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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1519/30375/BGambleATGambleATv1.2.pdf
2657924e2f12afbc9e2eaea6afe49c54
Dublin Core
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Title
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620 Squadron
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-06-23
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
620 Squadron
Description
An account of the resource
Twenty-three items. The collection concerns 620 Squadron and contains photographic slides or aircraft and places, an autobiography of Alan T Gamble, wireless operator training school documents, a memoir of operations on D-Day by Noel Chaffey and a short biography of him as well as noted of crews lost on 620 Squadron during Arnhem operation.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Darren Sladden and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[underlined] WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE [/underlined]
By
ALAN T. GAMBLE
[line of stars]
[underlined] PART ONE [/underlined]
[underlined] “BY THE SEAT OF HIS PANTS” [/underlined]
[line of stars]
[underlined] PART TWO [/underlined]
[underlined] “NO PROBLEM SPORT” [/underlined]
[line of stars]
[page break]
TO THE MEMORY OF THE AIRCREW
OF
BOMBER COMMAND
WHO WERE KILLED OR MISSING
IN
OPERATIONS OVER EUROPE
1939—1945
[line of O’s]
[page break]
THERE ARE OLD PILOTS AND BOLD PILOTS
BUT
VERY FEW
OLD….BOLD PILOTS
Anon.
[page break]
[underlined] FORWARD [/underlined]
Like most impressionable youngsters I had ambitions; notwithstanding the fact that ambition is one thing and the chance of achieving it is something quite different.
In those early days I was not aware that there were so many factors involved. The only one that seemed obvious to me then was opportunity, or the lack of it, but on reflection it is obvious that both ability and motivation were most certainly lacking.
With the most important ingredients that one needed to guide one's path in life missing. I was stuck in a rut which seemed to be the normal lot of an average child from an average working family, although there may well have been a spark of a Walter Mitty trying to get out.
I had developed an interest in all things mechanical from bicycles to motor bikes then cars and aeroplanes. As far as aeroplanes were concerned I could not get enough of them. I read everything I could lay my hands on. I made models. I went to air shows to be thrilled by Alan Cobhams Flying Circus at Shoreham and to Tangmere for Air Days. On one occasion my hand built bicycle took me as far as Hendon for the Air Pageant and more thrills.
I once watched one of the giant German airships, the Hindenburg, cruise in from the Channel between Worthing and Lancing on it's way to Cardington, never suspecting that in a few years time there would be more lethal visitors following the same path.
Those early days were full of the exploits of aviators. Scott and Black and the original Comet. Amy Johnstone and Jim Mollison. The Schneider Trophy attempts and new records being made all the time by intrepid aviators on transatlantic and round the world flights from places like Hendon and other mysterious outposts of civilisation such as Mildenhall!.
For me to ever come into close contact with aeroplanes looked like remaining a schoolboy dream forever.
My schooling was not spectacular. I reached no academic heights. I could not even qualify for High School. I don't think I ever
[page break]
had a school leaving certificate but if there was one perhaps the kindest comment that could ever have been made on it would have been "goodbye"!.
On leaving school I had taken up an apprenticeship as a cabinet maker/polisher and the years passed by as the world lurched from one crisis to another until the prospect of another war loomed on the horizon.
Eventually the day came when ultimatums were given and promises were broken which resulted in the Prime Minister broadcasting the declaration of war against the German Nazi State over the radio on 3rd September 1939.
I had already made tentative enquiries about joining the RAF which attracted me like a magnet. Perhaps that is when I should have joined but I didn't; and the story that unfolds is the result.
[line of stars]
[page break]
It is difficult to describe one's feelings at the time of a declaration of full scale war in the knowledge that is was likely to be a very messy business.
For myself I could only recall all the stories that my father and my uncles had related of all the horrors that they had experienced or that they knew of and it was only 21 years since the last terrible conflict had ended with all of the human debris and suffering still evident in everyday life.
Even the Sunday walks along the prom. at Worthing were not without their reminders, with the war wounded from a nearby base being taken out in their basket chairs. They were the blinded and the limbless and those with such disfiguring injuries that they had so be covered with netting to avoid upsetting the kids or the sensibilities of some people whose war had only meant a few shortages and would rather that such unfortunates were kept out of sight.
There seemed hardly a family that had not lost a loved one, some having disappeared from the face of the earth with no resting place, and it looked as if we were going to have to go through it all again.
I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach as I made my way to the front garden gate with my friends after we had heard the broadcast by the Prime Minister; “....we are at war with Germany .....”. We were very quiet for a while as we contemplated what it was going to mean to us all and were each busy with our own thoughts when the wailing of the air raid siren jolted us back to reality.
As is turned out it was a false alarm but it certainly go things moving. Almost before the siren whined down an Air Raid Warden dashed by on his bike frantically ringing his hand bell and shouting to us to take cover which made very little impression on us except to shout back and tell him what to do with his bell. After that initial jolt the conversation turned to what we were going to do about it as there was little doubt to our minds, at our age, we were bound to be involved and would be likely to join a lot of our other friends who had already joined the services.
[page break]
I had made up my mind that it was going to be the Air Force for me but it was a long time before it was possible to get anything near what I wanted.
Every time I went to the recruiting office I found that their priorities did not coincide with mine and in the end I left it in the lap of the Gods.
Shortly before my 20th birthday I was called up!.
A great deal had already happened. Norway and Denmark had been lost to German domination and most of the continent of Europe was under the NAZI jackboot.
We had suffered serious setbacks all over the world and our resources were stretched to the limit. We had fought the Battle of Britian [sic] and only won it by the skin of our teeth. The threat of invasion of our shores still hung over us, which I and a good many others, as civilians, had been prepared to defend in the uniform of the LDV. (Local Defence Volunteers), later to be renamed 'The Home Guard' or more affectionately known later as 'Dads Army'.
I still wanted to change my kharki [sic] uniform for a blue one so when the time came it was 'in for a penny-in for a pound', I volunteered for aircrew; and much to my surprise, was accepted. There were still hurdles to be overcome like the medical examination and that was a tough one but when it case to deciding the aircrew category that I wanted the selection board and I had a little problem.
With so many young men joining, mostly with ambitions to become a pilot like myself, there was little chance for me with my educational qualifications; or lack of them!
They said No to pilot, No to Navigator, and No to Flight Engineer, which was actually my second choice, but they finally agreed that I might make the grade as a Wireless Operator/Air Gunner. That was good enough for me, especially as there were a lot of other things that I did not want to be!.
That was it, and I still had a chance of getting into the air but it took a long time. Nearly two years; and not without a few ups and downs along the way and a lot of hard work to make up for my mis-spent youth.
[page break]
With a great deal of excitement I followed the instructions that I had been given and found my way to Cardington in February 1941 for 'induction', which seemed to me to be a new word for a monstrous machine that devoured humans but had none of the glamour that I had expected of the place that I had previously known from news reels and books. The home of the airship.
Anyone that went through that routine will recall that as soon as the gates were behind you and you got a number that is all you were.
Most areas were out of bounds and we were confined to camp. No longer was our life our own so I suppose it is not surprising that I only saw the airship sheds close up on one occasion whilst I was there.
I saw more of a highly polished floor under my nose, and of the plumbing of the latrines, and the mess kitchens on fatigue detail and of uniform beds and uniform lockers and contents until I was utterly sick of the sight and smell of boot polish, floor polish, metal polish, stained porcelain and disinfectant and stacks of greasy tins.
It did not take long to learn that everything was best done by numbers if I was going to survive without getting into too much trouble.
There was the one time that I made the mistake of allowing myself some original thought when I forget that airman were not supposed to think and that the order of the day was still "yours is not to reason why, yours is but to do and die". The very backbone of blind discipline, in that terrible place.
One wet day the hut sprung a leak allowing a steady drip of water to splash onto our brightly polished stove in it's immaculately whitened surround next to a highly burnished coal bin which contained a load of rubbish under a carefully placed top layer of dusted and polished coal.
I would go as far as to suggest that the coal was kept just for inspection time and was otherwise locked away, whilst we did our best to burn the rubbish and the dust. With very little success of course.
The net result was that the leak was threatening to destroy all of our hard work just before an inspection by an officer was due.
[page break]
It seemed that the easiest thing to do was just to place a fire bucket on the stove until the last moment but the Sergeant in charge had different ideas when he came in for his final look around.
I was left speechless after a good dressing down for mis-use of fire fighting equipment when the offending bucket had been removed from the hot stove and the guilty person identified.
He roared; as only Sergeants can, "you, can't put out a fire with 'ot water you stupid airman: what are you?". By that time I had also learned in a very short space of time that the safest thing to do was agree with anyone with stripes on his arm, and admit sheepishly,to the accusation.
After that it was just a case of keeping the head down and only doing what I was told to do in that soul destroying place and hope that my turn would come later.
Most of my off duty time; and there was not such of that, was spent resting or sleeping. I was too damn tired to do such else after being on the go for about 14 hours a day.
It was obviously more than some people could take and it was not unusual at night to hear a little weeping going on in the darkness by someone who was finding it particularly hard going. Our civilian clothes and most of our personal posessions [sic] were sent home in a cardboard box at the RAF's expense and then we belonged to the Air Force body and soul. After that it was just a matter of settling down and running around like headless chickens.
We learned all the basic things that were expected of us. Who and who not to salute and how. Great chunks of Air Force Law and the Air Force Act were thrust down our throats, including the riot act; to leave us in no doubt what-so-ever as to the very meaning of the word 'discipline' as applied to the forces of the Crown.
It was definitely "yours is not to reason why" etc,...and after three weeks of agony, having been confined to camp all of that time, we were considered fit to go out in public with our bright new uniforms and partially shaven heads.
[line of stars]
[page break]
Going out in public did not mean that we were free. We went in a large party by train, more or less under escort of several NCO's and were delivered to a unit at Skegness for more 'square bashing'.
After being herded and marched about we eventually finished up being allocated billets in what had previously been holiday boarding houses, but there was a difference. Air Force beds and the three 'biscuit' sections of mattress had taken the place of the more comfortable Slumberlands that pre-war paying guests had enjoyed, and as many as possible had been packed into each room.
We were rounded up every morning and marched about and drilled first without rifles and than with, and drilled some more, and then some more until at times I wondered if my feet still belonged to me. They finished up a mass of blisters on top of blisters until a visit to the MO determined that synthetic soled boots did not agree with me and the inflamation [sic] subsided after changing to leather. How glad I was that I had not gone into the Army. I wondered if they would have been as sympathetic?.
At last we were moulded by our drill instructors into regimented lumps of humanity and with the passing out parade in sight there was considerable competition to be the best flight on parade.
Well; among the instructors anyway.
My efforts made sure that we were not!.
It was still common practice in those days to wear such things as sock suspenders as socks were not made to stay up on their own any more than trousers were, so it was not unusual for me to be wearing them.
Unfortunately one of mine came adrift on the march as we pounded our way towards the saluting base with rifles and fixed bayonets. It was causing a bit of a problem as the chap behind me kept crashing his No.9's down on the trailing bit and although it was a bit of a lurching job as it twanged it's way back I am sure we could have got away with it.
Nevertheless, a young officer on the flank worked his way across and came alongside me as I was in the outside file, and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "step out of line and fix that quickly", so I did.
I stepped smartly out of line by half a pace and bent down to
[page break]
rip off the offending article but half a pace was not enough. Four others tumbled over the top of me in a tangle of arms legs and rifles.
We managed to recover sufficiently, minus a sock suspender, to get back in line before we marched past the saluting base but it goes without saying that there were some very red faces. I was of course carpeted by the flight commander and threatened with all sorts of punishments and it was the first time that I had been on a charge of any sort. I'm not sure what the charge was though but I was beginning to get the hang of things by that time. I do remember that with tongue in cheek I stated in my defence that I had only done what I had been told to do like a good airman and the fact that it went wrong was hardly my fault……there were a lot more red faces and a great deal of spluttering. The case was dismissed and I was told that I should go a long way in the Air Force. The further the better…..like TIMBUKTOO!.
As far as postings were concerned I kept my fingers crossed for a few days and was agreeably suprised [sic] to find that I was going to Mildenhall in Suffolk, instead of some isolated outpost, to continue the process of turning me into aircrew.
Sometimes I have thought that Mildenhall might have been better off without me!.
[line of stars]
[page break]
At Mildenhall my 'on the job training' started off in 'A flight office of 149 Squadron and there I started, to familiarise myself with the workings of a flying unit and aeroplanes.
I sort of bumbled along quite happily as the work of the unit grew on me.
It was one big thrill to be soaking up the atmosphere of this very famous RAF station that had been the scene of numerous departures of record breaking flights before the war and had at one time even been inspected by representatives of the German Air Force High Command.
Currently it was flying almost nightly operations against targets in Germany and German occupied territory, particularly ports and invasion barge concentrations.
I was moved out to the flights after a certain incident which was the result of been asked for assistance by the flight commander. It seemed that he had mis-laid his safe key and as he was 'ops' that night "could I help by getting his pistol out of the safe”?.
It was yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir. That request was as good as an order from such an exalted person and it certainly never occurred to me to refer the matter to the Flight Sergeant in charge.
Many years later I was to find out the correct procedure to achieve access to a safe when the key had been mislaid, but then; if the officer did not seem to know what to do why should a 'bloggs' with only a few months in the service be any better informed!.
'Sir' was quite happy to find his pistol, all oiled and cleaned, with ammunition, laying on his desk when be returned from briefing and with many other things on his mind he did not have time to ask questions.
It was two days later when the subject came up again as he still could not get into his safe so I was obliged to show him how. All I had to do was pull it away from the wall diclosing [sic] the hole in the back created by a circle of holes done with the aid of a Wolf electric drill. He seemed very upset and reckoned with a bit of luck that he would become a casualty before anyone found out. I must confess that…………………
[page break]
in my ignorance I could not understand his concern.
People and aircraft were being lost and damaged right left and centre but 'slight' damage to a safe seemed to be a much more serious problem.
I am not too sure of it but I do believe, that he was the great P.C.Pickard and that somehow he overcome the case of his damaged safe.
As for me, I was dispatched to the flight line and actually let loose with a tractor and refuellers. I don’t remember anyone asking me if I could drive but as it happened the only thing that I had been behind the wheel of before had been a Bren gun carrier,(in the Home Guard-days), when training with local regular units; but no-one seemed unduly concerned and I was soon charging about happily with petrol and oil refuellers as well as towing aircraft about.
It did not take long for the administration to find out that I did not hold a driving licence for my various sorties onto the public highway when I thought it was about time I tried to qualify for a full service licence. Not only was no-one interested but I found myself restricted to camp boundries [sic] only. No harm in trying anyway!.
In due course I found myself having to undertake a different sort of training.
Everyone was required to do a short local course of field training to ensure that they were proficient in the use of certain basic weapons, and as a relatively new arrival I was detailed to report.
I had handled enough weaponry in the Home Guard to know my way around most of what the RAF could produce and I had been awarded a marksmans proficiency in basic training apart from handling all sorts of non-standard stuff.
We had been issued with Canadian Ross .300 rifles of 1916 vintage that had never seen the light of day since they had been manufactured. They had hastily been taken out of storage as the result of an appeal made by Churchill for assistance after Dunkirk,and had been shipped to us urgently with millions of rounds of ammunition in a special convoy. Along the other items were more hand grenades, some Browning automatic .303 rifles and perhaps the most potent of all; the Boys .5ins anti-tank
[page break]
rifle which looked like a king sized rifle which fired armour piercing shot.
This latter item was looked at very suspiciously by the 1914/1918 veterans who were 90% of our ranks and when it had arrived and been degreased along with everything else there had been a lot of dicussion [sic] as to who was going to do the test firing of the thing. The net result was that they; and that included my father, encouraged me to do it, so off we trooped to the range up in the Downs to try and prove something.
Having given the Brownings a satifactory [sic] work-out the time case for the Big-one!
Despite the fact that it was on a bipod and it's heavily padded butt was pulled tightly into my shoulder, and I was in the classical prone position; when it went off I thought the heavens had fallen in. I was forced back several inches but despite the painful process the shot went where it was intended and everyone was satisfied. I promtly [sic] became No.1. on the gun.
The idea was to have a crew of four but it was questionable whether I would have the rest of the crew with me to spot and load when we were confronted by an enemy vehicle, despite the fact that in those desperate days we were expected to stand and fight to the last.
What we lacked in experience then we made up for by our determination to defend our homeland. The order of the day when things were at their worst was 'take one with you' which spelled out some very nasty goings on both for our unit and any Germans that got further than the units manning the beach defences.
Among the assortment of weapons were the 'Molotov Cocktails';bottles of mixed petrol, oil, and parafin [sic] to back up the lavish use of hand grenades.
Part of our defensive plan was to throw then all out of the upper windows to saturate the road junctions with splinters and flame; so my attitude towards that course was one of mild amusement. And a certain amount of smuggness [sic] .
[page break]
It therefore presented no problem when, at a certain part of the course we were in the weapons pit and the Flight Sergeant was calling us in one at a time and going through the procedure of throwing a hand grenade. After a series of bangs I was next in line, so it was "next one, step forward" etc and it was my turn to turn the corner into the active part of the pit.
I think that the Flight Sergeant had probably had one or two nasty experiences with the highly sensitive and nervous types as he seemed very tense when I arrived on the scene.
We had all done a dry run in practice so the rest was done in time honoured fashion as I was handed the grenade.
It was "by numbers-one, pull the grenade off of the safety pin, holding down the lever" ...."Two, throw the grenade overarm...and get down". The lever would fly off as it was thrown and then it would go off in either four or seven seconds from the time of throwing according to the fuse that had been inserted, and I doubt if many people hung about after the pin was out.
In the Home Guard we had practiced a short count after releasing the lever so that an air burst would result but what we were doing was not quite as sophisticated so I thought I would show off a bit. After pulling the pin and holding down the lever I enquired of the F/Sgt "now?".
He went a strange puce colour and kept shouting "now, now, now" as I continued to hold down the lever in the throwing position. Then he changed his cry to "everyone out" which was followed by a mad scramble as the trench was cleared in record time.
I contemplated putting the pin back in and handing it back to him but figured that was pushing my luck so I lobbed it down range where it went off with a satisfying bang.
I soon found myself facing a very irate 'chiefy' who suprisingly [sic] enough just sent me back to my place of work instead of escorting me to the Guard Room on a charge of some sort. But not without my ears burning.
He hurled several unkind remarks after me as I departed about "clever s...." and expressed the hope that the nest time I tried anything like that I would blow my f…… head off!!. Charming!.
[page break]
I soon found that there were plenty of other explosive articles about the place that one had to be very suspicious of in the absence of adequate instruction.
On my introduction to the innards of a Wellington I was told that the 'magic box' with a loose red cover on it in the navigators compartment had a demolition charge inside it and could make a nasty mess of things if interfered with. The same applied to the red cover over the firing switch on the table.
Other nasty devices were the explosive cable cutters set in the leading edges of the wings. It was good bye fingers if they were accidentally triggered and a short 12 bore type cartridge fired a chisel head into a plate.
A job that I did not particularly care for was towing a fully fuelled and armed Wellington about when repositioning was necessary.
It was a very rare job which I did very gently in case anything fell off despite being assured by many people that it was perfectly safe. After all; it was argued, the pilots had to taxy then around and fly them in that condition.
So they might have done but that did not make me feel any happier about the task.
Too many things just seemed to be taken for granted such as the incident out near 'A' Flight dispersals, no more than 100 yards from the 'Bird in Hand' and less than that from a fuel dump.
I came across an armourer sitting astride one of the new 4000lb. 'cookie' bombs on a bomb trolley. He was carefully chipping away a groove around it's middle with a hammer and a cold chisel as they had a tendency to slip out of the bomb hoist sling when arming up!.
The expression on my face must have been one of absolute horror if it reflected what was in my heart but once again I was assured that it was perfectly safe. Nevertheless, I took off at a high rate of knots to the other side of the airfield until he had finished.
I was to learn later that activities such as that really were quite safe. It was just a question of learning about what made things tick but I always remained a little suspicious ever since the occasion when a Cpl fitter had climbed into a Wellington
[page break]
undercarriage wheel wall to investigate the malfunction of an indicator micro switch. I had been shown such things when the safety locks had been in but on this occasion he had said "perfectly safe"…….but it wasn't. The undercarriage collapsed and he was crushed into a very small space and that, unfortunately was the end of his waiting for a pilots course to come through. It was a very unpleasant and messy business for everyone involved.
I generally tried to steer clear of trouble but it was not easy. I once got a loaded petrol bowser stuck in the sand on the way out to 'B' Flight. The Flight Sergeant was called to sort everything out, and me!.
Everyone stood around making various suggestions and I foolishly put in my pennyworth but got told to "belt up” for my suggestion so I just stood back and watched the fun. But I had a feeling that attaching a tow [underlined] above [/underlined] the tractor axle was not a good idea. There were lots of strong words when the tractor and the F/Sgt finished up on their backs but it eventually came out, I finished refuelling. and the aircraft went on ops. despite my efforts.
I still remained on towing and refuelling, even after I was left to refuel a Wellington on my own but I did not secure the filler caps correctly; mainly because as far as I can recall no-one had ever shown us how they should have been done.
It was a very alarmed pilot who landed immediately after take-off with petrol pouring from his wings, and the aircraft was unserviceable for some time whilst drying out. Even then I only had a dressing down and some belated instruction but perhaps the final effort was when I tried to put 'F' Freddie into dispersal on my own.
I had marshalled it in onto the taxyway opposite the dispersal pan and the Sgt. pilot airily told me to put it away; so I tried, but not very successfully.
Although I was fairly adept at hitching up the tow bar and operating the air brakes from the cockpit and I got nicely lined up going into the dispersal I had overlooked the fact that it was a bit of a down hill gradient and the brakes of a Fordson agricultural were not designed to hold a ten ton aircraft in such circumstances....and neither did it!.
Not only did the brakes not hold but the aircraft pushed the
[page break]
tractor, and me, through the hedge sideways resulting in a bent tractor and bent rear guns as well.
Eventually someone realised that perhaps a lot of responsibility was being placed upon 'Bloggs' from time to time, inexperienced as he was, and however willing he might be. From then on, although I still towed things about the fitters and mechanics, who were after all the responsible tradesmen, did the jobs that they were qualified and paid for....and more importantly, signed the Form.700 accordingly.
There were still some dirty and unpleasant jobs to be done from time to time; such as cleaning out the remains of a rear gunner from a battle damaged Wellington. A very unpleasant memory to carry with me when I subsequently set off for aircrew training. Despite the banishment to the more mundane jobs I did some-how get dragged in as an 'extra' in the film 'Target for Tonight', by being allowed on the mainplane and going through the motions of refuelling.
It was a great dissapointment [sic] when I saw the film after the editors had been at it. I appeared in a two second flash out of what I recall was at least a two minute take.
There is always the possibility that when they saw the proofs and noticed this leering airman on the wing trying to look like Errol Flynn they were obliged to do more drastic cutting rather than re-take it. We will never know as the film was also darkened by filters to give a night effect although it was taken in daylight!
[page break]
Piece by piece the vast programme of aircrew training which involved thousands of people was inexorably sucking me, and others, into it's system as it churned out the crews to man the thousands of aircraft that were pouring off of the production lines. My name came up to the top of the list and I was off on my travels again.
This time it was to Blackpool for the beginning of Wireless Operator training; which turned out to be just another production line although it was not nuts and bolts coming off of the end. Blackpool by that time was a sea of blue. Even Reginald Dixon the well known organist at the Tower Ballroom was in uniform as a Corporal drill instructor and his duties seemed to leave him a lot of time to continue to play the organ.
It was a welcome break to go along to the ballroom to enjoy his recitals. 'Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside' always seemed to be booming out some time of the day, but it was no holiday for us.
The boarding houses had been taken over in the same way as they had been at Skegness and they had crammed even more double bunks in so that there were about ten times the number of "guests" that would have normally have been accommodated in peace time.
It was a new experience to eat in our billets which was a change from the mass catering that I had been getting used to but although the landladies did their best with the ration allowances they did seem to dish up some strange things at times. Nevertheless, my taste buds had already undergone a change and I recall that I was eating a lot of dishes that I would have previously turned up my nose at. It was either that or go hungry!.
Our days were divided between morse training and drill with weekly visits to the swimming pool for our bath. The bath arrangement killed two birds with one stone as all the boarding house bathrooms were either locked up or otherwise out of bounds to us. We used the bedroom washbasins. The alternative to a [underlined] real [/underlined] bath was to partially heat a swimming pool.
The tram-car sheds had been converted for signals training and had been fitted with long tables equipped with headsets and morse keys, and stony faced civilian instructors seated at the
[page break]
end of each table.
Half the day was taken up in this environment getting used to the incessant dit,dit,dit,dah,dah,dah, at increasing speeds until the bell went to give us a break or when someone cracked up under the pressure and had to be carried away screaming or crying. It was not only the WAAFS that were affected that way!. No-one who ever went out that way ever came back but there were other ways of being withdrawn from training. It very nearly happened to me when I got 'stuck' at one speed and it was only after pleading with the chief instructor that I finally made the breakthrough.
Then one reached the stage where there was a progress test undertaken in the most nerve racking place. It was in the upper floor cutting rooms of Burtons, 'The Fifty Shilling Tailors', which had also been requisitioned.
The room was set out in a semi circle of tables facing a raised dais upon which there was one table with an elaborate brass morse sending key and a headset. All of the other tables just had headsets.
As we progressed through the course we were tested at an appropriate speed with no re-test if we could not meet the requirements, until the final test came up.
If anyone failed at that point they were washed out, finished, ceased training, call it what you like; and were sent off somewhere else to be something else.
The tension started to mount when the Warrant Officer who was conducting the test, appeared in his white dust coat and issued a dire warning about cheating. After that he set a metronome going to monitor the speed, and by the time he made his first signals check to ensure that everyone was hearing satisfactorily every nerve in the body was jangling.
By the time the opening dit,dit,dit,dah,dit, had come across some people had already gone to pieces but the remainder squared up their papers, checked that their half a dozen pencils were at the ready in case of breakages, and with one more deep breath just ploughed on hoping to get the test piece down with no more than the permitted number of mistakes.
It was inevitable that a good many people 'went for a Burton' in that place. 'Going for a Burton' was a phrase among aircrew
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when referring to those who for obvious reasons had disappeared from active service. That was the signals side of Blackpool apart from the fact that we even tried to read everything in dots and dashes. The paper, the hoardings, even our letters from home. The locals must have thought we were all daft but as in most skills it was a case of practice making things perfect or at least proficient, but I recall that we used to get some strange looks.
A lot of our time was spent in Stanley Park, the Tower Ballroom, and the public baths where we had our weekly bath; (unless one was rich enough to bribe a landlady). and that weekly bath in our case was combined with dinghy drill.
It is indellibly [sic] imprinted on my mind.
Stanley Park was bad enough with incessant marching up and down doing rifle and bayonet drill with a crazy old F/Sgt who worked us up to a pitch where we could have quite cheerfully put one through him. I'm sure old Freddie Fox knew that too.
The baths were something quite different.
Few people had swimwear and in fact it was considered 'cissy' to wear it anyway so several hundred blokes in their birthday suit's were quite a sight and there was a great deal of speculation as to the sight when they were replaced by WAAFS in the same state of undress. The mind boggled!.
To my knowledge no-one ever found out although there were a few bets taken. but security was very strict and WAAF Police replaced RAF Police when the switch was made and a roll call confirmed before the actual change over was made.
Despite the fact that I had been brought up by the seaside I was not a good swimmer, probably due to the fact that I had been pushed in at the deep end at an early learning stage. Being a slow learner I had swallowed a lot of water before being dragged out and pumped dry. It is hardly surprising that thereafter I was not attracted to deep water. Especially the cold variety.
Nevertheless, I did manage to swim the required width across the deep end to qualify as proficient but it was only the preliminary to the so called 'dinghy drill'.
I always seemed to go straight into a state of shock when it came to donning an icy cold, wet and heavy Sidcot
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flying suit, plus parachute harness and 'Mae West' life jacket which was inflated by the mouth after being thrown in. In practice the inflation was done by operating a pressure cylinder toggle but we had to do it the hard way.
There was an awful lot of floundering around after entering the water without swallowing too much especially with all the weight one was carrying, and suffering from the others making waves and generally simulating heavy seas before getting into the dinghy. It made things very difficult and I did not even enjoy doing the aggravation bit to others either.
There were times I could have cheerfully packed it in and remustered to a less demanding ground job but somehow I stuck it out.
[line of stars]
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The day finally dawned when the agony was over and with others I was off to Yatesbury in Wiltshire to learn all about procedures and equipment.
At last I was doing something tangible and I sailed through the course to be awarded the 'sparks' badge at the end plus a few more pennies in my pocket.
I certainly needed the latter as at Mildenhall I had for some reason been overpaid to the extent of being some £5 in the red at one time so deductions had been savagely made until the debt had been paid off. I could have settled it in cash at the time but I was told that the accounts section did not have a procedure for it so for a long time I had only been receiving 5/- five shillings, (25p) every two weeks and in a place like Blackpool my cash balance did not last long. It was no fun at all.
I was very glad when it had been finally settled and I no longer had to rely on the kindness of others for the odd cigarette, cups of tea and buns as well as the odd postal order from home. I'm sure a lot of others were pleased about it too.
I did manage to make up for the lack of certain 'home comforts', namely food, on one occasion though.
On a physical training run at Yatesbury one afternoon I decided that I had had enough and dodged the column by peeling off between some huts followed by a shout from a Cpl. who had seen me go. With that I put on a spurt with the intention of rejoining the party further down the route but did not reckon on the ability of the PTI.(Physical Training Instructor). He caught up with me first and that was me on a charge.
Later, when asked by the officer why I had not stopped when told to do so I simply told the truth and said that I thought that I could run faster than the PTI and that I had hoped to beat him back to the group. My award for failing to do so was three days C.C. (confined to camp), full marching kit parades twice a day at the guard room and kitchen fatigues to go with it. I didn't mind one bit!. I had nowhere to go anyway and I finished up being one of the few people in that place who was getting [underlined] four [/underlined] meals a day for a while.
It was worth peeling buckets of spuds and cleaning a mountain of dirty dishes and pans. The cooks were sympathetic and served up generous helpings as they would for themselves. I do not
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ever recall seeing a skinny cook!.
Someone had got hold of the idea that if you were particularly good at morse beyond the basic standard required then there would be a chance of being earmarked for Coastal Command so with others I put in the extra effort and time and achieved the extra speed almost up to Navy Telegraphist standard.
In principal it seemed a good idea when Bomber Command losses were reaching somewhat frightening proportions but it did not do me or anyone else any good at all as far as I can recall.
As soon as the course was over we were dispersed all over the place; mainly in Bomber Command, to consolidate the training doing all the things that Wireless Operators did and still wondering if it was all worth while.
I went to Marham in Norfolk.
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Photo
YATESBURY 1941
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I covered a lot of ground whilst I was at Marham but I still had to get airborne and there was a long way to go.
I suppose that being aircrew under training had a lot to do with the fact that I was given a wide experience of different jobs in a very short space of time. That is what I thought at the time anyway!.
I started out on the flight line doing daily inspections and ground tests on Wellington and Stirling radio equipments and was later transferred to what was then called Flying Control; as the R/T (Radio Telephone) operator.
Theoretically my job was to relay the controllers instructions to aircraft but everything seemed so incredibly slap-happy during daylight hours that I often found myself doing the actual control whilst the controller kept an ear open in the background.
I found myself particularly attracted to the two Thompson machine guns that were kept in boxes in the control tower. So much so that I was permitted to clean and polish then regularly; provided that I did not put the magazines on!. One particular controller seemed pleased to have someone around that was familiar with then as he certainly was not. My Hone Guard experience again. We only had one in the platoon but everyone knew how to use it!.
On one occasion during a quiet lunchtime with no movements notified I was on my own in the control tower when a Stirling arrived in the circuit and the pilot asked for landing instructions, but the pilot would not circle whilst I got in touch with the controller so I finally gave landing permission. Having given taxying and parking instructions I dashed out of the tower to marshall [sic] it in next to the tower. I was amazed to find that the pilot was a very small lady of the ATA. (Air Transport Auxillary [sic] ) and her only crew was a flight engineer.
I did not have such choice after that but to sign for the aircraft and then had another surprise when an Anson landed and taxied in without any warning at all. The pilot was non other than Jim Mollison who was doing the taxi driving to take the Stirling crew out.
The controller who had seen the activity from the Mess soon came dashing along after he had seen the aircraft in the.......
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circuit and were very surprised to find a brand new Stirling neatly parked but I got a hell of a rollicking for my efforts.
Things got tightened up eventually when another aircraft arrived that no-one seemed to know about. As R/T operator I also performed the duties of 'airmen of the watch' and although I had registered the notification signal in the log and written the details on the movements board it would appear that the controller had not placed a great deal of importance on the movement. As a result he was unaware of the visit of a VIP, (Very Important Person). None other than the Under secretary of State for Air!. Phew!, that caused a stir when he did realise what the score was. The Station Commander was not too pleased either!.
I suppose someone's head had to roll and it was possibly mine as I started a series of detachments to widen my scope of knowledge; unless it was to keep me out of the way!.
I did the rounds of Honington and East Wretham and numerous jobs and being of an inquisitive nature soon found out how things ticked.
At one time I was surprised to find that elements of the Czeck [sic] . Air Force were making a great deal of fuss over what they considered to be their low pay (they were paid RAF rates, Sgt's about £4.50 a week) then the unit moved and things went quiet.
Although I was expecting to be recalled to Marham it was still a shock when it happened. Even more so when I was required to draw flying clothing and prepare to go back to Yatesbury for the air training course. After that everything happened so fast that I wondered what had hit me. It was already mid 1942 and as our activities increased so were our aircraft losses increasing. It was with some apprehension that I embarked on this part of my training. My feelings were not improved when on the morning of departure; waiting for transport at the Guard Room. I was detailed off by the SWO (Station Warrant Officer), to help collect a coffin from the morgue and load it on the transport where it was draped with the Union flag.
I don't know if the SWO had remembered me from another incident which surely should have stuck in his mind, but whether he did or not I have reason to remember it as I was taught another lesson.
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It so happened that I snored; even in those days, which was not a good thing in amongst a crowd of people. In the barracks where we were jammed in with hardly room to move between the beds it was a considerable source of annoyance to my neighbours; if not the whole room although I was not the only one with the problem. It was just worse when I had put a few pints under the belt.
It was not unusual to wake up in the morning to find myself surrounded by a selection of footwear that had been hurled in my direction during the night. Whether any found it's target I would not know. I was usually too far gone.
There was one night that the others in the room could no longer put up with it even when well aimed No. 9's did not do the job and suffice to say that when the SWO marched onto the parade ground is the morning for the colour hoisting parade there I was, still fast asleep in my bed at the foot of the flag pole.
It was a hell of a situation as I struggled back to the billet with my bed and bedding with the SWO hurling dire threats after me. Good job I wore singlet and PT shorts in bed!.
However. it had not resulted in direct punishment. I was still on the mat of course but in my defence I stated that as I had known absolutely nothing about it by virtue of being asleep throughout the whole episode I could not be held responsible.
You can't tell SWO's things like that and get away with it even if the case was dismissed. It was not surprising that after the incident I found myself on guard duty every other night for two weeks, and that included the evening parade as well as the morning colour hoisting parade that the duty people did. It was very uncomfortable being under the eagle eye of the SWO all the time so my turnout and drill had to be impeccable to avoid further punishment. Somehow I got away with it. When detailed off for the loading up I was foolish enough to ask what had happened to the poor chap in the box; only to be told by the man, with a glint in his eye, that it was a Sgt. Air Gunner who had 'copped a packet' a few night [sic] previously. After that I was only too glad to see the coffin subsequently placed in the guards van and draped with the union flag in the care.....
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of the escorts whilst I took off to another part of the train and tried to forget about it.
Back at Yatesbury there were some familiar faces among the entry and we were in a different part of the camp; more or less segregated from the 'sprog' wireless operators, but otherwise there was little difference.
It was not long before many of us were sporting Leading Aircraftsman 'props', and a few more pennies came in useful as well. There was no such thing as a flying pay supplement in those days.
As usual the day was split between job training and other activities, and I was looking forward to the air experience part of it. At last I was going to get airborne and I was all set to enjoy it. It was the beginning of many occasions when I was to feel somewhat disillusioned about taking to the air.
Our initial flying was done in the De.Haviland Dominie as the RAF called them. Many were in fact ex. civilian Rapide's that had been requisitioned and as a result had had a name change and were flown by a mixture of civilian and service pilots.
They were fitted out with several radio positions at which we carried out exercises under the supervision of a Cpl. Instructor with a similar set-up on the ground where we also worked in rotation.
There was of course no toilet compartment, and not even the paper bag that is standard in today's aircraft. There was just an open square biscuit tin of the type that the ancient 'hard tack' biscuit came in, (circa 1917), and there were plenty of those.
That type of biscuit was being substituted for bread several times a week in most units as a great deal of our flour was being sent to the bottom of the Atlantic by the U.Boats, and the civilian population had preference when what limited flour supplies were being distributed. Hence the endless supply of tins. We were obliged to use them instead of paper bags but it was all very crude. It was loose on the floor for anyone to use as necessary. Ugh!!!.
It was a most nauseating experience as most of us were getting airborne for the first time so we were a bit queasy, and more!. It was all part of the elimination process. Anyone who spent
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more time at the 'throw-up' tin was threatened with withdrawal from training and remustered to ground wireless operator.
It was very difficult to force one's self to overcome the discomfort sufficiently to get back to work but the process was motivated by the fact that the rule was that the last one to use the tin was the one that had to dispose of it after landing. Yuk!. I made sure that it was not me.
I was not sorry to progress from that stage to the single engined Proctor for solo exercises. Then I only had myself to worry about…….and the pilot!.
By that time I was getting increasingly aware of the varying abilities of pilots. Not that I had had any alarming experiences, but the seat of my pants was always a very sensitive indicator of how a machine was handled.
It is difficult to explain but I had always had the same sensitivity either in a car or on the back of a motor-bike and that feeling was beginning to develops in respect of pilots. I had come to the conclusion that there were pilots and 'drivers airframe' to use a stores nomenclature description of an item, and it was always to be the same. I knew whether I was comfortable or not.
THEN I MET A PILOT WITH A REPUTATION…………..!!!!!!!!!!!!
[line of stars]
Photo
YATESBURY 1942
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On completion of the course the next move was to an Advanced Flying Unit at Penrhos, North Wales, on the Lleyn peninsular.
I fell in love with that area right from the start and still have a soft spot for it. The years have changed it very little. It was only a small airfield operating Ansons in which Wireless Operators and Navigators carried out more advanced exercises which covered a lot more countryside and took us almost up to the level where oxygen was needed. Just one more thing to contend with.
The pilots were all service types doing a stint as taxy driver to get more hours and experience as they progressed in their training but I had hardly settled in when I picked up a 'buzz' that was going around concerning a certain pilot who apparently was putting the wind up a lot of people.
He had gained a reputation for doing some crazy things and until quite recently had made a habit of flying under the Menai bridge which is the magnificent old bridge built by Thomas Telford across the straits between the mainland and Anglesey.
The practice had just been strictly forbidden under threat of the most severe punishment because someone else had tried it but had killed himself and a few others in the process.
Most people seemed to be keeping their fingers crossed hoping that they could avoid flying with him so I faced the future with some apprehension when I found myself on a flight detail with him as pilot.
My first impression of Sergeant. Francis, Cadell, Macdonald was that he did not look the sort that could put the wind up anyone. I had expected a 'jolly hockey stick' type such as the Pilot Officer Prune, (the accident prone cartoon twit), who featured in an Air Force Magazine, but as he did not fit that category I was forced to the conclusion that he must be downright ham-fisted.
It was a surprise to find that he was a little older than the average pilot, certainly on the wrong side of thirty, and it was many, many years before I was to find out exactly how old he was.
First impressions were of a strangely rugged character with rusty fuze wire type of hair with a heavy drooping moustache to match who seemed strangely out of proportion.
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It took a second look to find the real reason for that impression. His torso was that of a six footer, with well developed chest, arms like the branches of a tree but he had short stocky legs giving him an overall height of no more than 5ft 7ins.
In standard battledress which was designed to be purely functional he looked as if he was suffering from a severe case of 'ducks disease'.
We climbed aboard the aircraft after a briefing that was brief and to the point. "If we get into trouble I will tell you what to do, whether you jump or not, and you only jump when I tell you to. Got that?”. Then he started up, taxied out and took off and although I had my eyes shut during the first part of the routine I opened when there were no unusual sensations and wondered what all the fuss had been about. My sensitive parts had given out no alert signals and it all seemed pretty normal to me.
As the exercise progressed I virtually forgot that I was in an aeroplane despite what he was doing with the machine although it was impossible not to notice that he seemed to be trying to turn it inside out in the gentlest possible way.
The main issue was that I did feel any discomfort at all although a few hill sheep might have done so as we steamed up one side of Snowdon and down the other and we seemed to balanced on one wingtip as we went around the Great Orme on Anglesey with Puffins and other sea birds getting somewhat agitated by the disturbance. My insides took no longer to settle down after that flight than they normally did so I decided that I could cope with that sort of treatment at any time and it certainly made life interesting. My companions still had different ideas though as the stories of his various escapades became more and more exagerated [sic].
Before I left Penrhos I learned a little more about him whilst he was still scaring the daylights out of others.
He was reputed to have previously been Chief Engineer to Gar Wood the racing driver of pre-war years and although I have never found the need to verify the story I have never had reason
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to doubt it either.
As far as I was concerned he certainly knew what he was doing and that was good enough for me.
The operator training became more and more demanding as time went on and I had reached a point where there was a great deal of satisfaction in being able to transmit and receive messages in morse, juggle with frequencies and identify my control station through a cacophany [sic] of background noise. It was gratifying to be able to code and encode messages efficiently but as usual it was not all work and no play. I think we would have gone daft under the pressure if it had been. The pattern was the same as before with the days split between training and exercising.
There were invariably some high jinks in Pwllheli where the Royal Navy had taken over the nearby Butlins as a training establishment and in the traditional Navy way had named it HMS something or other.
There were all sorts of derisive remarks about Nary terminoligy [sic] as they called the bus the 'liberty boat' and they had to salute the 'quarter deck' on leaving and boarding their 'ship'. We called it the main gate!.
Of course we countered with suitable remarks about our 'wizard prangs', 'bombs away' and 'chocks away', but some they resented their 'ship' being called HMS Bullshit, all of which resulted in some good nattered rowdy exchanges in the local pubs.
There was a lot of ale sloshed around. and a great many fried eggs consumed in the basement kitchen of a sea front hotel after chuckout time at 6d, (2 1/2 new pence) each.
The 'end of course' party was a great success and I recall putting in a great deal of effort into assisting one member of the course with some conjuring tricks. He was a member of the Magic Circle and why he picked me I haven't the slightest idea. Little did he know what that did for my confidence which was being somewhat undermined by the realisation that I seemed to be accident prone. As it happened, the, programme went without a hitch and that little exercise did me a great deal of good.
I only vaguely remember the return to camp after that party. It was somewhat hilarious as we came back via the beach where several of us had to be rescued from the sand dunes where we
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had capsised [sic] and ploughed up a lot of sand.
I finally collected my flying log book that recorded the entry of the flight with one Sgt.F.C.Macdonald and normally it would have been just one more entry without much significance as I continued on my travels once more.
[underlined] Fate decreed that we would meet up again!!. [/underlined]
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Photo
PENRHOS 1942
Page 30 And there’s more!
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I continued the process of going up and down the countryside like a yo-yo which was quite an experience for someone like me who had never ventured very far from the home town before the war and I was certainly getting to know my way around.
My next journey was to a gunnery school on Walney Island just off Barrow-in-Furness, flying old hacks such as Blackburn Botha's and Bolton Paul Defiants which seemed to be a very chancy business.
Most of the time the direction of take-off was straight towards a hill and if that was not bad enough the Botha was a death trap on one engine. If there was an engine failure it could not maintain height on one and the emergency exit was straight into the propellor. Turning or not it was dicey.
The Defiant was not so bad although it had a nasty habit of flopping onto it's side in the air if the gunner failed to inform the pilot that he was rotating and firing on the beam. The pilot needed that information so that he could counteract his controls and it was not all that easy to get out of either if in trouble. I have the greatest admiration for the chaps that went into battle in those things.
Somehow I struggled through that period in the depths of winter and at one stage I was very close to being put back in training when I went down with a severe cold and only just avoided going sick, especially as we had strict orders about flying whilst suffering from a cold which resulted in bunged up nose and ears. I felt so bad one evening that I doped myself with whisky and asprin and retired to bed early after a hot shower even though it meant going to and from the ablutions through several inches of snow.
By the time the others came back to the hut later in the evening my condition had them so worried that they woke me up.
There was a considerable cloud of steam rising from me but once they were assured that I was not on fire the threw more blankets on me to continue sweating it out.
Despite the fact that I was a bit wobbly in the morning I still managed to fly my last detail and in fact even get a good score but the rest of the time there is a blurr [sic] .
I have vague recollections of Northen [sic] ale which appeared to be a lot stronger than average and of an hilarious evening at
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a vaudeville in Borrow where most of the course occupied the front row of the stalls, booing and cheering the acts as seemed appropriate.
There were often rowdy exchanges with the conciencious [sic] objectors who were formed into non-combatant pioneer units to man things like smoke generators to mask the docks from air raids, and some energetic clashes with strong minded and well muscled WAAFS who manned a lot of the searchlights and barrage balloons. All good clean fun!.
Eventually, in the end came the passing out parade and the award of the cherished Air Gunners brevet with promotion to Sergeant, and although that was only the outward sign of qualified aircrew it did at least take the place of what had by that time a very grubby white cap flash.
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There was still a lot of training to do, and more travelling as well.
The travelling was not so easy by that time as most of us had gathered more flying kit so everywhere we went it meant struggling with two kit bags.
The next port of call was a Wellington Operational Training Unit at Turweston, which was a satelight [sic] unit of No.12 OUT Chipping Warden, both near Banbury. Oxford. 'A' and 'B' Flights were at Chipping Warden and 'C' and 'D' Flights were at Turweston.
It was there that crews were put together more or less by mutual agreement.
In the first 24 hours everyone just browsed around gathering more paperwork, dealing with arrival procedures and generally making one's self known.
I had hardly settled in when the 'jungle telegraph' was sending out the news that a certain Scotsmen had also turned up. The notorious F.C. Macdonald!.
There were frantic efforts being made by people to find themselves another pilot of their choice. Anyone but him!.
I was not fussy, or for that matter as quick off the mark as some. I had met a Navigator who had also been at Penrhos and had not yet found himself a pilot and although he could not remember Macdonald he found him and introduced himself.
By the next day Macdonald had made up his mind and the crew lists went up on the notice board.
I was looking them over when he came up with a group and announced rather ungraciously, “so we have got you have we?".
A remark that was not designed to inspire confidence although I must confess that I felt a lot happier with someone of known qualities so I was not unduly concerned.
That was the way that the crew came together. I don't think any of us were very special.
Macdonalds background was still vague and was always remain so although I gathered that he was married but separated.
Peter Hobbs, the navigator, was an ex Cpl. accounts clerk who
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had been in the Voluntary Reserve. Both he and Macdonald were a little older than the average and were newly commissioned Pilot Officers.
We actually started with a commissioned Observer/Bomb Aimer but he did not last long.
It transpired that he had already flunked a pilots course, and a navigators coarse so they made him a Bomb/Aimer before they found out that he was too tall for the front turret so off he went to retrain once more.
He might well have been doing courses later on in the war to qualify for some-thing although it is just as likely that he may well have distinguished himself somehow.
He had certainly been been [sic] determined to be aircrew anyway but I must admit that his case was the result of a policy that I was never able to come to terms with.
To commission someone first and then go to considerable lengths to see if he was any good at anything was odd to say the least. However, that is another story!.
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In the place of 'mastermind' we got 'Hoppy’ Hill, so named because he bounced and rolled on the balls of his feet when he walked around invariably with a novel of some sort tucked under his arm. I never did find out what he had been doing before he joined the RAF.
Then we had another Mac. McIlroy, a Canadian Rear Gunner who had been at Walney Island at the same time as myself although I could not recall him. He had been with the Canadian Pacific Railway in some capacity although in his own words he had spent most of his time doing trying to do nothing.
Then there was me. A cabinet maker/polisher who had finished up doing almost anything to remain employed; and I mean anything. My last civilian employment had bees as a milk roundsman!.
Nevertheless, whatever we had been doing we were all in the same boat (or aeroplane) and we all had one thing to common. That was to get on with it and hope to come out of it is one piece.
We were a fairly wild bunch in our off duty periods but I would not think that we were any worse than any other crew.
It was from that point onward that living, working and playing as a crew started. It was for me anyway. Almost to the exclusion of everything else.
Suddenly it seemed that my youthful ambitions had been fullfilled [sic] although it was a pity it had come about under such circumstances.
The most important thing was that we got on well together and we concentrated on getting moulded into a crew which involved an airborne discipline that few people could understand considering our peculiar life style.
Although our crew seemed to be the ideal balance of officers and NCO's with commissioned Pilot and Navigator some crews had formed up with some very odd mixtures with Sgt. pilots and commissioned gunners but which ever way they were mixed the pilot was always the captain is the air.
This arrangement was incomprehensible to some Army and Navy types and even the USAAF. It did not seem compatable [sic] with the normal chain of command yet it worked satisfactorily within the RAF.
Mac, as he was always to be knows, still looked as lumpy in
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his new uniform as he did when we had first met despite a change of rank insignia and a fancy cap but there were more important things to concern ourselves with than how people looked.
We had far more serious things on our minds.
Flying had become a very serious business and if we were going to be together for any length of time we would be relying on each other a great deal for survival and it was to that end that Mac went about his part of the programme as if he had been born with wings.
As far as I was concerned he was an absolute natural and on more than one occasion I was asked by wireless operators in other crews how I got on with him.
I think some of then may well have been regretting their choice of pilot and were looking for a way out but I usually pointed out that I was in no way considering a change. Particularly as no-one saw us overshooting from missed approaches to the runway or had seen us swinging about all over the place on landing or take-off as I had often seen others doing, so what more could I ask?.
On more then one occasion I was told that I would be sorry, (as if I had made the choice): But I never was....Not once!.
I got the distinct impression that for some reason Mac was not very impressed with wireless operators, although from his occasional remark he seemed more interested in having a spare gunner aboard, and I was beginning to feel very spare until one night I had the opportunity to exercise some of my training. We were flying is the local area of Chipping Warden one night when the voltage regulator down by my left foot went haywire and burst into flames.
The voltage shot up and batteries started to cook immediately so I had to work very fast to tell Mac what I was going to do before switching the Ground/Flight switch to ground which cut us off of the engine driven generators, then go rapidly through the fire drill whilst Mac called control for an emergency landing on what little internal battery power we had left.
He did happen to mention afterwards that perhaps a wireless op. might have some use in a crew after all. Only perhaps!.
As time went on we did get to know him a little better although he was one of those chaps you could never get really close to.
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He was not actually unsociable but uncommunicative. More often then not when asked a question on a subject which was not directly related to what we were currently doing his answer would be a knowing wink, a tap on the side of his nose with his forfinger [sic] which could be taken to mean anything; like, "I don't know", or, " leave it to me” or," mind your own bloody business!".
No doubt some people would call it the attitude of a dour, canny Scot but I did get a satisfactory answer on one occasion when I asked him about flying under the Menie [sic] Bridge. His words for once were encouraging.
"Only a bloody fool would attempt that without the wind on the nose, at low tide and through the widest span'", and then I knew that he was not as crazy as some people would like to think.
That in my book added up to a calculated risk, and there were some more to come.
As we ploughed on through the course a great deal of time was spent in the 'Harwell Box' which was a compartmented type of simulator in which we practiced all of the airborne procedures for a bombing sortie, [underlined] only at twice normal speed!. [/underlined]
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All the clock faces had been altered to achieve the time factor and we had to work frantically to keep up with all of the information that was being fed to us from umpteen different sources: It certainly kept us on the ball, particularly the navigator.
That was not the only simulation. For the first time our operating heights were soon to be up in the rarified [sic] air above 10,000ft for lengthy periods. Above that height the use of oxygen was essential and mandatory, and just to wake sure that no-one treated the matter lightly we were introduced to the decompression chamber.
Eight at a time with a medical orderly, we entered the tank which was fitted with inter-comm and after it was sealed the pumps started to reduce the pressure as one would experience in flight.
When 10,000ft was reached on the internal altimeter we fitted our oxygen masks and then the pressure was progressivly [sic] reduced until the altimeter read first 15,000ft, then 20,000 and finally 25,000ft by which time various parts of our internal plumbing were beginning to respond to the pressure change.
We had been provided with note pads and pencils and were than told to start writing our names on the pads as the oxygen supply was turned off.
I was no different from the others when the voice on the inter comm said that the oxygen was back on and we were called by our names and asked to describe any sensations that we had experienced and the answer was unanimous. Nothing!. But the shock came when we were told to look at our pads.
Our signatures had tailed off into an unintellible [sic] scribble and then re-appeared at the bottom of the page.
The realisation hit us all. Although most of us had experienced some light headedness as the pressure lowered we had not been aware that that was the warning that could lead to oblivion and possible death. It was frightening to think that the process was so insidious that it was possible to be unaware of it.
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After that little demonstration no-one needed any further warning on how to recognise the early effects of the lack of oxygen and I was later to find that my tolerance was quite low and I usually needed oxygen at 8,000ft, and that if I needed to move about I had to be fairly quick when going from a main point to a portable bottle especially later on when I was often sitting next to a damned great hole at the back end of the aircraft where there was no main outlet.
The training got more and more realistic both in the air and on the ground. We had got used to the parachute harness and packs by that time and the short briefing on it's use such as "after you have jumped, count ten and pull that", but suddenly it got serious now that we were going to have to face all sorts of unknown difficulties whilst we were defying the laws of gravity.
We started more intensive training off a rig. First without 'chutes just jumping off of a 12ft platform onto coco mats and then right up in the eaves of a hanger with harness and weighted cable system.
The landings were the same spine jarring thump either way as we made contact with the ground with feet together, knees slightly bent, slight angle to the direction of landing to roll over shoulder and hip on contact.
That was the classical way of doing it if you had the opportunity!. A very good friend was not so lucky when his turn came. He had already received a smashed arm when the aircraft was hit but although some of the crew put his 'chute on and threw him out he lost consciousness on the way down and busted a leg is several places on landing. But he fared better than the others. They all went down with the aeroplane!
Perhaps I was fortunate in my approach to the training and found no great difficulty but others were not so lucky and were required to do it again and again until they had improved their technique but not without a few sprains and bruises as one ploughed on through the course.
We finally completed it with a better than average crew assessment and then we were all on our travels again, but for the first time as a crew.
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Our next destination was to a Stirling Conversion Unit at Stradishall, near Bury St Edmunds. Back in-Bomber country again!. We had known that we were destined for "heavies' long before we left OTU. In fact, I had known before I left gunnery school as I had only done the short course for wireless operators and bomb-aimers, and my log book had been annotated accordingly.
Nevertheless, I had hoped that I would finish up on Lancasters or Halifax's as I already knew enough about Stirlings to be very wary of them.
When I had marshalled in a new one on delivery to Mareham [sic] I had been amazed that the pilot of the monster had been a very small lady of the ATA.
The Stirling was impressive. Although it looked very big it’s dimensions were not much more than the other 'heavies'. It was just that it looked so incredibly bulky.
It stood high on an undercarriage that looked more like some scaffolding around a building, placing the pilot's eye some 22 1/2 ft above the ground which was very high for those days and did not make the assessment of the distance between the wheels and the runway any easier whom landing the thing.
I was also well aware that they had been causing all sorts of problems when the Marham Squadrons were converting to them resulting in all sorts of hair raising incidents and bent aeroplanes.
At least I was familiar with it, and the radio compartment but the fact that I was going to finish up as a crew member on one was a thought that I had not entertained.
Soon after arrival the crew was made up to seven by the addition of a Flight Engineer and a Mid-Upper Gunner.
'Paddy', the flight engineer was of course from the emerald isle and was no stranger to the Stirling having been a ground engineer on them at Waterbeach until he had remustered. He was several weeks into his conversion training and it was a long time afterwards that I learned that he had never flown before he got airborne with us. He must have wondered what he had let himself in for.
Certainly he had a nasty shock when instead of finding his pilot to be another fresh faced youngster he got this 'gnarled old man' as someone described his.
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It was suggested that his main task would be to help the poor old bloke in and out of the driving seat!.
It did not take him long to find out that Mac was something different.
The mid-upper was at the other end of the age scale. Ralph was a fresh faced youngster who had just about changed his Air Cadets uniform for RAF uniform although of course he had done the gunners course since joining and had been at Stradishall for a few weeks on a familaristion [sic] course. But he had not long been out of school.
The crew was now complete. although for a while there was a little doubt about us staying together as Mac found out that he was not exactly built for the Stirling; or visa versa.
The lady ATA pilot had been small but she had seemed to cope but I suppose it was a matter of proportion, and Mac's proportions were somewhat different.
With the controls and the seat adjusted to their limits he still needed some special padding made up to improve things. and the seat of his pants took a terrific beating as he wrestled, wriggled and sqirmed [sic] to handle the thing.
The take-off and landing characteristics of the machine did not help such either. An uncontrollable swing to starboard could develop very easily and the tall undercarriage would be incapable of standing the strain and 'crunch', another one would bite the dust adding to the numbers that ended up damaged by that sort of accident which was already in excess of the numbers lost by enemy action.
It usually depended on how fast you were going at the time whether you walked away or were carried away from the wreckage. Not a pleasant prospect!.
In theory the idea was that the engines were opened up on a staggered basis having due regard to any cross wind. until a speed was reached when the rudder would give effective control, then all engines could be taken to full power.
The snag was that with a full load there was never a lot of runway to spare so it was usually a choice of two evils. You either took a chance of running out of runway if you did not get the power on soon enough or you slammed it on at the beginning of the take off run and took your chance with a
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swinger'.
Mac seemed to have it down to a fine art.
Whatever the length of the runway. Whatever the load, the strength and direction of the wind. Whether the runway was uphill, downhill, or both, with bump or a hollow in the middle, his computer brain had it worked out. Whatever the circumstances and however tired he was we always seemed to make a perfect take-off and landing. So far I had not experienced a bad one with his at the controls.
Nevertheless, he was wearing out his pants at an alarming rate in the process.
So much so that the instructors were having serious doubts as to whether Mac and the Stirling were quite right for each other.
Then something happened that removed all the doubts.
On the night of 13th June 1943 we were doing night circuits and bumps in preparation for his first night solo.
After several circuits the check pilot gave Mac the thumbs up after another satisfactory landing and vacated the aircraft the aircraft in the vicinity of the control tower before we taxied around again for the next take-off.
After the usual pause for the routine cockpit check we entered the runway and were soon thundering along gathering speed; when it happened.
At the most critical point, almost half way down the runway, with about 90mph. on the clock, the port outer seized with a crunch that could be felt throughout the aircraft despite all the other sensations, and 30 tons of Stirling started to swing to port.
It was a wonder that the prop did not sheer off which would have been normal but the reflex action that went on in the cockpit was fast and furious. It had to be to prevent us from becoming another statistic.
Paddy closed down the dead engine by stabbing buttons and switches that cut the ignition to the engine, cut off the fuel, operated the bulkhead fire extinguishers and 'feathered' the propellor as Mac called for maximum power on the inboard engines as obviously his hands were very busy with the controls.
As Paddy took over the throttles and the propeller pitch controls the power came on with a bellow as he shoved the inboard
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We were just at the 'unstick' point and almost at take-off speed as the swing to port became more pronounced with Mac struggling desperately.
At least we were almost airborne which was better than being splattered all over the airfield and his efforts were being rewarded as we then started to go slowly into a starboard turn with only just enough speed on to keep us flying.
Standard procedures dictated that we had to go into a right hand circuit as it was invariably neccessary [sic] to turn away from the dead engine. There was so little margin of control if you went the other way that a nasty mess was the likely result.
Still close to the ground with wheels and flaps still down Mac was straining every muscle to maintain control but slowly and surely we increased our speed still swinging to starboard.
From my position in the astro dome I could see the hangars and the control tower dead ahead!.
If that wasn't out of the frying pan and into the fire!.
It looked as if it was going to be decidedly messy and certainly it was going to do me no good at all if I dived for my crash position…...and then we started to climb and bank as the speed had built up sufficiently.
With wings almost vertical we went between No's. 1 and 2 hangers, taking a telephone line with us. I had a very unusual view of the water tower as we went around it straight into a very low level emergency right hand circuit for a landing that was just like all the others. As smooth as silk. Even under those circumstances.
It was shortly after we had landed that I became aware of the fact that I seemed to have been holding my breath for a very long time and I had been very close to ceasing to breath altogether.
We taxied around to the control tower to pick up the instuctor [sic] pilot and when he came aboard he was still very much out of breath as like most of the staff in the tower, he had abandoned it rapidly as we headed straight for it.
He just managed to gasp "you'll' do" before we taxied back to dispersal.
There was so doubt in our minds anyway. He had tamed the beast and there congratulations all round.
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Mac's reaction was normal. A wink and a tap on the side of his nose. No comment!.
After that there was very little let up as the training including flying intensified. Mac continued to wear out his trousers in his efforts to maintain control and that’s what it was all about as far as he was concerned. Total perfection, and he never, ever, let the machine take over. We had absolute confidence in him.
The only other incident of any note throughout the course occurred shortly after we had landed one night and had got back to the billet. A Ju.88 intruder who had followed someone in tried to shoot him up on the runway without success. He sprayed lead all over the place and I think the most damage was done to a window above my bed in the barrack block. I was under it!. There was no one hurt although my bed was showered with glass.
That sort of effort did not impress us very much if that was the best they could do. It all seemed a bit panic stricken and I had seen plenty of similar activity on the South Coast where air raids on Worthing had been mainly of the hit and run type.
I had been close to several attacks as they came blasting along the railway line and the shunting yards but they never hit the gas works which was opposite the hospital; which was just as well as my father was invariably fire watching on top during a raid.
Not one bomb fell on the railway line or the signal boxes in the local area but there was a fair amount of damage to civilian property and loss of life. The flat in which I had spent the first few years of my life was one that collected a direct hit although mostly the bombs fell in open ground.
There is still evidence to this day of the occasion when an Me.110 straffed [sic] along the line. The metal footbridge between East Worthing and Worthing Central still has the canon shell holes in it and my wife remembers it well.
She was walking along the road parallel to the railway when this chap came blasting in firing both front and rear guns and she was obliged to make a hasty dive over a low wall into someone's garden for safety.
Even then I thought it was a bit panic stricken and not very effective.
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It was whilst I was at Stradishall that I saw the half scale Stirling in one of the hangars. A very interesting little machine. It was about the size of a Wellington with a cockpit just big enough for two in tandem, and four little two blade props on Pobjoy engines. It had been built for test purposes early on, whilst the full size machine was still in the design stage. Even then it was-fall of snags but they pressed on.
No-one sees to know what happened to it eventually. It had been pranged and was not airworthy but it just seems to have dissapeared [sic] . Perhaps it will turn up at the back of a barn one days!.
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[underlined] THE SHORT BROS. S.29."STIRLING" [/underlined]
Built by Short Brothers, Rochester & Belfast and Austins, Longbridge.
First flight (Mk.I) 14th May 1939. Followed by Mk's II, III, IV & V.
Began with daylight operations in 1941 before switching to night operations until the end of 1943. Later used as glider tugs. paratroop and supply dropping and finally transports.
2,374 of all types manufactured but none remained in flying service after the early 1950's.
[line of stars]
[underlined] Model B.Mklll [/underlined]
Span...................99ft 1in.
Length………………87ft 3in.
Max. all-up weight…………70,000lb.
Max. speed…………270 mph. (Economical cruising 180mph. fully loaded)
Range……………….Max. 2010mls. (According to load).
Service ceiling………17,000ft.(14-15,000ft with max. load)
Engines………Four 1,650bhp. Bristol Hercules Mk.XVl
2 stage, supercharged, sleeve valve, 14 cylinder radials.
Defensive armament…….8 .303in. Browning m/g. 2 in dorsal and front turrets. 4 in rear turret. All power operated.
Max. bomb load………..14,000lb. (Max. bomb size 2000lb.
[line of stars]
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[deleted] 44 [/deleted]
[underlined] FOR NORMAL BOMBER OPERATIONS THE CREW CONSISTED OF:- [/underlined]
Pilot………………………..………..who was always the captain.
Navigator……………………..…..who was also trained as a bomb aimer.
Observer/bomb aimer…..….who was also trained in navigation and was front gunner.
Flight Engineer………..………...was responsible for monitoring the engines and other systems. Often acted as co-pilot.
Wireless operator/gunner….communications, radio direction finding and trained reserve gunner.
Mid-upper gunner……………..)were interchangable [sic] between positions
Rear Gunner……………….…….)but generally preferred one position.
Note:- On occasions another pilot was allocated to the basic crew for operational familiarisation and became the co-pilot.
[line of stars]
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[deleted] 45 [/deleted]
It was the middle of June when we left Stradishall and it was a pleasant change not to have to travel too far to our new unit. We moved by truck just a few miles up the road to Chedburgh, a satelite [sic] station of Stradishall.
Most Stirling units were concentrated in East Anglia and we were to join a new Squadron being formed on the day we arrived. The Squadron had been numbered 620 and we would be the partner to 214 Squadron which had been in residence for some time. It had been formed by the standard procedure of hiving off 'C' flights from established Squadrons. In this case 'C' flights from both 214 Squadron and 149 from Mildenhall; by coincidence the same Squadron that I had been with at Mildenhall previously. To assist the rapid build-up new crews direct from training were being added so with virtually a snap of the fingers the new Squadron was born on the 17th June 1943.
Chedburgh was just another war-time airfield that like so many had just mushroomed all over the countryside by the hundred. A tremendous achievement both in planning and engineering considering the enormous amount of material and man-power each one absorbed. It was not surprising that Britian [sic] was often referred to as an unsinkable aircraft carrier. There were over 100 airfields in East Anglia alone!.
They were all built to the same basic pattern with Nissen huts all over the place with dispersed accomodation [sic] tucked away in woods and down country lanes that ensured that everyone had plenty of exercise in the process of getting to and from their place of work.
The airfield was situated alongside the A143 Bury St Edmunds to Haverhill road and the set up was much the same as any other unit.
The Station support services comprised an Administrative Wing, a Technical Wing and a Flying Wing and within the latter were the flying units, the Squadrons, which were independant [sic] units.
Altogether the station was manned by between 1800 and 2000 people including Squadron personnel, with an establishment of 16 air-craft per Squadron. plus 4 reserves. Theorhetically [sic] that should have given the station a total of 40 aircraft but we were rarely up to even the basic strength and then not for very
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All the arrival formalities that we had done so often were soon completed with introductions to the Squadron and Flight Commander as well as the specialist leaders, in my case the Signals Leader, who was an operational Wireless Operator filling the position by virtue of his previous experience and seniority.
With all that attended to Mac had received his instructions from 'B' Flight Commander and we boarded the bus that continually circled the outer edge of the airfield where the aircraft were dispersed.
On the way we passed many Stirlings poised like great vultures, except for the odd one that looked as if the vultures had been at them and had gangs of men working on them.
When we stopped at one dispersal pan Mac said "this is it". 'This' was a pleasant surprise. We had become so used to flying old hacks that had seen better days that to be looking at what appeared to be a new one was unique. Even more of a surprise was to be told that this one was 'ours'.
This particular Stirling was serial No.EF433, built by Shorts at Belfast, and was still new enough to have a new smell about it.
The Squadron identification letters of QS and aircraft letter 'W' had been freshly painted on it's sides over some other lettering that turned out to have been 214 Squadron's identification, with whom it had apparently done three operations before being transferred on the formation of the Squadron.
We were concerned with getting to know that piece of machinery more intimately than anything else we had had dealings with in the past.
We spent hours going over it with the ground crew; testing and adjusting until we had it ticking over like a well oiled sewing machine. We air tested it and put it through it's paces again and again. The gunners tested their guns over the sea. Pete checked his box of tricks. Hoppy put the bomb release mechanism through it's sequences and tested the front guns. I tuned my radio and made contact with the control stations as well as testing the radio direction finding system. Mac and Paddy did everything they could to ensure that the engines and controls gave the right responses by throwing it around at height including a landing procedure with first one then two engines
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feathered and everything throttled back just to see how she stalled as well as a maximum height climb until they were at last satisfied that if anything went wrong with it it [sic] would not be our fault.
When all that was done we were ready for anything and both crew and aeroplane were in a partnership which we hoped would be for some time. As it turned out it was longer than than [sic] the average!.
We were soon to find out what we had let ourselves in for on a series of night operations that were not without a little excitement.
[line of stars]
Four days after leaving Stradishall we found ourselves on the Battle Order for the night of the 22nd June and from the moment the order went on the board everything started clicking into place as we started a procedure that hundreds of other crews were doing up and down the country in order to deliver thousands of tons of bombs and incendiaries to the enemy.
Mac had already been through it the night before, flying as second pilot with a crew to Krefeld, but the only thing he would say about it was that we would find out soon enough, accompanied of course by that tap on the nose.
I was naturally apprehensive at the prospect of flying over enemy territory now that we were finally committed and not unaware of the losses that had already occurred in 214 Squadron in the short time we had been on the base. Fortunately there was plenty to do to take our minds off of the inevitable as the procedure had become standard for major exercises and operations and we knew precicely [sic] what to do.
The first thing was to ground test and then air test the aeroplane and with [deleted] that [/deleted] over to try and get some sleep before the briefing and all the other business whilst the ground crew prepared it for the flight with bombs, fuel, flares, ammunition, oxygen, first aid packs and safety equipment such as the dinghy, inclusive of the distress radio and a multitude of other individual items to be checked over or stowed.
Our next step was to change into clean underwear of the aircrew type. The pure wool and silk mixture. Not only for warmth in the sub zero conditions we were likely to
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encounter at altitude but just as important to reduce the risk of infection if injured. That was the general idea anyway, but at the rate we were soon to be flying we very often had to wear underclothes a week or more before the laundry caught up with us.
'Night Flying supper' was always something to look forward to at whatever time it was scheduled. The rare operational egg and bacon special. That meal was not just a 'perk' but possibly the last one that one would get for some time depending on the circumstances, and then we were off to the operations block.
Once we got there we were cut off from the outside world. All the outside telephone lines had either been disconnected or were at least monitored and even the local telephone boxes had been disconnected or secured as soon as the teleprinters had started clacking away earlier to advise that the operations order was following.
Within that environment there was a lot of activity and the amount of stuff we had to get together was quite extraordinary.
There was basic stuff such as parachute harness and pack. Life jacket, (the Mae West), helmet complete with earphones, microphone and oxygen mask, all to be tested on the rig in the safety equipment section. Then to change into sea boot socks and flying boots. Then to empty pockets into the locker and don the heavy fishermans roll neck sweater. The next step was to draw rations and escape and evasion packs that all had to be stowed into the numerous pockets of the life jacket and as if that was not enough we then gathered up our specialist equipment.
The navigator and wireless operator carried the most and it was quite a pile of stuff. Maps, charts, rulers, pencils, computer, (of the Dalton circlar type for wind calculations etc) , sextant, star tables, code books, lists of call-signs, frequencies, identification beacons. colours of the day information etc. Some of the secret stuff was typed on rice paper for the purpose of disposing of it by eating it if if [sic] the need arose.
It was hardly surprising that we needed large canvas flight bags for all of the odds and ends apart from having to carry all of the other gear.
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After assembling all that there was a short briefing by the specialist leaders before the main briefing took place, and it was at this point that the pilot, navigator and bomb-aimer were given advance knowledge of the target so that they could make their special studies of route, and target photographs before everyone else trooped into the main briefing room where the whole thing was put together so that everyone knew what was going on.
The teleprinters had been spewing out stuff for a long time after the planners at Command and Group HQ had held their planning meetings and sometimes the Operations Order was yards long. The operations order contained details of take-off times, route, turning points, target data, ack-ack defences, possible fighter activities, heights to fly and speeds, winds and weather en-route and return, fuel and bomb loads, pathfinder marking, alternative and emergency airfields, radio procedures, radio beacons, frequencies and callsigns, etc, etc. and even details of any POW camps if they were near the target.
The complex mass of stuff had been sorted out and the whole station was in top gear as we at last struggled into the main hall to assemble around our own table where there was a great deal of chat with clouds of tobacco smoke floating about by the time the whole assembly was called to order by the senior briefing officer. That was always a dramatic moment and the climax of all the activity that invariably seemed to be a race against the clock. Heaven help a crew that was late!.
The windows had been shuttered as soon as preparations had commenced and the 'fug' must have been murder for non-smokers.
As soon as everyone was in and accounted for the main doors were closed and two RAF Policemen took up position outside. Everyone settled down within the chaos of equipment all strewn around the floor and on the tables as the briefing got under way as soon as the big wall map was uncovered.
The briefing officers included the Flying Control and Met.Officers. The Armament and Engineering Officers, The Wing and the Squadron and Flight Commanders, and very often the Station Commander
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who took no part in the proceedings although he occasional took part in the operation with a 'scratch' crew but he invariably had a few words of encouragement at the end of the briefing.
When the curtains were drawn back from the wall map there was a bit of a gasp as eyes followed the coloured tapes across to the target..Mulheim, and then with such waving about of an old billiard cue that had been 'liberated' from one of the messes the show got under way.
It was a source of relief to find that we were not part of the main force. Our detail was 'Gardening'. The code name for mining, which we would be doing by flying part of the route with the main force and then dropping out to sow our 'veg' as we approached the Frisian Islands. I was glad of that and would not have cared for a trip to Mulheim first time out.
Mac would still say nothing about his trip to Krefeld. In fact very few people would. When asked, the usual answer was, "you will find out soon enough", and as far as Mulheim was concerned Mac would only say that we should think ourselves lucky that we were not going there. No-one argued with that!.
As soon as briefing was over there was a mad scramble for the crew bus to take us out to dispersal and to load all the gear into the aeroplane.
Having stowed everything where it should be there was time for a tour around the outside to make sure that all protective covers and control locks had been removed.
When all was ready it was just a matter of waiting for start up time with a few minutes quiet contemplation, a pee on a wheel, and a cigarette.
Any chatter there was at that stage was about anything other then the operation ahead of us.
Although the start up and taxy times had been given at briefing there was usually a signal from the control tower as back up bearing in mind that radio silence was strictly imposed from the time that the operation had been notified.
The signals were yellow/green verey flare for start up or a double red for cancellation so when the yellow/green went up the game was on. Some game!. Suddenly it was all deadly serious.
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My only consolation was that it was my own choice. I could have been blown to bits in the infantry, or roasted in a tank, or faced several different ways of drowning in the navy so it seemed as good a way as any of taking my chance.
With the start up everything in the aircraft seemed accentuated. The smell of paint, leather and fuel brat was all mixed up to create the odour that was peculiar to an aeroplane.
There was the additional smell of the rubber oxygen mask that was attached to the now sticky leather helmet and would be stuck to my head for the next few hours.
There was no way around that as the earphones and microphone were an integral part of the helmet.
Then there were the atmospherics on the otherwise silent radio receivers that mingled with all the other muffled noises as the aeroplane case to life in the hands of Mac and Paddy.
Starter motors whined. Engines coughed and spluttered and the airframe vibrated from end to end with the initial rough running in rich mixture. Flaps were operated, bomb doors were closed and brakes released with hissing air and sighing hydraulic systems after the wheel chocks were waived away, followed by the rolling motion of the heavily laden aircraft as we taxied to the marshalling point near the runway threshold. Depending where the dispersal was in relation to the runway in use determined the length of time taxying, and the order of take off, but normally by the time we reached the threshold the oil temperatures and pressures, and cylinder head temperatures had risen sufficiently for the engines to be run at near full power against the brakes to test the magnetoes [sic] .
As was usual in aero engines there were two magneto's to each engine, each serving one of the two sets of plugs per cylinder. That added up to 112 spark plugs altogether and it was neccessary [sic] that every one was doing it's bit when full power was called for. Then the superchargers were tested, and the variable pitch propellors, with the aircraft shaking and rattling until all four engines had been tested after which they were throttled back to a nice healthy tick over.
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That was the decision point of 'go,no-go'. The engines had to give power within certain tolerances before a full load take-off could be attempted, and a decision that we would have to 'abort' if all was not well would here been an anti climax at that stage.
It would have meant entering the runway at the allotted time, rolling down and turning off at the intersection or the end, and then justifying it to the engineering officer and the flight commander. It was not a decision to be taken lightly.
That first time, with a live load and everything checked out satisfactorily, a green aldis lamp signal flashed from the caravan in acknowledgement of the aircraft's letter signalled on the downward identification light and we were ready to go.
We entered the runway with the one hundred and one checks complete and the adrenelin [sic] started to flow as we went through the familiar procedure.
Line up, brakes on, one third flap, engine cooling gills set, superchargers in low gear, props in fine pitch, mixture rich, engines wound up, a momentary pause for a final check of revs and boost with the aircraft straining against the brakes....brakes off; and a surge of acceleration as we started down the runway. Then the continuing acceleration and the tail coming up followed by a final bellow from the engines as the throttles were shoved to the stops.
The runway lights flashed by at ever increasing speed. The aircraft gave a little sideways fidget as the line was corrected and we were soon approaching the critical speed.
Very mindful of several tons of high explosive and a great deal of high octane fuel surrounding us we continued to thunder down the runway until those of us not in the cockpit knew by all the familiar sounds and sensations that all was well up front. The flight engineer who had followed the pilots hand on the throttles up to the stops had now taken them over and applied the friction locks as Mac devoted all his attention to controlling the aircraft as at the same time the engineer was calling out the increasing air speed.
The rumbling stopped; the attitude changed and we knew we were airborne. The next call was "undercarriage up" and as soon as they were showing up the next call was "flaps in" and another
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change of attitude as the aircraft was 'cleaned up' before there was a final change of engine note as they were throttled back after reaching a safe height and speed.
At that point we all started to breath [sic] a little easier.
All the time the intercom between the pilot and enginneer [sic] was lively as the action and subsequent indicator response was called out and acknowledged.
With so such to do and so such depending on it being done correctly it was a rigid discipline, and very soon we were climbing on the first heading to the rendezvous position before climbing further to our operating height.
On that first occasion we set off at medium level under cover of the main force and once more we were on our way. This time with a difference……it was for real!..
[line of stars]
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As soon as we got clear of the coast the gunners tested their guns with a couple of bursts and the smell of cordite drifted around for a while, after which they settled down to their long spell of sky searching.
It was a lonely and demanding job but very neccessary [sic] as they methodically scanned up and down and left and right with the turrets following their search.
You could not see them out there but there were a lot of aircraft milling about with between 600 and 700 hundred converging on the main rendezvous position from East Anglia, Lincolnshire and Yorkshire to make up a solid stream. Even in good night conditions you were lucky to be able to see further than 700 yards so that if anything did show up there was not a lot of time to take action.
Some separation was provided by the various waves being at predetermined heights, and by time separation between the waves going through a check point or turning position, but nevertheless there were still a large number of aircraft packed into a relatively small area of sky at any one time.
When I was not in the radio compartment my position was in the Astro dome. That was the clear vision dome on top where the navigator took his star shots from and where I could assist in the search.
From there I could still remain plugged into the communication system and listen for routine broadcasts from the Group control station every half hour. These included up-dated forcasts [sic] of the weather in the target area and a common barometric pressure setting for the altimeter to ensure that we were all flying on the same datum.
Any message received was rapidly de-coded and passed to the navigator or the pilot although it was more common that only the station identification would be transmitted, (no message). It did not do to miss anything like a recall though, and to find that you were the only one over the target and getting a great deal of attention.
On occasions I would be required to release a flare over the sea for assessment of the wind drift. It was released down the flare chute and ignited after entering the water and then the rear gunner kept his sights on it to read off the drift angle.
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whilst the navigator did the timing and his sums which was very crude by modern standards but the results were a very useful check against the Met. forecast which with the best will in the world was often well out and navigators needed everything they could get to keep us on track. Pete was forever beavering away with his rulers, dividers and computer to cross check everything and did not rely on any one specific facility. The best I could do for his were radio bearings from the UK using the direction finder equipment.
Unfortunately that became suspect as we got deeper and deeper into enemy airspace. The Germans sent out false signals on the same frequency to confuse things and the continental broadcasting stations were suspect as well due to them being made on linked geographically located transmitters. [underlined] The same as we did for UK broadcasts. [/underlined] It was impossible to get bearings on that network. One equipment that they found difficult to interfere with was 'GEE', which was our most important navigational aid up to a certain distance imposed by range and height. That was the 'Magic Box' which used Information from a number of special high frequency transmissions which were received and displayed on an oscillascope [sic] . When the information had been transcribed to some special lattice charts positions could be fixed with considerable accuracy, and from running fixes it was possible to assess wind speed and direction for the purpose of correcting headings. It did not do to stray far off track.
The flight engineer continually monitored the engines, and all the vital functions that kept us going including fuel flow and fuel remaining as well as transferring fuel from the smaller tanks to keep the main one's topped up. There was very close co-operation between Mac and Paddy as Mac was meticulous in his handling of the engines.
The bomb-aimer/observer whose main function occupied very little time often spent time as co-pilot or assisted in map reading when conditions were favourable, so everyone had their job to do and a little bit more. It was team work all the way.
Positioning for mine dropping was meticulous. The Navy provided the charts and told us where they wanted them dropped, and the charts went back to the Navy.
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The mines went down in their specified area on their parachutes which softened the blow of them entering the water after which they submerged to do their evil business at a later date.
I was glad to see those go. Their explosive content of Torpex was far more devastating than that in our bombs; not that the outcome would be any different if we had a direct hit in the bomb bay!.
It all seemed too easy. We saw a little sparkling flak in the distance that someone had stirred up, possibly a flak ship.
Those were the blighters that could crop up anywhere so every sighted had to be logged so that some might be done about them later; if only to give instructions to avoid the area. The trouble was that it was easy for them to more from one anchorage to another before the next day!.
As we droned back to base I found it difficult to reconcile the fact that it really was me going through it all. It all seemed so unreal like a dream.
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I had moved on.
Someone else now had the refuelling job.
If ever I needed to call the W/T (morse) fixer service I knew what was at the other end of the facility and how they could help us.
I had worked in one of Bomber Command's transmitting stations at Honington, (mainly polishing the wretched floor), but as a qualified wireless operator I had often been allowed to plug into the transmitter side-tone as it squawked away and take down the transmission for practice.
Mostly of course at that time it was incomprehensible as it was in code, but now I had found out what it was all about being one of the recipients within a collective call sign.
There were facilities available on the shorter range R/T (radio telephone) service usually need directly by the pilot and although I had means of using it from my compartment it was very rarely necessary [sic] .
Apart from air to air and normal air to ground control there were some very useful services to be obtained such as the D/F (direction finder) cabins which I had also spent time in.
These were the strange tepee like wooden cabins stuck out in some field near the airfield with their double walls filled with fine shingle for protection against shot and shell and an aerial array sticking out of the top. I [sic] was from there that a highly experienced operator was able to give pilots a course to steer for base, or a bearing, and in dire emergency, assistance with a descent through cloud procedure.
I had spent more time in the teleprinter communication cabins and had done duty as the R/T operator in what was then called Flying Control as well as doing daily inspections on aircraft radio equipments.
I had time to reflect on what it all added up to as we droned steadily towards base. There was little else to do except listen out on the control frequency, load the colours of the day into the verey pistol and switch an the IFF (radar identification signal), make up the log etc as we approached the coast, descended and identified the flashing beacons that pin-pointed airfields and other geographical locations by their code. (I had even
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been part of the operating team on one of those at one time); until we identified Chedburgh's among the dozens that were winking through the night.
With navigation lights on and gunners still keeping a good look out for intruders we called the tower and got our joining instructions; joined the circuit, landed and taxied around to our dispersal.
The ground crew were waiting and marshalled us into position and finally when the chocks were in place everything was shut off and at last the dull roar that had been going on in our ears for hours finally subsided.
It took some time to adjust and we found that we still shouting at each other for a long time afterwards.
Apart from that and to get the tacky helmet off perhaps the most relief was gained by being able to slacken the lower straps of the parachute harness that if properly adjusted made life very uncomfortable, and then to have a good pee on a wheel and light a cigarette. What a blessed relief that was!. It became almost a ceremony!.
There were a few minutes to wait whilst the skipper had a few words with the crew chief to pass on any information relative to defects or malfunctions and then finally the crew bus arrived and we boarded on route to operations still drawing hungrily on our cigarettes, that as I recall, tasted pretty horrible at the time.
On arrival at the ops. room for debriefing there were excited exchanges with other crews all milling about after we checked in our parachutes. The room was still thick with tobacco smoke as the windows had remained closed since the briefing and would remain so until until [sic] the end of the de-briefing or to the time when all was quiet. The time when all aircraft had landed back at base or had been notified as landing elsewhere or endurance times had been reached. After that time aircraft that had failed to turn up were chalked up on the state board as FTR. (Failed to return).
We then spent a little more time answering questions put by the Intelligence Officers and their assistants as they probed for information, and completed combat reports as appropriate as they pushed more cigarette across the table.
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Finally came the specialist debrief when we handed in our logs and code books. Returning all equipment. Changing out of our flying clothing and at last making our way to the mess hall for our eggs and bacon, and to top it all off, a nice long walk back to our tin hut where others were already asleep or just tumbling into bed.
That is when it hit. When you were winding down. When it was all over and you felt completely drained. I know I did. Apart from anything else I was never very good at being up half of the night.
It might have been a routine trip for us but later as we found that [underlined] Eleven [/underlined] out [sic] 96 Stirlings had failed to return from the Mulheim raid and one of them had been from our Squadron. The casualty procedure was already under way and we had not even been there long enough to know the unfortunates concerned!.
That was the pattern of our lives. We usually reported to the flight office at 1400 hours the next afternoon whatever time we had landed, to see what was in store for us and a special effort was made for more than one reason.
If we had slept late and had to make a dash for it it [sic] was easy to miss lunch and we would have to go through to tea time before eating again. There was no other way of finding something edible unless one happened to find a mobile NAAFI wagon doing it's rounds. Even the so called 'sausage rolls' or the inevitable currant bun was welcome then. We very soon got around to keeping a tuck box of some sort to tide us over by hoarding some of our flying rations.
If there was no flying there was a serious attempt to be the first in the queue for supper. We always seemed to be hungry in those days. Or perhaps it was just me!
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On the 25th we were detailed for another mining job. This time in the Bay of Biscay, off the estuary the Geronde [sic] and in the approaches to the Atlantic U.boat bases.
Again it was hours of concentrated low flying over moonlit waters that could be so very, very deceptive. It placed a great deal of strain on Mac but that is where he seemed to be in his element and we were glad to get home again after a flight of 5 hours 45 minutes.
The mines had been placed with the same meticulous care as before and everyone seemed of the opinion that mining was 'a piece of cake' although not everyone was happy about spending so much time near the wave tops, especially as on one occasion Mac was close enough to cause the rear gunner to complain about the spray drenching his turret!.
There was some speculation about whether Mac was volunteering for mining but we never found out. What went on in the confines of the Flight Commanders office only ever translated itself into what went on the Battle Order and the Flight Authorisation Book.
That night others were not so lucky and another aircraft and crew from the Squadron failed to return.
We were all beginning to feel a little jaded by that time and we were hoping for some free time, if only to catch up on some sleep; but we had to wait for that.
[line of stars]
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We dragged ourselves down to the flight office in the afternoon hoping to hear the magic words "stand down", only to find that we were on the Battle Order again for another operation that night, and later on, in the briefing room, I was to experience a very strange feeling in my innards, somewhere between my heart and my stomach when the target was announced as Gelsenkirchen, in the Ruhr, or 'Happy Valley' as it was commonly dubbed by aircrew. It had to happen sometime!.
For Mac, it was already his fourth operation in five nights so it was not surprising that he was tight lipped about it. He knew what we were in for!.
For the rest of us it was to be our first time over the enemy coast to face all the perils that went with it. Since no-one would talk about it it [sic] had to be imagined although it not do to dwell on it.
I do know that as we approached the target that I was glad that I was not a pilot after all. How I would have reacted in those circumstances I am really not sure. Perhaps I would have coped but since my responsibilities towards the crew at that moment in time were limited I decided that on looking at that scene as we approached I would rather not know. I promptly retired to the protection of my armour plated seat. As if that made any difference!.
It did not seem possible that anything could fly through that unscathed. There were a lot of explosions and steel splinters out there but it soon occurred to me that the armour plating was only psychological protection. The others had a lot less protection so I went back to keeping a look-out and to hell with it.
As we started the bombing run the sight of the destruction being wrought upon a town by hundreds of tons of high explosive and incendiaries was bad enough but there was also evidence of life or death struggles going on around us as there had been on the run in. The searchlights probed and flak peppered the sky and through it all, flying more or less straight and level, Hoppy guided Mac to the aiming point chanting his left's, steadie's . and right a bit as the target slid up the sight wires.
In the initial stages of the approach the flak had been scattered as the guns went for individual aircraft but as the 'stream'
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Mac had laid down his own ground rules about what was expected of us when we were away from home shores.
In any case he strictly limited the use of the IFF. This was the device that sent out an identification signal to our radar stations, but which some people were known to use over enemy territory in an attempt to confuse the enemy radar. We most certainly did not!, and On/Off entries were made in both the signals and the nav. logs accordingly.
He would not permit the use of the infra-red rear facing fighter warning system which was just as well as we were to find out later that their fighter A.I. (airborne intercept) radar could home on it.
He was insistant [sic] that there should be the absolute minimum use of any radio equipment, and if it was not needed it was to be switched off. (He even used to switch off his R/T set unless there was a very good reason for having it on!.)
The ban even included navigational equipment if there was any chance of an emmission [sic] from it.
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Perhaps he knew something that we didn't but he was never one for explanations and since he was the boss what he said was never questioned. Not openly anyway!.
Like most pilots he carried a mini route map to help him keep orientated and the navigator was kept hard at it to keep us on track and on time as well as keeping in the middle of the stream rather than being a sitting duck waffling around on the fringe where we could be picked off by a roaming night fighter.
My duties had become very restricted by the limitations imposed by Mac. I could not even use the main transmitter without his permission and he was even reluctant to have it switched into the stand-by position which kept it warm and ready for use.
Only the main receiver plus it's associated direction finding equipment were available to me so I was not able to do much to assist in the navigation although there were plenty of other jobs to keep me occupied.
The results of people straying off track had already been obvious when sparkling exchanges of fire between aircraft were seen, or a sudden concentration of ack-ack and the probing fingers of a cone of searchlights and occasionally an orange ball of fire in the sky that would fall to earth and disintregate [sic] . Having no wish to be part of that scene it was 'softly softly catchee monkey'.
One job I often did was chucking leaflets out of the lower rear escape hatch but generally in the final stages of the bombing run I had another job that was another of Mac's specific requirements.
In order to take a photograph of the bomb strike a photo flash was released automatically down the flare chute and a barometric capsule activated it's 'chute and ignited it. Some photo flash!. It contained about 25lbs of magnesium mixture that produced a 3,000,000 candle power flash but the release mechanism of this thing had been known to fail with disastrous results. If it went off inside the chute or failed to clear the aircraft if it malfunctioned the results were as spectacular as getting a direct hit with an ack-ack shell.
It was usually assisted on it's way by a shove from me when I was not otherwise engaged. Just another safety measure that Mac had very quickly picked up from somewhere,
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and I imagine that the rest of the crew were somewhat relieved to hear the call "flash away---chute clear" call on the intercom before I went back to my other duties.
Once more we had run the gauntlet without problems and although the homeward journey was tedious we were eventually back over base and once more flopping into our beds an hour later when it was all over. Even then sleep did not come easily.
There were some more mines to be dropped in the Bay of Biscay on the 25th; again in the approaches to the Atlantic ports and U.boat bases and once more they went down bang on the button.
There was a special technique for accurate positioning but as usual Mac had his own variation. The brief was to transit at medium height and then down to the dropping height after a 'GEE' fix. Our way was to go down to the wave tops after the fix and then climb to dropping height after which we went down to the wave tops again to avoid being picked up by the Coastal radar stations.
It was not only the position in which they were dropped that was important but [underlined] how [/underlined] they were dropped. Too high and they could be out of position and possibly break up on impact. Too low and they were still likely to go up on impact by hitting the water before the 'chute deployed. Either of those results made the effort a waste of time....and there is no fun being blown up by your own mines!.
As soon as they were gone we were racing home again with the taps wide open to avoid the attentions of any prowling Ju.88's in the area….and then we climbed back up to above 2000ft. On that occasion our flight time was 5hrs 35mins.
By that time I was finding it difficult to reconcile our efforts with all the experiences that I had had on operational stations and of other lurid stories told by others of combats, fires, crashes, injuries and deaths. I knew it was not a myth and that it could and did happen so perhaps some people were just unlucky as the BBC news bulletins were regularly giving out that "XXXXX of our aircraft are missing". Just a cold statement of fact but often they were crewed by people we knew. The figure was frighteningly high on occasions, especially among the Stirling force, and there were not only operational losses. On the 2nd July two of the Squadron's aircraft collided in the Chedburgh
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circuit and crashed nearby with the loss of 15 lives. There was only one survivor from that tragic accident which included some ground crew getting some air experience.
We had a few days break before the next operation and like the I others I managed to catch up on some sleep and letter writing as well as sinking a few jars in the Mess but it was not all fun and games.
Hoppy and I took time off to go to Ely for a look around the Cathedral which we had so often seen from the air or the train and of course there were other activities laid on if there was no flying.
There was the often repeated talk about our conduct should we be unfortunate enough to become POW's and it was sometimes made all the more interesting when the talks were from people who had already escaped or evaded to make a home run. There talks on first aid and sea survival and how to make the most of all the equipment that was available to us if we got into trouble. There were not many idle moments but on those days we achieved some sort of normality. One could not be in the front line all the time, and it was too good to last. On the 3rd July we were on the Battle Order again to find that at briefing targets at Cologne were detailed so off we went again.
The defences were even more lively than I had ever seen before. There was evidence of a lot of fighter activity around the City and some very nasty sights as aircraft were hit in their vitals. There must have been some desperate situations as people fought for their lives if they had not already been blasted into eternity. How we went through that inferno I will never know and we were very relieved when we came out into the clear again and were heading for home, still keeping a good look-out for a long time.
It took time after slipping between the sheets before that scene finally faded from the mind. The brain needed time to wind down allowing the need for sleep to take over.
There were [underlined] seven [/underlined] Stirlings lost that time, again about 10% of the Stirling force among the total losses for the operation. It did not bear thinking about for too long and it was rarely the subject of conversation. At that rate according to the law of averages it would not be long before our number came up but
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people normally kept such thoughts to themselves, or shared their fears with their Chaplains.
