RP: And what rank were you at this time?
PM: At that time we were, our ranks had changed. We had air crew ranks.
RP: Yeah.
PM: And we were called navigator 2 which was the equivalent of a sergeant.
RP: Oh right. So here you are. It’s your third application. Does it go through?
PM: It was the third application. And at the same time I’d applied to sign on to do twenty two years in the RAF.
RP: Right.
PM: And again, I went and he said, ‘It’s been lost again.’ Well, I was getting a bit cross now and I said, ‘Sir, you can stick your commission. I will sign on ‘til I, to do twenty two.’ And he more or less agreed with it. We left it at that. And I then applied to do an advanced navigation course and I was accepted. And I went to RAF Shawbury and did the advanced navigation course. It was the most concentrated course I’ve ever done in my life, I think. In six weeks we went from basic algebra to spherical trigonometry and your head was absolutely buzzing. You had to learn about every piece of equipment you had in the aircraft. Not how to use it but how it was made and how it operated. And that took us about three months and then I was posted to RAF Swinderby as an instructor at an Advanced Flying Unit and then back on to Wellingtons again. And while I was in Lincoln I met my old nav leader who was at Scampton and he said, ‘They found your applications. They were all in the station commander’s office when it was the station commander’s home amongst newspapers when he was posted. And they found they were all there.’ Which made me a bit upset.
RP: Yeah. So they couldn’t, couldn’t initiate it from there then?
PM: No. No. So, I remained at Swinderby for, was it two, two years because that was the average time you stayed at any unit. And from there I was posted on to a ground course. Ground crew out in Germany to be at a fighter plotting unit. And when I got there the first thing they said to me, you know, ‘Well, have you trained on this?’ I said, ‘I haven’t.’ They said, ‘Well, you’re no good to us.’ So they sent me to RAF Oldenburg where they had a small mobile radar unit with a mobile plotting table and quite honestly it was a doddle because as a navigator you knew all the maps and so on. It was just a case of sitting at a table watching airmen pushing little arrows around. Much as you see on the Battle of Britain things. And I did that for two and a half years. And at the end of that I was posted back to England and I had to go to Air Ministry for them to decide where I wanted to go from there. By now I’d gone up a rank. I was now a flight sergeant as they’d brought back the old ranks again. And initially I said, ‘Well, can I go on helicopters?’ as my friend had gone on helicopters. They said, ‘Oh no. Not with your experience. How about Coastal Command?’ So, that will do me. And so I was posted then to RAF St Mawgan to train in Coastal Command and I did my basic training there and then was posted to Kinloss up in Scotland to train on the Shackleton Mark 1. And from there I was, when I finished the course I was posted to RAF St Eval where we had Shackleton Mark 2s. So I arrived on 42 Squadron in September of 1946. I went in to the orderly room to book in and the first thing they said to me, ‘Can you go overseas at a moment’s notice? Otherwise,’ he said, ‘We’ll send you to another squadron.’
RP: You said 46.
PM: Fifty.
RP: ’56. Yeah.
PM: ’56.
RP: I think Shackletons weren’t around then.
PM: No. They Weren’t. No. 1956.
RP: ‘56 yeah.
PM: And so, apparently the squadron had just been made the colonial policing squadron and this involved us going out to Aden for short terms. Well, my wife was heavily pregnant at the time but I didn’t tell them and I said, ‘No, it’s alright. I can go.’ And we then had to train from using the low level bombsight which the Shackleton was fitted with to using a high level bombsight which was the Bomber Command bombsight. And we spent several months dropping bombs on a practice range. And then the squadron was moving out there at four aircraft at a time. Four would go out to Aden and then as they were relieved by the other four that were back in St Eval. And it was in July of 1956, ’57 now that our crew was posted, was sent out to Aden. And we were not allowed to fly across the Arab countries because they refused us permission because they said we were going on a warlike mission against other Arab nations. And so we had to stow the guns inside the aircraft because we had two cannon in the nose of the Shackleton and we flew out first to Cyprus. From Cyprus we flew along the borders between Turkey and Syria, down through Iraq, down to Bahrain and from Bahrain we flew down across the desert over Muscat Omans area. Right down until we reached Aden. And [pause] and when we arrived in Aden the temperature was terribly hot. Forty degree plus. At times it was fifty degrees there. First several flights that we did were getting used to the area. We flew with one of the crews from one of the other aircraft because the maps were so poor there. There wasn’t any satellite navigation then and so you more or less had to make the maps up as you flew. And so we got to know the area we flew over. It was mainly along the Yemen border with Aden. And the idea was to, to look out for people that were coming across the borders and causing trouble. This was a sort of a pastime for them. They would come across the border, fire a few rounds off and go back home again. And we did this. I suppose [pause] living up in that area was an RAF intelligence officer. In fact, he lived just like an Arab. Dressed like an Arab. He even looked like an Arab. And he would, we would contact him and he would give us directions to fly to check on at certain areas. A couple of times we had to do some bombing runs. We had fourteen one thousand pound bombs and we had to drop these in areas where the RAF Venoms, they couldn’t reach because they would normally go with rockets. But the mountain, it was so mountainous there because most of it was six thousand feet. And down in the valleys the Venoms couldn’t get in so we would go and drop bombs where these intruders had gone in. A couple of occasions where they’d misbehaved they would go and warn them and drop leaflets and say at such and such a day at such and such a time we’re going to come and bomb your fields. And so they kept clear and then we’d go and we’d drop a stick of bombs across their fields to make them, to bring them back into line again. Then one Saturday morning we were called in and they said, ‘Right. You’ve got to go Bahrain immediately. Don’t know what for but get your kit and off you go.’ And so we got our kit and we flew up to Bahrain. Sunday morning they said, ‘Right, you’re going to fly over Muscat Oman. And you’re to go with a Pembroke pilot from here that will show you around the area.’ So we took off and we flew over to, near a place called Nizwa which was a large sort of town almost and in the centre of it was a very large circular fort. And there’d been an uprising. The Sultan’s brother had rebelled against him and we had an agreement with the Sultan that if he was in danger then the RAF or the British forces would go and, go and help him. So that’s what we were there for. The pilot of the Pembroke was showing us around and he took us up one valley. He said, ‘Well, you can turn around when you get to end and come back again.’ Well, you could in a Pembroke. But in a Shackleton no way. And when we got to the end there was this great cliff in front of us and with full power on we just managed to scrape over the top of it. So we decided we wouldn’t go up that valley again. And then our role then was to fly out every day and we were given certain villages to fly over. Some were friendly. Some weren’t. And we had to observe what they were doing. And this went on for about seven or eight days and in that time nothing seemed to be happening very much but we’d been building up. The army had flown in. The paratroopers had arrived at Bahrain and they were going to be flown out to an airfield which was on an oil well out in Muscat and they would march across the desert to attack from that side. And we were dropping leaflets all the time. We had different colour leaflets. I think it was white ones to drop to friendly areas and pink ones to drop to enemy areas. More or less telling them you know one was saying the Sultan was a good man. The other one was saying you’ve got to stop what you’re doing and come and join the Sultan. All that sort of thing. Anyway, on one of the trips we carried a group captain who was the senior air staff officer for Middle East Command. He wanted to see what was going on and again we had the leaflets to drop. And on one particular village, a place called Firq, which was just south of Nizwa it was a very small fort there and they said, ‘Right, you’ve got to drop these leaflets. They’ve got to go in the fort but they mustn’t go outside it.’ Well it’s not very easy when you’re dropping leaflets like that and so we decided we’d go in at about five hundred feet and drop these leaflets. And we were in the middle of dropping them and we felt like a ripple go through the aircraft. We realised we’d been hit by small arms fire. We were very lucky really because in the nose of the aircraft there were three of us. There was the bomb aimer, that was the other navigator in the nose, there was one of the sergeant signallers who was putting the leaflets down the flare chute and the group captain and a bullet came up. It hit the switch right underneath them, split it in half. Missed them all. One half went in and hit the co-pilot’s intercom box so it knocked it out completely. He didn’t know what was going on. And the other half later we dug out of a tin of sweets in the emergency rations. In the tail there was a tail lookout and the chap laid in the tail look out had a bullet go in by his shoulder and go out above his head. And we decided it was time to clear the area. And I remember our captain, he called up the two Venoms that were attacking another village up the road and said, ‘Watch this place. They’re sharpshooters.’ And one of them said, ‘Oh, I’ll save a rocket for them on the way back.’ And this group captain was on immediately, ‘No. No. No. No. They’ve got to be told first.’ As we were dropping leaflets telling them that they would be attacked the following day. And when we landed back at Bahrain we found there were other holes in the wings where again we were so lucky. Your wings are full of petrol and full of wires and it missed everything. Gone right through the wings in out through the top and nothing was damaged at all. And I remember they, they repaired the holes. They hadn’t have anything to repair them with so they used aluminium beer cans and riveted them over the holes. They were, the following day we took off again and we were told there we’d got to be there before eight in the morning and again go in low level, dropping leaflets telling them they would be attacked within half an hour. They weren’t too pleased about that. Anyway, we got there and we thought that we’d wake them up so we flew across firing our twenty mil cannon to make them keep their heads down. Then came back, dropped our leaflets and came home. We had to allow for the loss of ammunition and so we said we’d done some air sea firing on the way home to account for the ammunition and got admonished for wasting ammunition in that way. Anyway, the, the army did attack that day and the Venoms went in first with the rockets and attacked the fort and then the paratroopers moved in and they gradually drove them up. At Nizwa they’d got a tanker, a lorry which was the, been going from one of the oil wells. They had captured the crew of the tanker and had got them in this large fort and they had said if we attacked the fort they would hang them over the balconies. And we could actually see them there over because it was a big circular fort and we could see the chaps there so obviously we didn’t attack it. Eventually they did get in and they drove the rebels up in to Jabal Akhdar which was an eight thousand foot high mountain nearby and it finished up with the SAS going up the mountain and sorting them out. And that was the end of the sorties there. Before it actually finished the CinC Bomber Comm, the CinC Middle East Command ordered that we be sent back to Bahrain. He said, ‘Go back there and cool off.’ But if you can imagine cooling off in Bahrain. Anyway, we decided, well we didn’t decide we were sent back to Bahrain to have a so-called rest. And the next day we were told we’d got to go on a bombing raid and two aircraft were involved. One of the flight commander’s and our aircraft. And we loaded up with fourteen one thousand pound bombs and as the flight commander was taking off white smoke started pouring out of all four engines and he just managed to pull it to a halt at the end of the runway, and they cancelled the bombing raid. And they found that in the heat in Aden we used a thing called water metholated, water meth which gave increased power to the engines and this was injected in to the engines. And in the heat it had distilled out and it just put straight water into the engines and so it didn’t do them any good. And the following day we again, having found this out they changed all the water meth and we’d loaded. Loaded up again with the bombs and took off and we did the raid up in the hills. And a couple of days later we were sent back to Bahrain to assist because now they were carrying out bombing raids using, using small anti-personnel bombs. These were nasty little things. They went off above the ground. They had got loads of sprung steel in them and you got this spring steel going around which did a lot of damage to whoever they were dropped on. We didn’t like them particularly because they had a pressure fuse in them and occasionally, there was one occasion in fact where the bombs started going off and they set the bombs going off behind them and they almost went back up to the aircraft again. So we weren’t too happy about using them. I think they’ve now been banned from use because they’re considered not the right thing to use [pause] Then the length of time of time we stayed in Bahrain or in Aden depended on the number of hours the aircraft had flown. We were supposed to be up there for three months but we’d done so much flying over Bahrain from Bahrain that we had reached our target in about six weeks. And so again we had to fly home and [pause] and two aircraft were coming back to the UK. One was a flight commander and he took off just about twenty minutes in front of us and this time we were allowed to fly over the Arab countries because we weren’t going on a warlike mission. And so we flew down the Red Sea across the border of Abyssinia and then right across the Libyan desert, the Sahara Desert to a place called Castel Benito, which was an ex-Italian airfield. It took us about twelve hours I suppose to fly across there and we landed there and there was no sign of the flight commander who had gone in front of us. And about an hour later I bumped into the navigator from that aircraft. I said, ‘What happened to you?’ Oh, the flight commander was there as well. He said, ‘How did you get here before of us?’ And jokingly I said, ‘Stayed on track all the way, sir.’ Which didn’t go down too well because his navigator apparently, just after take-off, the flight commander came back to see, look at the charts, dropped a cup of water over his chart completely soaking it. And he’d picked it up and screwed it up and throwed it away when he realised he hadn’t have another chart. There wasn’t another one for that area. So he’d had to get it out, unscrew it, stretch it out and of course now it was all out of shape and apparently they got quite lost going across the desert and they landed about an hour after us.
RP: Not the right thing to say then. Yeah. He was still speaking to you afterwards.
PM: Oh yes. He did after. He was normally quite a decent chap but he blew his top a bit. Anyway, the following day we took off and came back to UK. While we were in Aden we were being relieved by 35 Squadron which had been based in Malta and that was going to go to Aden permanently and remain there. And so that was the end of the squadron’s flying out in Aden. We then returned to our normal Coastal Command duties. One of them of course was air sea rescue and quite often we got a call out to go after, to go over the Atlantic Ocean to assist [pause] Constellation aircraft. They had a habit of losing engines coming across the Atlantic and we would fly out at a thousand feet and they would be up at twenty thousand feet and we would call them up and they would say, you know, ‘Assist us,’ and so we would turn around and fly back again, and usually they had landed at Heathrow before we got back to St Eval because they were going a lot faster than us on three engines than we were doing on four. The end of my tour there the squadron commander called me in. He said, ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid that NCO navigators aren’t going to be employed on RAF operational squadrons anymore. So,’ he said, ‘Your time in Coastal is finished now.’ And he said, ‘What I have got here is, I’ve got a piece of paper that’s just come to me that says that they want volunteers to go and serve on Thor missiles as this is going to be the new Bomber Command. I suggest, I suggest you do that. At least you’re guaranteed a job then.’ So I thought about that. So I applied for this and I had to go to Air Ministry to be interviewed and the interviewer was a wing commander who I’d known as a flight lieutenant on 90 Squadron. So that was the end of the interview really. We just chatted and I was accepted and we then sailed across to, well we were busy. We were going to New York but we went on a Canadian Pacific ship. We went across to Montreal and our first stop was Quebec and then we sailed up the St Lawrence to Montreal. Beautiful river. Lovely day. And it was marvellous sailing along there. It’s a huge river because if you imagine there you’ve got these large ocean going liners and two of them could pass quite easily along the river. From there we got the train to New York where we were given a couple of days off and we managed to go up the Empire State Building while I was there. And then we got an aircraft to take us to Tucson in Arizona and it was a DC4. And it was supposed to land at Tucson Municipal Airport. Well. the pilot thinking as we were all RAF and we were all going to go eventually to [pause] we were going to be stationed at Davis-Monthan, which was a SAC base in Arizona. And so for some reason the pilot decided to land at Davis-Monthan. Well, SAC bases are very very security tight and an aircraft suddenly coming in which they’re not expecting they don’t go much on and they sent us over to the far side of the airfield. We were ringed with machine guns and first of all they wouldn’t let us out of the aeroplane. Well, it’s very hot in Tucson at the end of August, the beginning of September. And eventually they let us out but they surrounded us with the guards with machine guns. And eventually they sorted it out. Apparently, they’d been waiting for us at the municipal airport with a group of local dignitaries to greet us there.
RP: Right.
PM: And when they managed to sort it out it was only a case of driving through the gate because we were billeted just outside the main airfield in Davis-Monthan. We spent a month there learning about the missile. It was so new then they hadn’t actually fired one successfully. The instructor we had was on the previous course and that’s his knowledge was what he’d been told on the previous course there. But we, see we spent a month there and then we got sent on a Constellation to fly out to Los Angeles. And from there we went to [pause] from there we went to Vandenberg which was the main missile base in the States at that time and we carried on with the course there. We actually saw the missile for the first time but again they hadn’t fired one successfully. We saw various films of them taking off and then crash landing and exploding and so on but not one that actually worked. And when we’d finished the course there it was now December and they decided they would fly us back to New York and normally what happened you caught one of the Queens and they flew you, brought you back to UK. And when we got to New York it was freezing cold. When we’d left California we were in shorts. Eighty degrees. There was snow on the ground in New York and the temperature was minus goodness knows what. And it was like walking into a brick wall as you walked out of the aircraft with the change in the temperature. Anyway, they, they said, ‘Well, at the moment we can’t find any way to get you home so we’ll leave you in New York.’ We were abandoned there for ten days which was great. We were given ten dollars a day expenses to live in New York and we were billeted initially in the Governor Clinton Hotel. But they were expensive in there. They charged you four dollars a night just for the bed and then you had to pay for your breakfast and everything on top of that. And we found that the YM, you could do it for a dollar a night and so a number of us moved into the YM and stayed there. Of those who stayed at the Governor Clinton would tell us if anything had happened and they wanted us for going home. The beauty, while we were there is that we had American ID cards and so we could go into their [pause] they had a very good United Services Organisation there and you could go in there, show them your ID card and you’d get free tickets to any theatre in Broadway, any cinema in Broadway and through the day you could go on various tours. And I managed to go through the United Nations building on one tour. Another one they took us up inside the Statue of Liberty where you could climb right up to the top and the band around the Statue of Liberty’s head they are actually windows that you can look out. We were there for, as I say about ten days and then they managed to get Douglas DC6 to fly us home to the UK on Christmas Eve. And so we flew home. I managed to get a taxi home from London Airport as it was then. And so that was the end of my tour there. And from there I was posted to RAF Hemswell in Lincolnshire. That was the main base for the missiles. But there were a number of squadrons and each squadron was based at a different base. These were mainly the old wartime bases and I was sent to number 106 Squadron which was stationed at Bardney. Which again was a wartime airfield. But we still hadn’t got the missiles then. In fact, they were still building the site. The missile goes into a covered shelter and they hadn’t even got the shelters there. They were still putting in the rails for them to work on and it must have been six months or more before it was completed. And then the missiles started to arrive. They were flown over from the States in the large American aircraft. Then sent through the streets to the various sites. And when we’ve actually got them then we had to start the proper shift system because they had to be manned twenty four hours a day as the oil in the guidance system was so touchy that if the temperature changed the oil would solidify and would ruin the gyros which cost thousands of pounds to replace. And so we had to be there all the time with them. This meant manning twenty four hours a day as I say. And then we were put on a shift system where we’d do four days mornings, four days afternoons, four days nights. Four days off. This went on for ever and ever and ever. It was the most boring job in the world because you couldn’t do anything with a missile other than just watch it. Anyway, after a few months they asked me if I’d like to go to Hemswell, the main base to work in the main office there. The training office. And I said, ‘Yeah. I’m quite happy to do that,’ because it was nearer to where I was living. I was living on a caravan at the site at the time because we couldn’t get married quarters there. And so I went there and the role there was to doing, checking on the missiles because every now and again one of them would be selected and the crew would do a practice firing. This involved pumping liquid oxygen into the tank on the missile itself. It carried eighty six thousand gallons of liquid oxygen. And then it also had an eighty err seventy five gallons of fuel. And this was pumped in to a tanker because they didn’t want to get the two together to risk any chance that they might fire. The igniters were taken out so they couldn’t possibly fire. And we’d go through a practice countdown and our role was to go out and just check to see that they’d pressed the right switches and so on. This was much better. It was a more interesting job than I was doing before. Shortly after that I was promoted to master navigator which was warrant officer rank. And I did, I carried on doing that for two or three months. And then I applied to sign on ‘til I was fifty five. And again the letter that came back from Air Ministry did I want to take a commission? So I spoke to my wife and we thought about it and I said, ‘Well, what can I lose?’ I get a higher pension as a commissioned officer than I would as a warrant officer. But I get more respect as a warrant officer than I get as a commissioned. So we decided I’d try and go for the commission. And I went, I had to go to see the AOC, the air officer commanding the area to be interviewed by him. And the day before a corporal in our orderly room had gone up to see him so I said, ‘What did he ask you then?’ ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘He wanted to know, because we’d been to America he wanted to know the American system of parliament. Or the equivalent of our parliament. He also, apparently he’d been the air officer in Pakistan and so he asked him about Pakistan. And so he said he also wanted to know who the various Commonwealth prime ministers were. So that night I did a quick check up on all those. I went and sat down in his office and he said, ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. Tell me, what’s the system in the States for their parliament sort of system.’ And I was able to explain it to him, you know. He said, ‘What’s the set up in Pakistan now?’ I said, ‘I think there’s been a coup recently and the army had taken over.’ ‘Who’s the prime minister of Canada? Who’s the prime minster of — ’ He said, ‘You seem to be very well read.’ He said, ‘That’s ok.’ That was the end of the interview. And then I went to Jurby again on the Isle of Man for three months to train as an officer. And at the end of that I qualified as a flying officer rather than a pilot officer the way most of them did because if you were a warrant officer you went up a rank. And the beauty of it was that you had to be paid more than a warrant officer got. And a warrant officer got more than a normal flying officer got. So I was on a higher rate of pay and the commission I had was called a branch commission which was especially for NCO aircrew and it, after three years you were automatically promoted to flight lieutenant. So at the end of the course I was then posted back to Coastal Command and I went up to Kinloss and there we now had Mark 3 Shackletons. And I had to do the course again. And the thing that did annoy me was that they insisted that I did a basic navigation training course again. And so I waited at Kinloss for a while. I was attached to 120 Squadron until I’d done this navigation course. They were doing several trips there and on one of them going to Gibraltar for the weekend. I said, ‘Well, can I come along with you?’ And they said, ‘Yeah, great,’ you know,’ you can. You’re welcome.’ And I said to one of the navigators, ‘Can I have a go on the table? Give me a chance to get my hand back in.’ He said, ‘Yeah, sure.’ And when I went to go the captain of the aircraft said, ‘Definitely not.’ He said, ‘You’ve haven’t done your refresher course yet.’ He said, ‘You can’t, obviously you can’t go on.’ So I thought fair enough. I went down the back of the aircraft. Got my head down. This was a night flight out there. And after about an hour someone woke me up and they said, ‘Would you come forward?’ So I said, ‘Yeah.’ And when I got forward both the navigators were sick. Would I take over? Which pleased me no end. And we’d only now were just sort of going down the Irish Sea. And so I managed to take over and sort of, sort out where I thought we were. And then that engine packed in and so we diverted into RAF St Mawgan. And while we were on the ground there the other two other navigators recovered themselves and so they took over and they flew it down to Gibraltar so I was a passenger then there and back. But it did amuse me a little bit. And anyway, I did the navigation course at Topcliffe and then back to Kinloss. Did the basic Coastal Command course all over again and then back on to 120 Squadron and there I became, we had first and second navigators. The senior navigator was the first navigator and the junior one was second navigator. I became the second navigator on a crew. The first navigator, he had already done a tour in Gibraltar and he, we were back on, under our normal coastal work which was surveillance of, the Russian fleet was always floating around somewhere in the North Atlantic and we kept surveillance on them. Russian submarines were continually turning up close to our shores and we would do surveillance on them. And also they had fishing boats which were absolutely covered with aerials. We called them ELINTS — Electronic Intelligence vessels and we would have to go out and try and locate them and when you’ve got somewhere three or four hundred Russian fishing vessels and the Russians they used the same type of fishing vessels for everything and so they were all exactly the same. But one of them would have all these aerials on them. You would have to find that one in amongst all this lot. And once you’d located it of course then you could keep track of it and see what it was doing. Once they were located they realised they’d been caught and they would sort of clear off. On one of the occasions we used to fly out quite often to Iceland and we’d do a patrol going up to Iceland. Then from Iceland we would patrol across to Bodo in Norway and have a couple of days on the ground in Norway and then another patrol back to Kinloss again. And on this occasion we were flying up to Iceland and we came across a Russian submarine support vessel which we reported back and when we landed in Iceland there was a great fuss on there because they hadn’t, didn’t realise it was in the area. Normally the Americans had sort of passed on the information but they didn’t even know it was there and our AOC in Scotland ordered us to take off as soon as we could to relocate it. Well, the following day there was a seventy five knot gale blowing at Iceland. The station commander had closed the station. He said it wasn’t safe to take off because it wasn’t down the runway. And our AOC ordered him to open the station up, to open up the disused runway which luckily was straight into wind and we were to take off. And so we did this and we couldn’t locate the aircraft err the ship on the way back. We went back to Kinloss. The following day we had another panic on. A Russian submarine had been located in the training grounds just off Northern Ireland where the navy did all their training with us and often they would join in the exercises. Anyway, they located this submarine right in the middle of it and four of us were ordered off that night to try and locate it and try to force it out of the area. And we’d been airborne about twenty minutes and the aircraft behind us we had a call, a mayday call, he’d got an engine fire and he was returning to Kinloss and the engine, they couldn’t put the fire out and it spread along the wing and set the second engine on fire. And he was, managed to get across over Inverness and he crashed it on Culloden Moor. In fact he crashed he said by the light from the flames from the engines he could see where he was going. And all the crew luckily got out. Now, that aircraft was the one that we’d flown in on the day before. It had only done twenty minutes flying from when we took off from Iceland. If it had happened the day before we wouldn’t have had a hope in hell because of the winds blowing like that. As I say there wouldn’t have been a hope in hell of us getting back anywhere. Anyway, we, one of our aircraft did locate the submarine and it was forced to the surface and it was escorted out of the area. We then had what was considered a jolly. We were going down to South Africa, to Cape Town and we were going to join because the South Africans also had Mark 3 Shackletons and we were going to do exercises with them. The British Navy was down there with their Navy and the American Navy and the American Naval aircraft were there as well. And we flew, this time we flew down to El Adem in North Africa, in Libya. From there we flew across the desert at night to Nairobi. From Nairobi we flew down to Salisbury or Harare as it’s called now. From Harare we flew to Ysterplaat which is the airfield just outside Cape Town where we were going to be based. And we did one exercise with the Navy and then we were going to do another one that night and our CO took one look at the weather, he said, ‘No. We’re not going. It’s a waste of time because the sea state would be so great that you wouldn’t be able to do anything anyway.’ And he decided to cancel the exercise but the South Africans, with their Mark 3s they decided no. They were going to go ahead and do it. Anyway, the next morning we’d had a tremendous gale in the night. In fact, it was hurricane that had gone through and we were immediately, we were called in immediately after breakfast and were told that the aircraft that had taken off was missing. They reckoned that the winds at six odd thousand feet were a hundred and fifty knots and they hadn’t heard from take-off. Anyway, we were the first aircraft to go and we were ordered to go and fly the route that he was supposed to have taken. And we flew out over the, the sea. I was getting winds of seventy five and eighty knots as we sort of went out. The sea was absolutely mountainous. There wasn’t a hope in hell of anybody surviving if it had gone down there sand we flew out and were airborne for about thirteen hours and found absolutely nothing and so we came back. And the following day they said there was a slight chance he might have gone down in the bay outside Cape Town. And two of our, two aircraft were ordered out to go and do a close search of the bay. Whilst there in fact we noticed what we thought might be some wreckage and the thing was if you saw anything like that you’d immediately divert the nearest merchant ship to go and pick it up. And we came across a large Japanese bulk carrier and we did the normal fly across the bows and put the engines up and down to attract his attention. He didn’t take the blindest bit of notice so we came back again and we fired green verey cartridges across the bow. No notice. We came back again with red cartridges this time. Took no notice whatsoever so it obviously wasn’t, I suppose there probably wasn’t anybody on the bridge. And when we landed back apparently he had been called in to Cape Town and they were heavily fined for not following the rules of the sea. Anyway, our CO as we were more conversant with air sea rescue we were given the sort of the control of what was going on and he got the tapes from the tower and listened to them and very very faint, “Mayday. Mayday,” shortly after take-off and they decided they would use a helicopter and go and look in the mountains just off Cape Town. And as they flew over the mountain they could see, they found the aircraft at the bottom of one of the valleys upside down. And the sonar buoys that we carried were bright dayglo orange and it was upside down. The bomb doors had burst open and so they could see these sonar buoys there so they knew immediately what it was. And of course all the crew had been killed. And they must have got into huge turbulence and it flipped the aircraft upside down and that was the end of that. Anyway, the South Africans decided to call the exercise off. And so we stayed there for a little bit longer. They managed to fly us down to Durban for the weekend. We went down there on one of the South African Dakotas. And then we flew home again.
