1
25
35
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2219/39801/SReidK473650v20039.1.jpg
93ffc06ade3d3cba1f4ade6ab8bede51
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Title
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Reid, Kathryn. Songs and poems
Description
An account of the resource
Thirty-seven items - songs/poems about wartime experiences.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by David Stuart Miers Reid and catalogued by Nigel Huckins
Date
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2018-01-23
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Reid, K
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Title
A name given to the resource
Interrogation
Description
An account of the resource
Multi-line poem about post operation debrief of aircrew. With considerable handwritten editing and notation.
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Poetry
Format
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One-page printed document with handwritten notes
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription
Identifier
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SReidK473650v20039
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
aircrew
arts and crafts
bombing
debriefing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2133/36578/PRosserLV19010038.1.jpg
0c51fdcafcbd360679cc6820b224801c
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Title
A name given to the resource
Rosser, Lewis Victor. Photograph album
Description
An account of the resource
48 items. Covers and 47 page photograph album with photographs of people and aircraft, artwork cards, newspaper cuttings and documents.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-05-17
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.
Identifier
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Rosser, LV
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Title
A name given to the resource
Drinking rum and tea after an operation
Aircrew
Description
An account of the resource
In the foreground left, three aircrew wearing flying suits and parachute harness all holding tea mugs. On the centre right an airman wearing battledress with half brevet holding a mug and on the right a Women's Auxiliary Air force officer holding a teaspoon. in the background other airman and a civilian in a dark coat and hat. In the foreground a table covered with mugs ad a tea urn. Captioned 'Drinking rum and tea after a raid'.
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Type
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Photograph
Format
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One b/w photograph mounted on an album page
Identifier
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PRosserLV19010038
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
aircrew
debriefing
ground personnel
military service conditions
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2117/35528/SGillK1438901v10039-0031.2.jpg
42f1b0f6abcdd6f7160cffd3f9601cc3
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Title
A name given to the resource
Gill, Kenneth. Album two
Description
An account of the resource
Thirty-nine items. Album pages with photographs of family, colleagues, friends and places as well as some copies of documents and newspaper cuttings.
Date
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2017-07-09
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.
Identifier
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Gill, K
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Title
A name given to the resource
Debriefing
Description
An account of the resource
Seven airman sitting round a table being debriefed by a Women's Auxiliary Air Force officer. A wing commander leans over from the right. There are papers, mugs and thermos flasks on the table. In the background another table with five airmen.
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
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph on an album page
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SGillK1438901v10039-0031
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
aircrew
debriefing
ground personnel
pilot
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1830/32783/P78Sqn17060002.1.jpg
e588f6e4d17a4ce9a0ca2bb463cdd573
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Title
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78 Squadron Collection
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-04-21
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
78 Sqn Info
Description
An account of the resource
Eighty-seven items and a sub-collection of seventy-three items.
The collection concerns 78 Squadron and contains documents and photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Tony Hibberd and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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Title
A name given to the resource
Airmen briefing
Description
An account of the resource
Six airmen and member of Women's Auxiliary Air Force sitting round a table covered with documents, a mug and flask. In the background, other servicemen. Submitted with caption 'JB873 Briefing'.
Format
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One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
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P78Sqn17060002
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
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
aircrew
briefing
debriefing
ground personnel
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/630/30879/BPotterPLPotterPLv5.2.pdf
74c5a13dfc72d89e4d5af84233f0c38e
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Title
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Potter, Peter
P Potter
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Potter, P
Description
An account of the resource
39 items. Collection concerns Peter Potter, (1925 - 2019, 1876961 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a rear gunner with 626 Squadron. Collection contains an oral history interview, his logbook, memoirs and photographs
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Peter Potter and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-09-14
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.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Description of operational flying – Potter]
So, after surviving a few trips we were given our own aircraft, UMF2, already a
veteran of many ops. She proved to be the most dependable aircraft. Apart
from the increasing number of bombs painted on the side we also had the
nude lady which I understand was repainted by the next crew after we
completed our tour. The lady was no longer reclining but standing and partly
clothed. At a reunion a chap said it had been ordered to be removed, which it
was, but repainted standing and captioned 'Frigger of the fighting sixes'
instead of 'Frigga of -----. Whoever gave the order must have got the
message as it survived. It was a special aircraft in that for some reason it had
a much better performance than the vast majority of Lancs. She flew faster
than others on the same revs and boost and it didn't make any difference
when engines were changed. Fuel consumption was better. A lovely plane. We
never found her ceiling and she performed well in all weather conditions.
Only once when on an op to Saarbrucken on 5th October 1944 did we have real
problems with icing and engine failure, with loss of all heating. We all
suffered from frostbite and had to abort.
However, on 12th September 1944, target Frankfurt, when evading a fighter
JU88. I smashed my lower jaw and was placed sick. The rest of the crew then
had two abortives and became convinced I was their luck and pleaded with me
to sign myself off which I did and flew with my jaw strapped up, hardly able to
talk, and still living on liquids. Wearing an oxygen mask I was in agony but at
least the pain kept me awake. Bone splinters from the jaw were still working
their way out 40 years later. I was still unable to eat properly for many years
and on occasions my jaw would lock solid for weeks at a time.
Once the bombs had gone we either flew high or very low on our way home,
preferably very high, and, as on the outward journey, weaving about all the
time to allow us the greatest chance of seeing anyone underneath us, a method
that stood us in good stead twice. On a moonlit night we flew high, on dark
nights low, avoiding lit up areas. We used cloud cover at times but not if our
shadow was thrown.
UMF2 survived the war. I was told she completed over one hundred ops but
have not confirmed it. She was one of only two aircraft to fly from beginning
to end of Squadron Ops period and had been on C Flight 12 Squadron before C
Flight became 626 Squadron.
Like many other crews we all learnt as much as possible about each others
jobs and agreed amongst ourselves who was the best substitute for who. It
was decided that Stu Tween W lOP was best gunner, Jim Jackson, N, was best
B/A, Johnny Payne B/A, best F/E, Johnny Moore, MU/G best W/OP. I was
best Pilot and also Nav, but every one of us practised at all other positions. I
was the only one to land the aircraft which I only did 3 times with a very
nervous skipper hovering and the rest on tenterhooks too. What would have
happened if I had needed to do it with a dodgy aircraft I have no idea.
Landing occasions were on August 1st, V2 on return from Rufforth, August 21st
F2 and 29th F2, September 9th Navigated whole trip, September 2nd,
Navigated whole trip.
I had been taught to fly and navigate by a First World War pilot, my father
also, and tried to keep up-to-date as I grew older.
Of all my ops the ones I remember more than the others were: Kiel Canal,
Aire (abortive) when we hit down draft of a cu-nim cloud and the plane was
almost torn to pieces and Frankfurt and Saarbrucken when we landed with
full load of 62,0001bs with 3 engines. We also had a second dickie on board.
(Aire Abortive is reported separately).
When we flew it was necessary to keep a sharp eye out for enemy aircraft,
mostly at take-off and landing. Many of our aircraft were shot down for not
being alert at an times. There was never a time you could relax, even in
England. We were all concerned about the possibility of becoming Prisoners
of War and found out as much as possible from evaders and escapees who
came to give us such information as they had, e.g. no labels or names,
numbers on clothing. I had a Swiss knife with a German inscription on it and
some German matches and watch I believe had been taken from a Prisoner of
War or perhaps a dead German. I also had a French pipe and pouch of French
tobacco which I did not use as .I could not replace it and which by the time I
finished flying was nearly all dust.
Flying an aircraft which is open to the elements requires plenty of clothing. In
most bombers the wind could get into the fuselage from several points. To try
to keep warm was impossible and so we wore many layers of clothing, i.e. one
pair of silk socks, 2 pairs of wool, 1 pair sea boot socks thigh length, silk Long
Johns and vest, silk balaclava and a wool one, 1 wool and 1 cotton vest, 1 RAF
shirt, wool Long Johns, I roll neck sweater, 1 8ft long silk scarf, 1 tunic,
trousers, flying inner suit, electric heating suit, Irving trousers and jacket or
Kapok electric buoyancy suit, silk gloves, wool mittens, electric inner gloves,
leather gauntlets, leather lined flying helmet, fur lined flying boots, Mae West
Parachute Harness. In our pockets we had a torch, all the personal items
mentioned, the escape kit which would have maps of the area, several
currencies, concentrated Horlicks tablets, water purifying tablets etc. In our
clothing were hidden knives, films, maps, compasses etc. There was also a
Thermos, sweets, concentrated caffeine tablets (Wakey,Wakey) which caused
eyes to become dry and sore on a long Op. We also had a parachute to carry.
Despite all the clothing and heating by the time we reached our operating
height the cold would be creeping in and within half-an-hour we would be
freezing. When the temperature was below minus 30 degrees or more the
pain began to penetrate every part of the body. It was not uncommon to suffer
frostbite even with the heating still on. In F2 we also had hot air pipes from
the engine exhausts which were pushed into the flies........ to give extra
warmth to the legs, but still could not dispel the cold.
Before an Op. every piece of equipment was checked. Nothing was left to
chance. We and our ground crew would be crawling all over the plane making
sure nothing was missed. The ground crew of F2 were, 1 believe, the best on
the station (Wickenby). Proof I believe is the fact that F2 was one of only 2
Lancaster's on the Squadron to survive the war.
To increase our chances, we spent time in the sections to keep up-to-date and
also in the Intelligence section, often helping there.
Briefing was conducted before each Op when we were given all information
known at the time about the target and defences and weather en route. Very
often both would be wrong but we expected that and took things as they came.
Winds, cloud cover etc were never left to chance.
Interrogation on our return was more intense and I am afraid here we were less co-operative. After long hours frozen to the marrow all we wanted to do[?]
Interrogation on our return was more intense and I am afraid here we were
less co-operative. After long hours frozen to the marrow all we wanted to do
was get into bed to warm up after a hot meal (egg, chips and beans) and so we
had nothing of note to report wherever possible, even if we had had a brush
with a fighter. Any report unusual would mean an interminable questioning
of every member of the crew when we were dead beat and just wanted to rest
and relax. Only if something was completely new would we bother.
I flew with 3 other crews on Ops, one officially and the other 2 unofficially,
due to chaps being unable to get back to the station, as previously mentioned.
The official Op was with F/O Oram who was on his last Op and had lost both
gunners when he had to ditch. The first was to Kiel and the others to the
Ruhr.
Our ground crew were a grand bunch of chaps. The electrician, George Grant,
lived not far from my parents. On every Op he would bring a 3/4 inch steel
plate, heavily padded, for me to sit on 'for special protection'. Whenever there
was a stand down we would take the ones with nothing to do to a show,
cinema, dance or just a drink. There would sometimes be a dance on the
station and so we would lend or procure SNCO or Officer's uniform for them if
the dance was at one of those messes. Nobody, to my knowledge, ever
complained as most crews did this. We always made sure to get all drinks
when on the station and gave each one a pound to spend as he wished when
off the station. Also when any of them went on leave they were given a pound
a day if single and if married double this with an extra pound for each child.
Each of us shared the cost but the Canucks insisted on paying twice the
amount of us natives. The Canadians also bought two rounds to our one, etc.
Three of us gave local farmers a hand when we could and in return we were
given any farm produce they had. Over our time at Wickenby we were given
chickens, ducks, beef, pork, eggs, milk, cheese, butter, bread, dripping, etc.,
and twice when we couldn't leave the station for a while a delivery was
brought in by the local policeman.
Taking off from the station on a summer or autumn evening, turning towards
the continent, meant I was often presented with some of the most beautiful
sunsets I have ever seen and climbing often prolonged them. We flew into
darkness with bright skies behind, night below and daylight above and the
only real danger from the dark areas, which meant there was no time to linger.
on the exquisite sight behind us.
On each Op I took note of the route and times etc. of different dog legs so that
I would be able to estimate a course to be taken if the Navigator and
navigational equipment were damaged. My hope was that I could give the
Skipper a course to the centre of the British landmass from wherever we might
be at that time and that one of us would be able to check drift, wind speed and
direction and knowing aircraft speed, roughly work out ETA over Britain. All
details had to be kept in my head. We put it into practice only once as an
experiment and arrived over Cromer instead of Lincs. From Kiel. I did
navigate sometimes when on cross-countries and was OK but had all the aids
which I could not rely on in an emergency.
On night ops we flew on the outside of the stream until 30 or 40 miles from
the target when we moved to the right track for bombing, trying to find a spot
with nobody above us. There is nothing more unsettling than being on the
point of dropping the bombs and seeing an aircraft immediately above you
with its bomb doors open with bombs still to be dropped. This happened
three times early in our tour. To see bombs falling in front and behind your
wing and tail tends to make you more cautious and think of a solution. We
flew on the edge and higher than the main stream which allowed us to dive
into the stream if attacked, which in fact got rid of the attacker every time.
On a cross country a Flying Fortress came close to us and indicated a race.
Tom opened up and we moved steadily ahead of him. After about 5 minutes
Tom throttled back. It came alongside again and to our surprise the pilot gave
us the 'V' sign and waved, then moved away. Two days later a jeep called at
the guardroom and left a 40 oz bottle of Bourbon 'for the guys who were flying
the Lancaster UMF with the naked babe on' three days before. How they
found out our station I have no idea. We never found where they were based.
Tom and I collected the bottle and gave each hod in the guardhouse a tot
before leaving. For several days we had personnel who didn't normally travel
around the station coming to look at the 'Babe' and the C.O. commented it was
probably in need of modification but as nobody had complained about it there
was no hurry. Later when there was a stand down, our crew and the ground
crew got together to finish the bottle off with a toast to all USA Forces,
especially USAAF.
On one other occasion, on our way home over the Kattegat, a twin engine
aircraft flew alongside us for 20 minutes, quite close, possibly a Mosquito but
no recognition was possible due to bad visibility. No attempt was made by it
that could have been considered hostile and we thought it was one of ours or
Swedish. One thing we did not do was fire, except in defence, which would
give away our position. I am convinced that some chaps fired at imaginary
aircraft and made themselves targets.
Getting caught in searchlights was always bad. If this happened the usual
evasive action was taken, plus Johnny Payne and I would throw out 'window'!
We had no idea if it helped but we evaded almost immediately every time.
Luck or not it seemed to work.
Air pressure at height reduces the higher you go and can cause some unusual
effects. Nitrogen bubbles in the blood can cause a sensation similar to
intoxication. Also releasing the ground pressure in a flask, particularly hot
beverages, causing the contents to expand and boil.
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Description of operational flying
Description
An account of the resource
Writes of being given their own aircraft with nude lady nose art which survived the war. Mentions icing problem on operation to Saarbrücken. Describes operation to Frankfurt where engaged by Ju-88 where he injured his jaw. Writes that they learn as much about each others jobs as possible and mentions that he had to land his aircrfat three times and navigating for a whole trip. Recounts other operations to Kiel Canal and Aire when they hit downdraft which damaged their aircraft as well as landing back with bombs from Frankfurt and Saarbrücken. Continues with description of keeping lookout for enemy aircraft, flying clothing , escape equipment and crew activities on operations. Writes about ground crew and their activities and more about his actions and incidents during operations, including an airborne encounter with a B-17 and subsequent arrival of a bottle of Bourbon from the American crew. Concludes with other incidents and comments about operations.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Five page printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BPotterPLPotterPLv5
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
United States Army Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Germany--Saarbrücken
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Kiel Canal
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-10-05
1944-09-12
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
aircrew
bombing
briefing
debriefing
Ju 88
Lancaster
military ethos
military service conditions
Mosquito
nose art
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/923/28772/PLeeJR1808.1.jpg
7597e6337948e0c391514a1302b8a2f9
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/923/28772/PLeeJR1809.1.jpg
cb5aa3b4f39a2f3b873f3ad7ce0de312
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Lee, James Roy
J R Lee
Description
An account of the resource
23 items. Concerns James Roy Lee (b. 1923, 575842 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a flight engineer with 467 Squadron until he became a prisoner of war. Collection contains his flying log book, personal and official documents, correspondence, a history of 467 Squadron operations and photographs.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Marilyn Palmer and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-03-20
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Lee, JR
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Aircrew at debrief
Description
An account of the resource
Five aircrew seated and one standing round a table with maps and intelligence officer sitting on left. On the reverse 'F/Sgt Lee standing, L/R S/Ldr Henity interrogating W/C Gomm pilot'.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PLeeJR1808, PLeeJR1809
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.
467 Squadron
aircrew
debriefing
flight engineer
pilot
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1350/28425/PJenkinsFC1503.1.jpg
93f114147123cad297845abf0bbbf155
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
Jenkins, F C
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant F C Jenkins (1920 - 2000) and contains his log book, biography and three photographs. He flew a total of 56 operations as a navigator with 149, 148 and 271 Squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Kevin Jenkins and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-05-14
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
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Jenkins, FC
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
Seven Airmen
Debriefing
Description
An account of the resource
Seven airmen arranged round a table with an officer and a map. On the table are cups of tea.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PJenkinsFC1503
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.
aircrew
debriefing
ground personnel
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1623/25009/PCothliffKB15110034.1.jpg
a3de68aa9d982edca9bd9db72b5bdb72
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1623/25009/PCothliffKB15110099.1.jpg
01c7723c03edcd7e0e553a087784c9f2
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
Cothliff, Ken. Folder 1511
Description
An account of the resource
77 items. The collection contains photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Ken Cothliff and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Cothliff, K
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
Six Airmen
After an operation
Description
An account of the resource
Two identical photographs of six airmen. Five are in flying kit.
They are annotated 'PL22315' and 'UK6255'.
Information supplied with the collection states 'Three countries are represented in the group of Iroquois Squadron airmen pictured as they relaxed after returning from an attack on Mannheim on the night of Nov 18/19, 1943 . Shown are (left to right) front row - Pilot Officer John Morton, an English lad in the R.A.F., navigator; P/O George Rich, from Berkeley, Cal., U.S.A., air gunner; F/O George Milner, also English. Standing - F/O Douglas Wiley, London, Ont. air gunner; F/Sgt. Malcolm McMillan, Edmonton, Alta. pilot.'
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two b/w photographs
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PCothliffKB15110034,
PCothliffKB15110099
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
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
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-11-19
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-11-18
1943-11-19
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
aircrew
debriefing
ground personnel
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1620/24881/PCothliffKB15090019.2.jpg
16ed5ebc9a75e30102dee3b00f9888f7
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
Cothliff, Ken. Folder 1509
Description
An account of the resource
62 items. The collection contains photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Ken Cothliff and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Cothliff, K
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
Seven Airmen being debriefed
Description
An account of the resource
Five airmen are seated at a table and two airmen are looking on. The airman on the right is taking notes and the others are watching.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PCothliffKB15090019
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
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
aircrew
debriefing
pilot
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1620/24880/PCothliffKB15090018.1.jpg
dd5a4bcc8712555591f8c3f231c4e621
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
Cothliff, Ken. Folder 1509
Description
An account of the resource
62 items. The collection contains photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Ken Cothliff and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Cothliff, K
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
Five airmen being debriefed
Description
An account of the resource
Five airmen arranged round a table. The airman in the centre is taking notes and an airman in a leather jacket is working with a map.The other three, including a pilot, are looking on.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PCothliffKB15090018
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
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
aircrew
debriefing
pilot
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/17722/PThompsonKG15010074.1.jpg
5f4b57981f4b79b196f2652695a542de
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/17722/PThompsonKG15010073.1.jpg
505b06efeaca2bf429928645aef4ab4c
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/17722/PThompsonKG15010072.1.jpg
714190f748bd1ba6fa8d21b1f7f483f8
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/17722/PThompsonKG15010071.2.jpg
2bd9304839668ddfdb69a6dd23d259f7
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/17722/PThompsonKG15010070.1.jpg
0a2e160a58a42ca737f57fae1091b8eb
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/17722/PThompsonKG15010069.1.jpg
8cd1c9d872ff12d4067e4fa0baead061
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
Thompson, Keith G
K G Thompson
Description
An account of the resource
95 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Keith Thompson DFC (1238603 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and training material as well as his navigation logs. He flew operations as a navigator with 101 and 199 Squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Mark S Thompson and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-09-07
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Thompson, KG
Access Rights
Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies.
Permission granted for commercial projects
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[black and white photograph of three airmen in the doorway of a runway caravan]
“GREEN – TAKE OFF”
[black and white photograph of family group standing outside of a Nissan Hut]
MUM, DAD & PAT & PAM ‘46
[black and white photograph of airman in uniform and woman and a girl outside of a Nissan Hut]
[black and white photograph of family group with a woman in WAAF uniform]
[black and white photograph of a group of airmen being de-briefed]
RUM, COFFEE & FAG WHILE DE-BRIEFING
[black and white photograph of woman in WAAF uniform sitting on a post in front of a sandy beach]
[black and white photograph of an airman standing in front of a hedge]
[page break]
[telegram]
MESSAGE FORM
R.A.F. Form 96
[ink stamp]
TO: 177463 P/O Thompson R. G. Officers Mess
Congratulations on winning Decoration
Love from all at home.
Mother.
[page break]
-2-
reunion in 1968. The new owner of his house could not have recall his from when I telephoned a few weeks Back. However, as I had never seen his log book or talked of 101 I never knew that Corkill was his skipper or that you were the nav!
From my records I can add extra details of the crew now:-
[picture of two medals]
PILOT: K.D. CORKILL. VR. DFC AWARDED c. 9/44
NAV: YOURSELF “ “ “ c. 11/44
F/E: E.A.F. COLE “ “ “ c 10/44
W/OP: C. MANSER “ DFM “ “
B/A: L. GUNDY (RCAF) DFC “ “
M/U: L.P. SWALES VR DFM “ “
L/G: E.G. WELSH “ “ “ “
SPECL/W/OP: P.N.D. SKINGLEY “ DFC “ c 11/44
Hope you have some photos from your 101 days? Shots of 101’s Lancs are particularly hard to come by due no doubt to the extra secruity [sic] and lack of film.
Will contact you soon. Are you still in the RAF? Yours sincerely
Mike Garbett
(M. GARBETT)
[two newspaper cuttings]
THE DISTINGUISHED FLYING CROSS
Awarded to officers and warrant officers of the R.A.F. and Dominion Air Forces for acts of exceptional valour, courage, or devoting to duty while flying in active operations against the enemy. The ribbon is one and a quarter inches wide and has alternate violet and white stripes, one-eighth of an inch wide, running at an angle of 45o downwards towards the wearer’s left. An heraldic description of the Cross, which is of silver, is “a Cross flory, terminated in the horizontal and base bars with bombs, the upper bar terminating with a rose, surmounted by another cross composed of aeroplane propellers charged in the centre with a roundel within a wreath of laurels a rose winged ensigned by an Imperial Crown, thereon the letters R.A.F. On the reverse side the Royal Cypher above the date 1918.”
THE DISTINGUISHED FLYING MEDAL
Awarded to N.C.O.’s and airmen of the R.A.F. and Dominion Air Forces for exceptional valour, courage, or devotion to duty while flying in active operations against the enemy. The design and colours of the ribbon are the same as those of the D.F.C., except that the diagonal stripes are one-sixteenth of an inch in width. The Medal, which is of silver and oval shaped, bears “Our Effigy on the obverse, and on the reverse, within a wreath of laurels, a representation of Athena Nike seated on an aeroplane, a hawk, rising from her right arm above the words, ‘For Courage.’ The whole ensigned by a bomb attached to the clasp and ribbon by two wings.”
PHONE [missing words]
8-2-68
[underlined] REF. 101 SQUADRON [/underlined]
Dear Keith Thompson,
Thank you for letter and I confirm Saturday February 17th for my visit: will arrive somewhere between 2 and 3 PM.
Trust you will have your log book and other material to hand for I will bring mine and we should have an interesting chat.
Have been through East Wretham before to look at 115 Squadron’s old base, so should find your place O.K Thanks for the map, which will help no end.
Look forward to meeting you.
Yours sincerely
Mike Garbett
M. GARBETT.
[underlined] PS [/underlined] Would like a copy of your 101 battle order. Can you get it xeroxed please? If not I will copy it by hand on the 17th!
[page break]
[identity card]
[inserted] 177463 [/inserted]
THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT – [deleted] P/O [/deleted] [inserted] F/LT [/inserted] THOMPSON KEITH GRAHAME
Whose personal description, photograph and signature appear hereon, is serving in the RAF
Changes in rank or appointment to commissioned rank are to be indicated below. All entries must be made in ink by an officer. Signatures or initials are not required.
[heading] New Rank – Effective Date – Reference of official authority for change in rank and date of authority [/heading]
P/O – 26/5/44 – AIR MINISTRY
F/O – 26/11/44 – 27/12/45 LOND. GAZETTE
F/LT – 26/5/46 – 21/6/46 37619 LOND. GAZETTE.
[underlined] Personal description of holder [underlined]
Height 5’ 10” Build MED
Colour of Eyes GREEN Colour of hair RED
Date of birth 14-6-1923
[black and white head shot of F/Lt Thompson]
Signature of holder [signature]
Signature of Issuing Officer [signature]
Rank F/LT Date 17-5-44
CARD NO. 314967
[page break]
[newspaper cutting]
HUDDERSFIELD WAAF WEDS D.F.C.
[black and white photograph of Flt. Lt. Kenneth Corkhill and his bride, Mary Watson]
Flying Officer Kenneth David Corkill, D.F.C., of the Isle of Man, and his bride, Miss Mary Watson, of Lockwood Huddersfield, a member of the W.A.A.F. after their wedding at Crosland Moor Parish Church, Huddersfield, yesterday
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 Ludford Magna
Description
An account of the resource
Photograph showing runway caravan manned by three airmen one using Aldis lamp, captioned 'Green - Take off'.
Photograp of five individuals talking to a seated officer studying paperwork on his desk, caption 'Rum coffee & a fag while de-briefing'. Annotated K. Scot Nav 101 Squadron Ludford Magna De-brief.
Two small photographs of family group with Nissen hut end wall as background, captioned ' Mum, Dad & Pat & Pam '46'.
Small photograph of same family group plus WAAF, same WAAF perched on a post, sandy beach as background.
Small photograph of Keith standing in front of hedge.
Telegram stamped Signal section 17 Oct 1944 RAF Hixon, it is addressed to 177463 P/O Thompson Officers Mess and reads 'Congratulations on winning decoration. Love from all at home. Mother'.
Letter to Keith Thompson from Mike Garbett. On the letter are drawings of the DFC and DFM and printed description of the medals and ribbons and the award criteria.
Certificate recording Keith Thompson's commission and subsequent promotions.
Newspaper clipping 'Huddersfield WAAF marries DFC' shows bride and groom about to enter their car after the ceremony. further caption 'Flying Officer Kenneth David Corkill D.F.C. of the Isle of Man, and his bride Miss Mary Watson of Lockwood, Huddersfield, a member of the W.A.A.F. after their wedding at the Crossland Moor Parish church, Huddersfield yesterday.'
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Seven b/w photographs, a letter, clipping and a telegram 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
PThompsonKG15010069, PThompsonKG15010070, PThompsonKG15010071, PThompsonKG15010072, PThompsonKG15010073, PThompsonKG15010074
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
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
101 Squadron
control caravan
debriefing
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
love and romance
Nissen hut
RAF Hixon
RAF Ludford Magna
runway
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/17700/PThompsonKG15010063.2.jpg
6d416eba922162937a5af16b1ef30084
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/17700/PThompsonKG15010064.2.jpg
d6f9b403edeb9cc868a4ab12a2c0332e
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/17700/PThompsonKG15010065.2.jpg
f05194a2153186cd5768f496295e1c5e
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
Thompson, Keith G
K G Thompson
Description
An account of the resource
95 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Keith Thompson DFC (1238603 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and training material as well as his navigation logs. He flew operations as a navigator with 101 and 199 Squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Mark S Thompson and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-09-07
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Thompson, KG
Access Rights
Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies.
Permission granted for commercial projects
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
February 19, 1944 – ILLUSTRATED 5
[Photograph]
Good-bye, Berlin
[Photograph]
BEFORE THE RAID. Dressed and ready, suitably garbed against the intense cold of high altitude flying, a gunner takes a few minutes’ relaxation in the crew room before the signal to go out to his post in the aircraft
Carl Olsson and Cameraman R. Saidman visit a front-line bomber station which is helping to give Berlin the final K.O. The crews will soon be looking for a new No. 1 target
“THERE it is,” said our guide, pointing to a blob sticking up out of the East Anglian landscape. The blob only [italics] looked [/italics] like a dwarfish control tower but it might have been anything else, a barn, a grain silo, or an overgrown cowshed.
Our car turned down a lane not much better than a farm track, and as we got nearer the “blob,” we saw it was surrounded by a sea of Nissen huts.
“Here we are,” said our guide again, and we stepped out – ankle deep into rich, sticky, Fenland mud.
We paddled through the mud towards a block of hutments, catching distant glimpses of solid ground – concrete runways – wreathed in cold sea-mist – with the sombre looming shapes of Lancaster night bombers grouped at dispersal points, “front-line” stations rushed up in wartime to serve the needs of our ever mounting onslaught against Germany.
From dozens of stations like it our bomber squadrons have gone out night after night to blast and burn the heart out of Berlin and other military targets in Hitler’s Reich.
It was nearly a year since I had last visited an operational bombing station, and I found a lot of things changed, not least of which I would group under the heading of living amenities.
Gone are the days of central heating and the comfortable, brick-built living quarters of the so-called “permanent” stations. With few exceptions these have now been put to other purposes. And the R.A.F. has been very generous in handing over its best accommodation to our American and other Allies.
Officers and men live alike in the same kind of Nissen huts dumped down on “communal sites,” often with no such thing as “water laid on” and with a mile and more of unmade roads separating them from their messes and their working quarters.
The nearest town with a couple of pubs and one picture palace is often several miles away, and R.A.F. regulations, harder on petrol restrictions than most civilian authorities, allow no free transport to get there.
OVER
[page break]
6 ILLUSTRATED – February 19, 1944
[Photograph]
AT THE CONTROL POINT. A LANCASTER IS SIGNALLED INTO POSITION FOR THE TAKE-OFF. THEY LEAVE AT MINUTE INTERVALS
[Photograph]
SHOES ON PARADE. This front-line bomber station is a quagmire. Everybody wears gumboots. These shoes are waiting for their owners in the cloakroom
[Photograph]
AND THE BOOTS. A picture which tells its own story. Mud-caked gumboots wait to take the place of shoes as soon as the officers come out from lunch
GOOD-BYE, BERLIN – continued
Station entertainment is limited to a cinema projector. ENSA shows are unknown because there is no timber to build a stage. It is a front-line existence almost as completely as if they were operating from newly conquered territory.
But if they grumble a bit (and who wouldn’t) they grumble cheerfully and give their station nicknames usually based on the word mud. And they carry on working even harder than the R.A.F. has ever done before in its history.
This station I visited, for instance, only came into being last July. The bombers flew in, and air and ground crews arrived long before the constructor’s men were off the site. The aircrew were over Germany the day after their arrival at the new station. Since that day they have taken several thousand tons of bombs to Germany – most of them to Berlin.
Such a load in so short a time (and you must allow for long periods of non-flying weather) is some measure of the tempo of destruction which Bomber Command has built up from these front-line stations, and of the sweat and toil of those anonymous heroes, the ground crews, who have kept the squadrons flying sometimes on several [italics] consecutive [/italics] nights of operations.
Multiply the weight of attack achieved by this station by the many scores of similar stations in the command and one begins to realize why the great city of Hamburg has vanished from the lists of the world’s ports and why Berlin is being erased as a centre of the German war machine.
Even now, in the fifth year of the war, and after endless series of communiques, streams of “eye witness” stories and miles of photographs, it is difficult for ordinary civilians to visualize the effect of concentrated [italics] aerial [/italics] bombardment. But the following comparison may help.
On the Sangro front in Italy, often spoken of as the biggest [italics] land [/italics] bombardment of this war, 1,400 tons of shells came down in [italics] eight hours [italics]. On the Fifth Army front 100,000 of our shells, i.e. between 2,000 and 2,400 tons, went down in [italics] eighteen hours [/italics]. Remember these were fronts many miles in length and mostly open country. Yet they smashed the German defence and prisoners spoke of the astounding paralysing effect of these heavy bombardments.
And now compare the figures of air assault. To take one instance only, on the night of January 20/21 this
[Photograph]
AIRCREWS’ RATIONS. Here are some of the ration parcels being checked before take-off. Parcels contain chocolate, chewing-gum, milk tablets, etc.
[Photograph]
HOT DRINKS for the bitterly cold upper altitudes. Each member of the aircrew brings his own Thermos flask to the crew room where he fills it with tea or coffee
[page break]
February 19, 1944 – ILLUSTRATED 7
[Photograph]
NOT A FLANDERS FIELD but an aerodrome somewhere in England. Some of the crew of a Lancaster bomber, [italics] en route [/italics] to Berlin paddle across a muddy carpet to the trucks which will take them to aircraft waiting at “dispersal.”
[Photograph]
BLOCKBUSTER. One view of the rarely seen 4,000-lb. bomb – but often [italics] felt [/italics] within Germany. They call them blockbusters there because their appalling blast shifts whole blocks of buildings. Wall symbols denote this station’s raid activities.
[Photograph]
“K” FOR KING’S CREW GO ABOARD. ON THE STATION THEY CALL IT THE “LEAGUE OF NATIONS” CREW BECAUSE IT IS REPRESENTATIVE OF SO MANY COUNTRIES. NOTE THE NEW BODY ARMOUR THEY ARE WEARING ON TEST
OVER
[page break]
8 ILLUSTRATED – February 19, 1944
[Photograph]
AFTER THE RAID. The crew of “U” for Uncle, first back from Berlin, report to technical officers, veteran raiders themselves, about the night’s “show.” They report to these experts before the normal interrogation
[Photograph]
SOME OF THE RESULTS. A picture, obtained from neutral sources, of the damage in Charlottenburg quarter of Berlin. This suburb is the centre of many important war industries. It has received some of the heaviest attacks
GOOD-BYE BERLIN – continued
year, 2,300 tons of bombs went down on Berlin [italics] in thirty minutes [/italics]! There have been similar loads in even shorter time on that city.
Remember, too, that the bombs are falling into built-up areas, on a shorter front than a land attack. Remember, too, that, tonnage for tonnage, a bomb contains a much higher explosive charge than a shell.
No city, no defence system, can stand up under such attacks, scientifically delivered, as Bomber Command is now making.
Every major raid over Germany is now like a big land battle, planned and conducted just as meticulously and entailing the same amount of prodigious human effort. As the scale of attacks has mounted, as living conditions at R.A.F. stations have become more and more Spartan, so the operational routine has changed from a year ago.
One innovation is the employment of “leaders” in the various skills which make up an aircrew. These men – bomb leader, gunnery leader, navigation leader, engineer leader, etc. – take a lot of work off the shoulders of the wing commanders and the station commander.
They are all experts at their jobs, veterans of many raids into enemy territory – some of them running into three figures – and they form a sort of permanent Brains Trust at each station, guiding and advising the aircrews for which they are responsible, as well as the executive officers at the station.
It is a system which makes for great efficiency and speed in laying on operations, lower casualties and more successful attacks. These “leaders” need never fly on ops again, though of course a good many of them do, “just to keep their hands in.”
Picture the routine as it is now (and as it was at this station I visited on the day of a big Berlin raid). A signal comes through from Group H.Q. (who in turn has got it from Bomber Command) at about 10 a.m., briefly intimating that ops are on that night, that “maximum effort” is required and asking how many aircraft can be “offered” from that station. The wing commander calls a conference at which all the “leaders” are present.
First to report is the engineer officer, with his little board chalked with the name and degree of serviceability of all the bombers on the station. He says he can “offer” so many aircraft for that night with certainty, and gives their names. This information is signalled to group and then the conference gets down to the business of picking crews.
No target has yet been mentioned until another signal comes in giving some indication of it and stating the bomb load and composition. The navigation leader plots out rough courses on his chart and the conference then works out the petrol load and safety margins required. The whole machinery of the station swings into action.
At the bomb dumps the handlers are rolling out the 4,000 lb. “cookies” and the big incendiary containers for loading up. Maintenance and ground crews are swarming over the bombers at dispersal points, checking and adjusting. Petrol and oil are being drawn from the storage. (A 700-bomber attack on Berlin uses up 1,500,000 gallons of petrol.) Waafs in the kitchen are cutting sandwiches for the crews, packing rations of chocolate, chewing gum and milk tablets.
In the locker rooms other ground staff are getting out equipment for each of the aircrew – silk and electrically heated clothing, flying suits, boots, Mae Wests, all the massive impedimenta each man carries with him.
If it is a daylight take-off, briefing is early. From that moment the station is cut off by telephone from all the outside world. The crews go from the “briefing” to their “operational meal” (usually an egg) and from there to the crew room to change into flying kit.
They talk to nobody (except to those who were at the briefing) about their target; not even to their own ground crews.
An hour before take-off they are at their machines. And then at slightly over minute intervals, more regularly than a train service, they are signalled down the runway to join the great host from the other stations at the appointed rendezvous, and to fill the night sky above Germany with the appalling giant beat of their massed engines.
Good-bye Berlin!
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Title
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Good-bye Berlin
Description
An account of the resource
Article by Carl Olssen from 'Illustrated' magazine 19 February 1944. Comments on the operations to Berlin, on the poor living conditions on all the newly built airfields, outlines the preparations for an operation throughout the station. Numerous photographs showing various aspects of the stations activities including one of Lancaster DV267 with its eight man 'League of Nations' crew.
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1944-02-19
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Four page magazine article
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eng
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Photograph
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PThompsonKG15010063, PThompsonKG15010064, PThompsonKG15010065
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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Germany
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
Germany--Berlin
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1944-02-19
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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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IBCC Digital Archive
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David Bloomfield
Angela Gaffney
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Workflow A completed
101 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bomb aimer
bomb trolley
bombing
control caravan
debriefing
entertainment
flight engineer
ground crew
ground personnel
Lancaster
military living conditions
military service conditions
navigator
pilot
RAF Ludford Magna
service vehicle
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/707/19133/BBennettTBennettTv1.1.pdf
e4ad097b0ecbfce57244070e8a04acb9
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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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Bennett, Tom
T Bennett
Description
An account of the resource
One item. A memoir by Tom Bennett. He flew operations as a navigator with 617 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Don Hiller and catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-07-01
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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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Bennett, T
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Transcription
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[inserted] 1 [/inserted] I cannot recall the operation mounted by No's 1 and 5 Groups, Bomber Command, on the night of 3/4th May 1944, against the French target of Mailly-le-Camp without a feeling of tremendous sadness, even after the passage of [deleted] fifty-eight years [/deleted] [inserted] [deleted] some sixty two [/deleted] almost seven decades [/inserted]. That night I witnessed the early stages of a slaughter of aircraft which contemporary aircrew could NEVER have previously associated with a "French target" at that period of the war. That sadness is more than a little tinged with bitterness, but, nevertheless, there IS a thread of personal thankfulness running through the weave.
The four Mosquito marker crews of 617 Squadron were very surprised to be summoned to the Briefing Room at RAF Woodhall Spa, Lincolnshire during the afternoon of the 3rd May 1944. Together with the remainder of the whole aircrew strength of the Squadron, they had been briefed for OPERATION TAXABLE (the "D-DAY SPOOF") and had come under the ban from operations until TAXABLE had been fulfilled. At the briefing, they discovered that a German Panzer Division was temporarily bivouaced [sic] in the French Tank Training Camp at Mailly-le-Camp, some 150 km ESE of Paris. This Division was apparently en route to position behind the "Atlantic Wall" and the Allied Command was anxious that this prime target be hit before it could move out again. 627 Squadron, the Mosquito squadron undertaking target-marking duties for 5 Group, had but recently assumed this role, on transfer from No 8 (P.F.F.) Group, and it was felt by Bomber Command Headquarters that this "one-off" target really needed the expertise that the 617 marker crews had regularly demonstrated in the finding of small
[inserted] 1 [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] 2 [/inserted] targets, difficult to locate by purely radar aids.
Since the Lancaster element of 617 Squadron was not taking part in this operation, it was not considered necessary to give these marker crews the usual full "MAIN FORCE" briefing, but just the elements that applied to the actual target area...time of first flare-fall..timing of the first wave of aircraft (which was to be the 5 Group effort)..lull time for the marking of the area allocated to the second wave of aircraft (1 Group)...Wing Commander Cheshire to be "MARKER LEADER" ...indeed, I remember that the main emphasis for the Mossie crews was on security, so unusually disturbed was the Intelligence side with the prospect of four crews operating, each member of which knew that D-DAY could not be far away. In effect, the bottom line was "MARK YOUR TARGET AND THEN GET THE HELL BACK TO U.K.!!". Operational aircrew were exhorted to keep themselves up-to-date with all that was going on in relation to the Intelligence side of the war. Without exception, the Intelligence section of an operational RAF station was most comfortably furnished and staffed with very pleasant WAAF personnel. An intriguing amount of wide-ranging literature was always available and, at strategic times, a nice mug of tea! In a browse through some of the literature a week or so before the Mailly-le-Camp operation, I had come across an item which said that a German prisoner of war had stated that an operation order rested in the safes of all Luftwaffe day-fighter squadrons in France, code named "WILDE SAU" ...the order to be invoked when moonlight conditions were such that day fighters could readily be scrambled to operate in a "freelance" role during the passage of a bomber stream over France. However, not a vestige of this came into
[inserted] 2 [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] 3 [/inserted] my mind during the preparation period.
Wg Cdr Cheshire and Sqn Ldr Dave Shannon were detailed as markers for the 5 Group wave and thus they took off some time before the Mosquitos of Flt Lt Terry Kearns and Flt Lt Gerry Fawke. I was Gerry Fawke's navigator and my log book shows that we were airborne from Woodhall Spa at 2230 hrs. The trip down England was uneventful ...the "GEE" radar aid working well and wind velocities soon well checked and logged...a lovely moonlight night with no sign of cloud at any altitude. We were at 6000 feet, a height reckoned to be reasonably safe from light "flak" and below the minimum height of the heavier stuff ...also it enabled one to work without the oxygen mask clamped across the face. We crossed the English coast on time at Beachy Head and sped towards the enemy coast, to cross just to the east of Dieppe.
It was during this Channel crossing that I began to appreciate fully just how bright the moonlight was. The invisible enemy "jamming" of the Gee radar had begun to invade the main time base but at that stage, it could be "read through" without much difficulty. I found it was eminently possible to map-read accurately in the brightest moonlight I could ever recall, except perhaps when crossing the Alps en route for Italy, back in mid-October 1942. I used Gee very sparingly, mainly across areas devoid of the more definable pin-points.
One of the advantages of being in the second wave was that one could see the "party" starting well ahead and the final run-in could be made merely by steering visually towards the action. We arrived in the immediate area of the Camp and it appeared that the raid was progressing very favourably. We had picked up no messages on the VHF
[inserted] 3 [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] 4 [/inserted] frequency, neither did we experience any invasion of the VHF channel by any outside brodcasting [sic] unit.
Gerry positioned the Mossie for the marking dive we would need to make and we watched as sticks of bombs hammered home around the well-placed markers. We could see that these had been laid very accurately. I kept Gerry informed as the minutes ticked away and at the beginning of the "lull time", our Mossie was perfectly poised for the marking dive. We had just about commenced the dive without actually being committed to it when a stick of bombs exploded across the target. Gerry wheeled out of the dive and climbed to regain the altitude lost and re-position for the dive. Further sticks of bombs fell during this period and yet again as we commenced the second attempt to mark. I was shocked and appalled at this! In the self-contained 617 Squadron operations to which we had grown accustomed, timings were STRICTLY adhered to, and I took a very shady view of the lack of discipline that the Main Force crews were showing, not appreciating the chaotic situation developing above us.
As we sought to re-position, Gerry "buttoned" the VHF. "PLEASE STOP BOMBING! We are trying to mark for the second wave!". For the first and only time, we heard another voice across the ether. "Well, get a move on, mate!" came a calm but firm Australian voice "Things are getting a bit hot up here!" ...and this was the first indication we had as a crew that perhaps things were not going quite as expected. However, no further fall of bombs interrupted the marking process and both Mossie crews managed to lay their markers very close to the new aiming point. We were to discover later that Terry Kearns and his navigator Home Barclay had also had the same
[page break]
[inserted] 5 [/inserted] disconcerting marking experience as we had endured. How ironic if a blast of "friendly" bombs (if there are such things!) had delivered us to German interrogation!
Satisfied that the marking duty had been performed accurately, we now readily obeyed the urgent order to "cut and run" and we set course on the return route. We had seen no aircraft shot down on the way in but scarcely had we embraced the first leg away from the target when the first ghastly sight of a heavy bomber exploding in flames on the ground struck our eyes, the obscene fireball illuminating momentarily the pall of oily smoke that was always a part of such macabre scenes. To our mounting horror and concern, this was not an isolated incident! Again and yet again the tragedy was repeated. I tried to persuade myself that it could be night-fighters being destroyed, but each funeral pyre was too large for that. When a fifth bomber cremated itself around us, Gerry said "Not a healthy area for a twin-engined aircraft, Ben! Let's find another way home!". I gave him a rough course for the nearest safe part of the coast and then buried myself in the niceties of "tidying up" this rough alteration to ensure that we crossed the French coast at a reasonably quiet spot. I could not exorcise from my mind the glimpse of hell we had had inflicted on us. My mind grappled with this unbelievable torment until, quite suddenly, I recalled the Intelligence item of the "WILDE SAU" operation order. Had this order been invoked? Certainly all the weather conditions were as required ... I pushed the matter to the back of my mind. There was an aircraft to get back to base and that was my primary and paramount duty at that moment! We landed at Woodhall Spa at 0230 hrs on 4th May 1944, still very
[inserted] 5 [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] 6 [/inserted] silent and appalled at the carnage we had seen, all the more unbelievable for being associated with a FRENCH target. All four Mosquitos had landed safely, much to everyone's relief ...most of the aircrew staff had waited up, so concerned were they for our safe return. The news was flashed through to Headquarters, Bomber Command as soon as the fourth Mossie had landed!
It was in the debriefing room that we first heard talk of interference on the VHF channel and a developing communications difficulty ...of "Chesh's" despair trying to sort out the fraught situation that had developed and his unsuccessful attempts to abort the operation. The two earlier Mosquito crews had not seen the carnage the latter pair had observed. Dave Shannon's navigator, Len Sumpter, said that as soon as they were satisfied they had nothing more to contribute to the proceedings, they had hared for home. Pat Kelly, "Chesh's" navigator, said they had seen a couple of bombers shot down, but nothing like the scenes we had described. Pat was somewhat mollified by our eye-witness description of the effectiveness of the first wave bombing, but most concerned at the communications mayhem.
At our personal debriefing, I said to the Intelligence officer "I feel we have seen the activation of the German operation order "WILDE SAU"". He looked at me, absolutely perplexed. I said "Add it as a footnote, Arthur. I'm sure someone at Group or Command will fathom it!" ...but there was never any later reference to the observation.
Our worst fears were confirmed later that day ....42 Lancasters missing, 14 from the 5 Group first wave and 28 from the 1 Group second wave. My initial personal reaction was that 5 Group had stirred the hornets' nest and 1 Group had taken the stings. One
[inserted] 6 [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] A [/inserted] Many years later, I was stirred into deeply researching this operation through reading a magazine article which, to me, did not truly reflect the situation, certainly not during the development of the actual operation. Also, Leonard Cheshire had returned from a visit to his "Homes" in Australia. During his stay, he had been challenged on three separate occasions by ex-Bomber Command aircrew who had laid the losses of Mailly-le-Camp firmly at his door! He had endeavoured to put the correct circumstances to his accusers but felt he had made little impression. He was most concerned that the whole truth should be put into the public domain.
I carried out a lot of personal research, both in the archives available at the Public Record Office, Kew, and also with the two surviving Mossie navigators, Pat Kelly having been killed on a later Dortmund-Ems Canal operation with 49 Squadron whilst filling the post of Station Navigation Officer at RAF East Kirkby. None of us were aware of any VHF interference by an outside broadcasting source. Leonard Cheshire made some reference to such interference but the post-operational report of the Controller, Wing Commander Deane, 83 Squadron, was quite adamant that this was present and had prevented him from instructing the first wave to commence bombing, once he was satisfied that the specific target area had been correctly marked. He had instructed his Wireless Operator to pass the "Commence Bombing" message through to the force on the allocated W/T frequency, but this too failed to get through. Investigation after the operation showed that the Master Bomber's W/T transmitter was at least 30 k/cs off tune, but whether this was a set fault or human error was not stated.
I did discover something that truly shocked me... a Yellow Target Indicator was
[inserted] A [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] B [/inserted] dropped away from the target so that the bombers had a datum around which to orbit should there be any delay in the marking procedure. This propensity in the realms of Higher Authority to assume that Main Force squadron crews needed this sort of cosseting was a constant source of irritation to me. These crews had had EXACTLY the same training as all the so-called "specialist" crews and the navigators, in the main, could reasonably be expected to keep station in a waiting area without aids that were also visible to a very active enemy, especially when two well-known powerful night-fighter bases, Chalons-sur-Marne and St Dizier, were both within 45 kms of the target, with five other similar bases within comparatively short fighter flying time!
The two Pathfinder squadrons who had been returned to 5 Group in April 1944 were not at all enamoured that visual marking by Mosquitos might reduce them to "flare carrying" forces although this role carried a very great responsibility. When 617 Squadron were experimenting and perfecting this low-level marking technique in the winter of 1943-44, it was a duty that was laid upon some of the Squadron's most experienced crews, who accepted it willingly. Air Vice Marshal D.C.T. Bennett, the Air Officer Commanding No 8 Group (PFF) was violently opposed to this new concept of target marking and there can be no doubt that his views continued to influence many of the officers who had served under him in 8 Group [deleted] , [/deleted] after the return of 83 and 97 Squadrons to 5 Group. 627 Squadron had inevitably had some marking "hiccups" during their short run in the role but I always hold that Leonard Cheshire was at his shrewdest when he chose very experienced Lancaster aircrew to man the Mosquito Marker aircraft of 617 Squadron. These aircrew came to the role knowing from their own personal experience what confusion could ensue from "delayed marking" of a target and their
[inserted] B [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] C [/inserted] whole emphasis was to ensure that targets were "prepared" on time. It was quite another matter if individual crews, dissatisfied with their initial bombing run, decided to abort and "go round again" ...the prime duty of the marker crews was to have the target readily available for a "straight through, no messing" initial run. Also, [deleted] Bomber Command [/deleted] [inserted] 5 Group [/inserted] crews were required to adjust their speed along the route to bring them to each turning-point at a specified time. The provision of an "orbitting [sic] datum" was a temptation for the less experienced crews to "press on regardless", arrive early in the target area and while away the surplus time orbitting [sic] the datum. It is to the great credit of the Deputy Leader of the first wave, Sqn Ldr Sparkes, 83 Squadron, that he perceived the danger accruing from the very visible Yellow datum marker and ordered it NOT to be renewed.
According to the post-operational report of Wg Cdr Deane, the Green Target Indicator dropped by the OBOE-controlled Mosquito was timed at 2359 hrs and fell about 800 mts north of the target centre. Wg Cdr Cheshire was the first Marker in, diving from 3000 feet to 1500 feet before releasing his red "spot fires" at 0001 hrs. These were judged to be slightly North-east of the aiming point, which was the south-east area of the Camp. Dave Shannon was apprised of this and he dived from 3000 to 400 feet to lay his red spots accurately on the aiming point at 0006 hours. Thus, the target WAS "prepared" on time. It was then, through the communication difficulties, that things began to go seriously awry. Post-operation reports of the returning crews indicate just how confused the situation became. 106 SQUADRON: "No W/T messages received before bombing. R/T messages were contradictory". 44 SQUADRON: "No instructions received on R/T or W/T. Aircraft bombed because they saw other aircraft bombing". 630 SQUADRON: "Marking precise and
[inserted] C [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] D [/inserted] accurate. R/T bad". 49 SQUADRON, 9 SQUADRON, 50 SQUADRON and 207 SQUADRON all commended the accuracy of the red spot fires and Sqn Ldr Blore-Jones of 207 Squadron added this rider: "Yellow T.I. on datum. No orders from Controller. Complete chaos in target area. Controller inefficient and crew discipline bad". A further comment from 49 Squadron: "Congestion over target to a degree of suicide. 18 to 25 minutes wait for order to bomb". Sqn Ldr Sparkes' aircraft was shot down, but he parachuted safely, evaded capture and was sheltered by French families in the district until the American Army came through the area.
Thus the crews of 1 Group flew unwittingly into a maelstrom not of their own making, but which was to extract a high price for the failure of others.
It is not generally appreciated that Wg Cdr Deane (83 Sqdn) was Controller ONLY for the 5 Group element of the operation, i.e. the first wave. On 6th April 1944, a Special Duties Flight had been formed in 1 Group, under Sqn Ldr Breakspear, at RAF Binbrook, Lincolnshire. 6 Lancaster aircraft were allocated to this new Flight and the aircrew, together with a ground-crew complement of 80 personnel, were drawn from the squadrons within 1 Group. This Flight undertook an intensive training programme, designed to allow 1 Group to operate independently at some future date. On the night of 24/25th April 1944, ten aircraft of No 101 Squadron were detailed to attack Munich in company with 239 Lancasters of 5 Group. The main purpose of this was to give these 1 Group crews some first-hand experience of the new marking technique being employed by 5 Group for the day when
[inserted] D [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] E [/inserted] similar independent operations would be undertaken by 1 Group. All ten crews returned safely, and the pilots' reports on the technique and results were very favourable. The operation against Mailly-le-Camp was chosen for the operational debut of 1 Group's Special Duties Flight.
Blissfully unaware of the instinctive cancellation by the 5 Group Deputy Controller of the datum Yellow marker for 5 Group crews, the crews responsible for laying and renewing the datum point for the 1 Group crews kept it marked throughout the period of 1 Group's prime involvement.
Some of the 1 Group crews were given a special target within the north-west area of the Camp ...the tank park. The two 617 Mosquitos were to mark the MAIN area for the majority of the 1 Group crews, and aircraft of the 1 Group Special Duties Flight would INDEPENDENTLY mark the tank park. The post operational report in the 1 Group Operational Record Book for this operation makes interesting reading: "It would appear that the Master of Ceremonies was unable to determine the accuracy of the first markers (?R/T trouble). Delay of 10-12 minutes before Main Force ordered to bomb red spots. Orbitting and R/T interference caused confusion. Red spots confirmed by 1 Group aircraft to be well placed. Fires from first attack on south-east caused a huge pall of rising smoke. Confirmed south-east attack highly successful. Opposition from night-fighters on a large scale- numerous sightings and combats. SPECIAL AIMING POINT (Tank Park)..Green Target Indicator undershot by 1000 yards: next one 500 yards. Deputy Master of Ceremonies claimed a marker much nearer the aiming point. Crews ordered to switch to main area but some crews did not receive this message and continued to bomb the original target".
[inserted] E [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] F [/inserted] The post-operational report of the 1 Group Master of Ceremonies, Sqn Ldr Breakspear, reads: "Markers and bombing slightly short but a fair number of bombs fell right across the target". One aircraft of the Special Duties Flight failed to return.
The reports from the other squadrons in the Group are more precise and expansive. 101 SQUADRON: "Red spots accurate. Station interference on W/T. On R/T other aircraft chatting..much back-chat". 12 SQUADRON: "Markers late. "American" broadcast on R/T. Marker Force continually harrassed [sic] by Master of Ceremonies with questions". 100 SQUADRON: "Red spots marking accurate" 103 SQUADRON: "Target marking good but crews kept orbitting for ten minutes. Nothing from Master of Ceremonies. Terrific amount of cross-talk on R/T." 626 SQUADRON: "R/T interruption. Too much chatter. R/T poor. Yellow "flares" for over half-an-hour. Open invitation to fighters. Congestion at 6000 feet. Climbed to 7000 for bombing. Master of Ceremonies poor. Enemy fighters orbitting". However, 576 SQUADRON reports gave something of a different picture: "Red spots scattered. Germans giving orders, cutting in on R/T. PFF 5-10 mins late. 2 combats. Many night-fighters". An additional 103 SQUADRON report is surprising, to say the least: "Me410 and rockets well in evidence".
There was an immediate post-operational tendency to lay the debacle on the "marking force" and in the continuous and constant re-telling of this tale, the blame, inevitably and unfairly, came to be laid at the door of the 617 Squadron Mosquito Marker Force. One can only hope this account and the true records on which it is based will nail that false impression once and for all.
[inserted] F [/inserted]
[page break]
[inserted] G [/inserted] The Mailly-le-Camp raid achieved its aim to a large degree but the price paid was painfully high. In 5 Group, 50 Squadron lost four of the eleven aircraft despatched. 207 Squadron lost two from sixteen. The other ten missing aircraft were distributed among the remaining thirteen squadrons. In 1 Group, 460 Squadron lost five from sixteen: 101 lost four from nineteen: 103 lost four from fourteen: "Shiny Twelve" lost four from seventeen: 626 Squadron lost three from ten. The only squadron in 1 Group without an aircraft casualty was 100 Squadron which had put up eleven aircraft. All told, 316 aircrew went "missing" that night. 253 were killed, 24 were taken prisoner and 39 evaded capture with the help of the local French civilian population, a number of whom were executed or sent on forced labour in Germany when evaders were discovered by the Germans. Of the dead aircrew, 95 were officers and 218 N.C.Os. 46 were under the age of 21: a further 159 were between 21 and 25: 33 were between 26 and 30, with the remaining 15 over 30 years of age. Of the 32 aircrew missing from 101 Squadron at RAF Ludford Magna, only two survived as prisoners of war, the other thirty having been killed in action. "Shiny Twelve's" missing proved to be 21 dead, 2 prisoners of war and 6 evaders, all six from the crew of Fg Off G Maxwell. It adds to the sorrow of these heavy losses to realise that a proportion of the missing crews had survived the massacre of the March 31st operation against Nuremburg!
Such multiple losses always tore great and almost unbearable "holes" in a squadron's aircrew complement. The Messes of both Officers and N.C.O's were unusually silent and empty as survivors remembered their friends. Many of the WAAF who worked closely with aircrew showed their uncontainable grief openly. The tempo of the Station would only gradually be restored with the arrival of replacement aircrew from the Heavy Conversion Units, but the
[inserted] G [/inserted]
Dublin Core
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Memory of Mailly-Le-Camp
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Tom Bennett
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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13 photocopied sheets
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eng
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Text
Text. Memoir
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BBennettTBennettTv1
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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France
France--Mailly-le-Camp
Temporal Coverage
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1944-05-03
1944-05-04
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
Description
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Part of a memoir describing the operation to Mailly-le-Camp 3/4 May 1944.
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Angela Gaffney
1 Group
5 Group
617 Squadron
8 Group
83 Squadron
Bennett, Donald Clifford Tyndall (1910-1986)
bombing
Bombing of Mailly-le-Camp (3/4 May 1944)
Cheshire, Geoffrey Leonard (1917-1992)
debriefing
Gee
grief
Lancaster
Master Bomber
Mosquito
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Normandy deception operations (5/6 June 1944)
Oboe
Pathfinders
RAF Woodhall Spa
target indicator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1526/29793/BMilesRJMilesRJv1.1.pdf
9c4ecee51db3f431f91201332344b0c2
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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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Miles, Reg
Reginald J Miles
R J Miles
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-07-26
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Miles, RJ
Description
An account of the resource
102 items. The collection concerns Reg Miles (1923 - 2022) and contains his audio memoir, log book, photographs and documents. He flew 36 operations with 432 and 420 Squadrons.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by R Miles and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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Biography of Reg Miles
Ex Apprentice No 1 S. of T.T., R.A.F., Halton 39th Entry 34 – 67 M.U.s – 27 A/S Bloemspruit South Africa – Lympe Kent, Flight Engineer 432 – 420 Squadrons RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Eastmoor, Tholthorpe, Yorkshire / 242 – 245 – 511
Squadrons Transport Command Lyneham, RAF
Chapter 1
Ex Apprentice No 1 S. of T.T., R.A.F.
The summer job had ended and there was a few months to go before I would leave for Halton, must get a job Mum said, so I got a job as a paper boy with Smith’s Book Shop in Westgate, delivering the morning papers to all the grand houses in the area and woe betide you if you got the houses wrong, no scandal sheets there all Times, Telegraph, Financial Review, and sometimes the Daily Express but certainly no Mirror. A friend worked for the same place and we both rode the Smith’s bikes, very distinctive they were, painted dark red with a large panel under the cross bar with the company logo on it and either side of the back wheel large canvas bags to hold the newspapers. Riding towards home together one day we came across a coal ship hight and dry on the Nayland rocks, which jutted out into the Margate harbour entrance, the skipper had missed the turn and when the tide went out there he was stuck, the crew were busy shovelling the coal over the side onto the rocks so that the ship could get off on the next tide. Too much of a temptation for two young boys, onto the rocks we went with the bikes and filled up the bags at the back with coal and home to the thanks of a family with a little more fuel for the winter. How the mighty are fallen, as we turned up for work the next morning at the crack of dawn, we were greeted by the manager with the words ‘you two are sacked here are your wages now clear’, when we asked why we were shown the front page of just about every newspaper with pictures of us and Smith’s bikes filling the bags with coal, and head office in London were not at all pleased, silly buggers very cheap advertising for them, so ended my last job before entering The Royal Air Force.
On January 24th 1939 I arrived at Wendover Railway Station in Buckingham Shire on a special train from Paddington with about one thousand other new boys, we were all shapes and sizes, colours, and aged between fifteen and eighteen. Halton at that time was the Apprentice Training Establishment for The Royal Air Force in the various aviation trades which included Engine Fitter, Airframe Fitter and other trades that were just starting to be developed. Prior to this most work on aeroplanes was done by the same people., but aircraft were becoming more complicated
[page break]
and needed specialists for just about every part, guns, radio, electric’s and so on. RAF Halton still is a training station for the engine, airframe, and all other bits and pieces of the aircraft. (I was recently told that a cook school was now in operation!!). The bits all have different names now. When I joined in January 1939 there were four wings each one had about 1000 boys in it under training, the course was three years, two entries each year , entry by competitive written examination of many subjects including, Math, English, and a number of science subjects which at my age when I took the exam at 14 made me struggle a bit but I got in! Massive workshops, an airfield and each wing was self-contained with proper three storey brick buildings housing the sleeping accommodation, each wing also had its own parade ground, gymnasium, cookhouse, band and all other facilities, different coloured hat bands were worn by each wing.
Apprentices were known as Brats and when you had passed out from Halton after a three year course you were an Ex Brat and a very close bondship with others who had been through Halton existed. Now March 15 1998!! I seem to have been very busy with all sorts of projects and still have some in the pipe line either incomplete or not even started yet but will endeavour to type a little more to keep this going. The first thing that happened to all us new boys was a medical to see if we were fit enough for service in the R.A.F. The first complete check up for most of us,the M.O. told me I had flat feet, said I did a lot of cross country running perhaps that was the cause!! Strange to say it was recently found that people with high arches were not able to stand the stress of marching and battle fatigue, flat was better. Next was fitting for a uniform, no I did not take size nine boots that Mum had said I would grow into but eight and a half and that still left room for thick socks.
Once all into our uniforms we paraded in sections for the swearing in for which we received an extra shilling (the Kings shilling) Most of us suffered with those boots made from leather so they said, more like sheets of armour plate, toes and ankle bones were rubbed sore after the first few hours, the corporal in charge of our section told us to fill the boots with water, pee was best, and stand them by our beds over night, empty them out and put them on straight away they would never hurt again, he was right but most mothers would have had a fit to see their little darlings squelching about in wet feet all day. I was allocated to four wing and told I would be trained as a Fitter 2E which meant I would become an aero engine fitter, others became Fitters 2A airframe, and others would become instrument, radio, and armament specialists. There were also boys who had joined the Royal Navy and would be trained in the same trades for the Fleet Air Arm, they were known as artificers, tiffys to the rest of us. Our uniform was the same as the regular service with proper trousers instead of a kind of jodhpurs with puttees that were wound around the lower leg, these were still worn by “Boy Entrants”
[page break]
who were trained in similar trades elsewhere but would end up as mechanics after a much shorter course, I think they were boys who were keen to get into the R.A.F but had not been able to pass the entry examination for apprentices. To distinguish four wing from the other three we had a bright orange-yellow hat band not too sure what the other were, seem to remember red and also black and red squares, we also had on our arm a brass badge that was a wheel with crossed propeller blades inside, and wore small rank badges the same as the adult services if promoted. All of the boys in the new entry were taken in group to the airfield and given a short flight in De Haviland Tiger Moth, gave us some idea how big Halton was and in most cases the first taste of airsickness, never had any trouble with this problem when I was flying as crew, but even a short flight at times as a passenger made me hang on to my seat and swallow heavily!! I joined the cross country team of four wing, and completed in many events during my period at Halton, won medals for this event and passed them on to Gillian for safe keeping. I was promoted to leading apprentice and made responsible for one of the rooms which held about thirty boys, one of them called Shaw I will never forget, a good looking boy but had a way of life completely strange to me and I suspect to most of the boys of my age.
This first came to light one night when he returned from a weekend pass with a full suit case full of cigarettes, where they came from we didn’t ask but we all got some free samples my share being double. He then told me he had a flat in London and a girl friend he kept there and paid for, how this was possible on three shillings a week I just could not understand, but it all came out later on. Because I was responsible for seeing that everyone in my room was present at “lights out” each night and weekend passes were only allowed very rare, Jonny Shaw asked me to sign him in nearly every weekend so he could go to London, didn’t worry me to do this, hadn’t asked to be a leading apprentice, was just given the job and I was never short of a packet of “fags”. One night late Johny turned up with another suit case, after climbing through a hole in the fence near our room, instead of cigarettes it contained woman’s clothing that he had picked up on the train from London, because it was there! Told him in no uncertain manner that if he didn’t do something about returning it to the owner it was the last time I covered for him. He packed up the case and took it out of the room and I expected he would leave it close to the guard room so that it would be found early in the morning and sent on it’s way to a very worried female. That was not Johny’s way, when I took a detail of boys out at the crack of dawn to make sure there was no rubbish about the place, every post, lamp standard, sign board and railing was draped with all of the contents of the case, we found the case and quickly packed the items back in and I took it to the guard room and stated that it has been found some way away from our room, it was opened by the police and an address found inside and was I presumed sent on to it’s owner, but I was very mad a Johny Shaw and never covered for him again,
[page break]
didn’t stop him from going out when he wanted to. Some months later he was found to have been forging instructors signatures on chits to book out micrometer and vernier gauges from the stores and was no doubt selling these in London and perhaps committing other crimes we knew nothing of, he was discharged from the R.A.F and as the second world war started soon after probably had a prosperous war and even ended up rich and famous, may be knighted for his efforts, while the rest of us fought and died! I have recently been contacted as a result of this webpage by Peter Long, another one of our fellows who knew Johny. He did become very rich eventually, Rolls Royce, Two ‘Planes of his own etc.!
R.A.F Halton was at one time a county residence owned by the Rothchild family whether they gave it to the R.A.F I don’t know but the “house” was used for the officer’s mess and the stables were allocated to the apprentices for a “hobby shop”. The stables were a magnificent set of buildings with curved brick walls and big enough to house a dozen families in great comfort. Many of the boys at Halton came from very wealthy families, some sons of aircraft manufacturers because it was recognised that an apprenticeship at Halton was the finest training anywhere in the world in Aircraft engineering. One father had given his son a new Ford car, he was probably in his last year of the three year course, we all helped him to take it completely to pieces and each part was reassembled with great care so that every part was a perfect fit, ran like a sewing machine the quietest Ford I have ever known.