For me, I soon gave up the struggle of concience [sic] . If people were getting killed or maimed on both side fighting for God and country then any rational person was bound to have doubts at some time. Possibly most people, like me, tried to push such thoughts to the back of the mind and just concentrated on eliminating the enemy, trusting that a forgiving God would understand.
I suppose it was a sort of psychological con. trick that one played on one's self.
It couldn't happen to us!!!!!
[line of stars]
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On one break between operations and sleeping there was flying practice of the kind that I found the most-enjoyable.
Fighter affiliation was the one exercise that involved us all except the navigator. He could get his head out of the 'office' and enjoy the fun. It allowed Mac to demonstrate his skill by causing more than a few Thunderbolt, Hurricane and Spitfire pilots to have to work very hard to get a bead on us, with a very good chance of getting them in our sights first, which Mac insisted was the object of the exercise.
It required complete team work between gunners and pilot and they had a fine old time giving their running commentaries and instructions which were interpreted by Mac into evasive action. The inter-comm was alive. A team of acrobats could not have put a routine together any better as we skidded and banked and slithered this way and that way to the frustration of the fighter pilots.
My place was in the Astro-dome as usual looking for any attacks that the gunners were not concentrating on....just in case!. I never had the opportunity to get into the turrets. The only way that I was ever going to do that was if one of the gunners became a casualty and although I was not over anxious for that experience I still had to keep in practice.
It was inevitable that Mac would get the opportunity to show off to our American friends one day.
We had recently had a liaison visit from USAAF crews and we had shown off our aeroplane only to be left smarting from some tactless remarks about our 'pop-guns' and the lack of them in certain parts, and "where did we stow the pool table", etc, etc. Certainly the fusulage [sic] of the Stirling was big enough for one, but they were more subdued when we told them that we could carry some three times the weight of bombs that they could!. We kept quiet about the fact that they could fly more than twice as high as we could, and very often did.
On one particular occasion we had just completed our exercise and the fighter was orbitting [sic] out of range somewhere when a B.17. (Flying Fortress), came stooging in looking for all the world like a porcupine with guns sticking out of everywhere.
We were a little above him so Mac shoved the nose down, piled on the power to build up the speed quickly, then stopped and
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'feathered'; (turned the propellor blades edge on to the slip stream) both outboard engines before coming up alongside him. After a little hand waving came the big surprise. We then slid up, over the top of him, came down the other side, then underneath and back into the original position before waiving [sic] goodbye to the astonished, and possibly alarmed B.17. pilot and then peeling off like a fighter. All that on two engines!!!!. Very good for morale!.
It has to be said that although the Stirling could not get to a decent altitude it could be thrown about in a very lively fashion and Mac's handling of it had to be experienced to be believed. We might have done some strange things at times and he threatened on several occasions that he would loop it but one thing I do not ever remember him doing was a heavy landing of the sort that some people seemed to make a habit of.
One measure of the quality of successive landings could always be taken from what was known as 'creep' marks on the tyres and wheels.
When a tyre was fitted on one of those enormous wheels a line was painted across wheel rim and tyre so that after a number of landings with the wheel being jerked into motion by the impact with the runway it was possible to see how far the tyre was creeping around the rim. It was only allowed to go so far otherwise the inner tube could distort and fail.
In most cases tyres needed re-fitting about every seven landings but I do know that our aircraft did not have a refitting as often as that.
As for looping, we never did, although we were never very far from it on the occasion when he did attempt it. He had several tries but the result was the same every time. We started running out of air-speed long before we got up to the top and he was obliged to roll out of it with dust, fluff and debris of all sorts floating about loosely in a brief spell of weightlessness. He gave it up after a while having calculated that he needed at least 300mph on the clock before the pull up to make sure of getting over the top but one thing he would not do was to push 'Willie' to that extent,
Someone else's aircraft maybe, but not ours!.
It goes without saying that such fun and games were never
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attempted without a lot of airspace under us. At least 7000ft. of it to make sure that to make sure of recovery if anything did go wrong, and I loved every minute of it.
On the 9th we were back to mining in the Frisian [sic] Islands this time, in the approaches to Wilhelmshaven and Bremerhaven. There was a lot of flak going up from the islands or ships but we had gone in on track fairly low and as soon as the mines had gone down we went again, skimming the wave tops and once more we skirted all the defences finally arriving back at base with no more problems other than just feeling tired even if it was one of the shorter trips.
Someone did mention to Mac that he was likely to slam into the side of a flak ship one night but he reckoned he would always jink around it before they could bring any guns to bear.
[line of stars]
Among the odd jobs that cropped up between operations were trips to pick up a crew or part of one that had diverted or pranged somewhere, or taking a crew to pick up an aeroplane after it had been repaired. Every day it was something different, and some nights as well with a mass exercise to test some procedure or just to keep the enemy guessing. Spoof exercises were boring but very worthwhile as it put the German defences on the alert only to find that the force had turned away half way across the North Sea.
Mac still went out of his way to practice low flying and I recall with shame the number of sailing boats all over the Broads that we capsized with our slipstream as we steamed along with about 200mph on the clock.
It seemed funny at the time anyway. Especially the poor bloke on a bike who was wobbling all over the place as he was looking over his shoulder at a massive Stirling at about 30ft bearing down on him, to be finally flung, bike and all, into the dyke.
None of it was authorised of course but Mac always used to say that if the flight authorisation book was annotated 'local flying' it looked suprisingly [sic] like 'low flying' and that is what he would be doing for as long as he could get away with it.
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On the 24th we were briefed for a raid on the docks and the U.Boat construction plants at Hamburg with a maximum effort being called for.
Every available aircraft was put on; many with 'scratch' crews drawn from the operations staff. This was one with a difference!. The briefing was long and detailed as we were going to drop 'Window' for the first time.
'Window' was the code name for the bundles of foil strips that were to be discharged from aircraft at a steady rate from a given position en route and as every aircraft in the force was contributing it was expected to cause such a smother of signals on the enemy radar that it would be quite impossible to track individual aircraft. It sounded like a good idea to me and I was quite content to spend a lot of time shoving that stuff down the flare chute if it was going to keep us out of trouble.
It did work and losses were cut considerably despite the fact that three of the Stirling force failed to return out of a total of 791 aircraft dispatched. Nine others were also missing.
It was a fairly long flight of 6 hours 55 mins. but was without incident until we were over base on return. Someone ahead of us had done a 'swinger' and blocked the runway so we were diverted to Mildenhall and it was a strange bed for the night for us. The arrangements for diverted crews were a bit rough and ready. After debriefing we were given bedding and then had to hump it, with all of our other gear, around the camp, through the main gate to the pre-war airmens married quarters which were being used as barracks, and we finally flopped into hastily made beds in the kitchen of one of them, dead beat. I'm sure we could have slept the clock around but it was not to be.
We were hauled out of our beds at mid-day by the RAF Police as there was a panic to get back to base. We had no time to have a drink or a meal or clean our teeth or wash or shave. It was a mad scramble to get out to the aircraft as quickly as possible after returning the bedding. That basically is what caused my problem. It was not until we had got airborne that I realised that in the 'flap' I had left my flight bag in the billet and that was
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serious. Among the contents of that bag were secret code books but Mac was adament [sic] when I asked for a turn round. His comment was simply "hard luck". so when I reported the loss on return to base the cat really was among the pigeons.
It was a long time before the enquiry was concluded.
I could have shortened the period, and certainly Mac was soon wishing he had turned-back but he would not take me over later in his car, or lend it to me (not that I had a driving licence), so we had to put up with a Squadron Leader chasing us all around for statements. It must have been time consuming and frustrating for him when we kept disappearing into the protection of the briefing room which were 'off-limits' to him.
The bag was eventually recovered from where I said it was. It was in one of the cupboards in the kitchen where we spent the night. (I had put it there for safety!), and later I got a formal reprimand for my sins. It did not make a lot of difference in the long run.
[line of stars]
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Nevertheless, I was feeling very apprehensive about the outcome of the oversight as we set course for base, air testing the aircraft on the way, and once the loss was reported I was issued with a new kit before we dashed off to try and get a few hours more sleep and a clean up. There was not much time to spare as we were on the Battle Order again. Hence the panic to get us back!.
Even then none of us felt particularly wide awake as we dragged ourselves into the briefing room once more. This time to be briefed for a raid on the Krupps complex at Essen.
Essen was considered to be one of the hottest targets in the Ruhr, being right in the middle with some fairly formidable defences to work our way through.
It was a case of running the gauntlet for a long time with a big of a wiggle here and there to dodge the ack-ack and the searchlights that someone else had stirred up but nevertheless, around Essen itself it was pretty fearsome.
Somehow we got through it and were homeward bound just wanting our beds but it was not to be. Routine W/T (Wireless Telegraphy-morse) broadcasts from Group HQ confirmed that the weather had indeed taken a turn for the worse, as we had been warned about at briefing.
Fog was forming all over East Anglia and we did not have a lot of reserve fuel. We had carried a maximum bomb load instead so someone at Group HQ planning must have been keeping his fingers crossed. The problem was that there were a lot of pilots wanting to get on the ground quickly as the low swirling fog was thickening up rapidly.
The countryside was covered in almost 100% cotton wool with church spires and masts sticking up through it and it did not make it easy to find a runway underneath it.
Our diversion was to Waterbeach and by the time we arrived on the scene it was going full blast. Aircraft were milling around over the top burning up precious fuel and others who had been called in had made missed approaches and rejoined those circling so when we were called in without too much delay Mac pulled out all the stops and made it first time on the BABS (Blind Approach Beam System), much to the relief of all concerned.
There was a lot of nail biting and it did not improve matters
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when we actually passed over one flaming wreck on the final approach. We had made it but some others holding off near the coast ran out of fuel and had to abandon with the inevitable loss of life due to parachute failures, crash landings and drownings.
At least we were home and dry once more even if it was going to be another cold and somewhat damp bed for the night, which was more than could be said for some poor blokes. Nothing at all was heard from another six Stirlings, Three of then from our Squadron. There was another large gap in the ranks that would need filling!.
The weather had cleared up by mid-morning and we were hauled out of our beds again feeling more dead than alive, with another panic to get back to base as we were on the Battle Order yet again!.
I must confess that at the time I felt that we were really pushing our luck.
"Willie' did not come up to scratch as we airtested it on the way back. We had actually taken off with what would normally have been an unacceptable 'mag' drop being unladen but it really did not make a lot of difference so we handed it over to the ground crew to sort out and once again we went through the same procedure as before. Grabbing some sleep, cleaning ourselves up etc. but when it came to briefing time 'W' still had not become serviceable despite Mac's rantings and ravings. He and Paddy had spent quite a lot of time out at the dispersal with their sleeves rolled up. We were allocated EF492 which someone else had air tested.
It finally resolved itself as the operation was cancelled almost immediately after the briefing. That was one time I was very relieved when the 'op. scrubbed' message came through considering the diabolical weather that had been forecast.
Despite the extra time that was available 'W' still failed to give satisfactory engine responses even after they changed all the plugs, ignition leads and magneto's on the troublesome engine so we were still down for EF492 when we were briefed on the following day for Hamburg yet again.
'Windowing' was the routine once more starting long before we entered the flak and fighter belt.
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The only break in that routine was when the flare was loaded as we once again approached the target in the midst of the docklands complex.
There was a lot of chatter and excitement from those up front as we got nearer. I went forward to join Pete who had virtually abandoned his charts about fifty miles from the city. There was absolutely no doubt where the target was. No spoof target fire could have possibly looked like that.
There was a damn great fire up ahead that, obliterated any aiming point so we jostled ourselves into the stream and Hoppy aimed for the middle.
The scene was almost beyond description, with a carpet of fires delineated by the waterways and streets with bursting bombs and other erupting areas of fire with photo flashes and flak tracers climbing lazily into the sky. Probing fingers of searchlights and cascading chandeliers of red and green Pyrotechnic markers.
It was an obsolutely [sic] apalling [sic] inferno down below us. It was sea of flame with smoke reaching up almost to our height to even penetrate the aircraft which bounced and bucked in the updraft.
I had never seen anything like it before and it was a long time before the flames faded into the distance as we left it all behind us. The rear gunner reckoned that he could still see them nearly 100 miles away and everyone was wondering what could have caused such a conflagration. We were to find out later that a combination of freak conditions had caused what was to be known as the 'firestorm’ but it was with some relief that we eventually arrived back at Chedburgh, into a hut now full of new people and to flop into our own untidy beds ready to sleep for a week.
[line of stars]
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We had another free day before the next operation was scheduled.
A day of rest and an opportunity to write to my parents, who, although they never showed their feelings in their letters about the family must have dreaded each day for what news it might bring them, knowing what I was doing. But the following day we were on the Battle Order once again.
We had a shock when we found that the target was Hamburg once more, and there seemed something sinister in going for the place so soon after the last attack that surely must have torn the heart out of the place.
EF433 was back in business as they had sorted it out at last and we had a rough time weaving in and out of a multi searchlight cone and concentrations of flak as we approached the target area. Once again it was a combination of Mac's skill in weaving about and a fair slice of luck. It was not surprising that our gunners were getting a bit 'twitchy' by this time, and so would I have been in their situation. One moment of slackening concentration on their part and we could easily be one of the 'flamers' we saw all too often so when Ralph blasted away at a shadow that swept across the top of us without warning the very fact that he identified it as a Halifax almost immediately was taken for granted. We learned later that Ralph's fire had been accurate enough to have wounded the Halifax engineer in the foot!. It was unfortunate but it really was a case of shoot first and ask questions afterwards. A split second hesitation and there was no second chance if it had been a roaming night fighter trying to drop something nasty on us. We had been warned about that possibility.
Worst things could happen in the 'stream' with hundreds of aircraft converging on one spot with a night visibility of 500 to 600 yds. at best. Collisions were always a possibilty [sic] despite the attempts to achieve separation in the planning, but if someone was out is his timing, and at the wrong height that was it. What the Halifax was doing at our height and mixed up with the Stirlings is anyone's guess. Pete was adament [sic] that we were on time but a total of six Stirlings were lost that night despite the protection of 'Window' and other methods that were being used to give us some cover.
The Special Duties Force had all sorts of tricks up their sleeve
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to confuse and jamb the German fighter control system including German speaking operators on board to imitate their controllers and transmit spurious instructions.
They played merry hell with the system causing Luftwaffe pilots to continuously change channels and in the general confusion they were soon forced to make some drastic changes and then the main force joined in as soon as they entered the fighter belt. Every aircraft transmitted noise on a selection of frequencies which overlapped and were manipulated in such a way as to produce a solid spread of noise across their operating band.
It caused a buzz of excitement when this was detailed at briefing but was Mac was still reluctant to have our main transmitter in use. It produced a typical comment, "It's all very well these clever sods deciding that we will do this and that and the other, but I'm not having a fighter home on our transmissions right up our chuff".
Nevertheless, I had my orders and I could appreciate the value of it. He was finally convinced when I asked him try to listen into the din that was going out on the airways. There was a solid spread of noise from hundreds of aircraft using a microphone in an engine housing feeding to the transmitter. It blotted out everything else so I was allowed to add my bit. Operation 'Tinsel' was good value as far as I was concerned.
Once more the journey was made over the North Sea which always looked so angry and inhospitable when there was sight of it. The very thought of finishing up in the 'oggin' filled me with dread but that was the way so many went following an emergency signal going out at frantic speed to the fixer service. If the sender was lucky it would be followed by a long transmission when the key was clamped down before he dived for his crash position and the transmission ceased when the inevitable occurred.
Everyone who heard those transmissions logged whatever they heard and a D/F bearing if they managed to get one although the transmission would be acknowledged smartly by the base operator for the benefit of all those that might be listening.
The sender would no longer be listening. He would have far more important things to occupy his mind; if he had been lucky!.
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It was not always easy to ditch copy-book style, with the tail down, along the bottom of the swell, exactly at the right speed, at night, and with the aircraft flying like a brick lavatory. Maybe without even a qualified pilot at the controls. But some made it just the same and the rescue services did the rest.
For us once more there were the dulcet tones of the WRAF in the control tower when Mac called for landing instructions, and eventually after all the paraphinalia [sic] had been attended to; to climb into a cold and untidy bed, for most of us, in the same state as we had got out of it!.
The next night we were off to Remchiede [sic] in the Ruhr and marking was carried out to the ultimate. Something different was being tried. There were route markers, turning point markers, target markers, back up markers and shifters, but it was not to Mac's liking. It might have helped to place more bombs in the right place but it also seemed to be an invitation to the night fighters to concentrate their efforts in a nicely defined corridor.
That was the night I did something that I only ever did the once. We were carrying a second pilot on his first operational trip. Paddy spent most of his time in the astro dome, the flare was loaded and there was no window to throw out so I was virtually 'spare'. I retired to my armour plated seat, receiver volume turned right up so that I would be alerted at the first signs of a transmission; and then I dozed off!. At that point in time I decided that if I was going to get killed I did not want to know about it.
It is not possible to go right off in such circumstances so I was still conscious of thumps, bounces and weaving sensations but we still sailed right through it all although eight other Stirling were not so lucky. Two of them from our Squadron!.
[line of stars]
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There was hardly time to get our breath back before we were at it again. We went through the old familiar routine and there were a few gasps when we found that the target was Hamburg once more.
In the meantime a story had gone around in respect of an NCO crew who had turned up for a briefing in their best uniforms, having told their commissioned captain in advance that they were refusing to go, but when they announced that fact to all and sundry that they really had had enough after their last rough trip there was one hell of a commotion. They had all been placed under close arrest and were stripped of their rank and aircrew insignia after which they finished up in the ‘glasshouse'. Subsequently, when they had completed their term they were employed in the Sgt's Mess of another operational station with the glaring signs of removed badges for all to see………and lesson to everyone!.
How much truth there was in that story is anyone's guess but it did show up the anomaly in the aircrew set up that everyone was well aware of.
Despite the fact that all aircrew were volunteers once you were in that was it. There was no going back and staying that you did not like it or you did not want to do it, on moral or any other grounds. You were stuck with it.
Failure or refusal to carry out your duty in the air was classified as LMF. (Lack of Moral Fibre) and led immediately to a Courts Martial. The action was swift although there was a subtle difference between that charge and 'cowardice in the face of the enemy'.
I am sure that a lot of people who were justifiably scared out of their wits still pressed on rather than give way and be labelled with that stigma. In many cases the condition was recognised by other crew members and the individual often 'rested' on medical. grounds which eventually sorted the chap out one way or the other.
In this particular case where there was more than one person involved it was much more serious and no doubt could have been construed as mutiny rather than LMF. It begs the question of how a similar problem would have been dealt with in either of the other services. I have a fairly good idea...but this was
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the Air Force way!!!!!!!.
The briefing was well under way and everyone did their little bit until it finally came to the Met. man's turn.
He commenced to put up a chart such as I had never seen before; or since.
It was smothered in the usual blue and-red symbols of high and low pressure systems. Warm fronts. Cold fronts. Occluded fronts, and the craziest pattern of isobars that looked as if they had been put on by a demented spider.
There was a buzz of anticipation as he finished pinning up his chart, then he turned around, coughed nervously and confessed that he had not got a clue.
What a brave chap!.
The announcement was greeted with good natured hoots, howls, and whistles accompanied by the stamping of feet until, he had an opportunity to explain that the situation was very complex and that it was impossible to draw up really accurate forecast. This was the best that he could do.
His forecast was absolutely grim. We were to expect anything and everything. There were no soft options.
He probably did not realise at the time that all the noise we had made was little more than a cover for the twinges we nearly all had in our guts.
His chart may have been a joke but the weather was not. There were umpteen layers of cloud with heaped up cumulous and dirty great Cumulo [sic] Nimbus embedded in the layers with the most incredible wind sheers in them that was a navigators nightmare quite apart from the fact that if you did happen to be unfortunate enough to blunder into the worst of that it was enough to tear your wings off with updrafts and downdrafts of around 100mph adjacent to each other!.
We encountered ice, snow, hail, rain, thunder and lightning and even that rare phenomenae [sic] 'St Elmo's fire' that lit up the aircraft with a silvery blue glow of discharged static electricity around all of it's extremeties [sic] including the propellors that were turned into enormous catherine wheels.
Mac fought the elements and that aeroplane for hours as it bucked, bounced, and groaned with every lurch. We couldn't get above it so there was only one way....onward!
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Hail about the size of marbles hammered us until we thought that every piece of perspex must give way under the onslaught but somehow we got through although we had to bomb under the parachute sky markers that the Pathfinders had been forced to drop above the diffused glow of the doomed city below us.
It must have been too much for some. It was a shocking night all round. For us as well as Hamburg. We lost thirty aircraft altogether and another 50 were badly damaged, without a doubt as much by the elements than by enemy action and on the whole it is not suprising [sic] that the bombing was scattered all over the place.
We were all utterly exhausted after that. None more so than Mac, and were very relieved to get back to base and flop into our beds again. We were very lucky. A lot of good blokes went to a more permanent resting place that night without achieving a lot on that ill fated mission.
There were some angry mutterings directed at the commanders who had made the decision to go out an such a night.
There is a story told of one Aussie pilot who was so incensed at the debriefing he insisted on phoning Group HQ and when he was connected fired a real Aussie broadside down the line. The story goes that when he had finished the person at the other end said "do you know who you are talking to?", "No" said our Aussie. "This is the C in C, Air Chief Marshall Harris" (short pause), the next question was from our Aussie friend, "do you knew who this is?" to which the C in C said "No". "Thank Christ far that" was the answer to that before the phone was promptly replaced!.
[underlined] Noel [/underlined]
Happy reading
[line]
and there are another 70 pages to ‘Water under the Bridge’ Part 1
[underlined] Alan [/underlined]
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On the lighter side there were a few evenings out together in Bury St Edmunds where someone had found a pub that was just right for us.
It was a back street 'spit and sawdust' place with the very apt name of 'The King William', and give us a common meeting place that we were otherwise denied as we were split between two Messes.
Mac used to get a small recreational petrol allowance for his car but it didn't go far. One or two sorties had proved fruitless as everywhere we went we seemed to be up to our armpits in aircrew and allied troops of all nations, and despite various reports about a certain pub having some beer we would be lucky to get in the door before they sold out. In others it was not unusual to get a watered pint. With war-time beer being limited to 2 1/2% alcohol to start with who wanted a watered pint! We most certainly didn't so once we found the 'King Willie' we kept very quiet about it.
The landlord and his wife had recently heard of a service bereavement in the family and when we turned up they virtually adopted us. We were treated like family and we could not have asked for more. In those days such a place that never ran out of beer, eggs and bacon, or time was the nearest thing to home. We probably spent more time in the private rooms than in the bar.
After 50 years that old `pub` no longer dispenses jars of ale. It has been converted into a private dwelling but the old pub sign boarding across the front that used to bear the name has been painted over, but it will always be the 'King Willie' as far as I am concerned.
I will always have a soft spot for that place and 'mine hosts'. There must have been times when Mac's elderly but mechanically perfect Triumph Dolomite was on auto pilot when we were on our way back from Bury after an excursion but it always did it without fuss even if it was grossly overloaded. Anyway, Mac was quite used to nursing a grossly overloaded machine and under the circumstances I never had any worries.
There was the consolation that of course if anything did go wrong; and one day it did when I was not with then, we would not have far to fall, and on occasions we were past caring.
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After a short break we were on the Battle Order again on the 10th August and that night we had a very close shave.
The targets were at Nuremburg, and everything was as normal as it could have been under such circumstances until we were in the final stages of the bombing run when Ralph suddenly snapped out "go port--go-go-go", and Mac threw the aircraft over without hesitation.
I searched around frantically to see what it was all about because I was as usual looking in the opposite direction to where Ralphs turret was pointing.
My heart nearly stopped when I saw a Lancaster no move than 100 feet above us, sliding diagonaly [sic] across, with a 'cookie'. 4000lb blast bomb just leaving it's bomb bay!.
That instant `jink' undoubtedly saved us as we actually felt the displacement of air buffet us as it passed within a few feet of us between the mainplane and tailplane....and then it was gone. So was the Lanc!
Whether we were late on target or the Lanc. was early, or why the Lanc. was at our height, or why the bomb aimer had not seen us goodness only knows. There were lots of theories put forward and Mac had a lot to say about it for a change.
Our own theory was that a new Lanc. crew had done a panic stricken dive to the target and were more intent on getting rid of their load and out of it, and we were well aware that such things did happen from the whispers that did the rounds.
Hoppy was more concerned that the manoeuvre had spoiled his bombing run and he had lost his initial aiming paint so all he could do was to dump the bombs into the inferno that was Nuremberg below us but we were still sweating over that incident for some time afterwards.
It certainly had the affect of increasing our vigilance in the future and we were not going to be caught out like that again if we could avoid it. Things were dangerous enough as it was without being 'bombed' by our own aircraft.
Sixteen aircraft failed to return that night and three of them were Stirlings out of the 119 Stirlings sent out!.
Despite the savage losses within the Stirling force we were
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off again on the 12th but from all around the briefing room there were sharp intakes of breath when we saw just how far the tapes stretched across the wall map, right down to Turin, Italy, and everyone knew immediately that it was going to be a 'hairy' one. Mainly because every Stirling crew member was only too well aware of just how high a Stirling would go. Even the Wellington and some of the 'oldies' could do better than us so we knew that there was no way we would be flying over the Alps...it had to be through them!. As the plan unfolded we soon learned that that was exactly what we were going to do. The bolt hole if in trouble was North Africa!. Our Stirlings were a standing joke in Bomber Command. Even WWI aircraft could get to greater altitudes. We were lucky in normal circumstances to get above 15,000ft fully loaded despite the fact that the Operations Order often called for heights that were unobtainable. There were occasions when we managed to 'claw' a bit more at the expense of high fuel consumption by using more revs and boost and with a bit of luck, climbing at a ridiculous 200 feet per minute with 5deg. of flap when it was possible to gain another 1000 to 1500ft before starting the run in to the target but it was not always a good idea as it reduced the airspeed at the most vulnerable time. It did of course produce an increase in airspeed in a nose down approach to the target but it was a 'swings and roundabout' situation. It was certainly a waste of time gaining height that way for any other reason as having achieved it it [sic] could not be held in level flight and would slowly sink back to it's own level like a waterlogged hippo. The net result was that we got the full treatment from both the medium and the heavy flak as well as being bombed by our own aircraft!. The die was cast and we were stuck with it and it seems appropriate to relate an incident as I recall it.
A New Zealand pilot of 214 Squadron received a replacement rebuilt machine and to his delight he found that it out-performed any other Stirling that he had ever flown and kept singing it's praises until the news got around and an investigation was started to try and find out all about this 'Super' Stirling.
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All sorts of people flew it and sure enough it went up to around 20,000ft feet just like a Lanc. and there was much scratching of heads. Then they brought the jigs in from the repair depot, (SEBRO), at Cambridge and the matter was solved. They found out that the tailplane was out of incidence, so they promptly put it back to the 'correct' specification and 'presto', it was back to what a Stirling should be.
It might have solved the technical problem but it did not help the pilot much. He was so peeved about that he refused to fly it until it was changed back and he was threatened with disciplinary action but it was overcome by allocating him another 'normal' aircraft so he had to fly that or face the consequences. My recollection of the final verdict is that the powers that be decided that an incorrectly rigged tailplane could cause a structural failure in flight and that was the last word as far as I am aware. Stirlings continued to be produced to the same specification and displayed the same problem right to the end of it's days, even when many were converted or built as Mk.lV and Mk.V transports that were subsequently to be found littered around airfields all over the world.
I think most of us at that time would have been prepared to have taken a chance if there had been a choice of the two evils and Mac summed it up in his own inimitable way. "Bloody stupid sods", but since there was no choice through the Alps it was.
At the other end of the spectrum there was another `rogue' aircraft that arrived on the Squadron after a rebuild but it must have had a very limited test flight prior to delivery. Rogue is hardly the word that it's crew called it after air testing It. It creaked and groaned. The wing tips fluttered and it could not be trimmed from a lop-sided attitude in flight. Despite the most careful handling it showed great reluctance to exceed 9,000ft and was finally landed very delicately as it seemed that it was about to fall apart. It still took another independent short air test to confirm it's condition before it was promptly grounded and handed back to engineering!.
Despite the problems with the aircraft and the conditions encountered in flying right down to the South of France, skirting around Switzerland and heading through the mountains the Fiat factory......
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in Turin received our calling card but Mac was not at all happy with the return journey.
We had used a lot of fuel as a result of the engine settings that he had insisted on as we had weaved in and out of the mountain tops and to make matters worse it seemed to be getting light much earlier than anticipated.
The planned route was given up in favour of a straight line course for home shores and in the improving light Mac went down to deck level to get under radar cover and to make sure that no-one could get underneath us.
There was little I could do. Radio communication was out of the question even if it had been needed. We were far to low for reeling out the trailing aerial without loosing it so I went into the front turret as all of the others up front concentrated on map reading and safety look-out.
We were scudding along and were about 30 to 40 miles South of Paris when Mac let out a yell, "all gunners stand-by.....open bomb doors". He had spotted something that looked like a good place to jettison the incendiary containers. That 'something' appeared to be a German troops early morning parade forming up in a barrack square and we blasted into the parade ground leaving a very nasty mess behind us from front and rear guns as well as the containers.
That got rid of a bit of weight and we continued to steam along until we came to the shores of the Normandy coast where we spotted what looked like another troop assembly for morning bathing which we blasted into as well leaving that area rather messed up as well.
It did seem as if Mac's apptitude [sic] for low level flying was paying off as we had no-one chasing us so we stayed down low until half way across the Channel by which time I had vacated the front turret then it was back up to height, IFF on for radar identification, and on to base.
Mac had his own reasons for imposing a discreet silence about that episode despite what might have been a considerable contribution to the war effort. As far as anyone else was concerned we had dumped the containers and fired off the ammunition in the Channel to lose weight but having run for home more or less in in a straight line we got it........
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in the neck for arriving home early, a little earlier than others. There was even an accusation that we might not have even been to Turin and Pete's charts were impounded, but the target photo proved that we had. What they thought we had been doing for 7hrs 25mins. I really do not know but it was not very pleasant until we were proved to be in the clear but our unauthorised activities were [underlined] never [/underlined] reported.
The relief of crossing home shores again on the return journey was always an anti-climax as there were many hidden dangers on the home run with most of the crew drained by the physical and mental concentration of picking a safe pasage [sic] through enemy defences.
It was too easy to relax too soon with the gunners fighting the overwhelming desire to close their eyes, and even up front it was just as easy to be lulled by the steady throb of carefully synchronised engines with the aircraft flying itself on auto-pilot, particularly during the dark hours.
It was not unknown for the occasional Luftwaffe fighter bomber to infiltrate the home going bomber screen [sic] with a chance of shooting one down or following it through the radar screen to his base to shoot him down when he was most vulnerable during the landing and to give the base a plastering as well.
There was one occasion that I thought Mac had gone barmy when we were homeward bound over the sea and he called me up to take over his seat whilst he went down the rear. The night was as black as a coal cellar otherwise I am quite sure that I would never have had that opportunity but I dread to think of what might have happened if we had been bounced.
Of course, Paddy, in the right hand seat was quite capable of flying the aircraft within certain limits should an emergency arise, that was part of the job. So could Hoppy and although I had done several hours in the Link trainer (Flight simulator) my own efforts were very limited. My best effort was when I had an outside horizon but I was not very good on instruments alone and with the hood down. Under those circumstances I invariably 'pranged' it by losing control so when on that occasion I sat there gingerly making adjustments to the controls; as I thought, Paddy said after a few minutes "easy isn't it?", and when I nodded he added, "especially on auto-pilot"!. Rotten
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swine, and I thought that I had been doing so well to keep it straight and level.
After that I just sat there until it was time to return to my radio compartment to take a routine broadcast. Then I knew why I had been afforded the privilege of a front seat.
There was Mac, comfortably seated on the Elsan toilet down the back end, smoking a cigar, seemingly without a care in the world. Skippers privilege; no-one else was allowed to smoke!.
After the last operation we learned that three Stirlings had failed to return and one of them was from our Squadron.
The briefing on the 16th was for the long haul down to Turin again but we had an engine pack up 1 1/2 hours out and we were forced to return. With obstacles like the Alps to contend with it was no time to invite trouble but it seemed a terrible thing to do to jettison about 1000 gallons of precious fuel over the bombing range at Thetford followed by the bombs. It all had to go to get the aircraft down to landing weight but not all of the bombs went down safe. They never did. If the arming links did not release from their clips the pins were pulled and they went down live.
I remember only too well the occasions when as an airman on the very range, looking after the flashing beacon that there were some hair raising incidents. I have always maintained that the safest place was the target area. Being 2000 yards from it was no guarantee that you would not get earth thrown in your face,.....even when the Lufwaffe [sic] had a go at knocking out the light. At least on those occasions it gave me a bit of fun then with the Bren gun!.
We were certainly more rested than those who had done the full round trip when we found out that there was another operation planned for the 17th.
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Excitement mounted when the Battle Order was posted calling for a maximum effort and every available aircraft and crew was on the board to start with although it was whittled down for various reasons as time went on. We were allocated a 2nd pilot as EF433 was still undergoing an engine change so we were down for EE945 but it seemed a struggle to get many serviceable.
There were gasps and whistles as the wall map was uncovered. The tapes went right out across Demark and jinked about all over the place before they ultimately took up a course for Berlin from a turning point on the German Baltic coast very close to the Polish border. That was the crafty bit. We had been going on that route with variations for some time but that time we were not going to Berlin but to some place by the name of PEENEMUNDE.
The briefing was lengthy and very detailed. We were going in at medium height in bright moonlight to attack an experimental radar establishment (so we were told) and there was an order of the day from the man himself, 'Bomber Harris' to the effect that we were expected to press home the attack with the utmost vigour, and that if we did not knock the place out the first time we would be going back again the next night to finish it off.
Apparently Peenemunde was very special and I did not like the sound of that any more than the rest of our brief.
The aiming point for our wave was the quarters of the technical staff with the intention of killing as many as possible and the other waves would deal with the research and manufacturing plant. There was a lot of quiet whistling through clenched teeth at that announcement. It had a particularly dirty feeling about it to set out to deliberately kill people although we were not so naive not to be aware that the type of bombing that we were engaged in invariably took it's toll of innocent civilians including women and children. Somehow this felt different.
The Pathfinder technique was something new too. We had a 'Master of Ceremony's', who would be flying around the target broadcasting target and marker information to keep the bombing concentrated in the right place. A very dodgy process at low level and under a lot of falling bombs so Mac had to keep his R/T set on whether he liked the idea or not.
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Despite the maximum effort called for all the Squadron could muster was four serviceable aircraft and in fact only a total of 54 Stirlings were committed so we were not the only unit having difficulty in keeping aircraft flying but we got off and were under way without any trouble.
It was a long trip taking a Northerly route across the North Sea with many feint turns to keep the enemy guessing until we eventually turned South to cross the Island of Rugen with the head of the stream pointing to Berlin but in that case using the island as a final navigational check point to line us up with Peenemunde.
In such a bright moonlight night dozens of aircraft could be seen lining up but the rear gunner spotted one that seemed to be lining Itself up on us and it was not one of ours!. He kept an eye on it until he was sure of it's intentions and then there was a sharp warning, "fighter low, corscrew [sic] starboard, go" and opened fire as he spoke.
There was a lot of firing from both gunners as banked and dived followed by a yell from the rear gunner "got him" as the would be attacker went diving earthwards with smoke and flame pouring from him.
We soon levelled out again with the target area now clearly lit up ahead by markers, exploding bombs and fires. The Flak was very light and the target stuck out like a 'sore thumb' although there was a little confusion about the precise aiming point. The MC had been a bit late in giving corrections to bomb upwind and to one side of the markers but Hoppy had already locked on to his target and it was too late to do anything about it once the button was pressed, He always maintained that he went for the correct target anyway as it was obvious that the markers were out of place but there was a lot happening around us and there was more excitement to come.
The bomb bay doors had just closed when Mac suddenly ordered "guns stand-by-fighter dead ahead" and I swung around in the astro-dome to see an Me.110 about 200 yds ahead going from left to right with the crew plainly silhouetted in the cockpit by the light of the moon.
In the time that it had taken me to turn around Mac had already
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rammed on full power, banking right and Hoppy was scrambling into his turret. Ralph was rapidly rotating forward but it was a forlorn hope that we might do something effective. There was no way a thirty tonner was going to produce the sort of urge [sic] that was necessary and we soon lost him as he went into the dark side. I don't suppose the German crew even saw us.
The intercom was a bit lively after that as we cleared the target area and finally headed for home. The fighters were showing signs of getting very busy and there was evidence of combats all around us so it was not surprising that Mac did his usual and to hell with orders to climb away from the target. I heard him explaining to our co-pilot that he did not think it was a good idea to reduce his airspeed to about 150mph in those conditions and our co-pilot was learning a few things too. It must have paid off for him anyway. He stayed with the Squadron to the end advancing from Sgt to Sqdn.Ldr. and with a DFC.!.
Mac did the very opposite to the briefed instructions by shoving the throttles right forward with the nose down and 'high-tailed' it out of there like a scalded cat and kept it going until we were down to about 2000ft which we maintained over Denmark before climbing again.
We got home without any more trouble. The rear gunner had his claim of a `kill' of a Do.217 confirmed by other sightings although it was never acknowledged in the record books and fortunately we didn't have to go there again. We had well and truly put the place out of business and the Yanks made sure that it was unlikely to recover.
It was long afterwards that we learned that the so called 'radar delelopements [sic] ' at Peenemunde were in fact the V1 and V2 rocket research and developement [sic] that had received top priority, but at a terrible cost.
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The raid had cost us 41 aircraft including one Mosquito over Berlin where a diversionary attack was-going in. Of the two Stirlings lost one was from our Squadron and we lost not only the 'A' Flight Commander and another 'freshman' pilot who was down as second pilot.
Altogether there were nearly 300 casualties of which 131 had a been consigned to watery graves; never to be found!.
Later on some more interesting facts emerged. Apparently the Luftwaffe had dispatched their night fighters to Berlin at first due to the Mosquito's stirring things up and in the excitement they had a fine old time shooting each other up; and down, before it became obvious that the main raid was-somewhere else. Then the fighters were diverted to the Peenemunde area and other units were alerted.
The net result was that when the whole flock descended to land, very short of fuel, on diversionary airfields it was every man for himself and quite a number were lost in mid-air collisions and taxying accidents.
One significant loss that could be attributed to that episode was that the senior General of the Peenemunde production staff was among the many casualties and production was put back sufficiently to gain time for the introduction of countermeasures when they did finally launch them.
[line of stars]
I was not sorry when we found ourselves free for a few days as we waited for the nights to get darker and for nearly 300 air-crew and 40 aircraft to be replaced; but it was only a few days.
On the 23rd August EF433 was back in business again and we were off once more. The target was Berlin; the 'Big City' as it was known to aircrew. It no longer gave us any cause for concern when the target was announced....we had been well and truly blooded, so off we went again although it was not without a spot of bother.
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It seemed that there were battles going on all around us with intense activity for a long time. There were 'flamers' going down in all directions and we were all keeping a very sharp look-out whilst Mac weaved about so that at times we could see below us but we were lucky again even when Mac had to take some very lively action to duck out of a searchlight cone that definitely had our number.
The pale blue high intensity radar controlled master light locked onto us first and then a number of others joined in and chased us around all around the sky.
We had seen that situation often enough to know that once you were trapped in that lot there would be a fighter not far away waiting to finish us off if the concentration of flak did not get us first; and the flak got [underlined] very [/underlined] concentrated.
That was no time to just 'corkscrew'. Throttles forward, fine pitch, nose down to increase speed and then Mac more or less played tag with them as they chased us but he used some very rapid changes of direction before they could reverse.
That night was perhaps the most desperate searchlight situation we had ever been in. On occasions the whole interior of the aircraft was illuminated as plain as day and it was like being a fly caught in a spiders web but eventually Mac's tactics paid off as we broke free. We were very glad to get home again after that.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that the relatively quiet earlier missions were a stroke of luck as we were now having to fight our way through almost every time. The odds in favour of us completing a tour were shortening considerably, and to make matters worse the flying time was getting longer. The last three ops. had all been over seven hours and Berlin was nearer eight, and 56 aircraft had been lost on that raid, 16 of them Stirlings!. The beds in our hut were getting new occupants before we even got to know the previous one's!.
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No-one seemed to be getting posted away or 'tour expired'. There was always someone from the 'committee of adjustment' gathering up the possessions of those who would have no further use for them unless they had been particularly lucky.
As far as we were concerned it was still not a subject of conversation although we were a little superstitious about the situation. Despite the fact that our beds were scattered about the hut none of us ever moved from the beds that we first flopped into so that we could be grouped together, although it would have got some of us away from draughty doors and windows.
We just stayed put as the occupants of the others changed regularly and I learned later that Mac and Pete had adopted exactly the same procedure!. Among the most recent casualties that brought things rather sharply into focus was the loss of another McDonald, (slightly different spelling), ex 214 Squadron, on the last operation. We had got to know him and his crew quite well as they were the most experienced, and we had wished them 'Good Luck' as they left the briefing room.
It was his 30th and final operation before being rested and it was a long time later that I learned that only his W/Op. had survived as a POW. Apparently, at the last moment, on leaving the briefing room, he had been offered the chance to stand down and finish his tour there and then but the crew voted to turn it down!. It did not help to reflect on the fact that when the Squadron had been formed there was a McDonald, a MacDonald and a Macdonald. One, Sgt MacDonald had already goes missing on the 25th July, so we were the only one left!.
As usual, despite the long trip the night before, we reported to the flight office in the early afternoon where we learned of the Squadron's loss, hoping as usual, that we would be 'stood down'. Some were but for Mac and I it was a different story.
For us there was a flight detail with some S/Ldr Staff Officer from Group HQ who for some reason wanted to demonstrate the 'corkscrew'.
I don't know why it was us. Perhaps Mac had volunteered again
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as we suspected he did an occasions, but as it only required a minimum crew of three for such details the others were sent off. There was no Battle Order on the board so they did not need a second telling. They were off like scalded cats!.
It was no real problem with two pilots up front so I was down as 'gunner' for the flight and there was a chance that we might learn something new although we had certainly done our share of 'corkscrewing'; and a bit more the previous night when Mac had got into an energetic but still smooth manoeuvre in such a way that it did not communicate the extent of the motion to the back-side. The evidence of that was that Pete, sitting in his darkened 'office' doing his sums, was only half aware of what was going on apart from the occasional interior illumination, came on the intercomm [sic] and nervously suggested to Mac that he "chuck it about a bit"!. That was a bit of a surprise to the rest of the crew. I knew that we were being 'chucked about,' quite a lot. How else was it that I was in my seat and often getting glimpses of the ground through the the [sic] Astro dome on [inserted] the [/inserted] [underlined] top [/inserted] of the aircraft.
When we got out to EF433 I was more concerned with the pre-flight checks of both mid-upper and rear gun turrets in case I had to make a dive for one of them in the event of an intruder chancing his luck, and then basically I was a passenger.
I was a little surprised to see Mac in the right hand seat as I took up my position on the flight deck between the two pilots as we started up and taxied out…..even then I was getting alarm signals in my sensitive parts as I was subjected to an G experience that was rare since flying with Mac.
The brakes squeeled [sic] and shrieked and the aircraft rocked and a lurched about until finally it was heaved off of the runway in about the clumsiest take-off I could ever remember and into a climbing turn that seemed to strain every rivet. And that was before we corkscrewed!.
After climbing to about 5000ft with the engines bellowing I was listening to this chap explaining to Mac how it should be done but it still caught me by suprise [sic] when he went into the most violent, wildest manoeuvre that I had ever thought possible. The wing tips must have flexed by about 6ft although I did not know for sure as I was brought to my knees by the 'G' forces
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one minute and was floating to the roof the next desperately trying to hang onto something to avoid being thrown around the cockpit and possibly finishing up in someone's laps. Even so I could not avoid noticing a purple tinge developing around Mac's neck that had nothing to do with 'G' forces. As it went on he was obviously getting very angry and not learning a lot!.
Eventually he got very emotional as he turned to the other pilot and the intercom [deleted] n [/deleted] fairly sizzled with an outburst that contained phrases like, "how dare you treat my aeroplane like this" and "what the bloody hell do you think we were doing over Berlin last night" and "what the bloody hell do you think the gunners are supposed to be doing whilst all this is going on" and a lot more besides which is unprintable. An argument ensued, the outcome of which was that Mac finished by telling the other pilot to relinquish control by his "I have control....now sit back and you might bloody well learn something". I crept away somewhat embarrassed and took up my position in the mid-upper turret reporting in when I was established and I soon knew how Ralph felt as Mac put us through the same manoeuvres as we had done the night before, (and he was driving from the right hand seat), with no further comment from the visitor.
At least, being in a gunner situation for a change I learned the value of keeping my eyeballs in their sockets which is more than I would have done if the other chap had been driving!.
Having got that off of his chest we headed straight back to base and landed with the Squadron Leader still fuming at the indignity of being lambasted by a Flying Officer, so he stamped away from the aircraft with a flea in his ear!.
Mac left him to his own arrangements to get back to the flight office whilst we spent a long time looking around the aircraft for signs of sprung rivets and other signs of over stressing like wrinkled skin.
Mac was muttering darkly all the time about "ham fisted buggers" and other uncomplementary [sic] remarks that are unprintable.
He was more vocal than I had ever heard him and definitely not impressed that 'Sir' had not done as many ops as we had!.
No doubt the demonstration was well intentioned even if it was a case of 'teaching grandma to suck eggs'.
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On the 27th we were in the briefing room again to find that targets in Nurnburg [sic] were to receive our attention so off we went in the company of another 673 aircraft.
My recollections are that the flak was the worst I had ever seen so far. There seemed to be a solid wall of shell bursts in front of us as we closed in on the city, and 'flamers' were going down right left and centre.
At briefing it had been mentioned that the night fighters were likely to be repeating some new tactics that had already had some success; as far as they were concerned anyway.
It confirmed our suspicions that something different was going on.
Previously the fighters had kept clear of the ack-ack and waited until they saw someone in trouble before going in for the kill but they had started getting in among us and having a go at anything they saw regardless of the possibility of being hit by their own stuff. Between those operating those tactics and others using AI (Airborne Interception Radar) they were beginning to knock us down like clay pigeons.
The searchlight/flak/fighter combination was lethal under those conditions and between them accounted for the loss of 33 aircraft, 11 of them Stirlings from a force of 104. [underlined] Three [/underlined] of them were from our Squadron detail of seven that had ultimately got under way. The loss of nearly 50% really knocked the stuffing out of us. None of them had been with us for more than a few weeks and one of the pilots had flown with us as co-pilot recently.
At this point I was hoping that a spot of leave would help to prolong things but it was not be.
After a brief rest the next place to receive our attention was Munchen-Gladbach [sic] on the 30th and this one started off on the wrong foot.
All was well until start-up when the starboard outer starter motor stripped when engaged.
It was not unnatural that most of the crew immediately started planning the evenings entertainment to occupy a bonus night off as we knew that there was no spare aircraft. I must confess that I had no knowledge of the starting handle!.
There was no reason why a wireless operator should I suppose
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although it was in our own interests of survival that we should know quite a lot about everyone else's [inserted] job [/inserted] . But that was some starting handle!.
Nearly 20 feet long, shoved through a hole in the engine casing to engage it, and with a large double. crank at the bottom designed for two people to turn it.
With Paddy in the cockpit juggling with throttles and mixture controls, and Mac jumping up and down shouting unprintable words of encouragement to the owners of [underlined] four [/underlined] pairs of arms, mine included, we cranked that engine until at last it spluttered into life and then we all piled aboard and got under way.
We soon made up for lost time by taking a few short cuts to catch up the force as there was no way that we were going to be a loner over enemy territory but I doubt it very much if many aircraft had been started that way to go on ops.
We had a bit of a skirmish later as we approached the target. The rear end Mac hollered and fired as we jinked away from an Me.109 which spun away pouring smoke and flame although we did not see what finally happened to him. We were far to busy searching for others as it was obvious that the fighters were very active all around us. McIlroy was only credited with a possible for that engagement.
There was no doubt that our two gunners were really on the ball as once again they had fired first but others were not so lucky and for one reason or another six Stirlings failed to return.
[line of stars]
We were briefed for Berlin on the 31st although there was some doubt about W becoming serviceable although they were half way through the starter motor change. In the event it was not rectified in time and at the last minute we were allocated EF117, but Mac was very peeved about it. It had not even been air tested!.
We did not get very far in it before we found that the rear guns would not fire and then the intercom went dead on us.
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Mac was fuming and we pressed on for a while desperately trying to rectify the faults without any success but he decided that we would not waste the trip or the bombs as we turned away from the enemy coast and diverted to overfly a place that most people tried to keep clear of; Texel, in the Frisian Islands. They started firing as we approached so it was taps open, speed up with a bit of a weave on and Hoppy planted the bombs as close as he could to the batteries and the searchlights. Their effort was certainly reduced as we turned away so perhaps we had done a bit of damage in the process. It was counted as an operation as we had been over enemy territory but there was one a hell of a row as the brief was to dump the bombs in the sea or jettison them on the Thetford range.
In addition there were even accusations of possible sabotage and collusion from higher up until the faults were proven to have been electrical malfunctions that could not have been fixed in the air. Mac was furious about the whole business but it did not help. One can only speculate on what the outcome might have been if we had not been forced to 'abort' the mission. There were 16 Stirlings lost that night out of the 57 dispatched. One of them from our Squadron!.
The gaps around the mess tables were getting noticeable again and if the absence of any entries in my log book is anything to go by we were sent on leave whilst the Stirling Force was being put together again.
I do vaguely remember one leave that started with a fair old session at the King Willie and I must have forgotten where I was as we pulled out of Bury. St. Edmunds station. Apparently I had to be restrained from dispensing leaflets out of the window!. Despite my indiscretion I still managed to retain some of them.
There were a few mining operations undertaken by new crews whilst we were away and on our return we were to find that one new crew had arrived and had already been lost in that short period. It was not long before we were back in the briefing room again to find that the target was the Dunlop factory at Montlucon, Italy, but it was another washout. We never even left home shores.
An engine seized shortly after getting airborne and we were
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obliged to jettison bombs and fuel on the range before landing. We were in 'W' and it had only done a few hours local flying whilst we had been away but sleeve valve Hercules engines really made a thorough job of it when they seized, so of course Mac was hopping mad.
We ail got blamed for the various things that had gone wrong and a lot of accusations were flung around in the heat of the moment. The frustration was understandable as we all knew that he was driving himself, and us, as hard as he could to get the tour over as quickly as possible but eventually he calmed down and we renewed our efforts.
[line of stars]
It was during our last leave that Mcllroy spent a few days with me and the family as we had a welcome break from the East Anglian scene.
We walked miles over the Downs at the back of Worthing where I had spent all my earlier days, and past the spot where in 1940 I had gazed in awe at a shot down Heinkel 111. although it was an area now that was not so regularly visited by the German Air Force.
It had been different then, when the invasion was imminent although they had been forced by their losses and other commitments to limit their efforts in our direction.
I can still recall vividly the occasion when I found myself right under a scrap over Worthing, between three Spitfires and a Heinkel 111. that had dared to venture in the direction of London.
The Air raid siren had sounded and I had seen him going over very high, leaving vapour trails but he had obviously been forced to turn tail and he was in a shallow glide going very fast as he came over the hospital and the gas works. Then those Spits gave him a real hammering.
With hot empty cartridge cases and links cascading down all around me I had watched mesmerised as the top gunner had winged two of them, one going off East towards Shoreham staggering a bit and the other in the direction of Ford and Tangmere trailing smoke. Then the third one went in for the kill if the
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way that the guns suddenly went askew was anything to go by. That was it. He continued out to sea and plunged in about a mile off of the pier. He had put up a good fight but it had not done him much good.
Now the skies were relatively clear but that did not mean that the area was safe. There were elements of the Canadian Army en-camped in the area and they often imposed a threat to life and limb.
I was glad of McIlroy's company in a bar one evening when some of his countrymen who were somewhat 'tanked' up started making derisive remarks about Brylcream boys and a scrap was imminent.
It all looked very ugly for a while and of course those chaps had been trained to the peak of fighting efficiency and no doubt still had a bee in their bonnet about the Dieppe affair.
Just in time Mac defused the situation. He pushed me out of the way, took of his raincoat to reveal his Canada shoulder flashes, gunners brevet and stripes, and drawing himself up to his full height of 6ft plus asked who was going to be first. There were no takers and we moved to another bar to continue drinking in peace.
No doubt that lot had more than their share of fighting later on, on 'D' Day and after.
[line of stars]
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That was all behind us as we finished our leave and got back to the task of taking the fight to the enemy.
On the 16th we found ourselves on the Battle Order for an operation that turned out to be a very dodgy one.
There were the usual mutterings, quiet whistling through clenched teeth plus a few caustic comments from the assembly when we found that we were off to do some damage to a railway station and tunnel at Modane, a mountain pass between France and Italy. What caused most of the comment was the unusual method of attack. Modane was at the Northen [sic] end of the Tunnel-de-frejus, deep in the Alps!.
As it was in a valley, the floor of which was 3,467ft above sea level, with the tops of the valley at about 11.000ft and only three miles across the tops it was impossible (so they said), to approach the tunnel mouth direct due to the sheer rock face above it.
The plan was to approach from a valley at 90° to the tunnel mouth, plant the bombs in the valley wall to bring down a large amount of debris before doing a smart left hand turn into the main valley.
The task was a risky one, bearing in mind that it was at night. Anyone who failed to get it in one was to initiate the left turn and take the station and yards at Modane as the secondary target.
One way or the other it would make it difficult for the German military traffic that was plying between France and Italy through the remote pass.
Fortunately the Met got it right that time. The weather was perfect. It was beautiful moonlit night and we entered the mountain region between the peaks bang on track and worked our way through until the target area loomed up ahead. We rushed towards the rock face at around 200mph and Hoppy did his lefts and rights and steadies and then he goofed it!. !
What happened next caused my heart to miss a beat. Calm as you like as if he was on the bombing range Hoppy said "missed it-round again"!.
I think that is what upset Mac more than anything else as we banked over into the valley expecting him to give Hoppy some verbal about the secondary target but what came next caused
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my heart to miss a few more beats.
We were all alarmed to hear Mac say, 'that is just what we will do too, and get it right this time or you go out next, we are going back to the tunnel"!.
By now we had got to know Mac well enough to know that when he had set his mind on something there was very little that we could do about it. I got the distinct impression that I was riding a runaway roller-coaster as I braced myself in the isle [sic] between the pilots positions.
The horizon went haywire as we banked over into the initial turn and started to descend. We had not quite got to the station yards when we went into a tight 180deg. turn to head back underneath the rest of the force that was still hurling bombs all the way down the railway line.
I don't know how serious Mac was about chucking Hoppy out but he gave it to him straight, "no more messing about" as we charged at the tunnel mouth and when the "bombs away" call came we did not hang around to see the results although I don't see how we could have avoided hitting something. Our greatest concern was getting out of the situation.
All I could see was a kalidascope [sic] of nasty looking rocks as there was only seconds to make the turn, no room to turn back, no chance to climb with aircraft still coming in over the top of us. All we could do was wriggle and twist along the valley floor hoping to God we would not go the wrong way and find ourselves in a cul-de-sac.
It was very uncomfortable for a while as Pete and Hoppy had consulted their maps and assured Mac that all was well. And so it was as suddenly we came out into a wider valley and were able to climb.
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Obviously we had not done the exact reciprocal of our inbound route and it did not matter a lot as we all breathed a little easier until Mac let out a whoop with an "all gunners stand by" and we were all on the alert again. Then he told us what it was all about as the gunners reported "ready".
He throttled back and in rich mixture we were soon whispering along without even a flicker of flame from the exhausts, and then we all saw clearly what he had seen as we went into a turn. We were able to pick out dim convoy lights on a road halfway up the mountainside, so it seemed likely that it was the Southern end of the tunnel that we had just bombed. Mac said "if that is not a military convoy I will eat my socks" and followed it up almost immediately with a gentle turn onto a Northerly heading to within a few hundred yards of the mountainside. All gunners blazed away in turn and there was all hell let loose before we turned away.
The results were spectacular and certainly not quite what we had expected.
There were explosions, scattering lights, and liquid fire pouring down the mountainside with more explosions in the waterfall of fire and after about 20secs. we turned about and repeated the performance.
It was an appalling sight as obviously vehicles including fuel and ammunition trucks had been hit but turning away with most of our ammunition gone and somewhat shocked, we made our way home, low down across the tip of Switzerland and across France just as fast as we could.
Mac's orders were specific. Not a word about it, and he swore each one of us to absolute secrecy as we had not been ordered to do it, or whether we had done the right thing even though we might have contributed considerably to the war effort.
It was never reported and has remained under wraps until Mac can no longer answer for whatever damage was done. With more operations still to do if we were lucky it was best to forget the episode although some explanations were called for as our target photo showed a very messy tunnel mouth and the expenditure of several thousand rounds of ammunition was explained as an attempt to supress some ground fire in the valley. [underlined] And a ticking off for attacking in the wrong direction [/underlined] !!.
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I did not do another operation until the 3rd October as I went on the sick list for a few days.
I received an injury not from enemy action but from one of my own crew, although the outcome showed the sort of crew spirit that there was even if I had to be the 'dogs-body' to prove the point in respect of my own particular crew.
Macdonald and I had been into Bury St Edmunds to the King Willie for a couple of quiet drinks and on return we went to the Sgt's Mess where there was a dance in progress.
As soon as we entered the Mess we found ourselves in the middle of a group of people, Station Commander included, who were being treated to a drunken comedy act by Paddy who seemed to be doing his damndest [sic] to climb a wall by making repeated runs at it.
He must have been in the bar as soon as it had opened and obviously had had far more than his share.
The affair had just reached the stage where the Group Captain had already ordered the RAF Police to be brought in so Mac stepped in to sort things out his way. Exercising his right as 'Skipper' he ordered me to get Paddy out of the Mess and out of trouble. I wish he hadn't!.
With the assistance of another Flight Engineer from the Squadron Paddy was talked out of the building but we had not got very far when the other chap slipped and went down and a very confused Paddy decided that I was responsible.
I was still trying to hold him up but he turned on me and belted me one!, and I tumbled into an open trench.
I could have coped with that but grabbing a large paint drum half filled with solidified paint he heaved it at me and I remember nothing after it bounced off of my head.
I woke up in the sick bay the next morning with the great grandaddy of all headaches and adorned by large pieces of sticky plaster.
In the meantime wheels had been in motion as it had been decided that disciplinary action would be taken against Paddy for the rumpus that he had caused in the Mess. As far as my condition was concerned it was a different case so it looked as if Mac was going to have to do without his favourite engineer for a while if that reached it's logical conclusion…..until Mac did a deal with someone. That is, in addition to me!.
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He came to see me in the sick bay with a proposal that he said would satisfy all concerned.
The deal was that I would be charged with being responsible for the whole affair and as I was hardly in a state to argue I went along with it. The net result was-that Paddy was in the clear, I was fined five shillings (25p) for being 'drunk and disorderly', a scar on my forehead, and an entry on my documents as well as a few days off; but I had an opportunity to even the score sometime later.
Whilst I was on the sick list and grounded the crew did another two operations with a relief W/Op, going to Hanover on the 22nd and Mannheim on the 24th without incident. and each of those two nights I spent in the control tower biting my nails until they were back. One of our Squadron failed to return from the Hannover raid…..and it was nearly a turning point for me.
There was a limit on how long you could remain out of a crew without being, permanently replaced and the relief W/Op was sufficiently impressed with the rest of the crew to ask if he could stay with them. Mac must have pulled a few more strings and the MO signed me off despite the sticky plaster so I was back in the crew instead of becoming spare man.
The other chap had previous been spare because his crew had gone missing whilst he was sick so he went back to being spare.
Unfortunately, when he did get crewed up again the following month he was killed in a flying accident. That's fate! and it was being tempted far too often for my liking.
Eventually Mac did get around to thanking me in an embarrassed sort of way for my involvement but I think that when I weighed up the final outcome I was the one that was most thankful, so despite a sore head and some red ink remarks in the records, we just pressed on as if nothing had ever happened.
[line of stars]
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The operation we were briefed for on the 3rd October was for aircraft factory targets at Kassel and as 'W' had been unserviceable on air test we were allocated EE971. After air-testing that one Mac and Paddy agreed that 'it would do'. Not quite like our 'W' but they could accept it.
A few things had changed by that time. The Luftwaffe hit and run raids were almost a thing of the past as they were well and truly on the defensive and East Anglia now bristled with AA sites which very rarely permitted a raider to get very far.
We had got bold enough to assemble all the aircraft for the night's operation on the runway in front of the main camp area and in sight of the main road, and on this occasion there must have been as many as 28, possibly 30 aircraft lined up, and very impressive it looked too.
I have always thought that one lone raider bold enough (and lucky enough) to have got through the defences to shoot up that line would have done an awful lot of damage, but fortunately no-one ever did. The resultant mess would have wiped out half the camp and the Marquis of Cornwallis pub at the same time.
Nevertheless it was a great morale booster for the locals who were crowding up to the other side of the fence to watch procedings [sic] , many with pints of ale held aloft in salute. It did restrict activities a bit when many crew members were saying goodnight to their favourite WRAF under the mainplane, but the less said about that the better.
Off went both Squadrons in grand style and we were just approaching the coast outbound when the port outer packed up with a great deal of spluttering and backfiring so it didn't look as if we were going to get very far.
Mac and Paddy juggled with the engine controls but the engine steadfastly refused to do much more than 1000revs without protesting so they shut it down and feathered the prop.
By that time Mac was keen to get another op. under the belt and apart from calling me a 'jinx' he decided to 'press on'. We were not keen but he didn't ask us so we went all the way on three engines, bombed the target and headed home with Paddy biting his nails with concern at the high fuel consumption and the strain of the extra power being extracted from the other
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three engines. I do not think he would have put 'W' under so much strain but this one was not ours and that was that.
As soon as we cleared the enemy coast wee started to economise on fuel with a change of engine settings, firing off ammunition into the sea. Flares, incendiary containers and all sorts of stuff being dumped to lighten the load with Paddy getting more and more agitated as he endeavoured to work out our fuel state which was not made any easier by Mac's persistent nagging.
My request to make an emergency call was refused as was a further request to call the emergency services for the state of Tangmere, although we did change course in that direction. I was further refused permission to switch the IFF to the emergency code, in fact he was downright bloody minded.
Nevertheless, I was all ready to go straight into all my emergency procedures with IFF, radio and verey [sic] signals if the need arose, without permission, as we approached home shores.
We were just about overflying Tangmere when Paddy and Pete come up with the results of their combined calculations.
When I heard that on the intercomm [sic] I thought immediately, 'Tangmere, here we come', with one hour to base and one hour five minutes fuel, so we were not amused when Mac said, "what the hell are you worrying about then. Navigator, a direct course to base please".
A direct course for Chedburgh was made in defiance of standing orders that forbade us to overfly London and hoped to God that we would not lose too much height and find ourselves tangled up in the London balloon barrage.
It was bad enough when the banshee wailing of the balloon barrage warning came in on the radio. That in itself was a bit unnerving but we were all in Mac's hands and I was hoping that he would be prudent enough to settle for any airfield whilst we still had a limited reserve of fuel. And it was limited. Paddy had made it quite clear that he had calculated to the last drop of [underlined] usable [/underlined] fuel on the evidence of gauges that he was doubtful of. He could not do more other than protest further to Mac as we cleared the London area, in fact everyone protested that what we were doing was unnecessary, although perhaps not in such mild terms.
His only answer was to request that I open all of the fuel tank
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cocks on the bulkhead behind me and he started to rack the aircraft from side to side to drain every last drop into the main tanks.
That was enough for me. On went my 'chute and it would not have taken much more for me to be heading for the rear hatch which I had left open after jettisoning equipment over the sea earlier. It was just at that time that Paddy decided that he had definitely had enough. As far as he was concerned Mac had gone 'bonkers' and he was getting out whilst he still had a chance. He struggled out of his seat, clipped on his 'chute and had just got by Pete, and I was seriously. contemplating joining him when I received an order from Mac to "restrain him".
That upset any plans, so he was 'restrained', if that is what you would call tripping him up and sitting on him, although it was not for long as Mac had decided that we were serious and he agreed to go for the nearest airfield if Paddy would go back to his seat.
No sooner had he done so the port outer spluttered and died so they started up the port inner for the first time in hours and although it would not run at any speed without backfiring it was kept going as we desperately searched around for an airfield.
Mac was very busy struggling with the controls when one was sighted and we immediately headed for it. I fired off the colours of the day as fast as I could load and fire and when they were gone I fired off all the reds and then everything else in the rack, greens, yellows, star shells and even smoke puffs in the hope that the control staff would be suitably alerted to an emergency. Mac was far too busy to even use his radio and it was all very tense in the cockpit. I was half hoping that Mac would still give the order to abandon, and I was still ready, but instead he instructed Paddy to select wheels and flaps only when he asked for them and that's when the starboard outer spluttered and died. It was in those desperate moments that Paddy 'goofed' and we lost about five thousand feet rapidly after he feathered the starboard inner by mistake, and although he promptly rectified the error we were by that time descending like the proverbial brick lavatory. Not surprising as we were for a time flying; if you could call it that, on between one
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and one and a half engines.
I was back in the astro dome by that time as we aimed at the threshold of the runway at an alarming angle to keep the speed up. My legs and fingers were crossed as I looked hypnotically at where I was quite sure that we were going to make a large sized hole and then the nose came up …….."full flap" was Mac's breathless request over the intercomm [sic] and we were flaring out above the runway with the speed falling off as all power was taken off with another almost whispered request ...."wheels down" and then we floated whilst Mac held her off, to kiss the runway within seconds of the undercarriage 'green lights' coming on with warning horns blasting our ears.
Another perfect landing!!!! even if the approach had been a bit abnormal.
Mac established contact with the control tower to find that we were at Wratting Common, another Stirling base and we managed to stagger to the end of the runway and turn off before everything stopped with a splutter as we ran completely out of fuel!. We subsequently had to be towed away but not before we had managed to compose ourselves.
It was really an amazing piece of flying that had made the best out of a very bad decision that so easily could have ended in disaster…..and we all knew it.
Why else would Paddy come rushing past me towards the rear door, ashen faced, then jump out and spend a lot of time throwing up and kissing mother earth!
As for me. I stayed in the semi-darkness of the doorway until my colour came back and my knees stopped knocking before I ventured out...and I needed the ladder!. I don't think the others were much better.
After a few hours sleep we were back out to the aircraft which had been repaired and refuelled. The problem had only been burned out ignition leads which was something that Hercules engines quite often suffered from and we were soon on our way back to base still feeling as if we had experienced a very dream [sic] but we were still better off than some. Another five Stirlings failed to return that night.
Not another word was said about the incident. No apologies....nothing! Perhaps it was best left that way if we
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expected to continue as a crew…..and we did, although Mac was somewhat subdued afterwards -and was suffering from strained back and shoulder muscles for several days.
[line of stars]
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We had a few days break before we were detailed for another operation on the 8th. It was my birthday on the 9th so I planned a celebration if all went well but that night, as the 8th turned into the 9th we got the sort of party I could have done without. The main target was Hannover although-we were part of the secondary force within the main force with everyone heading for Bremen and at a certain position the main force turned towards Hannover leaving us virtually as decoys.
The fighters had been scrambled to intercept the track to Bremen and I was half way through a large bale of leaflets that I was dispensing out of the rear escape hatch when the rear gunner suddenly yelled "fighter--port quarter--corkscrew port--go" and over we went straight into evasive action as the fighter opened up. The rear gunner opened up at the same time and the interior of the aircraft was lit up by flashes as we were hit and bits and pieces were flying around in all directions. There was not a lot that I could do although I instinctively started to throw out leaflets as fast as I could without bothering to cut the string on some as I came up to the standing position to kick some bundles out. As I was to find out later, a good move. Mac was throwing the aircraft around all over the sky and the firing seemed to go on for a long time with smoke, flashes and a great deal of noise as something stung me in the face, and then it stopped as quickly as it had started. Immediately the rear gunner was back on intercom to report that his rear turret was damaged and had jammed solid when he had resorted to turning it manually.
He also reported a hell of a lot of debris from us had smothered the attacker before he had broken away suggesting that we had lost a few bits of aeroplane.
It was later on when we were piecing together details of the attack that we figured that it must have been my leaflets in the slip-stream, and he also reported that the fighter appeared to have two glowing tails; which is what I had also seen in a brief moment through the hatch.
There was a hell of a lot to do. We were in no doubt that we had collected a considerable amount of damage yet everyone checked in OK and unharmed which was a relief.
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I made my way back to the radio compartment to find Paddy curled up behind the armour plating of my seat which he had dived for after seeing me hopping about in the illumination of tracer that was flying about.
I asked him to check me over as there was a lot of wet and warm stuff running down my face and producing his torch very soon re-assured me that "it's hydraulic oil you bloody twit" before he was off down the back end to make some repairs.
Everyone was checking around thoroughly at that time but there were no fires or fuel leaks and all engines were turning without fuss. All other indications were normal….and we were still flying, complete with bomb load so we pressed on somewhat gingerly at that point in time.
There was another very good reason why I had dashed up front so rapidly after the action. Despite the fact that I had been standing on the edge of quite a large hole to dispense the leaflets, my 'chute had still been in it's stowage a long way from me; and I never ever did that again that's for sure!.
Everyone eased their parachutes in the stowages. Paddy put his on as he had to negotiate the open hatch which we had decided to leave open under the circumstances and as we continued to Bremen we checked and re-checked all our vital functions.
Paddy used a fire axe to clear the rear bulkhead and turret doors before the turret became operational again with a healthy short burst. But Mcllroy was in a very draughty situation as most of his perspex had gone and there were holes all around him, after which he made some first aid repairs to the hydraulic piping in the area of the position where the ventral turret would have been; if it had been fitted. First aid was the operative word; he used the medical first aid kit!. More to stop slippery oil sloshing about than anything else.
The intercomm [sic] was lively and as we had a freshman second pilot with us he was learning very fast. For a change Mac was not telling anyone to quit the chatter as he usually did so bit by bit everything was satisfactorily cross checked and it was reassuring to find that all the essentials were working despite the fact that there was a lot of internal damage: There were holes in the main bulkhead up front near my position and
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even some of the instruments in the cockpit had lost their glass. With everything giving the right responses it was no time to pull out of the stream and becoming a sitting duck for another enterprising night fighter so we stayed with it, bombed and stuck to the route for the return journey still regularly checking and cross checking.
I really thought that that was the one time Mac was going to have to use his "angle of dangle" equipment as he called it; to help him fly the aeroplane. It was in fact a weighted Scots doll suspended by a cord in line with his nose that he always set up for use. He always said that he could fly on that if all else failed but fortunately it was not needed and stayed up on the scuttle.
Eventually Paddy and I replaced the rear hatch and things returned to near normal but I could not help reflecting that I could have been a lot more effective with a pair of .303's sticking out of the bottom instead of dispensing a pile of paper which no doubt the German population used for the same purpose as we would have done in those days of paper shortage.
As it was, we had nothing protecting the underside and the Luftwaffe knew it well enough. After all, they had a fair sized scrap business going in recovering crashed Allied aircraft and re-cycling them into fighters for the defence of the Fatherland, and it was costing us dearly.
Although the attack on us had been from the rear so many losses of the period were being caused by something that for some reason or other our intelligence people did not know about, or if they did it was not made common knowledge.
It could have been that the Luftwaffe system was so effective that few, if any, aircrews ever got back to tell the tail [sic] .
They had developed a weapon along the lines of a British invention of WW1, the COW (Coventry Ordinance Works) gun, originally intended for shooting down airships.
They had put together a pair of 20mm cannon with periscope sights on an upward firing mounting in several types of aircraft, including the Me.110. and codenamed it 'Schrage Music' as part of their 'Battle Opera' control system.
With or without radar they were getting into the bomber stream, picking a target and positioning themselves underneath in the
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blind spot out of sight of the gunners, even to the point of following through a 'corkscrew' so that the gunners never got contact, or the Wireless Operator through his infra-red 'Fishpond' equipment, (if he had got it on) for that matter.
All they had to do was to keep up the shadowing until they got their aiming point 'spot on' then hit the button.
The aiming point was usually the starboard wing root where there was a concentration of fuel lines, fuel tanks, control lines and crew. It was very adjacent to the bombs, one engine, flares, oxygen bottles and other things that go bang in the night.
One short burst in that vital area was usually enough and the aircraft invariably exploded within seconds of the strike giving the occupants very little chance to escape. No wonder that we had seen-so many aircraft just explode and dissapear [sic] in a fireball.
It is on record that one of their night fighters fitted with the system was credited with [underlined] Five [/underlined] Lancasters in a 30 minute sortie so it was hardly suprising [sic] that there was very little feed back of intelligence information.
As we got nearer home we were very careful how we prepared the aircraft for landing. Fortunately the bomb doors had operated satisfactorily and Hoppy had made sure that there were no hangups. That was the last thing we wanted as a primed hang-up was a very sensitive beast.
Finally there was more to do before joining the circuit. Air pressures, hydraulic pressures and electrics were all normal. Mac did a mock landing procedure at height to test the responses at landing speed. There was no way that he was going to have the aircraft fall out of his hands at same vital stage of our final approach, but flaps, undercarriage and control services all gave the right reaction so it was on to base for a landing. Even then he was not entirely satisfied. Our first touchdown as a bumper to see if the green lights stayed an indicating that the undercarriage has locked down and to check that the tyres were not perforated.
Only then did we make an approach for a normal landing which was, as ever, as smooth as silk.
We gave ourselves a bit more time that morning to look around the aircraft after we had parked in dispersal and what we saw
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in the morning half-light made us gasp.
It did not seem possible that nothing had been seriously damaged yet there was hardly a square foot without a hole in it.
There were holes in the undercarriage doors, the flaps, bomb doors, control surfaces, engine cowlings and nicks out of the propellor blades. The rear turret had suffered most of all with 80% of the perspex gone and there were dozens of holes around the foot well.
A count showed that there were 96 groups of damage altogether but what brought me out in a cold sweat was to find a nice group of five holes through the rear step of the bomb bay where I had been sitting when the attack started. It was just as well that I had jumped up when I did or I would never have subsequently raised a family!.
I would not have been surprised if McIlroy had not been in a similar sweat. Not only was his turret a mess but his flying suit was nicked all over and ruined. There were tufts of fur sticking out under his arms and around his waist and even his flying boots had been chipped.
His turret doors had been ripped open like a tin can and the bulkhead doors had been badly holed as well. His parachute in it's stowage between the doors was later found to have quite a lot of lead embedded in it. When they opened it up it was like a colander and it is doubtful if it would have been much use if he had been forced to use its but he had not got a scratch on him!. I will never understand it.
As far as EF433 was concerned, although she had served us well she was done for. She just sort of sat there drooping and creaking so it was just as well that Mac had treated her gently. She was taken apart and sent to Cambridge for repair.
We learned later that when they stripped her down further and further they were still uncovering signs of damage including a cracked main spar, so she was very close to falling apart.
I have often wandered whether all that internal damage was battle damage or the result of the terrible handling she got on the corkscrew demonstration. I am incline [inserted] d [/inserted] to think the latter and it would not surprise me if that particular pilot had not ultimately torn the wings off of something.
However, the repair depot did their remarkable jig-saw puzzle
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repair job with so big an aircraft and there must here been sufficient of EF433 left for it to retain it's identity as it later went back to the Squadron after it had moved to Fairford. Eventually it was transferred to 1665 CU as OG-N until the following February when a mishap with a 'swinger' wrote her off at the end of the month.
In the meantime EF189 had been produced and painted up as the new 'W' so within the period of quiet that seemed to have descended on us that also received the attention that we had previous lavished on EF433. Stirling operations were slowing down a bit and few operations were undertaken. Rumours regarding our future were rife and Mac was very busy checking out new pilots as they came in to bring us up to strength. Several operations were scheduled but cancelled although there was still a bit of mining to do from time to time.
We did not mind a bit. The Bremen affair was not easy to forget and although our last flight in EF433 may not have been all that significant we had get quite attached to her. Some poor chaps had never got any further than their first trip and we had always considered ourselves very lucky that the attack on us had been made with small calibre ammunition. If we had been hit by cannon fire it would have been an entirely different matter.
[underlined] Thirteen years later I found out why there had been no cannon. [/underlined]
As an Air Traffic Controller at Amman in Jordan I was swapping yarns with an ex Luftwaffe pilot, then senior captain of the resident airline, Air Jordan, and an honourary [sic] member of our Mess, when the incident was recalled.
We had got so far with reconstructing the episode that we both went for our log books as the whole thing had reached the proportions of a gigantic 'line-shoot', Nevertheless, there were the details of date, time. and place to match those in my log book.
Apparently he had been a test pilot on jets and had been called in to try out the aircraft in operational conditions.
I don't know who was the most surprised but he had claimed us so badly damaged that we most likely finished up in the sea, and even if we hadn't then we must have had casualties on board. The burning question was "why only small calibre ammunition?",
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It transpired that he had used up all of his cannon ammunition in knocking down two other Stirlings already, so he would have been responsible for two of the three Stirlings lost an that raid. His name is not important in this narrative but it is significant that our combat report of the episode (which has never come to light) had put special emphasis an the aircraft with the fiery tails and it may well have been one of the first reports that identified jet night fighters to the intelligence people. Nothing: was ever mentioned about it so it may well have been kept quiet for good reasons.
Nevertheless, the Messerschmitt aircraft factories continued to be pounded regularly.
[line of stars]
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It was the 3rd of November before we had the opportunity to take our new 'W' on ops. We were briefed for mining in the Kattegat between occupied Denmark and neutral Sweden.
It should have been a 'doddle'. It was a lovely moonlit night and we had to overfly Denmark at medium height before going low level to the dropping area.
All went smoothly until just after the drop when we were engaged by a flak ship with a stream of sparkling tracers squirting at us which started Mac wriggling around all over the place with the taps wide open and down to the wave tops until we put him behind us. We were just beginning to breath easy again when there was a yell from the rear gunner as he spotted an Me.109 on our tail. We must have come in for some very special treatment as a loner crossing Denmark and it was as well that Mac had kept us as low as possible until the drop. Once we got back down there again that's just where we stayed as the intercom between the gunners and pilot got very lively.
It was the fighter affiliation stuff all over again as we slithered and twisted and turned, only this chap was not using a camera.
He sent several bursts after us but they all went wide as the gunners assessed the point at which he was coming into the right position for a deflection shot and then we side slipped and banked out of his sights once more.
We never fired a single shot as Mac had said only to let him have it when the gunners were absolutely sure of a hit so we played tag for a long time.
In the later stages we came to a rugged shore line and still the 109 could not get at us.
In and out and round and round we went across country where the landscape showed up in great detail. We could see people in gardens and lights blinked from friendly windows and open doors. We went around chimney stacks, over power lines and we must have given that enemy pilot a real run for his money until eventually he broke off and disappeared. He either did not care for the low level stuff or he was getting low on fuel but we were glad to see him go after a very hectic 30 minutes. We continued to stay low just in case he had a partner somewhere
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and we were still skudding along weaving about for some time before it was considered safe to gain some height and sort out the navigation.
It was hardly surprising that Pete had lost track of where we were. The number of tight 360° turns had been sufficient to upset both the magnetic and gyro compass's. We were too low for 'Gee' to be effective and I was still refused permission to break radio silence for a D/F fix so we staggered around somewhat blindly for a while trying to sort ourselves out.
At one time we saw an illuminated coastline some miles ahead which puzzled us a bit until the penny dropped...whoops..Sweden!. That gave us a clue as to which way we were going...the wrong way, so it was a smart about turn and back to low level again trying to stabilise the compasses as we picked up the Danish coastline again and crossed the country as quickly as possible before finding some higher cloud to hide in and set a rough course for home.
Pete still could not make a lot of his plot. 'G' was not helping a lot. D/F bearings that I was able to obtain from UK beacons only seemed to confuse the issue and when I looked over his shoulder at his chart it was a mass of hastily pencilled in headings and speeds until it looked like one of those kids dot puzzles that produced a picture when the dots were joined up. Only his picture looked like a bundle of loose knitting wool!.
All we could do was press on in a rough direction, picking our way in and out of convenient clouds whilst Pete gathered as much information as he could. It did not help much that Mac would not fly a steady course but even when he had satisfied himself that we were just off the Dutch coast Mac still had his doubts until Hoppy reckoned he had got a good visual pin-point. He estimated that we were over the Zuider Zee and would be able to confirm it when the Western side came into sight. Sure enough it did, but it was not the sort of confirmation he had been looking for!.
Just as we crossed the coastline, in and out of cloud at about 7,000ft, a number of searchlights switched on as one, in a perfect cone, smack on us, and it seemed several dozen ack-ack guns let loose at the same time.
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The salvo must have gone off about 50ft below us with the sound of gravel being sprayed all over us and we bounced up with Mac piling on the power, banking and balling [sic] "that's Dover you bloody fools".
There was all hell let loose as we wound into a corkscrew followed by the lights and a lot more flak. Mac was hollering "Darkie-Darkie" on the R/T to identify ourselves. I slammed on the IFF (radar identification) switch and fired off the colours of the day as fast as I could fire and reload the pistol and then as if by magic it all fizzled out.
The guns stopped firing, the lights wavered and flickered out and the violent evasive action slowed as Mac asked if everyone was OK. By the grace of God we were and then we immediately started checking around the aircraft which seemed to have taken a bit of a battering.
Despite the presence of several shrapnel holes everything seemed to be working satisfactorily so we set course for base with a lot of discussion as to how we had found ourselves over Dover.
The general opinion was that we must have done a zig-zag course right down the Danish, Dutch, Belgium and French coasts without interception. Perhaps our course had been so erratic that the German fighter controllers had just held back waiting for us to make a navigational error that would have put us within their grasp, or some other problem we had on board manifested itself and did the job for them.
As it was the Dover defences had done us far more damage and we were very thankful for either a slight error in the guns predictor or perhaps a little aiming off just in case we were a friendly aircraft with a spot of bother.
We would not have been the first RAF aircraft that the Dover guns had put on their score board though. They had to be very wary of unidentified aircraft. The Luftwaffe's equivilent [sic] of Farnborough; Rechlin, was known to have quite a comprehensive selection of airworthy Allied aircraft that they played all sorts of tricks with. In such circumstances it was more often a case of shooting first and asking questions afterwards and a risk we had to take if there was any doubt about the position at which the IFF was switched on.
During the final part of the flight back to base we had to go
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over the aircraft with a fine tooth comb to test everything before attempting a landing in the same way as we had done for our previous operation and it was a relief to find that everything worked and ended with a perfect final landing.
I have often wondered how many of the others felt as I did as we prepared for that final landing. Legs, fingers and toes crossed as we took up our crash positions, until we were safely on terra firma again.
I was beginning to wonder how much longer we could keep up that sort of escapade without coming unstuck somewhere.
After we had taxied into dispersal and shut down, the ground crew seemed somewhat concerned as we clambered out. I distinctly remember one of them saying "oh no, not again. You chaps must have a guardian angel somewhere". I could appreciate the sentiment when we looked around the aircraft with them.
The underside was like a pepperpot with slivers of metal hanging loosely from everywhere yet nothing vital had been hit.
We did not fly it again as it was withdrawn for repair and subsequently relegated to the training role' as yet another 'W' was prepared for service.
We were very lucky that night. [underlined] Four other mine laying Stirlings failed to return. [/underlined] Mining was no milk run!.
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[underlined] Picture page. [/underlined]
Macdonalds crew
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We were reprieved after a decision was finally made to withdraw Stirlings from the main Bomber Force and start preparing them for another task.
620 was once of the first to go and crews that were close to the end of their tour were not being retained. That meant us...and it was a great relief when we were told. There was only one other crew made 'tour expired' with fewer operations than ourselves although they had originaly [sic] come from 214 Squadron when the Squadron had been formed.
Certainly it was a relief not to have to fly the two ops that I was short of for the full tour. I had already seen what happened to 'spare' people but it placed our crew in a unique position. We were the [underlined] only [/underlined] crew to have actually started and finished a 'tour' on the Squadron since it had come into being.
The credit really belongs to Mac of course but in that short time we had lost 17 aircraft on ops and 9 in accidents. [underlined] More than the whole Squadron establishment strength, plus six!. [/underlined]
Our gunners had accounted for two enemy fighters. We had carried seven 'freshmen' pilots to introduce them to ops and two of them had not survived Chedburgh.
We had lost 147 aircrew killed or missing of which 47 were known to have become POW's. It was a sad tally.
In the same period of time the Command had lost nearly 1000 bombers with their crews in an air war that showed little sign of abating.
The Squadron distinquished [sic] itself later by towing gliders and dropping parachute troops and supplies into the invasion of Europe, Arnham [sic] and the Rhine crossing, as well as numerous SAS and SOE operations into enemy occupied territory with some very severe casualties.
[line of stars]
We were more concerned with the present at that time. We celebrated with a wild night at the King Willie and a few more nights in the Mess as the strain began to fall away with the added bonus of some special leave.
On our return there were, a lot of new faces but we were more concerned with clearing the station and preparing for our next posting. There was trouble of a different sort on the horizon!.
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As soon as we had returned from leave, refreshed, we found ourselves; that is, the five NCO's lined up outside the flight office with Mac demanding an answer to a very delicate question. It was not very delicately put.
Apparently a certain WAAF who had been fairly liberal with her favours; to say the least, was beginning to show signs of motherhood, and since [underlined] some [/underlined] of us were known to have been in her company at times we were all suspect. Of course, it did not help her case a lot when she was only able to claim that it was one of the Macdonald crew!, and why that did not include Mac and Pete the two commissioned officers I do not know, but Mac's question was blunt and straight to the point. "Which one of you buggers was it", which rather stunned us and for a moment we just shuffled our feet as we studied each other.
I forget who stepped out first followed by another until all five of us had stepped forward. I know for certain that we had not all sampled those favours but a crew is a crew through thick and thin. 'All for one and one for all' and all that stuff. There was not much that could be done under those circumstances so whilst they were trying to pin it on someone else (and there were plenty of others), we were only too pleased to pack our bags and sneak off quietly to our new unit.
[line of stars]
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We had been posted to No.3. Lancaster Finishing School at Feltwell as a complete crew, for instructional duties as strange as it may seem. The unit was just setting up to convert the Stirling Squadrons that were not moving out of the Command and Mac and Paddy went off to a Lancaster OTU in Yorkshire for a couple of weeks whilst the rest of us just familiarised ourselves with the Lancaster. The ground school was just getting going so we soon learned our way around. Apart from the Pilot and Engineer's speciality it was not difficult as most of the equipment was the same or similar and a nice little challenge to convert to a different type.
As soon as Mac and Paddy returned we flew intensively as a crew and within a matter of weeks we were into the training programme and open for business.
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Actually the unit was a bit of a hybrid. Part Operational Training Unit, part Conversion Unit and part Holding Unit for despite the savage losses the Command was still building up it's strength as fewer demands were being made in other theatres of the war, and the station was soon packed to the gills.
Crews started to come in from all over. The Stirling Conversion Units were still in the business of converting people from Wellingtons and then they came to us for changing to the Lancaster until the Stirling CU's were run down. After that they came direct from the Wellington OTU's as well as those Stirling Squadrons that sent detachments for conversion as their aircraft were being replaced by Lancasters.
We became very busy with the flow of people through the unit. Some of them knew the Lancaster better than we did as they were refreshing for their second tour, and very rarely for their a third. They had come off all manner of aircraft and had been 'resting' as we were now doing. There was a great deal of experience to draw on which I was only too willing to put to practical use. There did not appear to be any 'instructors' courses as such. You just threw yourself into it and you just turned out to be good, bad or indifferent at it. In all modesty, I seemed to cope satisfactorily.
After a few months Paddy got fed up with it and eventually got himself crewed up with a pilot of 115 Squadron that was converting and went back on ops. with him. Pete found himself in a spot of bother as a reult [sic] of a little over exuberance at a party and was given an option that he could not refuse....so he went off to a Mosquito Squadron at Downham Market, but not until most of the old crew, with the exception of Hoppy and Mac, attended my wedding in the March.
The bells of St.Mary's Broadwater, Worthing, were rung for the first time since the threat of invasion had silenced them in 1940. That was a traffic stopper if ever there was one and in the ensueing [sic] celebrations the rest of Macdonald's crew left it's mark on the local area. [underlined] I think the marks are still there!!. [/underlined]
I don't mind admitting that for the first time in my life I was smitten with the uncontrollable shakes when standing before the alter [sic] . Call it what you like, fear……………..
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apprehension, whatever, it got hold of me and I shook. My eldest brother, in navy uniform, survivor of numerous sea actions and two lost ships and my best man, came in close and propped me up. All that happened was that I transmitted my shakes to him and we both stood there like jellies and did not settle down until the ceremony was nearly over. Not a pretty sight!. Nevertheless, I married my childhood sweetheart despite the circumstances; something I never thought I would ever have the opportunity to do, and the marriage has stood the test of time.
Eventually Feltwell became so busy that we opened a non-flying ground school at Methwold a few miles away and having already been promoted to Flight Sergeant I got the job of setting up that part of the school for Wireless Operators.
Rather than lose my comfortable room in the pre-war Mess at Feltwell I cycled to and fro' daily and I am sure that it did me a lot of good as far as keeping fit was concerned. I enjoyed cycling anyway having been a founder member of the 'Worthing Wheelers' cycling club and a regular cyclist...even in my job.
To have to peddle a loaded tricycle from one end of Worthing to the other twice a day was quite an accomplishment which I had done for nearly two years and prior to that I had had a job with a builder and cycled 16 miles each way daily; so what was 5 miles.
Getting my bike out from the shed in Worthing where it had been tied up in the roof was no easy task. I have vague recollections of peddling half the distance from Worthing to Feltwell, including across London to save a few pence when some station staffs insisted on there being a ticket for the bike when it was placed in the guards van..to finally arrive in the rain.
The time passed and I only flew occasionaly [sic] to keep my hand in as momentous events occurred on the battle fronts that we, or at least I, felt at times that we were missing out on. I didn't push things though....I wasn't that daft!. There was enough going on at Feltwell and Methwold to keep me busy.
Even the odd operation turned up and that is how we lost a crew and our Chief Flying Instructor. He had opted for a mining job, got together a crew and it did not present any problem in arming up and self briefing. I'm glad he didn't pick me as his Wireless Operator. He took off at the appointed time and was seen clearing
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the immediate area, climbing, and shortly after he disappeared from view there was an almighty explosion as his load blew up and the aircraft disintregrated [sic] , scattering the landscape with a thousand pieces of man and machine. What a hell of a useless way to go for another seven young people. It was a sobering thought that it could have been any one of us that might have drawn the short straw for the privilege of making up the crew.
Life was anything but dull. When the Tannoy started blaring out one evening calling all sorts of people to report here there and everywhere a few of us went up to the airfield to see what it was all about.
It was quite a circus when three B.24's, (Liberators) charged in one after the other.
Apparently these three had not only lost their formation but had also lost their way to such an extent that they had been as much as 100 miles off track and an hour late in getting back to their base arriving at the time it was getting dark.
Just as they were getting into the circuit in a bit of a panic as they were not very experienced at night flying Flying Control yelled 'bandits' as there were Luftwaffe intruders suspected to be in the area, and promptly snuffed out the airfield lights.
[underlined] Panic stations!! [/underlined]
They had been given a course and distance to fly to Feltwell but bandits or no bandits they set off with all their navigation and anti-collision and formation lights on. The bandit scare was obviously false as they arrived in the Feltwell circuit looking like Christmas trees and firing verey signals all over the place. No self respecting Luftwaffe intruder would have passed up that invitation to do a bit of damage. As it happened, they did it to themselves.
The Feltwell controller told them to spread themselves out a bit for landing but they were not having any of that as it was dark by that time. There was no way they were going to lose each other having get that far so in they came, landing lights on. No. 1 got down and was told to go to the end of the runway and follow the 'follow me' illuminated van but got disorientated so slammed on the brakes to come to a juddering halt on the runway. No.2 piled right up the back of him, his props chewing at the……………………
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fusulage [sic] , and No.3, seeing what had happened flung his aircraft into a turn and belly flopped when the undercarriage collapsed. What a mess!, but they were lucky. There was not a single casualty although it took a lot of cleaning up.
We entertained the NCO's in our Mess afterwards and it was a source of amazement at the attitude those blokes had to the whole business. They were not in the least concerned that they had written off three aircraft but it was the manner in which they entertained us to a show that was straight off a Hollywood film set.
They were mostly unshaven, cigar chewing, gum chewing, with side arms and knives slung all around them who seemed hell bent on emulating the six gun cowboys of the wild west films and on the whole it was a lot of fun listening, to their wildly exagerated [sic] stories of 'combat over Germany' totally ignoring the fact that many of us had already done complete tours of night operations over enemy territory. They were not interested but it was better than going to the cinema. Most of them had been in the UK long enough to have sampled 'Limey' beer and were not slow in telling us what rubbish it was so we plied them with it until it was running out of their ears. In the end they weren't so tough. Most of than had to be put to bed!.
As time went by and crews continued to pour through the unit it was obvious to me that my time for moving on could be getting close so I started making the appropriate noises to ensure that I would get something different next time and would not have been surprised at anything that turned up. Nevertheless, there was one big surprise; my appointment to a commission which I had been quite convinced would have been turned down somewhere along the line.
When the appointment was promulgated I did not tell Dorothy but took a few days off having arranged to meet her in Oxted in Surrey, and on the way stopped off at Moss.Bros. in Covent Garden to get fitted out. It felt good. I went in as a Flt.Sgt. and came out an hour later as sprog Pilot Officer, no doubt looking like a tailors dummy, all bright and shining, including my cap, hot foot for Oxted.
Dorothy was not at the station so I set off across the field to meet her half way.
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When we did meet there were expressions of surprise and elation and in the excitement I threw my new, expensive cap into the air. That's how it became 'operational'. It landed in a cow cake and took a hell of a lot of cleaning; in between the laughter.
Later on we continued our journey to Worthing and I was suitably 'shown off' by my proud parents but it was a very odd situation when I met one of my old school pals who was a ground wireless operator.
He was one of those who I had always kept in touch with and had been one of the group at the garden gate on the day war had been declared. He had been totally brainwashed!. The poor bloke kept calling me 'Sir' and the only way I could break him of the habit was to get out of uniform to have a drink together without embarrassment on both sides.
Shortly after leave I found myself detailed for a short course at Fighter Command HQ, Bentley Priory, Stanmore.
There was about a dozen of us and we were told that the course was to train Wireless Operators in the use of R/T broadcasts and relay work of the type that the Pathfinder Force was developing. There was also a suggestion that after the training which was part of the Fighter Controllers course we would be assessed for our suitability for broadcasting airborne fighter control as well.