RP: So what year was that?
PM: That was in 1963. Then we went back to our normal sort of surveillance work we were doing and I applied to do the weapons instructor’s course that was actually at Kinloss. And before I could go on that they sent me to RAF Uxbridge which is the RAF School of Education to do an instructor’s course. And I went there and I managed to qualify with an A2 instructor’s category and I went back to Kinloss, did the course as a weapons instructor and back on the squadron where I was made squadron weapons officer. I was then promoted flight lieutenant. And I then got a message through saying I was going to be posted to Malta. Shortly after that I got another message saying I was going to the Maritime Operational Training Unit as a weapon’s instructor. Apparently they had, when I completed the course they had called for me to join them. And so I went to the weapons course at St Mawgan, St Eval, no. Sorry, at Kinloss. And whilst on, on the Operational Training Unit they decided to move the two squadrons that were at St Mawgan up to Kinloss and the Training Unit down to St Mawgan. And so the whole lot had to be moved down to St Mawgan. And before we moved I was called in, they said, ‘Well, would you take over as chief weapons instructor when we move to St Mawgan?’ So I said, ‘Yeah, I don’t mind.’ So I took over and I went down to St Mawgan and we had to set the whole thing up again. All the training classrooms and so on. And I remained there until 1967 when I was posted to Singapore. Now, my wife said she didn’t want to go to Singapore because we’d recently bought a bungalow, the children were both settled in school for the first time because they’d been moved from school to school. So she decided she would remain at home and I didn’t fancy spending two and a half years on my own in Singapore. So they had a scheme whereby if you volunteered to go do, on an unaccompanied tour anywhere in the world it lasted for a year. So I volunteered for that. And they said right, they’d got a post at as ops officer in Labuan in Borneo. So I said that would do fine. And I got all my kit together and just about to go and the signal came through Labuan closed six months ago. And they didn’t know about it apparently. And so they stopped that one. So they said, ‘Well, how about Bahrain?’ So I said, ‘Yes. That would do me.’ Go to Bahrain. And that time they brought out a redundancy scheme for the Air Force had got what they thought were too many older officers. They wanted to get rid of them to make room for the younger ones coming up and so they brought this scheme in which really it was too good to turn down. I think I was, I was given a five thousand pound to leave plus full pension. So I decided I’ll leave. So I volunteered to go out on that and was accepted to leave and I spent another six months or so floating around at St Mawgan doing all sorts of odd jobs. One of them while I was there we wanted, they wanted an aircraft to go out to locate Sir Francis Chichester on his return from his round the world sailing. Because then there was no sat navs and so they had no contact with him. They knew roughly where he was. An aircraft from 42 Squadron was there and an aircraft from the MOTU. We took off to search for him and we were fortunate that we found him and we were able to direct the other aircraft to us because we had reporters on board and the reporters were not allowed to take any photographs until both aircraft were there so neither got the advantage over the other. But it gave me the advantage. I was able to take some photographs before they got the chance for them to do it. Anyway, as we say we located him but he was most upset at being located. Normally, you know, if you found people they would give you a wave when you flew past. But he just didn’t stand up. He didn’t wave. We dropped a message to him in a container welcoming him back and thanking, you know and saying what a good job he’d done. He watched it go past his boat. He didn’t even bother to pick it up. So I think he was most upset. He wanted to sneak in I think without having being seen. And so that was the end of that one and I think one of the last flights I did was on the Torrey Canyon. We were checking the oil that was coming out of that when it crashed at just off the Scilly Isles. And I didn’t know what to do when I came out of the Air Force. I did a computer course at Camborne in Cornwall and it was to train to programme computers but then I realised that there were only two computers in the whole of Cornwall at that time. One, the one we were using was at County Hall and the other was at John Keay House in the China clay industry. So the chances of getting a job there were nil and I didn’t want to leave Cornwall. Cornwall. And so one of the other chaps who was leaving with me, he said he’d applied to train as a teacher at St Luke’s in Exeter. He said, ‘Why don’t you come and, you know try that?’ So, I said, ‘Well, I left school at fourteen. They won’t want to know me there.’ Anyway, he said, ‘Well try it.’ And I went and the principal there was an ex-wing commander navigator.
RP: So you were made. So, I think we finished your RAF career so we might need to bring it to an end there. But did you, just to round it off did you finish your sort of working career as a teacher then?
PM: As a —?
RP: As a teacher.
PM: Yes.
RP: You stayed then.
PM: Well, I’m saying I taught for ten years.
RP: Yeah.
PM: And then I decided I’d had enough again at fifty five they said you could retire. So I took early retirement from that.
RP: Very nice.
PM: And bought a small holding.
RP: Well, that’s, I mean that’s a fascinating, a fascinating career and I say thank you very much for that. I’m just amazed they were still training you as VE day approached but I suppose you were lucky in a way that you didn’t have to go on ops and you could —
PM: No
RP: You looked forward to a full career in the RAF.
PM: Yeah. It was, because you don’t know how you would react to going on ops. The chap that you should have interviewed, that is a chap called Ted Frost. A friend of mine. He did fifty seven ops. DFC. And I said to him, ‘Have they been in touch with you?’ ‘No he said. They haven’t asked me about it.
RP: Oh, well I’ll take the details if you like.
PM: So I can give you Ted’s telephone number.
RP: Absolutely. No. That’s the sort of people I, I would just like to, we’ll just finish this and I’ll say thank you very much, Peter. It’s been fascinating.
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 Peter Morris
Creator
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Rod Pickles
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-10-10
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AMorrisPG171010, PMorrisPG1701
Conforms To
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Pending review
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Format
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01:07:03 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Air Force. Coastal Command
Description
An account of the resource
Peter Morris lived through the East End blitz. He joined the ATC as soon as it was established and applied to join the RAF as aircrew. He was accepted for training as a navigator. While waiting for a course he was part of a group that was sent to repair bomb damage from the V-1 attacks and was then sent to support the armourers at RAF Waterbeach by working on the bomb dump. Peter finished his training just as VE day was celebrated and then was sent to prepare for the Far East just before VJ Day. Peter became an instructor and was also posted on to Coastal Command where he took part in air sea rescue operations.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
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Bahrain
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
United States
California
California--Vandenberg Air Force Base
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1945
1946
106 Squadron
120 Squadron
42 Squadron
90 Squadron
air sea rescue
aircrew
bombing
bombing up
ground personnel
incendiary device
Lancaster
Lincoln
navigator
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Kinloss
RAF St Eval
RAF St Mawgan
RAF Tuddenham
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Wyton
Shackleton
Tiger force
training
V-1
V-weapon
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1034/11406/AMinnittPB170314.2.mp3
de81edc494e14a67df6220d791edcd59
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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Minnitt, Bruce
P B Minnitt
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Bruce Minnitt (1923- 2020, 1232347 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a pilot with 211 and 244 Squadron Coastal Command and with a Ferry Unit in the Far East.
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
2017-03-14
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Minnitt, PB
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DK: Right. I’ll just introduce myself. So, this is David Kavanagh for the International Bomber Command Centre interviewing Bruce Minnitt on the 13th of March 2017 at his home. If I just pop that down there. You'll see me keep looking down.
BM: Well, I'm not familiar with all these modern gizmos.
DK: No. I’m not [laughs] I'm not either to be honest. The technology hasn't let me down yet but there is always a first time. So if I keep looking down I’m just making sure they're both going. It says one’s going there. So what, what I’d like to just ask is just a few questions and whatever and just sort of get a bit of background. First of all, what I would like to know is what were you doing immediately before the war?
BM: Thinking that the war started in September 1939. Well, let's getaway a little bit in so far as our age is concerned. I was born in 1923.
DK: Right.
BM: So that made me when war broke out in 1939 I was sixteen.
DK: So you were still at, still at school.
BM: No.
DK: Ah. Right. Ok.
BM: I left school fourteen days after I was fourteen years old.
DK: Right. Ok.
BM: So my education has been sadly neglected during my lifetime and as it happened upon leaving school I was very fortunate because fourteen days after leaving school I had a job.
DK: Oh right.
BM: But my grandfather owned the local village shop and my father of course was part of that concern and I got a job. Ten shillings a week. It was wonderful for the hours that were put in.
DK: And that was working in the shop was it?
BM: And I was working in the shop as a —
DK: Yeah.
BM: A lad with an apron around me and I was [pause] I enjoyed it and the experience did me good because after a couple of years my father arranged for me to go to Lincoln and I got a job as a sort of an apprentice working for the best grocers in Lincoln. I used to think they were the best grocers because they had a couple of nice little vans and I used to drive around Lincoln. I was only sixteen —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Years old. I didn't have a licence of course. We used to drive all around Lincoln. No problem. Never, never got bothered by anybody and so I had a couple of years of experience in that and then I went back home and very soon I joined up. I actually volunteered, myself and another friend when we were both [pause] How old would we be? Seventeen and three quarters. I joined up in February.
DK: Was there any, any reason why you chose the RAF? Was —
BM: Well yes of course. I mean it was so glamorous, wasn't it? I mean, we were always going to be Tail End Charlies. I joined up as a, at least I thought I joined up as a tail gunner.
DK: Right.
BM: On bombers. I mean, in 1940, ‘41 rather they were looking for bombers because the high point of the fighters had gone. I was trained as, as a fighter.
DK: Right.
BM: On singles.
DK: Right.
BM: And I did, then I did a navigation course on Ansons and, in Canada whatever. And then we came back from Canada to this country and the first thing of course that I had to do was a conversion course.
DK: Just, just stepping back a bit your, by this time you’ve, you’re a pilot then are you?
BM: I was. Yes. I got my wings in Canada.
DK: Right.
BM: But it didn't matter really whether I was a fighter pilot, bomber pilot or whatever.
DK: Right.
BM: I think they used to move us around as and when required. I mean the fighter era really —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Was in 1940.
DK: So, what, what was the first type of aircraft that you were trained on?
BM: The first one that I actually went and did my original training on and got, went solo on was a Magister.
DK: Right. Ok.
BM: Now, I don't whether you've heard —
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: Of those.
DK: I know the Magisters.
BM: Magisters. A lovely little —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Biplane.
DK: Monoplane. Yeah.
BM: Monoplane. And we did that at Reading.
DK: Right. Yeah.
BM: Woodley.
DK: Yeah.
BM: At Reading. And it was just about deciding whether you were fit to be able to fly an aeroplane or whether you’d got the confidence to, to do it.
DK: So were there sort of aptitude tests?
BM: That's what it was.
DK: It was. Yeah. Yeah.
BM: And we had to be able to, I think the basic test was you had to do your solo in the maximum of twelve hours.
DK: Right.
BM: I think that was what happened. Well fortunately I think what was I? Eight and a quarter or something like that. I had a little bit of an aptitude for it but I always remember my instructor. I thought at the time, well he was a very brave man. How old was I? Eighteen. Sending me off in this plane on my own up there and I always remember thinking, ‘My God, I've got this bloody thing up here. How am I going to get it down again? [laughs] And —
DK: Were they, were they very good, the instructors?
BM: Well —
DK: What were, what were the instructors like?
BM: I think they had to have a lot of faith.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And —
DK: So can you, can you remember how many flights you had with the instructor before you went solo?
BM: Well yes, I did about seven and a half, seven [pause] I haven't unfortunately I think it was about seven and a half I think.
DK: Seven and a half hours was that?
BM: Hours.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
BM: Dual flying.
DK: Right. Yeah.
BM: Before they said, ‘Right.’
DK: ‘Off you go.’
BM: ‘Off you go.’
DK: So what was your feelings then when you went off by yourself for the first time?
BM: Well, I thought what a damn fool I am [laughs] going up with this aeroplane on my own up there. Nobody to help me. No radio. Nothing like that. I couldn't shout, ‘Help.’ You know, ‘What do I do now?’ And I thought I’ll just try and remember what he told me. All the different checks you go through.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Had I got them all right? And I came and landed. It must have been reasonably alright because he said, ‘Off you go again’ so off I went and did another circuit and bump and came around and he said, ‘Ok.’ And that was that. Still did a little bit of flying. Only a time or two after that before we got moved on.
DK: Right. So you got moved on from Reading then.
BM: We got moved on from Reading.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And our, our first EFTS —
DK: Yeah.
BM: I'm not going to try and confuse you with letters.
DK: That's ok.
BM: Elementary Flying Training School.
DK: Right. Ok.
BM: Which was in Newquay.
DK: Right. Ok. So, Reading and then Newquay.
BM: I went to Reading.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And then Newquay. And it was an Elementary Flying Training School but we never did any flying. It was all, you know pounding the streets of Newquay and that.
DK: Square, square bashing.
BM: I did the six months down at Newquay and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And well it was some hard work but I still enjoyed it because the weather was decent. We used to play a lot on the sands and that sort of thing, you know.
DK: Yeah.
BM: We enjoyed that. And then we went from EFTS. I’ve missed some out. My memory is I can’t remember what my own name was.
DK: Don't worry.
BM: I’d moved to Canada then.
DK: Right.
BM: We’d done our ground stuff. I think actually they got a little bit fed up of me because we got moved up to Heaton Park near Manchester.
DK: Right.
BM: It was sort of a transit camp. You go there before you get sent here, there and everywhere and I used to break out of the camp at night and I’d come out on the train and that sort of thing. I remember no one occasion I went back after a weekend at home which I shouldn’t have been because I had no passes and I jumped straight into the arms of the military police. I went through the wall in the, in the park at Heaton Park. A lot of lads had found that out. We jumped through this hole and there were four or five of blooming military police stood on the other side.
DK: Did you, did you get into trouble over that then?
BM: Well, ‘Report to the adjutant 8 o’clock tomorrow morning.’. So I got a week confined to camp for that.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Well, what they used to make us do you put a heavy pack on your back and you had to run around the blooming park. The perimeter of the park.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Which wasn't funny. And then probably have to go back to the orderly room and polish the floors and all that. Well, I went, I saw some leave passes on this adjutant’s table while I was there. I thought, oh, you know he might not miss a few of those. So, I put some of these leave passes in my pocket and while I was there I got, he’d got the old stamp. You know, they used to stamp them. That's fine. And I got a mate of mine he could sign them for me.
DK: Yeah.
BM: His name was Squadron Leader Fred Bowls or whatever his name was [laughs] and it was all very nice but unfortunately one of these weekends I went home using this pass [there was nothing to do] we were a few weeks at Manchester. It was a bank holiday weekend. Well, that was the worst thing I could do because all military traffic, leisure traffic was stopped for the weekend. The civilians were all very much in need of all this traffic and I went home on this weekend and of course again the military police, ‘Where's your leave pass? What are you doing?’ Well, I’d got a nice little leave pass there which I showed them it. ‘There you are corporal.’ ‘Very good. Carry on.’ I said my grandmother wasn't very well so I had to go home and see her before she died.
DK: Oh dear.
BM: I had to. There were a lot of poorly grandmothers around in those days and it was a bad weekend to go. And as I’ say there were other weekends. The last weekend I got the opportunity was when I went and jumped through the wall in to the loving arms of the military police. Anyway, shortly after that we got posted and we went off to Canada.
DK: Do you remember much about the trip over to Canada? Were you on a, can you remember which ship you were on?
BM: Well, I don't remember. But I do, what I do remember it was, it was amazing really we had two battleships.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And we had four cruisers, and we had ten destroyers and that was going the other way. And it took us three weeks to get to St Johns, Newfoundland.
DK: Right.
BM: From Glasgow we went actually and we went right across Canada. Saskatchewan, Manitoba and all the rest of it. Lovely people the Canadians.
DK: What did, what did you think about Canada when you got there?
BM: Oh, it was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic because you see you must remember that this was 1941, the beginning of 1942 when we got [pause] and everything was rationed of course.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And we didn’t have white bread. It was all this stingy old brownish bread and everything like potatoes and milk. Poor old milk were about ninety percent water. I know there is a lot of water in it anyway but most of it was water and it was miserable old stuff. We got across to Canada full cream milk, the food was fantastic. Lovely white soft bread. We thought we were in heaven. And every station that we stopped at and it took us a long time as we were going across Canada there was always a group of lovely ladies came out on the platforms to welcome us and give us fruit and I mean, we hadn’t seen an orange or a banana or anything like that for, for years. And all of them made these wonderful offerings and eventually we ended up at a little place beside the Alaska highway in [pause] north of Calgary. Alberta.
DK: Alberta. Yeah.
BM: And about a hundred miles north of Calgary and it was a real old-fashioned place. There was no roadways or anything like that but it suited us and what we liked about that place which we hadn’t experience in England everything was laid out in, you know in lateral squares.
DK: Yeah. Yeah
BM: So you had a job to get lost.
DK: Right.
BM: Really, I mean it was —
DK: The grid system.
BM: We had a wonderful navigator. Unless, of course and we did have it happen one young fella he was going north when he should have been going south and [laughs] of course he ended up, if he’d kept on going he would have been at the North Pole but of course he ran out of fuel very easily. Then he had to walk back to get back but that was all part and parcel of the experience —
DK: So what —
BM: Of learning.
DK: What sort of training did you then have in Canada?
BM: Well, we went onto Stearmans in Canada.
DK: Right.
BM: That was our first one. This little place called Bowden, and a very very very very safe stable aircraft. I don't know whether you’ve ever seen the, sort of realised the make of aeroplane that there were but these Stearmans were like a big Tiger Moth.
DK: They were biplanes. Yeah.
BM: Biplanes.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Very stable. Very very safe. And you could, you could drop them in from a fair old height and, you know they would just bounce. Well most aeroplanes would, you’d buckle the undercarriage up. That was the biggest problem you know with would be pilots was the judgement in landing an aircraft.
DK: Right.
BM: I mean anybody can take an aeroplane off. You’d open the throttle and keep it straight and off you go. It’s a different kettle of fish when it comes down to judging that height.
DK: Right.
BM: Just get it down and drop it in nicely. And there were more people I think got failed for that particular fault.
DK: Not being able to land.
BM: Couldn’t judge the distance.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: To drop it in. And —
DK: So –
BM: Failed because of that.
DK: At this time are you flying solo again or have you got —
BM: Oh, we, oh yes we got so we were flying solo. And I did quite a lot of hours. There was a statutory number of hours.
DK: Right.
BM: Whether you were good, bad or indifferent you had that to do. And when you reached a certain standard than the whole lot of you, fifty bods usually in a, in a flight would get moved on to the next stage and we went on to the SFTS then.
DK: Right. Yeah.
BM: Yeah. And —
DK: SFTS. Yeah.
BM: You did [laughs]
DK: Yeah.
BM: And at that point we went on to Harvards.
DK: Right.