There were even sons of Indian Princes, in fact it seemed as if every nation was represented there, many of the boys when they had finished their apprenticeship were “bought out” by their parents and returned to their own country or in some cases the firm that their parents owned in Britain, can’t remember the cost but did hear at the time it would have bought a row of houses in any town in England! The railway station we all arrived at was Wendover and the nearest large one was Alyesbury, (famous for ducks!) county seat for Buckinghamshire. Halton was set just below a ridge of hills and covered many square miles of country, the workshops were massive, covering all trades that operated in the Royal Air Force, an airfield with a grass runway complete with hangers and numerous aircraft that were used for hands on work and proper lecture halls where we were brought up to date on current affairs, and scientific laboratories with the latest equipment used in the testing of materials. The idea was to give not only complete technical training but a good all round knowledge much like a private college, apart from training in military matters and of course plenty of sporting activities. We were paid 5 shillings a week, four of which was saved for us, to be given when we went on leave, breakages which were deducted for individual items broken or worn out before a replacement was normally issued, boys can be hard on clothes! We were issued with a complete kit of
[page break]
clothes which included just about every thing required, but out of our weekly shilling we had to purchase things like metal and boot polish, once a week we had kit and barrack inspections when everything has to be spit and polish and all kit in good order, when the war started in September 1939 things change very rapidly, our three year course was cut down to just over two by stopping all holidays and we worked from dawn to dusk on our training, the subjects did not get shortened just longer days and no holidays or week ends, and we had to do anti invasion patrols and ride around the hills on our bicycles in the evenings to check for land mines that may have been dropped to blow the place up. At this time my father and mother had rented a house at High Wycombe which was not too far away from Halton, Dad was in charge of all military and naval buildings and repairs caused by shelling and bombing in Dover, so Mum lived at High Wycombe and Dad came up when he could, he had an old car and special petrol rations because of his work. I managed to get a weekend pass and went to get my bicycle from where it had been requisitioned for us in land mine patrols, the sergeant in charge said I couldn’t have mine but let me have grotty old service bike, think he was using it himself as it was new and my pride and joy, set out to visit Mum and Dad and coming round a corner met a flock of sheep all over the road, no where to go so crashed into the bank and bent the frame so that I could only steer one way, took me ages to get to High Wycombe and could not get anyone to mend it so Dad put it on the roof of his car and took me back to camp, left Halton soon after and took my bike with me.
The entry ages for Halton were 15 to 18, and we signed on for 12 years of service from the age of 18. As I was almost the minimum age, I was 15 in November 1938 and joined in January 1939, I would have been 18 when I finished the apprenticeship, but due to the war and cutting out holidays etc, I was only 17, I therefore was still classed as a boy when I left Halton and was not informed what rank I had passed my final examinations, so when I arrived at my first operational posting was paid the princely sum of ten shillings a week (about one dollar a week), yet was the only qualified member of the gang and had to tell men much older than myself sometimes the right way to do things.
– Reg Miles
Those items listed below can be found on the web at
http://members.aol.com/famjustin/Milesbio.html
[page break]
[underlined] Biography of Phyllis Miles (formerly Phyllis Dike), [/underlined] LACW, WAAF
[underlined] Collected Poetry of Reg Miles, [/underlined] Flight Engineer, No1SoTT Halton/ MUs/ Snowy Owls, 420 Sqdn RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Tholthorpe, Yorkshire / 511 Transport Command, RAF
[underlined] Miss Phyllis Miles nee Dike, [/underlined] Photo, LACW, WAAF
[underlined] Group Photo, [/underlined] 432 Squadron RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Eastmoor, Yorkshire
[underlined] 420 Squadron Badge, [/underlined] Photo, 6 Group Bomber Command, Tholthorpe Yorkshire, RCAF
[underlined] Barrington-Kennett Trophy Winners, [/underlined] 1939/40, Photo, Reg Miles, RAF Halton, RAF
[underlined] FIDO, [/underlined] Anecdote, Reg Miles, Flight Engineer, RAF
[underlined] Flight Engineer Reg Miles, [/underlined] Photo of Reg Miles, Flight Engineer, 432 Sqdn RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, RAF
[underlined] Flight Log 1664 HCU page one, page two, 432 Squadron page 1, 2, 3, 4, 420 Squadron page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 1332 H.C.U. Page 1, Certificates of Competency, 242 Squadron, Page 1, Page 2, Page 3, 246 Squadron, Page 1, Page 2, 511 Squadron, Page 1, Page 2, Page 3, Page 4, Page 5, Page 6, Page 7, Page 8, Reg Miles, [/underlined] Flight Engineer, No1SoTT Halton/ MUs/ Snowy Owls, 420 Sqdn RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Tholthorpe, Yorkshire / 511 Transport Command, RAF
[underlined] Halifax, E Easy and Crew, [/underlined] Photo of Reg Miles, Flight Engineer, 420 Sqdn RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, RAF
[underlined] Mail Plane, [/underlined] RAF Joke, Reg Miles, Flight Engineer, RAF
[underlined] Missing in Action Telegram, [/underlined] Reg Miles, 432 Squadron RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Eastmoor, Yorkshire
[underlined] PLUTO, [/underlined] Anecdote, Reg Miles, Flight Engineer, RAF
[underlined] Queen Mary, [/underlined] Photo, Reg Miles, 67 M.U.s, RAF
[underlined] Salvaging a Bristol Beaufort, [/underlined] Photo, Reg Miles, 67 M.U.s, RAF
[page break]
[underlined] Tholthorpe Control Tower, [/underlined] from Jim Tease, Pilot, Reg Miles, Flight Engineer, 420 Sqdn RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, RAF
[underlined] Wedding Photo, [/underlined] Photo of Reg Miles, Flight Engineer, No1SoTT Halton/ MUs/ Bomber Command/ 511 Transport Command, RAF
[page break]
Biography of Reg Miles
Ex Apprentice No 1 S.of T.T., R.A.F., Halton 39th Entry 34 – 67 M.U,s – 27 A/S Bloemspruit South Africa – Lympe Kent, Flight Engineer 432 – 420 Squadrons RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Eastmoor, Tholthorpe, Yorkshire / 242 – 246 – 511 Squadrons Transport Command Lyneham, RAF
Chapter 2
Ex Apprentice, 34 – 67 M.U.s, R.A.F.
I was posted to 34 Maintenance Unit Shrewsbury in Shropshire 5-10-1940, this unit was housed in sheds on the out-skirts of Shrewsbury and was responsible for the repair on site of crashed aircraft and the recovery of crashed aircraft that could not be flown away, this included both British, German, Italian, and later on American. The Flight Sergeant in charge of the crew of about six airmen was about sixty, was an optician in civvy street, had been a driver in the 1914-18 war so had no knowledge of aircraft, the rest of the gang were ex-garage workers only about one had any experience with spanners so it was finding out the hard way how ‘planes came to bites! We also had a driver for our Chevy truck and could call on “Queen Mary” low loaders and Coles cranes to lift things, but many times we were unable to get cranes or trucks to the site and it was sheer legs and muscle that were used.
[missing photograph]
[page break]
[italics] Photo of a crane of the type we used to salvage aircraft during my time with 34 & 67 MUs in 40-41. On show as an Amazon Crane but the same as a Coles one, so have altered it’s title. It is on show at the Yorkshire Air Museum based at Elvington airfield a WW2 bomber station flying the dear old Halifax of 77 Squadron RAF and two Free French squadrons 346 Guyenne and 347 Tunisie [/italics]
The only time I tried to drive a Coles Crane I made a complete mess of it and sheared the drive shaft!! The two Polish operators were not well pleased, but as the could not speak English and I not able to understand a single word of their long and arm waving complaint, it was left to our Flight Sergeant to ball me out, and as he was a geriatric (well must have been all of 50) little notice was taken of it all. The Poles got underneath and removed the bit, replaced it and were operational in a few hours, I was not allowed anywhere near it after!!
The lowloader, Queen Mary, was a specially made semi trailer body, very low platform with wheels exterior, from memory would think the platform about 12 inches from ground, also very long able to take most aircraft fuselages and wings. Extending side rails were fitted that could be locked up so that wings could be stood on their leading edges, one on either side (on sand bags to prevent damage) and strapped to these side rails, the rails were also covered in felt to prevent damage, and strapped to these side rails, the rails were also covered in felt to prevent damage, this left the centre of the trailer free to fit the fuselage on trestles, with propellor removed but engine still in place, some aircraft with long bodies could extend over the tail board if put on trestles to clear, open body to the trailer so that there was no height restriction, only the height of bridges and power cables, standard 1939-40 prime mover, 6 cylinder Perkins or Ford, nothing like the monsters on todays roads. It was called “Queen Mary” because they were so long that the only thing to compare them with was the ship of the same name.
[missing photograph]
photo from David Searle-Baker Queen Mary
[page break]
Recovering Hawker Tempest Mk. V Wreck
My first job with them was at an aerodrome called Shawbury that was used to train pilots and Navigators, a Spitfire pilot had been shot in a fight with a German fighter and had lost a lot of blood before crash landing beside the main runway and the aircraft had tipped onto it’s back as he had not been able to lower the underbridge. The first job was to make the guns safe and remove any bombs before starting to dismantle the ‘plane, the next job was always to remove instruments that were either secret or likely to be stolen, this in a Spitfire was the gunsight, compass and a clock it fitted, as the new boy I got the job of crawling into the upside down cockpit to remove these items while the rest of the gang removed the wing fairings and bolts to waggle the wings off. I had to get on hands a [sic] knees to get the items off as they were almost on the ground, felt something wet on my head and back as I worked, found when I crawled out that a large pad of congealed blood had come adrift from the floor and I was a right mess, no water anywhere near as we were miles from any building, the crew washed me off with the 100 octane petrol we drained from the ‘plane, but as we sat and ate our lunch of sandwiches couldn’t help keep looking at the blood still under my finger nails. As we sat and ate we saw a training Miles Master coming in to land with the cockpit hood open and the horn blaring loudly to warn the pilot that his under carriage was not down, we all stood up and waved like mad, the pilot, probably doing his first solo landing, waved back with a big smile on his face and crashed, we now had another ‘plane to remove!
I don’t know how the trainee pilot got on, we helped him out and he had no damage but whether he was “scrubbed” or not have no idea (scrubbed thrown off the pilot’s course through some error).
The Spitfire being monococ [sic] construction in aluminium alloys was a very easy aircraft to dismantle and transport, the main wing spar consisted of a series of square tubes fitted inside each other, gradually tapering towards the wing tip, the mating tubes for these being very close to the fuselage, with the propeller removed the body fitted easily into a low loader and the wings were slid in either side being supported on sand bags to prevent damage and strapped to the extendable rails fitted to the sides of the low loader, the guns, ammunition, and propeller being stowed in any suitable position. The Miles Master being of wooden construction was an entirely different proposition, the wing roots were attached about one and a half metres either side of the fuselage making this “centre section” which was not removable about three and a half to four and a half metres wide, when placed on the sides of the low loader these projected out each side a considerable amount and because they were very low often jammed on road side obstructions, this was particularly a problem on the windy narrow country roads with many “hump
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Back” bridges, we were caught only one when the centre section rode up onto the walls of a hump back bridge and very nearly caused the injury to one of the crew riding in the back of the low loader, three or four sleepers lashed to the side rails lifted this aircraft high enough to clear any road side obstacles. We never had enough red flags to fix to the overhangs so it was almost a game to ride in the back of the low loader and lean over as we motored along and steal the flags placed in empty paint cans by the road gangs, as we used the same route frequently from training airfields to our depot I guess the road workers got fed up with us and one day as one of the gang grabbed a flag found himself flying through the air to land in the road, the rotters had concreted all the flags in and they were very heavy, no damage done just a few bruises and wounded pride. Coming back from the same airfield one day we were held up by a new gang with a Miles Master stuck on the hump back bridge walls, to add to their problems their Coles crane was in front of the low loader so couldn’t get to the plane to lift it up, we managed to get our crane in place and help them out, they hadn’t read standing orders! Called to the same airfield with instruction to remove some twenty Avro Ansons from a hanger we through they were being transferred to another airfield, when we got there found the whole lot burnt out in the hanger, looked like an elephant’s grave yard with just the steel tubing frames and melting engines and propellers lined up in two long rows. When we asked what had happened were told that during the night an airman on guard duty saw a low flying airplane crossing the field and identified it as a German one so fired his rifle at it, the plane dropped it’s bomb which landed on the concrete outside the hanger, bounced over the bomb proof doors, bounced on the hanger floor and just missed going clean out the other end but hit a girder and went off. The airman had been put on a charge for firing at an unidentified aircraft!
I was going on my first leave after being posted to an RAF squadron as an aero engine fitter, and at only 17 in 1940 felt a big wheel, My folks lived in Dover and my brother of 9 years would need something from my war, grabbed a handful of .303” ammunition from a crashed training Hurricane, pulled out the bullets and emptied out the charge, would put the cases in a fire when I got home to get rid of the caps and put the bullets back, would impress my small brother. Put the cases in a fire out in the yard and got a most awful telling off from Mum, they were having more than their share of bangs. Next day was about to leave the house to look up at the “dogfights” going on above, Mother said you’ll get killed by falling shrapnel stay indoors, but out I went, and in I went after a few seconds as redhot bits of metal fell around me, I might be in the RAF but my folks and young brother were seeing more of the war than I was, my few bullets were nothing compared to his collection of shrapnel, from both our guns and those firing 12inch shells from France, he has seen more action that I had!!
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We had arrived at a very posh looking house set up on a rise with a well maintained garden with small bushes lining the curving path to the front door and a perfect green lawn. I suppose we did look a sorry bunch with our usual costume of rolled down gum boots, white socks turned over the top and greasy overalls that were well over due for a wash, no hats and most with a few days of beard, long uncombed hair in fact even the ‘chiefy’ could have passed for the robber leader, we had been out on the road for about a week and were tired and hungry when we got yet another job before returning to base for a rest. Chiefy went up to the front door and was answered by a smart looking man who took the Flight Sergeant round the back of the house through a very ornate garden arch way, he soon came back and called us to follow him. The sight that met the eyes was one to make us all laugh, a learner pilot has got into trouble and seeing what looked like a nice open field came into land, too late he found it was a chicken farm with lots of tall wire fences to separate the various chickens, his ‘plane had become wrapped up like a parcel as he ploughed through the lot, but to make matters even worse as his ‘plane neared the back of the house his engine fell off and landed into a rather nice goldfish pond, this cracked the concrete and all the water ran out stranding the fish. The owner was not a very happy man and refused most emphatically to allow us to clear a wide path way back through the mess so we could get a crane in to lift the whole lot out by a back way, no it all had to go round the side of the house and no damage must be done. What a hope he had the radial engine was levered out of the pond and rolled with great difficulty through the side gate, a few bits came off both as we struggled to hold the engine upright but when we got to the front of the house it just seemed to get a life of it’s own and rolled across the lawn leaving giant size foot prints and demolished hedges and flower beds on it’s way. The rest of the aircraft was sawn into bits and man handled the same way, miserable sod never even gave us a cup of tea when we had finished, just growled he would report us for damage we had caused, we all hoped his chickens never laid another egg.
As to the Learner who crashed, he was long gone before we got there. This was not always the case as we did come across the odd bits and bobs and even complete bodies at times, not all RAF either.
For about three months we worked all over the north part of England and Wales, even had to close The Mersey Tunnel one time to tow an American light bomber through from Speke don’t know why or where we took it. We were then transferred to 67M.U. bases in Taunton the county seat of Somerset. The depot was in a large garage on the main road south of the city, has it’s own sports field out the back which we used for general storage during transit, all the low loaders, lorries, and cranes were parked in various streets which had to have guards circulating during the night, our five rounds of ammunition and World War 1 rifle must not be lost or even used,
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it was all we had, another job for the technical people, office and stores people never got this job, perhaps because they made out the lists, one time when we were back at base had to spend the day shovelling coal at the railway station to fuel the fires for the office staff, couldn’t let them get dirty, wonder if Churchill knew that his trained people were waiting on the lazy sods in the office.
This was early in 1941 with the threat of invasion by the German army still a possibility, the sports field was surrounded with a high spiked railing fence. The fence was six feet high made of steel spikes about 3 quarters of an inch in diameter, spaced about six inches apart fitted through holes at top and bottom of steel plates which were made of 2 inch by 1/4 inch steel. I’m sure you must have some around houses or playing fields where you live. The spikes were held in swaged nibs pressed into the spikes when the sections of fence were made this held the spikes in place. We were given the job of filing off the nibs that held alternate spikes in place. We had to file these nibs off alternate spikes so the fence did not collapse, but the “doctored” spikes could be removed. Each one of these then had a number pained on it, all airmen were allocated a spike and on the call to arms would rush to get out their spike, if they could, and fend off the invading hordes of Germans with their Tiger tanks, machines guns and other lethal weapons, no doubt we should have had a major victory as the German troops fell about laughing!!
The C.O. held a dummy run which became a real pantomime as men fought for a spike having forgotten their number and short people couldn’t reach high enough to pull them out of the top rail. Nobody got stabbed but it was a close run thing. We all treated the whole thing as a joke, it is easy when you have your back firmly against the wall to consider defeat impossible, and so many of the daft ideas did work, FIDO, PLUTO, to name just two. This one was one of those that just was stupid!!
The same wally of a C.O. who gave us the spikes decided to make me up to a Corporal, told him he couldn’t because I still didn’t know what rank I had passed out from Halton, and in any case being technical trade had to pass a trade board before I could be promoted. Threatened to put me on a charge if I didn’t put up my stripes straight away to be officially second in charge of the gang, just ignored him and was called up before him a couple of days later to be told he couldn’t promote me for the reasons I had given him, but told me I had passed out from Halton as a Fitter 2 Engine with the rank of Aircraftman First class and my pay would start right away because of the work I was doing, so I did get some thing out of it all. Following on this I was given the job as Station Armourer, responsible for sorting and packing for dispatch all bombs, cannons, machines guns and ammunition brought in from crashes. I was given the relevant Air Ministry orders to tell
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me what to do because lets face it I was not even 18 and trained as an engine fitter, but perhaps the only real airman on the place, I was given the away team half of the sports changing room, the Station Warrant Officer had the other half, a retread from 14-18 war and responsible for station discipline.
One of the jobs I had to do was strip all guns of any bullets “up the spout” as many had major damage and bent barrels, this was never easy, the breach blocks had to be taken out and packed in separate boxes, with a bullet jammed in, the only way to release the blocks was to fire the gun which sent the bullet up the bent barrel and this released the breach blocks, S.W.O. came in one day when I had a pile of Browning Machine guns on the bench all with bent barrels and was firing them one at a time to get the breach blocks out, nearly wet himself, and then a few days later I was burning all the Very pistol cartridges. These were all different colours and were used to signal and identify aircraft. Usually they just burnt with lots of bright colours but this lot started flying all over the place just as he marched out of his office with his cane under his arm, moved pretty quick for an oldy and got back inside his office, seemed to think I did it on purpose!!
Does seem a bit mad perhaps now to do what I did as an “armourer”. But times were a bit desperate you know and everything was in very short supply so if it could be repaired and returned into service we might just survive.
The first 20m/m cannon I dismantled was a problem, had never seen one before had no books on it and had to get the breach block out, barrel was straight and nothing up it, the cannon was about two and a half metres long and the only nut I could see was on the “blunt” end, a large hexagonal nut with a locking tab on it, so behind it must be the return spring and hopefully the breach block, with the “blunt” end sticking out the open door I got to work and the nut kept turning and seemed to have lots of thread, with a bang the last turn flew off and what seemed like yards of spring flew out of the door, and guess who was just leaving the office? The other problems with the 20m/m cannon was the round cartridge drum that fitted on the breach, these always arrived to me battered and bent and the only way to get the shells out was to cut a slot in the case and prise or shake the shells out, I was sitting on the bench with an ammunition box on the floor shaking a drum to get the shells out when the door burst open and a strange sergeant charged in, “Call yourself an armourer” he shouted, “Stop that before you kill us both”. When I told him who and what I was he said that he had never seen a cannon gun in fact he didn’t know much at all as he had spent the last few years at a place called Shaibah in the Gulf and had only worked on Vickers water cooled guns while there, but he did know the coding for the shells I was dropping into a box and some were of a very delicate contact type to explode on contact with the thin aluminium skin of a ‘plane! I filled him in
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with all I knew and what had to be done with each type of weapon and worked with him for a week or so until I managed to get back with my old gang.
Shortly after we were sent on detachment to an airfield in Cornwall called St. Eval, at which were based Bristol Beaufort Torpedo Bombers, they were sent out after German ships and dock installations and had received very heavy casualties.
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Men of 67 MU at Bristol Beaufort Recovery Reg 2nd from left back row
We were housed in one of the Nissen huts and started work right away as there was a Spitfire sitting on top of a dry stone wall at the edge of the airfield, the pilots had overshot, bounced and come to a halt perfectly balanced on the wall, pained on the side was the pilots name and the legend “Sempre in Excreta” (Latin is not my strong point!) Always in the shit! At the end of the runway was a stone quarry and a Beaufort had crashed into it on take off loaded with torpedoes, these had detonated so there was little to move mainly the two large radial engines, one was in the middle of the quarry and our crane soon lifted that into a lorry, the other was partly buried under stone and against the quarry wall so we had to move it out with brute force to get it into a position that the crane could reach, It was hard hot work and we were having trouble keeping our footing because of all the oil that had spilt out when it had hit the wall, except it wasn’t oil but half a man buried under the engine, not a pretty sight but a nurse who just happened to be looking on helped us to put the remains in sacks so that they could be buried properly with the rest of the poor devil. We very rarely had a problem with bodies or parts there of, because the bodies were taken away before we arrived on the scene.
We did have one occasion when we were sent onto the moors to remove a Hawker Hurricane, but it was the wring number and found the pilot still in it, we reported this and found our one a mile or so away. The Hawker Hurricane was a very different type of construction from the Spitfire,
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basically a steel tubular frame around which were fitted wooden formers and these were joined together by wooden strips along the length of the fuselage, the wings were very similar and all surfaces were covered with doped fabric, this was very time consuming to make and repair, much like a model aeroplane in appearance. A fitter from Hawker’s had almost finished this repair to a Hurricane when German bombers gave us a visit to pay back for what the Beauforts were doing in France, a bomb dropped outside the bomb proof door, blew them in and flattened the poor Hurricane! We got bombed out that night so drove a few miles away to a friendly looking field and slept all in a row under a tarp for a few nights until we were given an empty holiday beach house at Trearnon Bay which became our base for a few weeks, when we were not out on a job. Visited St. Eval in the 1980s and they were only just starting to remove the remains of that hanger blown up in early 1941.
During the next few weeks we were constantly on the move all over Cornwall, from Penzance across to Predanack, which is on the other leg at the base of Cornwall. Working on a Whirlwind, twin engined fighter-bomber which had nose dived straight into the ground, on a desolate part of the moors, all that showed was the edges of sheets of aluminium in the ground and lying a few feet away, a hand complete with a ring on, we could not salvage the plane and pilot’s body without large earth moving gear and instructions were received to pull out what we could and fill the hole in, as we worked we heard the sound of aircraft high up and turned to watch a flight of the same ‘planes go by, as we watched one pealed off and dived into the ground a few miles away, heard later that the tail planes of this aircraft were a bit suspect. We always had billets in the nearest place to where we worked, sometimes this was an Army Camp or a pub and in this case we were living in a cafe at Predanack, after a wash we all trooped into the dining room for our first meal and on came a Cornish pastie, about a foot long and looked delicious but didn’t think it was a lot for six or seven hungry blokes to share, but then in came the rest and we had one each!
Once we had to go to a Fleet Air Arm station to dismantle an aircraft, it was in a hanger and we were dressed in our usual scruffy outfits, all these Naval types marching about at the double, and the public address system nearly drove us mad, never seemed to stop with lots of whistles and incomprehensible bellowing, asked one of the sailors what it all meant his answer left us just as ignorant as before. We were in one of the huts and left our truck at the hanger to walk to the mess hall to get some lunch, as we strolled by a hut the window flew open and a loud voice wanted to know what we were doing walking on the Quarter deck and tried to make us run across, not in gum boots we couldn’t and didn’t try. That night being near a town, after 50 years have no idea which one, we all thought a night on the town would be a good change, so managed to tidy ours [sic] selves up and found
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out when the bus left and got to the guard room at the main gate just as a sailor closed and locked it, outside was the queue for the bus which had yet to arrive. “Open” we all said, can’t was the reply because the liberty boat has gone, what a load of rubbish, if you were on a ship you could understand it, if the Navy still do things that way it’s about time they changed from the days of Rum, bum and Nelson!! Soon got away from that stupid place probably didn’t know there was a war on we certainly did and spent all our days clearing away the rubbish caused by it. Often we had to remove crashed German aircraft that had been shot down, most were just a heap of burnt wreckage with often the remains of the crew inside, not recognisable as such just bits of bone that had not been found for burial, at other times we would have a complete ‘plane with little or no damage, there we took to pieces if not able to fly out from where they were, went to a special place to be put together perhaps with parts from other ‘planes to make them airworthy, and test flown to find out more about that type. Once we were called to an aerodrome near the coast where, I think it was a J.U.88 had landed the pilot thinking he was over the channel in France, the duty officer seeing the plane land had driven out in a jeep and crashed into the tail to stop it taking off again, we had to get the bits from a depot that was full of the German ‘planes and replace the damaged parts. Some of the early R.A.F. bombers such as the twin engined Handley Page Hampden were fitted with special balloon cable cutters to the leading edge of the main wings, these in theory would be tripped as the cable slid into it’s jaws and an explosive charge would fire a razor sharp chisel cutting the cable allowing the plane to get free, after a number of M.U. airmen had lost fingers while man handling wings during salvage instructions were issue that these had to be tripped before any work was done on the aircraft, I tripped the only one I worked on and it chopped the end from my screwdriver! An American Flying Fortress had crashed somewhere in Devonshire, can’t remember where, and what it was doing in England I don’t know, though the Yanks came in much later, anyhow we were told to get it and it must be sent up to Liverpool. The biggest thing we had tackled, got the fuselage, wings and engines away alright but the centre section was very wide and when stood on it’s leading edge was exceptionally high.
The local police were always asked for advice on getting past low bridges and electricity wires, spent more than a week travelling a few miles only to find yet another low bridge in our way, chiefy was fed up and so were we camping along the road where ever we go stuck, most aircraft that we worked on had a fire axe stowed on board so we had a good selection of sharp ones we used for all sorts of jobs, we cut foot and hand holes in the centre section and cut off with the axes quite a few feet from the trailing edge which was now the top and were able to get back to the depot next day, thing was only worth scrap anyway. After about 5 months of this work which in most cases was just garbage collection, not what I had been trained
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at great expense to do, I saw a notice on orders calling for volunteers to go over seas. I put in my application and was accepted, given seven days posting leave and reported to the assembly camp called I think Paddington, hundreds or more like thousands of airmen of all trades were gathered there and we were all issued with both tropical and cold weather equipment, had two large kit bags of the stuff to lug about plus personal kit in a small bag. After about ten days of this which included a medical we were all paraded on the very large parade ground to get our instructions to more to lorries and get abroad a ship, suddenly a voice bellowed out “575931 Miles R.J. fall out and report to the parade adjutant” was that me? “yes” said a bloke next to me who had become a friend. So out I marched dragging bags in front of all these assembled airman, saluted after dropping the bags and reported my name and number, still not 18 I was told I was too young to go where these men were going and told to hand in my kit and report back to my unit, this lot went to Russia I found out later and many did not return, some drowned when their ship was sunk and others just died from the cold!
– Reg Miles
The URL of this page is
http://www.geocities.com/milbios/Milesbio2.html
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Biography of Reg Miles
Ex Apprentice No 1 S.of T.T., R.A.F., Halton 39th Entry 34 – 67 M.U.s – 27 A/S Bloemspruit South Africa – Lympe Kent, Flight Engineer 432 – 420 Squadrons RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Eastmoor, Tholthorpe, Yorkshire / 242 – 246 – 511 Squadrons Transport Command Lyneham, RAF
Chapter 3
27 Air School, Bloemspruit South Africa,
B Squadron, Service Unit, R.A.F.
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I didn’t spend long back at Taunton before the call came again to report for over seas posting, I’d had the special leave so on the train to Blackpool this time.
The Leaving of Liverpool “ring any bells” a film about children forcefully taken from England during and shortly after the war, the parents and children never told if the others were alive and the children taken to Church run HOMES in Australia and treated as slave labour, in fact in many cases the children built the homes (as in collective enclaves) As I said a very different life style, we were all led to believe that they (as in any one in authority even self proclaimed) knew best and slavishly carried out their instructions to the letter. Children were abused, physically, mentally and sexually, both boys and girls, how did it happen, only because authority was not questioned until recently and only now is the truth coming out of those children’s tragic lives.
Bearing all that in mind you may not be surprised to read that I like my peers did as I was told without question.
The journey out to South Africa started from the joys of Blackpool, a holiday resort in the north of England, no work, billeted in houses normally
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used to accommodate the vast numbers of “visitors” from the industrial towns of the north during their summer holidays. The local “landladies” welcomed us with open arms, we were a source of income to them, not that they opened too wide the food cupboards, but many daughters opened their hearts and arms to us, we were all young healthy and free. Had my first go on ice skates at the local rink and after a few falls soon mastered it and really enjoyed it. Soon became time to board ship S.S. Mooltan 20,000 tons of sheer misery at Liverpool and head out into the Atlantic that was waiting for us with all the dirty weather it could find. April 1941, could well have been April fools days for all I know.
By buses we arrived at grey Liverpool to stand for hours on a grey dockside in front of a grey wall that stretched to the sky and disappeared into the grey distance, only relieved by a black hole in it’s side through which countless airmen staggered carrying all their worldly goods contained in two kitbags and a small case. One of the kitbags contained our normal selection of issue clothing, the other, two complete outfits one of tropical shorts shirts etc, the other cold weather clothes suitable for Russia!! We had no idea where we were headed and it was hoped neither did the enemy! The kitbag not required was taken off us well into the voyage, the Russian one I am now very happy to say!!
The Mooltan 20,000 tons of aging ship, massive to us but now would only be classed as a small ship 100,000 tons seems to be the average, 250,000 tons on the large size!!
Our turn came at last and through the hole we trooped to find ourselves in a black cavern, directed through doors that were about a foot off the floor so that dragging kitbags jammed and brought forth words of complain not heard very frequently in church. Now completely lost and descending even deeper into the bowels of this black tank we were at last told that is where you stay until told to move and that heap there contain hammocks and those hooks there are where you swing them and those tables and benches are where you eat and some can sleep on them and the heads are there and don’t move!!
So we sat and surrounded with our bags wondered what we had done to deserve this, after all we had volunteered for overseas posting, but this?
A few thought to see what was through the next doorway but only more of the same lots of airmen sat sitting waiting to be told what to do. Ah a sergeant has arrived, ‘you and you come with me’, not me but a couple near who left their kit and followed as detailed, who return some time later with urns of tea, a scramble to find our own kitbag and delve into it’s contents to find our ‘mugs airmen’ hopefully still in one piece.
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These two had been delegated as our mess orderlies and would fetch our food at the times arranged, well at least we should be fed and the tea was hot strong and sweet, by this time it was getting late in the day not that we had any idea whether the sun was shining or it was raining, the urns were returned and the message came back to sling your hammocks and get in.
I was just about 18 from memory and certainly the youngest in our “room”, places on the benches and tables had already been taken by those in the know. The Mooltan was a slow old converted cargo ship. As such the accommodations were happenstance and crowded. The only hammock hook left was over the stairwell and passage way. This is where I had to sling my hammock, which was over the stair case leading to the lower toilets. I slung my hammock and endeavoured to climb in and found myself on the floor the opposite side, I had tied it too tight and had no head room so that as I climbed in I pushed myself out again, instructions from those near who were well bedded down soon got things “ship shape” and I crawled in to assume the shape of a banana, not at all comfortable and desperately aware that a trip to the heads should have been made before becoming cocooned like this.
Sleep came but was soon interrupted by the rustling noise as hammocks swayed and rubbed together, we were on the move but this soon stopped and dawn found us moored in mid river, we had been allowed on deck soon after stowing our hammocks and being fed, strict instructions being issued that not too many on one side as the ship could capsize!! A sea of men everywhere, no small piece of deck was vacant, and only the grey Mersey, grey sky, and crowds of grey clad men were in view.
There we stayed all day and other ships moored near, we were fed during the day and tried to wash with the salt water soap we were issue with, it didn’t foam and currently did not remove dirt, in fact it left a grey sort of coating on the hands which was difficult to remove, seems that life from now on going to contain logs of grey!!
And so to “bed” or do you say and so to hammock? only to be woken up feeling very sick and scrambled out of the hammock to find most others were doing the same and a rush to get on deck for some fresh air which may stop that horrible feeling. It was dawn a very grey dawn, and directly behind us was a very large grey ship, completely without modesty showing us her (it’s?) grey bottom as it lunged up and down, we likewise were playing silly buggers and this motion was no doubt the cause of our distress, in the distance could be seen other ships, some had things like broom sticks pointing about them and we presumed that they were to protect us, I like many other now wished that we could be torpedoed and sunk, they only relief in sight for that awful sinking feeling!
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That night, all the hammocks swung together as the ship rocked in the heavy seas and the rush by some people during the night to get to the “bogs” before they spewed up often ended just below me, perhaps it is no wonder that I spent as much time as I was allowed on deck away from the stench, but always got herded down when it got dark, the Atlantic was not a very pleasant place to be at that time apart from the gale that seemed to rage more each day, we were only too aware that U Boats would enjoy sinking a troop ship and the chances of being saved in that stormy water was about nil! It was cold and smelly in my hammock as we sailed out into the Atlantic Ocean.
The days passed and gradually we were able to take a small sip of tea a tiny crumb of bread without heaving it up straight away, as we and the other ships headed into the grey Atlantic, the clever ones amongst us saying that we were headed for America, others convinced we were going into the Med, and an even more knowledgeable bunch with a compass sure we were going south. The sea was empty but for our escort. Our convoy, being one with important cargo, a troop ship, was doubtless given a course away from the shorter more populated routes. We saw no planes escorting us or other ships other than our own convoy and escort. Some bits and bobs were sighted in the sea, just a few empty crates probably slung over board by any ship friend or foe going that way. Nothing else.
Funny things that stick in the memory after all these years, apart from the agony of sea-sickness which passed after about a week, was and still is the smell and taste of the bread loaves we were all given each day as part of our food ration. I had now recovered from sea sickness and was able to eat my share of the food on offer, what we were serves up I have no recollection apart from the small loaf of bread we were issued with each morning which had to do us for the rest of the day. Eat it when you like but you wont get any more until the next morning. It was the most enjoyable bread I have ever tasted, of course I had teeth then and was very hungry, as all young people are, but after so many years I can almost taste it in my memory!!
The grey has passed and the grey ships with guns, one of which was a battleship, left us as we entered Freetown, not the town you understand but the estuary leading to it. We called into Freetown after three weeks of utter misery. Freetown is on the west African coast, so it did look as if we might end up somewhere hot but where no one knew. Apart from one poor sod, one of our airmen though not from our mess, who had not stopped bringing up just bile for the last three weeks, no one from the troops got on shore. The lad who was taken ashore with seasickness that had lasted since leaving UK, was in a very bad way with dehydration.
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We moored away from the town itself and have no memory of other ships near us but guess they were there. We did not get ashore, not that it looked very inviting, mud huts and mud was all we could see moored out in the channel. After one day on a ship that actually stayed in one place horizontally we set sail again for parts unknown.
I developed a raging tooth ache and reported sick, the ships doctor showed me his equipment for treating tooth aches, it consisted of an armchair and a few rusty looking plier type instruments, said he hadn’t pulled out any teeth and which one hurt, showed him and tapped on the wrong one and told me to come back in the morning if it is still bothered me, funny thing the pain went away and only returned very many years later when all that was left was a hollow shell which crumbled to pieces when the dentist gripped it!!
Sailing away from Freetown the weather became much sunnier and it was now quite evident that south was the way we were going, the sea became less grey, but cannot remember the other ships, perhaps they no longer were showing their bottoms, flying fishes flew from our path dolphins rode our wash, and life became just about perfect, apart from the fact that the 10 shillings (about a dollar) I had boarded with was long gone (no pay until we arrived where ever we were going). I smoked a pipe but would smoke cigarettes as well and the only ones on offer free from my “room” mates were Springbok, a very strong South African fag oval in section and only given to me because those that had bought them felt sick after a few puffs. It is one of the other things that I remember after all these years, the horrible smell of the Springbok cigarettes, which was all I had to smoke the six weeks we were aboard. Perhaps in retrospect a good time to give up smoking you might say, but in those days they were issued free to some units and certainly the Salvo’s and other friends of the forces gave them out to all service men. The opiate of the masses it would appear!!
We got into smoother waters and the sun shone and most of the Navy escort left us, and there really is a sort of magic about the sea when you are far from land, suppose most of us got a good rest and were well fed for six weeks and enjoyed the days relaxing in the sun, watching the flying fish, dolphins and strange patches of seaweed, and of course we all had to be “welcomed” by King Neptune.
One thing about a troop ship there is no such thing as privacy, we slept close to one another, ate our food touching elbows, and washed and showered in sea water which does not get any dirty off only ingrains it further in the skin, even using the special soap that was provided. Toilets had to be increased and the solution on this ship was to construct on the top deck a trough about 30ft or 9 meters long and fix along this some 20 or so squares
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of wood with holes in, water was pumped in from the sea one end and ran over board out of the other, a very friendly loo indeed, the rocking of the ship was a worry some times when your next door neighbour’s evacuation born on a tidal wave came visiting!! To enliven an activity that was already fraught with some peril, people with a distorted sense of humour nailed a stub of candle to a piece of wood, lit the candle and then set it on its journey down stream to warm the posteriors and other appendages of the poor captive sufferers!!
We travelled south but then to confuse all and sundry we started to go north and with our very limited knowledge of where things were on the earth’s surface we were again lost, after six weeks of a war time sea cruise we entered the Port of Durban and once more were on dry land which to our consternation would not keep still and behaved much like the Mooltan had in Liverpool.
Perhaps it is not to be unexpected that most if not all were glad to get off the Mooltan after six weeks when she docked in Durban on the east coast of South Africa. The group I was with were taken from the ship to the rail and we began the last part of our journey to our final destination which was Bloemspruit R.A.F Pilot training station near Bloemfontein in the Orange Free State, where we were to keep the 104 Miles Master aircraft flying day and night. A much better job that I had been doing since leaving Halton.
The railway journey from Durban to Bloemfontein lasted one whole day but can’t say I remember anything at all about it, on arrival at 27 Air School about ten miles outside the city which is the capital of the Orange Free State we were shown to our barracks, decent brick buildings, single storey, with stable type spilt doors and the usual basic beds and lockers, but heaven after the ship. Food was so strange at first, lots of fruit most of which we had never seen or heard of and many different dishes made from maize, one like porridge called “mealie meal” served at breakfast I thought wasn’t too bad but soon learnt that the natives ate it so South African whites wouldn’t beneath their dignity. We had a lot to learn about the South African white way of life, to see the native workers on the flight line covered in oil and grease as they did the dirty jobs and then watch them fishing in the bins where we emptied the left overs from our plates, made us recent arrivals very angry, but we were told not to interfere, we were guests in the country and our ways were not the right way to treat these “savages”. If we offered them the “butts” left from our cigarettes they had to hold out both hands in case they had a knife in the other and would stab us, it did seem and still does to me that the white population went in fear of their lives and in many cases rightly so because they did treat the natives in a terrible way and at last the right thing has been done but the Dutch Boer has a lot to answer for. These Boers had an organisation based in the Orange Free State (think they
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now call it The Free State) that went about blowing up power lines and post offices and was very pro German know the name but my spelling of it will be far from correct (Osiver Brantvag) told you it was all wrong!! I made a number of friends while stationed at Bloemfontein, the Florie family for one, they picked me up at the bus stop when I had missed it one night and gave me a lift back to camp, he was an accountant and she was after a bit of ‘rough’ not 18 and dim as a Toch H lamp didn’t recognise the invitations handed out every time I stayed over night, frilly things always had been left on my bed by mistake, “I’ll just put them away, do you like them?” was only one of the things and her husband I’m sure thought I was giving her one, would have done if I hadn’t been so thick!! One night at their house they were having the usual meeting of the tennis club, very few blokes but lots of pretty young girls, suggested that they might like me to do some toast on the open fire for all of them, funny thing it wasn’t some thing they had ever done, so there I sat toasting slice after slice and spreading each with lots of butter, calls for more coming all the time, the family cat came to see what I was doing and I just spoke to it calling it “Pussy”, a deathly hush descended over the room and then a few stifled giggles and one of the chaps wanted to tell me some thing outside, pussy was the local name for that part of a girls body that men seem to want to get into so no more calling cats pussy.
Another person I got to know was Nabiha Masoud (think that’s how to spell it) she and her large family were all from Lebanon and would you believe classed as coloured, which is only one degree above black and not to be mixed with, the Florie family would have nothing to do with her even though she had her own ladies hairdressing business and good at it, tried to get me not to see her or her family, but apart from “Dad” the rest of her folks were very nice to me and always had a place at their table for me, Dad thought things were serious so didn’t want her getting involved with a Pom, we were in fact just good friends and perhaps I saw her just to say “up you” to the white population. There is a town called Margate down the coast from Durban and I did write to the Mayor who invited me to visit the town and be their guest, but never took up the offer. Dac Dacre was an ex Halton “Brat” like I was and we got on very well together, we arranged to take a leave together and as we could get a free railway pass decided to go to a place called Muizenburg this is a seaside holiday town on the shores of False Bay, we had booked into a YMCA hostel and spent our leave there but the train journey lasted all of two days and did get a bit boring after a while, miles and miles of very little followed but some more, had a look at Cape Town and little did we realise that not too many months would pass before we again found ourselves in the area, in fact in a transit camp between Muizenburg and Cape Town waiting to board ship back to England and flying over Germany as crews of bombers. My mother’s father had a brother who had moved to South Africa many years before and I managed to find them in a small town called Krugersdorp near Johannesburg, they invited
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me to stay with them on one of my leaves so I took the offer up and spent two weeks with them. Very interesting for me as my uncle had a building firm and I went about to see how things were done, one of the sons was an inspector of mines and arranged for me to go down a gold mine and also see all the processes of getting gold from the ore.
There are two reefs bearing gold in that area, called north and south, can’t remember which is which but one is very wide and is made up of very white quartz pebbles around which can be seen the glitter of gold flecks, the other reef is quite narrow and in places only inches wide but is very dark even black in colour and the gold can be seen quite easily as small nuggets. Both of these reefs go down into the ground at an angle so that new shafts are sunk to reach the reefs as they get deeper in the earth and further away from the original shaft, each new shaft being much deeper before it reaches the gold bearing ore. The very large heaps of brilliant white dust from the treatment plants can be seen for miles around Joh/burg and when the wind blows cause painful eyes and noses.
The mine I went down was very deep indeed and the lift travelled at such speed that one felt slightly air-borne as it descended the earth. The area at the bottom was huge and the passage ways leading off very large and well lit, as we moved away towards the mine face things got steadily hotter until we reached a place where a native was working a jack-hammer in a steeply sloping crack removing the small but very rich ore piece by piece, all jack-hammers also have a water pipe connected to prevent that miners curse of silicosis, so we had a very wet large black man working hard in a very narrow and hot space, he still was able to give me a big white toothy grin, but what he said I do not know, the noise of the hammer was terrible! After an hour or so of this we returned to the surface, glad of the fresh air and my shirt at least a chance to dry off from the high humidity underground. The first part we visited was the Stamp house, the noise here was unbelievable, row upon row of steel hammers pounding the ore as it slid beneath them washed down by streams of water, sheets of corduroy were used to catch any free gold after the stamps, these sheets were taken out periodically and burn to get the gold, the slurry then passed over copper sheets with mercury on them which also collected gold, not sure how or in which order this happened, it is a long time ago!! The slurry then entered very large tanks open at the top in which cyanide was dissolved in water (cyanide is a very deadly poison) the gold was dissolved by this mixture, this fluid was then pumped to a centrifuge where any remaining rock particles were extracted, the fluid which now looked like clean drinking water, but was far from it, was pumped again and ended up in mile long sheds which were full of troughs that contained hundreds of separate boxes filled with zinc shavings, as the liquid passed through the zinc the gold stuck to the zinc, and the next process melted the zinc shavings in a furnace which was then poured into an
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inverted cone shaped mold [sic], on cooling the cone was turned upside down, banged and out fell a very large cone of zinc with a small gold top, these gold knobs were cut off by hacksaw and tossed in one corner, when enough had been made, were themselves melted and poured into newspaper lined ingot moulds, lots of these bars of gold were stacked against the wall and I was invited to help myself if I could carry one away, tried but it flattened me to the floor and had to be lifted off me by the ever grinning black workers. The zinc was re-rolled into sheets and in one corner was being turned again into shavings on a very old lathe by the still grinning workers.
So far it would seem that all I did was visit and enjoy but this was a pilot training ‘drome, flying went on 24 hours a day and our days were spent servicing the 104 Miles Master ‘planes on the daily inspections. The Masters was made of wood and plywood, much like the Mosquito of later and much greater frame. The Miles Master was an advanced training aircraft that trained pilots in fast single engine ‘plane management before they became operational on Hurricanes or Spitfires. Mark 1 Masters were fitted with Rolls Royce Kestrel engines (fore runner of the Merlin) some of these were even equipped as fighters with four Browning guns during the panic of 1940, Mark 2 Masters had Pratt and Whitney Junior Twin Wasps.
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Servicing Miles Master Trainers at 27 Air School
With the many hours they were flown each day, some very hard landings and the general wear and tear of pupil pilot use they were becoming very hard to keep airworthy, even had one do a forced landing at a place called
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Dewetsdorp which ended up on it’s back. As I had spent some time in England salvaging Miles Masters I was in the gang that went to collect it, still have some photos of the job.
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Miles Master Recovery
The salvage crew was led by Sergeant “Jock” Brown and was made up of members of the flight servicing crews at 27 A/S. A Queen Mary low loader was not available nor was a crane which made the task more difficult, sheer legs being used to lift, turn and load the ‘plane. As far as I know the pilot did not die but would have needed to “duck” a lot from the amount of cockpit damage. As bad as the airplane was, great care was taken to salvage the ‘plane without further doing further damage. This took a great deal of work, including some careful maneuvering [sic] over a narrow bridge on the way back.
104 American Harvards were flown in and my mate Dac and myself were given the job of checking these and making them airworthy for use, they had been shipped to Durban as deck cargo, and although sealed before loading, some had had their canopies opened by the ship’s crew, salt water had entered and causes much damage, not only to things that could be seen but many radios had been ruined and props had been turned so that ports had opened, we found many that had damaged pistons on the con rods due to salt water no wonder the delivery pilots had complained that some were gutless and rattled a lot. I joined the Camp Concert Party and band, played the fool on the camp and Bloemfontein stage and played the trumpet very badly at camp dances, practised like mad but still caused the lead trumpeter to shake his head in disgust.
Notices were on the boards for aircrew volunteers, Dac and I were a bit fed up with our treatment regarding promotion, we did the work and other got the credit, funny it’s still the same fifty years later!! We put our names in and after various interviews were sent to Cape Town to await shipment back to England.
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– Reg Miles
The URL Of This Webpage is
http://www.geocities.com/Pentagon/Bunker/7797/Milesbio3.html
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Biography of Reg Miles
Ex Apprentice No 1 S. of T. T., R.A.F., Halton 39th Entry 34 – 67 M.U.s – 27 A/S Bloemspruit South Africa – Lympe Kent, Flight Engineer 432 – 420 Squadrons RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Eastmoor, Tholthorpe, Yorkshire / 242 – 246 – 511
Squadrons Transport Command Lyneham, RAF
Chapter 4
Lympe, Kent, Flight Engineer 432 – 420 Squadrons RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Eastmoor, Tholthorpe, Yorkshire
Unescorted fast ship Mauritania II brought us home in just two weeks. This was more like a holiday cruise, she was a large new fast ship, not over crowded, weather sunny, no real worries about the enemy, just too ignorant to have a care. And good food, all very pleasant!!
We came into port during the night, I suggest for security reasons. We would be confined below decks after dark so that no lights would be shone and any portholes on our decks would be welded shut. As we had no idea where we were it was only at dawn that we found ourselves suddenly in harbour.
We returned to a cold and rationed England, which was a bit of a shock after the land of plenty that was South Africa. I got to spend some time at home. Home was River outside Dover where Dad was responsible for building work for all the various Navy, Army and Airforce units stationed in and around the port of Dover.
After a couple of weeks I was posted to Lympne RAF Base near Folkstone in Kent, not too far away from home. I could cycle home on the odd day off. I was at a servicing echelon on Typhoons there from August 1943, making myself useful until the Flight Engineer course came through.
I arrived at this very basic airfield, grass runway, no hanger that I can recall, road to the village went through the place and we were living in requisioned [sic] houses on the floor, the Guardhouse miles away so we never booked out or in, just went! There I was fit, brown, and fairly knowledgeable, and there they were the service crews, lilly white, half starved, most hadn’t a clue about the RAF. The CO wanted me to stay, rather than take the flight engineer course. He did everything to make me, even tried to bribe me with promotion and an instructors course, turned him down flat, not the best way to make friends!!
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A few days later I watched as the flight sergeant in charge of the service crew was trying to unlock a propellor, up on the steps with a very, very large lead hammer and a long spanner thumping away to release the lock, told him it was the wrong rotation, what would I know?, the engine shaft sheered [sic] off and prop and F/S landed on the ground, another job now to remove the whole Napier Sabre and fit a new one, suppose the F/S got promoted and probably blamed me!!
The Typhoons were very heavy fast fighters. They were fitted with Napier Sabre H section sleeve valved 24 cylinder engines, had 20m/m cannon and rocket rails, and were hell to fly and worse to service. The engines were proto-types and only could do 20 hours or so between engine changes, never saw even one do that much while I was there, the single prop was the biggest in service and only cleared the ground when in flying position by 4 inches, many were bent on take off, and many came back from ops with bullet holes in as the ‘plane went faster than the bullets in a dive and caught up with it’s own fire!!
When I was working on Typhoons heard many yarns, but all “driversairframe” are a bit like fisher men I think. While the story teller was giving the the [sic] usual flyers tale, with lots of arm waving indicating who did what, even the other pilots had a “I don’t believe him” smiles on their faces.
The Typh’s were used as tank and train busters and also for downing V-1 Bombs and did a mighty job. Despite their success, some of the Typhoon pilots were very keen to improve the speed of the Typhoon so they could catch the enemy, be it pilotless V-1 Bombs, or piloted fighters. They were always wanting a few more miles an hour of them and “if only the bloody thing went faster I would have shot down” probably the whole German Airforce!! Adjustments to the engines were very difficult because they were so complicated and really just prototypes still. So they spent many hours with car polish rubbing and polishing every bit to reduce drag. They got us to help also, big things Typh’s and we got very tired of it. Guess they were like me, young and keen and a bit stupid as well, you’d have to be to risk life and limb for peanuts!!
Of course battle was not the only thing the pilots were keen on. The Typhoons were flown from a small grass runway. A sergeant’s mess party was being held one evening when I was on duty crew, we had to see the “dusk” patrol in and prepare them the “dawn” patrol, check everything and rearm and refuel and make sure every thing was as it should be. The small ‘drome was crowded visitors ‘planes from surrounding units and many were parked at the ends of the runway, fog was closing in and the last few of the dusk patrol had been told to divert to Manston, which was a very large aerodrome fitted with FIDO, by air it was seconds away by road it was
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too far to get a lift and still get to the party. All their mates would be there plus many of the local girls and if you didn’t turn up some one else would try their luck with your girl!! All managed to get back in, just one left to land, and here he comes he’s too low can’t see the row of ‘planes at the end of the runaway.
Yes he has but too late the massive undergear crashes through about six aircraft of all types and sizes and comes to earth with one wing low, the prop touches, that one won’t be on dawn patrol, as it taxi to our flight position where we are standing with torches to direct the pilot and hook the ‘plane to our tractor and tow it into position for the morning, the pilot climbs out, says “shit” and heads off for a shower and no doubt a bullet from the CO and even grounding if senior officers have had their ‘plane destroyed. We check the undergear to make sure it wont collapse as we tow it and generally check the damage, this takes a while and as we are doing this we hear the bell of the “blood wagon” in the distance, but too late for any injuries we say so I lay on the ground with one leg in the air and groan as the medical orderly rushes over, but it’s not the usual medical orderly it’s the senior medical officer, who wants to make a name for himself as all the top brass are on the base for the party. Well we didn’t part as friends I must say, but he really enjoyed chewing me out so perhaps that made his day!!
Arriving back at camp after a day with my parents, we slept in empty houses really outside the camp boundaries so no booking in or out, supposed to but why go a long way to the guard room if nobody cared, any how it was early in the morning, near midnight, not late at night as it should have been as I cycled to my billet, as I got off my bike the sergeant of my ground crew called for me to get moving and handed me a bucket of white paint. Our flight line was very close to our billet, and I was told to start painting wide white stripes under the wings of the Typhoons, other bods had black paint. So I crawled under them with buckets of white paint late at night in my best uniform. No idea where the Typhoons were off to, but we were told it was for identification purposes for an operation, but which one? It might have been coastal or near to it, and in support of either Commando’s or Navy, both tended to fire at all aircraft without any idea who flew what!! But why do it in the middle of the night with far from clever painters with large distemper brushes and I’m sure it was water based paint? On 15 November 1943, 2nd Tactical Air Force is formed, perhaps the Squadron I was on was made part of this force and some “stay in bed get the boys out” prat thought it would be nice if the new force were correctly dressed for Dawn Patrol. Whatever the reason for the early morning paint job, my best uniform was never quite the same, every one else had on their overalls!
As it turns out this was the first time that this type of identification was used on allied aircraft, and I Did It!!! These black and white stripes were
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called invasion stripes by others much later. They were widely in use for the Normandy invasion. They were painted to clearly show our ground forces that they were friendly aircraft so we would not lose aircraft to our own flak. Only the Tactiful [sic] Air Force had the invasion stripes. Well before the invasion some aircraft were painted with the stripes to be used as Targets for spotters and Anti aircraft units and also for ground troops to get familiar with our own planes, as marked. Apparently this Typhoon squadron was one of those painted early to get our troops used to the stripes.
I was stationed at Lympne until the end of 1943 when my posting came through to report at St Athan in South Wales to start my Flight Engineers training. Because of my training at Halton and my service work on aircraft my training would be specific to the type of bomber I would be doing my operations on, that was the plan anyhow.
It might be best to spend a moment reviewing the various RAF bombers. First there were the Medium Bombers. The Hampden, outdated before the war started so not used much – bit of a death trap so not to be included.
Bristol Blenheim private design as all decent ones are, Beaufort a torpedo version did lots of damage and raids on shipping in French ports, made the Germans angry. Beaufighter very fast version called “Whispering Death” also used as a night fighter with radar, all types with twin radial aircooled engines also by Bristol.
De Haviland Mosquito, best all round fighter, bomber etc of the war, just look up it’s stats and learn! 4000 lb bomb load, faster than any thing until the jets arrived, 42600 ft ceiling, used by the Master Bombers, fitted with 4 cannon and even with a single 57 m/m cannon. Don’t know what a Master bomber is? They first used Lancasters, would circle the target at a low height during all of the raid, and direct the “Pathfinders” where to drop more target markers, all this done at night of course and we would be called up as “main force” and directed which colour markers to use as an aiming point, and woe betide you if you came in from the wrong direction or dropped anywhere but the correct place. we were usually at 18000 to 20000 ft and could see the Master Bomber back lit by the bursting bombs almost as ground level, a number of back ups would be at our height and when, not if the master bomber was either hit by flak, or by a fighter or as was most likely had a load of bombs dropped on him, saw a Lancaster one time when we had to land away from base that had had a load of incendiaries land on it, not a pretty sight!! Master bomber two would have his own call sign and often with an accent to prevent the Gardens from giving us the wrong information, cunning devils!!
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Heavy bomber Wellington made by Vickers designed by Barnes Wallis (swing wing F1111, Dam busters bomb, and even the Avro York made from parts of the Lancaster) Twin engine geodetical construction, (all little bits joined together to make a net like effect, very strong) covered with fabric, front and rear turrets, two .303 Brownings in each 4,500 lb bomb load 300mph main stay of bombing until the large 4 engined bombers came along, still going strong at the end of the war, called The Wimpey by every one. very many versions from sea search with a lifeboat slung under, to mobile radar and radio station and I remember seeing one flying very low along the coast line with a large ring the size of it’s wing span detecting and blowing up magnetic sea mines.
Short Stirling the first 4 engine one, slow. low and designed by the Air Ministry with short wings so that it would go into the standard hanger, typical stupid desk riders. My log book contains some hours spent as F/E on one, a pretty useless bomber and not to be in the same class as the Halifax and Lancaster.
The Manchester was first operational about the same time as the Halifax but as we all know was plague by engine problems and was a “dead duck” until fitted with four Merlins, the Halifax was also supposed to get RR Vultures but because a shortage was expected was designed for four RR.
Handley Page Halifax 4 engined similar to the Lancaster never gets a mention much like the Hurricane is over shadowed by the Spitfire, but many thousands of them were flying and bombing Germany, while the Manchester was falling out of the sky with failing engines. Rolls Royce produced a 24 cylinder engine really based on two Merlins joined at the sump one upside down, it was only when the Manchester was modified to take four standard Merlins that it became the great aircraft it eventually did become. Both The Halifax and Lancaster had versions with Merlins and Hercules engines, the Halifax with Hercules was much better than the version with Merlins and the Lancaster was the reverse better with Merlins, More versions of the Lancaster were developed during the war and it’s construction was easier than the Halifax, but the Halifax was much tougher and took more punishment before crashing, I trained on and flew them all as an F/E, just wanted to get down in one piece so all were good for me!! 6,176 Halifax were built, their first operational flight took place March 1941.
Both Lancaster and Halifax had 4 .303 Brownings in the rear power turret, mid upper had 2 but had a full 360 rotation and up and down. Some later versions of the Lancaster had twin .5 Brownings in the rear turret, both Halifax and Lancaster had versions with mid under turrets with twin Brownings.
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The Lancaster did eventually drop 22,000 lb grand Slam bombs, called by some earthquake bombs as they were made of high quality steel typical bomb shape and were used to bomb things like bridges which are very hard to destroy, need a direct hit, theses bombs penetrated deep into the earth and shattered the foundations so that the bridge or viaduct collapsed. 7,377 Lancasters were built, their first operational flight took place on 3/4 March 1942.
So I started my training on four engined Lancaster Mark 2 bombers which were in every respect the same as all Lancasters except for the engines which were Bristol Hercules 14 cylinder air cooled radial, all other Lancasters had four Rolls Royce 12 cylinder water cooled twin 6 cyl. vee Merlin engines. Lancasters were the outcome of a design called the Manchester which originally had twin Rolls Royce X engines 24 cylinder X, really two Merlins coupled at the sumps making a cross of four banks of six, these engines were a completed failure and before I went to South Africa in 1941 had worked on one of the Manchesters that had crash landed in a field due to engine failure. A.V Roe (Avro) knew they had a good aircraft and as The Royal Airforce refused to allow them any engines, so scrounged 4 Merlins from Rolls Royce on the “old pals network” and re worked the ‘plane from two engines to four and demonstrated to the top brass what a good all round bomber they had, and so it proved to be in service, carrying heavier bombs farther and higher than any other ‘plane at that time.
I studied the Lancaster and it’s systems including the Hercules engines until I knew every part, hydraulic, air, auto pilot, bomb release gear, undercarriage, you name it I knew and passed with ease my examinations, so much of what I had been studying was what I had been working on for a couple of years, different ‘planes but basically the same in principle. St Athan is a very old and well known R.A.F. Station the R 101 and R100 airships were built there and a “ring” of one of them is fitted to the wall of the huge hanger they were built in, which still stood when I was there, anyone interested in these airships should get “Slide Rule” written by Neville Shute and learn some very interesting facts about these two airships, Neville Shute was an aircraft engineer and any of his fiction books are a good read, perhaps his most well known book was the basis for the film “A Town Like Alice”.
After passing out from the F/E course I was given a short leave and in March 1944 told to report to 1664 Heavy Conversion Unit at Dishforth in Yorkshire and it was there that I joined up with the rest of the crew who had until that time been flying twin engined aircraft. What aircraft did I see on the runway when I got there? Halifax Mark 2s and 5s different ‘planes and different engines so I had to start all over again on systems and bits!!!
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11.3.44, I had to do some initial training to see if I could handle things actually in the air, so it was circuits and landings with a senior Flight Engineer to see how I went. Well we took off OK and did a circuit and came straight in land again, with me operating the various undercarriage and flaps etc as the pilot asked and all was going well round and round until the bumpy air and round and round got to me and I felt sick as a dog after about an hour and asked the F/E if we could pack it up. He looked at me and said if you give in now you are off the course and can go back to your unit, well funny thing I suddenly felt better and got on with the rest of the job for another hour, after that I was always too busy to feel sick.
I have a log book of my time flying, and I include here the information in it from the flights I made as crew member, rather than as a passenger. This began here, with the 1664 HCU, 1664 Heavy Conversion Unit, which means it was heavy conversion unit from 2 to 4 engine aircraft.
Some of the terms on the Log Book shall require explaining. The Lat and Long at the top I have added recently when I bought MS World Atlas and was able to pin point the airfield locations. You will note the first column is the date to help you follow the sequence. This log book records all my flying both training, operational and at Transport Command. C&Ls circuits and landings very boring and mainly for the pilot and engineer to frighten them as much as possible, D.C.O. duty carried out D.N.C.O Duty Not carried out. P.O Lauzon was my first operational pilot, others mentioned on this first page and perhaps elsewhere were senior pilots who had done at least one tour of operations and were being rested before doing another tour of at least 30, all were very much more frightened of the ‘sprog’ pilot than of anything the Boche could throw at them!! PO is Pilot Officer and is really a rank to ensure that the person will not put up any ‘blacks’ and behave like an officer and a gentlemen, probationary period usually 6 moths. FO is not Flight Officer which is a female rank in the WAAF but Flying Officer. 25th Feb 1:32 E Easy was the aircraft that we normally flew when I was with 420 Sqdn, V Victor was our designated ‘plane when with 432 Sqdn, but as we were very new got what was available due to serviceability problems. Will get to each one as I go through my log book, which will be about 30 pages.
Pilot Officer Lauzon asked if I would like to join his crew. The rest were already joined as a crew. I was the last one to join being an RAF Flight Engineer, they needed me to shovel in the coal and to keep the boiler streaming!! As I knew nobody on the course happily agreed, soon realised that all crews belonged to The Royal Canadian Airforce so I had joined a bunch of people who I had no idea of their country or life style, some thing else to study, I was going to be a busy boy! The rest had trained on twin engine aircraft of some sort in Canada and were now ready for the big time.
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We were all very young with different back grounds and likes and dislikes, remember I was with the Canadians who were used to a much higher living standard, more independent than us down trodden POMS (from the Australian prisoners of His Majesty, convicts) So where they had quite a lot of money we did not, all the same Yanky pay, and the food parcels poured in from their families in Canada, when we had leave they went to certain places arranged for them or hit the “big smoke” and found some one to enjoy their pay with, I went home to a shell and bombed Dover, first thing Mum wanted was my ration book so should could feed me, one of my father’s sub contractors always called at our house soon after I got home and from the inside of his very dirty overalls gave me a Black Market parcel of butter, cheese and bacon. My crew always made sure I had some of their surplus food to take home, sugar and jam etc. I could not invite them to stay at my house, one reason was there was no room and another was that I had to have a special pass to even leave the railway station near home even though the local cop on duty knew me. The whole south coast was a restricted area all roads in were manned and high fences were all around so no use trying the fields, took one of my girl friends once, was only allowed to stay 12 hours and had to either send her back to London or both go somewhere else, went somewhere else!! My parents not too pleased but I was on a promise and determined to find out if it was as good as everyone was telling me, yes it was!
After being introduced to the rest of the gang, I got down to serious study learning about fuel systems, tank positions and the fuel transfer arrangements that allowed one tank to supply all engines and many compilations of this, very necessary if flack makes a hole in a fuel tank, need to use that one up first and tanks have to be balanced for the same reason during operations, loose a full tank and you wont have enough fuel to get back home again!! Engine controls are important too, boost and rpm govern the fuel consumption, and which supercharger gear ratio being used is also very critical.
A very brief explanation of boost, revs and supercharger gearing. Boost is the measure of pressure, plus or minus of the air in the induction system of an engine. When a piston sucks in air it increase it’s speed and therefore lowers it’s pressure below atmospheric pressure at ground level (14Ibs per square inch roughly) The more weight of air that can be crammed into a cylinder before it is fired the move power is produced. Hence turbo chargers and super chargers, turbo’s are driven by the exhaust gases, superchargers by gearing direct from the engine, as the aircraft flies higher the air gets less dense, and the power from the engine becomes less, turbo’s and supers pump more air in so that power is maintained, use of ground level increases the power from a given capacity of engine cylinders, an engine without a charger would always show a minus reading on the boost pressure guage [sic].
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The setting of the throttle (accelerator) governs the boost pressure coupled with the turbo or super charger speed setting, the two work together and then setting is done by the pilot or engineer for the conditions at the time (climbing, cruising, etc) components that are a part of the system automatically retain this boost pressure until either a height is reached where the air is so thin that it cannot do so, or changes are made to flight conditions. Revs are the speed at which the propellors go round and relate somewhat to the gearbox of a car, selection of speed is made and automatically kept at that speed by a unit on the engine and one in the propellor itself, bit like an automatic gear box on a car, changing conditions of flight such as taking off and landing require different propellor speeds and reacation [sic] of the flight conditions, feathering which rotates the blades so that they do not “windmill” in the event of an engine failure are also incorporated. Guess it’s not so simple after all and I used to teach this but had the advantage of being able to flap my arms about!!
My first flight with P/O Lauzon was on March 16, 1944 and was Exercise 7&8 in my log book. Exercise 7&8 I have no idea but only took about one and a half hours so not very important I should say.
Our next exercise was the next day, the 17th, and was Local Bombing. This was a training exercise for the crew but mainly for the bomb aimer and pilot to get their co-ordination working together so that the target is hit. Small practice bombs used but sometimes larger ones full of concrete may be dropped.
The next night I was up with another pilot, Fry, for Circuits and Landing exercises again. More night training.
The next morning I was called to fly with yet another pilot, Vinish, for a Sea Search. VINISH is correct, think I wrote “finish” and got a sharp reminder! Sea Search was a very serious matter that was to see us spend all those hours searching a particular part of the ocean with other crews looking for a downed ‘plane, a hell of a strain on the eyes, the sun shining on the moving waves makes it very hard to see anything properly so things are reported that are not there and other things missed, and no we did not see anything.
You will note that I took off at 10:15 am flew for nearly six hours and then took off again the same day with a different pilot at 20:20 being tested on night C&Ls for about 4.30 hrs and that is only the time in the air, lots goes on before and after!!
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Then it was back to P/O Lauzon for two flights in one day, the 20th. Two and a half hours of Local Bombing in the morning then a six and a half hour Night Cross Country exercise.