The first day was spent being shown all the fighter control systems as well as seeing them in practice in the famous fighter control/plotting operations rooms and then we were in business.
The next three days were highly amusing as we worked 'aircraft' from a mock control room with the plotters moving radar plots around the table to set up interceptions as the information from the filter room created the picture. It was the 'aircraft' that caused most of the fun. They were in fact Wall's ice cream tricycles with radar reflectors stuck to a pole on the side with low power battery operated transmitter/receivers in the body of the thing. The 'pilots' of the ice cream carts provided the motive power of course and wore the usual headset plus the restrictive..................
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headgear that pilots wore when they were practicing instrument flying.
As a result we could only see a compass and our feet whilst we were in a world of our own either peddling like the 'clappers' and making turns, or in the control room.
It was a highly amusing sight to see a couple of dozen demented ice cream carts cavorting blindly about a strangely marked out rugby pitch, and the occasional crunch as hunter and hunted came together in a perfect interception. Such crude simulation did not have the advantage of vertical seperation!!!!!. It was enlightening, interesting; and amusing but nothing ever came of it.
[line of stars]
It was getting increasingly difficult to get down to the South coast at that time. It was only by virtue of wearing uniform that I got through the security screen whether it was to Worthing or Oxted. There were troops jam-packed in every nook and cranny and there was hardly a bed to spare in any house or hotel. The streets and wooded areas were gigantic vehicle parks with acres of camouflage netting in some open areas disguising the enormous build up. Both my parents and my in-laws were billeting Commando's and the nights were filled with the rumbling of tanks, guns and other vehicles.
Once or twice whilst I was down that way the Luftwaffe had a go at night reconnaissance of the area but got a hot reception every time. During the day there were standing patrols of fighters that discouraged their attentions and I remember one that tried it one night that found himself facing a daunting barrage of fire that I would not like to have faced. Everything and the kitchen sink was thrown at him as he came through East to West at about 2000ft. Every piece of ack-ack, light and heavy, and hundreds of machine guns let loose from the hills, street corners and vehicle parks with a tremendous racket. It was just too dangerous to stay out in with shrapnel and spent rounds falling like rain. If that intruder got his picture and got back home that night then I reckon he was a very lucky chap.
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As we got towards the end of May it was impossible to meet my wife or get in touch with her. She was in the depths of Montgomer's [sic] HQ scheduling convoys down from the North into the Southern assembly areas although I did not know precicely [sic] what she was doing at the time. It was not until after the HQ had been disbanded that I learned about the restrictions that had been imposed. It was little wonder that I had not been able to get in touch when 'Q' Movements staff were under guard for days and were ever escorted to the toilet!.
[line of stars]
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Back at Feltwell the training programme slowed down and everyone was crewed up into a reserve Squadron. Orders of the day were published imposing all sorts of restrictions.
Crew members were on a two hour stand-by and not allowed off of the station. I was crewed with the remainder of the old crew as Pete and Paddy had already moved on and two others joined us. We regularly ground tested and air tested aircraft to operational standard although our efforts were not always successful. There were always problems with the wicked little 'Gremlins' that attached themselves to aeroplanes. 'Gremlins' were the imaginary demons that were blamed for the many problems that aircraft suffered from.
One of them had a real go at us one night before Paddy had left us. We had landed from a night flying detail and had hardly settled on the flare-path when Mac started giving Paddy a verbal broadside for not having fixed the slow running on the starboard outer engine as it had just cut out when he throttled back. With some surprise Paddy looked at his instrument panel, borrowed my signal lamp to light up the wing and calmly announced that there was no need to worry, it would not need fixing as it had just fallen off!.
That caused a bit of a stir in Flying Control when they were told on the R/T and then something else went wrong and we could no longer communicate with them. There was a lot of choice language from the whole crew and muttering from Mac about "cheap bloody meccano sets" and "it couldn't happen to a Stirling" and other appropriate caustic things as we taxied in.
Before we got to dispersal we were met by one of the controllers on a motor bike who signalled us to stop and then he climbed aboard to tell us to switch the blasted R/T set off. Then we knew why we could not hear the tower. We were stuck on transmit...and in the meantime they had evacuated all the female staff from the control room!!!. Nevertheless, it was quite a programme to get the maximum number of aircraft fully serviceable and operationally ready.
When the big day dawned....'D' Day, 6th June, I found out at breakfast as the majority of us did. The two hour stand-by was
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changed to a one hour and we waited with our ears glued to the radio for the minute by minute news of the events of that day. There was no doubt in our minds that this was the 'big one' that we had been waiting for.
It was incredible that nothing had leaked out although the aircraft had all been tested the previous day, and had been painted with white bands around the wings and the fusulage [sic] . In addition they had all been fuelled and bombed up the night before plus there were two more bomb loads stock piled in each dispersal. All we had to do was to sit around and wait for the signal to report for briefing and we would be off, so we sat around and waited and waited, with nothing to do except go out to dispersal from time to time to move aircraft a few feet as it was not good for them to be in one position for too long with a full load on.
As it happened we were not required. The Luftwaffe were caught napping and by the time they got themselves organised they were very much on the defence. The Allies committed so many aircraft that thousands and thousands of sorties were flown. Even the Bomber Command effort had to be flown on a race-track pattern in and out of the target area for safety and there was no room for us; fortunately!. After three days we were stood down and we went back to the training programme. The rest is now history.
Bomber losses were still heavy at times as the Command reverted to strategic bombing to disrupt enemy communications, supply and fuel resources and there was always the dread thought of the possibility of a repetition of the losses that we had suffered in the attack on Nuremburg the previous March. That had been an absolute disaster when [underlined] 95 [/underlined] of our aircraft were lost. Many of them were crews that had passed through our hands a short while before. It had been a reminder that we were not out of the woods yet and from time to time the Luftwaffe were still a force to be reckoned with.
With the invasion well under way my wife was posted to Newmarket as a result of her Surrey HQ being run down. That was a very convenient arrangement when a sympathetic C.O. arranged for me to be detached to Newmarket airfield as detachment commander for a couple of weeks. Very cosy…..our messes virtually backed
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on to one another!.
It was about that time that Macdonald got himself Courts Marshalled for unauthorised low flying….it had to happen some time. He was returning from an investiture at another airfield, including I believe for his own DFC, but landed on three engines and one bent propellor as a result of low flying over Thetford Forest, and it had taken a bit of explaining.
I was not with him at the time but I remember enough of the case to know the prosecution was badly prepared and could not produce the prop. or bits of tree or photographic evidence and the case was dismissed. I also recall that although Mac was in the left hand seat it was in fact in the hands of Mcllroy in the right hand seat. A piece of evidence that got overlooked, but he was still sailing close to the wind. It was probably similar doubtfull [sic] factors that caused him to prang his car with some of the others on board somewhere out in the Fens when the road did something unexpected. Only Mac was damaged and wore a patch over one eye for a time making him look like a pirate. What hurt him most of all was that in those days before the National Health Service, even in war-time, his accident was treated as self inflicted and he had to pay hospital fees. Even in the RAF hospital at Ely.
By the end of the year the work of the unit was almost complete. Reserves were being built up and replacements could be made by other conversion units so No.3. LFS. started running down with Methwold being cleared first. That kept me busy for a while dismantling all the systems that I had put in and returning stuff to stores, and in the meantime I was pulling strings to get the sort of posting that I wanted.
By the end of January 1945 nearly everything was cleared up and to my delight my posting came in for No.9 (Special Duties) Squadron, sister Squadron of the famous 617 (Dam Busters) Squadron which was more than I had dared to hope for.
Unfortunately a change in circumstances caused the postings staff at No.3. Group HQ. to have a re-think within 24hours of issuing the posting notice.
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My posting to No.9.Squadron was cancelled before I finished packing!.
Instead, after more days of delay I was crewed with some of the remaining chaps at Feltwell and posted to XV Squadron, Mildenhall so it was back on ops. again to fill the gaps that were still decimating units.
'Gaps' was the operative word as in my period of 'rest' at Feltwell the Command had lost a mind boggling figure of around 2000 aircraft.
It would have been nice if the old crew had managed to get back together again but things did not normally work out that way. Pete was already half way through his tour on Mosquito's at Downham Market. Paddy was getting on with his second tour with 115 Squadron. The others had been crewed up and departed. Squadron Leader. F.C.Macdonald.DFC. had been appointed as Flight Commander of 622 Squadron; also at Mildenhall, and it was a whole new ball game.
I only had the opportunity of socialising with Mac once in the very short period that I was there. The hand of fate caught up with me at last.
Our first operation was the last that XV Squadron's new, all officer, all second tour, all ex instructor crew was to do and it was late June before I got back to Mildenhall again, mainly to thank the parachute section for packing my parachute correctly!.
By the most amazing coincidence when the WAAF in the parachute section went through the books to find the serial number of my 'chute it turned out that she had also been the packer!
The poor girl got a sloppy impulsive kiss and a donation to their social fund but when I went to look for Mac I could not find him. There was very little interest; no-one wanted to know as he was away somewhere and although I tried several different ways of communicating with him later I had no direct contact again until 1954.
My search eventually led me to a scruffy motor engineers workshop on the outskirts of Wisbech where he seemed to be both the proprietor and chief mechanic; there was no-one else!.
He was the same old Mac. Uncommicative [sic] and shabby, like the shabby old Triumph Dolomite that stood next to a shabby old
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caravan that appeared to be both his office and his home.
There was not much left of the old sparkle and fire in his eyes although at the time it might have had something to do with the fact that the mid afternoon refreshment served in a dirty cracked cup came from a whisky bottle rather than the tea pot, but he was just as dammed uncommunicative as ever. Never a word when a nod and a wink would do. About the only thing I can remember him saying was "I thought you had got the chop and I was going to write to your wife" but of course, he never had. He did confess to being a bit surprised that I was by that time a Flight Lieutenant and the Operations Wing Adjutant at Mareham but his comment was typical. "I never thought you had it in you". He never was complementary....just a dour Scot.
He really looked as if he could here done with some assistance but there was no way that I could do anything without offending him although I did find out that he had done another 15 ops. and had ditched a damaged Lanc. before his wings had been well and truly clipped.
Shortly after that meeting I was off to foreign parts and on my return to the area about three years later nothing had changed although shortly afterwards he did another disappearing act and it took many years to track him down again. The trail eventually led to Troon and then to Dunoon before it fizzled out once more and it was many more years before he surfaced again with the assistance of the RAF Association and the Mildenhall Register. He was in very poor circumstances in Glasgow where Paddy found him and there was every indication that he would rather not have been found. He was content to be a survivor and the past was over and done with; what he could remember of it at the ripe old age of 82!.
We had not been far out in our estimates in 1943. He must have been one of the oldest Squadron pilots in the Air Force at the time at the age of 38!.
He disappeared again for a short time but following the trail left by Paddy I made a visit to Glasgow and finally tracked him down in a home for the elderly but he was no longer the Macdonald we had known. I don't think he knew who I was. He died six years later!.
I have never regretted my 'choice' of the pilot in which I placed
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my trust and my life and those sentiments are shared by the surviving members of the crew. We look back on those days and wonder how we ever came out of it unscathed considering that in our subsequent flying after the war we nearly all had the experience of climbing out of 'bent' aeroplanes.
Pete flew in a civilian capacity with Freddie Laker as both Navigator and Flight Engineer. They were lucky to walk away from a wrecked aircraft on the Berlin Air Lift. Paddy walked away from a wrecked passenger Mk.V. Stirling in the Middle East and I climbed out of a Proctor upside down on Oakington's runway.
For the record, Mac, Pete, Paddy and Ralph were all awarded DFC's for their efforts, Mac and Pete with bars, but sadly we are no longer a complete crew.
For me, those years were the most traumatic of any life and I will never forget those occasions when we were so close to each other in that short period that seemed like a lifetime.
TO
"THE SKIPPER"
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THERE ARE OLD PILOTS AND BOLD PILOTS
BUT
VERY FEW
[underlined] OLD….BOLD PILOTS [/underlined]
Anon.
[page break]
IN MEMORY OF THE AIRCREW
OF
BOMBER COMMAND
WHO WERE KILLED OR MISSING
IN
OPERATIONS OVER EUROPE
1939—1945
[row of circles]
[page break]
[underlined] ACKNOWLEDGMENTS [/underlined]
To Michael.J.F.Boyer……. whose research and detail in his excellent books:- [underlined] Action Stations--Part-One [/underlined]
[underlined] and [/underlined]
[underlined] The [/underlined] [underlined] Stirling [/underlined] [underlined] Bomber [/underlined]
were valuable sources of information.
To Martin Middlebrook & Chris Everitt for research details made available in the [underlined] Bomber Command War Diaries [/underlined] .
To Jock Whitehouse & Spencer Adams whose energy and enthusiasm helped to correct the many inacuracies [sic] in my early drafts.
and
TO MY DEAR WIFE DOROTHY who was obliged to tolerate the many years of typing and interuption [sic] of more important matters.
not forgetting
THOSE CREW MEMBERS WHO ARE LONG GONE:
WITHOUT WHOSE SKILLS THIS STORY
[underlined] COULD NEVER HAVE BEEN TOLD!!. [/underlined]
[line of stars]
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[underlined] PREFACE [/underlined]
On the 3rd February 1945 seven aircrew were posted to XV Squadron, Mildenhall, to form the crew of a Lancaster.
The pilot was Australian, the rear gunner was an American in the RAF. The navigator and mid-upper gunner were Scots and the remainder of the crew were from the counties of Sussex, Nottingham and Warwickshire.
They had all completed a previous tour of operations and had been resting for varying periods as instructors at No.3. Lancaster Finishing School at Feltwell in Norfolk.
The school was closing down and as the staff were being dispersed one pilot had been given the option of forming his own crew prior to posting back to an operational Squadron. That is how we all came together.
Some of the new crew had flown together whilst at the school and the pilot and flight engineer had previously flown together on Manchesters and Lancasters in operational Squadrons.
The time had come for them to get back into the fray as the bombing campaign was being stepped up to an awesome number of aircraft being employed to deliver thousands of tons of bombs to the enemy as the war was rapidly drawing to a close.
The Third Reich was reeling from savage attacks from both East and West. Their Navy was just about bottled up and had lost most of their capital ships. Her Army was being lost in great chunks and the German Air Force was being severely restricted by fuel shortages and although they fought on desperately the final blows were not far off. Anyone with half an eye could see that; except Hitler. If he had not been so crazy he would have given in a long time before we had reached the critical stage, but since he would not, and the Allies would accept nothing but unconditional surrender, Germany and it's long suffering population had to bludgeoned into submission.
I was the Wireless operator/air gunner of the crew and we were part of that final effort although there was an awful lot of killing still going on in all theatres of the war.
At the time it seemed that we had a good chance of being in at the finish so on arrival at Mildenhall we got stuck into refresher training and emergency drills against the stop watch
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until it did not seem possible to trim any more time off of the procedures and the 'Skipper' was satisfied that we were now moulded into a crew and ready for anything.
For me it was quite an experience being back at Mildenhall again having been there as an 'erk' in 1941, and now I was back again as a commissioned officer and experienced crew member although I did not have a lot of time to dwell on the fact.
A lot of water had passed under the bridge and we were perhaps somewhat unique in that we were an all commissioned crew starting a second tour of operations.
That was a very rare combination and as I thought at the time we might make a name for ourselves.
HOW WRONG I WAS !!!!!!
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On the 7th of February we found ourselves on the Battle Order for an operation and subsequently the old familiar pattern of activity fell into place as we trooped into the briefing room.
The target was detailed as the oil refinery at Wanne Eikel, at the eastern end of the Ruhr industrial complex, which, suprisingly [sic] was still trying to produce something despite the hundreds of tons of bombs that had been dumped on and around it over the years.
Our job, within a force of 100 Lancasters of No.3.Bomber Group, was to try and put it out of business and further disrupt the already desperate fuel situation that was severely limiting the activities of the German War Machine.
As far as I was concerned it was going to be a change to be on a daylight raid. I figured that at last I would be able to see what was going on and that I might even get a chance to assist in doing something really useful from the astro dome. Even the prospect of flying higher and faster than I had done on my previous tour in Stirlings was something I was certainly looking forward to.
I had polished up my gunnery in the various turrets on the firing range including stoppage clearance although inwardly hoping that the occasion would never arise when I would have to put the practice into use as it would mean taking over from one of the other gunners who had become a casualty.
Even so, there was no way that I was going to be caught out in such an emergency----not when the end of my war was in sight!. After briefing and collection of all the usual paraphernalia we all trooped out to the airfield in the crew bus to get on with the pre-flight checks until the time came for us to start up and taxy out for take-off.
With the usual heart stopping lurch Lancaster ME434...coded LS(XV Squadron) D for 'Dog'; the 12th that had carried that identification, (not all Lancasters); took to the air as the end of the runway came into sight with everything straining to get up to a safe height with it's heavy load of bombs and fuel.
The load was around 2000 gallons of petrol with 1 x 4000lb blast bomb and 12 x 500 pounders. Not the maximum that a Lanc. could take but enough to require some delicacy-in handling.
4
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Everything was normal as we gained height and climbed on course following a route that took us over Newmarket where my wife was.
I was wondering what she was thinking as the thunder of up to 100 aircraft filled the air. I had only seen her the night before and had told her that I was going to be busy so she knew that something was going on.
We were soon changing course for a point on the South Coast near Beachy Head and as it came up on track my home town of Worthing was in sight, to the West as we crossed the coast with the sky clear and bright as we continued to climb to our operating height.
The rest of the force closed around us as we formed up into the usual 'gaggle' as we approached another turning point on time.
Unlike the USAAF, we did not fly in a tight defensive formation as the RAF preferred to present any attackers with a loose, weaving, inconsistent mass of aircraft with a less restrictive field of fire. The exception was underneath, which is why some of XV Squadron's aircraft that took up position at the bottom of the pack had been locally fitted with a pair of ventral guns to cover what would normally be a blind spot.
We were not one of those but a 'Gee-H' leader, carrying some special homing and bombing equipment with which to pin-point the target through cloud. The yellow bars on the tail fins identified us as such.
We crossed the French coast which was no longer as hostile as I had last encountered it and in fact it was an inspiring sight to look down from over 20,000ft in such brilliant conditions on an area that only a few months before had been wrested from German domination.
It all looked very peaceful down there but there was always that false impression of things outside the aircraft and one could easily be lulled into a false sense of security by it.
Despite the impression of a bright summers day out there and the warmth of the sun falling on my shoulders in the astro dome it was, nevertheless minus 12° out there.
It was uncomfortably hot for me so I discarded my 'Mae West' life jacket as we changed course once more to head across Belgium
5
[page break]
towards the Ruhr.
It soon became obvious that the bad weather that we had been warned about at briefing was not far ahead. In the distance a huge wall of angry black cloud appeared; from just about deck level right up to the heavens, stretching from North to South as far as-we could see.
It was a typical squall line associated with frontal conditions and the nearer we got to it the more obvious it was that the Met. people had underestimated it's severity.
The formatiom [sic] leaders still did not break radio silence with instructions and as it was obvious there was no way around it we were soon doing what everyone else was doing as the force started spreading out with maximum climbing power until we plunged into it, in an attempt to get out of the top.
At 23,000ft we were still in it and ploughing on yet there were still no instructions to change our plans but with the first of the Ruhr defences ahead of us, and the aircraft icing up to the extent that she was getting very sluggish, Geoff Hammond, the pilot, was getting concerned that we could not possibly go much higher without the risk of losing control plus the chance of carburettor icing as well.
With the sun obscured it had turned very cold inside the aircraft as the heating system was fighting a losing battle and I thought that perhaps it was time that I put my life jacket back on. I thought better of it for the very reason that I would have to take my parachute harness off to do it but with the aircraft waffling around like a drunken duck it perhaps not the best time to do it.
We were all somewhat relieved when Geoff announced that we were turning back and descending to try and find better conditions although it was some time before there was even the slightest improvement.
We could not get out of cloud completely and the ice was still not clearing although it was no longer building up so we set course for our secondary target; Duisburg, from where we could have made a dash for clearer areas. However, Dave Howell, the navigator, although he was able to place us over the target area on radar, was not satisfied that he could pin point a target so we just kept on going and descending as the cloud started
6
[page break]
to thin into layers. As the conditions improved ice started to strip off and clatter about with a great deal of noise although it was no problem and certainly better than being loaded with half a ton of ice in the wrong places.
Even-the Lancaster had very limited de-icing equipment. It was only installed on the leading edges of the wings inboard of the inner engines, and therefore not all that effective. It was policy to increase the-bomb carrying capacity by reducing such [underlined] unneccessary [/underlined] [sic] frills.!!!!!.
It seemed that it was going to be an abortive sortie and that we would be taking our bombs back home and dumping them on the range but after a short conference on the intercomm [sic] Geoff decided that our best bet would be to go back to Krefeld in a final attempt to plant the bombs on the enemy side of the 'bomb line' so we turned around again and headed East for Krefeld.
We were still in and out of cloud at about 8,500ft by the time our new target came up by which time Dave and Jim Murphy the bomb-aimer had decided on a target reference and between them the bombs were dropped in one salvo.
As soon as they had gone we started into a port turn to make for home when Jim reported that the bomb doors would not close, probably due to icing…..; [underlined] when it happened!!!! [/underlined]
The aircraft gave a violent lurch and being in the astro dome I was horrified to see the starboard wing just rear up as if it was going to wrap itself around us.
With my heart in my mouth I went scrambling towards my parachute stowage but before I got there I was brought to my knees alongside the radio compartment as the aircraft rolled right over and the next few moments were rather desperate.
We went into a spin; which way up I shall never know, but to the accompaniment of the sound track from some old aviation film we, were descending at an alarming rate as Geoff yelled "prepare to abandon" on the intercomm [sic] although no-one really needed telling. The trouble was that there was little that we could do about it.
Geoff and Des Cook the flight engineer were fighting the controls together with linked arms as the altimeter unwound rapidly but the spin had locked everyone into their respective positions.
Dave and I were both desperately trying to get to our side by
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side parachute stowages without much success and although our heads were probably only a couple of feet apart I swear that our eyeballs; out on stalks-must have nearly touched.
It has often been said that when one is faced with death one's whole life flashes before you but I do not recall any such images.
The only thing that flashed into my brain-box was "Dear God; this is it-I hope it doesn't hurt too much", and then suddenly the aircraft righted, or at least stopped spinning and we were released from the centrifugal forces that had kept us locked allowing us to get the 'chutes out of the racks as at the same time the order came from Geoff to "abandon...abandon...abandon”. Reaction to that order was automatic after the amount of time that we had spent practising the procedure in the previous three days.
Helmets with oxygen and intercomm [sic] connections were torn off. Dave and I grabbed our parachute packs on the run and slammed them onto our chest clips by the time Jim Murphy had jettisoned the front hatch and had virtually gone out with. Dave went next, feet first and I followed so closely behind, head first, that there could not have been a foot between us.
Archie Macintosh, the mid-upper gunner, was hot on my heels even though he had had to negotiate the main spar to get up front and then the way was clear for Des.
Des had already released Geoff's sutton harness and removed his helmet and connections as well as his own whilst Geoff was still struggling with the controls and he was ready to go the same way as the rest of us.
We had all thumped Geoff's arm as we passed so he got another thump from Des prior to his departure after which Geoff was able to make a dash for the exit before the aircraft went out of control again. As usual, the rear gunner had made his own arrangements by rotating on the beam and jettisoning the turret doors then throwing himself out backwards.
From the word 'go' there was a lot to be done and it says a great deal for a well practiced drill because we figured out afterwards that we were all out in 12 secs. flat, and not suprisingly [sic] , even faster than we had achieved in practice only the day before when Geoff had insisted that we do it again and
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again until he was satisfied.
It was with the same mechanical process that I counted to ten before I pulled the rip cord although I have to confess that I cheated a bit. It was more like 2,4,6,8,10 and after I had done it my heart was in my mouth as nothing seemed to happen.
I had felt some urgency to get the 'chute open as quickly as possible as we had been in cloud all the time and I had no idea of our height at the time of going out. I was just hoping that it would open before I dived into something solid; like the side of a house before it did.
I had made sure that I had put the 'chute pack on with the 'D' ring under my right hand which had been on it from the time I had clipped up. I had heard too many stories of people who had gone out in a panic only to be found later at the bottom of a hole with the right hand side of the pack half torn away by bleeding fingers; yet as sure as I was that I had done everything correctly it seemed like a lifetime before anything happened.
There was a violent jolt and I was swinging under a rustling canopy, still in cloud and preparing rapidly for a heavy landing. For a brief moment there was a tremendous sense of relief as I found myself looking down at the 'D' ring clutched in my right hand. Then the thought struck me that I had better hang onto it as there was a five shilling fine for opening a parachute; but only by mistake. What a bloody silly thought!...so I tossed it away smartly just before I broke cloud.
I estimated that I was about 1500ft and on looking around I found that I was much too close to a turbulent river for my liking, especially as I was a poor swimmer and I had no life jacket on, so I started hauling on the shroud lines to do something about it. With not a lot of time to spare I concentrated on the landing.
I was agreeably suprised [sic] that crossing hands on the lines and pulling them in opposite directions worked like the instructors said it would and with a little more heaving and hauling I soon got a fair idea of where I was going to land in an open field!.
I need not have worried about going into the river as a strong wind was carrying me away from it but if it was not bad enough that landing by parachute was the equivilent [sic] to the rate of
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descent of jumping off of a 12ft wall I seemed to be doing about 30mph on the level so I was not keen to get a busted leg at that stage.
When I was just a few feet above the ground I turned the release buckle to unlock the harness and a fraction of a second before touching terra firma I banged the release buckle and Presto!. I came out of the harness, into a forward roll over the shoulder and hip and immediately up on my feet to grab the lower lines of the canopy and collapse it. It was a classic landing-I was down safely and I could only hope at the time that the others had been as successful.
I had seen no sign of them during the descent but I was to find out all about that later. The most important thing was-where the blazes was I?. The time was 3.30pm and as we had crossed and re-crossed the 'bomb line' there was every chance that I might be on the Allied side.
The terrain gave no indication of where I was and there was not the activity that one would expect of a battlefield area but with those thoughts running around inside my head I gathered up my parachute and shoved it under the base of a tree among some roots as I decided to get away from the immediate area.
[line of stars]
10
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Continuation of “Water under the Bridge – Part II. by A.T.GAMBLE.
I could faintly hear shouts and whistles coming from one area so I scrambled off on my hands and knees in the opposite direction into an area of 4ft nursury [sic] pines towards a road that I had seen on the way down. By the time I got there the shouts and whistles had become considerably louder.
Within a few seconds of reaching the edge of plantation the road was in sight but I stayed under cover until I spotted a Jeep coming along displaying the American white circle with a star in so with great relief I broke cover, stood up and waived [sic] . I immediately regretted it.
The chap standing up front next to the driver let loose with a sub-machine gun so I promptly went to ground again.
I just had time to notice that his uniform, although a sort of blue, was not quite the familiar RAF colour and pattern, Then I knew which side of the line I was on; the wrong side. !!
I was only half aware of the sounds of ZZZtz’s as lead cut into the area around me as I did a reasonable imitation of a rabbit on my hands and knees heading for the middle of the trees wondering how the blazes I was going to get out of this situation, until l was finally forced to stop, exhusted.
I buried my identity card which I should not have been carrying anyway, plus two £1 notes, and drew my pistol which had been tucked in my tunic, cocked it and laid down trying to be very, very small.
A siren was wailing in the distance and the shouts and whistles got even louder with sounds of more local movement that was just audible above the hammering of my heart.
I did not know what to expect but what happened was very sudden. A heavy boot came down on my gun hand. The pistol went off and I was hauled to my feet facing the business end of a nasty looking machine pistol and about half a dozen grinning chaps of my own age; in Luftwaffe blue!.
There were some others behind me and one of them relieved me of my Smith & Wesson .38 and with my hands now free it seemed the most logical thing to do was to put them well above my head. With as cheerful a grin as I could muster I said "good afternoon", to which the bloke behind the pistol said, "gooten abend, fur sie das krieg ist fertig". (good afternoon, for you the war is finished) and although my German was not good enough
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to interpret, the inference in the manner in which it was said was sufficient. I was without any doubt a Prisoner of War!.
In the middle of the group, with a prod and a push I was ushered to a large house, past a battery of heavy looking anti-aircraft guns and the thought struck me that they might have been responsible for my present predicament as there was no doubt in my mind that it was ack-ack that had got us, but I didn't ask. I was not going to give them the satisfaction of an affirmative reply as they already seemed pretty smug about the whole business.
I was led into the house, and up the stairs from the baronial hall of heavy oak panelling and flying staircase and into a room being used as an office.
An officer behind a huge antique desk greeted me with a broad grin, so with very little to lose I gave him a parade ground salute which he smartly returned. So far so good….but what was running around inside my head at the time was the irony that it was just my luck to have come down in the middle of the Luftwaffe flak unit that had shot us down!.
The proceedings that followed were all conducted in German and a lot of sign language apart from one question directed to the single ribbon on my tunic. It was only the 1939/43 star as it was then, but the officer pointed to it and enquired "DFC”?. Well, a DFC was about the equivalent of their Iron Cross, whatever class, and I thought it might influence the treatment so "ja” it was. As it happened it might as well have been a VC for all the difference it made.
Everything was turned out of my pockets. Collar studs were taken from out of my shirt. (They obviously knew that we often had special one's with compasses in them). Then the cufflinks, (they often had the same use). Then all of the buttons from my jacket and trousers. (Again some buttons could be used as a matching pair with one balanced on the other to produce a crude compass). Then the stitching that secured the tops of my flying boots was cut to deprive me of the tops as they were obviously aware that often money and maps were built into the layers of fleece and silk.
A polished metal mirror that I always kept in my left breast pocket was also removed before I was handed a piece of paper
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and pencil, and it was not difficult to understand the next request. Number, Rank, Name, although it was difficult to comply right away until I had secured my trousers with my tie.
Among my possessions now laying on the table was a nearly new pack of 20 cigarettes, so I indicated a request for one but the crafty blighters handed them round first leaving just one in the pack for me. Even then they did not light theirs. They probably pulled them to pieces later to see if there was anything other than tobacco in them. I knew there was not. I had only got them from the Mess bar the night before.
Now those in the escape and evasion pack that had gone down with my life jacket were an entirely different matter but it was no good bemoaning the loss of that stuff.
It seemed that the initial procedures were finished when the officer made a few calls on a field telephone after which I was ushered outside to take my place between two armed escorts on bicycles and with a boot up the backside and "Schnell" off we went with me at the trot.
I found out later that I had come down between Veirson and Alderkirk, about 10mls West of Krefeld but we were soon away from there as was persistently prodded and booted to keep me on the run which was no easy task in sloppy shoes which used to be flying boots, and trousers without adequate support but they seemed in a great hurry and obviously 'I was of no consequence.
There were regular encouraging shouts of "rouse" and "schnell" accompanied by more kicks in the rear so there was no alternative to keeping on the move.
What surprised me was the fact chat the area we went through was devoid of all civilian population. Villages, shops, farms and houses were deserted. There was no sign of life at all. Derelict filling stations had rusty 'Shell' signs hanging lop-sided. Shops with tatty Coca-Cola signs were all boarded up. It was more like a no-man's land that I jogged through with little evidence of all the troops that I expected to see considering how close to the front line that I was. It was even more surprising since in the early hours of the next morning one of the biggest offensive's of the war was launched by the Allies
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on the Northen [sic] battle front in an attempt to break through and reach the Rhine. They must have been known that something big was about to break.
The very fact that we did not achieve immediate success is a matter of history but with great armies lined up and about to be locked in battle less than 30mls to the West I can only assume that if there was any strength of German troops in the rear they were very well hidden. The only traffic that I saw was the occasional military vehicle travelling very slowly hugging the edge of the tracks through wooded areas.
I was just about done in when we finally arrived at the Luftwaffe airfield at Krefeld around dusk.
I was duly handed over and signed for at the guard room with my two escorts still showing signs of being in a hurry to get back to their relatively isolated unit before the RAF or the USAAF started chucking stuff at what was a prime target.
Perhaps they figured they would have more chance against our ground forces but whatever; they were off as fast as they could go with their hand generating flashlights whirring away.
My first impression of the place was the similarity between their buildings and our pre-war bases at home. It all looked so familiar that they might have been built to the same plans….perhaps they were!. Even the cell block behind the guard room was identical as was the exercise yard behind it, but I was not impressed when I was shown to my room.
In the cell was the same sort of wooden dais that served as a bed, (no comfort for the wrong doers), and of course no pillow or mattress. Just a single thin blanket.
It was not long after I had been locked in and I had taken stock of the situation that I realised that it was some time since I had eaten or had a drink, about eight hours actually, so I started making a fuss to attract the attention of a guard and demanding to be fed.
The sign language conveyed the message alright but the only reaction was a great deal of laughter and sign language from them which simply meant "you have had it mate"!.
I have no doubt it was due to a typical military process which ensured
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that there would be no issue of food to a prisoner until he came on ration strength in the morning!.
Everything that I had been provided with for such emergencies (had I been allowed to keep it) had gone down in my life jacket.
I finally went into an uncomfortable and restless sleep with visions of that egg and bacon that would have been waiting for me back at Mildenhall, and grumblings in the tummy. I was also very concerned at the sort of reaction that there would-be when the inevitable telegrams arrived. There was no way, that anyone back home would know what had happened to us. We would just be 'missing' until something was sorted out.
In the morning the routine was simple. An early visit to the ablutions under guard with no means or opportunity of washing, other than splashing a little water on the face and return to the cell to find that 'breakfast' had been served.
It had been placed on the floor outside the cell door. I could have eaten a horse, harness and all but all that 'breakfast' consisted of was one slice of sticky black bread with a smear of bright yellow grease on it and a mug of some brown stuff that they called coffee.
I did not dare laugh at their reference to "cafe' and brot und butter" as there was no was of knowing when I would get anything else particularly as my insides were already protesting at not being fed for nearly 24 hours. Nevertheless, I nibbled and sipped any way through it having never ever tasted anything quite like it before.
Had I gulped it down I have no doubt that I would not have kept it down for long. It was absolutely ghastly.
There was no activity at all until mid-day and after a visit to the ablutions a meal was provided on a small folding table in the passageway and I had company.
My companion was a young Luftwaffe airman of about 17 who spoke quite good English and although he could have been a plant I very much doubt it.
Over the meal which was about a handful of turnip stew. a tablespoon of sourcraut [sic] and a thin slice of black bread without any scrape, plus a mug of the brown stuff we managed to communicate sufficiently for him to tell me his story.
Apparently he had wanted to be a pilot but his eyes were not
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up to the standard required so he had become ground crew of some sort which he had been a bit peeved about. He was in the cooler for striking an officer and what's more he did not seem too worried.
I found it embarrassing when after he had made enquiries about the various insigna [sic] on my uniform and found that I was an officer. It was he who suggested that the scar on my forehead was a duelling scar so I want along with it. After that disclosure he jumped to his feet, clicking his heels and bobbing up and down in typical German fashion until I suggested that we had better get on with our food, what there was of it, before it got cold. Especially as we were using the same utensils...his!. Then we were locked up again and for my part still hungry.
I have often wondered how that lad got on. After all, striking an officer was, and still is a serious offence, especially on active service. He was probably sent to the Russian front in a penal battalion to fight for his beloved Furher [sic] . They might as well have shot him outright. Whilst I was having visions of egg and bacon I was disappointed when supper turned up. It was a mug of a different shade of brown stuff of indefinable flavour and so to bed. It was the same routine the next day and my insides were still trying to come to terms with the 'snacks' that arrived three times a day and even the Luftwaffe airman had disappeared but things livened up the next day.
There was a terrific rattle of light ack-ack when the airfield was straffed [sic] by USAF P.51's, (Mustangs). They did a hell of a good job from what I could see through a small peep-hole in the top corner of the window, only just accessible .by climbing on the bed stood on it's end.
There were quite a few fires and explosions and a hell of a racket from the defences but I was forced to abandon my grandstand view very quickly when lead started splattering all over the outside of the building. It was too close for comfort and the window finished up with a larger hole in it that it had had before causing a bit of a draught.
Archie Macintosh had been brought in the night before but apart from one brief meeting we had been unable to communicate as
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he had been put in a cell at the other end of the block and we were fed at different times.
I was beginning to get a bit fed up with my own company when on the afternoon of the 10th I had plenty of company.
The entire crew of a B.17. (Flying Fortress) were brought in and distributed among the cells so two of them joined me.
They were a bit suspicious at first but were soon convinced that I was genuine as I was sharing their discomfort. Despite the increase in numbers we were not provided with any more blankets and only a small increase in total food, although we were being fed in the cells at that stage. Fortunately my new cell mates had only recently been well fed back at their UK base and were quite willing to forego the "Kraut junk food" so I had my fill. I am sure they changed their minds about it later on.
At least there was someone to talk to relieve the utter boredom of my four walls and I must confess that I was astonished when I heard their story.
Apparently they had lost an engine and could not keep up with their formation so before the fighters could get at them they had just force landed, fired the aircraft and that was that.
I found it difficult to reconcile such an action with what we might have done in similar circumstances but their orders were not to risk lives at that stage for the sake of an aeroplane. There were plenty of them!. Even so I thought that it would not have been difficult to have done some hedgehopping to our own lines rather than finish up in the situation they now found themselves in.
The next day we were all mustered outside the Guardroom after our morning drink and with one guard per prisoner we set off to Dusseldorf by the process of alternatively walking or hitchhiking on military transport. Archie and I were at last able to compare notes.
He had gone out just behind me but had not been able to execute as neat a landing.
He had landed in some fairly tall pine trees and after he had finished crashing through branches he finished up swinging about 20 feet from the ground somewhat winded.
He had a lot to think about once he had recovered and certainly
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did not fancy getting a busted leg by releasing himself from that height, although that is what the Luftwaffe wanted him to do as soon as they arrived on the scene.
There was a lot of shouting and a few shots to give him encouragement so he eventually got a good swing going until he was able to grab the branch of another tree, release himself and clamber down. The rest was routine so that was two of us that were OK anyway.
As we plodded along we took in all that was revealed by the countryside and the signs of the desperate shortages in Germany were even more obvious.
All the things that made up the daily life back home that we took for granted; the butcher, the baker, people, transport and tradesmen were just not there. The area was desolate apart from the odd military vehicle that picked us up and saved our legs for a few miles.
It took a long time to cover the 16 miles by those means and there was no refreshment at all-not for us prisoners anyway!, but we duly arrived at the Luftwaffe airfield at Dusseldorf to be handed over and signed for as usual at the guard room.
Then our escorts came up with an extraordinary gesture that took us completely by surprise They came down the line and shook us all very politely by the hand, with of course the inevitable heel clicking, and then we were led away to our cells. There was four in mine, including Archie.
We were not fed or watered. Only water was available when it was possible to visit the toilets although the guards were very reluctant to let us use the wash basins--but we managed.
By that time I was used to being hungry and our American friends were getting aclimatized [sic] --but getting very vocal about it. It was a total waste of time, even when we were ushered outside at 4.30 the next morning.
Naturally we were hoping that we were going to be fed but all we got was a pack of three dry sandwiches, containing some garlic smelling sausage and being told that they had to last several days. Some only lasted a few minutes as about 20 of us were packed into a bus which took us to what was left of Dusseldorf station and whilst we were waiting around for something to happen we found that Jim was among us. That made three of us accounted
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for.
Jim's descent had been perfectly normal. There had been a reception committee waiting for him and he had gone straight to Dusseldorf where he had waited several days for something to happen. At last it had.
We spent all day on that train, and the next as it clanked and groaned it's way across country. It was a painfully slow journey, and sometimes we were shunted into sidings for long periods, and on others we were just held up by the signals.
The guards were touchy and there was one outside each of the compartments all the time. The only time we were allowed out into the corridor was for the occasional visit to the toilet, still under escort, and the facilities were a bit primitive to say the least.
Drinking water was limited and was only made available twice a day from a bucket with a ladle which we all had to use, so it was not surprising that we were getting thirsty, dirty and hungry. Three sandwiches do not go far---mine went on the first day and nothing else had turned up.
Sleeping was another big problem although we dozed quite a lot as there was-nothing else to do, but ten in a compartment brought it's own problems, especially at night. We took turns for a few hours at a time up on the luggage racks but without any heating on the train it did not take long for the body to get chilled right through so it was necessary to get back into the sweaty and rather smelly huddle of bodies to warm up again.
We had to disembark several times as the train went forward slowly on it's own over either weak or hurriedly laid sections of track or where unexploded or delayed action bombs were suspected and it was all very tedious.
The next night we stopped at one station to change the train crew, I think it was Siegen, and it was another of those rare occasions to get out of the compartment.
The German equivalent of the WVS were on the platform and the ladies of the tea urn were approached by our guards with a proposal to dispense some in our direction and with a great show of reluctance they eventually obliged.
Of course, we had to take it in turn to use the tin cups provided as we had nothing and the news was relayed that the hot drink
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was 'chocolate'. I saw some strange expressions from the others that were ahead of me in the queue when they got theirs and I don't suppose mine was any different when I got my measure.
As chocolate it was more like dirty washing up water and that the average German had long forgotten what chocolate really tasted like.
It was more like the sort of brew that you would get if you dissolved a Horlicks tablet in five gallons of hot water!.
It was welcome just the same and we dare not make any disparaging remarks about for fear of being deprived of it.
I was just wondering if I should finish my ration by washing in it when the air raid sirens started wailing and there was immediate panic everywhere as we set off for the shelters.
We were herded down some steps into caves which had been hewn out of the natural rock alongside the station and some of us helped the guards with their packs. Someone else 'accidentally' knocked over the abandoned drinks trolley in the general rush and we eventually finished up in a dimly lit shelter where we were pushed well to the back as bombs started crashing down outside causing the lights to flicker and dust to start filtering from the roof onto everyone. [The raid was short but the bombs were heavy one's and are thought to have been Mosquito's on a 'siren tour'].
The rest of the occupants of the shelter, mostly civilians including children were terrified and apart from one old bloke, stayed huddled up in the corners. He shuffled across to our group and peered at us through the shield of guards for a while until it dawned on him who we were and then he went frantic.
He lunged and spat, yelling "terror fleiger" doing his damnedest to get through to us but the guards closed ranks into a solid wall in front of us and he shoved off when the all clear sounded. The guard commander was taking no chances that any further demonstration might get out of hand and we left last!.
I doubt if they would have been so protective If they had known what we had been up to. It was some time later after we had re-embarked and were clanking along once more when they found out. First one went to his pack and then another, to find the cupboard bare. Even the: wine bottles were empty!.
They got very upset about it and there were all sorts of threats
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of punishment for stealing but we just laughed it off and it came to nothing.
Their rations were not all that good anyway but by that time we were past caring. I do not remember anyone saying that they did not like garlic sausage or black bread but in that situation you soon forget about any fads and fancies you might have had.
We finally arrived at Frankfurt on the morning of the 15th and I was surprised to see so such of the station still standing. It was not until I took a second look that I realised that the broken framework of the roof had no glass and the only solid thing seemed to be the platforms, and there was a lot of those missing.
It was even worse outside!.
The roads were just avenues between piles of rubble that had once been houses, shops and businesses. What a mess. I had seen some of Coventry after they had done some clearing up in the areas that had been devastated, and a great deal of London's East End but this lot was not in any way isolated. It spread as far as the eye could see. We had seen signs of it from the train as we were pulling in but when we were actually in it was obvious that anything still standing was little more than a blackened shell.
It was not surprising that the population were showing signs of hostility as we were herded out of the station and we were surrounded by the guards almost shoulder to shoulder. It was with some relief that we were all shoved into the relative safety of an old electric tram which eventually rattled and whined it's way up the hill in the direction of the infamous interrogation camp; Dulag Luft, at Ober-Orsal, the place that most of us knew about from the talks that we had from either repatriates or escapees. We had a pretty good idea of what to expect, and were prepared for it.
The tram ran out of line after about two miles and then we were on foot again until we reached the camp at about 2pm.
This time the guards did not shake hands when we were handed over. They were probably still sore about their stolen rations and were as anxious as we were to get a meal. Nevertheless, I was glad that it was policy for the Luftwaffe to look after Air Force prisoners. They seemed reasonable enough under the
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circumstances.
Perhaps they were being particularly nice now that the stuffing was being knocked out of them and although they would not have admitted it many of them must have known that the end was near.
We queued for a long time as forms were filled in and cross checked with other papers and then finally it was time to have our photographs taken.
Most of the staff seemed to be Luftwaffe aircrew who were either grounded by the shortage of fuel or were convalescing but either way they were not very good with a camera. They had been clicking away merrily for some time with the lens cap still on and a buzz passed down the line not to tell them until they got near the end. I was only a couple from the end and it gave me great satisfaction to point it out to them. Much to their embarrassment Everyone fell about hooting with laughter and there were a few derisory remarks made in German about the efficiency of the Luftwaffe. It did mean of course that we had to do it all over again which involved getting colder and hungrier but it was all part of the scheme of things that almost everyone was engaged in. Crudely put, it was 'goon baiting', and something that they failed to see the point of.
After hours of standing around and being herded to and fro' I was eventually ushered into a room that might easily have been one of our own flight offices. It was a cleverly laid out stage set that was a perfect replica using RAF furniture, carpets and fittings that had been captured and put to use. In addition there was even one of our own Marconi TR1154/55 radio equipments sitting on top of one of our filing cabinets with an RAF flying helmet, goggles and oxygen mask draped casually over an open drawer, plus a gunners Irvin fur flying jacket on the door hook to create the right effect. In addition there was a wall map with pins and tapes showing routes and other areas exactly the same as the one in our briefing room.
I could not help wondering how many of these stage sets they had got for the various aircrew categories both RAF and USAF but it was so obvious I was immediately on my guard.
When the officer, or the chap that was dressed as one spoke from behind the desk it was in perfect English, without any accent, that it might easily have been an interview by a flight
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commander on posting; except that he was in the wrong sort of uniform!.
He asked all sorts of questions relative to target and route, the call signs, equipment, and frequencies as well as the codes, all of which I refused to answer. I stuck to number, rank, and name.
After a while he pushed over a packet of Players cigarettes and then launched into some searching questions about the Bomber Codes that we used and even showed me some copies that they had obviously recovered from pranged aircraft. Naturally he wanted to know about the sequence of use and although I told him that it was a random sequence and just issued for an operation he really did not believe it, but it was true and so simple that it was unbelievable. As a result he was not convinced and suggested that as an officer I must know more than that (which I did of course), but it seemed that the best way was to act ignorant, and I doubt if they were ever able to decode anything from any one transmission. It was that simple yet very discreet.
He started off again about the target and why we had been around Krefeld but eventually got fed up asking the same questions over and over again, and getting a blank stare for an answer.
All the time he had been questioning me he had been referring to a folder on the desk in front of him and eventually with a sigh he held it up and showed me the front cover. As plain as the nose on your face the wording was '15 Squadron, Mildenhall'.
It had obviously been put together over the years from snippets of information plus a good deal of intelligence gathering through spies and the like and they may have managed to find sufficient evidence from the wreckage of 'D' Dog to tell them where we had come from. After all, 4ft lettering on each side of the fusulage [sic] would be enough. Nevertheless, he displayed a certain amount of smugness at the disclosure and when I said "well, if you know all that why do you persist in asking damn silly questions" he went one better. He said he knew Mildenhall quite well, and that included 'The Bird in Hand', which was a local favoured pub. Then he trotted out some more local knowledge and rounded it all off with the fact that I would be pleased
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to know that all the crew had been captured uninjured which was a great relief, although it was a sprat to catch a mackerel. He started off right away again about Bomber Codes. No way. Two could play that-game so it was back to number, rank, name again.
All the time the interrogation was going on, in addition to the guard by the door there were two electricians in white overalls working on a side wall putting in electrical conduit and I was doing my damndest to show more interest in what they were doing than my interrogator and especially the materials that they were working with.
The conduit seemed to be rolled up paper' tubing with a foil coating and a crimping tool rather like a large pair of pliers was being used to shape the curves and the corners.
The electricians looked at me with puzzled interest and I grinned back at them much to the consternation of the interrogator. It all seemed a bit daft to me. With Allied ground forces approaching the Rhine for the final big blow and their country being blasted to bits and their armies in the East and the West retreating from overwhelming forces. With death and destruction everywhere wasn't it typically German to be putting in electrical modifications?. I suppose they could have been wiring demolition charges just in case but surely they would not have bothered with conduit---or would they?.
I was dragged back from my meditations when asked to complete a small white card with personal details and when he saw my home address he asked how I managed to get across London with the mess that it was in with the VI's and V2's still a pouring down the question took me by surprise The damage from those weapons had been very isolated however devastating it might have been in the precise spot of impact. At the worst we had learned to live with the things even when one had taken the end off of the London hotel in which my wife and I had been staying and another had blown up a cow in a field just across the road from where we had been staying in Surrey but life went on just the same so I told him. "No trouble".
That was not good enough and he still persisted that London was in a terrible mess so I let his have it straight. I told his that I could still cross London any way I wanted. By taxi,
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bus, underground or on foot as I had done only three weeks previously...or stay in the city if it suited, and certainly a lot easier than he could get across Frankfurt from what I had seen of the place. That was it. End of interview! Could it have been that he had heard all that before and he was soon going to have to believe it?.
I was promptly dismissed and escorted to my 'private' room. It was three paces by one and a half most of which was taken up by a bed, and of course, the radiator!.
The window was shuttered and this type of room was commonly known as the sweat-box and considered by many to be the means of extracting information from people.
Although we had been told about this I am still more inclined to think that since the Germans were generally more advanced in their use of central heating systems than we were they were also inclined to overdo it a bit; even in those days.
I had been locked up for about an hour when the rattling of keys alerted me to the possibility of food arriving but no such luck.
When the door opened it was to admit a tubby, faded civilian, in a faded shapeless suit. He looked like something out of 'Scrooge'` in his cock-eyed steel rimmed glasses, and announced himself as a representative of the German Red Cross as he produced a foolscap sized questionnaire. We had been warned about this one too!.
Red Cross he might have been but the requirements of the questionnaire seemed to be bending the rules a bit and he seemed somewhat upset when I only entered the same basic details that had gone on the white card.
We had been warned that anyone who had been careless in their disclosures would be dealt with later and I was taking no chances.
It would not be the first time that 'Lord Haw-Haw' (William Joyce) had made use of such information and mentioned the names of people that had recently become guests of the Third Reich in his propaganda broadcasts.
Another significant factor was that William Joyce knew Worthing well enough to have made the most of it having been in lodgings just around the corner from home before the war. I was very
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careful.
The little grey man got quite angry and made dire threats about not getting any food if I did not co-operate. Big deal...that was nothing new. No food had past my lips for at least 36hours!. Not long after his departure clatterings at the door suggested food again but instead an elderly guard brought in a dirty metal bowl with some lukewarm water in it and a razor with a blade that had definitely seen better days. One thing was for sure, there was no way a desperate POW was likely to cut his throat with it!.
The rest of the equipment was a dirty damp towel and a piece of 'soap' more like pumice stone which had no intention of producing a lather. It made very little impression on my seven days growth of beard or the 'tide marks' on various parts of my anatomy that had not been exposed for the same amount of time.
I felt better for it anyway even though I still had no opportunity to clean my teeth and it was probably just as well that I had not got my steel mirror to assist in those ablutions. I would probably had a fit.
Some time after that the clatter at the door was followed by the same guard with my meal. Not very much and not very nice but even a dollop of turnip stew in a tin bowl was welcome at that time which was probably nearer 48hrs since my last bite of anything.
It did not take long to figure out the routine. There was a lever by the door which when turned allowed a piece of red painted angle iron to drop on the outside indicating that a visit to the toilet was required.
On my first visit I was going down the corridor and was horrified to see an ashen faced Flight Lieutenant, his arm in blood soaked bandages, just painfully stumbling along, using the wall for support, and I instinctively went to give assistance although he feebly protested that I would get into trouble. I did!.
I got a rifle butt smack between the shoulder blades and down I went. When I struggled to my feet the guard was screeching his head off about "sprachen verbotten" and "schnell" as I was prodded along to the ablutions where another chap was able to tell me about the set-up.
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Apparently the Flt.Lt. was the pilot of a Tempest which was a type fairly near to the battle scene and as they wanted information from him they were withholding medical treatment until they did. His arm was already gangrenous and he smelt awful but there was nothing I could do for him when came back out of the toilets. He had just managed to make a little more painful progress down the corridor and that episode most certainly put all of my problems to the background. I was definitely not amused at the procedings [sic] .
I spent the rest of the night doing what everyone else seemed to be doing. Making sure there was a signal bar going down every few minutes of the night just to annoy the guard. It did!.
On one occasion when he got around to me he was very angry and protested to some considerable length in his pigeon English that "alles ist pissen unt shitzen" so it seemed worth while going without sleep. It was too hot for sleeping anyway with the radiators pinging away.
At 5 o'clock they next morning, after a drink, an untidy collection of prisoners were assembled outside with the usual shouting and shoving and then we were marched the five miles down to Frankfurt station to await a train. The weather was cold and miserable, we were cold and hungry as we staggered along in no particular order and then I was thumped on the back by Des which cheered things up a bit. He had already found some of the others are although I did not feel much like walking it certainly helped to swap experiences and pass the time.
Des had a very good story try tell.
Despite the fact that in his haste he had only secured his 'chute by one side clip and had made a very dodgy descent with every chance of the canopy 'candleing' [sic] and dropping him like a stone he still made a reasonable landing without injury. What was more important, his landing was undetected so he made some very positive arrangements to evade capture.
For two days and nights he worked his way Westward and had made considerable progress towards the front line to the point of having to dodge German patrols and guards.
In the early hours of the second morning there was gunfire all around him and he even heard American voices in the distance when he got a bit too bold.
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He had already fooled a guard earlier by grunting "gooten morgan" after the guard had shown his presence by lighting a cigarette, then strolled by him whistling Lillie Marlene but shortly afterwards made a lot of noise by falling in a ditch and was challenged. There was no way that he could bluff his way out of that and he was promptly bundled off to the rear to spend the night in a village hall before being handed over to the Luftwaffe, so here he was after all that.
It was after mid-day before a train was finally shunted in by which time most of us were just about asleep on our feet but were eventually embarked with more pushing, shoving and shouting accompanied by the liberal use of rifle butts.
The guards must have thought we were all daft by the way we kept bursting into song from time to time. We did our best with that fine old marching song 'Colonel Bogey' which cheered us up considerably. The Air Force had it's own words to that particular piece so we managed to tell them just what we thought of them without them knowing it!.
We finally arrived at Wetzlar later in the day having recovered from our earlier exertions but we were very, very hungry.
When we disembarked we were once more jostled about until the whole party, about a hundred, were ready to move off.
Then Dave turned up, although why we had not bumped into him before was a bit puzzling. Des had already met him and lost him again but it appeared that he had been at the other end of the column and this was our first chance to mingle since we had left Frankfurt.
There was a great deal of chat and it seemed that Dave had been picked up even quicker than me. He had come down in the open and the German Air Force was there to welcome him with open arms. He had been a bit concerned that the reception committee gathering below him were going to use him for target practice and was relieved when he finally touched down and rapidly divested himself of his 'chute and harness before doing basically what I had done. There was no other choice!.
We were chatting away as we trugged up the hill away from the station and eventually the boundary wire of a camp came into view looking somewhat ominous on the skyline but before the front of the column got to the main gate there was a flurry
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of activity.
Suddenly there were a couple of shots and the sounds of whistles as half a dozen guards with dogs came rushing out of the gate and we all came to a halt as they broke though our ranks and raced around the perimeter wire.
They raced out of sight and there was a lot of shouting and dogs barking for a few minutes before another shot was heard and shortly afterwards the party came back dragging a body unceremoniously by the legs along the whole length of the column. The body was that of a young American Air Force Sergeant who had a leg and a body wound in addition to a neat hole in his forehead!.
We soon found out what it had all been about when we got into camp but not until we were fed; this time with a difference.
For a start it was a well run POW transit camp run by the Americans and it seemed to have everything. It was a long time since any of us had been in a dining hall like that one. As traumatic as our arrival had been food was still uppermost in the minds of most people.
Surrounded as we had been by drab ugliness for so long to find ourselves in a clean cheery place with larger than life Disney cartoons and other such characters painted everywhere I half expected to see a Coca-Cola dispenser in the corner but what was on the tables was mind boggling.
There was Spam, beans, sausages, potato, bacon, bread, biscuits, butter, cheese, tinned fruit, dried fruit, chocolate, you name it, it was all there. All the things that came in Red Cross parcels. There was real coffee with reconstituted milk with real sugar on tap, or tea, and we hardly needed a second telling to "get stuck in". It was magnificent.
I can't remember how long we sat there just stuffing ourselves like kids at a Christmas party but eventually when we had had enough we were off to the showers, to be told that an issue of clothing would be made when we had cleaned up and for a start there was a new towel and real soap.
We all needed a good scrubbing before we were all pink and glowing once more and all the gear we had been wearing had been well and truly soaped and trampled on before we went on to the clothing store where most of us needed a complete change to
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bring us up to a acceptable standard.
Like most aircrew I had gone into the bag with just the flying gear that was being worn at the time but like any clothing it was bound to suffer from being worn day and night in all conditions for ten days. Gunners were probably better off than most if they had managed to hang on to their furs, but being military equipment most of them had had it taken from them.
There were other things that came out of the Alladins [sic] cave.
In addition to new underclothes, socks, boots, shirt, a greatcoat and a blanket there were cigaretts [sic] , pipe and tobacco, razor, shaving brush and soap. Toothbrush and paste. A comb and what military folk called a ‘hussif’, (housewife or sewing kit) which was very useful for keeping things in repair and of course for putting buttons back on things.
It was nearly all American Red Cross clothing and the like, mostly olive drab kharki [sic] but that did not make it any less welcome.
The camp seemed to have lavish supplies of everything and the fact that there were no guards patrolling the perimeter suggested that the administration had been bribed with goods to keep it that way with only the towers manned. It was certainly not beyond the realms of possibility knowing the capacity of our American friends to organise such things.
We were soon off to the barrack blocks with arms full of 'goodies' and to finish drying off those items of clothing that we wanted to keep and it was there that I finally heard the full story of the lad that had just got himself killed.
Apparently the poor chap had become very depressed since his capture mainly because as a waist gunner in a B.17. (Flying Fortress) when his aircraft had been damaged, he had panicked and failed to help the ball turret gunner out of his position. (Gunners in this very cramped turret needed assistance to both get in and out) but he himself had baled out and his buddy had gone to his death in the crippled aircraft.
It was hardly surprising that it had affected him very badly and he had been threatening to do something drastic which he had eventually done by going over the wire.
He had had the usual shouted warning when he went over the trip wire but kept going and started to climb the fence. On the way
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over he was hit by the first shot but still struggled on until the next shot brought him down outside but still crawling. There was very little doubt about the third shot that we had heard. That had been a pistol.
Whether he had begged the guards or whether they had needed no encouragement no one seemed to know although he must have been in view from the opposite side of the compound. Either way he was very dead and it was very sad to think that another young life had been needlessly thrown away.
We were not all that happy about our introduction to the POW cage but however much we had been shaken by the episode creature comforts were still uppermost in our minds and I spent the rest of the day sorting myself out and puffing away on my new pipe.
It was just as well that we had got away from Wetzlar station when we had.
I had no sooner made up my bed and was contemplating the luxury of spending the night in it when a racket started in the town as it got a pasting from USAF Thunderbolts and we had a grandstand seat as bits of the town and the station went flying in all directions accompanied by shouts and cheers from the 'grandstand'.
Nevertheless, I did get that night's exhausted, dreamless sleep in a real bed and not troubled by hunger pains. It was sheer ecstacy [sic] and I must confess that I was no longer so worried about how my wife and my family must have been feeling about my disappearance. The way things were going I was confident of getting home in the not too distant future so it was just a case of surviving until that day.
After a leisurely and handsome meal the following morning, the 18th, the whole camp apart from the permanent staff assembled with all their personal possessions and with a Red Crass parcel between two prisoners we were herded; (we refused to march), down the hill.
The station was in a bit of a mess but we were packed into a train on a side line and then left there waiting for something to happen.
What we did not want to happen was for a return of the Thunderbolts to finish off the job that they had started the day before. We had noticed that the carriages had got large
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lettering--P O W in white along the top but there was a lot of muttering about the potential dangers from roving Allied train and tank busters.
An impromptu committee was soon formed from some of the more senior prisoners and it was decided to 'encourage' someone to move the train to a relatively safer place. A collection of cigarettes was quickly organised and for the sum of several hundred cigarettes the guards, station staff and train crew were bribed accordingly. We only moved a few hundred yards into another siding, but It was certainly safer than being in the station notwithstanding the fact that we had an anti aircraft flak car at the front and the rear of the train!
Once again we were packed into compartments, twelve at a time and once more we were obliged to adopt the same procedure as before. Up on the luggage racks for a period. Limited visits to the toilet. Limited drinking water and no distribution of food at all. Fortunately we had all fed well and with the contents of our Red Cross parcels we could last several days.
W were still clanking along on the 19th and perhaps it was just as well that the POW had been plastered along the top after all.
We were buzzed several times by Allied aircraft including one cheeky chap in a Thunderbolt who braved the fire from the flak cars to fly parallel to us waggling his wings and waving from his open cockpit. It was very encouraging even if a little foolhardy but it provided for some more light entertainment.
Although we could not open the windows or the doors we crowded as many as we could into the them [sic] all waving as hard as we could go which caused immediate reaction from the guard in the corridor.
In he came and pulled down the blinds and then the game started.
As soon as he left to pull down those in the next compartment up went ours with a clatter and back he came again. It did not last long---he gave up first!.
At one time we passed through some absolutely devastated areas including some marshalling yards that looked as if a giant had trampled through them.
On one occasion we were on one of the few complete through lines, and everywhere else was a mass of bomb craters, smashed rolling
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stock and rails that were twisted into the most fantastic shapes like so much spagetti [sic] .
Repairs of sorts were being carried out by what looked like Russian or Polish women in headscarves, quilted jackets, sacking and string boots and who were wielding long handled shovels. They looked such a sorry dejected bunch that we put up a cheer but the only response were vacant stares.
One of the most incredible sights among all the mess was that of a huge circle of locomotive sheds surrounding a turntable locomotive roundhouse like the spokes of a wheel which had copped a real packet.
There were several 100 ton loco's reared up on their ends and wrapped around each other like so many discarded Hornby model trains. I don't know where it was. It could have been Frankfurt as it was not far away and we could have come back in that direction, or Wurzburg, but the effectiveness of that yard had been reduced to zero, making it even more difficult to move things about, including us. It did not seem logical to take all that trouble with POW's who were a definite liability.
We found out later what it was all about!.
Apparently Hitler had ordered that all POW's were to be brought down into the area surrounding Birchtegarten [sic] to be used as hostages and I would not have given much for our chances with Hitler in residence backed up by his SS fanatics.
Fortunately Hitler did not get out of Berlin anyway and a lot of his Generals were only going through the motions of obeying orders.
It was a dodgy situation all round and several of his Generals had already come to a sticky end in the hands of the SS.
Meanwhile we were being transported with great difficulty and at one time we passed through a hilly wooded area, still deep in snow which made it all look like a Christmas card scene. It was probably in the Steigerwald area; but at the top of one climb, with the locomotive chuffing and clanking we noticed that there were numerous little sidings among the trees with tanker wagons by the dozen stowed in them. We were to remember those later!.
It was about that time when the young guard positioned in the corridor by our compartment got himself into serious trouble
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with his Oberfeldwebel.
He was armed with an old French rifle of 1914/1918 vintage and we had been working on him for some time about his chances of defending himself when our troops caught up with him considering the numerous automatic weapons that our front line troops were armed with.
He eventually took the bait after some disparaging remarks about his antique rifle and proceeded to show us what a good weapon g it was; by taking it to pieces!.
We had got to the point where one of us had the magazine, another had the rounds and the bolt, another the bayonet until his rifle parts had been well distributed among us and with the train going slow enough to make jumping possible, he was within seconds of being clouted when the NCO on his rounds could not see him in the corridor and burst in on us.
He was blue in the face, waiving his pistol about and of course, shouting.
The guard got a great grand-daddy of a dressing down as he stood stiff as a ramrod and then, sheepishly re-assembled his rifle as the bits were handed back.
After some shouting, with the assembled rifle at the high port the NCO, having said his piece stomped away to a fair bit of tittering from us which turned to laughter as the guard had the last word.
As soon as the NCO was out of earshot, he said, out of the corner of his mouth, "oxen scheissen", which needed no interpretation so we finished up having a damn good laugh with him. For him it probably ended alright but little did he know how close he had been to getting his head bashed in.
In the early hours of the 20th we arrived at a suburban station on the outskirts of Nuremberg. ‘Lagerwasser’ was a dreary little wooden platformed affair and immediately the old routine started. Shouting, shoving and pushing to keep us all grouped together in the darkness we eventually walked about three miles to the camp. Then we walked back again as they were not ready for us!. That episode caused a bit of an argument as we did not know how long we were going to have to wait and it was damn cold. In fact it was actually freezing and eventually we were allowed back into the relative warmth of the train but those negotiations
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cost us almost all the remainder of our precious cigarettes.
Eventually detrained again when it was light enough and we moved down the road in small parties, strung out, until we were well away from the station and with a lot more slow, slow, quick, quick, slow stuff we were all inside the camp at full light.
In the dark and confusion I had lost Archie but had picked up Jim again but the most important thing was that we were more or less in the same group, and that was the only satisfaction that we got out of entering a grim looking place that did not get any better as we took stock of our surroundings.
The board over the main gate said Stalag X111d, and what a dump it was after our experience at Wetzlar.
Apparently it had been recently cleared and was filling up again although at that time we had no idea where the previous inmates had gone. Wherever it was they appeared to have stripped the
place before leaving.
We were counted off, 150 to a barrack room which was actually a very largo hut. Barrack Nr.69 was no different from the others. The bunks were triple stacked and by the state of them most of the wooden slats; (no spring beds or mattresses in those places), had been used for fuel which was the only type of fuel available for the two empty stoves.
We found ourselves places to sleep; and that included the floor as very few of the top bunks could be used after the available slats had been re-distributed to make up as many of the lower bunks as possible. There was not much point in having more gaps than slats up top and doing a balancing act all night with good chance of crashing down on the chap below so everyone co-operated without any fuss.
It goes without saying that the floor was favourite at that time although later on the rats made a bit of a nuisance of themselves. We were obliged to secure our rations very carefully in something they had difficulty getting into.
Shortly after 'settling in' we were called to a room at the end of the hut for a check to be made on our identities by some of the permanent POW camp staff and I was amazed at being interrogated by our own people but these boys knew what it was all about.
They had been in the 'bag' a lot longer than us and knew all
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about 'ferrets' and 'moles'.
Some had come from Stalag Luft.3. in Upper Selesia [sic] and had had the most awful experiences marching through the countryside in the depths of the Winter leaving many of their comrades frozen solid on the road-sides where they had dropped through sickness, starvation and fatigue, many of them having been shot as stragglers.
As 'sproggs' we were very fortunate to have the benefit of their experience but I was suprised [sic] to see a map of Europe spread out on the table and to be asked if there was anything we had seen en route' that might be of any use to our advancing armies.
I got Archie called in and we gave them enough information on the fuel tanker wagons that we had seen up in the mountains for a plot to be put on the map. I still do not recall exactly where it was though.
It was heartening to think that somehow we were actually able to pass on that information and the tankers might go up in smoke. It was not beyond the realms of possibility.
There was a radio somewhere among us. There had to be as we got regular BBC news bulletins after we got settled in. But to imagine that there was a transmitter as well was mind boggling. It must have been a remarkable piece of equipment with it's numerous components concealed in all manner of things with wiring connections and aerial secreted in belts, braces and tin cans. It is worth bearing in mind that a lot of earlier Air Force prisoners were highly trained technicians who could build such equipment out of basics.
I was never privileged to see anything of it. That was the province of the veteran POW brigade and the fewer people that knew about it the better.
It was still freezing and we did not dare use any more bed slats to get fires going as there was always the chance that some might be needed to line a tunnel.
That was only a thought at the time but I found out later that there really was a tunnel linking us with the next compound.
Of course, the toilets were frozen although still in use, and other parts of the ablutions were also locked in deep freeze.
The only running water available was in the compound kitchen where it was used sparingly for producing hot drinks and later
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on some sort of food.
It is understandable that creature comforts were still our primary consideration in such primitive conditions so the first cup of 'hot stuff' that was dished up was very welcome even if many of us had to go to the end of the line and wait until the owner of a drinking utensil was prepared to lend it.
We had been in the camp several hours, when an air raid hit the city, starting with the wailing of sirens in the distance and then the camp sirens.
Then the roar of hundreds of B.24's, (Liberators) reverberated and shook everything as they came in from the South with mass formations glittering in the weak sunshine but they were surrounded by enemy fighters like a swarm of bees around a jam pot.
The fighters must just about have met them head on and they wheeled in and out of the formation. Flak peppered the sky and they still droned on as one fell out of the sky with flames pouring from it. Then the smoke markers and streams of bombs from the lead aircraft was followed by clouds of bombs from the rest of the formation with the most spine chilling whistling rushing sound as they descended followed by the steady roar of explosions they plastered the city in great swathes.
Some went wide, perhaps jettisoned as aircraft got into trouble, and the station that we had only recently vacated collected one or two!.
What was most vividly imprinted on my mind were the numbers of crippled aircraft falling out of the sky at one time. There must have been at least a dozen. Some breaking up, others on fire or exploding with bits and pieces raining down and all the time the continuous roar of the battle with the crackle of machine guns, the thud-thud of cannon mingling with the heavy crack of anti-aircraft guns. It was a savage battle.
There was an awful lot of killing going on up there as well as down below and there were a lot of parachutes too.
The luckier one's fell clear of the city, and I would not have given much for their chances if they had come down in it.
We added to our numbers by one that day and he did not go on the ration strength. He came right down in camp and was promptly hidden before the guards came out of their 'funk' holes where
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they invariably dived with their tin hats over their back-sides.
We learned later that the B.24's had come from Italy and were going though to UK bases, hence they had run into the defences instead of having to fight an extended battle right across the country.
The fires in the city burned all of the rest of the day with the occasional explosion of delayed action bombs which made it very difficult for the fire fighters as well as the inhabitants.
When that bit of excitement was over the rest of my day was spent sorting myself out. I was lucky enough to salvage an old tin can from a rubbish dump and as soon as it was cleaned and polished with sandy soil I was able to join the drinks queue a bit nearer the front.
I had also found a piece of barrel hoop that looked as if it might be turned into something useful so I started working on it. It took two days of hammering and grinding with stones and lumps of concrete before it eventually finished up as a combined cutting tool and shallow spoon to make me more independent.
Ever the optimist, there was never any need for a knife for a long time as most of the food we were getting was easily dealt with a spoon; or the fingers!.
The first night was cold and rough, but we managed to get through it, as usual, fully dressed, rolled up in a blanket and anything else that was available. Even wrapping paper and cardboard was useful; either as cover or to provide some sort of insulation underneath. It was a noisy night too as a few Mossie's turned up and stoked up the city with cookie's.
It did not take long to finish off the Red Cross parcels that we had left Wetzlar with and the food provided during the next few days was very basic.
The day usually started with the ersatz 'coffee', without milk or sugar of course. There was a slice of black bread at midday and the thickness varied according to the number of people sharing a loaf. Sometimes there was a pat of ersatz margarine about the size of a ten pence piece, or a bowl of vegetable stew was a luxurious alternative; if you had a bowl to put it in, otherwise it was handful. In the evening there was a mug of ersatz 'chocolate'. No milk or sugar of course, and that
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was the basic ration when there was no supplement from the Red Cross parcel.
The mid-day 'meal' was quite a performance as there was no mess hall. When the rations came in there was a whole crowd of 'observers' who followed it's progress to the cookhouse and the division and supply to the huts to ensure that there was no pilfering along the way. Considering that we were a mixed bunch of RAF and USAAF, Officers and NCO's it was all done quite amicably. The final division of the bread was usually done by the chap with the sharpest knife under the eagle eye of more 'observers'. He had to be very careful when it had to divided between nine or nineteen people!.
The next day brought another devastating attack on the city. Again they were B.24’s but this time coming from UK bases on their way back to Italy but the concentration was not the same.
They would have spent a lot longer running the gauntlet as attack after attack had been met and probably many losses had been incurred. This time we went for cover as a lot more bombs went very wide of the target and in our direction. They were not quite in the camp but when one or two holes erupted within a few hundred yards of the wire in open ground only the foolhardy would have stayed to watch.
The next day was just another cold and miserable day. The city banged and burned but there was no heat for us. Not that we expected it after what had happened just a few miles away.
It was well below freezing at night and Jim and I found it warmer to do what others were doing by just wrapping ourselves up together to utilise a bit of animal warmth. It was either that or freeze.
I shall never understand what rats found to scavenge for in that place but they were always busy at night and could often be heard in the vicinity. Perhaps they were cold and hungry too and were looking for a warm place but we very soon learned that it was not a good idea to take one's footwear off at night unless you wanted something gnawing at the toenails!.
On the 25th the city was still burning and another batch of prisoners came in. Some more huts were opened up and as we stood there looking for familiar faces among the new arrivals we found one. Lynn Clark, the rear gunner. We soon had him billeted in
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our hut and it was not long before his story came out. After the order to abandon came he had already managed to put his 'chute on and rotated his turret on the beam so all he had to do was jettison the doors and chuck himself out backwards. The snag was that his bulky flying boots got stuck between his seat and the guns as he had not depressed them sufficiently so he found himself hanging out of the back watching us go one by one underneath him and disappear into the cloud.
It was no time to mess about so he pulled the 'rip'; the 'chute deployed and yanked him straight out of his boots. It's a wonder that he didn't break his legs considering that it was all happening at speeds somewhere between 150 and 250 mph but he was lucky and made a good landing, albeit without any footwear!. Unfortunately he too was soon picked up after he had spent some time improvising some foot covering out of his parachute that had served him so well. Later on he was provided with some well worn second-hand boots but certainly better than lashings of parachute silk/nylon. Nevertheless, he had not seen Geoff either and we were beginning to wonder if he had been able to get away somehow and that what we had been told at Ober-Orsal was all 'bull'.
The city still continued to burn all the next day with the occasional crump of a delayed action bomb going off but the highlight of the day was the mid-day meal when real potatoes were dished up.
We knew they were real as there was still a great deal of earth attached to them that had not come off in the boiling. At least it showed that none of the goodness had been lost in the cooking!.
There was even a smear of evil smelling semi-liquid French cheese in lieu of the coal based margarine that in better days would have been condemned for human consumption....and possibly animal consumption!. But we eat it just the same!.
The RAF stoked up the city again that night with a few more 'cookies': Those 4000 pounders certainly did go off with a crump that shook the dust off of everything and that was from three to four miles away!.
Another day dawned and with it good news. A large consignment of Red Cross parcels had come in with more people and lots more
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rumours. Even the rumours were a heartening charge from the daily dose of 'bull' that we were getting from the OKW (German High Command) news bulletin which was always good for a laugh when it was read out by an English speaking guard. I wonder if he ever listened to the BBC London news broadcast.
Every evening now we were getting a summary of that compiled by our own sources, inclusive of information from new arrivals that were not being processed by Dulag Luft. There was a great deal of difference between the two bulletins.
We even got another blanket issued on the 28th so that at last we could manage to keep warm without going into a huddle at night but the most important issue was the distribution of four Red Cross parcels between [underlined] five [/underlined] people. There was a lot of good stuff in those....including cigarettes!. I don't think I was the only one going around puffing happily and blowing smoke all over the guards as if to say "that's real tobacco".
I got real satisfaction out of that as a couple of days before I had traded some soap for a couple of their's and an enamel spoon; but only once.
Theirs tasted like a mixture of dried oak leaves. old tea leaves and pulverised straw-perhaps they were, but like a lot of other things in Germany at the time it was ersatz, (substitute), and tasted like it.
The pattern of each day did not vary much. A bit of a thaw during the day allowed a little more water to come through although it all froze up solid again at night.
The food issue was still the same old rubbish but it was safest to eat it first and then top up with something from the parcel. It would have been so easy to have gone for one big blow out and be done with it and it exercised one's self control to the utmost. It did not always work!. Scrounging and bartering with the contents of the parcel was an occupation undertaken by some with the mental agility of the street trader but it was not for me. Some went around trading in such a way that they doubled their stock but I confess that I was one of those who helped them do it as my stock diminished. It takes all sorts and I soon packed it in when I found that I was being outsmarted. If we all had that sort of ability for success we would probably all be in the stock exchange.
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We did get a little light entertainment on the Ist March that also gave an insight into the plight of the Luftwaffe.
We had often noticed activity at an airfield a few miles away to the North East and on this particular day we observed a couple of FW.190's tail chasing which was the standard procedure for a fledgling to learn new tricks but it was obvious that it was a very inexperienced pilot that was doing the chasing by the way he teetered around every turn at about 3000ft not far from the camp.
We watched them for a while as they went through some very basic manoeuvres. The trainee wobbled around every turn very gingerly and after a short break they had another go. They went on to some more advanced stuff and at one point when the turns got tighter and tighter I think we must have all been willing the outcome when he wobbled and side slipped, wobbled some more and then lost it.
He stalled, flipped, and dived earthwards out of control and wallop, in he went with a plume of smoke to mark his grave.
A great cheer went up from the camp but the guards were most upset about it and we were confined to barracks for two hours. As far as we were concerned that was one FW.190 that would not have to be shot down so we indulged in a little community singing, bawling at the top of our voices everything from 'Abide with me'. 'Colonel Bogey' and 'Lillie Marlene' liberally sprinkled with RAF words, much to the bewilderment of the guards who had been stationed in the doorways of the huts.
On the 2nd March the day dawned much the same as any other until some more prisoners came in and as our compound had filled up the next one became active. We were soon at the wire making shouted enquiries about this that and the other when Geoff appeared; looking a bit pale but otherwise fit and well.
It transpired that he had made a reasonable descent but he also had landed slap into the arms of a reception committee although that did not explain his late arrival at Nuremberg, but that was soon explained.
He really was at Dulag Luft at the same time as us but he had been out of circulation for seven days after his interrogation.
It seemed that towards the end of the interrogation, when presented with the little white card and pencil he told the
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interrogator precisely what he could do with it...in Aussie terms,....sideways; so he got seven days solitary confinement for insulting a German Officer!.
According to Geoff, "Ve haff vays of delink vis you" is not so funny when you are the one being dealt with. But now we were all accounted for. Years later, as a solicitor, practising in Australia, I am sure that he was more careful in his selection of words in difficult circumstances.
As a matter of interest it was the small white card that triggered off the Red Cross reporting procedure that notified all and sundry that so and so was a POW so he could have saved himself a lot of trouble.
Between the 3rd and 7th there was not a lot going on. It did start to get a little warmer during daylight hours on occasions and it soon became neccessary [sic] to find ways and means of filling in the time.
There were a few scruffy packs of playing cards about but unless one was good at poker there was no point in taking a hand unless you were prepared to lose your shirt. The stakes were usually items in short supply and our American friends seemed to have the manopoly [sic] of the schools.
I was of the opinion that I had lived rough enough already to risk my meager [sic] stocks which had already suffered from my attempts at wheeling and dealing especially as I saw a few who got the bug and were going down the drain fast for promissory dollars or pounds in the form of I0U's to be redeamed [sic] later.
Draughts,(or checkers) was favourite with most people, using home made boards and pieces made from cardboard and soot from the still empty stoves to distinguish black from white and it did not take long for regular afternoon and evening classes to get going on all manner of subjects in one hour sessions. It certainly filled in the time with subjects as diverse as music, fishing, maths and agriculture.
I found considerable interest in the German classes which were given by a Flt.Lt. who I suspect was one of the Luft.3. boys and he was as interesting as he was fluent. It is highly probable that he had been partly educated in Germany before the war and apart from the introduction to the language he told us a great deal about their history, the people and their culture.
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There were rumours that he was a 'mole' or a 'stooge' but if he had been I am sure that we would have known about it and not tolerated him for long, but then we thrived on rumour at that time.
Later events were to prove his credibility but there was always a little suspicion about who was who so we generally stuck to people that we did know and bit by bit accepted others on recommendation and found oneself accepted. I even found a Flt.Lt. who came from my home town and who's home was no further to the West of my local pub than mine was to the East. He had been in Wg/Cdr. 'Willie' Tait's crew on 617 Squadron at one time and had helped to make a mess of the battleship Tirpitz before he too had run out of luck.
The days just went by with very little to mark one from another and although I had started keeping a diary using cigarette packs there is a long gap without note after the eighth as things became rather desperate.
The Red Cross supplies were running out. The bread allowance became less and less. At one time twenty two people shared a loaf and sometimes we only got one ancient hard tack biscuit instead.
The days and nights just blurred into each other and there was a general feeling of helplesness [sic] as we became weaker and weaker. People had got into the state where they were falling all over the place especially when going from the horizontal to the vertical. One had to be very careful to let the world stop spinning before attempting too much.
On the night of the 11th RAF Mosquito's made another noisy attack on the city but most of us were too far gone to get very excited. More than half the hut had gone down with the flu' and the limited supply of Asprin did very little in the way of relief. They were only dispensed to the most seriously ill who had complications and the only way was to try and keep warm relying on friends to bring a little nourishment as it became available.
Certain things happened during the period that I cannot put a date to but I know they happened.
Some Red Cross officials toured the camp and the Camp Commandant lost his dog.
The Commandant, in elderly silver grey haired Hauptman, always
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smartly dressed, used to walk around with his staff and his Dacshund [sic] until one day it disappeared around the corner of a hut on his own personal inspection for something to cock his leg up against; [underlined] and did not come back!. [/underlined]
He was very upset over the loss of his little 'Fritz' but he had underestimated the skill and determination of our cooks so our stew that day had a little more 'body' in it. I’m glad I did not know at the time!.
In the same period the civilian contractor who used to bring the rations in by horse and cart was distracted long enough for his horse to disappear in the same way as little Fritz and he made a terrible fuss. Not so much about the horse but the harness and the blanket!.
He eventually stopped hollering when the items were returned plus an additional blanket but there was a lot more fuss when the cart was towed back to the gate by hand and then a search party was sent in to find the horse. All they found were a few nasty bits and pieces down the toilet pit. Everything edible had gone into the pot and was stewed and diluted for several days before it ran out.
As a result of this latest escapade all starts of reprisals were threatened with Courts Martial for theft and with shooting; the lot....but it all fizzled out. It might have come to that if things had been normal but they were anything but normal.
Towards the end of the period I was getting over the worst of my ills and I eased myself from my bed in stages into the vertical position for my daily constitutional and tottered out of the hut.
I had not gone far when I started a nose bleed so I was staggering along, head back, my one and only handkerchief in use to stem the flow when there was a blinding flash, a searing pain in the back of the neck and the next thing that I remember was that I was face down In the dirt.
When I climbed to my feet blinking in pain with a few angry words welling up inside me I was facing a full blown inspecting party comprising of an SS General and his staff which included two giant sized troopers, one of whom had bopped me with his rifle butt.
I think it was astonishment that stopped what might have been
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some ungentlemanly language but was halted in my tracks when the Generals Adjutant or his ADC stepped forward and barked "you must salute a superior German officer".
I was in no condition to argue so he got his salute. It wasn't the parade ground sort though. It was a very sloppy afair [sic] in which two fingers were more prominent than the others and I was shoved out of the way whilst they continued their inspection. After that I staggered back to my bed feeling worse than when I had got up.
The days and nights continued to blurr [sic] into one another and then ran the 13th came the devastating news that President Roosevelt had died the day before and an impromptu memorial service was laid on.
It was difficult to take it in and the guards crowed a bit as if they had somehow been responsible and suggested that it could mean the end of the war without appreciating that that was not the way a democracy worked. It seemed such a tragedy that the great man had not survived long enough to see the end of the war than was obviously not far away.
The following day we were still feeling a bit numb but there were some rumours of parcels coming in that cheered us up a bit but it was very difficult to show a bold front when we were all so cold and hungry....but we tried.
It was not until the 15th that things showed real signs of improvement. The toilets at last came out of deep freeze and then some fuel came in so the boilers were stoked up for the first time in a long while. We had hot showers and made full use of the water that was available and washed some clothes.
Drying them was the problem so there were a lot of people just wearing a blanket for a while, not that anyone cared about that when Red Cross parcels were distributed. One between two!.
Apparently they had come in by truck the night before and during the day some more arrived. Thank God for the Red Cross. What sort of a shape we would have been in without them I dread to think and at the time few people, including myself had any idea of the vast operation that the International Red Cross had going.
The RAF had another go at the city on the night of the 16th yet despite it all some more fuel came in and there was more hot water for a while to continue the cleaning up process. The
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place was turned into a laundry, and like most laundries things got 'lost' but no-one cared much. The most important thing was that we could clean up and that there had been no sign of lice. On the 17th there was another surprise. I suppose it had something to do with the recent inspections that some of our deficiencies were being made up. We were issued with new enamelled spoons and bowls and by way of payment the city got another pounding during the night.
It was followed by some excitement the following day when long columns of prisoners arrived at the main gate. They had all come from Wetzlar...new POW's and the old permanent staff as they evacuated the place and brought all of their accumulated stores that they could manage.
It seemed as if Nuremberg was becoming an assembly point for POW's but it was getting very difficult to absorb the numbers. It did not seem possible that any more could be crammed into the place, but somehow they were.
There were over 200 in our hut by that time and all of the top bunks had to be brought into use by re-distributing the bed boards plus the clever use of all sorts of materials such as string, strips of fabric, and cardboard plaited and replaited and finally criss-crossed to serve as webbing. It was suprisingly [sic] strong especially as some of it had a centre core of fine wire that had been stripped after some of the lighting had been re-routed!.
The new arrivals had brought a large quantity of food parcels so there was a generous issue which led to a bit of a party later in the evening which was rounded off with some community singing. It was all going quite noisely [sic] until the sirens started to wail and the lights went out as another raid fell on the city.
The days started flying by as things improved; especially the weather. There was no longer that bite in the air that seemed to cut right through you, made worse by the fact that you were not getting adequate food.
The showers were no longer permanently frozen so when there was water it was at least possible to have a drink or to have a wash.
Rumours were rife but usually the jungle telegraph managed to
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pick up something from the outside and one rumour of even more food parcels coming in raised our spirits some more. So did the sound of heavy gunfire in the distance on the 25th. That really was a good sign.
There were some French parcels distributed on the 25th but most of us thought that the contents were very inferior although welcome. It was hardly likely that they could have been anything else considering the conditions that the French had been living in for years. They were the bulk version similar to the British ones we got sometimes and were divided between 13 men or went straight to the cookhouse.
The American pack was the most favoured as it was based on the 'K' rations that were liberally distributed to their troops, and were made up of several packs about the size of a 200 cigarette pack. They came in three variations. Breakfast, dinner and supper, and were complete with cigaretts [sic] , matches, can opener and that most civilised item; toilet paper!. Nevertheless, the Americans were not all that keen on them. Too much Spam and coffee powder!. They should be so lucky!.
I got to wondering if the German POW's in our hands got Red Cross parcels and what they would to like. Not that they would need them as desperately as we did, but at that stage of the war with transportation in Germany at breaking point food supplies were probably worse than they had been for years and everyone suffered accordingly.
We were more keen to get out of the wretched place but with the end so near there was no point in trying all the normal escape methods. We had in fact been told by our own administration not to do anything risky. It was only a matter of time.
There was a lot more speculation when definite news reached us that 30,000 food parcels had somehow arrived by train which was possibly just as well as not even basic rations had come in for days. Supplies had been very spasmodic since the dog and the horse had disappeared.
Even more important was the news that Allied forces were less than 100 miles from Nuremberg but what put a slight damper on that was that we received instructions to prepare for a long march so with an issue of parcels was advice on how we should
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turn the contents into 'marching rations'. There being a limit on how much we could carry.
The veterans soon passed the ward around and everyone was soon busy, and trying to avoid the temptation to have what POW's referred to as a 'bash'. A real feast. It was not practicable. The idea was to process as much as we could into convenient and lightweight food. Everything other than the tinned goods had to be considered. Tinned food was to be consumed first but the biscuit, fruit, (raisins and prunes), peanut butter. powdered milk, flaked chocolate, coffee and sugar was all to be pounded together with as little moisture as possible so that when it dried out it could be cut into bars about the size of Mars bars and then wrapped in anything suitable. It made good sense and on the basis of one bar per meal, three times a day there was more nourishment in that than we had been coping with for same time.
Then there was the problem of carrying it all along with blankets and other personal bits and pieces. Trying to carry a parcel as some people seemed prepared to do would have been back breaking so I set myself the task of making a rucksack from the lining of my US. army greatcoat with the aid of my 'hussif'. I put a lot of time in on that and as far as I was concerned it was a masterpiece and copies were being made by others.
It had padded shoulder straps, waist straps, draw string, blanket roll straps on top and other ties on the bottom. I washed and darned my socks ready for the off but I was not in all that much of a hurry. My mind was concentrated on other things.
Every night I dreamed of a shoot out down the road so that we could all get out and go home. But it was not to be.
The 28th came and even more prisoners arrived and were squeezed in. Tents were put up on the spare ground between the huts and the latest news was that armoured forces were only 70 miles from us. So near, and yet so far!.
The longer we hang about the nearer our forces got to us and in the meantime it was just a case of hanging on to our marching rations and eating up any surpluses from regular issues of parcels which everyone was getting. No other food was coming in.
On the 29th more prisoners were squeezed it somehow The place
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was bulging at the seams.
Some of them had come from an Army camp at Hammelburg, 170km. North West of Nuremberg and same very interesting stories came out of that lot.
Apparently an American armoured column had blasted through the German lines with the express intention of releasing the prisoners of Hammelburg but it had all gone disastrously wrong. Although some had been released the Germans reacted very quickly to block their escape route to a safe area and there was all hell let loose. A lot of casualties had occurred and some of the escapees found safety back in their barracks but the Germans took more prisoners and only remnants of the raiding force got back to our lines. So the story went although it seemed too far fetched to be credible.
Each time the story was told it became more and more lurid until we treated it as what the Americans would call "scuttlebuck' or we would call 'bull' despite the protestations of "on my Mother's life' etc.
Eventually it turned out that basically the story was true although officially not a lot was said about it but it did tie up with an OKW news bulletin that a couple of days previous had reported an American armoured column approaching Wursburg was counter attacked and had suffered very badly. Certainly some of the new prisoners had been taken on that raid so it was not all 'bull'.
April 1st brought more parcels and as by that time most of us had our marching rations set aside so we really did have a 'bash'.
With parcels had come another suprise [sic] in the form of even more prisoners. Thirty two members of the Serbian General Staff, also from Hammelburg!, although the normal compounds were by that time so chock-a-block that a temporary compound was set up with tents alongside ours. Then things changed dramatically.
The guards no longer patrolled the compound from the inside but only the outside of the perimeter fence which had been extended, so down came the trip wire and the inner fence which normally we were forbidden to approach at the risk of being shot. Even a stand-pipe was set up to provide then with running water so it was a free for all as ours was still limited. Of
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course there were protests from the guards as it seemed that just about everything was 'verboten'. They just could not understand why we would not obey the rules and it made them very angry.
The very fact that the internal fence on one side had come down saved us from the daily ‘apel' (role call) which had become an obsolute [sic] farce. The guards never got it right anyway.
If a head count did not produce the right answer they tried all sorts of methods but we had all sorts of ways of adding and subtracting people. What gave them most trouble we found was having more people than they should have done so then they would try an identity check which was a bit daft anyway. It always worked out simply because our own administration drew up the nominal rolls anyway. As long as it tallied they had been happy. Now they had given up the whole charade, and left it to us.
A strange phenomena occurred whilst I was attending an open air Easter Sunday religious service. Just at the end of the closing hymn and with many people kneeling in private prayer, there appeared, it seemed, just to the North and very high, an enormous V shaped cloud in an otherwise clear blue sky. I have no idea what caused it but many theories were put forward.
The most popular one was that it was a very high flying aircraft doing a photo recce' of the battlefield but we could see no sign of the aircraft itself. The cloud hung there a long time before dissipating like a cigarette smoke ring. To me. and others no doubt, it was another sign of hope, and so unusual that I just hoped that a little miracle would happen and that somehow we could just walk out of the main gate and go home, but no such luck. Such thoughts were becoming an obsession it seemed.
The next day we were warned to be ready to move out at 7am the following day so there was feverish activity to get everything prepared.
One of the veterans who had already had experience of one of these marches tipped me off that cigarettes, soap, and chocolate were the most useful currency for bartering with the guards and the German population and I had already observed that soap was being thrown away wholesale down the toilet pit.
There was so much of it, still packaged, under the twenty seater
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'thunderbox' that It was not difficult to recover several dozen unspoiled packages of soap. As much as I wanted to carry anyway. The following morning we were up bright and early and the dream came true as we started to evacuate on time.
It was just after eight o'clock when our compound started to file out of the gate and it was a wonderful feeling. Even the air smelt different.
In all there was about 9000 of us with several hundred guards, many with bicycles, and in a long snake column about four abreast we were on our way. Naturally there was a lot of speculation as to the prospects of getting away if and when the opportunity presented itself; it would not have been difficult but our own administration had thought of it first and issued orders that we were not to attempt any chancy breakaways as the escape committees had everything under control.
That order absolved the officers at any rate from their duty to resist and/or escape so there was nothing more to do but to go along with it however frustrating it was.
I knew what it was all about as we had filed through the gate when I saw the Flight Lieutenant who used to give the German lessons, in civilian clothes, and carrying a small suitcase tucked up very tightly in the middle of a group so I tried to keep my eye on him as it was very suspicious.
In the melee I never saw him go and I never saw him again but I'll bet he was home long before I was, with a great deal of information which would help the advancing Allies.
y
TO BE CONTINUED..........................
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One or more pages is missing.
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party went for cover.
There was no cover so everyone scattered as the parties started laying out the markings after the first burst of firing and by the time the Thunderbolts came back for a second pass we had been identified. It was too late for some though. Our casualties were one killed and two injured and for a long time after that everyone spent a lot of time looking over their shoulder. The casualties were sorted out by a small party that was left behind with a guard and the rest of us just ploughed on, and on, and on, and although most people had made some attempt to get fitter by walking around the compound for an hour or so a day we had not reckoned on doing mile after mile without a break.
It was not surprising that by mid afternoon there were lots of complaints about blisters and aching bodies but we were just prodded on by the equally disgruntled guards.
By late evening we were still going; albeit slower than when we had started and finally after it had got dark it started to rain. Nevertheless it was about 10pm before a break was finally called.
I was absolutely shattered as were most people and I took shelter under a railway wagon on the temporary railroad that had been laid at the side of the road and then gorged myself on a large can of stewed steak from my ‘heavy’ rations.