BM: So we were still training to be fighter pilots. We were still on singles. Now, the Harvards were a wonderful aircraft and we then did a full course on the Harvards. Funnily enough it just made me remember we went to Zimbabwe for a holiday several years ago with a cousin and we were going around Zimbabwe and we went into a museum in Bulawayo.
DK: Right.
BM: One day. A little museum with a few aeroplanes in it and there was a beautiful Harvard in there.
DK: Oh right.
BM: They’d had, they had this Empire Training Scheme.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Which was really —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Out in South Africa. Rhodesia as it was then. It wasn’t Zimbabwe and they did the same course. A lot of the lads went out from this country out to South Africa did the course there and then moved up to the Middle East.
DK: Yeah.
BM: It was much easier for them to get posted in to some sort of military unit in the Middle East. Either in the Western Desert or —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Wherever they went. And it just reminded me that Harvards were, were in South Africa just as much, well not as much they were so very busy with training aircraft in Canada. They did a wonderful job and the Canadians are forever in my heart and I have always wanted to go back full for a holiday.
DK: Right.
BM: To take my wife back after the war. We never got there. Anyway, we came back when all this was over. Well, I’m jumping a bit before we got there. When we’d done the training on the Harvards a group of us got moved from there to Navigation School.
DK: Right.
BM: On Prince Edward Island. PEI as they used to call it. And it had got a job to [pause] it was alcohol free. You know, it was like the old what's the name that they had in New York, didn't they? The —
DK: Oh, the prohibition mission. Yeah. Yeah.
BM: And they had the same thing on Prince Edward Island. The only way we could get any decent drink and that was invariably it was rum, good thick rum. And we didn’t cope with it [phone ringing] and we could buy this in the mess.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And we had to get a licence to buy any alcohol off service premises.
DK: Right.
BM: You know, because there were like alcohol stores where you could buy stuff on licence.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: But you wouldn’t just go in and, ‘I’ll have a pint of beer missus,’ or whatever you know. You, you had to buy it on licence. But we got all we needed anyway.
DK: Yeah.
BM: So we did this course and then we came back when it was over down through the eastern side of America. I forget the name of the States now down north of New York. Then came back to New York and we came home from New York.
DK: Right.
BM: Actually.
DK: Did you actually stop off at New York. Or not —
BM: We got on at New York.
DK: You got on at New York. Yeah.
BM: Yeah, because we came down by train.
DK: Right.
BM: From Prince Edward Island. From Philadelphia, was it was one of them.
DK: Right.
BM: New England.
DK: Right.
BM: It doesn't matter. Anyway. And we got on at New York and came back from there to Liverpool in seven days.
DK: Right.
BM: It took us three weeks to go out.
DK: Yeah.
BM: The same journey. Well, it wasn’t the same journey really because we were just over. We still lost one by the way. We still lost a troop ship going out. With all these ships looking after us we found more escorts than we had people to go, bods on them because we were going the other way.
DK: Right.
BM: And of course, at that point then the Americans were in the war. They joined up pretty well straight away in 1941. Well, December ‘41 is when they came in didn’t they?
DK: Yes. Yeah.
BM: So it would be ’42. And we got the Empire, Empire Air Training Scheme going and we were going the other way. Anyway, we came back and it took us a week and it was said, now we’ve no way of knowing whether it’s true or not there were twenty thousand troops on that boat.
DK: Wow.
BM: On the Princess Elizabeth. And it was the first time, not the first time that we came in but it was, it was used for civilian traffic before it was actually launched as a passenger vessel.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Because it was launched at the beginning of the war, wasn't it? The Queen Elizabeth.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And interesting really. We slept in the swimming pool. There was no water in it. We got these palliases and it was plenty warm enough even in winter. And —
DK: So was the convoy attacked at all on the, on the way back?
BM: Do you know it didn't have one escort.
DK: No.
BM: Not that we saw anyway. If it did it kept out of sight.
DK: Right.
BM: We’d no escort whatever with the Queen Elizabeth and it was, it was forever never, never took a straight course. But it was said and of course everything we got was all rumour. We didn't know whether it was true or not that it was doing about thirty knots all the time and it was too fast for a U-boat.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
BM: You know, there was no way they were going to catch it unless, you could get four or five of them like a pack. And it was maybe difficult to get away then but whether it actually got attacked I don't know but it certainly did fire its guns. It might have been in practise I don't know. It had got some massive, massive guns on as big as a warship.
DK: Right.
BM: And also they’d got dozens, literally dozens of anti-aircraft guns. I mean the Elizabeth was a big ship.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: There was a lot of space there to look after and they did a wonderful job. They got us back but of course we went back to a bit of nice English food having had all this wonderful food all the time we were out in —
DK: You had a bit of a shock then, was it? Coming back to this.
BM: Oh yeah. Coming back to this. So then we did [pause] from there we went, moved on to training on Oxfords.
DK: Right.
BM: Twin engine planes.
DK: Can you remember where you were based then? Flying the Oxfords?
BM: Well, you know my first place really was South Cerney in Gloucestershire.
DK: Right.
BM: There was South Cerney and there was Bibury. We did different sort of out-stations like we, one was at Lulsgate Bottom. I remember that one because it, it actually became Bristol Airport.
DK: Right. Yes. Yes.
BM: Eventually.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Lulsgate Bottom. And it was, it was a bit tight because the A5 ran right alongside. You know the way Scampton does? You’ve got the A15 pretty well right —
DK: Yeah.
BM: At the end of the runway. You’ve got the A5 there at Bristol and I remember on one occasion I was awaiting my turn to take off because invariably you flew on your own even in a twin engine aircraft and he came in to land and just touched the top of a furniture waggon and the furniture waggon went past on the A5 road and the runway was just over the hedge and he just, he just touched it. But he, and I was stood there waiting and he carried on and landed OK but I should think the driver of the vehicle had a —
DK: A bit of a shock.
BM: An enlightening experience.
DK: Yeah.
SM: Has he mentioned about the Americans when he was in Canada? Flew in to —
BM: No.
DK: No. No.
SM: There was a flight of Americans came in. They all crashed didn’t they? Couldn't land.
BM: Oh, well this was in Canada.
DK: Canada. Yeah.
BM: Yeah.
SM: With the frost.
BM: Oh, we had a few experiences. We were, at that period we were going through part of the winter.
DK: Right.
BM: Well, Canadian winters were rather strong —
DK: Yeah.
BM: And one weekend, over one weekend while we were there we actually had eighty degrees of frost. It was [pause] I've got to get this right. Fifty degrees below zero was eighty two degrees of frost.
DK: Right. Yeah.
BM: It was cold.
DK: Right.
BM: It was. And bearing in mind we were flying Stearmans which were open cockpit.
DK: Oh yeah.
BM: And we used to have a, some chamois leather face masks with three pairs of gloves. Silk gloves, woollen gloves, leather gloves. All of it and you are only allowed to fly for twenty minutes.
DK: Right.
BM: That was it. Because of frostbite. You could easily get frostbite.
DK: Yeah.
BM: You were wrapped up like a Chinese monkey and when your time was up you had to come back and land. Get out. Otherwise you would just freeze up.
DK: Right.
BM: It’s sensible I suppose really. And of course, everything was frozen up. You didn't know where the runways were. It was just solid snow and that. On one occasion, this wasn't of course public knowledge but the Americans were supplying the Russians with aircraft and, because we had a photograph of a Flying Fortress with a Russian Star on it. We had, we had 5 Airacobras. Do you know what they are?
DK: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
BM: Yeah. They —
DK: Single engine fighters.
BM: One of the early [ tricycle ] undercarriage planes.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And five came in one after the other. Coming in for re-fuelling on the way up.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Up to Alaska.
DK: And to Russia that way presumably.
BM: Yeah.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And we were right on the Alaska Highway. The side of the Alaska highway and it would take them up to [pause] I forget the names of the places now. Anyway, they’d go up to Alaska and then over the —
SM: Bering Straits.
BM: Bering Straits.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: And come down in to America that way. They didn't have to fly them across long stretches of water. Long stretches of snow instead. But these five Airacobras they came in and they couldn't pull up because it was on a shortish runway with a fair amount of wind and the brakes wouldn't, they wouldn’t, I don't know, they just, I mean we could see them doing it. You slid right down the blooming runway such as there was and, on this occasion, came down, landed and there was the old Alaska Highway such as it was but it had all snowed up. But we did have a hedge. The first one went straight through the hedge and the other four followed him just boom boom boom. So we had, we ended up with five Airacobras in somebody's field.
DK: Oh dear.
BM: But they didn't do an awful lot of damage.
DK: No?
BM: Really. They did some damage obviously.
DK: Yeah.
BM: But didn’t do such a lot of damage.
DK: Nobody, nobody hurt then.
BM: They weren't very popular. But I mean, you couldn't blame the pilots. They’d absolutely no chance and I mean once the wheels were on the ground that was it. They just kept on sliding.
DK: Yeah.
BM: They’d no grip. But just another [laughs] funny incident. Not quite on the same day but we, we had one or two lads up doing navigation exercises in Ansons. Well, they weren’t flying them. They were there navigating them. Learning how to navigate. And this, as I say this little runway they couldn’t get the aircraft down. It wasn’t a case of getting it down and making it stop down. They couldn’t get it down.
DK: No.
BM: Because an Anson just used to float on the wind you know. Like a butterfly when it was coming in and you’d get down just a few feet off the ground and you couldn’t get it to come down and stop down. You cut the engine off about somewhere at Dunham Bridge and you could [laughs] you’d come drifting in and in and in. And it went around and around. I’d seem one of them. I don't know how many times it went around but it went around a few times before it did eventually get down. And I think he was actually landing at Lincoln and then coming in [laughs] It was, it was a funny incident really watching them. But anyway we were on about these Airacobras. That was quite interesting. They’d all got the Russian Star on them.
DK: Yeah.
BM: I think if the English public had known that they’d got the Russian Star there really it would, it would be after. It would be after Russia actually came in officially.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
BM: In to the war but not all that long afterwards.
DK: 1942 wouldn’t it when the Americans supplied.
BM: It wasn’t that that long after.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Because they’d actually got to get all the aeroplane [pause] well they weren’t converted. You had them all prepared.
DK: Yeah.
BM: With the proper markings on and all that sort of thing. All these Russian aircraft and the, but they weren't, we didn't see any that I can remember Russian transport. Land transport, you know. Big heavy armoured vehicles and all that sort.
DK: Yeah.
BM: But we did get the aeroplanes. But anyway to come back to where I was we were watching these aircraft do aerobatics at the end of the A5 at Lulsgate Bottom.
SM: Before you say that dad have you mentioned you lost your leave as well didn’t you in Canada? Which wasn't your fault.
BM: Lost me what?
SM: Leave. When someone had been smoking. Can you remember? You had to stay in camp and everybody went in to America.
BM: Lost my leave.
SM: Yeah.
BM: We don't talk about such things as that, Simon.
SM: Yeah. That wasn't your fault, was it. Can you remember?
BM: There was all sorts of things were my fault. I was forever getting myself locked up.
SM: It doesn't matter if you’ve forgotten.
BM: I have. I have.
SM: But he did. He lost his leave.
DK: Lost his leave.
SM: Somebody had been smoking and everyone [pause] they didn’t own up.
DK: Yeah.
SM: And —
DK: You got the blame for it.
SM: Dad got the blame for it and they all went on to, into America on their leave and dad had to stay on.
DK: Oh dear.
SM: On the camp.
BM: Anyway, I did this. This training.
DK: Yeah.
BM: At two or three different small aerodromes you know that —
DK: Yeah.
BM: That were where the main aerodrome had sort of landing grounds and there was, Bibury was another one.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Near Gloucester that we did a bit of training. Oh, I think we did, that one was blind landing, you know.
DK: Yeah.
BM: You had to, without having any visual you had to come in. I don't know whether anybody has ever told you how they do it. Or did it. I mean there are all these modern gizmos today.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: I mean, they can do it but in those days you did it with like Morse Code. A series of, you’d got a dit dit dit dit dit on one side. Then on the other side of the landing as you were coming in da da da. And then you had to get them to join up. You were doing this totally blind. You were just seeing the instrument and you could —
DK: You’re hearing the noise in your ears.
BM: Yeah, we were hearing it.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And it had got a constant sound so you got the dit dit dit and the da da da. You could [daaaaa] and when it all —
DK: Came together.
BM: Came together then you knew you were actually on the line. It was very simple but it, it worked, you know. You’d get people down. It didn't tell them how high they were but at least it got them in. Got them down. I mean later in the war they got all sorts of gizmos they were using for landing. There was one system called BABS. It used to amuse us because my wife's name was Babs and they’d got this —
SM: Still is dad.
BM: They’d got this landing. Anyway, we did all this series of different training. When it was all completed then of course you got together. You got navigators, bomb aimers.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Pilots and all the rest of it and you went too [pause]
DK: The OTU.
BM: You've got it, you know. Yeah. And we were sent as a group up to —
DK: Can you remember meeting up with your crew and how that happened?
BM: Well, it was at, that was the way it was done. They would put in a big room I suppose the numbers, equal numbers that they required so many bomb aimers, so many wireless operators, this that and the other all and you just sorted yourself out. I mean if you saw somebody looking a bit like a lost sheep and you’d know what, what job he had whether he was an observer or an air gunner you’d got a —
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: And then say, ‘Ah, we want, we want an air gunner in our crew.’ Or, ‘We want a navigator.’ Or whatever. But even sort of —
DK: Did you think that was a good idea of getting your crew together because it seems a bit random?
BM: It was very much random but [pause] how else would you do it? I mean you wanted so many bomb aimers. You wanted equal numbers bomb aimers, navigators, pilots. You wanted more air gunners.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Because most aircraft had got at least two —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Lots of air gunners on.
DK: You've got, you’ve got no idea how good they are at their —
BM: No.
DK: Jobs though, have you?
BM: They might have been bloody useless. And in fact, some were.
DK: Yeah.
BM: I suppose that did happen but once you’d got them you’d got them.
DK: Yeah.
BM: They formed part of your crew and —
DK: Can you remember which OTU you were at?
BM: Yeah.
DK: Or where it was?
BM: Number 6.
DK: Number 6.
BM: Silloth.
DK: Right.
BM: Near Carlisle.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: And you see Coastal Command flying Wellingtons I never told you that had I? Anyway, you didn’t have a lot of choice it was a, we were Wellingtons —
DK: So you were, you were literally posted to a Coastal Command OTU.
BM: Yeah.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Yeah. It wasn’t until that point we’d got away from being trained as [pause] Oh yes it was. Of course, it was because we had to do a conversion course as pilots from singles.
DK: Right.
BM: On to multis, you know. And we did that —
DK: So was this —
BM: Through Oxfords and —
DK: Was it a bit of a shock then that you weren't going to be the fighter pilot? You were going to be put on bombers?
BM: Well, I mean everybody —
DK: Or larger aircraft.
BM: Everybody realised that basically the fighter’s war was over. I mean a lot of the lads were lost. By that stage of the war they were then getting they were wanting bombers.
DK: Right.
BM: Fighter bombers. They did want fighter aircraft but more or less working in safety situations.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Really, you know guarding other bombers and being —
DK: Not being, not being offensive then.
BM: No.
DK: Yeah.
BM: No. No. Not —
DK: So you met your crew then. What did you think of them personally? Did you, were they a good crew?
BM: You know there’s a more reliable statistic.
DK: You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to [laughs] I can soon turn the recorder off.
BM: I think that’s the easiest way.
DK: If you want to something [laughs] Ok. Fair enough.
BM: Yeah. You get, you get a mixed bunch really.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: You’re bound to do and there weren’t many crews and I did know one that, there was one crew which they, all of them seemed to be smashing fellas.
DK: Right.
BM: You know, they really were and they all appeared to know their job. But they were very decent fellas. But you see you got such a mixed bag. I mean, we had an Australian navigator for instance. We had a, a second pilot who was a Cockney. A Londoner. Another one who was a Cockney who was a wireless op/air gunner. We had a radio, w/op from Belfast. They were from all over the blooming place you know. They were such a mixed bag. Well, you usually used to find that people coming from similar areas you know would gel —
DK: Yes. Yeah.
BM: A lot better. You know, like two or three northerners for instance.
DK: Yeah.
BM: But again they would stick together. Which may not have been a good thing in some things. It didn’t help mix everybody up but they were. Anyway, we did that. I had one little incident where we was a little bit alarming in the course of doing this. Way out in the Atlantic there’s a little rock. Nothing else. It’s an island made of rock and seagulls and it’s called Rockall.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
BM: You’ve heard of it.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: It was quite a long way out in the Atlantic and it was used as a navigation training exercise.
DK: Right.
BM: You had to, a good training point for the navigator because he was the one who was responsible for it. Make sure you got to the right point and you, and you had to photograph it because we all carried a big —
DK: Prove you’d been there.
BM: So to prove that we’d actually been there.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Some would say, ‘Well, yes, we got there boss.’ Alright. No, you had to prove that you’d actually —
DK: Yeah.
BM: And we got a little bit under fuel, the shortish side and we came back and we knew we weren’t going to get back home so everybody, well the navigator sketching out as fast as he could the nearest convenient place that we could get down on and we got down. We came in to land off the coast of Scotland. A little place called Port Ellen. I don’t know whether you’ve heard of it but —
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: All they’d got there was a few sheep. Didn’t even keep any aircraft there. It was an emergency place for anybody who was in trouble for any reason and then there was a hut in there.
DK: Yeah.
BM: We, we put in there for the night. We got refuelled. Had a night there listening to the flaming sheep bleating all night [laughs] And then we filled up and went off again the next morning. But it, it can be a bit hairy being out in the sea there.
DK: Yeah.
BM: It would be a bit wet if you —
DK: Finding out you were running low on fuel.
BM: If you didn't make it. You get back. You quite a long way to come at that point down the West Coast of Scotland around the sort of northern tip of Ireland.
DK: Right.
BM: And then came in and up to Solway Firth.
DK: Yeah. So was, was it at the OTU then you first flew the Wellington?
BM: Oh yeah.
DK: Right.
BM: You wouldn’t get any opportunity to fly it before then.
DK: No. So that was —
BM: That was the first time you ever flew as a, as a crew.
DK: As a crew. So how did you feel about the Wellington then because it was quite a bigger aircraft than you'd been used to up until then?
BM: Oh, yeah. Well, they were actually discarded ones from the, that had been on bombing.
DK: Right.
BM: So you could imagine that they —
DK: So they were a bit rough.
BM: They were a bit rough alright. One particular occasion we were doing a training exercise and we came in and landed and we’d no brakes at all. We couldn't. There were no way we were going to pull up before we’d go through somebody's chimney and we came down towards the end of the runway and all you could do was accelerate a lot.
DK: Right.
BM: On one side. I think it was on the portside and swing it around. Nothing to hold it back on the other side, you know. You was —
DK: Yeah.
BM: And then eventually you’d run out of steam but if anybody got in your way it was really awkward but they were such a clapped out blooming aircraft. They really were but they weren't as bad as we had on in many respects as we got on Ferry Command. There were some dodgy ones.
DK: So from the OTU then were you then posted to an operational squadron?
BM: No.
DK: Right.
BM: We did the, we did the OTU and then we got, we got sent back. We got sent to Haverfordwest.
DK: Right. OK.
BM: So that was one end of the country to the other nearly and we got down to Haverford West and it's a long way down there you know to Haverfordwest in those days because you had to come to London.
DK: Oh right.
BM: Out of London and then oh —
DK: Then back out again.
BM: Blooming heck. Anyway, we got down to, and we were just getting off the train down at Haverfordwest Station. A little old station down there and there were some MPs out on the platform. ‘What's gone wrong now?’ And they were giving us out forty eight hour leave pass and a warrant for the train.
DK: Right.
BM: They said, ‘Well, you've got forty eight hours leave.’ And we’d just come all that blooming way from God knows where. So I had to get back on the train, back to London, back up, well to Newark as far as I was concerned. Two lads were able to get off at London because they came from London.
DK: Yeah.
BM: But, and another lad, I’m moving on a little bit but we came back. Got back to Newark and I actually walked home to my wife. She wasn't my wife then. My fiancé. Just down the street here. I walked home from Newark station.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Quite a fair old walk. Got in at 8:00 o'clock in the morning. I walked in and said, ‘If you want to get married we're going to get married tomorrow.’ And that’s the first —
SM: He did. Yeah.
BM: It was the first she ever knew about it. We never discussed it but —
DK: That’s the way to do it.
BM: And I was —
SM: Yeah, but you knew you were going to be posted dad, didn’t you? You knew you were going to be posted away at that stage.
BM: Oh, aye. I know. Anyway, we fixed this up we were, we were going to get married. Well, a lot of pandemonium and all the rest of it. We had at that stage my wife’s house. In those days it happened quite a bit where you got service people were billeted —
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: On somebody who had substantial accommodation. My wife was a farmer's daughter so they considered that they had enough square space to accommodate a couple of senior officers and they had a Wing Commander —
DK: Right.
BM: Who was the CO of the engineering outfit. Engineering officer at 5 Group.
DK: Right. Yeah.
BM: On Lancasters. And he was billeted up there. I used to get along with him like a house on fire. I didn't call him Bill and Fred and all the rest of it but, and this he treated me you know with respect and of course I did him. I mean a senior officer. And he said, my wife and the family were obviously going down to Nottingham to do some shopping. He said, ‘I'll take you to Newark.’ I mean, I had a wing commander, you know, I said, ‘Oh, my God.’ And he took them all off to catch the train at Newark Station. All the way there apparently because I wasn’t there, all the way there he was trying to persuade her all the time, ‘Now, are you sure you want to get married? You’re a bit young,’ and all this, that and the other, you know. She said, ‘Yes, we’re getting married.’ She wasn't twenty one of course, I wasn't either and anyway off they went to Nottingham and they came back and it was arranged that we would meet the officer and train and he got back to the train. And then of course in the meantime I think it was realised we didn't have a licence to get married and they’d got forty eight hours. So, and Saturday was already on its way. They kept the train waiting on Collingham Station while they went and hunted out my mother and my wife's mother to get their written permissions —
DK: Right.
BM: On the, on the licence application to be able to get married. So I went to, all the passengers on the train were enjoying this bit of drama. So I did that and then we carried on on the train. I went up to Newark. To Lincoln trying to, of course this was late in the day. This was teatime to get the rest of the particulars and we had to get a licence. Seven and sixpence and of course it was sod’s law it was Saturday and these sort of bods don’t work on Saturdays. But we went and hunted them up my sister and me and we got this blooming chap. Registrar of births, deaths and marriages. He was very good actually. We got him fairly late on in the evening and I said, ‘Well, I’m going abroad in a couple of days.’ I mean, this was happening all the time obviously.
DK: I was going to say I imagine it so—
BM: And he was, he was —
DK: It was quite common.
BM: So he fixed us up with a licence. Seven and six pence and that was, that was that. We got married the next day on the Sunday.
DK: Right.
BM: We’d got the vicar primed. There were no banns. Nothing like that. And my wife did a wedding breakfast. Wonderful for her. There were sixty people there present. All these had been notified in the previous twenty four hours.
DK: Yeah.
BM: My own father didn’t know, you know. I thought we’d better ring him up and tell him his son is going to get married. Anyway, we got married and had a sort of wedding breakfast and then off we went to Nottingham for a honeymoon and we came back on the Tuesday morning and we were back to London and back to Haverfordwest and that was our wedding. And two and a half years later I saw my wife.
DK: Right. So you did know you were about to be posted overseas then at this point did you?
BM: We did but we didn’t know —
DK: Where?
BM: Until actually we were on the train on the station.