Apart from actually flying and being checked by a senior Flight Engineer to find out if I could do my job properly, our navigator had to give me instruction on star charts, which star was where and how to use the sextant to take star shots while flying to help in navigation, the F/E position was beneath the astro-drome and it was another of his jobs to do star shots if and when the navigator needed them, the correct star had to be found and a timed shot taken to give an average reading, the wrong star could make life difficult and I can tell you the ‘plane bumping about, nasty people trying to shoot you down didn’t make finding the right star in amongst the millions out there easy.
During this course we also had to take instruction in escape technic’s [sic] both from the aircraft and the enemy, we went to a swimming pool and in full flying gear jumped in the water and tried to turn over an up turned dingy we managed, but could not see it being possible at night in a rough cold North Sea, we all treated it as a bit of a laugh, young and foolish in hind sight.
Our next flight, on the 24th March 1944 at 18:45, our crew did it’s first night operation over France as a diversionary raid to fool the Germans into sending fighters up to intercept what appeared a bomber force approaching targets in their country. This Bullseye Mission was a number of training aircraft that were sent in a direction different than the proper bombers, hoping this would direct enemy fighters away from the real bombers. This diversionary raid turned back before any target was reached and hopefully before any of the inexperienced crews were shot down!! The 1/3 shown on the log was a third of a point awarded towards the total of thirty points needed for a complete tour of operations. “Bullseyes” only counted as one third of an operation. The missions was six long hours wandering about over enemy territory before landing back at base with eyes very sore with looking for enemy fighters that never appeared.
Another course we had to attend was escape after being shot down, this was carried out by senior NCO’s of the Army at a special camp on the Yorkshire Moors, a cold and bleak place, with our instructors determined to show those “Brylcreem boys” what tough meant, we were marched and run about all day, all ranks, some quite senior officers going back on operations for their third tour, were made to wear overalls at all times with no badges of rank and shouted at as if we were new recruits in the Army. Escape training was carried out at night without any warning, doors were slammed no lights put on and we had to get into our overalls and get outside, loaded
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into trucks half asleep, and driven out on to the moors, dropped off in twos with a map, not told where we were and left to find our own way back to camp, the local police, army and the courses just finishing came out looking for us and if found we were arrested and help in jail until sent back to camp. The Canadians were very much anti authority, (much like the Australians I now live with) so nothing was sacred, buses were found in back yards and driven near to camp with lots of aircrew hidden under seats, some stayed out for days being fed and “watered” by lonely wives whose husbands were in the Forces, and said they have got lost and were tired and hungry, some did look as if they had been working very hard and needed a rest. This was our last training in the Heavy Conversion Course.
The fact that this was our last flight was a coincidence. Bulls Eye was not a graduation ceremony. If one was wanted by the higher ups and you had reached a level of training able to do it you went, the needs of the service were what governed what and where you went.
I had completed training and was graded on my performance in the course. Exam result is 73.5% That was based on my flying with instructors and theory of the aircraft systems at HCU 1664, not wonderful but remember I did do a theory and practicle [sic] course just prior to arriving at HCU on the Lancaster Mark II, different ‘plane with entirely different engines, so apart from crewing up with a bunch of wild Canadians, I had less than two weeks to learn all about a new ‘plane and it’s engines, not bad for yours truly. The results of my examination were signed officially by the Flight Engineer Flight Leader, a flight of men can be any number that can be controlled or over seen, a flight of aircraft also can be any number that is suitable for the type, 3 bombers being usual, more for fighters, a number of flight make a squadron, a number squadrons make a wing, a number of wings make a Group and a number of groups make a command as in Bomber Command. Got all that? So the Flight Leader responsible for a number of Flight Engineers under training, signed to say that I had reached a standard whereby I could be expected to do do [sic] my job properly. All trades of air crew had Flight Leaders, Navigator, Gunners, Wireless operator, Bomb aimer, and lets not forget the driver Leader for the Drivers airplane!!
This all ended in due course and our crew were given a posting to 432 Sqdn RCAF at Eastmoor who were equipped with Halifax Mark 3, same engines as Lancaster 2s and much better version of the Halifax’s at Dishforth, so all that study had paid off in the end!! My flying time with Squadron 432 are covered in those pages of my Log.
The RCAF was called 6 Group part of Bomber Command, most airfields had two Squadrons based on it, each was controlled by its own staff and did not always fly to the same targets nor even on the same days of nights.
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Usually the same nation were located at each base, so you had two Canadian Squadrons where I was, 420 and 425 at Tholthorpe as an example with my next unit. I just can’t remember which squadron was at Eastmoor with 432, the Lancaster book I mentioned before gives all the squadrons and I will just look to see which Squadron was at Eastmoor with 432 when they were with Lancasters. Doesn’t help, my book shows an HCU at the same base but that was to covert 432 from Wellingtons I think on to Lancaster II, they then changed to Halifax III just before I joined, need the same sort of book for the Halifax which I don’t have and maybe no one has! To continue both these squadrons, and 432 as well, were part of 6 Group. Each squadron was divided into flights the number I cannot remember nor can I recall how many ‘planes in each flight. I would recommend to you that you beg borrow, steal or even in extreme circumstances purchase a book called The Lancaster Story by Peter Jacobs it is distributed in the USA by Sterling Publishing CO Inc 387 Park Avenue South, New York it’s ISBN is 1 85409 288 8 it is a very fine book and gives much detail of the history and operational types of Lancasters I was given the book by one of Phyllis’s brothers and treasure it greatly.
We flew out of Eastmoor airfield. The airfields were just that, fields, hangers and other buildings had been erected, but I visited some many many years later and just the concrete runway was still there most had been removed for scrap and given back to the farmers, local drag car clubs still use some of them and guess those farmer with ‘planes of their own could land and take off on them. Although I do not recall the details of Eastmoor, I have read that the Standard Airfield design for heavy bombers was to have a main runway 2000 yds, and two secondary runways at about 60 degrees to one another of 1400 yds.
A fence had been errected [sic] around the perimeter and RAF Police patrolled this to keep strangers out, but guess if you really wanted in it would have been easy, gun positions were manned by RAF Regiment people with mainly light guns and fixed posts with bofors. The local towns were in the main villages, been there for centuries still using the roads that the Romans built, a village hall, for all the functions so a trip to one on a dance night would see all the lonely ladies out in force and us being the local best thing since sliced bread were over whelmed with attention, take your pick and hope her husband is not near!!!
Two crew slept in each nissen hut so no need to shout for quiet more like a moan about someones socks which were “humming”, don’t ever remember noise being a problem, none of us played craps or other gambling games like the Americans, guess compared to them our lives were a bit like “The vicar’s tea party”! There were no other ‘normal working hours’ type people in our huts so no problem.
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Life on the Bases 432 and 420 was the usual things. We played horse shoes, pool. I even had to have lessons from the wireless operator on the morse code and key. Buses were laid on to the local villages for the dances which were not all that popular, not too many lovely ladies there!! The odd trip into York but much the same old thing into the pub a few beers and away before the usual fights started between the armies of the Allies. Only those that had not fought anywhere had to prove how wonderful they were, just idiots, bit like the rubbish on earth today. nuf said!!
We didn’t have any “hours” as such when bomber crews, we were expected to be available 24 hours a day , but if “stood down” officially for a number of hours usually until next morning could go out of camp and be back in by 23.59, the usual time for late return from a night on the town.
Stations Order were posted on the various notice boards which would give times of lectures , and other places we had to be, one such was the visit to our camp by the Prime Minister of Canada, we had to line up to be inspected, not to bull parade more like a casual couple of lines of airmen of all ranks chatting away until he got near and spoke to some one, unfortunately the first three or four he spoke to and asked “Where are you from in Canada” were all RAF and not RCAF so when he got London, Yorkshire etc was a bit puzzled, one of the officers took him by the elbow and steered him in the right direction. We all wore RCAF brevets for our aircrew trade so not easy for him to know who was who, on my squadron only the Flight Engineers were RAF the rest all Canadians. The Canadians had a saying that I have just remembered, “Joe for King, home by Christmas” Joe was Stalin and King was the name of the Canadian Prime Minister.
So to recap, we were pretty free to do as we wished most of the time, and I like most others only read any notice board if we thought we were getting promoted, and left all that stuff to our pilot, who knew before we did when and where we were flying etc. That is why I got in such a muddle over my Officer’s interview, mentioned elsewhere I think you will find, just never bothered to read the notice boards!!!
Our missions were at first all night operations. As such I shall have to educate you about night and day in England, Winters starts about October/November and goes on until February/March, some visitors swear it never stops and is winter all year, but the important thing is that in these northern climes daylight ends very early and starts late so a man working a normal day starting at 8am and finishing 4-5 pm will always travel in pitch darkness to and from work. Taking off in darkness at 18.00 hours is no different from taking off even later. Darkness from say 7pm to 7am is 12 hours and we did not have bombers that could last that long and where would they have
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bombed anyhow? Hope that helps, just to take a random looking in the log book 6-10-44 15.45 take off to Dortmund all listed as night flying. Remember England is not too far from the Arctic Circle where 6 months of days and the 6 months of nights happens all the time!! At times we would land fairly early in the evening, but for another random look 15.9.44 22.00 to Keil 5.35 meant we got back to base about 3.30 am debriefing meal etc bed by about 5am, no early night that one.
If there had been a large night force out on a target say a 1000 bomber raid not every place was at the target at the same time, enough problems spread out, guess it would have been chaos otherwise so a raid would start soon after dark and continue until close on dawn when the day bombers took over.
April fools day found me acting as F/E to our Flight leader, Flight Lt. Cooper, doing circuits and landings at night for more than two hours to again check my skills, followed a few days later on the 4th with the whole crew doing the same thing. We passed this ok so now had to do a daylight cross-county to make sure we could go and come back!! The next day, the 8th, we did another “Bullseye”, this one 3 hours 35 minutes long, but were told they didn’t count towards points for a tour!
On the squadron you only got points for what you did operationally. While I am talking about a TOUR, it was a walk in the sun eyeing up the Canadian WAAFs, all who were very pretty and carried about a ton of makeup on their faces, my Canadian crew thought it wonderful, I thought they looked like a bunch of clowns Hey Ho. A TOUR was a certain number of operations 30 being the average but based on targets and what the service wanted so some did more and some did less I did 36, wanted to do more so that my crew could finish with the same F/E, as I had done some ops before joining them, I didn’t say anything to my Flight Engineer Leader but when he found out I had done more than I should have, he stopped me and sent me to get my new uniform as an officer!!! But that was yet to come of course.
On April 10th we flew our first operation, to Ghent, Belgium. The ops to Ghent was in all probability a German ammunition dump, a guess.
The raid is on so after a quick trip to the mess hall for a preflight meal it’s back to the barracks to put on my flight gear which is really only to dispense with the collar and tie, pull on the very large white woollen rollneck sweater under my normal working uniform top, pull on my flying boots and zip them up (keep hoping that the latest ones will be issued to us, these are impossible to walk in, made of foam and suede with long uppers lined inside with sheep skin, they certainly keep the feet and legs warn [sic] but after a few
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uses tend to lose their shape and “become down at heel” the latest ones are made from black leather as proper shoes and the leg portion can be removed by cutting the top off with the small knife hidden inside, more suitable for aircrew to walk away from the enemy after bailing out.
Down to the parachute section with the rest of the crew and draw my chest type chute and harness. On one operation we were told that ALL squadron parachutes had been repacked, a rumour had been circulating that a chute had had it’s rip cord pulled by mistake and all that fell out was an old blanket!! Parachute silk was much sought after during the war to make the “gift wrapping” that men looked for when their girls took their outer clothes off. We always poked a finger into the corner of the case to feel if there was silk (nylon?) inside.
Time to board the truck to take us out to the aircraft, as we called at each dispersal point calls of “race you back” and some not quite so pleasant were made to those climbing out, at last we were at our ‘plane, tumble out and grab our bits and bobs, I had in addition to my chute and harness a tool bag with a few spanners, pliers, bits of useful wire, string etc, other had large bags with the navigation and wireless bumf, and the tails gunner probably had a brick or lump of old iron.
We all climbed aboard to put our things in a position we could grab them if needed, my chute went on the floor in my position, as did my tool box, then I fitted my chute harness on making sure it was tight and properly fastened. down to the tail to remove the elevator lock and start doing my normal checks before we started the four engines, I had an aircraft log sheet to fill in, with what fuel was in which tank, and as soon as we started engines, all their details must be entered., by this time we had all settled in and a quick call was made to check that all intercom positions answered.
Halifax crew positions were spread throughout the aircraft. The bomb aimer’s position was in the nose where he map read if possible our mark of Halifax had no nose gun, it was found that fighters did not attack head on at night, various design changes took place during the war as needed so some had nose guns and some not. Then there was a blackout curtain, behind which was the navigator, then the wireless operator, all these at a lower level than the pilot, wop more or less under the pilot’s feet, up a bit the Pilot and behind him the Flight Engineer, who darted about as required. Then there was the mid upper turret and then tail turret. The Halifax had bomb bays in the fuselage behind the f/e position but beneath the floor but could be got at through panels if needed in the case of a hang up, also bomb bays were situated in the wings between the inboard engines and fuselage.
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In the cockpit where the pilot was were all the throttles, under carriage and flap controls, and the usual flying instruments. My position was also in the cockpit, where I would access the various contrls [sic] and dials needed to keep the plane flying properly. Only on very rare occasions did I have to help my pilots and that was if we had lost an engine and then only on landing. Once when a tyre burst as we touched down did he want a bit of muscle to keep it straight other than that managed without what seemed any effort. The Halifax position for the flight engineer was right behind the pilot, with my instruments, fuel, oil water pressures and temps etc on a rear partition, levers etc to change fuel tanks was either side behind the main wing spar. I had no resting place, no chair, so what I was only the engineer!! If a crash landing was going to be done all the crew expect the pilot could make themselves a safe spot by clinging together behind the main wing spar, so that was no worry, in a crash I would be as well off as the rest.
I was able to stand upright at my F/E position, and also when I assisted the pilot, think I could stand upright at the mid upper gunner’s position but needed to bend my back as I got near the tail, The inside was not pained as such, but from memory was a dark green in colour, probably the anti corrosion coating applied to Duralumin, Alclad and Aluminium sheets used to fabricate the ‘planes. The step up to my F/E position was about 9 inches, underneath was stored the oxygen supply for the whole aircraft, but I could still stand erect with my whole 68 and bit inches of height (the bit is much more important than the preceding 68 for those of us who are in a neat and compact package) I was able to turn round with relative ease, the space being sufficient for my needs, no windows of any kind apart from the roof astro-drome, the cockpit did have sliding windows both sides as well as a windscreen which was a great help to us, to see our way!!!, Both wireless operator and navigator had windows (non opening) complete with blinds for night work, there was also a large curtain between these positions and the bomb aimer nose, which was completely made of perspex in the Mark III version I flew in on operations, as far as I can remember we could all stand upright in the nose section where the nav and wop had seat with tables for their equipment. far from being cramped we all has as much room as we would require, not enough to hold a dance or even a large party but we could all move about with relative ease and reach anything needed to do our job. The fuselage looking back from my position which was just forward of the main spar, was really empty except for the mild upper gunner’s position, his lower body and feet only projected down about half way, with room to pass either side of him, we didn’t have the open side gun positions used in the forts.
During this time we had gradually crept up to the runway threshold and were now awaiting the green from the Aldis lamp, I had left my position to stand next to my pilot at the top of the steps landing down the wop,
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nav, and bomb positions, ready to hold the throttles open as we charged down the runway and to assist in any way wanted, I had already told the skipper that all engines were running Ok and so we set forth to battle.
The tail came up and we reached our “unstick speed” (whatever that was !!) the whole aircraft was shuddering with the effort of leaving the ground, a few skips off the concrete and we were airborne, time to take a breath, it had stopped completely as the trees bordering the ‘drome had got closer and closer, we once arrived back with bits of branches still caught in the undergear, and a failure of only one engine at that time with a full bomb and fuel load meant the end. Up with the undercarriage reduce the flap angle and set the throttles for climbing, synchronise the propellers, fill in the log book, reduce again the flap angle, check engine temps and pressures, change gills to get the temps right, stepping in and out and up to the pilot to do as he wanted, breathing heavily into the oxygen mask, which always smelt of rubber and rust and wet with condensation. I had to keep mine on to receive instructions from the skipper but most of the other crew could leave theirs unfastened until we climbed higher and went on to oxygen.
Back into my cubby hole, standing looking up out of the astro dome to see if we were in danger of climbing into some one else, all clear, down to the top of the steps to pile up the window and pamphlets that I would start to put down the chute later on, check all the engine details again, at every change of engine revs and at a regular period (think it was 15 minutes but not sure the log had to be filled in, a cardboard rotary calculator was used to work out what fuel had been used at certain revs and boost to check what fuel was left in each tank, the gauges were only a very rough guide!!
Not exactly a “Jack in the box” but I always took my job seriously and did all I could to ensure my side of things ran like clockwork, no guesses keep checking and worrying until home again safe and sound.
We had arrived at the altitude we were to fly at and engine revs and boost were reset, oxygen had been switched on at about the same time high speed had been selected on the supercharger for each engine, about 11,000 to 12,000 ft.
The navigator would tell the skipper at what time and which compass bearing he should be on to set course not for the target but the first of the course changes, and so with the constant roar of four engines, our little world of icy cold draughts, a lethal cargo, shuddering rocking in the streams of air from those in front, with many staring eyes looking for any others who might be near us in the black sky, seven young men went about their duty as they saw it.
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It was cold, it was apparently dangerous, if you worried about not getting back you probably wouldn’t, those that were frightened all the time were the real heroes, most of us just did it and were glad to be doing something to save our civilisation, not that we ever know just how bad things were or what a terrible bunch the leaders of the enemy were.
Yes I was a bit frightened on our first operation, but the ones that I always felt sorry for were the gunners. The pilot and engineer could see what was happening but were also very busy not only with flying the plane, but I had to record all the engine and fuel tank details plus other odds and sods. The navigator and wireless operator were shut up in their places with little to see from a small window and were themselves busy with their bits and bobs. The bomb aimer was in all probability stretched out full length looking at the sights below waiting to do his bit and telling us what he could see to help us avoid others and ensure we got where we were supposed to go. But the gunners isolated in their turrets had only themselves to talk to and fear can become a self promoting thing. Being busy kept me from being too frightened to do my job properly, and I can honestly say that I never really felt fear just a bit of apprehension on some operations, but more of that later.
There was no way to tell if we hit the target, not unless we were told so later. Most times, as here, we were not the first on target, it was all organised on “waves” so the thing was usually well alight or just a ploughed field by the time we got there. What we added to this was difficult to say or see from our altitude. The bomb aimer would see all the ground targets and perhaps what happened when the bombs landed. I was busy with my jobs and searching the sky above to help the gunners, didn’t really see a great deal. Sorry I am not able to give you a graffic [sic] picture of bombs falling and targets blowing up, Hollywood might but they live in a dream world anyhow!!
When we returned from our first operation, we were told the mission was only worth one third of a point!
We did not fly again for a week and then only flew a cross country exercise. On the 18th we flew an op to Paris. Ah Paris!!! Do you really think it was lit up??? All we saw were the flashes of bombs going off and the crash and flash of anti aircraft shells trying to get us. Every target we went to sent up flak, the Germans seemed to really hate us I wonder why? Until we started daylight operations we only saw what was lit up by our bombs and must say we didn’t hang about looking at the sights.
A five hour mission. How can it take five hours to fly to Paris you ask? The time taken to get to a target does not indicate how far it was, to confuse
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the enemy bomber tracks were deliberately set out as if a certain target were that night’s one when in actual fact we went elsewhere so the navigator did not have a period of nothing to do but was always calculating when and where to turn onto the next part of the course, gaining or losing time if necessary to arrive on target at the correct time, and checking on drift from winds not as per listed, and adding anything in his log that was of use to others, such as new flak sites. We never flew directly to any target nor flew home the same way, always many twists and turns to fool the enemy, those that chose the easy way home often didn’t get there, we followed the plan as set out by our squadron commanders, in our case it worked!!
Again, only one third of a point for some reason. Two nights later, on the 20th, we went to Lens, Belgium on an operation for which we were given one third of a point again!! I can’t seem to remember any reaction to this grudging point system, good boys did as we were told!! Funny thing is that most of us never really worried about reaching the end of a tour, the mateship of the crew was more important, ie just look at my and others search for old mates we flew with, can’t afford in most cases to get really together but nice to hold hands at a distance!!
On 22 April 1944 we went to the Ruhr Valley, known by all bomber crews as Happy Valley, solid flack from end to end.
Flak was present not just over the target of course. There were flak sites all about, and even flak ships. flak ships were in fact ships moored off the Enemy coast and were very bad medicine for anyone foolish enough to fly over them, guess being cooped up in a ship and see sick some of the time made the crew mad as they were very accurate and fast with reloading. Flak ships were well documented and only the crews with poor navigators or ‘planes in trouble ever went near then, we saw but kept well away!!
A slight shuffle off course, there were many flak towers of our own situated in the Thames estuary which were just as lethal as the ships, some years after the war and many years from now took one of my boys out to one in the first runabout I built, pretty massive things and I took a couple of photos to prove we had been there, our boating friends all turned back halfway and chickened out!!
Back to Happy Valley, the flak was heavy. Dusseldorf was a very serious affair, bits of red hot flak flew about inside the ‘plane as the shells burst, our navigator got hit but fortunately right on the torch in his May [sic] West (flotation vest), made him grunt a bit but he was Ok to get us home again. I had to check all manner of bits that got damaged, seem to remember the fuel control levers, about ten of them got damaged and it was a nightmare of a lottery which bit of frayed wire controlled which tank, but guess I must have
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done the right thing because we got home!! Just remember all this is being done in more or less pitch black darkness with the “driver” dodging flak burst and weaving about for the gunners, none of it calculated to appeal to the faint hearted!! But I wanted to get home as well and could have been on a promise from my latest girl friend, what more incentive could a guy have? Over Dusseldorf we were hit by flack. We returned safely. This was a full point towards our 30 needed.
On the 24th Karlsruhe was the target, and Essen on the 26th, back to France on the 27th to Montzen one whole point for this one, but on the 30th again over France to Somain and back to 1/3 point no idea why.
My log book for April lists 40.15 hrs operational, total 56.05. It is signed by Squadron Leader (rank about Flight Lieutenant shown as F/L and S/L) Officer Commanding (OC) “B” Flight This Officer was in overall control of all LEADERS for that flight of a number of aircraft and men to fly them, The ranks when I was in the RAF were Pilot officer, Flying Officer, Flight Lieutenant, Squadron Leader, Wing Commander, Group Captain, won’t bother with the rest, but the rank did not signal the position held visa vi aircraft operations as these ranks applied also to medical, religious, cook house and all other branches concerned with the RAF so a clerk could be a Squadron Leader if an officer, got it? BUT no non-flying type ever got to be incharge [sic] of operational people, want a riot do you? Unless you had pilot’s wings, very few other crew members ever made it to high rank, had to be a “driver” to get to the top. and so it should be I say!! Driver a term used by non drivers to put them in their place at times of getting about themselves, like chatting up your girl or not standing their round at the bar!!
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Underlined] F/E Reg Miles [/underlined]
May started with an air to air fighter affil. A Fighter Affil was us in a Halifax or Lancaster bombers in daylight practicing avoiding a fighter and a fighter doing the same to us, or should I say trying to us down (in
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theory we hope) camera guns used, good fun if you like sick making dives and climbs, as Flight Engineer the only one of the crew in constant free fall, all others belted in and the pilot having a real fun time as he tries to make the slow bomber do things never designed for it!! Hope that tells you what fighter affil was, never tried it at night guess not too many would land again in one piece, with 19-20 year old boys doing wheelies in the sky with permission of the 24-25 year old bosses!! But this one we didn’t finish due to the weather. Heavy cloud moved in and the exercise was D.N.C.O duty not carried out! My Log book will show by each notation D.C.O. or D.N.C.O. DCO is Duty Carried Out, DNCO has a not in it!!!
In fact May was a bad month only two ops. The first was to France at Le Clipon. I note that on the night of the 19.5.44 ops Le Clipon that there is a small red note 15x500 could be what bombs we took!! The second mission in May was to France as well, to Mont Couple for a grand total for the month of 2/3 of a point. Most of the time was spent night flying about England doing more training.
A recent TV show about drugs, reminds me of something during my service, which many people may not know happened. On at least two occasions we were drugged!! Not too sure which ones it was but, you see we weren’t ever told what was being planned or cancelled, just called up to do a raid. Once we were pulled out of bed to do a raid and given pills to keep us awake, the raid was then cancelled after we had climbed aboard out planes, we were then given more pills to make us sleep. No idea what the pills were or even if they worked!!!
The second of June started much as May with an op to Neufchatel in France for another one third point, and on the 12th six days after D Day, Les Lauzon and I were marshalling V Victor from our dispersal to the main runway, as I unlocked the elevators by pulling out the large pin something slipped and my hand was trapped and very badly cut, I had to be taken to the hospital, sewn up, bandaged and my arm put in a sling. No possibility of my going on the op so a spare F/E was called up in my place.
Later that night after some pain killers and a rest I heard the 432 ‘planes returning and went down to the Ops room where all returning crews had to call in and give our statement of events, what we saw, if we could give any details of aircraft shot down, and all the details that would help to decide if the target had been hit. When the Station Adjutant saw me he had a fit, my mother had just been sent a telegram to say I was missing on operations, my crew had been shot down and would not be returning.
This was a great shock to me. It would also be a shock to my parents. and as it was now just after 8 o/clock in the morning knew that my
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Dad would be at work in his office on the docks at Dover, gave the Adjutant the number and was put through in record time, told Dad I was ok and would explain the details when I saw him.
Each crew shared a nissen hut with another crew, not a happy situation when the other crew went missing, but the padre or one of his staff quickly gathered all the stuff up and it was sorted out by one of the squadron officers to send to the parents, anything not nice was removed. I was lucky my stuff was not sent before I managed to let them know I was still on camp!!
Nothing for me to do on the base so home I went on the next train from York to Dover. Trains, now that is something that you should all enjoy, no Air Raid Wardens, the guard just turned off all lights when an air raid warning was sounded, if a tunnel was near the train would go in there, but we are only talking about trains near the coastal regions, hit and run raids were the ones that tried to get trains, trucks etc but that soon stopped when the RAF squadrons became equipped with plenty of fighters to scare the low fliers away, happened to me a couple of times on my way to Dover on leave but really not a worry, worse things happen at sea we always said. Train travel was dirty, uncomfortable, long delays, overcrowded with troops and all there [sic] gear going about the country, only very rarely would a seat be available and soon given up to the lass with a baby on board or in arms, the corridors solid from end to end, tired people going back from leave and even more tired people going home for a spell away from war, but in some cases going into more war if their home was in the south, not that the north escaped bombing raids but it continued for longer in the south in fact almost to the day war ended, V1s and V2s almost to the end. After I was made an officer I travelled first class, now that was good if I had a travel warrant, not so hot if I had to pay for it, lot of rubbish I thought but must do as I am told like a good boy.
I arrived just after eight the next morning and phoned Dad from the Railway Station, he picked me up and took me home, Mum was at the local corner shop and post office, all the staff knew me and also knew about the telegram.
I did not notice a great deal about the Normandy build up, the landing happening on the 6th. We flew over the south of England on our night operations and sometimes were on our way home at dawn we would see the build up. As I usually spent time with my father in the Dover docks while on leave would have seen what was going on. But remember Dover was always very busy and some parts were off limits to every one, any double decker buses used on that part of the coast had all the top windows locked and pained on the outside black so no view of what was happening about the place.
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D Day itself, however, must have come and gone without me noticing it. A bit like V Day and J Day. I was in all probability flying somewhere, or coming from somewhere by car, train, boat, or foot, just never registered, but see years later the crowds in London celebrating, guess they were lucky to be there at that time.
Being home with a wound, I thought I would have some luck with the local girls if I spun the yarn that I had swum the English Channel with one hand, didn’t work out that way because a couple of days later I had a big lump behind my ear and a raging headache, high temperature and not a well boy at all. Dad took me to the closest Military Hospital which was in fact at Dover Castle (built by William the Conquer 1066), beneath which miles of tunnels had been cut and a large and modern hospital installed, I was told that I had an infected scalp, the poison was draining into a gland behind my ear and would take a while to heal, perhaps brought on by a combination of shock from my injured hand and the loss of my crew, a close bond exists when people depend on each other for their survival and air crew had a very close bond. I was taken by ambulance to an old country mansion up the valley a few miles inland from Dover, this was on or about the 10-12 June 1944, no medicine was available to treat my condition, just aspirin for the pain and high temperature, I lay in bed staring through the large windows hoping for sleep and return to health and wondering what had happened to my crew, night time was the worst, nursing staff all asleep upstairs and every one else snoring their heads off.
Then to make matters worse the Germans started sending over Flying Bombs on the night of the 13-14 June and every night and day after that, these pilot-less aircraft had a rocket type motor which had a pulse mechanism that gave them a strange but most recognisable noise, when the noise stopped they just fell out of the sky and the one ton of explosives made a nasty mess of anything underneath. They were programmed to fly up the valley where I was laying sick in bed and on the opposite hills from my bed were 20 and 40m/m quick firing guns, which of course fired at each and every one they saw or thought they did. I swear they were firing straight at me and thought it very unfair that after putting up with Jerry firing his guns at me now my own side were doing the same!
After the war there was a newspaper article showing the location of all Doodle Bug strikes in Kent. I still have a copy, and it is copied elswhere [sic] on this CD.
I was in that hospital for more than a week until one afternoon the doctor seemed to think I was ripe and cut into this lumps behind my ear and out popped a golf ball sized ball that looked like wound up white wool, all pain went and the wound soon healed up,.
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A few days at home to get my strength up and I was told to report to 420 Sqdn RCAF at Tholthorpe in Yorkshire, where I was crewed up with Jim Tease as pilot and the usual other members of E easy, they had lost their F/E somehow can’t remember now why, but they were a nice bunch and as I had done a few more trips than them, was an old hand!!
One such trip they made without me Jim has only recently told me of. On the 25th of July 44, Jim relates, we started for Stuttgard with over-load petrol tanks in the wing bomb bays, and the fuel lines were plugged so we could not get the fuel from them into the main tanks, so we had an early return. He then says “think you were the F/E but book says Naish”. His Book is correct.
The new crew to which I was assigned was as follows. Jim Tease Pilot, Bridgeman Bombardier, Nicklen Navigator and best man at my wedding!, Baker Wireless Operator, Vaughan Gunner, and Yack Gunner. Our ground crew were LACs Jones, Milne, Parker, Smith and Sgt Berry. All were RCAF.
When I was stationed with 420 Snowy Owl RCAF Squadron our motto was ‘pugnamus finitum’ which translated mean (so I’m told) ‘We fight to the finish’, now my long time RAF mate, (Halton, South Africa etc) arrived on the companion Squadron at Tholthorpe, good looking always got the pretty girl, 425 Alouette RCAF Squadron motto ‘Je te Plumerai’ “I shall pluck you” how appropriate for a French Canadian outfit, the re-write by all and sundry is painfully obvious, even more so for my mate Darce, got through the war OK but lost touch in 1947 and just hope he is still doing what he always did best!!
Our first op together was on the night of 28th July to Hamburg in Germany, the port inner lost all of it’s oil over the target, flack put a hole in a pipe so we returned on three engines and for some reason it wouldn’t feather so that was added drag but we made it back in one piece, and all felt good that one was over.
On the night of the 31st we were over Deuf-en-Ternois and had a slight argument with an ME109 we both tried to get into firing position and the Jerry pilot realised that he might come off worse if he didn’t go away which he suddenly did, we were happy to see him go!! We again had problems which meant we couldn’t return to base but had to land at Skipton an emergency aerodrome equipped with FIDO.
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Landing away from home usually would be on a FIDO drome. Once landed, our ‘plane would be towed clear of the runway and dumped for us to sort out in daylight, we would get our heads down wherever we could and as it was often nearly dawn by the time we had sorted out our problems we would get some more fuel get the fans fixed and fly back to base, where we would then be de-briefed have a meal and either get some kip or get ready for the next one.
August 3rd daylight to Foret-de-Nieppe in France target an ammunition dump. Flying at night we all went our way and took no notice of friend or foe unless forced to, by daylight the powers that be decided we should fly in, and practice formation, all very good for them that always get lost or need to hold hands, not us we know where to go and what time we should be there so get out of the way and follows us if you like!!!
Perhaps I should try to relive the first daylight raid I went on, that would have been 3:8:44 Foret-de-Nieppe. I mentioned before that as far as flak we never had a free ride, well the flak this first daylight one is well remembered.
It seemed all very strange at first to be able to see what we were doing, not having to squint with hardly any illumination to read gauges and find things by touch alone, so a bit like a holiday as we set “sail” to our target. All our friends around us, not I hasten to add in formation, but at time close enough to be able to recognise some and even give them a wave as we passed close. We of course were heading in the correct direction for the target, where some of the others were off to we did not know, kites flying off all over the place, and yet at night we all arrived where we should be, but how we missed one another in the dark is a mystery. Thinking about it, all the navigators were in their little cubicles without reference to what was happening outside and were working out their own headings taking into account the wind directions and the aircraft speed, so were doing their own plans to get to the target on time, bit like modern motorists taking different roads to get to their work places on time. Any how the skipper and I looked at the mess of planes going every which way and remarked that some of them must be mad, not us we knew where we we [sic] going. Gradually things sorted themselves out and a few of us were going in roughly the same direction, not all at the same height I might add but you can’t have everything can you? As the holiday spirit continued we saw some of our ‘planes cross our path and joined us, where they had been no one knew, but we had a gaggle of bombers heading towards the target. Crossed the coast of England and could see the French coast coming up, no need for the bomb aimer to tell the skipper and I but the navigator would welcome the information and the fact that we were not alone anymore!!
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“Ten minutes to target” came through the inter com from the navigator and as was usual a heading for the skipper to take as soon as we had dropped our bombs, often a lot of noise over the target so best to get our escape route sorted before going in.
And there was the target the first wave had been in and were on their way home again, but it was impossible to get to the target, one solid mass of bursting flak, not enough room between the bursts for even a small ‘plane let alone a bomber. The skipper and I stared through the windscreen, we did not say anything but guess he felt as I did that this was going to be one hell of a trip, the holiday was over that was for sure.!! The bomb aimer was crouched over the bomb sight giving directions, only the skipper and I could see what was in front of us but in we went and all was suddenly revealed to us what we could see were the shells that had burst, the ones to worry about were the ones that were on their way up, not quite back to the holiday spirit, but survival was now possible, the great puffs of stinking smoke were swept aside as we juddered from near misses and kept on course to our dropping point, a quick look around the sky showed our friends doing what we were doing and guess we weren’t the only ones to have had a bit of a fright at our first daylight op.
Daylight operations were less stressful then night missions I would say over all, though we didn’t know about stress then. We could see what we were doing as we took off and every one in the crew could do their job without trying to see with a very dim light, the wop and nav could even see outside through their windows, not having previosly [sic] seen the bursting flak, and burning ‘planes, the first time in daylight may have been rather a shock for them!!! For our pilot I’m sure it made life just a little easier, taking off in the dark with a full load, not able to see where you were on the runway or how close to the end and it’s obstructions you were, for me it was a strain but for him trying to physically lift the beast into the air must have been a constant worry, and landing back in the light at base where he could see all the other circling ‘planes, the runway not a shadow but there in all it’s concrete glory was much easier than trying to figure out where everything on the ground was and where he was in relation to other unseen aircraft. I suppose both kind of operations had their good and bad points, at night you crept into the target like a black cat in a black room, unseen you hoped but concerned with contact with both fighters and your own friends, navigation difficult because of lack of ground sighting, landing and taking off harder, even taxing to a dispersal difficult at times. In daylight everything could be seen even you over the target so no hiding in clouds, just fly in and drop the bombs and get out again, not sure which I preferred, if you survived all were good!!
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We had fighters flying with us to keep the enemy ones away, so just a little of the holiday spirit came back, but on future ones we had the sight of bombers falling to the flak, my most vivid one was seeing a Flying Fortress some miles away have a wing shot off and counting the parachutes that came out as the ‘plane tumbled over and over and eventually disappear through the clouds. But for this trip there was none of that, and later it was very nice to see all the other squadrons from the many ‘dromes in our part of the world circling their airfields to go into land, some had a few bits hanging off them, and I suppose some had injured aboard, but home was near at hand a mug of coffee well laced with rum and one more to enter in the log book as DCO.
August 4th daylight again to France a pilot less plane storage dump at Boiss-de-Cassair. These were the V-1 Rockets, or Doodle Bugs as they were called. All we could see of the target was really only a gap in the forest with the ramp for the doodle bug to be fired up for launching, and the rest of the site was hidden in the trees,. I guess the local French Resistance would have sent the information by wireless of the location. Afterwards, not much to see when a number of bombers have dropped a few tons of bombs on a target. We used 500lb and 1000lb bombs on these sort of targets. Not too sure what our maximum bomb load for the Halibag would be but must have been at least 6 ton, but please don’t quote me! The area looked like a very poorly ploughed field after we had gone.
Regarding Bomb Loads this what Jim Tease, our pilot, has in his log book and I feel he is correct in what states. “We made many trips with 16x 500lb bombs, others were 9x 1000lb + 4x500lb. only one trip with a 2000lb + incendiaries, no record of taking a 4000lb believe the bomb doors would not fully close on a Halifax if one was loaded, bombs and petrol load would depend on the target and it’s distance from base”.
August the 5th daylight yet again to France this time ammunition stored in caves at St-D’Esserent. As usual there was no way for us to know if our bombs hit the target, whether we exploded the ammo dumps inside their caves or not. The explosions caused by our bombs 500, 1000, 2000, 4000, bombs going off do tend to make a lot of smoke and fireworks so unless we were on the ground hard to tell our bombs exploding from the enemy ammo or target going up, we did sometimes get a report days later from our briefing officer to say “well done target gone”.
It is a bit hard for me to explain about what was saw on the ground both in England and over the enemy, you see when I was flying passengers in Avro Yorks, from UK to other parts of the world, one of the first things passengers used to say as well climbed up to 8000 ft our cruising height was “Oh look the sun is shining” they didn’t seem to understand that it always is!!
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The highest we ever bombed at was 24,500ft all crew members with paddles going like crazy!! But that is still well over the cloud layer. Because that part of the world is more often than not shrouded in cloud people forget that above the clouds there is always sunshine. So you see most times we were over cloud, never saw a completely cloud free sky.
August 7th night operation to bomb Tanks and artillery in the German line at La-Hougue. You will note that August was a very busy month, nearly every day we were out either day or night, can be a bit confusing to remember what and where we went, guess one target is much like another, lots of flak, bits of hot stuff flying about just ajumble in the memory, one thing that does stay vivid and I really can’t be sure just when it happened or which target it was, only know it was at night and could have been in August. I think it was this mission to La-Hougue.
We took off on a very dark and rainy night and were told that the cloud and rain would clear just as we got to the target, we seem to have started our night flights very late at that time. Well we climbed to our cruising height and were in thick storm clouds, listening hitting us and rain very heavy, the whole aircraft glowed with static electricity and large rain drop slid along the radio wires like illuminated ping pong balls, to burst as they hit the fins and rudders, the ride was very bumpy and the skipper and I tried going up or down to get clear of all this storm without any luck, just before the target was reached we flew into bright moonlight, bombed and returned within minutes into what looked like a solid black wall from ground to the sky and flew in this muck all the way home, I see we landed at Tilstock on Fido one night so perhaps that was the night, have a vague feeling that we were one of the very few who made it to the target that night.
August 8th Daylight to France to bomb oil storage dump at Foret-de-Chantilly. On the way home from this mission, or perhaps one of the other daylight missions, an enemy fighter came toward us. The Germans, however, seemed as cautious as my crew was. There were plenty of targets in the sky for the fighters so why risk getting shot at if you could creep up on a crew too lazy to do their job properly. So when this fighter approached us in daylight our gunners gave him a warning burst at a distance and he just turned away. However we watched as he dived straight on another ‘place about a couple of miles away and shot it down. That crew had not been alert and did not see him coming. We were all on our way home, but the time to relax was on the ground not in the sky.
August 9th night operation to Foret-de-Nieppe to bomb ammunition dumps. What does this mean, you might ask? Was it like they show in films? Like most people I often view WW2 films on the box and have
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always wondered which war the markers were intending to show, certainly not the one played a little part in. You see when a bomber is shown being attacked by fighters or anti aircraft fire there always seems a lot of shouting and the intercom is full of talk, not on any bomber I flew in, or passenger one either.
So let me go through what I and the crew did. On the ground we were the usual young, bugger about, chase the girls, have a drink etc boys, but once in the ‘plane that all changed and the pilot, skipper or skip as he was known was boss, not in any heavy handed way but no task was started without his ok and all functions were reported to him.
So he and I marshalled the aircraft in a position allocated to us for that night’s raid on the perimeter track leading to the runway in use, there we left it while a last meal was had, briefing concluded, and we as a completed crew were then taken by truck to our ‘plane. The Canadian Salvation Army called at each ‘plane as we waited to board, handing out cigarettes and chocolate, and a last fumble in the layers of clothes was made to get rid of any urine likely to cause pain, no toilets on our “kites”.
A green light was shone from the small caravan parked at the end of the runway to tell us it was time to climb abroad, this caravan was painted in large black and white squares, a Perspex roof blister was used to signal to the crews and need less to say it was towed away before we started to land back after our raid, with the way some of us landed it would not have lasted very long in one piece likewise the occupants!!
Each one of the crew settled into their place and checked that all was ok with their bits and bobs, the pilot would then call each position in turn (not by the persons name but what position they occupied, ie rear gunner, navigator, etc) and each crew member would reply along the lines of “OK SKIPPER” I was often left to last and was given the order to start engines when my turn came, after all we running satisfactory, I would log the start time and all pressures and temperatures etc, the navigator would no doubt make a note in his log of this time also, when our aircraft letter was flashed from the control caravan we would taxi onto the runway, I would select what angle of flaps the skipper wanted, set take off boost and hold the throttles behind his hand to ensure we stayed straight along the runway. As we climbed up I would only raise the undercarriage and flaps as he ordered, setting climbing revs and boost as he wanted, and would without any order synchronise the engine revs on each side so that the propeller blades did not rotate in respect to one another. If we were one of the first in our squadron to take off we would gradually climb to the operation height and circle the ‘drome until all our aircraft were present, not that we could see much on a dark night but we had a set time to “set course for the target”.
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During the climb and setting course for the target one very important job was the charging and locking of the Hydraulic accumulator, this was an emergency charge of hydraulic fluid which would be enough to lower the undergear and even the flaps if we were lucky, should damage to the engine which drove the pump or the system itself be damaged. Was just a large cylinder connected to the hydraulic system filled with air (what this was pressured to I have forgotten only 56 or so years ago so sue me for having a bad memory) fluid was let into this cylinder and charged to a certain pressure (sue me) and the cock turned off so the fluid was held under pressure by the air also in the cylinder, in an emergency the undercarriage would be set to ‘lower’ and this cock turned on and hopefully this stored fluid would lower the gear, Got all that? Phyll just read the first part I sent and was rather surprised that I could still know what to do but not sure if the RAF would still require my service!! Back to the plot!!
As we reached about 12000ft I would change the supercharger speed to high, make sure all the crew were on oxygen, and fill in all the details in my log these included petrol consumption and which tanks I was using, I always tried to have an equal amount of fuel in each tank by the time we reached our target so that should a tank be punctured we only lost a small amount of petrol, but each time I changed tanks permission was asked from the skipper and he was informed when I had done it.
There we are drifting along trying to make sure we didn’t bump into any of our own ‘planes in the dark sky, all lights were at dim, mine to fill in my log was at a glimmer when wanted, all the pilot’s instruments lights very low and the blackout curtain between the bomb aimer’s position and the navigator and WOP very tightly fastened, both working with minimum lights. And it got cold, the gunners and bomb aimer had heated suits but even they felt it, as for the navigator his hands were too cold at times to hold a pencil and asked the Skip if I could direct hot air down to his position, The skip and I already partly frozen but to get there and back we needed to know which way so hot air it was and some of our bits that might be wanted in more pleasant times went into cold storage.
There was no chatter between crew members, and if someone left their mic on by mistake he was soon reminded of the fact, young as we all were I am reminded of very professional we were, perhaps that is why we survived to tell our tales!
This professionalism was needed. One night we had a Halifax with a mid under turret, not a standard feature in earlier models, and a gunner was added to our crew to man it. The gunner we were landed with saw more enemy fighters in the 6 or so hours we were airborne than I think were
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available to the Germans at any time during the war. This excitability was not helpful. We go rid of the mid under and that gunner.
Why we survived and others didn’t was because we took notice of the experts (those pilots and crews who had done it lots of time) you don’t fly straight and level thinking of nothing much, but weave and bank slightly so that the gunners get an all round view of things, there is no blind spot under the tail if you stay awake. No need for a lower turret to fill that blind spot then.
I can only speak for myself but guess all the crew were feeling as I was, and that was that our navigator would take us there and back, our gunners would spot the attacking aircraft in time and either shoot it down or scare it off, our pilot was second to none and would steer us through whatever came our way, our radio operator would get a fix, receive a message, and let us know what was happening, our bomb aimer would always hit the target, and I would keep the old girl in the air until we got home safely again. So there was no need for lots of chatter we all did our jobs and depended on the others to do theirs.
The navigator would sometimes ask the skipper if I could do a star shot for him, over my position I had an astro dome, would unload the sextant from it’s case hang it from the hook, wind up the clockwork 2 minute time and after I had found whichever star was wanted tell the skipper and of course the navigator I was ready when they were, the navigator would tell me when to start and I would press the trigger and try to keep the star in the mirror., at the end of the two minutes a reading of the average of all my shots would come up on a panel which I would give to the navigator, on the ground I had been averaging 2 to 3 miles, not as good in flight but handy if other navigating items were not up to scratch.
The bomb aimer was in the nose during the flight and gave what information he could to the skipper but the navigator also heard it and it would be something like this “Coast coming up skip” “crossing the coast now”. Now we were over enemy territory.
Details of flack ships and sites seen in action would be reported much the same, no panic just facts. The gunners would report fighters positions and would not fire unless ordered to. We were told that on some nights our fighters would be in the “stream” so gunners watch out for them, and they would circle the German dromes to shoot down any fighters taking off or landing, the Germans did that to our bombers early in the war but as we got air superiority it was our turn to be the nasty ones. Still, Fighters of any type all were enemy until they proved otherwise. Very few of either nation came
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near us. In most cases the fighters saw we were a threat to them and went elsewhere.
Although there was sufficient ammunition for whatever may occur, our own use was very minimal and mainly used to test fire the guns soon after airborne, our job was to deliver bombs and drop them hopefully at the right place, which we seem to do most of the time.
One night standing in the astro dome doing my bit of searching the sky I looked up and saw a FW 190 almost within touching reach just above me, would not have been 10 feet away. I told the skipper and of course the gunners wanted to have a go, but as the skipper said we are supposed to be bombing and will just slide away but if we see one the way back shoot the bastard down. The FW covered the sky, was flying quite close and not much faster than we were, no doubt we could have given it a very sore bum. But the skipper rightly said no, could have all gone wrong anyway, maybe his mate was close at hand and while we blazed away at one, another could have had us who knows?
Remember that this is flying in darkness. We had radar, but not for seeing other planes. We used radar in a thing called H2S, shows as a small bulge under the fuselage of bombers, used to show a map of the ground and useful for bombing on nights with full cloud cover. Radar, good if you are a fighter but what good would it do us, never switch any radar on even H2S unless needed, gives out a signal for the enemy to follow and get you, switch it off and use the mark 1 eye balls.
There were very many different anti fighter systems used, these names are all either tail warning devices (which caused more trouble that they were worth) special aircraft with German speaking radio operators who would tune into the German fighter directors and give conflicting directions, The Germans would do as we did and use people with distinct dialects to stop this, microphones were installed in the engine bays and this sound would be sent out on the fighter wave lengths to stop the information from being received. Gee was a navigation aid using three or more radio beacons and a special receiver, window you know about but many different versions of Radar were used to block fighters, G-H, Oboe, Serrate, Monica, ABC, Corona, and many names I either never knew or have forgotten were all warning devices fitted near the tail to warn rear gunners of the approach of night fighters, I suppose some lives were saved until the Germans had a crashed ‘plane to work on and then it was just the reverse, switch it on and get caught! All of this electronics, if on board for this mission, would be in use or ready for use while we moved towards our target through the night sky.
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The navigator would also tell the pilot that it was time to start “window” and at what rate, another of my jobs, as was the dispatch of leaflets to inform the enemy that it was time to give in, why didn’t I ever keep some??? So you have a very noisy ‘plane with not much chatter going on all the crew going about their jobs quietly, checking with the skipper if required and all hearing what was being done to keep us safe.
The view from the cockpit at night was minimal, the occasional flare of a bursting shell which changed to continuos [sic] bursts as we got near the target or passed near flak sites, the halfseen shapes of other bombers or fighters with muffled flames from their exhausts, from the astro-drome on a clear night, the dark blue inverted bowl of the sky pierced with a multitude of twinkling lights, but these often shaded by the dark shadows of friend and foe as they passed by.
Dark nights and heavy clouds were the norm, rain and lightening greeted us most times, eyes strained to see what was not there, but ready to give a warning of any contacts either friend or foe.
A master radar controlled searchlight may catch us and very soon we were “coned” no panic, every one closed one eye to retain night vision, and either the bomb aimer or the rear gunner would give the pilot instructions about the best way to get out of it, usually to dive down the master one and do very sudden sharp turns to one side, always got out before any real damage was done, and never ever thought we wouldn’t!!
Now we were nearing the target and the ‘plane jumped about as we flew through the wake of our bombers ahead of us, on a thousand bomber raid at night over the one target things get a bit hairy. Some of the sudden jumps are not ‘plane wakes but the burst of anti aircraft shells trying to send us down, but at night you see the flash, hear the rattle of splinters, check that all is well with the crew and our ‘plane and just carry on. The navigator would tell the skipper than it was say 5 minutes to target, the bomb aimer would have set his bomb sight to drop the bombs in a certain pattern, we had wing and fuselage bomb bays, and with the right pattern the pilots had an easier task to control the ‘plane as it lost it’s load, a 2000Ib ‘cookie’ really gave us a quick lift when let go, I can imagine that some of the Lancasters that carried and dropped 12000Ib and larger “earthquake bombs” really hit the heights when relieved of their parcels!
Now all eyes were searching the sky even harder than they had been, searchlights were weaving their way across the sky, catching a plane which was lit up and looked just like a moth around a lamp, sometime they slid out of the light, some time they suddenly flashed into extinction, and some
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times the flashing of guns was seen as a fighter chanced his luck amongst the bursting anti aircraft and was answered by the bomber gunners.
The flashing of bursting bombs, rattle and crash of anti aircraft shells bursting, searchlights sweeping the sky and settling on some lone ‘plane to be followed by the stream of incendiary bullets, all make the hearts of the night bomber crews halt for just a fraction as they go about the job of beating the foe into submission. Hearts once young and tender soon become hardened to this show of defiance, but not to the sudden eruption of flames at their height as one of their own is hit and spirals to destruction, “bastards” comes through the intercom from all quarters and the empty bottles, bricks and old iron brought for this occasion are pushed out of gun turrets and down flare and ‘window’ chutes, the rage is personal you can’t do this to ours is the feeling.
All in all over the target it was quite a busy place to be and we still had to reach the aiming point drop our bombs and beat a hasty retreat. Each plane that was hit was reported and logged by the navigator, new anti aircraft gun sites logged, ‘window’ and leaflets pouring out the chute, bomb doors opened and from the bomb aimer ‘steady, left steady left steady hold it hold it and the magic BOMBS GONE, bomb door closed, new course from the navigator and turn for home, but still aware that his was perhaps the most dangerous time, many crews relaxed and never got home. So search the sky dodged the ack ack and searchlights, perhaps put on a bit of speed by dropping a few thousand feet, and again that most welcome call from the bomb aimer still in the nose ‘coast coming up, crossing the coast’ and now I could eat my bit of chocolate, and just ease a little.
The wireless operator would be giving weather and other information to both the skipper and the navigator, as the navigator and wop sat next to one another many messages were passed by notes to and fro, but one that sent shivers through us was
“Intruders reported over the ‘drome skip” not often but meant we could not relax even when we arrived back at base, never got caught, guess our night fighters got up and sorted things for us. So on a normal return to base we were greeted by the interlocking rings of lights from all the multitude of bomber bases in Yorkshire, and each one flashed it’s own recognition red light to welcome it’s pigeons home, no radio silence now as there was prior to take off, call in make our letter E EASY and given a height and position in the queue, and as we were called down and moved up in the queue sometimes had to loose our turn to one of ours with dead and wounded on board, or no fuel left or any one of the things that happen to planes that will go out searching for trouble, down we go and I stand by the pilot and do all the actions in reverse, undercarriage, flaps and so on, all the others are
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strapped in but not me I just stand next to our pilot and help him as and when wanted, down we go another perfect landing and taxi to our dispersal, the crew climb out to wet the grass again while the skipper and I switch off everything, lock the brakes and controls, and make our own way to a quick piss, climb in the waiting truck and head for debriefing.
Now we would give our version of events while we are handed a large mug of coffee liberally laced with rum. Here we report the sighting of the sudden eruption of flames at our height, which we knew to be one of our own being hit and destroyed – the sighting that sent us to throwing junk down at the enemy. But at de-briefing, we were told it was on a “Scarecrow” shot up by the enemy to make us afraid. But it didn’t, it made us mad and nothing the briefing officer could say convinced us that it wasn’t one of ours failing to their death. So was the whole thing counter-productive by both sides, we just got mad not scared, so the enemy lost that one and we never really knew if there were such things as “Scarecrows” just kept heaving out the junk.!!
After debriefing, we hand in our parachutes, and head for a meal and bed. Our ground crew would be busy checking E Easy for faults, some I will have reported on landing to them, the camera film will be taken from the bomb sight and on it’s way to processing, and a hush will settle on this and many airfields while the weary rest for the next effort, but usually woken up by the roar of engines being tested for the next one.
The next one was August 12th, a daylight run again to France. The target this time was Foret-de-Mont Richard, more ammunition dumps.
August 18th Night to France to bomb the Railway Marshalling Yards at Connatre. must again had a problem because we landed at Skellingthorpe, returning to base the next day.
August 27th daylight to France to bomb a construction site at Marquise – Minoyecques being built to launch flying bombs on London.
I must add details of my selection interview by a senior RAF officer for a commission, My Flight commander had asked me to put in for a commission and when I failed to do so, gave me a direct order, sat me down and made me fill in all the forms, I just forgot all about it and rather than play the usual games that Canadian Air Crew used to while away the hours between operations of horse shoes, billiards and pool, I managed to convince the Station Engineering Officer to supply me with a hut, tools, bench, and a worn out Hercules engine. This I proceeded to take to pieces and section so that every one who was interested could see the inside of a very complicated sleeve valve engine, and perhaps treat them with just a
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little more respect! I would check with my pilot each day if we were flying and if not cycle out to my hut which was away from the main area and certainly not in range of the public address speakers. So I happily worked on my own getting my clothes well covered in oil and the aluminium dust from the sawing and filing which clung to everything this mean that I had to wear really old uniforms when working and must say that after a few hours in my hut did not look too special! A breathless Flight Sergeant burst in through the door and shouted with the little breath he had left ”Your name Miles?” When I replied yes it was, told me that that public address (Tannoy) had been calling for me for some hours to report to Head Quarter for my interview with Air Commodore. Said I would go back to my barrack room to change “No you won’t, I’ve been looking for you all morning and you go there now” Didn’t want to be an officer anyhow so who cares, arrived at Head Quarters on my cycle to be met by yet another Flight Sergeant, if anything more angry than the first, “Don’t you read Daily order Miles” I walked into the waiting room to find all other applicants polished and shining in their best uniforms, sat in rows like birds on a fence, my own make said “Hard luck Reg” Before I could answer yet another Flight Sergeant with great glee said “Miles you’re next” So In I went to stand in front of the table behind which sat My Squadron Wing Commander, The Base Group Captain, My Flight Leader and the imposing figure of the Air Commodore. Their eyes were all focused on the notes they were making about the previous applicant as I saluted and stated my name rank and service number. Eyes were raised and a look of horror passed over the faces of each one as they looked at this dirty silver speckled scruffy airman. The Air Commodore asked why I had not appeared when called before and how had I got into this condition. It seemed to me that only the truth would do and so I related my story of the engine I was working on and said how sorry I was that I had caused so much trouble. The Air Commodore asked each of the other officers if they were aware of my efforts and no one did, “ring the Engineering Officer and check while we question Miles” he confirmed my story and said I was doing a good job and hoped it would be finished before I left the Squadron. While this was going on The Air Commodore and I were chatting away about my service history and how far I had got with the engine, finally he said “I shall be pleased to welcome you into the Officer’s Mess in a few weeks time, we need more people like you who just get on and do things” So I walked out head high through the waiting room and said to all and sundry “I’ve got mine good luck to you”
Quite a busy month trying to help our ground troops push their way through France. I have not mentioned the training flights also carried out between operations, so that apart from the odd break we were flying most days and nights. My crew and I must have had some leave during the first week of September because my flight record for that month is a training flight on the 9th and a note that I had had some more practise at flying a Halifax,
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we only had one pilot on board and that was Jim Tease so if he got injured or killed who would fly us home? That left only me who did at least know how things worked but as I had no flying training on small aircraft it was very difficult to manage something so big and slow to react to the controls, alter the angle of the control column and it seemed ages before anything happened so learners always over correct and you end up with a ride like a fair ground switch back, I practiced whenever I was able always in daylight and most time on the return flight from an operation, tried a few times landing on clouds, more forgiving than the ground, think I could have got back to England ok but landing without a crash I’m not so sure!!
Back to France in daylight to bomb a German strong point at Le Havre on September 10th. I seem to remember that we were one of the last on target and all that could be seen were bomb holes on top of bomb holes, The RAF and American Air Force had complete air superiority so we had only flack to contend with and that could be very accurate because the Germans use Radar tracking.
September 11th daylight to Germany, to the dreaded Ruhr Valley, to bomb a synthetic oil plant at Castro-Rauxel. Our height for this drop, based on the aiming point photo, was 16,500’, and our bomb load was 16 500lb bombs. We hit it smack on and our photo showed that, still have my copy given to us, and we were given a guided tour of 6 Group Bomber Command in recognition of our skill.
The tour we had of 6 Group Bomber command was more for the Canadian guys, so they could oggle the Canadian girls, told you before I was not impressed so just saw lots of lush offices and big boards with meaning less maps and figures on them. Waste of time I thought but the rest of the crew liked it so that was OK.
September 13th again to Germany in daylight to bomb the railway marshalling yards in Osnabruck, I have a note that it went well so presume the target was destroyed, daylight targets were a bit scary after night ones but soon got used to it and at least we could see what we were aiming at and whether we had been right on target.
September 15th A night raid on the shipping port of Keil in Germany, this was a 500 bomber operation, we were coned by about six radar controlled searchlights on the approach to Keil, with German night fighter hanging about out of the cones, all had to keep at least one eye closed as the light was very bright and if we managed to get out of them the fighters would pounce as we would all be blind, Jimmy Tease handled the bomber like a fighter diving and side slipping all over the place even at one time diving down one of the lights, and got us out, we were however hit by flack
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over the target and the perspex nose fell right off, Red Bridgeman the bomb aimer had to hold the black out curtains between his position and Nick Nicklen our navigator while I wired them together, Red had to stand with his feet over nothing all the way home to hold the curtain against the howling gale that came in, Nicks charts had all ended up down the fuselage mixed up with the bundles of window that I was pushing down the window chute.
These were sorted out and Nick went on with his job of guiding us home, from my notes looks as though we or some of our Squadron hit the target so a good prang was noted.
I do remember this next mission, a daylight raid on one of those massive guns built into the ground with a barrel hundreds of feet long pointed at London. This was September 17th. The target was in France at Boulogne, our height in my log is noted as 2000ft. 2000ft is very low for bombing could get damaged by the bombs in front of you going off especially in slow old things like Halis – Lancs. This was the only low level bombing I ever went on!!! Although we would bomb from 2,000 feet, we flew down from base in Yorkshire at about 8,000 feet. This was a good cruising height for our aircraft, as we passed over many cities, towns, airfields, hills, barrage balloons, tall chimneys, and other obstructions for low level craft.
When we got to the English coast lowered our undercarriage and flaps pulled back the throttles and dived down to 2,000 ft over the channel. The lowering of flaps, undergear and reducing engine revs helped us to quickly reduce our height, the channel is only a bit over 20 miles wide not a lot of distance to get a great old lumbering kite down low and level out and on course to give the bomb aimer a chance to fund the target.
The dive over the channel was to get us down to 2,000ft quickly, at the low height we were certain to hit the rather small target and not the surrounding empty fields or buildings. We also had to have time to make the approach without crowding other aircraft. We had to watch out for ‘planes all round us because, at this altitude, if we were too close to one in front we could get our ‘plane damaged by a bursting bomb from the plane in front. So not quite the “milk run” it would appear to be.
The flight down to the target on this trip must have been a change, able to see some of the country side. Although the whole operation only lasted 4 hours, and so not a lot of time for sight seeing, no doubt the gunners and bomb aimer had a nice view. The only time I had to look was when I took a moment as we flew over the village where my parents were living, but I did not see any street or bit that I could say, “that’s where I live”. It is surprising how difficult it is to recognise thing from the air that you haven’t seen a few
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times from the air. But the skipper and I as usual were busy making sure we got there OK. Sounds as if he and I were always busy doesn’t it? Well we were, bomber pilots had it tough, long hours at the “office” in all weather conditions, responsible for a number of other people’s lives, not forgetting their own. My job was to help him, so I did, as best as I was able. I also wanted to get home again!!!
Once we were down to 2,000 feet, we pulled all our hanging bits back on board opened the taps, then bombed this target with all we had, again being very careful not to get too close to the bomber in front. All I saw was a few acres of mud which kept leaping into the air and rearranging itself, guess another case of over kill!! After the target, we climbed again after bombing to 8,000ft for the return run over the afore mentioned obstructions to our flight path.
This target was noted in the log book as a “strong point” which we were told it was at the time, no one knew what it was so it was decided to destroy it. A ground investigation later on found the gun, much to every one’s surprise at it’s size and pointing straight at London, various TV programmes over the years have shown it and it’s concrete barrel rising from deep underground. Checking distances with my M.S World Atlas I found much to my surprise that Boulogne is the closest point in France to London, closer that Calais by about 10KM, so an obvious place to put a gun of this range and size.
September 19th we took our old ‘plane to the HCU at Dishforth she had done 56 trips and had been hard used many patches and repairs has been done so with all her proud bombing trips still painted on her nose she went to train more aircrew for the struggle still to come.
September 25th off again to France in daylight to bomb a German strong point at Calais another target gone, our new E easy going good!!
September 26th to France in daylight again to Calais bombed Gun positions and the docks in the harbour, noted as another good hit.
September 27th daylight to Germany Bottrop in the Ruhr, have note that we bombed a factory on visual which means some thing had gone u/s. My pilot, Jim Tease recently gave me some more information on this mission. “I had a friend now deceased who was a navigator on 428 Ghost Squadron. He wrote a book about Ghost Squadron & I compared his report of trips we were both on, and found we had different visions of what happened. On our 31 trip to Bottrop on Sept 27 I indicate there was 10/10 cloud for the whole trip, the Master of Ceremonies (Master Bomber) of the Path Finders lost his way and we bombed where (our navigator) said the target area was
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located. Ron’s book indicates the refinery was hit & smoke rose to 17000ft. So much for records!!”
My Log Book for that raid states “10/10 cloud Bombed Factory Visual M/C U/S” guess that all means we found a gap in the clouds and bombed the target but had solid cloud both there and back M/C U/S Master of Ceremonies out of order, unserviceable.
On one of these daylight raids we saw a V2 launched on one raid, didn’t know what it was just a streak in the sky. Looking out of the windscreen I saw a streak of smoke come through a layer of cloud and shoot up into the sky and disappear into the next lot of cloud, l know the skipper also saw it but who else I am not sure, lasted milli seconds. It was logged by the navigator and an estimation of where it had come from made by us. When and where seen etc was important, once a site was located it could be knocked out by bombing.
September 30th daylight again in Germany Sterkrade in the Ruhr saw one of our Sqdn go down and three of the seven get out on ‘chutes, we landed at a FIDO ‘drome at Cranesby, no brake pressure went off the end of a very long runway into a field of potatoes that had just been ridged up and we went across the ridges, a bit like roller skating on corrugated iron.
On the 4th of October we went to Bergen in Norway flying across the North Sea in daylight to bomb U/Boat pens and a large ammunition ship in the harbour. We flew across the sea both ways at 1000ft to be under German Radar, and climbed rapidly near the target to 12000ft, Mosquitos and Mustangs gave us fighter cover.
I still have an image in my mind of a semi-circular bay with a large ship moored more or less in the middle. As I remember it the country around Bergen is low lying, nothing at our height to give us cause for panic, but if the ship had blown up and we were down low could have cause major damage to one or more of our Halifaxs [sic].
The large ammunition ship blew up. The ship was still all in one piece when I last saw it and if our bombs had done the damage guess we would have been told. I think it was our rear gunner who told us via the intercom that it had blown up, and that is why we were there.
Our attack made the Bergan people even more anti British than they already were, Gillian visited there some years ago as the intended bride to the son of one of Bergen’s top families, the mother was a local member of parliament, they treated her most awfully which did not help when she casually mentioned that her Dad had bombed the place during the war,
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needless to say that romance soon died!!! The Norwegians still didn’t like us Brits, near enough to Germans and lots supported Hitler during the war, bit like the Swiss only interested in making money, the shits.
Of course, most ordinary Norwegian people hadn’t any view pro or anti regarding Germany and Britain, just wanted to get on with their lives as best they could. Those that were anti us had lots riding on our defeat, and were involved in either working for the Germans or making lots of money out of them by trading with them, those that helped us risked torture and death, and were really in more peril than we were, they were the real heroes. After the war and for many years, I never met anyone who speaking with what sounded like a German accent, was other than Swiss, even if they said their home town was in Germany!!!. I still find the Swiss attitude to money and it’s retention disgusting, particularly in the light of revelations of their trading with the Nazis in Gold and goods taken from innocent people. Guess ordinary people all over this world just want to eat and enjoy what little life they have, but greed gets in the way and those few who can claw their way up the ‘food’ chain and get much more than their fair share are the ones who I have no time for, being poor perhaps colours my out look!!!
So we come to the 6th of October and a night operation over Germany to Dortmund in the Ruhr Valley, this was a 500 bomber raid to the centre of the city, we again were hit by flack bits flying about all over the place and very red hot some hit the bomb door hydraulics which fell open and stay open and I’m sure that it was on this operation that a lump hit Nick Nicklen on his side making a very nasty bruise, fortunately it also hit the torch on his MAYWEST [sic] life jacket so didn’t kill him, he was in much pain but got us back to England ok, Nick was awarded the D.F.C. later and I am sure it was for this brave effort. Because of our damage we again had to land apart from our base and this time landed at Woodbridge and after some quick repairs we flew back to base the next day, where I was told that I had finished my tour of operations, had been granted a commission, given dockets and a leave pass to get my officers uniform and told to report back in seven days. A friend and I travelled to just about every city and large town in Yorkshire before we managed to get kitted up in Harrogate.