We were not allowed to rest for long. Before there was time for a nap and with the rain still coming down in buckets we were the move again but not before I had investigated the wagons with a view to hiding in one for a few days but found that they were all full of coal and had no covers so that was
that. Nevertheless, a liberal handful of fine ballast from the track into the axle grease boxes made sure that they would not move it very far without finding the odd problem.
Finally, soon after midnight the word came down the line to stop for the night and most of us just flopped where we were. We had done some 22mls, it was still pouring down and as there was very little cover not many had the energy to go any further to look for any.
All I did was to dispose of another can of something, curled up in my already wet blankets at the foot off a tree and went
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out like a light.
It was dawn then I woke, to a clear steamy morning and like most people I was soaked through. I had been sleeping in a puddle several inches deep which had accumulated from the steady downpour, and the prospects were not good until we saw signs of a cheery blaze a bit further up the line.
The whole column had virtually collapsed where they were when the halt had come and some more fortunate characters had been near a saw mill where there was a mountain of off-cuts which they used for shelter. That was until someone set fire to them!
It had of going nicely and it did not take long for us to take full advantage of the situation. The sight of hundreds of naked bodies dancing around getting warm and drying out their clothes whooping away like a tribe of Red Indians was more than the guards could cope with.
They tried very hard to put out the fire and get us to assist but it seemed that we were pulling in opposite directions, and they were losing the battle. We were stoking it up!.
They had not a hope in hell, not even after threatening to start shooting someone after loosing off a few into the air. Right from the start every one was marked by half-a-dozen prisoners and they would have been flat on their backs immediately they had pointed a rifle at anyone:
We kept the fire going as long as we could and most people got dried out and comfortable again as the enormous pile of glowing embers was reduced to little more than charcoal; then we were ready to leave!.
We understood that the mill owner was still going on about compensation as we left and how the poor old Hauptman dealt with it we would never know but he was looking very grim about it having wined and dined at the mill owners home for the night. Once we got ourselves sorted out and got going again we plodded on through the day for another 16mls before a halt was called for the night.
That time, to avoid a repetition of the previous night we were all to be billeted in large enclosed buildings such as churches, church halls, village halls, barns, etc. I was in a party of about 300 who were packed into a small village church around
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which they placed a guard. No doubt they had noticed a thinning of our ranks since the previous night but they would not let anyone out for any reason whatsoever.
It was not surprising that the place was defiled. I was not proud of the fact that someone had used the pulpit as toilet but it was the one place that no-one could sleep and they were lucky that the altar was respected.
The guards made a terrible fuss naturally and I was glad that I was not among the cleaning up party that was left behind, but that was the last time they bothered to confine us at night.
The main party had started to move out at about 9.30 and the pace was steady although slow before we got to Birching about mid-day to find a great deal of activity.
There were dumps of Red Cross parcels along the main street in front of the Town Hall and they were being distributed as we passed through...one each!. Even the guards were getting them but I suppose there was a good deal of sense in that, if only to keep them off our backs.
There were Red Cross trucks, (American and British Army types) and a couple of ambulances going up and down the column, and beyond, picking up stragglers and bringing them back to the fold. Some of them should have been to hospital and were really in poor shape but they had cleared all the hospitals of the walking wounded as well and everyone that could stand on two feet was having to hike it. The Red Cross took some of the worse cases further along the line of march so that they could rest up before we caught up with them.
Nothing else was provided and water had to be scavenged from where it was available in order to have a drink of something. I even got used to instant coffee being made up cold...it was wet!.
We moved off later in the afternoon and stopped for the night at Belingries where Jim and I found a warm corner in a stable where we spent all the next day and night before we were on the move again. I suppose we could not really complain about our conditions as there were two guards in the next stall sharing the same facilities and making the most of the contents of their food parcel.
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It must have been like a Christmas present for them the way they were going on and like us the only thing they had on their minds was survival, food and shelter. They were only Grade 3 troops and were looking for an end to all the discomfort and misery just as much as we were That's what made it all so damn silly!.
Things got better and better as we plodded into Bavaria. The countryside looked lush and green with well tended fields and the early signs of crops was heartening The weather was fine and most of the civilian population treated our progress kindly. We treated it like a Sunday School outing, waiving, smiling and cheering the population. No doubt they thought we were daft but we were not downhearted.
On rare occasions Allied aircraft flew along our line of march waggling their wings so it seemed that they were monitoring our progress.
Some of us eased out of the column from time to time to do a little trading and on one occasion I was able to add some fresh bread and garlic sausage to the stores of our little group comprising most of the crew and I occupied myself happily after being elected cook.
We picked another barn for the night and found a good supply of mauve dyed potatoes of the sort we had at home for animal feed. The farmer was a bit concerned when he found us with them. He made it quite clear that they were for 'swine' only and that it was a criminal offence to use them for human consumption. It was a continual source of amazement to me that whilst their country was being torn apart with the utmost disregard for human life and property there was still so much regard for common law but I suppose that they had been conditioned by years of shortages and regulations.
I had first noticed the tendency at Nuremberg when we did have fuel for the stove and we were toasting the black pumpernikal [sic] by sticking slices on the side of the store and in came a guard who became very angry when he saw what we were doing.
Toasting bread was ‘verboten’ by law as it destroyed the nutritional value of the bread and we were breaking the law!
As prisoners we were well aware that they could impose civil
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as well as military law if necessary. They had made the same threats for the same reason when we had our bonfire but as there was no time for that sort of nonsense there was precious little that they could do about it. In any case, a few gifts of cigaretts [sic], soon overcame the problem.
We finally got on the more again the next day about mid-day but by now we were doing little more than just strolling along enjoying the freedom and the weather. I had the opportunity of selling a spare blanket to a Polish farm worker for 6 eggs but he could not understand that we were mixed British, American and Commonwealth POW's. Nevertheless, there were a few more exchanges after a lot of sign language and I was better off by 30 Reichmarks which caused a spot of bother as the transactions had been witnessed by a straggling guard who wanted to confiscate the goods. Again it was 'verboten' to sell German military equipment. It was easily resolved. He got 10 marks and was told to "getten ze stuffed" so he wandered off somewhat bewildered.
There was a distribution of Belgian Red Cross parcels, and a large wedge from a round Bavarian loaf at one point and eventually we caught up with the main column again to find a comfy spot in another barn and a good night's sleep with a handsome meal tucked under the belt.
I suppose that now we had put a fair distance between us and the battle front there was no longer the urgency to force us along so we continued to stroll through open farm lands and cross a lot of main roads and the Danube; which was not blue. In fact it was quite mucky.
At one point shortly after crossing the river we crossed a bridge over a closed off section of either dual carriageway or autobahn and there was some interesting activity in the road through a deep cutting which had been closed off to traffic near Seiganburg.
To our amazement the road had been turned into a temporary airstrip with Focke-Wolf 190's lined up and being serviced under a great deal of cables and camouflage netting. I wondered how long it would be before our chaps identified it as camouflage and gave it a good pasting even though we did not see so much of them quite so often as we had previously.
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There was plenty of evidence that they were still busy not too far away though.
We continued to plod on past decorative Bavarian farm houses which, with their high pitched roofs and fancy gables looked very attractive. We were close enough to some of them to see into their fine big kitchens in pine and stainless steel where women in crisp pinafores seemed to be up to their arms in tubs and flour. We did not get more than a passing glance though. The guards were catered for with steaming hot canteens of soup and hunks of home made bread cut from big flat round loaves, supplemented by thick slices of farmhouse cheese. It is understandable that all we got were dirty looks!.
We found accomodation [sic] that night in a barn at Swienbach and once again contemplated the possibility of doing a runner but when we made enquiries we also found out why the column was thinning out!.
It appeared that our administration had been organising parties of 25, each with two guards, to do an about turn during the hours of darkness to find a route to our own lines.
How the selection was made I do not know but it was understandable that those who had been in the bag the longest had first choice and if anyone deserved priority it was them. It was also interesting to learn that the guards were being provided with safe conduct passes which would ensure that they would get preferential treatment when they were finally picked up.
We were still told not to go it alone as there would still be many pockets of fanatical resistance and it was just not worth the risk. Geoff had already tried it once and he had a close shave. He had only got a little way beyond the fringe on a daylight attempt when he was apprehended by a couple of trigger happy SS field police. He had been sent back with a warning, but there was a very good chance that those blokes did not send any of their own back to the line if there was any chance of them being deserters. A little on the spot summary punishment was likely to be meted out without having to justify the action. With our guards it was different. Things were so slack that on one occasion one of them sat on the roof and placed his rifle between us. I just could not
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resist the temptation when a hare appeared in the field and I grabbed his rifle that I had been eyeing anyway, quickly worked the bolt to 'put one up the spout', aimed and fired, but missed, so I hurriedly handed the gun back to it 's owner as the Oberfeldwebel came running up to see what the shooting was about. That turned out to be another big laugh. What else was he to think when he found the guard with a smoking rifle in his hands?. The guard must have figured that he would be in less trouble if he admitted to the use of his rifle for sporting purposes than to admit to allowing a POW to get the better of him so he got a good dressing down for wasting ammunition and I got a dirty look. It all helped to pass the time and keep up morale.
The next day we received the news that we were heading for a camp at Mooseburg but although we started off fairly early we soon got the message that Mooseburg was not ready for us. That immediately started the 'go-slow' process again.
At one time we were lounging around at the side of a track that led across the fields when we heard the skirl of pipes and from over a rise to one side of the main column came a small formation of Scots troops in full marching order with a piper in the lead. What a glorious sight they were with kilts swinging, brasses glittering. It looked damned silly to see half a dozen guards marching with them!.
The sight was enough to inspire some of us to drag ourselves to our feet as they converged on us. Some of us even saluted but they just ploughed on ignoring the Air Force rabble. Good luck to them. They were still going strong as they disappeared from view over another rise. Good luck to them. It looked good and it no doubt made them feel good but there was no doubt that they would be back behind barbed wire long before we were.
We just flopped a bit farther along the track and found ourselves a comfortable billet for another night of relative freedom.
The next day I got organised with another group for scavenging and the like.
Things had been going so well that like others I had already got through my marching rations and generally had lightened my load. No-one was hungry any more but I was approached with an offer that I could not refuse.
The offer was made by a Captain of the US. Infantry who wanted
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fourth to complete his team. The others were two American Air Force Sergeants so I left the crew to join his outfit. It was hard luck on the crew though-they lost their cook!.
The Captain was very interesting and enterprising character. It was his third time as POW, having escaped on two previous occasions, but this time he was no longer going to stick his neck out as there was a state-side ticket waiting for him as soon as he was out of his present situation. He was a very shrewd and tough bloke and it did not take us long to decide just how we were going to operate.
At the first opportunity we scavenged some bits and pieces from some farmyard pumping machinery and rebuilt a broken down 'dog-cart' on which we dumped all our kit and went into action immediately.
Two did the pulling whilst the other two went off scavenging. Within the first half day we had done so well at the butchers, bakers and farms a few km. each side of the column that to were soon re-trading among the others at a 'profit'. My carefully hoarded stock of soap was proving to be most useful currency although coffee and cigaretts [sic] were sill the most valuable.
It was too good to be true. We had not gone far with our cart getting piled higher and higher when the owner of the bit’s and pieces that the cart had been built from discovered they were missing. He rapidly caught up with us on a broken down horse and demanded the return of it.
There were more dire threats of punishment for stealing which of course never came to anything but it left us with having to carry, eat or trade the fruits of our transactions, and the two with the column just had to carry that much more. It was worth it though.
Part of the plan was that it was this pair that staked out a comfy site for four when we made camp and generally the scheme worked well.
The Red Cross trucks were still going to and fro’ but with a difference. They were coming from the South East, loaded, and discharging their loads at various places, loading up the sick and lame and actually [underlined] backtracking our route to the Allied lines [/underlined] to deliver them to safety before loading up again and refuelling for the return journey to us, mainly with ‘K’
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rations.
It still was a source of amazement that the Red Cross trucks were nearly all British or American types that had been re-painted accordingly, loaded, and transported from Italy through Switzerland with neutral drivers under the International Red Cross Organisation.
We were told that some 2000 of them had set out and split up near Munich, one column going in our direction and the other North Westerly to meet other POW's converging on us from the North.
If that produced a farcical situation then it was no more farcical than the latest method of communication that had been adopted between our administration and the rest of the Germans to keep us informed of what was going on.
A sort of HQ. unit had been set up by the more senior officers and their selected staffs who were up front and they never missed a chance to harass the guards....and that included their CO!.
Right from the outset the guards bicycles had come in for a lot of attention.
With monotonous regularity they had lost tyre valves, and chains. Tyres had been slashed until constant canabalisation [sic] of what was left had reduced the original number to only a couple of serviceable bikes, and we had reached the ideal solution where they no longer had a pump between them. We had!.
It was not suprising [sic] therefore, that the last bikes were allocated to the Commandant and his Adjutant....but on conditions imposed by us!.
It was agreed that if we had equal share of them there was a good chance that they would no longer be vandalized but the daftest thing of all was when our own Adjutant went up and down the line on one to pass information it still had a machine pistol on the handlebar clips!.
On the 6th we only moved a few km. and there were more food parcels distributed The awful French one's again but anything was welcome in the food line, if only for bartering.
One of the team and I slipped away one one occasion and crossed a railway line to a group of cottages where we made enquiries for eggs.
At one cottage we called at we were received by an obvious
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1914/18 veteran who was minus one leg but who was quite philosophical as we discussed the terms of the deal in a mixture of broken English and German and he seemed friendly enough. When the terms were agreed he shrugged his shoulders and indicated in the direction of the chicken house and then left us alone with two teen-age girls, possibly his grand-daughters, to collect the eggs.
He was either very trusting, or taking no chances and possibly very relieved to find the eggs were all we had helped ourselves to even offered to give them a four minute boil before we departed. Again, after the difficulties of conversation it was the shrugg [sic] of the shoulders and the well worn phrase, “you soldat-me soldat”.
These eggs went down very well with Spam, beans and fresh bread that someone else had aquired [sic] .
Every day brought the sound of gunfire and battle closer well as Allied aircraft sweeping over us on occasions as they plotted the movement of the long snake of people. There was no doubt that that is what they were doing as our identification process had not been needed for a long time.
That evening we were quite close to Mooseberg and we made camp in a sheltered part of a farm with beds of hay and camp fire was set up with bricks and ironmongery that we had accumulated.
As usual as soon we were all together I planned the menu around the spoils of the day, particularly as our team leader, Capt. Dunkleburg, (a good old American name), had just knocked over a plump farmyard hen.
I don't know if he had been a horseshoe throwing champion back home but he was adept at throwing a short length of wood up to twenty feet with deadly accuracy and he had brought the chicken down by catching it across the neck and it was ready for the pot in a few minutes.
After that it was my responsibility as I had been the team cook on joining, and had been able to make all sorts of dishes from anything that became available including nettles and turnip greens, wild berries and even watercress from the streams where most of our water was drawn from.
Everyone seemed to be happy with this arrangement and our chicken supper was simplicity itself. I must admit that I felt a little
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guilty when others drifted around our site sniffing the aroma like Bisto kids but it was a matter of survival, although I did feel a little sorry for those who could not cope with looking after themselves.
Lashings of coffee was consumed and dispensed to others who wanted to make use of our fire and we were off to sleep like babies.
The morning of the 17th started with a leisurly [sic] breakfast which was still in progress long after the time we had been told to be ready. Then the farmer and a guard arrived making a lot of fuss and accusing us of stealing again. I suspect that more than one chicken was missing but nevertheless we pleaded innocence. They threatened us with all sorts of consequences for our actions as we started to clear up bones, feathers and damp down our fire so they eventually called in the Hauptman.
When he arrived on the scene he let rip with a very good immitation [sic] of Hitler and as we took very little notice he worked himself up into a fine old state until he was just about purple with rage. We didn't understand much of it, but Dunkleburg did, and he knew what he was getting at before he got a little calmer and reverted to English. Then he gave us an ultimatum. He was going to count ten and then he was going to shoot someone if we did not get moving.
By that time the situation had got decidedly dodgy but we took our cue from Capt.D, and started to spread ourselves out as the count started.
Ien...drie...swie...by which time he was spluttering again and by the time he had got to ten he was clawing at his pistol holster which was a beautifully polished leather affair with a fancy-lanyard disapearing [sic] into it.
Capt.D. had gathered himself into a crouch like some old gun fighter from a Western, poised as if to try and beat him to the draw..although of course totally unarmed. The guards looked alarmed and backed off as the pistol was withdrawn seemingly in slow motion as Capt.D. prepared to charge.
On the other end of the lanyard appeared a fancy pearl handled ladies handbag model of a .22 which was pointed skywards and fired.
Putt, putt, putt, and everyone relaxed immediately and rolled
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about laughing as we carried on clearing up. The old boy's face was contorted in anger and embarrassment as he stomped away. I think that was the last I ever saw of him.
I imagine that as he was just about to hand us over he was getting the wind up and was going to have to do a lot of explaining about how he lost 2000 prisoners and half of his guards on the way from Nuremberg!. That is always presuming that anyone else was still worried about such things.
We finally reached the camp, Stalag V11a, Mooseburg, by mid-day and then began the process of sorting ourselves out. Eventually we had a hot shower and a meal of sorts and then sat around most of the afternoon whilst the administration figured out what to do with the 1700 strong RAF contingent now that we all been segregated. It was goodbye to all the friends we had made outside RAF circles so I was back with the crew again.
The time spent lounging around was not boring anyway. There were Yanks all over the sky around us, knocking hell out of anything anything [sic] that moved now that we were within the safety of the camp.
We had news that Prauge [sic] had fallen. The Yanks were reported to be only 20 mls from Berlin and the Russians virtually had the city surrounded, so what was there to worry about.
All we had to do was sit tight and survive and eventually we were given an area of huts for the night although they provided little more than just a roof over our heads.
The 19th started with a roll call, with promises of hot water and food which did not materialise. All that happened was that we got moved to another compound with huts in the same condition as those we had just vacated, lacking everything except the bed frames.
I got very fed up with the whole deal. My shaving gear was just about used up. Like others I had over two months growth of hair falling all over the place. My boots were falling off of my feet....they had not worn at all well. There was a long queue at a single tap and no ablutions. There was no heating and precious little fuel for cooking fires. The remaining bed boards were carefully guarded by those who had managed to get a few together. Issued rations were a couple of potatoes, a hunk of
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bread and some mouldy cheese. I went into a nasty fit of depression so I turned in to sleep it off.
The floor was the best place with the shortage of bed boards so it was a matter of just curling up in a corner wrapped up in anything to keep warm.
Over twelve hours sleep cleared the air a bit and the next day I felt a lot better. All the crew except Jim had got together again for parcels and food share out as for some reason Jim had gone in with another group but the waiting game was not improved by a change in the weather so any cooking or brewing up had to be done in the hut. At times it was like 'smokey Joe's'.
The change in the weather did not stop the air activity all around us but fortunately it was mostly ours. The Luftwaffe was rarely seen.
The next day was the same but supplies were improving a little and carefully hoarded stores were opened up. I got a replacement pair of boots; not new but at least the soles were not flapping and I was able to replenish the shaving gear.
The following day looked like being a repetition until an order came through to prepare to march again. The burning question was "where the hell can we go from here?.
The Russians were already through Poland into Czechoslovakia to the East and the North of us, and were coming up through Austria to the South and not all that far away. Even Italy was suggested although the only obvious way was back and perhaps that was not a bad idea as I was not partial to the idea of the Russians over-running us.
There had been lots of stories already concerning the Russian way of life and from what I had seen and heard of the Ruskie POW's on the far side of the camp there was no doubt that they were a strange lot.
Of course they had had it very rough and had no protection under the Geneva Convention as non-signatories which had a lot to do with it. They were very badly treated and their food rations were even worse than ours….and they had to work for it, officers and all.
As a result they had become a desperate band of brigands with little more than survival in their minds and they were up to
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all kinds of mischief.
Only the day before they had been bearing a coffin out of the camp for burial and the German gate guards made sure it was a corpse that went out. They plunged a bayonet through the flimsy coffin and the corpse screamed!. They had buried the original in the compound and although it might have been interesting to have got mixed up with them I don't think it would have been exactly pleasant.
We got back to using the bunks again after a load of rough boards had been dumped in the compound for the purpose of making them up although a number got sidetracked for fuel, mainly for brewing up.
Brewing up was something of a ritual and when fuel was short it was foolish to be extravagant with resources. The most economic were the tin can arrangements that had come down from Luft.3, although some copies had been made.
Usually mounted on a small board they consisted of hand wheel driving a metal fan in a perforated lower chamber with a fuel chamber on top. All driven with a string or bootlace drive. It sounds very crude but the gearing was such that it worked like the bellows of a forge furness [sic] . They were very economical and would burn anything from a handfull [sic] of twiggs [sic] to lumps of tar off of the road. There was always a great deal of whirring going on at brewing time. i
The owners of these masterpieces would usually brew up a can of water for others if a handfull [sic] of fuel was produced and it was amazing how bits of fire was transferred from one to the other rather than use a seperate [sic]match for each start up.
The 25th April dawned a beautiful day and there was considerable relief when we were told that we would not be marching after all as it could only be a few days before we would be free.
The sky was getting thick with aircraft at times, mostly ours, but the odd German Air Force fighter was seen invariably high tailing it for safety to their temporary landing strips, often trailing smoke, with a swarm of stars and stripes after them.
These were exciting times and the guns seemed even nearer as the excitement increased when we had a news flash that Augsburg, about 45mls to the West of us had fallen into our hands.
It seemed to us, and it proved to be the case, that it was a
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race between the Americans and the Russians as to where the gap would be closed, whatever may have been previously agreed. The thrust between us and Munich, and onward to where they finally did join forces did solve one very important point.
It prevented what might have been the fulfilment of Hitler's original plans to surround Birtchesgarten [sic] with his SS fanatics and at least 40,000 POW hostages for a fight to the finish.
Everything was going so well that we were no longer bothered about keeping a reserve of food or conserving fuel supplies. Part of Geoff's bed went into preparing lunch and some of mine went at supper time.
The 26th was another beautiful day. We had a bit of a surprise when a large party of guards marched through the camp to the boundary wire at the edge of the compound, then downed arms, cut the wire and rapidly filed through leaving their rifles behind. It is quite possible that they just went off to somewhere quiet and then sat down waiting to be picked up.
They got out of sight rapidly after I dashed out and picked up one of their rifles to send a couple of shots after them but I only fired over their heads.
That's all there was time for as our administration collected all of the rifles and took them back to camp HQ.
It was not long after that news came through that we were taking over the running of the camp and we were one more step nearer home.
A bread ration came up. The interior fences were torn down. Where the guards had cut the wire we strolled out into the open as if it was a Sunday afternoon along the prom. Along the river bank, chatting to a couple of pig-tailed giggling teenage fraulines and even picked up some firewood which had been our main purpose for going outside.
It was not long after our return that the PA system instructed us not to stray too far if we were outside and although there was a tremendous sense of freedom in doing so it really was not neccessary [sic] for obtaining fuel.
Warning notices, air raid shelters, fence posts and the like were all available to us by that time. It was a change not to hear the PA blasting out 'Achtung' and OKW rubbish but we were being kept informed almost hourly by
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relaying BBC and AFN programms [sic] .
There was an announcement that our documents and personal possesions [sic] were available for collection from the admin office if we wanted them.
After all that had gone on since 7th February I actually got back my mirror and cuff-links that had been confiscated but it would seem that someone had aquired [sic] a very nice white silk scarf that I had been wearing at the time. Perhaps it had been considered service property, which was fair game. I was just surprised that anything was returned under the circumstances.
News came later that Regensburg had fallen and our forces were encircling Munich, and although the weather turned very nasty in the night and the hut leaked like a seive [sic] no-one was concerned about such minor discomforts.
Even the, following day when there was no let up in the downpour we did not worry about it. Even the natural water supply was a luxury!, and a visit to the clothing store gave us the opportunity to change some more of our tatty clothes.
On the 29th P47 Thunderbolts buzzed the camp and then did a bit of straffing [sic] in the local area. Perhaps it was just as well that the cut wire had been repaired and we had been confined to camp until further notice!.
By 11 o'clock there were all the signs of a battle starting to the North so there was another good reason for staying under cover.
Geoff and I had taken cover under our hut and in fact I was brewing up whilst the battle was going on and one or two people who were foolish enough to still be wandering around were hit by stray bullets but fortunately not seriously.
By 11 o'clock the sounds of battle had gone right round the camp to the South of us, giving us a chance to venture outside.
There was still a lot going on almost on our doorstep. Some big guns were firing over the camp from the hills and shells could be heard rushing overhead followed by a 'crump' as they landed between us and the town.
Then one found it's mark when the church steeple and a sniper with it disappeared in a cloud of dust and debris.
News in those conditions travelled as fast as a bush fire and
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we next heard that the senior Allied POW officer and the local German Commander had been out the previous evening under a white flag to confer with the American Commander, but the German was adamant in his response to the ultimatum. He refused to surrender the area without some sort of fight so that was why it had all started up again but it did not last long.
There seemed to be a bit of a lull and then on the top of the hill, along the ridge, dozens of tanks appeared and just took up position menacingly. About mid-day another party went up the hill under a white flag to parley once more and I can only assume that enough people had died to satisfy honour and to find terms on which to end the slaughter especially when faced with that threat.
By 1 o'clock all firing in and around the area ceased. The Stars and Stripes flew in the town and in the various compounds national flags of all kinds were flying.
Those flags had been hidden for a long time at great risk and at last they could be proudly displayed. As far as we were concerned it was all over, and we could look forward to going home.
We were nearly all bursting with excitement wondering what to expect when later on in the afternoon a convoy that was a sight to behold came in through the main gate.
The lead Jeep had a General saluting all over the place. Some said it was Patton as it was the US. 7th Army that had relieved us but there was so much going on with the bustle and the noise it was difficult to take everything in.
Behind the Jeep came a Sherman tank and a whole convoy of armed troops who toured the camp as we shouted and cheered, and cheered some more, and cried a bit too until we were just about drained of emotion.
The PA system belted out cheerful music and then the circus was in town.
Another convoy came in and news reel camera crews set themselves up as Red Cross trucks, ambulances, mobile hospital, mobile bakery, mobile laundry and trucks with mountains of goodies followed.
There was everything from chewing gum to fruit juices and even fresh fruit that some of us had not seen for months and in some,
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cases, years.
Everything was eventually set up in the central compound and we marvelled at quantity of the goods and the generosity with which it was all being dispensed. There was even a Padre' tossing packets of chewing gum into the crowd.
It was announced over the PA system that we could go outside again but only through the main gate, and then only after we had been processed by the general office and provided with a repatriated POW document. It was worth it, although at that particular time I found plenty to occupy myself in camp and did not venture out.
Although we thought that the fighting was over it started up again not far from our compound as dusk fell. No doubt some brave German still trying to defend his Fatherland but it did not last long.
We had already been warned not to try and make for home on our own as some had attempted. There were still some fanatical pockets of resistance in areas that had been encircled and had yet to be secured.
The most noise that night came from the Russian compound. Although they had had their share of all that was coming into camp they had been conditioned [deleted] but [/deleted] [inserted] to [/inserted] such hardships that they were still out for anything they could get and went on the rampage. They raided the camp bakery and having carted off all the bread and the flour that they could carry they finished up by smashing all of the equipment. It took some time to round them up and try to convince them that there was no need for it. It didn't work.
It all flared up again the following morning. They had their freedom, as we all did and got into town but it was not long before they were smashing the place up, pillaging and looting and generally being a damned nuisance until something happened that I though I would never see.
The limited number of Military Police in the area had to be backed up by deputies drawn from the POW ranks and included Officers and NCO's They were armed with the rifles that had been left behind by the departing guards and were needed to guard German shops, homes and the population against rape and downright vandalism.
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As one Welshman who was involved said to me at the time, "There's daft for you. Yesterday the Germans were our enemies and today we are protecting them from certain elements of our Allies". There's no answer to that but I think the Ruskies eventually got the message.
Some of the excitement had died down by the next day until the circus got going again.
The camp had another visit from some top brass and there were more news reel camera crews shooting just about everything in sight.
American Forces Air Mail blanks were distributed and collected again but that is one area where the Yanks did not get top marks. Mine never got home. Probably they were shipped to the States first and then they were dumped on the assumption that we would have got home first.
The mobile bakery was going full blast now that the camp bakery had been ruined but some of the veteran POW's were having problems with the fluffy white American bread. One chap was stuffing great lumps of the stuff into his mouth and complaining that the 'cake' did not fill him up like pumpernikal [sic] . There was plenty of everything else anyway and no doubt by the end of the day he would have tried everything that was on offer and like me, the pains in his tummy would be from eating too much!.
The camp PA system continued to broadcast AFN and BBC relays. The BBC gave news of 32,000 liberated POW's in the drive for Munich and that had to include us. That would be good news for the folks back home who would be getting the same news and were no doubt feeling very relieved that they would soon be hearing from their loved one's.
It was not all good news though. What the army found in places like Dachau, between us and Munich was a very different story, and the world was soon reeling in shock and horror at the scenes of the almost indescribable conditions that were found there.
By comparison our situation was a picnic.
Those that did venture into town could not be stopped entirely from a little 'souvenir' hunting.
They came back with bicycles, radios, weapons, motor bikes, and all manner of household goods but although it was a free
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for all I do not remember that it got too far out of control as it did at the time of the Ruskie's excursion.
One group near us came back from a hunting expedition with a deer that was soon given the treatment. It was barbicued [sic] on a spit over a pit that used to be an air raid shelter and there was everything that one could wish for.
It was open house and became a communal feast. People just contributed anything that they had. There were chickens, eggs, rabbits, ducks, fish, you name it. It was the biggest, most hilarious barbicue [sic] that I have ever been to or ever likely to go to, and of course some alcoholic beverage found it's way into the camp as well.
During the proceedings one American came back from visiting a nearby tank unit and he was absolutely plastered.
He was teetering all-over the place, hanging on to half a case of Champagne on his shoulder and every time he looked like capsizing and people went to help he he [sic] , fought them off. He was very protective of that 'champers'. Even when he fell into an old air raid shelter it could not be prized from him so we left him with a happy smile on his face. There was plenty more.
Although we were getting a little restless at the delay in moving us it was understandable....there was still a war going on!. But on May 3rd. parties started moving out and leaving their surplus goods behind and we spent a lot of time walking around the area inspecting the staggering amount of transport, troops and armour that we came across. We only had to show our identity slips and everywhere we went we got first class treatment with the utmost generosity, but there was the inevitable sad story to remind us that for some people the war was not yet over.
One of the tank crews was suffering from a traumatic experience, the memory of which was still fresh in their minds.
Apparently, when they had been confronted, not far from the camp, by armed school kids in cadet uniform they had tried to discourage them by firing over their heads but it had not been successful. The youngsters still showed defiance and continued firing. The tank crew had no choice but to fire on them for the benefit of their own infantry who were just behind them, and of course some of them had been injured before they gave up.
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In it's way it was very sad but it just showed that it was no picnic out there.
When the next piece of news came it was difficult to take it it [sic] in.
Berlin had fallen to the Russians and Hitler had killed himself in his Berlin bunker. The German High Command had collapsed and a cease fire was imminent.
The excitement reached a new high when that news had sunk in.
The call forward of people for evacuation was speeded up and those called were taking messages for us as well so I was looking forward to being home for my wife's birthday on the 8th, but the days were slipping by rapidly.
We were bathed and de-loused, (the first of many de-lousings) on the 6th for moving out on the 7th only to be frustrated by another deferment.
We were interviewed by an American female War Correspondent and were photographed charging around on bicyles [sic] and yet another frustrating day went by. Some people had got totally fed up by that time and were having a go on their own despite the regular warning being given. I played it safe and was rewarded on the 8th when our party was called forward.
All of the parties were of 28 people and Geoff was in charge of ours when we finally moved out at 5.30am. when we boarded a convoy of trucks, that set off for an ex Luftwaffe base at Straubing to the North of us.
It was a rough and dusty journey, but eventually we rolled into the place and again I was struck by the resemblance to our own pre-war airfields. I could have found my way around there as easily as Marham, Mildenhall or Stradishall but we did not have chance to go far. It was not worth it anyway as we were likely to be called forward at any time.
We were off-loaded on the road leading through the camp with the hangars dead ahead and told to stay put.
There was very little sign of damage so either the Luftwaffe had evacuated smartly or surrendered, but there we were, at the side of a tree lined avenue waiting….and …waiting!
Des and Lynn had been left behind at Mooseburg but they turned up in a later convoy and were not far from us as evening came. Still stuck on the road!.
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Fortunately the weather remained fine and although there was a NAAFI type building on the opposite side of the road none of us wanted to be confined. We had had enough of that.
We relieved the NAAFI place of a small stage about 8ft by 8ft and about a foot high which we set up between some trees. Several parachutes from the stores were used for bedding and a canopy and we had a neat little camp site that was the envy of many.
A metal grid was set up on some bricks to serve as a fireplace and we were able to dispense hot water and coffee to all and sundry as well as being a meeting point. I
We were just about to settle down for the night when the bomb shell came. Germany had capitulated…the war was over at last! As if there had not been enough excitement for one day.
There was still a little light left when there was a flurry of activity up at the airfield and troops were charging in that direction from all over. Curiosity got the better of us and no sooner had we got to edge of the airfield than a half dozen Ju.52's approached from the North East firing red verey signals
as they went into line astern for landing.
As soon as they had landed they were surrounded by armed troops and then the doors opened.
The occupants were mainly women and children, obviously families of Luftwaffe personnel being evacuated from Chechoslovakia [sic] out of the path of the advancing Russian forces. They looked very frightened as they were hustled away but I am sure that they would have been taken care of by the local population even if the military got different treatment.
We were not allowed to get too close but the airfield attracted us like a magnet and we soon found it to be a very busy place. No wonder they did not want us in the way.
There were mountains of stores dumped all around the perimeter.
There were dozens of Mustangs and Thunderbolts in another area and the remnants of dozens of German aircraft of all types piled up in another area.
Then came the next surprise when about twenty Me.109's and Fw.190's appeared in the circuit...all flying white streamers from their wingtips in the act of surrender. The sight of those brought just about everyone up to the airfield as they circled and landed, finally taxying into a neat line in front of the
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hangars.
The pilots hardly had time to switch off before the 'reception commitee' was up on the wing and the elegantly turned out pilots in their No.1. uniforms were unceremoniously whipped out of their cockpits, frisked and relieved of any Iron Crosses around their necks, and watches, binoculars, pistols and holsters were removed before they were lined up and marched away.
I suppose they did try to surrender with some dignity but they were not allowed to do so and neither was the next group that came in.
We had had the families, then the Staffel, and the next arrival was a Ju.52. carrying the unit commander and his staff. It included his female secretary, filing cabinets and all....plus...the pig!.
The latter was no doubt the product of the unit pig farm and an insurance against going hungry at a later date. So here was an almost complete unit apart from the poor old ground staff who were probably having to hike their way back from somewhere just inside the Chech [sic] border about 60 miles away.
The volume of gold braid on the senior officer did not save him from going the same way as the others, so he was bundled off one way, no doubt protesting about his rough handling....and the pig went the other. To the cookhouse!.
One of the last to land in the fading light was a Feisler Storch light communications and spotting plane and the pilot demonstrated it's capability by virtually stalling it into a very short landing run and …..plonk, stopped.
The pilot got out, like an entertainer in the circus, grinning, as if to say "who's a clever boy then", until a huge coloured American airman grabbed him by the collar and he was put through the mincer like the others.
We loved every minute of it and wandered back to our camp site very happily not expecting anything to climax that but the finale came shortly after daylight went completely.
The day was finished off with a giant pyrotechnic display that must have used up everything that could be mustered from all of the combined stores plus stuff from wrecked or surrendered aircraft.
The way some of the stuff had been put together to blast off
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some 200ft into the air must have made the excercise [sic] near lethal but I am sure that there was no shortage of the necessary explosive and technical skills to put on such a show at such short notice.
The night sky was filled with star shells and flares of all colours and enormous explosions for well over an hour before we retired to our communal bed with stars in our eyes, and hope for what the next day would bring.
When May 9th dawned we were up early, washed, shaved, breakfasted and the site tidied up in case anyone else wanted to make use of it after we had gone, all ready standing by long before 7.30 as we had been told to be.
About 8.30 a flock of DC3's (Dakota's to the RAF) started pouring in, landing and taxying into the park directly ahead of the road we were on.
We had seen these depart on the previous day and it was a well drilled procedure by which they took up position in five ranks of ten nose to tail so all we had to do was to was [sic] for the call forward. It did not come!. Instead, truckloads of GI's came rumbling into camp straight past us and out to the aircraft which taxied out as soon as loading was complete and away they went…..all 50 of them!
We did not know whether they were front line troops who were in need of a rest or even walking wounded but it got us a bit steamed up to think that someone seemed to be jumping the queue but we knew that they would be in again in the afternoon so we continued to wait impatiently.
By mid afternoon the flock were back again and after landing formed up with the same precision and then another convoy of Americans arrived, again going straight out to the airfield. Fortunately it was a smaller party and some of our groups ahead of us were called forward but leaving us still sweating it out.
There was nothing more to but to open up our site again and brouse [sic] around the rest of the camp to occupy the time.
There was another firework display but we could not work up much enthusiasm for it. All of our thoughts were concentrated on what might happen the next day.
Again we were on call to be with some of the first away so once more we prepared ourselves and then watched in dismay as another
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convoy came sweeping in and went straight out to the airfield. When the aircraft came in they were promptly loaded and were away again leaving us still stuck on the side of the road. There were some angry mutterings.
Eventually the group leaders had a conference to elect a spokesman who went forward to speak to the load masters and whether it was that that did the trick or whether it was the luck of the draw I would not know but all of the RAF roadside gipsies were moved up to the airfield for the afternoon shuttle.
In came the aircraft as before and as soon as they were parked each party was allocated a specific aeroplane from which they unloaded jerrycans of petrol and other stores which included 'K' rations from which we got an issue and then we boarded....at last.
Like a well oiled machine the 50 aircraft started up, rolled out in sections of ten, took off and in loose formation headed West at about 4000ft.
The precision of that operation made a lasting impression on me as it was shifting about 300 tons of fuel and suplies [sic] in and about 2800 people out each day. With over 40,000 repatriates to get out of the area it was understandable that it was going to take time however frustrated we might have felt at times.
We landed at an airfield near Rheims, France, and were trucked to a huge tented encampment in the grounds of some Chateaux. We got de-loused again, had a label tied on and were then provided with vouchers to exchange for cash, shown the accomodation [sic] and told to be ready by daylight next day..
To someone like myself who, had only been in the 'bag' a short time it was a short step back to reality but for those who had been behind the wire for years it was the start of a long period of adjustment.
The bright lights, the incessant broadcasting of AFN (American Forces Network) and the delights of the tented city with it's cafateria [sic] tents, beer tents, cinema, magazine stalls and one-arm bandits was a different world. Obviously American servicemen (and women) did not expect to be cut off from their home comforts just because they were fighting a war in foriegn [sic] parts, whether they were in our [sic] out of the line. i
Whilst I was having difficulty in deciding what to spend my
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money on…and a beer was one of the first things, others were very reluctant to spend at all. I found that those who had hoarded for years in order to survive could not easily break the habit but we all mucked in together until eventually we had had our share of everything that was going and then it was early to bed, a real one, in preparation for an early start on the next lap.
We were up at 5 o'clock the next morning, piled onto trucks and commenced another bumpy, noisy and tiring drive, seemingly in the wrong direction, to an airfield at Juvencourt, which I found out later was between Troyes and Chaumont. I did not hear any complaints. If everyone was like me they were too pre-occupied with their own thoughts at the prospect of getting home soon to be concerned about a such a journey. Even if it was about 100 miles!.
We expected to be going into another camp but there was great excitement when, on arrival, we found a flock of waiting Lancasters on the airfield and we loaded 25 to each aircraft ready for the off.
The Lancaster was not built for passengers so we were distributed all along the fusulage [sic] and my diary records that I was in one of 514 Squadron's aircraft, from Waterbeach, Pilot, Flying Officer Tasker. His W/Op turned out to be one of my old mates from training days, Tommy Gookie.
There was no opportunity for chat though. Anyone who who [sic] has ever flown in a Lanc. without a helmet will know just how noisy they were but it was a terrible racket when those four beautiful Merlins started up and we taxied out and took off, setting course in a bit of a gaggle, heading West. I did have the opportunity of a few minutes in the top turret but there was quite a queue for it.
I lapped it up but it was a bit nerve racking for some of those who's flying had been cut short when they had been flying 1939 vintage fighters and bombers. Those chaps were going to need quite a lot of rehabilitation that was for sure.
After about an hour's flying all the changes in engine note and attitude suggested that we were preparing for landing and after touching down and taxying in we scrambled out of the door to find ourselves on the tarmac at, of all places, Tangmere.
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Just 18 miles from my home town!. Then the inevitable occurred. First we had to go through a very rudimentary customs check and then we were deloused again. There was no way that anything illegal or catching was going to be allowed into the country but I was beginning to get a bit fed up with having a hose stuffed up trouser legs, sleeves, down the trouser front and back and in the hair dispensing clouds of strange smelling itchy powder. Then it was tea and sandwiches in the hanger served by WAAF's who for some reason seemed to treat us as if we were something from outer space. I did not realise it at the time but that is probably what we looked like.
For the next part of the programme we were bussed to Barnham railway station to board a train that was sitting in a siding, but not before I had attended to one most important matter.
I was sorely tempted to slip away but thought better of it. Instead, I dived into a phone box, called the operator, but before I could tell her that I wanted a reverse charge call she asked if I was a returning POW, so obviously I was not the first she had had on the line.
Having been assured that I was she said that there was no charge and got a number for me in Worthing. In a flash I was talking to a local Chemist who I had been in the Home Guard with. He took a message to my parents, just up the road and on the way met my father-in-law so the whole jungle telegraph got going to spread the news.
Quite a few used that phone but eventually the locomotive whistle brought them back on board and we were off.
The trip was a long one and at times very slow as we wound our way all round London making occasional stops at stations for the ladies of the WVS and the 'Sally Ann' to dispense tea and sandwiches, whatever the hour, until eventually, somewhere around midnight we arrived at the reception centre at RAF Cosford, near Wolverhampton.
The train ran right into the camp which had it's own internal railway system being a storage area and maintenance unit and we dissembarked [sic] almost directly into a well lit hangar.
There were lines and lines of tables creating avenues which were alphabetically indexed; and from then on it was every man for himself for a while.
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The first part of the process was an identification check. There were boxes of Records Office duplicate I.D. cards with photograph after which there were a few questions and once past that check we were back in the Air Force. Some who had not worn too well in the 'bag' took a bit longer but all were eventually filtered through perhaps after calling an officer to verify or a Doctor to advise on suitability for immediate clearance or a spot of R & R. (Rest .and Recuperation) first. Cosford also had a very large hospital so it was ideally suited.
After that we were provided with a temporary I.D. card and authorisation chits for this, that and the other. Leave warrant, ration card, advance of pay, clothes coupons, petrol coupons, cigarette and confectionary coupons…..all taking time as we worked our way down the line of tables until we were further directed towards another hangar which was a monster clothing store for an issue that would at least allow us to change out of the odds and ends that we had been wearing for so long. Half of mine by that time was American drab olive so it was back to blue.
The clothing issue was very basic. Airmans battle-dress and cap. Underclothes, socks and boots. Shirt, collar and tie.......separate of course, and nothing to hold them together, and finally a. piece of braid or a set of stripes appropriate to rank and..........the sewing kit!, plus a new kit bag to put surplus stuff into. Goodness knows what time it was before the process was complete and then we were off to a barrack block, a steaming hot bath and to bed.
We had been told that the Mess dining room was providing a 24 hour service and very few people overslept. We were up and about gathering everything together and I forget how many peices [sic] of braid and collars I sewed on for others before the need for breakfast was calling.
I felt a bit like a fish in a bowl wandering around the Officers Mess again among others dressed much the same as myself. The permanent staff were very helpful and the stewards could not do enough but there had to be a limit to how much one could eat in one go. There was only one thing on the minds of most people, and that was to get home as soon as possible. One of us had already gone. Jim only lived at Coventry and I was told
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that he had ordered a taxi and was off…..and to hell with the expense!.
Buses had been scheduled to run to Wolverhamptan [sic] for main line connections for those who were cleared to go and other nationalities, including Commonwealth personnel were being assembled to go to clearing depots that had been set up in various parts of the country to prepare them for repatriation. For me it was a quick call to Newmarket and I was on my way.
I must have got quite used to the scruffy character reflected in the shaving mirror without realising that there was a lot more of me that I had just taken for granted. When I first looked in a full length mirror it took some time to realise that the wild man from outer space was in fact me. If clothes maketh the man then I really looked like a rag-bag…..but a clean one!.
Clean I might have been but I had over three months head of unruly hair which was almost white from the liberal use of de-lousing powder that would not wash out. My ill fitting serge battle-dress had come straight from the stores and looked like it and although I could have delayed my departure to make myself more presentable I didn't. And I do not know anyone who did!, but as soon as I was back in the public eye it not surprising that I was getting some funny looks.
There were a few more to come before I finished my journey but one incident imprinted itself on my mind.
I have no idea where it was exactly but after changing trains and we got under way, I was lost in thought and the other person in the compartment; a member of the bowler hat and brolly brigade, went to some length to point out that it was a First Class compartment and that I appeared to have made a mistake.
Normally I would have treated it lightly but as his expression suggested that he had a nasty smell under his nose I'm afraid I was in no mood for that sort of nonsense. I cannot recall exactly what I said, but it certainly was not complimentary, I do remember that it was he that moved out and not me....after all, I did have a First Class ticket!
I finally arrived at Newmarket where it seemed that half my wife's HQ had turned out to greet me but why they were on the down-line platform when I arrived on the up-line platform I
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don't know and there was an awful lot of running about before we fell into each others arms. Then it was back to her office for a whirlwind of activity and excitement as a leave pass was arranged.
There was of course a very lively party in the evening before we finally retired to our room with some people that we had often stayed with on previous occasions. It was ironic that the lady of the house was the German wife of an old jockey of some repute.
Old "Willie" Warne had been the Kaisers jockey prior to the 1914/18 war and had been too late to get out of the country when that war started. The result was that he had been interned in Germany throughout the conflict. We had a lot to talk about!.
The following morning we were off to Worthing for a reunion with my parents and the rest of the family with the exception of two of my brothers who were still away in the forces.
My uniform and other clothes were waiting for me, all cleaned and pressed; although a little on the loose side and eventually, after lots more soaking in the bath most of the signs of the de-lousing powder disappeared. Nevertheless, a haircut was necessary, before I could get my cap on. The old barber that I had used for years nearly had a fit when he saw the state of my hair until I told him how it had got that way. That was the only free hair-cut I ever had out of him!. After that it more or less resumed it's natural colour and I was reconciled to a more civilised routine even though a touch of jaundice limited activities for a while. Something was bound to happen when the diet was undergoing that sort of change.
It was another twenty six years before I left the Air Force. I will never know why I was one of the lucky one's and it never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes I have thought that I have lived on borrowed time since those days.
If I had been a cat I would have run out of my nine lives a long time ago and I have always considered myself very fortunate to have enjoyed a longer period of relative peace than the older generation had experienced between two dreadful wars.
My youthful ambition to fly had been fullfilled [sic] ; even if it had been the hard and dangerous way. The war had finished and our country and our society seemed safe and secure at last.
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It had been achieved at the most dreadful cost in human lives and suffering. There were a lot of my old school friends and others that I would never see again.
Historians have since put forward many academic arguments on the conduct of the war as they have done throughout the years over long and bloody conflicts to try and prove points and discredit theories as well as personalities which is easy enough to do in hindsight.
The fact remains. Hitlers evil Third Reich was destroyed, and only just in time before the introduction of a new generation of weapons might have prolonged the war or even given Germany the chance of recovery. Then the pages of history would have been written somewhat differently and I doubt if todays armchair strategists would be in a position to express themselves quite so freely.
The overall number of casualties was appalling and the Royal Air Force had it's share as it wielded one of the most powerful and flexible weapons ever forged.
Bomber Command alone lost 47,293 aircrew killed or missing on operations over Europe, and another 8000 were killed in training and non-operational flights between 1939 and 1945.
A staggering 9000 bombers of all types were lost in the same period and at the peak of the air war 40% of Britains [sic] war production was concentrated in the manufacture of aircraft and supporting services.
Between them the Allied Air Forces devestated [sic] 70 cities and manufacturing centres severely curtailing production.
The Hamburg raids of 1943 disrupted U-boat building and caused the terrible fire-storm that resulted in more than 40,000 deaths. Altogether 3,600,000 homes were destroyed. 7,500,000,people were made homeless and there were 1,000,000 casualties caused by the bombing on the European front alone.
The costly raid on Peenemunde in the Baltic gave us breathing time to develope [sic] a defence against what could have been devestating [sic] damage from the V1's and V2's.
Sea and Air co-operation effectively swung the balance of the U.Boat war and a steady flow of war materials and food was assured from the vast resources of the USA.
The German Navy got bottled up and was no longer an effective
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force. The Luftwaffe was being depleted as their bomber force declined in favour of fighter production. Although in 1943 their production of fighters actually increased they were faced with the fact that experienced pilots cannot be produced, at the same rate as machines and the bombing was starving them of fuel.
Once Germany was forced onto the defensive as was Japan the writing was on the wall.
Towards the end of the war Germany had committed enormous quantities of some 20,000 anti-aircraft guns and vast quantities of ammunition to the defence of the Third Reich, tying up 1,000,000 troops and another 1,500,000 people in fire fighting, clearing up bomb damage and re-housing.
The destruction caused by Allied air raids affected German war production to such an extent that it was estimated by German sources that in 1943 alone, it cost, in terms of production, the [underlined] equivalent [/underlined] of 10,000 heavy guns and approximately 6000 heavy tanks. If the resources that those figures represent had reached the battle fronts the outcome of many a campaign might well have different.
Those figures are just some of the grim statistics on the balance sheet of a war that need not have happened if Hitler could have been prevented from embarking on his plans of world domination.
The overwhelming Allied air power was a major contribution which helped to reduce the casualty figures of the ground forces who eventually squeezed the discredited leaders of the German nation into surrender, giving Europe a chance to sort itself out and lay plans for a more peaceful future.
History will show that the transition into an uneasy 'peace' and the rebuilding of shattered countries and communities was not easily achieved but I am proud to have been part of it.
Alan.T.Gamble.
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"NIL DESPERANDUM”
[underlined] PREFACE [/underlined]
My war came to an end with Victory in Europe, when, after returning from German POW camp I was sent on leave to await further instructions.
For some time I expected to be called for duty in one of the areas of either Europe, the Middle East, India or the Far East where there was still a great deal of conflict going on, but it seemed that there were still plenty of people around to cope and it was many weeks before something was found for me to do.
I was content as long as my pay and allowances were being credited to my account, so I sat back waiting for something to happen and enjoyed being with the family again. My wife Dorothy was still in the Army and soon used up her leave entitlement to be home with me at Worthing although I managed several periods up at Newmarket where she was still stationed which was not too far away so I had a comfortable time rehabilitating myself until a telegram from the Air Ministry requested my presence at Whitehall to determine my future.
Meanwhile I had had plenty of time to contemplate both the past, present and the future. At least I still had a future of sorts which was a lot more than some of my old school friends whose short lives were about to be recorded on the memorial tablets.
My youthful past had been humdrum until joining the Royal Air Force and I could not see it getting any better by doing what so many were doing by getting `demobbed' and back into `civvy street' as soon as possible to pick up the threads of their previous occupation. Apart from anything else I was not even sure that I wanted to resume my previous occupation.
I had made the grade from the ranks to commissioned officer more by luck than anything else and despite some bad moments I had been introduced to a different sort of life; and it attracted me.
I had asked myself time and time again; should I throw it all away or capitalize on it? The answer always came out the same, whichever way I looked at the situation. I really had nothing to lose as I had very little to start with, so I approached the postings department at Air Ministry with an open mind and tongue in cheek.
I was kept waiting for a long time after I had presented myself, and bit by bit I progressed from the main reception to the clerks office then to an outer office until finally being called into the inner sanctum to be asked by a chap who simply asked what I would like to do.
It was such a surprise that I was barely able to splutter out "anything you like" and no doubt if I had not already given some thought to my future I could easily have blurted out "civvy street" and that would have been the road that I would have gone down. Nevertheless, my remark produced a contemplative "hm" and a lot of paper shuffling. I just looked at the ceiling and shuffled my feet!
The next question was "what about administrative work?" and I recall that my reply was something to the effect that "if that is what you would like me to do I will have a go" although my insides were churning. Me! administrative work! What the hell did I know about that, but the die was cast and I was sent off for a few more days leave to await further instructions, which took the form of a telegram instructing me to report to No. 47 Group. HQ, Hendon, for disposal.
I duly reported to the HQ which was in a group of huts, which is still there behind barbed wire in front of the Restaurant of the RAF Museum and by adopting the philosophy of leaving my destiny in someone else's hands the cards were shuffled once more. I was earmarked for administrative duties and sent home, once more to await further instructions.
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It was not long before, they arrived and then I was en route to Lyneham, in Wiltshire, all shiny, new and refreshed for the beginning of a new era.
[line of stars]
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[underlined] CHAPTER ONE [/underlined]
Lynham [sic] was a flying station of No. 47 Group, Transport Command so it made a change for me to be outside Bomber Command but I did not have a lot of time to contemplate the Yorks and Stirlings that were being flogged to and from many parts of the world. The arrival preliminaries were soon over and I found myself being employed as assistant to the Adjutant of 511 Squadron and was soon up to my ears in routine paper work, a lot of which was processing claims for campaign medals but it seemed an easy way to earn a crust for the ten days that I did the job and I learned a lot more about the running of, a unit like a flying Squadron which had not changed a lot since I had been a 'sprog' airman at Mildenhall in 1941 where I had started my first stint of admin in the orderly room. There was something else that had not changed. Stirlings being Stirlings, whatever the mark, could still get into an uncontrollable swing on take off and landing as I found out from the signals that were coming in reporting aircraft all the way down the route to India having swung and busted the undercarriage in some God forsaken place and I had not been flying a desk very long before one did the same thing at Lyneham which finished up careering into the operations block causing a number of casualties among ground staff.
It had previously entered my mind that if I could keep away from flying for a while it would not do me any harm but after that episode it did not seem to make any difference. I think that I would have been most upset at being pranged by a runaway Stirling whilst sitting at a desk; especially after successfully completing a tour in Bomber Command on them without damage to myself.
However, I was whisked out of that job overnight and flung straight into a properly established job in Station HQ. That of Station Assistant Adjutant although the job title of the appointment was a mis-nomer as far as I was concerned. It really was personnel administration and I inherited a staff of twenty headed by a Flight Sergeant Chief Clerk. All of a sudden I was an Admin Officer!
The reason for the sudden move requires a little explanation as I did not physically take over from the previous encumbant [sic] , a WAAF officer who apparently had got herself and the job into one hell of a mess and had been moved out smartly before things could get any worse. My brief from the Senior Admin Officer was to get stuck in and sort things out as quickly and as quietly as possible so I took over everything completely blind. Office, staff, ledgers, account books, cash and inventories. It was difficult to know just where to start so I familiarised myself first with the orderly room procedures and the staff who handled the details of some 2000 airmen and airwomen and then came the process of sorting my own office. It did not take long to find out that things were far worse than they appeared on the surface.
I started checking the inventories as I had signed for them subject to check and although some small one's were fairly easy but when it came to the bedding store, oh dear, oh dear. My heart missed a beat. It showed up a flaw in the system that been exploited for a long time by people quite prepared to make a few bob out of surplus blankets, only they were not surplus! Even in the stock room half blankets suitably folded had been counted as complete blankets to deceive the checkers for a long time. I had to have a long think about that one. There seemed no point in enquiries and chucking charges about. I had a feeling that it would bounce right back into my court. Quickly and quietly the boss had said, so I did it my way and worked at it steadily over a period of several weeks whilst dealing with other day to day matters.
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I had the station scoured for blankets that were being misused as curtains, table covers etc. and a few billet inspections with the aid of the Station Warrant Officer produced a considerable number that were in excess of entitlement and more than a few exchanges were made at the main stores until I was satisfied that the deficiencies had been reduced to a modest number that I could subsequently declare for write-off. War time methods of writing off losses were no longer in force so I was aiming for the minimum possible before asking for an independent check to be made with me in attendance. Such matters absorb a great deal of time and at the same time I introduced a completely new system of accounting for the issue, receipt„ storage and stock control of bedding without adding extra staff although there was a change of staff. The Corporal in charge of the bedding store! who I am sure was very pleased to go without a fuss. I found a place for him in the sanitary squad! In the long run quicker and quieter than the more formal way of doing things. I followed it up with a multi page paper on the subject, with recommendations for the changes that I had already made and submitted it through channels to Air Ministry, as I was sure that there were considerable savings to be made if my scheme was implemented officially. I can only assume that someone, somewhere along the line put his own name to it and nearly two years later an Air Ministry Order appeared almost word for word so it must have had some merit. It was still in force 40 years later!
I did get something out of though!. Nearly six months later after I had moved on and after an enquiry into the deficiencies that had been disclosed, a Board of Enquiry found me responsible for the losses and invited me to pay £5 toward the value of the losses. One learns the hard way and so it seemed that everyone was covering their backs, and they had to have their pound of flesh. £5 was a lot of money in 1945. About 25% of a weeks pay for a Flying Officer!
Had that backhander arrived whilst I had still been at Lyneham I might well have decided that Air Force Admin. was not for me but by then I was engaged in numerous other problems and learning to cope with them without compromising myself. It did not always work but I was getting better at it. In the meanwhile Dorothy had left the Army and was back with her parents in Worthing awaiting the arrival of an addition to the family.
Among other things that were under my jurisdiction were the issue of clothing coupons, tobacco and confectionery and petrol coupons and it did not take long to find out that the system of accounting for those items were far from satisfactory. Of course, they were all issued, or were supposed to have been issued according to entitlement as laid down in the relevant orders but I found it impossible to reconcile the stocks and book balances. I burned the midnight oil balancing, (or to be truthful, cooking them) until I had resolved the petrol and clothing coupons sufficiently to satisfy a snap audit which was always a possibility although obviously no such audit had been done for a long time.
In hindsight it would probably have been to my advantage to have asked for an independent audit when taking over, if it had occurred to me, but I was new to the business and without formal training it could still have gone against me in the same way as the blankets episode. I doubt that it would have gone against the departed WAAF officer who no doubt had left the service very smartly which was the normal practice for someone in her condition. There did not seem any point in making waves so in my ignorance I just pressed on.
The tobacco and confectionery coupons were a bit of a headache although I had not placed any priority on them but the first time I attended a Station Commanders conference the subject came up as the local and area NAAFI managers had apparently been tearing their hair out for some time as their monthly stocks were all being taken up in the first few days of the month and supplementary stocks were having to be put up to supply the demand for the rest of the month. I came directly into the firing line although my predecessor had previously been
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instructed to do something about it and of course the inevitable occurred. The finger was pointed at me with an instruction to "fix it ....and quickly". It did not take long to find an answer.
The blank coupons were initially issued by the NAAFI to units for distribution and generally coupons issued by one unit were valid at another and therein lay the problem. At Lyneham everyone other than the Officers and Sgt's messes seemed have about four times as many coupons as they should have but the work involved was not easy and I burned a lot of midnight oil personally setting up a system to get it right first time. I made all old coupons invalid as new coupons became valid from a certain date. They were all serial numbered and distributed to internal units and departments against nominal rolls There was no leeway or overlap. Any cases that would have previously been arbitrated by the Naafi staff were referred to me and only coupons bearing the Lyneham stamp were valid. All new arrivals got a new issue on surrender of their old one's with a limitation of only two weeks back issue. I did get it right first time!. The rot was stopped dead in it's tracks within the first few days of it's introduction. The Naafi managers were happy and despite the success of the operation that was the only area from which any compliment came and I was presented with an enormous box of chocolates for my wife with their compliments. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing that I had some aptitude for the work that I had been thrown into and had so far I seemed to have done it a bit better than someone with formal training.
There were other matters that needed a nudge in the right direction from time to time to bring them into line but eventually all the serious problems had been attended to and I was able to relax slightly as the job ticked over as it should have done in the first place. I even managed a few more week-ends at home instead of working right through but at that time people were still revelling in the euphoria of the cessation of the war and there was a lot of partying going on, and that of course meant too much drinking as an outlet for pent up emotions. There was one rip-roaring party to which I invited my Petty Officer Naval brother, (with temporary promotion to Lieutenant. RN. For the occasion) and it was the great granddaddy of all binges. We were in a very sorry state the next morning when we went down to the flight office as I had arranged a trip in a York for him. He had never flown before, and it had been no trouble to lay it on although it was in a freighter on air test that we found ourselves in. No seats. Just a load of loose covers on the floor with a few straps to hang onto.
I suppose it's something you are trained for and you grow up with so it was second nature to me. My poor brother felt differently about it with the thunder of the engines, the unfamiliar smells and a skyline that would not stay in place, and neither would his stomach as he was obliged to make use of the paper bag supplied!
His final thoughts on the matter were that he would sooner take his chance in the bowels of a ship than fly or have to chuck himself out of an aeroplane if it got into trouble although I am sure that when he was later obliged to fly back to the UK on compassionate leave on the death of his daughter he had more things on his mind than his own personal discomfort.
Bit by bit I attacked all of the accumulated problems and new one's as they arose and life began to jogg [sic] along quite nicely. I was able to spend time studying the activities and the rules and regulations of the personnel department for which I was responsible, although it was run very efficiently by a Flight Sergeant Waaf. Even so, I began to take more notice of what I was invariably signing for. At that point in time I seemed to have been launched in a career in Admin so it seemed logical that I should learn all that I could about it.
It was too much to expect that I would be left to settle for long. In early Spring of 1946 I received the reward for my efforts when I was notified that I was posted to Holmsley South in the New Forest, Hampshire, for Admin duties, so a quick hand over followed a handshake from the C.O. and to my surprise a "well done" and I was ready to go. One of my
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first thoughts was that I would be a lot nearer Worthing and things seemed to be working in my favour especially as Holmsley was another Transport command station with a Stirling squadron. The prospects were good and I had no reason to make any preliminary enquiries so off I went and waved goodbye to Lyneham.
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[underlined] Chapter Two [/underlined]
I completed the arrival formalities by eventually arriving at the C.O's office and that's when I received a nasty shock to be told that he was very pleased to see me as a very special job had been reserved for me. I was to take charge of 50 German POW's who would be arriving by train [underlined] the following day [/underlined] and the Senior Admin Officer would tell me all about it!
He did. A dispersed Nissen hutted site had been allocated. Beds and bedding had been set aside at the stores and an inventory opened ready for my signature. Cooking facilities had also been arranged on site "so off you go and the best of luck and keep them out of my hair" was the brief.
[underlined] Dispersed [/underlined] was the operative word. Typical of war time airfields it was well spread out and I was to find that the site that I had been allocated was nearly two miles from the main camp area but I was thinking very hard about the prospects and wondering if my reputation had preceeded [sic] me as they must have decided at the last moment to appoint an officer in charge. I must confess too that I rather liked the idea of being a POW Camp Commandant which was the title that I gave myself. After my recent experiences as a POW in Germany it would be interesting to have the role's reversed.
Most of my first day was spent checking out the site and supplies. The electricity was on, the plumbing was working and coal had already been dumped on site but it was the `cooking facilities' that intrigued me. It was no more than an old soya boiler and a Spitfire packing case but I was not going to worry too much about that. One thing was for sure. At the very worst the conditions could never be described as rough by comparison with the way we had been treated as prisoners so after reading up the limited amount of information that been handed over to me and making a few arrangements for the reception of the POW's I settled in the Mess and turned in that night with a clear conscience. The next day could take care of itself!
I duly met the motley crowd at Brockenhurst railway station the following day without too much ceremony having mustered a couple of hefty, armed Service policemen to make an impression and there I was handed a package of `bumph' by one of the two RAF (aircrew) Warrant Officers who were going to be my total staff for the indefinite period that they were going to be with us. As soon as we got back to the main camp I was able to dispense with the policemen and the POW's did a lot of waiting about whilst I poured over the documents with the Senior Admin Officer (who really didn't want to know), but I was determined to keep him in the picture before being told once more "get on with it". By that time I had got the impression that as far as I was concerned I was on my own!.
The POW's were all ex Africa Corp and had been incarcerated in working camps in Canada. They had been well fed and documented and were in the pipeline for repatriation, and they knew it and the best part was that they were to be reminded regularly with the added threat that if any one of them absconded, or even attempted to, then the whole lot would be put back to the end of a very long list.
That solved a lot of my fears and it was with a much lighter heart that I paraded the lot, read the riot act through their senior NCO `interpreter' although most of them knew enough English to understand and then we were off to the site where I paraded them again and explained that it was to be their home until further notice. I also explained that any comforts that they might enjoy would be achieved mainly by their own efforts which soon put a stop to any complaints that they might have thought of voicing. There was the inevitable roll call and familiarisation of faces having formally introduced myself and then we got down to work setting things up.
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The next few days were hectic as I scrounged, scavenged and borrowed all the necessary equipment to make life tolerable and there was a lot of earth moving, hammering, sawing and considerable industry as the days went by. The kitchen and mess room layout was built from the Spitfire packing case and sited in a partitioned end of a hut adjacent to the ablutions block to make use of the plumbing, and the remainder of the hut was turned into sleeping quarters for the duty officer and the site office.
There were few restrictions. By the very nature of our staffing arrangements it was an open camp apart from morning and night roll calls with one of the Warrant Officers or myself on camp throughout each 24 hour period. The daily routine was soon established. I was allowed a small cash ration allowance to supplement the daily ration issue and the prisoners were allowed a small basic pay in script as they were not allowed real money. They spent their script in the small canteen that we set up and it's value was converted into real money under my control (more book-keeping), for purchases from the Naafi main distribution centre in Southampton.
I was also allowed to employ them on the station in a variety of trades that they were suitable for and give small pay increments accordingly, so it was not long before some of them were being employed as drivers, fitters, cooks and butchers, cleaners and baggage handlers with a pool of refuse collectors. My message to them was very simple. "Screw up a good job and you go straight to the garbage detail". (There was no extra pay for that job!)
A bout of very wet weather made life very difficult as the entrance to the site was uphill and impossible for motor transport so that supplies had to be man-handled in but in my travels I had spotted a considerable supply of used and new PSP, (Perforated Steel Planking) of the type that many war time hard standings and even temporary runways were built with which had been more or less abandoned by the Americans, who had used Holmsley for the invasion of Normandy so several tons were transported to the site in the next spell of good weather and we got cracking. There was a lot more earth moving as the surface was prepared and we worked it out as we went along. I got my shirt off too which raised a few eyebrows among the troops.
Like any other body of men there will always be those who will hang about on the fringe of activity trying to look as if they are busy. Germans are no different! But I felt that if I could demonstrate that I could work as well as any of them then I would be justified in putting my boot behind anyone who seemed reluctant to flex his muscles so we toiled like an army of ants the whole of one week-end when I was the duty officer. At the end of the day we straightened our backs with the satisfaction of having done a good job in record time with a firm driveway leading up to a level turning area at the top.
I had a few crates of beer brought in later on and had the additional satisfaction of being told by one of them that it was most unlikely that a German officer would have applied himself in the same way. By that time I had bathed and was back in uniform and once more and `The Commandant' was feeling rather pleased with himself, so the reply that came from me, almost without thinking was....."possibly, and you lost"! Touche!.
After that things began to tick along quite nicely which was just as well as I was beginning to be drawn more and more into the routine work of the station. Nevertheless, the POW's took up most of my time and I had to argue my way out of doing station duties like Orderly Officer on the grounds that I was spending every third night and every, third week-end in the POW compound. I was excused station duties...but not for long!
I had to take fairly swifty [sic] action on one occasion when I had a report from the civilian accountant officer who came to work on his scooter that he just passed one of our two tonner's being driven by one of my POW's on the Southampton road, and he did not appear to have a load! I was off like a shot on my recently aquired [sic] motor cycle and chased after him.
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I was flat out for several miles before I caught him up and flagged him down. The driver was the one that I thought he might be. He was reputed to have been a pre-war racing driver mechanic and it appeared that he had been doing some unauthorised tuning of the truck's V8 engine as well. His argument that he was road testing the vehicle cut no ice as he had no authorisation to do either that or his journey so it was about turn and back to camp with me tailing him. I think he knew what to expect when I had him on the mat. Like everyone else he knew that Southampton was not many miles down the road and my own view was that he was making a dash for freedom although there was no way I could prove it. For him it was the loss of his trade pay and on the back of the refuse lorry instead of driving it! They had been warned!.
My motor cycle was a great help to me and allowed me to get between camp and Worthing in less than two hours giving me much more time with my family especially as I would normally have caught an early Sunday evening train to get back. With the bike I was usually driving into the compound on the dot of eight o'clock on the Monday morning to be received by one of the Warrant Officers and the Feldweibel. The bike was then taken to be cleaned up as I changed and had breakfast before going through the reports and morning inspection. The bike was then taken to be cleaned as I changed and had breakfast, before going through the reports and my morning inspection. [sic]
I had learned enough about Germans to know that they understood and respected that sort of routine so there was some satisfaction in having the bike cleaned and polished, very often by the chap who I had suspended from driving after his misdemeanour but I was too trusting. I should have remembered that once you give a "creegie", (an abbreviation of the German word for POW); an inch, he would take a mile. We used to!
On one fine day I decided to take run to Bournemouth and on the spur of the moment took the head man with me on the pillion but we had barely done a couple of miles when the bike went into a violent, almost uncontrollable wriggle on a bend which resulted in us being thrown onto the verge, on the wrong side of the road, somewhat shaken, when the back wheel locked up!
When had got our breath back it did not take long to find the cause of the trouble. A loose back wheel which had caused the wheel to go out of alignment and the chain to jump the sprocket! That had also upset the brake control but it was soon put right and the outing was abandoned. There was some more sorting out to do. I was quite adament [sic] that wheel nuts do not loosen themselves and I had already decided that the bike would no longer be cleaned by a particular prisoner and the same person found that he never did get back driving, or for that matter on any other job that might have restored his trade pay. There were no direct accusations but I think everyone was aware just how close `Sir' had been to a very nasty prang. It was just one of the many problems to be sorted out where my charges were concerned and it was not unusual for the local village policeman to be hauling one of my `boys' back into the compound in the early hours of the morning having found him sneaking around the village. It was an open camp after all and my staff was not large enough for anything else. Neither would the administration consider giving me a guard patrol at night so all sorts of things were known to be going on after roll call and lights out and I was obliged to turn a blind eye to such goings on provided that nothing desperate occurred. It was impossible to stop the forces of nature and if some of the local lasses preferred the company of German prisoners then that was their affair.
Another problem concerning the motor-bike nearly deprived me of it when I received a letter from an H.P. company advising me that the machine was the subject of an H.P. agreement between them and a third party and as Dorothy had opened the letter at home it really caused a storm in a tea cup!. The bike was costing me about four months pay on an
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H.P. agreement with another company! In the end it was not difficult to sort out. I threatened to sue the dealer that I had got the bike from and told the first H.P. company that the bike theoretically belonged to another HP company and then let them sort it out so in the end the bike remained in my possession.
It very nearly got bent on another occasion when a group of about five of us who had motor-bikes, (including the medical officer), went out for an evening's tour of the local area which included a few stops for [underlined] light [/underlined] refreshment. Perhaps that was what caused a little excess speed as we swept into a bend, line astern, with the Doc. in the lead, but he couldn't quite make it round the bend. Off the road he went whilst the rest of us made our own arrangements to keep control and come to a stop as the Doc. disappeared up someone's garden path. When we had turned around and investigated there was the Doc. bike and all, extracting himself from a flower bed. There was no real damage done except for the loss of an area of skin from his knee and a hole in his best trousers.
The lady of the house had just come out to see what all the commotion was about and seeing a pranged person discharging a quantity of blood on her path asked if she should get a doctor and with great solemnity the Doc. said, “thank you madam, I am a Doctor but I would very much like a cup of tea", so we all got tea and patched him up althoughfor [sic] some reason we did not indulge in that sort of escapade again.
Our little camp matured and blossomed and I thought that it was enterprising of the inmates to have achieved some colour in the place when flower borders appeared. I put it down to the generosity of the locals until I had a telephone call from a retired Colonel living in a pleasant old Victorian house next to the compound. It didn't take long to find out from a visit and a couple of sherry's that as our our flower beds blossomed his had thinned out. Actually he was very reasonable about it for a man with a name like his. It was BASTARD, so I naturally pronounced it Bas-tard, to be put well and truly in my place when he insisted that it was BASTARD by name and BASTARD by nature; but his bark was worse than his bite.
It was all simply resolved by the return and replanting of most of his plants and by the allocation of a regular POW gardener to him for two half days a week. Couldn't be fairer than that! We benefited from the deal as there was no further need to raid his garden. We apparently just appropriated surplus plants from his greenhouse!
I had a few days leave after our first daughter was born only to find on return that there had been a near mutiny among the prisoners when someone had upset their comfortable routine.
I had made arrangements that whilst I was away the Duty Officer would include certain daily checks that would normally have been done only at week-ends when I was not there. It had all been resolved by the time I got back but it had resulted from the actions of one officer, himself an ex POW, deciding that they should have a taste of what he had been subjected to resulting in numerous restrictions, parades and roll calls. Nothing too drastic but quite unnecessary in the circumstances when they were safe in the knowledge that all they had to do was behave themselves and repatriation was certain. The net result was that they had refused to go to work until the status quo had been restored. Just to show them that they were not going to get it all their own way I imposed a fine of one week's pay for everyone although it really need not have happened. It subsequently turned out that the officer concerned had been in Stalag X111b and V11a with me and we continually bumped into each other at various units over the following years but that's another story.
One highlight was our camp concert. News had been filtering through of the closing down of the whole station so I thought we should do something special without thinking too much about what the implications were for me, like what, when, where? so after a tentative enquiry the repatriation authorities suggested that if it did happen then my lot might well be
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moved up the repatriation schedule rather than re-locate them. I thought it wise to leek [sic] this information to them to act as an incentive to good behaviour and it did not take long to get things going. I did very little except to beg, borrow and scrounge stuff for them, including instruments and did not even vet scripts or attend rehearsals. I left that to my two Warrant Officers. It would have been a useless exercise anyway.
When the show was finally presented, the CO. and other Senior officers who had been invited seemed to enjoy themselves anyway although I suspect that many of the jokes were at our expense. Nevertheless, they all laughed in the right places; as I did, even if we did not fully understand what was being said. It was an interesting experience and there were no repercussions although their [sic] was an air of excitement creeping into our daily lives as this particular element of the vanquished Africa Corp. considered the pending return to their homes, or what was left of them, and as for me. What next?
About that period I was in the Mess one lunch-time when a noisy visiting aircrew were attracting a great deal of attention in the foyer and my eyes lighted on one of them. None other than Macdonalds Flight Engineer of my Stirling days, 'Paddy' Martin, now in the rank of Fg.Off, but we only managed a few minutes chat before they were all boarding a crew coach with I suspect, a little more than just their lunch on board, going out to their aircraft which was a Mk.V. Stirling no less.
When we met up again umpteen years later he swore that we had never met on such an occasion; but then he also swore that he had never attended my wedding in 1944 until I produced a photograph to prove that he did. The last information that he could recall of me was that `Tommy' Gamble had got the "chop" early in 1945. Close--very close, but not quite.
One very interesting event took place just about that time. A Courts Martial came up. That of a case of alleged rape of a WAAF by an aircrew Warrant Officer, and I found myself sitting with the court as one of the officers under instruction. All part of the training scheme.
The WO had engaged the services of a K.C. barrister whilst the prosecution had produced a relatively inexperienced officer, not of the legal profession, who had just been detailed for the job and the case lasted two days during which time I studied the form very carefully as it customary for anyone to be detailed for such jobs; either for defence or prosecution and my only experience of court procedure was in my youth when I had appeared before the magistrates for some minor cycling offence and this was very different.
We were in fact treated to some of the finest court arguments that it has ever been my privilege to witness as the barrister ripped the evidence of the prosecution to shreds in the most expert fashion and the case was not proven. It made me feel very uncomfortable to think that one day I might be detailed for such a job and find myself in the same invidious position as that unfortunate prosecuting officer so at that point I made two resolutions. One, to keep my head down when they were looking for someone to make a fool of himself in a court room, and Two, to dissuade anyone from accepting my services should I be so detailed. Needless to say, after it was all wrapped up I think we were all rather pleased to put our medals back into storage.
I then became heavily involved in the arrangements for the Squadron's move to Lyneham and followed the normal procedure of working with the RTO (Military Rail Transport Office) to move the remainder of the personnel that were not flying or going by road but when I submitted my part of the planned move of the movement order to the Station Commander he was not impressed and instructed me to cancel them and arrange for a fleet of coaches so that the move could be accomplished, taking a third of the time and with the bonus that the Squadrons would be non-operational for only a very short period. It made sense and having cancelled the RTO arrangements they were no longer concerned so I duly hired the coaches through a Christchurch firm and all went well. Shortly after the aircraft departed the
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transport baggage train convoy followed and a silence descended as the airfield was closed to active flying.
In due course the bill arrived for several hundred pounds and I passed it through accounts for payment thinking no more about it until an irate Group Accountant Officer came on the phone demanding to know why we had not used the RTO for transport and who had arranged it all. My insides went into a turmoil of panic as I thought of the consequences and the effect that it would have on my already overstrained finances particularly after he said that it was all very irregular and that he would send the bill personally to me for payment. That's when I dug my heels in and pointed out in no uncertain terms that it was the Group Captain's (who was no longer in command); decision and I had only carried out his instructions then the line cooled a little when he said he ought to send it to him instead.
In hindsight I suspect that he felt that he had to make a fuss under the circumstances but I think I chewed my fingernails down to nothing whilst I waited for the outcome. Thankfully I never did hear any more.
Meanwhile there was the problem of the shrinking station. I had been absorbed into the station HQ for all manner of duties and then in a twinkling of an eye I was unit Adjutant with a Squadron Leader CO. With all that on my shoulders it was time to place the full responsibility for the POW's onto the WO's. The senior was placed in charge and as the camp medical centre had already been closed I re-opened it and transferred the prisoners to it from the dispersed site which was closed. As far as their conditions were concerned they were now positively luxurious with all that a complete medical centre had to offer including constant hot water and a superb kitchen. That got them off of my back whilst I tackled the deluge of responsibilities that came my way.
We soon compressed the unit administration into one HQ building as bit by bit activities closed down and brought their own problems and although certain posts were disestablished there were some that had to remain and most of them fell into my lap. Almost every day another crop of posting notices arrived and more people were on there way leaving behind various duties for which they had been responsible and the one quick way was to concentrate that responsibility into the hands of some-one who would discharge the final act to terminate the job. With only a few officers left and with myself being one of the nominated seven to stay I would go so far as to suggest that I got more than my share being the junior officer.
All non-public accounts were concentrated under one control; mine, and although the monies were at the bank by the time I had collected seven accounts to the value of several thousand pounds I was beginning to feel somewhat uneasy particularly as I was delving into the mysteries of double entry book-keeping. There was more burning the midnight oil to study to try and work it all out and I tried desperately to take it in my stride without admitting that I knew very little about it in the first place. Now what would a Secondary schoolboy trained as a carpenter and subsequently a Wireless Operator/Gunner know about such things? Fortunately there was only one active account and although they all had to be audited by the accountant officer monthly who certified the balances I must have done it correctly as there were never any problems.
It was inevitable that among the various hats I was wearing I became the M.T. officer but only as the nominal head of the section which was as usual ably run by an experienced senior NCO. But the Air Force had this thing that only a commissioned officer could take the can back for anything that went wrong and I barely had time to sign for everything that I had become responsible for as it was so most of it was done tounge [sic] in cheek and fingers crossed. I had already crossed that bridge when I was at Lyneham so it was nothing new.
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One of the jobs for early elimination was that of Entertainments Officer as it was not an on-going thing but then it occurred to me that one of the accounts that I was managing was the PSI fund which was particularly healthy. The PSI fund is the equivalent of a Regimental Fund which when all was finally wound up would have any balance transferred to Group accounts. But it could be used for financing other projects-provided that it was not drained and I could not think of anything better than the concentration of the best of our remaining local talents into a final farewell party. It didn't take long to find someone to mastermind the production side and I developed it into a two hour music hall programme with some very accomplished and enthusiastic people. The hall was laid out along the lines of a German beer cellar with barrels of free beer being dispensed by real German waiters (my POW's) in white aprons in the time honoured fashion with free food laid on as well.
Maybe I pushed my luck a little but as I was also in charge of the few remaining service policemen I issued instructions to keep it cool with further orders to the POW's to the effect that none of them were to fall down until they had completed their jobs as barmen, cleaners and general handymen. As far as I know none of them did but no doubt because I was so heavily involved I could not have seen to everything and towards the end I was not far from falling down myself. I do know that when I did my rounds in the morning everything was back in place and cleaned up. If there had been any bad behaviour or punch-ups there was no evidence of it and the cells were empty. All I had to do after that was pay the bills but that was one hell of a party'
As the unit continued to thin out even more business came my way including the dreaded inventories and by that time I had already received the outcome of the Lyneham enquiry so although I was a bit peeved about it I felt safe in the knowledge that having started up my POW inventory from scratch it was a model of correctness from the time I opened it up. Nevertheless I was more than peeved when I found that I was required to take over dozens of depleted inventories from departing people and transfer the stocks to one holding inventory.
A job like that can only be done with a mountain of vouchers and although I tried to get the hard pressed storemen to do it internally I found myself stuck with it but it involved a lot of work including stock taking before taking some of them over. I had learned my lesson!
Numerous problems arose of course. Like the occasion when a bicycle found in the village pond was brought in by the local policeman. Identified by it's [sic] serial number the books showed that it had already been written off so no more paperwork was required. It was consigned to the scrap dump which was yet another of my responsibilities.
Naturally there was a lot of useful scrap in the yard as well as the rubbish and it was my job to see that a contract was let to a local merchant whose outgoing loads had to be inspected and approved by me at the Guard room and the price agreed on a signed invoice which went to the accountant officer who subsequently collected the money. It was all done according to the regulations so it was with some surprise that on one of my tours of the airfield I investigated the contents of a large packing case in the area of the old bomb dump. I found that it contained a brand new, still sealed, Wright Cyclone aero engine with American markings that had obviously been left behind by the USAAF prior to `D' Day.
Perhaps it was too innocent but at that time it seemed that my biggest problem was how to get rid of it as it was definitely not on charge. It was a completely surplus item until enquiries through the supply people resolved it. You simply took such an item on charge by filling in the appropriate vouchers and once it's on the books that's it. You can then transfer it so Engine, Aero, Wright Cyclone, Mk. ?, serial no. ? Port, One, was dealt with and I thought that was the end of it. Within an hour of having it picked up and conveyed to stores the scrap contractor was knocking at my door. He claimed that he had `discovered' same, but had not said anything to me whilst he was looking for a home for it, which he had only just done.
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I have often wondered if [sic] would really have known-anything about it's departure as according to him he had found someone running a one man airline with a Dakota who could have done with a spare engine and £500 was the price he was going to put to me but it was too late. (and hard luck Freddie Laker!). I certainly could have made use of that sort of money at that time and I might have been tempted but as the RAF was still using Dakota's it no doubt found it's way into one of them at a later date. There was never such another lucrative opportunity but there was no time to cry over spilt milk either. I was up to my ears in stores vouchers and posting notices as I had become the Personnel Officer again as the unit got smaller by the day and we got nearer our dead-line date. Then the time came when the POW's were warned to be ready.
When the day finally came there was no ceremony. All the hand shaking had been done before they were paraded. There was just a quick salute and "goodbye and good luck". That was that. Some of them had been receiving mail via the Red Cross and they had had access to UK newspapers so they knew what to expect. Those who had lost touch with family for various reasons did not have a lot to celebrate knowing that they were going back to a land that had been ravaged by a war that had destroyed so much. I knew what it was like; I had seen it, so there was no cheering and I was glad to see the back of them. As they marched off there was one thought that struck me that the WO's had not mentioned; the radio that I had been permitted to purchase on their behalf had not been handed back and I had to account for it. It was "Halt, about turn" and it didn't take long to find it when I told them that it had to be returned, even if they missed their train. One of them had it under his greatcoat!!!
It didn't take long to clear up the paper work after they had left then it was nose to the grindstone again as the next major job had to be attended to. That was the disposal of all non-public assets, mainly PSI funded, that had already been collected and an inventory drawn up which I then had to dispose of by public auction for which I engaged a firm of auctioneers. In all the book value was just over a thousand pounds and shortly before the sale which had been advertised I had a visit from a retired Air Commodore representing the Bournmouth [sic] Branch of the Royal Air Force Association who was prepared to make a cash offer for the whole lot at half the book value. I managed to negotiate the addition of the auctioneers fee if it was acceptable. It seemed a good deal to me but when I put the idea to the Group Accountant he was horrified. Oh dear no! It was most irregular and the regulations stated quite plainly that it had to go to auction so despite considerable pleading and argument he had the final word. Whilst my sympathies were with the Air Commodore and the RAFA there was nothing I could do about except apologise to him and let the sale go ahead.
I did not attend the auction and was quite happy to leave it in the capable hands of the experts but subsequently when I got the proceeds, less commission and handling fees it did not amount to much more than £100 for the lot! I was hot foot down to their offices for explanation but it was all above board although the receipts showed that most items had been knocked down at quite ridiculously low prices but I did find out that a certain Air Commodore had been in attendance and he and his cronies had done most of the bidding. As far as I was concerned the RAFA had got the stuff much cheaper than they would have done by private sale although I had a sneaking feeling that a certain Group Accountant was not going to be very happy so I obtained a complete breakdown of the sale prices and the purchasers before I left their office. Just as well. When the Group Accountant did spot it it really did 'hit the fan'. The line was red hot as we discussed the pro's and cons and it was perhaps my suggestion that in hindsight we should have accepted the cash offer in the first place. That brought forth accusations of collusion and conspiracy. That did it. I was on a short fuse anyway flogging my guts out and with more than my fair share of responsibility and there he was, up in his ivory tower counting paper money so I let him have facts and figures, not forgetting to point out that I was after all a lowly GD(General Duties) Flying Officer doing my best in a job that
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I had received absolutely no training for. Then he simmered down, huffing and puffing, "it's still all very irregular". I began to get somewhat fed up with Admin duties that was for sure but had no option but to "press on".
Fortunately the unit accountant had been the Accountant Officer at Chedburgh when I was there in 1943 and only dealt with the day to day financial matters at Holmsley but knew enough of our experiences there at the time was very sympathetic and supportive and assured me that the Group A.O. was only making waves in case anything went seriously wrong and he got the blame for it so I learned a few more lessons about human nature. He was very helpful in many ways.
On one occasion he arrived at the office from Lyndhurst on his scooter and related the story of how he had just seen a pig clouted by a car down the road and how it had finished up head first in a ditch looking very dead. The driver had not stopped and obviously would not be reporting it as the bye-laws of the New Forest gave right of way to animals. But `headfirst' sounded good to me. I don't know if it was the 'creegie' still in me or just the thought of all that good meat going to waste but in no time at all I had a two ton truck and two kitchen hands with carving knives on board scorching down the road where we spotted the animal, still headfirst and no longer bleeding. Many people must have passed it and there no doubt in my mind that if it was left a great deal of fresh meat would go to waste even if the owner of the animal were to be found within the next few hours so we cruised pat [sic] the corpse and cruised back again keeping a good look-out in both directions. As we came up to it there was nothing in sight arid within a matter of seconds it was on board and we were off. It certainly supplemented our rations for a few days and I had no qualms about my action which were quite illegal and would have caused a few embarrassing headlines if the law had been tested.
Fortunately for me it never was.
The unit finally dwindled to three officers and a handful of airmen and we all finished up in a large house that had been the CO's official residence. I claimed an enormous room, en-suite, as I was the only one living in so I had a little luxury that compensated to a degree for the enormous amount of paperwork that was involved. Even moving has it's problems like decommissioning this that and the other, re-arranging the staff, and getting phones transferred as we no longer needed a switchboard. I was still doing about 16 hours a day to keep on top of the work so that I could have my week-ends free to get through to Worthing when a bombshell arrived in the form of a posting notice detaching me to Hereford, on an [underlined] Admin course!!!! [/underlined]
At the time I thought that perhaps my career was being advanced by that development so I didn't make a fuss although the duration of the course was three weeks. I [sic] would mean nearly a month without visiting home as it was too far on the bike and too expensive by train. My fellow officers thought it would do me good to take the course so I was off.
Perhaps I would have benefited from it if it had not been a course specifically designed for young aircrew officers to teach them the inner workings of the Air Force although at first I decided to go along with it. Within a few days I came to the conclusion that it was not for the likes of me who was actually doing such work. It seemed more of a disciplinary course to occupy idle hands and mine had been far from idle for a long time. I became more and more resentful as the days went by as I was shown how to use a rifle and a pistol and a Sten gun and engage in all manner of field craft including escape and evasion techniques which involved crawling around in long wet grass which at one point I strongly objected to only to be told that I might find the experience useful one day! What does one say to that? Matey, I've done it, and a fat lot of good it was when in the end I was surrounded and had a Schmeisser stuck up my nose. It didn't cut any ice. Then there was all the drill and parade procedures which were not entirely new to me either although I can understand the needs of some who for some reason didn't know one end of a rifle from the other and were
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somewhat unwilling to pull triggers and throw grenades. I wondered what they had been doing in their very limited careers!
The classroom work was mainly forms, forms and more forms and their use therof [sic] as well as stores procedures and of other things like how to write letters, command structure and a lot of other stuff that was old hat. By the end of the first week I was fuming I was not learning anything new and there was a lot of work piling up at Holmsley just waiting for me to deal with. Only the most essential would be dealt with by the others and I could visualise many hours of binding graft before I was likely to have broken the back of it.
I must confess that my attitude toward the course as we started the second week was not going unnoticed by the course commander who quite naturally took me aside to point out the error of my ways. That is when the real reason for the course was confirmed. Not only was it intended for surplus aircrew officers to find something for them to do but it definitely was a disciplinary course as well so I was being assessed accordingly--------and I was not doing very well! It seemed that we had gone back in time to "Yours is not to reason why etc" and I had had enough of that as an airman. For a start I wondered why I had been sent on such a course anyway so I promptly made a request to phone my parent Group HQ `P' Staff which brought forth howls of indignant protest. Despite the fact that I was normally in touch with the chap on an almost daily basis I was told in no uncertain terms that such lowly types as myself were not allowed to communicate direct with the higher echelons. It was only the prerogative of senior officers to the `top brass' and that is what I was on the course to learn about. As far as I was concerned it was utter nonsense and I had serious doubts regarding the background experience of this Flight Lieutenant of the A & SD (Admin & Special Duties) Branch who seemed unaware that the `top brass' were only people like ourselves holding staff appointments. Not only that, a lot of them were like myself of the GD (General Duties-Flying) Branch. Expected to do anything that was thrown at them------including flying!
Suitably chastised I was dismissed with threats of extra orderly officer duties and the inclusion of some appropriate remarks on my course and confidential report so I simmered down a bit as I waited for an opportunity to use his phone whilst he was out of his office a few days later. There all hell let loose when he suddenly burst in, very angry and rightfully indignant at the audacity etc, etc, at performing, in his eyes, an almost criminal act. Not that I was unduly worried as by that time I had already done what I set out to do and the threats went over my head.
Within four hours a signal arrived from Transport Command HQ. recalling me to my unit urgently and naturally I was called to his office immediately to have the signal waived under my nose. "Explain this!!!! So I did, in detail that he had not been prepared to listen to previously and I think he understood my action even if he could not approve of the manner in which I had dealt with it. As far as I was concerned I was off the damn silly course and I was on my way.
As soon as I returned to base I plunged into a mountain of paper work and after two days and nights of frenzied activity I came out on top ready for a long week-end at home.
During that burst of activity there was an unannounced staff visit from Group HQ and all the visitors could find was one junior officer slaving away, whilst the others were out hunting, shooting and fishing around the area and that put the cat among the pigeons. That and my absence for nearly two weeks seemed to solve the problem of the numerous delays that occurred in the closing down procedure. Hence a snap visit! And although I could only explain the absence of the others by saying they were on tours of inspection, when they did turn up there was a lot of muttering behind closed doors and I was only too happy to bury myself in paper again.
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A few more weeks went by until at last we were run right down to a C & M (Care & Maintenance) party. At last I had got my head above water and I could relax a little-----but not for long.
A telephone call from Group, followed by a posting notice gave me advance warning of my posting to Oakington in Cambridgeshire for --------Admin duties, to report in a few days time, but as far as I was concerned, not before I had another long week-end at home. After just thirty months I was a bit of a stranger at home, especially to the baby but I felt that something had to be sacrificed if there was any chance that I could make a career out of the Air Force. At least, I thought, Oakington is a well established station so I should slip into the same sort of job that I had done at Lyneham without any hassle. I had had enough challenges for a while-------but I had overlooked the fact that so had Lyneham been well established and what a mess that had been in. There was more to come.
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[underlined] CHAPTER THREE [/underlined]
The journey up to Oakington was nearly a disaster. After a few days at home I set off on the motor bike on a cold and frosty morning, Loaded to the hilt, wearing full flying kit over my uniform and greatcoat which included a bright yellow immersion suit and flying boots, helmet, goggles and gloves, looking like something from outer space but warm and well protected I had just cleared the London area when the front of a blizzard caught up with me and my speed was drastically reduced to a few miles an hour with my feet stuck out like out-riggers to prevent me sliding all over the place and in those conditions I pressed on until I got to Baldock.
By that time there was between three and four inches of virgin snow covering everything and every sensible traveller had got off of the road. There was very little other traffic so I ventured down the hill very slowly with my aching legs still propping up the bike and found myself gaining on the only other vehicle in sight which was a fairly high standing two ton truck, and I was desperately trying to slow down when suddenly the truck driver braked and slithered along fishtailing to a stop. I knew that my brakes were not going to stop me as I slid gently towards the back-end of the truck and when it quite obvious that the tailboard hinges were going to spread my face I took the only option open to me. I flipped the bike on it's side and went underneath. It was just as well the truck had a good ground clearance as I went right underneath the back axle and came out between the front and rear wheels with my tail in the gutter. The driver had obviously been completely unaware of the incident as within seconds of my coming to rest he started to move off, with my front wheel right underneath his rear wheel so I reached out and pushed on the truck wheel and the bike and I slid out just enough to avoid serious damage to the bike. The truck wheel just squashed over the front number plate and mudguard and then he was gone before I could get my breath back. There was not another vehicle in sight and the only other person around was an elderly lady, who might well have been the cause of the drivers urgent braking; who, observing the situation, was concerned enough to ask if I had had an accident!! What she thought I was doing there, laying in the gutter with a motor-bike I don't know but I think that I said something suitably facetious as she tottered off and I started to sort myself out.