DK: Right.
BM: At Haverfordwest.
DK: Right.
BM: We didn’t know.
DK: And that’s why you got the forty eight hours leave then.
BM: Yeah, we had the forty eight hour leave pass.
DK: [unclear] leave. Right.
BM: They didn’t give you much did they?
DK: No.
BM: Forty eight hours and —
DK: You had, you had no idea where you were going. Just that you were going overseas.
BM: Just that we were going.
DK: Right.
BM: That was it. And of course, a certain number of days and you were back. So —
DK: Can I just ask what rank were you at this time because you mentioned you —
BM: Oh, I was an air marshal or something like that, I think. I was a Sergeant.
DK: So you were a flight Sergeant then at that time.
BM: He’s there look.
DK: Ah. Oh right.
BM: That’s me. Good looking fellow wasn’t he?
DK: Yeah.
BM: Well, the woman was a good looking girl.
DK: Good looking lady.
BM: Yeah.
DK: Ok. So you were a flight Sergeant at that point then.
BM: Well —
DK: Sergeant. Yeah.
BM: I suppose so. Yeah. Yeah.
DK: Ok. So you’d gone back to Haverfordwest so you're now going overseas. So where did you —
BM: Yeah.
DK: Where did you go then?
BM: But we didn't know where.
DK: Yeah.
BM: They didn't give you a lot of information out and they said, ‘Well, you will be taking a new aircraft to Morocco.’
DK: Oh right.
BM: Rabat in Morocco. So we had to fly —
DK: And this was a Wellington was it?
BM: That was a Wellington. Yeah.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Brand new. And of course what happens next? We were waiting for this and somebody went and smashed it up. They were doing an air test on it and smashed it up so they held us back. Not very long. Three or four days or something like that they kept us back. Until another one became available.
DK: Right.
BM: We got that. Took it down to Southampton and gave us all the instructions to get it to Rabat.
DK: Right.
BM: Which was a circuitous route to say the least because we had to go out to, we had to try and avoid France.
DK: France. Yeah. Spain.
BM: Spain. Portugal. All the, because we hadn't any ammunition.
DK: Right.
BM: They sent us out with his blooming brand new Wellington. We got all the guns we needed on it.
DK: [unclear]
BM: But there were no ammunition. We’d no ammunition because we had to load the thing up with as much fuel as you could get.
DK: Right.
BM: You know, you needed all that. You couldn't be wasting space on bullets.
DK: Right.
BM: And but allowing though if you happened to see a few Focke Wulfs come on you, on your tail but anyway we flew through the night and it would be —
DK: Did you go direct to Morocco then or —
BM: Did we —?
DK: Did you go direct to Morocco or stop on the way?
BM: No. We flew, oh sorry we flew direct from Southampton. We went out over the Channel Islands.
DK: Right.
BM: And we were alright being fairly closer in to France but we never went over any, any land.
DK: You didn't stop at Gibraltar or anywhere.
BM: No. No.
DK: You went all the way to Morocco.
BM: No. We didn't. We very nearly did but it was accidental. We came in towards, we thought, the navigator thought we’d got to Gibraltar and we did and then we suddenly realised Jesus better get out of this or else. They were a bit handy with the, with the loose cannon you know if they didn't have proper warning.
DK: Oh right. You weren't expected.
BM: Turn around quick.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And head out to sea to get a few miles behind us and then we went down, turned to port again and went further down across Northern Africa.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Morocco to Rabat.
DK: Right.
BM: From, that’s where we parked the plane and —
DK: So were you officially with the squadron now?
BM: No.
DK: Oh right.
BM: No. We were in transit.
DK: Ok.
SM: You had an incident didn’t you when you landed?
BM: We were, well actually it was rather interesting. We knew we were, we were getting dangerously short. We were living, or were flying on fumes pretty well.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Jesus. Keep paddling on and we got, we actually came in to land and we looked down and we ran out of fuel. It was cutting it a bit fine but the coincidental part of this was that a corporal came out in a little fifteen hundred weight truck to the end of the runway. We couldn’t get any further unless somebody was going to push us and he said, ‘What’s the problem?’ We’d no fuel and I looked at him and bloody hell. I went to school with him.
DK: Yeah?
BM: Yeah.
DK: The corporal who had just pulled up?
BM: I went past his, he was a farmer’s son.
DK: How strange.
BM: I went past it yesterday funnily enough. At Leverton. And he was, he was there, he wasn’t there but I don’t know whether their still, the family are still there now up to this day or, I don’t know.
DK: Did you both immediately recognise one another then?
BM: Oh aye. He recognised me and I recognised him because you’ve got to bear in mind that.
DK: Strange.
BM: This was in 1942.
DK: Right.
BM: Would it be? No. It was ’43. The end of ’43. We’d have not been from school long either him or me, you know.
DK: Yeah.
BM: It weren’t, we weren’t talking sort of years back so we hadn’t got to remember far back and he was, he was at school with us and there he was.
DK: How strange.
BM: Shepherding aircraft at this, on this blooming runway at Rabat. Anyway, we parked the plane up there and then we got instructions to move on via American transport plane I think.
DK: Right.
BM: We went sort of down the coast of Morocco and Algeria. We went to, stopped at an American aerodrome at Algeria and it was all sort of in transit.
DK: Right.
BM: And from there we moved around again and we moved across to Italy. To the heel of Italy.
DK: Right.
BM: Near Taranto. What were we talking about?
DK: Right.
BM: Yeah. No, it’s Taranto isn’t it? Right down in the coast. Grottaglie they called it.
DK: So, what were your thoughts about North Africa then when you got there and —?
BM: North Africa?
DK: Yeah. What was it, what was it like?
BM: A bit dry [laughs] but we didn’t really see a lot of it. I mean and unfortunately of course in those days we didn’t have much money to go out and buy cameras.
DK: Right.
BM: If we could have got cameras we couldn’t, we couldn’t buy film.
DK: Yeah.
BM: You couldn’t get the blooming stuff. I’ve got very few aircraft, very few photographs taken really of wartime and that sort of thing. But anyway we got across to Grottaglie.
DK: So the Americans were flying you across then.
BM: The Americans actually you see they landed on the west coast of Africa.
DK: Right. Yeah. Yeah.
BM: And they attacked it from —
DK: Operation Torch.
BM: The west and we were coming up from —
DK: Yeah.
BM: The Tobruk area. And [pause] Montgomery’s lot were meeting with the American.
DK: Yeah.
BM: What was his name? General, was it Mark Clark?
DK: [unclear] Yeah.
BM: Anyway, they went coming from, we were behind the Americans at that stage. They were moving into Africa and we only had to have a couple of spots in our squadrons and there was really no need to have done that if they could have found an aircraft with sufficient bods on it to fill it up to —
DK: Yeah.
BM: You know, to take it to —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Exactly where you wanted to be.
DK: So having arrived in Italy then, the heel of Italy are you, had you been allocated to a squadron at this point then?
BM: Yeah. We were on, we were on route right from our transport instructions. Our transport officer right from where we landed in Rabat.
DK: Right. Ok.
BM: But then sort of under the control of a transport, you know a designated transport officer.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And he would just move us on from place to place and we were on 221 Squadron.
DK: Right. And 221, they were, they were flying Wellingtons again I assume.
BM: Yeah.
DK: And they were part of Coastal Command.
BM: Yeah.
DK: Or Middle East Air Force.
BM: Yeah. Yeah.
DK: Coastal Command.
BM: I mean I've never actually been on any other aircraft until I got to Ferry Command.
DK: Right.
BM: It was always, my operations were always on Wellingtons. I did a tour of operations except one.
DK: Right.
BM: I was one short of completing.
DK: Right. So, and these were all from Italy then.
BM: Yeah.
DK: All these operations. So how many operations did you actually do?
BM: I should have done thirty and I did twenty nine.
DK: Right. Ok. So for Coastal Command then what what sort of form did those operations take?
BM: What?
DK: What were you actually doing on those operations for Coastal Command? What was your role as it were?
BM: Well, I suppose to a large extent it was reconnaissance.
DK: Ok.
BM: Shipping and troop movements and that sort of thing. But we always, we carried bombs and guns and pretty well every time we came back we’d line somebody up with a few bombs. But across and Greece —
DK: Right.
BM: Yugoslavia. Albania.
DK: So most of, most of your operations then they were actually were over land.
BM: Yeah.
DK: Rather than over the sea.
BM: Oh Yeah. Oh yeah. Yeah.
DK: Right.
BM: There were very little operations actually constantly over water. We were over water but I mean we were, we were attacking, if we knew they were there E-boats and that sort of thing and light armoured boats. We never encountered any heavy stuff.
DK: Right.
BM: And our biggest commercial boats would be about what? Six or seven thousand tonnes?
DK: Right.
BM: They weren’t massive big things you know because they were on basically on, on transport. On coastal transport you know.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Port to port and that sort of thing.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Right around back by Trieste and Venice and back down the Italian coast but on, on one occasion we went across to Greece. We pretty well got through our designated number of trips to different places. Some of them were interesting, some of them were a bit sharpish but we never flew very high.
DK: No.
BM: We never did any of this twenty, twenty five thousand and stuff for it. If you knocked off the five it would be nearer. We [laughs] we had about —
DK: So what sort of heights were you?
BM: Five. On average about five thousand feet.
DK: Oh right.
BM: So we’d get a good view of what was going off down below. You know when you think about it we did a fair bit of chasing e-boats and that sort of thing. How do you tell a difference between an e-boat and an MTB for instance?
DK: At that, at that height.
BM: When it’s dark.
DK: Yeah. At that height or dark, it would be difficult.
BM: I thought at the time well I’m damned sure that wasn’t a blooming German. I reckon he was a Navy man that we just dropped some stuff on but it happened because we couldn’t tell one from another. If they didn't, if they didn't put up a rocket —
DK: Right.
BM: Or anything to warn us that you know that —
DK: You dropped a bomb.
BM: It’s a wrong place to do it or whatever.
DK: So you didn't have necessarily specific targets you just flew out.
BM: Yeah, and —
DK: Saw what was there and —
BM: Dropping them on, we were taking photographs.
DK: Right.
BM: Of what there was and where because obviously the military ones at that moment and used our own discretion.
DK: Really. So that your main role then was really intelligence.
BM: Basically.
DK: Reconnaissance type of thing.
BM: You know intelligence and reconnaissance.
DK: And if you saw something —
BM: Yeah. And if there was something which was obviously —
SM: Bomb it.
BM: Foreign.
DK: Yeah.
BM: You know you would, you’d just line them up. We did this on [unclear] I mean [unclear] is a lovely place to go for a holiday.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: But not if somebody is dropping some unpleasant stuff on top of you. And it was, it was summertime so short nights and that sort of thing. Getting broad daylight when we left and we came back. You had to bear in mind that nearly every time we went we went on our own.
DK: I was going to ask that. Were you just flying singly?
BM: We didn’t go as part of a group.
DK: Right.
BM: Two at the most.
DK: Right.
BM: You know. There was never big numbers of aircraft involved and we set off from Greece to come home and all of a sudden we were getting [pfft] coming past us [pause] And the rear gunner had said nothing about anybody chasing us or anything like that and we’d got two ME109s coming up behind us giving us a belt up the rear. And they actually shot out the port engine and the fuel. They did the, with doing the engine they did the hydraulics because the flaps, the undercarriage, the guns, everything was driven by that port engine.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: With hydraulics.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And if they did that that was goodbye Mary and they shot all this lot up and we ended up without any flaps, without any guns really, and we before we even knew anything was happening to us. You know there were guns, bullets were coming into us before we realised what damage was being done. Anyway, we put one engine out. Had to do. Stopped it so we were lucky the other one didn’t stop as well because the fuel was, you know floating backwards and forwards between one engine and another. But the, we had a, an American Marauder.
DK: Right.
BM: I don’t know whether you’ve ever —
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
DK: They were one of the early tricycle undercarriages.
BM: Yeah. Twin engine plane.
DK: Fighter bomber.
BM: Yeah.
BM: Twin engine thing. But the Americans apparently didn’t like them because they were stuffed full of guns. They’d guns coming out of them in all directions.
SM: You mean the Germans didn’t like them.
BM: But they were —
SM: Yeah.
BM: Very strongly armed.
SM: Yeah.
BM: And he’d seen this because there had been a number of aircraft had been on this exercise and he’d seen it so he told us afterwards and he came up and the, these two 109s didn’t hang about then. They don’t like Marauders because Marauders have got .5 guns on them.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And we were all 303s which were like a, like a blooming peashooter. Anyway, the [pause] he came up with us. We’d no radio. Couldn’t talk to each other so he got busy flashing with his aldis lamp.
DK: Yeah.
BM: What the hell was he talking about? It was a job to understand what was, what was going backwards and forwards. Anyway, the gist of it was, ‘Are you ok?’ You know. Well, fortunately we were very fortunate indeed the navigator had just been nicked a bit but other than that nobody else got hurt and ok, so we carried on and eventually we got back to Bari, on the coast of Italy.
DK: Right.
BM: We headed for the nearest one that we could likely to get down at and it happened to be an American occupied station.
DK: Station. Yeah.
BM: And it’s only got a shortish runway on it and we came in to land on one engine, flaps down, undercarriage down. You’re not supposed to fly on, ought to be able to fly on one engine with all the hydraulics down. It won’t do it and it did. And we came around over the harbour nearly taking the masks off some ships which were in the harbour. It was really close to because you can’t do an overshoot with a lot of space. We came around again and came in a little bit slower and I think we were sort of trying to make sure that we got in the first time but we didn’t because we were halfway down the runway we were still airborne on a short runway. We tried to get around again and we got in. We came in to land low, lower and a little bit slower and we came in and damn me we put down and both tyres had been shot out and we didn’t know it. You can’t tell when you’re flying the blooming thing.
DK: No.
BM: If you looked out of the, you know but you weren’t bloody looking out and doing a bit of window gazing but both tyres and damage to the aircraft. Both tyres had been, we were told this when we got down but it was too late then because we’d no radio. You couldn’t, you know they couldn’t talk to us which was unfortunate and strangely enough when we came in the second time there were several blood waggons, ambulances, fire engines and that sort of thing lined up on the side of the runway so they were expecting somebody to have a bit of a bump. And the American, and as we came past where they were parked up on the end we could actually hear them. I could hear these, these blood waggons. You know they started up [whirr] As we were going down the runway they were behind us and of course the aircraft just went [pfft] That was it. The tyres were a bit empty. So it rather, apart from other damage that had been done by the bullets and that sort of thing it smashed it up a little bit.
DK: Did it remain on the undercarriage or did you —
BM: No. It collapsed.
DK: It had collapsed. Right. Ok.
BM: Yeah. You know, with flat tyres —
DK: Yeah.
BM: It does tend to do that.
DK: Yeah. It collapses on to the belly of the aircraft.
BM: Yeah. On to the rims.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And then I think the wheels went so we didn’t stop to hang about and have a look. Anyway, our CO —
DK: So you were all, you were all ok then when you got out.
BM: Oh yeah. Yeah. We got out as fast as we could get out. Get the lid open and get out and let them sort it out.
DK: Was the aircraft on fire at this point? Or —
BM: Well, I expected it to be.
DK: Yeah.
BM: But I realised that it was unlikely because you could smell petrol. It was unlikely to happen.
DK: Still didn’t want to hang around though did you?
BM: Because they were right behind us.
DK: Yeah.
BM: You know, they were going as fast as we were down the runway so, and a number of them as well. They’d got foam. I got hit with the blooming foam, with some foam as I was getting out. I didn’t mind that but couldn’t get out the top. Anyway, our CO he got in touch with the authorities on this aerodrome and he said, ‘I’ll come and fetch you.’ So he came down in his Wellington to pick us up. Oh, I didn’t tell you we’d moved up to Foggia.
DK: Yeah.
BM: From Grottaglie. Only on a sort of a temporary posting. We weren’t there many weeks because it was nearer a target point of view from Foggia than it was from Grottaglie. It was halfway up the country.
DK: Right. Yeah.
BM: And the Army were just moving further up. They’d got up to Rome and were moving slowly up. So we got moved back again to Grottaglie after that but we went back, they flew us back to Foggia. We’d one more operation to do to complete a full tour of operations and they gave us a weeks leave. A bit odd but I wasn’t going to turn it down because we, it was a weeks leave. There was a pass but we had to make our own way, our own transport. We had to hitch it. Oh, I am, I’m so sorry. Would you like a cup of tea or a cup of coffee?
DK: No. I’m fine thank you. Yeah.
BM: Really?
DK: Seriously I’m fine.
BM: I’m sorry about that.
DK: No. Don’t worry.
BM: My wife —
DK: I had one before I came out.
BM: My wife’s got dementia but, she’s very very deaf as well. She likes to keep out of the way. Very difficult for her.
DK: Ok.
BM: Anyway, we hitched across the country from Foggia to Sorrento and of course the roads were up, the bridges were up.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Italy is a country with a lot of bridges and a lot of rivers at [pause] We got there. We got to Sorrento eventually. Had a weeks leave. A lovely place Sorrento and [pause] have you ever been?
DK: I have. Yes. Yes. A few years ago.
BM: Been up in the Blue Grotto?
DK: Yes. Yeah.
BM: Lovely place.
DK: Yes.
BM: To go swimming there. Anyway, same sort of trip back and after a week got back to Foggia and we were, at that point we were billeted in tents. We were always in tents. All the time I was in Italy we were always in tents and we were in amongst a lot of grape vines. You know everywhere there was blooming just coming, just coming eatable.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Well, barely eatable really. They were still very green and I got a lot of diarrhoea. Not a good thing to be flying an aeroplane when you’ve got diarrhoea.
DK: No.
BM: At all. Anyway, we —
SM: Was it your navigator that did the same thing?
BM: No. No. I was, I was the only one who got —
SM: Right.
DK: Diarrhoea.
BM: The wireless op got a bad cold but I don’t think the others were affected really. In fact, I never even saw them eating grapes. They maybe thought they were too sour. They really were very sour. They weren’t ready. They weren’t ripe. I got this and I had to go to the MO because we were down to — [ chiming clock] — Shut up you. It did you see when you talk to them right, you know.] And I had to go to see the MO because we were all down for an operation that night. The last one. I said, ‘I’m not fit to fly. I can’t fly. I’ve got the screamers. No good at all.’ He said, ‘Right. I’ll stand you down.’ And the wireless op said, well he’d got a very bad cold and he weren’t fit. You can’t use oxygen or anything like that when you were —
DK: No.
BM: It was unfortunate. So we stood down and got a replacement pilot and wireless op. Sent them off. They went off and that was it. I never saw them again.
SM: They didn’t come back.
DK: So all of your twenty nine operations then they were all with 221 Squadron.
BM: 221.
DK: Right.
BM: And that was it.
DK: And that was, the twenty ninth was the only time you were attacked by another aircraft then.
BM: That was all. Yeah. This was all due to being attacked by these —
DK: Yeah.
BM: FW 190s coming back from Greece. It all developed from that.
DK: Right. Yeah. Yeah.
BM: And —
DK: So, so at that point you’ve come back to the UK have you? Or —
BM: After that?
DK: Yeah.
BM: No. No. I finished and it was obvious they couldn’t trace the aircraft. That was the main thing. They were trying to trace it and there was no trace of it whatsoever and in fact, I’ve got a letter from the, from the War Office Records saying that extensive searches had been done for this aircraft and there was no sight or sound or record of where it was. What had happened to it.
DK: So this was the aircraft you should have flown on then?
BM: Yeah.
DK: And and the rest of your crew were —
BM: All down there.
DK: So —
BM: So there was two of us alive.
DK: Right. So your crew went out with a different pilot and a different —
BM: Different wireless op.
DK: Wireless operator.
BM: Yeah. Yeah.
DK: And they were just never seen again.
BM: And they were never seen again.
SM: Maybe they were lucky grapes.
BM: How lucky can you be?
DK: Yeah.
BM: But another thing I’ve never mentioned either was that the air gunner went home on a forty eight hour leave when I did.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Same thing. He got married the same weekend, on the Sunday. Never saw his wife again.
DK: Right.
BM: After he went back.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: After the forty eight hour leave was up.
DK: Yeah.
BM: He went back and that was it.
DK: So as the —
BM: That was the length, sorry, that was the length of his marriage.
DK: Yeah. Blimey.
BM: One weekend.
DK: So at this point you, you knew then that the rest of your crew was missing.
BM: Yeah. And in fact, their names are inscribed on the War Memorial at Malta.
DK: Right. Yeah.
BM: And also at Runnymede.
DK: Runnymede.
BM: So the Middle East Air Force run the Malta one. I don’t know why this was done twice but I had no control over it. That’s where it is. I haven’t seen it at Malta but I have seen it at Runnymede.
DK: Do you know where they were flying too? What the operation was to or [pause] When they went missing?
BM: Yes. I do. I do. I’ve got it on a letter. I’ll give it to you in a minute.
SM: Ok.
BM: Will you go and fetch it for me, Simon? If you would. It’s in the kitchen. In a red book.
SM: Ok.
BM: On the table.
[recording paused]
BM: So we’d some, interesting I suppose is not quite the right word.
DK: You didn’t know this other pilot then that they flew out with.
BM: I’d never met him before in my life.
DK: No.
BM: I didn’t know who he was but he took my place and if he’d been a regular crew member —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Thank you. Thank you.
[pause]
BM: So, after that of course I was without a crew and they [pause] they sent me back to Egypt.
DK: Right.
BM: I came back by train down to Taranto. Then by boat. Came by boat over the water to [pause] I think it was Alexandria we came to.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And from there I went and did another OTU. Started that again with another new crew in Palestine.
DK: Wellingtons again.
BM: Wellingtons again.
DK: Again. Yeah. Yeah.
BM: I tried to get a transport, a transfer on to Hurricanes.
DK: Right.
BM: I wanted to go back to —
DK: Fighters.
BM: Fly the [pause] But they wouldn’t let me. Actually, I’ve started doing a bit of a journal. Memoirs. There’s still a lot to do at it but —
SM: Yeah. I‘ve given David, it’s just a brief summary of that.
BM: I’ve got about, I was hoping to include about fifty photographs. Yeah. I must tell you this that my father did a memoirs.
DK: Right.
BM: In the First World War and he actually won a Military Medal and a Military Cross.
DK: Oh Right.
BM: On the Somme.
DK: Right.
BM: He got a Military Medal as a corporal at a place called [unclear]
SM: [unclear]
BM: Eh?
SM: [unclear]
BM: Oh, was it?
SM: Yeah.
BM: His French is better than mine. And then a year later he was back on the —
SM: No, it wasn’t a year dad. It was two years later.
BM: Two?
SM: Yeah. He got his first one in 1916.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Yeah.
SM: As —
DK: As a corporal.
SM: As a corporal.
BM: Yeah. Corporal.
SM: And —
BM: He got commissioned in the field.
SM: And then he went to Italy and he came back. Within a mile of where he won his first medal he won the second one —
BM: He got, he got —
SM: As an officer.
BM: No, he got a Military Cross.
DK: [unclear]
BM: And he was an officer then.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: He won the Military Medal and the Military Cross.
SM: He was lucky to survive.
BM: Yes. And he wrote at the age of eighty five something like this.
DK: Oh right.
SM: Well you’re ninety three and you’re doing —
BM: In fact, its yonder on that stool Simon. By the looks of it.
SM: Have you found that letter yet?
[pause]
BM: Look at that fella.
SM: I know. Are you looking for a particular letter dad?