Before departing on leave and to await our next posting we had to hand in certain flying and escape items. There were mainly items of some value French and German money hidden in our clothes together with fine silk maps of France and Germany. Our flying boots which had a hidden knife in the sheep skin lining so that the long leg warmers could be cut off leaving what looked like ordinary shoes also were handed in, other items like compasses hidden under badges or in pencils, hacksaw blades concealed in the linings of clothes, a bag of oiled silk that could be used to hold water and a few other odds and ends we kept, these like so many things at that time
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had no value to us and no doubt went into the bin without much thought! Jim Tease and the rest of the crew still had a few operations to go but I was not allowed to finish with them told not to be so greedy, others wanted a go and as far as I was concerned they were welcome. So home on leave to await what the RAF had in store for me again. Cycling along the main road in Cliftonville what should I see but a bunch of very good looking WAAF’s (Woman’s Auxiliary Air Force, who did every job except fighting (which they sometimes had to do for their honour) from clerks to Radar operators, cooks to delivering aircraft from the factories, and with them a girl friend if but briefly from my school days, Phyllis Dike!! I made contact and started to see her and eventually proposed marriage to her, she wasn’t very keen but agreed in the end.
I was recalled to service and was posted to Heavy Conversion Unit 1332, Nutts Corner in Norther Ireland where I crewed up with F/lt Poore,a navigator and a wireless operator all of us being officers and had completed at least one tour on bombers, we were being trained to fly Avro Yorks on the main trunk routes from U.K to India and Ceylon now India, Pakistan and Shri Lanka [sic]. We started the flying part of the course on the 8th April 1945 and completed it on 17th of the same month. My flight log of my time in 1332 H.C.U. is presented later.
The Avro York interior lay out was much as the Lancaster. The pilot, F/E, Nav, Wop were together in a small group, the F/E acting as second pilot even if untrained. When spare pilots became available they took over the task of second pilot the f/e found himself a place amongst the mail bags to sleep and do his job as he could.
When a number of crews joined Transport Command after our course at Nutts Corner, we arrived at 242 Squadron in Stoney Cross. My log book details my flights with 242 Squadron.
Within a day or so we were all loaded onto an Avro York, flown I know not where and without any “by your leave” injected with multiple injections in both arms and I seem to remember elsewhere, we were told this was for protection against all the terrible deceases we could encounter in foreign lands, yellow fever was mentioned as one but there was a whole list of them. I know most of us were a bit under the weather for a few days, some even very sick. What sticks in the memory was that we weren’t asked or consulted just injected!!
I had already obtain permission to get married and given leave for that period, but the Wedding was on the 28th and I had to get home and do some organising, so used the “old boys” network and thumbed lifts to England and managed to get a train to get home in time. Don Nicklen my navigator
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from 420 sqdn came down from Yorkshire to be my best man, and I can’t say I saw much of him before it was away on a short honeymoon, and then back to camp for both of us!!
– Reg Miles
The URL of this page is
http://www.geocities.com/milbios/Milesbio4.html
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Biography of Reg Miles
Ex Apprentice No 1 S.of T.T., R.A.F., Halton 39th Entry 34 – 67 M.U.s – 27 A/S Bloemspruit South Africa – Lympe Kent, Flight Engineer 432 – 420 Squadrons RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Eastmoor, Tholthorpe, Yorkshire / 242- 246 – 511 Squadrons Transport Command Lyneham, RAF
Chapter 5
242- 246 – 511 Squadrons, Transport Command, Lyneham, RAF
I started flying at 242 Sqdn on the 16th May again all training in passenger flying technique, rather different from press on bombing! We did a few cross countries and many three engined landing and the use of radio range flying. One exercise in the log book was Over Shoots and Landings. Overshoots and landings are practice in taking off again before you actually get the wheels on the ground, some clever dickies even run the wheels along the runway and open the throttles and take off again, alright for intrepid birdmen like fighter pilots but not recommended for serious passenger flying types. There are the odd occasions when the runway suddenly does not become clear for landing, animals, cars, fire engines, even other aircraft, so practice for these times (which may never happen) is necessary, these days a no risk practice can be made in the Flight Simulator, we had to do it the hard way with an instructor beside us and no knowledge of what we would be asked to do, he could shut down one engine and then another, drop the undercarriage, put on full flap, what ever his distorted mind felt like that day!! The pilots I flew with on Transport Command had all done at least one tour on bombers, some quite a number and were used to the enemy doing much the same to the aircraft, so no panic just the correct procedure and “What would you like next” often asked, with a wry grin. So the other to “overshoot” became automatic, with me acting on my pilot’s instructions about throttle, flaps and under gear, but I was always aware of what he wanted and would be “hands on” waiting, would have been a rather poor F/E if not ready when wanted!!
My crew went on leave after this training, so I was made a temporary Flight Engineer to the Squadron Leader, who took me on a test flight of my abilities to Cairo and back, left Stoney Cross on the 4th flew to Luqa in Malta.
Malta was still on a war footing. Luqa, on Malta, a dry and stony place all the airport buildings pained white but very small and certainly not like any airport you may have seen, a concrete slab to park on for refuelling, all
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of which had to be done through massive filters, with chamois leather inserts to catch any water and of course the ever present dust and sand. All the ground crew well tanned and going about their jobs with efficiency, being bombed continually taught them not to delay getting the fighters airborne, we were lucky that the fighters had gone before we started to use Luqa, the enemy ones!!
Malta is an island with a long history of invaders, us being the last, independence was granted some time after the war and I am sure the locals were glad to see all the foreign military go, wonderful harbour, well used by the Royal Navy during WW2, a street (very narrow and steep) in Valletta was lined with open fronted drinking bars, just really the front room of a house with easy entry for the soldiers and sailors to get drunk, think from memory it was called by the Navy “The Gut”, but could be thinking of somewhere else, for us, just a place to “slip” crews, water always very scarce, milk, butter and cheese from goats, think I have mentioned that before, as I have about collecting all the papers and books from the mess before leaving UK to leave both with the RAF and also some Navy types who crewed a fast MTB (motor torpedo boat) made a change for both crews to chat with some one other than their working mates.
The runway ended at a quarry, no sight for the faint hearted, as it was well stocked with aircraft that had not made it, guess the passengers just thought it was some where the RAF stored unwanted ‘planes. My first trip there was with a senior pilot to check me out so a quick run to Cairo and back, all 7,800 Km of it! My years in South Africa had made me used to hot weather shorts and open neck shirts so it was easy for me to climatise to the changed weather conditions. I now live in Mackay, Queensland and there is thriving community of Maltese people, many sugar cane farmers or the descendants of cane farmers, and NO they are not called Maltesers!!
On the 5th Malta to Cairo. Cairo, a large bustling over crowded city, full to bursting point with every shape, colour and size of humanity, and I am talking about 1945!! We had little to do with Cairo itself, as we either landed at Cairo West or at Almaza in Heliopolis, a suburb of Cairo, where we were put up in the largest hotel I have ever seen, not that I am into hotels as such, but as a young very green officer the Heliopolis Palace Hotel was mind blowing, acres of everything, not outside but inside, entry large enough to hold a soccer match, dining rooms that vanished into the blue and rooms so large that if they had been properly furnished a guide would have been required to see us to the door. Each crew had a room on arrival with number of beds scattered about and a couple of tables and chairs etc, guess the hotel had not been completed prior to WW2 and had been taken over by the British Forces, lots of “red tab” types swanning about, had a very hard war from the looks of things!! Food was good and served properly the same
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as our mess in UK, so no complaints there. About flying times etc you must remember that as we flew East the time got later and daylight ended sooner, ie Cairo – UK 2 hour difference, same as New Zealand – Australia.
We all took a trip to Giza and along the road to the Sphinx and the Pyramids, don’t know who built that lot but bet he over ran the budget, The one thing that still sticks in my mind is the overpowering smell of diesel oil on that road, not so much burnt oil but the same smell you get on a production oil field, the brown desert stretched to the horizon on either side of the road which was very black and shiny, perhaps that’s where the smell came from not bitumen but oiled sand!!! Now I’ll never know!!! Natural History Museum in Cairo a must if you visit, remember it as a highlight of my various times there and after these many years must be a wonder to visit now, didn’t go to the medical section if just before or after lunch, in fact might be a good idea to give that bit a miss!!
I wanted to buy Phyllis something special and found a market that specialised in perfumes. Channel number 5 or was it 7? was all the go, entered this so dark and gloomy looking shop, about the size of your average toilet, greeted with lots of bowing, and what sounded like praises for my everything, down some steep stairs to end up in yet another room the same size where there was a small table and two or three chairs, ‘would the effendi like some coffee’? (no idea how you spell effendi)’ well really wanted to buy some perfume’ lot more praised heaped on me but coffee came regardless, the cups must have been part of a doll house at some time and the coffee bitter and black, Now I had to sniff every smell known to man, ‘is this for your lovely wife’? what colour are her eyes etc and so on ‘does my lord have a mistress’?
By this time I was all sniffed out, couldn’t tell one heap of horse crap from another of cows, throat dry as dust from the coffee, and still I was given the full treatment until I made a purchase and bolted, can’t remember what scent I did buy but it was a big bottle!!!!
On the 6th Cairo to Malta, and on the 7th, Malta to Base. My flight log records of my time in 242 Squadron are listed later.
Two quick training flights with my real crew and then I was lent to F/o Good to go as F/E on a Short Stirling (never seen one close up before) that was to deliver supplies all over the world, why me I’ll never know, a very quick half hour lesson on where everything was, happily the engines were Hercules with which I had done all my operations, perhaps that’s why I was picked, only one on the squadron with that engine experience.
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The Short Stirling was just a bomber, not converted to anything, the fuselage was used to carry freight and we carted an exhibition of bombs etc all over the place, we also picked up and dropped off odds and sods as required, much like a “tramp steamer” at everyone beck and call!! The Stirling was the first of the four engined bombers for the RAF and suffered because of that, a bad spec. by the chairbound in the Ministry ended up with a well made but poor WW 2 bomber, they did get used for bombing, others as tugs and for training purposes, remember one of Nutts Corner left the end of the runway and landed in the mud, tipped up on it’s nose, the Station doctor rushed to the crews aid (they had all left some time ago) climbed up on the wing slipped and fell off and broke his ankle, mustn’t laugh!!!
The Stirling was slow had no great ceiling, noisy, draughty and I was a long way from home, my crew and a lovely Avro York, what else do you need to think a ‘plane was terrible?
So off we went in a lumbering noisy old Sterling, 15th June England to Castel Benito in North Africa 7 hours 20 of misery, Castel Benito was obviously a place named for the Italian Dictator, My only recollection of this place is sand more sand and then some more sand, the tents we slept in were filled with sand and the food was full of sand and even the ever present flies were full of sand, how the troops managed to service ‘planes and keep them flying is a wonder. I don’t remember if there was a concrete runway but if there was bet it was covered in sand, it blew everywhere, filled every orifice, eyes got sore even just during one night there, no thank you don’t want to remember that place!!
16th June Castel Benito to Lydda the airport for Tel Aviv in (Palestine) Israel 6 hours 45. Lydda, was Palestine. now Israel, was the main airport of Tel Aviv, guess the name has been changed so people like me have no idea where it is now, but was decent airport so probably just extended and has a new name. While at Lydda took the opportunity to visit Jerusalem, The Wailing Wall, Church of the Holy Sacrement [sic], built on the site of the cross and also Bethlehem. I don’t even recognise these places when shown on TV now, Wailing Wall about the same but more open when I was there, Bethlehem completely unspoilt, a crude stable as it always had been, no frills or religious artifice, The Church of the Holy Sacrament surrounded by squalor, beggars, the maimed, and only reached by a walk through narrow alleys, now seeing them on TV, must have had a bit of a clear out, but the Church full of the usual con men selling bees wax candles to see the sights, all they did is coat the hand with evil smelling grease no bee had ever seen, and the opulence inside made a mockery of “love thy neighbour” when related to the poverty outside. HOPE THIS DOES NOT UPSET YOU but just report as I saw many years ago!!! Guess I was full of brotherly love after a tour on bombers!!!
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18th June a night flight to Shaibah in Iraq 3 hours 45. Shaibah, now there is a place to bring back memories not for me but for the thousands of RAF blokes who served there, when I was an RAF Apprentice I heard more dirty poems about Shaibah and its population than anywhere else, some went on for pages and although not a collector of such memorabilia, remember one that had as it’s main item a wheel of very large proportions that continued to revolve against the odds. Another place of sand, from the air very little could be seen as most accommodation was built under ground or should I say the roof of concrete was just about ground level, ventilation was by open slots at ground level, bit like sleeping in a WW2 air raid shelter, situated in Iraq at Lat 30-2349N Long 47-3628 E at 2224ft, has taken me many years to find out just where it was/is, managed it by locating a web site all about the Gulf War, nothing more to say about another sand castle.
19th June Shaibah to Karachi in what is now Pakinstan [sic] 6 hours 15. After taking off from Shaibah we flew directly to the waters of the Gulf and flew all the way to Karachi as near as possible in the centre of the Gulf, many bad friend either side so instructions were to avoid problems, even did a bit of a “dog leg” at the Straits of Hormuz to stay away from any one’s territory. Was quite a peaceful looking scene in those days, lots of small ships ploughing their way along and across, probably smugglers and all manner of evil goings on if we did but know it!!
And so to Karachi itself, part of India then, but now Pakistan, thriving city of many thousands or millions, place that I bought many carpets to bring back to England to help cheer up a rather dark old house Phyll and I were renting.
There were very many carpet makers in the various streets working on looms made from everything imaginable, some used by young children making wonderful patterns with the dyed wool, both hands and feet being used at a rapid pace to insert the wool and move the shuttle. I would shop about for one we wanted to do a room, passage or a hallway, and athough [sic] most colours were somewhat bright and did clash with others we had, we were glad to be able to cover the floors with some thing soft and warm. Many of the carpets had long wool which made them bulky to carry especially some long ones for the stairs, but the carpet makes were only too pleased to wrap them in sacking for me. Most times the Customs at Lyneham let me through without any payment but on occasion I would be charged some small amount to keep them happy!! The chewing of beetle nut and the continual spitting out of it’s bright red juice made the pavement look as if a gang battle had taken place, many were the street side workshops, silver coins hammered thin, cut into strips and soldered into intricate shapes to make the lovely fret work for jewelry [sic], and delightful decorative items. In fact all streets in every Indian city of town I visited had it’s crafts men,
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woman and children, some carved ivory to make the famous balls within balls, time seemed to have no meaning to the carvers who I was told spent years on a single item, how they lived was a mystery. Apart from the clever ones there was also the cunning ones, just a few of the things they made were, cigarettes in a perfect copy of all English packets and tins which when lit popped and crackled as the dead bugs burst, Phyll was pregnant with our first son and suffered as so many woman do with terrible morning sickness, was told that Philips Milk of Magnesia would help, but none obtainable in England that would could find, bought the largest bottle I could find in India at the Officer’s Mess, Dark blue bottle and all the correct labels etc, Phyll took one dose and heaved it straight up, might have been the right bottle but the contents were foul and unknown, apparently it was quite a common practise to bore a hole in the bottom of bottles of all descriptions, whisky, gin, brandy etc the favourites, pour the contents out and fill with anything that looked right and seal the hole in the bottom, I was told that at time pattent [sic] laws in India were unknown. A shoe maker told me he could copy any size, style, colour, so with a pattern of Phyll’s shoe size ordered a pair of suede shoes as a surprise, was a surprise to us both, Minnie Mouse would have been proud to have worn them, not Phyll, yet without soap they could remove grease and stains from the dirtist [sic] of shorts and shirts, return them the next day looking like new, a large country with a great deal of talent in the common man!!!
20th June Karachi to Dum-Dum Calcutta in India 7 hours 05. I have been asked what this was like, flying out of a war zone and to these peaceful areas. But it was not like that at all. Most places we went were on a war footing. Also I don’t think that the local population welcomes us, our money yes, but us no thank you. India was in the throes of becoming independent after many years under the yoke of Britain, Pakistan and Ceylon were also stirring as was Egypt. We landed in Dum Dum (Calcuta) one time to be told that we could not go into town as some workers had had an argument with their foreman and had tossed him into the furnace and shut the door. Another time we received an invite to visit a local Big wig’s Palace, nearby got there when a crowd on a rampage filled the streets and our taxi did a U turn and took us back to camp, war in England was never like that!! Instead of landing back at home, each time we landed in enemy territory, well on most days!!
22nd June Dum Dum to Palam in India 4 hours 25. The old city of Delhi, like some so many cities in India, narrow streets, too many people and cows, but New Delhi a much cleaner place guess the name tells it all, many administrative departments built I would guess to house the government in a cleaner environment, may be just as crowded now as the old one was years ago, we used both names New Delhi and Palam as our stop off point for this place, not a major junction at that time and not on our normal route. Calcutta
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in the East of India was a large city, the RAF base of Dum Dum well known throughout the service, the dum dum bullet came from there, and from the tales I was told much more that was strange and a mystery to western eyes, saw the Indian rope trick once, yes the boy did vanish but always thought there was something a bit iffy about it, if you don’t believe it can’t happen I suppose. Again the streets red with beetle juice and lined with small workshops in some areas, wonderful brass work made by hand, beaten out of sheets of brass, bought a beautiful rose bowl there on one trip, stolen long after by a staff member of the roadhouse we had, really heavy brass with roses carved around the circumference, these were filled with glass and fired so the glass melted into the cuts and then ground until smooth, coated with silver and fitted with a silver mesh to hold the stems, bought a few different types but all long gone now, probably found a new home years ago with the craved wooden tray, crystal glasses, and they even stole the fez I brought back from Egypt!!!
23rd June Palam to Ratamalana in Ceylon, now Shri Lanka [sic], 8 hours. Ceylon, Sri Lanka, was a nice place, called at a number of ‘dromes there, Ratmalana, Negombo, a couple of them, our sleeping quarters were straw huts in amongst the coconut plantations, spoilt for me on one trip when I left my case on the bed and went for a shower, found when I returned that it had been stolen so no change of clothes until I could buy some more, found out when I asked the station police that it was quite normal for things to vanish, very light fingered some of them.
Great surf beaches there which we all found very welcome to cool off in the water, no hope of swimming as one minute the sand is dry and the next 10 feet of water, terrific undertow we were very luck [sic] we did not get swept out to sea, Africa the next stop!!
A rather nice hotel built on a promontory or maybe it was a linked island anyhow went there one night and had a game of snooker with the attendant, played quite well but was given a lesson on how to play the game, found out later that the attendant had been the “marker” for Horace Lyndrum, one time world Champion.
24th June Ratamalana to Karachi 8 hours, 25th June Karachi to Shaibah 6 hours 40, 25th June (YES THE SAME DAY). One of the things I did notice about India as we flew the length of it to Ceylon (Sri Lanka) from Karachi. That it was covered in trees and where the vast population lived I often wondered, certainly the street of towns and cities were full , covered in the red strains of beetle juice and cows.
Shaibah to Lydda a night flight of 4 hours 20. 26th June we had trouble with the electric’s of the flaps and undercarriage so missed a day!! 27th June
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Lydda to Castel Benito 6 hours 40. 28th June Castel Benito to Holmsley South 8 hours , and finally on the same day Holmsley South to base at Stoney Cross 15 minutes, all in an aircraft that I had had about ten minutes of this is this and that is that!!
We were now transferred as a crew to Holmsely [sic] South, with 246 Squadron, and I started flying again with a F/O Lunn on the 10th July doing 3 engined landings, another gap which could have been ground instruction or being a “dogs body” to my F/E Leader, or even a spot of leave and started flying with F/Lt Poore again on Yorks on the 22nd and again on the 28th doing various training flight, then it was off again on the 29th of July from Holmsley South to Malta, Cairo West, Shaibah, Mauripur (India) Dum Dum and so on back to UK on the 11th of August having flown on 29th and 30th July 1st 2nd 3rd 7th 8th 9th and twice on the 11th August. The reason was that there were so few trained crews and very few York aircraft, so we all had to do a great deal in fact far too much. The logbook of my time with 246 Squadron is presented later.
A York oversea flight was very different from Bomber operations, on bombers our cargo had no opinions of physical wants, just sad and waited to be jettisoned.
We carried mail as well, but our passengers were important, not in rank but in the interest of the service they were. So a completely different style of flying had to be undertaken, “press on regardless” the bomber style was no good for people. Safe and on time was the motto, no risks with bad weather, fly round it, we could not go over because there was no oxygen installed on the ‘plane.
From my point of view it was all very strange to start with, clothes for a couple of weeks was required but tropical ones were worn most of the time, so we got into a routine of flying out from UK in our normal uniforms, changed at Malta and left our “blues” there to be cleaned etc and changed back into them on our way home, leaving our tropical shorts shirts etc to washed, ironed and ready for us next time out. Food was another problem, Malta for example was still on very tight rations and my first taste of goat milk, butter and cheese still a rank memory!! The warning to be very careful what we ate, the sudden change in temperature and humidity took their toll of us all and from memory we are nothing at all out of our RAF Messes and very frugal in them. We were not able to drink much hard booze, mainly soft drinks and the occasional beer, the fruit was very welcome however and provided it was either skinned or peeled we could eat them, most of us took back to England some fruit each trip for our families, often when we landed back in UK, calls were out for certain fruit mainly bananas for sick children
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in London hospitals, something in banana which helped cure some illnesses, needless to say no one minded giving up whatever we had.
When you and I fly these days we bound the ‘plane and are quite confident we will arrive where we should, flying on operations we went and came back (hopefully) now we went and went and went and then turned round and came back but it was us doing the wenting and to places that we had never been before and had to land discharge our passengers, sort out the plane, refuel etc, find a bed and food and be ready for the next one in the following day, the first few time were difficult, strange places and people and equipment, and even a brand new crew, all who had done at least one tour but some had done a number, our navigator I remember wore “brothel creeper” suede boots in the topics, was to my eyes ancient and seemed to dissapear [sic] between flights into his room, never really got to know him!!!
I had to get out to the aircraft at least an hour before take off to check out things and run up the engines, you will note many 02, 03 04, 2359, times given as take off time so you can see I for one lost of lot of sleep, the rest of the crew were not in bed but sorting out all the charts, weather, flight plans etc, and we often flew twice in a day if needed so apart from the constant changes in climate as we flew hither and thither we were kept busy.
After take off and once we had reached about 8,000ft we could settle down to some hours of straight and level flight, passengers had to be checked, even in those days there were the terrified ones who could not look out of the window,
After a number of trips the whole thing became a boring job with very little excitement, great discomfort because of the climate, lack of food and the desire to get home to my growing family, I really loved the RAF but loved my wife more.
Among the sites seen during this flying over North Africa, ones that are stuck in the memory are the rusting tanks and other vehicles that littered the North African Desert as we flew in and out if Cairo, lots of miles of nothing then a heap of rust etc, all seen as we flew over at 8,000ft.
We as a crew were transferred yet again to the top Transport Command Squadron, 511 at Lyneham who still operate from there to this day. (August 1998). The logbook of my time with 511 Squadron is presented later.
The only highlight during October was the flight the skipper and I did on our own in Lancaster Bomber P 780 (it was used as the squadron spare parts transport) was to fly by my map reading to Prestwick near Liverpool to pick up a parcel and return, clocked up 3 hours 30 in a Lancaster. The York was a
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nice ‘plane to fly couldn’t go above 8000ft because we had no oxygen for the passengers and it was not pressurised, really a Lancaster with a different body to take freight or passengers, we even had a very good galley on board but until we were given an ex airgunner to act as steward was little used, don’t know what training our chap was given but on the first flight was told on the ground what and when we as the crew would like for our meal. He waited until we were well on our way before puncturing the tins and most of the contents ended in his face or on the ceiling, didn’t seem to know about changes of air pressure, but he soon learned!!
There is one trip to Langar mentioned in my log book where we picked up a York for a VIP Flight. We were in York MW100, which had been the first operational York delivered to the RAF. I have read that Langar was an AVRO refurbishment factory, where repairs etc were carried out, so it looks as though MW 100 was “tarted” up there for 24 Squadron VIP flight.
One of the more pleasant jobs we have, even if a bit sad really, was to fly back to England those British troops that had survived the death camps of the Japanese in Burma and else where. We used Freighter Yorks for this with mattresses spread on the floor and female nurses in attendance, the looks of thanks we all got from these sad men was soul touching, all crews involved would have happily got our old bombers out and bombed the bastards to kingdom come, I for one will never forgive them for their cruelty. Returning from one of the later trips we were met by the Squadron C.O. and told to move all our gear into the Waaf’s quarters (they had been moved out) get a decent room and then report to the main gate where transport had been laid on, the useless mob of non flying officers had crawled out from under the stones they had been hiding under, while we all risked life and limb, and were now insisting that we as crews were not allowed in the mess in flying kit, even though we had to breakfast at between 4-5am and then go straight out to fly, when we returned late night no food would be available after 6pm. Our C.O. wouldn’t stand for that, he had done at least 90 ops some with the Dam Busters, so we moved all the Squadron items from the mess to our new accommodation, which meant all the silver, billard [sic] tables most of the decent armchairs (we could never sit in one because these idle sods were always in them), all the liquor from the bar plus all the glasses and bits and bobs. We had all been paying mess bills but very rarely had been in England, so an even bigger shock was in store for them when they found their mess bills had sky rocketed.
The day after day of flying from cold damp England to steaming hot and humid India was very wearying and when at the end of February 1946 I was offered the chance to leave the RAF I took it, our son Tony had been born in April shortly before I left, I could have stayed on in The RAF, but long hours of flying and a new wife and baby were not the way to go if life was
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going to be at all normal, what I should do for a job I didn’t know, but time at home was what I really wanted, it had been a long hard war and I wanted a rest.!! I have been thinking about this part of my time with The Royal Air Force and it seems as if I should explain where possible the duties of the various aircrew members. Starting with the bomber crews, the pilot is the boss whatever his rank, some crews were formed with quite senior ranking officers as non pilot members, this was often caused by the need for senior officers to really find out what happened on operations, often this was of a temporary nature, but it was known for a senior officer to complete a tour with a N.C.O pilot. The pilot made all the decisions in the air and usually on the ground as well, he had to have the respect of his crew and a happy crew always had a father figure for their pilot even though he might not be the oldest member of the crew, fighter pilots could and possibly should be of a less serious nature, most times they only had to look after themselves.
The pilot must have some understanding of all the jobs that the crew carried out, not to any great detail but sufficient to understand when things went wrong, and in an emergency could make the correct decisions if that crew member was unable to do so, his training would take much longer and would start as a pupil pilot on small aircraft, when he got his wings and started his training on twin engine ‘planes he would be joined by his navigator and in some cases by the wireless operator, these two crew members would have been carrying out their training else where, and once passed as proficient would have been posted to the conversion unit to await joining a crew, it is possible at this stage that these three crew members could after completing their conversion course, be posted to a squadron flying twin engine aircraft, DC3’s. or twin engine light bombers or fighters such as Mosquito’s, Beaufighter’s, Blenheim’s there were many different RAF and USAF twin engined aircraft in service all over the world that this crew could have ended up flying, navigation and wireless equipment was all basically the same in the RAF and no doubt the same applied in the USAF. Assuming that this crew now carries on to four engine conversion, all of the previous training could have been carried out in Canada or South Africa some I understand also completed twin engine training in the USA. Crews formed of Canadian, South African and Australian nationals naturally liked to be all from the same country, I am not sure what happened in other countries but I joined a Canadian crew when they arrived in England because they had no Flight Engineers, I do know that other countries also had the same problem but just who and how much of a problem it was I do not know. So now we have the crew at a 4 engine conversion course some where in England, here the pilot must learn the tricks of flying and landing a large and most likely difficult bomber, having done some initial training with instructors he will now get his crew together and they will complete their training together, While he has been receiving instruction and doing take off’s and landings with an all instructor crew,
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usually only a pilot and F/E, if going on a cross country he would have both a navigator and wireless operator also from the instruction staff (all would be air crew who had completed at least one tour and told me that it was more scary instructing than doing ops!) the rest of the crew have been likewise receiving instruction. Navigators, wireless operators and flight engineers would be all flying both day and night being taught and checked for competence in their various jobs, and subject to being passed as suitable would then continue their training as a crew, any member that didn’t do their job properly was soon found out and a replacement soon found, our navigator had been passed as ok but on a cross country during our training got us hoplessly [sic] lost in the Welsh mountains and the pilot and I, map and beacon read our way home, needless to say he went! The pilot now has his crew and after arriving at a bomber squadron he and his crew are checked out again by the various section leaders, he will now go on two “second dickie” bombing trips to see just what it is all about, standing next to the pilot he will watch what happens all the way out and back, and have that little extra bit of knowledge that his crew hasn’t got.
So to complete this long story about the pilot he stands at the front of his crew and leads and guides them in the tasks ahead. He never shows fear nor does his voice ever tremble when in difficult situations, he may be trembling inside but no one would ever guess, a good bomber pilot was a hero unsung, I was lucky I flew with two on operations. The navigator must have an ability with numbers and calculations often carried out under very difficult conditions, many were remustered from pilot training having failed to reach the flying standard required, they made very good navigators because they understood the problems a pilot could have, and could be very quickly given what additional training was required for a navigator. His job simply described would be to get you there and back again, on time and on target, never as simple as that because the bombing routes were always being changed to dodge known hot spots of “flack” and lead the enemy into thinking you were going to one town and then suddenly turn and bomb some where else. His view of the target or for that matter anywhere we went was limited by his position below the pilot facing a blank wall, his instruments consisted of the usual pencils rulers etc. but also fitted were a repeater compass from the gyro-compass until in the tail, a Gee unit which had a screen and fixed radio stations in England broadcast signals that were projected as curved lines which could give him a fixed position, the gee signal did not reach far into the continent so was of limited use but did help the beginner out and home, H2S was also fitted in a belly blister underneath this was a very primitive form of radar and gave a misty picture of the earth below helpfull [sic] if bombing blind and could aid in locating a town and the trusty old sextant, much improved from the sailor’s version with a two minute clockwork motor that averaged out the readings over that period so was a bit more accurate, wouldn’t do on a yacht would rust up solid in no
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time, piles of maps, charts for everything. Not only did he have to keep up a proper running diary of events, such as aircraft seen to crash or explode any unusal [sic] sightings, we saw some of the early German rocket tests on one operation, we didn’t know what it was and said so and we weren’t told either, changes to targets would be passed to him by the w/op, wind drift had to be regularly checked and whether we had a tail or head wind could effect the time we got to the target, and when we got back home he had to hand in his charts for them to be checked just in case we hadn’t been where we were supposed to have been, a very busy member of the crew, perhaps managed to look out the nose on odd occasions but always working and figureing [sic] out the next course change. The wireless operator was probable a very frustrated man, he had all this high powered gear and could only use it to receive, except in an emergency which none of us wanted anyhow. Signals were being passed from group headquarters to the squadron in code and where they effected us were passed to those concerned, almost always to the navigator, these could be very sudden and high changes of wind direction as monitored by aircraft ahead of us, changes of routes to avoid a new “flack” post, recalls due to bad conditions over the target or fog closing in on our own ‘dromes.
Which meant we might not be able to land properly anywhere in England, 500 to 1000 bombers spread out all over England many crashed with crews killed was not a happy thought! So the w/op spent most of his time listening in, when we started using Master Bombers, (they flew round and round the target during the raid giving instructions to various crews where to bomb and telling those off who ignored him) the w/op got some extra work changing channels as briefed so that the German radio could not block transmissions. Our transmitted signals out were always brief until over friendly land and even then too much chatter from one ‘plane could cause trouble for those in real peril, ‘planes with injured on board or ‘planes so badly damaged that the sooner they could land the better got priority and all crews listened to see if one of their mates was in trouble often a few words of comfort from a friend helped no end, once we started doing daylight operations and could see many miles we could also warn others of enemy action such as flack and fighters, and when we given the job as “dive bombers” on a couple of raids warn other of bomb bursts and local guns that could be a danger. The Bomb Aimer’s (or as the USAF called him The Bombardier) job was to drop the bombs we had carted about the sky and drop them where they would do the most damage, his bomb sight of RAF planes was quite good, needed to be set accurately with wind speed and direction, had a set of switches that could be set so that various bomb bays on the ‘plane emptied first once all the settings were put in which also included things like height and temperature, could be others but it is a long time ago, then he directed the pilot to change course a degree or two either way until his sight was on the target and then he pressed the button and a
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sudden jolt told us we were a great deal lighter and could set course for home. The Master Bomber made a difference because he would tell us which coloured markers to bomb on and give us lots of warning as we came in towards the target. Pathfinder Force had arrived at the target with the Master Bomber before we got there, he told them where to drop their markers and which colour to use, they didn’t land on the ground but floated on parachutes so the Germans couldn’t put them out but they did light “spoof” ones which confused us until the Master Bomber started and then most bombs fell on the target. Some RAF and USAF bombers has a light machine gun in the front nose which the bomb aimer could use, don’t think is was much use, we never hand one. the only other job that the bomb aimer could do was help the navigator with map reading in daylight and he always called out when we crossed the coast both in and out of Europe and England, at night this showed up as a slightly different colour of grey. The USAF made a big fuss about how their Norden bomb sight was so good, reports I have read since the war seem to discount it’s accuracy, like most things, a good operator is good whatever rubbish he is given to use!!
Lets face it the Dam Buster’s used a sight made from a few sticks of wood and we know what they did. We now come to the Air Gunners we had two one as “tail end Charlie” in the rear turret, and another as the mid upper gunner, the rear gunner was considered the top man and he really had the worst position both for comfort and danger, both turrets were fitted with four Browning .303” aircooled machine guns, the turrets were power operated, and the rear gunner usually saw the fighters first particularly at night as they climbed up to get into position the Browning was no match for the fighter cannons so they could keep out of range and bang away until both gun positions were destroyed, then we were sitting ducks. We had two good gunners and just a couple of rounds fired at a distant fighter was enough for him to go else where and find a crew half asleep, we saw this a few times when on daylight raids and cursed them for not attending to their job of survival for the whole crew, some squadrons has much larger losses than others, we reckoned it was not luck but bad training and stupid people who once their bombs had gone thought they were home and dry. Another problem the gunners had and this also effected the bomb aimer was cold they all had electrically heated suits but it could get very cold at night and it made it just that much harder for the gunners to stay awake. On one trip they took our H2S blister out and fitted a mid-under turret, not like the USAF ball turret but more like a small bath tub with a gun mounting, didn’t look very comfortable and gave us a gunner we had never met. What a dissaster [sic] he never stopped seeing fighters from the time we left the ground until we got back, poor chap was probably “flack Happy” That bit of useless gear came out and never went back what they did with the poor gunner I don’t know. but he should not have been given a mid-under job a midupper would have kept him in contact with the rest of the crew and perhaps settled
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him down, who know what terrible tales he had to tell, but we didn’t want him!! The Flight Engineer usually came from the ground staff, had worked on engines, prefferably [sic] those fitted in aircraft, many were recruited like I was having been trained by The RAF at Halton Number 1 School of Technical Training, after passing out I had served two or three years on the flight line servicing a large number of different areo-engines so my F/E training could be specific to the engines fitted in the aircraft I should fly in, the course at St Athan in Wales was quite short, and like all the ex-brats found it no problem, my duties were to control the engines all the required speed the pilot decided and adjust boose and RPM so that they were all syncronised [sic] and did not “hunt”, raising and lowering undercarriage, flaps and bomb doors also were my job, on take off I had to help the pilot hold the throttles open and assist in correcting any swing which could happen with a cross wind and a full bomb load. Every other crew member was strapped in but the F/E had to stand beside the pilot to carry out his job, once off the ground U/G up and flaps retracted, climbing boose and revs set, temperatures checked and on radial engines gills opened or closed to keep the engines at the right temperature.
On water cooled the radiator flaps had to be adjusted for the same reason, a log had to be kept from the moment the engines were started so that a running total of fuel used to could be calculated, every change of boost, revs ,height and which gear the super charger was in affected fuel consumption. There reading were very important also which fuel tanks were in use so that all tanks could end up over the target holding the same amount of fuel, a full tank with a hole could mean no return to base. As an F/E I never really had enough time for all the jobs, the navigator called on me at times to do star shots with the sextant which I could hang on a hook in the astro-drome above my bank of engine and fuel instruments, there was always some thing that needed a tweek or a piece of wire to keep it going, and over the target apart from all my usual jobs I had to feed the “window” out of the special chute, some time there were large bundles of leaflets to send down, to let [sic] the Germans they had no chance or the invaded ones that thing would get better. Before and after a trip I had to check things, although the ground staff never missed a thing perhaps we survived because they were as fussy as we were. My log had to be handed in and any odd things explained so that they could be fixed before we went out again. When ever I had time or if fighter activity was great I would stand in the astro-dome and do my own bit of searching, one night to my amazement within almost arms-reach was a F/W 190 night fighter, I pointed this out to all of the crew and the skipper slowly dropped us a few feet until he was out of sight, the gunners wanted to have a go at him, but the skipper said you can’t be sure you will win and we are here to drop bombs!!! The different in the training for the carrying of passengers by those members of the flying crew that transfered [sic] from bombers to transport was not so very different except that the “press on
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Spirit” of bombers was now changed to safety and arrival at the destination on time. Pilots were trained to fly with the comfort of the passengers as of major concern, Navigators now had some visual land marks to help on long flights and with the help of the wireless operator many “fixes” obtained by cross bearings from two or more radio beacons. The war in Europe and with Japan was still on so many of the peace time facilities were still not available but most of southern Europe was conflict free so that flight were in themselves safe from enemy fire. The flight engineer’s duties still contained those element of engine, fuel, and general aircraft overseeing that were needed in bombers, in the early days he was the only member of the crew free to move about during the flight no cabin crew were employed, so the was the only contact that the passengers had with the flight crew, and many times his duties required him to reassure passengers who had not flown before, although he also acted as a second pilot, on long flights, ground prepared sandwiches and thermos filled with hot or cold drinks were given to the passengers by the F/E. On freighter aircraft another new duty the F/E had to perform was the checking of the centre of gravity of the load this had to be within very strict limits, because of safety considerations, each item of the load had to have it’s centre of gravity worked out and then it’s position in the aircraft designated to ensure that the centre of lift and centre of gravity were within limits.
All RAF Yorks of Transport Command were also Royal Mail carriers so that large bags of mail on both freighter and passenger ‘planes were carried, there was also a small compartment that could only be entered from the outside situated on the port side near the tail, this was for high security items and was usually filled and emptied by a person from the Consulate, who would also lock it.
Without checking with Phyll, or for that matter anyone else, I applied for release from the Royal Air Force, because I had been commissioned I was able to leave the RAF even though I had signed on as an apprentice for 18 years after the age of 18. Phyll was shocked when I turned up at the home she had started to make for us and told her what I had done, what was I going to do for a job?, how would I earn a living,? none of these things had really mattered to me, I just wanted to be with her and our new baby Tony. My Commanding Officer wanted me to stay in and said I could return at any time before my demobilisation leave ended, on the 27th of April 1946 (the day before our first wedding anniversary) I was given a demob suit, some food and clothing coupons and cleared from the RAF, my leave would finish on the 9th of July 1946 so I had a couple of months to decide what to do with my life and that of my family. Phyllis and I were married on the 28th April 1945, she was released from the WAAFs in November of 1945 and managed after a lot of form filling and chasing up the local council to get a requisitioned house, which she moved into in the early part of 1946. These
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houses had been empty for many years were of low standard compared to today’s, but ours was a solidly build three bedroom, two rooms and a kitchen down stairs but had only one cold tap in the house, gas lighting and an outside flushing toilet of the design known by young and old as the Thunderbox. I was still frying to India and Ceylon and only managed to get home for the odd night very seldom, so Phyll all on her own with no help from anyone sought out second hand furniture and managed to provide the basic things needed to make a home, Tony arrived on the 13th of April while I was on leave but I had to return to 511 Squadron as soon as all was well with Phyll and Tony, but was home again on the 27th of April for good.
– Reg Miles
The URL of this page is
http://www.geocities.com/jkjustin/Milesbio5.html
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Biography of Reg Miles
Ex Apprentice No 1 S. of T. T., R.A.F., Halton 39th Entry 34 – 67 M.U.s – 27 A/S Bloemspruit South Africa – Lympe Kent, Flight Engineer 432 – 420 Squadrons RCAF, 6 Group Bomber Command, Eastmoor, Tholthorpe, Yorkshire / 242 – 246 – 511 Squadrons Transport Command Lyneham, RAF
Chapter 6
Post RAF
My parents called round to this very old, dirty, requisitioned house and found me in my battle dress trousers and very large white flying rollnecked sweater sitting on the floor smoking a “Churchill” cigar (very large and the last of my Indian purchases) cleaning and stopping up holes in the wall of what would be our dining and living room. To say that they were horrified would be putting it mildly, where was their son of whom they were proud? The Flying Officer in the RAF who had been on bombers and regularly flew to India and other foreign parts, gave all that up to do what? I couldn’t tell them because I didn’t know, just wanted peace and my own family and no more racing about the world. Something would come along I said, my parents were not impressed they had battled for years to get a little bit out of the working class rut, still only out a little way and here was Reg on his way up and just throwing it all away to be at home cleaning up the dirt of years of neglect. After our marriage on each trip to India I bought carpets and other items that would help to furnish a home, after the floors walls and ceilings were washed the carpets gave a nice touch of luxury to the place. In the kitchen was a brick built “copper” this was filled with water, a fire lit under and when hot this water was used for cleaning the house, washing clothes, and once a week for Phyll and I to have a bath, the babies of course got at least one day. Friday evening was usually “bath night”, Phyll had managed to buy an adult size “tin bath” which spent most of it’s time handing on a nail in the back yard, with a fire going well in the back room downstairs, the bath was placed in front and buckets of cold and hot water carried in from the kitchen. Ladies first was always the rule so Phyll could have hers in comfort, when she got out I go in and removed my dirt, now came the reverse trip with the buckets of water, each one tipped outside to run into the drain by the back door, once tried to empty the bath by lifting it up to the window sill and sliding it out, not much luck with that just a lot more water to wipe up. I did eventually install a proper full size bath in the kitchen with the drain passing through the wall and hot water fed from a gas heater and cold from the one cold tap. The whole thing was boxed in with a hinged cover which gave Phyll a decent size work surface when cooking, and fun for the boys to hide in when not in use for either of it’s purposes. I
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thought I might like to work as a mechanic in a garage, just shows you what an innocent I was, spoke to a garage owner who had looked after Dad’s car before the war and asked if I could work there without pay for a couple of weeks to see what it was like. Started a few days later and after a day or so he wanted to pay me, worked there for a few weeks, can’t say I thought much of the job or the owner, gave me some wooden boxes with parts of a lorry engine in it and told me to build it up, no instruction manuals so took me a while to sort out what went where and he was not impressed, went out on welding jobs to hotels whose heating boilers had frozen up and cracked, nothing went right and as I unloaded the gear from the truck he threw a heavy spanner at me which just missed, I threw it back and nearly hit him, so he said I was not suitable for his job, not a very good start to civilian life! Next I called in at the Labour Exchange and it was suggested that I should go on a course to become a commercial artist, couldn’t draw to save my life so that was out, they had a vacancy for a Trainee Manager for a laundry would I like to try that. Why not I thought, so turned up for an interview by the boss lady and started next day, must learn all the processes she said and put me on a Hoffman Press doing fancy pillow slips, kept coming by every so often and throwing all I had done in the “do it again” bin, all females working there and most old enough to be my mother, put me on the calendar, long steam heated rollers that were used to iron sheets and other large items, I was at the back on my own taking things off while two or three woman fed them in, or course I got in a muddle and another job hit the dust!! So it was back home and helping Phyll with house cleaning, my father was not impressed and said I must have a job what ever it was and suggested that he could get me a job with the large building firm of which he was a very senior employee. When it came, it was as a painter’s labourer (the lowest for life in the building industry) but I just took it to save any arguments and did my turn of holding the bottom of ladders while the painter did the clever stuff, while doing this in the middle of the local shopping street two RAF officers much junior to me on my old squadron couldn’t believe their eyes, told them that good jobs like this were going fast so they’d better get in quick. I had bought a new bicycle, the one that I had bought with the money from my photo job before going into the RAF had been completely destroyed when my uncle Jack was killed on it by a German shell outside Dover. I cycled about Margate going from one painting job to another, the one I most remember was the one at the local brewery, being the lowest on the totem pole I had the job of lighting a fire with wood scraps and making the tea at mid morning and afternoon breaks, got things going just waiting to see how many to make and no one turned up, and went out side into the yard and there all the workers were, both brewery and building, lining up for tankards of beer. Told to come and get mine but just did not fancy cold beer for a drink, went in a had my cup of tea, we were there for some time and eventually I was persuaded to give the beer a
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try, never tasted anything like it, smooth and warming and just perfect, asked where I could buy some of it, told not be so silly, this was a special brew made by the brewer for the staff and not on sale anywhere!! I had not taken up the offer by my CO to go back into the RAF, guess time just went by and didn’t given it much thought, from a salary of 20 pounds a week I was now earning about 3 (took me about 14 years to get up to that again and it wasn’t worth as much when I did) we managed, or at least Phyll did, both of us took extra jobs she did cleaning for the local library and tourist department and also worked in the evenings as a cashier at a large seaside restaurant, later on Phyll worked at a couple of hospitals in the Margate area, I carried out maintenance at the same restaurant and also had a teaching job for the local technical college. My father was talking to the company manager who asked how his son the RAF officer was doing, when told that he was working for the firm as painter’s labourer suggested that there was a need for a fitter to take control of the depot used to store all the machinery used in the company and also large stocks of materials surplus from contracts would I like it? Would I just, right up my alley so after a couple of days I started work at this depot which was on ground adjacent to Manston RAF Base, and in fact my yard was next to the station bomb dump that my father had built just before the war. When I eventually found the yard it looked like a rubbish tip, met by an old man who said he was in charge and who was I. Explained what my job was and found out that he had been there for some time just to help unload and load up the odd lorries that came in from building sites, asked why things were scattered all over the place and he said that he just put things where there was a space, and certainly didn’t do any clearing up or sorting out. A number of sheds had been erected and were all full of a jumble of building materials returned from sites, he didn’t know what was in any of them and had no intention of finding out, bricks of every shape and colour were stacked in heaps without any order and large stacks of roofing tiles had collapsed, spreading out like the tide to cover other items, with weeds and flowers poking their heads between. Loaded lorries had driven over what looked to the driver empty areas, but were in fact filled with sheets of glass, tins of paint, sanitary fittings, and various strange items returned from sites as not required or perhaps in many cases wrongly ordered, so that a sticky mess of dried paint, broken glass, and unknown fragments covered some areas resembling the appearance of a hastily cleared bomb site. This would not do for me, dotted about amongst this bleak landscape were concrete mixers of all shapes and sizes, and many other rusting hulks that I had no idea what they were, order what was wanted and somewhere to work and store tools in safety. I found a shed that looked as if it might keep out the rain and with the old man’s help cleared some space for a bench which was among the multitude of items scattered about the site. One water tap was near the front entrance, I say entrance more like the gates of hell or a test of driver’s skill to weave
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through the junk piled just where it fell, and without me asking a cup of tea was soon offered, that at least had received top priority. I spent the following week looking at machines, to in the first case find out what they were and to check if they could be made to work, that would be my first job, to get the plant needed on building sites in a fit condition for work. To make matters worse there was no electricity or ‘phone connected to the site and very little in the way of anything to help me lift and replace things that were broken, I needed to get things sorted with the boss, calling into head office for my pay on Friday I asked to see him and told him what I needed and was given permission to book anything I wanted with their local supplier and arrange for power and telephone to be connected, the old man would return to his normal work of bricklayer’s labourer and I could engage a young man to take his place. So the clean up started, I concentrating on checking and repairing machines and my new helper re-stacking fallen heaps, wheeling away to a corner all the rubbish he found during his efforts, which would eventually be used to fill in some large holes uncovered during this clear up. The first shed I had used was emptied of all the rubbish and made into a small workshop where other benches were installed, the power and telephone were connected, I purchased some items of tools including a complete oxy-acetylene welding and cutting outfit from BOC, which I then had to learn how to use!! A call came for a large number of wheel barrows for a site, most that I had found had splits and cracks in the bodies and all had narrow steel wheels, repairs by welding were hastened and a quantity of wheels with pneumatic tyres were purchased, a coat of paint given from our stocks, all of which turned out to be grey of various shades when mixed together, the site foreman phoned to send transport, who shortly after receipt of the barrows phoned to register his delight in getting what appeared to be a truck load of new equipment. Gradually sheds were emptied, their contents sorted and listed and put away in some sort of order, all stocks of bricks, tiles, screws, nails, plumbing fittings, and all the multitude of items used in the building and construction industry were sorted and listen on stock sheets, these were sent to head office for typing and all site foreman and those people in the drawing, quantity and supply departments given copies, amendments made to these when required. All materials for building work was on licences, which were hard to get and the cause of a great amount of office time and paperwork, my lists helped to overcome some of these delays and gradually most people in the organisation used them to help in planning, they became even more useful when I was able to add separate sheets which gave lists of what machines were held in stock and what their state of readiness was. I was now getting more and more calls from sites asking for my help not only to supply machines and materials but my advice was asked for on the manufacture of items for sites and in many cases I was asked to make thousands of an individual item for the massive tower blocks being built in and around London to house those who had lost their homes
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due to enemy bombing. for most of this twelve years we still lived at Tivoli Road in the requisitioned house, much cleaner and more livable [sic] after Phyll’s ministrations, the wall paper in our bedroom which consisted of large purple parrots on a dark blue background had like the rest of the house been removed and given coats of a more restful colour of paint, there was always plenty of part tins returned from contracts so no problem with supplies! Philip our second son had arrived on the scene about two years after Tony, which gave Phyll. more work with washing and caring for two boys who carried on a constant war with each other and would always try to outdo each other in the speed at which they turned clean clothes into dirty rags. Sheila, Phyll’s sister came to stay and had the usual boy friends, mostly American service personnel from Manston, none of which seemed to understand that rationing of everything was still in place in the UK, invited to an evening meal on one occasion the incumbent boyfriend took out family’s weekly ration of cheese spread it our total stock of biscuits and swallowed the lot! Whether it was the same one who broke our settee into fragments one night in a fit of passion I don’t know, the remains however did come in useful as our ration of coal for heating had largely been burnt and the settee end up as fuel the stuffing and covers used to add humus to the starved patch of soil called garden at the back. To help with the family budget Phyll had obtained part time evening work at a large restaurant on the sea front manning the till, she also cleaned the Margate library, and at times the Margate Information centre, she wasn’t afraid of hard work but it did and still does seem all wrong that people like her who had done their bit during the war got nothing for their efforts while the stay at home fortune markers still got all the benefits, I noticed this particularly when visiting an aircraft factory in the Midlands, whole families worked in the one factory each one taking home much more than the fighting men did and most seemed to have a fiddle of some sort which enabled them to get the best of every thing regarding food and clothes, some got bombed but most got rich! Susan came along after a further eight years, she was born at home as Phyll had not been happy at the treatment she received at the local maternity hospital and determined not to suffer that again, her brother Peter was performing with a band at a local venue and his wife Jean stayed with us until she had her second child, we even at times had other artists to stay all to help with the family budget. I had changed my cycle for a “Corgi” , this was the war surplus parachutist motor bike, dropped with them for quick movements of men, they had a small 125cc two stroke engine, folding seat and handle bars, no instruments of any sort and very basic lights, push start, no gears, and certainly no suspension, the front tyre wore to a point after some miles so that turning on wet or icy roads was fraught with peril, many was the 360s I did on old cobble stones and slick corners. A large metal box was made and fitted and my range of operations grew to sites many miles away from base, it was a cold and slow means of transport, crawling up a
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hill with the box on the back filled with heavy tools after an hour or so on the road to be passed with ease by everything on wheels and some even on hoof did not endear me to other road users, who out of pure spite drove near and informed me if I pedalled harder would get along faster. To spend over an hour on the road to get to a site that had called me that they had problems with machinery, only to find as I often did that failure to check the oil in an engine had caused it seize up, the topping up with fresh oil prior to my arrival supposed to fool me, strong words were said by me while I stripped the engine freed the pistons and rings and got it running again. Some cases were even more bizarre, once called to a site two hours away because the small bulldozer would not “go”, this was in the middle of winter with ice and snow about, found that the machine had been left after it’s day’s work in a large puddle of liquid mud, this had frozen overnight and struggle as it may the poor thing could only slip clutches trying to get out of the clutches of the ice, a stern word to the “ganger” to get off his backside in future meant no more silly alarms from that site. On another occasion nearer home I was asked to call at a site because the 14/10 mixer would not mix (14/10 – 14 cu ft of dry material in and 10 cu ft of wet mixed out) It was still operating when I arrived on site to be shown that as the hopper tilted to pour the dry material in it shot straight out the other side, shut it down and had a look at the blades inside the drum, these often got badly worn after months of use, not in this case the drum was full to the brim with rock hard concrete. Again poor or perhaps in this case non existent maintenance, I had issued guide lines to all foreman as I found that certain work methods damaged or caused performance problems with plant, in this case of concrete mixers at the end of a day’s work a few shovels of sand or gravel should be placed in the drum and allowed to mix for a few minutes this combined with the liquid cement usually still present from the last mix and made it too weak to set hard, the following day it would be broken up during the first mix. There were a number of these information suggestions most of which I have no memory, one that still remains is the one involving flexible drives used on vibrators to consolidate in shuttering, or formwork, it was common practise to hang the vibrating head over the shuttering and leave it operating while the concrete was poured, the sharp kink in the flexible drive caused the high speed inner drive to cut a hole in the outer casing, this would be fairly large on the inside but often a very small slit on the out side, if this slit became immersed in the concrete the rotary action of the inner drive sucked in liquid concrete which soon set when switched off and the next day no vibrator, more obvious to the operator was the damaged caused if the actual vibrating head was to touch the reinforcing steel bars inside the shuttering, I have had the heads returned to me cut in half after being in contact with the steel. During the 12 years I was employed by Rice and Sons many things happened that are worth repeating. I cannot begin to remember them in any proper order will just tell them as they pop up in my memory, a local garage
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owner who’s place of business was just up the road from the yard, I bought my petrol from him and we often helped one another out with bits and pieces, he had been the only one who had an independent supply of electricity provided by a single horizontal cylinder glow bulb diesel engine to start it needed a long heating of the bulb part with an oversize blow lamp, then grasping the spokes of one of the very large fly wheels a heave to start the rotation and followed by more pulling until it fired and continued on it’s own, the trick was to let go before you went with it, rather like prop swinging an aircraft engine, his wife helped him to serve petrol, but needed the engine running to supply electricity for the pumps, the odd times when he was too ill to get out of bed I would start the thing for her and so we became friends and swapped ideas about thing, he had “come upon” some very cheap metal twist drills and wondered if I would like some they certainly looked good quality but would they cut I asked, we’ll give them a go he said and put one in his bench drill stand and tried to drill a hole, no luck must need sharpening, and still no luck, a close examination showed that they were left hand drills were stamped USAAF and no doubt had originated in the USAAF Base at Manston and were made for a DeWalt machine that did a number of operations some of which required left hand drills. The local manager of Rice and Sons had a number of children one of which was a young girl who like so many of her gender rode and had horses, the garden at his house had become too small for her latest horse and as there was quite a bit of open space at the yard now it was tidy he asked if we could manage to find room for it, wasn’t very keen but found a space between piles of bricks and partition blocks that could be fenced and space in a shed near by that would do as a tackle store. The young girl turned up with this, to us great hairy beast, and put him away while dad pulled up in his car and took her home. We used to let it out to feed around the yard during the day and never really had any trouble putting it away at night, not that any of us felt very comfortable with it, but it did cause trouble, one day it got it’s nose and most of itself jammed in the door way of a shed while it warmed itself on a potbelly stove that was burning to drive out the moisture from stored items, one of us climbed through a window and tried to back it out but it wouldn’t budge, only thing to do was push it forward and dodge the backward explosion as it’s nose got burnt, it often scratched it’s back on stacks of bricks or tiles, our only warning the rumble as thousands of carefully piled ones slowly slid down to cover yards of ground, when burning worm infested wood it loved to put its hooves into the hot ashes and the long length of pipe we used to move the wood about poured out smoke from it’s top end, the horse stood with this in it’s mouth and seemed to enjoy the odd smoke. We had a few minor problems with this horse, it got out one day when a stupid lorry driver left the gate open and the young lad I had taken on spent most of the day chasing it over hill and dale until it leapt a fence into a paddock of other horses and charged about until this owner
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caught it and insisted on knowing who the owner was. The end for us came when I arrived at the yard one Monday morning to be greeted by a very irate RAF officer, the horse had apparently got out during the weekend and right opposite was the grass runway of Manston Aerodrome, these acres of lush grass were heaven to the horse so in spite of large numbers of service personnel in jeeps and on motor bikes it just cantered madly about preventing the circling aircraft from landing. The main runway at Manston was some miles long, equipped with FIDO and a major airfield during WW2, at this time it was occupied by the USAAF flying Lockheed “Shrunk Works” F80 Shooting Stars, Spifires [sic] had by legend taken off across the runway it was so wide, the grass runway was used by visiting light aircraft to leave the main runway free for ops. I noted that the officer concerned was a non flier and after he had calmed down suggested that he get a few years in before going off at the mouth to me, but felt sorry for him as no doubt he had been torn off a strip by some other prat in uniform, told him the horse was not mine and mentioned my service number which shut him up, but the horse had to go and so it did. Another morning I arrived to be called over by the next door neighbour, who had a small holding and piggery behind his house, to complain about the noise I had been making late into the previous evening, said he would come over and shut me up if it happened again, told him I wished he had which surprised him. What had happened was I crawled into the drum of a large concrete mixer to check the blades and water feed pipes, it was going out on to a site the next day and the phone call only came in as I locked up the workshop, my men had already gone, knew that most of the mixer was in good condition but wondered if the blades and water pipes had been checked, blades were OK but still a small amount of concrete on the inside of the water pipe, got a hammer and cold chisel from the toolbox and chipped out the bits and pieces, a small pebble just didn’t want to move so pushed my finger in to flick it out, the pebble dropped down jamming my finger in and the harder I pulled the more it jammed. The only way I could get out was to hold up the pebble with a piece of wire while I eased my finger out, the tools I had with me were too large, that is why I was banging on the drum hoping someone would come and help me, but no luck and I was going deaf from my hammering. Perhaps the last shovel of sand put in to weaken the cement remaining in the drum had a piece of tie wire in, what a hope but after scrabbling about with my free hand for some time I found a piece, held the pebble up and quickly grabbed my tools and crawled out, the neighbour laughed and would come quick if heard banging late again. Another Monday I arrived at the yard to find the entrance blocked by a very large and dirty Steamroller, no sign of a driver, enquires with neighbours did not help, no note or message on the machine, just parked most tidily across the entrance, walking space only. None of my people knew anything about it and none of us knew how to drive, we checked the tank which had some water in it but no coal or wood,
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lit a fire made sure the sight glass was full and when steam started to come out of various holes, pushed and pulled every lever in sight until it moved into the yard, rolled up and down the yard a few times to make our road smooth and put the brake on, the fire was only wood so it soon burnt down and went out. It stay there for a couple of days and then one morning when I got to work it was gone, never did solve the mystery of the vanishing steamroller. While I was having fun and games at work Phyll was doing her best to balance what budget we had, many times when the gas meter was emptied we didn’t get any “rebate” only the return of the many foreign coins left over from my trips abroad that we had used to get gas because we were flat broke. Tony and Philip were a great trail being about 5 and 3 years old, she once got them all dressed up in their best white outfits, told them to be good boys and play together while she got dressed in her only decent frock, we were going to my Granny and Grand Dad Miles 50th wedding anniversary party, all the family would be there and poor as we were had to make out we were not. I was on my way home from some job or other and arrived in time to see the two boys playing together in the garden as requested, only they were playing in the heap of soot that the chimney sweep had left the previous day after sweeping our coal fire chimney’s!! Poor Phyll all the hard work, no [sic] only did she make their outfits, get them clean and looking smart, rushed to get dressed herself, and now had to start all over again, and I turned up dirty as well. We got to the party and everyone said how smart the boys looked, just one more of the miracles she worked. Kids can drive you mad and at other times make you laugh, arriving home from work one day Phyll told me that Tony had put his head into the bath of bleach water while she had been hanging out the clothes, ‘What a silly thing to do’ I said to him, ‘it could burn you and make your hair fall out’ With eyes as large as saucers he looked at me and said, ‘Is that what you did Daddy’ I couldn’t keep a straight face nor could Phyll. Returning from a trip to my brother’s small pig farm Tony suddenly said ‘I know eggs come from chickens Dad, do pigs lay sausages?’ always expect the unexpected where children are concerned. Apart from all the house work, looking after our growing family, Phyll always managed to find yet another job to help the budget, with Susan in her pram she pushed her quite a way to clean and tidy the house of the local vet, his wife looking after Susan while she did this, funny thing neither of us complained, just glad that we could feed and clothe us all from week to week. Among the jobs I did as part time extra work, was painting a house that a nurse lived in near the Manston yard, and doing all repairs and maintenance at the same restaurant that Phyll did evening work. This later one was a real learning experience, all equipment and machines had to be checked before the place opened for the summer season and most were completely strange to me. All the kitchen machines had to be cleaned and tested, and what most of them did was a mystery to me but head down and asked a few questions and off I went, the
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chipper didn’t work I was told, pulled a cover or two off and found that the last one to use it had put in a rock instead of a potato (dissatisfied employee?) cleared that, straightened the blades and OK again, the spud peeler was very slow, found that the abrasive lining was no longer abrasive! new lining ordered and fitted, and so I worked my way through all the catering gear. The manager asked me to look at the revolving entrance doors, had been very stiff at the end of the last season, what did I know about revolving doors, nothing but there must be a reason, climbed on top and found that the lock nuts that held the door up were loose and had allowed the door to drop so that it dragged on the floor, soon adjusted that and smiles from the manager, he began to think I was a miracle worker, but most of it was just the very uncommon common sense. This restaurant was situated on the land side of the road that ran along the beach, a section that was below high tide mark had a dance floor and entertainments as well as food and drinks served. The floor and walls up to high tide level had been “tanked” with a bitumen coating to prevent sea water damaging the decorations and timber block dance floor, some clever “dicky” had removed some of this timber block dance floor and “tanking” to increase the area used to cater for food and drink patrons, vinyl floor tiles had been stuck over the bare concrete floor that was exposed, at the same level and matching those already installed, but these new ones had no “tanking” underneath. The manager explained that as the tide came in and out the salt water dissolved the adhesive which expanded into a large ulcerous looking lump in the middle of the tiles, ladies with stiletto high heels punctured them when they stood on them and the resulting black goo shot up their legs damaging stockings and dresses. I had a look at the problem and sure enough a number were well and truly ready to “blow their top”, dug out those that needed replacing and realised that to put new ones in with adhesive was not the answer, nails would be good but the heads would probably trip people but headless one might be the answer but into concrete could be a problem, had an old gramophone at home that used the old steel needles, gave that a try and magic no problem the hardened needles went into the concrete easily and held the tiles OK, quick trip to the local gramophone shop got all their old used needles and a few boxes of new ones and just kept an eye on the tiles and as they started to bulge out they came and new ones in, during that summer think I changed the whole lot. I was on call during the evenings and week ends not too many problems, most had been already fixed mainly things broken by staff or customers, the ‘chefs’ were a funny lot always on their “high horses” about how clever they were and just threw things about if upset, more work for me, the amplifier and microphones at the dances often played up due mainly I think by drunks grabbing the mic. to bellow their inane rubbish. During the summer ‘season’ Phyll did other work, one of her aunties had a “Boarding house”, perhaps the more modern ‘bed and breakfast’ might convey to readers what it was,
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whole families came to Margate and other seaside resorts to spend their summer holidays, the cheapest accommodation for a family being the Boarding House, must be out of the house by about nine thirty and not let back in to the afternoon, these regulations varied, some miserable people stuck to them, but people never went back to them. Phyll’s job was to clean and tidy all the bedrooms, change over days, usually Saturday was very hard, most of the houses were big old places with perhaps only one lavatory and bathroom on each floor, some not even that, so chamber pots or ‘gusunders’ were provided under all beds, hence the commonly used expression used in those days for all things running late “here it is (time) and not a po emptied”. How Phyll managed to keep house, look after me and the kids and still go out to work I don’t know, no such thing as child minding in those days, we couldn’t have afforded it if there had been, must ask her some time how she managed it all!!! The house in Tivoli Road had no electricity, lighting by gas may be romantic but fraught with problems, too much gas pressure or touched when being lit and mantles break, a small hole will send a jet of flame against the glass cover and in winter when the whole house is cold, the glass shatters and people get cut, candles were used to move from room to room, and checking a sleeping baby without dripping candle grease on everything was an art soon learnt. We decorated this old house from top to bottom, never thought to ask for money to pay for things just got on and did it, remember Phyll standing on a chair wallpapering our bedroom just hours before she asked me to go out and phone the midwife as Susan was on the way, we had made up a bed for her in the dining room so no stairs to climb, I was pushed out and told to boil lots of water and get piles of newspaper, think the water boiling job was to shut me up, brave things woman, glad it was Phyll and not me going through child birth, I need medical attention if I break a finger nail, guess all men are cowards. Because the house was one of a long row of terrace houses, now known as town houses, houses all joined together, being old and some had been empty all during the war, mice had invaded one or two, we had used traps and got rid of ours but roofs and coal cellars joined, so that migration to the best food source was common. All food was kept in mice proof containers, the only source of food not covered being the layers of fat on the inside of the ancient gas cooker, efforts to get it clean only disturbed the recent deposits. Leaving Phyll sitting beside the fire in the room we used most of the time I went out to the cold kitchen to make our nightly drink of cocoa, as I lit the gas light I could hear a scrabbling coming from the oven, a mouse was having supper also, blocking the rear vent up with some clothes waiting to be washed I turned on the oven gas, waited for the scrabbling to end and picked up a dead mouse and in triumph took it in to show Phyll threw it on the fire and returned to make our cocoa. The next night a repeat performance was in sight as the next mouse awaited it’s fate, on went the gas, open came the door and Reg ended on his back against the wall as the
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cooker exploded, with the eye brows, eye lashes and moustache singed I staggered into Phyll, no longer the hero just a poor wounded soldier. The previous night the gas for our cocoa had not been lit, tonight it had, when I opened the oven door the gas escaped and was lit by the gas alight on top. Phyll covered my sores with Vaseline and I hurried out to get the mouse only to see it disappear behind the vegetable boxes in the larder, using all my force I crushed the box against the wall and another dead one, but of course the milk boiled over so I guess you could say, Reg one, the mice one, a draw. A friend of both Phyll and I when were at school was Laurie Foat he worked with his father who had a Greengrocer’s shop in Eaton Rd, I had been interested in bees when at school and found that Laurie also had an interest and had in fact a number of bee hives. We got together and started to expend the number of hives by breeding and bought quality Queen bees which we introduced after removing the old queens, we had bees in all sorts of places, orchardists welcomed us as pollination of their fruit trees was ensured, growers of many crops wanted our bees on site, this sometimes was a very painful as during transit the hives often moved and many times we travelled with swarms of bees round our heads, hoping that we would arrive on site still with enough to carry out the job in hand.