I was very glad that I was wearing so much gear rather than having tried to pack it. I was not even bruised and apart from a slightly bent number plate and tip of the mudguard there was no other damage to the bike but it took a while before I recovered sufficiently to get going again getting more than a little concerned as it had started to snow quite heavily. However, with traffic clear roads I was able to make progress and eventually outran the weather front, coming out completely in the clear and completing the last ten miles completely free of snow. Oh, blessed relief…..until I ran out of petrol just in sight of the camp!! I had overlooked the fact that I had been using it up at a much higher rate than normal doing so many miles in low gears. Fortunately an Air Ministry Works Dept truck came along and with the aid of a length of rope I was gently towed the rest of the way. After an eight hour journey I had at made it to Oakington and I was only too glad to book into the Mess and leave the arrival formalities until the following day. A bath, a change of clothes and a meal and early to bed made all the difference.
I soon found that the job was to be the same as Lyneham and I was looking forward to free-wheeling for a while until I met the C.O. I could hardly believe my ears after the introduction. "Ah" he said, "you are the very man I have been waiting far. My Central Registry and internal communications are in a bit of a mess and I'm told that you the man to fix things. The last chap couldn't sort things out and I've got rid of him so off you go and get stuck in". Oh no........not again!
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The only consolation was that my previous efforts seem to have been recognised and that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to find a career in the Secretarial Branch ultimately as I always seemed to be sorting out jobs that Secretarial types had made a cock-up of; so off I went and "got stuck in". There was no-one to take over from so once again I started from scratch: At least there was not the panic to get things squared up and the routine work went smoothly enough whilst I conducted a searching enquiry into the main problem that I had been instructed to sort out.
At that time my own personal problems needed sorting out as well. Now that I was a family man the household at Worthing was getting a bit crowded particularly since Dorothy's brother-in-law had at last been de-mobbed after being abroad with the 8th Army for four years and there was family expected in that direction. I was frantically looking around for suitable accommodation and although official quarters for married personnel was beginning to come back on the scene the points system that determined one's entitlement suggested that it was going to be a long time before I qualified for one. I was just one of millions of people who were desperately trying to re-settle and in need of accommodation. The story was invariably the same when one enquired. "Sorry, no children" and it all added to the frustration.
Eventually I did find a place just to the North of Cambridge on the Huntingdon road and plans were made although I must confess that I did not tell Dorothy the exact arrangement of the accommodation. The kitchen was in the basement. The living room was on the ground floor. The bathroom was on the second floor and the bedroom on the third floor! I didn't dare, but I hired a car and drove down to Worthing in a clear gap in the weather pattern that the Met. Man assured me would last a couple of days.
Apart from the occasional sortie in the Flight pick-up van when I had been at Newmarket two years previously I had never taken a car on the public highway before but I don't think that I gave it a second thought. The family needed something picked up from near Leighton Buzzard `on the way' which created a fair sized `dog-leg' but did give me a few more miles to come to terms with my lack of experience, and it avoided London so somehow I made it to Worthing.
Travelling by car those days was generally a fairly slow business as there were few major roads that allowed high speed cruising and one just plodded on but there was no time to mess about as we loaded up the car the following morning and off we went, having arranged that the pram, fully loaded, was to follow by rail. There were tears on our departure and I think that perhaps the most ironic thing was the remark from my sister-in-law that there was no need to worry as "Alan was a good driver" and that we would be OK. I don't know what gave her that impression. Little did they know, but I had managed 200 miles without any problem......so what was another 140! The journey was not uneventful! That would have been too much to ask for.
The hire car had been a reluctant starter at the very outset but we had got as far as Kingston when in the dip under the railway by the station the engine packed up and so did the battery. Not the best place to fizzle out but eventually we were pulled clear and towed to a garage a little further up where I purchased a new battery and we were an our way again. The fact that the cost of the battery had to come off the hire fee did not please the hire firm when the car was returned but a compromise was eventually reached. The main thing was that we had taken up residence in a place of our own for the very first time and much to my surprise Dorothy accepted the arrangement of the flat although we soon made alternative plans to avoid going right to the top of the house to a cold bedroom as I had already installed a convertible settee in the living room. That was soon put to use.
The met. Man's forecast was absolutely spot on. The day after we arrived the weather that had been expected hit us with a vengeance when about a foot of snow fell. The basement back door was unusable with a drift of snow filling the door well right to the top and massive
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drifts along the road due to cross winds were up to six feet-high. Cars were already stuck. It was impossible to get the bike out from the bottom of the garden and a colleague who lived in the same building joined me in walking to camp across country. It was a long way and our situation was not improved when we came to the edge of the airfield and in making a direct approach to a gate he disappeared through the snow cover up to his neck in a ditch but we made it in the end. I'm glad it was him in the lead as he was nearly a foot taller than me. I would have completely disappeared!
We struggled back home in the late afternoon as life on the station virtually came to a standstill. There was no flying and with more snow forecast the whole airfield was blanketed although an energetic but useless snow clearing operation was initiated which at least kept us warm. There was a slight spell of thawing when some areas of the road went a bit slushy but then a `deep freeze' hit the whole area and everything was locked up solid. People got to and from work the best way they could. The main Cambridge to Huntingdon road was impassable due to buried frozen in vehicles. The C.O. issued an order of the day allowing any type of clothing to be worn to cope with the extreme weather and we just battled on from day to day. At home of course there was no central heating but fires just had to be kept going on the fuel supplies I had stocked up although it was difficult to get at and it was supplemented with anything else that was to hand but it thawed and froze alternatively for weeks before a general thaw finally set in and vehicles could be released from their icy cocoons, many totally ruined. The A604 (now the A14) was still difficult to negotiate through ridges and ruts of ice well into March.
Meanwhile I had had all the time I needed to complete my survey and draw up my plans accordingly. I placed a brief outline of my proposals before the C.O. and although he gave me cart-blanche to get on with an added word of warning such as "cock it up and you will follow the last chap" so I worked my way right through the plan once more to look for problems before drafting the final order. Meanwhile, I had collected two more responsibilities. The Post Office as Postmaster and that of Mess Secretary which meant that more of my precious time would be used up but the day came when the plan that I had circulated to all users was put into effect and on that day there was absolutely no problem with it's introduction. I had expected some hick-ups but it all worked like a charm.
I decentralised the Registry to cut down the appalling wasteful duplication of just about everything that was going in and out. That in itself was causing delays and was a self generated work load. New index cards and registers were brought into use and the system updated to ensure that files were booked back in as well as out! As daft as it may seem that had not been the case so files could wander around between people and departments and the Registry had no knowledge of the whereabouts of a file if it was not in it's cabinet. I have often wondered what 'mastermind' had set all that up in the first place as it certainly did not conform to the Manual of Office Administration. However, new index cards and registers were brought into use and when it got under way the staff had no difficulty in handling the new system so within days a few sub-registry's became redundant and number of active filing cabinets was reduced from twenty to four, all cross referenced to the old registry. The bumbling circulation of paper was at last reduced to manageable proportions. The C.O. spent less time than he had done previously handling his daily correspondence and when I found that too many people were now sitting around doing little more than making tea a quick establishment review reduced the number of Registry clerks from ten to four. It made my life a little easier too as long as I didn't collect too many other jobs on the strength of my success.
I was certain by this time that it could only do me good as far as my confidential report was concerned. I had already applied for and been granted two extentions [sic] of service that had taken me beyond my normal discharge date and that's, as far as I was concerned, was what it was all about if I was going to be noticed. Any ambitions that I had at that time were
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mainly concerned with holding on to a relatively well paid job as a lot of my school chums were not finding 'civvy street' all that easy. I had no other qualifications other that of cabinet maker/polisher, [underlined] lapsed, [/underlined] and wireless operator, almost lapsed, so I just hung on to what I had got.
Like a good many of my age group and background, politics were not my strong point but it was not long before there was an awareness. Some very odd things were happening. The first post-war elections had shaken a lot of people when our remarkable war-time leader's party had been rejected for a different administration with an overwhelming majority. It did not make sense to me but the daily routine had to go just the same although some very subtle changes were taking place. Naturally I was shielded from a lot of it by being in the Armed Forces but it was difficult not to notice what was going an as the main effort was being channelled into `Nationalisation'! That meant roads, rail, steel coal, electricity, road transport, health care and a lot more that was in the pipeline. It was one of the great bloodless revolutions of the age. It was of course jobs for the `boys', the party members, who were often elevated to manage their previous employers businesses for the benefit of the state. History will show whether it worked or not but a lot of new ideas were filtering into the Forces.
One of those was the formation of a Station Committee made up representatives of all ranks from all departments, elected by ballot and not by appointment, which was to sit weekly to air grievances, discuss working arrangements and conditions and in fact anything other than pay, appointments and promotion. The unit Commander chaired the committee but thank God he had the power of veto and most commanders voiced their indignation at having their time wasted with such nonsense. Like mine did when he was on his way to such a meeting at which I was to take the minutes. "Come on Gamble; lets get along to this bloody silly union meeting". What a funny way to run a military establishment. It was a complete turnaround from the normal well established command structure and had all the ingredients to undermine discipline. It did little more than waste time but I had the distinct feeling that the tail was beginning to wag the dog!
I ran into a union problem sooner than I expected when we had two steward posts in the Mess disestablished. The disestablishment notice came straight out of the blue and the Mess Manager and I agreed that we would could [sic] do without the two least useful members of the staff who were duly served notice. Immediately there was a great deal of protest about being contrary to trades union practice etc, and that their representatives would be taking up the policy of disestablishing jobs without union consultation as well as giving notice to people to terminate their employment without the same consultation.
I turned a blind eye to it all but within a few hours I had a trade union rep. From Cambridge breathing heavily in my ear and telling me that I couldn't do it. That was red rag to a bull so I dismissed him with a flea in his ear but it was not over. A few hours later a chap from an Air Ministry department for civil relations or something was on the phone telling me that I couldn't do it, and quoted chapter and verse from the newly drawn up trade union rule book so I had no choice but to bow to that although I insisted that I had it in writing. Meanwhile the two men were re-instated as we were forced to apply the last in first out rule. As far as I was concerned it still was not over. Two could play that game.
I got hold of a copy of the union rule book and studied it at great length with the Mess Manager before we took our next step. Within a few days two people got their cards by reason of incompetence. (They had had plenty of verbal warnings over a period of time, and a written one as soon as they had been re-employed)......and immediately afterwards the two men that we wanted to keep were re-instated. Of course, there were immediate screams of protest from the union officials so I invited them to a face to face confrontation with both the Mess Manager and myself where they used every argument they could accusing us of `collusion',
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`unfair treatment' and `victimisation', but what they couldn't say was that it was illegal. It was right out of their own rule book but I was never entirely comfortable about the incident but I was damned if I was going to be told who and who not I could employ in certain circumstances. I quickly briefed the C.O. in case of repercussions but nothing further came of it.
It was about that time another incredibly wasteful practice came to light more or less by accident.
We were continually being exhorted to use less stationary and in particular duplicating paper and I had already done quite a lot to reduce the consumption by the registry arrangements. I had followed it up by reducing the supply to sub units and at the same time allocating more to the central registry for printing on behalf of the sub units although every job had to be vetted by my chief clerk. That had helped but we were still going through our allocation rather quickly and as H.M. Stationary Office were not always prepared to meet supplementary demands WE had to do something about it. WE equals ME in those circumstances as it fell into my lap once more as unit commanders complained to the Senior Admin Officer that they were being starved of certain stationary items. It was just about that time that Bourne, on the Cambridge to St.Neots road, for-which we were the parent unit, was in the late stages of closing down so I went over to see if they had anything in the stationary line that would be of any use to us. What I found was an Alladins cave as the stationary store was opened for me!.
There was an assortment of exotic stuff like the pale blue embossed pre-war paper for the exclusive use of unit commanders. Beautifully bound ledgers, some indexed. Note books, log books and all kinds of stuff that must have accumulated over a long period. It was stuff that if you were to order any of it in the present conditions you would be very lucky to have got any of it without putting up a special case. I was bugg eyed and it did not take long to transfer that lot to a three tonner and convey it to Oakington. Our stationary cupboard had to be re-arranged with the assistance of most of my staff and re-stocked until it was virtually bulging at the seams... ...and I held the key and a newly drawn up stock book!!
I think that I know how it was all accumulated. The same half yearly demand must have gone in as regular as clockwork irrespective of stocks but times were changing and so were the figures that showed that the Air Force was using even more paper per flying hour than ever before but no-one could say Oakington was not doing it's bit although there were still some items that we were short of so I phoned H.M. Stationary Office and did a deal. I don't think such a thing had ever happened before. There was a lot of huffing and puffing and expressions of "highly irregular" but they went along with it. We sent them a large packing case of what I considered was surplus to our requirements in exchange for a supplementary issue of items we were in urgent need of and everyone was happy but I just wondered how often that sort of wastefulness had been repeated by the hundreds of other units up and down the country during the war when every commodity was so precious to us and had often cost lives to import the raw materials. It was mind boggling.
Bit by bit life became a little more regulated although it was never without it's share of excitement and on occasions I even managed to tour around various other parts of the station including the airfield and the aircraft; Dakota's no less! It was not long after the snow and ice cleared and things started to warm up that the unsettled conditions usually associated with the end of April brought some savage weather including the most violent thunderstorms that I have only ever seen on one other occasion since.
In the late morning the sky darkened by degrees until it became as black as night and the wind increased by the minute to the point where it started to howl with the most savage gusts.....and then the rain came! It slashed and swirled and in no time all the roads were like rivers as the drains overloaded and I stood in my office window at the front of the HQ
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building thinking how lucky I was that I was not out in it. Anyone with any sense had taken cover and as I contemplated the violence of the storm I was astonished to see the striped pole barrier in front of the Guard Room suddenly whip into the vertical, snap off like a matchstick and disappear over the building. It occurred to me that that would be a job I would have to see to when the storm abated when the little Austin Seven which was parked outside and had been rocking about as each gust hit it; suddenly flipped on it's side. Oh well, I thought that can wait too.......then the phone rang.
Above a great deal of noise on the line an almost hysterical WAAF in the Post Office blurted out "please come at once sir, the roof has blown off”. My first reaction was "S..." but I had no choice so out I went, splashing my way through about four inches of water and was soaked in a matter of seconds. The Post Office looked a sorry sight minus it's roof which lay, completely wrecked, not far away but the poor girls were more concerned with the fact that as they had just set up the counter for business the contents of their trays had been sucked up, following the roof, and had been deposited far and wide. I don't remember having any lunch that day.
The clerks gathered up all the rest of their Post Office stocks and set up a temporary post room in the WAAF quarters and then I locked the place up! That was a laugh. I felt that I had to do that as only a week before I had had new mortice locks fitted and the safe securely embedded in brickwork. All that and now the place was roofless!
Although the clerks had set up the post room just inside the WAAF quarters they initially used the laundry room for sorting out their stock. A few telephone calls got some search parties organised as well as a broadcast on the PA system and before long some very soggy money and postal orders started coming in. It was rinsed, dried and ironed much to the amusement of all concerned but the amazing thing was that when I called off the search there was only one ten shilling (50p) postal order missing. When the inspectors arrived from Cambridge GPO (General Post Office) towards the end of the day they were agreeably surprised that that was all they had to write off after seeing the state of the Post Office. We were all somewhat relieved at that. I made may report to the C.O. later and followed up with a load of repair work including the barrier pole in front of the Guard Room.
I thought that was enough for one day until I got home. Dorothy had had her share as well. The downpour had filled up a balcony outside a full length window of one of the other flats and she had spent a lot of time baling out the balcony to stop the flow into the room whilst the storm was raging. We were both very relieved when that day was over.
Eventually things settled down as the year wore on and we experienced a most beautiful summer. Life in Cambridge with it's wonderful buildings and activities made life very interesting. Even the baby indulged us by winning first prize in a baby competition but as far as the job was concerned with most of the problems ironed out it was almost boring, but a great opportunity to develope [sic] family life to the full. Again it was too good to last!
I was asked to report to Transport Command HQ at Teddington, Middlesex for a job I [sic] interview and I was sure that the business was opening up for me. Out of the four candidates for the job I was offered it and I accepted. It was in the "P" Staff (Personnel) dept of the HQ so before long I was wrapping up and making the necessary arrangements to move the family. Although Teddington was not too far away Dorothy felt that she did not want to be on her own and preferred to go back to Worthing with her parents; [underlined] particularly as we had just found out that there was another addition to the family on the way! [/underlined] In hindsight it was a pity that we gave up the flat. I'm sure that we could have coped but Teddington was also convenient for Worthing but we settled for that.
The C.O. gave me the opportunity of nominating a suitable relief so a friend who was the Operation Wing Adjutant was acceptable and so it was goodbye Oakington. Here we go again!
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One or more pages is missing, apparently pages 24 – 86
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EXTRACT FROM
[underlined] NIL DESPERANUM…… [/underlined] OR
IF YOU CAN’T TAKE A JOKE ………
[underlined] BY [/underlined]
[underlined] A. GAMBLE [/underlined]
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knock. Pay awards had for some time been based on a flat rate rather than a percentage increase and the differential between ranks had closed up considerably. I now found that a Warrant Officer aircrew was in fact was in fact better off than a Flight Lieutenant!, which did not make a lot of sense. My situation was not improved by the Wolsley's rather extravagant use of oil and petrol and it eventually ran a big-end on the A5 just North of Birmingham on the way home one week-end so I didn't make it. Fortunately I had relatives at West Bromwich so I was able to stay with them until I could pick the car up in sufficient time to get back Sunday evening. That made another nasty hole in the accounts!.
That little episode put paid to a few week-ends at home. There was no-one at that time living anywhere around or on route that I could share with so I was obliged to stay in the mess with others in a similar state, although we often filled up a car and toured into Wales for a day to fill in the time.
A friend kindly offered me the use of his motor bike to go home one week-end and although it was only a clapped out 250cc side valve BSA I thought it was worth a try. That was a laugh and a half.
I dressed up in a selection of flying gear that I had with me and I was off into the wide blue yonder. I mounted the thing and kicked it into life and the first thing that was obviously wrong was the throttle which had a mind of it's own. I was not the sort of chap who could tolerate sloppy machinery so a quick investigation soon found that the top of the carburettor needed screwing back on and with a few other adjustments I set off. Before I had got to the main gate I was obliged to totter down to the MT yard to have the tyres inflated by as much as 20lbs both front and rear and then I was under way. Even then I was not feeling too happy about the machine. There were unpleasant noises from the engine and the first few bends caused the most peculiar sensations so another pit stop to tighten the head and forks dampers was taken. They had been very very loose and being forks with dampers gives some indication of it's great age. I was still feeling my way with it when I had to put the brakes on rather briskly when the lights went against me in Wellington and the back wheel locked up throwing me into
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gutter. Another pit stop to adjust primary and main chains and brake linkage was necessary before I could head East again. I very nearly threw my hand in then but surprisingly I found myself jogging along quite comfortably at between 45 and 50 but with still an ear tuned to the knocking from the engine until a convenient garage came in sight and it seemed an appropriate time to stop as there were signs of overheating. This is a bit of an understatement as she was almost red hot 'pinging' with excess heat. Whilst it was cooling down I dipped the oil tank and couldn't find a level so it took nearly two pints to top it up, then it was cool enough to change the spark plug and reset the points before the final test. I had so far done about 60 miles in three hours and it was decision time as I gingerly started up and carefully took off once more.
After a few more miles all was well so I decided to go for broke and head for home at speeds between 50 and 60 and finally arrived at Marham some 7 hours after departure much to the surprise of the rest of the family.
The return journey on Sunday took less than 4 hours so at breakfast on Monday morning I was able to tell the owner of the bike that all was well and I hope he didn’t mind that I had found it necessary to make a few adjustments which he was quite happy about.
He did not seem quite so happy later on that evening when he came into the bar with plasters on his face and a bandage on his hand. Before I could [inserted] say [/inserted] anything he hurled at me "you and your bloody adjustments", but laughed as he said it before telling that me what it was all about. Apparently, being so used to the machine that he had allowed to get so sloppy and gutless he had attempted to drive off in his usual way but it reared up, tore across a rose bed and threw him in another one!. Nevertheless, he was very impressed with the way it performed when he had got used to it so when the word got around I finished up with a few more machines to tinker with to keep me occupied.
The fastest I ever did that journey one way was 30 minutes. In a Canberra!. I was being 'dined out' at Marham and the aircraft was laid on for me one Friday afternoon. The pilot was the co-pilot of my last 90 Squadron crew and he showed Shawbury a few thing…and me. It was the: first time I had
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ever done a 'rotation' take-off although I had seen one or two demonstrated....I think I left my stomach on the runway when shortly after the kick up the backside by the tremendous acceleration he pulled it up almost vertical like a rocket and kept going until we got to around 10,000ft before levelling out and setting course for Marham. I was very impressed with that for an old bomber man who was more used to 500ft a minute climb hanging on the props with everything shaking and thundering. The return journey was done on the Monday morning a little more gently in an Oxford.
By that time a second course was running and another friend who had been an instructor on the Marham training Squadron had joined the course on transfer. He lived at Feltwell and was prepared to divert through Marham for a share of the running costs so until the end of the course that eased the burden a bit but as the course was nearing it's end like everyone else I was concerned to know about my posting. There was nothing notified so I was still hoping for a return to Marham but when the course results were made known after the final exams I was not pleased. Never mind about Marham...what what about Egypt?.
There was no point in making a fuss, one just had to accept those things so most of my embarkation leave was taken up settling the family back in Worthing as there was no way that I would be getting quarters out there in the 61 days after my effective posting to the Middle East and they would be obliged to move after that anyway.
I sailed on the RAF troopship Empire Ken out of Southampton in the Summer of 1954 and there were times that I wished I had taken up one of the jobs that I had been offered in Shell distribution.
I was the only one that had got an overseas posting and apparently it was almost unheard of. Overseas units usually wanted controllers with a bit of experience behind them but there I was, posted to the main terminal for the Canal Zone; Fayed. The only consolation was that it would be more or less in the centre of things and not stuck half way up a Wadi.
I soon found my sea legs and how to cope with bar prices which in today's money was less than 5p a double but it was the heat that took a lot of handling. The ship had canvas ducting to
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direct air down to the lower troop decks but it was ghastly even then and the troops, including Waafs used to have to come up on deck in shifts for a breather but it was one of those situations that could only be enjoyed for that period of time. With temperatures well over 100deg. the minute you went down below you started oozing again and just had to wait for the next turn on deck. The ship had never been built for that sort of climate anyway otherwise it might have had a more sophisticated ventilation system. The Empire Ken was a German ship built in the Blomm and Voss yards at Hamburg which we had taken as part of the war reparations and was more suited to the Baltic or the North Sea. I had had enough of it by the time the journey was finished anyway. We stopped at Algiers and subsequently arrived at Port Said to exchange sweaty discomfort for smelly and sweaty discomfort. It took a bit of getting used to. After disembarkation and sorting out of paperwork I was on my way by bus down the canal road wondering if I would ever get used to it with persperation [sic] pouring off me from top to bottom and to experience the further delights of the dust, flies, heat and smells of the Land of the Pharoes [sic] . Two minutes of that and I was quite willing to let them have it back!. At last I understood why my father used to get so incenced [sic] about flies. He had done it all both in India and Egypt many years before. My main concern was that I was entering a new phase of my career with a difference; as a Branch Officer, ie, Air Traffic Control, and no longer General Duties(Aircrew) and a dogsbody for a multitude of other jobs. It had been my experience that it had always been very difficult to detail such Branch Officers for extra duties, especially when they were so often shift workers and there were many units that maintained a 24 hour Air Traffic Control service. Fayed was one of them!.
Some of the most serious of local troubles in the Canal Zone had simmered down a bit and it was a lot safer than it had been a year earlier with the political unrest, mainly caused by the fact that there were elements in Egypt that wanted us out and Egypt for the Egyptions [sic] . They were talking, we were talking with an eye on the security of our oil supplies and trade routes through the Suez Canal. It was obvious that we were not going to give that up without favourable agreements after what it
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had cost us during the war in terms of blood sweat and tears.
So there I was. Arrival one day and to work the next although it was three weeks before I went on a solo watch after 'on the job training'; testing and certification. It was relatively simple and so was the set up. It was all very crude and temporary and had not changed a lot since the war but surprisingly enough it all worked efficiently albeit with the need for considerable local knowledge which was to be expected.
Fayed was the terminal for the Canal Zone with fighter airfields and other units to the North and the South and operated 24 hours a day with four short range Transport Squadrons that went out on scheduled flights in all directions, calling at Khartoum, Aden, Habbanyia (Iraq), Cyprus, Malta etc, with staging posts in between. It was a busy place. Fayed even supplied the neccesary [sic] control for the Great Bitter Lake for any flying boat that happened to be coming through although those services were nominal. In addition it was a staging post for the long haul types on the routes to and from the Far East. Our facilities were limited to VHF (Very High Frequency) and HF (High Frequency) direction finders and radio beacons and the airfield lighting was all lashed up stuff that had been modified to signal an alarm if any part became disconnected which had become necessary to discourage the natives from stealing the wire for it's copper content. Another discouragement was an anti-aircraft searchlight and a Bren gun on the roof of the control tower!.
The domestic and technical sites were separated from the airfield by being totally ringed in barbed wire and the access tracks leading from the airfield had wheeled barbed wire fences drawn across from sunset to sunrise as aircraft went in and out. It needed a small army to man the wire as well as an armed, mobile lighting repair squad standing by.
Air Traffic Control staff manned our searchlight and the gun and the searchlight generator was run at all times during the hours of darkness and I recall the night we used them with a vengeance.
The look-out reported movement on the airfield but I could not see much more than moving shadows through the glasses so it was "searchlight on" and on it came with a sizzling crackle as the switch was thrown. I could still see only vague shapes
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about 300 yards out from the tower in the reflection of the intense reflecting blaze of light, the man on the gun had already cocked it so I gave the order to fire. He loosed off a complete clip [inserted] s [/inserted] after which things seemed to have changed a bit so everything was put back to stand-by as the mobile patrol was ready to go out through the wire.
They very soon reported that we now had a dead camel on the airfield although it was clear of the runway and the question was; what to do next?. The Air Traffic Control course had not covered situations like that!. A quick call to the duty Engineering Officer produced a bulldozer and a working party to bury the thing but the problem did not go away for a long time. Every night for the next week the wild dogs uncovered it, and every day we covered it up again until eventually nature took it's normal course and there was no longer a meal to be had for the scavengers.
Although Married Quarters were available I went on to a very long list so I just settled down to sweating it out. In more ways than one. The Control Tower did not have the luxury of air conditioning and at the height of the day it was stifling with a shade temperature well over 100deg. One of the great delights of the night shift was to be able to sit outside on the roof of the Met. Office at about 3 o'clock in the morning when the temperature was down to about 70deg!, but that only lasted for about an hour before the sun zoomed up over the horizon.
Just as I thought that I could concentrate on being an Air Traffic Controller I was appointed Station Fire Officer and no sooner than I had mastered that I got loaded with another job but it all helped to pass the time anyway. Somehow I found time to qualify as a Desert Rescue Land Rover driver and then I figured that was enough as I devoted any other spare time to photography and accumulated my own processing equipment and soon found that my services were in great demand as the local processing was ghastly.
The photo processing did not start until I moved out of tented accommodation which was three months of absolute misery. Trying to sleep in a tent during the heat of the day after a night shift was virtually impossible.
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The permanent accommodation was limited so it was into a tent first and then wait your turn but sand seemed to get into everything despite the cat-walks laid on the sand. The bed feet stood in the usual pools of paraffin in boot polish tins to stop the creepy crawlies from invading the bed and mosquito nets, were hung from the ridge. I don't think I ever slept more than three hours at a time in those conditions before waking up absolutely soaked in persperation [sic] . The only thing to do then was to get up and shower; not that that did much good.
The water tanks were on the roof of the ablution block so they heated up well during the course of the day and never really cooled down but the best time to get a cold shower was normally between 4 & 5 in the morning!.
At least it was a happy unit. The rest of the controllers and staff made the best of it. Some of the controllers I already knew as well as some of the aircrew who I had met previously either at Marham or other units. One delightful character was a Czech who had been war-time RAF and had returned to his homeland to reach the rank of Air Commodore in the Czech Air Force until the political climate of the country had forced him to leave it. As a result he had rejoined the RAF as an Air Traffic Controller and was back to Flying Officer!. Nevertheless we all got on well and I found that copying his routine provided some limited relief from the heat.
Having completed the first few hours of sleep it was off to the Officers Club on the edge of Lake Timsa by bus equipped among other things with a sheet. At least it was possible to emerse [sic] one's-self in water even if it was in the eighties, wrap up in a wet sheet in the shade of a rush 'basha' and achieve a few more hours sleep until the evaporation process was complete and the 'cooking' process started again. Then it was back to camp to get ready for the night shift again. That was just part of the routine. It was all that happened within the routine that made life interesting.
I had been there a few months when I had two aircraft inbound from the UK. One a Hastings, the other a Canberra and just before their arrival a violent dust storm blew up. These could happen at any time given certain conditions and rising sand can make flying very dodgy. I just managed to get the Canberra in before
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visibility dropped to near zero and then the VHF direction finder went on the blink so I had to pull out a few stops after suggesting an indefinite holding or a diversion to Cyprus. The pilot was not keen on either and finally opted for a non-standard let-down using the H/F direction finder co-operating with his Wireless Op. and pilot together. It worked and he got down just about the time that the pilot of the Canberra had worked his way though Ops. and came up to the control room to find out what had happened to his baggage aircraft!
There were very few people that could have fixed up that sort of thing and it was of course the one and only 'Black Mac-The China Bull', on his way to take over command of Habbanyia, (Iraq). When we came face to face in the control room he was his usual bad mannered self. His comment of "I might have bloody well known it" was no more than one would have expected from him. As if it was my fault that a sand storm had blown up!. Had it occurred to me from the details on the flight plan that it was him I would definitely diverted him to Cyprus!. As it happened he only refuelled and fed and was off again after I had gone off duty. I thought that would be the last I would see of him but I was wrong.
Then we had a very interesting fire. Some damn fool army signals bloke exploded a primus stove by using the wrong fuel when brewing up so off went the fire party supplimented [sic] by the Army fire service and between them threw enough water at the signals hut to put out the fire but a lot of it drained away down the conduits in which the whole of the zone's land lines were trunked and out went the lot.
I could not get to the scene as I was duty controller and as all our mains facilities had failed all the stops had to be pulled out again to keep things moving. Going on to standby battery operated equipment I handled Approach control as best I could with no D/F facilities and the Senior Controller handled local traffic from the cockpit of a Valetta aircraft sitting on the tarmac not far from the control tower. Fortunately the weather was fine and all worked well with co-operation of the pilots who were able to carry out visual procedures.
The outcome of the enquiry was typical. The Fire Service, and that meant me; got half of the blame for the failure of all
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the radio, teleprinter, telephone and land lines!.
I got all the blame as the result of another enquiry that had taken place at Marham after I had left and I was kindly sent a copy of the findings. Shortly after leaving they could not find a Secret file although I know of no reason why it had not been in the cabinet if it had not been booked out. After my experience with registries I had been punctilious with the Secret Registry that had been under my direct control as well as the handling of the Top Secret files that always went in and out of the Wingco's office under sealed cover, and as far I recall everything had been handed over according to the laid down procedures. Nevertheless they could not find the handing over certificate, (I wish I had kept a copy), and I had to take responsibilty [sic] for the loss. I was a bit peeved at that. I had not been asked to give evidence even though the certificate would have been in the files now under the control of the bloke I had handed over to it seemed that the only avenue left was to appeal. After some thought I decided just to acknowledge receipt of the findings but with a very strong protest. After all, they couldn't shoot me for it!.
By this time the political infiltration into service life had almost died out and most things had returned to near normal as far as there is any normality in the forces. One just pressed on but at times one's shoulders had to be very broad to carry the load and it helped to have a thick skin as well!. At least there was the satisfaction that it would not last for ever. A lot of control was being passed back to the Egyptians and customs officials were getting very busy at Port Said placing import and export duty on almost all personal goods plus insistance [sic] on area Air Traffic Control by their services with a suggestion of imposing the same controls at Fayed. So far they had not been given access to Fayed but when they were we were very likely to have been deprived of one of our most advantages 'perks'.
We had a weekly 'training flight' to Malta locally known as the Whisky run which picked up supplies from a bonded warehouse and Fayed then acted as distribution agent for other units. The net result of that was that, as an example, a bottle of Whisky was 8s. 6d. in old money in the Mess. 42 pencel and
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cheaper than the Naafi who were obliged to make some declaration and payment to the Egyptian Government.
As a result of my involvement with the fire service I requested a Fire Officers course in the UK which I thought would kill two birds with one stone. It did not work so I took my accumulated [underlined] local [/underlined] leave with an itinerary of a round robin tour of the Middle East and hopped on the Whisky run to Malta and thence BEA to the UK. returning by the same process. At least I had 10 days at home with the family and then the misery started all over again.
There was still little hope of Married quarters but I kept a very close eye on the comings and goings.
Among the names that appeared on the list was that of the chap who had been the Station Adjutant at Marham, just one position below me, stationed somewhere in the zone at a Maintenance Unit. We met up on one occasion at Ismalia as I did with a number of people who had been at Marham with me. At one time there seven of us at Fayed. I had even met up with a long lost cousin who was in the Army at another unit so in one way and another occupied myself as time went by. What it must have been for my army cousin before the war I dread to think. He was in the ranks then when a tour of overseas duty was five years without family or home leave. I don't think I could have even contemplated it, but then perhaps neither did he when he signed on. After pre-war service in the Middle East and also a survivor of the Dunkirk withdrawal he was certainly earning his pension the hard way.
Being a shift worker gave me the opportunity to get away from the place on numerous 'flying' visits. Trips to Khartoum and Cyprus were fairly easy to arrange and I planned to go further East sometime when the opportunity arose.
Another advantage of Fayed was that it was the centre of all entertainment schedules. All visiting shows started off in our open air theatre/cinema and they could be sure of a critical audience too. It was usually packed to capacity and I enjoyed some of the very best shows on the circuit and had the priviledge [sic] of meeting many of the stars of those days when they were entertained in the Mess. Many are still around today. There was Harry Secombe, Lena Horne, Arthur English, Tommy Trinder
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(who got himself lost out on Lake Timsa in a small sailing boat), Ted Ray, Terry Thomas, to name but a few and it was there that Tesse O'Shea got one of her biggest laughs ever. The stage really did collapse and Two Ton Tesse had to be dragged out from underneath, still laughing. On the other hand there were turns that were not received so well. If Fayed didn't like them they knew it but it would be unkind to mention names. They tried and some of them are no longer with us.
In due course the Egyptian Air Force took over some of the zone fighter bases having been trained by British instructors at other airfields near Cairo and I began to wonder what sort of fun and games those instructors must have had in the process if the sort of flying that they were doing was anything to go by.
They seemed to put a great deal of effort into their flying but there never seemed to be such practical value in it if the commotion that went on at their nearest airfield was anything to go by.
I was on duty on one occasion when it became obvious that they were expecting an aircraft when all the ground radio checks started and in due course we heard the pilot calling Almaza (near Cairo), for back bearings every two or three minutes until he was obviously about half way when he started calling his destination.
The result was dead silence as the pilot called again and again with mounting urgency in his voice. He seemed so desperate that I chipped in and offered assistance as my D/F operator had been passing me his bearings anyway. The offer was accepted although it took some time before he was able to identify who was calling him and the rest was simple. He was homed to overhead us, descended to a lower height with instructions to steer a given heading for a number of minutes and he would find his destination which he did and despite his frantic calls to his destination we never did hear their control. Not even when he asked for landing clearance or when he reported landed!.
What all the fuss was about I do not know. It was only a 70 mile flight and a few minutes in what we identified as a Meteor when he came overhead. The sky was 100% blue with the Suez canal right under his nose a few miles from his destination so I can
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only think that he was a bit worried at missing it and getting lost in the Sinai desert. Later on we had a liaison visit from some of their controllers who had in fact been trained by International Air Radio and they were not backward in boasting about all the sophisticated equipment that they had. It was met with a diplomatic h'm, no comment. It was a pity that they did not know how to use it!. A lot of their questions were directed to where our radar unit was, suggesting that we had hidden it prior to their visit. That was time for some discreet tapping on the side of the nose. Radar!, we should be so lucky. I found out later that before I had arrived there had been a small final approach radar for evaluation but it had moved on somewhere. Despite the fact that there was liaison it was only one way and we could not get a visit to their unit. They were very mysterious and conspirital [sic] . They said that their bases were secret and it was very difficult to keep a straight face at that. We had even built them!.
Eventually they worked up their fighter units to the North and South of us and one day they decided to do a mass formation flight of about 30 aircaft [sic] up and down the canal. I wish I had recorded that R/T pantomime somehow although I suppose they were ding [sic] their best with limited training and experience.
The two formations never did get together as one. There was total confusion about heights, and everyone tried to talk at the same time when at one time they found that the two sub formations were on a collision course at the same height and then it was "break, break, break", and every man for himself. It was absolute pandemonium. All that in bright blue skies without a cloud in sight and the line of the canal and the lakes to navigate by. It was something to think about!.
No doubt they improved later on with practice and experience but I have often wondered how the Russians got on with them when they decided to re-arm with Russian equipment and of course, Russian instructors as well. They could not have found it easy by any standards.
Another serious Air Traffic matter came to light purely by chance shortly after had [sic] been appointed as Deputy Senior Controller. A lot of our inbound flights from the UK were chartered company aircraft, although at Malta the company livery was painted out
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and the crew changed uniforms and aircraft call-signs to become RAF. All very clever!. So we had a selection of those, RAF Yorks, Beverly's, Viscounts etc, both inbound and outbound. They were normally cleared by Cairo Delta control from Alexandria, descending and transferred to us but I was a bit concerned when more than one pilot reckoned they should report a confliction after they had been transferred, and even more so when I asked what traffic information they had been given. The answer was always nil so for about a week I asked all pilots to complete a questionaire [sic] relative to the hand over procedure and when it was complete the results of my investigation went through the Senior Controller and Operations. It resulted in some discreet enquiries with the Egyptian Ministry of aviation and a liaison visit by the Senior Controller and some rapid changes in prcedure [sic] . Many a pilot complained subsequently about the extra Easterly drag from Alex. to Port Said under airways control before being cleared to descend on the final leg to us. Little did they know that previously they had been descending blindly across three air routes out of Cairo. Phew.!.
There was an interesting situation early one evening when dust storms blew up unexpectedly around Cairo. I was only aware of it by listening to the one-sided R/T conversation but it was obvious that Cairo's controllers were getting in a bit of a 'tizzy' and some BOAC pilots were getting angry. They did not seem to be able to get an accurate weather report or saisfactory [sic] holding instructions and there was mention of diverting to Nicosia until one ex RAF BOAC pilot remembered us and gave us a call. Having checked our weather he then requested diversion facilities which Operations approved he was on his way, followed by another and another until we had accepted six until Ops. said "enough" before we were swamped.
It was a lovely collection. Constellations. Super Connie's, DC4's and Argonauts of BOAC, Air India, Air Italia, and SAA came swooping in and discharged about 300 passengers into the passenger lounge. They were not too happy about being limited to the reception area with an obvious presence of Service Police but the pilots were pleased enough when they came up to the control later to file their flight plans when Cairo had cleared.
It was just as well that I had had time to look up the
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regulations for charging landing fees, a subject that had not received much attention on the ATC course. Nevertheless, we got it sorted out and charged the grand total of £300. I could not repeat what some of the pilots said about Cairo control but it seemed to be about the same standard as Niarobi [sic] was at that time from what I was told.
In similar circumstances about that time a BOAC pilot had stood off at Nairobi and had taken control from the air to let down five others and himself when the controllers had actually lost control of the situation. I thought our training had been a bit rough and ready but I suppose that the fact that most of our controllers were ex aircrew was in our favour. We had grown up with it whilst other emerging nations were just finding their feet.
I had been in Egypt about nine months before I was allocated Married Quarters. It was a hiring on the canal road close to the officers club, and then the process of calling forward the family started.
The day after it was allocated it was reallocated to the chap who was just below me on the list on the strength of two extra points he had claimed by virtue of detachments overseas from Marham. (Returning B.29's to America he claimed). No way; I knew those regulations inside out and it didn't count so the 'phone lines were red hot before that got sorted out. There was no way that I was going to lose the [underlined] last [/underlined] allocation in the zone by default, not to that chap. (He was the one that knocked me off the greasy pole at Marham). He was not amused.
Everything was eventually worked out for the transportation of my family except for the date and then there was a dock strike at home which put thing back for several more agonising weeks. Meanwhile the quarter was being officially sub-let to another officer who in fact spent the best part of three months in it before my family eventually arrived at Port Said on an Army troopship, the S.S. Lancashire from Liverpool. There was only one snag. When they were half way across the Med. I got posted!. I think someone was using his influence-and putting the boot in.
I was stunned as I was required go to Amman in Jordan as soon as possible. When I protested pointing out that my family were
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half way across the Med. the answer was that they could easily wait in transit in the zone until I was-settled or they could take the next troopship back to the UK!. I really was getting the treatment!. I did eventually get a few days deferment by virtue of going sick, to hold me over until they arrived.
That put paid to any idea I had of taking them all on a visit to Cairo and the Pyramids. I had waited a year for the opportunity and it had slipped through my fingers.
There was great excitement when I met my wife and two daughters at Port Said and after the arrival formalities were completed we boarded the bus for Fayid via Ismalia down the canal road to be dropped off at the bungalow which was complete with a native servant who understood practically no English but understood the requirement and had been recommended. He was a glossy black Sudanese resplendent in galabere and tarboosh and displayed a permanent broad smile. He was a treasure. The girls did not quite know what to make of him at first but he was efficient as was unobtrusive. He made it plain the kitchen was his domain and Madam was not allowed in it. That suited us alright as there was not a lot time to get used to paraffin cooker, lamps and even paraffin fridge.
Of course my wife did not know just how much time she had until we had all settled in and I asked her if she knew where Amman was. Of course she did; in Jordan, but it wiped the smile off of everyone's face, including Abdul when they were told that we were off there in less than a week. Abdul cheered up a bit when I gave him a full month's pay and a reference and he looked after us well whilst I was busy about arranging passage to Amman. Of couse [sic] , it was too much to ask that it would be straightforward.. First of all my wife said she didn't want to fly but since the only alternative was camel she did not have much choice. Then all the deep sea baggage had to be chased up with some urgency from Port Said and then Air Movements insisted that it all be repacked as the size of the boxes were in excess of Air Freight dimensions. It was a good thing that I knew a few people in the right places and a compromise was reached where it could stay as it was. We finally went on a mixed freighter passenger flight in a Valetta. The Gamble special only had one other airman passenger on board and had to go via
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Aquaba and in fact overflew Amman to another of our bases at Mafraq.
Prior to our departure signals had been going to and fro' asking when I would arrive and in answer to one inquiry one confirmed that suitable accommodation was available and eventually when all of our baggage and boxes were unloaded we were bussed to Amman, about 35 mls away to make another new home. On arrival and after refreshments I reported to the Adjutant.
I was optimistic about what had been provided for us but knowing my luck I was not really surprised either when contrary to my expectations I found there was absolutely nothing. True they knew I was coming, but not with a family. There were no quarters available or accomodation [sic] other than by private arrangement plus the fact that as it was Friday and it was a Bank Holiday week-end nothing could be done until Tuesday. I nearly went spare. What had all the rush been about, etc, so I went to see the Accountant Officer, changed some money, drew some more and decided that I would have the Bank Holiday off as well since I could claim three days in transit at the expense of the Air Force so off we went to a hotel in the city and we had a good weekend familiarising ourselves with the area and a new currency. All I had done on the day of arrival was sign in so on the first working day I reported in and started the arrival procedure. All went well until I reported to the Senior Controller who actually accused me of being absent without leave when he found out that I had arrived on Friday. He was under the impression that I should have reported to him in the first place as he could have put me to work. It is not the best way to start a new job with a flaming great row with the boss but a flaming great row there was.
Obviously they had coped despite the alledged [sic] shortage of staff because he had not even known when I was due to arrive and I could not have just slipped into the routine without some preliminary training and certification. No allowance was made for my domestic circumstances and then whilst I started to absorb the local set-up another bombshell arrived. Air Headquarters Middle East at Habbanyia having received confirmation of my arrival signalled to the effect that I should have reported to that HQ for posting as required as they wanted me down in
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the Persian Gulf, and I was instructed to proceed accordingly. Then I really did blow my top!.
I had already found alternative accomodation [sic] ; more or less in the native quarter on Jebel Hashiem as the hotel was straining the finances somewhat, but at least it-was convenient for the base and the girls were about to start school. In [sic] was still scouting around for something better. I was not in a very good mood by the time I had worked my way through the Adjutant, Senior Admin. Officer and Wing Cdr. Admin. to the Station Commander for a showdown. At least he was sympathetic enough to listen to my greivance [sic] which I followed up with threats of resigning my commission there and then. Pretty strong stuff but a lengthy signal to AHQ produced the desired answer and I was at last allowed to get down to work with a bit more security than I had had for a long time. I don't think I was ever forgiven though for stirring things up for a change instead of accepting what was thrown in my direction. I was beginning to wish that I had transferred to the Secretarial Branch after all if that was a fore-taste of what could be expected in the future. Little did I know.
I found Amman very interesting. It was a joint Military and Civil International Airport with control exercised by the RAF. That included a locally based RAF fighter Squadron with Venoms, communication aircraft and Search and Rescue helicopter. The Royal Jordanian Air Force with Vampires. RAF transit traffic, two resident civil airlines and scheduled BOAC Argonaughts from London to Barhrein [sic] via Beruit [sic] on Monday's returning later in the week. Somehow that seemed more civilised as the crew always brought UK Sunday newspapers in for us when they brought their flight plans in. We had three parking aprons. One civil, one Jordanian Air Force and one RAF. Our facilities were the basics that I had been used to at Fayed plus; the Radar!. The very one that had been at Fayed, had gone to Cyprus and thence to Amman. It was a non standard equipment for the RAF which had received little more than a mention on the ATC course and on which in due course all Amman controllers were to be locally trained. And before you could say 'Bingo' I was appointed the Station Fire Officer as well!.
Within a matter of weeks I had found a more desirable residence
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on Jebel Taj nearer the city and things started to settle down. We soon got used to the amplified sounds from the mezzine calling the faithful to prayer....at 6 am!. it was better than an alarm clock. One could not possibly have slept through it. Not even on a day off and as I was still shift working it was inconvenient at times. However, we were comfortable and happy in our new accomodation [sic] and there were English families living around us so we did not feel as cut off as we had been before.
The new landlord was a Palestinian originally from Haifa and he and his family were very kind. They all spoke very good English and helped us with learning enough Arabic to get by on the buses and in the shops. In fact it was too easy to get lazy in learning Arabic as most people could speak English. It was the second language in all the schools.
The camp swimming pool was one of our main attractions and it was situated near the control tower. In fact when on duty I could look down on it which made it a little frustrating on those steaming days when the temperature in the 'glasshouse' was well over 100deg. and the family had come in by bus to make the most of those cooling waters.
A lot of people had written home to the tourist departments of their town halls to get posters of their favourite sea-side resort so it was not long before Worthing was also advertised on the fence. A little bit of home and of course that usually designated one's favourite spot in the area around the pool.
It was quite a small pool so sessions had to be allocated to prevent overcrowding and it was not unusual for members of the Jordanian Royal family to be mixed up with the officers families. When King Hussein flew as he did often being a pilot in his own right he insisted on going through the motions like any other pilot. He climbed the steps and presented his own flight plan for approval. and he was of course very pro-British. His army was to a great extent British financed and controlled through General Glub. His air force was similarly controlled and they were very good too having had their basic training in the UK and then finished off locally on Harvards before jet training. His senior Air Force Officer was a seconded Wing Commander and in fact there were quite a lot of secondments
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both Army and Air Force. His stable of racing cars was looked after by an ex Flight Sergeant and several- of his ponies were stabled in our pony club and looked after by us. It all seemed an innocent and comfortable arrangement. It was not always quite so comfortable on occasions when certain factions in his own country and those of neighbouring states would rather that the strongly pro-British monarch was deposed. After all, Jordan was in a peculiar geographical position. The Hashimite [sic] Kingdom of Jordan had been carved out of what used to be Palestine and some of the old Palestine was now Isreal [sic] which had produced something like a million refugees who were virtually stateless persons. The mandate that the British had had for many years had been repealed by the United Nations due to pressure to create the new state of Isreal [sic] after the war. The Arab/Jew conflict had not neccesarily [sic] been made any less of a problem and it was all tied up with the American owned IPC (Iraqi Petroleum Company) oil pipeline between Haifa and the Persian Cuff that dominated military and political thinking. Not that the pipe-line had delivered oil for a long time, but we still had an interest in it.
The King had a very close shave on one occasion when he was returning from Damascus whilst I was on duty. The Wing Cdr. was with him in the Royal De Haviland Dove and they found that they had a couple of Syrian jets on their tail. They produced some very spectacular low flying by all accounts until they were able to make contact with us for back up from anything we had flying in Jordanian air space before they were safe. It was the sort of chance he had to take in those days, even when he only used to fly half-way down the pipe-line towards Bagdad to meet his cousin King Feisal of Iraq at an air-strip on the border. Neither used to file flight plans for that. Both of them used to keep in touch through their own private shortwave radio link.
It was obvious that the senior captain of one of the resident airlines was ex-Luftwaffe by the cut of his coat and the set of his cap. Only the insignia had changed and he was an honourary [sic] member of our Mess!. We swapped a few yarns which ultimately led to the production of our respective log books which confirmed that he was the bloke that had shot up our Stirling very badly
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in October 1943 when we were on our way into Bremen. Our conversation after that provided answers to questions that we both had. Yes, he was flying a jet. An early prototype Me262, and had been scrambled for evaluation, but why had we only received small calibre shots?. The answer to that was sobering. He had used up all his cannon shooting down two other Stirlings...and the records show that three Stirlings of the force had indeed been lost that night, two of them to his guns. I can only thank my lucky stars that he had not been using cannon on us that night!. It did explain the tails of fire we had seen from his back end too. He was somewhat surprised that we had not incurred casualties and that we had in fact returned to base after all the stuff that had flowed back from us after the engagement which had obviously been the leaflets I had thrown out in a great hurry, especially as he had claimed us so badly damaged that we must have finished up in the North Sea as there had been no other crash report.
I was still negotiating for other accommodation as official quarters were still a long way off but before either came up Dorothy had to be hospitalised. She could have gone to Habbanyia or Cyprus to either of the military hospitals but she opted for an operation to be done locally at the RAF's expense in the Italian Hospital in Amman so in she went.
It was all very different from one's normal concept of hospitalisation. It was a private hospital and she did have a private ward. The head surgeon was Italian and the staff were mainly Italian nuns with some Arab cleaning staff. Catering was not normally provided but on this occasion two meals a day were provided under the terms of the contract, mainly rice and eggs. There was only one nun who spoke very limited English and with her very limited Arabic it was a bit of a pantomime. Altogether it was hardly conducive to rapid recovery.
The occupant of another adjacent private ward, a Sheik, spent most of the daylight hours out on the flat roof outside her window with all the accompaniment of a scene from the Arabian Nights. I don't know what was wrong with him but he seemed to end a lot of time trying to cough his lungs up, not that it stopped him smoking his hooka [sic] pipe.
he was well looked after by several retainers who brought him
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various kinds of food, including great bunches of grapes with which he was fed and when this circus was added to by his personal musician with his one string fiddle it was enough to drive anyone mad. That and visiting times in the afternoon for those in the dormitory wards where the sounds and smells of on the spot cooking on primus stoves wafted up were enough to have her out of there as soon as the M.O. would allow, to continue her convalescence at home.
When she was fit enough we moved house again and the process of the final negotiations for the tenancy was yet another pantomime; never to be forgotten.
Some of the locals, particularly the Sheiks, had made a packet out of the British a few years earlier when room was needed for the expansion of the airfield and other areas that were needed for the building of the Married Quarters. I suppose it was just another way of putting money into the country really but it seemed. that the criteria for receiving payment of £1000 for any sort of building on the land purchased was that it should have a door. As a result there had been a brisk trade with carpenters fitting a door to just about anything, and those that could not afford it naturally borrowed the money from the Sheiks at a premium or were forced to sell their property to the Sheiks. One way or another they were the blokes that finished up getting most of the 'ackers' which they had reinvested in properties that they let to the military. It was the process of bargaining and negotiating with these chaps that created another scene out of Arabian Nights. One must understand that bargaining is a way of life out in those parts and that to do business it was common courtesy to respect the fact that when in Rome you do as the Romans do.
One did not do business through agents as such. The only agents were the multitude of small boys who were always wandering about looking for opportunities of exercising their light fingered efforts to pick up something for nothing. A word in the ear of one of those suggesting that you were interested and an appointment would be very quickly fixed up and he would get his reward of a few fils for his trouble from both parties.
It was not the first time that I had gone through the procedure but that particular occasion sticks in my mind. At the appointed
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time we presented ourselves at the flats and were escorted to a plain unfurnished room with just cushions and a low table and then the 'person' arrived resplendent in robes of gold on black over white, with jewelled belt and sash and jewelled knife scabbard plus the butt of a pistol showing from an equally elaborate holster, and greetings were exchanged. With that over he clapped his hands and the glasses of tea appeared and the performance was on. I had been asked to bring my wife with me by one of the boys who turned out to be one of the Sheiks sons who was also acting as interpreter but it was obvious that the request had come from the Sheik. I had already been warned about him. Now the scene was set and his number one wife squatted in the dirt on the other side of the road from the flat. Women did [inserted] not [/inserted] pay [sic] a particularly important part in the routine except to keep an eye on things. No.1 wife's responsibility was managing the household and the other junior wives. So she had taken up her position.
I don't know that Dorothy was particularly happy with the situation as she sat opposite that imposing figure with the classical hooked nose and piercing eyes of the Bedouin. Pleasantries were exchanged with the first glass of tea; revolting stuff to our standards, then the second glass came up and by this time Dorothy was squirming a bit as the Sheik was not slow in examining what he seemed to be part of the deal. He played a bit of footy footy and proceeded to pinch the fleshy parts of her arm that were exposed under her shawl which she was obliged to wear in such circumstances. Their own women were covered in black from head to toe as well as wearing a yashmak. Nevertheless he examined her as if she was a chicken in the market and she winced a bit but stuck it out until the third glass of tea arrived. That was the one you did not finish and it was time to talk business. It was the way things were done and we were obliged to go along with it for about half an hour until we gave him our promise of a decision before the sun had set. We had made the decision before we made our escape from him with the eagle eye. Dorothy did not care to become part of a Hareem as part of the deal or having him inspecting his property too often with an eye to another 'wife' so the message was passed. "No thank you" and we looked elsewhere.
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We eventually rented a flat not far from the camp main gate and I suppose it could be said that it good views. It looked down on the Hadj railway station on the famous line from Damascus through Amman to a point where it fizzled out way down South towards Aquaba. A line that Lawrence of Arabia had played havoc with many years before when the Turks had control of the area. It also looked down on the main Damascus/Amman road and the prison but at least it was convenient. The landlord was the local butcher an [sic] he eventually brought along a young married chap who we were only to willing to take on as 'bearer'. He had never worked anywhere by virtue of being caught up in the net of the homeless refugees in the North but he was willing and learned fast and took no liberties. He found local accomodation [sic] and moved his family for the first ever now that he had a job which allowed him to face the world with a little more dignity instead of being dependent upon United Nations hand-outs.
He was an Abdul and replaced another Abdul who was reputed to have worked for the British Army but we were glad to see the back of him and his dirty habits plus the fact that I had found him drying out his tobacco in the gas oven on one occasion with only one side burner lit to save gas!. His English was also punctuated by a great deal of barrack room language and his final efforts in the kitchen seemed to be designed to feed his family on our left overs made sure that there was plenty for all!. Now the catering was firmly back in Dorothy's hands and Abdul looked after the rest. He needed a bit of training but it was well worth it.
My cousin that had been in Egypt was now down in Aquaba and an arrangement with the Jordanian Air Force brought him up to to [sic] spend a Christmas with us and some time later we flew down to Aquaba in the Kings personal aircraft for a couple of weeks holiday and that was a very interesting period.
Our accommodation was a holiday bungalow on the sea shore that had belonged to General Peake who had given it to the RAF for recreational purposes. It gave me an opportunity of spending more time with my cousin who I had not seen all that often in the past and to visit our limited Air Traffic Control staff and the firemen who manned the landing strip on rotational basis
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from Amman resources. The landing area was just a rolled strip in the wadi that led down almost to the waters edge and even the control cabin was only the cockpit of a Dakota that had crashed there many years before. It was no more than just another link in the chain of landing grounds that served the Army garrison tasked with keeping the peace in the area which they had been trying to do for years.
The geography was historical and had become even-more important since the creation of the State of Isreal[sic] . The Gulf of Aquaba was only three miles wide at the head and the town of Eilat in Isreal [sic] sat on one corner and the border with Egypt only a little further down. Three miles down the other side was the border with Saudi Arabia so it was quite a crossroads.
I suppose it was just my misfortune that a couple of my firemen went on a sight seeing tour whilst I was there and were absent two days as a result of straying into Isreal [sic] . No big diplomatic incident really but the Army did have to exert a little diplomacy to get them back and they were both charged for contravening standing orders. Still, one could laugh off seven days C.C. (confined to camp) in that place; there were few places to go. Anyway, the army dealt with it and I got on with my holiday. I wanted no part of. The weather was supurb [sic] , the bunglalow [sic] was on the waters edge and there was no tide to speak of. Unfortunately the glass bottomed boat that usually provided interesting views of the coral reefs had been damaged and was awaiting repair so we were not able to enjoy that experience.
Some people relate to being on holiday with being able to sleep in late but it was very rare that we were able to do that with the fishermen out in the early morning. Their fishing was accompanied by a succession of bangs resounding across the water. Lazy fishing that; with sticks of dynamite!. Then they netted the stunned fish afterwards. The girls were warned to keep well out of the way when they were close to the shore as obviously they were not all that clever. The dynamite thrower in one boat only had one arm and the girls had learned earlier on in Amman that when told to do things like that it was for a very good reason and they had to react without question. On that previous occasion in Amman we had gone into town on a little shopping expedition and had just reached the main shopping area where
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there seemed to be a lot of people and suddenly the whole crowd erupted as shots rang out, followed by a lot of panic stricken people running in our direction. When I grabbed them and said "run" they did. Hot foot down the road, into the Hotel Continental where we stayed until things had gone quiet before taking a taxi back home. I understood later that day that an order had been issued on camp putting the city out of bounds but then I had not been into camp and knew nothing about the possibility of trouble.
We managed to enjoy ourselves though, just lazing about, swimming, playing board games, reading, listening to London on the short wave overseas service but generally resting up wondering what was going to happen next. Something always did!. One morning we were having coffee out in front of the bungalow when we noticed that a Royal Navy destroyer had dropped anchor about half a mile out and it was not long before a boat with four ratings and a Petty Officer was rowed ashore. They tied up just few yards from us and were loaded with some metal trunking that they started to chip paint from so I figured that they were defaulters given a dirty job to do. Hard luck on the Petty Officer!.
I would have left them to it but there was a geat [sic] deal of lower deck language that was enough to blister the paint off without the use of elbow grease so two little girls had to be hauled out of earshot whilst I ambled across and asked them if they would like some refreshment. They nearly fell over with shock but the P.O. jumped at the opportunity. Beer for him please, anything but beer for the others and what the blue blazes were we doing in such a God forsaken hole and where the hell was he anyway?. He was quite happy to sit in the shade and chat for some time whilst the others chipped away until a winking light from the ship signalled that it was time to return. It had made his day and in the time we had spent chatting I had found out that he knew my brother from his days at HMS Vernon, the torpedo establishment at Portsmouth. It's a small world.
Later on as darkness fell the ship was dressed overall with lights and was an imposing sight out in the Gulf as small craft pIied to and fro' with the garrison Commander and his party to a social function on board. I think they may have stayed
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most of the night if what happened to us is anything to go by.
We had been invited by some Arab neighbours to coffee, cakes and social chat and there had been no mention of conditions outside when darkness fell. We found out as soon as we got outside. Everything was blacked out by rising sand. Not the sort of sand storm with horizontal wind but the sort in which sand is just lifted straight up and deposited somewhere else. We could hardly see our hand in front of our face. If it had not been for our hosts being more familiar with the area I doubt if we could have negotiated the fifty yards between the houses.
We put the shutters up as soon as we got back but it was too late and it took ages to clear the heavy layer of sand that had been deposited over and inside everything which included the beds and the pantry. Just something else to put down to experience. We were well rested by the time we flew back to Amman in an RAF Valetta and as I knew the pilot from Fayed days he kindly circled the ancient and amazing city of Petra virtually hidden in the desert which we would otherwise never have seen, and then it was back to the old routine. Not a dull one by any means. Among my activities I had a taste of some limited radar control on which I was locally trained. I found the process fairly easy to pick up as this was a 'one man band' and the initial pick up was assisted by a built in direction finder system. To an ex aircrew wireless op. it was no problem. It did not take long to become proficient and as the only other qualified controller was leaving I finished up being in charge of the thing and training others, not without some dissapointments [sic] . The Senior Controller, an ex navigator, couldn't cope with it and neither could another, an ex pilot, but enough did become proficient to ensure that there were sufficient people to rotate. It was not all that comfortable stuck out in a metal box at the end of the runway.
That particular radar unit was the one that had done the rounds. At one time it had been at Nicosia before it had been transferred to Fayed and then Amman and the original operator had travelled with it but it could only provide a very limited service and as far as the RAF was concerned it was a 'one-off'. It gave me some useful experience anyway that I made use of later on.
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By that time we had given up the idea of getting back to Egypt for a holiday. Fayed was just about handed over to the Egyptians so we could not get a passage that way and since holidays had to be planned well ahead it didn't seem worth the effort to go the long way around via Cyprus so that was ruled out. Haifa or some similar place was considered before we found that it was again impossible to go direct particularly as we would need a second passport to visit Arab countries and Israel. The tension was very real out there at the time. Even the Naafi could not import any goods that may have been a product of Israel and postings to a place like Amman ruled out anyone of Jewish name or origin.
It was the only place that I had come across where a parade commander was to say "Roman Catholics may fall out" before prayers. That order was usually "Roman Catholics and Jews....". In the end we figured that we would do better just to make the most of our immediate surroundings but we never got to Beruit [sic] or Damascus. Every time we made plans for a long break between shifts or a week-end those places were declared out of bounds.
It did seem as if we were hemmed in although we were in regular contact with neighbouring countries. Even our daily radio checks gave us two way communication with Nicosia and strangely enough Lod in Israel. We thought nothing of it, or of giving bearings to any Israeli aircraft that called us but the Jordanian Air Ministry were very sensitive and suspicious about it so we had to discontinue any contact with Israel.
We had a very interesting experience one afternoon when we were having tea in the flat when there was a shivering shaking sensation. The tea in my cup rippled an [sic] I immediately recalled something that my father had mentioned about his time in India. If in doubt look at the ceiling light, and there it was swinging gently to and fro' and then I knew that what I had felt was an earthquake tremor Dorothy looked at me and asked "why did you kick my chair?" and then nearly fell out of hers when I told her to look at the swinging lamp and the significance of it. It was a very light tremour [sic] really and we understood later that the centre had been around Damascus but there had been no damage.
One real highlight of Amman was my flight in a Venom jet trainer.
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Since my first jet experience in a Canberra I had been itching to have another go. It was not difficult to arrange and away we went into the wide blue yonder. It was the most exhilarating experience. The sky was bright blue well laced with towering cumulus cloud and at 25,000ft I was in my element when control was handed to me in the side by side trainer as I went cloud hopping. I was in my element and I always knew that I had an aptitude for it. I performed all the standard manoeuvres successfully which rather surprised the pilot. Wireless Ops. don't do things like that!, but he changed his mind when I attempted a roll. Then my old problem of disorientation reared it's head again and he had to take control to prevent us hurtling earthwards out of control. He reckoned that with formal training I would have had no real difficulty in becoming a pilot but it was too late for me to change direction at that time.
Our flat overlooked the prison just beyond the main road and an incident there created a lasting impression on Dorothy. I could understand that if conditions in the prison were as crude as those in the hospital then a lot of people went hungry most of the time if family and friends did not bring in food regularly or the inmates had not got the money to pay for it but that's the way it worked. Prison out there was real punishment and the ultimate was to be publicly hung in the city's amptheatre [sic] which were other occasions when the city was out of bounds.
The incident really upset her when some noisy activity started as protests were voiced and then the whole thing escalated rapidly.
There were hundreds of prisoners milling around the courtyard and the guards manning the walls were reinforced by the army. What sparked it off I could not say but there was a sudden crackle of rifle fire and prisoners went down like nine-pins for several minutes. When it stopped the army entered the courtyard and hearded [sic] the frantic mob to one side as dozens of bodies were dragged away and she could no longer watch the scene of such callus [sic] slaughter. She had some very bad dreams for a long while after that.
At last a married quarter became available after some ten months of waiting and moving around and we moved into a very large
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converted hut which many years before had been the Education Section. The original lettering on the doors was still visable [sic] under fresh paintwork. A friend of mind remembers the building from when he was out there in 1937!. However, it was spacious, convenient and comfortable. Just a stone's throw from the Mess and almost overlooking the flat that we had just left. In addition to our own servant who successfully passed his medical we were allocated an official one, shared with another family, so life took on a whole new style.
Typical of course was the fact that very British fire places had been installed but the cooker was still the parafin [sic] job so took our rented gas one with us. The water heater was the most diabolical hazard that I had ever come across. It was oil fired; with a difference!. We had got used to parafin [sic] fridges and cookers so one took such things in one's stride. To fire up the boiler you turned on the fuel to drip onto a metal plate, then set light to it. By turning the fuel tap on and off the plate eventually got hot enough to explode the drips as they fell on the plate and then it could be adjusted to give a series of continuous explosions and presto!, hot water!. A damn dangerous device though and as fire officer I made sure that everyone was reminded regularly of it's dangers. At least it was more civilised than what we had been recently used to. In our first place on Jebel Hasheem we had a bath that had to be filled with buckets of water that had to be heated by other means and the drain hole was positioned above nothing more than a hole in the floor. It was alright until the bath slipped off of the supporting bricks and flooded the floor. Perhaps it was better that way as it slowed down the activities of the toads, whacking great spiders and scorpians [sic] that tended to investigate the invasion of what they considered to be their territory. In the last flat, although new, we had always had trouble with the drains. The worst part being that when there was a blockage in the system. When we flushed everything came up in the next door neighbours bath!. Small problem….well, to us anyway. When the sanitory [sic] people were called in they pin-pointed the problem of blockages right away. Apparently toilet paper should not be flushed into 2" drains!. The alternative was most unhygenic [sic] to European standards.
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Now it seemed that we were home and dry. There was a bit of a garden which was overgrown so after I set my photo dark-room up I got to work terracing the garden so that we were able to grow tomatoes and sweet corn within a matter of months. The trouble was that it disturbed the habitat of several dangerous species of snakes and other creepy crawlies of which there were plenty. One had to be forever on the alert for them, checking footwear and clothing, and particularly bedding.
One of the strangest creatures was the sand beetle. This chap was about 1/2 ins. long and lived in the sand with the entrance to it's complex protected by a trap door. It had the most incredible technique of building a hinged trap door which was a perfect watertight fit. To see this thing nip down it's hole and pull the trap door down after him was quite amazing.
Another insect that surprised us one evening when we were having drinks on the veranda were the fireflies. For a moment I thought that I had made the drinks a little too strong when little bright lights started jumping around the table but then a little more light was produced they turned out to be little flying insects with little light bulbs in their tails.
Lizards of between four and five inches were common and quite harmless. We had one or two resident one's that had been given names and at one time we had a Chameleon that I had found in the garden but it died on us. Probably due to the rapid changes of colour that was expected of it when we put it on a multi coloured carpet. The poor thing probably got into a state of utter confusion and died of a heart attack.
Tortoises were common and I have never seen so many in a natural habitat as there were around the old Roman city of Jarash, and Jarash it'self [sic] was another incredible place that was right out of biblical times. It had been uncovered in the preceeding [sic] 20 years and I swear that if you just stood there and listened you could hear the ghosts of the past all around and the sounds of chariot wheels on the old Roman roads that still bore the marks of those wheels.
We paid a visit to the Dead Sea and it was well worth the frightening drive. The native taxy driver seemed quite oblivious to his surroundings as we swept along high mountain unmade roads that twisted and turned with sometimes as much as a sheer 1500ft
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drop on one side into a moonscape like valley. Mix that up with the dust, the heat and five fractous [sic] kids as we were sharing the journey with another family, the driver with only one hand on the wheel and the radio blasting native music at 99 decibals [sic] and you have all the ingredients for a very exciting time. It was. Our route took us through Jericoh [sic] and close to the old courthouse, where according to the scriptures Christ was tried and sentenced, until we eventually got to the banks of the Dead Sea, over 500ft [underlined] below [/underlined] sea level and where I subsequently was flown down to in a Jordanian Air Force aircraft. A most interesting experience.
After the journey the sight of so much water was a great temptation and in we all went but within minutes we were in trouble. The adults knew that it was impossible to sink in that sea due to it's high salt content but no-one had told us that it was just like acid if you got it in the eyes. The kids thrashed around screaming in pain and it was just as well that we had a plentiful supply of water in bottles that we were able to pour over their faces until all was well again. After the initial discomfort we were all very careful as we experimented in the very dense water. It was quite incredible. Even just walking into it, before one was waist deep it was impossible to keep your feet on the bottom. You couldn't swim in it either. There was just not enough of the body in water to be able to go through the normal motions. Arms and legs just thrashed around in the air and it really was possible just to float in the sitting position with head and shoulders out of the water.
That was alright until we came out and there was no-where we could rinse off as most of our precious bottles of water had been used up. Within minutes we dried off and were covered in a layer of salt crystals and that was the way we set off back via a different route.
On the way we came across a place by the name of Salt. Just a nameplace where the road crossed a small tumbling stream so we made a stop there to wash off the salt and freshen up. There was an old rusted cannon and a lot of other ironmongery in the stream left from battles of long ago but we did not have a lot time to investigate further. A Jordanian soldier appeared and warned us off by the process of pointing his rifle at us
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so one does not argue in a situation like that. We did a bit more splashing about after I had put my camera way [sic] whilst the driver and the soldier communicated. Some folding money changed hands and we were on our way. The driver told us that the small wooden bridge was guarded because of it's strategic importance and I suspect that it had been guarded ever since General Allenby had passed that way during the first World War. Rather like the Allenby bridge across the River Jordan that we also visited on another occasion. That was still guarded so we did not think it worth while trying to obtain a bottle of water that we had planned to do. I suppose that if we had approached the soldiers with a fistful of notes we could have done it as that is what seemed to smooth the way generally if you wanted to get things done as a friend of mine found out when he imported a car from the UK!.
God knows how long the preliminaries had taken to even order it but in due course it arrived at Beruit [sic] after months of waiting.
Then came the business of getting it into Jordan. First of all he could not do it himself and pay the fees. That was much too easy. It had to be imported by a recognised import/export firm and then negotiations were started with the appropriate Government department although he was entitled to it's import without tax, under current diplomatic arrangements. So it laid at Beruit [sic] for many months as palms were greased until it duly arrived in Amman. Having accumulated more fees by that time there were even more to pay. Several more months of negotiations had followed as the documentation kept getting held up until fistfull [sic] of Dinars smothed [sic] the way and it was finally HIS car. Not that he was able to tax and insure it and drive it away. Despite the fact that it was new it had to go through all the mechanical checks that all vehicles were required to go through before being given a registration. It was a sort of MOT test but set annually, and annually got a different registration number which also meant a new set of plates. More Dinars changed hands at each of the four stages of testing, shuffling and mis-laying of papers, passing the papers to the department that made the plates, (right next door to the registration office), more mis-laid papers, and at last, when
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the plates were ready, the production of the insurance documents before those plates could be fixed and sealed by the department. Plus of course the final bakshees before he could actually take the car on the road. In all it took just over a year. He never took it for a second test. Things happened that forced him to subsequently drive it across the desert nearly 500 miles to Habbanyia where it was eventually taken to Basra under service arrangements and it came back to the UK on the Ark Royal minus wing mirrors, screen wipers, wheel trims, slightly dented and rusted. Fortunately there was enough documentation with it to ensure that it was not subject to import duty....provided that he kept it for a year!. At that point in time he would rather have got rid of it when he eventually got back to the UK himself but despite all the hassle he made full use of it. That was a car with a history.
I eventually got my opportunity to go further East. Just far enough. I was detailed to go to Habbanyia in Iraq for Courts Martial duties as a member of the Court. Anything except defence or prosecution, but it was not quite the 'perk' that I thought it was going to be.
After flying in I reported to the Adjutant who I knew and had a been the Signals Leader of 138 Squadron at Wyton and subsequently 90 Squadron at Marham, (at the same time as the chap who had fun with the car had been there); only to find that the President of the Court was none other than 'Black Mac' himself.
Being the junior member I was the 'scribe' and Mac was his same old self. His Adjutant was having as rough a time with him as I had had at Coningsby. Anyway, the case was over in a day and sentance [sic] was pronounced so I immediately set about putting some distance between Black Mac and myself.
It took three days with the flight priority that I had and more than one argument with the Senior Air Traffic Controller at Habbanyia who wanted to put me to work there. No way!. I wasn't there for that and it was a good thing that I knew a few people, not the least the Adjutant, who kept me on a four hour stand-by for a seat on an aircraft back to Amman. Apart from anything else I wanted to see Habbanyia, the RAF's jewel in the desert.
There was plenty of it with the old plateau airfield and the new one that had been laid out on the plain; the former being
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used for the training of the Iraqi Air Force. The relatively new base on the plain was surrounded by masses of buildings, three swimming pools, a profusion of lawns and gardens that turned the place into a glittering oasis. I walked miles and miles around that place and marvelled at the engineering that had made full use of the waters of the Euphrates and numerous artisan wells. There was even a large lodgement compound for the hundreds of native workers and their families who seemed to enjoy quite reasonable amenities, and eventually a seat became available and I was on my way back to Amman. I was to go back there again in due course.
Meanwhile it was back to work. I was duty controller and the airfield had been shut for a couple of hours one evening as no traffic had been notified when one of the ATC assistants phoned from the duty but to tell me that there was an aircraft overhead flashing it's lights. There was a rapid call out for duty crews and I was off to the control tower. The aircraft was still circling when I went on the air and asked the pilot to identify himself. It turned out to be an Eagle Airlines York freighter on his way to India which had been routed to us but the signals office still had nothing so he had to circle until we lit the place up, inspected the runway and alerted all the other services before we let him in. Then there were a few more surprises as the pilot and the navigator turned out to be ex 207 Squadron, Marham, who I had known there.
It did not take long to find out why they had arrived before the notification. They had actually been routed via Cyprus and Beruit [sic] but had done a short cut across the Med. and smack across Isreal [sic] . It might have seemed logical at the time but with no diplomatic clearance such an unauthorised route could have had unpleasant results from a trigger happy Ack-Ack gunner.
There was never a dull moment although some of the things that happened were quite serious.
Our helicopter with the Station Commander and Station Warrant Officer on board went down the line of the old Hadj railway of Lawrence of Arabia fame; to a point where it petered out about half way to Aquaba. For some reason or other the SWO, contrary to standing orders relative to the safe areas around a helicopter made the mistake of backing into the tail rotor,
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and a military funeral was the order of the day and a few months afterwards the helicopter pilot's wife who had shared our taxi to Gerash died of natural causes and there was more sadness in our tightly knit community.
There was a snippet of information from Habbanyia that did me the world of good when I heard of it and had a little 'chortle' at Black Mac's expense. He had given orders for an enormous banquet to be laid on. Typical, it had to be big!, but to lay that on for around a thousand people was no mean task. I definitely would not have cared to be in his Adjutants shoes about that time. As usual he had a hand in everything, including the menu and I can imagine the raised eyebrows when he decided that among the many courses served to two Kings, Ambassadors and dignatories [sic] from all over the Middle East was; maise!,(corn on the cob). That's what they feed the chickens on out there! but that was not the end of his indiscretions.
There was King Feisal of Iraq and his cousin King Husein [sic] of Jordan so it didn't help matters when he proposed a toast to King Feisal of Jordan!. I could just imagine the diplomatic huffing and puffing that went on. I had been on the mat in front of him often enough. I would like to have been a fly on the wall when he was on the mat in front of the C in C later.
In the political turmoil of the area we still managed to carry on with a small degree of normallity [sic] .
We managed a sports day with inter service competition between the RAF, the Army and the Jordanian services finishing up with a flying display from both Air Forces and on more than one occasion we closed the airfield to suit the Kings convenience by turning it into a motor racing circuit. That was a bit of fun on one occasion when he wanted to try out his latest Mercedes sports car. I can't remember the model but I do remember that it had gull wing doors. I even had the privilege of belting it around in company with the rest of his fleet.
It was a dreadful shock when we heard later that there had been a political uprising in Iraq, something that seemed to be spreading right through the Middle East, and as a result of that particular incident King Feisal of Iraq and most of the Royal family has been massacred, and a republic had been declared.
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There was definitely a rot setting in and there was no doubt that there was a lot of outside influence behind it all. You didn't have to be a genious [sic] to work out the fact that oil and a power politics was still the key to the whole business in Egypt, the Suez Canal, Jordan, Iraq and as it was to turn out later, Aden, the Persian Gulf and Iran and all points East. It seemed that that area of the British Empire's influence was crumbling around us.
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Nevertheless, Air Traffic Control was the job and there were few occasions when a shift did not produce something out of the ordinary.
It was all quiet one sultry afternoon when I heard a very faint 'May-Day' call on the common frequency and immediately responded but found it difficult to achieve satisfactory contact. The direction finder bearing showed the aircraft to be to the North of us and although it was possible to pick out a call-sign the rest of the message seemed to be in German. After giving courses to steer to reach us the aircraft's transmissions were getting louder and the pilot was calming down although it was obvious that his English was very limited, as was our German and then one of the assistants came to the rescue. I was not aware that he was a Channel Islander but he asked me to find out if the pilot 'parlies vous francious [sic] '?. That brought forth a stream of French so I put the assistant on the radio and it did not take long to find out what it was all about. At least he was steering the headings he had been given and was getting louder which was the most important thing but he turned out be a Swiss. in a light aircraft en. route from Cyprus to Bagdad but had encountered head winds, was lost and getting low on fuel. Certainly he had done the right thing by declaring an emergency over that inhospitable terrain that looked like the surface of the moon and getting into a bit of a panic that caused him to lapse into non-standard procedure. The rest was easy. He followed our instructions until he found us after which he was directed to the civilian reception area for the rest of the
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formalities. By the time he came over later to file a flight plan he had calmed down and able to communicate in good English and certainly happy enough that he had finished up with the RAF in Jordan instead of being lost in the mountains. Another satisfied customer even if we did extract a small landing fee from him.
I had to respond very rapidly to another emergency situation one evening shortly before our normal shut-down time. One of the Venoms was still airborne and the C.O. was on his way back from Aquaba in a Pembroke. The helicoptor [sic] pilot had just put his chopper away in the hangar almost opposite the control tower and had given me a wave as he started to walk off when the Venom pilot came on the air reporting his position and the fact that he had just flamed out and would be ejecting in five seconds ...4..3...2...1 and he was gone. There was a quick shout to the chopper pilot and hand signals to wind it up, another quick call on the radio to the C.O. who was on a different frequency almost overhead, to tell him that we had 'one down about 25 mls to the North East of us, please investigate...chopper on the way' and everything swung into action from there. Suffice to say that the downed pilot was back on the airfield within 30 minutes of his first call. Not bad going. The same 'downed' pilot was the one that subsequently took the first Harrier on a non-stop transatlantic flight to New York.
There was another occurance [sic] one late afternoon when a Valetta had a burst tyre and ran off of the runway to get well and truly bogged down but things like that were only slight hic-ups in a day's routine and I must admit that I was getting a lot more out of life than if I had continued to push paper around in the Secretarial Branch. Not that there wasn't any paperwork but it was different.
I had not been in Quarters on camp for very long and I had an off-duty morning closeted in my dark room when I heard the fire alarm faintly in the distance but with all the stuff I had in the trays I decided to ignore it. There was a highly qualified
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Flight/Sergeant RAF Regiment fireman on duty and quite capable of handling any situation without me. I found out what it had all been about when I went on duty for the afternoon shift and in hind-sight figured that it might have been better if I had turned out.
The fire had been in a ventilation canopy over the airmens mess kitchen right next to the school, so the firemen and police had cleared the school and were tackling the fire quite successfully until the Wg/Cdr. Admin turned up and instructed then to lay foam on the roof. They did as they were told and the resultant mess took days to clear up as the foam slid off into the school. My daughters were delighted at the fun and a few days off but the kitchens and the mess and the school were in a hell of a state. Ox blood based foam is very sticky stuff but I found a bit of a problem in writing up the fire report. First of all I was in trouble for not being there and then because foam had been used. I think it took three drafts of the report before the Wg/Cdr found it acceptable to pass on without laying the blame for the mess at anyone's door.
Following the report were his own recommendation that I, as fire officer should be on the phone so a phone was installed,(not that it would be any good if I was in the control tower or off camp as anyone else was entitled to be when off duty, but that caused another storm in a tea cup.
Some time later I got the bill for the telephone installation and was hot foot down to see the Wg/Cdr. As far as he was concerned I had the facility and I should pay for it but there was one quick way out of that. I insisted that as it was a strictly a service requirement on his own recommendation it should be restricted for incoming calls only and the Air Force could pay for it...and that was that. As far as I was concerned it was a matter of principle but I was beginning to wonder if other people had the same sort of hassle over almost everything. I certainly seemed to be getting more than my share anyway.
We had another unfortunate incident one night when an aircraft of the local air line inbound from Jedda lost an engine on final approach and piled in about three miles out. There were no other aircraft scheduled so with all the alarms going we were straight
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into the crash procedure and I jumped aboard one of the back up water tenders to get to the scene. It was a very rough ride but all we had to do was to head straight for the fire and by the time we got there the aircraft was well alight. The first rescue crews on the scene had put water spray on the exits where the passengers had been scrambling out virtually being pushed along by the crew and the last of them had just got out a few minutes before I got there and the fire finally beat the water and the foam and was rapidly consuming the aircraft.
Nevertheless, the crew were uninjured and there were no serious injuries among the passengers no doubt due to the fact that the the [sic] pilot had whipped the undercarriage up smartly and had done a successful belly flop in the lights of his landing lights. I found the rather shaken Captain who told me that at least everyone was out until there was some hysterical screaming from one of the native passengers who had been assembled in a group to one side and ultimately some-one conveyed the message that she had left her baby an the luggage rack…..too late!. The aircraft was melting down and there was nothing that could be done until things cooled off. Meanwhile we started loading the passengers into an RAF bus and ambulance as well as some of the back-up fire vehicles that were no longer needed and they set off back to the medical centre. My problem was that due to the terrain our radio to the tower was virtually useless and produced little more than buzzes and crackles so no-one on the airfield knew what was going on. I did something that was a bit hit and miss but it worked. I got the Rescue Landrover up to the highest point I could looking down on the airfield and broadcast the information and in addition I used the headlights to morse a message to the tower. They got both and the medical centre was ready to receive them and attend to the injured. Typical of the way they did things out there was one of the final acts. The pilot was promptly placed under arrest by the civil authority even though he was still in a state of shock. Out there you were often guilty until you could prove your innocence. It was the way things were done and one got used to things that would have been outrageous at home. It was very similar to the manner in which I saw the public treat a taxi driver in Amman city after he had knocked over
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a small boy in the main street. The taxi had come to a screeching stop after the lad had nipped in front of him and got clipped. A howling mob descended upon the taxi driver and hauled him out of the vehicle and pulled, punched and kicked him in the direction of the nearest police post whilst in the meantime the small boy, who had only been bumped and had rolled into the gutter, got up, dusted himself off and scurried down a side ally. No doubt the taxi driver got thumped for his part in the incident and it seemed that no-ne [sic] was particularly interested in a slightly grazed little boy!.
The unit library was a place that most people used and contributed to quite regularly but most books had become dog-eared and certain types, mainly 'whodunits' very often had their story line ruined by the attentions of a certain elderly lady.
The lady was an ex school mistress who had taught in the local missionary schools since the days of Queen Victoria if her appearance was anything to go by. She wore Victorian type clothing that elderly ladies of that era would have worn. Voluminous skirt and blouse with tweed jacket, the whole ensemble, half moon steel rimmed glasses and all, topped off by a white brolly. She lived locally although retired, and had stayed on, greatly respected by the local population and permitted the privilege of an honourary [sic]membership of our mess. That was how she came to use the library but the margins of nearly every book contained some comment, like an Agatha Christie Miss Marples, in her unmistakable shaky scrawl such as, 'now I know who it is', or 'so and so did it', or 'it cannot be……' or 'I knew it was' etc, etc. but she was a great character and after a spot of bother on one occasion with some of the locals when she needed rescuing from an excitable crowd she was heard giving them some suitable comment in arabic about their behaviour whilst still retaining her dignity.
At one point in the late summer we got the first rains of the season and a most wonderful sight met our eyes when we looked p down the hill from the bungalow. The whole hillside was covered in a solid carpet of crocus in all shades of mauve. They had
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just popped up, and by the end of the day they had all gone again. Surprising what a bit of moisture will do in that part of the world where it did not usually rain between March and September.
As the weather became cooler we decided to have a fire lit in the lounge one evening. Coal was available in the outside storage bin supplied on payment through the stores and very expensive. As it was a most unlikely commodity in that part of the world I asked the storeman how the devil we got it to find that apparently it was supplied under a local contract and came from South Africa by boat to Aquaba and then was brought up by camel train. Very precious stuff that!. However, Abdul was instructed to light a fire. I suppose I should have shown him how to do it the first time but it never occurred to me that he would never have seen coal before so when he queried the method he was told, paper and wood with the coal on top and the black rock will burn. So he did as he was told but he had experimented somewhat. He mixed the lot up with about a pint of parafin [sic] , set light to it outside and then brought it all in in a bucket. There was certainly some pandemonium when he came staggering in with a bucket of fire on the end of a pole!. The Station Fire Officer had visions of his quarters going up in smoke but we did eventually manage to transfer it to the fireplace where he sat watching it for a long time before being convinced that the black rock really did burn.
Their usual method of producing heat was by some parafin [sic] appliance or charcoal or even scrub wood which further diminished what timber there was on the sparse hillsides.
There was always plenty of social activity with dances, parties, horse riding, tennis, swimming gala's, motor racing etc, etc but I will always remember one particular function that we attended. A reception at the British Embassy was about the dullest affair that I have ever been to. The drinks were so watered that even if you asked for a straight Whisky you still couldn't taste it, or the Gin or the Brandy for that matter. One thing was for sure, no-one was likely to have more than was good for him and let the side down. What other foreign
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nationals from other Embassies thought about I wouldn't know but I imagine that giving a Russian a Vodka similarly diluted would have raised an eyebrow, and precious little else!. However, as is so often said, it was all part of life's rich tapestry.
As a part time untrained fire officer I was certainly getting my share of 'on the job training' from the experiences of attending some quite spectacular fires.
Shortly after having the phone put in I had a call-out and had no option but to turn out since the call came direct from the C.O. The first one was in the Souk (market), in the city, and I mustered the maximum that was available, leaving the bare minimum for the airfield so we set off with four vehicles and when we arrived the area was an inferno. The source of the fire was right in the centre where there was a great deal of timber used by a small factory producing boxes for fruit and vegetable packing and although the native population were very agitated not a lot seemed to be happening. The municipal fire services were no-where to be seen and as my F/Sgt was on leave the two corporals soon assessed the situation and started to deploy the vehicles whilst I went in search of a person of some authority and to find a source of water replenishment. I was unfortunate in both respects and when I returned to the scene it was obvious that we were in trouble. A hord [sic] of uncontrollable natives were helping out in their own way by manhandling one hose and had pulled the pump off of the jacks and the suction hose out of the water bowser to such an extent that there was water everywhere except where we wanted it. It was a fine old mess until I managed to find a policeman with stripes on his arm and asked him to muster sufficient troops to protect the operation whilst my firemen were instructed to recover everything, stop pumping and to stand-by until we had control. Not easy as some people were absolutely frantic as it appeared that at least four people had been caught in the blaze. As I saw it they would have been well and truly roasted by that time and my main concern was to stop the fire from spreading and we started to pump water again as far as our tankerage would allow although we had found a supply source of our own at an ice factory back along the road and started
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a shuttle and that kept things going.
In due course the municipal fire brigade arrived and positioned themselves on the downwind side of the fire…..and the best of luck, then the Jordanian Air Force arrived with their pump but no water tender but very soon packed up as their hoses were perished and leaking but it didn't matter much as they then ran out of petrol!. At least we were putting on water..until the King arrived!.
The police lost control of the crowd again, everyone was bowing and scraping. We lost control of the pump for a while and stopped pumping which upset the King a little when he came to watch progress but was satisfied that we had a water problem and as the fire was almost under control we might as well allow the centre to burn out unless the city fire services still required us. That being established we wrapped it up and set off home in convoy with a salute to the King and clapping from the locals....but we were minus one brass hose nozzle; which had been stolen!.
The next fire I attended some time later was to a cinema up on Jebel Ammman overlooking the city. That time we took the big fire tender with back-up pump and tanker. I went with the big Mk.V. and half a dozen firemen and air traffic control assistants but we did not have the best of drivers for a job like that. There were some very steep hills to negotiate and that particular model as fas [sic] I was concerned had some built in design faults. Not the least of which was it's hill climbing capability with a full load of water and foam compound plus a few people. In the excitement the driver did not react properly to the possibility of an extended hill climb when he should have selected auxiliary low gear at the bottom of the hill, but instead he stuffed it at the hill until he ran out of steam and then muffed a gear change. That was a recipe for disaster.
We started to roll back. Neither footbrake or handbrake would hold it and with the prospect of a nasty situation arising I hollered to all the men on the back to bale out, crashed the gear lever into a forward gear and wrenched the wheel out of the drivers grasp so that our downhill run was stopped by our back end ramming a low wall. I got some stick for it of course but I am convinced that it saved the day. It saved the troops
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but it bent the tender and the wall but at least we did take off again and got to the scene of the fire. Unfortunately the pump outlets had been damaged and we could only use it as a back-up water tender to our trailer pump that got to work immediately on arrival. The cinema was nearly gutted anyway and the shell of the building itself had prevented any spread of fire to surrounding buildings so there was little that we could do. The city fire services were spraying water on the side wall, aiming for one small window quite high up, with very little success until one local fireman climbed an extending ladder with his 1 1/2 inch hose to put water directly into the window. I didn't think it was good idea as it was all very close to overhead power lines and the like so I went inside through the foyer with the city fire chief to asses the possibility of taking our hoses in through that way and promptly retreated. The fire had got a good hold so I immediately withdrew all of our appliances out of the roadway from below the wall of the building to the space under the inside balcony. The main wall was as hot as the side of a brick kiln and all that cooling water in my estimation was likely to cause a blow-out and collapse the wall. Despite putting this suggestion to the fire chief that his man up the ladder was in considerable danger he left him up there whilst we concentrated on the fire at the base of the inside wall.
Of course, in retrospect there is always another way of dealing with a situation although my report emphasised the need to keep my firemen out of the danger of a collapsing wall so as usual I got 'stick' for it. That is what officers in charge were for!!.
That's what the recently appointed C.O. thought anyway as for some reason he did not have a lot of time for Air Traffic Controllers, even though we were all ex aircrew. To him we were 'rock-apes', a term of endearment usually reserved for the RAF Regiment. There was very little that any of us could do right according to him, so there was the usual enquiry and a lot more caustic comment thrown around. I was used to it by that time so it was all water off of a ducks back.
I was paying a number of liaison visits to the civil airport
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by that time as parts of the civil terminal building were being up-dated with an Air Traffic Control facility although it was very basic. Almost every time I went there the man in charge was comfortably dressed in pyjamas and rather like the Egyptians had very limited knowledge and even less experience but most of their questions were answered. We never saw them in our Air Traffic Control tower though. They always declined the invitation as apparently they monitored all of our radio channels anyway!.
I have very good reason to remember the occasion that the terminal was officially opened by King Hussien [sic] . I had an official invitation to attend with a place on the viewing balcony so of course I had my camera at the ready when the King advanced along the red carpet towards the entrance just below and a perfect shot was presented....then my lens hood fell off and landed at the feet of P.M. with a gentle tinkle. There was instant reaction. H.M. stepped back smartly, surrounded by his escort whilst about ten weapons were aimed straight at me. Phew!. Fortunately I was immediately recognised by the King as the chap he saw quite regularly in the control tower when he presented his flight plan and with a wave the procession carried on. One thing I did not expect was a soldier clattering up the steps to hand me back my lens hood with the compliments of the King. Alright to laugh at later but a bit tense at the time.
The political situation in Jordan seemed to changing in a way that was very similar to that which had caused Britain to give up their protective role in Egypt under the mandate given to us by the United Nations. We had been obliged to get out of Egypt and our troops had been withdrawn from the Canal Zone. Now the power struggle had centred on Jordan and King Hussien [sic] being pro. British was having a spot of bother keeping control of the situation and on one occasion when I paid a liaison visit to the civil 'Air Traffic Control Centre' I had an extraordinary proposal put to me. Although one had to be very careful not to discuss sensitive political matters a mention was made of Colonel Nasser who was the current 'fly in the ointment' in Egypt. It was suggested that if I could arrange for the British Government to put up £1,000,000 in gold Nasser could easily
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be put out of business!.
Having done my best to confirm that it was not a joke I lost no time in passing the message along a discreet channel which dealt with such things and naturally heard no more about it.
It was not long after that incident that I was on duty in the control tower and soon after we had opened up in the morning a great deal of activity was observed over at the civil terminal building as well as in the Jordanian Air Force dispersals. Through the binoculars I was able to determine the figure of General Glub, C in C of the Jordanian Forces, (and controller of the purse strings for the British money that kept that force going), in amongst a large crowd of military people.
It all looked very excitable and not the usual situation that one expected to see the General in so I immediately opened the line to our intelligence officer to give him a running commentary on the activities as far as I could see. One of the Jordanian Air Force's De Haviland Dove's was run up and then started taxying as the pilot called for take-off clearance whilst on the move. He would not give his destination although he advised that his flight was diplomatically cleared and he duly took off heading North. So was the General and his Lady as we found out later!. There had been a coup. Out went the General and the Jordanians controlled their own purse military purse strings. The results of that were soon very obvious as the supply of British money was cut off.