[pause]
BM: There you are. Look. “Christmas Greetings and good wishes from the Royal Air Force Middle East.”
DK: Middle East. 1944.
BM: 1944. I’m looking for this blooming letter [pause] I’ve got it somewhere.
SM: Well, do you want me to look for it while you carry on chatting?
[pause – rustling papers]
BM: That’s your mother.
SM: Yeah. Let me have a look, dad while you carry on talking.
BM: There’s a, there’s a, there’s a letter from the —
SM: The War Ministry.
BM: Yeah.
SM: Let’s have a look then.
BM: Whether I’ve got it in the right book.
SM: Maybe not.
BM: Might be another one.
SM: Let’s have a look.
DK: So you’re at, so going back you’re now in Palestine.
BM: Oh I went to Palestine.
DK: You’re back in Palestine with another OTU.
BM: Hello.
SM: Hello mother.
DK: So you’re getting another crew together at this point then are you?
BM: We got that and when that course was complete we we went down from Port Tewfik at the end of the Suez Canal down to Aden.
DK: Right.
BM: In a troop ship. A lovely quiet gentle journey that was. We enjoyed that. The best part of the war up to that point and I learned to play Bridge as well.
DK: Oh right.
BM: The three fellas could play Bridge and they wanted a fourth. I could play cards but I couldn’t play Bridge. I’d never played Bridge. Anyway, right. Three days then. Very enjoyable. We got to Aden and then I got sent from Aden by Dakota, had to get up to Aden and then go up in a Dakota to a little island called Masirah which is just short of the Persian Gulf.
DK: Right.
BM: It’s up the Indian Ocean off the coast of Oman just before you go around the corner and go up the Gulf. That was 244 Squadron.
DK: Right.
BM: And we posted there and we got basically the same sort of job. Shipping reconnaissance in dhows, you know [laughs] you know, watching for smuggling but fortunately they didn’t shoot back at us.
DK: How many trips did you make with 244 Squadron then?
BM: I only did four.
DK: Oh right. Ok.
BM: And then that was it.
DK: Right.
BM: Because the way that came about I got a rather nasty dose of sinus. I’d been in Palestine, and in hospital in Palestine rather, in Tel Aviv. I had about ten days in hospital with sinus. I used to get it pretty badly but anyway I had another dose and got to Queen Elizabeth Hospital In Aden and it was a thousand miles from where I was in Masirah to Aden and they laid on especially converted Wellington again to fly from Masirah down to Aden.
DK: Right.
BM: Especially laid on to take me a thousand miles.
DK: Oh right.
BM: And I was in there again ten days in this hospital and when I was better I had a call to the adjutant and he said, ‘I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you.’ He said, ‘Which do you want first?’ I said, ‘I’d better have the bad news first.’ He said, ‘Your squadron’s being disbanded.’
DK: This was 244. Yeah.
BM: He said, ‘Its just been disbanded,’ and he said, ‘You’ve been posted. You been posted to 36 Ferry Unit in [ Allahabad ] in India.’
DK: Right.
BM: And he said, ‘Your crew has been disbanded. Gone.’ They had apparently gone back to Cairo. To Egypt apparently. And he said, ‘The good news is you’ve been promoted to warrant officer.’ I said, ‘Oh well.’ Which do you want first? [laughs]
DK: So you were sent then to 36 Ferry Unit.
BM: So I got posted to 36 Ferry Unit.
DK: Right. Based in India.
BM: From the hospital in Aden. I didn’t go back to Masirah.
DK: Right.
BM: Flew straight there.
DK: To India.
BM: To India. Yeah. And I spent the next, what, eighteen months on 36 Ferry Unit in India. That’s alright because we didn’t spend much time at our own base. We were all over the place. You know, you’d maybe get sent back to Cairo or Heliopolis or —
DK: And what sort of aircraft were you ferrying about then?
BM: Well, as it happened I was in Dakotas but not as first pilot. I was the second pilot.
DK: Right.
BM: I was actually on Liberators.
DK: Oh right.
BM: They were four engine.
DK: Yeah.
BM: I liked flying those because in America everything was spot on.
DK: So you, while you were with the Ferry Unit then you were always as a second pilot.
BM: Not always as second pilot.
DK: Pilot. Yeah.
BM: It all depended on the availability of people to fly any particular —
DK: Right. Ok.
BM: Aircraft. And their ability to fly in any particular aircraft.
DK: So the Liberator was the first four engined aircraft that you flew.
BM: They were the first four engine that I flew. Yeah.
DK: And what did you think of the Liberators?
BM: For many things I liked them. They didn’t have the, they didn’t have the power that Lancasters and Halifaxes would have on two engines. You’ve got two engines you could nearly say well it’s goodbye Mary. They didn’t have, if you’d got any weight on at all you’d no chance.
DK: Right.
BM: But —
DK: So were you delivering new aircraft for the units then?
BM: Yeah.
DK: Yeah.
BM: That was our main job was taking, moving new aircraft from MUs, service delivery points.
DK: Yeah.
BM: To say we’d go down to Ceylon with a new one and bring an old one back to Calcutta. Now that was all very well but some of these aircraft had never flown for several weeks or even months but stood out in the hot Indian sun didn’t do them a lot of good.
DK: Right.
BM: And [good morning. She keeps coming and having a look at us.] We had, early 1946 we had a stop put on Mosquitoes. I never actually flew a Mosquito. I always wanted to do but I never got the opportunity to. And there were two instances apparently where wings had fallen off. They reckoned it was because of the extreme heat that they’d been subjected to.
DK: Yeah. Like the glue.
BM: Yeah.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And they were just stationed. Sat there in the sun and it subjected to a bit of extreme, you know, if they were doing a bit of manoeuvring and that sort of thing perhaps. A bit of extra strain on them. I don’t know what the reason was but anyway apparently two aircraft wings fell off and they put a stop on all movement of Mosquitoes.
DK: So at the war’s end then you’re in India still ferrying —
BM: Yeah.
DK: Aircraft about.
BM: Yeah. I mean the war ended, what was it? May 1945.
DK: Yeah.
SM: You’ve not mentioned about meeting up with your brother have you? While you were in India.
BM: Sorry?
SM: You’ve not mentioned about dad’s brother —
DK: Right.
SM: He was in the Army.
DK: Right.
SM: Flew out to, was it [Jahalabad] and you, he got him to impersonate RAF personnel. So he was, he stayed a week with my father.
DK: Yeah.
SM: And he was flying different aircraft all through the week. In fact, my father, this is my uncle told me that he went with dad was it on the Friday and were you in a Liberator at that time?
BM: Yeah.
SM: Dad took off and everything.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
SM: My Uncle Robin was next to him and dad said, ‘Right. Ok. You can take over now.’ He said, ‘Just follow the Nile.’ And they all went back in to the back to play cards.
BM: Well, they did —
SM: And this was an Army officer.
BM: They needed the experience.
SM: Oh, he’d flown that week with different people.
DK: Oh, that’s ok then [laughs]
SM: And he was impersonating an RAF. He’s not flying a four engine aircraft.
BM: He’d just been promoted. He’d done a course as a promotion from an NCO.
DK: Yeah.
BM: He was a sergeant then to a second lieutenant and he came and had this week with me at Karachi because I wasn’t very well. Not Karachi. At [Allahabad] and I couldn’t do a lot in those days but he, we finished up with several different trips in different aeroplanes. Dakotas and Corsairs, Liberators.
DK: So you put him in Air Force uniform as well then.
BM: Yeah.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Yeah. We dressed him up as a navigator. Well, it made it easier you see as we were walking around the aerodrome. He didn’t get stopped. If you were a young Army officer they’d say, ‘What are you doing?’
DK: Yeah.
BM: And if you were a navigator he could walk in the mess and go and have meals and everything. It was —
DK: Wasn’t his own unit missing him or —
BM: Was he?
DK: Was his own unit missing him at all?
SM: He was on leave wasn’t he?
DK: On leave.
SM: That’s what was commented in the first instance his brother I know it was a big place.
DK: Yeah.
SM: Where everybody was flying in and flying out from but —
DK: Obviously, [unclear]
SM: This always amuses me. My father has told me this but he hadn’t told me the bit about the playing at cards bit and its only until I saw my uncle Robin a few months ago.
DK: Yeah.
SM: That he told me the other side of the story. That on this one occasion he went up with my father.
BM: That’s life isn’t it?
DK: Oh yeah.
SM: He said, he was trying to fly this four engine bomber.
DK: Yeah.
SM: Because, he said during the week he’d been flying two engine ones which manoeuvred a lot easier and he said he was all over the sky with this four engine because every movement he made was so slow.
BM: ’Keep, keep it level. What the hell are you playing at?’
SM: Yeah. Dad came back and said, ‘Oh, that was a rough ride.’ [laughs] But you know at that age you think bloody hell. The risks they took. Yeah. Didn’t give a damn.
BM: He enjoyed it. The little incident though that took place while he was there. Our CO, we had a bit of a scheme where good watches were in short supply. You know, you couldn’t just go and pick up a nice —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Omega watch or something like. A decent watch and he had a scheme where just once a year he would raffle off half a dozen. I don’t know whether the the NAAFI part of job organised the thing. They bought a half a dozen Omega watches.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Omega, you know were decent watches and he’d buy these and he would raffle them off. Well, anybody who wanted to go in the raffle it didn’t matter whether they were an officer, NCO, whatever they were they could put their names down and have it drawn it out and you’d get to get, you had to pay proper price for them but at least you had the privilege of getting one.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Which was even difficult to do that. So my brother Robin and myself both put our names down for a blooming watch and damn me if we didn’t get one. Out of six watches and hundreds of people who actually —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Put their names down for to get the raffle he and me got one.
SM: You both got one.
BM: Both got one.
BM: And we’ve still have them today.
BM: You still have them. Oh wow.
BM: I don’t use mine but the last time I had it it was it was going but it was losing a lot of time and he said he’d still got his.
DK: Oh right.
SM: I didn’t know that.
BM: That was 1946.
DK: Right.
BM: And they’re still going. Omega watches.
DK: You might just need it serviced.
SM: Yeah. I’ll get dad to do that.
DK: It would be worth doing.
SM: Yeah. It’s worth doing for nostalgia, isn’t it?
DK: Exactly. Yeah.
BM: I ought to write to them.
DK: Yeah. Hopefully a watch —
BM: I might get a free watch from them.
SM: We’ll get that sorted.
BM: Yeah. I’d do well to get a free watch didn’t we? We got two of them. Not one. We’ve got two circulating. I’ll tell you what though. A little tale of it it just reminded just recently Lord Mountbatten was Viceroy of India of course and we used to hear about him circulating and different things and on one occasion he came as a trip of inspection. He came to our unit to inspect not just us I mean we were only a very small unit and we got a, unless actually in Charingi in Park Street in Calcutta probably about twice as big as this room and that was it but it was ours and you know it was a very quiet little place. Anyway, he came to visit us on this particular occasion and he flew in, he had this own private Dakota. He flew in and a guard of honour was all out there on the Parade Ground there and called them to attention inspecting them and away he went. Job done. Half an hour later another one flew in. Another Dakota. Looked like an identical aircraft and it was his wife, Lady Mountbatten. She flew into this. Have you heard this tale before? I should doubt it. Anyway, she flew in and the same thing. Got the same guard of honour. Three rows of troops all out there, sort of thing and she inspected the first row and as she walked down the second row her lady in waiting walking at the back of her with our CO at the side of her and she suddenly bent down and picked up something and dropped it in her handbag and carried on down the next row and back. At the end of the third row off she went. The lady in waiting. Nicholas.
SM: Her pants had dropped off.
[laughter]
SM: She never batted an eyelid from what dad said.
BM: It’s true this is. She, she actually walked off that parade ground knickerless. Well, we’d have had a titter about it and her lady in waiting there I don’t know what [laughs] I was too far to see. I saw it happen. There was a few of us there who were watching the parade but we didn’t know actually, I couldn’t prove it was a pair of knickers that she actually dropped but it was. She’d dropped them off.
DK: Oh dear.
BM: And she never batted an eyelid.
DK: No. Well —
BM: She went up and down those three rows. Never said a word. Funnily enough about two days, three days later the [unclear] got the same incident in mind and I happened to be appointed the officer of the guard. All the lads would take it in turns, you know. We’d do a weeks duty. Officer of the guard and that sort of thing and being a warrant officer I had the same job to do as a, as a commissioned officer.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And as I said there weren’t many of us.
SM: He did turn his commission down by the way.
BM: I called them all, called all the guard to attention and turned around. Saluted the flag. All the guard pulled it down but the blooming thing didn’t shift. I stood looking like a fool looking at it waiting for it and it still didn’t. I looked at the bottom and there was nobody there to pull it down so I said [laughs] I had to turn around and say, ‘Carry on Sergeant.’ And off I went. I had a bit of a red face I can imagine. I had to spend the rest of that week on, on guard duty. Well in charge of the guard every so often. I mean we, we were a bit security conscious.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And we used to go shuffling around in a, you know a jeep around the perimeter of the aerodrome and looking at different units seeing that you know they were all at different places out on guard with their rifles.
DK: So, how long were you in India for then?
BM: Well, I left in India in the end of June ’46.
DK: Right. Ok.
BM: And I came back.
DK: Back to the UK.
BM: By train to Karachi.
DK: Oh right. Yeah.
BM: And then by boat. I didn’t fly back.
DK: Right.
BM: I came back by boat from Karachi. Crossed the India Ocean and the Suez Canal and the Mediterranean and then all the way back to Liverpool.
DK: So did you spend much more time in the Air Force after that or were you demobbed?
BM: No. No. No. You see I was married.
DK: Right.
BM: I had a very quick fire marriage. I got married and it was two and a half years later when I saw my wife.
DK: Yeah. So you left, you left the Air Force at that point.
BM: I left the air force and went to, Cirencester I think was the DPC or the, you know the unit where they disbanded the [pause] I’d had five and a half years in the control of the RAF because I joined up in February 1941.
DK: Right.
BM: And actually I left the control of the RAF in August 1946.
DK: Right. So what did, what did you, what was your career after that then? What were you —
BM: I, well I became actually a retired peasant.
DK: Right [laughs]
SM: He was offered the chance to fly for the Canadian —
DK: Right.
SM: Not the Air Force. The civilian.
DK: Oh right.
SM: Which was a big honour.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
SM: Because everyone wanted to do that.
DK: Yeah.
SM: And mother wouldn’t go out. Not Canadian. Australian.
DK: Australia. What? Qantas.
BM: Qantas.
SM: Yeah. That’s —
DK: Right. Yeah
BM: Yeah.
DK: So you didn’t. You didn’t carry on your flying then after that.
BM: [clock chiming] It’s your fault. Yes. My wife didn’t want me to go and do it. I communicated with her and she said, ‘No.’ I’d been away a long time. ‘You want to come back and get some work done.’ I came back and I joined where I’d left off.
DK: Right.
BM: With my father’s little village business.
DK: Oh right. Ok.
BM: You know, as a —
SM: You did, you did rent a light aircraft for several years though didn’t you? You did fly again. You still flew.
BM: Well, yeah, I got a private pilot’s licence.
DK: Right.
BM: That’s a year. I think he reminded me because he came a time or two and —
DK: So you carried on flying for a few more years then.
BM: Yeah. I did a bit of private flying in an Auster.
DK: Right.
BM: As a friend of mine had kept it up at —
SM: He still has been flying until —
BM: Say what?
SM: I don’t know. The last two or three months.
DK: Oh right.
SM: My son flies.
DK: Oh right. Ok. So he’s still going up then.
SM: He’s still going up.
DK: Excellent.
BM: His his son is all over the blooming place. He went to Le Touquet not very —
SM: He was up in Scotland near Cumbernauld yesterday.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Where?
SM: Cumbernauld. In Scotland. Near Glasgow.
BM: Did he? He’s all over the blooming place his lad.
DK: Ok. Well, I’ll finish there. I think that’s really good. Thanks for that. I’ll just ask one final question. All these years later how do you look back on your time in the RAF? What’s your feelings now?
BM: Well, in some ways obviously there are some regrets. I mean I regret the opportunity to go to Qantas. They reckoned I had the experience, you know in the different aircraft.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And this, that and the other. And you know probably capable of doing it. But I didn’t do it and I’ve always regretted that.
DK: Yeah.
BM: I mean, talking about the experience. When we were out in India we got a signal from Air Headquarters which was in Delhi. Headquarters for our lot anyway. No. The Far East Headquarters were in Delhi. I got a signal, or my CO did. ‘Warrant Officer Minnitt is to go take the unit Expeditor.’ You know what they are?
DK: Yeah. Twin engine plane. Yeah. Yeah.
BM: Lovely aircraft. ‘And go to Delhi, pick up a senior officer and fly him to Munich.’
DK: Right.
BM: Which is a fair old way. Had to fiddle with fuel a time or two but the CO said, ‘You, you can’t do it.’ No. Let’s get this right. The MO said, ‘You can’t do it.’ Because I’d not been very well. But the CO said I could. You know, he said, ‘You can go and do it.’ And as I say we were more or less on personal terms. We were, we were such a small unit.
DK: Yeah.
BM: I mean, little instances crop up from time to time that you think about it but you said, ‘What are your feelings about it?’ Well, I enjoyed my time in the RAF I must admit. There were many instances which was, you might think well they were a bit rough but it happens. I mean one night for instance we, when we were at Grottaglie it was a bombed out hangars aerodrome. No roof or anything like that on them. If we wanted to see a film we had to wait until it was dark and then we would take our own petrol tin, a five gallon petrol tin and that was our seat.
DK: Yeah.
BM: You could sit on that and you could watch a film. It was alright. Better than nothing.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And we were doing that one night and looking at a Wellington take off and it was one of ours and he got to near the end of the runway and he just, he got airborne, he went down again and [pfft] Fully laden. Fully fuelled up. And we ran across to it and all we could find was a boot. Something like that you know.
DK: Yeah.
BM: There was nothing. With four thousand pounds of bombs and full tanks you’ve got no choice. And we don’t know why. He just didn’t have enough speed.
DK: He needed to take off.
BM: To get up. And we saw it happen. Just, I mean, these sort of things did happen. That’s part of, I wouldn’t say it was part of life but I mean it, they did happen and there you go. You live with it.
SM: Well one of your very first experiences dad was, if you remember —
BM: Eh?
SM: When you, before you joined up the RAF you joined the [pause]
BM: Oh aye.
SM: Not Dad’s Army. They didn’t call it Dad’s Army then.
BM: I joined the ATC.
DK: The ATC, yeah
BM: Artillery training. Was it auxiliary training?
DK: Air Training Corps.
BM: Something like that. Anyway —
SM: There was an aircraft wasn’t there crashed at Laneham.
BM: Yeah. It did.
SM: And you were the first there. Only as a young man.
DK: Yeah.
BM: This was the, well it was a squadron actually based in Lincoln. What was it? 1265 or something like that. I forget the squadron. And they’d got, they’d got this which I joined and I was in the Home Guard at the time. I was always in blooming uniform. From the Home Guard right from 1940. But a Hampden came around the river at Laneham where I lived and I was talking to one of my, the other side of the road and this big bang and we got on the bike and went to have a look at it and it had come around the river at Laneham very low and didn’t make the bend.
DK: Right.
BM: And it was a Hampden from Scampton. They bunged us in and again that was all little bits and pieces and this pal of mine I mean we went to, we thought we were good you see. We were in uniform. Home Guard. And we went to keep the spectators away from it all.
DK: Yeah.
BM: And all the rest of it and it was still bobbing off fireworks. Bombs, not bombs, bullets kept going off. Aircraft tanks exploding and that sort of thing. It was a right old mess. So eventually the RAF fire brigade turned up and some other I think there were one or two police came and didn’t need us around any longer so we just packed in and came home. But that was my first experience of flesh. Burned flesh. You get used to it you know. It happened from time to time. And so —
DK: Yeah. This this incident then obviously didn’t put you off joining.
BM: No.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Not at all.
DK: No.
BM: I mean, it was rather when that time came we went to what were the new barracks at Lincoln and, ‘What have you come for?’ ‘We’ve come to join up.’ We were seventeen when we did it, he and I. ‘What do you want to join up as?’ ‘An air gunner.’ ‘You want to join as an air gunner. Right.’ Filled in all the paperwork and I don’t know whether it was at that point that I said we actually went to Cardington. You know where they made the old —
DK: Yeah. The airship hangars.
BM: Airships.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
BM: And that sort of thing. And we did the actually, the joining procedures. You’ve got the filling in —
DK: Yeah.
BM: Give you your numbers and that sort of thing. My number is nearly 1 2 3 4 5 6 7. It’s 1 2 3 2 3 4 7.
DK: And you still can remember it now.
BM: You see, very close to it. And he said, ‘Well, why don’t you remuster as a pilot?’ and I wonder sometimes wonder why. Why was that?
DK: I find that quite unusual actually because other sort of veterans I’ve spoken to they nearly all wanted to go in as pilots.
BM: Yeah. Yeah.
DK: But they crashed out for some reason.
BM: Yeah.
DK: And then remustered.
BM: Yeah.
DK: Under a different trade.
BM: Yeah.
DK: It’s unusual to hear somebody —
BM: Yeah.
DK: Who wanted to go in as an air gunner and ended up as a pilot. Yeah.
BM: We thought to be an air gunner you know it was all very glamourous and we were going to shoot them all down. Bang bang bang. They said, well that was, we don’t shoot them down but the, we went the other way. I’ll be honest with you. I left school at fourteen. My education wasn’t wonderful in those days and I finished and that’s basically is the reason why I wasn’t commissioned.
DK: Right.
BM: Because I was, you never found anybody commissioned who hadn’t been to a secondary school at least.
DK: Right.
SM: But didn’t you turn your commission down because you were going to be worse off?
BM: Oh, but that was later. That was when I was out in India. I was offered the opportunity to take a commission. That was in 1945. I thought well the war would be over by the end of this year.
DK: Yeah.
BM: No point in having it because I’m better off now as a warrant officer in the uniform I was wearing. The type of uniform, the perks I’d got.
DK: Yeah.
BM: The money I got and I was getting an extra bonus and that sort of thing. I was better off than I was as a flying officer never mind a pilot officer so I, you know I didn’t have any mess fees to pay and all that sort of thing.
DK: So you think then as you left school no qualifications at fourteen the Air Force was good for you in that respect.
BM: It was. It was good for me.
DK: Helped you learn and that —
BM: In that, in that respect. It must have been. I mean, as I say my education was, left a lot to be desired but it was made up in a way with the experiences that I’d got.
DK: Yeah.
BM: In different things and different parts of the world and that sort of thing and that I should never possibly have got in civil life. And I went around the world quite a bit. I mean, I went across the world that way. To Canada. The other side again.
DK: Canada. And then —
BM: Then came back the other way. Right across North Africa. Italy. Middle East. Palestine. Into Aden.
DK: Yeah.
BM: Masirah. India. [Allahabad] and then flying. I did quite a bit of flying into Burma and the war was still on then but places like [Agatara] [unclear] and delivering aircraft in to their places. Into their units and flying their old crap out back to the Mus. We used to go down to Ceylon quite a bit. We enjoyed it. I mean, it was like I just missed out on that opportunity of going to Australia but there we are. These things happen.
DK: Yeah. Ok then. Well, I’ll stop it there I think. Thanks very much for your time. That’s been very interesting. Thanks.