We experimented with new ideas, the only hive that had been used in England apart from the straw skip was the WBC, this had inner boxes in which the frames fitted, usually two types, honey and brood, and outer sloping ones that gave insulation in the cold months when the bees were in hibernation, we tried out the new style National hives, these were single wall and larger than the WBC (how I remember all this after 50 years, I do not know) The National hive was a copy of hives used in warmer countries such as Australia and South Africa, where the honey flow continued most of the year and hibernation was not needed, our extractor could not handle the bigger National frames and filling by the bees took much longer and in fact frames were often found to be only half full even if the honey flow had been good, they were easier to handle but really not for the small bee keeper who enjoyed the hobby more that the honey.
We also tried out a new floor board which had a fine mesh panel in it, a cover over it was controlled by a thermostat which opened and closed it depending on the temperature, this in theory helped the bees to drive off the moisture from the honey before it was capped. An old wives tale says that your bees know you and you must tell them all about you family particularly births and deaths, whether this is true I don’t know but sitting by the entrance to a hive as the sun goes down with crowds of bees at the entrance to the hive all facing inwards fanning their wings madly to drive off the moisture from that day’s honey crop is a rather magic experience, the bees ignore you and with your face close to them the sweet smell of clover,
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apple or other flowers they have been visiting beats any of man’s bottled perfumes.
As winter approached one year, it was obvious that two of our hives were not big enough to survive over the long months ahead, one had been used as a breeding hive for new queens, the other the remnants of one that had swarmed in an orchard miles away and the orchardist had not told us until it was too late to get most of them back. We would need to combine them and as bees are very territorial they couldn’t just be put together (one of the two queens must be removed), most of both hives would be killed, there were two normal ways to do this, cover each lot of bees with flour then combine them and by the time they had cleaned all the flour off themselves they would all smell the same, another ways was to block up the entrances put many layers of newspapers between the two and wait until the two lots of bees had chewed their way through and hope they would be friends.
Laurie lived over his father’s shop which had a flat roof which could be reached from one of Laurie’s windows, the combining needed to be watched to see if it was going according to plan, and the bulk of our hives were on land some miles away, the flat roof above the shop was an ideal place, we thought, the hives were set up near one another and a search through Laurie’s wife’s food cupboard failed to find any flour but a number of half packets of different coloured blanc-mange powder seemed just as good, the lid was removed from one hive and well dusted with powder, the floor taken off the other placed on top and it’s roof removed and the remainder of the powder sprinkled in.
Some of the bees took offence at this and gave us both our usual injection of anti-rheumatic treatment (after the number of stings I took should never get any joint problems, perhaps another old wives tale!) we retreated behind the closed windows of Laurie’s flat to watch events, all seemed to be going well until Laurie’s father suddenly appeared in the room, not a very happy Daddy, bees, all colours of the rainbow were driving his customers away, no one had been stung, but they were landing on everyone and everything and bright orange red, blue, and even multi coloured bees were not the normal thing seen in shops. After about an hour the panic was over and all the bees had settled down to do what bees do best, hum, and make honey.
Bees like the rest of living things get sick and we sent any suspect ones to Rothamstead Research Institute for analysis. I had been working the bees one weekend and on the Monday morning woke up feeling not too good, turning to Phyll in bed asked if my face was swollen, the look on her face and a sudden withdrawal of breath told me the tale, got out of bed and looked in the mirror, two slits that must have been eyes once, two nose holes
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that belonged more to a member of the pig family, the whole lot buried in a red blotched landscape of no sharp edges just fat curves, felt even sicker after seeing that sight. Phyll rang the doctor, (doctors actually came to see the sick in those days) who knew of our family history and at once remarked that it looked like a bee sting, told him we had a hive that we suspected had paralysis and were awaiting the results of tests, sat on my bed for about half an hour finding out all the symptoms of various bee diseases, gave me pills to take, come and see me in ten days, these blue pills got rid of the swelling but seemed to deposit glass chips in my joints, Phyll had to help me move and the pain was worse than the sting, managed to walk with great pain to his surgery after ten days, when I told him of my joints problem, said he should have given me these other pills to dissolve the crystals that would form in my joints.
Went to him once with a very swollen elbow, tennis elbow he said, don’t play it I said, showed me his elbow which was just as swollen as mine, got mine playing golf he said, what shall I do I said, don’t play golf or tennis for a bit was the answer!! Good doctor always came when asked and never gave you any bull, just one of the old school, straight answers to straight questions and don’t go to him if you just wanted a note to stay away from work, I never did, in fact had to argue with him at times when he wanted me to rest, but mutual respect was our way.
At work load was getting greater most self inflicted see a job do it is still my way, and the firm found that if they wanted some thing done and it was possible for me to do it, it got done. The “Corgi” motor bike was just too small for all the tasks expected of me, tried to get a van from the firm, but even old ones were very hard to get after the War, saw an advertisement for a 1928 Austin 7 only 20 quid, borrowed the money from my Dad and went to pick it up, one of the firm’s lorries dropped me off at this farm many miles away from home, it was in the back of a barn and sounded a bit rough when started up, farmer said it had been used to carry a full milk churn down to the front gate each day, drove it out to the yard at Manston, the engine rattle getting worse as time went on. Left it there to begin work on it the next day, stripped it right down, found the front seat was a bale of straw, no back seat, when pulled to pieces the small parts just filled a cardboard box, the chassis was two slender bits of channel joined at one end and that had a number of cracks in it, engine and body was all aluminium so very light, Phyll not very impressed when she first saw it, a box of greasy bits and some other bits of tin hanging on the workshop wall. I rebuilt the thing from scratch, crankshaft reground, cylinders rebored, valves and seats refaced, king pins and bushes renewed, any cracks in the chassis or body welded up, new seats, and tyres and tubes, it was a “tourer” open body and need less to say the canopy was missing, I had a new one made by a coach builder, when finished I spray painted it dark blue, and we now had our own motor car to
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go about and I had arranged payment by the firm for so much a mile when I used it on the firms business, which in fact covered all our costs of the car and a bit over, the overhaul had been done in the firms time and at their cost, not that they were made aware of it, and wouldn’t have minded if they had, for me to be mobile anywhere anytime was what they wanted and now had it.
I could take a decent size tool kit out on repair jobs and even the odd spare part, if they wanted me to do oxy cutting or welding a van or truck had to be available to carry the cylinders and other gear, and the oxy cutting began to become a major part of my work, I had taken on a fitter who stayed at the yard and together with the young bloke I had engaged kept on top of the repairs to machinery while I was out on jobs. A list of all of the metal work jobs I did on site would take pages and strain the old memory but some can never be forgotten for various reasons.
There are three which stick in the memory, Dreamland a very well known and large entertainment park, side shows, scenic railway, ghost house, roller coaster, you name it, Klingers a stocking and tights factory built by Rice and Sons, and The new Margate and district Telephone Exchange also built by Rice’s.
I’ll start with the last, the telephone exchange, this was a multi storey building with imposing stairs and entrance halls, Italian workers had been brought from Italy to do all the Terraza work to floors and stairs, my first contact with the site was when one of their machines would not start and the local garages couldn’t or wouldn’t repair it for them, not a very big job to fix it as I remember, but with typical Italian gusto I was treated as if I had saved them from a fate worse than death itself, showed me all their secrets for treating Terraza floors before people were allowed to walk on it, dozens of bottles of milk poured on after it was ground and washed, the fat from the milk sealed the pores in the cement and polish was applied over this.
The interior hand rail supports up the stairs had been concreted in before the Italians started their work, before they applied the final grinding and polishing they wanted the steel core rail for the wooden hand rail fitted, from their previous experience metal filings often landed on their Terraza and caused stains which were hard to remove, all the interior and exterior steel fences and railings had been contracted from by a London based company some 75 miles away by road. Their workmen arrived on site to fit the core rail and spent a couple of weeks drilling and fitting this top rail and returned to London, the manufacturers of the wooden rail itself came to the site to check that this work had been carried out properly, most people don’t look at wooden hand rails in multi storey buildings, next time you are in one have a look at the complicated solid wood shapes made to change direction
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round corners or up to the next flight, all made from plans and joins that are hard to see. The steel core rail was a mess and phone calls to the London manufactures went un-answered, there was also the question of some hundreds of yards of exterior fancy railings which had to be fitted into holes cut in the Portland Stone capping that was the topping for a wall that curved round and sloped and ended at various entrances on three sides of the building.
The call came in one morning to visit this site and see the site manager, who just happened to be my Father! He showed me the stair problem, the core rail in some cases had been cut short and in others it was too long making the legs fixed into the concrete look like a row of trees, some of the end rolls were all twisted, in fact it was a mess, went back to the yard got oxy gear and other tools told my staff expect me when see me and ring if you can’t cope, the only way was to remove completely the core rail, straighten and check for plumb the supports, and start one end and rectify as I went, finished that part in a week or so, it was OK’d by the handrail people and the Italians who still made a fuss of me and I started to pack up my gear to return to base, that was not on my father’s plans, the steel railing manufacturers had been ‘sacked’, would get no further payments, I would complete the work! ‘Thanks Dad I had other jobs to do,’ ‘but you don’t leave here until the railings are complete’, see what happens when you do a good job? you get more!!
I found that not only had I to get the railings to fit, but had to concrete the legs into the wall leaving the cement a good half inch below the top of the Portland Stone, I then had to come back when the concrete was set and pour melted lead into this space leaving it slightly proud, which I then had to hammer flat using a caulking chisel so that the lead prevented any water from getting at the steel in the wall and causing it to rust. All this was said as if I had been doing this all my life and my own father standing there and saying it, there’s family for you.
I started on a long straight section and when concreted in it was straight as a gun barrel, a good start, now for this curved and sloping section, each day was yet another battle with wedging posts upright, cutting and welding, all joins in the rails had to be half lapped, welded and smooth, at last this very long section was finished, ready for the lead. Back to the yard for a coke fired furnace, pouring pots, melting pots, scrap lead, coke and other tools, I needed help with this lead pouring so told my fitter to report to the site the next day and we would make a start, did the straight run first, each hold had to be done in one pour, lead soon gets a skin on it and if stopped half way would not seal properly, things went well until we did a hole that was damp and all hell broke loose, the hot lead turned the dampness to steam the lead sealed the hole, but the steam won and lead shot out covering
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both of us with lead spots on face and clothes, none in our eyes thank god, a lesson learnt, back to the yard to make to face masks with thick glass and a frame much like an arc welding mask.
Each hole after that had to be heated with the oxy torch to ensure no moisture was present, winter in England there is always moisture present, and so we poured and heated and caulked our way round to the last post outside the main entrance, heated, checked for moisture, poured, and bang the whole of the dark brick work at the main entrance covered in very pretty sparkling lead spots, who should walk out before we could hide, yes dad, “now you’ve got a long job picking every bit of lead out”, some we removed but like I said earlier it soon gets a skin and goes dark and it was winter with no light so we only spent one day doing the easy seen ones and then back to the yard for a rest!!
Dreamland was a very different job, it was the height of the holiday season and the crowds filled every place of entertainment, Margate was a sea side place and families came from all over southern England for their week or two of fun in the sun. Those businesses that depended on the holiday makers for their lively hood had just three months to make enough to last all year, rain didn’t really matter the people came anyhow just spent their money in different places and Dreamland was humming. A very large building had been erected just inside one of the entrances it was about 40 feet high and about a hundred yards square, really only consisted of a corrugated cement and asbestos sheeting clad roof on massive steel supports, the interior filled with side shows and games of chance (very little chance in most cases) and it was always very well patronised, if the sun was out it was a place to get cool and if raining a good shelter, most of the people who ran the side shows paid rent for the site and many managed to find a space in their stall to get their head down when Dreamland was closed for the night. I received a call at home before I even left for the yard to get my Oxy gear and come down to Dreamland to do some cutting, I always had plenty of gas bottles on hand and had purchased very long hoses because of the difficult jobs I was always getting. Arriving at Dreamland I could see this skeleton of a building still smoking from the fire, the foreman met me to say that the owners wanted it cleared away as soon as possible so that trading could start again, but if I made a start a professional in building removal was on his way and he would take over from me. Looking at the structure it was basically a cross with massive compound girder columns at each corner, with again compound steel trusses spanning from column to column, the roofing material had collapsed into the rubbish beneath, but the heavy purlins were all twisted about and had been put under great stress by the heat of the fire. The safest way was to get on top of the building and using boards climb up to the ridges from both sides cutting and dropping the purlins as you went, this would leave the massive truss supported only at
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each end, cut through this at one end with great care, and hang on when it dropped, climb up the other side and drop the remaining end of the truss, this could then be cut up into manageable size lumps and carted away, the two columns could then be cut close to ground level and chopped up and after the whole building had been removed a final cutting of the column stumps would make the site use able again. Explained my thoughts to the site foreman and the boss from Dreamland who both agreed that it seemed OK, barriers were put in place and men stationed to prevent anyone entering the area where I was working, ladders erected for me to get up top, but my hoses though long would not reach far enough, so with a bit of a strain got the two heavy cylinders up to the top of the columns and lashed them there, I would leave them in that position until the time came to fell the columns. Up I went, ladders removed and I started cutting away the purlins, each one acted in a different way depending on what the stress was, just had to be careful and not get too close at the final cut, but things went OK and soon the clatter of falling steel and the showers of sparks from the Oxy torch had a crowd of sight see’ers, got the first truss free of purlins and ready to drop one end, when an almighty bang nearly tossed me off the roof, looked round to where the noise had come from and there was the “professional”, with his long ladder leaning on the truss, he had cut through one end of the truss and had not cut any of the purlins, dangling by a rope tied to the ladder his torch burning the ladder and the truss hanging by the already under stress purlins. The site foreman rushed to help him down and put out the ladder fire.
I cut my truss end and went round to start on the other end when another loud crash rang through the site, the idiot had cut the same end of another truss and now two were hanging and swinging, told the foreman I was off, let the idiot kill himself but not me, don’t worry he said he has scared himself half to death and is going home the job is all yours, I often wonder if I should have thanked the foreman. For a number of days I started at sun up and worked long into the night, balancing on boards and cutting steel, usually woke up in the middle of the night shaking at all the near misses I’d had during the day but just went back to the job in the morning, Phyll was going to the cinema one night with her friend up the road and took a short cut through Dreamland to get to the cinema, saw me up on the roof sparks flying everywhere and just couldn’t go any further, got the job finished in the end but nobody ever thanked me and not even a whisper of some extra money, should have asked for some before I started I suppose, just too thick for my own good. Reading this could make people think that I am boasting about how clever I was, I’m afraid the reverse is the case, all of my children have more sense than I, if extra work is undertaken, extra pay is demanded, and received, promotion is given with extra perks for an employee of value, I just did everything asked and in most cases took on extra responsibilities without being asked and it seems never thanked, managers used my work to enhance their own images and gained increases
[page break]
of salary and position by getting work done under cost and dead lines because they could depend on me, and I the mug just kept on delivering. I obviously didn’t realise any of this at the time, probably would have carried on just the same if I had, but I had something that none of them had, satisfaction of doing a good job and over coming difficulties that would have had many asking for help, none of my jobs could ever cause me any embarrassment about my skill as a fitter, my training in the RAF taught me that near enough is not good enough, only one way, the right way, think before you start, it might be too late if you start to think after you have started!! The next job I will describe was again something quite different, a site had been cleared on the industrial are between Margate and Ramsgate for a factory being built to manufacture stockings and tights and owned by Klingers. This factory was a very special construction in reinforced concrete, a triple barrel vault roof with north facing double sealed windows, parking and storage beneath, no columns or supports of any kind on the factory floor. The drawings of the reinforcing steel bars to go into the roof were a maze of interlocking rods, the roof changing in thickness from massive beams running the full length, to just three inches in thickness in the centre of the curves and again getting thicker to support the large double glazed window units. I was given various lists of machinery required and the dates when they should be on site, apart from the usual concrete mixers and scaffolding, steel bar bending tools were wanted to make all the complicated shapes of reinforcing needed, the men on site would start working to the drawings provided many weeks before the actual construction work started. Benches, various benders and cutting gear was delivered to the site but the foreman had trouble actually bending some of the shapes with the machines provided, investigations of machines on the market indicated that there was none that could do the tight and difficult shapes wanted. The architect would not change his design, so the foreman, workers and I put our heads together and worked out a simple device to bend the difficult pieces, made one of the machines and once we were all happy with it made a couple more. Further tales of working life can be found in the FAMILY CD. Reg
[page break]
[Missing photograph]
[underlined] Wedding photo April 28 1945 [/underlined]
– Reg Miles
http://www.geocities.com/jkjustin/Milesbio6.html
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Title
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Biography of Reg Miles
Description
An account of the resource
A detailed Biography of Reg' service and post service life.
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Navy
Royal Canadian Air Force
Royal Air Force. Transport Command
Royal Air Force. Fighter Command
Free French Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Margate
England--Wendover
England--Aylesbury
England--High Wycombe
England--Dover
England--Shrewsbury
England--Liverpool
England--Penzance
England--Devon
South Africa--Bloemfontein
England--Taunton
England--Blackpool
Sierra Leone--Freetown
South Africa--Durban
South Africa--Muizenberg
South Africa--Cape Town
South Africa--Krugersdorp
Germany--Dortmund
Belgium--Ghent
England--Folkestone
France--Paris
France--Lens
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Essen
Belgium--Liège
France--Somain
France--Pas-de-Calais
France--Neufchâtel-en-Bray
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Hamburg
France--Creil Region
France--Saint-Vaast-La Hougue
France--Montrichard
France--Mimoyecques
France--Le Havre
Germany--Castrop-Rauxel
Germany--Osnabrück
Germany--Kiel
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
France--Calais
Germany--Bottrop
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Norway--Bergen
England--Harrogate
Malta
Egypt--Cairo
Australia
Queensland--Mackay
Libya--Tripoli
Israel--Tel Aviv
Middle East--Jerusalem
West Bank--Bethlehem
Iraq--Baṣrah
Pakistan--Karachi
India--Kolkata
Sri Lanka--Ratmalana
Sri Lanka--Negombo
Israel--Lod
India--New Delhi
England--Cornwall (County)
France
Queensland
Libya
Egypt
Germany
Belgium
India
Iraq
Israel
Norway
South Africa
Pakistan
Sri Lanka
Sierra Leone
West Bank
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Kent
England--Shropshire
England--Somerset
England--Lancashire
Egypt--Jīzah
France--Chantilly Forest
Creator
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Reg Miles
Format
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109 printed sheets
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eng
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Text
Text. Memoir
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BMilesRJMilesRJv1
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Georgie Donaldson
346 Squadron
347 Squadron
420 Squadron
425 Squadron
428 Squadron
432 Squadron
6 Group
77 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
Beaufighter
Blenheim
bomb aimer
C-47
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
control caravan
crash
crewing up
debriefing
demobilisation
dispersal
Distinguished Flying Cross
entertainment
FIDO
fitter engine
flight engineer
Fw 190
Gee
Grand Slam
ground crew
ground personnel
H2S
Halifax
Halifax Mk 2
Halifax Mk 5
Hampden
hangar
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hitler, Adolf (1889-1945)
home front
Hurricane
Ju 88
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 2
love and romance
Manchester
Master Bomber
Me 109
mess
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
Mosquito
navigator
Nissen hut
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Oboe
P-51
Pathfinders
perimeter track
pilot
promotion
RAF Carnaby
RAF Dishforth
RAF East Moor
RAF Elvington
RAF Halton
RAF Langar
RAF Lyneham
RAF Manston
RAF Nutts Corner
RAF Prestwick
RAF Shawbury
RAF Skellingthorpe
RAF Skipton on Swale
RAF St Athan
RAF St Eval
RAF Tholthorpe
RAF Tilstock
RAF Woodbridge
recruitment
runway
Scarecrow
searchlight
Second Tactical Air Force
service vehicle
Spitfire
sport
Stirling
target indicator
Tiger Moth
training
Typhoon
V-1
V-2
V-weapon
Wallis, Barnes Neville (1887-1979)
Wellington
Window
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1524/30282/BBaxterPDBaxterPDv1.1.pdf
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Dublin Core
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Title
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Baxter, Peter Dennis
P D Baxter
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-07-12
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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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Baxter, PD
Description
An account of the resource
63 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Peter Baxter (b. 1922, 52604 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, photographs and documents. He was trained as an airframe apprentice at RAF Halton and served as ground crew before volunteering to become air crew. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 12 and 153 Squadrons.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Michael Baxter and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Dublin Core
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Title
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I Flew with Nine Wing Commanders
Description
An account of the resource
The detailed and wide ranging story of Peter Baxter's service in the RAF from an Airframe Apprentice to Flight Engineer Leader.
Creator
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Peter Baxter
Format
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Book in .pdf
Language
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eng
Type
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Text. Memoir
Text
Identifier
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BBaxterPDBaxterPDv1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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England--Lincolnshire
England--Buckinghamshire
Wales--Glamorgan
England--Staffordshire
Wales--Gwynedd
Germany--Berlin
Italy--Milan
France--La Rochelle
Europe--Frisian Islands
Germany--Essen
Germany--Düsseldorf
Italy--Turin
France--Lorient
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Nuremberg
France--Saint-Nazaire
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Mülheim an der Ruhr
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Bonn
Germany--Paderborn
Italy
Great Britain
Germany
France
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
12 Squadron
153 Squadron
50 Squadron
aerial photograph
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
Battle
Beaufighter
Blenheim
bombing
Cook’s tour
coping mechanism
crash
crewing up
debriefing
dispersal
Distinguished Flying Medal
Do 217
entertainment
final resting place
fitter airframe
fitter engine
flight engineer
fuelling
ground crew
Halifax
Halifax Mk 1
Halifax Mk 3
He 111
Heavy Conversion Unit
incendiary device
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 3
Lincoln
mess
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Navy, Army and Air Force Institute
Nissen hut
nose art
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
pilot
promotion
RAF Cosford
RAF Faldingworth
RAF Halton
RAF Hemswell
RAF Kirmington
RAF Llandwrog
RAF Scampton
RAF St Athan
RAF Sturgate
RAF Tilstock
RAF Waddington
RAF Wickenby
recruitment
target photograph
training
Whitley
Window
-
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Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Potter, Peter
P Potter
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Potter, P
Description
An account of the resource
39 items. Collection concerns Peter Potter, (1925 - 2019, 1876961 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a rear gunner with 626 Squadron. Collection contains an oral history interview, his logbook, memoirs and photographs
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Peter Potter and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
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2015-09-14
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.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[underlined] Account of operations[/underlined]
Getting caught in searchlights was always bad. If this happened the usual evasive action was taken, plus Johnny Payne and I would throw out 'window'!
We had no idea if it helped but we evaded almost immediately every time.
Luck or not it seemed to work.
Air pressure at height reduces the higher you go and can cause some unusual
effects. Nitrogen bubbles in the blood can cause a sensation similar to
intoxication. Also releasing the ground pressure in a flask, particularly hot
beverages, causing the contents to expand and boil.
For example one thing I remember was a chap who had never flown at height
trying to eat a sandwich, breaking a tooth, and then to make matters worse
opening a flask at height and the contents (tea) boiling out scalding his hands
aud then freezing his gloves and hands solid. Frostbite caused him to drop
out sick for a time.
On night Ops we flew on the outside of the stream until 30 or 40 miles from
the target when we moved to the right track for bombing, trying to find a spot
with nobody above us. There is nothing more unsettling than being on the
point of dropping the bombs and seeing an aircraft immediately above you
with its bomb doors open with bombs still to be dropped. This happened
three times early in our tour. To see bombs falling in front and behind your
wing and tail tends to make you more cautious and think of a solution. We
flew on the edge and higher than the main stream which allowed us to dive
into the stream if attacked, which in fact got rid of the attacker every time.
On a cross country a Flying Fortress came close to us and indicated a race.
Tom opened up and we moved steadily ahead of him; After about 5 minutes
Tom throttled back. It came alongside again and to our surprise the pilot gave
us the ‘V’ sign and waved, then moved away. Two days later a jeep called at
the guardroom and left a 40 oz bottle of Bourbon 'for the guys who were flying
the Lancaster UMF with the naked babe on' three days before. How they
found out our station I have no idea. We never found where they were based.
Tom and I collected the bottle and gave each bod in the guardhouse a tot
before leaving. For several days we had personnel who didn't normally travel
around the station coming to look at the 'Babe' and the c.o. commented it was
probably in need of modification but as nobody had complained about it there
was no hurry. Later when there was a stand down, our crew and the ground
crew got together to finish the bottle off with a toast to all USA Forces,
especially USAAF.
On one other occasion, on our way home over the Kattegat, a twin engine
aircraft flew alongside us for 20 minutes, quite close, possibly a Mosquito but
no recognition was possible due to bad visibility. No attempt was made by it
that could have been considered hostile and we thought it was one of ours or
Swedish. One thing we did not do was fire, except in defence, which would
give away our position. I am convinced that some chaps fired at imaginary
aircraft and made themselves targets.
[page break]
Of all my ops the ones I remember more than the others were: Kiel Canal, Aire (abortive) when we hit downdraft of a cu-nim cloud and the plane was almost torn to pieces and Frankfurt and Saarbrucken when we landed with fun load of 62,000lbs with 3 engines. e also had a second dickie on board) (Aire Abortive is reported separately).
When we flew it was necessary to keep a sharp eye out for enemy aircraft, mostly at take-off and landing. Many of our aircraft were shot down for not being alert at an times. There was never a time you could relax, even in
England. We were an concerned about the possibility of becoming Prisoners
of War and found out as much as possible from evaders and escapees who
came to give us such information as they had, e.g. no labels or names.
numbers on clothing. I had a Swiss knife with a German inscription on it and
some German matches and watch I believe had been taken from a Prisoner of
War or perhaps a dead German. I also had a French pipe and pouch of French
tobacco which I did not use as I could not replace it and which by the time I
finished flying was nearly all dust.
Flying an aircraft which is open to the elements requires plenty of clothing. In
most bombers the wind could get into the fuselage from several points. To try
to keep warm was impossible and so we wore many layers of clothing, Le. one
pair of silk socks, 2 pairs of wool, 1 pair sea boot socks thigh length, silk Long
Johns and vest, silk balaclava and a wool one, 1 wool and 1 cotton vest, 1 RAF
shirt, wool Long Johns, I roll neck sweater, 1 8ft long silk scarf, 1 tunic,
trousers, flying inner suit, electric heating suit, Irving trousers and jacket or
Kapok electric buoyancy suit, silk gloves, wool mittens, electric inner gloves,
leather gauntlets, leather lined flying helmet, fur lined flying boots, Mae West
Parachute Harness. In our pockets we had a torch, all the personal items
mentioned, the escape kit which would have maps of the area, several
currencies, concentrated Horlicks tablets, water purifying tablets etc. in our
clothing were hidden knives, films, maps, compasses etc. There was also a
Thermos, sweets, concentrated caffeine tablets (Wakey, Wakey) which caused
eyes to become dry and sore on a long Op. We also had a parachute to carry.
Despite all the clothing and heating by the time we reached our operating
height the cold would be creeping in and within half-an-hour we would be
freezing. When the temperature was below minus 30 degrees or more the
pain began to penetrate every part of the body. It was not uncommon to suffer
frostbite even with the heating still on. In F2 we also had hot air pipes from
the engine exhausts which were pushed into the flies to give extra
warmth to the legs, but still could not dispel the cold.
Before an Op. every piece of equipment was checked. Nothing was left to
chance. We and our ground crew would be crawling all over the plane making
sure nothing was missed. The ground crew of F2 were, 1 believe, the best on
the station (Wickenby). Proof I believe is the fact that F2 was one of only 2
Lancaster's on the Squadron to survive the war.
To increase our chances, we spent time in the sections to keep up-to-date and
also in the Intelligence section, often helping there.
Briefing was conducted before each Op when we were given all information
known at the time about the target and defences and weather en route. Very
often both would be wrong but we expected that and took things as they came.
Winds, cloud cover etc were never left to chance.
[page break]
Interrogation on our return was more intense and I am afraid here we were less co-operative. After long hours frozen to the marrow all we wanted to do was get into bed to warm up after a hot meal (egg, chips and beans) and so we had nothing of note to report wherever possible, even if we had had a brush with a fighter. Any report unusual would mean an interminable questioning of every member of the crew when we were dead beat and just wanted to rest and relax. Only if something was completely new would we bother.
I flew with 3 other crews on Ops, one officially and the other 2 unofficially, due to chaps being unable to get back to the station, as previously mentioned. The official Op was with F/O Oram who was on his last Op and had lost both gunners when he had to ditch. The first was to Kiel and the others to the Ruhr.
Our ground crew were a grand bunch of chaps. The electrician, George Gant, lived not far from my parents. On every Op he would bring a 3/4 inch steel plate, heavily padded, for me to sit on 'for special protection'. Whenever there was a stand down we would take the ones 'with nothing to do to a show, cinema, dance or just a drink. There would sometimes be a dance on the station and so we would lend or procure SNCO or Officer's uniform for them if the dance was at one of those messes. Nobody, to my knowledge, ever complained as most crews did this. We always made sure to get all drinks when on the station and gave each one a pound to spend as he wished when off the station. Also, when any of them went on leave they were given a pound a day if single and if married double this with an extra pound for each child.
Each of us shared the cost but the Canucks insisted on paying twice the
amount of us natives. The Canadians also bought two rounds to our one, etc. Three of Us gave local farmers a hand when we could and in return we were given any farm produce they had. Over our time at Wickenby we were given chickens, ducks, beef, pork, eggs, milk, cheese, butter, bread, dripping, etc., and twice when we couldn't leave the station for a while a delivery was brought in by the local policeman.
Taking off from the station on a summer or autumn evening, turning towards the continent, meant I was often presented with some of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen and climbing often prolonged them. We flew into darkness with bright skies behind, night below and daylight above and the only real danger from the dark areas, which meant there was no time to linger on the exquisite sight behind us.
On each Op I took note of the route and times etc. of different dog legs so that I would be able to estimate a course to be taken if the Navigator and navigational equipment were damaged. My hope was that I could give the Skipper a course to the centre of the British landmass from wherever we might be at that time and that one of us would be able to check drift, wind speed and direction and knowing aircraft speed, roughly work out ETA over Britain. All details had to be kept in my head. We put it into practice only once as an experiment and arrived over Cromer instead of Lincs. From Kiel. I did navigate sometimes when on cross-countries and was OK but had all the aids which I could not rely on in an emergency.
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Account of operations
Description
An account of the resource
Mention action on getting caught in searchlights, effects of altitude on aircrew, avoiding bombs from above, encounters with B-17 while on operations and getting a bottle of Bourbon from the American crew later. Mentions encounter with probable Mosquito, operation to Kiel Canal, friendly aircraft being attacked on return to base, conditions while flying, clothing, operating procedures, briefing and post flight debrief. Describes ground crew and work they did. Concludes with comments on summer operations and that he took notes on each operation of routes and times. Pages numbered. 29, 30, 31 and 2,3 and 4.
Format
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Three page printed document
Language
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eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BPotterPLPotterPLv4
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Germany--Kiel Canal
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Saarbrücken
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
P Potter
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
aircrew
B-17
bombing
briefing
debriefing
ground crew
Lancaster
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
Mosquito
nose art
RAF Wickenby
searchlight
Window
-
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Title
A name given to the resource
Felton, Monty
M Felton
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Flight Lieutenant Monty Felton DFC. He flew operations as a navigator with 10 Squadron.
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2022-11-14
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IBCC Digital Archive
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Felton, M
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NM: So, today is the 14th of November. I’m with Monty Felton, DFC in his home in North London. My name is Nigel Moore and I’m going to ask Monty about his service with Bomber Command. So, Monty can you start at the beginning and can you start to tell me when and where you were born and about your childhood and growing up?
MF: I was born on the 6th of November 1923. In fact, it was my ninety ninth birthday on Sunday before last. When I was, I was born in Middlesex Hospital. Not Central Middlesex but Middlesex Hospital which was off Oxford Street in London and as I understand it Winston Churchill was born in the same place. Not that that makes me any more famous but there we are. When I was a young baby we moved to Thornton Heath which is a suburb of Croydon and we lived over the tailor’s shop which my dad had opened. We lived in very modest accommodation. It was an old property. We didn’t have a bathroom and to go to the lavatory one had to go around the back. So as you can see my background was not exactly very exotic. Nevertheless, we coped. I can’t ever remember being short of a meal and I was well looked after. We lived there, I went to school just up the road and then I got a scholarship to Selhurst Grammar School which was in West Croydon. Not too far. When I was at school at Selhurst Grammar this was a fee paying school but they took in scholarship boys and I was one of them. If we go through now to the beginning of the war Selhurst Grammar were evacuated to I suppose what was thought to be a safer area but in fact it was Brighton and Hove which I would have thought was even more vulnerable. We went there in the very first day or two of the war and I went to I think it was Brighton and Hove Grammar School. We shared. They went in the morning, we went in the afternoon or vice versa and I took my what was then matriculation exams which is really the equivalent of today’s GCSE. And having taken the exams I got home and I suppose I must have got home around about March April 1940. I then got a job with a firm of chartered accountants in Doctor’s Commons which was a small turning near the Bank of England and was occupied very largely by firms of solicitors and accountants. Doctor’s Commons doesn’t exist anymore but it does get mentioned two or three times by Dickens in “David Copperfield” and in “Pickwick Papers”. I’m a very keen reader of classics. Particularly Charles Dickens. Where are we now? I got this job at accountants and after being there for a very short time I became articled. That means that you had to serve five years articles because there was no other way that you yourself could sit the exams and become a chartered accountant. The procedure in those days was the firm to whom you were articled charged a premium which was normally about two hundred and fifty guineas. Lord knows what’s the equivalent of that today but it’s a large sum of money. My dad didn’t have two hundred and fifty guineas and as I’ve said before I doubt if he had two hundred and fifty buttons. But the arrangement was made that I would pay off this money over the very small salary that I would earn over the five year period. In fact, it didn’t really happen because after about eighteen months I then joined the RAF and my articles ran on and indeed expired before I left the RAF. So we got a bit of a [laughs] a bit of a bargain in that respect. It’s strange because if somebody starts to work for a firm of chartered accountants today they get a decent salary and they receive tuition. When I joined this firm I remember the man I was articled to was named Horace Brett and he never spent one moment teaching me anything. In the firm there was a chap working there who was two or three years older than me and he was flying about in the room and he was going to become an RAF ace and was very sure of himself. He went off to have an interview. I think in those days the interviews were in I think it was Bush House in Aldwych. He had this interview full of confidence and they turned him down. So either he suggested or I got the bright idea that I’d go for an interview entirely confident that if they’d turned him down they certainly wouldn’t accept me but for some peculiar reason they did. So I continued working for a while and then I was sent off for my medical. I think I went to Catterick and it was a very detailed medical and I again I thought well I’ve never been anywhere, I’ve lived a very protected life and I thought they won’t accept me. I’m not the right material. I’m not a big strong fella. But they did accept me. So after the medical I was then called up and I went for the first two weeks of my RAF career if I can call it such. I went to Lord’s Cricket Ground to be kitted up and then I stayed in a block of flats in Prince Albert Road called Viceroy Court which was a rather swish block of flats but not when we of the RAF went there because they stripped out everything of any value including the carpets. The whole lot. And we slept in not double bunks but three in a bunk. We stayed there for a couple of weeks. We had some corporal chap busying us about but we did learn cleanliness. Not personal cleanliness but cleanliness of keeping the room. If he found a speck of dust we were in trouble. We had our night vision test in the next door block of flats called Bentinck Court, I imagine they both blocks are still there and I think there were sixteen images flashed on to a screen. We sat in a dark room and you had to identify them. They were things like a Maltese Cross, a silhouette of an aeroplane, that sort of thing. I think the pass mark was twelve. I scored eight and I think they, they decided I’d have to sit the exam again which I did and the second time I scored seven but it made not the slightest difference. Everything proceeded as if I was an ex, absolute expert. From the flats in Prince Albert Road let me think. I was then sent to ITW, Initial Training Wing in Torquay and we stayed in the Grand Hotel which was near the station but again it was a posh hotel but was stripped out of anything that mattered. And I think we were in ITW for about three or four months. I can’t remember. And the purpose of ITW was number one to teach us the principles of navigation and secondly to get us really fit. All the time I’m believing that I will never get anywhere near an aeroplane. I won’t go into the detail of navigation because people will already know but in essence if you’re flying an aeroplane the wind direction and the speed of the wind carries the aeroplane in the same way as a tide carries a boat and therefore the navigator has to work out what the pilot should be flying. What track he should be flying so that taking in to account the wind he got correctly from A to B. So we used to sit at ITW in what was really a school room and learn on pencil and paper the calculations and the principles of navigation. We also were made fit. We marched at a very much quicker pace than normal. We went for runs and after a run we ended up in the sea and we were really put through it. So that by the time we completed ITW we were in really good shape and as I’ve mentioned so often from that moment onwards we didn’t have any need to have physical exercise and by the time we got to a bomber squadron our condition was probably infinitely worse than before we ever started. I suppose this is typical of the RAF. When I finished at ITW I was then posted to a airfield at Bishops Court, Northern Ireland which was, I don’t know, eight or ten miles or so from Belfast. It was strange because most chaps, pilots and navigators were sent for training either to Canada or to what was then southern Rhodesia. For some reason or another they sent me and I’m not sure, it might have been one other chap they sent me to Northern Ireland. The result of which of course I finished my training appreciably quicker than those who had gone abroad. At Bishops Court we flew Ansons. Comparatively small two engined aircraft. I’d never flown in an aeroplane before. On my first flight I sat in my navigator’s position and was promptly sick which wasn’t exactly very distinguishing. We flew about a hundred hours or so, part day and part night in Northern Ireland. And I don’t know if it’s really of any interest but on our day off we used to go into Belfast and we used to feed ourselves at a store there which was called I think Robinson Cleaver but I’m not certain. What I do know is we used to go there for lunch and have turkey with all the trimmings and then we went back at the end of the day for supper and had chicken and chips. Northern Ireland went all well at Bishops Court and at the end of the course I passed and became a navigator and instead of being an AC2, Aircraftsman Second Class which was known as the lowest form of animal life I then became a sergeant. Every, not just me, everybody who passed became a sergeant. Interestingly enough when I’d finished they marked my logbook, ‘A well above navigator.’ And in retrospect because navigators were much fewer than pilots everybody who entered the RAF wanted to be a pilot. Many navigators were blokes that didn’t pass as pilots but that didn’t happen to me. So I was a well above average navigator which in retrospect I rather suspect that many others were also well above average navigators. But I was then sergeant. Can I break for a moment?
NM: Of course you may.
MF: I’ll get myself a drink of water.
NM: Of course. No problem at all. You’re doing really well.
[recording paused]
MF: Right. Right. I left Bishops Court and I was posted to an airfield in, at Kinloss in Scotland and there we continued our training on Whitleys which were again old two engine aircraft. They were known as flying coffins because that was the something resembling the shape of the fuselage. We flew again day and night. It was a little more dicey because Scotland’s got a lot of mountains. So hopefully we got through alright. One of the experiences I had at Kinloss is we went in to, I say we, individually went into a room which was a simulation of flying a trip. You sat at a desk. You had all the navigation equipment. You were given a target. There was a noise as if the engines of an aeroplane were working and it was hard work because the only difference from normal is the clock went at twice the speed. So you had to do your best to get cracking. That takes into account Kinloss. From Kinloss I was posted I think to Rufforth in Yorkshire where we were introduced for the first time ever to the Halifax four engined bomber. As I’ve said so often we of the Halifax people have always been a bit cross that the Lancaster is the beginning and the end of everything. The Lancaster. The Halifax was the poor relation. Exactly the same as in Fighter Command. You ask fifty people what aircraft flew in Fighter Command forty nine would say the Spitfire. With a bit of luck one might say the Hurricane and the Hurricane did exactly the same job. At Rufforth we started flying with the Halifax and one of the things that happened was our pilot and the crew went on circuits and bumps. What that was is you flew in, you took off, flew in a wide circle around the airfield, came in to land, bumped the wheels on the runway and then took off again and did this circle trip perhaps three or four times. I, of course, you didn’t need a navigator just to circle the airfield, albeit a wide circle and I never believed in flying if I didn’t need to so I used to stop at home. Stop in the airfield and if it was night I would go to bed. After training at Rufford, Rufforth I think the airfield was called we were then posted to Melbourne which was Number 10. Number 10 Squadron. Melbourne being a little village about eight or ten miles from York. The first thing that happened is you had to build a crew. This meant that for the first time ever because so far I’d only mixed with navigators, for the first time we were in rooms where we met pilots and engineers and wireless operators and bomb aimers. The whole thing. And the plan was that you would see people that you thought that you might like and somebody might like you and you’d get together and before you’ve finished you’ve got a crew. I remember I saw a young chap who was a pilot and I thought well he looks reasonably decent. I said, ‘Have you got a navigator?’ He said, ‘No.’ ‘Right.’ We were together. I think it might have been the next day but I’m not sure whether it was any longer I was called into perhaps the adjutants office or somebody’s office and told that I was flying in the crew of George Dark who was the pilot. I didn’t have any choice. What happened was they built a, in all modestly say a rather special crew. George Dark was a man of about thirty three. A very experienced aviator. Had never been on ops but had been a, had been an instructor and he knew how to fly. My mid-upper gunner and my wireless operator were both starting their second tour. My bomb aimer was a highly educated man from I believe Czechoslovakia. A bit older than me. Perhaps four or five years older. Spoke the most beautiful elegant English. A bit snooty because we were all a bit below his level. My rear gunner trained in Canada and he really became top of his class because he was given a commission straightaway as soon as he’d finished training. He, his name was Eric Barnard. He was my best friend and we remained friends until he died which was perhaps five or six years ago. In fact, he was, when he was I think eighty eight and a half he remarried having been on his own for many years. He remarried and at eighty I was his best man. I don’t suppose that happens all that often. Where are we now? We started off at Melbourne and our first outing was what was called a bullseye and that was a flight as if we were going on a raid. We entered into Germany but then we turned back and came home. The idea being that we would be ahead of the main stream and it was thought we might mislead the Germans as to where the target really was. The main problem a navigator had was the direction of the wind and the speed of the wind because if there was no wind there would be no need for a navigator because you would just, the pilot would just fly where he had to go and that would be the end of it. The, the briefing we had before an operation included the Met, the Met people and they would give us a forecast of what the windspeed and direction would be at varying, varying heights up to the time of the target. So if you were flying to Hanover you would be told what the windspeed and direction was going up to say twenty thousand feet. Now, invariably our first turning point from York was Reading and we flew at say two thousand feet to Reading. It didn’t often happen but very occasionally the forecast wind for Melbourne to Reading wasn’t right so we’d then would wonder what it was going to be like at thirty thousand feet but we struggled. We got there, thank the lord and moreso we got back. With George we did a total of twenty one trips. Everything went pretty well. The only trouble was that after several trips George began to get trouble with his throat and a result of that is sometimes when we ought to have been on a raid we weren’t because he wasn’t fit and it got to the stage sometimes that if we weren’t on a raid other crews would all say, ‘Well, George Dark’s crew are not on. It must be an easy target tonight.’ Eventually after we did twenty one trips George couldn’t continue. So I had to find another pilot. Strangely enough I was on leave and I travelled back on the train from Euston to York and I met a bloke whose name, whose surname was Wood and he was a pilot and wanted a navigator. Thank you very much. I thought that the next day when we got to Melbourne we would have a trip or two for the next two or three days to get used to each other. It didn’t happen like that. The next night we were on ops. With George although the discipline in the air was very strict obviously we still spoke to each other in a friendly way. For example, if I saw the pilot was off course by five degrees I’d say, ‘George, you’re off course. Get back on.’ And if I wanted although it was unusual to speak to my friend Eric who was in the rear bubble, in the rear turret I’d say, ‘Eric, how are you doing?’ ‘Fine.’ With Flight Lieutenant Wood he was a very serious man and believed in following the rules exactly. The result of that was that when I flew with Flight Lieutenant Wood if I wanted him I’d say, ‘Pilot to navigator.’ I beg your pardon. I would say, ‘Navigator to pilot.’ And if he wanted me he would say, ‘Pilot to navigator.’ It was very formal. I keep referring him, referring to him as Flight Lieutenant Wood because although I flew with him on eleven operations I never knew his first name. Very odd. Very odd. Anyway, we finished our tour of thirty two trips and as I’ve said so often by the grace of God I did the tour and never got so much as a scratch.
NM: I think that’s a very compelling story but can I take you back a little bit?
MF: Please.
NM: You obviously became a navigator very very early in your RAF career. How come you got identified as a navigator quite so early as the ITW?
MF: Yeah.
NM: Were you, did you volunteer to be a navigator and say that’s what you wanted or were you selected as a navigator? How, how did you get to be navigator?
MF: Well, it’s only that when I was accepted as a member, as a prospective member of aircrew I chose to be a navigator simply because I thought I’d never be a pilot. I mean I couldn’t drive a car, I only used a bicycle and I was very good at maths at school. So I thought a navigator would be the right position for me although in truth you didn’t need any maths at all to be a navigator because it was all calculation and when you were actually flying a bomber you had navigation aids. You had, the most useful tool was called Gee which was a cathode, a cathode ray tube. A round tube where you would get two signals and if you plotted the signals on your map where the signals crossed was where you were. The only trouble was that the Germans used to send up what was called Grass which was like blades of grass covering the lines on the cathode ray tubes so eventually the Grass was such that you couldn’t pick up the signal and then we got the system where we changed the cathode ray tube, the cathode ray tube into another one and it was sort of all cat and mouse but as I said we got there and we got back.
NM: So what was the dates of your tour? When did you start your first operation through to your thirty second.
MF: Now, this is difficult because I’m not, I’m very good at remembering but I’m not all that terribly good on dates. Let me think [pause] I think I finished the tour shortly after D-Day.
NM: So the summer of ’44.
MF: Yes. Maybe a bit later than that. Because of George’s throat trouble we were on the squadron a lot longer than most crews because most crews who were successful in completing the tour took perhaps four or five months at the most and I think we were on the squadron for probably seven months at least.
NM: Ok. So you started late ’43 then. Your, your tour.
MF: Something like that. As I say it’s difficult to remember dates. I’m good at events but not on dates.
NM: So thirty two operations. You must, were any of those stand out operations? What were your targets and what were the, any particular incidents —
MF: Yes.
NM: You can remember?
MF: Yeah. One of the areas that we went to a few times was the Ruhr. The Ruhr was the heavy industrial area of Germany and there were lots of raids on the Ruhr. I think I went twice to Essen and once to Duisburg and once to Bochum and I also went once to Dortmund. And as I’ve mentioned previously my son who is a very keen Tottenham Hotspur supporter his team some several months ago played the Dortmund team in Germany and he went with a group of people and I think stayed a night or two. Now, I remember saying to him, ‘If you get chatting with any of the locals don’t tell them your dad visited here many many years ago.’ Apart from the Ruhr incidentally going off at a tangent there was a chap, I hope Neil it wasn’t you, I don’t think it would have been. There was a chap appeared on the tv programme “Mastermind” and his specialist subject on which he was answering, answering questions was Bomber Command and he was very very knowledgeable and the questions that he was asked I didn’t know the answers to. But there was one question that he was asked that he didn’t know the answer and I did and that is, ‘What was the name given to the Ruhr area where many raids took place.’ The answer is it was known as Happy Valley. He didn’t know this. Another incident of some concern is that at one time we went on a afternoon raid. We didn’t do many, many daylights but we went on an afternoon raid to somewhere or other, I can’t remember where and when we turned to come home we were told that our airfield at Melbourne was fog bound and we were diverted to an American airfield in Knettishall which was in Suffolk. They flew flying fortresses and they’d never had an RAF bomber there before and they were really very generous to us. They made a fuss of us. I smoked in those days and I had an American navigator attached himself to me and I said, ‘Could you get me a pack of twenty fags?’ Off he went to the PX and came back with a carton of two hundred. Life was very different there. We stayed I think for two nights. The reason was that the Halifax had Bristol Hercules engines and one of our engines engines sounded a bit dodgy so we had to wait for an engineer to come and put it right. For breakfast for example we would have scrambled eggs. Real eggs not the powdered stuff of those days. Scrambled eggs. As much as you liked. Maple syrup. It was all very very nice. In the evening they had a dance there. They had, I think they were called, “String of Pearls Orchestra,” who played all the Glenn Miller stuff and they imported a coach load of young ladies up from London for dancing partners for the American aircrew. But it was very proper because the girls were very clearly escorted and looked after. That was Knettishall. The next real adventure was that we took off one night, again I can’t remember the target I’ve got an idea it might have been Hamburg although we did go to Hamburg on some other occasion. We took off one night and immediately lost an engine. Now, normally if you lost an engine halfway on to, on to the target you’d continue on the basis of press on regardless but you wouldn’t set off on a raid with only three engines. The drill was that you then had to fly out to into the North Sea I think for about seventeen miles and drop your load in to the sea because you couldn’t come back and land with a bomb load. So we did this. We flew out, did our bomb drop, turned around and immediately lost a second engine both engines being on the same side. On the starboard side. Now this was where George distinguished himself because he could fly [emphasis] and I think we started back and I think we began to lose a bit of height but he kept, he kept us going. Now, I then planned a course to take us to Carnaby. Carnaby was an emergency airfield in York, in Yorkshire. There were three. Three emergency airfields. One was Manston and strangely enough this is, Manston is where all the boat people crossing the Channel these days are being put in the first instance. One was in Manston, one was in Woodbridge in Suffolk and one was Carnaby in York. The, these airfields didn’t have bombers. They, I don’t think they had aeroplanes at all but what they did have was very long and very wide runways so that if an aircraft was in trouble it would have a much better chance of landing because the pilot had the space. So I plotted a course. A course to Carnaby and when we were getting near Carnaby and I’ve said before I’m not making this up believe me when we got near to Carnaby George said, ‘I think we’ll go on to Melbourne because I’ve got a dental appointment tomorrow.’ So I then replotted a course from Carnaby to Melbourne. When we got there they could see that we were flying on two engines. We got down. The station ambulance and the station fire engine met us but thank the lord they weren’t needed. I think really that takes me to the end of the first stage of all I want to tell you but you may want to raise something.
NM: Yeah. Did you go further afield than the Ruhr? Did you go to places like Peenemunde or Berlin? Nuremberg.
MF: No. I never went to Berlin, I never went to Nuremberg and I didn’t go to Dresden.
NM: No. You finished before. Long before Dresden hadn’t you? That’s right. So does any one of your operations apart from this one where you came back on two engines does any one of your operations stand out with anti-aircraft fire or fighters or —
MF: Well, I know on one operation the rear gunner saw a night fighter and we did a corkscrew which was a bit horrendous and I think he claimed to have shot down the night fighter but it was never verified. That was a bit shall I say, I can say adventurous at ninety nine years old. It wasn’t adventurous at the time. Anything special? Well, I’ve told you about our supposed landing at Carnaby. I’ve told you about our trip to the flying fortress airfield. No. I don’t think anything very special.
NM: Okay. Can you talk me through a day when operations were on? From the time you got up.
MF: Yes.
NM: Through to the —
MF: Now that I can do. On the squadron you’d wake up about eight o’clock or whatever and go and have some breakfast. And if there was going to be ops that night you knew the first call would come at about ten, 10.30 which is when the crew list went up. So if you were on ops that night you knew about half past ten. So there was then an anxious period until about 1 o’clock when you were waiting to hear what the target was. 1 o’clock you would have some lunch and then you would have your first briefing when they advised you of the target. When they advised you of the height you would fly whether you were flying on the first, second or third wave. And one of the points when you went to a target is you never flew straight there. You flew in doglegs. All designed to confuse the enemy. Also in that connection one of the things that bombers did was to throw out packets of strips of metal like aluminium. Aluminium strips which was called Window and that was indeed, on the Halifax that was the job of the navigator because the navigator was in the nose of the aeroplane. Not right in the nose because the bomb aimer was in the nose. The navigator was sat behind the bomb aimer and there were two little steps up to the main body of the aircraft. On one of the steps there was a flap and if you folded back the flap it was open and that’s where you deposited the packages of Window. That was the navigator’s job. Where was I?
NM: Describing your briefing.
MF: Oh yes. Thank you. You see. I don’t remember as well as I should. Yes. So, you’d have your briefing and then you’d go off and have a meal. The meal was always egg, sausage, bacon, chips. A nice meal. Then you would go back for a further briefing when the Met officer would tell you all about what the windspeed and direction would be. And I think one or two other officers spoke to you, gave you information and then you got dressed. Now, most of the crew, I think all of the crew except me dressed in Bomber Command clothing. That was a very thick fur lined jacket, fur lined boots and so on. The nose of the Halifax was quite warm for some reason. I never put a jacket on. I never put boots on. I was comfortable. The only thing I did have is as I suppose all navigators I used to have some silk gloves because you needed to use your hands in maps, drawing diagrams on maps and so on and if you didn’t have gloves your hands would freeze up. For example, if you were flying and wanted to have a pee there was an Elsan at the end of the aircraft but if you went back to the Elsan and came back again you would need to take a oxygen bottle because once you got to over fifteen thousand feet you needed to have oxygen. If you took the oxygen bottle in your hand by the time you got back the bottle was frozen to your hand and that could have been awful. Oxygen was absolutely necessary because after fifteen thousand feet if you didn’t have oxygen you would eventually die. So yes, you had your briefing and conversely when you’d finished your raid and landed you then had a debriefing. You went into a room. Each crew sat, sat a different table and you were, every member of the crew was asked questions relative to the job they did. So I was asked, ‘What was the wind like?’ ‘What was the target like?’ ‘Did you get to the target?’ All of that sort of stuff. I often remember saying that at one debriefing there was a rather elderly chap sitting next to me who I didn’t take any notice of because you know, you’re tired. You want to get home. You want to get back, have a meal and get to bed. He was saying, asking me all sorts of little questions and I was getting more and more irritable and I eventually remember much to my shame saying to him, ‘Well, if you’re so interested why don’t go on the dot dot dot trip.’ He didn’t say a word but somebody nudged me and they told me that he was a high ranking officer with gold on around his cap who was making a survey or making enquiries and he was very nice. He knew I was tired and he didn’t report me. He didn’t say a single word. And after the debrief, well when you got to the debriefing on the table was cigarettes, tea and rum and then you left the debriefing and went back and had the same meal as you’d had before the trip and then you wanted to get to bed.
NM: Yes, I can imagine. I can imagine. What about off duty? What was the off duty like?
MF: Sorry?
NM: What was the off-duty life like at the station when you weren’t flying operations?
MF: Yes. That’s a very interesting question. Off duty people were very laid back. I mean for example halfway through my tour I met somebody when I was walking about. I was a sergeant. Somebody said to me, ‘You’re now an officer. Go and get yourself measured for an officer’s uniform.’ Just like that. No, whys and wherefors. So I became a pilot officer. Now, it was all very relaxed so that if anybody was to salute you on the squadron you’d have a heart attack because that didn’t happen. So I became an officer. The only difference was I lived in the, I dined in the officer’s mess instead of in the sergeant’s mess. I don’t doubt that the food was exactly the same. As I think several of the crew were given commissions at the same time. The only difference was we were allocated a batwoman, a WAAF batwoman and all she did for us was to make our beds in the morning. But as I’ve said previously my mid-upper gunner was a Welshman. A very well-built robust man, a good looking man and he spoke with, he spoke with a Welsh lilt and Rose, the batwoman I think did rather more than make his bed but there we are.
NM: So did you socialise with the rest of the crew? Did you go to pubs? Dances?
MF: Well no. I socialised with Eric. We used to go, you’ve prompted my memory, we used to go when we were on a night off into York. We’d go on the local bus. The first thing we would normally do is go to have a drink. I wasn’t a drinker. I mean one pint of beer was every bit as much as I could manage but we’d go for a drink at what was called Betty’s Bar. Bettys Bar was crowded with RAF, with bomber people having a drink and in the basement of Betty’s Bar was a very big mirror where aircrew used to scratch their names. Betty’s Bar, after the war became Betty’s Tea Rooms and it became very very fashionable with visitors to York. Particularly Americans. It was an expensive afternoon to have a tea there and people lined up to get in. But the mirror I believe was still there although it was badly cracked and I think there were one or two other branches of Betty’s Tea Rooms. When we were in York there was a building not far from the abbey called the De Grey rooms and on the first floor of De Grey rooms there used to be a little dance. Two or three musicians and local ladies and there was dancing there. I never got very successful because I wasn’t a big handsome fella but nevertheless that was the De Grey rooms. Now, Eric and I, I’m rather going off at a tangent if you don’t mind. Eric and I used to go back to York after we’d both been demobbed. Some years after. We used to go back every year to visit Melbourne and we used to go on to the airfield and there was a caretaker’s building at the entrance and we used to ask him if we could drive on because the main runway was still in being. It was, Melbourne was an experimental farm or something of that sort but we used to drive to the end of the runway and I had a fairly powerful car and we used to drive down, get up to a hundred miles an hour as if we were going to take off. Yes. We used to go, oh when we used to go back to visit York we’d go to Betty’s. We’d go to the, Hole in the Wall which was a well-known pub not far from the De Grey rooms and we’d go to the De Grey rooms which on the second, on the first floor instead of being a dance place was a second hand books, book dealers and we went fairly regularly. I mention incidentally my mid-upper gunner the handsome Welshman after some years he lived a very spectacular life. He ended up as a painter in Paris and he also was in South Africa and he’d been married I think about three times but he got ill and he was ended up in an RAF Benevolent Fund sponsored place in, now what was the name of the place? I can’t remember at the moment. It got quite famous this place of some years ago. It was given, it was given some honour. I can’t remember. But he was in a home there and we used to visit him. Eric and I used to visit him once a year and I used to smuggle a bottle of Scotch in for him. But then in due time he died. He became wheelchair bound and eventually he joined the aircraft in the sky.
NM: So, how did you cope with the strains of operations?
MF: That’s again an interesting question. Basically, you coped because you hadn’t got the nerve to pack up. Now, what happened was as a navigator I had a window which I, a little small window. I don’t know why it was there but it was there and I had to draw a curtain across because you needed an Anglepoise lamp to work and that would show a light. Every trip I made I never ever drew the curtain to see what was happening down below. I never saw the fires. I never saw anything. I thought I’m better off putting my nose down and doing my map work and thank you very much. But to answer your question very seldom a chap found he couldn’t go on and he went what was called LMF. That’s lack of moral fibre. If he went out LMF the authorities treated him very badly. He was stripped of his rank and he became a nonentity. Unlike the Americans who apparently if one of their chaps went LMF they sent him back to the States for psychological treatment and then got him back to the UK for flying again. I didn’t feel better or worse for the whole tour. I gave a little chat to the school of my granddaughter when they were seven year old boys and girls. I only chatted for ten minutes just to give them the flavour and of course I was very careful as to what I said. One little girl said at the end, ‘Were you frightened on your first trip?’ And I said to her, ‘No, my dear. I wasn’t frightened on my first trip. I was frightened on every trip.’ And it’s absolutely true but I didn’t feel any worse or any better. The only time I felt better was when I landed on the last trip.
NM: And you knew it was the last trip. Yeah. So you were awarded the DFC at the end of your tour. Was the, was it a cumulative award or was it for any particular incident?
MF: I think the only reason I got the DFC and two or three others of the crew did as well was simply because we were made a special crew as I mentioned at the, earlier in this discussion. As I said the pilot was a very experienced man. We had two chaps doing their second tour. We did our tour. We got there every time. We got back every time. We did what we were designed to do and I didn’t do anything what one would call particularly brave or heroic or heroic. I just did my job.
NM: So what happened when your tour finished?
MF: Well, we now enter a new area. Let me have a drink of water and I’ll go on.
NM: Of course. Take a break.
MF: How far do you want me to go?
NM: As far as you want.
MF: When my tour finished the RAF really didn’t know what to do with ex-aircrew blokes who’d done their tours. They had to do something with them but excuse me [coughs]
NM: Are you alright to carry on?
MF: Yeah.
NM: Are you sure?
MF: They had to do something but we had no skill other than flying bombers. They sent me to an RAF base in Hereford. I think it would be a good idea if you don’t mind shall we stop and I’ll make a cup of coffee?
NM: Yes. That’s absolutely fine. Absolutely. Are you alright to carry on?
MF: Sorry?
NM: Are you alright to carry on.
MF: Yeah. I will be.
NM: Okay. Alright.
MF: Will you have coffee?
NM: Yes, please if there’s one going. Thank you very much.
MF: Yeah.
NM: Its much appreciated.
MF: I get a bit shaky. My hands are inclined to shake.
NM: You’re doing brilliantly.
MF: Help yourself.
NM: I’ll just grab one of those. Thank you very much. Appreciate it. You’re doing brilliantly to be independent at ninety nine.
MF: Well, [pause] life can be a bit difficult these days because my wife has dementia and she’s not very good. She’s very cheerful at times but we have really bad times too.
NM: Yes.
MF: And I spend, we have a carer comes in for an hour every morning but I don’t know how long we’re going to be able to continue.
NM: I understand. My mother in law’s has got dementia.
MF: Really?
NM: So I know. I know what you’re going through. Yeah.
MF: I say to my kids you know all the problems that we have now will be solved is if I pop off and my wife can go into a nice, a very nice care home. But I don’t plan on popping off any sooner than I need.
NM: Very glad to hear it.
MF: Help yourself please.
NM: I’m fine. I’m fine. Thank you.
[recording paused]
NM: Okay. Yes. So, yes, you were sent to Hereford.
MF: Yes. Hereford was not an airfield. There were no aircraft there but it was an RAF base where they trained accountants. That is accountants to work within the RAF. We went there and I met up there with a, I don’t know a couple of dozen also ex-bomber people and the idea was that they were going to train us all as accountants. What happened is that young men who entered the Air Force direct to be an accountant they were given a commission to pilot officers, went to Hereford for their training. When they got there they were all sprogs. All new. They used to on their first day on the parade ground they got together, fall in, left turn, quick march and that sort of thing. They tried to do the same thing with us ex-bomber people but we didn’t do that sort of thing. I mean we used to turn up if we were sent to parade at 9 o’clock we’d turn up more or less, more or less within time. Some of us had caps on. Some didn’t. Some had ties. Most of us were smoking. I was a heavy smoker. But we came to terms eventually but none of us were interested in this accounting lark so we did our course, six weeks, eight weeks whatever, sat the exams and everyone failed. And as I’ve said one bloke only just failed and that was me. So they offered for me to do another three weeks when I would pass but I declined this offer. So as a punishment they sent me with all the AC2s, AC1s working there, all the chaps that were in trouble they sent me with this lot to pick potatoes. I think this was about September. Well, we went to a farm and the drill was you worked in pairs each holding one corner of a sack and the tractor went and threw up the potatoes and we picked them. I was there for I think four days. I had a marvellous time. The weather was beautiful. We used, you can imagine we didn’t exactly exert ourselves but we used to pick some potatoes and have a rest. Pick a few more. Then the farmer owner used to provide us with hot sweet tea, cheddar cheese, as much as you wanted and crispy bread and we really enjoyed ourselves. After four days they called me off this because they could see we were getting nowhere. So they then sent me to an airfield at Halfpenny Green which is near Wolverhampton. When I got to Halfpenny Green there were I think Ansons there and what happened at Halfpenny Green was that navigators who had trained in Canada and had come back to the UK had to have a course, a sort of acclimatisation or whatever you’d call it. So you used, they used to do sort of cross country journeys, I suppose an hour and a half or thereabouts and they made me do the same. And I was very experienced but nevertheless they all, these blokes all took off on their Ansons and I had too as well. Fortunately, the pilots there were also ex-aircrew chaps so I never took this very seriously. I would say, ‘Look just fly over here and fly over there and then fly back and thank you very much.’ So, we were there for about, oh I don’t know a few to a couple of months. Strangely enough one of the navigators who’d come back from Canada who I became friendly with was a bloke called David Hawkins. After the war I qualified as a chartered accountant which I’ll come to later if if you want me to go that far. He also qualified a year after me. I entered the profession. He went in to industry and he ended up as a main board director at Nat West Bank. But we were very matey and he made big bucks but it made no difference. We were good friends. Unfortunately, towards the end he also became a subject of dementia. What used to happen we used to meet two, every couple of months with our wives for a meal and he would say to me, ‘Monty, you play golf don’t you?’ I’d say, ‘No, Dave.’ I was the only person in the world that called him Dave. I’d say, ‘No, Dave. I play tennis.’ During the course of the dinner he would ask me this at least eight times and it was a shame but you know. That’s the way the cookie crumbles.
NM: Indeed. That’s right.
MF: I don’t know what’s led me on to talking about, anyway, we went to Halfpenny Green and I finished a course there and once the course had finished again they didn’t know what to do with me. So they sent me to an airfield in, near Doncaster where there were Oxfords, twin engined Oxfords at Doncaster as I say. And this place was where pilots coming back to the UK from abroad, from probably the Middle East or somewhere like that had to have an acclimatisation. So I saw nobody took any real notice of me because as you will have been told time and again provided you had some papers in your hand and walked about looking busy nobody interfered with you. I appointed myself navigation officer of this arrangement for new pilots. They used to do a fortnight, two weeks training flying these Oxford aircraft around about and I used to set as self-appointed navigation officer I used to set the trip for them and when they went off I used to sit in my office and do whatever I wanted and they all came back. After quite a while the powers that be had said, ‘You’ve got to fly once a week.’ Because these blokes used to fly most days. Most days for a fortnight. So I was required to fly once a week which I didn’t really like very much and when the list came in of the next intake I used to have a look at all the blokes and pick the pilots that I thought was most reliable and I used to do a little trip and that was that. So in due course I finished at Doncaster. We’re now getting to about let me think [pause] we’re getting now to about the end of 1945. Perhaps a bit earlier. Perhaps a bit sooner. Perhaps about September ’45. Something like that. Anyway, I finished at Doncaster and they then sent me on indefinite leave which was fine. I was engaged to my late wife then. Her parents had a big flat in Chiswick. Unfortunately, my mother had died in nineteen, I can remember, in December 1941. I was in the RAF of course and after the war my father packed up and went to live with one of my sisters in Southend. Westcliffe. So I stayed with my girlfriend’s parents and they were very nice to me and I was on indefinite leave which went on for a few months. I then, I think it must have been about December, December ’45. Thereabouts. I was on indefinite leave. I then married my late wife in July ’46. She was, I was twenty, not quite twenty three. My grandchildren are amazed because nobody gets married at that sort of age anymore. My late wife was two days short of twenty one and in those days under twenty one you had to get permission from the bride’s father and I was very very fond of my late wife’s father and I used to tell him I didn’t, ‘I got permission from you. I got permission from you. It was a big mistake.’ But we had fun. Anyway, after a few months, about June ’46 I was summoned to RAF Uxbridge and I was given a job which I didn’t really have a clue about dealing with the paperwork of chaps who were being repatriated to their home, home countries Rhodesia, Southern Rhodesia, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and so on. Chaps who had finished their periods and were ready to be demobbed. And what I had to do was to look at their papers and I had a couple of rubber stamps which I had to stamp and I really didn’t have much idea what I was doing and I wasn’t very interested either and I banged the rubber stamps all over the place. Off they went. Everybody was very happy. One thing I must tell you when I was at Uxbridge this would have been about September 1946 they had a dining in night. You may know about dining in nights but it’s an evening when all of us, when I married I got a sleeping out pass. All officers had to stay in for dinner that night. Best blues on, all properly turned out and you all sat down and you had a meal and they had port and you passed the port. Took it from the right hand and passed it to the right hand of the chap sitting on your left. All very formal. When I was there they they said to me I don’t know who, the commanding officers or whatever, I shall be Mr Vice. Which meant that either during the meal or before the meal, I can’t remember the chairman appointed for the night would say, ‘Mr Vice. The King.’ Was it the King in ’46? Yes, it was. ‘Mr Vice, the King.’ And my job was to stand up and say, ‘Gentlemen, the King.’ All stood up and had a drink. I think the reason I had this very auspicious appointment was because I was ex-aircrew and they didn’t have these sort of people at Uxbridge. Anyway, got to December I was demobbed. Blow me I was demobbing all these people at Uxbridge and they sent me up to Padgate to get demobbed which I did. Now, that’s the end of RAF. Whether you want me to continue into my private life thereafter I don’t know.