The British seconded personnel were OK for their pay as they were seconded from their respective forces but pay for Jordanian Forces soon became unreliable. So did the supply and re-supply of military stores. Their uniforms became tatty. Their boots were wearing out and we were to find out later that the troops were selling their equipment to make both ends meet although the shortage of one commodity did not come to light for some time.
It was after attending another fire that we were able to put two and two together. The fire was in one of the typical concrete blockhouse native dwellings out in the scrub and there was a hell of a bang one night when it erupted in smoke and flame. When we got there it was obvious that there was little need
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for our services. For myself I had long given up trying to put out fires. The priority was to save lives, stop the spread of fire and last of all saving of property. What we were faced with was a blackened ruptured mess that had been a home but with very little combustable [sic] material left but the worst part of, it was that there were half a dozen pink, bloated, naked bodies spread around it, plus one on what was left of the roof. We dowsed the place well and truly with water and the locals recovered the body but it was even more terrible to find that most of the casualties were women. They all had to be very carefully handled so we left the clearing up job to the Jordanians.
The subsequent Investigations showed that the explosion was caused by the careless handling of some high grade cordite, from some .303ins. cartridge cases complete with percussion caps, all in the same area. A recipe for disaster.
Apparently cartridges were being emptied and the bullets replaced making a nice little earner for someone. But it did mean that most soldiers probably had only one in five usable rounds for his rifle!. It was just part of the corruption that was beginning to undermine the once proud and efficient Jordan Arab Army. It was going into decline rapidly after it's finance had been cut off.
From that point on we found ourselves facing more and more restrictions in our daily life. NAAFI supplies became limited as certain items which were produced by firms having any connection with Isreal [sic] were banned imports. That included of course Jaffa orange juice that had gone all the way to the UK and back again to their next door neighbours but we coped. The NAAFI bottling plant stepped up production of orange and lemon drinks from essence that came from Cyprus. Well, so the management said!.
Nothing that happened surprised me any more. We had some very unusual flight plans signalled in one day which immediately aroused suspicion so Intelligence was advised. I decided to go out to the radar truck situated at the edge of the runway to get the closest possible view of these four 'Egyptian Air
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Lines DC.3's when they came in. They came charging into the circuit totally ignoring all Air Traffic instructions, did a low level circuit in a 'gaggle' and then crunched onto the runway. I was watching carefully from a small ventilator in the van as they slowed down at my end of the runway and they were quite a sight. In the first place they were not DC.3's. They were Russian Ilushan [sic] 14's and not in very good condition either. They were very tatty with lop-sided undercarriage suspensions and their general appearance was not improved by the rough flaking paintwork only partially covered Egyptian Air Force markings by crudely painted civilian registration letters.
I kept in touch with the control tower and all of our observations were passed to Intelligence and of course as they were ostensibly civil aircraft they went to the civilian terminal.
There was a great deal of activity on their arrival and there was a fleet of lorries awaiting them but the unloading process was difficult to follow even from the control tower, although I have no doubt there were many pairs of eyes on these from various vantage points as there must have been from the moment they touched down.
As soon as the unloading was complete they were requesting taxy clearance, destination not notified and no flight plans filed. All very suspicious.
All the information that we had been passing back had filtered through to the right people, possibly through the Embassy to the King but someone was very quick off the mark. Jordanian military police forces intercepted the convoy of trucks on the main road out of the airfield and the cargoes were found to be arms and ammunition looted from the huge depots in Egypt that we had left in the care of the Egyptians. It was obvious that something really dodgy was going on and subsequently some very rough justice was meted out. There were more public hangings in the city which was becoming quite a regular event.
The daily routine still went on but there was an air of apprehension creeping in. It was not unfounded. The next thing that happened was that families were warned to get ready for
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repatriation to the UK, and not very much time was given. There were lots of tears and frenzied packing until eventually the airlift by Hastings aircraft out of Cyprus began. Every day there were more goodbye's. Some people had to go by 'casevac' aircraft as the medical centre was emptied. Mothers and one day old babies were included until eventually it was the turn of the Gamble family. Abdul cried and beat his chest in anguish and when they had gone and the married quarter had to be prepared for handing back as I took up residence in single quarters. What an end that was to what had been initially descibed [sic] as an accompanied posting!. [inserted] I [/inserted] was not amused, but work had to go on just the same.
Living out privileges were withdrawn and everyone moved into camp as our activities became more and more restricted by local events. We were confined to camp for days at a time and mess life became a very hectic round with little else to do. Even the cinema only opened two or three nights a week with the difficulty of getting new films in. I managed to get Abdul taken on by the mess as a steward and he was only too glad to have a reasonably well paid job having moved his family into the area to work for me he had considerable overheads.
On one of the numerous occasions that the city had erupted once again in political termoil [sic] the C.O. sent for me to do a nice little job for him. I was to be a courier to take a message to the British Embassy, which was virtually under siege, and our communications were no longer as discreet as they might have been. I was to go in civilian clothes by taxi. My answer to that was "thanks a lot, do I have any options" to which the answer was "no". Thanks again, although I did wring one concession from him, I was allowed to draw a pistol, with a full chamber, which I kept in my hand, in my brief case, all the way there and back. There was no way I was going to be at the mercy of a howling frenzied mob without being able to do a bit of damage first. Right or wrong, that's the way I felt about the situation at the time. After all the tight spots I had been in in my life I reckoned I was owed a chance but it went off without any fuss and I breathed easy again.
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One evening about six weeks after the families had gone there was a strange atmosphere permeating the normal activities. The cinema was closed. The Sgt's mess bar, and ours, as well as the Naafi canteen were ordered to close early and everyone was warned to be ready for an early start the following day.
Few of us thought that it would be as early as it was though At 5am the sirens started wailing. The PA system was busy giving orders for everyone to report to their normal places of work by 6am, phones were ringing madly and the whole station got into gear very quickly. At 6am roll-calls were made and instructions were passed for everyone to get back to quarters, pack personal belongings and back to the messes for breakfast. Breakfast was tea coffee, toast and boiled eggs...taken on the run as it would finish at 7pm precicely [sic] after which we were to report back to our sections. At 7pm the PA system was announcing the almost unbelievable news that we were evacuating the station. Today!...just like that!. We were going to Mafraq which was a few miles to the North and we had 12 hours to do it in, and the PA system was going almost non-stop. There was no written distributed plan to work to. It was all done on the PA from Ops. and on the telephone. Motor transport was allocated to all sections who provided their own drivers. Those sections that had no drivers had them allocated with the vehicles and every qualified driver was pressed into service. Workshops were emptied. Vehicles were put together, and those that could not be put on the road were loaded on the backs of others or prepared for towing.
The direction finder vehicle that had been up on the hill without wheels for years was fitted with wheels and brought down. Fuel tankers were filled from the storage tanks and vehicles were filled to the brim. Aircraft tanks were topped up to maximum. A Meteor that had been under repair in the hangar was hastily prepared and in fact took off later with almost flat tyres and was wheels down all the way with the locks in just to be safe.
The messes, offices, stores, the Naafi, the library and armoury were emptied. The armoury in particular was cleared by the simple expedient of issueing [sic] arms to everyone to save transport space so we all finished up with a selection of rifles, pistols, Sten guns, Bren guns, you name it, and as much ammunition as we could
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carry. Work pressed on at an incredible rate. The only refreshment was what one managed to cobble up in the departments and sections…..lunch was not even mentioned, although we were told that meals would be available at Mafraq where a skeleton crew had always provided minimum facilities there as a relief landing ground; even before a new runway had been built on a new site.
Everything that was not bolted down was packed…and some things were unbolted, and as each section was ready to move it was off to the Guard Room where convoys of a minimum of ten vehicles were put together and dispatched by the Service Police. The Squadron Venoms were being flown out followed by the chopper as soon as the Squadron was gone. The fighter control unit that had always operated from a remote site was wrapped up and that was on it's way independantly [sic] as were the British Military personnel on secondment to the Jordanian Government. The RAF Regiment airfield defence units just packed up and went, Bofors guns and all, everyone armed to the teeth and in many cases parties left a certain amount of damage and disruption behind them. Handsfull [sic] of salt and sand did guns and engines considerable damage. The Jordanian Air Force Vampires had all their guns de-harmonised so that they were likely to spray lead all over the place instead of in a concentrated pattern and the Kings personal Tiger Moth was tipped up on it's nose busting it's prop.
The Station thinned out fast. Air Traffic Control, the fire services and the signals cabin were the last to wrap up but the dead-line was met although aircraft were still going in and out with very limited services which pilots were advised of and as we approached the dead-line we lost control of the airfield.
The last civilian aircraft was the BOAC Argonaught from U.K. to Bahrain and although the captain accepted the limitation he had to be sent around again as half a dozen vehicles of the Jordan Arab Army appeared on the airfield weaving about all over the runway and he was obliged to circle whilst we tried to keep them off. The pilot landed eventually under his own responsibility, disembarked and embarked his passengers in double quick time and was off again without a flight plan.
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Our last action was to signal the airfield's closure and change of operating authority before the signals cabin was dismantled and the Pembroke flew out with as many as could be piled in leaving the remaining Air Traffic staff (including me) and the fire services to go by road as soon as the keys were deposited in the Guard Room, so off we set with RAF Police Landrover in the rear. Amman was no longer an RAF base!!!.
Our new home was the new Mafraq airfield being built as part of the NATO plan. It was on the North side of the old oil pipeline on the main route from Damascus to Bagdad opposite the old Mafraq (Dawsons Field), but it was in no way complete.
At least it had a long new runway, some new buildings which had in fact been built as married quarters although there were no barracks as such. Needless to say, they were allocated as barracks even though they lacked lighting, running water or toilet facilities. In fact, water was a very scarce commodity as there was no bore hole, and no water tower so water had to be brought in by a dubious civilian source which could not even be used for cooking until a filtration system was devised. But all these problems were only part of the getting sorted out plan. Later on we found that as we were not far from the foothills of the mountains of southern Syria a water diviner was expected from the UK to pin-point a source. That was put on hold although it should not have been difficult considering that 20 miles to the East there was a large area of marshland and vegetation which was fed by the flood waters from the mountains and some of that found it's way through the middle of the airfield. They had built a large conduit under the runway to take it away in the rainy season!.
However, limited water there was and that was a start. At least once a day we could draw a ration for washing and shaving. Drainage was a different matter. There were no drains so we resorted to the desert encampment method of doing things and the shovels had been at work allready [sic] . Everyone got 'stuck in' and were working like beavers.
The Officers Mess had been set up in an area of bungalows. The Sgts Mess was similarly set up in a clutch of houses and the airmen spread around the incomplete estate. A large wooden building with a kitchen, which had originally been provided
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for the contractors workers was turned into the main mess hall.
As with our departure from Amman there were very few questions asked. Then we had been told to pack up and go. At Mafraq we were just allocated space and it was up to us to set it up. It says a lot for the character of the British serviceman in the way it was done. There was no lack of initiative.
Air Traffic Control had already been set up in a suitable place about half way down the runway in a desert mobile office and our old runway control van. Emergency short range radios took very little time to fit and aerials were promtly [sic] rigged by the signals section as was the direction finder and radar truck although it was only as a radio back-up and even the homing beacon was tied to the side of it on with a lash-up of a mast. As the ATC services were outside the main camp area and main power supply we had our own mobile generator.
The Royal Signals Corp who were [deleted] a [/deleted] our telephone people out there were frantically running lines between departments in the main compound, linking everything through a small PBX in the hub of the whole system, the Ops. room but had saved a lot of cable by actually using the runway lighting cables as phone lines to the ATC centre. There were no lighting units installed anyway just the cables. It would be back to the old parafin [sic] goose-neck flares for a flare-path.
The RAF Regiment were whacking in stakes and spreading coils of barbed wire by the ton to surround the main area of activity which did not include ATC. It was an isolated outpost, but armed to the teeth as was everyone else. Representations had already been made to the CO to turn us in a defensive compound surrounded by wire as we were going to have to maintain a 24 hour watch but we had been given a low priority on that.
Within the stores area was another fleet of vehicles including workshops which had [deleted] previously [/deleted] been part of the Egyptian stores depot that I had previously known nothing about and that played it's part later. Then there was a complete [inserted] mobile [/inserted] fighter control unit but it was not sited or deployed so there were a lot of people without jobs that ops deployed as manpower to wherever it was needed.
Work had been going on at a furious pace and a lot had been done before we arrived in the late evening. To uproot about
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1400 people with all their goods and chatels [sic] , equipment of all kinds, transport, arms andammunition [sic] , fuel, food and cooking facilities plus communications equipment, and set it all up again was quite an achievement and must have given the CO and his senior officers more than a few headaches in planning it in secret the night before.
Work that first day did not stop at five o'clock. It just continued until most things were in place and reported operational before the troops staggered back to the mess hall for soup and sandwiches before drawing bedding and making up beds to finally flop into them; exhausted. What a day it had been although it should be pointed out that it did not all happen on the first day. It was an on going thing and a matter of priorities.
There were two items of private transport parked in the officers mess area. One, the car that had caused a colleague so much trouble to get into the country, and the other, a neat little bright red MG.B. belonging to the Station Commander, or to be precise, his wife. Some months previously King Hussein had made a present of it to the CO. but no sooner that the Embassy heard of it they invoked Queens Rules and Regulations about the acceptance of gifts by serving officers and it was 'no can do'. I do not know who squared it all up, but the King took it back and then presented it to Mrs.C.O. There was no argument with that!.
After a few hours sleep the second day was a memorable one as far as some of us were concerned. There was no need to push anyone and after a quick breakfast the hustle and bustle started again. I had not even had time to go to the airfield for the day shift although we were down to six controllers by that time with postings out and no replacements and having left ATC problems to another controller I had hardly had time to check out the fire services deployment when a message direct from the CO was delivered. It required two controllers, six firemen, two radio mechanics and two other technical trades to muster with tool kits as appropriate, small kit, (essential personal belongings), plus one major fire tender, to return immediately to Amman to put the services back on the air again. It had not taken long for everything to fizzle out and the King had made
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a personal appeal to the Group Captain for assistance. I had no problem in nominating my No.2. A New Zealander, an ex POW like myself who would know how to take care of himself. I went with the fire tender and the others went by air arriving more or less at the same time. I had been delayed a few minutes before setting off as I transferred a couple of cases of Brandy from the Mess stocks to the fire tender…..just in case of emergencies!!!!.
My colleague had already taken stock of the situation and was waiting at the foot of Air Traffic Control when we arrived and we quickly sorted out a plan. A young Jordanian pilot was 'in control' in the tower and was doing his best with a verey pistol and a stock of cartridges which was about to run out as there had been a total breakdown of communications despite, as I had understood, that the civilian terminal facilities were all in place if needed. A bit of 'know how' would have helped, but civil aircraft were still scheduled and something had to be done so everyone went about their business. Within two hours everything was ticking over again. The main generators were started up. Power was back on, batteries were being charged, verey cartridge stocks were replaced by scavenging among the Jordanian Air Force aircraft, tuning had been carried out and crash and rescue services were operational, with limitations, although the Jordanian Air Force appliances would not join ours on the hard-standing but 'control' remained in the hands of the Jordanians. We flatly refused to have anything to do with it....it was their airfield and that was that.
By late afternoon our activities slowed down as intercomms [sic] and radio communications were all back on line so we waited around for something to happen.
Eventually we were rounded up and taken to a mess hail in the Jordanian Air force compound where we were fed. We certainly needed it. We had had nothing for ten hours other than perhaps a small share of a bar of chocolate that someone had thoughtfully put in his kit.
After that we were taken to our accommodation. I could hardly believe it was happening. The keys of two married quarters had been produced from the Guard Room. One was my old quarter and the other the Station Commander's.
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My colleague and I took rooms in my old quarter and we put the men in the CO's residence as it was the larger building but after a good look around we decided that there was plenty of room for all of us in the big house and that we would move in the following day. There was room for us at one end and for the men the other with the lounge designated as a common room. Our stock of drink was added to what we found in the main house. The CO had lived in it right up to the moment we had moved out and hence his wine stocks were still there in his store and side-board. It was an Alladins [sic] cave!. Exactly as he had left it. Nice of him. We promptly appointed one of the Corporals as barman with the responsibilty [sic] of keeping it all secure and out of bounds during the working day. That way we could make it last so after a couple of rounds on the CO we retired for the night.
I must confess that it did seem strange sleeping .in my old quarter again especially as there remained a memento of the previous occupants. A jig-saw puzzle that one of my girls had left was still on the top of a wardrobe!.
We had been warned to be ready for a pick-up at 7:30 the following morning for an 8 o'clock breakfast so we were all formed up in a mini parade when the transport arrived on the dot and were duly conveyed to the same mess hall, where we had had supper the night before.
Most of us were hanging on to the little bit of kit that we had taken with us and had added a few eating and drinking utensils along the way. The quarters were still as they had been left by the last occupant, as per inventory; down to the last pepper pot... but who cared!. There were two ex POW's who had been obliged to eat with the fingers before, and were not taking any more chances.
We had a good breakfast and at 8:30 we were asked to wait for instructions as there was a great deal of activity ouside [sic] and we did not have to wait long before we found out what we were going to do next.
The mess hall was totally encircled by armed troops standing shoulder to shoulder and an officer told us that we were to stay put until things were sorted out. We were under house arrest!.
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By mid-morning the sorting out had been done as we just sat around twiddling our thumbs until we were asked to assemble outside as we were going to the airfield...but not before being asked for the keys to the fire tender!. There was no point in arguing so I reluctantly handed them over and then we were escorted to the airfield where we waited a little longer before our Pembroke came in so we all piled in. The pilot, who happened to be the Group Captain did not bother to shut down the engines. It was certainly not built to carry that many so it was a bit of a squeeze and it was even more of a squeeze to get it off the runway too. We used every bit of it and every bit of power that was available. We used all of the runway and just lifted off with everything straining all the way to land at Mafraq a few minutes later with some very hot engines. So much for that little expedition!!.
The CO did not say a lot apart from suggesting that there would have to be an enquiry into the loss of my fire engine and I think [deleted] g [/deleted] my answer was something to the effect that it might as well be done by the same board that would do the enquiry into the loss of his airfield!, but it was only a formality really in order to get it struck off and replaced.
In the meantime things had really been going on apace at our new base. The barbed wire had been strengthened. Trenches and gun pits had been dug. Sand bags were piled up all over the place including the fuel dump, the aircraft dispersals and other vulnerable places....including Air Traffic Control. That was at least no longer stuck out on a limb but a whole new pattern of life had emerged.
The station was on Red Alert permanently which was a rare situation for peace-time. Everyone was still armed to the teeth and the Amman party had reclaimed their weapons from the armoury. On reflection it was as well that we had not been armed when we had gone back otherwise I am sure that it would have meant another enquiry into the loss of our weapons.
The old Mafraq desert airfield had been completely deserted and everyone was confined to the new camp area. Aircraft had been shuttling to and from Cyprus and Habbanyia. Essential supplies were coming in and non-essential personnel were being flown out as a lot of adjustment was taking place.
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Air Traffic Control was still being maintained on a 24 hour shift system so the few that had been doing the job were only too pleased to spread the job out a bit. We all had secondary duties to perform as well so we were kept busy.
The Army had opened the Post Office again and some mail was already beginning to filter through from the UK but we had been advised that outgoing mail was being censored at Nicosia so there would be delays in that direction.
I was desperate for news of my wife who had not been well prior to leaving Amman and had had a dreadful time going through Cyprus, Stansted and subsequently through Hendon before being able to catch the first train out of Victoria in the cold early dawn of an English winter. She had caught a chill. Her nerves were shot to pieces and it was just as well that she had opted to go back to her parents home in Worthing where she could be looked after much better than if she had gone to a transit camp at Blackpool which had been one of the options.
From her most recent letters it was obvious that she was still unwell and was not being helped by the disruption of the mail from our part of the world either.
All our goods and chatels [sic] which had been flown out of Amman was somewhere en-route so a lot of new clothing had to be purchased and it was not easy but somehow she was coping. For the girls it had all been quite an experience although even they were glad to settle down in the local school once more.
Our daily routine developed into something like normality once more. There was plenty of ammunition and we could spend as much time as we wanted on the range which had been quickly set up but in a very short space of time we set up our own on the airfield with aid of a borrowed bulldozer. I had qualified as a range safety officer at Mareham [sic] so we soon got clearance to do our own thing. The targets were of the tin and bottle kind and there is nothing like practice to improve marksmanship!.
One also learns considerable respect in the handling of firearms provided that the basic rules are observed, and they were. No fooling about. A gun should always be handled as if it was loaded so loading and unloading and cleaning, going on and off duty never produced one incident of mis-handling...fortunately!.
Aircraft continued to go in and out, and in most instances we
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had notification as soon as our communication with the outside world had been re-established. It was all radio and radio teleprinters of course so with all the coding and de-coding that was required the signals cabin was going flat out.
We were very surprised one morning we we [sic] went off-duty after a busy night with Hasting's coming and going to find that we had several heavy artillery peices [sic] already dug in, sandbagged and manned by the R. A. ready for use. The question was, against who?.
We were not left in doubt for very long. Within 24 hours of their arrival the news hit us that combined French and British forces had invaded Egypt and the Suez Canal Zone and then we were immediately on a war readyness [sic] state.
News was limited to the personal radios that many still had but the fresh restrictions under which we were then placed gave us more to worry about.
Diplomatic relations with other Arab countries were broken off and we could no longer use the air route across Syria to Cyprus and all traffic had to be routed via Habbanyia(Iraq) and Turkey. Isreal [sic] was at war with Egypt and Jordan. Iraq was making protests in respect of our presence and Cyprus was suffering some internal unrest from a regigious [sic] rebel. And we were sitting in the middle!.
That particular episode is but another chapter of history, so it might as well be left to the historians to write it down. All I was aware of at the time was that it was another fine mess I was in.
The daily routine went on but perhaps the biggest headache of all was the acute shortage of water. Tanks, water carriers and bowsers of every sort were pressed into service for storage. There were no laundry facilities and it soon became neccesary [sic] to institute bathing parades for about twenty people at a time to strip wash at a water bowser and then dunk clothes at the same time. It was not very well received by some of the more sensitive youngsters, many of them national servicemen but thank goodness the weather was still fairly warm with the odd shower from time to time. At least when it did rain Air Traffic Control had a plentiful supply with the benefit of the stream that ran under the runway. More than enough on one occasion after a really
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heavy downpour when a great deal of rubbish was carried along in the flood which blocked the grating and then diverted the stream over the runway!. A useful job for the fire services.
The rain did bring some other problem though as the airfield had been built right across an age old camel route from the North right down into Saudi Arabia. Camel trains naturally followed the water supply and took years to go each way with many young being born en-route.
The older animals knew the route instinctively and invariably travelled in the cool of the night with the herders fast asleep in the saddle but it played merry hell when they blundered into barbed wire and other things like an airfield across their path. There was a great deal of growling, bellowing and other noises that camels make as some of them got tangled up.
Some wire had been strung out earlier to divert them from their route but it was a waste of time. You only had to look at a camel to realise that going around it was very far from their minds. The easiest way was to remove it and thoroughly inspect the runway at night before it was. I think it save a lot in compensation too!.
I had one piece of good news anyway. The two cases of Brandy that I had diverted from the bar stocks were written off and did not get charged to my mess bill, the paperwork for which had all been brought from Amman. It would not have cost much anyway. At approximately 50p a bottle it would not have been more than £12 in total in those days!.
Since we had moved to Mafraq our rations had been fairly basic although with the air supply we had been topped up and were adequate for several weeks if we had been completely bottled up. Nevertheless. the NAAFI manager, who was a member of our mess and in fact shared a room with me, decided that he would do something really special for one week-end and set to work with some 'surplus' stocks to make an enormous pie. In a bath tub!.
In went four chickens, obtained locally, followed by several pounds of bacon. The contents of several tins of pork and sausage meat. Corned beef, spices, all suitably spiced and sloshed into the tub with several dozen halves of boiled eggs. The pastry took umpteen pounds of flour and fat to make the lining and
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the lid and when finally decorated was a near masterpiece as the 60lb. pie was hoisted into the oven.
After hours of cooking and cooling it was finally brought ceremoniously into the dining room with all the solemnity usually reserved for a royal haggis. It really did look good with it's pastry leaves and rosettes all glistening with the overall glazing. It cut beautifully and tasted gorgoeus [sic] . Certainly it seemed worth all the effort that had been put into it….until the following day!.
Some people said it was due to a richness that we had not been used to, others reckoned it was over indulgence but the medical officer decided that as the medical centre was inundated with officers going sick that perhaps the ingredients were not as fresh as they might have been. The local chickens were suspect even though they had been bought live. (You did not normally buy anything of that sort out there unless it was on the hoof or still clucking). So the MO had the last word and condemned it to be consigned to the fire. I thought it was a great shame. I had had a double portion and I was OK, and so was the NAAFI manager who took out a large chunk before disposal. And we still did not come to any harm. Need one say more!.
There was one weekly event that many people turned out to see. It was the 'train' that went through from Damascus to Bagdad a few miles from us, usually on the far side of the old Dawsons Field, only it was not on rails. It was a huge Mercedes locomotive/coach with a trailer coach like a gigantic silver caterpillar. It's wheels were between 7 and 8 feet in height with great balloon tyres that looked as if they had come off of a Stirling. With a crew of drivers, engineers, radio operators navigators and stewards it just bored majestically along like the proverbial ship of the desert in a plume of exhaust smoke and a cloud of sand. It really was an impressive sight as it went through. Unfortunately I was never in a position to photograph it as zoom and telephoto lenses were not so readily available as they are today.
After [sic] while the rigid restrictions were eased a little although we were required to wear uniform all the time. Everything to the West of us and that included the town of Zerqua was still out of bounds but we could go in small parties Eastwards to
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the marshes where there was some wildfowl and some remnants of an ancient civilisation.
Among them were the ruins of an old Bysantine [sic] town which still bore the marks of the progress of the Crusaders that had passed that way hundreds of years before. The most amazing thing was the size of the building blocks. Something like 4ft square and there was still a lot of it standing. Mostly it was being used as a shelter for camels which were being looked after by a motley collection of very ragged boys who surprised us by having a smattering of broken English. In fact they even looked a little European and I will say no more about that other than to note that the British had been in those parts for a long time!.
The method of construction was to remain a mystery as we could find no books on the subject in our limited library but generally it must have followed the same ancient techniques used by the Romans and the Pharoes [sic] , who seemed to be able to move huge quantities of stone with only crude equipment…..and a lot of expendable manpower. In one wall there was a door of solid stone 18ins. thick, some 4ft by 5ft hung by 3ins. pegs, hewn out of the solid, which was perfect fit and capable of being swung to and fro' in balance by a finger touch. Quite remarkable, and a welcome outing in a place like that provided some relief from our normal routine.
I took the opportunity to fly down to Aquaba on one accasion [sic] . The firemen down there were on detachment originally from Amman on a rotational basis and some of them had been there overlong. I had been badgering the CO. for a long time and eventually got clearance to go down and swap three of them over, as well as taking what mail there was. Mail had been very spasmodic as the lines of communication kept changing.
When we were in Egypt the run out of Fayid to Amman used to parachute the mail into Aquaba and aircraft landed infrequently. When Egypt packed up some went by sea and some went via Amman and then it all got held up until it went via Cyprus and Amman and then the routing was changed to Cyprus/Habbanyia/Mafraq with the inevitable delays. With only limited communications between Mafraq and Aquaba three firemen had a nice surprise when they found that they were being relieved. I tried to find my cousin but learned that he had already returned to the UK.
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At his age he was due to end his long service with the army and at last get the sand out of his shoes. I could understand how he felt after all the years he had spent in Mesopotamia [sic] before the war and he was no doubt relieved to get out of another of many tight spots including the evacuation from Dunkirk.
We had a very nice surprise one day when a couple of young English nurses in an old banger presented themselves at the main gate asking for shelter for the night.
They were en-route from the UK to India the hard way. Right across the continent, a hop from Turkey to Cyprus. Another to Beruit [sic] and Damascus, then following the route of the old Hadj railway to Zerkqa before setting off across the desert for Bagdad they found an out-post of the British Empire on their route so it changed their plans a little.
Room and board was found for them. They were fed and rested and their old banger, which was actually in better condition than it looked, was serviced by the MT. section who were only too pleased to have something different to do. After spending a couple of nights with us they were given a resounding send off and good luck to them. There was still some spirit of adventure left that was for sure. They were not the only women to undertake such a daunting journey.
When the families were being evacuated from Amman there was one lady who decided to drive the family car back to the UK. If they had had as much trouble in getting the car into the country as my colleague then there some logic in it, but she took two youngsters as well.
We heard that she had made it after many weeks on the road and her route had taken her out of Jordan into Syria. Then further on into Turkey, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Austria, Germany and Belgium before it became neccesary [sic] to cross the last ditch...the Channel!. Some journey. Nearly 3000 miles. Who said that women were the weaker sex.
We were still losing controllers without replacement. The next one to go was the same chap who had imported the car and the NAAFI manager was being posted back home as well so they went together. They filled up the car with their kit, fuel and supplies and they set off for the 500 mile plus journey to Habbanyia following the pipe-line towards Bagdad and Basra.
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The pipe-line was the best possible navigational feature for crossing the desert as there was no road then. Just the pipe-line and a string of desert air-strips that were generally American oil company manned with their own system of communication. All that for a pipe-line that had not pumped oil for years!.
My wife was continuing to have a rough time of it and for some reason was not getting all of my letters. Her nerves were still bad and she was having a lot of treatment whilst I was still stuck in that place. True, we had the facilities of mess life and the Squadron pilots who were not doing much flying had set themselves the task of starting up a cinema in a marquee. The RAF Film Service had fallen down on the job and nothing was coming in other than privately arranged 16mm films from Habbanyia and using the 16mm projectors that were supplied for training films we managed some form of entertainment. Our original 35mm equipment in our cinema had been left behind in Amman but we coped even though we had to stop the programme to change reels and it very often went out of synchronization...accompanied by hoots of laughter.
A games night in the mess on one occasion provided a little distraction but it was a night that I fear I became a little unpopular with the organisers, The Squadron pilots of course. It was a games night with a difference as it was turned into a gambling den despite the fact that normal mess rules forbad the playing of games for money. Anyway, our conditions were far from normal and I recall that the bank was holding it's own at most tables but the roulette wheel favoured me to the extent that I broke the bank. The first time was not so bad and after they had raised more funds I broke it again!. They said it was only for fun so I gave all my winning back and retired but I am sure that I would not have got my shirt back if I had lost it....but it was still a lot of fun despite the fact that the CO made some very disapproving remarks. He and I were not on very good terms by that time.
Our relationship had not been improved by another incident when I was Duty officer one night and one of the patrols called in to report that there were suspicious noises on one section of the perimeter according to the Guard Sgt, like tank track noises. I was just a link in the chain and passed the report on to OPs.
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centre. The CO decided to go out with the Guard Commander and found that it was only echoes from a generator exhaust and I got the stick for it. Still, I would have got a lot more if it had been a tank probing our defences and I had not reported it. As usual it was a 'no-win' situation for me.
We still did not know quite what to expect or from where. The Suez invasion was all but over. We had driven a wedge between the Egyptians and the Isrealies [sic] and they had agreed to pull back. Our troops were withdrawing and it was a very tricky situation not improved by the recriminations and world opinion on our role in the whole affair, and all was not quite what it seemed on the surface.
We had been warned that the odd Canberra might be making a dash for us from Cyprus but we had a bit of a shock to learn that on one occasion an RAF Canberra out on a high photographic recce' over Syria had something on his tail that he had not quite expected. A Syrian, (Russian made.), SAM 7 heat seeking missile!, and unfortunately it found him. As far as I recall one member of the crew was killed, the other was captured and was returned some time later when the situation had eased a bit. Not a lot was said about it.
Christmas 1956 came and a great time was had by all. The Officers and NCO's served the men in time honoured fashion. There was too much to drink and rationing was forgotten for that day. Unknown talents emerged with a station concert and a station song with many bawdy verses was produced along with one or two daft acts on stage. I am not sure what time lunch finished that afternoon but I reckoned we owed ourselves that.
My tour of duty, 2 1/2 years, was coming to an end and like most people I cherished the date which was bodly [sic] marked on my calender [sic] . In the old days it would have been "roll on that bloody boat" as the song goes although in the circumstances it was roll on any form of transport when I reported to the Adjutant for confirmation that the repatriation procedure would soon be be [sic] put in motion. I was devestated [sic] when I was told that I was being deferred as they could no longer afford to lose people without replacement. It did not take long to arrange for an appointment to see the CO only to be told that there was no appeal, the decision had been made although after we had been
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closeted for a while with some man to man talking and the production of some letters from my wife and her Doctors he accepted the fact that I might have a good case so he would see what he could do. He owed me that at least after one incident that ocurred [sic] between us that needs no airing so I was left sweating it out for a while.
Fortunately it did not take too long and I was soon involved in the paperwork to clear the unit, obtain an air priority and wait for another week before, I at last found myself on an aircraft for Habbanyia.
As soon as I got into the transit mess there was my colleague who had driven there in his car still trying to get it down to Basra but otherwise enjoying himself.
I found it very difficult to enjoy myself even when every day was virtually a holiday whilst I waited for a seat on an aircraft when I was so desperate to get home. My priority rating was still the basic, the bottom of the list!, so all I had to do was wait.
Fortunately I knew a lot of people at Habbanyia and was invited out quite a lot. I also saw a lot more of Habbanyia and on one occasion a party of us got together for a day trip to Bagdad.
That was a forty mile taxi journey each way across the desert as there did not appear to be a road and the return journey was of course done at night. I can only think that those drivers navigated by the various clumps of rocks that loomed up from time to time as there was nothing else to indicate which way to go except the stars.
In Bagdad we broused [sic] around, up the street of the goldsmiths, down the street of the silversmiths and up the street of the ivory carvers and in an about sampling the sights.
It was not possible to photograph all that I would have liked to as it seemed that the Iraqi army was guarding almost every street corner. Photographs had to be taken very discreetly after the first occasion that a threatening rifle was pointed in our direction, but it was a good day just the same.
I was still kicking my heels after a week without having been called forward so I buttonholed a Valetta captain that I had known at Fayid who was flying a freighter to Cyprus the following day and he agreed to take me as supernumarary [sic] crew. Air Movements
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staff agreed and I was out on the airfield, baggage, hangover and all by 7am, after very little sleep. I wish I had had the good sense to have abstained but it had all developed into another fairwell [sic] party and I don't think I have ever felt so bad before. I almost signed the pledge [underlined] again!. [/underlined]
The thunder of the take-off just about scrambled every nerve in the brain-box but that was only half of it. We were of course taking the roundabout route going North-West to cross the Turkish border then West over the mountains and the Valetta thundered it's way up to 16,000ft with the crew on oxygen, all except the supernumary [sic] crew member who did not have an oxygen mask so I cupped a spare outlet hose in my hands with it on full flow I gulped and and [sic] gulped until the hammering in my head became a little more bearable. I was very glad when we turned South and started letting down clear of the mountains on the last leg to Cyprus. What a blessed relief it was to touch down at Nicosia and sample that first cup of coffee in the transit lounge.
With thanks to the pilot for the completion of one more leg of the journey behind me I reported for documentation and when that was done found myself signing for a Smith & Wesson .38 with six rounds and a printed set of instructions before being transported to a hotel in a quiet area of Nicosia. Basically the istructions [sic] were to the effect that if I was out in public I had to be prepared to defend myself although the natives seemed friendly enough on the surface there was still an undercurrent of dissent. Most of the troops that had invaded Egypt who had used Cyprus as a jumping off point had been withdrawn and I certainly had no intention of going very far on my first day in Cyprus. I was in need of a lot of sleep.
The following day, fully refreshed, I was off to re-visit Nicosia city centre and I was dammed if I wanted to take a pistol stuck in my belt like some bandit as all my webbing had been packed away in my 'deep-sea' kit so I left it in my room.
I was wandering along quite happily taking in the sights down a main street when a car pulled up alonside [sic] with a screech of brakes and my immediate thought was...'whoops-here is trouble' and I turned quickly to asses [sic] the situation only to see a chap that I had known in Amman who said with some urgency "Tom Gamble,
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get in you bloody fool", so I did.
It turned out that I had been strolling down 'murder mile' where more than one bloke had bitten the dust in recent months. He was more concerned afterwards that I was not armed but who knows, perhaps it was because I was not that I did not become a target. He lived in a bungalow not far from the Hotel so that's where we finished up for tea, dinner and drinks on more than one occasion.
He was a useful chap to know being one of the Air Movements and despite the fact that I had been told that I would be called forward when a flight became available I didn't think a daily visit to Air Movements would do me any harm, if only to be sure that I-was not overlooked. Not that he could expedite my passage. That was determined by my priority and a long waiting list but we chatted about this that and the other and he told me there was a compound in the freight area with all the Amman baggage in it so we went to have a look. Under a large tarpaulin was a huge pile of boxes and on investigation we found all the Gamble's unmistakable boxes on the edge of the pile. I couldn't mistake those boxes. One of them had been my father-in-law's tool chest and another had belonged to an Uncle who I had never known, who had been killed in France during WW1. He had had it made in India so it was certainly well travelled. Anyway, they had already been there three months and whether he exercised his perogotive [sic] or not they were back in the UK two weeks later.
I had many a pleasant time with his family for odd meals and parties as well as a couple of runs out into the country and to the coastal resorts of Limosol [sic] and Lanarca as the days went by.
Despite the fact that I checked daily with Air Movements the answer was getting monotonous, "sorry, not today" was not what I wanted to hear and seriously thought of using the knowledge of my wife's condition to 'up' the priority although I had already sent a cable to her to let her know I was in Cyprus and still waiting when, at last, after a week I was told that I was allocated for the following day so all the paperwork was done. I sent another cable to say I would be on my way and duly reported with baggage, ready to go. I actually got as far as the steps to the aircraft when a Service Policeman came rushing
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up with an Air Movements Cpl and a harassed looking airman with a suitcase. Papers were waived and I was taken off of the manifest to go back into transit. The airman had compassionate grounds for getting home in a hurry and that's the way it worked. He had a higher priority than I did and unless you were very senior it was usually an officer who had to give way. It cost me another cable to say I was further delayed.
Air Movements confirmed that I would be away the following day and I think I went to bed that night with everything crossed but it all went according to plan. There was another emergency boarding but that time it did not effect me as my priority had gone up one as a result of the previous day's cancellation, so I was off at last in a chartered Eagle Air Lines Viking stopping; at Nice for refuelling and thence to Stansted and finally to Hendon for disposal. After that I was on my way to Worthing, home and family.
That was the end of my Middle East tour. All that packed into two years and seven months!. By that time it was the beginning of February 1957 and I was not thinking too much about my next appointment. I would know all about that when I reported to the Air Ministry within the customary 48 hours of my arrival in the UK. Family business was of the highest priority as it was obvious that Dorothy was far from well with a nervous disorder so before I reported to Air Ministry I got a letter from her doctor and was prepared for any problems that might arise.
I need not have worried. The Personnel Staff could not have been more sympathetic and sorted out a posting for one that was beyond any wildest dreams. Tangmere, just 18 miles from Worthing so off I went with two weeks dis-embarkation leave to sort things out.
It did not take long to get a small car and we visited Tangmere to take a look at what was to be our new home and to complete an application for Married Quarters which we were told, would be available soon and another visit to the Senior Controller soon put me in the picture. There was one small problem. It was another 24 hour shift working Air Traffic Control situation. Another of the many geographically placed units that provided an emergency service although that would not present much of
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a problem once I was in quarters. I was used to sleeping away from home....although that did not mean that I liked it.
The two weeks went very quickly but at least we made the most of it. We got out and about visiting family as part of the process of rehabilitating my wife until it was time to report for duty and once again after the arrival formalities I was up in the control tower ready to start local training to bring me up to the very high standard required on such a busy unit.
There were two resident Squadrons. One of Meteor night fighters and the other of Hunter day fighters and their activities ensured that Tangmere was not going to be dull. A controllers handling capability had to be brought up to being able to cope with up to eight aircraft at a time....and that was pushing it!. What took a little time to get used to was the fact that every time I was up in the tower I was looking down on an area of tarmac where only 12 years previously I had been de-loused on repatriation from a German POW camp, but it was the general atmosphere of the place that I found so fascinating. To me it was like being on hallowed ground and all rather pleasant after my recent experiences and somewhat comforting to find that I had served previously with three of the controllers.
Within a matter of weeks I was put to the final test required by the Senior Controller and was certificated for solo watchkeeping and bit by bit I was also creeping up the married quarters waiting list until one day I was allocated a quarter.
Unfortunately it all went sour the following day when I was told that it had been re-allocated to the Medical Officer!. It was not very well received at home although I was told that another would be allocated in a few days so I was reluctant to have made the protest that I could have done. My knowledge of the regulations told me that as a National Serviceman the M.O. did not qualify for quarters!, but it was politic to let it ride.
Within a matter of days I was allocated a quarter for the second time and there was considerable excitement in the family when they were told that we would be moving soon.
It was either the next day or the following one when I went on duty that I was told, yet again, that it was being re-allocated. I could not believe it. If I had done that sort
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of thing when I had been looking after quarters at Coningsby I think I would have been lynched but that time I did not take it laying down. It did not take long to find out that it had been allocated to the new O.C Flying Wing, (my boss, two steps up) on ex officio grounds, meaning that the quarter goes with the post irrespective of the waiting list. That was the regulation and as such it was acceptable, apart from the fact that the out going Wing Commander was still occupying a Quarter!. As far as I was concerned that was not on and if I was go home and tell Dorothy once more that we were further delayed the next thing that I would be doing was resigning my commission. I had just about had enough too but after more consideration than I would have given most problems I asked to see the Station Commander, Group Captain Hughie Edwards.VC, among many other decorations, and with tounge [sic] in cheek put my case as succinctly as I could. A change from my usual bull at a gate tactic. Out came the relevant order, in came the OC Admin, and the S/Ldr Admin and the Station Adjutant, the order was taken apart with a decision in my favour and apologies for the cock-up. After that it was my turn to apologise for having the temerity to make such a protest and it all ended up without anyone being upset and within a week we were in quarters. I can think of one or two CO's who would not have reached a similar decision whatever the regulations but enough said about that.
Before we moved our boxes had at last been delivered to Worthing and we didn't know whether to laugh or cry when they were opened up. Customs had already been through some of them and they had been badly repacked. Crockery, glass and ornaments had been broken. Clothes had gone mouldy and had to be thrown away. Linen that we thought was white when we packed it was a nice shade of brown as a result of a couple of pounds of Jordanian and Cypriot sand in each box a lot of which had filtered into the sewing machine box requiring a complete overhaul of that to avoid further damage. Nevertheless, most of it was usable. Just one of the snags of living out of a suitcase and boxes for years but we settled into our new home and a comfortable routine was soon established. The girls were soon back to school and there was continual family movement to and from Worthing as we picked up the threads of a more settled life and Dorothy's
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health began to improve. It really was turning out to be a very a happy unit too, and I had become the Station Fire Officer again!. It was suggested that I should go on the Fire Officers short course at one time but I cast that one aside. "No thanks, Iv'e[sic] had enough on the job experience" and left it at that. I didn't protest when the phone was put in though. Being out of my bed every fourth night I could cope with but I was trying to avoid being away from home any longer than that for a while.
It was shortly after we had settled into the routine that I heard the sequel to the Mafraq situation. Not a lot was mentioned by the media and I got most of the information from my correspondence with friends but apparently within a few weeks of my departure we abandoned the place. It was quite an operation. Again, everything was made mobile. Vehicles got armour plating and Bren gun mountings. Some 400 vehicles that had been in the Maintenance Unit were made ready and loaded with all the other stores, preparations for which were going on before I left as that many vehicles require a lot of batteries but the distilation [sic] plant did not have the capacity to produce the required amount of distilled water. Even at that point a decision had been made to use any sort of water and throw the batteries away after a short life. All had been put together in a very large convoy of 600 vehicles were fuelled and provisioned for the 500 mile journey, armed to the teeth still, the aircraft were flown out so off they set off with air cover and air supply all the way to Habbanyia.
Quite an experience for a 'peace-time' operation. There was no real problem and eventually it all finished up at Basra for shipment.
I eventually heard from the chap who had had all the problem with his car. It did eventually get to Basra and subsequently back to the UK, as deck cargo on the Ark Royal, very scratched and bent with a lot of bits missing. There was a car with a history!,.
One of the biggest surprises that I got one day was a bill from the accounts department; for1s & 7d, (7 1/2 pence in today's money) for 'barrack damages' on the occasion of leaving my quarter in Amman. It was for the deficiency of one wash basin plug!. Absolutlely [sic] incredible after all the millions of pounds that
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the evacuations had cost the Government. And I get a bill for 7 1/2 pence!. When I approached the Accountant Officer with a suggestion that it ought to have been written off he was adament [sic] . It had to be cleared from the books and although it cost me more than 7 1/2 p in stamp duty I paid it by cheque just to make a point. How bloody silly!.
Secondary duties were always coming the way of Air Traffic Controllers and one that fell in my lap was an audit of the bedding store inventory. I had a full briefing for that one and the appropriate Air Ministry Order thrust under my nose to reinforce the importance of checking thoroughly. It was the first time that I seen the order and it was almost word for word of the paper that I had put forward years previously so obviously it was an successful system. I wonder who got a pat on the back for that?. Certainly not me.
On one fine day up in the top tower doing airfield control with a few Hunters flashing around the circuit I knew by the clatter of footsteps on the stairs behind me that the party of .Air Cadets that I had was expecting were about to descent upon me and on turning to meet them was astonished to find that Peter Hobbs who had been the Navigator in the same crew as myself on Stirlings in 1943 was the officer in charge. I don't know who was the most surprised and for a while I was far too busy for any conversation although later on when it was quieter we really did get down to business. I picked him up later in the day to come home for tea and later for a drink in the Mess and we had a lot to chat about but the extraordinary thing was that when we met umpteen years later he had no recollections of the meeting at all, although at least he could remember coming to my wedding. That is more than Paddy Martin the Flight Engineer could!.
As we got into the Summer I had a feeling that all was going too well to last. In July I was dispatched to Shawbury for an eight week Radar course. Just as the kids school holidays were coming up. Nevertheless, I took some local accommodation at Wem and managed to live out for nearly a month. That gave everyone a change and a chance to tour new areas and a great deal of Wales as well. It actually made a very nice break for us all and although it was my second visit try Shawbury it was not to be my last.
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I passed out of that course with possibly the best mark that I had ever achieved despite it's intensity and in due course reported back to Tangmere for duty.
There was of course the usual period under instruction but I was certificated after ten days and back on watchkeeping duties with the ability to be rotated anywhere in the control system.
Ground Controlled Approach as the radar system was called was most satisfying and there were many occasions when I was required to pull out all the stops. It was very demanding but rewarding nevertheless. Some of the highlights of my experiences in GCA are firmly imprinted on my mind.
One occasion that I remember well, and I think my younger brother will as well, was when I was on stand-by on the end of the telephone at home and he was staying with us as he was also recovering from a nervous disorder following a matrimonial problem. I took him with me when I was called out.
The alerting system had already brought the equipment up from the stand-by mode to full power as we raced for the operations truck and I made contact with the tower as I slid into my seat. I put him on a spare headset and was pointing out the significant blobs on the radar screen and after that concentrated on the job in had [sic] , showing him the progress of the blob from time to time. The customer was a diverted Hastings from abroad and although our weather was bad elsewhere was even worse so with 600 yards visibility and a 200ft cloud base I got stuck into my very first operational talk-down. I had been on the other end often enough and knew that it was not easy to handle an aeroplane completely on instruments, boring into the murk, descending at around 130mph. That was probably why I always projected myself into the cockpit when doing talk-downs and felt as if I was virtually holding hands with the pilot and everything went smoothly. The pilot had a full instrument rating and the rest was up to me. When we came to the critical bit, just in the bottom of the cloud at half a mile from the runway threshold he was as steady as a rock, still doing around 120mph, in contact with the approach lights through the murk to the point of touch-down when I flicked the transmitter switch off to hear the pilot report "on the runway" as I turned to where my brother should have been to as I said "I'll open the door
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and you will see him go by"....he was not there. The strain had been too much. He was flat out on the floor and although he did not take long to recover he vowed that would never place himself in that siuation [sic] again and was very glad to get back to the house where a drop of the hard stuff restored him. I don't know if it was the shock treatment but he made good progress after that and got his feet firmly on the ground again.
Another visitor to the tower one day sent a few people into a panic as the sight of a policeman' uniform will often do. Even if you have done nothing wrong. Nothing you can remember anyway!. It was my wife's cousin, a local police patrol Sgt who was making a courtesy call, and in the course of our conversation he conveyed his Inspectors compliments. It had come out during a chat that he was none other than the chap who had been in the same hut as me in Stalag 11d, Nuremburg POW camp. It certainly was a small world!.
Our Senior Controller had a unique talent. He was in great demand to perform party tricks with cards and the like but his best performance was as a Hynotist [sic] .
Like most-people I was sceptical even when I saw people doing quite remarkable things, under the 'influence' I was still not convinced. Not until I was included in a group session. When the preliminary process of selection and conditioning had been done and I was told that my right arm was heavy and I could not lift it I said to myself "rubbish', I will show him. But I couln't [sic] , or my leg when we got round to that any more than I could stop the daft answers to questions coming out of any mouth when I tried not to say them. After that I was convinced and knew that people who were. getting drunk on a glass of, water, acting like chickens and other animals were not just part of the act. I submitted myself to several sessions and it was to be the same every time. He really did have control and was very good but the CO. put a stop to group sessions particularly if any of the pilots were involved. He reckoned that pilots were too vulnerable and did not want any talked into the ground!. Although it was most unlikely as one has to submit oneself to hypnosis it was perhaps a wise move.
We were getting into the Autumn of that year when I collected another secondary duty, that of taking charge of the Corporals
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Club, and on the face of it it seemed easy enough. Like a lot of other things that had come my way!. I soon found out that picking up the takings every morning, and checking the books and cash in hand and stock-taking once a week was a job that I could do without. The takings were very small. There seemed to be no more than half-a-dozen people making use of the place on any night and as far as I was concerned it hardly justified the services of two part time volunteer barmen and yours truly putting in two hours every week when over a hundred Corporals never even bothered to stick their noses in the place. That's the bit that peeved me most and I was 'piggy in the middle' again. For all that if anything that went wrong I was the fall guy.
A survey showed that for the year that it had been operating the takings had never reached what I would call reasonable proportions, albeit it was a non-profit making set-up, and the NAAFI manager confirmed that when the Cpl's bar had been run by them it had not needed any extra staff. That was enough for me and called a general meeting of the club with only two items on the agenda. One, "do you regularly make use of the club facilities;" and two, "would it make any difference to you if it was to revert to NAAFI management", The vote was a unanimous NO to each item and armed with the results of my survey and the minutes of the meeting I presented my case to the CO. When he realised that an officer was spending more time on Cpl's club business than most of the Cpls made of the facilities he agreed immediately to it's disbandment. He did make the observation though that as I had not appeared to be keen on taking the job anyway was my action the easy way out. A straight "yes" surficed [sic] !.
We were still making the most of Tangmere and the area, there was always something going on. On one occasion the Mess laid on a Battle of Britain garden party with invitations to all and sundry including of course many of the 'Few' who had fought from Tangmere. The invitation list was very impressive and I was awed by the prospect of being in such illustrious company. It was a schoolboy's dream come true.
Douglas Bader was there doing his usual stomping around and chatting with his old chums and gold braid seemed to be dripping
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everywhere. I spotted one of the 'Few', a Group Captain who had been my boss when I had been at Transport Command HQ. If ever I am asked about my most embarressing [sic] incident what happened next is certainly one of many.
I tried several times to catch his eye if only to make my presence known so when he eventually looked in my direction and approached I thought it would be an opportunity to make small talk for a while. He never seemed to notice although I had my hand stuck out to grasp his he went right by and gabbed the hand of an elderly steward who was behind me. As I looked in amazement at him pumping the arm of the steward he looked around at me and said "sorry Gamble, I couldn't let this bloke go, d 'you know, he was my batman in 1940". Then I understood and I knew that he had got his priorities right so I retired to the refreshment tent.
With the winter approaching the GCA became more and more important to our activities. On one occasion we had a flight of three Hunters of the Royal Netherlands Air Force notified but our weather deteriorated very quickly as they were on there way and when they did arrive they only had a very limited fit of frequencies which were already cluttered up by other traffic using Ford and Hayling Island. They were also quite low on fuel and on that day I think I created a precedence in Air Traffic Control by declaring an emergency 'Mayday' on the frequency requesting all other users to clear the channel. Needless to say it worked and with the GCA operator monitoring their progress they poured down from the overhead and landed without a hitch in what were still very poor conditions but a quite oblivious to the fact that the situation could have been much more serious. Another less successful incident was the talk-down of a diverted Valetta from overseas. His destination was below his limits and ours were marginal but three times I talked him down to the half mile decision point but he would not go that little bit further and overshot each time. After the third time he asked for a further diversion and was sent to Manston. I felt very sad about the end result of that. I know he was in the right place to make a touch-down but either he was sticking to the rules or he was lacking confidence in me. We will never know. The runway at Manston was icy, he braked and slid after
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landing, dipped a wing and pranged in a ball of fire and all of the crew were killed.
On another occasion I was on duty on a dirty Saturday morning in what was our published availability time for the Radar. We had not been warned of any traffic, the equipment was in the stand-by mode and I was in the crew van with my feet up sipping a cup of coffee when the tower controller came on the intercom. He only said two words, "urgent...in" and I was off to the operations vehicle with the mechanic at the double.
The mechanic started building up to full power as fast as was permissable [sic] as I contacted the tower to be told that we were taking on a Sea Vixen from Ford as there [sic] radar had just packed up as they were recovering aircraft from the Victorious in the Channel. The tower controller was positioning the aircraft into the pattern on time and bearings as my picture was filling in and I had already been told that he was short of fuel. Why the Fleet Air Arm had to fly to such tight limits I do not know but as soon as I had him in contact and he had changed to my frequency I asked him to confirm his fuel state and he quite calmly said "I can't overshoot if that's what you mean", so it was going to have to be a first timer.
I suppose my voice was calm enough, my directions accurate enough and his flying precise enough for him to ignore any limitations to make a perfect touch-down and then he promptly ran out of fuel on the runway as he was saying his 'thank you's'. I wonder though, if he was anything like me absolutely saturated in persperation [sic] !. All part of a day's work.
y
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Page 170 is missing
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Part of ‘Nil Desperandum’
Wyton 1962. Dot had become paralized [sic] from the waist down.
we were managing; just!.
After Dorothy had been in Addenbrooks for three weeks her condition had deteriorated further with almost no control over the lower part of her body as they carried out test after test whilst we continued our prayers in our own way. There was no time to spare to attend church for formal services. We were much too busy. Then the ultimate test came up on a new machine that Addenbrooks had just installed. Dorothy was the first person to have ever been strapped into it. Normal X-Rays had failed to show anything but that machine was the very latest. The patient was strapped to the bench which was set in double gymbals [sic] which rotated the body in every possible angle to a number of X-Ray cameras. The contraption looped, rolled and twisted and turned until she was dizzy but when they interpreted the results they did at least find the problem, which was all that they told me at the time apart from the fact that are operation was necessary and everything had been arranged for it to be done at The London Hospital in Whitechapel which specialised in neurosurgery so I managed some more time off to go with her in the ambulance to see her settled in. That is all I could do....and pray some more!.
The operation was scheduled for a week later and the surgeon wanted to see me first so I knew the time had come. I had to find out sometime but when I was told I was just about bowled over. When you are told that an operation has a fifty fifty chance of success you draw your own conclusions as I did but although Dorothy had been told the same I was given some more priviledged [sic] information. The 50/50 chance was that, one she would die, or two, she would be a cripple for the rest of her life.
I have made a few decisions in any life but to give approval for an operation that could have such consequences was perhaps the most difficult I have ever had to make. That was my Dorothy they were talking about. The little schoolgirl that I had known since I was seven and who had never subsequently questioned my career decisions and had always supported everything I had done. I hoped and prayed that I would not let her down.
As far as I was concerned at that time that the end of my service career. There was no way that I would be able to carry on, my
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work was suffering too much already; and I signed on the dotted line. Dorothy never knew about that 50/50 chance for years and neither did the family. I left everyone to draw their own conclusions and not everyone realised the seriousness of the situation, and never have. As for me I was back to work, looking after the kids and trusting in the Lord.
Eventually the operation took place, all eleven hours of it in the hands of a most celebrated surgeon and as it was a teaching hospital it was all recorded by colour cine' camera's under the eyes of dozens of students in the galleries. I found it very difficult to concentrate on work but eventually I phoned to find that she was out of surgery, confortable [sic] , stable and all the normal things that the nursing staff are trained to say but it was a couple of days before I could get down to see her.
To aovoid [sic] upsetting the system too much I could only visit between shifts without landing myself in more trouble by asking for more time off. She looked pale, she had had three blood transfusions during the operation which had been to the area of the inside and around the back of the spinal column between the shoulders to remove a tumor [sic] . A very delicate job, and touch and go.
It would be three weeks before we would know whether it had been successful and in the meantime she was told not to move a muscle or even think about it. Every movement she wanted to make had to be assisted. About the only thing she could more without assistance were her eyes and mouth. Not easy.
Whilst she was in that state she developed some side effects like a sort of bronchitis that had everone [sic] baffled although it eventually got sorted. That was one time that we were able to do something for the hospital, they had done so much for us and she was not the only one suffering from the same congestion in the bronchial tubes. They had tried everything and Dorothy suggested that one of Grandma's cures might help so they went along with it. Off they went to the fruit and veg. market on the opposite side of the road to the hospital to buy lemons and then produced Grandma's mixture. Hot pure lemon juice and honey!. Two doses and a cough and up came the offending obstruction with a great deal of relief. It went down to the
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path. lab immediately and funds were promptly allocated to buy more lemons and honey from the market and everone [sic] received the 'cure'. That made some considerable improvement in Dorothy's condition and she began to get stronger. Family visits were allowed, all except the baby and after two weeks, although she was not supposed to move, came the moment we had both been praying for. She reckoned she had been static long enough and had experimented a little. It may not seem a lot, but when I made my next visit she said to watch the foot end of the bed. The bed clothes rippled. She could wriggle the toes of both feet so that was a good sign but we could do no more than hold hands in our excitement. We coudn't [sic] even embrace due to all the dressing and padding around her but that was the beginning of her recovery.
Within a couple of days she had experimented a little more to find that she could move her legs and there was feeling in them, a fact that she was able to tell the surgeon on his rounds. He and his staff were excited too and she had the all-clear to try, very gently, other movements, in a closely controlled situation, and what she was able to do caused even more excitement. Of course, she was prodded, pricked and scraped to test all the reflexes that had previously packed up and all the right signs were there.
At the end of the third week she was allowed off of the bed into the vertical position and most people will know what that is like, even if they have only taken to their bed for a few days. After fighting the nausea and using a walking frame for a few days she decided to go solo. No walking frame crutches or sticks and she did the length of the ward from bed to bed with a lot of encouragement from everyone in the ward.
Day by day she improved, doing a little more each time and getting her sea legs. Her wound had healed well and she could do most things by herself including turning over in bed. Even her vericose [sic] veins had improved due to the bed rest and the end of another week she was transferred back to Addenbrooks Hospital on a stretcher by train with private compartment!.
After a further week the hospital authorities were making arrangements for her to be transferred to Huntingdon hospital which would make it easier to visit when, out of the blue they
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changed their mind. She could come home for convalescence!. The relief was indescribable. It was an emotional time for all of us, and I can barely recall what went on apart from the fact that I was totally overcame when the strain of the last few months manifested itself and I had to go and lie down in a darkened room for a while to wait for my brain to simmer down. Eventually I was able to get myself together and bit by bit we were able to tackle the daily routine once more and re-establish the family unit that had been so disrupted.
Every day brought improvement and by the time she had been home a month Dorothy had not only managed to walk comfortably with the pram and to a certain extent unaided, after another few weeks she even managed to ride a bicycle again. That was quite an achievement and when she went back to Whitechapel to see the surgeon he and his colleagues could hardly believe that it was possible and were justifiably highly delighted. Dorothy turned down an invitation to appear in person to back up the film for a presentation at a later date. It would have been very good for the moral of the team but we had more important things to attend to by then.
Fortunately the tumor [sic] had been non-malignant and was in a place of honour in a pickle jar and we were only too happy to say our 'thank you’s' to all the ward staff and doctors who had made it possible, including a letter to Peterborough hospital staff who had started it off. But who had really made it all possible!?.
By what stroke of fate was it that she went to Peterborough hospital on that day when a particular nurse was there. What caused the surgeon to express such surprise at the supple state of Dorothy's spine if it had not been the dedicated work of the Chiropractor, and what guided his hand in a most hazardous operation which they considered to be a near miracle?. Who knows. When we wrote to the faith healing organisation telling them of the outcome we received a most beautiful letter and so we went on from there.
Not everything was as it had been before. The bits that they had taken out of Dorothy's spinal column to get at the tumor [sic] had left her a little shorter than she had been. She had to walk fairly fast to maintain her balance and her ankles were
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turned over slightly inwards. Small things really and as time went on they became less and less of a problem.
For me it was back to the routine again to try and make up lost ground. No more time off, full shiftworking again including night shift although we had lost the emergency service requirement we manned for 24 hours to cover USAF traffic. All throughout those months of anquish [sic] there had been a lot going on that I had still been involved in. We had got rid of our museum piece of radar and taken the new equipment into service and were beginning to shake it down as we were developing new, safer and more sophisticated systems of traffic handling. In such an environment everything was ongoing as problems were confronted and solved almost daily. It all directly involved me one way or another as at the same time I was working my way through the system to refresh my proficiency certificates until it all finally settled down and was running efficiently. At least, during that period I had not collected any secondary duties like Fire Officer!. The only certification I lacked was that of supervisor and no doubt if I stayed there a little longer I would have made but before you could say "Christmas 1962" my next posting was notified. To Laarbruch, Germany, effective from the following February!. I was a bit peeved as I had regularly requested to be trained for area radar which would have widened my scope but at the same time limit the units at which I could serve but it didn't work out that way. I found it somewhat frustrating at times that whilst I was bouncing around like the proverbial yo-yo every 2 1/2 years (or less), there were people around me in different professions who had been in the area for ten years and more. They had done the rounds of Wyton, Upwood and Brampton, bought houses and raised families all in the one area. I should be so lucky!!!.
At least we had plenty of time to organise ourselves. I knew a few people out there so I set the wheels in motion for renting a some private accomodation [sic] to hold us for a while until quarters came up and finished with a place in the town of Goch, about eight miles from the airfield and where the RAF had some married quarters. The two eldest girls were going to have to go to boarding school at Hamm in the Ruhr which was not entirely to our liking but local military schools only went up to junior
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grades, after which it was off to boarding school, either in the UK or Germany. to. A very limited choice so Hamm it was.
After some careful planning we made the move as painlessly as possible. I went privately two weeks in advance with the car loaded up to the hilt almost 16 years to the day that I had baled out of a crippled Lancaster over that country.
The car really was loaded. I only had a little cockpit left that was not stuffed with something and it wallowed somewhat, but I was not rushing anywhere. A gentle jog would get me there if the suspension held out and I got perhaps the best advice that I could have had from A NAAFI manager who was returning to Gutersloh, on what to look out for when driving with UK number plates out there.
We were on the Harwich to Hook route so I had the advantage of following him for a while as I settled in to driving on the opposite side of the road. In the first large town that we came across the very thing happened that he warned me about.
The rule of the road is such that you give way to traffic on the right, therefore if you are on the left of any conflict between two vehicles you are in the wrong and penalised accordingly. Cut and dried in Dutch and German law. So if you are a Dutchman driving a beat up banger that needs a new engine, and replacement panels what do you do?. You bounce an English registered car that you know has got to have good insurance cover and that's what very nearly happened!.
A couple of youths in an old Merc. made a bee-line for me from my right hand side and I had to work very smartly on two occasions to brake and weave away from his obvious intentions. Then he must have got angry and tried it a third time but I got out it by jinking around the wrong side of a tram which he promptly collided with so I had no further problem with him. Trams in Holland have absolute right of way so he was the one to finish up having to do a lot of explaining and no doubt a hefty repair bill.
I was even more wary after that but there was no further trouble after waiving [sic] goodbye to my 'pathfinder' friend and in due course crossed into Germany at Nijmegen. The loaded car caused considerable amusement among the German customs officers. I don't think that they had seen a vehicle quite so well packed,
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roof rack and all. The only room for any cigarettes was on top of the blankets that covered everything up to the sill line, but they got the message when they realised that it was all mainly household goods and I was away again without any hassle.
I was relieved when I finally arrived at my destination and although I had planned the route very carefully I made sure that I stayed on track by calling at numerous bars on the way. That had resulted in an intake of several beers which caused the interval between stops to become shorter and shorter. At the last port of call, in a bar just off of the market square in Goch I tried out my well rehearsed little bit of German on the lady behind the bar "Bitte, vo ist drei unt vierzig Weeze Strasse"?. It must have sounded alright as I had already asked for an "eine kleiner beer, bitte", but she came out with a torrent of German and then was amazed to be told "langsam, ich sprechen kliene Deutsch" and that was almost the limit of my German. It didn't matter a lot. After a good laugh, another beer and a lot of arm waving I only had a few hundred yards to go and there was 53 Weeze Street, a tall terrace house that looked a little battered with other houses each side still shored up or boarded up with panels of wood and galvanised sheeting. It was no palace but it was going to have to do.
The landlady was a charming elderly lady, almost Victorian, who managed only a few words of English but magically produced a cup of tea and over that I found that her husband had been a merchant sea captain and had been lost at sea but all was quite friendly when I told her that I had been more fortunate after being shot down not so far from where we were sitting. After that I started to unload the car with the tool box being one of the first things and then places were found for everything with shelves, brackets, hooks and the like with her permission. I wanted it to be as homely as possible, and it certainly needed the personal touch. There was basically only two rooms and nothing that could be called a kitchen, only a long passage off of the living room. It had a wash basin and a cold tap and at the far end was the toilet....unscreened and frozen up anyway!.
I could have done a lot with emulsion paint but I did not have time for that. I worked on it with what I had in terms of covers,
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screens, tacks and nails, pictures and plaques and it soon looked considerably brighter which rather surprised Frau Van Cooke who had kept me supplied with tea and cakes throughout the unloading and conversion process. The last last [sic] thing to install were various electric and gas cooking appliances and it was all done. It would not be too much of a shock to the family on first sight at least and then I was off to Laarbruch to stay the night with friends who had been at Tangmere with us before going down to Wildenwrath for the homeward journey.
I had arranged to leave the car at Wildenwrath in the care of friends who had fixed me up with a flight to Northolt in a Pembroke and it all clicked into place. Later that day I trained to Huntingdon and home. So far so good and a couple of days later we gave up the quarter and travelled as a family to Manston via a night stop in London where several of the family had congregated from Worthing, and then by air direct to Wildenwrath. The air movements staff were somewhat surprised when; as a family we by-passed all the normal transportation facilities, but all I had to do was pick up the car and set off for our new home. It was not much but we were together and we made the best of it. Frau van Cooke was a little concerned as she had obviously mis-understood that we were five in family until the eldest girls were off to boarding school but after some adjustment to the rent she made another small room available and we were fairly comfortable. Fortunately the weather had turned a little warmer and the toilet had thawed but the thing that seemed to bother Frau van Cooke most was that as the rating system in Germany was based on a poll tax the appropriate authorities had to be informed of changes as they occurred. We overcame it as we did most things. The day after arrival I was reporting for duty. The girls were enrolled at the camp school temporarily before their places at Hamm had been confirmed and we were very soon into a routine. It was different though. It was a long time since we had lived in anything but an Air Force community and in it's way it was very interesting. We soon integrated into the local environment and we had no problems in adapting. Frau van Cooke and our neighbours were kind and helpful [sic] . The local garage housed the car overnight for a modest fee when I was not on duty rather than park it in the main road and we
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soon got used to the the [sic] German way of doing things. First and foremost, the cleanliness of the area in front of a building was the reponsibility [sic] of the occupant so it seemed that there was competition to be the smartest although they were very reluctant to allow grass to grow on the verges. They were all raked and scratched into patterns. Bicycles were ridden on the footpath but always according to the direction of the road traffic and the bicycle bell was mandatory. Cars could be parked in the roads but only in the direction of the traffic but not both sides of the road at the same time. It was a very practical arrangement. Parking was relative to the date and the house numbering. Odd dates on odd numbers and visa versa. Cars were not washed in the street on Sundays and neither was washing hung on the line. Sundays was a day for visiting the family in Sunday best clothes and for church. How much that routine has changed over the years I would not know but at that time it seemed to be a comfortable arrangement. Another practical method of designating where speed restrictions started and stopped was by applying the standard 50k limit at the signpost at the town limits on the way in and at the signpost on the way outwhich [sic] gave the name of the next town or village on route. Very simple, economical and effective.
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The town of Goch was a market town very close to the Dutch border and more or less on the line of what had been at one time the old Seigfried line. It had suffered badly from savage fighting when the big push was launched on the 8th February 1945, the day after I failed to return, when the Allies attempted to reach the Rhine all along the front. The Canadians had forced a passage by the most bloody hand to hand fighting along the very road in which we were living after they had taken Weeze and most of the houses still bore the marks of the battles as did many places in the town centre. The houses adjacent to us were not the only one's that were boarded up skeletons and the Town Hall was still pock-marked with scars from shell and morter [sic] splinters as well as anti-tank and canon fire but despite it all life went on as near normal as one would have expected at home.
The attic rooms above us were not part of our let but we investigated at one time and I immediately regretted it as it upset the girls. The flimsy doors at the bottom and the top of the narrow winding stairs were both splintered with bullet holes and the walls were well and truly peppered with holes and some very nasty stains which obviously would not wash off. The attic itself was no better and there were still remnents [sic] of uniform scattered about and it would appear that nothing had been done other than to clear the casualties of the battle. It was not difficult to imagine the desperate and bloody fighting that had gone on in that place and we only ever went up there that one time.
Despite it all, the Germans had built a memorial to a British officer who had been appointed as Town Major to manage the civilian administration which was standard procedure after the battle had passed through. It was neccessary [sic] to get public facilities running properly as soon as possible and tie up the minimum number of fighting personnel. His job was to help to get things going again as smoothly as possible and to that end he applied himself in such a way that he became highly respected by the locals for his ability to be hard working, fair and just. Unfortunately, it had to be a memorial plaque as, once the town was capable of running itself again he had rejoined his unit up at the front and had been killed in action. It was something to think about that their appreciation was so recorded which
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was more than could be said for some of the German military whose presence in the area still showed…but in a different way. In the town of Kevelaer, which was renowned for it's manufacture of religious artifacts, there was a tall wall alongside a church absolutely riddled with bullet holes where a large number of the population had been lined up and shot..by the SS!, as apparently the battle raged to and fro they had been evacuated several times for their own safety until finally they refused to be moved. They were prepared to stay and take their chance and after seeing that terrible sight I could understand that the population of some German towns were prepared to show their appreciation for their deliverance from the yoke of Nazizm [sic] .
Eventually the time came for the two eldest girls to start at Hamm when the new term started and they set off by train with others who they had met between terms. It seemed better that way and probably allowed them to settle a bit quicker...but they did not like it that was for sure. Boarding school discipline was not to their liking and the school buildings were a bit grim. They were converted SS barracks and most of the pupils were quite certain that the matron had been left behind by the SS when they evacuated all those years ago!, but they coped.
We went to Hamm whenever the opportunity arose. Week-ends when they were allowed out and half-term so we took them about as much as we could to places of interest but there was invariably tears when we were obliged to leave.
Fortunately the journey through to Hamm was only just over two hours but it was an interesting route whether by autobahn or the 'scenic' route. The autobahn route was right through the 'Happy Valley' Ruhr industrial complex that had received such a pounding from Bomber Command and still showed it and the scenic route to the North was through some very badly damaged towns, including Wanne Eikle when we diverted to have a look at the place. Nevertheless, it was surprising how quickly the economy was recovering. When we first arrived a great deal of our transport and services were provided from local resources under the reperations [sic] agreement but as industry recovered that was was coming to an end and British products were taking over.
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We had plenty of friends in and around Laarbruch and at other RAF units in the area. There were plenty of places to visit and Arnhem and Nigmegen [sic] were near enough for shopping expeditions
as well as paying our respects at the military cemetary's [sic] both at Arnhem and the Reichwald. Despite the fact that the camp had very comprehensive facilities we got out and about as much as we could. If we were going to be stationed in Germany we were going to see it, particularly when the eldest girls were home from Hamm or we visited then there. I remember once asking the technical F/Sgt in charge of the radar how he liked the place and was surprised to find that he did not think much of it but after a little more discussion found that he had not been outside the main gate since he had arrived!. Even by the end of his tour he had only been 'outside' twice and his wife not at all. It seemed a bit 'head in the sand' to me as most people we knew got about as much as possible.
There was one place we found, a little different from when I first encountered it, and that was the spot where I had landed safely in 1945 and nearly got shot by the side of the road. The house where I was first interrogated was as it was imprinted on my mind. Only 22 miles from Laarbruch. I even entertained the thought when I scouted around the area that I might recover two soggy one pound notes and my old I.D. card. Some hope!. The area of small nursery pines had grown to some 50 to 60 feet high and although I looked around the area I could find no sign of the whacking great hole that 'D' Dog would have made if that was where she came down. I never have found the crash site. It was years later that I made a serious attempt to find it but MOD Historical Records could not help other than to say that they had information that they could not disclose. Possibly a cover up for the fact that they knew nothing although they were interested to know where we baled out and why. 'D' Dog was the only aircraft Bomber Command lost that day and the crash site is still listed………………..
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as 'unknown'. That local tour was one of many that we made to places that were engraved on my memory and noted in my diary. At Krefeld I couldn't even find the airfield!. At Dusseldorf the old airfield had been swallowed up or otherwise expanded although the ghosts of the past were swirling around when I surveyed the area on more than one occasion from the terminal buildings.
At Frankfurt although I followed the road out towards Ober-Orsal I could find no sign of what had once been the infamous interrogation centre of Dulag-Luft. Throughout the next two and a half years there were not many areas that we did not visit as we ranged far and wide with the benefit duty free pre-paid petrol coupons that were more than enough for our requirements. Shortly after starting the daily routine of setting off for the airfield one morning I picked up a Warrant Officer who was heading the same way. He too had only just arrived and lived not far from us. He was the Technical Wing Adjutant and his son was destined for Hamm school the same as our girls. That was the start of a long and deep seated friendship of the sort that one rarely made in the service as most friendships were like the ripples made by a stone in a puddle. They tended to dissipate when one or the other moved on but we are still in touch after 35 years.
I was soon certificated and operational. The work at Laarbruch was slightly different although it was not a continuous 24 hour shift system that I had become used to but we kept a skeleton crew on standby outside normal working hours to fulfill [sic] the requirements of 2nd Tactical Air Force. The aircraft were Canberra bombers and the more modern delta wing Javelin night fighter. A touch of both Bomber Command and Fighter Command which made for some very interesting procedures. Other than that the rest of the set-up was fairly standard. The GCA radar was the same type that I had used at Tangmere and I was promptly placed in charge of it for it's operation proficiency which included checking out other controllers and to train to a high standard of re-positioning and setting up of the equipment when the runway in use was changed. The requirement was to do it within an hour which was a tall order considering that there was the operations trailer, the power supply trailer and rest
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caravan weighing in all about 40 tons to be moved with great care considering that it contained some quite delicate equipment and cost around £250,000!. Bend that little lot and someone's head would roll........mine!.
The route to Hamm took us down to the new bridge at Vesel, slightly up river from the remnants of the ends of the-old bridge that had been destroyed during the war in that hottest of all hotspots. It was from that very area that massive armies had gathered to force a crossing of the river and where Churchill had fired one of the first shots of the assault by pulling the lanyard of a very big gun and where the biggest Airborne landing of 22,000 men had been landed by glider and parachute on the East side of the town. A very historical place militarily and a slightly battered one having been given a terrible pounding by Bomber Command prior to the attack by ground forces. Nevertheless, a lot had been rebuilt and the new system had taken advantage of a lot of open space and vast quantities of rubble. We usually swept through and in a few miles had linked up with the autobahn.
I got my first taste of motorway driving out there when they were were [sic] still building the M1 in the UK although the southern end was usable I had not used it but it was like a battlefield. 90% of the autobahn traffic seemed to be VW Beetles and the like with a top speed of a little over 70mph, about the same as mine, but it was the way they were driven that put the wind up me.
There was no speed limit and drivers just hurled themselves along at maximum possible speed with foot flat on the floor all the time, come what may. Nose to tail, bit between the teeth, no leeway whatsoever and no margin for error, just going like the clappers all the time. I really felt as if I was back in the Battle of the Ruhr and found it decidedly uncomfortable. I don't think that there was ever one journey that we did that we didn't see the results of what appeared to be suicidal driving so I started to try and prove that the MT instructors at the base were not going to include me when they quoted the statistics of 90% of drivers [underlined] will [/underlined] have an accident whilst in Germany. [underlined] They were right though [/underlined] !. I came unstuck eventually. In the meantime I just battled on. On one occasion we had just cleared the Ruhr
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area on the autobahn heading for Hamm with particularly heavy traffic developing into two solid streams doing around 60 to 70mph and I felt concerned enough to do as I still do today under such circumstances....get into the 'slow' lane where there was at least room to duck onto the hard shoulder if there was trouble. I was suddenly aware that way ahead stop lights were coming on like strobing airfield approach lights and was immediately on the alert. I suppose other drivers concentrating on the vehicles directly in front were not aware that the stop lights were coming on were getting closer and closer and then as it was obvious to me what was going to happen I jinked out onto the hard shoulder. I must have done it with split second to spare as some 200 vehicles shunted each other with the screeching of brakes, bangs, thumps and the sound of tearing metal and breaking glass. It was followed immediately by the cries of the injured when all other noises had stopped.
No-one in our immediate area was badly hurt although there were numerous head injuries and the odd broken limb with a fair bit of blood splashed around so it was out with the first aid kit and to the rescue. Fortunately, in addition to the mandatory first aid kit I had for years kept a large package of war-time wound packs in the car and they came in very useful although I what some people thought when they found that they were British Military packs dated 1943 I couldn't say. They did the job despite the fact that in most cases the safety pin was rusted!. Small matter. I had found them in an abandoned store in a pill box at Oakington in 1947…..I was not the sort of a bloke to waste things!. They lasted many years. In that instance we were luckier than the majority and it took an hour and a half before the autobahn ahead was cleared sufficienty [sic] for us to proceed past piles of smashed up vehicles, and then we came to the root cause of the pile-up. Unbelievable!. There were [underlined] two [/underlined] white police cars mangled together more or less standing on end up against a bridge support. We subsequently learned that they had been heading the long snake of cars to keep the speed down but had been playing 'tag' and had obviously not-been very clever.
I felt at the time that 'someone' was definitely out to get me having so far escaped all other intentions of the Germans to eliminate me and it did not improve Dorothy's attitude to
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sitting in what was often classified as the suicide seat, ie, the passenger seat of a right hand drive vehicle being driven on the right hand side of the road. There was even more apprehension by the time that particular week-end was over. We had just got into Hamm and rounding a corner had to duck to miss the car ahead that had lurched around the corner, bounced off of one of the large concrete cylinder things that were liberaly [sic] sprinkled around their street corners and then finished up with the front wheels over a small garden wall. It was a British Forces registered vehicle also heading for Hamm school but no-one was hurt and the driver declared that he needed no assistance so we pressed on. Nevertheless it was a great weekend with the girls who enjoyed their visit to Munster zoo we thought no more about driving and it's associated problems until we were on the return journey.
I was gaining slightly on a VW Beetle but held back for a while as it was lurching about over both lanes in very light traffic. It was some time before I ventured alongside and was somewhat shocked to find that all of the windows were closed and steamed up and all four occupants were asleep, including the driver, hunched over the wheel. I gave the horn as much as I could for as long as I could to rouse everyone, making signs to wind down the windows until it was safe to pass and felt after that that I had done my good deed for the day as that bloke was very close to running off of the road. He would not have known much about it though as he was doing what most beetle drivers did. Foot still flat on the floor regardless.
As always there was continual movement of personnel, most people having settled into a 2 1/2 year tour. We had with us people that we had known at many units including Amman and Egypt as well as Mareham [sic] and Wyton so of course the usual thing was happening with the married quarter waiting list as we went up and down like a yo-yo. There was one movement that had occurred just before we arrived although would not have made any difference to our quarters list, that of the Station Commander whose Adjutant I had been at Marham but he had gone on with more promotion. After that apparently almost every move he made was with further promotion until he eventually retired as an Air Marshall with a Knighthood and a handsome string of awards and
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decorations including; GCB, KCB, CB, CBE, OBE, DSO, DFC, AFC, and I must confess that I am proud to have received a great deal of instruction from him in the three years that I was his Adjutant.
The eventual allocation of married quarters at Laabruch could not have come at a better time. 53 Weeze Strasse was not the most suitable of places but it had enabled us to recover our finances to the satisfaction of both the bank manager and our-selves, and I hope, Frau van Cooke, so we moved into our comfortable centrally heated house shortly before the winter set in and had a damn good house warming party to celebrate.
Everything sailed along quite happily despite the girls dislike of boarding school and our youngest was soon into her third year but we were outgrowing the little Ford Popular and it's three speed gear box was a bit tedious at times. It was time for a change and we considered all the options. In the end I ordered the new Ford Classic (tax free) from a firm in Chichester in Sussex with a part exchange deal and it was all done when we went back to the UK for a holiday covering the school term break.
That was going to be the car that would see me through for the maximum number of miles before another change became neccessary [sic] . I ran it in carefully and the engine was treated with all the right things to achieve longevity and when our leave was up it was fully prepared to do anything asked of it, nevertheless, no sooner than we were back into Holland on the way back one of the first things we came across was a car upside down in a ditch at the side of the road with arms and legs hanging out of broken windows. I only stopped for a quick look and decided that there was little I could do that would not involve and upset the family so I pressed on for about half a mile until I saw a house with the sign outside denoting that they had a phone, nipped in and asked them to telephone ambulance and police to get to the scene, and then continued my journey. I've sometimes thought that I might have been able to do more at the scene but the inside of the car was like a butchers shop with not a lot of hope for the occupants.
The Classic was soon re-registered with British Forces plates and as it was a new model it always attracted a great deal of interest wherever we went. There was usually a crowd around
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it wherever it was parked.
There was one place just over the border in Holland that we visited regularly. The village of Well was an interesting little place and one of it's most comfortable establishments was a little restaurant and bar on the side of the River Maas. 'Auntie' Nellie was mine host and she was a remarkable person. She was well known for her resistance work and had been responsible for numerous evaders to pass along another link in the chain back to the safety of their own lines. It had obviously needed someone like that who was handy to assist in the river crossing. The Maas was quite wide and fast flowing at that point and the nearby bridge was a war-time Bailey built especially to carry military traffic from Eindhoven; still carrying heavy traffic. Our free week-ends were often spent there for shopping and for refreshments in the restaurant, watching the barges chugging by with all manner of goods piled on them and the bargees washing, bicyles [sic] , dogs, or watching a UK football match on the tele. but there was a bit of a problem with that. The football commentary was usually in Dutch so a radio was set up alongside and we had a commentary in English for the same match that suited the Dutch, English and German patrons who all gravitated to that place. Great fun greatly assisted by good strong Dutch beer, or possibly something hotter and stronger on cold days.
We visited the area many years later and it had not changed much and one of the girls plus her own family visited many years after that and it was still pretty much the same. We had a lot of time for the Dutch people and found no difficulty in integrating. In fact, we could quite happily have taken up residence there.
Crossing the Dutch/German border just North of Goch a few months after getting the new car the windscreen disintegrated in my lap and of course being a new model not yet on sale on the continent it took a week before a Dutch Ford agent could fit another but that was nothing to what happened later. With a new car I thought that I had overcome the love/hate relationship that I had always had with motor vehicles, but I was always
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to be in trouble with them one way or another.
Something else cropped out that I was not overjoyed about. The 'cold war' that was the very reason that we were out there demanded emergency establishment manning in the event of going to 'Red Alert' and on that deployment I would have been immediately on my way to my war establishment post. To Gatow, Berlin!!!, right in the middle of the contested Russian Zone. Just my luck. I would much rather have been going in the opposite direction!, away from any conflict but due to it's security classification I had to keep that possibility under wraps.
Life was anything but dull. The job of Station Fire Officer landed in my lap again almost as soon as I moved into quarters although it was the usual arrangement. A senior fireman did the work and 'Sir' was the dogsbody who took the flak if anything went wrong but it still helped to know as much as possible about the job. I had learned the hard way but the crash/rescue element was always under the operational control of Air Traffic Control and I thought that having got that job it would be enough---wrong again!.
There was plenty to occupy my mind and my hands. There were liaison visits of all sorts on a two way basis. The local German and Dutch fire services were entertained and visa versa (but not both at the same time). At one time I had two Luftwaffe NCO's for several weeks to polish off their GCA training although their initial training had been with the Americans and we all used the same procedures. Even our GCA was of standard American design. All very interesting!. A very daft situation arose with them on one occasion as naturally they were billeted with us and it seemed natural for them to use their camera's. It is true that we did have one very secure area in the vicinity of the Canberra dispersals on the far side of the airfield but the Service Police were I think a little over security concious [sic] when they pounced on them in the domestic area and ripped the film out of the camera's. Typical. I did have a word with the senior policeman but it was a waste of time. He reckoned that he was not having Germans photographing our installations. Bloody daft!. They had built the station for us in the first place!
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My interest in photography had developed further to the extent that I joined the unit photographic club, a move that I was to regret later and although the facilities were a bit run down I was able to widen the scope of my activities in that field as I had sold all my processing gear back at Wyton when finances were taking a bit of a hammering. What happened next was just waiting to happen. The current Officer I/C (in-charge) was posted and they did not look very far for his replacement. There were no terms of reference so I was instructed to write my own for approval and then my brief was simple. "It's a mess, put it back on it's feet". I knew it was a mess, the trouble was that I had told too many people. In the main it was used by people for standard processing at a profit, and who were not very interested in cleaning up. It did not take long to find out that there was about twice the number of people booking out the keys as there was on the register so it was a matter of going back to 'square one' to lock the place up and out of bounds to all but a selected few who were formed into a committee until a new system was set up I had the place refurbished with all the enlargers overhauled by a local German photographic supplier, new black-outs and racking resulting in four good booths. Eventually we agreed the maximum number of people that we could have on the register, all old membership cards were invalidated and new cards issued against the subscription register which was to be renewed annually and 'bingo'. With new rules, a studio and lecture room we opened up and it flourished. One feature I introduced was processing on certain nights only and a weekly 'beginners night' series of talks for the benefit of those, schoolchildren, wives and all, who wanted to know the basics. I well remember my own first efforts when every other word the 'experts' said was 'double dutch' to me so I was determined that each of the four talks was pitched as low as possible and repeated every month. It worked well and it was popular.
As we went into the first Winter we were glad of the design of the married quarters. Airmen's and Officers were all built along the same lines albeit to a different standard. The typical concrete box built on top a cellar and around the plumbing. There was no piping showing inside or outside. The cellar was
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the utility area, with concrete wash tubs, floor drainage and other mod. cons. and a store room. It all looked rather like the inside of a submarine with huge pipes and turn cocks along the passage…..but there was no boiler!. Hot water was provided by a huge boiler system to the whole station along deep insulated piping on a communal basis, the only base in Germany to have such a system and it made everything very comfortable and convenient. Especially when an Officers wife went 'down below' to see how the plumber was getting on with a job only to find that he was sitting in one of the wash tubs, in the buff, happily blowing bubbles in oodles of hot water. Now that's what I call initiative and it caused a bit of a giggle when the story got around.
Later on our store room became the 'Den' where the girls and their friends congrgated [sic] to get away from the 'oldies' but at least they had their own space. Goodness knows how many there were down there at times after we got fed up answering the door and fixed up a string and a bell system through the outside grating.
Being a house of concrete the attic had a concrete floor as well and all the roof beams had built in hooks for what I assumed to be hammocks if ever they were needed as barracks providing a very useful sleeping area particularly if anyone was overwhelmed with visiting friends and relations from the UK.
As it happened we never were and although my father-in-law expressed an interest to visit us and take the opportunity do the tour of the WW1 battlefields he found it more than he could bring himself to do and could not set foot on German soil; and he never did. The memories of his brother being blasted into eternity at his side, and his own wounds were too strong for him ever to forget that episode in his life.
Before the winter was out we skated and tobogganed. Everyone enjoyed themselves in the light fluffy snow of the kind that one did not normally see back home until at last Spring broke through and work and play took over the scene again. The Winter was a bit hard although nowhere near as bad as the one to follow but a lot happened in between.
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One tour we put together for the early Summer holidays came unstuck. It was planned as a round robin right down through Central and Southern Germany, into Bavaria, Austria and Switzerland, France and back home over at-out ten days. It did not quite work out like that although we were making the most of it until it went wrong.
We went to Nuremburg and found the site of Stalag X111b but there were no huts left, only a police Guard Post and we were allowed to browse around. Then on to Stalag V11a Mooseburg and back to Munich for a night stop. The memory plays funny tricks though. Despite my notes I found it very difficult to locate some places and even when I did positively identify places from the notes they were sometimes unrecognisable. We had already found the same problem around the UK!. However, our navigation went a bit haywire down in Austria when we took a wrong road up in the mountains and instead of going into Switzerland we found ourselves back in Germany again. Not that it mattered much. All of the scenery was absolutely splendid and eventually we were into and out of France crossing the border into Germany again near Strasburg. We were ahead of our schedule so we decided that we would head for home rather than go for another night stop and were about ten miles South of Heidleburg when some idiot driver pulled a stunt that upset a few people; us included and so we finished up with a night stop anyway.
I was the tail ender of seven or eight vehicles in convoy doing near enough 70mph in the 'fast' lane with no traffic in the other lane when a light truck going like a bat out of hell came up behind making angry signals with his lights for us to get out of the way, which I did and then I resumed the tail end position. I did not stay behind him long as obviously no-one else was going to move over for him so he pulled out and went through on the wrong side. No doubt he had worked himself into a frenzy of agressive [sic] behaviour, (what is called road rage today is nothing new) and as soon as he got to the head of the column he did something quite unexpected. I could see the whole thing happening as if in slow motion as he literally hurled his vehicle across the bows of the leaders and them stood on the brakes. What happened next was anything but slow motion but long before
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anything happened directly I was on the brakes and everyone on board slid up against something solid before each and everyone of the cars shunted one another with a series of thuds until despite my heavy breaking we slammed into the one in front with such a wallop that it shot forward again into the one in front and our roof rack landed in the road between us. It was very fortunate that I was 'tall end charlie' as I am quite sure that we would have had one in the back of us as well.
After a quick check to see if we had any injuries, to be very relieved to find that only the eldest had had a scratch from a broken Coke bottle I dispatched her immediately to about fifty yards back along the centre section to start waving her white cardigan like mad, and got everyone else out onto the central reservation in case some damn fool back-ended us. It was not difficult to get out of as the impact had given us a 'droop snoot' and the doors had sprung with an overlap of some four inches. One could see at a glance that that we were not going anywhere in that car for a long time.
Checking on the vehicle in front and recovering the roof rack disclosed that the middle aged couple in the BMW that I had hit were badly shaken but otherwise unhurt although their car was quite badly damaged. The front end was bent, the back end was scrunched, the boot lid had sprung, and the exhaust had fallen off. They were both in tears though as the car was absolutely brand new, direct from the factory on delivery with only 22km on the clock but that was the least of my worries.
Between listening to their tales of woe, refixing the roof rack and repacking some of our spilled goods with a very watchfull [sic] eye on the traffic that was still hurtling by I still had time to take a few photographs before the police arrived and my daughter could retire from her rather exposed position to the relative safety of the central reservation where all the damaged cars had been pushed once the police were satisfied with explanations and that the exchanges of insurance details had been attended to. That's the way German traffic law worked; 'he who does the bumping does the paying', so you dealt with the one in front and the law is satisfied.
Breakdown vehicles appeared as if by magic but we had to wait a lot longer than most to get cleared as I, being a member of
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the military, had to be dealt with by the appropriate military authority, in that area, the U.S. Army, who could not have been more sympathetic and helpfull [sic] . The car was eventually winched onto a civilian break-down vehicle, (which I subsequently had to pay for) and off it went with us following up in a staff car to see it settled in a field full of other wrecks. Our surplus goods were left in the care of the driver of the breakdown-truck before we were finally deposited at the steps of a very nice Hotel in Heidelburg.
In normal circumstances we would have enjoyed that visit to the beautiful city of Heidelburg but not that time. We were just about broke. I had a Hotel bill to consider as well as the train fare back to base. I did not have a German bank account and there were limits that one could do then with a UK chequebook. Nevertheless, we dredged up every mark and phenig [sic] that we could, including the kid's pocket money but it didn't allow for a meal so we just had to picnic on the bits and pieces that we had recovered from the car and ultimately went to bed very tired if not a little hungry. It still took a long time before sleep came to me. Here I was again, virtually stranded in Germany wondering what was going to happen next. Every piece of the day’s action kept floating in frost of my eyes. Of all the damn silly things. All those occasions of war-time flying over enemy territory escaping injury by the skin of my teeth, to finish up in Germany with a pranged car and very nearly a damaged family as well.
I made myself a promise before I want to sleep, to never, ever again put myself or my family in such a situation again. There had to be a way to adjust one’s driving technique to reduce the risks, so I was going to have to swallow my pride. Meanwhile I had become one of 2nd TAF's motoring statistics having been told that nine out of ten drivers would have an accident I had scoffed at the idea...but they were not wrong.
The following day after paying our bill and buying tickets there was not much left in the kitty so it was rolls, butter, sausage and fizzy drinks bought locally for breakfast and for the journey, then we were off.
That part of the journey was a tour to remember for it's sheer
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beauty but I think that I was the only one to remember it in detail. The weather was perfect. The scenery along the Rhine was picture postcard stuff of vinyards [sic] and castles perched high up on hillsides especially the area around Koblenz was too good to miss particularly as I had run out of film and could not even afford to buy another. I kept waking the family up to look at, it but at that stage of the game they were not too impressed although I was out to make the most of it. To hell with the car, insurance would take care of that and the most important thing was that we were all together and all in one piece. That's all that mattered. We eventually arrived back at Goch, a colleague picked us up and that was the end of that holiday and touring for a while. There were letters to write and reports to make as we eventually settled down to life without a car. I tried to negotiate for the car to be transferred to Holland for repair as it was a new model not yet available in Germany although it was filtering onto the Dutch market but the agents for the UK insurers who were based in Hamburg would not entertain the idea and weeks went by as they deliberated. In the meantime my neighbour who had just bought a new car agreed to run it in by driving me down to Heidelburg to pick up all the stuff that we had been obliged to leave behind. It had all been prepared and packed and even lunch was provided for us. He and his Frau earned our gratitude and their remuneration for their thoughtfulness. It helped me overcome my dismay when I went to see the car sitting forlornly among the wrecks. It had already been vandalised, possibly on the assumtion [sic] that it would be a write-off. All the wheel trims and the front wheels had gone as well as the wing mirrors. The battery had gone and the petrol had been drained off all ten gallons of it as we had only just fuelled up for the home run. I had been relying on some of that to help us to do the 300 mile round trip but someone had beaten me to it. Of course no-one knew anything about it. The yard did not belong to the recovery chap and there were notices around in German disclaiming responsibility for any losses etc. It was to be expected!.