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 Bruce Minnitt
Creator
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David Kavanagh
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-03-14
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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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AMinnittPB170314
Conforms To
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Format
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02:02:47 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Coastal Command
Royal Air Force. Transport Command
Civilian
Description
An account of the resource
Bruce Minnitt served in the Second World War flying Wellingtons on maritime reconnaissance in the Mediterranean and B-24s in India. When war started Bruce joined the Home Guard, and in 1941 when reaching 18 years of age, he enlisted in the Royal Air Force. He actually wanted to be an air gunner but was assessed as suitable for pilot training. His flying training was carried out in Alberta, Canada. After over two years of rationing, he enjoyed the improved diet he received in Canada. Flying in an open cockpit through a Canadian winter was particularly challenging. On his return to Great Britain, he was posted to No. 6 Operational Training Unit near RAF Carlisle to fly Wellingtons. He was then sent to RAF Haverfordwest, from where he was sent on leave for 48 hours before being sent overseas. Arriving home, he proposed, and married by special licence before returning to his unit. It was to be over two years before he saw his wife again. On return to his unit he was tasked with delivering a Wellington to Rabat in Morocco. From here, Bruce joined 221 Sqn in Southern Italy. He flew 29 maritime reconnaissance operations, but before what would have been his final operation, both Bruce and the wireless operator became ill and had to be replaced. His crew failed to return from their final operation. He describes one sortie when his aircraft was attacked by two Me 109s. With no radio or hydraulics, they were forced to divert and upon landing they discovered both main wheels had been damaged. Luckily, the airfield was aware of their plight and were able to dispatch immediate assistance when they crash landed. Allocated with another crew in Egypt, he carried out four further operational flights on 244 Squadron, and following its disbanding, Bruce was posted to 36 Ferry Unit in India. He spent the remainder of the war delivering B-24s to operating units throughout South East Asia. Bruce finally returned in June 1946 and having declined the opportunity to remain a member of the RAF, was subsequently demobbed. Whilst in India, Bruce met up with his brother, a serving army officer who was on leave. By disguising him as a RAF officer, Bruce was able to smuggle him on board to enable him to accompany Bruce on a delivery flight.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Wales--Pembrokeshire
England--Cumbria
Mediterranean Sea
India
Canada
Alberta
North Africa
Morocco
Morocco--Rabat
Italy
Egypt
India
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Ian Whapplington
Julie Williams
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
221 Squadron
244 Squadron
aircrew
B-24
civil defence
crash
Home Guard
love and romance
Me 109
military discipline
military living conditions
military service conditions
pilot
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Silloth
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1024/11396/PMcNallyC1701.1.jpg
6310003475cf7e95c88b2684552d9a48
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1024/11396/AMcNallyC171005.2.mp3
84d65a83800162abf7e90dc460624074
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
McNally, Charles
C McNally
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Charles McNally (1922 - 2021, 1566660 Royal Air Force). He flew operations with 101 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-10-05
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
McNally, 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 Charles McNally. The interview is taking place at Mr McNally’s home in Broughty Ferry on the 5th of October 2017. Charles, thanks for agreeing to be interviewed. Could you tell me a little about your life before you joined the RAF?
CM: I was a boy who was born in Dundee but at two year old went to Airdrie because my father was an Airdrionian. My mother was a Dundonian. At eleven we came, I came back to Dundee and went to school in Dundee. And at fourteen, having left the school with six day school Highers which was quite unusual at that time I then joined the Post Office as a telegram boy. That was in August 1933. In June 1936 I applied to become a telephone engineer and was accepted for, in, as a youth in training apprentice with the Post Office Engineering Department in June 1936 as I’ve said. I spent the next three years up to the, up to the start of the war working on Post Office engineering work which at that time was Reserved Occupation and more likely required as a civilian than as a member of the armed forces. I was the only son of Thomas and Margaret McNally and we lived at that time Perrie Street in Dundee. My father who wore glasses and was a grade four [pause] grade four soldier was in the RAMC in the First War but no more than a private. So we had, we’d no real history of of wartime activity. And it was only when the war started and things got a bit difficult in Britain that the thoughts turned to well, why don’t I join the forces and see if I can do my bit for Britain. And that’s exactly where we are up ‘til 1941. And in 1941, at the age of nineteen I applied to be enlisted in, in one of His Majesty’s Forces. Preferably the Navy because I enjoyed, I enjoyed living beside the sea and I enjoyed the sea. But as at that time, as at that time being in a Reserved Occupation I have documentary proof that they refused to allow me to go into the Armed Forces and that’s the way it stood for some time until in 1941 they came out with the [pause] what would be the word? Came out, came out with an instruction that people in Reserved Occupations could apply to be in the Air Force but only as pilot or navigator and in the event of not being able to succeed in any of these two posts would be returned to their, to their job. And I have all the documentation to prove that. So eventually I was, in 1941 allowed to join the Air Force and in September 1941 I had my original exams and medication in Dundee and then following that with a further examination in Edinburgh. The, again I passed a grade one and I also passed to be fairly high marks I think because I was passed as an observer radio/pilot. Observer radio being the number one choice because of the, partly apparently because of the interview that I had it was more acceptable for me to go in to that particular post which was very difficult. A very difficult one. A very, a very what would be the word? A very prestigious post because I think navigator observer radios were navigators. They were also wireless operators and in some cases they were bomb aimers as well. And eventually I think that the observer radio eventually became navigator bomber wireless. However, I was put on, put on deferred service then and I was enlisted as 15660 Charles McNally in the [pause] Friday the 30th of January 1942, and given an RAF VR badge 69510 which, to put in your jacket to let people know that you were then a member of the Royal Air Force but on deferred service. And that’s how it stood until I was eventually recruited in nineteen, later in 1942 and joined up the 19th of October 1942 as, for training as, as a pilot. Clearly, they didn’t require any more observer radios. Now, do you want me to go on from there?
JS: Yeah. So, so what happened then?
CM: Well, I was recruited in to the Air Force and joined the RAF as RAF VR as it was. You wore a VR badge even though you were in the RAF. And I was enlisted at Number 1 Royal Air Crew Centre at Lords Cricket Ground in London, 19th of October 1942. From there, after three weeks initial training, all the various jabs and inoculations, boots and all the rest of it I went to Number 1 ITW in Babbacombe. Number 1 ITW was the special place as I understood it and I was posted to A flight. And I think we were the only flight in the whole of the Training Services in the Royal Air Force that wore a white belt rather than a traditional Air Force blue belt and kind of stood out. But at the same time our drill instructor was such a hard man that he made sure we as well as having the white belt we had to be the best soldiers as well as it were and it was pretty hard going. But halfway through the course at Babbacombe there was a flight, a test coming up. It was into, immediate halfway through the course and I thought well I’m not going as I usually did for a couple of pints of scrumpy but I went to another hotel for supper. We were living in small hotels in Babbacombe. I saw a light at the, what I thought was the door and I walked towards and it wasn’t. It was a light from a window in a gunny and I fell down it. That would be in December. And I finished up with, in RAF Wroughton with two cracked transverse processes of my spine. So I spent my first Christmas lying on boards in RAF Wroughton, Swindon until I, until I recovered. And going back to, it was a bit frustrating because it hindered me a bit. It was frustrating trying to get in the Air Force and it was frustrating again to have this. So I went back and I think it was C flight I went back in to and eventually finished up ok with the exams and so on and the, was then posted to Heaton. To Manchester. And we were in digs in Manchester and went to Heaton Park for, to see how everything was going and I can remember everybody sitting in this big hotel, this big hall at Heaton Park and your names came out as Joe Smith, bomb aimer, Charlie Young, navigator and then when your name came out Charles McNally, pilot it was [laughs] hurray. You didn’t shout out but internally it was. It was hurray. And that’s how from there we were taken to Gourock, just outside Glasgow and went on the original Queen Elizabeth to Canada for training. We arrived at the transit station at Moncton in New Brunswick and from there moved on to number 535 EFTS at a place called Neepawa. N E E P A W A. About fifty miles or so outside Winnipeg in Manitoba. Successfully passed. Oh, before that I should have said, I should have said while, before going to Canada after coming out of ITW being on pilot training then I went to number 3 EFTS for a Grading School to see how I could perform as a pilot and I soloed in under nine hours there so all was well. And that was why when I got to Heaton Park I was told I was going for pilot training I was really, thought I would get it anyway. So having got that far from EFTS where we flew Tiger Moths I went to 35 SFTS at North Battleford where we flew Oxfords. Oxford 5s. Very nice aircraft. Easy to fly. No problem. You did the usual training. Daytime. Night time. And it went quite successfully. So, back to Moncton again waiting for a ship. I came back to Britain on the Nieuw Amsterdam. That was the Nieuw Amsterdam which is no longer. More or less the old Amsterdam I think has been dead for years. But it was, it was very [pause] going out on the Queen Elizabeth it was only four days to the other, it was doing over thirty knots and zigzagging so no, no escort. But coming back with the Nieuw Amsterdam it took six days in horrible weather with a Corvette escort. And the Corvette escort you could hardly see it. It was under the waves most of the time. It was shocking. It was March weather and we came back to Britain and again ran into frustrations. I was posted to Harrogate which was a transit. A transit camp. One of the hotels, the Imperial Hotel I think it was in Harrogate. And, we from there we stood around again. We were sent out on courses to, I remember one course we did was more like a commando course at a place just outside Whitley Bay. And I’ve got a picture of it with myself with a tin helmet on and a rifle with another friend of mine Jimmy Jackson, another Dundonian who was on the course with me. Again, the only help, the only positive that came out of that was apart from the work during the day was having a few beers at night. So, and then I was posted to Brough in, near Hull and I was flying Tiger Moths there with, it’s in the book, was flying Tiger Moths there taking people, sergeants, navigators on training flights. I was getting nowhere. And eventually in Autumn of 1944 I was offered my Class B release because as a volunteer it was quite easy for them to just to let me go. Well, that didn’t suit me one little bit so I thought how am I going to get into Bomber Command? Having trained in two, two engines I was quite capable of flying even four engines because it’s the same procedure. Just a couple of more engines. But you know I was getting nowhere with that so I said to them, ‘Well, I’ll retrain as a flight engineer if you wish. So they said, ‘Yes. If you want.’ So I went and did a flight engineer’s course and then was posted to the squadron as flight engineer second pilot. So although I wasn’t at the controls I, from time to time I had the feel of them and in an emergency it would have been easy for me to, to take over. But on the second flight [pause] from, the first flight was to Chemnitz as I recall it. That was the same night, February the 14th, I think that was the same night of the second raid on Dresden. Chemnitz was about forty or fifty miles south of Dresden as I recall it and the bomber force split in two. The, we went down through France and rather than straight over through Germany [pause] And the flight, the flight was a circuitous route.
[pause – pages turning]
It took eight hours fifty five minutes. All on a bar of chocolate and a flask of coffee. So it was, it was quite a long haul and, but it went without, without incident. And then on our second operation to Dortmund that was a shorter flight but regrettably coming back one of the engines packed in and we couldn’t make out what was wrong with it so decided to feather the engine and fly back on three. Which any pilot would be capable of doing in a normal circumstances. In fact, they were trained to do. To fly on three. However, coming back and almost, on on the circuit to the airfield for some unaccountable reason I recall saying to the pilot, at that time I was sitting beside him, the pilot was, sorry, Pilot Officer Kerr and he came from Arbroath. He, I said to him, I can recall at the last minute saying, ‘Jim,’ we were more or less on equal terms although he was the skipper, I said, ‘There’s nothing on the clock.’ And suddenly we hit ground. Fortunately, it was a ploughed field. I’ve got pictures of it. So on the whole we were all relatively free from accident other than the bomb aimer who was at the front got the most of the impact and he broke, he broke an ankle or leg or something. But we lost him anyway. So we got seven days leave. That was the February the 20th. We got, we got some seven days leave and I believe at that time that was about the time of the crossing of the Rhine. It was about March. March. Somewhere in March. But when we come back on March the 3rd we did three engine landings. Obviously we should have done that before. And then went on back to Chemnitz again. And then Kasel from there. That was in March. Early March. So after that it was really plain sailing. Nordhausen. Kiel. By the way the Admiral Scheer was sunk on that raid. The German battleship. And then there was [pause] near the end April the 14th I, they were short of a [pause] a the flight engineer and I volunteered to go with a Flying Officer [unclear] to Potsdam. This was eventful. Fortunately, it was near the end of the war but we were caught in searchlights. And again fortunately there was a bit of ack ack but there was no, there was no fighters in the air. So it was just a question of releasing the bombs and diving down via Leipzig to get, to get away. And as we dived down the searchlights began to just dim and forget, switched off. Following that we did Heligoland. That was the, the operation to the German I think where their submarines were under concrete hiding, you know. And that was, that was a fairly easy trip. Four hours twenty minutes. And then we went to Bremen. Now, I remember Bremen. The mission was abandoned. There was as I said cloud over the, the point of dropping but as we were told later we were too early. We were going to be bombing Bremen to make it easy for the troops to, to get in. And by the time we got there the troops had arrived. So, as we couldn’t see them —
JS: Yeah.
CM: Just decided let’s not. That was some of the, some of the raids. And then after that we started dropping food to the Dutch. I’ve got, I’ve got a nice letter and a little badge. A little medal from them. And the first one of that was April the 30th. A week or two before the war finished. That was the Hague. And then we did Rotterdam twice on May the 3rd and May the 7th. And then on May the 11th we went to Brussels and brought, repatriated some ex-POWs. And that concluded that part of the operation. Well, at that time the thought was that we would have to go to Japan so there was a lot of training done. There was a lot of training done in anticipation of that. And I think, although it’s not shown here, I’m not sure I think they were going to put the Lancaster in to larger wings with bigger tanks and it was going to be called the Lincoln. But I don’t recall much about that. However, on July the 9th we went to Hamburg, Heligoland, Kasel, Dusseldorf the Möhne Dam etcetera with, with ground crew. And this was to let them see the damage that had been done. I can recall the Hamburg especially. There was nothing standing. So, I don’t know whether, there’s one here — Operation Ramrod. I can’t think what that was. So, then we went in September. In September we went to Pomigliano In Naples bringing troops back from, from Italy. We did that on one, two, three, four occasions. So that was fine. 7th 10th 21st 27th and after that, just after that I was offered my, my release because 101 Squadron disbanded on the 1st of October. And I was offered my release again. But having had, this is the important part, having had my spinal injury I thought something I should do just to make sure I’m ok before I leave the RAF. So I volunteered to become a PTI, Physical Training Instructor. So I did three weeks at Cosford and eight weeks at St Athan, and in January ’46 I was posted to RAF Hospital Northallerton as the PTI for the staff. Not so much the patients. Mainly the staff. And I was in charge of the cricket team, the football team and also cross country and so on. So it proved to me that although I’d been through all this and had the problem with my back which again, it did, it was with me for some time after the war. And my right leg. I felt the right leg wasn’t as good as the left but it did prove to me that I was capable of going back to work. And I went back to work in September to the Post Office Engineering Department and within two weeks was at the local Tech doing my night classes for promotion which came along in time. That was virtually the story of the war.
JS: Good. You mentioned when we spoke before we started the interview that, that 101 Squadron was involved in the electronic counter measures.
CM: That’s correct.
JS: Is that something that your plane did?
CM: Yes. I can recall it vividly. The thing, I think we had him twice. One of the times, the one time that stands out in my mind is we were all crewed up and suddenly this car arrives with a gentleman in it. We didn’t see who he was. It was dark. He got into the plane. Sat behind his curtain with his equipment. We never saw him. Never spoke to him. Never said a word. Did the, did the, he wasn’t with us when we crashed. It was, must have been later. He left the plane first before us before we de-crewed and went away in a car. We never ever saw him. But he had a, he sat behind a curtain underneath the mid-upper gunner with his equipment. And it was pretty cold in there. I think he must have had a flying suit on like the gunners. But we never ever saw him and, but we were pleased that when he was with us we had no incidents. No.
JS: You — how was your crew? I’ve heard stories about crews being formed by everybody just being put in a big bunch and sort of saying go sort your crew out yourself.
CM: No. We went to, after I’d finished my course at St Athan as a flight engineer we went to a place at Huntingdon [pause] Hang on [pause – pages turning ] Get it in the back here. Babbacome, Heaton Park, Ludlow, Manchester, Moncton, Harrogate. Of course was Harrogate. Harrogate. Harrogate. Tempsford. Huntingdon. AMU. A 10. No. That must have been later. Sturgate, Lindholme. Heavy Conversion Unit. Yeah. We went to a place. RAF Sturgate in Lincolnshire. Never heard of it. Now, looking back but that’s where we were all put together and we chose. We chose who we would fly with. And the pilot then was Jim Kerr from Arbroath. I think he stayed on the Air Force. Did very well. But I thought, well he’s a Scotsman. He’s just down the road from where I live. Perfect combination and that’s how I got to fly with him. And he was very good because I had the odd chance of flying the Lancaster. In any emergency I could have. I could have performed. I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. That was it. And then we went to a Heavy Conversion Unit at Lindholme in January 1945. And I joined 101 Squadron, Ludford Magna on the 29th of January 1945 when I left Lindholme. And I was there on, I was there until 30th of September 1945. That’s when I went to St Athan. And then Northallerton. And I was demobbed on the 3rd of September 1946, the [pause] I remember I’ve got the, I’ve got the information here. I got a train ticket to Uxbridge. And I remember getting a lovely suit and hat and jacket and coat and so on. All very well. But that was, that was my career. It was a bit stuttered because I was frustrated from the beginning trying to get in. And then I was frustrated because I wasn’t taken up as an observer radio. And then I was frustrated having passed as a pilot that I couldn’t fly as a pilot and, although fortunately I did get the opportunity but not officially.
JS: Yeah.
CM: But in the event of an emergency I would have quite easily flown the aircraft. There’s no difference between two and four. Just two engines. The procedure and everything else was the same. So there we are. That was it. And the Lancasters I flew were a Lancaster 1, the Lancaster 3 and the Lancaster 10. I think of the Lancaster 10 as I remember it had the number five, .5 bullets in and had they had, they had the bigger turret. Aye. So there we are. I do have, funny enough I do have [pause] Where is it? That was a, that’s an interesting picture.
[pause]
JS: And who drew that?
CM: Sorry?
JS: Who? Who drew the picture of you?
CM: Now, the person that drew that was a, I was sitting in class and his name was Dougal Garden and he was an illustrator with the Courier in Dundee and he handed it to me later and said, ‘There you are.’ That was me. Yeah. I could show you a lot of other pictures if you’re keen to see them.
JS: Once we’ve finished chatting that would be really useful.
CM: Ok. Now, I also during the time, I can’t find it —
JS: Well, let’s, let’s have a look when we’ve finished chatting. You mentioned your pilot from Arbroath. You’ve mentioned your pilot from Arbroath.
CM: Ah huh.
JS: So, how, how was the rest of your crew made up?
CM: Norman Gill was the navigator. Charlie Williams was the wireless op. The two gunners were, Albert Edwardson was one of the them. The rear gunner, he was an old boy. An older boy with two children of which at the time I thought, what are you thinking about, you know, becoming an air gunner when you’ve a family, about thirty years of age. We were all in our early twenties. The bomb aimer was the fellow that got injured. His name was Francis. I can’t remember his first name now. And he was a Canadian. That was the first of it.
JS: And, and how did you get on as a crew?
CM: Oh, had no problem. Very well. Yeah. Ah huh. Och aye. Even after the incident with the flap pancaking in a ploughed field. We just went back to business again. Yeah.
JS: That’s great. You mentioned when we were chatting earlier that the base you were at was, was equipped with FIDO.
CM: Ah huh.
JS: So, how often was that used and was it in use any time that you were there?
CM: It was. It was used quite a lot actually. What it was was that two strips, two strips along the main runway with holes in them and there was petrol and they set it alight and immediately the heat from the petrol cleared, cleared the air quite considerably. It was no problem. In fact it was a dream for some aircraft that couldn’t land on their own, on their own ‘drome. Even I recall Americans come again. I can remember one of the American, an American gunner and he, he was quite adamant. He said, ‘I don’t care what was behind me,’ he said, ‘Whether it was a Lancaster, a Stirling, or whatever. If anybody got close to me they got the guns.’ They were, they were still gun happy [laughs] But it was, it was a boon. Although we were four hundred feet above sea level in the Lincolnshire Wolds the fact that these petrol jets cleared the air was, and it was quite easy to land in between them. No problem.
JS: That’s great. So after you demobbed you went back to —
CM: Yes.
JS: The Post Office. Telecoms. And there was some retraining after that. Is that right?
CM: Yes. Well, not a lot but there was a bit but I went on courses of course with the Post Office Engineering Department to a place called Stoke. No. Stone near Stoke. That’s where we spent in some cases seven or eight weeks and you never got home at weekends in those days, you know.
JS: That’s great. So coming out from Bomber Command after the war how do you think as a Bomber Command veteran you were treated after the war?
CM: I think I was treated fairly well. I was never ever, never ever approached to say I’d done anything wrong. Oh, no. No. Oh, no. The, the feeling that I, the feeling was, and it was although some folk thought it was a bit immoral to go and bomb towns the feeling was for people who were in this country and had suffered with the German bombs, the V-1s, the V-2s it was a delight every time they put the news on and found there had been a thousand bomber raid the night before. It gave them heart that we were taking the war to Germany and we were getting somewhere. And that was the feeling. And it was a feeling. It was the correct feeling because Bomber Command at that time was the only force that could make any real impact in the war. Although maybe it didn’t impact tremendously on the production and all that sort of thing. Mentally. Mentally it had a tremendous achievement. Tremendous. Yeah. In fact, even now coming back at this late stage in my life if anybody you meet who knows you’ve been in the war as a pilot and as a flight engineer they’re always delighted to know you’ve done this for us. Well, in a way there’s a funny incident about that. Anyway, you’re putting your life on the life for Britain at night while other people are lying in their beds sleeping. But there was one occasion. You see in the 21st of March 1945 the lady I was due to marry was going to be posted abroad so we decided to get married. And we got married on the 21st. She was in the ATS and she was a corporal going to be promoted to sergeant and sent to Italy. So at short notice we decided we would get married when she was billeted in Carlisle. We got married and had, I got seven days notice from the Air Force for a, for a [pause] what’s the word? [pause] Seven days notice for the, for the wedding and thereafter the honeymoon and so on.
JS: Leave.
CM: Leave. That’s the word I’m looking for. But my wife, she got fourteen days. Now, for seven days she came to Ludford and I got permission to live off base and we lived in a, with a woman in a bungalow. I don’t recall it very because it was one these old fashioned ones you had to pump the water up at night to get water and so on but being off base I wasn’t too involved in anything. And I was walking in the village with my wife at that time of seven days, eight days. And suddenly the station wagon pulled up, ‘Charlie, you’re flying tonight.’ Now, I had to leave my wife in the street. At that time, in the middle of a little village and say, ‘Cheerio darling. All being well I’ll be back tomorrow.’ At the same time being a widow, being a wife one week she could quite easily have been a widow the next. But that was life as it was and that was, that’s a personal thing. Yeah. Yeah. You know. You’re leaving this lady you’ve just married. I cannot remember what the raid was but, no. Looking back it must have been hard on her.
JS: Absolutely.
CM: Sorry?
JS: Absolutely. Yeah. That’s great. Thank you very much.