NM: I would very much like you to please.
MF: Sorry?
NM: I would very much like you to continue.
MF: Oh well, right.
NM: Life after the RAF.
MF: Sorry?
NM: Life after the RAF.
MF: Very good. Up to when?
NM: This morning if you want.
MF: What? [laughs]
NM: Up to this morning if you want.
MF: Oh, deary me. Right. In January ’47 I wasn’t qualified of course although my articles had expired. I got a job with a firm of chartered accountants in Oxford Street, Levy Hyams and Co who you won’t need too much imagination well to come to the conclusion they were a Jewish firm and we’re Jewish as you will have gathered. I worked for them but I had to think in terms of becoming chartered myself and I’d previously before I entered the RAF did a correspondence course. But I couldn’t attune myself to the idea of doing a correspondence course while I, while things had changed so much so after I’d been working at this firm for, I don’t know six months I enrolled at the City of London College which was in Moorgate. And I worked very hard in that period because I worked from nine to five in the office and then I used to grab a sandwich and a coffee, go to the City of London College and sit for lectures between about six and 9 o’clock and this happened Monday to Friday. So I did this and then in November ’48 I sat my exams and became a chartered accountant. Of course, by November ’48 I was married to the lady I mentioned to you earlier and my first son was born, I think in the August of 1948. So I continued working once I’d qualified for the firm in Oxford Street and they then put me into a separate office so I didn’t go out doing any auditing any more but I dealt with tax matters and correspondence and so on. After, I don’t know eighteen months or whatever I thought I’m not doing this. I’m going to set up on my own. So I packed up. When I gave my notice in they said, ‘Oh well, we had intended to ask you to join the firm as a partner.’ But it was too late then. So I started on my own. I was living in Fulham at the time. When I got married we got the top part of a house in Fulham which I rented and I lived there until 1951 and for my sins I became a fan of Fulham Football Club and I still am. God help me. So I set up on my own and we, I bought a three bedroomed semi-detached house in Fulham in 1951 because I lived in the flat. Not in Fulham. I’m misleading you. I bought a three bedroomed semi-detached house in Greenford in 1951 having lived in Fulham for five years from ’46 to ’51 and I set up on my own account. All I had was a card table, a typewriter and I was sort of in business and I had one client. So I had to make a living. So I then started lecturing. Lecturing would-be bank people in bookkeeping and so on. I used to go there a couple of nights a week and earn a few bob. I also got to working a job for a correspondence course marking papers of other people’s that were studying and also I got two jobs doing part time stuff for two other firms of accountants. Strangely enough one of the firms I worked for they had a client of big coffee importers and exporters and I did their audit and when the chap I worked for either died or retired they asked me to take the account over as my own client. And that continued all the way through my career. I also worked for a, I think an unqualified chap who had an office in Kilburn and he had a client who was a solicitor and in due course again the solicitor instructed me and eventually there was a firm of solicitors of, I think four partners and various clerks and I had them as clients until I retired. After a while the solicitors had offices in Half Moon Street on the third floor of a quite old building but it was a prestigious address. Half Moon Street, London W1. Turning off Piccadilly. So I got two rooms on the fourth floor. There was no lift and the lavatory was two and a half floors down and mainly I used to visit clients because I couldn’t expect clients to come up this old building for four floors. But anyway, I progressed and I made a living. I then got I was in Half Moon Street for quite a few years and at one time I got my first car and Dave Hawkins who I mentioned earlier in this discussion came with me and picked up this car. It was a Standard Eight from showrooms in Berkeley Square. I was frightened to drive home and he drove the car home to Greenford for me. Subsequently you could drive to the West End. You could park in Piccadilly. You could park in Half Moon Street but it became less and less available. Eventually I used to drive up and park in Hyde Park because you could park in the perimeter there. But after a while I would find I’d park the car in the morning I couldn’t remember where it was in the evening. But we got by. So I then got offices in Wembley Park. It used to be the Prudential and it was basically a shop with one office behind. I worked there and then I got one partner and we extended out the back. And then I got two more junior partners and we extended. We extended again at the back and I continued to work there until I retired in December 19 [pause] wait a moment in December 2090. That’s right. Thirty two years ago.
[redacted]
I then retired in December 2090 and have done nothing meaningful since apart from amusing myself in my office.
NM: And playing tennis I gather. You mentioned that earlier didn’t you? So how have you occupied yourself during your retirement?
MF: Sorry?
NM: How do you have any hobbies you carried on during your —
MF: Yes, I —
NM: Retirement?
MF: Yes. I can’t remember [pause] twenty five years ago before I retired I started to play tennis and I got very committed to tennis because I found it enormously enjoyable. I was pretty, I’d never played before so I had to learn and I was never what you’d call a good tennis player but I played in clubs and I could hold my own. And I played two or three times a week regularly and I got immense pleasure. I played to win but I’d have a lot of fun and I joined different clubs because one club packed up and another one moved. All sorts of problems. Tennis players generally find over the years they’re moving from one club to another but I played and I had great enjoyment for tennis and I made lots of friends. I stopped playing tennis because I wasn’t in good form and I packed up about [pause] let me think. I went into hospital 2013. About 2010. No, that doesn’t. Yes. About twenty no not twenty I’m losing [pause] about twenty one. I retired at 2190. No. I’m getting a bit confused. I retired in 2090.
NM: 1990.
MF: That’s thirty two years ago.
NM: Yeah. Yeah.
MF: I played tennis. Once I’d started and I stopped playing tennis in twenty two.
NM: 2002.
MF: About twenty two o eight.
NM: Okay. Yeah.
MF: The reason being that I wasn’t in the best of condition and in 2013 I went into a hospital. I went into a hospital and I had some surgery which I got over well but, and I was still very active but I’d packed up tennis. And then about a year after that I had a pacemaker fitted because while I was in hospital as a result of the operation I had a mild heart attack which kept me in hospital much longer than we’d budgeted for and I had a pacemaker fitted when I was ninety. And now in two and a half weeks’ time I’ve got to go into hospital. I think just for the day to have the battery replaced. Like you replaced your battery which I’m not looking forward to but I hope it will be pretty simple.
NM: I’m sure it will be.
MF: And I’m told that there are not a lot of chaps who have a pacemaker fitted at age ninety who go back for a refit.
NM: Good to hear. Good to hear.
MF: And that I think my friend more or less brings you up to date.
NM: I think it does. I think that’s excellent. Just one more question going back to your time in Bomber Command what do you when you look back and reflect on your time in Bomber Command what are your main thoughts?
MF: Well, I can answer that. I never have had a moment’s regret at dropping bombs on Germany. I’m conscious of the bombing that the Germans carried out in the UK especially in London, in Coventry, in Liverpool, in Plymouth. Incessant bombing in London in particular with a lot of, lots of death. I’m very conscious of six million Jews dying in the Holocaust. I’ve spoken often about Dresden. I didn’t bomb Dresden and there was big talk of two hundred thousand people being killed there because the place ended up in a fire storm. It wasn’t but I think it’s conceded there was a heavy death roll of about twenty five thousand. I’ve got no conscience about it at all [pause] And I still haven’t today. I took the view my job was to get the aircraft to the target, to drop the bombs and to get home.
NM: And how do you feel about the way that Bomber Command itself has been perceived since the war?
MF: That again is a very pointed question. When the war finished, no. Let me go back. When it was agreed there would be a raid on Dresden and after the raid lots of people complained. Canon Collins I think the man’s name was. Made a big big fuss. The raid was perfectly justified. The Russians wanted it. Churchill agreed to it. It was a big railway place where armaments were moved and that was the justification of the raid. Afterwards, Churchill washed his hands of Dresden. He didn’t want to know. When Churchill made his victory speech after the war in Germany finished he mentioned all of the branches of the three Services, he never mentioned Bomber Command. When campaign medals were handed out Bomber Command didn’t get one. There was a big campaign, I think in the Daily Express which is not a paper I read trying to encourage the powers that be to award a campaign medal to Bomber Command. It never worked. Ultimately and this is only a handful of years ago Bomber Command were awarded a clasp to their victory medal at exactly the same time as the seamen who were doing the north, the North Sea around, around to the north of Russia to deliver them armaments they were awarded a campaign medal. Not Bomber Command. Lots of people have had plenty to say about Bomber Command but I don’t stand for any of it. When Bomber Harris’ statue was erected in the Strand there was a service for Bomber Command people in the Bomber Command church which was St Clement Danes and the late Queen Mother who was Bomber Command patron attended. I went with my friend Eric. I always tell everybody I was probably the only Jewish chap there and I was sitting behind a pillar and I couldn’t see anything. But it was a good service. We then walked across and there was going to be a reception in the hall of the Law Courts which is more or less where the statue was. Some, I don’t use too many profane words but some group threw red paint on to Harris’ statue. But nevertheless we went into the Law Courts, we had a drink or two and it was very nice. And the one regret and I have this regret to this day when I went in [pause] what’s his name? You see you get as old as me you can’t remember. What was his name? He was married to Sue Ryder.
NM: Leonard Cheshire.
MF: Sorry?
NM: Leonard Cheshire.
MF: Thank you. Thank you very much. I went in and Leonard Cheshire who was ill at that time and he was in a sort of almost bed wheelchair and he was close, as close to me as you are and I very much regret perhaps I was diverted I didn’t have the opportunity to go up to him and pay him my respects. And I’m still sorry about it. But anyway, there we are.
NM: So have you been to see in your old stomping ground at Piccadilly the Bomber Command Memorial on Piccadilly.
MF: Yes. Yes, I have been there. The one in Green Park.
NM: Correct.
MF: And it’s very impressive.
NM: Yeah.
MF: It’s very impressive.
NM: Were you involved at all when it was opened?
MF: No. I haven’t been involved in any particular capacity. Only as an old sod of the, of the Command but nothing else.
NM: Okay. Well, I think that’s an excellent place to finish so —
MF: Oh, well that’s very good.
NM: Monty, can I thank you very much for your time and your memories and your service of course.
MF: Well —
NM: Its much appreciated.
MF: It’s been, it’s been very interesting for me. I never thought I’d keep going this long but as you will have gathered from all of this and gathered from the, my talk at Bentley Priory I, I’m not frightened to talk.
NM: With such clarity as well. Excellent.
MF: Funnily enough, Nigel. I’ll say one more thing.
NM: Of course.
MF: And then I’ll shut up. I was telling somebody only a few days ago, somebody who had been to Bentley Priory I’m able if I’m given notice because Bentley Priory I just didn’t just talk off the cuff I’d spent quite a time preparing things. But then I didn’t need any notice because I knew what I was going to say. I could stand up and talk to two hundred people without batting an eyelid. Conversely, I used to be invited because of clients I used to be invited to functions. Sometimes functions when they had a, perhaps a little cabaret or whatever. A little show. In those days, I don’t think it happens these days masonic dinners. They might have a comedian and they might have four young lady dancers and very often these dancers used to come down, pick on a man take them up to the stage and the man would put a funny hat on or something and dance or whatever. A girl would come up to me, I would be if necessary very rude because I would die rather than go up on to a stage and dance in front of people and yet I can go up and talk. It’s odd isn’t it?
NM: Well, we’re all different aren’t we and that’s —
MF: Yeah.
NM: That’s you.
MF: Well, there you are.
NM: Very good. Excellent. Well, thank you very much again for your time.
MF: No. Not at all. I hope I’ve done you justice.
NM: Well I think you’ve done yourself justice brilliantly.
MF: Lovely.
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Interview with Monty Felton
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Nigel Moore
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2022-11-14
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Sound
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01:51:16 Audio Recording
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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AFeltonM221114, PFeltonM2201
Description
An account of the resource
Monty grew up in Croydon and became an articled accountant in London before joining the RAF. Training at the Initial Training Wing in Torquay was followed by RAF Bishops Court in Northern Ireland and RAF Kinloss, which had a flight simulation room. He was then posted to RAF Rufforth in Yorkshire where he was introduced to the Halifax four-engined bomber, before going to 10 Squadron at RAF Melbourne. Monty describes his relatively experienced crew, including George Dark as pilot and Eric Barnard as rear gunner, who remained a close friend. He flew 21 trips with George and a further 11 operations with Flight Lieutenant Wood. The first outing was a ‘bullseye’, a flight where they entered Germany and then turned back to mislead the enemy. Briefings would include meteorological forecasts of wind and speed direction at varying heights up to the time of the target. He discusses how navigation was carried out and the use of navigation aids, such as Gee. Monty went on several operations to the Ruhr. He recounts how their aircraft had to divert to an American airbase at Knettishall in Suffolk, which flew B-17s. In another, they lost two engines yet successfully flew back to RAF Melbourne. Monty runs through a typical operations’ day, including the briefings and debriefings. He depicts how they would fly doglegs to confuse the enemy and the navigators would throw out packets of aluminium strips, code named Window. He goes on to describe his off-duty life, including trips to York and ‘Betty’s Bar’ (precursor of Bettys Tearooms) which had a mirror inscribed by aircrew in the basement. There were dances in the De Grey Rooms. Monty was a recipient of the Distinguished Flying Cross, which he believes was just because they were an experienced crew. Monty contrasts the American and RAF treatment of Lack of Moral Fibre. After his tour, Monty was sent to a number of RAF stations before being demobbed in 1946. He qualified as a chartered accountant, setting up his own accountancy practice. Monty finishes by discussing his attitude to the war and Bomber Command, and disappointment over the lack of recognition given to it.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
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eng
Contributor
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Sally Coulter
Julie Williams
Carolyn Emery
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
1945
1946
10 Squadron
aircrew
Anson
B-17
bombing
briefing
coping mechanism
crewing up
debriefing
Distinguished Flying Cross
entertainment
Gee
Halifax
Initial Training Wing
lack of moral fibre
military living conditions
military service conditions
navigator
Oxford
perception of bombing war
RAF Bishops Court
RAF Carnaby
RAF Halfpenny Green
RAF Kinloss
RAF Melbourne
RAF Rufforth
RAF Torquay
RAF Uxbridge
training
Whitley
Window
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/478/31022/BBrookMBrookMv1.1.pdf
4cd3acd12de048eadb4febb65de3b363
Dublin Core
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Title
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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.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[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
[page break]
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
[page break]
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,
[page break]
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
[page break]
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.
[page break]
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
[page break]
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.
[page break]
[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]
[page break]
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.
[page break]
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,
[page break]
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
[page break]
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]
[page break]
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
Contributor
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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/1359/22529/ASmithRW190325.2.mp3
d4141e837d5350df08734bd3233cd24b
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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Smith, Bob
Robert Wylie Smith
R W Smith
Description
An account of the resource
125 items. An oral history interview with Bob Smith (b. 1924, 425992 Royal Australian Air Force) photographs, documents and navigation logs and charts. He flew operations as a navigator with 15 Squadron at RAF Mildenhall.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Bob Smith and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-03-25
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Smith, RW
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
LC: Okay, this is an interview with Robert, Bob, Wally Smith 425992, navigator, 15 Squadron, Royal Air Force. The interview is being conducted at the residence of Bob and Alma Smith [redacted] Boulevard, Queensland, on Monday 25th March by myself, Wing Commander Lee Collins of People’s History and Heritage Branch. This interview will be recorded and may be transcribed and will become property and part of the Historical Collection of the Royal Australian Air Force and Bomber Command and be available to future researchers. So Bob, thanks again for agreeing to be interviewed. It’s my privilege to interview you and to obtain your personal account of your experiences of service in the RAF and particularly as a navigator on ops with RAF Bomber Command during World War Two. So, I’d like to maybe begin the interview by, if you go back to your early childhood and upbringing, and your family and schooling before you joined the air force. So, your early life, so where were you born? Where did you grow up?
BS: Well now, I was born in Brisbane, back in 1924. My father had been in the World War One, he was a, wounded three times, and he was original in the 41st Battalion.
LC: 41st Battalion, okay, yeah.
BS: He came back and he, when he got married to my mother, you know, she was also in that, from that district, they rented a corner shop, at the corner, a corner shop, was at the corner of Ipswich Road and Victoria Terrace in Annerley in Brisbane.
LC: Yeah, yeah, yep.
BS: Now, well we grew up there, normal thing, and started school I think it was 1928, at the Junction Park State School. Now his mother had another daughter and a son-in-law who were managing the farm for her, the old family farm known as Greenwood, in Harrisall.
LC: And where was that?
BS: Harrisall, ‘bout two and a half mile, or a couple miles south east of Harrisall on the Malara road, on the road to what they called Malara, or on through to Kalbar, and Boonah, you know.
LC: Boonah. Yup.
BS: Well at the end of 1932, he had to, he sold the business and we went back to the farm. Went to, took up the farm, so the family, we went, while he was arranging transfer, my mother took the family, myself and my two sisters and young brother, went on holiday up to Maleny while dad organised the thing and he, he drove the horse and cart from Annerley up to the farm.
LC: And how far was that?
BS: Oh all day. And we come up, take it after there, well of course then we followed, we went up to the farm then and settled in with Granny Smith. Now we thought at the time, woah great, Granny Smith, you know, she must be famous, she’s had an apple named after her!
LC: Exactly!
BS: But we soon found out, but she was a wonderful person, mum, granny; she was an original. Between Granny Smith and myself, Granny Smith, migrated to Australia as a young girl in 1855 while Queensland was still part of New South Wales, you know. They moved to Queensland then a couple of years later and with her father she moved up to the, near to the district what they call the Pink Mountain Holding in about 1858, ‘59, something like that. They were then since at Churchill, a place called Churchill down where there was a cotton ginnery established, ‘cause cotton was the main thing in those days, you know. And that’s how they, the Smiths had to, worked up to Harrisall ‘cause they were given a grant and land to grow cotton. Now we started school then at Malara. In 1932 get on and I did a, went through there and did scholarship at the Malara School, at the Malara School and now by virtue that dad was a returned Digger, I won a Naracelle scholarship to attend the Ipswich Boys Grammar School as a boarder for two years, so ‘cause dad couldn’t afford to be, at the end of that, I did, I finished and while just before -
LC: What years were that, your last two years of high school?
BS: ‘38, ‘39.
LC: So that was your last two years at high school.
BS: Yeah, ‘38, ‘39, the, and when we finished, ‘39 just before we finished the junior exam, war had been declared over Britain, you see. Now, I came back with the scholarship and with the tertiary education opened up room for me to apply for work in the public service or the bank or thing, which I did, I applied to commence work in the bank in Harrisall, and I was accepted. Accepted as a temporary clerk on probation I think it was, whatever it was, and I was still a temporary clerk on probation when I went to join the air force two years later!
LC: So you are what, about seventeen, seventeen years of age at this stage?
BS: Yeah, now where, I went into the bank then. Now just after I joined the bank, I got a communication from school and from the air force, we were given notification to apply, if we were interested in joining the air force, ‘cause I always stated I would be, we could apply to be registered as air cadets by correspondence.
LC: Okay, yes, yes.
BS: So I took that offer up. I asked, got my parents’ permission do that there. Dad was quite happy that I go in to the air force in a way, although I realised what, what strain I did put on him, to go in, but not into the army, you know.
LC: So did you have any, what was the reason you were more interested in the air force than the army? Your dad was a Digger in the 41st Battalion.
BS: The air force, so I did that, I did the courses with the air cadets, get this thing, when I finished the tests each, as each step went along, the air tests, took ‘em to the headmaster at the Woolora School, he ticked them off, that okay and advised the air force, the air cadet training system okay, see me right, carry on.
LC: And that’s that exercise book you showed me.
BS: Now, when Japan raided Germany, raided -
LC: Pearl Harbour.
BS: Pearl Harbour then in December ‘41, there was a bit of a panic among the air force, because all of us, we couldn’t join the air force until we were nineteen, that means you, in those days to be, you had to go into initial training at about two months before your nineteenth birthday, so that you were ready then for flying, you couldn’t fly till you were nineteen, you know, or go overseas anything like that, volunteers, so and then also on the reserve at that time were a lot of unprotected occupations, school teachers, a lot of school teachers had applied and they were very keen to get school teachers to do the course and they could go on as instructors ‘cause they needed them for the Empire Air Training Scheme you know. The air force jumped at the crews then, that they would form what they call air crew guards and that means that we could go in and that avoided us being called up into the militia. It was quite good. So with that I then had to apply to the bank for leave then and that was granted and so in May 1942, it didn’t take ‘em long, air crew guard callups were held in Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne to bring up a lot of these, make sure the militia didn’t get us, you know, the army didn’t get us at that age. Although some blokes did, were called up for the militia apparently and, but they then told the militia to go to hell. They went in to the air force.
LC: Can I just step back one? You mentioned where you were when, you were at the bank when Germany, we declared war on Germany in ‘39 and then when Japan attacked Pearl Harbour in December 1941, do you remember those times well? Do you remember sort of, you know in September 1939 when war was declared do you remember what you were doing or did you have any particular thoughts what were you thinking when something was declared? What was Bob Smith thinking?
BS: Just put the thing into working, getting organised in the bank, you know, winding the office clock every Monday morning, getting out the fresh blotting paper, gradually working in, getting on. No, but that was right. Still carried on, played a bit of sport around Harrisall, lived on the farm, where you learned a lot.
LC: What about December 1941, when, so, Australia had already been at war for a while-
BS: Yeah, that’s right.
LC: So in, suddenly you hear Japan has attacked Pearl Harbour, do you remember where, what you were doing when you heard that news?
BS: No, no, not much, we just thought ah, well things are coming and then of course we found out on the news about it, this going on and coming out and then it was all in the papers, conscription was gonna be brought in.
LC: Was there much an awareness before that of any concerns about Japan before war was actually declared, for a number of years?
BS: Yeah, there was, bit like, in 19, back just after we went to the farm there was a bit of concerns going on about Germany, you know, because we had German occupations and I remember an old German farmer that lived near us, we used to meet him now and again and ‘Oh you’re joining the air force eh, you’re going to go over there, good show, that Hitler he bad man’, you know things just sort of rolled one thing into the other. Then when we, when the call came up and we went in to, in May 1942 we were called down to Brisbane, to the recruiting depot. Went through all the jazz there, then that evening given our numbers and whatnot, told us to take the oath and all this business, and sign up and shoved on a train that night up to Maryborough.
LC: Right. So then when you then signed on do you remember where exactly in Brisbane that was? Where did you actually sign on?
BS: Eagle Street in Brisbane.
LC: Eagle Street, okay.
BS: Recruiting Depot. Number, number whatever Brisbane number 3 Recruiting Depot in Eagle Street in Brisbane.
LC: Now that stage, you were going in the air force, but did you actually have confirmation that you were going in as aircrew or were you just joining the air force and see what?
BS: No, we were going to be training as aircrew under Empire Air Training Scheme.
LC: Right, so you knew that when you went and put your hand on the bible.
BS: I asked that earlier about the thing there at that stage when you went in air crew were you aware of the dangers of flying over in Germany, things like that, you know, I said, well we were. Because I had two cousins from, who lived up in Maleny, they were both shot down in England, one in 1940 he was in early in a Blenheim, flying in a Blenheim, the other one, no he was in a Whitley and the other one was flying out of Libya, he crashed, he was shot down off Tripoli, rescued by an Italian ship, navy ship and taken to Italy. When they came down into the sea, he was badly damaged, these reports as they say, in Germany, in the German reports for the thing ‘received in damaged condition’, but he couldn’t walk, okay. Now he thanks the German doctors for getting him back to walking. Their spinal treatment, that was way above. They came, he was shoved from hospital to hospital in Italy and one night a Luftwaffe officer came in there, looked at him, and looked and he says we’re taking you back to Germany, I we think we can fix you. To a German Luftwaffe -
LC: Hospital.
BS: Which they did, and they got him. I think the bloke was a bit like Douglas Bader, I think they might have been sorry they did fix him up.
LC: [Laugh] So he caused more trouble after they fixed him!
BS: I tell you what, he caused them a bit of trouble! He was that sort of bloke.
LC: So he’s wonderful. What was his name?
BS: Cuthbertson. Guy Cuthbertson.
LC: And the other guy that was shot down in the Whitley?
BS: The bloke was Bill McLean.
LC: Did he survive?
BS: No, no he was killed. He was killed. They shot down, they’ve since found out the pilot that shot him down and got a rough idea of where he crashed into the North Sea. That’s all right.
LC: Okay, but you knew about this.
BS: Then my others, my brother’s, my mother’s other sister that lived in Ipswich, she had a son who was in the navy, he was in, he went down with the Perth, actually didn’t go down with the Perth, they found out later that he did get off the Perth, and they got ashore and they were murdered by the Indonesians who thought they were Dutch.
LC: Is that right? Okay. You know a lot of the survivors of the Perth were captured by the Japanese.
BS: Yeah, yeah. We more or less knew the dangers we were going in to, you know.
LC: So knew, all this occurred when you, before you enlisted. Okay, so you put your hand on the bible, you’ve gone up to Maryborough. So what happened at Maryborough?
BS: Route marches in the morning. First thing out, you’re up, got issued with your dungarees and stuff like that and a route march first in the morning, quite try to remind them we didn’t join the air force to march.
LC: What was that unit called?
BS: Eh?
LC: Do you remember the name of the unit?
BS: No, just Recruit Depot.
LC: Recruit Depot, okay.
BS: No, no, in that thing there, Maryborough, yeah, at the Maryborough airport, yeah.
LC: Okay right. Fair enough.
BS: We quick learnt to go into town, get a, probably walk in to town or get a, don’t know how we got in to town half the time or something, but to come home at night all you do was pick a, outside the pictures grab a bike, ride it home and leave it the main gate. Of course Maryborough soon got used to it I think if your bike was missing you went down to the base and there it was the next morning!
LC: You went down to the base. It was like an honour system.
BS: It was quite good. So when we finished our course there we were assigned to guard duties and I was posted through to Cootamundra, Number 2 AOS at Cootamundra.
LC: Cootamundra?
BS: Yeah. They, they looked upon the Queenslanders quite freshly, they gave us an extra blanket, we used to say they should also give us a WAAF, but they wouldn’t be in that.
LC: No, no, no!
BS: No, no. So we decide the better thing there was a newspaper in between the two blankets and that was quite warm enough, you know. Down to Cootamundra.
LC: It gets a bit nippy down there doesn’t it!
BS: It was a bit nippy, yeah. We found out. You could go on guard duty at least, but at least you could take a, have a heart or an ice cream, type of thing out leave it on top of a post or something it stayed frozen for the night, you know. Bit cheeky, you could crawl up in to an Anson or something now and again, and have a bit of a sneak look or if nobody was around, nobody looked around.
LC: What was that school there? What was Cootamundra, what was the purpose?
BS: Air Observer School, Number 2 Air Observer School and also 75 Squadron was formed there at the time. Now when we were at Cootamundra, a couple of things happened there, that’s the first experience we had of death in the air force, crews from the training unit, one of I think it was about 76 Squadron, or something like that, in a Beaufighter come in and they landed at Cootamundra, but must have done a tight turn in the thing and stalled and then crashed on take off. Well we were called out to the scene and I’ve got to thank an old, he was a fatherly sort of a corporal in charge of the guards or something like that, when we got out there he said to us young blokes, he said ‘Now listen you young fellers, don’t take this to heart. There’s nothing you can do for these fellers now, they’re gone; death is death. Accept it. That’s it.’ And it was wonderful advice, for what we.
LC: Yeah. Because they’re beyond suffering at that stage.
BS: We sat out there at the beginning of that and it was, it was a mess.
LC: You were guarding the aircraft were you?
BS: I can still remember the pilot, he was thrown out of it and his body was, what was left of it, was about well probably a couple of chain away. The second officer, it’d be his observer, was just a, every bone in his body had been smashed, he was just a lump sitting in that, in there, and they moved it out and what struck us then too was they come in, they picked up the pilot, bits, they come in and they looked out and on the thing and to make up a bit of weight, put in a bit of a sand bag, to make it look okay and that. So they’d get it back to the thing.
LC: To go for the burial later.
BS: While we, while we sat there, we, while there, time passed during the day with, I can still remember once, we had a young bloke from, he was from Sydney or something, looked out and he saw these rabbits running around over there, he’d like to shoot one. He said, ‘Well there’s one under the fence over there’, but we looked out and said ‘No, can’t see a rabbit there’, but there was a fair size of a stone, a stone there. ‘No, I’ll have a shot.’ Well he did. He was pretty good: he hit it, but the bullet ricocheted off that stone, and the whine of the bullet, well what was the funny part of that was, just after that whine there was the sheep all over the place, scattering, the whine then sheep going everywhere.
LC: Didn’t have to account for the bullet? He didn’t have to account for the bullet?
BS: Then also at night they’d have to occasionally send us out to the fuel dump which was about a mile out of town or something on the road and we’d live in a tent there, and unfortunately, we’d take a bit of fruit out or something and we trained the possums to eat out of our hand which we regretted later ‘cause they’d get up on the top of the tent and bash up and down and make a hell of a racket! They were a nuisance. Then to fill in a bit of time one night, we get on with things that, oh this is boring and whatnot. I’m to blame for this, the, I don’t know what it was that flew overhead us, something went overhead, but I upped with the rifle, had a shot at it and missed. Well it wasn’t long before boy they heard it back at the station, come flying out and we had to report to the CO the next day. So I told ‘em at the time, I said, ‘No, no’, I said ‘Look there’s a bloke coming along the fence there, and he was trying to get through, I gave him the order, halt or fire, and I fired a shot in the air, there were two shots and he didn’t get, so I fired another one’ and ‘Yeah, yeah, oh yeah, okay, righto, well you better get out the range tomorrow, you blokes, the company.’ So went out to the range. I don’t know what the report was I think, ‘cause when we come to the range they put us on two hundred yards. I got two bulls and three inners, and four inners with me six shots!
LC: That’s all right.
BS: When he said to me, ‘Oh’, he said ‘Don’t worry, that bullet wouldn’t have gone too far off him.’
LC: Excellent.
BS: I got him. But they tried to look through the fence to find a bit of clothing, and wander round the fence, but nothing was there.
LC: Yeah, yeah. Of course.
BS: That was all right. But that went off and then eventually came before, a few months to go we were called up to Number 2 ITS at Bradfield Park for initial training school.
LC: Where’s Bradfield Park?
BS: Bradfield Park at Ipswich, in Sydney.
LC: In Sydney.
BS: Linfield I think it was, the name, it was a, it didn’t have a very good name, old Bradfield Park apparently.
LC: Can I just ask a question first before you go there. You mention when you went to Cootamundra was the Air Observer School, now at what stage, did, how did they make the decision, you knew you’re going in as part of the Empire Air Training Scheme, at what stage was the decision made which guys would go off as pilots and which ones would go off as navigators?
BS: At the initial training school.
LC: Right. How do they make that decision?
BS: That’s the idea of the Initial Training School, you go through all this training, various things, you know. They used to have a thing like a pilot, like kicking around to adjust your thing and I, I came through that when we went to the selection committee for the, after that, they just looked at it and say, they looked at it and say, ‘Oh, you’re a pilot.’ God. You’re above average at everything or something, like that you’re going to be a pilot. I said ‘I don’t want to be a pilot’ because not long before this came out rumour was getting around that those who were selected as navigators and air bombers were to go to Canada for training and then to go on to the new four engined aircraft that were coming in to operation over in England, you know. I said, boy go to Canada, that sounds all right to me. I said ‘No, no I want to be a navigator, my thing’s set on being a navigator’. ‘Why do you want to be a navigator?’ ‘Well I’m just interested in maths’, you know. He said ‘Well you got a good high score in your maths stuff like that. All right’, he says. So I went off happy as Larry.
LC: There you go.
BS: So we went off on leave then, home for pre-embarkation leave. And we had to be back at the embarkation depot number two it was, in Sydney, wasn’t it, embarkation depot, on the 10th of January. That was my nineteenth birthday.
LC: That was ‘43. January 1943. Yep.
BS: Yeah. 1943.
LC: That’s pretty quick from you know 7th 8th of December when Japan attacked Pearl Harbour to early January, that’s very quick.
BS: 19, yeah. So we got sorted out then. So that was us at the embarkation depot. While I was at home, of course naturally our farewells and whatnot, moving around and the normal things, you know, and I suppose one of those things but I was, somehow I never doubted, that I’d, that I’d be killed; I’d come back. It was just there, something, something told me and I believed it. So that stood by me.
LC: Yeah, yeah. Well it worked obviously.
BS: Never knew fear when I was operating, we never worried. We had a crew that, all the while, we only had one, but had a pilot, I can tell you more about him later on, but he was excellent and he always believed in: “you’re not in trouble till you’re hit”. You just carry on as normal; things are normal. There could be flak flying around you, could be fighters looking, lurking around. Until he hits yer, you just carry on, then you treat the position as it is.
LC: That’s right.
BS: That’s well, and he, I suppose this is what stuck to us when we, when we went into Canada, forgot now, oh where were we there?
LC: You’re at the embarkation point. Can I just ask one further question? At the Air Observer School, was there any flying training there or was that all ground school? At the Air Observer School did you do flying training there at Maryborough or was that-
BS: No, no, no.
LC: That was all ground school.
BS: No flying training, we weren’t allowed to fly, until you’re nineteen. Through Initial Training School at Bradfield Park, there’s no flying training there, anything like that.
LC: That didn’t really start till you got to Canada.
BS: It’s not till you go to, then if you’re a pilot you go to what they call an Elementary Flying Training School.
LC: Then on to the, you know, Tiger Moths and that sort of thing.
BS: Or a navigator to a nav course, to a bomber, to a bomb aimer’s course, to WAGs course, or wireless operators course, that sort of thing.
LC: So you’re at embarkation, so at this stage so you’d had some period on leave, some embarkation leave. So you got back to Queensland.
BS: Yeah, yeah, got back to Queensland and I went, caught the train then went down to Brisbane on the train and down to Sydney and while we’re at, attached to the embarkation depot at Sydney, we were allowed, leave was pretty good, lot of sports and that. A few, they put us through a bit of a experiment there. We were called up one day to go out to the University of Sydney, they were doing experiments on sea sickness.
LC: Okay.
BS: And what they, what we done, we were strapped to, we were put into stretchers and they were swung from ceiling to ceiling.
LC: Are you all willing volunteers for this?
BS: Out we went, oh, we’re given a lovely dinner, roast lamb and peas and whatnot sort of. Mine didn’t last too long I can tell yer! [Laughter] But we had one bloke there, they couldn’t make him sick. That was this.
LC: And that was handy training before you jump on board the ship.
BS: Yeah, and a lot of other things you could do, you could go on, there were lessons in sailing and swimming and all various things you get to do.
LC: So how long was this period?
BS: And then a few lectures during the day from blokes that coming back from England, that had completed all the latest on the war, or something like that, you know, intelligence reports, various subjects going through there while you’re on embarkation, but leave was pretty good, over weekends.
LC: So how long was that period, you know, of embarkation?
BS: We were there not all that long, about a month I got. We, I embarked on the 10th of February.
LC: 10th of February.
BS: On the Hermitage.
LC: The Hermitage.
BS: On a ship called the Hermitage. It was an Italian ship that had been, when war broke out in England and it was in the Suez Canal port and it was interned there, so it left.
LC: Okay, yeah.
BS: When Japan bombed Pearl Harbour the American government commandeered it, they took it over, moved it to the east coast of America to a place called I think it was Norfolk or something.
LC: Norfolk, Virginia.
BS: Yeah. For it to be converted to a troop ship.
LC: Okay.
BS: Armed, armed with guns on the rear and stuff like that, you know, it could do about, travel about twenty four knots or something like that I think and was regarded, it could zigzag a course and fast enough to dodge submarines, you know, so we ended up on the old Hermitage.
LC: Right.
BS: Now, get on the Hermitage, landed there, Woolloomooloo on the night, on the day of the 10th I think on the 9th, it might have been the 9th of February and sailed on the 10th anyway, of February.
LC: Did it sail on its own or were you part of a convoy?
BS: Eh?
LC: Was there any escorts or did you sail on your own?
BS: No, we sailed on our own. We, out of, the first day out of Sydney, we sailed from Woolloomooloo, the first day out of Sydney we were escorted by two destroyers. One was a Dutch destroyer and they get out but the next morning they’d gone.
LC: Yeah, ‘cause there was the submarine threat.
BS: More or less the zigzag course, then they got, put us on to lectures during the day and stuff like that, you know.
LC: Were you aware of the submarine threat, of the submarine threat while you were on board the ship?
BS: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
LC: Did they have special, any drills?
BS: They did because they, on these lectures and that, we thought well this is a bit of a gem of an idea, the lectures, I thought, and I went round once on the deck, we’re allowed the deck space, you’re on a Yankee ship, now you only got two meals a day when transit, the American ships, you know, and I wander around looking, I’m on the deck and didn’t have a life jacket on, you see so I’m nabbed, Oi! No life jacket on the deck, down to kitchen duty. Three days kitchen duty but I tell you gee this turns out all right.
LC: All right!
BS: You can have three meals a day, you cart hot stuff around and although that’s where I got to like sauerkraut and saveloys and of course baked beans, typical Americans. And then after the three days, we get on, get up to wander round the deck, [unclear] I got nabbed again, back down the kitchen duty you see. But then we’re getting to on then, was on the last day of that when we called in to Pango Pango.
LC: American Samoa.
BS: No leave there, and word got around then the next stop would be Honolulu, we’d be given leave there, we would be stopping overnight you know, Pango Pango we stopped overnight. So I said well no after this we won’t worry about this ‘cause you know we better have a bit of leave in Honolulu, when we get there, if we get there. But just before we got to Pango Pango, I think it was about two days before, we drifted for quite a while one night. Now what it was there was some rumours around they think there was a sub in the area and they shut the engines off, something like that, but the next day we get going again and whatnot, if they’re worried about a sub or leaving any remark, then woke up during that day that it had taken on a lot of supplies for the north, to take the troops over for the North American landing and they had a lot of supplies on board, you know, but they had a lot of chocolates on, Chorley’s chocolates, and they’d gone bad in the Tropics, stuff like that, so these Chorley’s chocolate bars, they were leaving -
LC: Leaving a trail of chocolates.
BS: Leaving a trail of Chorley’s chocolates out, oh god.
LC: I can just picture that, a Japanese submarine following a trail of chocolates to the Hermitage!
BS: But they wouldn’t have caught up with us anyway ‘cause they were doing twenty four knots and that, they cruise along pretty well, it was not a bad ship like that.
LC: So when you’re not getting nabbed and doing kitchen duty, what was the standard routine on, you had lectures, training, PT?
BS: Yeah. You were on training or you could be assigned to gun duty at the back, but they soon gave that away to the Aussies, ‘cause they used to have to put up a weather balloon every so often, if Aussies were on the gun crew they shot at it.
LC: Took pot shots out of it.
BS: They popped at it. They’d get it. So we were out of favour. [Laughter]
LC: So the crew was all American were they?
BS: Yeah, but they had the canteen was open for an hour a day, you could get sandwiches there, and we’d generally get on. Now, while we were going across there, we had a group we called the Bunduck club, I don’t know how they got that name, but they used to, they sat around the deck. Well I never had much to do with them ‘cause I got sent down for kitchen duty. But this bloke had a gramophone, only had one record, it was “In the Mood”, and of course by the we time got down there and get to Pango Pango and going off on this one record the needle had had it, you know, [unclear] so when we go on the leg up to, going up to Honolulu they reckon they’ve got to, on back on the Bunduck Club, they reckon right we’ve got to get a gramophone needle when we get to Honolulu, you know. So we cruise along to Honolulu all right, with odd lectures and stuff like that. We managed to get by.
LC: So how long was the cruise?
BS: Eh?
LC: How long did it take to get to Honolulu?
BS: Four weeks.
LC: Four weeks to Honolulu.
BS: Well no, three weeks, we got the, we got six days, it was a week to Pango Pango, another week to Honolulu, another week to, or just about a week.
LC: Okay. So your time in Honolulu did it that, you said you had some leave. Did the ship go in to Honolulu Harbour or did it go in to Pearl Harbour?
BS: No, into Honolulu Harbour. Now we were split into two, one lot were given leave the afternoon we arrived there, it was about midday we arrived there about then, they were given leave till about eighteen hundred hours or something like that, then in the morning we were also given leave till 23:59 hours. So away we go, few of us, and this bloke out chasing this gramophone needle, you know. Now that’s the first time I’d ever struck traffic driving on the wrong side of the road.
LC: Oh yes, of course you did.
BS: So my mother went close to receiving that telegram!
LC: Oh dear!
BS: You look right and step out and the next minute, this thing come phoom, great negro driving this truck, bloody hell! Oh boys we got to look the other way! So we go round looking for this gramophone needle. Well, we’re getting shown everything: bloody knitting needles and darning needles and sewing needles, and all sorts of needles, you know. We had this bloke Russ Martin, Russ was a bit of a wag, real outgoing bloke, so we go into one place, and of course what we couldn’t understand, what we noticed also there was the large Japanese population in all the stores, and guards on every door, on every shop door.
LC: American guards.
BS: Yeah. And of course If any, they they stuttered they get shot, no muckin’ around. So we go in to this place, and old Russ no, no gramophone needle, you know, you’ve got to think thing you turn round and round and you put the thing down – ah you mean a phonograph needle!
LC: Oh right, yes!
BS: So then we’re right, we got our phonograph needle.
LC: Once you know the American lingo you’re all right.
BS: So we got that and another bloke and myself, Noel Hooper, we come out, and we’re wearing our tropical uniforms, Noel came from Nambour and he was shot down too, but evaded capture and died not long after the war, but he, we’d come on back and this Yankee bloke come and talk to us, what you got to do, would you like come and have a look at Pearl Harbour? He was a Yankee officer. Well, that’ll be great, but he took us to, we went through two check points, now at the last checkpoint we’re looking down on Pearl Harbour and now at this time it was about half past eleven, you know, we said to him ‘Listen we can’t go on we’ve got to be back on the ship by 23:59’, ‘Oh okay’, he said, no, no but we’d got that far, you know, he was quite willing to, take us down there. Generous, so he took us back to the ship then.
LC: But you didn’t quite get to Pearl Harbour.
BS: We got a chance to look down on Pearl Harbour. Just to look down on.
LC: Oh, you looked down on it. Could you see the damage?
BS: Yeah, yeah. So that, that was a bit of an experience.
LC: Well it would have been, yeah, only months after.
BS: Then we went, went back on to board the ship then sailed. And as for sitting out on the deck playing the gramophone record that was out of the question, ‘cause God it was cold! The seas were rough and cold eh, once we left Honolulu, oh, just lousy. Fortunately at Honolulu they must have anticipated this, we were issued with sheepskin jackets those, from the Australian Comforts Fund. They come in handy.
LC: Yeah. They would’ve. So where were you sailing to now?
BS: Going to San Francisco.
LC: San Francisco, okay.
BS: So we met then, came into San Fran after a couple of days of that, getting the seagulls around and whatnot, come in to San Francisco, under the Golden Gate Bridge, coming up the Golden Gate Bridge, the ship’s not going to go under there! Look that! But there was tons of room.
LC: Oh yeah, just a bit!
BS: Oh what a sight, you know. Pulled up opposite Alcatraz, the prison camp, and we were unloaded pretty quickly and put on to ferries to go over to Oakland, where we were put on to a train, we got a meal and put on to a train and then sent north to go up to, through, Oregon, Seattle and Vancouver. That was a⸻
LC: You didn’t get any—
BS: So on the train--
LC: So you didn’t get any time off in San Francisco, just normal movements.
BS: No, no, we caught the ferry across. We were away that afternoon on the train from Oakland, you know, and just with our wanted on voyage luggage or something, you know, not wanted on voyage would have been unloaded, it was following us somewhere. So we get, and that was an experience ‘cause to get on to the train then oh god it was comfort, it was warm and negro walking around, magazines, ice cream, anything, oh god everything, you’re whipping through, the damn thing’s going that fast you couldn’t count the telephone poles going past, you know. Boy this is not like the Queensland ride! [laughs] What a great trip that was.
LC: Did you do any stops on the way to Vancouver, did you stop on the way?
BS: Yeah, couple of stops at Salem or something.
LC: Or Seattle.
BS: All the meals were on the train. One thing we sort of noticed a lot, no fences between buildings, and a lot of them not painted, you know really a difference you know, different, fir trees right on up till we got nearly to Seattle and then we couldn’t get over, that’s when we first sighted Mount St Helens, blew up later there.
LC: That’s the one, yes.
BS: All the snow on top of it.
LC: Yeah, yeah.
BS: And then in to Seattle and then moved on then up to Vancouver.
LC: Right.
BS: Got to Vancouver and then, that was early morning, the meal, breakfast at the station, issued with Canadian currency and given the leave for the day. Now that was my first contact with Rotary. A bloke, a Rotarian, said you blokes come round, you like to look around? So he drove us around town and out to the Capilano -
LC: Yup. The Narrows.
BS: Where it is, the park out there, you know and looked out at about mid-day, he says ‘What I’ll do’, he says ‘I’ll take you round’ and he went away, come round, then he arranged to come back and pick us up, ‘You go out and wander around the park there, you know, I’ll come back and pick you up at about three o’clock or some [unclear] and take you back to the station, give you a look around town and take you back to the station so you can meet, you’ve got to be there at 1800 hours or something and head off up over the Rockies to Edmonton.’ So he did that.
LC: And he was with the Rotary.
BS: We had a pretty full day.
LC: So you’re back on the train again heading to Edmonton.
BS: That was one of the greatest days out, that trip up through the Rockies.
LC: Yeah. It’s still winter isn’t it?
BS: Yeah. The middle of winter, go outside, and all the rivers frozen.
LC: At this stage were given you any extra clothing? Had they given you any extra cold weather clothing at this stage?
BS: Oh no, the trains were air conditioned, we were warm as toast in there. We were just sitting there in our dungarees more or less, looking out, getting over and some of these blokes, the waiters on the train there too, looking out, look all the snow cover and down between the trees there’d be a clean line of snow, down, you know. And they’d tell us: oh the bears keep that clean so they can skid down. I don’t know whether they were pulling our leg or not, might have been. But we believed them anyway.
LC: Oh yeah well, why not.
BS: Then we got to this place called Avola, and they had to stop there, we had a couple of stops before that, you know, going past Mount Robson but we couldn’t get over not a tree on them, you know, just bare rock and snow. What a great water, water resource that is, you know, we could do with that here, just then it melts quietly during the summer and sends it all down through the Prairies and whatnot, and down through the Mississippi and whatnot. So I did, we eventually got to Avola, got there into things, fixed it up in camp and then we set off from Jasper to Edmonton. Now, there’s a bit of a hold up just outside of Edmonton when we get down a bit, and then we arrived at Edmonton. I tell you, you blokes are lucky, the temperature’s twenty six below, now you’ve gotta get out, there’s trucks here to take you out to what they call the Manning Depot at Edmonton, you know, M Depots, they don’t call them reception depots or anything, it’s like the embarkation depots were called Y depots, I don’t know what the Y stood for, but the Manning Depot. I get this, the temperatures this side and they’re gonna get the trucks out, I said the best thing to do is make sure you’re about the first on. I’m grabbing the back and everybody else piles in behind you, they went out and they told us there the truck driver said there, if you were, if the temperature was two degrees cooler, that was twenty six degrees Fahrenheit, minus twenty six degrees Fahrenheit, if two degrees further and everything would be closed, everything would stop, okay so. Anyway we got out, we got us to Edmonton all right. We back down, put into some barracks there. The first barracks we were in, they were older barracks and the ablution blocks and that were, oh, about a chain away or something, you know, twenty, thirty, forty yards away, something like that.
LC: In the cold weather.
BS: If you had to race across to ‘em, you know, if you did, you had a shower or anything like that and you’d come out and your hair was wet, time you got back to the barracks it was all ice! You got back in a hurry. But not long after we were transferred to new barracks just across the road and they were all air conditioned and the toilets, everything was inside all in the one building, you know, and then we got issued first of all at the Manning Depot got called and then to issue our battle dress and our instruction books, text books and that on various, meteorology and navigation and whatnot, you know, and the first day like that, we didn’t get, another bloke and myself we didn’t get our battle dresses that day because they’d run out of Australian battle dresses there, so we had to go back oh, about a week later and get ours, back to the Manning Depot.
LC: So this would have been the dark blue.
BS: So this was out of the aerodrome, yeah. This was out of the aerodrome. So we settled in then.
LC: So your course was starting there then?
BS: Settled in to lectures.
LC: And Go!
LC: Oh yeah, right on, you know. It was on.
LC: Almost the day you got there, you went right into it.
BS: Right into it, yeah. They didn’t muck about. They get on and you did certain amount of lectures before your first flight, you know and they had to be ready for that and got issued with flying gear and whatever. And all various things and that’s where I had, I mentioned to you there before, where one of our blokes, the three of us that were good mates and stayed together we, and one of them had gone out and met this girl or something, we went into the, what we couldn’t get over there, we went into the YMCA, the YWCA rather, no YMCA over there, YWCA. Terrific facilities, you know, indoor heated swimming pool, dance floor, bowling alley, cafe, you know, dining facilities, dance floor and all, oh, terrific, you know. And Eric, who met up with one girl there too the first day and tied up with and we were invited then to be the, there was a group called the Twentieth Century Club, this girl was Italian and she used to organise hikes and that of a Sunday and we would go on them you know and that, Eric must have been out somewhere and he met this other girl, and just on the lectures a couple of days later this, the phone rings, wanting to speak to Eric Sutton or one of his friends, and this is this girl, ringing up, going oh yeah, well look Eric’s told me about you two friends look I’ve got two lovely friends too she says and they’re quite interested in meeting, how about come out and come meet us and we can go shagging one night. And you know shagging. I come back to the instructor and of course after the haw-haws about the shagging and whatnot going on, the instructor explained that shagging in Canada is dancing! So we said yeah.
LC: That’s all right though still. [Laughter]
BS: So we went out. They were great kids, they put no pressure on us, they were just - we were brothers, and that’s the way it was. Now the girl I went with, her father, told us when we left, he come out, he couldn’t thank us enough, now look, I can’t thank you boys enough for what you’ve meant to our, these three girls. He said none of them have got brothers, and they’re good friends, you’ve put no pressure on them, apparently, well it’s, I don’t know whether he explained, there’s never any pressure like this, they couldn’t attend all the things, they couldn’t come to our passing out parade because they were occupied, one was away, on holidays, one was a schoolteacher, you know they had their thing, but they were great kids, and their parents.
LC: So the locals were very happy, very happy to have you around.
BS: Yeah. He was great. When we left, when we had to go on to embarkation depot when we left from there, he come out to the train, we went to his place, to go along, thing is he said ‘I’ll drive you all to the train. I’ll take you in to the train’ then, but the girls didn’t come with us. They just, well, said goodbyes at the house.
LC: So you’re training at Edmonton, so now what aircraft was that on? What aircraft are you on?
BS: Ansons.
LC: Ansons, yeah.
BS: And you did, you flew in pairs, you had two, you had a flying mate come in. The second one, the first one did the navigation, you did practical navigation, you’re on set courses. There were a number of set courses which you flew by day then you flew the same course by night. And they were all bush pilots, Canadians, leased out, the bush pilots and they, they flew by the seat of their pants, I’ll tell you that, they were good pilots.
LC: Was this medium level, low level navigation?
BS: No. Very, very seldom went above two thousand feet.
LC: Okay, right, so it was very much visual.
BS: Yeah, bit of cloud that forced you up, but no, down low.
LC: So what you are learning is primarily visual and dead reckoning and that sort of thing.
BS: Yeah, just dead reckon navigate. The second bloke, the second nav on that trip, you’d do the first trip and he’d do the second. Second nav sat there, he did map reading. He practised his map reading and the old Ansons there didn’t have automated wind up the undercart, he had to wind up the undercart, hundred and thirty six turns.
LC: Oh bloody hell!
BS: Bloody. They were good. The er, we had a couple of trips there I think were, were memorable. The first trip we went on, well, our first flight, we had a bloke, his girlfriend was a schoolteacher at a school just outside of Edmonton, something business well did he do that turn up, I was starting to get a bit airsick by the time we was finished, he’s getting [unclear] was down there looking through the window of the school.
LC: Is that right? Beating up his girlfriend.
BS: That poor old Lanc he must have thought it was a Spitfire I think, the Anson, you know.
[Other]: I’ll give you two minutes. I’ll give you two minutes.
LC: Okay. Alma’s just entered the room and we’re being told to take a break in a few minutes.
BS: Right oh.
[Other]: [Unclear] we haven’t even left Canada yet!
LC: Yeah, we’ll get there, oh we’ll get there!
BS: That was, you know, gave us the two minutes. Then we had a trip later on, which is a, which a pilot, one of the few pilots who didn’t, who was not always on course ‘cause the thing there, for training and for navigation over in England was a bit rich ‘cause you go, your first leg’s to Ellerslie, well Ellerslie, that’s the three wheat silos down the line there, so you see it, and of course they know it’s there. But we had a trip, we had to go to a place well down, was a long way down and we were over ten tenths cloud and a lot of them pulled back, they came back. We had to go to two thousand feet to get above, I said ‘No we’ll carry on’ [unclear] and the pilot gets there, I said right we should be over, oh hang on [pause] no, I just, oh Coronation, a place called Coronation, and he looks around, he come down, there’s a break in the cloud there, yeah, we went down. ‘Oh’, he said ‘We’ll have a look at the railway station there and see, should be there’s a railway station there’, so he gets down. So he runs along, I think he damn near ran the wheels along the train track, Coron-wheesh, just went like there, no chance, so he goes round again and we shot off a bit, yeah, Coronation, he said ‘Righto, we’ll climb back up.’
LC: You’re reading the signs on the station were you!
BS: Yeah, yeah, read the name on the station to make sure. ‘Oh’ he says, ‘That’s good.’ Well I think I got brownie points for that trip, come back the old nav kind of thing. You’ve got to thank the pilot, he flew the course you gave him, you know, not tracking it, you know. Well he had to, he couldn’t see the ground anyway.
LC: So how many training trips did you, flights did you do on the course before the end?
BS: I think, I think the course was about twelve days, twelve or fourteen day trips and twelve or fourteen night trips.
LC: Okay. And how many a day, was it sort of you know, fly, day off, fly, day off?
BS: Oh we finished there the end of July, it was only over a couple of months, it was solid.
LC: Okay so you’re flying almost every day?
BS: Yeah yeah yeah yeah, quite a few, weather’d stop you quite a few days stop you, then you’d have catch up, night time and whatnot.
LC: Okay, we might take a break in a second, but so basically we’re up to, you’re coming to the end of the, coming up to your passing out parade so when we come back after the break we’ll go from there to Halifax and then we’ll get stuck in to operations in the UK.
BS: To Halifax. We’re going on holidays to New York [unclear].
LC: Okay, this is part two, we’re reconvening at half past twelve after a very, very nice lunch and a cup of tea. Okay welcome back, Bob, okay, now we got to, we’re talking about the time at Edmonton on the Ansons, the, so at the end of your training there, so was that the stage where you passed out, with your passing out parade. Was that the stage where you actually, did you get your wings, your brevet at that stage.
BS: Wings, yeah. Navigation brevet and then we get on, [cough] and after we left as I said with, we had that, spent the last day with the families of the girls, the three girls we were friendly with there. One of the fathers drove us to the station so then we left Edmonton then, by train, at night, all across the prairies, down through Winnipeg to somewhere got off, changed trains then to go on down to New York, via by Niagara Falls had a few hours at Niagara Falls and a couple of days at New York, looking around there sort of. And then Noel Hooper, one who along with myself were commissioned off course, we came back early from New York to Montreal to pick up our pilot officer ribbons and that, you know, we were given our slip on the pay parade, last pay parade at Edmonton, here’s your commission, sort things out yourself, something like that. Then we decided there in Montreal no, we’ll just take that, we’ll just do the pilot’s thing hang on to our present uniforms and wait till we get to England to be issued with officers uniforms, you know [cough] and then we caught up with the rest of the crew, the rest of them coming back from New York, coming up to Montreal and then we head off by train then again and along the Hudson river to Halifax, arrived at Halifax at the Y Depot.
LC: Right, that’s embarkation depot.
BS: Yeah, we were, completed our clearances, as they say in Canada they’re clearances whether you’re arriving or going, they’re all clearances. Completed there and settled in to officers quarters and whatnot, you know and pretty well straight away the first day, the first couple of days exercises in the decompression chamber. The Y Depot, the air force’s Y Depot emigration there, was situated on the naval station so they had those facilities so we did the decompression chamber and then a bit of practice or what to do, how to get into a dinghy from off the wing sort of. Generally leave was pretty good, mucking round there. After a few weeks we suddenly got the call yeah, go on parade: we’re on to the Queen Mary.
LC: Right, okay.
BS: So right, get on to the Queen Mary and we were billeted, there were twenty four of us, we were up on A deck, A24 and run by the, under the Americans [unclear] sort of thing and as you know on the Queen Mary the top decks were reserved for Commonwealth troops, officers and even men, you know and non-commissioned officers and the ship’s crew and American officers like that, and I think they went down to about the first four or five decks and below that you were then below decks where the main force of Americans, ‘cause after we boarded the Mary, the Queen Mary we went then straight to New York to pick up Americans. They, and I believe on that trip we go, there were fifteen thousand personnel on board the Queen Mary for that trip over.
LC: Bloody hell! Oh dear.
BS: So you can imagine the Americans, particularly the negroes, and that who were confined to below decks.
LC: Yeah.
BS: Conditions there were rotten.
LC: Because it had been refitted, it wasn’t like normal passenger cabins.
BS: No, no, they were rotten. At our deck we had, we soon learned that we had to follow the yellow line down to our eating, our mess as you call it sort of is, and I think it was the green line down to the big cinema where they showed pictures at night, the entertainment area and stuff like, and another red line to go somewhere else. But it was sort of colour coded where you go.
LC: So how long was that cruise across to?
BS: So we arrived in America late one afternoon, they loaded all night I think, and got away late the next afternoon. Then for three days went on a zigzag course across to -
LC: And you’re with a convoy as well?
BS: No, no, no, on your own, the Mary was on her own, see the Mary operated, from, its regular run at that time was from Gourock in Scotland, across to Halifax to New York back to Gourock. I think the Queen Elizabeth was also on the run but I got an idea the Queen Elizabeth operated from Southampton, and come down south of Ireland, you know, across there. We come in to north of Ireland. Then coming in to north of Ireland we cruised in lately and we were greeted pretty well by few low flying aircraft coming in to meet us round the north of Ireland and in towards the, the Ayrshire coast, moving up into the Clyde into Gourock and the most moving part of that was the Band of the Royal Marines which was aboard, down on the open deck, just below where we were standing, thing we were standing on, played Land of Hope and Glory.
LC: Oh, okay, for the Yanks, for the Poms.
BS: Well you can imagine, the Americans, there were tears in their eyes because Britain then was the land of hope and glory, there’s no doubt about it.
LC: Hope and glory, yeah that’s right.
BS: Anyway, so into Gourock lined us up on to lighters straight into, early in the morning, ah, that was about midday when we came, straight on to lighters, over on to the railway station. I think we got a meal and stuff like that, waited there, then set off that night down to England.
LC: So what was your first -
BS: So that was, travelled all through the night and then in the morning woke up, we’re getting in to the outskirts of, down past the Midlands a little bit and the first evidence of bomb damage I think, and what struck us most too, was we sped through the Crewe railway junction, that train just rattled through there at a reasonable speed and you suddenly realise in those days all the signals that were probably operated by hand, no automatic stuff or anything like that. Rattled down and then further on after we come into the real bomb damage and into London and on down to Brighton where we were accepted. The officers in Brighton were taken in to what they called the Red Lion Hotel, along and then the NCOs were billeted up in the, the Metropole and one of the other hotels further up, bit west. So we settled in there for a while, then about the second night come in, I’m suddenly given the job on duty, officer in charge of one of the guns on the front. Right, on the front, go down to this gun and a couple of other gunners come there, sort of looked at it, what do we do now? I says ‘Well I hope they’re working. Well, we’d better fire a couple of shots just to make sure’, you know, so bang, bang bang, ‘Oh they’re right’, okay. Well of course it wasn’t too long before some officious looking English sergeant major of some sort came flying, ‘What’s going on here, what’s going on here? You’ll have to be court martialled’, I said ‘What’s the sense of us being here if we’re not out testing the guns?’ We’ve got to make sure they’re working.
LC: This is on the main, when you say the front, that’s that main area on the foreshore.
BS: That’s right, the long the esplanade. Along past the main, what do they call it? The pier. So anyway he settled with that, it was all right. You can do that. Then with, we’re on to lectures that day on the pier, and I think one of the lectures on the pier, we’re on there one day, and all of a sudden there’s, you had to go up a plank on to the pier and all of a sudden there’s an unholy explosion, something happened. They were mined and one of the mines on the pier had gone off.
LC: Oh bloody hell!
BS: Got off there okay, that was all right and then it was only a few days later most of the crew we went, suddenly got their transfers, a couple of us went to London to organise our uniforms, officers uniforms and stuff like that and get to know the Boomerang Club and what it meant, had a look around.
LC: Where was the Boomerang Club?
BS: Eh?
LC: Where was that?
BS: In Australia House.
LC: In Australia House, okay, yup.
BS: I opened an account at the National Bank there as I was a bank officer, and it was then all the, the bank was all boarded up and that, there was a bit of bomb crater damage across the road with the St Martins in the Fields and that is now the official air force.
LC: Certainly is.
BS: Organised the Boomerang Clun and got the way, air force headquarters were up in Kodak House, Kingsway. We’d come in to Kingsway on the train up and come down to Boomerang House and then do the runs around, did the run up through there, to Buckingham Palace and around, got to know a bit of the area sort of thing.
LC: So getting your uniforms, were there tailors there just did standard work?
BS: Yeah, uniforms were fitted, in Oxford Street I think it was.
LC: Was that one of those places like Gieves and Hawkes or Johnsons?
BS: One of the great ones, yeah, all made to measure, beautifully made and got that settled. [Cough] It was only after a couple of days then Noel Hooper and Johnny Honeyman and myself were transferred to an Officers Training School down in Sidmouth.
LC: That’s, where’s Sidmouth, what’s close, where’s that, that’s down on the south coast?
BS: In Devon.
LC: Devon. Right. Yeah.
BS: So right, we got shot off to there, that means we then got shot behind the rest of our blokes who went through the course with us, they all got, while we were away there they nearly all got transferred to advance training schools and round about. So down to the Officers Training School and that was an absolutely solid four weeks training, in air force history, protocol, everything, you know. Run by the RAF Regiment and largely designed to train you to, if you were shot down to escape. Now, first day there, we’re put through an obstacle course. Now I’d been doing a lot of work as an, because before we left the squadron to, to go to Halifax, no wait a minute, no that’s later on, no, and in Edmonton you know, that’s the next squadron, [unclear] group there, and the, I got through the, I did the whole course within the time.
LC: Yep. That’s the obstacle course.
BS: The obstacle. But only one thing the, one thing was two pine tree poles something long enough with bars across, you had to climb up one and go over the top bar, come down, I looked when I got up there and I thought I’m not going over bloody top of that: I went underneath it. They spotted it!
LC: Oh bugger!
BS: They got it. Now there’s only one other bloke that was within the time. Now about three days before we left, the course finished, we were still there, the whole course did that course and they all completed it, in time and everything, so it showed you how they built up our fitness, the fitness of all those blokes. We would do, get on this training course was how to avoid - if you were shot down and somebody shot at you - to avoid so you go through all this drill all using live ammunition.
LC: Oh, okay.
BS: So you had to know what a 303 bullet felt like that whizzed past you a foot or two away, you know, from the rear. No mucking round.
LC: Health and Safety wasn’t very big there.
BS: So right we go on a route march one day, come along, there’s a bang, crack, crack, bang! You‘ve got to, bang! Now I get back, tell us on that route march what did you hear, what was that first one as you were coming up? Oh, some bloke, somebody let off a couple of double bangers. Oh that sounds reasonable. The second one? That was a rifle. Where was he? It was behind us, to our right. Now, if you think he’s going to shoot again, what do you do? Which way do you go? He says you go to your right, you don’t go that way, to avoid the chance of hitting you again, you go this way, right, and down, that, and down. So do that. What was that? A grenade. You’ve got to know a grenade. So we do grenade practice, get in a sandbag area, and the blokes get in, and of course half way through the grenade practices you’re told what to do, if grenade falls, you get out. Half way through, what does the instructor do, oh shit! I dropped one! Your reaction has to be straight away. Boom. Out!
LC: How long did that course at Sidmouth go for?
BS: Four weeks.
LC: Four weeks and then straight from there to -
BS: Now when we, they give you an exercise to go on, on that practice. Now you set off at the, at the school or you go to a place just outside Sidmouth, there, set off to go to school, start from here, now you got till three o’clock this afternoon to arrive here – told you where you had to go – up was a place about oh, I suppose ten or twelve mile up to the north east. So right, away you go! And we get off, you can go individually or you can get into a group, this is, you’ve got to use your own judgement, you’re own, right. Well Noel Hooper and John Honeyman and myself, the three of us said okay, she’ll be right, well we were, of a Sunday morning we’d all go, the three of us would go on hikes around, we knew a place with a bit of a cafe up just north of the thing and that and talk in there and we’d hike, we’d do twenty or thirty mile of a Sunday; we were pretty fit. So we go to this cafe and Noel, John Honeyman come up with an idea, he said, ‘I’ve got something, I was up talking to a girl the other day and I’ve got this woman’s hat’, Noel takes out a woman’s hat, thought about it, so we go to this, cafe, sitting there, do you think we can get a taxi, can we get a taxi? The taxi says, ‘Yeah, I think there’s a bloke’, organises this, this taxi turns up, so we explained to him what we wanted, oh, you beauty, says, I can do that for you, we probably gave him five months of [unclear] we get it so we worked out, we get in this taxi. So Honeyman sits up in the back seat of the taxi like they do in English taxis, come in and you sit in the back seat not beside the driver, I’m in the front seat with the driver, lying down, Hooper’s in the back seat, lying down. So we’re driving this taxi round, up they get, gets along, we knew the route, we had a fair idea where this instructor would be too, you know, so we’re coming up, up along a road and there’s a ditch along this road and a tree up along there and Honeyman looks over there: there he is, over against that tree over there, look, oh yeah, okay make a note and we just, we kept going. And the taxi let us off, went up, went up to a place and dropped us off about two mile north of where we had to go and we walked that last two mile, came out of there so we’re coming in as a group. So three o’clock comes about, it’s about a quarter past two, a bit before three o’clock, he turns up, to this point, this instructor, and a couple of others. ‘Now right, are they all here? Who’s not here – the three Aussies.’ Next minute we walked in – ‘Where the hell did you blokes come from?’ Ah. ‘How did you get past me?’ ‘Oh we got past you all right, oh, we’re coming up this road and there’s a bit of a ditch along there, we’re coming up this road and we looked and we see and there you are up against a bloody tree we lie down again and we said oh no we can’t go on past there, look around, so we crawled back down the ditch and went down further along, along past a tree, there’s bit of a dip in the road went up past there went, come a bit past and a bit north again and then come out.’ Oh bloody hell, fair enough. ‘Well’ he says, ‘Bloody amazing how these Aussies always seem to put it over us in these things isn’t it’, he said, ‘But you did, get you went together, well okay you used your initiative.’ The day later he found out what happened.