The months went by and were particularly frustrating. Having looked the car over carefully on that visit I figured that it ought to be classified as a write-off but the insurance company
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disagreed. I tried to get it taken to Cologne, the German manufacturing centre for Fords but eventually it was transferred to Mannheim for repair. I found out later that the front was completely cut off and replaced, something that would not be acceptable today but that was it and they had the last say. I was without it for six months and a lot of annoyance which did little for my blood pressure.
I busied myself in work of one sort and another. We did not go out of camp much and the girls had settled themselves into local employment so it was the photographic club that received most of my attention which was soon flourishing financially and with a lot of enthusiastic new members. So much so that Laarbruch was selected as the venue for the Command Photographic Competition. It all went well with the cooperation of the Education Flight and the fact that I won two awards had nothing to do with the fact that one of the judges had been my neighbour at Wyton. All entries were coded which was standard practice.
Air Traffic Control was more or less routine. By that time I was convinced that I had covered just about every aspect and I was still making it known annually, that I wanted area radar training for the future. Nevertheless, I had one experience which I thought might have influenced a decision but it didn't.
I was doing stand-by shift in the radar track after I had been informed of a large formation practice of aircraft from 2nd TAP units to the South-East of us and I had been monitoring their progress when I was asked to take control of an aircraft being flown by the C in C who wanted see how the formation was shaping up.
It was really difficult after taking him on. I found out from the formation Ieader the detail's of the altimeter setting and then working him on a different frequency did a perfect fighter interception placing him just above and 100yds behind the formation. He even asked if I was a Fighter Controller and was somewhat surprised to find that he was being controlled by an airfield radar. He did say "as good as any fighter control interception" but he didn't bother to find out who I was!.
Our GCA was not without it's troubles though. There was one
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expensive internal item absolutely vital to it's operation that was costing dollars to replace and contracts had-been let to produce them in the UK under licence but they didn't always last for the expected running time but at least we had replacements. Our headphones were a different matter. Some of then were the original issue with the radar unit and were always in need of repair which was common in almost every similar equipment in the RAF. I found that intolerable. Aircrew helmets and associated communications equipment cost hundreds of pounds to ensure absolute reliability and safety and I was sometimes sweating a bit when we were obliged to operate in marginal conditions with our own equipment that could fail at any time. I indented for new head-sets to be told that they were too expensive and were to be repaired locally. I made a fuss and some were taken away by Command signals workshops for repair but very few people knew that I had got something else up my sleeve.
My contacts with my opposite number in the Dutch Air Force at Vokel was very helpful in finding out that their Bell helicoptors [sic] used the same sort of headset and were replaceable under a NATO agreement. A liaison visit exchanged three of them but I kept that quiet. The only time they came out was when we were operating in marginal conditions; and I kept up the pressure for total replacement much to the annoyance of the technical staff particularly when the refurbished sets proved to be unreliable. Eventually, wondering how long it would take to get something done before the next winter set in I really put the cat among the pigeons. I did a 'Douglas Bader' and signalled 2nd TAF HQ that the radar was declared 'non operational-training in visual conditions only due to technical problems'. Phew!, that really did get things moving. I knew through the 'grapevine' that new UK produced headsets were becoming available and that the C in C of Coastal Command had authorised the local purchase of replacements for his radars...that was good enough for me and was part of my argument and I flatly refused to change the status of our radar until something similar was done. As with Douglas Bader the result was dramatic. Within a week all the stops had been pulled out and I received replacements direct from the manufacturers completely by passing the normal stores
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procedure. All I had to do was to pass the invoices back through stores to confirm that I had got them and turn in the old one's for write off. We were operational immediately but I got a hell of a lot of 'stick' for it. Bader might have got away with it but I didn't. I had upset too many people along the line by taking a short cut and there were no thanks for my achievment [sic] .
In the late summer I did another liaison visit that was most interesting; to our Fighter Control Centre at Udem....in the war-time bunker that the Luftwaffe had used to track our bomber streams and direct their fighters although of course it had been modified to our sytem [sic] . It was similar to our UK fighter Control Centres that I had been in although it just felt different but what was interesting was the fact that there were a lot of Luftwaffe personnel around as a new generation was being trained by us. It led to to [sic] another liaison visit later when a few of us went to a radar controlled Luftwaffe ack-ack unit somewhere towards Wesel. Now that was interesting; less than ten miles from where a similar unit had shot us down in 1945 and very enlightening.
The winter was nearly upon us when I eventually received notice that the car was ready for collection so off I went to Mannheim only to find that as far as I was concerned it was not. It was lacking all sorts of bits and some parts were still unpainted so I returned without it. There was an angry exchange of letters between myself and Hamburg and claims for costs until I was eventually told it was positively ready so off I went again. Then the s……hit the fan. Hardly anything more had been done and although I phoned the Hamburg office and got the OK to take it subject to a settlement the repairers would not release it until it was paid for. Oh boy oh boy!, what fun and games. More phoning, Hamburg making arrangements to transfer money via banks, a night stop for me and eventually it was released so off set for the 230 mile return journey, and not before time. It was a good job that I had fuelled to the brim as the weather did not look at all promising. I soon connected with the Autobahn and had not gone more than 30 miles when I ran into a snowstorm that turned into a blizzard, just what I wanted!, although it
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slowed things down considerably and the traffic thinned out as snow came down in about the heaviest fall I had ever encountered. It was very soon some two or three inches deep and going was getting difficult although mostly I was in virgin snow and still getting a grip. I pressed on nevertheless having in mind that it looked as if I was going to have to make another night stop somewhere but then found that in the confusion of the poor visibility in the ten lane junction near Frankfurt I had picked up the wrong lane and was on my way North-East, towards Wuppertal!. There was only one thing to do and that was backtrack. Although the snow had stopped leaving a depth of about 4ins. it would have been quite impossible to go across country so it was back 20 miles and then find my way through the network of the ten lane junction again until I was on track for Cologne once more. By that time it had got dark and I was somewhat relieved to be heading in the right direction at last and was working out my ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) when there was a hold up. It took some time for the traffic to creep forward and over the brow of a hill before I could see what had caused it all. There was a large articulated lorry on it's side blocking most of the carriageway and the police were only allowing one vehicle at a time down the hill past it as by now the snow had become impacted and it was a bit like an ice rink. When my turn came to make the descent I was amazed to find that the firemen and the 'wreckers' were actually cutting the lorry to pieces with blow torches to remove it in sections and was very relieved when I was finally in the clear again and heading for home. It took a total of twelve hours to do the journey. I had left in daylight and arrived with the dawn feeling hungry and very very tired. It was just "Hello, don't ask qestions [sic] and Goodnight”.
I finally came too, refreshed, reported that I was back and started the negotiations with Hamburg to restore the car to it's new state which I estimated would cost another £300 and they paid up in full. That was not the end of it though....
Winter soon descended with a vengance [sic] . It got cold and then colder. The bottom fell out of the thermometer and one morning, in common with many others I found the car locks frozen. Possibly
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like others I poured almost boiling water on in an attempt to unlock it but it froze as it hit the car and it was several days before the temperature went up a little to allow everything to release. then a great deal of the new paintwork came away with the defrosting!. I was very cross to say the least but I had it all renewed within the allowance that had been made by the insurance company. That still was not the end of it………but then the winter really set in.
Even the underground pipes froze in places and the works department produced a device that had not been used for years. It was a mobile motor driven generator producing a low voltage high amperage current that was attached to the fire hydrants and when the power was switched on it virtually heated the pipes up and they thawed. I had never seen anything like it before but at least the Fire service was kept in business. Even in the readiness areas the immersion heaters in the fire vehicles were needed to avoid freezing up. I put the fire dept to work to flood and freeze a fairly large depression of grassed area which produced an ice rink for several weeks. The centre of it was nearly two feet of solid ice and it was so cold that even the moat around Well castle in Holland was frozen to a depth of over two feet. Nevertheless we were still in business until it snowed again. We had been waiting for it and all the snow clearing machinery had been brought out and made ready but when it did start it made what I had been through when I brought the car back look like a little flurry. It snowed and snowed continually until there was a good ten to twelve inches over the whole airfield; and not the sort that would go away!.
With no flying possible we started to tackle it with everything we could muster to get the airfield clear. One machine had flame heaters for melting an icy surface, a hopper with finely graded sand with a worm feed which distributed the sand on the melted surface before it froze again. Result; a sandpaper type surface that was ideal for braking on at the upwind end of the runway. That's the way I figured it but everyone had different ideas particularly among those who had taken charge of the operation. It was attempted on snow, it was overworked and eventually it had a major breakdown. The various teams pushed and shoved snow all over the place with the snow ploughs and one crew even
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managed to put a twelve foot bank right in the runway threshold!. The equipment was the best with four wheel drive MAM diesel trucks with chains, and the blades could be swung either way for a left or a right cut, two splendid 'Snow-go’s' with flail intakes and plume blowers but the whole lot was being used piecemeal. Some ploughs had been used as bulldozers and a lot of snow was just being shifted from one place to another without opening up areas. After 24 hours of quite useless effort I stuck my neck out and produced a sketch plan of my own and there was very little argument. Obviously I couldn't make a bigger cock-up than had already been made and it was accepted. I assembled six ploughs in echelon with a half blade overlap followed by the two Snow-go’s and working on a plan to shift the snow [underlined] away [/underlined] from the taxyways [sic] we were off. It worked like a charm and mountains of snow was being cleared without blocking up other access points. At the end of the first cut I took the whole lot into a dispersal to swing the blades for the next run in the opposite direction when the CO turned up and 'suggested' that I would be better employed clearing snow instead of messing about changing the angle of the blades. He was not amused when I 'suggested' that "I was doing it my way" but really, there was no basis for any argument. I had already cleared half of a mile long taxyway [sic] in one sweep which was more than anyone else had done in the last 24 hours so with his permission I would like to carry on and prove a point, and perhaps he should judge my efforts by the result, particularly as others had not achieved much. How to get on and influence people!!!!, but I was cold and tired and past caring.
However, it did work as I expected and we were the first 2nd TAF airfield to be declared 'open' despite the fact that after I had left a colleague in charge whilst I went for a meal on my return found that he had managed to put 200 tons of snow back where I had just cleared it from. At least I had justified my plan and we were invariably the first 2nd TAF airfield to be declared clear after subsequent falls of snow. There was only one way to do it and I spent hours out on the airfield in -15 to-20 degrees. I followed it up with a written 'Snow Clearing Plan' with sketches and techniques to show how the basic plan could be adapted for any airfield and it turned up
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in print later. There were no thanks, just hard work and chilblains although there was a certain amount of satisfaction in having done something practical and useful. It was a relief when the deep freeze gave way to the first signs of Spring though and thoughts turned to planning the last holiday we were likely to get in that area. Before that happened an urgent problem put Dorothy into the Military Hospital at Vegberg near Rhiendalen for about ten days and we very nearly did not get the holiday but the planning was well advanced so we decided to go for it.
We had been fortunate in purchasing a slightly used but almost complete camping outfit so the destination was the Costa Brava in Spain. There were several dummy run exercises in the garden for putting up the tent until everyone knew what they had to do and the day came when all was assembled, loaded on the car and off we went.
Up to that point in time we had done no long distance travelling since the car had been repaired although there had been no problems. They started when we reached the area around Frankfurt when we were on long hill climbs when there were signs of overheating in the clutch and the most terrible noises from the gear box. With a little experimentation I found that the heat and the noise could be reduced by holding the highest gear for as long as possible which was not easy as the car was so heavily loaded. Eventually the decision was made after our first night stop at Frieburg that we would press on to the half way point at Geneva and that if it did not improve we would turn about. Strangely enough it was only lower gear hill climbs that produced the problem and in fact when we tried the odd run unloaded it was OK. We pressed on although I still had no idea what was causing it. I just wanted to be on holiday.
Actually we nearly abandoned it for other reasons. Dorothy did not like camping!. Not after our first night stop anyway. It was the way we had pitched the tent on a very slight slope in the semi-darkness and the natural movement in our sleep that found us up against the sides of the tent. That and the noises of the frogs at the lakeside did not exactly induce sleep.
Somehow we managed to retain some sense of humour even when in the early hours of the morning Dorothy had twisted herself up in her sleeping bag and I was awoken by gurgling noises and
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"get this b……zip out of my mouth"!!!!. That and the fact that it had started to rain heavily did not improve matters. It did not stop us moving out though. With a wet tent on top that then weighed twice as much as when we started!.
The next stop was Geneva where we were aiming for a camp site on the banks of Lake Lemon and it rained nearly all the way. What fun!. We had to put up a wet tent and I very nearly turned about at that point. Nevertheless, there was a pleasant little restaurant not far from the site and we indulged ourselves to the point of feeling a lot more comfortable by the time we turned in.
It had at least stopped raining but everywhere was clinging cold mist and these were the conditions when we packed up and moved out again, heading for Orange in the south of France where we were planning to stay with friends. We just ploughed on and on and on in those conditions through the Swiss mountains not seeing much more than the road is front of us until we got into France and the weather cleared up at last. We had a comfortable night stop in real beds and managed to get the tent up to dry out. We had arrived just in time for the May Day celebrations and had a great time dancing and drinking in the square on the fringe of the ampthitheatre [sic] . I think somehow that managed to bring us back to some sort of normallity [sic] .
Rested, well fed and with a dry tent packed off we went the following day heading for Spain and for a long time the weather was fine until shortly after we stopped for a break in Perpignan. Then it started to rain again. That was just what I wanted through the Pyrenees! and there was still a long way to go.
By the time we got to the border we were enjoying a full blown thunderstorm with lightning, thunder and lashing rain but the French customs just waived us on and we only made a short stop at the Spanish customs. Just long enough for the customs officer to determine that we were a British family on a camping holiday. That brought forth peals of laughter and he brought all his mates out to join in the fun. What's the Spanish for "blood silly British"??!!!!. We just laughed with them and pressed on but I was getting very very tired by that time and we had another good laugh before we finally stopped for the night.
Some time after we had left the border post we were being........
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followed by a German registered mini-bus and the damn fool driver made several dangerous attempts to overtake. Why he could not have been satisfied in following someone who was doing the 'pathfinding' for him I do not know so when we came to the edge of a town I thought that I would give him the opportunity to pass as I groped my way through a left and a right turn and several inches of water which almost obscured the line of the road. The mini-bus driver thought his chance had come as he surged past on what he thought was the road straight ahead and finished up along a shopping boulevard and came to a grinding halt mixed up with cafe’ tables and chairs!. He certainly paid for his impatience but enough was enough. If we got to Tossa-de-Mar that night we would still have put the tent up so with about 60 mls to go we decided that a comfortable night stop in a Hotel in Gerona would be a good idea. It was!. A meal, a drink and I crashed out.
The weather had cleared up by the morning and it was only about 30 mls to our destination through the winding roads of the area lined with carbuncled cork oaks. We were on site, tent up, and prepared to stay for at least ten days.
I think it was worth the effort. With a family of five I don't think we could have done it any other way even though there had been a few problems on our 1062 mile journey. We were not the only people ever to have had problems. One of our neighbours in the previous year had undertaken a motoring holiday to the North through Hamburg and on to Denmark and Sweden but had lost most of their baggage when their roof rack had seperated [sic] from the car and was very nearly pulped. There is no guarantee that all will go according to plan even with the more modern form of air transport to exciting places; not when several days may be lost sitting around an airport lounge or the hotel has been double booked. We had ten supurb [sic] days bathing, taking in the sights, and cruising around. The strange thing was that the car behaved itself so it didn't seem worth doing anything about. Perhaps one of the most interesting roads that we took was the coastal mountainous route from Tossa de Mar to San Feli'u. Only about twelve miles as the crow fly's but with most spectacular scenery and [underlined] 365 [/underlined] hairpin bends which actually doubled the road miles but it was interesting to say the least. We cruised the
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Costa Brava taking in the sights, eating and relaxing where it took our fancy, had a day in Barcelona and the scenic route through the Sierra de Montseny area to return stopping at numerous unspoiled villages where we were welcomed with open arms. Today there is always the tendency to want to dash from place to place along the new coastal motorway system and miss a great deal of the real Spain but we lapped it up. We even got used to the Spanish style of driving!. especially in the wrigly [sic] mountain areas. The locals had a tendency to maintain the maximum speed come what may, with the result that they approached blind corners at high speed, on the wrong side of the road, blasting away on the horn. The theory was that if there was no answering blast from anyone approaching from the opposite direction then it was safe to continue fast; and on the wrong side!!!. A bit dodgy nevertheless.
We have many recollections of that holiday, like the first time one of the girls took to the water in her new bikini only to find that as soon as it got wet it went transparent. A bit embarrassing for a sixteen year old, and we found that there were quite a few British on holiday there including one RAF couple who actually lived in Gogh. We made the most of it anyway and the day finally came when we had to be homeward bound.
The weather had generally improved and after getting back into France we took a different and very scenic route through the foothills of the Cevennes to Lyon and on to Bescancon and Belfort to finally pick up the motorway system northbound and home only making two stops en route. I was glad to get home. Being the only driver on a journey like that does impose a certain amount of strain but I was soon back to work and an opportunity to find out what had caused the heat and the noise but everything seemed OK until I checked the gear box oil level. Absolutely empty!!. I cross checked the detailed worksheet that the workshop had provided (in German of course) which showed that they had for some reason stripped both the engine and the gearbox and meticulously recorded every nut and bolt removed and/or replaced.....except the replacement of the gearbox oil. I think that possibly the only reason the gear box survived some 6000 miles without lubricant was because I had treated all the original lubricant with a propriety molybdenum after it's running
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in but to say I was annoyed is an understatement. It resulted in an absolutely stinking letter to the insurance company, who typically, would not accept the complaint without comment from the workshop.....and the workshop made every excuse in the book to avoid the issue. I gave it up in the end as I had just been notified of my next posting with nearly six months notice. Unheard of for me. I was going to Valley in North Wales so there was not much more time to finish our touring. We did the area towards Berlin to visit friends at Gutersloh who had visited us previously. That was the chap that had also been a POW with me, and at Wyton, and Marham, who had visited the Reichwald War Cemetery with me and whilst walking around was telling me how he was the only survivor of his crew when they had been shot down a year earlier than myself in a Halifax, near Krefeld. Naturally he wondered where his crew had been buried as we viewed some of the 5000 aircrew graves when he stopped with a gasp. There they were, all six of them in one row!!. Talk about "There but for the Grace of God go I"!. I retired to a respectful distance to allow him to compose himself. Whilst we were that way we visited the Mohne Dam and the Sorp and back at Laarbruch we visited Amsterdam and did the tourist thing by canal bus. We visited the amazing scenic park of De Efteling and another place in Holland which was an inland sort of water park. Probably the for-runner of Centre Parks, Bad Boekelo. Inland but just like the sea-side with fine sand and lots and lots of safe water fun. The first time we had come across the wave making machine but it will always stick in my mind for one incident. Everyone was lolling about and Dorothy was returning with some ice-cream with her sandles [sic] producing spurts of sand as she walked. Just as she approached a young Dutchmen in a reclining position who was inspecting the inside of a sandwitch [sic] , one of the spurts of sand left the toe of her sandles [sic] and joined the mustard, splat!!!. He looked up in amazement and then burst into laughter as we all did. So much the easier way of dealing with it and he shared our sandwiches!. We finally found the area of the windmills. There is only one area where they are plentiful and that is in the canal area east of Rotterdam. Kinderdyke. One of the few areas where national dress is often worn and very photogenic. About the last interesting event that I recall
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in Air Traffic Control matters was at the commencement of a flying excerise [sic] when our Javelins were sitting on the Operational Readiness platforms at the end of the runway hooked up to the Fighter Control network as we were so that we were able to listen out on the net but I was not prepared for what came out of the box…….. “Achtung……. Achtung……. XXXXXX(callsigns) shcramble [sic] ……shcramble [sic] ."…followed by the interception instructions. It was the first time the Luftwaffe controllers had been placed in the 'hot seat' and I must confess that it raised a few eyebrows among among [sic] a few of Bomber Harris's 'old lags" who formed about 50% of our controllers. As ironic as it was we had no option but to move with the times.
We were coming to the end of our visits to our favourite cafe at Nijmegen. A delightful family run establishment where no order was too much trouble for the somewhat rotund proprietor. We invariably topped off our shopping expeditions there and it was one place where I saw muscles [sic] served up as a meal on their own....in a large enamelled washing up bowl!. I like muscles [sic] but enough to fill a kit-bag in one go would be bit too much for me but one of the national dishes I believe. I wouldn't like to cope with that if any of then was a bit 'off'.
With plenty of time to sort things out and having been told that quarters would not be immediately available I managed to arrange a rental at Amlwych [sic] on the North side of Anglesey and our friends who were also posted to Valley more or less at the same tine arranged a rental in Holyhead. Of course there was packing to arrange. Goods in store in St.Ives to be transported to Amlwych [sic] , travel arrangements to be made etc, etc. The process was no longer a daunting prospect, we had done it often enough!, and eventually we cleared the station and we were on our way.
Dorothy and the girls went under service arrangements and flew from Wildenwrath on their way to Worthing and I set off with the car loaded to the hilt via the Hook and Harwich. It was an absolutely dreadful crossing in a Force 9 gale. People were being sick all over the place, and it was virtually impossible to sleep. All the berths had been booked and a good good [sic] many others and myself were making the best of deck chairs lashed to the decks. The usual seats and benches offered very little comfort as people were being thrown off of them all over the
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place and the bar and kitchens shut early as it was so difficult to cope with the pitching and the tossing. There were some very unhappy looking passengers around when we docked in the morning and I must confess that at times during the night it would not have worried me if we had foundered....I think I just wanted to die!. Nevertheless we started to dissembark [sic] and I was not in a hurry but one Army Officer who had obviously been well ahead of me had allowed his discomfort and his haste to get the better of him. It does not pay to get 'stroppy' with Custom Officials!.
He was standing by his car, tearing his hair out as they were removing absolutely everything from it which had been as loaded as mine. And I mean everything!. They had removed the seats, emptied every compartment and opened every package. It was strewn all around the car. I felt bad enough as it was so I declared every cigarette, gram of tobacco, and drop of booze and when they had deducted my allowance only asked for a nominal payment on the excess!: There was a little fuss over the car which I had already re-registered and re-placed the UK plates. They reckoned that I had jumped the gun but the documentation was all in order although there was some other documentation that was not quite right that at least we had a laugh about. I was bringing back our Budgie and [inserted] I [/inserted] had pinned it's import licence to the cage. Trouble was there was only half a licence, the other half was in the Budgie!. There was enough of to get by with and I was off to Worthing.
208
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
Water under the bridge
Description
An account of the resource
Part 1. "By the Seat of his Pants". Covers from Alan Gamble's years as a schoolboy in Worthing in the late 1930's, up to joining the RAF in 1943, where he trained as a wireless operator in Blackpool. He joined 620 Squadron, which was equipped mainly with Stirlings and based initially at Leicester East, then Chedburgh, before it moved to Fairford in 1944. He flew 29 bombing and mine laying sorties over Germany and elsewhere. At Fairford '620' also supported SOE and participated in the Horsa glider operation at Arnhem.
Part 2, "No Problem Sport".Covers Alan Gamble's short flying history over France in 1945 before being shot down, and his experiences as a POW in southern Germany and subsequent liberation. The manuscript of Part 2 appears to be complete except for one or more pages missing about two thirds of the way through. This is at the beginning or the end of a fragment bound by metal clips, and could easily have become detached as the outside pages of some fragments' in Part 3 were also lost. It is therefore possible that only one page is missing.
Part 3. "Nil Desperandum".Covers Alan Gamble's post war experiences up to about 1963. This has not been read.
The manuscript of Part 3 is missing pages 24-86, 120 and 170, the latter two being the outside pages of bound fragments. (Page numbering here has assisted in reconstruction).
Additional information about this item was kindly provided by the donor.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
A T Gamble
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Multipage printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BGambleATGambleATv1
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
Wehrmacht
Wehrmacht. Luftwaffe
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Bedfordshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Skegness
England--Suffolk
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Wiltshire
England--Norfolk
Wales--Gwynedd
Wales--Porthmadog
England--Cumbria
England--Barrow-in-Furness
England--Oxfordshire
Germany
Germany--Krefeld
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Cologne
Germany--North Friesland Region
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Germany--Hamburg
England--Cambridgeshire
Germany--Nuremberg
Italy
Italy--Turin
Germany--Peenemünde
Germany--Berlin
France
France--Modane
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Jordan
Jordan--Amman
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-06-13
1943-06-17
1943-06-22
1943-07-03
1943-07-24
1943-08-10
1943-08-12
1943-08-17
1943-08-27
1943-08-31
1943-10-03
1943-11-03
1945-01
1945-02-03
1945-02-07
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Peter Bradbury
115 Squadron
149 Squadron
15 Squadron
214 Squadron
3 Group
620 Squadron
622 Squadron
9 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
B-17
B-24
bale out
bombing
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
Botha
C-47
coping mechanism
crewing up
debriefing
Defiant
Do 217
Dominie
Dulag Luft
evading
fuelling
Fw 190
Gee
gremlin
ground personnel
Halifax
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Me 109
Me 110
meteorological officer
military discipline
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
P-51
Pathfinders
petrol bowser
prisoner of war
Proctor
promotion
RAF Barrow in Furness
RAF Cardington
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Feltwell
RAF Marham
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Stradishall
RAF Turweston
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Yatesbury
recruitment
Red Cross
searchlight
service vehicle
Stirling
strafing
tractor
training
Wellington
Window
wireless operator
-
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/991/7644/ABuvoliA180702.1.mp3
3c7127d35c86a549ce24a9ea29707f55
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
Istituto Friulano per la Storia del Movimento di Liberazione
IFSML
Description
An account of the resource
Two item. An interview with Alberto Buvoli, who recollects his wartime experiences in Udine and in the Friuli area, and a propaganda flyer produced after an Allied bombing.
Permission to publish the collection has been kindly granted by the Istituto Friulano per la Storia del Movimento di Liberazione (Udine, Italy).
The collection has been catalogued by IBCC staff.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2020-02-19
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
his 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
IFSML
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 Alberto Buvoli
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Alessandro Pesaro
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-07-02
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
00:30:12 audio recording
Language
A language of the resource
ita
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Sound
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
ABuvoliA180702
PBuvoliA1801
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Italy
Italy--Udine
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Description
An account of the resource
Alberto Buvoli recollects his wartime childhood in Udine, when he lived in the railway station area. Describes how furniture was moved to a safer place at the onset of the war and explains air raid precautions, such as leaving the windows open and putting paper strips on glass panes. Mentions the standard attack sequence consisting of strafing, bombing, and finally dropping incendiaries. Reminisces the smell of fires and the sight of spent incendiary devices.
Explains the differences between different kinds of shelters: tunnels;
re-purposed basements beneath substantial buildings; and small, private, concrete structures. Reminisces about heavy bombing which destroyed his home, how they were temporarily housed inside a tunnel and his subsequent life as an evacuee in the countryside. Narrates an episode in which German soldiers showed appreciation for piano music and later came back to enjoy the homely atmosphere of his flat. Describes the conflict as a relatively care-free period: his parents tried in every way to protect him from the horrors of war while farmers provided non-rationed supplies. Bombings were an unavoidable consequence in the state of war.
bombing
childhood in wartime
civil defence
evacuation
home front
incendiary device
perception of bombing war
shelter
strafing
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a9e9d5366fe91066a0b8f49b8d4cc729
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b6c7a5b2341b0666d2685dd1cd5e607b
Dublin Core
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Title
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Toccacieli, Guido
Guido Toccacieli
G Toccacieli
Description
An account of the resource
One oral history interview with Guido Toccacieli who recollects his wartime experiences in Milan.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-12-10
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Toccacieli, G
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AP: Sono Alessandro Pesaro e sto per intervistare il signor Giulio Toccaceri per l’International Bomber Commande Centre Digital Archive. Siamo a Milano, il giorno 10 dicembre 2012. Grazie signor Guido per aver acconsentito a questa intervista. Come prima domanda,
GT: Dica.
AP: Vorrei chiederle, qual’è il ricordo più antico?
GT: Più antico?
AP: Potrebbe essere qualcosa, un ricordo famigliare. Chi erano i suoi genitori? I suoi fratelli? Dove viveva prima della guerra?
GT: Ah. Vabbè, io sono nato a Bergamo perché mio padre in quel tempo lavorava a un campo d’aviazione di Ponte San Pietro che era il campo della Caproni. Lui era specialista in altimetri e volava con gli Sva, [laughs] ancora, era aerei di molto prima della seconda guerra mondiale, della prima guerra mondiale. Erano gli aerei della prima guerra mondiale. Quindi io sono, fino allora sono stato a Bergamo, fino all’età di cinque anni e qualcosa. Poi arrivato a Milano a sei anni, quindi era il 1935. Io dal ’35 sono, abito a Milano. E fino al trenta, dunque la mia vita cos’è stata? Ragazzino che andavo a scuola fino al fatidico 1940 quando è scoppiata la guerra. Dunque avevo undici anni esatti e facevo la quinta elementare.
AP: Che cosa ricorda di quel giorno?
GT: Della mia vita scolastica?
AP: No, di quando è stata dichiarata la guerra.
GT: Ah, ehm,
AP: Si ricorda dov’era?
GT: Anche sì, ero a Milano, esattamente in Via Ingegnoli che è una zona di, ora dicono Città Studi, era allora una zona vicino a Lambrate, alla stazione di Lambrate e lì è cominciata la, diciamo la vita da, in guerra. Il problema della guerra in quella zona era quello che inizialmente, dunque noi abbiamo subito il primo bombardamento, se a lei questo può interessare, nel ’42. Il primo bombardamento nel ’42, dove, se posso aggiungere, poi [laughs]. La mia nuova moglie che, nuova moglie, moglie da sempre, abitava in una località vicino a me a Piazza Bacone e perse la casa anche lei ma questo io l’ho saputo dopo [laughs] quando ho conosciuto lei da fidanzata. Comunque hanno cominciato lì, il primo bombardamento nel 1942. Ma non penso che fossero, non so se, potevano essere francesi o inglesi in quel momento che c’hanno bombardato, questo non me lo ricordo nel ’42. Se erano già, erano già inglesi che sono arrivati, penso che siano, sì, sì, dovevano essere inglesi e quindi lì abbiamo cominciato ad avere dei morti, no? Nella zona di Milano, nella zona che avevano bombardato, anche perché la nostra zona era particolare. Aveva vicino uno scalo ferroviario, quindi alcune fabbriche abbastanza importanti tra queste l’Innocenti che produceva poi armi per la guerra. E quindi da lì abbiamo incominciato a soffrire e fare la vita di quelli che tutti i momenti, in caso di allarme, si finiva nei rifugi [laughs] che organizzavano naturalmente nelle case allora, erano ponteggi nelle cantine proprio per evitare che questi crolli venissero a discapito nostro, ecco. E questo era la, quello che io conosco, il momento della guerra, dello scoppio della guerra adesso, quindi avevo undici anni però eh, quando è scoppiata la guerra quindi. Quello, il nostro problema maggiore era quello e poi è cominciato il problema, vabbè, della alimentazione, mancanza di cose è stato quello che, è stato il mio inizio, la mia, diciamo, la prima giovinezza diciamo, undici anni, un adolescente che si è trovato così però personalmente non tanto. In seguito poi naturalmente cos’è stato le cose meno, i familiari meno importanti, cioè più complicate furono che mio fratello dovette andare militare. E da quel momento, vabbè era una cosa, non ha fatto la, non è andato in guerra, mio fratello è del 1921 quindi nel ’40 aveva diciannove anni, è andato a fare il servizio militare fino. Dunque nel ’40 quando è successo che il primo armistizio che c’è stato? Nel ’42 mi pare, no, ’44, ‘44. ’43, ecco nel ’43. Sì, nel ’43, dunque, avvenne che mio fratello tornò a casa. Tornato a casa e c’è stato pochissimo tempo perché e lì è cominciata subito la Repubblica Sociale Italiana. Mussolini che era stato poi catturato e liberato da Skorzeny, il famoso tedesco che nel Nido d’Aquila sulla, dov’era? Sul Gran Sasso, ha presente che fosse sul Gran Sasso allora. E da quello è incominciato il problema diciamo del fratello che è scappato, si è richiuso in casa ed era considerato renitente allora. Perché poi la Repubblica Sociale richiamò tutti i militari che avevano lasciato. E un bel giorno, tornando da scuola, ero giovanissimo, facevo le medie allora, tornando da scuola trovai la casa circondata dalle cosidette Brigate Nere che erano state create dal fascismo proprio che era, chiamiamola la polizia politica dei, del momento del regime fascista. Riuscirono a scoprirlo perché c’era stata una, come si dice, una spiata ecco. L’avevano saputo. Io sono arrivato a casa, ho trovato tutta questa cosa, mi hanno fermato ehm, e ho visto mio fratello prendere, caricare su una camionetta e portarlo via. S’immagina il dramma in quel momento nella casa. Quindi siamo arrivati al ’44, ’43. Poi mio fratello fu mandato, ricordo benissimo il tempo di guerra, fu mandato a Carcare. Carcare, Savona, sui colli di Cadibona, sì. Fino a un bel momento quello che era successo fino allora, bombardamenti non ne avevamo poi tanti avuti ehm, fino al ’43. E nel ’43, esatto, cominciarono i bombardamenti, quelli pesanti a Milano fatti dagli americani, penso, o forse dalle forze alleate. E lì subimmo dei bombardamenti molto pesanti. Agosto del ’43 è stato un macello, 15 agosto, 16 agosto a Milano è stato un disastro. Milano è sparita in parte, il centro di Milano in qualche via che non esiste ancora più adesso perché [unclear], è scomparsa e da allora, ecco cosa è successo. Da allora mio fratello riuscì a scappare lo stesso da Carcare e fu nascosto dai miei zii in questo periodo e lì andò bene perché poi non successe più niente. Mentre noi eravamo sfollati in un paesino vicino a Milano in una scuola elementare ed eravamo io, mio, mia sorella, sì, mio padre, mia madre. Mio padre faceva avanti indietro perché lavorava ancora a Milano papà e quindi siamo rimasti là fino a che la guerra è terminata. Ecco, altri episodi che diciamo riguardino me personalmente non ne ho, non ho subito cose. L’unica cosa che posso raccontare è stato bruttissima. Finita la guerra sono arrivati gli americani a Milano e io poi, come tutte le altre persone, siamo andati a vedere quella brutta faccenda di Mussolini impiccato, cioè impiccato, era già ucciso in Piazzale Loreto.
AP: Continui.
GT: Dunque, quella è stata una cosa che ci ha colpito non tanto per, ragazzo cosa avevo, ormai avevo quindici, dunque, ’45, sai [unclear] gli americani a liberarci, ecco quello è stata la causa più, a liberarci, sì, ormai avevano liberato tutta l’Italia, i tedeschi erano scappati. Ah, le cose, il brutto che succedeva allora erano le retate che facevano le Brigate Nere, questi della X Mas mi ricordo che c’era il famoso Osvaldo Valenti che era un attore, allora era molto in voga, e coso. Poi, Ah, ho assistito a, dopo la liberazione, a diverse fucilazioni di cosidetti fascisti di allora, io non potevo conoscere tutte queste cose, ero un po’ fuori dal, di questi fascisti che avevano, non so, li avevano fucilati proprio in mezzo alla strada così cioè. Ragazze rapate, pitturate di rosso sulla testa che camminavano in mezzo a discredito di tutti [laughs] che, ecco, queste cose che la guerra mi ha lasciato dentro. I bombardamenti sì, è la cosa più paurosa anche perché un, devo dire un ragazzo non è che si spaventasse per questo. No, questo no, non ho subito terrore per i bombardamenti, no, non ho provato paura. Ecco questo è quanto posso dire del mio periodo diciamo dal ’40 al ’45, quando è stata la liberazione, insomma.
AP: Mi ha parlato prima di un rifugio.
GT: Sì.
AP: Vuole descrivermelo?
GT: Ah.
AP: Come era fatto?
GT: Il rifugio dove, di casa mia?
AP: Esatto.
GT: Cantina. Cantina, paletti di supporto di legno, basta. Tutto lì. Non c’erano cose particolari. Niente assolutamente. Si andava in cantina sperando che reggesse [laughs]. La casa non era grande d’accordo però e dentro, con le donne che magari pregavano [laughs] come in queste cose e i bombardamenti che arrivavano perché l’allarme arrivava molto spesso. Ah, poi nell’ultimo periodo, prima che finisse la cosa, arrivava un certo Pippo. Era chiamato un aereo che non so di che provenienza fosse, se inglese, francese, americano. Arrivava su Milano, sganciava una bomba e basta, e andava e questo è stato per un po’ di volte. Infatti lo chiamavamo Pippo. ‘Arriva Pippo, arriva Pippo’. Ecco [laughs] questo è un ricordo di quella, del bombardamento.
AP: Si ricorda come la gente viveva
GT: Ah poi, il bombardamento, sì, d’accordo posso aggiungere adesso mano a mano che mi ricordo, l’ultimo quello terribile è stato fatto nella zona di Gorla dove è caduto su una scuola. Sono cadute le bombe su una scuola, hanno fatto molti molti morti per i bambini, questo tra i bambini di scuola proprio. Quelle sono state le cose che hanno colpito di più diciamo il fatto che si bombardasse un po’ così e non certo. Gorla è sempre vicino alla stazione centrale, si può immaginare che magari ci fossero però eravamo già verso la fine della guerra. Non so se è stato il colpo finale che volevano darci per, dare a noi, dare allo stato italiano, a Mussolini soprattutto perché allora eravamo isolati dall’Italia noi eh, siamo stati. I tedeschi avevano preso il potere anche su Milano quindi, c’è la guerra, si era formato il Vallo lì in Toscana, Lazio, cos’era, come si chiamava?
AP: La Linea Gotica?
GT: La Linea Gotica forse sì. No, non era la Linea Gotica, forse eh? Dunque, dunque, era la Linea Gotica, possibile. Montecassino, c’era la Gotica, sì, Gotica [laughs]. Gotica, sì.
AP: Questo mi dà l’opportunità di una domanda.
GT: Sì.
AP: Qual’era la vostra percezione? Lei ha parlato di essere, di sentirsi isolato. Avevate la sensazione che le bombe erano dirette a voi? Allo stato italiano? Ai tedeschi? Come vedevate la cosa allora?
GT: Beh, ma, dunque, no, no, [unclear] lo stato italiano senz’altro. Senz’altro. Eravamo alleati dei tedeschi quindi, sì, sì, vabbè. No, avevamo la sensazione che si creasse proprio il panico, proprio di creare qualcosa tra, che, non so, probabilmente che i civili si ribellassero magari a tutto questo stato di cose. Perché ci bombardavano? Perchè venivano a bombardare le popolazioni? Poi abbiamo saputo pian pianino di cose ancora peggiori perché se pensiamo poi cosa è successo a Dresda [laughs], capisci? Quindi era proprio creare questo stato di, forse di sollevazione contro la guerra, certo, non eravamo certo un alleato comodo nè forte per i tedeschi, e quindi presero in mano il potere loro. Insomma praticamente certamente bombardavano anche noi, ma forse per eliminare, più qualche cosa, togliere diciamo una forza, farci smettere per togliere una forza ai tedeschi.
AP: Vorrei riportarla a quegli anni.
GT: Sì.
AP: Sempre tenendo presente quello che mi ha raccontato adesso.
GT: Sì.
AP: Lei si ricorda conversazioni di adulti a proposito dell’essere bombardati eccetera? Che cosa diceva la gente, ad esempio, in negozio, per strada?
GT: [sighs] Praticamente, no, la gente cominciava ad essere un po’ stufa della guerra, cioè stufa della guerra, non si mangiava eh, questo era il problema, quindi. Ma per un certo momento intendiamoci all’inizio li abbiamo odiati questi bombardamenti perché ci bombardavano. Sì, siamo in guerra, d’accordo però. Quello che ritenevamo forse noi della guerra era farla direttamente sì, ma non, non inserendo le persone, le popolazioni civili in questo coso, forse non era il caso. E l’avevamo chiamato questa era la cosa del terrore, proprio creare un terrore in modo tale che qualcuno si, qualcuno che contava si risvegliasse, somma sai [unclear] è stato, forse è stato quello che poi è successo ma [unclear]. Per cui poi il regime fascista è caduto perché qualcuno si era mosso in quel senso lì o forse perché, forse non aveva visto l’interesse particolare di fare una guerra assieme alla Germania non so, [unclear]. Poi io, sai, io sono sempre vissuto in una famiglia che diciamo. Papà ha avuto sempre delle, delle idee socialiste e quindi eravamo un po’ contro questo, poi accettando tante cose perché devo dire noi siamo stati, all’inizio siamo stati anche abbastanza bene. Ai ragazzi non dispiaceva anche andare a fare le adunate, si divertivano, cioè questo era quello che aveva lasciato un pochettino il regime fascista sulla mentalità delle persone. C’erano, alcune cose insomma, c’erano, erano fatte bene insomma perché difendevano i lavoratori, posto di lavoro, cioè tante cose che avevano, bè, questo era un po’, diciamo il fondo fascista di Mussolini, socialista di Mussolini che poi certamente non è, non è proliferato in quelle cose però è quello. Lo stato però, non eravamo con, all’inizio non eravamo proprio tanto convinti che fosse brutto, è scoppiata, sì la guerra è sempre brutta però, mah, poteva anche starci insomma ecco.
AP: E suo padre.
GT: Io non capivo proprio molto bene quella, non c’era quella comunicazione che c’è adesso, quindi era tutto. Dopo ci siamo accorti che era tutta propaganda quindi abbiamo subito un po’, continuato a subire quello che era, diciamo l’inseminazione data da vari anni di fascismo, dal 1922, e vabbè che non era mica tanto, ’29 sono nato io quindi [laughs].
AP: Suo padre come le ha spiegato la guerra, se gliel’ha spiegata?
GT: [sighs] Mio papà, dunque, la guerra lui non l’ha fatta. Lui era specializzato quindi la prima guerra mondiale papà non l’ha fatta, la ’15-’18 quindi. Lui come specialista ha sempre lavorato nelle aziende che fornivano materiale per la guerra. Quindi la guerra direttamente lui l’ha vissuta attraverso il lavoro che faceva, non è che. Ma all’inizio non, posso dirle che non è che fosse contrario, forse aveva, qualche cosa era rimasto di una educazione socialista quindi non era propenso, però neanche proprio completamente alieno devo dire, questo che un ricordo che possa avere io di papà.
AP: La cosa è cambiata quando sono cadute le prime bombe sui civili?
GT: Eh certo, eh certo, eh certo.
AP: Mi racconti questo passaggio.
GT: Eh, le bombe sui civili proprio hanno cambiato un po’ la mentalità delle persone insomma. Si sono proprio un po’ rivoltate dentro, no, in quello che si sentiva dire, ‘ma questi ci bombardano’. Sì, eh, un certo astio per forza, ci bombardavano loro, non potevamo avere però la colpa, la colpa di che cosa? Nostra che abbiamo fatto la guerra. Nostra che ci siamo, ci siamo messi in questa situazione, eh, questi erano i discorsi che facevano loro. Poi è stato anche poi il dramma che non eravamo, sapevamo di non essere, anche noi ragazzi, di non essere all’altezza. Prima di tutto perché ci si misurava con la capacità, diciamo, di fare la guerra dei tedeschi. Noi non l’avevamo questa capacità. Ehm, visto poi quello che era successo e che avevano riportato dei reduci dalla Grecia disastri, cose, l’organizzazione proprio italiana non fatta proprio, assolutamente una cosa così. E quindi, ma abbiamo cominciato a dire che avevamo sbagliato insomma noi italiani a fare la guerra, ad accettare questa, questa guerra così. La punizione, vabbè forse era troppo forte, i bombardarci e morire, eravamo in guerra, vabbè. Abbiamo detto: ‘E’ così, cosa vuoi, non potevano fare niente’. Dovevamo subire e abbiamo subito.
AP: Provi se, se non le dispiace, a ricordare questo senso di impotenza, l’idea di ricevere bombe dal cielo e non poter fare nulla. Provi a ricordare cosa provava quando era bambino.
GT: Eh, difficile. [pauses] Niente. Per me capitava come una, come una, qualche cosa, una disgrazia che doveva venire, qualche cosa. Un qualcosa che non me la, contro il quale non potevo fare niente dentro di me, non potevo fare niente, non potevo. Ma neanche, però neanche il desiderio di mettermi lì, da ragazzo, con un cannone a sparare agli aerei che scendevano, no, no, no. Però un po’ effettivamente bisogna dire una cosa, siccome questi bombardamenti all’inizio quegli inglesi noi li odiavamo un po’ questi inglesi, eh, pensavamo che fossero un pochettino. Non sapevamo cosa poi succedeva quindi questo poi, questo è un paragone che si, non si può fare perché dopo l’abbiamo visto e quindi dopo ci hanno aperto le cose. Non sapevamo cosa subivano gli inglesi, gli inglesi a Londra con le bombe che, Hitler mandava le V2. Eh, potevamo dire, però è una rivalsa contro quello che, ma non c’era, non c’era, non c’era una volontà politica che, aiutasse a pensare una cosa piuttosto che l’altra, eravamo un po’ allo sbando insomma, non eravamo vabbè, subivamo un po’ questo, del partito, queste cose che ti tenevano un pochettino proprio al di fuori di tutte queste cose. Odiavano questo, quello, bisogna odiarli, sì, famoso manifesto, il nemico ti ascolta [laughs], famoso manifesto, grandioso che faceva. Ridevamo perché dicevamo, la lana Churchill si ritira, dicevamo, la lana Churchill perché si ritira, taci il nemico ti ascolta, avevamo dentro tutte queste cose che venivano dalla preparazione che aveva fatto il partito fascista sul popolo italiano. Quindi abbiamo un po’ fatto fatica proprio a uscire fuori dalla cosa. La guerra all’inizio sì, vabbè c’è la guerra, è inevitabile, dicevano. A un ragazzo però, sapere cos’era la guerra, era stata un po’, era un po’ una cosa, non facile da, sì, da accettare sì forse, forse un gioco più grande di noi o forse volevamo partecipare [laughs], da ragazzi, sa, non è semplice, non eravamo adulti capaci di interpretare tutte queste cose che poi sono successe. Molto difficile.
AP: A proposito dell’interpretazione.
GT: Sì.
AP: Mi ha accennato ai bombardamenti dell’agosto 1943.
GT: ‘43, 15 e 16 agosto.
AP: Vuole raccontarmi qualche cosa di più?
GT: Vediamo.
AP: Provi a tornare a quegli anni, a quei mesi.
GT: ’43, sì fino allora non avevamo subito delle grandi cose a Milano, onestamente. Bombardamento che ci ricordavamo di più era quello di, era dell’inizio della guerra nel ’42. Ppi bombardamenti veri e propri non ne abbiamo avuti a raffica come sono venuti lì con questi enormi aerei che arrivavano a onde [makes a droning noise] e forse no. Sono stati i primi che hanno proprio creato proprio un panico assoluto nella gente che c’era. Proprio è stato, sono stati quelli del ’43. Milano ricorda solo, sì del ’43.
AP: Si ricorda le sue emozioni? Che cosa provava lei?
GT: Gliel’ho detto,
AP: Estate, estate del ’43.
GT: Non paura, chissà perché, personalmente come, non ho provato paura.
AP: Le altre persone attorno a lei, della sua famiglia?
GT: Certo, evidentemente, sì, certo. Vabbè, c’erano, [laughs], erano prese, erano preoccupate per i figli tant’è vero che c’è stata il famoso esodo da Milano, tutti cercavano di andarsene via. Ma sì, un paio di notti siamo andati a dormire nei prati perché bombardavano, sapevamo ehm. No paura non ne ho provato, paura vedendo gli altri che avevano paura, a me sembrava che avessero troppa paura. Però non ho provato nè paura nè, neanche senso di odio, sì, bombardavano e vabbè, è la guerra. Ecco, c’era una certa fatalità nel pensare quelle cose lì, una certa fatalità, infatti non ho riportato nessun trauma del fatto di aver fatto, il trauma che si poteva riportare. Ricordare la fame, ma sì, la ricordo ma non è neanche diciamo una causa di queste cose, non è neanche una cosa. Io personalmente non ho portato dei traumi per queste cose.
AP: Mi ha parlato di Gorla prima. Gorla.
GT: Gorla, sì, sì.
AP: La bomba sulla scuola.
GT: Questo ci ha fatto male, sì.
AP: Si ricorda qualcosa all’epoca? Come è stata annunciata?
GT: Niente, dunque, era stata annunciata che, niente, un bombardamento è avvenuto, hanno buttato giù, no, una solita cosa, hanno fatto un raid, no, come si chiama, aereo ha colpito Gorla. Presumo che dovessero colpire la stazione centrale, ecco, questo lo dico io .Abbiamo tutti pensato che la zona, essendo la stazione centrale un certo posto di smistamento per truppe cose, penso non sia stato un bombardamento però tipo, come si dice, come ho detto, annunciato prima tipo terroristico [emphasises] ecco, no, eravamo già un po’ più verso la fine di questo [unclear]. Io la ritengo, non so, un errore proprio grave di, o forse un ultimo rigurgito. Eh beh ma una bomba poteva capitare, poteva spostarsi di cinquecento metri. Non penso che fosse stato un obiettivo ecco, è caduta ma però Gorla come dico era stata la stazione centrale ecco [laughs] perciò c’era un obiettivo. Come le bombe che sono cadute nella mia zona l’obiettivo c’era, c’era lo smistamento di Lambrate quindi era un nodo ferroviario.
AP: Mi ha parlato prima della Innocenti.
GT: Sì, c’era la Innocenti lì eh. Quindi, lo smistamento, venivano fuori le armi dall’Innocenti e subito partivano con lo smistamento ferroviario.
AP: Quindi.
GT: Ecco, una cosa che non abbiamo, che ho dimenticato, ecco questo. Qualche, c’è stato un momento, adesso l’anno però eravamo già un po’ più avanti, dal 40, i mitragliamenti ai treni.
AP: Me ne parli.
GT: Ecco, questa è stata [unclear] quindi proprio c’era una perché i treni erano, in quel momento non c’erano, non treni militari, erano treni civili e questi caccia che arrivavano, non so se fossero americani, inglesi, non, mitragliavano i treni. Questo è stato proprio brutto perché queste cose le ho riviste magari in tanti film dove si vede che mitragliano proprio i treni e la gente scappa fuori. Questo è stata una cosa, ecco, quello lì. Ecco, c’erano questi contrasti che, non capivo quelle cose lì proprio per creare terrore soprattutto, eh, guardi, che hanno mitragliavano i treni. Non erano convogli militari quelli che ho conosciuto, quelli ho saputo io quindi.
AP: Se dovesse spiegarmi la differenza tra mitragliare un treno e bombardare, come la spiegherebbe?
GT: Dunque, la spiegazione che posso dare oggi. Bombardare, bombardare, mitragliare un treno dipende: è un obiettivo militare o mitragliare un treno così solo per mitragliare un treno, pensando che. Bombardare obiettivi militari o una città per fare terrore? Milano è stata bombardata per fare terrore. Non è stata bombardata per, perché c’erano cose particolari, non era. Differenza, vorrei capirla io, come viene, queste pattuglie che vanno su due caccia [unclear] che vanno lì, mitragliano un treno scoprendo che c’è, magari non sapendo che è un treno civile si bombarda, si mitraglia un treno. A Milano, nella zona intorno a Milano, ma che obiettivo è? Per me è per fare terrore, per far cessare, proprio per fare rimuovere la gente, ‘basta adesso, noi non ne possiamo più’, per me. Però strategicamente, non sono uno stratega.
AP: E Pippo come c’entra in tutto questo?
GT: Come?
AP: Pippo. Lei ha ricordato Pippo. L’aereo.
GT: Ah Pippo anche questo qui, che signi, ecco, il significato. Terrore. Può arrivare un bombardamento, crea panico, perché una bombettina non ha mai fatto, ma non credo che sia mai successo un morto per Pippo. Com’era? Come mai arriva questo aereo? Ma sempre per tenere in allarme, cioè, per provocare questa ansia nella gente che si muova, che faccia qualche cosa, che da dentro, si muova da dentro per far finire queste cose. Eh, solo quello, solo quello. Quella è una strategia che. Altro [unclear]
AP: A distanza di settant’anni, è cambiato la sua opinione verso chi la bombardava o chi la mitragliava? Lei pensa che ci sia una differenza tra quello che pensava da bambino e quello che pensa lei adesso?
GT: No, penso che sia stato proprio una cosa per creare proprio il terrore. Per creare terrore e far smettere la gente di, cioè provocare questa, dall’interno questa, questa rivolta, no, contro, contro chi dei nostri faceva la guerra, farla smettere, insomma, farla cessare, farla cessare.
AP: Lei mi ha accennato a sua moglie che ha perso la casa.
GT: Sì.
AP: Questa cosa vi ha unito in qualche maniera? Avete passato le stesse esperienze? Vi siete sentiti uniti? Ne avete parlato?
GT: No, no, no, in questo no perché, beh ma lì è stata un’altra tragedia, lei era una bambina, aveva nove anni, otto anni, nove anni. Hanno perso la casa perché è caduta a Milano in Piazza Bacone e la sua casa è crollata e lei si è salvata perché era in rifugio con i parenti [laughs], con e basta. Da lì è stata un po’ una tragedia per lei dopo, quello che ha subito lei ma era piccola.
AP: Si ricorda cosa era successo?
GT: Sì, dopo lei ha dovuto, eh, hanno perso tutto la casa, hanno dovuto andare presso dei parenti, insomma c’è stata tutta una concomitanza di cose negative per lei, per la sua infanzia voglio dire eccetera eccetera. Questo sì però è lei che, quello che poi ha provato lei io non lo so [laughs].
AP: Prima mi ha parlato di Mussolini e di altri a Piazzale Loreto.
GT: Sì.
AP: Vuole raccontarmi qualcosa di più?
GT: Beh, noi ci siamo trovati, dunque, a Piazzale Loreto perché ad un certo momento, è abbastanza vicino alla zona dove abito quindi [unclear] scesi in strada [unclear], siamo corsi tutti a Piazzale Loreto e abbiamo visto quello spettacolo abnorme, spettacolo orribile. Da ragazzo non l’ho subito però mi ha dato fastidio subito quindi Mussolini, Petacci, Bombacci, c’era un, beh, c’erano questi gerarchi fascisti che io adesso non ricordo mentalmente chi è che era appeso. La cosa più brutta che ho provato. Dunque poi a un certo momento è arrivato un camion, dopo le spiego perché è arrivato il camion, è arrivato un camion e hanno staccato, hanno incominciato a staccare. Quando sono arrivato io la Petacci era ancora con le gonne giù, cioè al contrario e quindi era praticamente nuda o seminuda. Dunque il camion. Su c’era un deposito di benzina, li avevano attaccati tutti sul deposito di benzina alla base di questo striscione di metallo che c’era su e hanno incominciato a tagliare la corda e li hanno calati a uno a uno. Quando sono arrivati a Mussolini, hanno tagliato la corda di netto, non li hanno presi, l’hanno, l’hanno fatto cadere sul camion apposta. E’ stato una roba, è stato una roba pazzesca, la gente che andava a sputare addosso, a calci, urlando cose inenarrabili, basta, dopo [unclear] questa era, una corrida, con tutti i matador [laughs]. Glielo dico visto adesso, con tutti i matador che sputavano, urlavano, imprecavano ancora contro un’ammasso lì poverino, una cosa, poverino dico perché in quel momento poteva fare, ma non mi ha fatto pena in quel momento. E’ stato troppo la ribellione [unclear] perché lì non è più una ribellione perché tu sei nero io sono rosso, tu sei verde, no, no, è una ribellione contro qualcuno che in fondo la guerra aveva fatto morire i figli, mariti eccetera e quindi una guerra che non, che forse l’italiano non ha sentito insomma, l’ha sentito attraverso la, esclusivamente la politica, la forza del fascismo nel fare propaganda, però questo da ragazzo io l’ho capito dopo eh. Il momento io ho vissuto delle cose basta poi il giudizio allora io non potevo darlo, guardavo e basta. Ora.
AP: Resti per favore
GT: Sì.
AP: Con le emozioni di quel momento
GT: Sì.
AP: A Piazzale Loreto.
GT: Sì.
AP: Si ricorda le grida? Si ricorda che cosa dicevano?
GT: Le devo ripetere?
AP: Se se la sente.
GT: Non credo che siano, ‘Porco! Sei un porco! Hann fatto bene! Bastardo!’ E cose del genere. Ne hanno dette di tutti i colori, adesso degli epiteti che non potevano [unclear]. ‘Ti sputo addosso, in faccia, hai fatto morire mio figlio!’ e tutte cose del genere. ‘Porco te e quella puttana della, della tua Petacci!’. [sighs] Poi un’altra cosa che mi ricordo, beh ma quello non [unclear], ho visto catturare Starace, no, che poi l’hann fucilato lì vicino. Dunque sì, in quel momento è sempre Piazzale Loreto, nella zona e a un certo momento proprio, sì, l’avevano catturato, era Achille Starace, segretario del Partito Fascista Italiano. Achille Starace a un certo momento, non so, lo avevano scoperto non so dove l’avessero preso, questo non lo so, lo portarono lì, lo fecero passare davanti a tutto questo spettacolo, lo portarono lì di fronte e [unclear] gli spararono, lo fucilarono lì, poco distante da dove era, il suo capo era appeso. Quello sì. [unclear] ma sono tutte cose che non si sono, diciamo, proprio susseguite in un modo così da una cosa all’altra, che poi ho visto anche lì come le ho detto prima ho visto uccidere dei, in Piazzale Aspromonte ho visto uccidere un certo, allora. Lo chiamavano Pasqualone, era il ras della zona del partito fascista di, di Lambrate, era proprio segretario del Partito Fascista lui, era un, omone, poi andava sempre con la pistola infilata per fare vedere, sempre camicia nera e lì l’ho visto fucilare anche lui poverino in Piazza Aspromonte, portato lì. E’ sempre brutto, è brutto, sono cose che, uno è difficile credere che sia o non sia, hann messo lì e [unclear] niente. Niente, sono cose che mi ricordo della guerra dal ’40 al ’45 poi sono arrivati gli americani. Ah, poi ho fatto un viaggio su un carro armato che arrivava da Via Padova. Arrivava da Via Padova che è una zona [laughs] est di Milano e a un certo momento mi, questi bei americani che salutavano [unclear], ero lì con diverse persone, un ragazzo, [unclear] un americano mi ha tirato su un carro armato, sono arrivato, avrò fatto trecento o quattrocento metri sul carro armato [laughs], ecco. Allora erano cose che poi non so, sì, in questo caso si ricordano perché giustamente come avete voi [unclear] elencato, si ricordano poco poco, è difficile proprio però perché [unclear] risalendo magari ce ne saranno state anche, non eclatanti no perché quelle me le ricordo di più. Insomma, la cattura di mio fratello è stata eclatante, l’uccisione di Mussolini eclatante nel senso della visione di un ragazzo. Quindici anni, salire su un carro armato americano ecco [laughs]
AP: Mi ha parlato di Osvaldo Valenti.
GT: Sì, Osvaldo Valenti, era della X Mas lui, sì, sì, sì. Ah beh sì, Osvaldo Valenti, quello lo conoscevamo come attore, no? Perché anzi, allora non c’era la televisione [laughs]. Lui e la Luisa Ferida che era la sua amante diciamo o sua moglie, non so cosa fosse. E c’era la famosa Villa Triste a San Siro e lì torturavano i partigiani però, ecco, quello sì, quello me lo ricordo. Poi c’erano le Brigate Nere in Via Rovello. Le Brigate Nere c’erano, sì. Ah, una volta, ecco, in tempo di guerra, verso l’ultimo periodo di guerra, mio fratello era tornato da militare e quando era poi scappato la seconda volta, tornato da militare, no, la prima volta, sì, no, la seconda volta perché poi è andato a fare il militare con i repubblichini e poi è scappato e ha portato a casa il fucile. Un giorno mio padre che se adesso fosse qui forse poverino, ha rischiato con noi, perché? Dunque, amico di un, in quel momento già c’erano i partigiani che aleggiavano ancora in città, no? Qualcuno che era dei partiti. Mio padre conosceva queste persone da vecchio povero socialista e un giorno mi dice: ‘Ma qui abbiamo un fucile in casa. Non preoccupatevi, lo diamo, do io, so io a chi darlo’. ‘E vabbè, ma come facciamo? Chi esce con un fucile?’. Di sera non si poteva, coprifuoco [laughs]. Allora ha inventato una cosa. Ha preso il tappeto che avevamo nella camera e ha messo dentro il fucile. Ha avvolto il tappeto e ha detto a mia sorella e a me di portarlo in un certo posto. Cosa che abbiamo fatto. Pensa il rischio che abbiamo corso due ragazzi con il tappeto con dentro un’arma di guerra, con i partigiani che c’erano in giro e i fascisti che cercavano queste cose. Quello me lo ricordo ma non l’ho mica digerita bene con mio padre che c’ha mandato a fare questo lavoro [laughs], per portare un’arma di guerra, fucile poi praticamente figuriamoci. Ecco questa è una cosa che mi sono ricordato di quelle cose lì poi. Periodo di partigiani non tanto perché, cioè sapevo che ce n’erano, che li prendevano, li catturavano e poi naturalmente li hanno fucilati diversi nella mia zona, li hanno fucilati al Campo Giuriati. E lì è stato una brutta cosa e abitavano lì, c’è ancora la targa adesso di questi partigiani insomma, fucilati al Campo Giuriati. Della guerra, del dopoguerra posso raccontare di più [laughs]. Allora incominciamo dalle bande.
AP: Si ricorda.
GT: Della nera.
AP: Si ricorda la sirena?
GT: La sirena, oh, mamma mia! [mimics the high-pitched prolonged sound of the alarm] eccola e poi quando era finite invece suonava [mimics a different alarm sound] continuava a suonare a lungo, questa suonava a [unclear] e l’altra invece dava un segnale di fine allarme. Perché c’era il preallarme, l’allarme e il fine allarme. Sì, questo sì e anche quello, quello era. Ah, bombardamenti, ‘arrivano, arrivano, arrivano!’, poi magari falso allarme. Che poi di contraerea a Milano non ce n’era, non sparavano neanche un colpo, qualcuno così poi, quindi, sì, le sirene, l’allarme, però dopo. Evidentemente ci siamo abituati anche a quello eh. L’allarme c’è però pazienza [laughs], speriamo che non bombardino qui ecco eh. Dopo un certo momento penso che tutti poi in guerra si rassegnino eh, come una cosa inevitabile ma ormai dopo è venuta, è la guerra, l’hanno fatta, ci hanno obbligato.
AP: E’ stato una bellissima intervista.
GT: Ma, non credo [laughs]
AP: Siamo molto contenti, io e i miei colleghi di aver fatto questa bellissima chiacchierata.
GT: La ringrazio.
AP: E’ stato un piacere parlare con lei. Se non ricorda nient’altro, non vuole aggiungere nient’altro, io concluderei.
GT: Cerco, cerco poi. Uno non è mai preparato a queste cose e poi, ma guardi che. No, non è perché ma uno magari soffre non vuole parlarne, no, no, no, gliel’ho detto, non ho. Non credo di aver subito degli shock perché ho subito la guerra da civile ho subito, da civile, da ragazzzo ho subito la guerra, non credo. Ho sofferto solo un po’ la fame, quello mi dava fastidio, non c’era niente da mangiare, a Milano poi assolutamente, i bollini, andare a prendere il pane con i bollini, con, quelle cose, razionato. E’ così dai [laughs].
AP: Va bene, signor Giulio.
GT: Ma io ringrazio lei.
AP: E’ stata una bellissima esperienza.
GT: Anche per me.
AP: E concludo.
GT: C’era una caserma. Quando io prima ho detto che arrivando a casa avevo visto la casa circondata dalle Brigate Nere e mio fratello fu portato, perché era renitente, era scappato nel ’43, mi pare, no? ’43 è venuto Badoglio.
AP: Sì.
GT: Quando venne Badoglio, ecco, e lo portarono nella caserma di Corso Italia. Corso Italia c’era la caserma dove mettevano dentro tutti quelli che avevano recuperato, scoperto che erano renitenti e li avevano portati lì. E lì li avevano fatto firmare poi l’adesione alla RSI. ‘O ti mandiamo in campo di concentramento in Germani o vieni’. E lui Firmò per la RSI perché e l’unica persona che ha potuto andarlo a visitare è stata mia sorella che è andata a visitare appunto mio fratello prima che lo arruolassero nella Repubblica Sociale Italiana e questo è stato uno dei, diciamo delle cose che mi ha colpito di più come ragazzo diciamo come ragazzo [unclear].
UI: Quanti anni aveva il suo parente?
GT: Eh?
UI: Quanti anni aveva sua sorella?
GT: Mia sorella è dunque del ’24, aveva cinque anni più di me. Quindi io avevo
UI: [unclear]
GT: Nel ’43. Aveva cinque anni più di me. Era, sì, sì, quello è. Quella è una cosa che non ti inventi adesso perché, no, no, non ho nominato la persona a chi abbiamo portato il fucile perché era partigiano [unclear]
AP: Va bene.
GT: No assolutamente, nomi diciamo di persone che
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 Guido Toccacieli
Description
An account of the resource
Guido Toccaceri remembers his wartime experiences as a schoolboy in Milan: the day war broke out, food shortages, his father working at an airfield near Bergamo, train strafing, basements used as makeshift shelters, being evacuated outside Milan with his family, fascist militia round-ups, tortures at ‘Villa Triste’, and disposing his brother’s rifle wrapped in a carpet. Remembers the 1942 and 1943 bombings, describes the Gorla bombing and elaborates on his legitimacy. Gives a first-hand account of Mussolini’s corpse being desecrated at Piazzale Loreto and the capture of a prominent fascist leader. Tells of his brother, a draft-dodger, captured by fascist militiamen. Describes a summary of executions of fascists, and female collaborators head-shaven and paraded in shame at the end of the war. Mentions a sense of helplessness, resignation towards the regime, which changed after the bombing escalated, and describes the attacks as the just retribution for starting the war and siding with Hitler.
Creator
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Alessandro Pesaro
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-12-10
Format
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00:50:49 audio recording
Language
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ita
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AToccacieliG171210
PToccacieliG1701
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Italy
Italy--Po River Valley
Italy--Milan
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1943-08
1944-10-20
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Peter Schulze
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
bombing
bombing of Milan (20 October 1944)
childhood in wartime
civil defence
evacuation
home front
Mussolini, Benito (1883-1945)
perception of bombing war
round-up
shelter
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/27/217/PFilliputtiA16010036.2.jpg
66d1cb89b747d38fa878b9bac227a115
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Filiputti, Angiolino
Angiolino Filiputti
Alfonsino Filiputti
A Filiputti
Description
An account of the resource
127 items. The collection consists of a selection of works created by Alfonsino ‘Angiolino’ Filiputti (1924-1999). A promising painter from childhood, Angiolino was initially fascinated by marine subjects but his parents’ financial hardships forced an end to his formal education after completing primary school. Thereafter, he took up painting as an absorbing pastime. Angiolino depicted some of the most dramatic and controversial aspects of the Second World War as seen from the perspective of San Giorgio di Nogaro, a small town in the Friuli region of Italy. Bombings, events reported by newspapers, broadcast by the radio or spread by eyewitnesses, became the subject of colourful paintings, in which news details were embellished by his own rich imaginings. Each work was accompanied by long pasted-on captions, so as to create fascinating works in which text and image were inseparable. After the war, however, interest in his work declined and Angiolino grew increasingly disenchanted as he lamented the lack of recognition accorded his art, of which he was proud.
The work of Angiolino Filiputti was rediscovered thanks to the efforts of Pierluigi Visintin (San Giorgio di Nogaro 1946 – Udine 2008), a figurehead of the Friulan cultural movement, author, journalist, screenwriter and translator of Greek and Latin classical works into the Friulan language. 183 temperas were eventually displayed in 2005 under the title "La guerra di Angiolino" (“Angiolino’s war”.) The exhibition toured many cities and towns, jointly curated by the late Pierluigi Visintin, the art critic Giancarlo Pauletto and Flavio Fabbroni, member of the Istituto Friulano per la Storia del Movimento di Liberazione (Institute for the history of the resistance movement in the Friuli region).
The IBCC Digital Archive would like to express its gratitude to Anna and Stefano Filiputti, the sons of Angiolino Filipputi, for granting permission to reproduce his works. The BCC Digital Archive is also grateful to Alessandra Bertolissi, wife of Pierluigi Visintin, Alessandra Kerservan, head of the publishing house Kappa Vu and Pietro Del Frate, mayor of San Giorgio di Nogaro.
Originals are on display at
Biblioteca comunale di San Giorgio di Nogaro
Piazza Plebiscito, 2
33058 San Giorgio di Nogaro (UD)
ITALY
++39 0431 620281
info.biblioteca@comune.sangiorgiodinogaro.ud.it
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Filiputti, A-S
Publisher
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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.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Laconia incident. Part 9
Subject
The topic of the resource
World War (1939-1945)
Description
An account of the resource
On a clear day, a four engined United States Army Air Force aircraft attacks the submarine U-156. Bullets are raining down on the figures on the deck of the submarine. Some of the figures are diving into the water, others are running for cover and some have been shot and are falling down.
Label reads “72”, signed by the author; caption reads “(9) …Mentre il sommergibile navigava a fior di acqua, avvistò un aereo Americano in missione, passarono alcuni minuti, poi un boato seguito da un’ altro scosse il sommergibile, lo fece sussultare, gemere, inclinare, le bombe di profondita avevano colpito i periscopi e danneggiato gli accumulatori. Ci fecero salire in coperta e trasbordare su l’U506 perche l’U156 dovova rapidamente allontanarsi per le avarie riportate. L’aereo che ci aveva bombardato, era un quadrimotore Americano, trasbordammo ancora sull’Annamite, poi a Dakar fu la salvezza. (dal racconto di BB.) FINE
Caption translates as: “(9)… As the submarine navigated just above water, the crew spotted an American aircraft on patrol. A few minutes went by and they heard a rumble, soon followed by another one which shook the submarine. It trembled, groaned, and listed. The depth charges hit the periscopes and damaged the batteries. They made us climb on the deck and were transshipped onto the U506, because the U156 had to swiftly sail away because of damage. The aircraft that bombed us was an American four-engine plane. We transshipped again on the ‘Annamite’. We reached safety in Dakar (From the account of BB.) The End.”
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Angiolino Filiputti
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Alessandro Pesaro
Francesca Campani
Helen Durham
Giulia Banti
Maureen Clarke
Format
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One tempera on paper, pasted on mount board
Language
A language of the resource
ita
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PFilliputtiA16010036
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Atlantic Ocean
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Artwork
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Filiputti, Angiolino. Laconia incident
arts and crafts
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/579/8848/PHarrisonJ1501.2.jpg
1a57ff0e3dad9384f62bb7cde4f22cfe
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/579/8848/AHarrisonJ150809.2.mp3
d8bd795575540901698a5de69ed45289
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
Harrison, John
J Harrison
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Harrison, J
Description
An account of the resource
11 items. An oral history interview with John Harrison (1924 - 2017), his log book, correspondence, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a mid-upper gunner with 106 Squadron from RAF Metheringham before being shot down and becoming a prisoner of war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Harrison and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-08-09
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AM: OK, try again. So this interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre, the interviewer is Annie Moody and the interviewee is John Harrison and the interview is taking place at Mr Harrison’s home in Birstall in Yorkshire on the 9th of August 2015. So, to start with if you just tell me a little about where, well tell me where you were born and a little bit about your childhood and school and when you left.
JH: Well I was born at a little village called Collingham in North Yorkshire, it’s just near Wetherby. And I lived there until I went to, eventually I passed an exam and I went to Harrogate Grammar School and I was at Harrogate Grammar School until, I got my school certificate and then I was sixteen and didn’t know what to do. Anyhow I had an auntie who was a big noise in the Civil Service, pardon?
AM: Me too.
JH: Yeah and she said ‘I’ll see if I can fix you up with a temporary job in the Civil Service in Harrogate ‘cause they were in Harrogate at the time. And so I ended up going in the Civil Service in a branch called E20 in the Civil Service in Harrogate at {unclear} Hotel I think it was. And they dealt with all enquiries and everything regarding barrage balloons and everything, must have been supplies you know, supplies and all that. And I stayed there until I was eighteen. And then of course when I was, I knew I was going to get called up at eighteen and I got called up at eighteen and caught the train down to London and I went to the Lords’ Cricket Ground where we all had to go. And I was there for a while and then from there I got shunted all over the place. [Sighs] I forget where I went next, oh, I ended up at Dalcross in Scotland which was an RAF place, it’s now the airport for Inverness.
AM: Right.
JH: And I was there, and I did my gunnery training there, and eventually – {rustling of paper}
AM: We’re just having a look at John’s logbook.
JH: I passed out as an air, sergeant air gunner, on the 17th of July 1943 at No2 Air Gunnery School which was at Dalcross. And then I went to, No2 Air Gunnery School that was it yeah, and then I was, I joined, I picked up a pilot, Flying Officer Clements, and I don’t know what happened to him because we did three, I did three trips with him, the last one was a leaflet raid to Le Mans and after that I never saw him again, so I don’t know what happened to him. But then I picked up, I went to gunnery school at Skellingthorpe and then I came to 1660 Conversion Unit at Swinderby, and there I picked up me pilot, Flying Officer Leggatt.
AM: When you say you picked up your pilot, what was that like then, how did that work?
JH: Well, we as far as I remember, we went into this room and they were milling around, pilots, looking for air gunners, and air gunners –anyhow eventually I got talking to this chap, Flying Officer Leggatt, and I went on his crew. He was a smashing bloke and we got on quite well together and we stayed together. Then we finished 1660 Conversion Unit which was at Halifax, er at Swinderby.
AM: So that was conversion to the four engined bombers?
JH: Yeah, yeah. Then we went onto the serious stuff, reported to 106 Squadron.
AM: 106 Squadron?
JH: Metheringham, and the first operation we did was to Frankfurt am Main and that was on ED593Y and that was the one that I was telling you about.
AM: That later on, what was it like, that first operation can you remember?
JH: Well I don’t know, yes, actually that one was very quiet, it was to Frankfurt and we, it was only five hours thirty-five minutes and we got with no problems, you know we got there, bombed the target, came back, landed.
AM: Were you a rear gunner or a mid-upper?
JH: I started off as a mid-upper gunner.
AM: OK.
JH: But then we um, until we got to, and then the next trip was to Berlin. And this was the one where we had the problems with two engines u/s, flight engineer was killed and the wireless op was injured.
AM: So which operation was this, how many had you done before that one?
JH: Berlin.
AM: Yeah.
JH: That was in this aircraft ED593Y which was on its seventy-third operation, we decided it had had enough. [laughs] We landed at, we decided that, we didn’t know whether we were going to bail out or what by the side door. So, we decided to make a dash for it and we come to Coltishall, and we landed at Coltishall in Norfolk and we were told afterwards, we’d no wireless, no nothing, everything was dead and all we did was fire in, was fire in the colours of the day through the front window and you know they told us there was twelve aircraft in various stages of distress waiting to land and suddenly this Lancaster, no lights, no nothing just fired the colours of the day, wheels down obviously coming in regardless. And we came in and we got half way down, and this is perfectly true, we got half way down the runway and we ran out of fuel. Now how lucky can you get you know? We stayed there the night and the following morning Group Captain McKechnie who was the CO of 106 Squadron, and he had the George Cross by the way, he came down and picked us up and took us back.
AM: Right, just drove down and got you?
JH: Yeah.
AM: Drove down or flew down?
JH: Flew down.
AM: He flew down?
JH: Flew down and then after that we went to Berlin. One, two, three, four, five, six to Berlin and then we hit trouble [laughs].
AM: Did you ever fire your gun?
JH: Yeah.
AM: Did you ever have to fire your gun?
JH: Oh yeah, yeah I’ve got bits and pieces in here [rustling of pages]. ‘One combat, enemy aircraft not identified’, [rustling] ‘Three engagements that were in Berlin. Three engagements, one Junkers 88 claimed as damage’.
AM: What did it actually feel like then firing your guns?
JH: Well [laughs] you know it was just what I was there for really. It was a treat to have a go at somebody [laughs]. It, that was when this aircraft we were flying was on its seventy-third trip.
AM: That was the one where you got shot up?
JH: Where we landed at Coltishall and it was parked up and then the next morning. Pardon?
AM: I’m telling Gary to shush {laughter} with his pages.
JH: And then the next morning we came down to get our stuff out of it and it was parked up there and there was about six or seven Yanks all looking you know, and they’d been brought down. They said ‘Sure you must be very, very sad to lose this old girl?’ you know ‘cause it was there with the seventy-three bombs on it you know? And I said ‘No we’re not really’ [laughter] and they couldn’t understand why we weren’t crying our eyes out because we’d lost it.
AM: Did they give you bacon and eggs, like they do on the British bases?
JH: Yeah, yeah oh aye.
AM: So they got bacon and eggs as well?
JH: Yeah, but Group Captain McKechnie came down and picked us up and took us back. Now then he had the George Cross, Gp Captain Mckechnie. There was an aircraft on fire, he went inside and pulled the pilot out.
AM: Right.
JH: I don’t know a right lot about it but it he did [rustling] and then –
AM: So then you got a new ‘plane?
JH: Yeah, and we were Berlin, Berlin. ‘One combat enemy aircraft identified,’ Berlin, Berlin and that time we had to land at Bardney, at Bardney.
AM: What was the flying time to Berlin?
JH: To Berlin? Eight hours roughly.
AM: About eight hours?
JH: Yeah, it varied, seven hours or eight hours and then the last one.
AM: What were you actually bombing, can you remember in Berlin, what were your targets?
JH: Targets? Berlin [laughs].
AM: Berlin, just Berlin?
JH: No they had a, it’s funny that because they you know, we were approaching the target and the bloody bomber aimer was fiddling about with his stuff you know, I kept thinking to myself ‘For God’s sake get the bloody bombs’ [laughs] but he. I went to Berlin again and then 19th of April it was, I was, we were going to Leipzig and we got shot down and the, we were, we couldn’t get the rear door open to go through you know, and the mid-upper gunner and the rear gunner used to go out through the rear door and we couldn’t get it open. So, he rang the pilot up and he said we were on fire like. And he said ‘I’ll hold it as long as I can’ so he shot up to front and I went out and he was still there and he went like that. And I went out and I landed right on the side of a lake, and I saw in the middle of the lake there was a great bang and a crash and what have you and obviously the aircraft had gone right into the lake and the pilot when he bailed out, this lake was frozen over. Well it was, I landed fortunately on the edge of the lake and so I was able to get my stuff off, but he landed right in the middle of the lake and he went under where the ice was broken and he drowned. And they told us next morning, they said ‘Your pilot was drowned, he couldn’t get back out of the aircraft’. He was a marvellous lad you know? It made me sick to think, but that’s how it ended, and he um –
AM: Did the rest of you manage to bail out OK though?
JH: Yeah, all of us, all of us got out. And I don’t know what happened to them. I was taken the next day, there was about six of us. It was a German air RAF, German bomber station which we’d landed near and they came and took us and shoved us in the cells. And then the next morning, there was six of us, and they put us in a {unclear} and they said ‘We’re taking you to Berlin ‘cause you’ll have to go from Berlin to Frankfurt to Dulag Luft to the interrogation centre’.
AM: OK.
JH: And he said ‘When you get into Berlin keep your heads down’ he said ‘Because it’s in a hell of a state’ and he said ‘You’re the ones that have done it’ and you know we actually saw one poor RAF bloke hanging from a bloody lamp standard. The Germans had got him you know? I suppose you could understand it.
AM: The civilians had got him then and hung him?
JH: Yeah, he was hanging, swinging in the breeze, I mean Berlin was in a hell of a state. It was just, I saw London, but London was nothing compared with Berlin. It was absolutely flattened, I mean we’d been bombing it every night for about seven or eight nights, with four thousand-pound clusters and all the rest of it. So, we were taken to Frankfurt and we were interrogated there and –
AM: What was that like being interrogated?
JH: Well it wasn’t too bad really because we had a, he was quite a civvy bloke he was. He said, he asked us what aircraft we flew. We said ‘You’ll know won’t you?’ And he did of course. He said ‘Well of course we do, you were in a Lancaster weren’t you?’ I said ‘Yes’ and he said it crashed into {unclear}, I said ‘Yes’. And he said ‘Well,’ he said ‘I don’t think there’s a right lot that you can tell us that we don’t know’ and he said ‘Right you’ll be taken, and we were taken by. [sighs] What were we in? Railway truck, and we were taken up to Konigsberg, right on the north coast, Stalag Luft 6.
AM: Right.
JH: And we were there, we were taken there, and then from there we were taken down to Turan in Poland and then from there we were taken across to oh, place in Germany, not while some three or four miles from Belsen it was, because we were frightened to bloody death when we found out.
AM: I’ll bet.
JH: I forget the name of the airfield. Fallingbostel I think it was and from there one morning they came in and they said ‘Right whatever you can get and carry, you’re going, moving’. And we were marched out and we marched northwards towards the, you know back, I thought we were going back to the bloody place we’d been before. Anyhow.
AM: Did you know why they wanted you to start marching?
JH: No they didn’t tell you, they just, but obviously we found out after later that the Americans and the British were coming and they weren’t far away from there. Anyhow we got about half way along there and we, there quite a few hundred of us with an odd German, a guard, and we’re marching on the edge of this wood and four Typhoons, you know British Typhoons came down circled and I thought ‘Those buggers are going to come at us’. They turned around, the first one came in and he opened up on us with bloody cannons. And they killed, I think it was eighty, eighty, I think eighty of us were killed with that. And I, my best pal was killed as well and I had a job. We’d been pals a long time and he came from Leeds and I had the bloody awful job of going to see his wife.
AM: Afterwards?
JH: Afterwards, and telling her what had happened you know?
AM: What did you think when the Typhoon came over then, why did you think it was, it was shooting?
JH: Because there were four of ‘em and they were going past and obviously they circled and wouldn’t land. The leader came down and he had a right good look at us and it was obvious that they were going to have a go at us. You know they thought we must be Germans, I don’t know why. And it’s funny, after the war I ran into, well I joined the Aircrew Association and one of these pilots was in it. I got talking to him and I said ‘Why on earth did you shoot us?’ He said well ‘They were Germans’. I said ‘Aye but there was only an odd German here and there’. I said ‘It was obvious to anybody that we were –’ and they came and the first one came in with his cannons and I dived in a muddy ditch [laughs] and he, the second one came, and then I found out afterwards a brave soul at the back of the column had got out and started waving a white sheet. So, they stopped and obviously the bloke came and had a look at us and went like that and off they went.
AM: Waggled his wings and went?
JH: I think you’ll find sixty or eighty of us were killed.
AM: It was quite a lot, yeah.
JH: As I say because I had to go to see, I’d been with him all the time.
AM: Yeah.
JH: So she ought to know.
AM: After that had happened what did you all do, did you all have to just carry on marching?
JH: No. We were on a farm and suddenly in the morning we woke up and all the bloody Germans had gone. And there was the, forget which unit it was, German, English unit, I think it was the Wiltshire Regiment or something were there and they said ‘Well look we’ve a German unit surrendering here any moment now, they’ll have a staff car’. So, he says ‘Can any of you drive? My mate says ‘Yes I can’ and there was four, he says ‘Right you four’ he says ‘Kick the bloody German out of the car,’ he says you know ‘he’ll be there with his –’. It was a staff car. He said ‘If there’s any trouble’ he said ‘Shoot the buggers’ [laughs].
AM: Did you have anything to shoot them with?
JH: [Laughs] They would have given us one. [laughs] We got this staff car, lovely staff car and we got a white sheet from the farm and put it over the bonnet and put a red cross over it. And they gave us enough petrol and food {gave us all the wine?] to get us into Northern France and off we went, and there was a camp there. And they came one morning and said ‘Right twenty of you’ so I said ‘What’s up?’ They said ‘The British aircraft are coming in and they’re going to take you home’ you know? And I went onto the airfield and I nearly fell over. I saw the registration number which was ZN, which was 106 Squadron, which was my squadron. And they were from Metheringham, and so I said to them, I said ‘You’re from Metheringham aren’t you?’ and they said ‘Yeah how do you know?’ ‘Because I used to be there’. And they said ‘Hang on’ and they got, I think it was twenty they took each aircraft, and they got ‘em in and they took me on the lads upstairs into where the pilot and that was, and they said ‘He used to be one of us’. So, I was sat on the thing there and it was a VE day. I’ll always remember it because I was listening to Churchill doing his speech, sat in my little chair. And we landed at, on the south coast. Forget the name of the place now, I forget the name, on the south coast. And the WAAF’s came and took us two at a time, and they took us into the delousing centre, [laughs] got us deloused. And then they took us to this RAF place where we were issued with new uniforms and everything. And I had shrapnel in this left big toe and I’d had it all the time since I was shot down and when we got tidied up, they took us up to this RAF place near Birmingham somewhere, don’t ask me where it was. The Sister there, I said ‘I’ll have to go and you know report with this’ I said, you know it were really bad. So, my mates were all dressed and I lost them again ‘cause they were off and I had to go into hospital. And the Sister said ‘Well’ she said ‘It’s a bit of a mess is this, you’ll be a few days’ she said. She got chatting to me, she said ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ I said ‘Well I had, I said ‘I hope I still have’. She said ‘Do you have a telephone number for her?’ I said ‘Yes, she works at the, in Leeds’. It was National Savings, Leeds. So, she gave me half a crown, she said ‘There’s a telephone there go and give her a ring’. And I rang her and I said ‘Can I speak to Miss Joan Prince please’ and they said ‘Yes’. And she came on and she said ‘Hello’. I said ‘It’s John’ she said ‘John who?’ I said ‘How do you mean?’ she said ‘John where are you?’ I said ‘I’m in hospital’ I said ‘It’s nowt serious’ but I said ‘Will you let me Mother and Father know?’ ‘cause she knew their telephone number and the {unclear] wanted to know. She said ‘Yeah I’ll let them know’ and then I was there until they said ‘Right you can go’ you know? And they put me on a train from Birmingham to Leeds. When I got to Leeds about seven o’clock at night I went into the station where there was a, what did they call them?
AM: A café?
JH: No. Records things you know? Military police.
AM: Oh yeah, right.
JH: And I walked in and said ‘I suppose it’s too bloody late to catch the bus or train to Collingham or Wetherby?’ And they said ‘Yeah, you’re right there lad’ he said ‘what are you?’ So I said ‘I’ve been a prisoner of war, I’m just coming back’. ‘Oh’ he said ‘I do wish they’d ruddy well tell us’ he said ‘We have people who will come and pick you up’ and he rang round and he said ‘Right’ he said ‘What did you say your name was?’ I said ‘Harrison’ , ‘Oh, this man I’m talking to knows your father, [laughs] so he says he’ll come and pick you up’. And he came to Leeds City station, picked me up and took me back to Collingham. Me Mother came running down steps, nearly fell over ‘em, ‘cause you know I’d been a prisoner two and a half years, and that was the end of it.
AM: And that was that?
JH: Yeah.
AM: Did you marry Joan?
JH: Pardon?
AM: Did you marry her? There she is.
JH: There she is.
AM: Lovely.
JH: She was a twin and her twin brother was on Bomber Command the same time as I was and he was shot down off the Dutch coast about six weeks before I was. And Joan’s Mother got a letter from the squadron about, and she recognised the Typhoon’s letters straight away you know? And she kept it for three or four days before she let Joan have it just to say that you know, I had been shot down.
AM: That you were a prisoner?
JH: So that was it.
AM: That was that. What did you do after the war John?
JH: I became a policeman [laughs].
AM: Oh right, you didn’t go back to the Civil Service then?
JH: No, no, no. I was kicking my heels doing nothing and I saw this advert for Police and I went and I got, joined Yorkshire, West Riding Police Force, and did thirty years in that.
AM: Thirty years?
JH: And I have a medal from them, from the, are you in a hurry?
AM: No you can show me in a minute. I’m going to switch this off now though, that was excellent thank you.
JH: Yeah. The camps made their own radio and they used to, a bloke used to come around every night or whatever it was and he used to read out what had happened in the world that day. If the Germans had ever found it we would have bloody been shot, but they didn’t find it.
AM: So you even knew about Belsen, what was happening?
JH: Oh aye, we got all the news. They used to come around, he used to come, I don’t know, they had a radio. Don’t ask me how it was or anything ‘cause they wouldn’t have told you but they had a radio, they’d made it themselves. And they used to listen to BBC and they used to take all the news down and then they used to go around various camps and that you know? And they used to come in and a bloke used to stand outside the door to make sure if there were any Jerries about, and then he used to read us the news so we knew what was going off. Marvellous organisation [laughs].
AM: What else did you do in the prisoner of war camps, did you do the shows and stuff like that?
JH: Oh aye, there was shows. I didn’t get involved in any of them, I weren’t good enough, I weren’t good enough to be girl. [laughs].
AM: What did you actually do then to occupy your time?
JH: Well I actually did a course on education.
AM: Oh right.
JH: You know like a GCE thing? And that was, you know, you got by.
AM: What about all the people building tunnels and stuff?
JH: Oh yeah we had them. You see they, there was one tunnel built from our camp and it, eventually they got, they caught them. And then the bloody Gestapo, there was about fifty of them, and they brought them into this wood at the side, just at the side of the camp, and they shot ‘em. Just mowed them down like that.
AM: Which camp was that John?
JH: That was Stalag Luft 6 we were in I think at the time.
AM: 6?
JH: No.
AM: Or 3?
JH: Anyhow, no we weren’t three. I forget, we’d been in Poland, they’d brought us back in ruddy trucks. It was right near Belsen it was and Stalag? I don’t know.
Unknown: You were in Stalag Luft 6. Yeah.
JH: 6? Yeah, Stalag Luft 6.
GR: It was the prisoners from Belsen that were machined gunned.
AM: Right.
JH: You didn’t argue with them ‘cause they’d shoot you as soon as look at you.
Unknown: Yeah.
JH: At back end of war.
GR: And by that time during 1944 it was getting so bad and they were treating you as terror fliers and this, that and the other. Even the German civilians would kill.
AM: Yeah, well like the man.
JH: Let’s face it I’ve been to Berlin two or three times since the war. My son went into the RAF, and he was in RAF Intelligence, and he spoke about five languages, still does I suppose. And he was based in Berlin and he used to go into this big tower, and whatever he took into that tower he left. He couldn’t bring anything out with him at all and they used to listen into bloody Germans and Russians and God know what. He’d come back to this country to take another language and his wife had gone with a friend to do some shopping, I forget where it was now, and a lorry turned the wrong way on a corner and it hit the car. I never thought [unclear] his wife would live, she was in a right state. Anyhow she did live and she still walks with a limp and that.
AM: Right.
JH: But that killed him going back to Berlin you know?
AM: Is that the son who lives in Lincoln?
JH: Yeah, he lives at –
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with John Harrison
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Annie Moody
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2015-08-09
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AHarrisonJ150809
Conforms To
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Pending review
Description
An account of the resource
John Harrison grew up in Yorkshire and worked in the Civil Service before joining the Royal Air Force at 18. After training, he flew operations as a mid-upper gunner with 106 Squadron from RAF Metheringham before being shot down over Leipzig and becoming a prisoner of war. Following a short period of hospitalisation, he married his wartime sweetheart Joan. After the war he served with the Yorkshire police.
Contributor
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Dawn Studd
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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
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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France
Germany
Great Britain
Lithuania
England--Lincolnshire
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Leipzig
Lithuania--Šilutė
Temporal Coverage
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1943
1944
1945
Format
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00:35:40 audio recording
106 Squadron
1660 HCU
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
bale out
bombing
Dulag Luft
fear
Heavy Conversion Unit
Ju 88
Lancaster
lynching
Operation Exodus (1945)
prisoner of war
RAF Dalcross
RAF Metheringham
RAF Skellingthorpe
RAF Swinderby
shot down
Stalag Luft 6
strafing
training
Typhoon
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/614/8883/PMusgroveJ1501.1.jpg
b7eca1ecabb2abfcc21142f7d37a6759
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/614/8883/AMusgroveJ150812.2.mp3
772053bb4cd364dadff721dd7f83f840
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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Musgrove, Joseph
J Musgrove
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Musgrove
Description
An account of the resource
Two items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Joseph Musgrove (1922 - 2017, 1450082, Royal Air Force). He flew operations as an air gunner with 214 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-08-12
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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AM: This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre, the interviewer is Annie Moodie, and the interviewee is Joe Musgrove, and the interview is taking place at Mr. Musgrove’s home in Whatton, on 12th August, 2015. So Joe just to start off will you tell me a little bit about your, where you were born and your family background and school, stuff like that?
JM: Well I was born in York in 1922, my parents were Soldney [?] people, my father unfortunately had an accident when he was sixteen and lost half an arm so I was brought to appreciate the problems of people who had lost limbs. I went to school, I was at school until I was fourteen at the Loddon School in York which is very good quality school, er, did not do very well. When I went to work I decided that my education ought to be extended a bit more and spend two days a week at night school to bring myself up to a reasonable standard.
AM: What job were you doing Joe, what job were you doing then?
JM: I was working at Rowntrees which is a factory, and just ordinary work producing what is today a Kit-Kats.
AM: What did you do at night school then, what sort of things were you doing at?
JM: Well I concentrated on English and mathematics as I thought they were two basic things in life and that did stand me in good stead when I applied to join the Air Force when I was seventeen.
AM: What made you apply to join the Air Force?
JM: The main reason I think was I didn’t want to join the Army, I didn’t want to join the Navy, obvious reasons [laughs] and the Air Force appealed. The reason why in 1936 a single engined twin wing fighter landed not very far from where I was living and that got my interest in flying which I had ever since.
AM: Right. So you joined the RAF?
JM: Yes.
AM: How old were you eighteen?
JM: I joined in 19 well I went to join in 1940, had all me exams and one thing and another, but I hadn’t realised when I first applied to join that it would be such a complicated business and that, because I spent three days at [unclear] at Cardington where the airships were, going through various tests and exams and things like that, and fortunately I did quite well so they eventually accepted me as a wireless operator/air gunner and I went and trained me on that.
AM: So what was the training like where did you do it?
JM: Well.