CM: And when you come back really, just at the end when you come back you’re like a coal miner because you’ve had a mask on for eight hours and you’re like nothing on earth and you think as if you look terrible. To go back to my wife looking like that was [laughs] after debriefing and so on, you know. But that was, that was the story of my life really. Quite, quite eventful really. A bit stuttery and a bit frustrating because I wanted, I’ve got the documentation here from the office telling me I couldn’t join in the forces. And then the offer of getting in as a pilot or navigator. Passing as an observer radio which was a very high class pass. Finished and they didn’t need observer radios so they trained me as a pilot. Got my pilot’s and got back to Britain as a pilot and then found I wasn’t needed as a, for further training as a pilot and offered my release. Now, that was the last thing I wanted because inside in me at twenty one the only thing I wanted to do was hit the Germans. So the one way I could do it was to rebrand as a flight engineer. So I was trained in both capacities. And I suppose in a way there’s not many like that in the Air Force today. Or was at that time. I don’t recall in the class at St Athan when we did the engine, the course on engines any other pilot. I think they were all just recruits.
JS: Great.
CM: But that was it. Thank you.
JS: Thank you very much. That was magic. I really enjoyed that. That was really really good. So, I will stop this.
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 Charles McNally
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
James Sheach
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
2017-10-05
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.
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Sound
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
AMcNallyC171005, PMcNallyC1701
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Format
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00:41:43 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
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
Description
An account of the resource
Charles McNally spent his childhood in Dundee and Airdrie, Scotland. He began work at the Post Office as a Telegram Boy before joining the engineering department. This meant he now worked in a Reserved Occupation and he struggled to get permission to volunteer for the RAF. He eventually secured his release but had an unusual route to securing his posting. He began training as an observer radio. He then went on to train as a pilot. He eventually became a flight engineer and was posted to 101 Squadron at RAF Ludford Magna dealing with electronic counter measures. Charles married while he was still on operational flying. On honeymoon he was walking through the village with his new wife when he was collected for an operation that night and effectively left his wife at the roadside not knowing if she would soon be a widow.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Julie Williams
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941
1942-10-19
1945-01
1945-03-21
101 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
bombing of Helgoland (18 April 1945)
Cook’s tour
FIDO
flight engineer
forced landing
Heavy Conversion Unit
love and romance
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Oxford
physical training
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Lindholme
RAF Ludford Magna
RAF St Athan
RAF Sturgate
RAF Wroughton
sport
Tiger Moth
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/979/11390/AMarshallKW160208.2.mp3
b4c875c317b085602882d78793863efa
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
Marshall, Ken
Kenneth Wilfred Marshall
K W Marshall
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Ken Marshall (3041150, Royal Air Force). He flew operations with 103 Squadron.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-02-08
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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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Marshall, KW
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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IL: It’s the 8th of, 8th of February 2016. Ian Locker. And I’m interviewing Ken Marshall in his home in Hornsea. So, Ken tell us about your early life and how you developed a love of flying.
KM: In 1937 I was already at the grammar school and I went with one of the thousand —
IL: So whereabouts were you born Ken?
KM: Barton on Humber.
IL: You were born in Barton.
KM: My grandfather was the vicar of Barton on Humber.
IL: Right.
KM: Reverend HGC North-Cox. And I also knew the man that started the Samaritans. Chad Varah. Reverend. I knew him as a boy. And I kept in touch with him all my life because I was connected with aspects of family law and about suicides etcetera. In 1937 I went to what they called the Empire Air Display at Hemswell. And it’s very important in my thinking because the planes there were called Hampdens and Heyfords and Blenheims. The interesting thing about the Heyfords and the Hampdens they had an under gun turret. They could look downwards. And the Lancaster never, afterwards never had one. But pre-war they designed the planes to have a gunner looking downwards. Which could have saved a great lots of lives if they’d had one connected to the Lancaster. So that was the Empire Air Display and of course by 1938 across the river at Hull, at Brough they were making aeroplanes and fantastic numbers of trainer planes, were being trained as pilots there. So I saw a lot of aircraft. Then there was a special plane or two came to Barton with a man called Sir Alan Cobham. He was a famous flyer pre-war and when they would hire a field bring their planes and people could, could fly to — have flips for the first time. And I didn’t go. I asked my father but never mind. But that was that.
IL: It’s recording. It’s recording, Ken. Don’t worry.
KM: I went to grammar school and the grammar school headmaster was an ex-wartime stretcher bearer. Great. Great man was this headmaster. We loved him. Oh by the way in 1938 at the grammar school we all turned out because the Germans, the Nazis got permission to fly the Hindenburg up the River Humber. And we all turned out to watch this huge cigar thing fly across the river. Come across England. Of course it was the Hindenburg and of course it was a disastrous end for it because it caught fire when it was there in America. But we all saw that. That was 1938.
IL: Gosh.
KM: A year before the job started in that sense. But then September the 3rd was, was in 1939 the war started and, and we were all amongst filling sandbags and digging trenches and hearing air raid sirens.
IL: So how old were you when the war started?
KM: Pardon?
IL: How old were you when the war started?
KM: Well. I was born 1926.
IL: Right.
KM: So, that gives you some indication. And my brother was a naval officer and he went right through the war. He was torpedoed mid-Atlantic and saved by a Canadian Corvette. He was a Marconi man. Chief radio officer. Always going from ship to ship. Interesting that my brother was away. I always wanted to fly Catalinas if I got trained on those because my brother would be below on the sea and I could look after him from up in the air. That was the feeling. That was the feeling. But anyway the headmaster one morning he said that there was a concern called the Air Training Corps started. And I would be fourteen or fifteen at the time. And dad and I went down to Cobb Hall and there was a man there with his wings. Looked about three feet across them. He was the manager, RAF VR, of Eastwood Cement Works in South Ferriby. But he was the CO and it was there that I got my first introduction to any flying at all. In the Air Training Corps apart from doing all these studies to get to university and the war time, all that sort of thing nevertheless we had trips to, to camps. Air Training Corps camps. There was, Digby was one in Lincolnshire. Kirton Lindsey was another one. And an organised one that took us up to Elsham. I flew in a Wellington bomber there. And I’ve never forgotten the pilot. He was called Sergeant Spooner. He was an Australian. He did twelve trips. A marvellous chap. He really was. That was the first time I’d ever left the ground in anything at all. And his name, he was lost and his name is recorded in the Memorial Book in the RAF 103 Squadron, Elsham. Whatever. In that sense. So the grammar school was another thing that introduced me. A great day when I — I never got a scholarship. I was paid for. Four guineas a term to go and followed my brother. And anyway I joined the Air Training Corps and I passed all the, very quickly passed all the proficiency badges and was chosen to go down to Lincoln to stay with a family on a Friday night and a Saturday night and where we assembled gliders on, on Lincoln Common. And I was being taught to fly gliders at the age of sixteen, seventeen. Interesting isn’t it? How exciting it was.
IL: So how did they get the —
KM: I went down by bus.
IL: Were they, were they towed gliders then?
KM: No. No.
IL: They weren’t winched.
KM: They had a balloon winch.
IL: Right.
KM: They had been altered so they could do ground slides and then six feet up and so forth.
IL: Ok.
KM: Until finally if you were, they cast off. But it was only a short, short flight. That was all. But to be doing that. It was exciting as a boy wasn’t it?
IL: Absolutely.
KM: It wasn’t the, and for — so there we are. So that was my introduction to flying in one way or another. Going to ATC and I would frequently go on my bicycle up to Elsham. I’d pass the guardroom. They waved me in. I’d go to the crew room and say, ‘Sir, are you flying today? Is there anybody?’ And I frequently flew in Lancasters thereafter. And I must tell you about one of the trips. We were out on the North Sea at about ten thousand feet coming in. It wasn’t operational. Air test. And I said to the gunner, the rear gunner, ‘May I sit in the rear?’ And he said yes. Which I did. And then suddenly somebody said, ‘Ah there’s Treetops Bathing Pool down there. That’s where we do our dinghy drill,’ If they got ditched in the sea. And the skipper put it into a nose dive and that, that Lancaster shook from side to side as we went down. I was going down backwards of course. And I never forgot that. But two weeks later I was at a local dance, this is before I went away. I saw this rear gunner and he recognised me. I was in Air Training Corps uniform still. Not having yet gone to the University Air Squadron. And he was, he was a sergeant once but he didn’t have any sergeant’s stripes but he had his air brevet and he used to tell me he was stood down with flu and he didn’t fly because they didn’t and he lost his crew that night. And he refused to fly with anybody else. So he was on the ground and he was kept where he was. And I don’t want to talk any more about that. He was kept there. They took his sergeant’s stripes but they couldn’t take his air brevet from him but he didn’t I think he said he’d done ten or twelve trips. Whatever. And as I say it’s not easy. You see, I can’t [pause] First flight in a Wellington bomber, yes. What’s the next one? The Air Training Corps. What? What? Can you switch it on and off?
IL: Oh yes.
KM: [unclear]
[recording paused]
KM: In a similar way I went to Kirmington and rode in there. And I managed to get a flight in an Airspeed Oxford which I was later to learn to fly on. Stop.
[recording paused]
KM: Start it again.
IL: Ok.
KM: At Elsham there was, there was originally a Halifax flight there. And I once saw a Halifax coming in on fire on one of my trips. Wheels up. And the fire tender was alongside it by the time it skidded to a stop. Covered it with foam and they all got out. But it’s a dodgy job even to see that.
IL: Oh absolutely.
[recording paused]
KM: I was junior champ.
IL: Two seconds. Go on. Sorry Ken.
KM: I was junior champ and then later I was [victor] of Durham twice as senior in the sports. I was always in to everything active like that. But at the grammar school a group captain came down from Elsham called Constantine. And I received books because I’d matriculated to go to Cambridge University at the age of sixteen and eight months. And I’m very proud of that because of what kids don’t do today. But, but it was that qualification that I chose to use to go to Durham because I already had two friends. One older than I in my own class who eventually became a wing commander. Wing commander John Cannon flying jets and things later on in life. But, but and later in life Constantine became an air vice marshal and I have pictures of him with what was to be another university man later in my life of course from Manchester University. So, so at seventeen and a quarter I volunteered to be RAF VR. Three days at Doncaster doing all the exams and etcetera. And so that was the idea. And then eventually came a letter telling me, as I say I was still doing these gliders at weekends but eventually I got the call to arms. I called it that because that was, ‘”Dear sir,” from the Air Ministry. “Report to Durham University Air Squadron. Your obedient servant, sir.” Its rather a laugh really when you —
IL: So —
KM: That was 1943.
IL: Did they — were you, was — did you actually get paid at university then?
KM: No.
IL: Or was it —
KM: No.
IL: It was just —
KM: Pocket money came from my parents.
IL: Right. It wasn’t, it wasn’t like the sort of scholarships that you get now at university.
KM: Are you still —? Oh. Yeah. No. And I’ll talk about that. Whilst I was at, on a half term out of the university I was invited to go to Goxhill which was the United States Air Force to fly in a Lightning but, a two seater but it was unserviceable. So they said, ‘There’s a new pilot here. Could you, could you navigate him. Map read him to Burtonwood in Lancashire.’ Or Cheshire. I said, ‘Certainly.’ So I did the trip in the front of a Boston bomber with a pilot and the crew chief. Just the three of us. And I was eighteen and a half then. When I look at boys today of eighteen and a half and what we were doing or could do or willing to do in those days. So, so University Air Squadron was marvellous. Marvellous. I lived in the castle. I was at University College. My two friends who were lifelong friends. One was from Spain. He’d come from Spain. His mother was Spanish and he went to Barnard Castle Public School, public school and then came and Durham, and then came on to the university. That’s where I met him. And his roommate was George Malcolm Brown who eventually was classified to be a navigator and trained as a navigator in Canada and who later in life became the vice chancellor back at Durham. In the time I recall I lost them both. But marvellous to think of those friends. I kept them all my life. And when I got my, a degree and would go back to university in ’75 to ’78 and got my law degree Johnnie came all the way from Scotland. I’ve got photographs of us all together, staying at Durham with the vice chancellor. Fantastic story isn’t it? The things that have gone on. But it was a wonderful time. There was sixty of us from all, all backgrounds and throughout the country and half were arts and half were science. I did science, physics and maths and got in to BSc. I got my first recommendation for a commission at the end of the course and which would have then taken me I don’t doubt into Cranwell because I was offered it. But the first, the next move was into the Royal Air Force proper. And that was down at, down at Torquay.
IL: So in the, in the University Air Squadron did you actually fly? Or was — were you still doing navigating?
KM: No. No. No. We took, the whole ITW they called it when it wasn’t at the university. It was all the same subject. The armaments, the signals, some flying we did we did because we had, we wore battle dress and we were being taught to fly Airspeed Oxfords.
IL: Right.
KM: Those twin engine jobs. So we did some flying as well. And my pilot was a Sikh. A flight lieutenant. Very unusual. I’ve got photographs of him with his Sikh whatever on. He used to get in the plane first because you never saw him without his [ pause ] and the reverse thing when he landed. I would have to get out first and by the time he reappeared then he would have his whatever. But there were people from all over. And we used to go down to the swimming baths at 7 o’clock in the morning for an hour. Everybody had to learn to swim and there were only two out the sixty that couldn’t which gave an indication of the sort of young fellows we were that we all made big efforts in all because the numbers of swimming pools there were in the country were very — but we were all very active in that sense.
[recording paused]
IL: Go on again.
KM: We left Durham and we all had to report down at Torquay. The Germans got to know we were there because the Torquay people had never had a bomb. Americans had been there in the hotels before. And destroyed the hotel next to where we were. Fortunately there was nobody in it. But the Germans certainly knew. They were trying to kill aircrew. There’s no question about it because that’s where everybody went at that particular time. Of our ilk anyway.
[recording paused]
KM: Torquay was an ACRC. Air Crew Reception Centre. We did three months there. Discipline. Marching backwards and forwards. Learning other subjects. Getting medical tests as well to see we hadn’t been naughty with girls and things like that which [laughs] we never knew anything about them anyway. And we were, so three months there discip and learning air ministry, learning the air force law. Air force law. What’s it called? Anyway there were two books that we had to get to know about air force law. So, well if you’re going to be an officer and you had to hand out law and a time for misdemeanours whatever they might be they were still all part of it. From there I went to Bridgnorth and that was just another holding place. And from Bridgnorth we went to, some of us were distributed to RAF stations to pass the time. I went up to Full Sutton. I was there in that bad winter at the beginning of ’45 and it was a Halifax station. And I do recall loading. I worked in the bomb dump preparing five hundred pound bombs and putting them on trolleys. And the armourers, they, they armed them. But I do recall that one, one particular day it was nothing but incendiaries and the incendiaries went, went to Dresden. And I don’t give a damn about that because they weren’t making cuckoo clocks. They were making bits for Heinkels and Messerschmitts. So no matter what the historians try and say, oh we should never have done this but against the background of what the Nazis were doing that we learned later they got their whatever we called it. But I remember because one of the containers broke open and Peter Greenwood who I remained with, he was at Oxford and I was with him then. He remembered an armourer knocking one a brick. They were only about eighteen inches long. We just stood in the snow. Eighteen inches of snow on that particular time. But that was RAF Full Sutton. Interestingly, my doctor friend had a plane in Full Sutton in September of 2015. I went flying with him there at Full Sutton. After all those years. At Full Sutton. There’s a, there’s a prison there now with the most heinous criminals left in there. But to go back after all those years and start flying again. But I’d flown at other places in between. But anyway, on return away from Full Sutton went to flying school which was up at Carlisle. On Tiger Moths. And I, and I went solo at eight and a half hours in Tiger Moths. The instructor said I’d done two perfect circuits and he said, ‘Righto. She’s yours. Just go.’ And you had, you had to do well. I wanted to do. But there was a very good initiation thing going on there. When we arrived in our billets that first night there were some guys being tossed in blankets. And that was an initiation. Get on the blanket and three times because they’d soloed that day. But what I didn’t know at the time there was one of, one of our chaps. He went at six hours. I was to find out that the instructors there both commissioned and non-commissioned they were like bookies. They were acting like bookies with horses. The odds on horses. And they were having bets on us as to who could go first. They were risking our necks to make money out of us. We didn’t know that actually happened. We did learn that. It was fourteen hours whether you went solo or not. It didn’t make any difference if you, if you graduated out of there to be further trained that was where it happened. And that was at Carlisle. Kingstown Carlisle. But then where I actually did my flying was from a place in Scotland called Patrick, Kirkpatrick Fleming. It’s just over the border from Gretna Green. I always remember this place. And when I landed the first thing I did, I didn’t kiss the instructor I kissed the ground of Scotland naturally.
[recording paused]
KM: We were in and out of this place called Heaton Park at Manchester and I loved being at Manchester because it was always between being sent somewhere or other. You were always on your way. And it was at Heaton Park that I and Johnnie and several of us were offered a place at Cranwell. But we decided no we’ll hang on and go abroad. We didn’t. I don’t, we weren’t thinking about getting the chop but we thought if we can fit it in and go travelling so we will. That was the thoughts of boys of, us at nineteen.
IL: It doesn’t seem unreasonable.
KM: But the next posting was to RAF Driffield. We were there for a month. We’d do any job at all. And then one morning called up on seven of us and they called upon several of us and we found ourselves carrying seven coffins. Canadians. All under twenty two. Little brass plates. They’d returned with a bomb on board and they’d been told to fly the plane out to the North Sea and let it go and bale out. But they decided as a little family because that’s how they chose themselves when they assembled a crew in hangars, they decided to land. And as soon as they touched down at Driffield that was it. It’s a terrible thought. And we took them down and put them in railway trucks and I don’t know where they went then. But it was, it was a thought at the time. We didn’t really express it but we did later. Were we reinforcements or were we replacements? But they were a long way from home those lads. But that was the point. The thing about Driffield. And another thing about this we went down into Driffield one night and the only whatever they called the pub but nearby was the town hall. There was a dance going on there. And it was announced during this dance, night time of course that there was going to be some ballroom exhibition dancing. And everybody kept to the walls and this couple came on. Him in coat tails and the girl, woman in a dancing dress and the music struck up and immediately ha’pennies and pennies started flying through the air to shove them off. Life was too short. We didn’t want to know about ballroom dancing. And so that was an illustration of how the minds — the mindset of people. Let’s see where I’ve got to. Solo at eight and a half hours. I’ve done that. Because that was — so what’s happening next? One month at Driffield look. I’ve got them in chronological order. But anyway, we [pause] we can talk about this now. Ok?
IL: Ok.
KM: Switched on?
IL: It is.
KM: The next thing was back to Heaton Park. And we were getting kitted out by — for all our own flying clothing. We were given a whistle to put on by the neck. That was in case you were shot down. You could communicate with one another. And I remember we were on a, on a draft in that sense and somebody blew a whistle and the sergeant discip and he said, ‘I’ll take, I’ll take a number of you off draft.’ And we, and four hundred, four hundred whistles blew back at him. That was the sort of spirit there was. But this was following the fact that, that VE day had come up. And we didn’t know what was going to happen but we were, we were tipped, we never knew where we were going to go. So we were put on a train, found ourselves up on the Clyde to board a ship called the Aquitania which was a sister ship of the Titanic. I never want to see that Titanic film ever because we went across dodging U-boats even then then. Even though it was war — [pause] But I was home during this period. Just before that my eldest brother was back on the convoys and I celebrated VE day with my brother, with Bert Cowton who’d been at Durham with me and he’d come back with his wings from Canada err from America and his brother who was a flight lieutenant bomb aimer who had been on the Peenemunde raid. The Peenemunde raid was where they went after the rockets and these flying bombs and that sort of — but there were two brothers with two brothers celebrating and I never knew much about that night. I do remember that we were going to the local dance after I’d climbed out through a window in the pub and going to this place and they wouldn’t let us in because it was a floor upstairs and they shouted through the door, ‘There’s too many people in here.’ And I remember the two elder brothers saying, ‘We won the bloody war for you lot. Let us in.’ And I don’t remember anything after that except waking up on the carpet just down the street at my parent’s home with a bucket beside me and a woman who I didn’t know holding a cup of coffee handy for me. Yeah.
IL: Great.
KM: Yeah.
[recording paused]
IL: Back on again.
KM: So I went across dodging. The ship was changing course every twenty minutes. We slept on the outer deck and I was going down the main staircase and I saw three ladies in uniform. And I didn’t know the uniform so I said, ‘Are you, are you ladies British?’ One said, ‘Yes, we are. And you’re from Barton on Humber.’ I couldn’t believe it. Somebody from Barton on Humber in the middle of the Atlantic. She said, ‘I’m a stewardess.’ She said, ‘I’m a career girl with Cunard.’ She said, ‘I want you to come to my cabin now every afternoon at 4 o’clock.’ So, I told the lads, the other lads she was a Miss. And I said, ‘Look, gee, I’ve got a woman on board.’ So I used to go along there for cakes and tea etcetera and she was forty two. I didn’t tell these lads, my own colleagues that she was forty two. But there was nothing like that. But it was just a joke. Yeah, ‘I’ve got a woman on board.’ But and I remember on board was the royal family, the Dutch royal family. Princess Julianna and all their children. What was happening they were going to America because she used to take me walking. Not the princess. Up on the decks and introduce me to certain people. You know. Everybody was always pleased to shake hands. Whatever.
[recording paused]
IL: Ok.
KM: So we arrived in New York in a fog. We ran aground on Staten Island. Or Coney Island rather. I was later to visit that with my brother and did a parachute jump in a restrained parachute. But eventually the fog cleared. We went up river and alongside of us came all these, these boats. The fire, the fire boats with all their hoses going. And boats with bands on playing the American music. And American girls because there were a lot of wounded coming. Coming back on the Aquitania. And we were met there by a lot of volunteers on the dock side. We were given chocolates and goodness knows what else. And, and then went to a camp called Camp Kilmer. Camp Kilmer held thirty, it could accommodate thirty thousand. It was the main exit point for the, for the army people coming over into Europe. And we were given a weeks’, weeks’ leave. Go and please yourselves in New York. And that was when I went to meet my brother’s wife. She was American. And, and because it was very exciting to be in New York and we were invited to all sort of places on Park Avenue and Park Lane. Millionaire’s places. All these invitations and free tickets to go in to theatres and cinemas. And I remember going to one place called the Diamond Club. We were told not to take our hats off if we wanted anything. And this is where some, two American officers came in and recognised us as British and said, ‘You guys don’t have to pay for anything. We’ve got loads of dough. We’re going to treat you.’ So I never forgot that in the sense of the generosity of all the Americans. It was there all the time. The way they looked after the service people and whatever. And there’s a bit of a story to come about that later. But eventually now we were put on a train. On a steam train. An enormous locomotive. We were put in Pullman coaches that turned into beds at night. With little electric fans on them. And we were three days going down to, we didn’t know where we were going but we were told it was Florida and we were turned out at a place called Clewiston. Well, as we arrived there the guys that were already down there they came low flying over the aircraft err over the train to let us know. Zoom, zoom, zoom. You know, it excited us. So then we started training there and in the huts there with a swimming pool. There were invitations to go down in to Miami and stay with whatever. They organised that. But the planes in there were Boeings PT-17 days trainers. Radial engine job. Much more advanced then the Tiger Moth. And the other plane was the AT6. Well, of course the planes were flying day and night. It was happening all the time. There was a dread. We used to practice on a Saturday morning. There was no flying Saturday morning. It was practice Wings Parade. It was the practice Wings Parade presentation. But that was putting up the RAF flag on the yardarm of the station and then everybody paraded and we were wet through. Absolutely wet through. The heat and the moisture there. Brand new uniform always for that. And then, then the weekend was ours free. And I used to go, take a boat onto Lake Okeechobee. The place was full of crocodiles and snakes and of course we saw the Seminole Indians there. These are the indigenous people who lived in the Florida swamps and things. They hunted. They hunted with bows and arrows. And if you were caught low flying over there and came back with an arrow in your aeroplane you were dismissed. That’s well understood isn’t it? So, and so the days went by but eventually of course the bombs were dropped on Hiroshima. We always said that saved our lives and we know it saved a lot of other lives as well. And, and the next thing within a week we were on the, we were on the train back up to New York and then sent across back to, to England.