LC: Well, it’s still initiative.
BS: And he still accepted it.
LC: Good! Well you used your initiative!
BS: That ended up, so anyway we ended up, passing the course and getting out. Got pretty good. The course had a screaming skull, there was, you gave certain duties. They felt sorry for me because, I know now why, but one was Sergeant Major of Parade or yeah, Commanding Officer of Parade and Reviewing Officer of Parade: they were Colour Parades. Now, what bloody happens, but who’s, when this time when they come on, Commanding Officer of Parade one week, who’s Commanding Officer of Parade the first? Me. You’re sort of the drill sergeant of parade, you see, sort of. Now, you’ve got to parade, you’ve got to be awake here, this is parade ground drill this is, ‘cause now you’re here and the parade’s there. Now, this is advancing, that’s retiring. That‘s to the right, that’s to the left. Now, if they’re advancing if marching, if they’ve to move to the right they’ve got to do a left turn, to the left of the, you know a left turn to the right of the parade, you’ve got keep your wits about you to get right turn, parade off, [marching commands] retreat or something like that there, about turn, there, quick march, come on, yell out, they’ve got to bloody hear you! [Laughing]
LC: You’ve got to make sure you got your left and right turns right.
BS: The, get down there, the parade will advance, about turn! Come on. Parade will move to the left, or to the right, left turn. You got it right, you got it right, that same instructor. And he was, yeah, that’s all right. There’s the same as CO on parade, you’re doing other things, Commanding Officer on Parade with bloody nothing to do but stand round.
LC: Exactly.
BS: He gets on, we trained a couple of those, one day before this, we were out when he was teaching us how to yell, you know. How to, you’ve got to throw your voice, now come on, get out here now. You’d get the blokes out, line up, march them down the road, he’d hang on till they’re about eighty to a hundred yards away. Right, give ‘em, tell ‘em about turn, about turn, well of course your voice wasn’t too good, they wouldn’t do it. He’d show you. Come on, I’ll show you how to go. Right, he’d get up, he’d get one of the other blokes there, up about turn so we’d head off this day, we’re going down, there’s three of us there and then another bloke, he was a Canadian I think, he said listen, us and the ones in front hesitate. All you blokes behind do an about turn, the other blokes in the front there the three four ranks in front keep going, so he’s there, well, about turn! well back he bloody comes. You buggers, I know what’s going on here! You organised that, didn’t yer! He knew bloody well. Oh yeah, there’s a good YouTube thing on the return of the Black Watch to Glasgow and that’s got, that. I’ve often wondered why one unit of the Black Watch carries the shoulders on the right arm and other one carries them on the left arm, you know that screaming skull there, it was a screaming skull there, you bloody heard his voice, they threw that voice. Bloody terrific.
LC: Amazing. So that was, was that all practice for your passing out parade, was it?
BS: That was all the thing. And they said review, now I found out later towards the end, find the thing it was, squadron, the CO after we were in training to bring the squadron back here, that I was supposed to be navigator of, and be promoted one above substantive rank, you know, which would have been to squadron leader. Now, when my report comes back was recommendation about if ever approved for rank above or substantive rank by wing commander or above to be approved, without further question.
LC: Okay. Is that right?
BS: Yeah.
LC: Oh, that would’ve been right.
BS: Now, none of that records on your things. It’s like those records come through, it’s like the nav records from training. I’ll get to that when I get, when we got to the squadron. So we got that, we come back then. And then when I got them we were transferred up to Scotland, to West Freugh. I was with a course, blokes that went through, also went through Edmonton but they were two courses behind us.
LC: Yeah. Because they didn’t have to do the officer training.
BS: Eh?
LC: Because they didn’t have to do officer training?
BS: No, no. They didn’t. Not too many did that. There were a few Aussies on it. A couple were there for disciplinary reasons.
LC: Okay!
BS: Well, one was a bloke had pranged a Wellington on take off at an OTU. He was sent there for disciplinary reason for some reason or other; I suppose he wiped the bloody aircraft off, you know. But he was only there for a few days, he was recalled back to the Operational Training, to the OTU because he was upsetting the staff, his crew, see they’d already had a crew organised he had his crew so he didn’t last too long. He went back and there were others who were called off the course back to squadrons or back to courses or something like that, yeah.
LC: Okay.
BS: But it was an excellent course on the history of the, the psychology of the British Army, the British and the history of the air force, protocols and whatnot. I was set up. So you know you benefited a lot from it. So we went back then, so we went to West Freugh and then that’s where you started training with staff pilots. They were air force pilots, not like the -
LC: Bush pilots.
BS: Bush pilots in Canada, yeah, they were air force pilots and so on. The first courses there were set courses too, on the navigator, they also had set courses that you flew at day and flew at night, about a half dozen courses.
LC: What aircraft was this on?
BS: Most of them were over the Irish Sea, back out, over to Northern Ireland, back of Bangor, or across to, towards Newcastle from Ingham, where they were allowed, they didn’t interfere with operations or you know.
LC: So what aircraft were you flying?
BS: So they were sort of training areas for flying schools and that. So right, we did those, we and in the old Anson the main things there was the, going on Anson once we had to watch the hills round Dumfries and that, Scotland, something there called Criffel, which was a fairly high peak you know it claimed if you had flown into it you know, like around Wales there and the old Anson wouldn’t fly through a hill.
LC: Not real well.
BS: We set off one day on a flight, actually I think it was to, to Newcastle. We had two flights, we had trouble to Newcastle. We, we start off, all of a sudden, the met winds were supposed to be about, I think only about twenty five knots or thirty knots or something, but they got up to about sixty or seventy knots, you know, bloody hell we’re flying along we, and suddenly they woke up, no, no, we were recalled, we’re gonna get there too soon, you know, recall. Well by that time we were, what the hell we were getting pretty close to round about Gretna Green or somewhere, round Dumfries there, something like that, we had to come back. Well, we’re going, coming back that bloody Lanc we had a ground speed I suppose, of twenty mile an hour at the most.
LC: Yeah, with that wind, yeah.
BS: Twenty miles an hour. We come back, now we come over couple of these high peaks and you could have damn near jumped out. And then on our night exercise to go to, we had a, go to Newcastle. That was to combine the Newcastle anti-aircraft with a practical exercise, you know.
LC: Okay yes, so they can have, they can see an aircraft.
BS: They get, do a thing, probably do a camera thing or gawd knows what. So we head north, but we had the same thing, getting pretty well along about Carlisle something, we were recalled - Newcastle was having an actual.
LC: Oh okay, having a real air raid.
BS: Air raid, a proper air raid.
LC: So the anti-aircraft guys having some real practice, okay.
BS: Then we had another interesting flight which was, one of our flights used to take us -
LC: And this is still on the Anson. This is still flying the Anson.
BS: On Ansons, these were on Ansons, nearly all our navigation exercises from West Freugh would start from Ailsa Craig, that was a well known landmark, off the coast of Ayrshire, you know, Ailsa Craig. You go there, and of course they’d take off, they get over Ailsa Craig and away you go, down to Anglesey, Wales and across and come back to Ballyquintin Point or somewhere in Northern Ireland. Now on that leg you’re flying straight over the Isle of Man. This day, crew one, mates the, one of the crews they were over cloud on this, they flew that, and coming down, coming back to the Isle of Man they’re over cloud and the Ballyquintin Point had to be back below under cloud at a certain height, you know, do something, and the, come down through cloud, what do they do, straight into the mountain on the Isle of Man. Killed.
LC: Oh dear.
BS: That was the first, first accident of on that crews in flight now on that course. Then when we got to, when we finished that course, okay -
LC: What was that course called?
BS: Advanced Flying.
LC: Advanced Flying Course.
BS: Over there, yeah, and flying and bit of conditions you get over there, crook weather and half the time you can’t see the ground. Now, I’d say the six, it was about five or six weeks we were at West Freugh we only saw the sun about for a couple days, on the ground, [emphasis] at twelve hundred feet, or fifteen hundred feet you’re up in sunlight.
LC: Was that just fog or low cloud?
BS: So we were then transferred to Chedburgh so that was the first indication that we, we’re heading for Bomber Command. Because Chedburgh’s Number 3 Group’s training, training, Operational Training Unit and where crews are formed, you know.
LC: Starting to feel a bit real now was it.
BS: Settle in to Chedburgh, went down, got in, settle into Chedburgh, settle in to officers quarters there, as they, so called, and straight on to a few exercises and a crews, and to train crews, instructors, fly with other pilots and stuff like that, you know. We’d be under as a navigator, they’d check your nav courses on the bomber, do a couple of exercises, nav you know. Come back and your logs would be checked, same as the pilot, he’d be under instruction or something like that. To do, that conversion on to Wellingtons, they’d be doing circuits and bumps and you’d be doing with odd crews circuits and bumps, navigator.
LC: On the Wellingtons.
BS: And then after that they’d say right, all passed, you passed, everybody’s passed the thing. Now, into that hangar and by tomorrow morning sort yourselves out into crews. It worked. It was the best, it was the preferred method. So I go along, get on a crew and next minute Ron Hastings come up to me he says, he says you got a crew? No. He says I’ve got two, two English air gunners here who’ve been through courses together and want to stay together, they were all right and another bloke was there which the name of the bomb aimer [unclear] bomb aimer, he hadn’t been taken to a crew, Bobby Burns, we take him, and then there was another, older bloke there Vic Pearce, nobody’d take him, came up to Vic. Vic had come off, an instructor, been an instructor for quite a while so he didn’t come through with crews that had been training, you know, so he didn’t have mates or anything get him sorted out with others going through. Now Vic said - oh God yeah, Vic, Vic had so many hours experience, so we formed a crew. And they said we’d be right.
LC: Okay, so it was basically as you said, that you’re just put in the hangar, and just sort it out amongst yourselves.
BS: So we set out. Then once you’ve got a crew, and then you’re under instruction out to the, out to the satellite ‘drome to do a few circuits and bumps with the pilot on his own you know.
LC: That’s still on the Wellingtons, still on Wellingtons.
BS: Still on Wellingtons, then back to the squadron, back to the squadron. Now the first exercise we had to go on, nav exercise, bombing and high level bombing and nav exercise supposed to be, you know, from that, from Chedburgh, we were in this aircraft – it was U Uncle the same as the first aircraft we had in the squadron. And so it was, the first thing Ron on his own and that, us all as a crew, so right we’re taking off, and I’m sitting as you do in the Lanc, you know looking at the runway flying past and all of a sudden the runway goes wheet, what’s that, the runway didn’t do that, the aircraft did that, the wing dropped. The fuel tank flap on the port wing flew open and stalled that wing.
LC: Oh god.
BS: And that wing stalled. And how that wing didn’t touch the ground, if it had touched the ground we would have been killed, would have piled in, probably gone up in flames, you know.
LC: Fully loaded aircraft.
BS: No, no bombs.
LC: No, no. But full fuel load.
BS: Right, and it took the pilot straight away, we get a call for [unclear] Uncle, that was our callsign [unclear] Uncle you’re in trouble, yeah we can see that, we’ll hand you straight over to a pilot, to a trained pilot, an instructor pilot to guide you in, guide you now from now on, you know. So he come on to Ron. Now Ron at that time, and he needed the, the bomb aimer to help him hold that stick right, right over down here, low, hold that stick to get that aircraft flying level ,to keep that wing up, you know. And I’m standing up at this time and he said, ‘Smithy, see that strip ahead of us keep your eye on it and guide us around to it will yer?’ So I, looking at it, yeah, yeah, she’s right, keep going, we’re right now, we can see it okay, get back to crash positions! So I get back and I crawl past the wireless operator. Now this is where I learned something. I should have tapped him on the shoulder and told him come down to crash position, but I just walked past, and got down to crash position, sat on, the two gunners were sitting there and I sat on the edge over beside the fuselage, out on the starboard, or the port side and there we go, next minute down, down, down, come in there, landed, you know. That instruction was to come around again. Now what we didn’t know, and I didn’t know, till thirty, forty years later until another bloke that was on that second nav course that went to, went to Chedburgh with us, they weren’t flying that morning, and the word had soon got around, ’cause all the sirens went, the fire brigade had to get out, the ambulance everything out on to the runway to meet this aircraft coming in to crash land you know and it soon word got around that it was Hastings’ crew and of course Keith Dunn, there was a navigator, this navigator that I met thirty years later, he knew, he knew Brian Hastings, our pilot ‘cause Ron’s father was in the Union Bank of Australia, and Keith was in the Union Bank of Australia, and they both worked at the [unclear] Hunter Street Branch of the Bank of Australia at the time you see, so he knew of Ron. And they thought oh god, don’t tell me it’s Ron, it’s Ron and Bob Smith because we’d become good friends and next minute goes on, we land. Just as we land of course, the land, the sometime, my son said to me at the time he says, and the pilot, the plane swerved, because the rear gunner left go of the, and the pilot couldn’t hold the stick there again, we’re still at flying speed and the son said to me once, that wonder the undercart didn’t collapse I said no, no weight on the undercart, that’s still at flying speed, the weight’s still all on the wings. You know. But it swung. Now, I felt the wheels touch the ground, [unclear] and went to stand up to get out, and the rear gunner had done the same, and he was a big bloke, and of course when we swung, when it swung there, he fell against me and bashed my head against the - well I got a blunt trauma.
LC: Is that what that scar is?
BS: Led to all my troubles later on, you know. Yeah. So, I’d been knocked out, I know that, ‘cause they told me then, they were laughing, what you laughing at, they said the field ambulance had just come back, Chedburgh, just came back [unclear] Uncle, if you pancake you haven’t pancaked here! So Ron took a look around, he looked around and he, and oh no, took a while, the wireless operator looked around said what’s going on, ‘cause wireless on, sitting on, listening to some bloody -
LC: So he didn’t know what because you didn’t tap him on the shoulder.
BS: No, no. He’s away in another world, what’s going on, so with the joke and I’d got up then too and we looked out and I could get up stand up well I said we’re back at Honington, this is, we recognise the screen, went out, so we told them then, they worked out, they sent a crew out to take us back, we had to go straight to the medical guy to get checked. A feller there told me there, he says well you’ve got a bit of a bump there, you got and, bit of a bump there and oh god, that eye’s bloodshot, that should come all right, if you get a bruise come out and a bruise comes out probably okay, but he said if it doesn’t you might have trouble later on and that’s what did happen. It had damaged the optic nerve as well, you know, and caused pressure and also caused that cancer, meningioma core something, which didn’t happen till I retired, you know, just after. I never mentioned, the bloke treating for me glaucoma the ophthalmologist in Brisbane, I never mentioned to him that I’d had a trauma there and he couldn’t work out why I was getting, you know. And with the, about three days later the skipper said to me, he says ‘You’d better go and see about that eye again, it’s still bloodshot’, I said ‘Oh it’ll be right, we’re not bloody losing you as a pilot, the way you handle this.’ So it just went on. It never worried me then till oh, 1960, oh about twenty years after, when I was at Cumbria, you see I noticed driving that little smirr in the vision of the eye, you know, so I went to the optometrist. Oh he said I’ve got to send you to an ophthalmologist, a specialist down in Brisbane he says you know, you’ve glaucoma, high pressure, glaucoma there, if I’d mentioned it then he might have said, you know, he said yeah, he did that, put in a bit of a valve up there, which was supposed to last, only supposed to last for twenty five years but was still going fifty years later!
LC: Bloody hell! That’s all right.
BS: But it looks as though, no, he says it’s been damaged under that optic nerve and he says it’s gradually getting worse, he said no, you’ll gradually lose sight there, then when I come up and got out, that tied the two together and went, put in for disability with it, you know, with the, the Vietnam boys got on to me, they went through with it and then they said that could see no evidence of sharp trauma or something, we’re not talking about a sharp trauma, we’re talking about a blunt trauma sort of thing, but the he come in had me allowed, traumas, these traumas they can move too and also are allowed that can form non-malignant growth, tumours can form, you know, on the skull if the skull’s been damaged slightly somewhere there.
LC: But at the time though that didn’t preclude you, obviously didn’t preclude you from flying after that.
BS: No we had, the old bloke, the, Ron always reckoned we disturbed the medical officer and his WAAF assistant, he couldn’t get rid of us quick enough!
LC: Okay.
BS: So we got that out of the road anyway and we kept going and completed the tour there, went on and had a few quick trips in the old Wimpeys, good experience, get on, nothing more greatly unusual, just the usual thing, lectures and stuff like that.
LC: So that point then -
BS: And of course a lot of lectures from blokes that’d already completed tours or had escaped, been shot down and escaped given a few clues on what to do, what happens over there you know and the present position [unclear] shot down and whatnot. Then from from Chedburgh then we were shot through to what they call 31 Base at Stradishall. That attached us to Chedburgh which is Stirlings, we were flying Stirlings to convert on to four engines and they, we also picked up a flight engineer there, you know. That was our first flight engineer that we had the problems with. Our troubles with, or Ron’s experience, unusual experience with aircraft went, now Chedburgh was on a plateau and it happens there one day they’ve got to do a take off, they’re doing the engine failure on take off see, so right, taking off and the old the instructor cuts an engine. What happened then? So Ron, put a little bit of extra revs on, not getting anywhere, couldn’t start the bloody thing again.
LC: Oh dear.
BS: But fortunately it’s on the plateau, the ground fell away from us.
LC: Of course, ‘cause you’re on the plateau
BS: So the ground fell away from us to give us a couple of hundred feet to do a bit of a dive to get up speed, get a bit of flying speed and then the engines would, so that, that worked out all right, you know, so he had a go, so he, he had a, so the instructor said well you handled that all right he says you might as well try a three engined landing. So righto, I know I’m no [unclear] right now, so he’s got’d to do a three engined landing, that was good experience. So that was a great, we got the [unclear] of Ron.
LC: How flights did you take?
BS: So we weren’t going to let him go.
LC: How many flights did you do then on the Stirlings, four engine on the conversion.
BS: Oh, between circuits and bumps and I wouldn’t know, probably about twenty. It’d be quite a few.
LC: Okay. Over two or three weeks.
BS: Quite a few various ones. We, one day there we had to deliver, we had a, got an instruction out just Ron, Ron and the flight engineer and the wireless operator, I think there’s only three of us. Ron come, said ‘Come out here we’ve, we’ve got to go out, we’ve got to do an air test,’ he said to me, ‘The CO’s taking us out’, so we get out to the Stirling, we’re told there, you got to go to Stradishall, well we knew Stradishall you can do a pub crawl to Stradishall. So we got in. There’s this gorgeous looking girl sitting up in the Stirling, on the nav seat. You’re to go over to Tuddenham.[pause] Don’t fly over five hundred feet, so Ron didn’t take any notice that extra nought, that means fifty feet, so right we go over, in your log book you don’t say landed, and then took off again, just come back and land back here, you’ll be met over there. So over we go, landed Tuddenham airfield, this girl to come in, she’s to be dropped over France that night, one of the Special Duties Squadrons, you know.
LC: Okay, so she’s one of the SOE agents.
BS: Yeah, yeah. Whether she’s parachute, or drop her by parachute or drop her or a Lysander or something, jumps in and jumps out, you know, well of course she was a lovely girl, could speak perfect English and French I suppose.
LC: Was she French was she?
BS: What?
LC: French was she?
BS: She was French, I think, I think she was French. I’ve got an idea she was. Yeah, yeah she was, that was an experience on the old Stirling, get on, and then once we got the flight engineer then, he’d come off straight on, well he was just straight to the crew come in from the course somewhere, plumped on and well I don’t know what good he does on Stirlings, on Pratt and Whitney engines or whatever they had, I don’t know, but then we went across to the Lancaster Finishing School at Feltwell for a few days and that was just circuits and bumps with the pilot under instruction. We get on to and a for a, oh I think about a few hours each, a couple of days up. That’s when I first met Keith Miller, cricketer. Ray Lindwall was there at the time and I think that’s where they met and Keith came over, something to do with the cricket, or something like that, and yeah, we had a game of cricket and get on and then we come along, we’re told then right you’re appointed to 15 Squadron. We pack up, there’ll be a, get your clearances, called round here, there’ll be transport, there’s a couple of other crews, I think there was one other crew went to 15 Squadron and another one came from another Lancaster Finishing School or something I think at the same time you know. So we moved across to 15 Squadron, got settled in.
LC: And where was that at?
BS: Went round to the nav section.
LC: Where was 15 Squadron located?
BS: At the nav section, that’s where these, where you realise how the training under the Empire Air Training System and then with the RAF was pretty damn thorough. Now, I walk into the, I go in to the nav section and our flight lieutenant, the nav looks at my things, oh you’re the sort of nav bloke we could do with, good on yer, we’re not going to have any problems with you, okay, so led away. There was another navigator there who’d just finished school, a bloke called Flying Officer Johnny Moore. He was the first Australian that finished a tour with 15 Squadron. He said ‘Well now listen, you blokes should be right. I’ve just broken the hoodoo on Aussies on 15 Squadron, I’ve finished a tour, I’m the first Aussie that’s finished a tour on 15 Squadron.’ And of course the two English blokes that were with us, they thought that’s a bloody good idea, if he’s got, finished a [unclear], we’ve got a fair chance of getting back too sort of business. But and [unclear] sort them out, but now.
LC: That was at Mildenhall.
BS: Yeah. Now at Mildenhall. On that, on that report it comes in for the flight engineer must have been a report to the flight engineer as well, there was some concern about our flight engineer, ‘cause in our first op the flight engineer came with us as a instructor. See the, on the squadron the nav officer can’t fly with the crew for some unknown reason, don’t know what that is, the, the COs can, I don’t think the flight officers can take a sprog crew, but the gunnery officer can take ‘em, the wireless officer doesn’t need to I don’t think [unclear]. So right, so we had the nav officer, the flight engineering officer, now which was fortunate, ‘cause change of wind, we were on the short runway, which comes out and goes in, went pretty well over the officers quarters, the old Mildenhall officers quarters, you know, and, on the short runway, now this is the first time that a pilot takes off with the full bomb load and full petrol load and we’re just starting to take off and he says ay, ay, ay get those things through the stick we’re on the short runway you’ll never take off, you’ll never get off if you don’t, so he rammed it full through, we got off.
LC: But this was your first operation.
BS: Yeah, yeah, this was our first op. But after that things were pretty good, was down to flying bomb base there, a good trip down, individually, flew in, we were on the second wave on this flying bomb base, dropped our bombs, light bit of, there’s a bit of light flak, no fighters things like that, they had a turn off down to the right and dive, go down towards where the troops had landed after D-Day, you know, and then go out over, that’s our first sight of the Mulberry.
LC: Oh yeah, Mulberry Harbour was it. Aramanches.
BS: What a sight, so we got down, good sticky at that and back to England.
LC: Now you mentioned to me earlier on that you did a sortie supporting D-Day. While you were still on your training, on Lancasters.
BS: Yeah, we went to north of France, that was down up off the north of France, went to, had to fly down and stop five miles short, well Gee set was operating good, and it was all right so five mile short, if you were out, if the navigator was out and he overshot by five mile, he could have been in trouble, he would have been in the defences on the coast, you know, but no, it was all, we just cruised along the coast dropping the Window out there. So then on the, after we did, there, that was in Uncle, which was a brand new aircraft, oh it was a great old aircraft, first one and our next trip there in Uncle, we did a couple of trips after it that Ron came with us, he was all right, he went in to to Fleurie de Louche, was an oil dump in the north of France and that was okay, no flak or anything like that. Then we went to Chalon sur Marne a railway marshalling yards just north east of Paris, or north west.
LC: Yep. And this was in support of the D-Day landings.
BS: Yeah, yeah and it was a pretty solid trip for navigation dodging the defended areas and stuff like that, and the, got over there, bit of flak, fair bit of flak, got back and the flight engineer, Ron, that flight engineer Ron then, he, he reported sick the next morning and he was still sick when we, when we were, went to Kiel. Now Kiel was an unusual target, the place we only got flak and searchlights, were a problem, you only got, the flak there was what they called flaming onions. Now it wasn’t the anti-flak gun, you know, the 135mil or the 128mil, it was rocket propelled 38mil because the rocket was over Peenemunde you know where they experiment with the rockets and that, Peenemunde, rocket, and this thing, and we took, and so we get to Kiel, now just as well when we arrived, Ron wasn’t with us - we got caught in searchlights.
LC: Ron Hastings
BS: Yeah. We got caught in searchlights, and these flaks, they’re amazing things, you’re looking at it, you get a light pinkish sort of a glow, and looking at it from the aircraft they just seem to go “deeee, wheest”, explode a few hundred feet above you. Right, we got out of that, got out of the flak all right, got back, okay, well, and then the next trip, one more trip I think was okay, he was all right with us, down to, that might have been Falaise, down to the Falaise Gap or something like that then we were sent mining down to the Gironde river.
LC: You’re dropping mines?
BS: Sea mines, into the sea lane of the Gironde river.
LC: Okay. I actually didn’t realised Lancasters did that.
BS: This was where Uncle’s, that Gee set in Uncle was a terrific Gee set. And I only used Gee, like most of us did, on, where you had a coastline. There were a couple of blokes could use it inland, they could pick up a lake, or a town or a slightly different signal from a forest, but I never got down that, picked up a Gee set, you know.
LC: That’s just, gives bearing doesn’t it.
BS: And so we go down, we had a fly over ten thousand feet over the Brest Peninsula ‘cause the Yanks were in there then, then drop down to eight thousand feet, down fast, the estuary of the Gironde river, bit below the estuary, cross the, cross over the river then, go on to a course 010 into the shipping lane, you know, now I’ve got the, the old Gee set was good, looking out and as soon as we crossed the coast a bit there, the bomb aimer gave the skip, said righto skip go on to 010 now on to the thing to drop the mine. And I looked at this if we’re on that we are going to be over the narrow part of the thing we’re gonna drop on the narrow lane, we’re not be on the thing, no, I said no, no, no, no, we can’t do this, we’re not in the lane, we’ve got to go round again. So round again we go. I said I’ll tell you when to turn. We went across, I watched it on the Gee set, and then this is it, righto, now, so right, we’re on course, beautiful, with the Gee set one thing we were right on target with it, you know. Now up we go, drop the Gee set, and it went, the instructions were there, to, on the last, on dropping the last mine to turn sharp to port and dive at two hundred and forty mile an hour, now, that’s what it is, sharp to port, and that’s what happened, just after we dropped the mine, the bit, they couldn’t get this straight away but when they did, we must have, there must been a hill, or were defending that gun position at Royan to the aircraft, where we were to drop the mines. By the time he was up, we were on a dive, and we had oh, tracer and that’s going, that only seemed to be going that far above the aircraft, but I suppose it was a bit higher, you know, but he couldn’t get down quick enough, we were driving too fast for him, and got out of his range, you know, and now by the time we got out through the estuary, Hastings was just about down in the mists of the waves. [Laugh] And of course when we get out there, I got cursed at, Smithy, you don’t do that again.
LC: Was that go round again?
BS: Now, what happened, [unclear] will know that either, when I was doing those cruise ships there and going through the history of there was a raid on Royan in January that cost five aircraft. Now, and the position of Royan, what it is, now if we had been on that first round, we were flying straight at that garrison, at that, he couldn’t have missed us. We’d have been straight at him, straight for him, at eight thousand feet and then when we turned on the thing, he couldn’t have bloody missed us. We’d have been gone for sure, you know. And at Royan, it’s very interesting the history on Royan, cost five aircraft, that garrison. A German, a French officer committed suicide over it. He got word to the Yanks that this Royan, they should get a message to the Bomber Command, they should bomb Royan, the garrison at Royan, is the only, the only French are left there favoured, on the side of the Germans see.
LC: Collaborators.
BS: Yeah. They were collaborators, yeah. Now what happened is, they did two, did two raids on that, the first raid went, bombed it, did bloody lot of damage, not too many civilians were killed, they were all, the warnings were given, they were all in air raid shelters stuff like that come out, and then when that stopped, they all come out of the air raid shelters, the guns are quiet, next minute another raid comes and a lot of them think, and a lot of them were still the old French, the German garrison’s still all right and of course a lot of in that area of France they were, they supported the Germans a little bit, round Bordeaux and that, ‘cause they provided employment, you know, bought their fruit and their vegetables, and the farmers, so. And those, in the second wave they were [unclear] by time the second wave, the a lot of the aircraft, I think there were five Lancasters went down, a couple of them collided and a couple didn’t make it, they had damage over the thing and had to prang [cough].
LC: Amazing yeah. [cough] So could you -
BS: Amazing. But what, see what happened there, when the, when the Yanks took over, when they took over Paris, and the Vichy French, you know, sort of come in and de Gaulle’s troops, the Free French forces up in the Brest Peninsula, they were given control of that area but they were not given the equipment to go and bomb, go and get stuck in to these other units at Royan and those places, you know, they just held back and held back and held back, they didn’t have the equipment. So when we came back we had to climb back over ten thousand feet over the Brest Peninsula again.
LC: Oh, bloody hell.
BS: Because at night time, the Yanks, anything up there’s not theirs so they just shoot at ‘em!
LC: So could you give me a sense then, of a, could you just run through a typical day if you’re on ops, how your day would start or [unclear].
BS: If you start like this. Well, I’ll give it you like this then, the, yeah, well after that we had no in flight engineer for a while, you know we got to do so – I’ll cover that in a minute - and then one day this engineer turned up, a Jock Munro, a Scottish lad, he turns up, Jock comes and straight into it. Well there’s, now Jock’s first flight was a trip to Stettin, nearly ten hours, in old Uncle again, and with its good Gee set, we got wonderful fixes all along the north coast of Denmark and that, you know, and down across Malmo and over Sweden, across Malmo, what happens over Malmo, anti aircraft sets up a fair dinkum, shot down about five of us, but there’d been a bit of story something before that they were, the Yanks had got stuff in to the Swedes about they were shooting and they were shooting going too low and not being fair dinkum and the searchlights were pointing towards Germany and all this sort of whatnot, but they and the Swedes must have thought they’d better do something about it, you know. So they shot down a lot, they were Sweden now.
LC: They were Swedes, okay, Malmo of course.
BS: Over Malmo. Yeah. So Jock sitting there, this is all right, we get over Stettin, and over Stettin was another target, the flak was heavy, searchlights again, searchlights got us, we got coned there again, it’s an experience being coned in searchlights, oh god, you just, you just, but they weren’t quite as severe in Stettin as they were in Kiel, ‘cause the atmosphere was pretty clear and stuff like that. In Stettin, by the time we’d bombed, I think we were on second wave, you know, and time we got there there was a fair bit of smoke down the ground, it was cloudy over the target area, the searchlight were rendered a bit ineffective, you know, so anyway then we got back, and when we get back over Stettin, over Malmo, there’s quite a few had held up one of their thousand pound bombs, was quite obvious, now and again boom, boom, and then all of a sudden -
LC: Oh dear.
BS: I’m looking out, I’m looking out and next minute this bloody almighty explosion, now, that was more, either that or he hit an ammunition dump or something down there or, or somebody saved his cookie.
LC: This round by Malmo, this is Sweden.
BS: Somebody saved his cookie, there’s this almighty explosion. What’s next? A blackout. [laughs] So now we go, now we’re headed out across over Denmark, down low over Denmark and that’s where we come out over Denmark, out, no we’re still a fair height then, we had to drop to two hundred and forty mile an hour down across the North Sea, to beat the sun, you know, so right, Ron sets the must have set it on Gee set two forty down to eight thousand feet, so right down to eight thousand feet, seven and a half thousand feet, seven thousand feet, oh look at Ron, give the old flight engineer a ring, see if Ron’s asleep – he was! Flight’s on Gee.
LC: Oh no! Single pilot too. Bloody hell!
BS: So what does that do? That, that gives us, puts us ahead of the rest of the squadron or anybody else that wanted to do the same, get back, you know, anyway, back we get and get back and I’ve got a note on one of those log sheet of mine, you’ll see the notice by the nav assessment officer - good trip spoiled by uncontrolled speed on the way home. But we arrive back a bit before the rest of the crews, which was, did happen a bit later, [unclear] but old Jock, Jock just stood there, as calm as you like, we said well, boy, this is the flight engineer we want on the crew.
LC: Oh, brilliant.
BS: And he did, he proved himself, another one Ron then, just after that was, we were on, was it more or less, wasn’t a typical day, out of typical day, one day we were on the battle order to bomb Stettin in the morning, a m raid on Stettin in the morning. Wake up at two o’clock for, get out of bed, get down to the mess and have a meal at three o’clock, half past three four o’clock, be at briefing at four o’clock, you know, over to briefing, stuff like that, get all that down. So away we go, this is all right, and we’re on the second wave here, this is on the second wave on Stettin, on Duisburg, Operation Hurricane, on the morning raid, the Yanks were following us, after, they bombed after us, and so we come in, old Jock’s carry on, but Ron this time, time we come up, our turn to bomb, just before we released our bombs, the Master Bomber gave the code word for “bomb at your own discretion,” ignore the, don’t worry about the thing, the target area’s been hit hard enough and bomb at your own discretion and now as soon as he said that, Ron come out, I can still, I can still hear it: he didn’t call the pilot, the bomb aimer by bomb aimer, ‘Hey Burnsy don’t bomb, don’t bomb a residential area!’ Just screamed like this, you know. Now, Burnsy, oh Burnsy said ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a target ahead the same as this aircraft that’s just up in front of us, there’s a ship berthed beside a dock up on the Ems canal up just ahead of us’, I can see him, and this bloke I think has got the same thing, he did, and both our sticks of bombs get in there, but I can still hear Ron with that -
LC: Don’t bomb a residential area, yeah.
BS: Now I didn’t know till fifty years later when we met Ron over in Perth, went over Ron in the 1990s, to meet him: he was German descent.
LC: Okay, yeah.
BS: His father was, his family name was Hohenzonberg, it’s in the thing there, he was in the ANZ Bank, and had been transferred to Dubbo I think it was, well one of those places in New South Wales, in 1936. At the time when Hitler was starting to get a bit unpopular and the Germans, and the ANZ recommended to him that he anglicised his name, the family anglicise his name and Ron picked the name of Hastings, he was at high school at the time, Ron picked Hastings. That just explains it. I can see a lot of German in Ron: he was methodical, very methodical. The German methodical business. We’re not in trouble till we’ve finished. Old Ron. So there we are. And then we get back from, from Duisburg, what happened, about midday, get up and go and have dinner, you know, after debriefing and dinner, there’s another battle order out: we’re on it to bomb Duisburg again the same night.
LC: You’d only just finished!
BS: Back at, back at the darned briefing again at about seven o’clock or something, and too late to go to bed, just going, so we hung on kind of thing, go to briefing, get sorts out, and away we go.
LC: Did that happen often that you’d -
BS: No, no, no.
LC: It was just a mistake in schedule.
BS: Just the way it was, yeah, just the way, we had to catch up a bit I suppose. There were a couple did the two trips, maximum efforts, you know. It’s a saturation raid, and on we go. Over on the night, well of course going down no trouble finding it that night, the fires are still burning, you carried on and carry on and you look down on there and say how the hell would you like to be in Duisburg tonight, today, come back out, then on the way back out, it was bloody cold night, I think that might have been the night we got to a temperature about thirty five degrees centigrade outside, you know Lancs, the instruments, the temperature instruments were in centigrade, the speed, that was in miles per hour!
LC: Just to confuse things.
BS: So we’re on the way out, at twenty thousand feet and cloud tops and whatnot come out, and just I suppose oh, ten, fifteen minutes later, out of the Ruhr and then by that time, getting over probably over you know the top of Belgium, France somewhere, out of the Ruhr anyway, going, over France and there’s these cloud tops and all of the sudden there’s a bright moon shining on the cloud and this great canyon between the two clouds and the moon, you took one look and said what beauty. Now you look back there, now there’s what man has made, and look at that: what God has made.
LC: Yeah, yeah. Contrast.
BS: Just hits you, it just hits you, you know. You’re not meant to, and the Lanc with the purring you know old engines didn’t seem to interfere with it. You just sat there. You’re sitting on a platform and a lot of people never got the chance to see that, only now you know, night time. Beautiful sight. We got back to bed I think, got back to bed about two o’clock, four o’clock in the morning. We had to get over it, it was a long way, bit of a route out, come out four o’clock in the morning, we had to, we held up, no we weren’t held with briefing or anything. See a lot of, you’ve probably seen in a report with ninety five aircraft were shot down over, over Nuremberg one night, you know, the greatest loss in one night and somebody, they come out on the record books and operation books, ninety, over five hundred aircraft reported no problems; didn’t see anything. They won’t use their nous like. Now, you’re about a seven or eight hour, nine hour trip, you know, by the time you come back it’s got to be something bloody important before you tell these these interrogation, intelligence blokes, ‘cause when they get their teeth into something, they hold you up there for about a flamin’ hour, you know! No, nothing to report.
LC: Exactly, just want to get to bed.
BS: No, nothing to report, bombed on the markers, we think they were out a bit, but we bombed on the marker, get out and get back and get your cup of tea and get back into bed! [laughter] You’ve got to be practical. You’ve got to be practical.
LC: Yes. They probably knew it too.
BS: That was Bomber Command.
LC: Bob, do you want to take a short break?
BS: See that was a short, like a typical day, would be up, you’d be on the battle order, when you’d have to report for meals, then your briefing, then out to the aircraft and go and some things. Intelligence was quite good, we were always warned, after, some book I read once after the thing they went back to the mess and the hotel for a couple, [unclear] that was out, no way in the world would we go, ‘cause we’re always warned the old Bird in the Hand Hotel, they had ears in the walls and this was proved a couple of times, blokes would come back that were shot down they told us, we’d only given our name and numbers but they told us who our new CO was and he’d only been there a couple days.
LC: Is that right?
BS: Intelligence, we were put on to a target one night there when we flew in Sugar. Now Sugar was, Sugar’s dispersal point was out right against a sugar beet block, a bit of an old wire fence against it, so we get out and just as we’re ready to go out intelligence bloke comes flying in. Hold on, he says, time on target’s been put back an hour, word had just come through that Jerry’s changed the changeover, changed the shift an hour. So the idea was and then he woke up after a while, that if there were the shift coming on didn’t come on till half an hour later till that other shift had gone, the two shifts weren’t there together, that’s the idea [unclear]. So we go out to Sugar and we’re killing time you know, that’s when I took that photo that’s on the, and walked over to the fence to have a yarn to a couple of Land Army girls there and these two blokes, I don’t know where they come from, Cornwall or something I think, chipping the sugar beet - you boys flying tonight? Yeah. [Rural accent] You won’t be coming back here in the morn, be foggy. They were right too. Now this was, now what happened this night we got we went, on the way back we got recalled to - Mildenhall was closed for fog - and we were diverted to Honeybourne, down near Devon somewhere or some thing, Honeybourne, Honeybourne. Now you might realise Mildenhall is nearly on the Greenwich Mean Dateline, you know, and this night took us all, we’re never going west anyway, so you had nothing west on your chart, that was, so soon as that comes up, everything lines up greatly and sweetly must have lined up around Bomber Command, where the hell’s Honeybourne, what’s the lat and long of it, you know? But fortunately they came back with a Gee set, with the Gee reading for it, you know, so you got to a Gee on a certain channel, on 18.2 or something 18 02 or something, and follow that till you come to and you see the pundit, so that that worked out you know.
LC: Okay. You got in there and were okay.
BS: Yeah. So we got it and then we flew back the next day, you know. And then the last op, when we thought we were on the last one that was Dortmund. We come back, I, I got called up, the skipper come to the, down to the nav section, we’re on a bomb, on a battle order again to go to I think it was Gelsenkirchen I think it was, on the battle order that night, to go there and in this, after Uncle was shot down I didn’t tell you about the one we had the trouble at Homburg with after Uncle was shot down over Hindburg, you know, we got given another new aircraft: N Nan. So Nan, we’re in Nan for this to go to this event in to Dortmund in Nan, and get back, the skipper comes to us: we’ve got to go up and see the CO. He said well listen, you blokes, you’ve done your thirty trips, you’ve done one more as a matter of fact, he says now will you do another two to see the mid upper gunner finishes his tour? And Ron, that night over Hamburg when we got badly hit, Ron wasn’t in the best of things for that, that’s why he didn’t, wouldn’t take the, I think the CO could see, didn’t want him, want us to take him to as the Master Bomber to Hindberg, you know, so he Ron said no, no, no I can’t do any more, and I backed him, ‘cause I could see he was no good and also we had to consider three of the others, there were three others in the crew had completed.
LC: That was it then.
BS: Anyway, they, they saw their crew out and anyway, it was getting to a time when the risks weren’t all that great. Just, just the odd one, where the petrol became available to the thing, or the weather went against or something. weren’t all that great you know, or that unlucky shot, which does happen. Does happen, yeah.
LC: So when you’re officially told okay your tour’s over, what then happens, what then happens to you, once you’ve done your tour what do they do with you?
BS: Well, I was, we were given a fortnight’s leave, fourteen days leave. So I went back up to Scotland, moved around about, then when you came back, we were, I was posted as a navigator to a place called Husbands Bosworth, great name.
LC: They’ve got some great names in UK, don’t they.
BS: Husband Bosworth. So went and got our clearances, another bloke: Jim Claresbrook, he finished his tour. We used to fly together, we were the two lead navigators. There were three of us who were appointed what they called wind navigators. After a couple of trips when Met winds were out to billyo, they decided they’d have, get their main navigators to send back their wind, their wind speed what the wind they’d calculated at, and give it to the wireless operator and he would transmit it in code, right. So he was another wind navigator and the two of us always led the squadron on DH raids over the last few, last few six weeks or so. So Jim and I come in, so we go up to the CO’s office: he’s not in! But his offside is there, you know the old adj, he said oh the adj’s not in, but I’ll, just take a seat there if you want. He said there’s a bit of, bit of a mess, signal in from Bomber Command that might interest the two of you, better have a look at it on the table. We read it and this read two commissioned navigators who have just completed a tour of operations are to be retained on the squadron. One as a navigation assessment officer and one as a GH officer. Well Jim used to usually be at the GH lead, so we looked at them, so the adjutant comes in, we looked at him, and said look hey that job’d suit us, well you bloody beauties, he said, that solves a problem for me, doesn’t it, he said, I’ll cancel your postings, get back to the nav section!
LC: Okay!
BS: So Jim and I went back to the nav section where Flight Officer Webb couldn’t have been happier. Oh you beauties! I can do with you two back here so he’s laid down what he wanted. We could go, as long as one of us was there, that was right, the other one could be on holidays or do whatever he liked, as long as he was doing his duty wherever he was wanted somewhere else, that’s all right, and as long as we didn’t disturb him, he would, we could do briefings that he might not be, but he’d be there when the crews returned from operations, he’d pick up the turn, he would do that and he would always be in his room for an hour, an hour and a half after meal time, after meals, after he had his meal every day, he apparently he stood on his head behind the door or something and he had some separate yoga system or some bloody, he was an odd bod in some ways, very good bloke, but boy was he pleased to see us back there. So that was, that got him good.
LC: All right, okay well we might take a break now and then we come back just for a bit more final session and then maybe just cover the last stage of the war and the end of the war and demob and return to Sydney.
BS: That won’t take long, I’ll just cover that.
LC: Do you mind if we just take a quick break?
[Other] I’ll make another cup of tea, cheers.
LC: Okay, this is now part three, at twenty to three. So where were we Bob? Just sort of you’d done the end of your tour, you’ve gone back as a -
BS: Finished the tour, yeah.
LC: You’d been back there as one of a couple of navigators working back on the squadron.
BS: Yeah, yeah.
LC: So I asked you earlier on, what was your feeling though, when you, when you landed after that final mission on your tour how did you feel? Was it just, did you get out of the aircraft and sort of just -
BS: No well we didn’t know.
LC: Oh you didn’t know!
BS: The last time. We didn’t know until the CO told us, no.
LC: So did you know, did you know at the beginning how many missions you had to do to complete the tour or did they change that?
BS: Thirty. Though they lifted it at one place at one time to thirty five. Yeah.
LC: Okay,
BS: But that didn’t last long, they withdrew that.
LC: Okay, all right. So you hadn’t, had you been counting your missions as you went along, number eighteen, number nineteen.
BS: Put them in your log book, op one, op two, op three. Better not call them missions!
LC: Oh sorry. Ops, sorry! [Laughter]
BS: So we went down and then six months in I was called in to, after we settled in to the nav office with the nav officer outline what he’d be happy for us to do. Got tied up in a couple of enquiries about, one about a WAAF who had been promoted but it didn’t work and then another about an Aussie aircrew who had more or less referred to one of the girls in the Parachute Section as a Malvern Star who lodged a complaint when somebody explained to her what Malvern Star was in Australia!
LC: Oh dear! [Laughter] Oh dear.
BS: Called in all sorts of things, you know, but quite interesting, kept going, you know, kept up our our athletic training, we had a good athletics team there that sort. [Cough] At the end of the war after the end of the war when the, when the British Games were back in, the News of the World British Games at White City were on we entered a team for the 4 x 880. We come fourth in that, we should have won it, but we came fourth, we made a bad blue in the order of the runners, that worked out all right.
LC: Wonderful.
BS: Just with filling in time more or less, waiting, coming out here, you know. And then I, we got, eventually got called, they called down to Brighton then at about the end of May or something it was, time went around, at that point gave us leave weeks to do, up to Scotland a few times, round, just just more or less time was your own, got a bit boring as a matter of fact ‘cause you’re more or less waiting for a draft for a ship to come home.
LC: So at this stage, was the war in, Germany hadn’t surrendered at this stage, it was still the war in Europe’s still going.
BS: Europe had finished, yeah.
LC: Europe had been. So did it at any stage look like you may be posted or 15 Squadron deployed to the Pacific?
BS: We were, when we were called back I was in line then, 15 Squadron and 622 Squadron were forming a squadron of Lancasters and be supplied with Lancasters designed to carry the larger bombs, you know, to come out here to Australia, but when the RAAF or the Australian Government recalled us all to Brighton you know, that fell through.
LC: Okay.
BS: So if, if it was a decision made at the time without knowledge that the nuclear bomb was on the way, it was a very risky decision.
LC: Yeah, yeah. So would you have potentially then, so you said you were waiting for a draft to get on the ship to come back to Australia, was there any, was it definite at that stage you would demobilise or would you then come back and be part of the Royal Australian Air Force in Australia and go on operations with RAAF in the Pacific.
BS: You could do, some of them re-enlisted back in the air force, but no I, I wasn’t at that stage.
LC: So which stage, you mentioned earlier on you went up to Scotland when you’re sort of biding your time there, is that where you met Alma?
NS: Oh no, I’d met her before locally but then it wasn’t till we came back till, I was, after the tour and then, oh, a few month before we left home and was on leave, we sort of realised we had soft spots for each other.
[Other]: Ah!
BS: And agreed and worked out then, if when we eventually got the call to, on to the troop ship to come home, agreed that we’d correspond for a year, just give a year, kind of thing, and if we still felt the same way after twelve months we’d announce our engagement.
LC: There you go.
BS: And then get married. So that stuck to it, you know. Come back and got stuck into the war, I went back and we got married.
[Other]: Courted by correspondence for two and a half years.
LC: Two and a half years!
BS: Went through a heap of dry gullies and whatnot since, up and down like everybody else does.
LC: Yeah. Outstanding! So how many years have you been married now then?
[Other]: Seventy!
LC: Seventy years!
BS: A bit over seventy years.
LC: You’ve got your little card from the Queen and the Governor General and all that. Sixty.
[Other]: Sixty and seventy.
LC: Sixty and seventy, yeah.
BS: I got that from Queen Elizabeth, Bessie. When I got transferred to the squadron, I didn’t mention there before, but just a few days after we were there, the Royal Family paid a visit, that was one of the most interesting days I’ve had in my life.
LC: Yeah, is that right. Young Princess Elizabeth.
BS: When we found out that the old King he was, well, how he enjoyed talking to us, no errors in his speech, something like that.
LC: No stuttering?
BS: After he had visited the squadron and made an investiture over in the, in one of the hangars, and after lunch, we’d course we had all been given the protocol we had to follow with the royal at lunchtime: we couldn’t finish our meal before the King and we had to address him as Sir, the Queen was Ma’am, strict rules and tried to hide ourselves in the, in the lounge area after meal, till the visitors came in, was about three or four Aussies together, stood together over the side, the window near the main entrance to the officers mess, and when he come in to it he made a beeline straight for us.
LC: Did he!
BS: Yeah, straight for the, come over, how‘s it going, seemed to be very interested in what we were doing and whatnot, and one of the fellers said to him ‘You seem to be interested in something outside the window there, Sir.’ He says ‘I’m just looking-‘ where we’ve had that thing out there, I said ‘In that garden bed over there, they’ve whitewashed all the stones’, he said ‘I’d like to go over there and see if they’ve been whitewashed underneath!’ And that’s what his aide de camp told us, he says he’s with it all the way. He just get on, and when he explained a few things to us, to about Elizabeth was, made some remarks about one of the fellers gone up, we said to him well she could have come up and talked to us, he said oh no, there are -
[Other]: Are you recording this?
LC: Yes, yes.
BS: He says, there is a restriction he said, that made the Queen mother with the restrictions, but better not mention that.
LC: Not at all. Okay.
BS: But he was, he enjoyed it, and we gained the impression from him and from the aide de camp - that he’d given specific instructions that Elizabeth was not to be commissioned, she had to be, go through the ranks, and both her and, both him and her mother, were quite aware that since she’s been in the army and as a driver, she was learning quite a lot about boys. She had a real, he gave the impression she had a real fun attitude about her I can understand why she married a bloke like Philip, who’s the same as [unclear] tells things as they are.
LC: Yes. Exactly.
BS: The situation as it is.
LC: They only got married a couple of years later.
BS: Eh?
LC: They only got married about what, 1947.
BS: Yeah, yeah, you know just before that. Good on.
LC: So can I just get a general question then? You experienced some initial time training with the Royal Australian Air Force in Australia, and then you did the Empire Training Air Scheme, training and Canada, ops then, do you have any general observations of the efficiency of it all? The Empire Air Training Scheme?
BS: The whole, the general idea I think of the whole training was tremendous, it was really well thought out, it was tremendous. A Bomber Command squadron was a unique family: ground crew, aircrew they depended on one another and they treated it that way. I was on the squadron, there were two COs, the commanders of both squadrons made it quite clear that we were a family, [emphasis] we were brothers and sisters, the WAAFS. Now probably, might realise in all families now and again there is a black sheep brother and a black sheep sister, accept them, but that’s it. The ones that are, you’d treat them as sisters and I’d like to think that Bomber Command in particular goes down as one of the main factors in winning the war.
LC: Yup. That was going to be my next question.
BS: Because they tied up, they tied up so much of the German defences protecting their cities, that great heaps of guns and ammunition and manpower was not available to fight on their other, the African front or the Western Front., you know, gets on. When you look at it and I think some of their leaders recognised this at the end of the war, they suddenly realised that if they’d had this equipment available on the Russian front, or on the, down in Africa and the Middle Eastern Front, they’d have come out on top there. But they didn’t.
LC: So the, looking back at it now, while you were there on ops, did you get, you saw the sort of the targets you were bombing on a, you know, on a regular basis. Did you get much, were you given the opportunity to get much appreciation of the overall campaign? You got briefings on this is the way, this is what we’re trying and this is your part in it.
BS: At the time, the overall campaign particularly after D-Day and with the American Air Force bombing, we, we could see whether Montgomery and Churchill, or whoever was behind it, or Bomber Harris of Bomber Command, who had a definite strategy, don’t worry about the tactics, the strategy, you know. It was quite obvious to us that the Eighth Army Air Force had adopted Bomber Command strategy of area bombing, and by some great spin as I suppose you might call it, they somehow still got the word back to America they were still tactically, tactical bombing. ‘Cause we know some of their, some of their blues they were well out.
LC: Yeah. Well they bombed primarily, they decided to go mainly daylight bombing while the RAF -
BS: Well they only bombed daylight. Some of the things we‘re aware of, they’re well documented now too, in in histories of Bomber Command and the logs and that come in, the, bombed wrong targets, missed targets all together, didn’t take easy way out of things, you know, sort of. Yeah, yeah. Just got on.
LC: So have you got any observations about general command level, you said you had a couple of COs on 15 Squadron, other levels of command up the chain, did you have any observations and thoughts on, were they good commanders, from Bomber Harris down, were they, did you find them good commanders?
BS: Not really, no. That all seemed to work.
LC: Yeah, yeah. Okay.
BS: The general strategy, they had a good strategy, like I think Bomber Harris’ strategy: right, we’ll fight them on their terms - they started it, they get the same terms back, and that was it. And we backed him, his crews backed him.
LC: And now his statue is outside St Clement Danes.
BS: He never wavered from it, he never wavered from it, he never wasted time going round looking for photoshoots, making things for COs like politicians do today and COs and stuff like that, he had a job to do and he stuck to it and he never wavered.
LC: And was that generally, was that the general feeling on the squadrons at the time? Everybody had a deal of respect for this guy?
BS: Yeah, yeah. With us being the [unclear] squadron, yeah. I’d say so, yeah.
LC: So at the end you’re down there, down at Brighton, you’re waiting for your draft to get on the boat back to Australia so how did that all, that process all go, you eventually obviously?
BS: That’s good. ‘Cause we’d met a lot of blokes that had been taken prisoner of war, and coming back, you know and blokes that served on other squadrons so you met them again.
LC: Comparing notes!
BS: Went through along, yeah yeah. Made up for things. Then we could run around on the beach again, ‘cause the mines had been taken off, and all this sort of business, go to a few shows, and up to the Boomerang Club, a lot of blokes had ended up out in the Mediterranean too, see they’d come back to there, no.
LC: So how did the process work then? Suddenly you would have got a message at some stage, you’d got your slot, a spot on a boat to come home.
BS: At squadron there was a parade every morning at which Daily Routine Orders came out on, on that was, if a draft or duty the Daily Routine Orders who’s the officer in charge of the parade the next day and whatnot, sort of is, and you look at that and quite often you’d see the officer on the parade the next day is Flying Officer Joe Blow or something and you know Joe Blow is going on holidays up to some relatives and he’d be away for another three days so you or somebody else would stand in for him, that’d do and you knew darned well if you went away like that, and you got a leave pass, nobody worries about that sort of thing, and if you were away you’d send back a telegram, want an extension of two days, it was always granted. We’d go in to the Boomerang Club, we had our, collect mail and also we’d collect our pay there, going on your pay would accumulate, you’d go into Boomerang Club and get your pay up to date and then take it around and put it into your bank account at at the bank, you know round in Australia House, National Bank at Australia House. We had our contact, contacts in Australia House who would say to us there was no troop ship available for at least six weeks. So you knew right then any application for leave was going to be approved.
LC: Okay.
BS: No. But it was wasted time. And then when we got, when we did get out, I got home, I got on to the, we were told got to go on the Stratheden to come home, we came home via, through, called at Gibraltar and then at Port Said and Suez and then come around through the, straight around the corner down to Freemantle, you know, then up to Sydney. We had to wait, we had to slow down a bit after Freemantle ‘cause the Andes was coming, it left after us, but it had Queenslanders and New South Welshmen on board as well but the Andes was taking crews through to New Zealand and we had a few New Zealanders on as well that we’d picked up in the, coming through the Suez Canal and Al Quattara so the Andes caught up with us and that docked ahead of us in Melbourne so the New South Wales blokes and the Queensland blokes that were on the Andes got off and come on to, on to the Stratheden and that’s when my pilot, I met my pilot again, coming out, he’d come on the Andes and a couple of other fellers, you know, so we had a good yarn with Ron for a couple of days. We come on then up to Melbourne, shot out of Melbourne the next day up to Sydney, In the morning into Sydney, all on deck again to come through the heads, on to Sydney, into Perth at Woollamaloo again. The Queenslanders and that were the first off there and they got to shoot off out to Bradfield Park again, and told us what we had to do again, we had to be back and to be on the up at the, Gordon, to entrain to go on through to Newcastle and up to Brisbane, you see.
LC: So you did the rest of the way by train.
BS: Yeah, yeah. So when we get there that’s all right. When we come out it, I was, it was a bit confusing in a way, ‘cause when the draft come out, I was still on the draft as Flying Officer R W Smith, you know, but on my pay book and all, my war substantive rank of Flight Lieutenant had been, what they say, had been promulgated.
LC: Promulgated, yeah.
BS: Yeah, and they woke up to that just before I got on to the ship, you know, so right, but that didn’t make it, I didn’t worry about that. We get on to the train at Gordon to come home after killing bit of time. I raced back and saw an old lady I used to made her home available to me before we left, you know, and tell her I’d met a Scottish girl, she was a bit disappointed, she thought I’d pick a good Aussie girl, [laughter] but she said whatever you find probably right. So we got on the train, got in to Newcastle, [pause] Newcastle that night, yeah, that night and this Warrant Officer comes up, looking for Flight Lieutenant Smith, Flight Lieutenant Smith, yeah that’s me, you’re officer in charge of this contingent you know, no I said the first I’ve been told, he had a great heap and wad of papers that he kept to himself anyway, went and gave me through a bit of a run through what had to do sort of, you know, he’d go and then the next morning was the casino or something for breakfast and he come up and he turns up again he said now what’ll do is, we’re to be met, there are cars, RAC are providing cars to take us from the end of what was the junction – Clapham Junction, no - Brisbane -
LC: Brisbane, Run street?
BS: No, no, it stopped at South Brisbane, it stopped before South Brisbane, some there, maybe [unclear] airfield that it was, there was a some junction there, they’d be taking us from there, into the city and out to Sandgate, you know. Now when we get to Sandgate, they’ll take you right through to where you’ve got to congregate. The parents are all be up at this area here. Now I’ll parade them all, line them all, tell them up, call you up in to the front and give the order to quick march up to there and then when you get up to there we will be dismissed. I said righto, fair enough. So right, we get up to and do this: Quick march getting along, quick march, okay, there the parents there, I said well if I’m in charge of this bloody parade, I’ll just dismiss the damn thing! So we get up to court area, Squad Halt! Squad Dismiss! The bloody war’s over! Well I heard, I heard somebody say to dad waiting up there, my sister had said god, dad there he is up front. I heard some bloke say to my father – who was in the army you know in the army - is that your son, yeah, dad said to him I wouldn’t call the King my bloody uncle today. [Laughter] This old Warrant Officer looks over, he just sort of wandered off with a heap of paper.
LC: Brilliant!
BS: That’s what I said to dad, the war was over, the war’s just finished.
LC: The war is [emphasis] over. So what stage -
BS: They picked me up with my cousin who was in, had fought in Woolang Bay and got the, come out, wasn’t too good, and, ‘cause my younger brother now, couldn’t get over how much he’d grown. But now, my cousin Daniel Pampling, before the war Danny and I were great friends, ‘cause Alec was, quite a few years between Alec and myself, you know, a bit, eight years or something and Danny and I, actually we were close, we were as close as brothers, even after the war, we could talk to one another, about experiences, he’d tell of experiences with Japs, he was, he was hooked up all day in a heap of guinea grass with Japanese on the other side of it, they didn’t know, you know, and we could talk to things about that sort of, you know, Danny and I and get on now. When we came back Danny drove us down, he come back and on the way back, Dad used to take the cream into people in Harrisall, a Mrs Fresser, they were German, Karl Fresser and his mother, their son was in, was shot down and killed, about a year before I operated, you know, he’d only done a few trips, but he ended up on a, on a Pathfinder squadron and he was shot down on one of the Berlin trips, you know, in the winter of ‘43 ‘44. Well after that, she used to, I think she more or less adopted me as a son, she said to dad, she was always asking after me, you know. Now before we went home, back to Greenwood, to the farm, we come through Harrisall, dad wanted us to call on Mrs Fresser. [pause]
LC: Yeah. Oh nice, you popped in there did you?
BS: When I think about it I cry.
LC: So how did you -
BS: She was crying.
LC: Yeah. It’s a very, very emotional experience. Very emotional.
BS: Always called on Mrs Fresser. That’s how things change, never called her Pauline; and she always called him Mr Smith. You know, isn’t it amazing. Two sisters that, hey.
LC: So how did you find, you mentioned you were able to, your mate you were able to talk, your experiences with, how did you find communicating with other friends and family who hadn’t been, experienced it, was communicating was an issue or?
BS: I found that hard [cough] Mrs Fresser, but another great mate of mine, Jimmy Cossett from Boonah, Jimmy was shot down too, but he was murdered towards the end of the war, to meet his sister, you know, to meet the sisters or the close relatives of boys that had been killed. I had about three or four of them waiting to meet. It was a bit sobering.
LC: That would be very sobering, very, very emotional too I’d imagine.
BS: Little bit sobering. Anyway, we got, like Bomber Command blokes, we’re trained in the worst place to, it’s a game of life and death. There’s only two things we’re given to by our creator: that’s birth and death and death is it. That’s it. It’s like old Grey’s Elegy in a Country Churchyard: once they’re in there, all their joys are gone that’s it, the disappointments they had, well, and as Napoleon said what’s an honour or can any, any worth mean, what’s a posthumous award mean to the recipient?
LC: Exactly.
BS: Nothing. that’s why they cut out the posthumous awards.
LC: The French Army.
BS: Even with the Croix de Guerre and stuff like that. And they, of course they cut out all the Imperial awards too, like Distinguished Flying Crosses [unclear] and stuff like that. So you settled down there and that was it.
LC: So you were demobbed. Did you, did you have any sort of follow on support from the air force or the government?
BS: [unclear] I settled back into the war and then went back and got married. When we came back, after I married, we married, we shot to, Alma come to a different world, you know. And when we arrived was the best dust storm I’ve ever seen at Harrisall, when we got back to Harrisall to the farm, you know. And dad come in from the Territory, you’d better go into the bank they got a message for you, yeah, they want you to come back. I went back in, yeah, they wanted me to open a branch in Upper [unclear]. I did that, I went down and saw them, I opened that branch with a feller called Paul Gardner and he was a Rat of Tobruk. Now, and with a couple of a, couple of reunions we’ve had with our aircrew guards over later years there, come in, you realise in a way the bloody futility of, wars are not, not between two blokes, the people of the country. Now this Paul was a Rat at Tobruk, now at [unclear] on the corner of Kessel’s Road now where the Garden City or something, I had a relation bit further on had a strawberry farm there, but there were two blokes worked in the Department of Primary Industries as it was called then, you know. One was a, don’t know what he was, the other was a feller called Harry Warnenburg. Now, Harry come in to the bank one day to open an account something, and he’s sitting down talking to the boss, and Harry, he said to the boss, I’ve come out, no, I came out, I applied out here after, I think I was, came out from Germany after the war, and the war I was in Rommel’s Panzer Division over there. Paul said I was a Rat of Tobruk, he says oh we were around at Tobruk and they suddenly started talking to one another and they could remember things that both happened and seen there.
LC: Absolutely fascinating isn’t it, that’s incredible.
BS: Now there’s two blokes, ‘bout ten years before that, eight years before that they were fighting one another, or they weren’t fighting one another. They eventually come to the agreement, you found out the safest place on the war was on the patrol at night. Now, what you do as a patrol at night, if you’re coming round, you know the German’s there, so you maybe whisper something, you want them to overhear it, give ‘em a bit of false information, the German’s not going to let you know that he’s there, so he’s, he’s going to keep quiet too, get right so, and he said that happened on one particular incident that’s been well recorded with the Stuka shot down, with the one ack-ack gun that was there, got him fair and square first shot but it was a fluke, and they they immediately thought hello, hello, they’ve got a secret weapon and they stopped that raid and there were no raids for a couple days after till they worked out, somebody’d worked out for ‘em what it was. But there they are, two blokes, and then that blokes that meet at these things, that were prisoners of war, they’ve had their, over in England now at Bomber Command for quite a number of years there were get-togethers for trips down the Rhine every year. The blokes that shot ‘em down once they found out who shot them down.
LC: Have you every had the opportunity to meet any of the, any Germans?
BS: Only that feller.
LC: That bloke there.
BS: No German. I nearly did have one that had come over but he had gone back.
LC: Well Bob, I think that probably covers it, very comprehensively. But it’s been fantastic sitting down with you and hearing, hearing your experiences, but those, and your records that you’re graciously allowing us to copy, they will be a great complement to the recording of this interview so thanks again, thanks again for that.
BS: If you want to have a copy, a whole lot of those I’ll have a yarn with my sons, where to put them, you know. I happen to be a lad that comes from Harrisall which was on the doorsteps in Amberley, where my things’ll rest up there, with my grandmother that came out, between her and myself, the two of us, we’ve seen the whole development of that district. We overlapped by eight years on, on. But she was a girl, oh some of the stories, she was, she’s a wonderful woman, not like her two sisters. No, dad, bit like her father, they were get on. She had a way of telling you, if you did something wrong, she wouldn’t just chastise you, she’d say you know you’d better think about it, it might be very wise not to do that again.
LC: Yeah, just give you a hint, yeah.
BS: She’d make you think about it. It might be very wise not to do that again you know. I had a, made sure dad, mum sent us to Sunday School every Sunday morning, walk across the paddocks. I had a a Sunday School teacher, he was a Scotsman out here, he was killed later on out here, but you did something wrong in church or Sunday School he’d take you round the back behind the water tanks and give you a clout behind the ear.[laughs]
LC: Well it was effective. It was very effective!
BS: Well my dad gave me effective thing for being bullying. When I was a young lad, the bloke on this place next door, his father was a, was a champion rifle shooter, you know, the Queen’s medal, the King’s Medal they used to call in those days, go over to England, this feller annoying hell out of me, annoying things, I came to dad, said next time he does that heck, sock him one on the nose. Which I did.
LC: Didn’t bother you again?
BS: No, didn’t, not beat me. No, I got stripes in Ipswich Grammar. I’ve always been like that as a lad. Blokes’d have a go and I got caught Ipswich Grammar School having a fight in the in the thing one day, the old Dean come up and no ‘cause I, nobody would pick a fight with me because they thought he’s a bloody boxer! This bloke, when I came, I come in one day, I can still remember this like, how old would I have been ‘bout six, something, covered in bit of blood, so mum cleans me up, you know, I’m getting a hell of a dressing down, stop fighting, then all of a sudden it wakes up to mum that it’s not my blood: it was his out of his nose.
LC: What’ve you been doing!
BS: And of course dad, what you do? I just cuffed him one on the blood, on the nose. Dad said it was the best thing you could have done! I agree with that. Mum had the other one.
LC: Well seeing like Bomber Harris’ strategy, you started it, we’re gonna finish it!
BS: Yeah! Bomber Harris, he used to -
LC: Well that’s probably a good way to finish it Bob, so thanks for, thanks for the time, it’s been an absolute pleasure sitting down and talking about your experiences.