IL: So, in America were your, were your instructors RAF instructors or were they American instructors?
KM: No. There was a minimum staff of, who lived the life of Riley we believe. Mainly off camp. Well, it’s an obvious thing for them but the instructors were civilians. They were all civilians.
IL: Oh right. So they were American civilians.
KM: They were American civilians.
IL: Ok.
KM: And mine was number 5 British Flying Training School. So BFTS. There were six altogether. The original scheme was called the Arnold Scheme but then it was really when, when that was before the Americans came into the war because the guys went over to America as civilians with America being neutral.
IL: Yeah. Yeah.
KM: But when, when the Americans came in after Pearl Harbour they formed this and they had, they had six places. Six places. They were always separating us. Whenever there was a move in the training we were split up because they didn’t want us to form any emotional contact between us. And Johnnie, who was from the, who was Spanish, I met him at Durham he went to Miami in Oklahoma state. You know.
IL: Right.
KM: He did his training there. But there were six of them. Arizona was another one. But there were six. So that explains that about the instructors.
IL: Right. So there were just, so but, and was it just RAF people who were being trained there?
KM: Yeah. Yeah. Just RAF. They weren’t training American ones. No. There were thousands of guys that were trained. When we were in Florida nobody knew the war was going to finish like it was and there was rumours that we would go on to other types of American aircraft out there and then finally go out to the Pacific. But I’m glad it never happened. It’s an obvious one, isn’t it? But on returning to England there was loads of operational people. They didn’t want people. But some of, some of our guys they were connected with military families and wanted to make a career. And I remember one of them was called Neame. He was at Durham. I knew him at Durham. And his father was a general. His father was the only general ever to be captured by the Germans in North Africa. So he went on. He would go to Cranwell then because of being a military aspect. I remember Neame in particular. And later in life, many years afterwards, twenty or thirty years afterwards there was some pictures of Mount Everest in the Daily Express. And he’d been out in India with his Spitfire and he’d flown over Mount Everest and just to prove it because you weren’t supposed to do it. Just a story. And it was a question of waiting to be demobbed and I I decided that when I went that I would make a life in Civilian Street which I did of course. But in between times I got shunted from one station to another and the last one which I was at and I worked in headquarters at RAF Binbrook. They had 9. Four squadrons there 9, 12, 101 and that very famous 617 Squadron. But I didn’t do any flying there. They had Lincoln bombers and it was from there I was demobbed.
[recording paused]
KM: Ok. One, one of the things that I was in charge of I had two German prisoners of war. One was, one was fifty two. All he could think of was getting back to Germany and being a farm labourer. The other one was sixteen and every morning when he reported to me at 9 o’clock in the morning he saluted me in the proper sense of de da de da but he spoke American. He’d been captured when he was fifteen, taken to America and picked up the Americanisms. But every morning he shook his fist at them, ‘We’ll be back. We’re going to be back.’ There was a hundred army guys on RAF Binbrook in that sense. But working in the headquarters I would eventually be in charge of air publications and diagrams and all the stationery and all the forms. A lot of forms. And it was all to do with the squadrons and that. The engines. All aspects. But of course there was a lot of information that would come through which was connected with intelligence. Material that was being distributed into the squadrons to let them know this and that. And eventually I I was to read quite a lot of stuff that I never, never repeated. Of course, you never did. But from an intelligence point of view you just saw stuff but it didn’t mean anything. It was all gone. You weren’t going to keep it or photograph it. We weren’t, we were never allowed to have cameras in any case. So that’s that.
[recording paused]
IL: We’re back on.
KM: In post war then 5 BFTS used to have reunions and I would go away to those. And it was always to take over a hotel so that, at a weekend a Friday, Saturday and Sunday so that all the men that were there were nothing but RAF pilots of once upon a time. There was no people that hadn’t gone there. They were excited to go and there was a book where all the courses were numbered. We were on the very last course out of, the very last course to take was because, as I say the war had finished in Europe but nevertheless we were sent. They always said they’d spent a lot of money on us. And that was because we were University Air Squadron people. Actually I think they got us cheap. But in that sense. And there was a directory with the names of people in that were known of. And the last one that was printed was in 2005. It’s been disbanded since along the way. But then, but my name and there’s only nine of us on that one that were still around and known about. That doesn’t mean to say everybody did get killed. Whatever happened. And Peter Greenwood is one of those who was at Oxford where he used to know this Welsh chap who eventually became Richard Burton. And he said, ‘Richard Burton,’ he said, ‘He only did three things.’ He said, ‘He drank, read poetry,’ because he was doing arts, ‘And he chased skirts.’ Girls. And eventually of course he went to Canada to train as a navigator did this Welsh chap. But later in life he changed his name to Richard Burton and he married Elizabeth Taylor and became very famous. And if ever I got the opportunity to see him in uniform in a film he’d always taken the part of an officer because he was always dressed an officer and he’d been trained as an officer and it was just natural to see him as Richard Burton. But, and I met him once or twice at Heaton Park because he was always retained there to play, play rugby. But that’s Richard Burton. Whatever. But Peter Greenwood, we’ve kept in touch all these years. And we talk to, normally every week, every week we talk for half an hour or an hour. We’re always reminiscing. We’ve always got things to talk about. He lives in Halifax. And of course we have met occasionally as well. So, it’s marvellous in fact to have such a friend. And his birthday is on the 2nd of February. Mine is on the 1st which is very recent. According to this it’s now the 8th of February. And I always pull his leg and say we’re the senior man.
[recording paused]
KM: We were really, it was snowed in. It was a terrible wet winter.
IL: Was this at Full Sutton?
KM: Full Sutton. Up there near York. East of York. And we were told the whole place was frozen up. There was no running water except at the camp cookhouse. And we enjoyed going in there to keep warm occasionally. But the WAAFs, they were putting on more cream and powder because they weren’t allowed to wash either. We were told not to, not to melt ice or snow because they said you could get possibly meningitis through this. So I remember going into York and going to the public baths there. I’d never heard of public baths at that point in time. But, but the Nissen huts were very cold. They were cold. Nobody complained but one has to imagine twenty beds in there. And one night one of the chaps started coughing and sneezing and nineteen other voices said, ‘Die, you bugger’ [laughs]
[recording paused]
KM: And then at lunchtime we were only too pleased to have food, I remember we could buy newspapers. Well, some of us would buy The Express. The Express Record and The Express crossword but some of the guys they used to buy The Times. And they could do them in half an hour. That was the sort of standard. That was the standard of education and culturalisation that we’d all been through. At that time they were chosen to do this particular job and be selected to go into University Air Squadrons. Yeah.
[recording paused]
IL: So after the war.
KM: Well, father was in horticulture and agriculture and for a short time I helped him but eventually I decided that I didn’t want to be connected with the land in that sense at all. I always felt academic. And so I applied to go back to university and I was accepted. And what’s interesting about this as I say I got in to BSc when I was there and, but I’d actually left. Left and I’d achieved all I wanted and went to help my father in his business in whatever before going on to the, to the university. I was still not quite at the age of, to go in. I’d been accepted of course and got, seventeen I’ve mentioned that. And then when I, when I applied I was accepted straight away I’ve still got the letters. Professor Wager and the master. Lieutenant Colonel MacFarland Greave was the master of University College at the time. And they said, ‘Yeah, start in October.’ Now this is addressed to me in the air force by which time I was a corporal. And isn’t it bloody marvellous? To be, to take the rank of corporal. Anyway, and when I applied for the grant because people got grants. My other two pals had. Johnnie who became a doctor later and Malcolm who became vice chancellor they’d stayed on. They’d stayed on at school and left, left grammar school to go straight to Durham. I hadn’t done. And I still have the letter. I still have the letter to say I didn’t qualify because it said my education had not been interrupted by the war. Well, that, that just about killed me. To say I couldn’t get a grant. And I asked my father. I said they want me and when I think about them I would be there with Malcolm doing exactly what I wanted because I wanted to do geology. And I said, to think I had done all of that. I qualified to go to Cambridge. They said my education hadn’t been interrupted by the war and I couldn’t have a grant. And I tried through my MP to try to get this alteration changed and I still retain that letter to me and I’ll show the interviewer that to show the, to prove that point. So I didn’t go back there. So what I decided to do was to join the [pause] I saw the most successful local man I knew. He was in all sorts of businesses. And he said other than three daughters if he’d had a son he would have put him in the petroleum world. The oil world. We’re going back quite a long time now. So he said, ‘I suggest that.’ He said, ‘There’s a company starting up called Petrofina. They’re a Belgian company because,’ he said, ‘I’m taking all my money out of coal and other things and,’ he said, ‘I’m putting it into oil.’ He said, he left it up to me to get in touch with Petrofina. I rang Petrofina in London. I said, ‘I’d like to come and work for you. Join you. You’re starting up,’ because at that time there were no brands. There was no brands of Shell, Esso, Mobil gas — any of them. It was still all pooled petrol. The government was still running the job etcetera. So I, and they said, ‘When can you come to see us?’ I said, ‘Well. Tomorrow.’ So the next day I was down in London and within an hour they said, ‘Right. You can be with us. Six months’ probation. You’ll be up north. And your place will be at a place called Gunness. That’s the regional office that’s been chosen. And you join them up there.’ Which I did. Bought a brand new car to travel from Barton on Humber to travel the twenty miles to work every day. And within, I did my six month probation and I was to be in marketing etcetera and learning all about transport. All aspects of at that level. And by the time I was thirty four I was a senior staff manager in the company and even today, even today — I left them. I stayed with them until my daughter was going of age to go to university. She went to a place in Leeds for a start. She was doing a pre, a pre-university thing and then she went and did three years down at Cheltenham. And she got a degree in fashion design and art. And that’s what my Sue did. I used to go and see her programmes of the materials that she made on the catwalks in London. Doing all of this. Susan was eventually to marry. Her father in law was a wing commander and a fighter pilot in the Battle of Britain. A sergeant. But any way that’s by the way and then went to live in a Cayman Islands. But when my Sue decided to go I thought I’ll go back to university. So I asked the company could I take a three year sabbatical? They agreed. They said, ‘Good idea. Do a law degree and it’ll help us as well.’ But when I’d done the law degree and it was the easiest thing I ever did, at Hull and in fact I did two degrees at once. I did, I did anthropology and law. I did two and I got a 2:2 in both. And, and that’s what, and my daughter and I passed out at the same time. Her elsewhere of course and whatever. So I didn’t go back there. I got in touch with the Law Society and what with my experience of life I said could I, could I practice as a consultant in family law because that’s what I wanted to particularly major in. And they said yes, carry on which is what I’ve always done ever since. And today they’re even they’re still paying me at Petrofina because I was a superannuated person. I made them a great deal of money. I made them millions. I built up a chain of service stations. Buying land and choosing managers and tenants for them. Oh yes I was right there. I was right there with them and so they’re still paying me.
[recording paused]
IL: I can turn it back on.
KM: It was whilst I must pay tribute to all the men that I ever met in the Royal Air Force. Whether they were ground staff or aircrew. And all, all the guys my colleague with which I flew and I was so proud to be with them. So I I I can pay great tribute to them. But I do wish to mention about my two friends. Johnnie Boyd who came from Spain and Barnard Castle and then came on and eventually became a doctor in psychology. A marvellous man out there. Starting something out there for them. And in particular Malcolm Brown who came from Redcar Grammar. I met him at Durham and eventually he became the number one geologist really of this country. And he was knighted so that his full title was Professor Sir George Malcolm Brown. Right from being, knowing him at eighteen and he was employed well not employed but when, when Buzz Aldrin and Armstrong were going to go to the moon NASA was [pause] had Malcolm to lecture them on what they were to look for in moon rocks. And he was the only one, considering that Malcolm went from being eighteen and knowing him he was the one, the only scientist, British scientist given moondust or moon rocks. And of course he distributed them amongst other places to examine. But he found amongst his own materials a mineral that was not known on earth. And it could have been called Brownite because that was after his name but he didn’t. He called it Tranquilite because that was where these guys landed. And they called it Tranquilite. That’s how modest he was. But, but to look him up on the computers and look him up to see all about him there’s pages and pages and pages. He’s a fellow of everything throughout the world. Marvellous to have known him. And he was such a modest man. Always was. They said he was a bit diffident but I understand that because I knew him. We used to go drinking in The Three Tuns at Durham. My goodness on a Saturday night it was the only time after dinner at night that we ever got out really. Well, we used, and it had seven bars down there in The Three Tuns and we went through all seven having a half or whatever it was. And the dance hall at the end of it by which time I was useless for anything. But that was Malcolm who became Professor Sir George Malcolm Brown.
IL: And he became Chancellor of Durham University.
KM: Chancellor of Durham University.
IL: Vice Chancellor sorry.
KM: Yeah. Vice Chancellor.
IL: Vice Chancellor of Durham. That’s fantastic.
KM: And another thing, may I have this?
IL: It’s still going.
KM: One of the things that we did at Durham. They were full days. Completely full days. We thoroughly enjoyed it. The guy that used to take us for parades and was a DLI man. Durham Light Infantry. A warrant officer. We never forgot Gray. And he prepared us for these rough guys that we, the [unclear] guys eventually down at Torquay. But one of the things that would happen we were allocated that when the air raid sirens went I was one of those that went to do fire watching on the cathedral in the dark. I mean the buzzers gone and no matter what time of day it was up there in the north transept amongst the pigeons trying to save my country’s cathedrals. So we did all sorts of things apart from that. The day, and the night before we left Durham, this is very interesting, Durham, Durham Council invited us to the little town hall in the centre of Durham which is like a museum in itself because the Durham Light Infantry in its army days went back years and years. With all sorts of uniforms. And they gave us a party. They invited all the local belles, all the belles, all the belles of Durham to be there. It was, it was like, it was like a party. A going away party for us to join the air force. You know. Seeing us off to war literally. We felt like it. But never mind. I could talk. I love Durham and I’ve often been back there. And more recently I went with my, a girl friend and we stayed in the castle. It was all arranged and I slept in the Bishop’s Suite which, which in fact was an old fashioned, fashioned four poster and it was that four poster where, it was an original one where all the judges of England used to sleep in that one because they went there for safety when they were visiting the assizes. But then later after I was at top table at Durham with all the other students and whatever. I went top table with all the profs and that and then later I went into the senior common room where after in the ordinary way when we were there I used to dash in there to play classical records for half an hour. If you could get there first you could have their own choice.
[recording paused]
KM: When I, when I was married and went to Scarborough on holiday being married it was then that I discovered that north of Bridlington there was a plane there flying people for passenger. Little trips around the lighthouse at Flamborough. So I went and I took my wife Phyllis and we went flying. And I remember I took over as well. I remember the pilot. He’d escaped from the Nazis. He was a Norwegian and he’d trained as a navy pilot but here he was staying in England. I never forgot him. When my Sue fourteen years later, fourteen years later I decided that my Susan should fly for the very first time. I drove down to Skegness and, and the office said, it was opposite Butlins and they said, ‘There are three Auster planes out there. Just pick the one you want and one of the pilots will come out to you.’ And when he came it was the same man from fourteen years previous. What a fantastic coincidence because, I said, ‘I know you.’ He said, ‘Where do you know me from?’ I said, ‘I flew with you at Speeton, north of Bridlington.’ He said, ‘I was only there a week.’ It’s absolutely fantastic. Fourteen years between the two. And once again we flew and I was up front and I flew that Auster as well. But from a flying point of view when I went to the university they had in that first week a new intake. People joining all sorts of societies. Whatever they called it. And I found there was a stall there that they were connected with a gliding club at Pocklington on the way to York. So I joined that immediately and eventually was taken because that enabled me to fly again and I’ve been, and I’ve been a member of that gliding club and I still am. From 1975 to now. But whilst I was there at weekends I would take six in the car. With no safety belts I could cram two in the front and two in the back. So I did help out with these kids. I was like a dad to some of them. But along the way we had a flying club at, on, on Humberside and, but they had to close it down because Bristows, the helicopter people they wanted the property. But that was a very interesting time flying Cessnas and goodness knows what there as a member of a private flying club there. I also used to fly with a man called Croskill and pre-war he’d trained as a pilot. Got his wings in 1935. His father was a wing commander. When the war started he was made a captain in the army. An army captain. And he, and he joined the secret service. And what he did was fly Lysanders into France during the, to take people to the Resistance backwards and forwards. But afterwards Roy and I became, that’s how I came to know him. I often used to fly with him because he was a chief flying instructor at Paull which gave me an opportunity once again when I was at the university. This is how I met him. And again at Humberside. So I’ve always had a big connection with, with Humberside. There was also at Humberside an ex-Wellington bomber pilot who I came to know and he passed on but I’d done, over the years I just paid to take a plane up. Always with one of their people because I’d not passed out on some of those planes. But that, but what that has led to is that I was invited on to be, I was collected by taxi from Hornsea to to spend the day when the Canadian Lancaster came. It had flown into Coningsby from Canada. That’s an RAF station. But on this day it was coming into Kirmington. Or Humberside Airport. And I met the crew. I didn’t fly in it but I had lunch with the crew and it was just marvellous to climb back inside that Lancaster. And of recent times I’ve had sent to me a CVD, it’s a record.
IL: Yeah.
KM: That can be put on a piece of equipment and I only received it and I’m on it. It’s showing various things from the start in Canada and then back in Humberside and elsewhere. And Coningsby. And it’s just marvellous. And it lasts eighty minutes and I’ve only seen it this last fortnight. It was sent to me. And very kind of them. I think it was sent because of my birthday. Whatever. By the way on the 18th at Humberside there was a girl, a lady from the Royal Mint and she was interviewing other veterans down there to what they would like to see on the back of a new 50p coin. And eventually I was sent one from the Mint. That came from wherever it came. Wales I think. And it shows on the reverse side what looked like what represents German aeroplanes coming. Spitfires on the ground waiting and the backs of three fighter pilots dashing off. And that’s a, that’s a memorial of the seventy fifth, seventy fifth anniversary of the Battle of Britain. When I was invited once again to go to Humberside on the 13th of August in 2015. The year following the Canadian one to meet up with the pilots and sit in on the briefing. I just felt like nineteen and twenty and twenty one again. It was so wonderful and marvellous. And I’ve got quite a number of momentoes from that. So and that, then on my birthday recently I had two cards from there. One from the lady, the personal assistant who I only saw twice. On the first occasion, second occasion when she sent me a card with love and kisses on the bottom. But the other one, was another card was “From all your friends at Humberside International Airport.” And I met, and I met on both occasions they called him Richard. Richard Lake. He’s the boss down there of Eastern Airways and he saw me on every occasion etcetera and he owns two Spitfires and they’re worth a couple of million quid. Very interesting. I do know a few people in the flying world. As far as flying’s concerned and before the terrorist position came in whenever I flew abroad I’d always hand the letter in which would have to be handed to the captain. And they would always send for me to sit up at the front with them because of them being, they could be RAF themselves as well.
IL: Yeah.
KM: And on one occasion, here’s an interesting thing I went to Rome and on a, on a flip flight just to transfer an aircraft I can make another trip to Sardinia, which was my destination. I was going there on business and I sat up there with the Italian pilots. What’s interesting about that I speak Italian so I was able to talk. It was marvellous really. To be able to get up to the front of aircraft. That was out of, out of Heathrow. A letter went in there and I sat at the rear. An American sat next to me. Got flying. And at the appointed time on the threshold the chief steward came and said, ‘You’re wanted on the flight deck, sir’ and so I went up the front, and the American and I was up there for four hours. At that time there were two pilots, a flight engineer and I sat behind and did all the take off with them and they said they would send for me when they were going to do, land in Seattle. But before that I got back this American had been drinking. He said, ‘That was a rotten take off.’ I said, ‘I’ve got news for you. I’m going to do the landing.’ Because I knew I was going to be, I was going to be up the front. And it came to that point in time we’d flown over Greenland and Northern Canada and the captain came on, ‘Everybody fasten their safety belts,’ and at the same moment in time as I say I was at the rear the chief steward, the man came and said, ‘There’s an emergency, sir. You’re wanted on the flight deck.’ I couldn’t believe this. So I went up the front, ‘Where the hell’s he going?’ Everybody fastened all their seatbelts. To find out they were running short of fuel. At that time they were only buying enough fuel with a margin but they’d met a, met this S shaped sign shaped current of air and what — it has a name. At such a speed that it reduced the speed over the ground so they were using more fuel than necessary. So they decided to land in Calgary. And so that’s what happened. And I went through all the methods of what they were doing up the front and finally landed. And I remember this big circle and as we came in on the threshold the second said to the captain who was an ex-squadron leader, originally from the air force, he said, ‘I bet there’s a change of wind direction on the threshold.’ He said, ‘I’m ready for it.’ And at two hundred feet the plane crabbed because the change in wind direction. And he just, he just moved it over to the port side and we were down. And that was after what? Five or six hours flying. They’re right on the ball these guys. But when I wanted to continue to Seattle they had a new crew in but, because the hours had been taken up. So, but the new crew they were youngish. They didn’t want to know me. So I went back to this American and he still believes I did the bloody landing.
[recording paused]
IL: Interview with Ken Marshall. Just a little bit of extra.
KM: Talk now?
IL: Yeah.
KM: Yeah. Before I went away from home there was a Canadian pilot called Screwball Beurling who learned to fly in Canada when he was very young and the Canadian Air Force wouldn’t have him. So he came to England on a convoy. Got trained. Sent back to Canada to train as a pilot. Returned to England and became a Spitfire pilot. And he was my hero. I have a photograph of him. But later in life I was flying Alitalia to Rome and there was a woman next to me. She was a lady jeweless and when we were circling over Rome she said did I know Screwball Beurling? I said, ‘Screwball Beurling,’ I said, ‘He was my hero.’ ‘Not bloody likely with me,’ she said, ‘He killed my husband.’ I said, ‘How do you mean?’ Well, she said, ‘Well down there at Rome,’ she said, ‘He was, he was flying planes to Israel and he crashed on the take off.’ And I couldn’t believe it. That up there at fifteen thousand feet she should bring up this name of a person that I’d known about. But in actual fact it was always said that his plane was sabotaged. This was after the war of course. But quite an interesting little story.
IL: Absolutely.
KM: But he was the highest scoring. He wouldn’t obey orders back in England so they sent him to Malta to fly and he was in the fiercest battles in Malta and he shot down almost more planes than anybody else. But that was Screwball Beurling and he was my hero.
IL: Absolutely.
KM: Flying over and she said did I know and I said, ‘Yes, he’s my —'
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 Ken Marshall
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Ian Locker
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-02-08
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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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AMarshallKW160208
Conforms To
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Pending OH summary
Format
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00:57:42 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
Ken Marshall, grew up in Barton on Humber and enrolled with the ATC before joining the University Air Squadron at Durham University. On one occasion he saw an aircraft on fire at RAF Elsham Wolds and although the crew was rescued it was a reminder of the risks involved in operational flying. He completed his flying training at 5 BFTS in Florida.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
United States
England--Lincolnshire
England--Yorkshire
Florida
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1939
1943
5 BFTS
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
bombing up
British Flying Training School Program
crash
Halifax
memorial
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Elsham Wolds
RAF Full Sutton
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Torquay
training