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 Bob Smith
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Lee Collins
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-03-25
Rights
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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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ASmithRW190325
Format
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03:30:53 audio recording
Description
An account of the resource
Bob Smith was born in Brisbane, Australia. He recalls moving to the family farm in 1932 and being a member of the Air Cadets during his school years. Upon leaving school, Smith undertook training as a bank clerk. Following the events of Pearl Harbour, Smith registered for the Royal Air Force as an air crew guard on the understanding that once he turned nineteen, he would train under the Empire Air Training Scheme. In May 1942, he was called up for initial training. He describes his first experience of death, while stationed at the Air Observer School in Cootamundra, and persuading the selection committee at Bradfield Park to alter his crew role status from pilot to navigator. On the 10th February 1943, Smith embarked from Sydney on the USS Hermitage. He recounts the details of the five-week voyage to San Francisco including kitchen duty on the ship, hunting for a record needle in Honolulu, and observing the damage at Pearl Harbour. Smith trained on Ansons in Edmonton, Canada, before traveling to Britain, where he attended Officer Training School in Sidmouth and the Advanced Flying School at RAF West Freugh. He describes the formation of his crew at RAF Chedburgh, training on Wellingtons and Stirlings, and receiving blunt head trauma on a training flight (which he traces health issues in later life back to). While stationed in RAF Feltwell for the Lancaster Finishing School, Smith recollects supporting D-Day by dropping Window along the coast of France, and using Gee during a mining operation over the Garonne River. Smith’s crew joined 15 Squadron, stationed at RAF Mildenhall, where he carried out 30 operations and remained on the squadron as a wind navigator. He details the events of his first and last operation, the process of morning and night-time operations, and flying over the Ruhr, Arromanches, Malmö, Duisburg, Stettin, and Dortmund. Finally, Smith describes demobilisation, reuniting with his family in Australia, and visiting Scotland to marry his wife, Elma.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tilly Foster
Anne-Marie Watson
Carolyn Emery
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Australia
New South Wales
New South Wales--Cootamundra
United States
Hawaii--Honolulu
Hawaii--Pearl Harbor
Canada
Alberta
Alberta--Edmonton
Great Britain
England--Norfolk
England--Devon
England--Suffolk
Scotland--Wigtownshire
France
Europe--Garonne River
France
France--Arromanches-les-Bains
Sweden
Sweden--Malmö
Germany
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Dortmund
Poland
Poland--Szczecin
Hawaii
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1932
1942-05
1943-02-10
Language
A language of the resource
eng
15 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
crewing up
debriefing
demobilisation
Gee
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
mine laying
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
observer
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Feltwell
RAF Mildenhall
RAF West Freugh
recruitment
searchlight
Special Operations Executive
Stirling
training
Wellington
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1963/41315/BLazenbyHJLazenbyHJv1.2.pdf
35022f62bb4527b9a7da34bd424ec42f
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
Lazenby, Harold Jack
H J Lazenby
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
2017-10-10
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Lazenby, HJ
Description
An account of the resource
11 items. The collection concerns Warrant Officer Harold Jack Lazenby DFC (b. 1917, 652033 Royal Air Force) and contains his memoir, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 57, 97 and 7 Squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Daniel, H Jack Lazenby and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
H Jack Lazenby DFC
Description
An account of the resource
Harold Jack Lazenby's autobiography.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Warrington
England--Wolverhampton
England--Shifnal (Shropshire)
England--London
England--Bampton (Oxfordshire)
England--Witney
England--Oxford
England--Cambridge
France--Paris
England--Portsmouth
England--Oxfordshire
England--Southrop (Oxfordshire)
England--Cirencester
England--Skegness
England--Worcestershire
England--Birmingham
England--Kidderminster
England--Gosport
England--Fareham
England--Southsea
Wales--Margam
Wales--Port Talbot
Wales--Bridgend
Wales--Porthcawl
England--Urmston
England--Stockport
Wales--Cardiff
Wales--Barry
United States
New York (State)--Long Island
Illinois--Chicago
England--Gloucester
Scotland--Kilmarnock
England--Surrey
England--Liverpool
England--Lincolnshire
England--Lincoln
Denmark--Anholt
Poland--Gdańsk
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Essen
Germany--Kiel
Europe--Mont Blanc
Denmark
England--Hull
Czech Republic--Plzeň
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Mablethorpe
Germany--Cologne
Italy--Turin
France--Bordeaux (Nouvelle-Aquitaine)
England--Land's End Peninsula
Italy--San Polo d'Enza
Italy--Genoa
Italy--Milan
Algeria
Algeria--Blida
Algeria--Atlas de Blida Mountains
England--Cambridge
England--Surrey
England--Ramsey (Cambridgeshire)
Germany--Mannheim
Germany--Munich
France--Montluçon
Germany--Darmstadt
Scotland--Elgin
England--York
Scotland--Aberdeen
England--Grimsby
Germany--Saarbrücken
Germany--Zeitz
Germany--Ludwigshafen am Rhein
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Kleve (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Chemnitz
Germany--Heide (Schleswig-Holstein)
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Homberg (Kassel)
Netherlands--Westerschelde
Germany--Rheine
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Helgoland
Germany--Bremen
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Belgium
England--Southend-on-Sea
England--Morecambe
England--Kineton
England--Worcester
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Mülheim an der Ruhr
England--London
Italy--La Spezia
France--Dunkerque
Poland--Szczecin
Poland
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Recklinghausen (Münster)
Netherlands
England--Sheringham
England--Redbridge
France--Saint-Nazaire
Atlantic Ocean--Kattegat (Baltic Sea)
Germany
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
United States Army Air Force
Royal Air Force. Transport Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
99 printed sheets
Identifier
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BLazenbyHJLazenbyHJv1
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Lazenby, Harold Jack
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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IBCC Digital Archive
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Pending text-based transcription
1654 HCU
20 OTU
207 Squadron
4 Group
5 Group
57 Squadron
617 Squadron
7 Squadron
97 Squadron
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
B-24
Bennett, Donald Clifford Tyndall (1910-1986)
bomb aimer
bombing
bombing of Helgoland (18 April 1945)
briefing
Catalina
Chamberlain, Neville (1869-1940)
crewing up
debriefing
demobilisation
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
Distinguished Service Order
Eder Möhne and Sorpe operation (16–17 May 1943)
entertainment
flight engineer
flight mechanic
Flying Training School
George VI, King of Great Britain (1895-1952)
Gibson, Guy Penrose (1918-1944)
ground crew
ground personnel
H2S
Halifax
Hampden
hangar
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hudson
Hurricane
Ju 88
killed in action
Lancaster
love and romance
Manchester
Master Bomber
Me 110
Me 262
mechanics engine
mess
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Mosquito
navigator
Navy, Army and Air Force Institute
Nissen hut
Oboe
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Pathfinders
pilot
radar
RAF Barkstone Heath
RAF Bassingbourn
RAF Benson
RAF Bourn
RAF Brize Norton
RAF Colerne
RAF Cosford
RAF Cranwell
RAF Dunkeswell
RAF East Kirkby
RAF Elvington
RAF Fairford
RAF Halton
RAF Lossiemouth
RAF Melton Mowbray
RAF Mepal
RAF Oakington
RAF Padgate
RAF Pershore
RAF Scampton
RAF Silverstone
RAF St Athan
RAF Stormy Down
RAF Swinderby
RAF Talbenny
RAF Tangmere
RAF Upper Heyford
RAF Upwood
RAF Uxbridge
RAF Valley
RAF Warboys
RAF Wigsley
RAF Wing
recruitment
Resistance
Spitfire
sport
Stirling
target indicator
training
V-1
V-2
V-weapon
Victoria Cross
Wellington
Whitley
Window
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1526/29151/BTeaseJTeaseJv10003.1.jpg
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Miles, Reg
Reginald J Miles
R J Miles
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-07-26
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.
Identifier
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Miles, RJ
Description
An account of the resource
102 items. The collection concerns Reg Miles (1923 - 2022) and contains his audio memoir, log book, photographs and documents. He flew 36 operations with 432 and 420 Squadrons.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by R Miles and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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NAME:
TRADE:
RANK:
SQUADRON:
Jim Tease D.F.C.
Pilot
F/O
420 Tholthorpe
June 12 - November 3, 1944
Born January 8, 1923 in East Kildonan, Winnipeg, Manitoba. My days in the air force started May 25, 1942 with swearing in at Winnipeg. Then it was on to manning pool at Edmonton. Tarmac and initial training school were taken at Saskatoon with elementary flying at Virden and service flying and wings parade at Souris.
At the beginning of August, 1943, I was on my way to Bournemouth. Training continued at the advance flying unit, Fraserburgh, Scotland, and then it was down to the operational , training unit at Honeybourne. At Honeybourne I joined a crew consisting of John W
Bridgman, bomb aimer from Windsor, Ontario; Don NickIfu, D.F.M. navigator, of Vernon, B.C.; Ron Baker, wireless operator, Sarnia, Ontario; Robert Owen Yack, mid- upper gunner, Hanover, Ontario; and Doug Vaughan, tail-gunner, Halifax, N.S
I know I was most fortunate to have the capable crew members I did and it was just the luck of the draw on my part. The original crew I trained with at Number 24 O.T.U. at Honeybourne fell apart when one member transferred to the U.S. air force, two others became ill and were hospitalized and another failed the course. I was moved to the crew I have mentioned who had lost their pilot
-2- Conversion to the Halifax V was carried out at Dishforth where John Naish was added as our flight engineer. Naish made 10 trips with us on the squadron and was then replaced with Reg Miles of Kent, England, who completed the tour with us
We commenced operational flying June 21 and few our 35th and last trip 112 days later on October 12, 1944
I believe that an alert, well disciplined crew along with an ample supply of good luck and an attentive guardian angel were necessary to complete any tour
Space does not allow for comments on the contributions made by all members of the crew to the successful completion of our tour or about problems experienced on a number of trips. By having an alert, conscientious crew continually on the lookout helped us on several occasions avoid what could have been serious problems. An example was on September 1, a beautiful sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, we were cruising along at 16,500 feet over the continent but not yet near the target of Castrop Reuxol in the Ruhr when the mid-upper gunner commanded "weave" after observing several flak. puffs directly astern. I turned to starboard and on looking to the port side I could see the black puffs from the flak continuing along the course we had been on. Moments later on looking to starboard an aircraft that had been on our starboard disappeared in a cloud of smoke, likely from a direct hit on their bomb load. This was ;aJl average trip with fairly heavy flak over the target and Ruhr Valley and probably would have been our last trip had the mid-upper gunner not been very observant. Possibly as important as the crew -3- keeping a vigilant watch for other aircraft, keeping on course and on time was equally necessary
Don's expertise at navigation was very evident September 27 on a sortie to Bottrop in the Ruhr. On that daylight trip with heavy cloud cover the pathfinders could not locate the target area and no target indicators were dropped. We were later informed by the squadron navigation leader that Don was the only navigator on the raid that had the correct location of the target area. On July 17 Don had the distinction of becoming the only crew member to be hit with flak. As unfortunate as it was that he was hit, he was extremely lucky that the bar of flak that made only a small hole where it entered the aircraft, hit him lengthwise across the flashlight in his Mae West, crushing the wooden case and batteries, knocking him from his seat and along the floor, cracking a number of ribs. Despite his injuries he resumed his duties and guided us back to base
Every trip had its moments of tension. There was always a strange feeling of apprehension as you passed over the target area. Once homeward bound, you still had to stay alert but the pressure eased off as you neared base
Time had dulled the memory somewhat and the anxiety and tension experienced during operations is like a long passed nightmare. Still, when I recall the sound of the gunners tense voice call out "fighter, fighter, prepare to corkscrew", or the gasping sound of a crew member hit with flak it makes the adrenaline flow again and I relive the past for a short time
-4- On our last trip October 10, 1944 to Bochum, F IL Hilton, gunnery leader, flew with us as mid-under gunner. After parking "E" easy on its dispersal pad for the last time and riding in the back of a truck t'o the debriefing room, FIL Hilton congratulated the crew for completing the tour and complimented us by saying we were the best crew he had flown with while on his second tour, performing in much the same manner as the crew he had flown with on his first tour
The following night with the tour completed, we had a screening party at the local pub with the ground crew that serviced "E" easy, the aircraft we flew. on all but four of our trips. After having enjoyed a few drinks I believe it was Charlie MacMillan, who was in charge of the ground crew consisting of Jerry Jones A.E.M.; Cecile Milne A.E.M.; Parker A.E.M.; and Bert Berry A.F.M., surprised us with the comment that they were as happy to see us complete the tour as we were ourselves. He continued to explain his remarks by saying we were the first crew flying aircraft they serviced to complete a tour. The hadn't mentioned this to us earlier in case it might jinx us. They did not want to believe their maintenance servicing of an aircraft in any way contributed to its loss.
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
Jim Tease DFC
Creator
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Jim Tease
Format
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Four printed sheets
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BTeaseJTeaseJv10001, BTeaseJTeaseJv10002, BTeaseJTeaseJv10003, BTeaseJTeaseJv10004
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
Spatial Coverage
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Canada
Manitoba--Winnipeg
Alberta--Edmonton
Great Britain
England--Bournemouth
Ontario--Windsor
British Columbia--Vernon
Ontario--Sarnia
Ontario--Hanover
Nova Scotia--Halifax
England--Kent
Germany--Castrop-Rauxel
Germany--Bottrop
Germany--Bochum
Ontario
Alberta
Germany
Nova Scotia
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Hampshire
Manitoba
Contributor
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David Bloomfield
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.
Description
An account of the resource
A account of operational flying from June to October 1944
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
24 OTU
420 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bomb aimer
crewing up
debriefing
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
flight engineer
ground crew
Halifax
Halifax Mk 5
navigator
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Dishforth
RAF Fraserburgh
RAF Honeybourne
RAF Tholthorpe
target indicator
training
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1181/30735/BWagnerHWWagnerHWv1-01.1.pdf
e0571529641f83a364bcf25b44a796ff
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
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
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[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
[page break]
7
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
[page break]
8
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
[page break]
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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.
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[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.
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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.
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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
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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]
[page break]
[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
[page break]
[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
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
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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/1181/30734/BWagnerHWWagnerHWv2.1.pdf
0efbf335be6b151165eb85b92857b0b8
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
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.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-05-04
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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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33
[underlined] BRIEFING FOR ATTACK ON ESSEN, 28/29 NOVEMBER 1944 [/underlined]
Snaith, Yorkshire, base of 51 Squadron, flying Halifax Mk. III.
Crews listed on battle order are sitting in the briefing room waiting for the Station Commander (Wing Commander Holford) and other officers to unveil the target map. Thick cigarette smoke haze. As the officers enter, chatter stops and there is a scuffling of chairs as crews stand to attention.
”Sit down, please. Well, we have our old target again tonight, and its entirely a group effort. (Just 4 Group alone.) Some 340 aircraft are taking part. The target is Essen.”
The Intelligence Officer takes over. “Most of you have been to Essen before, and it doesn't need much introduction from me. I remind you that it has the Krupp's armament works in the northern part of the town and also [inserted] / [/inserted] the [inserted] // [/inserted] railway facilities which are very important now – they are supplying the front-line troops. Your point of aim in the morning is the south-eastern part of the built-up area, which is adjoining the residential part. The Germans will be asleep at that time, so you will be able to wake them up with a good fire. The attack will be carried out in 4 waves of 2 minutes each – make careful note of your time on target. Aircraft of this squadron are in the 4th wave, 0536 to 0538. There are too many decoys around Essen for me to give you a whole list of them, but there is one big one which will be just on your starboard side three miles before you get to your aiming point. Watch out for their imitation Pathfinder marker flares – they are always weaker in colour and don't burn as long as the genuine ones. The Pathfinder marking method is Newhaven (ground markers) with Musical Wanganui (sky marking in case ground is not visible). The attack opens at H minus six minutes. The Musical Mosquitos will drop red ground markers, red and yellow sky markers, and green and yellow sky markers. Aim your bombs at these in the following order of preference :- 1) at the red target indicators if you can see them, 2) at the red markers shooting yellow stars, 3) at the green markers shooting yellow stars. The skymarkers ignite at 17,000 feet. If you attack the skymarkers, you must do so on an exact heading of 084° true. Remember, the red ground markers are the ones to go for if you can see them. There will be no Master Bomber. At the same time you are on Essen, No. 3 Group are sending 150 Lancasters to Neuss, which is south of Dusseldorf. Their route joins yours here”, he says,
[page break]
34
pointing at the map. “With regard to the jettisoning of any bombs – If you get over Germany you must drop your bombs live there, but an aircraft making an early return must jettison them safe at least 80 miles out in the North Sea. All aircraft are carrying propaganda leaflets tonight; you will find 2 packets stacked in the rest position. The mid-upper gunners will put these into the bomb bays through the inspection hatches immediately after take-off. One final warning – you must empty your pockets before you leave the briefing room. Don't take any papers across with you that may be of assistance to the enemy, and remember, should you bale out over the other side, the only thing you are allowed to tell the enemy is your name, your rank and your number.”
The next speaker is the Meteorological Officer. “There is a front tonight lying about 6° East, that is some 50 miles west of the target area, and it is fairly stable. For take-off, it will be clear with only moderate amounts of cloud, and visibility about 3 miles. You'll have the same conditions all the way down England until about Reading, but from there on to the French coast, you'll have small amounts of cumulus, building up over the Channel to 3 to 6 tenths, well broken, with tops about 10,000ft. There may be one or two tops at 12,000ft. From there on until 6° East, the same conditions. The tops will level off at 8,000ft [inserted] / [/inserted], and cloud cover will become more or less continuous from the front to the target area. Freezing level is about 3,000ft, icing index moderate, but you shouldn't be flying in cloud anywhere and the temperature will be about minus 24 degrees at 20,000ft.”
The Station Commander speaks again. “I'll go over the flight plan now. We are taking off on runway 32; you will each do your appointed Radius of Action, and we set course over base at 6,000 feet for Reading at a speed of 175. We hold 6,000ft down to Reading and there we open up and start climbing to cross the English coast at Beachy Head at 10,000 feet, climbing at 160 knots. At the French coast, after crossing the Channel in level flight, we climb again, reaching 12,000ft at 3° East. We do the next leg at 170, and here we start climbing again to be at 19,000 feet by 0450 hrs. We hold 19,000 at 160 knots to the target area. Our bombing height tonight is 19,000 feet, and we are at the lowest height – the others are bombing at 20 and 21 thousand feet. After bombing, increase speed to 170 on the short leg out of the target area and maintain height right through the Ruhr defences until we reach just north of Cologne; here we turn starboard and have a gentle dive, losing 2,000ft, increasing our airspeed to 190 and crossing our own
[page break]
35
lines, where we have a very rapid loss of height down to 8,000ft. We are losing height at 220 knots on that leg. At 8,000ft, we shall be just above the cloud tops and we are holding 8,000 straight and level at 190 to 03°20' East. Here we turn starboard again and head up towards the French coast. There is one point that you want to watch – Dunkirk. Avoid going within 3 or 4 miles of the town. Here we have a gentle climb to cross the French coast again at 12,000ft just in case we are too close to the town. As you know, the Germans are still there. Once we leave the French coast behind, we lose height again at 190 and cross back over the English coast at Orfordness at 8,000ft. We are going to hold 8,000ft. right the way up to the Humber, where we break cloud and head for base.
You will probably have 10/10 cloud over the target. You may be lucky and get a break so that you can see the target indicators, but anyway, there is one thing about that – you won't be troubled by the searchlights.
I have some times here. I'll see the pilots and engineers at 0030. The buses for your aircraft will leave at 0045. The first aircraft will take off at 0205. Set course from base at 0310, the raid opens at 0530 and you should be back for breakfast at 0820.
You will see that your chief bother will be night fighters, as it is expected to be a full moon and it will be very very bright over there – I think visibility will be probably something like a mile. The Signals Officer will tell you about 100 Group's (Radio Counter Measures) work tonight and their efforts to jam the enemy's radar. After leaving a point here, near Cologne, we do have this rapid loss of height of 8 - 9,000ft and that is primarily to try and fox the fighters. The rest of the way back, I should think, will be fairly quiet. Just one or two more points: we have radar silence to 05°30' East, and there are to be no navigation lights on after we leave the English coast.”
The bombing leader is next to speak. “All aircraft tonight have the same load – one 2,000 lb. high capacity bomb and twelve SBC's (small bomb containers) each containing 90 4lb. incendiaries. All aircraft are carrying photo flares and cameras. Master bomber switch will be put on for take-off and switched off once you set course and do not put it on again until you reach 06°30' East, then it has to be entered in the navigator's log. [inserted] /// [/inserted] Put your camera heater switch on before you take off and leave it on right through the target and switch it off after you have cleared the camera. Select your bombs once you have left the English coast and switch on your bomb sight a good 20 minutes before you reach your
[page break]
36
target so you will be quite prepared for your run up.
If you have to bomb on Wanganui flares, apart from the heading 084° True, you have to have zero wind set at true height on the bomb sight. There is a delay of 10 seconds between the release of the 2000 lb. bomb and the SBC's, and this must be counted very carefully. After bombing, put the jettison bars across. After you have passed through the target area, press the bomb release once, clear the camera and put the camera heater off. I possible, do your visual check on the bomb bays over Germany because then if you have any hang up you can release it live on Germany; otherwise do it over the Channel on your way back, and remember that it has to be entered in the engineer's log this time. I'll see the bomb-aimers 15 minutes before transport time for a final check.
The Signals Officer takes over. “As you've already been told, there's both WT and radar silence up to 04°30'. Keep your H2S switched off up to that point and then use it throughout the trip. The mid-upper gunner should switch the modular off when you get into the aircraft and, navigators, switch your H2S on normally when you reach 04°30' and tell your mid-upper to switch the modular on for you to save you going back and forward. There's HF, (high frequency), AI (air interception) and VHF and Wurzburg plotting by the Germans, all of which are being jammed, and there's a special Windowing force out covering you. We're carrying our own Window as well; start that off at 05°30' to the target and back to 04°00'. You are carrying two types, the broad and the ordinary. The rates are – the broad type two minutes throughout the area, and the ordinary two minutes within 20 miles radius of the target. Your RT call sign is Beatem. Check watches with your navigator as you get into the aircraft. Check with the navigator what H-hour is. Z should be used; switch it on when taking off and switch it off at the English coast coming in. The usual rules for IFF apply (Identification – Friend or Foe).”
Final encouragement from the C.O. “It's a good target tonight. It's the largest armaments works in the world, so let's have a really steady bombing run and put an end to it. The job is also to complete the destruction of an already heavily-devastated town. There isn't much of Essen left, so it needs all the more accurate bombing. Best of Luck.”
[page break]
37
Debriefing report from W/O Bates' crew. “Arrived at target 2 minutes late. Attacked at 0539 from 19,000 feet heading 084°. Bombed on green/yellow Wanganui flares through 10/10 cloud. No ground markers visible, but glow of incendiary bombs through cloud indicated a good fire well concentrated. Flak on the heavy side in the target area; some fighters seen but no attacks made. Good navigational coverage by GEE. Weather turned out much as forecast, with cloud commencing inside the continental coast, increasing to mainly 10/10 at target, tops 8 - 10,000 feet. Visibility good above cloud.”
Result of raid compiled for squadron record. “Skymarkers were not plentiful. The green/yellow appeared to be 1/2 mile south of the red/yellow. The glow of red target indicators, or fires, could be seen below cloud together with a white glow of incendiaries. The raid appeared to be fairly concentrated but it is impossible to state whether on the target or not. Some fighters seen. Moderate heavy flak, rather on the low side. No searchlights.”
Report from group. “On the night of 28/29 November, 316 bombers were despatched; 308 attacked, dropping 1,199 tons of bombs comprising 1,024 tons of high explosive and 175 tons of incendiaries. Only 2 aircraft were lost, a very unusual and welcome occurrence; much of the credit for this can be given to 100 Group aircraft which swamped the Ruhr defences, so much so that the fighters were not able to take instructions from the ground. The photo-reconnaissance report said that the attack again spread destruction over the whole area of the city and works and it particularly noted new points of damage throughout the Krupp's armament works. Some of the points were clearly from new hits, others appeared to be the result of collapse or clearance of structures damaged in previous attacks. The identified buildings to which new or further damage was seen included power-houses, foundries, rolling-mills, furnace-shops, engineering shops and others concerned with armament and heavy steel production.”
After the Essen raid, aircrew of 51 Squadron had little sleep – those on battle-orders were out again the following night on another Ruhr target – Duisberg.
[page break]
38 [inserted] Equipment operated by 100 Group (Radio Counter Measures) (also German Knickebein.) Various other items of equipment carried by Main Force aircraft. [/inserted]
[underlined] Mandrel [/underlined]: a radio device which jammed the German early-warning radar. Aircraft flew a “race-course” pattern, jamming continuously. The Germans knew the main force was approaching behind the mandrel screen, but did not know exactly where it would emerge or on what course. GEE did not function when Mandrel transmitters were operating. Transmitters operated on fixed frequencies, except for Mandrel III which was designed for spot-jamming, and incorporated a receiver to allow the operator to identify an incoming signal and tune his transmitter accordingly.
[symbol] [underlined] Shiver: [/underlined]: a modified IFF set with an additional special setting: it produced a jamming signal aimed at German Wurzburgs and fire-control radar.
[symbol] [underlined] Monica [/underlined]: tail-warning radar, with indicator at W/operator's station.
[underlined] Knickebein [/underlined]: German blind-bombing system. One beam was aimed at the target and another crossed it at right angles indicating the bomb release point. It occurred to the Counter Measures Group that if they could locate the beams, they could equally well fly down them and attack the transmitting stations. This was done in Nov. 1940, but such attacks were hotly contested by the Germans.
[underlined] Oboe [/underlined] A similar system, radar not radio, operated by Mosquitoes for target-marking, and of very great accuracy.
[symbol] [underlined] Airborne Grocer [/underlined]: device for barrage-jamming of Wurzburgs. [inserted] Extremely vulnerable to being homed onto. [/inserted]
[underlined] Bagful [/underlined]: a device for making a permanent record on paper-tape, detailing wavelength, time and duration of incoming signals.
[underlined] Blonde [/underlined]: an automatic camera which provided a continuous record of signals within a specified band, as received by a Cathode Ray Tube.
[symbol] [underlined] Coalscuttle [/underlined]: modification to aircraft's existing H2S navigational radar to give a visual bearing once every 30 secs. on a signal under investigation.
[symbol] [underlined] Airborne Cigar [/underlined] (ABC): communications jammer on VHF, used to jam reception of a running commentary on position, course and altitude of Allied bomber formations.
[symbol] [underlined] Piperack [/underlined]: a jammer aimed at enemy Airborne Interception (A.I.) radars.
[symbol] [underlined] Carpet: [/underlined] a device aimed at enemy Ground Controlled Interception (C.G.I.) radars.
[symbol] [underlined] Boozer [/underlined]: tail-warning radar, with indicator within pilot's field of view.
[underlined] Z [/underlined]: infra-red identification equipment.
[symbol] [underlined] Jostle [/underlined]: VHF communications jammer.
[symbol] [underlined] Fishpond [/underlined]: tail-warning radar making use of H2S scanner.
[underlined] Village Inn [/underlined]: gun-laying radar for tail-turret.
[underlined] Flower [/underlined]: an intruder sortie, usually by Mosquitoes, against German night-fighter airfields during bomber operations.
[underlined] Mahmoud [/underlined]: a sortie flown by a single aircraft against German night-fighter assembly points in the hope of catching the interceptors before they were vectored onto the bombers.
[symbol] [underlined] Serrate [/underlined]: a homer aimed at German AI (Airborne Interception) radar (Lichtenstein).
[symbol] [underlined] Perfectos [/underlined]: a homer designed to trigger off and then take a bearing on German AI radar.
[page break]
105
[symbol] [underlined] Moonshine [/underlined]: a jammer designed to produce spuriously large returns on German Freya early-warning radar, by picking up its signals and re-transmitting a boosted signal.
[underlined] Rebecca [/underlined]: the airborne interrogator end of a two-part system using a ground-beacon called Eureka. Designed as a homing system for the identification of ground forces during supply drops.
[symbol] [underlined] Tinsel [/underlined]: a microphone fitted in the port inner engine nacelle; it transmitted engine noise via the wireless-operator's TR 1154 on the frequency of the German night-fighter control net, jamming radio instructions to the fighters.
[underlined] Corona [/underlined] Broadcast from England, using native German speakers, giving in plain language false instructions about the bomber-stream and the target. They were thus competing with the genuine fighter-controllers in Germany, so that crews did not know who to believe. Furthermore, the two sets of controllers started slanging each other, and confusion reigned. Then the Germans started using female controllers, but this had been foreseen, and German-speaking women were standing by in England, and took over immediately.
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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An account of the briefing for an operation to Essen
Description
An account of the resource
An extremely detailed account of the No 51 Squadron briefing for the operation to Essen on 28/29 November 1944 by Henry. It includes all the specialist officers as well as the Station Commander's brief. It also includes Henry's crew, Station and Group action reports. There is also a comprehensive list and description of the Electronic Counter Measure techniques used by No 100 Group.
Creator
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Henry Wagner
Date
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1944-11-28
1944-11-29
Format
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Seven handwritten pages
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BWagnerHWWagnerHWv2
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.
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Essen
Great Britain
Germany
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-11-28
1944-11-29
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.
Contributor
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Roger Dunsford
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
100 Group
3 Group
4 Group
51 Squadron
aerial photograph
aircrew
briefing
debriefing
Gee
ground personnel
H2S
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
incendiary device
Lancaster
meteorological officer
Oboe
Pathfinders
propaganda
RAF Snaith
reconnaissance photograph
target indicator
target photograph
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1450/43606/MKeelingGW2217141-151002-01.2.pdf
115d4634cc8af3733d01291792ddaae8
Dublin Core
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Title
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Keeling, George
G W Keeling
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
2015-10-02
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Keeling, GW
Description
An account of the resource
One item. The collection concerns George W Keeling and contains 'The Short History of 640 Squadron’, including photographs records and newspaper clippings.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by George Keeling and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
A short history of 640 Squadron
Description
An account of the resource
A number of stories, recollections and events remembered by George who was part of the ground crew on the squadron. It also includes press coverage and a programme from an amateur dramatics production Georg appeared in post war.
There is also a copy of the Operational Order for Operation Chastise by 617 Squadron. There are also crew lists, and a copy of the squadron 540 for the operation.
It also has the pages from Flight Sergeant Stalley's Log book for the period July to October 1944. He was the rear gunner on Flight Lieutenant Melrose's crew on No 9 Squadron at Bardney. During this period the squadron attacked the Tirpitz twice, once from Archangel.
There is also the Memories and Reflections of the German civil engineer that was in charge of the rebuilding of the dams damaged in the Dams Operation.
There are two newspaper cuttings from 2005 regarding the military burial of a 640 Squadron crew that had been shot down on the 24 March 1944. One was from The Daily Telegraph from 2 September 2005. There is also a letter George wrote to the Times giving some background to the story.
Creator
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George Keeling
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-01-07
1945-04-07
1944-03-24
2005-09-02
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
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eng
Type
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Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Text
Format
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57 printed sheets
Identifier
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MKeelingGW2217141-151002-01
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.
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription
4 Group
617 Squadron
640 Squadron
9 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing of Cologne (30/31 May 1942)
bombing of the Creil/St Leu d’Esserent V-1 storage areas (4/5 July 1944)
bouncing bomb
debriefing
Eder Möhne and Sorpe operation (16–17 May 1943)
entertainment
final resting place
flight engineer
Gibson, Guy Penrose (1918-1944)
ground crew
ground personnel
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
love and romance
memorial
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
nose art
operations room
pilot
RAF Leconfield
RAF Lissett
superstition
tactical support for Normandy troops
Tirpitz
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/553/8818/PMellorG1501.2.jpg
ec53d3c84b8db787d307d49e498fe698
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/553/8818/AMellorG160627.2.mp3
ef968aa3b9b455b4792ca4b2012f76c9
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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Mellor, Gordon
Gordon Herbert Mellor
G H Mellor
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Mellor, G
Description
An account of the resource
Four oral history interviews with Gordon Mellor (1919 -2018, 929433, 172802 Royal Air Force). He trained in Canada as an observer and served as a navigator with 103 Squadron. He was shot down over Holland in 1942 but evaded capture.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-10-06
2016-06-07
2016-08-17
2016-08-22
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 audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
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GR: This is Gary Rushbrooke for the International Bomber Command Centre and today, the 27th of June 2016 I am with Flight Lieutenant Gordon Mellor at his home in Wembley, London. Thank you, Gordon. We’re in Wembley, London. Was you born in London? Are you a —
GM: Oh yes. I —my place of birth was about, I should say, two miles away from here. Also, in Wembley but on the southern borders of the town. Whereas I’m living here in the northwest.
GR: Right. And what year was that Gordon? What year?
GM: Oh that was —
GR: Roughly.
GM: Well there’s nothing rough about it. I can tell you the moment almost. It was 1919. 1st of November being the actual date. And I don’t remember the situation but —
GR: No. [unclear]
GM: My memory does go back to about my second birthday or thereabouts.
GR: That’s incredible. Do you have brothers and sisters?
GM: Oh yes. I had a brother. He, strangely enough, was seventeen years older than me so he was born round about 1920, no, not 1920. 19 —
GR: 01 or 02.
GM: 02 or 03.
GR: Yeah. Yeah.
GM: Or thereabouts. Yes. But at the same time of the year in actual fact except that he was a few days later than me on the actual date.
GR: In November.
GM: Yes.
GR: So, you grew up in Wembley. Went to school in Wembley.
GM: I did go to school in Wembley until I was about thirteen. My interests were more practical perhaps than other people so I went to a technical college over at Acton at that age and I stayed there virtually three years. And my school friend I found was living within a half a mile of where I lived at that time and we chummed up and carried our relationship forward into the war years and eventually then his sister and I decided to make it a go and we were married during the war years.
GR: Oh right. So, after college, if you was at college in Acton for, what was it, three years?
GM: Well it wasn’t quite, it was a senior school.
GR: Senior school. Yeah.
GM: It wasn’t a college as such. No.
GR: No. And you left there to go and work.
GM: Oh, I had several jobs. Mainly connected with, I suppose, the building industry. My father and brother and other members of the family were all connected with that industry. And what was I going to say? Oh yes, my early experience was in offices of estate agent’s and people who were on the, I can’t say senior side because I was only a youngster then but the prospects were good.
GR: Yeah.
GM: As a surveyor. So, I eventually started work with of firm quantity surveyors in central London. And after the war I returned to that profession and qualified with the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors.
GR: Very good. But obviously you’d started work and war was on the horizon.
GM: Indeed.
GR: I presume in September ‘39 you were still at the chartered surveyors were you? Were you?
GM: Oh yes.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yes. I was working for a private organisation. It’s only in the post-war period that I went into the public service.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And certainly in the last, what —thirty five odd years or so I worked with the Greater London Council.
GR: Right. When war broke out did you sort of decide there and then to join up or —?
GM: Well, I was interested in aircraft from a young person.
GR: Yeah.
GM: It was the ‘in’ interest shall I put it of the boys who lived and went in the same road as I did and also went to the same schools.
GR: Right.
GM: And we did get a strong interest into flying and the RAF in particular.
GR: Right. Was that an interest? Was it, was it Cobham’s Flying Circus or —?
GM: No. No.
GR: No.
HM: It was RAF Hendon.
GR: Which was obviously nearby isn’t it? Yeah.
GM: Yeah. And also there was a private ‘drome as well. My goodness me.
GR: Did you used to go up to Hendon then and watch the aircraft?
GM: Yes. We used, yes, we used to go over to Hendon and get to a position round where you could see what was going on. Although we weren’t on their ground but we were as near as we could get.
GR: To watch it.
GM: To watch what was going on.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And there was also another aerodrome close by where [pause] the name of it escapes me at the moment.
GR: It doesn’t matter. [unclear] So, it was —
GM: De Havilland’s I think had got a factory there, in that area and their aerodrome was also used.
GR: Not London — not London Colney.
GM: No.
GR: There was something there. I think that was the test place. So, it was an easy decision to volunteer for the Royal Air Force.
GM: Oh yes. Yes. Indeed.
GR: Yeah.
GM: It was a main point of interest as far as us lads were concerned in that part of Wembley. Yeah.
GR: And did your friends join up as well?
GM: Yes. They either joined up or called up.
GR: Yeah.
GM: In the early days of war. But they went to army or navy.
GR: Navy yeah. So, so can you remember where you joined up? Were you one of the ones who went to St John’s Wood and —?
GM: Where did —?
GR: Did you mention earlier you did some training at Uxbridge. No?
GM: Yes I, yes, my first real connection was when I was called up in 1940.
GR: Right.
GM: Early in ‘40 and I reported to RAF Hendon as many other youngsters did and that’s where we started.
GR: Yeah. Which was quite fitting considering you lived nearby.
GM: Yes. Yes.
GR: That’s quite good isn’t it? So, yeah.
GM: Riding on the train and then out to where Hendon Aerodrome was. Yeah.
GR: Yeah. Did you do your training in this country? Or was you sent abroad?
GM: Yes. In actual fact there was a bit of a blockage in the training period and we were drafted out to various places. When I say we, there was about forty of us who were all called up together. And we were then posted out to various places and I was sent to [pause] Yeah. I haven’t thought about this for a long time.
GR: No. It doesn’t matter. ‘Cause what did you decide to train as? It wasn’t a pilot was it? It was a —
GM: No. I —
GR: Navigator.
GM: I was keen on the navigation. So I, yes, I volunteered for that and I was accepted for that purpose. Yes.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And —oh dear. Oh dear.
GR: It doesn’t matter. Obviously training. You know, I’ve spoken to a lot of veterans and I think training followed the same —
GM: Pattern.
GR: Pattern all the way through.
GM: Yes. Yeah. We had as I say, several months on general duties.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Because there was, seemed to be a bit of a blockage. More volunteers than they could cope with.
GR: Cope with.
GM: So we joined up and we did general duties in many ways.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And in my case then I was posted up to Norfolk and I was on ground defence for quite a time.
GR: Oh right.
GM: And during that time, of course, you did pick up a lot of general knowledge about living in the air force and it was all good useful stuff.
GR: Yeah. Good. So, training, yeah ran its usual pattern when you started. And then —
GM: Yes. I suppose so.
GR: Where did you get posted to?
GM: The first real training as far as flying was concerned was at Aberystwyth which was an ITW.
GR: Yeah.
GR: And we did the course there and a bit more because there was still something of a blockage.
GR: Yeah. Right.
GM: And from there we then were posted to the Midlands as a short stopping off place and then by boat.
GR: Yeah.
GM: We went via [pause] where did we go? Reykjavik in Iceland and then through to the east coast of Canada.
GR: Right.
GM: Once there then things got moving and we finished up at Port Albert which was a training aerodrome in Ontario. About a hundred and forty miles to the west of the main cities.
GR: Yes.
GM: In that area.
GR: Yeah. Yeah. So, I presume life in Canada was slightly different to life in Britain.
GM: Well. Yes.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yes. It was. It was somewhat freer I think.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And of course, not having to cope with the blackout. That was quite an interesting period.
GR: How long did you spend in Canada, Gordon?
GM: About seven months I think.
GR: Seven months. Yeah.
GM: There was the basic navigation course which was twelve weeks. We then had a week’s leave and then we did a four weeks course [pause] to follow on the navigation.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And having completed that successfully as a group, we’d all been together since we arrived in Canada, we then went to bombing and gunnery school.
GR: Right.
GM: In another part of Ontario. By the Lakes. And we spent at least six weeks there. I have a feeling we overran a little bit.
GR: Yeah.
GM: But then it was time which you received your promotion as a sergeant and we had parade and this happened. There were a number of, a group of, I think it was about forty of us all together in two main, sort of, groups. And some of the [pause] in each group were granted immediate commissions and the others became NCOs.
GR: Right.
GM: Having got the passing out parade done then we were given tickets and travel paraphernalia and told to arrive in the east coast of Canada. We arrived close by and embarked to come back to the UK.
GR: Right.
GM: So, yes, I thought that we were treated very adequately. Being — having jumped from, what rank was I [pause] oh dear. Oh dear. Something below corporal up to sergeant.
GR: Leading aircraft — LAC1?
GM: Leading aircraftsman. How right you are. This is dragging me into the part that I —
GR: Seventy five years of, yeah, remembering.
GM: Yeah. Yes.
GR: LAC2. LAC1 and then you probably went to sergeant.
GM: I did. Yeah.
GR: And then flight sergeant.
GM: Then flight sergeant.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And then yes. Warrant officer.
GR: Yeah.
GM: By that time, it was a couple of years. Three years on.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And from warrant officer I was commissioned.
GR: Yeah. So, before you got to the rank of warrant officer you were back in the UK.
GM: Oh yeah.
GR: Did you get posted direct to a squadron or was it a Heavy Conversion Unit?
GM: No. It was an extension of our flying experience. Mainly to get experience in flying in blackout conditions.
GR: Oh yeah.
GM: Because in Canada all the lights were on.
GR: Yes.
GM: So, as you soon as you got into the UK air then it was black.
GR: And of course navigation would be quite reasonable with all the lights on and if you knew where cities and towns were.
GM: Well yes. Indeed. There was no problem at all.
GR: Yeah. So, pitch black England.
GM: It was. Yeah. Well, of course you were young and adventurous so you attacked the problem with vigour and got used to it.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Which is what one had to. So, Lichfield was the place that I went to to get the flying experience in the dark.
GR: And was you with a crew then? Did you have your own pilot or —? Was it —?
GM: Shortly after that then we did crew up.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And there seemed to be quite a number of Australian pilots running parallel with us. Most of the navigators, I think, were British. May have been one —oh yes there was an odd one or two Australians as well I think. And just a way of processing us for making up the numbers from other groups of navigators at the same stage as we were. And so, we went to Lichfield and whilst we were climatizing ourselves to blackouts in general then of course we were gaining experience as a crew because we were given the opportunity to arrange, sort of, the membership of the crew during social hours.
GR: So, this was on Wellingtons. So —
GM: It was on Wellingtons.
GR: Was there about —was there five of you? I think it is on a Wellington. Yeah.
GM: Yes. I think it was five at that time.
GR: Yeah. Yeah. Because you would have had your air gunners with you as well. With you at that time.
GM: Oh yes. Indeed.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yeah. It was largely done by meeting each other in the mess or during working hours. They had a flight headquarters and also during flying. You got to know who the people you got on well with and it didn’t take very long to get a crew together.
GR: To get together. Yeah. So where did things move on from training? I believe you were —I wouldn’t say rushed but you —
GM: No. We weren’t rushed. We did well.
GR: Yeah.
GM: In actual fact that post-training period abroad, we did broaden our skills quite considerably with the experience we were getting flying around. And we did eventually do a first raid on enemy territory. It was sort of a single effort in which we flew as a crew on our first operation.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And it was a comparatively easy operation.
GR: Yeah. Did they give you something like leaflet dropping or mine laying? Or something like that as a —?
GM: Oh yes. We dropped leaflets on this particular occasion.
GR: Yeah. Yeah.
GM: It wasn’t — they weren’t a great deal on this occasion but at least we felt we were doing something towards the war effort.
GR: Yeah. Yeah.
GM: Yes.
GR: And that’s while you was at the Operational Training Unit.
GM: That’s right. Yes. Having done that single initial trip.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Within days it was postings were announced. And I think we all were all sent home on leave for a week or something like that. When we came back then the postings took effect. We went to the squadron.
GR: Yeah. And that was 103. Yeah. 103 at Elsham Wolds.
GM: Yes.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yes.
GR: And I believe, was your first operation then the thousand bomber raid?
GM: Oh yes. The first thousand bomber raid. As far as I can recall.
GR: Yeah.
GM: I think it was the very first one.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Where did we go to?
GR: I’m trying to remember. Would that be Cologne?
GM: Yes. It would be.
GR: Essen.
GM: It would have been.
GR: Cologne or Essen.
GM: I think it was Cologne.
GR: Cologne.
GM: Yes. Yes.
GR: And I think that was in a Wellington wasn’t it so —?
GM: Yes. That was in a Wellington.
GR: Yeah.
GM: We had converted from flying Ansons in the early days at IT. ITW. Yes.
GR: Yeah. Initial training. Yeah.
GM: Whatever it was.
GR: Yeah.
GM: When we got back from Canada that we then converted on to.
GR: Yeah. And obviously, I mean, I know you then converted from the Wellington on to the Halifax.
GM: Yes. Indeed.
GR: Heavy bomber.
GM: That was in the summer of 1942.
GR: Yeah. So, and then leading on to what obviously was an eventful night. How many operations did you actually fly Gordon? Can you remember? Roughly.
GM: I think I was on my eighteenth.
GR: Eighteenth.
GM: Yes
GR: Yeah.
GM: I was looking forward to getting, going towards the end. We had thirty to do.
GR: Thirty. Yes. Yeah.
GM: And it wasn’t to be.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Which was a great pity.
GR: And those eighteen were with the same crew? Were you —
GM: Oh yes.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yes. Yes.
GR: So, I don’t know whether you can tell us a little about yeah, obviously I know you were attacked by a German night fighter.
GM: Well what it really boils down to — the raid followed the usual pattern and except that when we came out of the target run and dropped the bombs and we were turned away for the return trip back home and we were jumped by this German fighter.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And he just hung around in the background so — I didn’t see him. I was in the front of the aircraft so, but from the rear gunner and the other people who could look backwards he stayed probably something like five hundred yards behind us. He didn’t do anything that was aggressive or anything like. He just sort of sat there. And we did, with the captain making up his mind then, we did talk about what we should do and eventually we said, ‘Well let’s try and scare him off.’ Bad decision. Because we opened up on him from the four gun turret in the, at the rear and also there was a turret —
GR: Mid-upper.
GM: Mid-upper turret. Yes. And that amounted to six machine guns in all. Four with the rear gunner and two mid-upper. And that annoyed the [laughs] chap who was following us I’ve no doubt because having received a blast from our gunners he then opened up and he must have been very good because he really gave us, I think it was —I think four bursts I think we experienced and in that time he set the two inboard engines on fire. He also hit the rear gunner and he missed the rest of us by very small margins because you could see the tracers going past.
GR: And through —
GM: And through.
GR: The machine. Yeah.
GM: Yeah. Yeah. And it set the two engines so named so, we were burned and the pilot put us into a dive to get to a lower level and we were flying at about twelve thousand feet I suppose. Certainly, no more. We found that to be a relatively good level to make an attack and, on this occasion, it didn’t pay off out, pay off in our favour as it had done in the past. So, we were shot down, in plain English. And got down to quite low levels before the order was given to abandon aircraft. And I, in the front of the aircraft was standing on the escape hatch. So all we had to do really was to move ourselves. That’s the radio operator, the front gunner and myself. And just behind and above us was the pilot and his —
GR: Flight engineer.
GM: Flight engineer.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yeah
GR: Was you the first out?
GM: Yes. I was standing on the escape hatch. And they were, having made the decision, the general impression was get out. Don’t hold anybody up.
GR: Yeah.
GM: So, I got the trap door up and I dropped to sitting on the side of the aperture with my legs dangling and I knew the others were anxious to get into that position so I slid my rear end off the edge of the opening and I was sucked out by the slipstream. And I didn’t pull my cord of the parachute until I was well away from the aircraft. And probably somebody else would have got out in the same time. And I eventually did do so but I wasn’t in the air very long. Just time to look around and there was the light and somehow or other it seemed to be yellowy to me. I don’t know what colour the night was there but I’ve got this yellow feeling in my memory so perhaps it was from the flares or something like that burning as the aircraft got closer to the ground and the fire took greater hold. Anyhow, I pulled the rip cord and came to a jarring stop almost, I suppose. And within a very short period — seconds it seemed, so it probably was that I found myself crashing through the branches of a tree. And I was left swinging with the parachute and the harness stretched out above me spread over the foliage of the branches of the tree.
GR: Yeah.
GM: So, I couldn’t touch the ground so I thought well I’ve got to do something. So I twisted the knob on the release on the parachute harness and the straps sort of sprang apart and I was free to drop — which I did. To my surprise I fell about a foot. No more. I mean, if you can imagine.
GR: Yeah.
GM: You pulled the cord and as soon as you were in motion then you stopped.
GR: You were bracing yourself for a bad fall.
GM: Indeed.
GR: And you dropped twelve inches.
GM: Yeah.
GR: Good.
GM: It couldn’t have been more. It was so quick. And so, I got myself out of the tree and dogs were barking around and I could see there was a building close by which I thought, well, sounds like this might be bit of a farm. In that style. I dumped my harness and what have you there. It was largely still attached to the silk of the parachute which was stuck up in the tree and I left it there. It was no good. I wasn’t going to be able to pull it down. It would make too much row in any case. I did try but I gave up when I heard the creaking and the crashing and the scratching on the branches. So, I walked my way down to the, what I thought might be a road and having got through the hedge it proved to be a road going, yes, downhill. Not very steep. So, naturally, I took the road down. I didn’t go up and I found that I was walking, from the observation of the North Star, I found that I was walking more or less in a northerly direction and as I felt then at the moment then that was the wrong way to go ‘cause I would only be walking to a coast.
GR: Was you in France Gordon? Or in Belgium? You know, when you landed.
GM: When I landed.
GR: Yeah.
GM: I was in, on the border of Belgium and Holland.
GR: Belgium and Holland. Right. Yeah.
GM: So, it was about as far as where you could get without being in Germany I suppose.
GR: Yeah.
GM: So, anyhow, I thought well it’s no good staying here. You’ve got to find somewhere to hide for daylight and it was still before midnight. So, I walked off and having made the discovery that I was heading to the north I turned on the first immediate turning and went up a road to the west and I did see where the aircraft had crashed. Having been left. So, I thought —right, well south is going to be over that way so I went that way and continued to do so for the rest of the night.
GR: So, you walked through the night.
GM: Yeah. I don’t know how many miles I travelled.
GR: Yeah.
GM: But I walked through the odd village certainly.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And the odd dog did bark.
GR: So, in the morning as the light’s coming up did you meet anybody or decide you had to get some sleep?
GM: Yeah, well I was still on the road. I was going, from my observations, then I realised I was no longer travelling to the south. I was travelling to the, what’s, south, east, west —
GR: West.
GM: I was travelling to the west along the road and I thought well there’s houses there. I wonder what is around the back somewhere. It was beginning to get light so, I turned off the road into a field path. And eventually I found a copse on the farm and I got myself in and got in to the undergrowth so that I was hidden although there was a road close by. Or a path of some sort close by. And went to sleep. I woke up mid-morning or thereabouts and I could hear people moving about in the field and I found I was in this copse on the side of a rise and there was men working above me in the field there and there was people passing along the road which was in front of this copse in which I was hiding. So, I just kept out of sight as best I could for the morning. The same in the afternoon. I examined what I’d got in my pockets which was edible. There wasn’t much. A few little bits of chocolate and what have you and I stayed there until the farm began to close down for the night and the light was well on its way to disappearing. Leaving it dark. So I just got up and I’d seen the traffic in the roads close by so I went, turned around, turned across the grass that wasn’t very long. Yes, it was grass of the field. Went through the hedge and down the road. Heading more or less in a southerly direction. And I proceeded where the road was going west and south and I took a variety of roads passing through whatever built up areas there were. And there were a few villages. Not big. That one could walk through.
GR: So, did you walk through the night again?
GM: Oh yeah.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yes. I walked through the night. In the early part of the night when I went past a group of houses very often there was a coffee shop or a beer place or whatever it was where people had gathered for their evening’s entertainment. I was being tempted to go and find out whether there was any help there but I resisted that and carried on until I had to find another hiding place on the following morning. And this was repeated. Staying hidden as best as possible in the hiding place which I’d chosen in the dark actually. And as soon as it got anywhere near dark I was on my way.
GR: How long did you do this for before you came into contact with anybody?
GM: Well I saw people. People came.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Did come fairly close to me without seeing me.
GR: Yeah.
GM: When I was hidden in the bushes and things like that. I think it was about the fifth day.
GR: Fifth day.
GM: Fourth or fifth day and I —
GR: And did somebody approach you or did you approach them?
GM: No. No. What happened was I’d been staying in the middle of a village. In the bombed house. Or an empty house anyhow. It wasn’t in very good nick. I imagined from what I could see that it was a bombed-like. During the daytime there in this particular place the shops across the road and on either side and what have you was, were mixed. In some cases, there were shops and there was living quarters there as well. Houses and flats. And people were going about their normal daily business.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And I, up on the first floor occasionally poked my head up and looked out of the windows and I could see these people dressed normally and carrying shopping bags and things like that and they went. They went. The scariest part of it was at lunchtime the kids were out of school and I don’t know whether they had their lunches at school or whether they had them at home but there was a number of them about and two or three of them came into the house in which I was on the first floor. And they messed around a bit as kids do in an empty place and they started coming up the stairs and then something happened. I don’t know what happened but it took their attention. Perhaps their playtime had gone and they didn’t get right up to the top of the stairs so, I was left on the first floor there unmolested. And I just stayed on there until it started to get dark. I can’t tell you what time it was that it got dark but this was October.
GR: Yeah.
GM: So, evenings were getting dark fairly early and the number of people out on the street of course diminished as soon as it came what would have been, in the old days, lighting up time.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And the streets became largely vacant so I took a chance. Went downstairs and got the general direction in my own mind to go south and west and I got out of the old bombed house on to the main road. I just walked through. Eventually I got out of the town and I took where my fancy took me. In actual fact, I was aware of what the countryside was like and whether I was on open ground or whether I was passing through places where there was copses of trees and what have you but I stayed on the road as much as possible. It was easy walking.
GR: Yeah.
GM: That’s what I did. And I had to find, at the beginning of the next day before it got light I had to find a hiding place each time. And the countryside was quite interesting. It was quite hilly and I did come to a river. Wait a minute. No [pause] I’m not too sure where that was. I certainly came to the odd railway so I had to walk along the ordinary road and went across the railway bridge to get to the other side. There were people about. A bit. But it was as good as being, walking on your own.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yeah. It was, it was quite good. So, I walked overnight for the first four or five nights and got away with it.
GR: Got away with it. So again, when did you meet somebody or how did you meet somebody —
GM: Yeah.
GR: Who was involved with either the resistance or helpers?
GM: Well, I stayed in one town as I say.
GR: Yeah.
GM: I think that was probably the last one. Anyhow, I walked from that last town and eventually having sort of just taken the general south-westerly direction I found myself in fairly open country and of course it had started to rain. It had been dry all the time previously. And I got pretty wet. Ok. What do I do now? And it was no good sort of getting under a tree or anything like that.
GR: No.
GM: ‘Cause the summer foliage was disappearing fast and the branches were fairly clear of leaves. So, I thought well I’ll have to go back to the old place where I’d stayed the previous night which was a bit of a problem because it was some miles. Anyhow, I did go back and I came into a village and you needed a map because it affects the story to a certain extent. Anyhow, I got, I passed one of the villages which I’d come through and I saw a house on the other side of the road. There were houses around.
GR: Yeah. Yeah.
GM: And I was walking down the main street. There was nobody about and looking across the road I could see there was a light in this house. It was surprising because most of the lighting was so subdued that you really couldn’t make any use of it. In any case it would have given one’s position away quite easily. Anyhow, I was in the middle of this village and I was quite amazed to see so much light from it. Anyhow, that was only for a short while but the house was still there and I thought there’s somebody obviously living there. And it took me some time to make up my mind but I thought I’m soaking wet.
GR: Wet, tired and hungry.
GM: Indeed. Indeed. Greater pusher to making up your mind.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And so, I went and knocked on the front door and there was no response from the door but the window flung out from the first floor. And just one question, ‘qui est la?’ Who is there? So, I tried to explain my position to this face up at the window. And I don’t know what he said but obviously sort of —wait. So, I just stood there and I heard him thundering downstairs so he’d still got his shoes on and this was about 8 o’clock in the evening I suppose. From my general recollection. And the door was flung open. And I think I said something rather crass like, ‘Je suis Anglais,’ or something like that. And he looked me up and down. Didn’t say anything. Just beckoned me in.
GR: Just beckoned you in.
GM: And I then followed him into a back room and he put the lights on. He gave me a good looking over and his wife then came downstairs. Whether they’d been going to bed or whether they’d got an upstairs room I don’t know. And so there we were. They sort of, I think they started to dry me off to a certain extent and they also had a, what we call a boiler, a solid fuel fire of sorts.
GR: Yeah. Fire.
GM: And so I’m sort of sat close by to that and his wife, as I say, came down and I tried to explain who I was. I showed them my uniform and the flying and the badge and they were very friendly. Anyhow, it wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door and in came a local priest. So, they’d got a message through to him pretty smartish. Mind you it was — the timing was such that it was now in time which nobody should be about except those who were in authority.
GR: Yeah. Curfew.
GM: There was a curfew.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And this man was the local priest. He’d got some English. He’d got a good lot of English. Anyhow, he understood what was what and his main words that he said was, ‘You come with me.’ So, I thought, well, ‘Great. And by that time the rain had finished and it was dry outside. Well I say dry. It wasn’t raining.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And having thanked the man and his wife for the help I came away with the priest and went and stayed at his establishment which was some walk away. And he was living there with his housekeeper and she was still up so it couldn’t have been so very late. So, she just sort of said hello, so to speak, and accepted that I was one of the opposition to the Germans. They had me in there and I don’t know — they gave me a drink I think. I don’t know whether it was hot or cold now. And a bed. That was the first bed I’d been in for some time. it was typical continental.
GR: Yeah.
GM: One of these great puffed up ones.
GR: It was a bed.
GM: It was a bed.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And it was in the warm. In the dry. And they were friends.
GR: And did you find out later were they part of the resistance or were they just somebody — did they put you in —?
GM: Oh, they were in the know.
GR: They were in the know.
GM: They were in the know. How active they were I don’t know but they certainly —
GR: You wouldn’t have known at the time but obviously you were at the beginning of the Comete line.
GM: Yes.
GR: To be passed all the way down.
GM: It may not have been actual Comete people but people who were associated with them.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And yes, I was then [pause] I made the contacts and went on and eventually with the result that I got in with Comete but it was no joyride having found them.
GR: No. No.
GM: As a matter of fact it was downright dangerous in places.
GR: Yeah. Because at the time I presume the Germans knew that something was, they knew airmen were getting down.
GM: Oh yes.
GR: They would have known of an existence of some sort of resistance movement moving them. How, can you remember how long you were actually from being shot down to getting through the Pyrenees how long were you —?
GM: Oh, three weeks or thereabouts.
GR: Three weeks.
GM: Yeah. Yes.
GR: And obviously you and your helpers would have been living on your wits all the time. Like you said it was dangerous.
GM: Yes, well I eventually —
GR: Probably more dangerous for the helpers.
GM: Oh certainly.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Certainly. Yes.
GR: As long as you still had your RAF dog tags you had some sort of security.
GM: Yes. Yes indeed.
GR: Yeah.
GM: But I did take other badges and things off so there was nothing to show for it. And then of course, the priest lent me one of his overall coats. I don’t know whether — he wasn’t as big as me but, so where he got the coat I don’t know but it certainly fitted really well. And I eventually got through to Brussels. From Brussels I got through to Paris. I got from Paris down to St Jean de Luz and from there through the Pyrenees. That was a long run. I don’t know how many miles. Thirty odd. And the —
GR: And this would have been the end of October. Probably the beginning of November.
GM: Yes.
GR: So winter was on its way.
GM: It was the end of October.
GR: Yeah.
GM: It was —I got down to the Pyrenees. I think it was the 19th of October. And got across and I then went down. Yes. Yes I eventually got down to — what’s the capital of Spain?
GR: Madrid.
GM: Madrid.
GR: Madrid.
GM: Yes. Eventually they, on the grapevine, they were told in Madrid that I was up there on their side of the border and so they sent a car up to take me down to the British embassy.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And arrangements were then made and we went from the embassy two or three days later and we then finished up in Gibraltar and they sort of were pretty careful about finding out you were on the level.
GR: Yes.
GM: And so, I then went down to the Rock of Gibraltar and eventually, a couple of days later I flew to the UK.
GR: So, you flew back. You didn’t — yeah.
GM: Yes.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And that was [pause] how many days are there in October? Thirty one.
GR: Thirty one.
GM: Well that was the night of the 31st of October and we landed down in Cornwall to book in and do whatever official things had to be done and then we were flown up to, now, an aerodrome near London.
GR: Croydon.
GM: No.
GR: Not Hendon.
GM: No. No.
GR: Uxbridge.
GM: No. Further out.
GR: Northolt.
GM: Further out. Anyhow —
GR: Yeah.
GM: We got a train in.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And reported in to whatever place it was. Up in town. Yes.
GR: And then I presume —
GM: I’m sorry. This is getting a bit —
GR: No. Gordon it isn’t and your memory’s very very good. And I presume you were then debriefed.
GM: We came up. We landed in the UK and then we, then came in to, towards central London.
GR: Yeah.
GM: We then, I was with other people. Then there was three, I think, of us. We hadn’t been in our escapes with each other at all. It was just whoever was [pause] happened to be, due to come, return back to the UK.
GR: Yes.
GM: On that particular day. Anyhow, as I say we landed on the first of November and we got, we then, with several hiccups we got up to London and Baker Street. It was a hotel which is still there.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And went in. And it had been taken over by the air force, and booked in and in the next couple of minutes we were asked a question. The question is, ‘Where do you live?’ And I said, ‘Well, my family live in Wembley’. He said, ‘That’s just down the road by train.’ So he said, ‘Right. You can go home tonight.’ So, I don’t know what — oh they gave me a pass, I think. Travel. Yeah. Anyhow, I got on the train in Baker Street along through to Wembley Central and I walked down the old road. The estate. Sort of. Which had been there for quite some time and I turned down the road, our road —Douglas Avenue after travelling down the Ealing Road which does lead one to Ealing still and I banged on the front door. Gave my mother nearly a heart attack I think. She already knew I was ok.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And so, I went in and I was home. And the 1st of November is my birthday.
GR: So, you was home for your birthday.
GM: Indeed. Well, the last couple of hours of it.
GR: So from taking off you spent what, four weeks. Got back four weeks later.
GM: Yeah.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yes. About the 4th or the 5th of October.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And I walked into home. Thousands of miles away I suppose you could say.
GR: Round trip.
GM: Round trip.
GR: A wonderful birthday present.
GM: Indeed.
GR: Going back to the crew, Gordon.
GM: Yes.
GR: If you don’t mind. I know your rear gunner didn’t make it.
GM: No. He didn’t.
GR: The other five members. Did they evade or were they taken prisoner of war?
GM: No. They were — those that were injured —
GR: Yeah.
GM: Were taken to hospital and they then became POWs.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And the others who were just banged about a bit the same as myself —
GR: Yeah.
GM: They were taken prisoner.
GR: They were taken prisoner as well. Yeah. So out of the crew you were the only one who managed to get back.
GM: Indeed. Indeed.
GR: Yeah.
GM: It was a great pity but —
GR: And the rest of them had to wait until 1945.
GM: I’m afraid so.
GR: Yeah. So what happened to you Gordon? After you were back and you’d had your leave and obviously the end of the war would have been still two years away.
GM: Oh yes this was, what, ‘42 .
GR: ’42. Yeah. So —
GM: Running into ‘43. Yeah. I had Christmas at home.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yeah.
GR: ‘Cause I know they had a rule about not letting you fly again or fly over.
GM: It depended on your experience I think.
GR: Yeah.
GM: But I had, in actual fact, in that four weeks and I’d got to know the identity of a lot of people.
GR: Yeah. Which was good.
GM: So, there was no question of going back on ops again.
GR: No. So did you, what did you actually do for those two years. Did you —
GM: Oh. Well, yes, after the interrogation, the next day.
GR: Yeah.
GM: After I’d been home I had to go back to this old hotel at Baker Street and went through the debriefing and they said, ‘What do you want to do?’ So, I said, ‘Well I would like to do SN course in navigation.’ Staff navigator. And so they said, ‘Well, that’s alright. We can fix that.’ And sure enough they did. I was posted away from London to Cheltenham. The aerodrome at Cheltenham. Or nearby. And I was on the staff there as an instructor until July ‘43. That’s right. July ‘43 and in that time, I was an instructor in —
GR: Navigation.
GM: Yeah.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And I then took the advanced course which was very interesting.
GR: Yeah.
GM: It was a good course. And I then was posted, after that, to [pause] now where did I go to?
GR: Again, as an instructor or —
GM: Oh yes.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Yes. Yes. I was posted up to Scotland. That’s right. And strangely the place where I got posted to was Wigtown.
GR: Wigtown. Yeah. I know Wigtown.
GM: And the chap I was working, that I was sent up to work with was Len [unclear] he was a flight [unclear] officer. Flight lieutenant.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Was he? Yeah. He was flight lieutenant. He was, certainly he was a regular officer and navigation specialist so I worked with him to start with and, well it all turned out very well.
GR: Yeah.
GM: Finishing up, as you say, as a flight lieutenant.
GR: Yeah. And so, I’ll pull to a close. Where was you on VE day? So 8th of May 1945. Was you still up in Scotland instructing? Where was you when you were told the war had finished?
GM: 8th of May.
GR: 1945.
GM: ‘45. I was at Wigtown.
GR: You were still up in Wigtown in Scotland. Yeah.
GM: Yes. I stayed on with the flying training. Still continued.
GR: Yeah.
GM: The air force didn’t suddenly sort of pack it all in and go home. It carried on very much as it had before. And eventually they were closing down the advanced, was it the Advanced Navigation School?
GR: Yeah.
GM: Something. Anyhow, the camp was going to be decommissioned by the sounds of things until something else was found for it to be used for and we came down south and I [pause] There was somebody who was the nav senior instructor who I’d known and met and he put a request in, I think. For me to go to where he was.
GR: Yeah. And obviously by the time you finished your service in the Royal Air Force.
GM: Yeah.
GR: You came back to Wembley.
GM: Yes. Indeed.
GR: And this house we’re sat in. How long have you lived here now Gordon?
GM: Oh, about forty five, forty six years.
GR: Forty five. Yeah. Yeah.
GM: And we had another house before this for twelve years.
GR: Yeah.
GM: The other side of Wembley.
GR: Yeah.
GM: And on the same road as where my parents lived and where I grew up.
GR: So apart from a six year sojourn in the Royal Air Force.
GM: I’ve lived in Wembley.
GR: You’re here in Wembley and we’re still in Wembley.
GM: Yeah.
GR: And I have to say, Gordon. I really appreciate what you’ve just talked about. It was absolutely wonderful. Thank you.
GM: I’m sorry to not be —
GR: Do not say sorry.
GM: More.
GR: No. I mean I —
GM: I haven’t thought about some parts of this at all.
GR: Yeah. I mean I knew your story obviously from past experiences and some of the books you’ve appeared in. And I know you’ve got your book coming out in September which is going to be eagerly awaited. But no —that was wonderful. Thank you.
GM: Oh well, you’re very kind.
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 Gordon Mellor. Two
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Gary Rushbrooke
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-06-27
Type
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Sound
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
AMellorG160627
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
Description
An account of the resource
Gordon Mellor grew up in London and was interested in aviation. He volunteered for the Air Force and trained as a navigator in Canada. On his return to the UK he and his crew were posted to 103 Squadron at Elsham Wolds and his first operation was the thousand bomber operation against Cologne. On his eighteenth operation they were attacked by a night fighter. Gordon baled out and landed in a tree. When he had freed himself and landed on the ground, he set off to walk, by tracking the North Star, towards the general direction of Spain. He hid in a number of places during the daylight until after a few days he was inspired to knock on a door. He found he was in Belgium with people who started the process that would lead to him being escorted through an escape line from Belgium to Paris and then through the Pyrenees to Spain. He was taken to Gibraltar and flown home. After debriefing he was told he could go home and he knocked on his own home door on his birthday four weeks after his escape and evasion began.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Julie Williams
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.
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Belgium
Canada
Gibraltar
Great Britain
Spain
England--Lincolnshire
France--Paris
France
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940
1942-10-04
1942-11-01
1945
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
01:09:16 audio recording
103 Squadron
aircrew
bale out
bombing
bombing of Cologne (30/31 May 1942)
briefing
de Jongh, Andree (1916 - 2007)
debriefing
evading
Halifax
navigator
RAF Elsham Wolds
RAF Wigtown
Resistance
shot down
training
Wellington