AM: Describe the training to me?
JM: I did a bit of everything, I went to Cardington to get kitted out and I went from there to Scar to Blackpool, for initial training, which I enjoyed, because bearing in mind at the time I was just coming up to eighteen in 19. I never been away on me own before it was quite exciting to be in Blackpool in those days, and that was the doing Morse Code and things like that. I did I think reasonably well, a very kindly flight sergeant patted me on the head and said, ‘I think you’ve passed.’ I was pleased about that, and then I went on leave. And then from there I went to a place called Madley in Herefordshire for initial flying on, can’t remember the name of the aircraft now, anyhow it was a twin engine twin plane, it was my first experience of flying which I think I enjoyed at the time you went up and down it’s a little bit rough, and I found out what air sickness was all about and that particular thing, but did quite well pass there and then I went on flying with a single engine aircraft a Percival IV [?] which was quite good. And then from there on leave, Madley by the way was the place where Rudolph Hess when he came was moved to Madley first of all from Glasgow. From there I went on leave, sounds if life’s one great leave for me isn’t it, and enjoyed it. From there I went, can you just let me have a little think. I got posted to a place called Staverton, I went to the, er, railway transport office, and he said, ‘Oh I know where it is it’s not very far from blah, blah, blah.’ So off I went down to the South Coast and on to Staverton, got off train there, empty platform, I found one of the officials there, I said, ‘How do I get to Staverton aerodrome?’ He said, ‘With a great deal of difficulty from here ‘cos you’re in the wrong county the one you want is between in Gloucestershire, between Gloucester and Cheltenham.’ So they put me up overnight and the following day to Staverton which was an aerodrome just opposite Rotols Airscrews Factory. Spent some time there, I’m not quite certain what the objective at Staverton was, did a fair bit of flying. Staverton went on leave and got posted to 102 Squadron on Halifaxes at Topcliffe. Hadn’t been there very long and then moved just the other side of York, can’t remember the name of the aerodrome now, anyhow, but wasn’t on operations I was there as part of my training.
AM: Was this the Heavy Conversion Training, Heavy Conversion Training?
JM: Yes, thoroughly enjoyed it. Went on leave from there yet again, I think my parents begin to think life is one great leave for Joseph David. And from there, oh I got posted to a place called Edgehill near Banbury, which was No. 12 Operational Training Unit. From there of course I joined the usual thing there’s twenty of us of each kind, so the cup of coffee on the lawn and get crewed up which we did.
AM: How did, how did you crew up? How did that work?
JM: Well, it’s I stood there, mostly among people of my own breed if you like [unclear] and a chappie came up to me and said, ‘Are you crewed up yet?’ I said, ‘No.’ He said, ‘Well my pilot’s, a chap called Ces Brown, and I’m his navigator.’ And his name was dead fancy. ‘It would be very nice if you joined us and if you do of course we’ll have an idea we’ll just pop in the mess and have a cup of coffee and a beer later on in the day.’ And I thought, sounds good, so I joined them. And we did our OTU at Edgehill which was an aerodrome sit on like a little plateau which was a bit different but the beauty of it is, it was a farm that abutted the aerodrome that used to have a really good system whereby they give egg and bacon if you wanted it from the farm, which we did regularly. And from there on leave again, goodness, now this time it’s on my record in’t it this man goes on leave quite a lot. And got posted from there to 214 Squadron which was based at Chedburgh. Unfortunately on the way there I got robbed of my case with all my RAF papers in that I was studying nothing secret or anything like that but it was a bit of a loss to me, and joined 214 Squadron at Chedburgh not very far from Bury St. Edmonds. Stirlings Mark 3 Stirlings, I was quite pleased because I thought Mark 3’s, one or two were joining Mark 1’s and Mark 1’s were a little bit of a [intake of breath] I always thought a bit of a difficult thing they used to have a lot of swing on take-off, whereas a Mark 3 had one but not quite as serious as the other ones. So that was it I’m now operational.
AM: So what was your first operation like?
JM: Well it was gardening they always are aren’t they, cinnamon [?] which was just off the Baltic. I don’t know it’s when you’re sitting in the radio operator’s little compartment almost isolated from everybody else you don’t really know what’s going on outside, so what I used to approaching the target area stand in the astrodome and look out for people who were a little bit sort of not all that nice to us and that was the first one, it was uneventful insofar as we weren’t damaged anyway usual [unclear] shells and flak and that was my if you like introduction to operations. I didn’t find it very difficult at all.
AM: What were you doing as the radio operator, what did you do for your main things?
JM: Well it’s communications I suppose was the main thing about radio operators, [coughs] they it was an air gunner, the training for air gunnery and I missed that out ‘cos I did my air gunnery training on Walney Island which was nice.
AM: Near Barrow-in-Furness.
JM: It had a nice pub, and they had Boulton Paul Defiants which was nice, and enjoyed that, and of course at the end of it we did we went on leave. [laughs]
AM: So back to being a radio operator?
JM: Well the Boulton Paul Defiant one was [unclear] two seater fighter with a pilot and the turret just behind, quite fast aircraft. The only thing was with Boulton Paul Defiant’s, oh yes and the pilot that I had was a Pole who didn’t speak English and on the thing there’s a set of coloured lights which combination of each it meant something to him and to me but not necessary the same so on that we had a bit of a problem on there. And on them the undercarriage the hydraulics were a little bit dubious, if I can use that word [whispers], so the problem was if you wouldn’t come down sometimes you’d get one leg down and the other one not, so I used to take it up, oh he used to take it up to about seven or eight thousand feet put his nose down and pull it up and centrifugal force would force the other one down. Well I was a [unclear] and when I flew on it it always worked, and from there as I said before I went on leave and on to [?] squadron.
AM: So actually being the radio operator on the operation what sort of things did you have to do?
JM: Well the thing is [coughs], excuse me, when approaching the target when presumably no, no stuff was going to come off the radio, my skipper asked me if I’d go in the front turret which I did, interesting ‘cos when you sit on the front of an aircraft, with nobody in front of you and nobody at the side of you to me it was a little bit isolated and there’s only two guns in the front turret rather than four in the back, but it was not too bad and it is interesting ‘cos you get a good view of the target when you went over it. One or two times we had a difference of opinion with night fighters, which meant me spraying or hosing the guns.
AM: So you did actually use the guns then?
JM: But I never ever shot anybody down unfortunately so I can’t claim any credit for anything like that, and that was it. And of course we had leave from time to time. [coughs]
AM: How many operations did you do Joe?
JM: Well it was listed as eight, so I wasn’t all that lucky.
AM: And what sort, what areas did you target, where did you actually go on the operations, can you remember?
JM: I remember two gardening, one was cinnamon and the other one was off the isl, Ile du Ré on the Durant which was the entrance to a U-Boat base somewhere.
AM: Why did they call them gardening, why did they call them gardening?
JM: Well they codes we all was vegetables, like cinnamon and rose and things like that, so it was just a code gardening. It was supposed to be our introduction to operations more often than not on the second one we did which was Ile du Ré off the Durant, we got you’ve got to drop them at a certain height, certain speed, and we had two large ones and then going down along the powers that be that gave us the route didn’t take into consideration the facts, there was some anti-aircraft ships they used to have based there, um, which unfortunately for us were just a, if I can put it that way, just a little bit unfriendly.
AM: Describe unfriendly?
JM: And um, the I think it was port [unclear] and that destroyed the power supply to a lot of the instruments the navigator was using [coughs] so we used the, I can’t use his name, but it was “D”. The code you phoned when you were in trouble on the nights and the thing indicated it was night time and we asked for searchlight assistance to get us to our which couldn’t do, so they got us into Andrew’s Field which is an American station which mitchers [?] and marauders and of course we put this Stirling down there and of course we put the Stirling down there and of course the quite high the nose on a Stirling, and the following morning we got up there’s all the, a lot of American [unclear] looking up at us, with some right rude remarks being made about it. But the beauty of it was, was the er, one of my commanders’ said, [coughs] excuse me, ‘You can go into the PX’, I think it was called. A large building where you could buy all sorts of things, so we stocked up on, I think it was Lucky Strike Cigarettes, handkerchiefs and things like that. And I must say when we landed there we went for debriefing for these, they got the station education officer etcetera up who debriefed us and he said, ‘Well non-commission officers in the Air Force the American Air Force don’t have a mess separate, but nevertheless we can get you something that you’ll will enjoy.’ And we had steak and one thing and another for breakfast, and they said, ‘Did we mind.’ And I thought no I don’t mind but if they want to hang on to me for a month or two I don’t mind at all. Eventually we went back to Chedburgh.
AM: How did you get back? How did you get back did somebody come and fly you back?
JM: They sent a lorry for us.
AM: Oh right.
JM: Not a crew bus a lorry and we sat in the back of that, flying kit and everything. And when we went along people recognised what we were and waved to us and we waved back, which was like being on holiday, and we got back and we went on leave, which was nice. And at that time I’d been introduced to a young lady who eventually became my wife, and I went to London to, she was a Londoner, I went to London to see her.
AM: Where did you meet her?
JM: I met her in Banbury when I was at HEO, and there was no bus service from HEO that I remember into Banbury so I used to walk, it wasn’t very far six or seven miles something like that. And I used to walk in spend the day with Elsie, walk back, and we was on night flying, circuit, bumps and things like that, and after seven days I said to Elsie, ‘I wish you’d go back to London ‘cos I’m worn out with you here going backwards and forwards.’ But it was nice. So back to Chedburgh, on the 27th which is the Monday of September 1943, we was briefed to go to Hanover which we’d been before so we knew the way, at least I thought we knew the way to Hanover. I remember it quite well because the final turning point was at the far end of the Steinhoven [?] and I was illuminated by a white flare cascading at three thousand feet, and I thought great that’s exactly where we go on the last leg, unfortunately rather unpleasant German night fighters I think it was, they used to have two sets of night fighters who would [unclear] there’s the tamer soar which was the tame boar and the wilder soar which was the wild boar, and the wild boar it roamed with radar a little bit feared by the way came from nowhere and one of them took a fancy to having a closer look at aircraft and the rear gunner fought him off. The rear gunner, Tommy Brennan, thought he’d shot him down but I don’t think he did, the trouble with rear gunners they always think they’re are shooting people down and there not. But by that time by the time we’d been chased all over the sky we was down to about five thousand feet and we took a consensus of the crew whether should go on or turn back so we decided after come that far we’d keep going although five thousand feet was a little bit low for operating.
AM: Had you been actually shot up at by that time?
JM: Yes the port engine had caught fire which we put out with the Gravenor, the Gravenor is the fire extinguisher in the engine which you can only use once, got that out, got down say to five thousand feet and then got shot at by anti-aircraft fire which set the port outer one on fire, so we [laughs] the bomb aimer disposed of his little things and off we went back but it was pretty obvious we was losing fuel and the aircraft kept getting lower and lower and lower, and Ces Brown the pilot said, ‘We better bale out now otherwise I think it’ll blow up.’ So that’s what we did and I landed near Emden in the middle of a field, and the funny thing was I remember about it, it was a soft landing, so I thought get rid of the parachute and me flying jacket etcetera, but I couldn’t find a way out of the field because there was a ditch all the way round and there seemed to be no way above it to get out, so I went round again and the moon was shining on the water but just underneath the water was this black bridge that was covered by water. So I got across there and I thought right go to the village which was in the distance with a church, go to the last cottage then if it’s unpleasant I’m out in the continent. Well that was the principle but when I got to the village I’m walking along very carefully keeping well into the hedge and things, when a little thing was in me, me back, and a voice said something or other, I could never remember what he actually said but I knew what it meant and that was it, and he was, he was I think he was a Hageman [?] in the Luftwaffe on leave, serves me right for getting involved in [unclear], and he was saying goodnight to his girlfriend when I happened to walk past so I thought his eyes lit up and he thought, ooh I’ve got it, I’ve got it, and I was, and he actually took me to the end cottage anyhow. Got in there and there was my navigator, Ted Bounty, sitting there looking quite miserable but he did perk up when he saw me and that was it.
AM: What happened to the others, what happened to the rest of the crew do you know?
JM: Well see when you are baling out you’ve got to remember the aircraft is still moving, and I been bale out the next man might be half a mile further on, so I don’t know until we’d been to Interrogation Centre, Dulag Luft, and we met that was the first prisoner of war camp I went to which was Stalag VI in Heydekrug in Lithuania.
AM: Right. Tell me about Dulag, tell me about the interrogation part of it?
JM: So they sent him that picked us up to Emden and Emden which was a police marine barracks, him that picked us up, and of course on the films you see these motorbikes with Germans on with a sidecar, they sent one of those, well they sent two, one for Ted Bounty, and one for me, and off we went to Emden. And at that time [coughs] I had, every now and again aircrew a thing we used to do, one of them’s got money and I was the one that had money, currency, so I thought I’ve got to be careful here what I do with it, so I said to the interrogator and they all, interrogators they all look nice, very polite, but there are not. I said, ‘I’m awfully sorry but I must use the toilet.’ So they got a guard took me along and I went inside the little cubicle and he waited outside, and I thought I know what I’ll do I’ll put the money, it was one of the old fashioned toilets up there, lift the lid up put it inside and get it later on. That was a, so went back into interrogation and they in retrospect it was not any particular worry on that, they shout at you, they threatened you, [coughs] excuse me, they offer you cigarettes, in fact I was offered a drink, um, but I’ve always made a promise I would never drink if I was captured, at least I think I did. So I then was taken into a room and given some soup to keep me going and said to that person, ‘I must use the toilet.’ [unclear] fine I’ve got it back again, climbed up lifted it up it had gone, dereliction of duty I suppose you would if the commander found out but I tried hard to keep it. And then went from there after about two or three days by train to Frankfurt am Main which is near to Oberursal which is where Dulag Luft was, stopped at Cologne and there’s I’m in this compartment with two guards, and I thought oh gosh I don’t feel very safe here on the station at Cologne, but fortunately a Luftwaffe officer came in and what he demanded I don’t know but he came to sit in here with us so his presence kept everybody out.
AM: So it was the civilians that were —
JM: Yes.
AM: Was the worrying factor.
JM: So we got on to Frankfurt am Main and then on to Dulag Luft. Dulag Luft I’ve read many many accounts of people’s grief there but I didn’t find it particularly harrowing if that’s the best word for it, unpleasant yes but not harrowing. So again I was offered cigarettes and drink which I didn’t take, regretted it afterwards. And then after about a fortnight something like that, may be six or seven of us that was there, I mean you was in isolation by the way, they took us by tram to a park where there was a wooden hut and it was opposite the IG Farbernwerks [?], I always remember that and we’d got to spend the night there and there’s an air raid, and next to the hut was a German anti-aircraft gun unit, which pooped ‘em up all night, not particularly pleasant, but in retrospect not too bad anyhow. I think when you say in retrospect it means that as the years have gone by you’ve mellowed to the situation, and then from there we were transported by train, luxury train, well cattle trucks really, but they were clean. All the way and I think we spent, and I can’t be hundred per cent certain, but I think we spent two days and two nights going to across Germany to Lithuania to Luft VI Heydekrug, and then that was it. And then when the Russians moved and in July 1944 when the Russians were not all that far away they decided they’d move the camp, most of the camp went by train to Thorn in Poland, the rest of us about eight hundred British airmen and the Americans went by train to Memell just up the coast from Lithuania and boarded a little ship called “The Insterburg” there was nine hundred I think from Klage[?] in the hold that we were in. It was a, it was an old coal ship, a Russian coal ship the Germans had taken over, and I had got volunteered to help the medics at Heydekrug there, one of my problems in life is that I keep going and putting me hand at the back of me head to scratch it and every time I’ve done that I’ve volunteered for something and I apparently volunteered to help the medics. Particularly on aircrew that had had injuries to the joints and the joints become sort of locked with adhesions of the joints, and my job was sort of try to break them down, which was interesting on that. So I had a Red Cross Armband and when I got on “The Insterburg” I said, pointed to it and the just tore it off and backed me down [laughs], and it was a twenty foot ladder, steel ladder into the, and we was on “The Insterburg” I think can’t remember exactly three or two days and nights on that, and then we landed at Swinemünde the German Naval Base at Swinemünde. When the what appeared to be an air raid but it was an individual American aircraft, [unclear], and went from there to Kiefheide, Kiefheide Station where we was going to go onto Gross Tychow which was Luft IV, and when they eventually the following morning got us out they had Police Marine [?] men or mainly boys in running shorts and vests with fixed bayonets and some of the Luftwaffe with dogs and a chap whose name was Hauptman Pickard, I always remember, and he was stood on the back seat of a Kugelwagen which was like a German little vehicle, and shouting all sorts of things [unclear] move you to Gross Tychow Camp at a reasonably fast pace with jabbing and one thing and another and dogs biting, and a thought that occurred to me was that I’d rather be on leave right now than doing this. And it was not all that far about four kilometres from Kiefheide Station to Gross Tychow but we had lots of casualties.
AM: On the way or you had casualties that you were taking with you?
JM: Well the instructions apparently mean to the police moving people, you can do what you like but you must not kill anybody, but that gave them carte blanche to knock hell out of us. Luckily I wasn’t too bad. So when we got there we found that the camp wasn’t even finished, we slept the first night in the open. The toilet arrangement in those days were a little bit suspect and it comprised, I shouldn’t really say this, a big trench with a [unclear] over it. And then the following day we was like in we call them dog kennels, small wooden huts, we slept in there for a few nights until they got the permanent ones done and that was Gross Tychow. It was of all the camps I was in the worst of the whole lot.
AM: Worse because of the conditions or the —
JM: Well, Prisoner of War Camps are governed mainly by the people running them, they can be nice or they can be nasty, at Heydekrug there were some about average they weren’t too bad at all, Gross Tychow they were awful to any of us.
AM: Awful in what way?
JM: Well bullying and things like that, but the food wasn’t very good, didn’t have much of it. There was a man there who was six foot three, or six foot four something like that, we used to call him the big stoop, largely because I think he was a little bit embarrassed by his height and he used to walk in a stoop. He was the one that took by wristwatch, he was the one that used to knock people over and things like that. But for every villain there’s always a day of comeuppance isn’t there and when we moved out on the march towards the end of the war the Americans found him and they’d taken his head off and that was that he’d got his comeuppance didn’t he. The end of the war.
AM: Tell me about the march then?
JM: Well in February, I think it was February 2nd, they made out we had been pre-warned we hadn’t been pre-warned they told us at midnight they was moving out the following day. So you’d got to prepare everything take everything with you that you can take, and most of the people got a spare shirt, sometimes you had a spare shirt, tie the up, the arms up and button it up and it made a nice little receptacle put your things in there, and the following morning we went on the march, it was I think it was eleven o’clock if I remember rightly. And we went from Gross Tychow on the northern run to the Oder to cross the Oder, the Russians were the other side of Statin further down the Oder, and we had to take, we had to get across and what they did for the ones I was with you went into barges, there was two barges tied together and you was towed across the Oder to the other side. Unfortunately the night before when we got there the Germans said, ‘We’ve got nowhere for you to stay for the night.’ It had been snowing so we had to sleep in the open, but being aircrew boasting to the, we worked out what to do, so there’s some like a cloudy fern at the side, got those down tried to sweep away a bit of snow off, we had overcoats on.
AM: Did you have boots, did you have boots on?
JM: Oh yeah, oh shoes, in those days we’d been, well [coughs] usually when you get shot down you lose your flying boots. So the following morning I say they moved us across by barge and then we had to, we found out afterwards of course that the reason for the panic they was frightened the Russians would catch up with us, whether they was ever in a position to do that I don’t know, but the Germans obviously thought that they did. So then we went on the march across Northern Germany, various places, enjoying it, looking at Germany through the eyes of a hitchhiker. [laughs]
AM: You don’t really mean enjoying it?
JM: Well yes, but it, um, there was too many incidents happened there.
AM: What was it like, what was, ‘cos it’s cold?
JM: Well it had been snowing, remember we set out in February.
AM: Yes.
JM: And it was a cold winter. By the time we got to Fallingbostel the weather was getting better.
AM: What did you eat, what did you eat and drink?
JM: Well that’s a problem, I’ve got the world’s worst memory, so I don’t remember a lot. The two things you must do is you must get sleep and you must have liquids, liquids was a very difficult thing, some of the times the Germans got us liquids a lot of the times they didn’t. When there was snow about if you were lucky enough to get a snow that was still clean it would melt in your mouth, but that causes dysentery anyhow, I know [whispers] that’s the other problem. But, to be honest a lot of the time they found us barns and things like that to sleep in. What you had to remember at that time, March and April of 1945 it was mostly British fighter planes in the air which were having a good time, and one of the barns I was in got shot at and set on fire.
AM: How did you all get out?
JM: One or two people got killed.
AM: Did they?
JM: But to be honest the Germans tried to find us somewhere, but I’m afraid Royal Air Force fighter pilots were seeing something that’s a good target they went for it. [coughs] Fortunately we got to Fallingbostel eventually sometime in April if I remember rightly.
AM: So two months.
JM: We was then there for a couple of days on the station, the man in charge of Fallingbostel decided it was overcrowded so our little lot was moved out again on the road to Lubeck, which we went to, was one or two incidents on the way. But the man I was with, if you in the thing you’ve got to have a friend who you are with and Danny was one of mine, and Danny said to me, ‘Why don’t we just nip out sometime when we stop if there’s a time when we can do it safely.’ And there came one of those times and we just, Danny and I nipped out across the field into the woods and that was it, spent a little bit of the time keeping had to get through the German lines and through the British lines which we did when we got to the Elbe, across the Elbe.
AM: Just the two of you?
JM: Yeah, on a boat there was no oars but the hands work for oars don’t they.
AM: And did you know what you were making for that, did you know that you would find the British lines?
JM: Well not really we know the direction roughly and we’d got ears that tell you a lot, we got, there was only one time where we was in a little bit of trouble, we spent the night in a barn that didn’t have a roof but it was a barn so Dan and I spent the night in there and the village further down about two kilometres further down it was a village where there were German half-tracks and things and logic would say that they should be moving east which meant they wouldn’t come our way they’d go east and we were north of them, so we decided, we saw them moving to go so we decided we would go to the village. Unfortunately they decided to go our way north instead of going east, and it was not a lot of them I remember a Mark IV type of tank was pulling two lorries and there’s half-tracks with Germans at the back and we’re going along and they’re coming and there’s no point in running away doing anything like that, and our jackets were already prepared, chevrons everything was pulled off so there’s nothing, so we just kept on walking and we had a like a French conversation, and if they knew it was French they would have wondered what language we were talking it certainly wasn’t French but it sounded like it, and luckily they were so keen to get away they just ignored us and we just kept on going, and we just kept on going, and going, and going, eating what we could and we eventually came across an aerodrome that had some Dakotas, we went on an RAF pilot we collared him.
AM: What did you think when you finally saw it?
JM: Eh?
AM: What did you think when you finally saw it there?
JM: Well, well, contrary to what other people have said it didn’t make a lot of difference to me. It was just something was happening at the time, the fact that it was the if you like the starting point of going out didn’t occur to us, the RAF pilot he said he was on some sort of exercise for evacuation of prisoners of war, and he was, he did say he that they was taking people like to me somewhere in Belgium for transit, but he said I’m not going that way I’m going direct to Great Britain. And we talked him into taking us and he flew from there to Wing near Aylesbury, I think as part of an exercise sort of, and we got to Wing and that was the nice part. When we was coming towards, they all take you over the white cliffs of Dover don’t they you see that, and he couldn’t head them ‘cos you can’t see much so he said ‘I’ll bank to port and you can all go that side and have a look, anyway he said for goodness sake go back again the balance of the aircraft is all over.’ We got to Wing and unloaded us, Danny and I, I remember [coughs] there was WAAFS and all sorts of things, there was two rather large Salvation Army ladies I remember quite clearly came across and lifted us both up and swung us round said a lot I think then we went inside the hangar where all sorts of people came and cuddled you and things like that, yeah that was a nice thing. And one lady said to me I can send a telegram to your parents if you like, give me all the details which I did and they sent a telegram off to my mum and dad saying I was here. So we had something to eat, I always like this because you see they have all this food out and when you get a plate full suddenly a doctor comes along and takes half of it back you know, saying, ‘You mustn’t eat too much.’ And we went from there to Cosford which was set up as a reception centre, had medicals and things like that, and the station commander apparently if I believe what I’m told, given me concerning reception a chat on how to treat ex-prisoners of war and one of the things what he apparently said if I’m to believe what I’m told, ‘For goodness sake don’t leave anything lying about you’ll find it disappears you know.’ Whether that was true or not I don’t know could well have been ‘cos I was the only judge of a lot of people you live on your wits don’t you. And then after I’d been there for some time there was one little amusing incident you had to see a doctor before you could do anything you had to see a doctor, and that’s after you had been deloused that’s one of the things you get done, deloused straight up. And there was five cubicles and the word got around there’s four male doctors and one female doctor, everybody’s trying to work out where the female doctor was to avoid that one, and we, I can’t remember, say cubicle four, and this cubicle four came up you were next you used to say, ‘You go before me I’m not in a rush.’ And I got pushed into cubicle four and it was a lady doctor, mind you she was getting on a bit she was a nice lady, but it was funny the way people were avoiding her simply because they’d been away all that time. And then we were carted off [coughs] to the station, I remember it quite well it was just an ordinary little local train that went from Cosford to Birmingham, two stations at Birmingham, Snow Hill, and I can’t remember the other one.
AM: New Street, New Street, its New Street now in’t it?
JM: So we did that and when we got on the train that was going north there was just one carriage, there was an RAF policeman at either end of it and that was reserved for people like me, the train was absolutely crowded but our coach wasn’t and nice young ladies served refreshment all the time. And I got to York Station, I’d already notified Elsie my future wife and she was at York Station, and all the time I was in Germany I imagined meeting Elsie it’s a step bridge across the rails at York Station, [unclear] slow motion on that like if you’re on the films, looking forward to this, so I’m going slowly towards Elsie and she went straight past me, I remember that I thought oh dear all that time she doesn’t recognise me, it’s something you remember isn’t it, and that and at the other side there’s my sister and her husband so that was it. And I had instructions to go to the RAF York aerodrome there to see the medical officer which I did and he gave me a form to go to the food office in York, and the following day I went. A man said, ‘Join that queue.’ So I joined the queue, it was in the Assembly Rooms in York which is a lovely place, and I’m in this queue and it occurred to me there’s all pregnant women, there’s all pregnant women getting extra rations, people patting me on the back and one thing and another and I always remember that, and that was it I was back in York.
AM: Back in York, on leave.
JM: [laughs] On leave, yeah, yeah, ubiquitous leave.
AM: What happened after that then up to being demobbed how long?
JM: Well I got, er I don’t think you know that most aircrew, nearly all of them had a rehabilitation period and mine was at an aerodrome off the A1, can’t remember the name of it.
AM: No don’t matter.
JM: Doesn’t really matter, anyway I was there for a month and it just so happened the Royal Air Force band was based there so we had music, and for that four weeks what it consists of Friday morning we got up quite early and the station commander had arranged for a Queen Mary to be there on the grounds we had to go to London for some reason.
AM: Queen Mary, is that the big truck?
JM: Yes.
AM: The big open truck.
JM: And about twenty of us climbed on there and went all the way from the station about fifty miles into London on that, and we had to meet at a certain time to get back and coming back and we did that for four weeks until I got on leave yet again, to arrange the wedding with Elsie.
AM: So she’d recognised you by then?
JM: Oh yes I’d put a bit of weight on and that [laughs] yeah, and took a long time to live it down. So from there where did I go, oh I went to Compton Bassett. They decided to put me on a code and cipher course so I went and code and ciphered Compton Bassett. I was the only warrant officer there, there was all flight lieutenants and squadron leaders going to be code and cipher officers which apparently I was destined to be. So I did that and now I’m a code and cipher officer aren’t I, had to go before the board for a commission and they said, ‘The posting will be to the Middle East they’re looking for code and cipher officers.’ So next time, I got every weekend off, so I’m coming back to London to Elsie and I said I’d been offered a commission but it’s a posting to Middle East code and cipher officer, and Elsie said, ‘No way.’ So I had to turn it down. So then they thought well what do we do with him so they had to [coughs] we had a party for the people who passed the code and cipher officer, and I’m sitting next to a civilian and I said to him, ‘It’s a little bit of an impasse I’m not quite certain what to do.’ And explained the circumstances to him, so he said, ‘Write to the air officer commanding training command for this particular region and apply for a compassionate posting to where you want to go.’ Said, ‘That’s fine I don’t know who the air officer commanding is?’ And he said, ‘Oh it happens to be me.’ So he was, I got to meet him he was coming to Compton Bassett for some reason and I had an interview with him and I said, ‘Well my wife is living in Golders Green which is only two stations off Hendon, Hendon would be a nice place.’ So I got a posting to Hendon and they say what the hell do you do with him. It was nice posting, nine to five Monday to Friday living hours, most enjoyable, 24 Squadron which had the Curtiss every now and then unofficially I used to join one of them and go flying. And then I got I think July 1944 I went to Oxbridge and got demobbed.
AM: ‘45.
JM: ‘44, ’45, ’46.
AM: ’46 we’ve moved on one.
JM: Well you’re allowed a mistake now and then.
AM: Yeah go on then.
JM: And got demobbed and got involved in getting a suit. I think Burtons made a lot of them.
AM: Montague Burtons.
JM: Montague Burtons. Some of them were really quite nice, I think I wore it once, it’s the material was nice the cut not particular, but I’m demobbed anyhow. And the company I used to work for before I went in the Air Force wrote to me to say there’s a job waiting for you.
AM: Is this Rowntrees?
JM: Yeah. So I wrote back and I said, ‘I don’t mind working for you but I want to work in London ‘cos my future wife lives in London.’ They said they can’t do that. The problem is when you come out the Air Force you don’t take very kindly to being instructed and when they said we can give you a job but not especially where you want it, so I said ‘I don’t want it.’ So I went to find a job in London and I was offered a job, the people who make fridges, and they made big American ones, but the problem was the job was stores controller and the man was doing it already but he was not retiring until September October and this was early in the year. So I got a job with Express Dairy which was a place quite close to where Elsie lived and thought I’ll have that job until I get the other one, but enjoyed working at Express so much then I wouldn’t leave although the difference in salaries was quite high, and I worked for Express Dairy for all my working life, and they were taken over by various firms but I still worked for them. And one of the problems if you got taken over if it’s two people doing the same job one of them’s going.
AM: Yes.
JM: And the one that’s going is the one in the highest salary.
AM: Yes.
JM: And I kept on being retained, and I said to Elsie, ‘Must mean that my salary is too low.’ I got offered a job at the main site at Ruislip, the job was in charge of warehousing and things like that, and they said well, and then I had a heart attack everybody does if you’ve got a do you’ve got to have one if you’re in a fashion[?], and I had three months off and the chairman called me and said, ‘You mustn’t go back on this job and I’ll sort it and we’ve found a nice little job for you working as PA assistant for the director who was responsible for production.’ And that’s what I did.
AM: And that’s what you did.
JM: And Dennis Watson was my boss, well nothings been written yet so you’ve got to sit down and write your job description will go from there so that’s what I did. I spent the rest of my time on that job.
AM: As PA.
JM: And his responsibility was keeping an eye on [unclear] functions and things like that and decided on systems, his, and we had seven factories up and down the country. One of my jobs was to visit ‘em now and again, and now and again meant to me when you’re a little bit fed up you get in the car and off you go to a factory and that’s what I used to do. And then when I retired my boss Dennis made a big party at Ruislip and there was about a hundred of us there, and that was it.
AM: And that was it.
JM: Yeah.
AM: I’m going to switch off now Joe.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Interview with Joseph Musgrove
Creator
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Annie Moody
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-08-12
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AMusgroveJ150812
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
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
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
United States Army Air Force
Format
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01:11:32 audio recording
Description
An account of the resource
Born in York in 1922, Joseph left school at 14 and started work in a chocolate factory and attended two nights of further education per week. In 1936, a fighter aircraft had landed nearby which stimulated his interest in flying which he retained all his life. After joining the RAF he did well in the selection tests and was offered a position of wireless operator/air gunner. After initial training he went to RAF Madley to train on twin-engined aircraft and then RAF Staverton, RAF Topcliffe and was crewed up at the operational training unit at RAF Edgehill. Gunnery training was carried out on Defiant which were notorious for undercarriage issues. Finally he was posted to 214 squadron at RAF Chedburgh, flying Stirlings.
His first operation was minelaying in the Baltic and he recalls standing in the astrodome to warn of enemy fighters. On other operations he would sit in the front turret and occasionally fire at enemy fighters, without success. Further minelaying operations were carried out and on his eighth, his aircraft was hit by anti-aircraft fire and diverted to a US Army Air Force airfield where he stocked up on goodies, unavailable in England from the base exchange store.
On the 22 September 1943 he took part to an operation to Hanover and describes the night fighter tactics in detail. Following lengthy evasive action his aircraft was forced down to 5,000 feet where it was hit by by anti-aircraft fire and he was forced to bail out over Emden where he was caught by a member of the Luftwaffe who was visiting his girlfriend. After initial interrogation he was sent to the interrogation centre at Dalag Luft and after a two day train journey arrived at Stalag 5 prisoner of war camp.
On July 1944 the encroaching Russian army forced the evacuation of the camp and he was moved to the unfinished Luft 4 camp and remembers the bullying guards and poor conditions. Again in February 1945 the camp was evacuated and after crossing the River Oder in barges marched across northern Germany. After two months he arrived at Lübeck and escaped the column, narrowly missing being captured by German soldiers by conversing in French. Finding an allied airfield he was repatriated to England where he was treated as a hero.
After recuperation he attended a code and cipher course and was offered a commission if he would go to the middle-east. Wanting to get married he declined and wangled his way to 24 Squadron at RAF Hendon, were he was eventually demobbed in July 1946.
Contributor
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Terry Holmes
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Gloucestershire
England--Herefordshire
England--Oxfordshire
England--Suffolk
England--Yorkshire
England--London
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Emden (Lower Saxony)
Germany
Europe--Oder River
Germany--Lübeck
Poland
Poland--Tychowo
Lithuania
Lithuania--Šilutė
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1936
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1943-09-22
1944-07
1945-02
1946-07
102 Squadron
214 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
animal
bale out
bombing
crewing up
Defiant
demobilisation
Dulag Luft
Halifax
mine laying
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Compton Bassett
RAF Madley
RAF Shenington
RAF Staverton
RAF Topcliffe
shot down
Stalag Luft 4
Stalag Luft 6
Stirling
strafing
the long march
training
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/634/8904/PRobinsonD1601.1.jpg
6f5724486c610bd863a402940f8cc060
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/634/8904/ARobinsonD160911.2.mp3
4f37bc0e490f864de3f1ed0ae6cedfbd
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
Robinson, Douglas
D Robinson
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Robinson, D
Description
An account of the resource
Six items. An oral history interview with Flight Lieutenant Douglas Robinson (1922 - 2017 1215638, 170413 Royal Air Force) and five photographs. He flew operations as a pilot with 158 Squadron and became a prisoner of war.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Douglas Robinson and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-09-11
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
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DR: Unfortunately, when I came to Oundle people started calling me Dougie and if I, if there’s one thing -
GR: You don’t like. Yeah.
AM: Right. We won’t do that. Right. Here goes then. So, my name’s Annie Moody and I’m a volunteer with the International Bomber Command Centre and today we’re in Oundle and it’s the 11th of September 2016 and I’m with Flight Lieutenant Douglas Robinson and he’s going to tell us his story. So I’m going to start off, if I may, just asking what your date of birth was.
DR: Date of birth.
AM: Yeah.
DR: 27th of July 1922.
AM: ’22. Right. And where were you born Doug?
DR: Where?
AM: Where were you born?
DR: I was born in Skegness.
AM: Skeggy. And what, what did you parents do? What was your family background? What was your family like?
DR: Well my father was a retired warrant officer from the Indian army and that’s, that was it. He was retired. He did a job as Registrar of births and deaths for the district around there. Well the, not the district. Skegness and one or two surrounding villages.
AM: Yeah. Did you have brothers and sisters or -
DR: Sorry?
AM: Did you have brothers and sisters?
DR: Yes. I had three of each. Three brothers. Three sisters.
AM: Right.
DR: My eldest brother also went in to the Indian army but he, not until during the war and he was commissioned into the Indian army. Had to come out I’m afraid when they gave India independence.
AM: Right. And what about schooling? What was your schooling like?
DR: Skegness Grammar School.
AM: Yeah. Did you enjoy it?
DR: Well. I didn’t dislike it. Didn’t really enjoy it.
AM: No.
DR: It was alright at times.
AM: How old were you when you left? Sixteen.
DR: Sixteen.
AM: Sixteen. So you would be, that would have been 1938.
DR: Yes. 1938. Around there.
AM: So what did you do when you left school?
DR: I went into a bank. The, have you heard of the TSB? I started as a junior clerk in the TSB and it was strange actually because it was a brand new office. They built it and you know there was no business there and there was the manager and me. The manager was only in his early twenties. He lost his life in the navy during the war.
AM: Right.
DR: I don’t know whether you’ve heard about it but there was a [terrible buzzing noise from interference on microphone -] [a ship, a naval ship escorting the Queen Mary from the [?] across the Atlantic bringing American troops and I think it was the Mary was a lot faster than the cruiser that he was on and so it zigzagged to keep the -] And one day bright sunshine as it is today, middle of the afternoon the ships came together and neither of them gave way and the Mary went straight through it, total loss of life. He was on that. His widow, she was, she’s dead now, she got a pension from Cunard as a result of that.
AM: Blimey.
DR: [?]
AM: So there you were though, a bank clerk with your, with your young manager.
DR: Yeah.
AM: And along came the war.
DR: [not then?] What made you join, what made you join the RAF?
DR: I don’t really, I don’t really know. I did a year in “dad’s army,” The local defence volunteers and then I don’t know I began to think I ought to be doing a bit more -
AM: Ok.
DR: For the war than this.
AM: What were you actually doing in the defence, in “dad’s army” then?
DR: Well we used to guard things that didn’t need guarding. The electricity power station, power thing and the gas works and the funny one was the telephone exchange because they’d built a new post office at Skegness and the telephone exchange was on the top floor so you’d be defending the telephone exchange but people would be coming for posting letters anyway[laughs] I mean.
AM: When you say defending it, defending it with what?
DR: Rifles.
AM: Oh you actually had rifles.
DR: For a year I had a 303 rifle and, I think it was fifty rounds of ammunition in my bedroom every night.
AM: Did you ever, did you ever use it in anger?
DR: No. No. We practiced firing but we never used it in anger.
AM: Yeah. So -
DR: There was -
AM: Sorry. Go on.
DR: There was a scare, a national sort of scare about September of 1940 that the invasion was about to start and we were called out with one of the local, one of the army units that was stationed locally and went out in to the country and spent a cold night out there. Came back next day when it was all cancelled.
AM: But I interrupted you ‘cause I asked you how come you joined the RAF.
DR: Well as I say I felt I ought to do a bit more and I think, oh what really eventually did it. One of my jobs at work was to go to the post office and I went in one day and they’d got a leaflet there which was in sort of three sections and the first one it was about pilots joining and they got twelve and six pence per day I think it was and the next one was navigators and they also got twelve and six pence a day and the third one was gunner eight and sixpence a day so I thought well I can’t fly, well I’ll never be able to fly and I’d done reasonably well in my school certificate maths so I thought well navigator must involve mathematics so I went. I sent this form off to become a navigator and I went to Lincoln for an interview. I’m not sure whether it was at Lincoln or if it was somewhere else but anyway there was a board of three officers. I think it was a group captain and he said, ‘Why do you want to become a navigator?’ And I told him and he said, ‘Well, why don’t you want to be a pilot?’ And I said, ‘I don’t think I could, could do that,’ so he said, ‘Well, I think you could. Would you be guided by me?’ And so I said, I said in my ignorance, I said, ‘Well if I went on a pilot’s course and failed it could I then become a navigator?’ ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘You’ve my assurance on that.’ It shows how green I was. But anyway I agreed to become a pilot and that was it.
AM: And that was that. So, so talk me through it then. What happened? So they’ve decided you’re going to do pilot training,
DR: Yes.
AM: How did that all start? Where did you go first for -
DR: Well first of all I went down to a place near Torquay. Babbacombe near Torquay and I got in a flight there of about thirty five of us and it was my first experience of RAF jiggery pokery because the NCO in charge of the flight said, ‘I know the postings clerk and for,’ I think it was, ‘sixpence a head I can get you posted where you want to go,’ you see so we all wanted to go to the same place. So I paid my sixpence and all the rest of it and we paraded in the little theatre they’d got there on a Saturday for the posting and of course they posted the wrong Robinson. He, he went on my sixpence. So I had to sort of stay there. I stayed the next week and went along for the posting things and I wasn’t on that one. Then on the next week I found out the, I found the NCO who I’d paid my money to and I said, ‘Look I’m fed up being here. Get me posted this week or else.’ And I got posted but instead of going where the others had gone to Torquay I was posted up to Scarborough and I did my initial training at Scarborough and from there I went to Southern Rhodesia.
AM: Right.
DR: To do my flying training.
AM: How did you get to southern Rhodesia?
DR: By troop ship. Really packed with troops. They were going to -
AM: Where did it sail from?
DR: Sorry?
AM: Where did it sail from? Can you remember?
DR: It actually sailed from Glasgow. We were, we were in West Kirby in the Wirral for a few days and then they took us up to Glasgow and we sailed from the Clyde in a convoy, a big convoy. Called at Freetown on the way and then around to Durban.
AM: How long did it take? Ish.
DR: It seemed forever but -
AM: Yeah.
DR: We were in Freetown for several days whilst they refuelled and one thing and another and then as I say went around to Durban.
AM: Were there any scares while you were on the boat?
DR: Not going out. No.
AM: No.
DR: No. We were all at, we had a big convoy. We had, I was trying to think of the battleship that was with us. It was in Freetown near us. It went on from there to the Far East and when they sank the Prince of Wales it was sunk at the same time. I can’t thing which one it was now.
GR: Was that the Repulse?
DR: Repulse.
GR: Repulse. Yeah.
DR: Yes. Repulse I remember sailing past it as we went out of Freetown. Went. Yeah.
AM: So there you are a boy from Skegness.
DR: Sorry?
AM: So here you are a boy from Skegness.
DR: Yes [laughs]
AM: In Rhodesia.
DR: Yes. Yes.
AM: So what was that like? What?
DR: Well it was, it wasn’t bad at all really. We, there was a transit camp we went to first which was the old, it was a showground really and we were in the cattle shed, cattle, where they used to display the cows and so on, had the things on the floor we sat on but it was alright. That was just near Bulawayo. Then we went up to what was then, well now Harare anyway and that’s when I started my flying training. Initial training.
AM: So what was the training like? How did you -
DR: Training on Tiger Moths. And I had a very nice Australian instructor. Very good with me otherwise I wouldn’t have passed but –
AM: How, how did they go about teaching you to fly?
DR: Well he sat in the front cockpit and I sat in the back and communicated by tubes but, but he, he told you what you do and you would do a movement with him and then he’d tell you to do it on your own. It wasn’t really all that difficult.
AM: Could you drive a car at the time?
DR: No. No.
AM: No.
DR: I learned to fly eleven years before I learned to drive a car.
AM: The reason I ask that is because it’s pretty much the same I guess. Somebody’s showing you how to do it and then you do it.
DR: Yeah.
AM: And how long was that training? Were there any alarms and scares in that?
DR: That, that initial training we started at the beginning of November and finished at Christmas.
AM: Right.
DR: And then –
AM: So quite quick.
DR: Moved back down towards Bulawayo for the service training which there were two lots of stations, for service training. One for single engine aircraft by and large expected to go on to fighters and the other for twin engine so we went on the twin engines, the old Oxfords.
AM: How did they decide which you were going to be?
DR: Well you were asked your preference but you didn’t necessarily get it but they obviously had a certain number to post to each place and they made up the number if, but I went on the one I wanted to do actually. The twin engine one. And -
AM: So what did you go on to then then as a twin engine -?
DR: That was the Oxford. It was a –
AM: Right
DR: Wooden aircraft actually. It was designed, it was a nice little aircraft actually.
AM: Yeah. Tell me a bit more about the training then. Any alarms and scares or did it all go smoothly?
DR: Well, yeah, I had a, had a little prang on night flying. The airfield there, it had, it was strange ‘cause it was a grass airfield but there was a concrete thing across one end which we taxied on. You’d land and get on there and beyond that there was a lot of wasteland which was sort of elephant grass you know and that, this night I took off. I think it was my first night solo and I took off but didn’t do it very well and I finished off skidding along the ground in this elephant grass. So I got out and started to walk back and I met the crash thing coming. He said, ‘Have you seen the pilot of that aircraft?’ And I said, ‘Well I am the pilot.’ [laughs] So that was it. But that was all. That wasn’t much. It wasn’t very scary. I mean, just slid along the ground.
AM: Just skidded. It was like a skid.
DR: It was just, I mean, you know, people weren’t overjoyed with you [laughs].
AM: I was going to say, well that was going to be my question. What happened? How much damage did you do to it?
DR: Oh I -
AM: And what happened as a result?
DR: I imagine, I don’t know really what they did. Whether it was written off or not. It probably was. I don’t know. But no. We, we got away with it.
AM: And what happened as a result? Did you just get a telling off or just -
DR: Yeah I got a bit of a telling off and that was about it, about it but the funny thing was they immediately rush you to sick quarters because they think you know there must be some [laughs] you must have some injury, internal if not, but I was in sick quarters overnight I think. That’s all. And then I had to go down to the flight and went with an instructor around, around the low flying area. Supposed to get over your nerves or something.
AM: Climb back on the bike.
DR: Yeah.
AM: So to speak.
DR: Yeah. So that wasn’t really much though.
AM: So what next? You’ve -
DR: Well when we eventually passed out from there and got our wings and so on we went on a train down to Cape Town and then we got on a troop ship that was coming back to this country, almost, there were a few people on but there was about a hundred of us from Rhodesia and there were also some people who had been on air crew training in South Africa. I’ve got a book by one of them in there. Coming back we got on this ship in Cape Town, the Oronsay which was, there was a line called the Orient Line and they only had about four or five ships and they all started with the letters OR Orient, Orion, Orontes and so on and we’d been on our way to Free, going to go to Freetown on the way back, on our way and then in the early morning when it was still dark there was a horrible bang [laughs] and a torpedo came in. I heard the torpedo hit, hit the ship, I heard it hit the things, heard the in-rush of water and I heard the torpedo go bang and I thought it’s time to get up so we got out. There wasn’t, there was no panic. People went quite quickly but quietly upstairs. Unfortunately when we got on deck, well I suppose we knew it before we got on deck but my boat station was on the port side but it had developed a great list to starboard which was where the torpedo had gone in. So all the boats on the starboard er on the port side couldn’t be lowered so which, so went around to the starboard side and there didn’t seem to be any. They’d all either gone or, so I went, I went back to the port side and they had several rafts there and I let one of these rafts go and it went down into the darkness and I thought well there’s not much point in following that. I didn’t know where it had gone so when I went back around and where, oh there was a boat about to go, the last boat. I met a friend of mine actually on the way around and so we went to get on this boat and the chap standing in the thing said, ‘Just room for one more,’ and my friend got on first. He said, ‘Room for one more.’ My friend said, ‘Can’t you get my friend on? There’s room for,’ ‘No, only room for one.’ So he got on and I didn’t [laughs].
AM: So then what happened?
DR: Well there were, this ship, I think with it being a converted ship, you know it was a peacetime liner and they’d converted it for a troop ship and they’d got it so that they’d got one boat inside another. Both used the same lowering gear, what do they call them? Davits or whatever and somehow they’d managed to lower this one right on top of the other and it was across it.
AM: Right.
DR: And so quite a number, well half a dozen people had gone down and were trying to get the top one off so I thought well I might as well go and have a go with that so I went down the ropes and having a go, put my shoulder to it and all the rest of it. You couldn’t budge it at all. It was [?]. We saw the captain’s boat go down, the captain get in and his officers and they started to go away and we thought well, you know, this is a bit odd but anyway he came back for us.
AM: Right.
DR: So we got off in his boat although after a while he transferred us to other boats to even the load out. So that was it.
AM: So where did you all get? So you’re all there in the lifeboats. Where did you get to?
DR: Well -
AM: And had it, had the main the ship sunk by this time?
DR: Sorry?
AM: Or –
DR: Well we, no it was, we were all in these lifeboats. I think there were about sixteen lifeboats successfully launched and we’re all sort of around the ship and the captain decided that it wasn’t going to sink so he started calling for volunteers among his crew to go back and sail the thing and I thought, anyway he’d no sooner done that then there was another great bang and another one, another torpedo went in. I think, I think they fired another three and eventually the thing instead of being listing it righted itself but then it gradually went down, the stern went down and the -
AM: Yeah.
DR: Nose came up and then down she went.
AM: That was it. So what happened to the lifeboats? How did you -
DR: Lifeboats.
AM: How did you come ashore then?
DR: Well we rowed for eight days.
AM: Eight days.
DR: Eight days yeah. Actually the first night it rained and rained and I had the misfortune to sit or probably, probably the good fortune to sit near the pump and it were only a little diddly thing you did this with. I was doing that all night, pumping but everybody else was baling so probably I had the easy job but we, we had to pump a few times and then after about, as I say eight days, we tied up actually, we tied nine boats in a row. It was the captain’s idea we’d stay together. I think we had nine boats in our row and there was six in the other I think. Six or seven. And after the first night we never saw the others again. They sort of disappeared but our nine stayed together. On the eighth day the, a lot of the crew were getting a bit restless. They said it would be better to be separate. We’d make more progress if we were separated and in the early afternoon the captain said, ‘Alright. Separate.’ We all separated and we’d no sooner separated than somebody spotted a Sunderland Flying Boat. It was only a little dot miles away. I mean people started sending up flares and I wondered what was happening and then I realised what it was. This Sunderland came over and circled us and dropped a few things with food in and he was in touch with the CO in Freetown and they said they’d be sending a destroyer out to us at midnight. So we sat patiently in the boat until midnight and then this destroyer appeared and we thankfully went up the scramble nets and we just sort of -
[machine pause]
GR: Life boats.
DR: I think so. I think so.
GR: Yeah.
DR: I’m not, I wouldn’t be certain.
GR: And did all the lifeboats make it to the dest -?
DR: Well some of, there were different stories. You see our nine, our nine stayed together and we were all picked up, I think, at that time, taken in.
GR: By the destroyer. Yeah.
DR: By the destroyer. Taken into Freetown but of the others some, some were adrift for about twelve days I think.
GR: God.
DR: And some were picked up by the Vichy French.
GR: Yes. Of course.
DR: Taken in to Dakar
GR: Yeah.
DR: And they were interned there for some time and there were quite a few ladies actually. Well half dozen or more. I think they were nurses. I know there was a squadron leader and his wife. Well, time expired and coming back and his wife -
GR: Yes.
DR: And what happened to her I’m not sure but apparently when they interned these blokes in Dakar they took these ladies to the border with, I forget what the British territory was but whatever it was.
AM: I can’t think.
DR: And they just set them loose and they were quite a few days trekking to the nearest place.
GR: And you never saw anything of the U-boat, the U-boat didn’t come after the survivors or –
FR: For years I thought it was a U-boat and people said that it had.
GR: You’d better record that.
DR: People had said it had surfaced and the captain -
GR: No.
DR: But it actually wasn’t a U-boat. It was an Italian ship, Italian submarine.
GR: Submarine. Right.
DR: Called the, I forget what it, I’ve got a book, a little book there.
GR: Yeah.
DR: But it was written by one of the chaps who was trained in Southern Rhodesia, er in South Africa and he actually became, he was, he’d been a foreign officer clerk and he went back to the foreign office and he became ambassador in Norway I think and somewhere else and is now sir somebody.
GR: Sir Archie Lamb.
DR: Archie Lamb. That’s right.
AM: Goodness me. That came as a, all of that came as a surprise because I don’t think you knew that did you?
GR: No.
AM: No.
GR: No. No.
AM: So you all finally get back, I mean I’ve got loads of questions I could ask like what did you eat and drink on the boat?
CR: I was going to say –
AM: Were there provisions on the boat?
DR: Sort of you know emergency rations. Small biscuits. Probably two or three of those a day. Horlicks tablets. You remember Horlicks tablets? Well we had those. They were nice. The funny thing was there was a lad from Spalding. I think he was a member of the crew, I think he was a steward or something and he was in the lifeboat with me and he didn’t like Horlicks tablets so I got all his Horlicks tablets [laughs] and then we had some water and they had a thing like a test tube. They used to bring it up about and you’d half full of that and you’d watch everybody drinking ‘cause you were making it last as long as you can you know swilling it around.
AM: Was anybody in charge on the boats or –
DR: Yes.
AM: Making sure that -
DR: Yes. One of the crew was in charge of it.
AM: Right.
DR: I forget what they called him now. I don’t know whether, whether it was his position on the ship or whether it was just, bosun. They called him bosun. Whether it was ship’s bosun or if it was just his title for being in charge of the lifeboat I never knew.
AM: But you all got back so -
DR: Yes. We got, we got back.
AM: So you all got back then. How did you all get back to Britain from there?
DR: Well we, the destroyer took us into Freetown and we didn’t get, we even get ashore in Freetown. They ferried us across to another troop ship which was actually a Greek, had been a Greek ship the Nea Hellas and we were on that coming back. There was apparently a bit of scare that it was being shadowed by a, but anyway we never, never got worried by it. It was never. We got back to England alright.
AM: So that was that. So then what happened? So you’re now a qualified pilot.
DR: Oh yes I was a qualified pilot. Well we landed at Glasgow. As the air force would arrange these things they put us in a train and took us down to Bournemouth. And the Bournemouth was run by, it was a receiving place for the Canadians mainly and it was run by the Canadians and there was a Canadian group captain there. Oh, whilst we were on the boats the merchant navy blokes had said to us, ‘When you get home you’ll get twenty eight days leave. Survivors leave. We all get it,’ he said. ‘You’ll get it.’ So when we got back we asked for this survivors leave and do you know what we got? They said you get twenty eight days. We got seven days. And that is the, that is how I got the title of my book. We had a, paraded in a cinema in Bournemouth and a group captain came on because he was welcoming the Canadians to this country and so on and he said something about, ‘Welcoming you to this country.’ He said, ‘Some of you have had great experiences in getting to this country but then life is a great experience. Adventure. Life is a great adventure.’ So I thought when I wanted a title for my book I thought that’s it. The group captain’s given it to me.
AM: So you’re in Bournemouth.
DR: Hmmn?
AM: Then I’m just trying to think chronologically of what happens next. Do you carry on with your training but go to Heavy Conversion Unit? What? I can’t remember what order things come after that.
DR: Yes, yeah from I’m not sure where, we went first to Operational Training Unit.
AM: Yes.
DR: To get crewed up.
AM: Right.
DR: Started at a place called Wymeswold and finished at Castle Donington which now of course is East Midlands Airport.
AM: Yes.
DR: And that was on Wellingtons and from there we went to Marston Moor which I’ve already told you about. Meeting Cheshire. And from there to 158 squadron.
AM: Ok. Do you want to tell me the Leonard Cheshire story again for the recording? Tell me the Leonard Cheshire story again for the recording.
DR: Well the night after we got to Marston Moor we decided we’d go in to York and three of us went to get on the bus but the bus had gone so we went out on to the road and decided to thumb a lift which sergeants weren’t supposed to do and we were, it was quite a long road. We could see a car approaching and we stood there thumbing and suddenly realised it was an RAF car and as it got nearer we could see it was an officer driving and when he pulled up we could see that he’d got four rings on his sleeve and he was a group captain. And he said, ‘Alright. Get in.’ So the other two jumped in the back and I had to get in, open the front passenger, well I opened the front passenger door and his cap was on the seat and so momentarily, momentarily you don’t know what to do. So do I, I can’t touch his cap, I can’t sit on the seat while it’s there but anyway eventually he said, ‘Don’t sit on my bloody hat.’ So I picked the thing up, put it over the back and got in.
AM: And he took you to York and dropped you off at –
DR: Bettys Bar. Yes. You’ll finish up there anyway.
AM: So, anyway, so back to the chronological order. You’ve crewed up. How did they crewing up go? Who chose who?
DR: Crewing up well yes it was, it was reasonably good. I was in a hut and I got to know ‘cause they bring in, I mean if they’re making say twenty crews they bring in twenty pilots, twenty navigators, twenty bomb aimers and so on and I was in this hut with quite a number of other people of various trades, and I got to know a number of the wireless operators and I met them actually in a pub in Loughborough as well and they’d got an air gunner with them so the four of us seemed to go out quite a lot together. I had to make a decision which wireless operator I had. I could only have one of them and so I selected one and so that was my wireless operator and my rear gunner. I needed a navigator and a bomb aimer. There was a navigator we’d got quite friendly with and I asked him to be my navigator and he said he’d already agreed to be somebody else’s but he would find me somebody who was, and he found me a navigator. A very nice bloke and a good navigator and the navigator found me a bomb aimer. It was funny actually because all the bomb aimers, bomb aiming had only just, bomb aimer as a, as a trade had only just been introduced and they were trying to popularise it I think and so they commissioned most of them. I think of the twenty, twenty five that we had there were only three who were non- commissioned.
AM: Right.
DR: So nobody wanted the non-commissioned ones. They thought there must be something wrong with them if they [laughs] so I got a commissioned one and that was the initial crew until we went to -
GR: Heavy Conversion Unit.
DR: Heavy Conversion Unit on to Halifaxes when we got another gunner and a flight engineer.
AM: And a flight engineer yeah.
DR: And they were just detailed to me so I didn’t get a chance to -
AM: Ok. But you got the full gang.
DR: So I got the full gang but didn’t always keep them I’m afraid. The rear gunner I had, we were very friendly together but one night he refused to fly. Well, he didn’t refuse to fly. We, we were going to Berlin actually and we taxied around, do you know Lissett?
GR: Lissett, yes. Yeah.
DR: Well normally we could approach the runways on either way. This particular night as it happened we were all coming from one direction and it was very fortunate because I got the green light and as I got the green light to go on to the runway this gunner said to me, ‘I don’t think I ought to go.’ I said, ‘What did you say?’ He said, ‘I don’t think I ought to go.’ And I thought well I can’t go anywhere. What do I do? I can’t, can’t call up the flight control because of the radio silence but as I say with the other side being vacant I just taxied straight over and parked on the, on the taxi -
GR: On the side. Yeah.
DR: The, the other side and I thought well air traffic control are going to see me there. They’re going to think well what the heck’s he doing? And they’ll find out and fair, true enough, after a little while the officer in charge of night flying was Brian Quinlan. I don’t know if you knew Brian. He came out on his motorbike and I said to my, my temper by this time was a little frayed and I said to this gunner, ‘You’d better get out and tell this officer what you’ve just told me.’ So he got out and within a few minutes Brian Quinlan appeared in the cockpit and he said, ‘Taxi back. Taxi to the next intersection, you know, where the runway came in, turn and come back again and wait here.’ Which, which I did. And when he got, when I’d no sooner got back there then he appeared on the runway on his motorbike with a spare gunner on the pillion and this poor bloke got in, got in the rear turret and that was it. We went away.
AM: And what happened to the other one? Just disappeared.
DR: Yeah. Well yeah.
AM: Lack of moral fibre.
DR: He was court martialled and it was a sad old time really. I had to go as a witness. I don’t know who I was witnessing for but I mean I, but it was, I felt sorry for him in a way because he looked so dejected and you know he’d been a nice enough bloke.
GR: How many operations had you flown by then?
DR: I don’t know. I should think probably about eight or something like that.
GR: About eight. Yeah. Ok.
DR: What, what he, I think what probably happened the one the previous one we’d done was Milan and it was over nine hours and it was in, coming back anyway, it was in bright daylight and he, I think he was a bit nervy all the way. He kept saying, ‘What’s that on the port starboard, on the port bow Paddy?’ Paddy, being the mid upper and Paddy in a broad Irish accent, ‘Och it’s only, only a bit of cloud,’ you know, and this sort of thing but you could tell really. I mean at the time I never thought anything of it but afterwards, after the refusal to fly and so on it struck me that his nerve had gone by that time I think.
GR: Because when you flew back from Milan it was complete, you flew back over France didn’t you?
DR: Over Switzerland.
GR: Over Switzerland.
DR: And France.
GR: And France yeah. In daylight.
DR: Yeah.
AM: What, what, so when he was court martialled what did they actually do with him?
DR: Well. Well he was court martialled. The funny thing was they questioned, when they questioned me it was strange they wanted to see was he actually ordered to fly. Well I mean they didn’t order for a standing place, ‘You’ll fly tonight’. ‘You’ll fly tonight.’ I mean it wasn’t like that. Just a board went up and the names of the pilot was on and -
GR: Yeah.
DR: You took that crew went and that was it but he was actually as I say court martialled. Ordered to be reduced to the ranks and to serve eighty four days detention but the AOC didn’t confirm it so he got away with it.
AM: Right.
DR: He got off and Calder I don’t know whether he rang me, or spoke to me one day and said, ‘As he wasn’t found guilty he’s still on the strength of the squadron and I don’t suppose you want him back do you?’ I said, ‘You’re right there.’ [laughs]
AM: That’s a no then. Yeah. So what did they do with him? Did he stay or -
DR: I don’t know what happened to him eventually.
AM: As ground crew or -
DR: I don’t know what happened to him eventually.
AM: Yeah.
DR: He would be posted away I think somewhere.
AM: Yeah.
GR: Yeah.
DR: But it was, I don’t know, a pity, you know how Group Captain Pickard was at -
GR: Yeah.
DR: He wasn’t there in my time. He was there before I got there but he had a couple of horses at a farm there and our dispersal we lived on was one field away and this gunner was a real horsey type so he used to go and look after these horses. Groom them and one thing or another and then we [laughs] we used to ride them down to the pub [laughs]. Well we used to get on and they knew the way to the pub and so we’d go. There were three of us. One would ride a bike and the other two would go on a horse and we’d tie them up outside the pub and have a drink or two and then they’d know their own way home and of course we lost all that when he went but –
AM: We’ve jumped a little bit because we’ve gone from the Heavy Conversion Unit. What we didn’t say was that you were posted to 158 squadron at Lissett.
DR: Yeah that’s right.
AM: So I’m just. So you’re on 158 squadron now.
DR: Yes.
AM: So the stray bod that you got did you keep him or did you get another?
DR: No. No. He, I got another one.
AM: Right.
DR: I got a Canadian.
AM: And kept him.
DR: Yes. I kept him. I was with his, one of his sons and two daughters last week at 158.
AM: Wonderful.
DR: They come over every year.
AM: I’m going to jump again now then. So I know that you’ve done a number of operations now and I know that you either have done or are going to do Berlin.
DR: Yes.
AM: So tell me about Berlin and what happened.
DR: Well this night of course with having this kerfuffle with the, we were about fifteen, twenty minutes late taking off so I tried to make that up as best I could but it could, got to Berlin and nearly everybody else had gone so we had the whole Berlin defences to ourselves and it’s a long way across Berlin and it was very, very well very, very lonely flying across it. We think there was a fighter had a good, started to attack but I’ve an idea that it was a Mosquito was around and chased him I think so we didn’t get attacked. We got over quite safely that time.
AM: That time.
GR: Yeah.
AM: So tell me about -
GR: How many times did you go to Berlin?
DR: Three.
GR: Three.
AM: Three.
GR: Yeah.
DR: It was -
AM: So, on the third one -
DR: On the third one we were, we’d just dropped the bombs, the bombs had gone and there was an almighty bang. It really was. I’m sure it was a direct hit and the nose of the aircraft just started going up, straight up in the air which isn’t very healthy, I mean it could go into a stall in no time but I just could not seem to get it to stop and I said, ‘Prepare to bale out,’ because I thought we’ve had it and I realised the moment I’d said that the intercom was dead so I thought I’ve got to do something about this. I got a chap, you know we used to take a, when a crew came to the squadron he usually did an operation with an experienced crew.
AM: Yes.
DR: Well, and I’d got this chap, second pilot. I got him to put his leg across my legs and push on the control column. I was, I’d got it under my knees like that and he was pushing with his leg and we flew I think for over two hours, two and a half hours like that and the nose was trying to come up all the time and it was just above stalling I think. And I flew along. The Baltic was on the right and I thought to myself, shall we go to Sweden? And I thought, incidentally, we were all supposed to be on leave, we should have gone on leave that night. It was an incentive to get back but I was thinking about Sweden and of course I knew nothing about Sweden. With my boyhood knowledge I thought it was very mountainous so you know how could we flying in to mountains trying to get, so I decided I wouldn’t go to Sweden. We’d try and get home so we kept on and weeventually got to the Dutch coast and we were there at the time we were supposed to have been back at Lissett. We’d got winds against us of very nearly a hundred miles an hour. The aircraft was only just above stalling speed and I thought well I’m not going to go, I couldn’t risk going across the North Sea. We wouldn’t have got, we wouldn’t have got any more than half way across. If that. So I thought, and by this time we were down to five or six thousand feet. I can’t really remember but there was a light flak battery firing at us and doing a bit of damage so I thought well the only thing is we’re over a friendly country. Bale out and we might get in with the underground and you know so I baled them out.
AM: If the intercoms had gone how did they know to bale out?
DR: The only way, actually, the flight engineer. I told him to go around and tell everybody to bale out which he did. He, and then he came back and I said, ‘Have they all gone?’ And he said, ‘Yes.’ And I said, ‘Well you’d better go then’. Of course we stowed his chute and my chute together and he was supposed to get the chute, two out, bring me mine, put his on and go. He came back and he said, ‘One of them was damaged.’ ‘So I said, ‘Well you’d better take the other one then.’ ‘No. No. I can’t. I can’t leave you.’ I said, ‘No you get in. Take, put that on. Get out.’ And he argued and I’m not going to argue and told him three times to get out so I said, ‘Well if you’re going to stay you’d better get back in to the rest position and brace for,’ I didn’t know, you know I realised I’d got to somehow get the thing down and I flew along looking for a decent, a good field and eventually, well it wasn’t long actually before I saw a field I thought I could do it -
AM: Was it daylight by now?
DR: No. It was -
AM: ‘Or dawn?
DR: Yes in-between sort of thing. Yes. It was sevenish in the morning. Something like that. And it was, I think it was lighter looking down than when you actually got on the ground. Anyway, we got down and skidded to a stop and got out and had a, well the funny thing was I thought I’d better go back and see if he’s alright and this is [laughs] this is the truth I walked back to him and instead of being braced he was standing up and he said, ‘Are we down?’ ‘Who the heck’s flying this thing?’ [laughs]. You know.
GR: Well that’s a compliment to the pilot.
DR: It was. Yeah. Anyway we got out the escape hatch and then we were having, I thought we’d have a quick look at the damage and we were having a look and as you say it was half-light or not quite half-light and he said, suddenly said to me, ‘There’s somebody the other side of the aircraft.’ And so I went around. I thought the only thing to do, whoever it is, oh and he said, ‘He’s got a gun.’ I thought well the only thing you could do is confront the chap so I walked around and didn’t need any confront, he was friendly. He said something about, I don’t remember whether he said, ‘Have you had a meal?’ Or, ‘Would you like a meal?’ And I thought, I was thinking I want to get away from this aircraft as far as I can as quickly as I can so I refused it and we walked. We left the thing and we walked on. We walked out through a village and up a country road and there was a bend in the road and there was a farmhouse there and the farmer outside so we went to him and asked if he could give us a drink of water or something and we had a drink of water and I asked him where we were and he brought out a little school atlas and, ‘There.’ And there just about covered the Netherlands. [laughs]. I thought well I was a little bit clued up about –
AM: Yeah.
DR: Which country it was. Anyway, we went in his house and to get to his house you went through a cowshed. I noticed there was a sort of hay loft sort of thing you know so I asked him if he, if we could get up there and he said, you know shook his head and talked about the Germans you know, shoot him and so on. I can understand his point of view.
AM: Yeah.
DR: So we decided, well I decided we wouldn’t stay and we got out of the house and two Dutch policemen came around the bend on bikes and they came to us. One was a young bloke and the other was a bit older and they, I don’t know for certain but it seemed to me that the young chap wanted to turn us in and the older one wasn’t very happy. He looked as if he was a bit tearful actually but anyway they, he had to go along with what the younger one wanted to do so they took us back to the village we’d come through and telephoned the Germans. And that was it.
AM: And for you the war is over.
DR: Hmmn?
AM: For you the war is over.
DR: Yes. Well, that, that was the greeting yes. For you the war is over.
AM: So what year are we in now? Is this -
DR: That was January ’44.
AM: ’44.
DR: January the 29th ‘44.
AM: So when the Germans came and got you where, then what?
DR: Well they took us to what was obviously a house which they’d taken over as a sort of place for their troops to live in and we were there most, so funny actually because they made us turn our pockets out and all this sort of thing and Lofty the engineer he’d taken an orange out of the, that we had in the flying rations and of course he’d got this orange and he put it on [laughs] and it was so funny ‘cause there were Germans coming in and poking it. You know. They’d never seen an orange before [laughs] But we were there most of the day and then they took us down to the station, local station and we went by passenger train up to Leeuwarden. I don’t know whether that’s the pronunciation L E E W A R D E N. And there was an NCO in charge of us and two other blokes and the NCO, he walked in front with a drawn pistol and one of the others walked at the side of us and the bloke with a submachine gun walked behind us and I thought well if you let off with that you’re going to get your mate in front here as well but anyway they paraded us through a long street in Leeuwarden and it was so funny I mean there were people walking past victory signs, thumbs up and there was a tram car came along and it just kept pace with us and you could see all the passengers in there doing this -
AM: Thumbs up and -
GR: Victory signs.
AM: V for victory to you.
DR: And we were sort of, yes. Acknowledging it all. I mean, it was, it was so funny really because it wasn’t what they were intending but they were showing off to the Dutch that they’d got the, you know -
AM: They’d captured you.
DR: Yeah. They got the terror fliegers and all the rest of it and anyway they took us along in to a big compound. Well a sort of parade area. It was a naval barracks and they opened a cell door and pushed us, well didn’t really push us, made us go in and there was all my crew there except one. They’d picked them all up except one.
AM: All of you. The whole lot. Did they know that they were your crew?
DR: I don’t know. I imagine so. I imagine so. And he, actually he, the one that was missing wasn’t really one of my crew, my mid upper gunner was a Southern Irishman and we were all supposed to go on leave that night. Well he used to get a couple of days extra for travelling to Southern Ireland and he’d already gone so this chap that was with me, this Canadian standing in and of course they hadn’t got him and he was the only one who did make it to the underground.
AM: Right.
DR: Apparently some farmers found him. They’d got the little pens out for the sheep to go in, supposed to be lambing or something and they found him hiding in one of these and so they took him in and looked after him for a time and I don’t really know the full story but he was eventually picked up with the underground in Antwerp or somewhere so he they’d got him quite a way away but he were betrayed and that was it. He was finished in another prison camp. I never met him again. He didn’t get, I did meet him again in a reunion after the war but I didn’t during the war. We thought he was dead. I thought he must have had an accident baling out and you know and that’s it. And -
AM: We, we spoke to someone else who exactly the same thing happened and I think the escape line, the escape line was the KLM line.
DR: Yeah.
AM: That he’d been, and exactly the same. Captured at Antwerp.
DR: Yes.
AM: So the whole lot of you there minus one. And where did they take you from there?
DR: From, yeah, they took us, the same night I think they took us to a Luftwaffe station. Actually it was a Dutch station it was about the biggest or only sort of regular air force station. I can’t remember its name. And we were in the cells there for the best part of a week I suppose. They tried to interrogate us and so on and then from there they took us to Amsterdam and we were incarcerated in Amsterdam jail for a week or so. Yeah.
AM: Where did you end up? Which prison camp did you end up in?
DR: Sorry?
AM: Which prison camp did you end up in?
DR: Well, from, after we go into the interrogation place we went to, or I went to, some of us went to Stalag Luft 6 which was up on the borders of East Prussia and Lithuania. We were there until July of ‘44 when the Russians were pushing the Germans back. The Germans had got right in to Russia.
AM: Yeah.
DR: And the Russians pushed them back and we could actually hear the artillery fire and we were beginning to get a bit worried about what might happen if we were liberated by the Russians but anyway they then took us, not all of us but I was one that was taken, they took us to, in the cattle trucks down to Memel which was in the port of Lithuania. I don’t know what it is now. I couldn’t pronounce its name now but it was called Memel. We were put in a little tramp, in the hold of a tramp ship which was filthy and we were about, I think we were about four days from there to, oh dear, I forget the name of the port now.
GR: Don’t matter.
AM: No. It don’t matter.
GR: Don’t matter.
DR: A German port in
GR: Yeah
DR: Sort of [?] When we got off into cattle trucks again and we had, I think, one night. Oh they, as we got off that, the boat they handcuffed us in pairs. I thought I was being clever and I asked if anybody was left handed so we had could have one left hand and one right but we didn’t. I got this Canadian but apparently he was right handed too but he had his right hand handcuffed to my left and we were, officially we were handcuffed together for about three or four days but we soon learned how to take them off actually.
AM: Oh good.
DR: So people were taking them off.
AM: I’m just thinking when you’re doing the necessary -
DR: Yeah.
AM: Ablutions and things like that you don’t necessarily want to be handcuffed –
DR: That’s right.
AM: To someone.
DR: No. We, people soon learned the key of a corned beef tin came handy with that. It used to be out -
AM: But where did you get the key of a corned beef tin from?
DR: Off the corned beef tin. Red Cross parcels.
GR: Red Cross Parcels.
DR: Red Cross parcels.
AM: Oh so that was your rations. Right. Ok.
DR: Anyway, we and then we got to Stalag Luft 4 and we had a very rough reception there. We got, we got to the station, or the siding, very early in the morning and it was a really hot day and they kept us in the cattle wagons ‘til about two in the afternoon and we got, got out and of course to try and carry all your, what belongings you had, I mean, for example I had a greatcoat. We were wearing greatcoats. It was the easiest way to carry them and it was really hot. And anyway about 3 o’clock they got us out of the things and we lined up and there was a German officer got up, and he, he’d got, he’d got an immaculate white tunic on. Oh really. And instantly, instantly became known as the ice cream man. But he was obviously in charge and they marched us out on to the, on to the road, lined up and there was a lot of cadets, naval cadets that came and they were all armed, all, and he ordered them to fix bayonets which wasn’t a very friendly thing to do and we started walking along, or marching along this road and they started saying –
GR: Thank you.
DR: They started saying, ‘Quicker. Quicker. Quicker’ and we were getting, until eventually we were sort of running and then we were in a wooded thing then suddenly they turned left and there was steep hill and we were going up this hill and they then tried, they were then aiming to jam you in your backside with these bayonets and of course people were throwing all their stuff away to lighten the load. I’d got a haversack thing on my back which I couldn’t take the stuff out so the Canadian who was running with me he got it open. He was throwing stuff out and we ran up this road and you could see people with blood coming down them, and I passed one poor lad I knew. I don’t, I can’t remember his name but I knew and the chap he was with had obviously passed out and he was there -
AM: And he’s still handcuffed.
DR: Handcuffed to him. Couldn’t move. You could see he was absolutely terrified the poor lad. He was only a very young lad I think. And then we got to the, eventually got to the top of the hill and turned and about a half a mile away was the prison camp and we, we got there. I hadn’t been touched actually until I got there and then one of them got his rifle up and started having a go at my ribs but he didn’t really do anything hard. He tried and didn’t. And then they called them off and we went into the vorlager, sort of first place. Not right in to the camp and we were there all night.
AM: When you said, you said they were cadets so were they just, were they teenagers or young. Young.
DR: Well I suppose they were, no I suppose they were eighteen year olds.
AM: Right.
DR: Sixteen, eighteen year olds. Yeah. But, they’d, all the other guards of their own but a lot of them, but it was, it’s always been known as, ‘the run up the road.’
AM: Yeah. So how long were you in there for then? Where are we now? July did you say? July 44?
DR: July then until February of the next, of the next year when we started on the Long March.
AM: So you did the Long March.
DR: Three months of that.
AM: And what was the worst bit of that?
DR: Sorry?
AM: What was the worst bit of that?
DR: The weather. It was so cold. Snow and ice and sleeping out at, some nights, we did sleep outside some nights. Most nights they found a barn or something like that more or less but we had one or two nights out. But one night we went to a farm and there were three large farm buildings in a row with thatched roofs and I think they put some of their own transport in one. In the end one. We were pushed in the centre one and some army prisoners in the left hand one and we were tight in this thing. When we, they’d got straw in the floor and when we laid down at night we were head to toe in a row and touching each one. It was as close as that and during the night we heard an aircraft flying over and we could hear it approach and it dropped a bomb on the, and it hit the thing where they’d put all their stuff and it flew away again. Came around machine gunning and I was lying down there. I could see tracer bullets coming through the straw you know and he hit the wall on the side and before there was a little ring of fire and it just spread like mad and it was, the whole lot was going and people just sort of got up and walked out and that’s it. They didn’t really run.
AM: No.
DR: But um -
AM: Did you, did you see it? Was it an allied?
DR: Sorry?
AM: Was it a British plane or a German?
DR: Oh we take it that it was probably a Mosquito. We’ve always called it the Mossie raid. I mean we were just guessing at that. We sort of -
AM: Yeah.
DR: I think it would be an allied one.
AM: Then when –
DR: I think there were, there were three or four of our blokes were killed.
GR: And then towards the end of the long march I presume you walked into allied hands.
DR: Well yes. We were very, it was a great day to remember. We, we were stopped in a village and we sort of spent the night in a barn and this, and I got up to make the coffee and there was Americans with us as well and I suddenly heard an American voice shouting, ‘The limeys are here. The limeys are here.’ And looked and it was the 6th Airborne Division coming through the village.
GR: Brilliant.
AM: Yeah.
DR: What a day that was.
GR: What a day that was.
DR: And they were throwing tins of their rations to us you know and we didn’t eat half of them, more than we, actually it was, everybody was just having a good time.
AM: What condition were you in by then?
DR: Well -
CR: He looked a bit thin on the photographs.
DR: Yeah I was very thin and I think I got frostbitten feet. They were always cold. We was lousy. [laughs].
AM: Yeah.
DR: But apart from that we weren’t too bad.
AM: So how did you get back home then from that, that stage?
DR: Well, they, the 6th Airborne asked us to stay there that day because they were bringing all their stuff through and then we get up to, oh what was the name of the place, what was the place where Montgomery took the -
GR: Luneburg Heath.
DR: Yes.
GR: Luneburg Heath. Yeah.
DR: Well that was the town.
GR: Yeah.
DR: And we had to get up there the next day and it was quite a thing because people were pinching bikes and cars and all sorts of things to get up there and we were a bit slow off the mark. We couldn’t find anything but we found a bloke who was going out in a pony and trap thing so we got on board there and I sat, jiggling mind you it was a beautiful sunny day. It was quite a nice ride, trip and we eventually we got to a village and we stopped for a drink. Went in the pub and demanded a drink and of course when we got out the pony had gone but one of the Canadians, our Canadians came along driving a bus so we piled on to this bus and it was so funny ‘cause there were Germans were walking back on the side of the road and everybody was trying to get a good hat.
GR: Souvenir.
DR: If you could see an officer with a nice smart hat. Boom. [laughs] No. It was. I got a sword.
CR: Yes you got a sword didn’t you?
DR: Going through a village, a great big pile of swords so I got out and had a look and picked one I liked and still got it.
AM: Wonderful. Might have to have a photo of that.
DR: Sorry?
AM: We might have to -
GR: Have a photograph of that.
AM: Take a photo of that. How did you eventually get back though to England?
DR: Well, we, we were flown back. RAF Dakota.
GR: Dakota. And back to England was you? Was you demobbed straight away?
DR: No. No. Actually I stayed in the air force for three years after the war.
GR: Oh.
AM: You were probably deloused first weren’t you?
DR: Hmmn?
AM: They deloused you first.
CR: They deloused you.
DR: Oh yeah.
GR: Yeah.
CR: You were lousy when you came back.
DR: They more or less did that when we landed. We landed at a place called Wing. I don’t know.
AM: Yes. Yeah.
DR: And I was posted to Wing.
GR: Yeah. We know Wing.
DR: Soon after but they arranged it quite well actually. They sort of deloused you and they set it out like a restaurant or café and the ladies would bring you tea and coffee and then the buses took us into Aylesbury and put us on a train up to Cosford.
GR: Yeah.
DR: And then I went on leave from Cosford.
AM: Had you been able to tell your parents? Did your parents know that you were alive?
DR: Yes. Yes. Actually, yeah, I think the Red Cross had told them that I was.
AM: Right. Ok.
DR: And the night we got back the RAF gave us forms that we could send telegrams. So we got telegrams to say we were back.
AM: Yeah.
DR: But -
AM: And that was that but you stayed in for another three years.
DR: Yes. What happened was that when I was shot down I was a flight sergeant but had been interviewed for a commission and the commission came through backdated about a month before I was [laughs] before I was shot down. So I came, when I came back I was actually a flying officer and it rather appealed to me. I thought well here I am, a flying officer, I’ve never been in an officers mess in my life and I was when I got back though and I thought, they gave us interviews to see what we wanted to do and I said, ‘Well I would like, I want to stay on flying.’ And, ‘Oh well, you know everybody wants to do that who wants to stay in.’ People who, others just want to get out. And I applied for a permanent commission and when they put me on flying I thought that’s it I’m getting my permanent commission but it wasn’t so. I extended my service for two years and towards the end of the two years I extended another year. At the end of that time I had a letter telling me that the king thanked me for my services but he didn’t want me anymore. [laughs] So that was that.
AM: Thank you and goodbye.
GR: Yeah.
AM: In the, in that three years though you were flying. Where? Whereabouts? What -
DR: I flew Lancasters then instead of Halifaxes.
AM: Yeah.
DR: Yeah I flew. I was in, well, we had to more or less had to go, start our training again. What happened you see there people there who’d been POWs four or five years so they had, obviously had to have a refresher course if they wanted to go on and so they didn’t really just make a refresher course for us they stuck us on the course that the new entrants was doing, you know, people doing for the first time which was alright. We went back on to Oxfords and I did Oxfords and then on to Wellingtons and then on to the Lancaster Conversion Unit and then from there I went to the central signals establishment which was at, we did about, I think I did a bit over a year there and Cicely and I lived out. It was just after we got married actually I went there and -
GR: ’Cause that’s the one question we’ve never asked. Did you two know each other during the war?
DR: No.
CR: No.
GR: No.
CR: I didn’t even know him.
GR: Right.
DR: Yeah it was quite an interesting job on central signals. We used to, well we got various things. There were two squadrons, one calibration squadron their job was to go around calibrating the approach landings. I forget what they were called it now. The blind flying approach.
GR: Yeah.
DR: That was their main job. We were the development squadron. We were supposed to develop, test fly new things but of course we were test flying things that had been used during the war [laughs] and, but we had other things to do. We used to test the Gee coverage over France and Holland and so on and over Wales and Ireland and so on. We used to have a route to fly and pinpoints to go over and it had two cameras in the aircraft which took pictures simultaneously. One of the ground and one of the set so that they could be compare the -
AM: Right.
GR: Yeah.
AM: Yeah.
DR: But invariably one of them went wrong so they’d say, ‘Let’s do it again.’ But it was quite interesting. We also had to, people that were doing the calibrating and what not in Germany we used to have to take them over with all their equipment and fetch them back and so on. That was a bit of bind but one of the funniest, probably the funniest thing in my career was when I went to fetch a load back once and they weren’t ready. I went on the Friday and they weren’t ready. They was going to be ready on the Saturday morning so I said, ‘Well I want to be off by 8 o’clock at the latest,’ And they got to get all their equipment there and so on. But anyway when we eventually got them in the aircraft it was the COs monthly parade on the airfield. Lutzendorf I think it was and they’d no parade ground, they used to parade on the runway. So I was about to taxi out and the parade was getting on, forming up on thing there and my temper was getting a little frayed to say the least so I had words with air traffic control and then after a few minutes they came back and said, ‘Well the parade’s going to march off the runway onto the overshoot area until you’ve gone so you’re alright to go along there, turn and take off.’ So I, ‘Fair enough. I can do that.’ And they all marched off and I got along there and I turned, as I turned I opened up the throttle up. All the caps went. [laughs]
AM: Wonderful.
DR: Didn’t stop to see them sorting them out.
AM: And off you went into the wide blue yonder. What did you do after the, after you’d left the RAF?
DR: Sorry?
AM: What did you do after you’d left the RAF?
DR: I went back to the bank.
AM: To the bank.
DR: Yeah. Eventually. Yeah.
AM: At Skegness?
CR: He did one flight in a Lanc over Biggin Hill didn’t you? The first Biggin Hill.
DR: Yeah. Well yes just before I came out. It was the first time they’d done this Battle of Britain day thing you know and all the stations wanted a Lancaster. They all wanted a Lancaster and -
CR: Winston Churchill was there.
DR: And I think our people agreed to supply about four or five or something. Well I wasn’t going to do it on this Saturday. I know they didn’t put my name down for it anyway and then my boss, the squadron leader, said to me, he said, ‘Why don’t you come with me?’ he said, ‘I’m going down to Biggin Hill. We’ll have a day out’. So I said, ‘Alright.’ So that was on the Monday. On the Tuesday he went off on leave. He said, ‘I’ll see you on Saturday morning.’ ‘Alright.’ On the Friday afternoon air traffic got on to me to say Biggin Hill had been on the phone and they would like the Lancaster to go down today for obvious reasons. They’d only got a short runway and if you make a mess of it they can clear the mess up before the crowds come in tomorrow. I mean that was obvious what it was. So, you know they said Duchy is on leave. You’ll have to bring it so I thought fair enough. I took it down and -
GR: Sorry to interrupt you but when you do flights like that -
DR: Yeah.
GR: How many crew did you have? Did you have like a flight engineer with you, a radio operator?
DR: I think I had a navigator, a radio operator and, an engineer, I think.
GR: Yeah. So the four of you.
DR: I don’t think we needed any more than that.
GR: Yeah. Sorry.
DR: I had a lot of odd bods who wanted to get away for the weekend you know. Poured out when I said that.
AM: But you didn’t really need a rear gunner.
GR: No [laughs]
DR: But no it was funny actually and of course it was a big display.
GR: Yeah.
DR: The guest of honour was Winston Churchill.
GR: It was the first Biggin Hill Air Show.
DR: Yes. The first Biggin. Yeah. Winston Churchill was and the funny thing was that, you see nearly all the other things were fighters and doing aerobatics and so on and the CO of the squadron came to me and he said, ‘Would you do three engine flying?’ So I said, ‘Yes. I can do three engine flying. I’ll do two engine flying.’ ‘Oh that would be nice,’ he said. Afterwards I thought I’m an idiot because we were supposed to practice three and two engine flying but the maximum height, rather the minimum you weren’t, I think for two engine flying you weren’t supposed to come below five thousand feet. So I thought well five thousand feet they won’t see me. So Winston Churchill’s going to be down there. What the heck do I do? I think eventually I compromised a bit but I didn’t, I didn’t go the full hog down to a thousand feet or anything like that. We went down a bit below what we were supposed to do. I did the two and two on one side look spectacular.
GR: What you flew with two -
DR: Two on one side.
AM: So both on one side.
DR: Yeah.
GR: And both -
AM: Going and the other one’s not.
DR: Yeah.
AM: Does that not make you –
GR: Yeah.
DR: No.
AM: Swing around.
DR: You hold it alright and the -
AM: Ok.
DR: But the big shock, the only trouble you get is if, if they cool down to much and you can’t get the flaming things started [laughs]
GR: I’m sure you were alright.
DR: Yeah but -
CR: Would you like a cup of tea or anything?
AM: I think we’re done. I think we’re done actually.
GR: Yeah.
AM: I’m going to switch off now.
[machine paused]
GR: It wasn’t Len McNamara was it?
DR: Sorry?
GR: It wasn’t Len McNamara.
DR: No I don’t think so. I don’t think it was McNamara. No.
GR: Because Len had rear gunners.
AM: The one question I would have asked as well was just, so you flew the Halifax operationally but then the Lancaster after so which -
DR: Yeah.
AM: Was your favourite and what are the pros and cons of the two?
DR: Well I’m still a Lanc, er a Halifax man.
GR: Halifax.
DR: I think it’s nicer to handle. Certainly nicer to get in and out of and you know there was not a lot to choose between them I think but it’s on things like that that I would judge it.
GR: And to be fair everybody who we’ve asked the question of who -
AM: Prefers Halifax.
GR: Served on Lancs and Halifax they all said the Halifax.
DR: Halifax. Yeah.
GR: They said, ‘Alright the Lanc -
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Douglas Robinson
Creator
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Annie Moody
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-09-11
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ARobinsonD160911
PRobinsonD1601
Conforms To
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Pending review
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
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01:33:56 audio recording
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Lithuania
Zimbabwe
Germany--Berlin
Lithuania--Šilutė
Great Britain
Lithuania--Klaipėda
Mediterranean Sea
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-09
1944
Description
An account of the resource
Douglas was in the Local Defence Volunteers before joining the Royal Air Force as a pilot. After Babbacombe, he did initial training at Scarborough and then in Rhodesia. Initial flight training in Harare on Tiger Moths was followed by service training on Oxfords at Bulawayo. Douglas had an eventful passage home when his troop ship, the Oronsay, was torpedoed by Italian submarine Archimede and he spent eight days in a lifeboat.
After returning to the UK, Douglas went to an Operational Training Unit to get crewed up, initially at RAF Wymeswold and then RAF Castle Donington on Wellingtons. He went to RAF Marston Moor and on to 158 Squadron at RAF Lissett on Halifaxes where he describes an encounter with Group Captain Leonard Cheshire. Douglas relates how a rear gunner refused to fly and was court martialled.
Douglas flew three operations to Berlin and on the third took a direct hit. After most of the crew baled, he managed to land in the Netherlands before being taken prisoner. Stalag Luft VI, on the border of East Prussia and Lithuania, was followed by Stalag Luft IV after the Russians approached. For three months Douglas was part of the Long March before being rescued by the 6th Airborne Division and flown back home.
Douglas stayed on for three years after the war. He was posted to RAF Wing and went up to Cosford as a flying officer. He attended a Lancaster Conversion Unit and flew Lancasters. He finished at a development squadron at the Central Signals Establishment. He recalls flying a Lancaster at the first Biggin Hill Air Show in front of Winston Churchill.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sally Coulter
158 Squadron
aircrew
animal
bale out
bombing
Cheshire, Geoffrey Leonard (1917-1992)
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
crewing up
forced landing
Gee
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
military discipline
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
pilot
prisoner of war
promotion
RAF Lissett
RAF Marston Moor
Stalag Luft 4
Stalag Luft 6
strafing
submarine
Sunderland
the long march
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/652/8923/PWadeR1503.2.jpg
0b506137cd4da312b391a18185ae0198
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/652/8923/AWadeR150726.1.mp3
95701c1624fa69e8a17fb1a5fdcce23c
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
Wade, Ron
R Wade
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wade
Description
An account of the resource
Four items. An oral history interview with Ron Wade (b. 1917, Royal Air Force) and three photographs. He flew operations as a wireless operator with 58 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by Nigel Huckins
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AM: Okay, so this interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is Annie Moody, and the interviewee is Ron Wade, and the interview is taking place at Mr Wade’s home in, near Cheltenham at Bishops Cleve on the 26th July 2015. So, Ron, if you just may be start off with just a little bit about your background, about your school days and what your parents did? Off you go.
RW: All right now, it’s switched off
AM: [Laughs]. Okay, so off you go Ron.
RW: Right. What do you want first?
AM: Well just tell me a little bit about your, what your parents did, and school days, where you were born, just a little bit of background about you.
RW: Yes, right, I was, you’ve got the date I was born.
AM: I have.
RW: And um, my parents, I was one of four children, I had two sisters and a brother. Unfortunately my brother was killed during the war, not on operations, but he, after I was shot down, he was working for the gas company and he would have been, um, he needn’t have joined, let’s put it that way, but er, because I was missing believed killed for six months and he said, ‘they’ve got Ron, I’m going to take his place’, and he joined the RAF. He was coming home on his birthday, 1943, on a motorcycle, and I was the motorcyclist in the family and taking risks a place, he hit a lorry and was killed outright, and so my parents had a rough time because I was, they thought I was, I was injured they didn’t know how badly and so um, they had a rough time.
AM: They must have done, yeah. What did your parents do Ron?
RW: My father was, they had a grocery shop at the time, but before the war my father was a Master Grocer and he was made redundant by the person he worked for it as a, I was born. Let’s start off where I was born. I was born in Stoke-on-Trent and Longton was the name of the one of the six towns, not five towns, they forgot Fenton, and so, um my, that was my father, he was a Master Grocer and those days, when he was younger, to be a Master Grocer was quite a trade. And so um, he, my mother worked in the Potteries in Longton where most of the china was produced and Ainsley and all the top china work, and she was a Paintress, a freehand Paintress, and er, the, also my sister, one of my sisters was also a paint, a freehand Paintress on pottery.
AM: Where did you go to school?
RW: I went to school at Woodhouse, it was called Woodhouse and er, an Elementary School. I wasn’t very good [laughs] at maths but I enjoyed school, but when came the age of fourteen, in those days you had to pay to go to Grammar School. We couldn’t afford that, so at the age of fourteen I was kicked out and I left, and so um, I wandered around trying to get a job. If you think, this was in the thirties and a lot of unemployment and so I was told to go and get a job. So I got a job in a factory at Longton and it was a bit rough because I had to, as a warehouse boy, I was paid five shillings a week and one of my jobs was to scrub the floors, light a fire under a heater in the factory so they could bring their food and put it on the top to heat it up for lunch. If I was late getting all that done, I was in dead trouble [laughs], but scrubbing the floors, it was so the one floor from downstairs, the ovens, we had two big ovens, one gloss and one biscuit, that we called biscuit ovens, [coughs] and then after a while the former warehouse boy he er, he worked in the moulding, he became a moulder in the moulding shop, and he said, ‘have they got on to you yet about moving from here?’ and at that time, I was scrubbing the floors with a scrubbing brush, cold water, down the steps, all wood, wooden steps, cleaning the steps going down there [laughs]. And so and er, then the crunch came when they said ‘right, pack it in, you go downstairs and help unloading from the ovens’ and what happened, it was, they’d be firing and then they used to open up after the firing, take all the bricks away from the entrance and then for twelve hours it would be cooling off. And then they got me with the others, the people unloading right from the top of the ladders and they brought it down and it was still very, very hot ware and then they got me with the others, carrying ware like dinner plates, [laughs], carrying from the oven. Up the stairs, two flights of stairs, along the corridor, which I had to clean [laughs] and into the warehouse, where the women were and they unloaded from the baskets. And one day, I was going up with a basket full of cups and saucers, and I used to carry them on my shoulder, basket on my shoulder and one hand on my hip, going up the same flight of stairs and I caught a water pipe that was sticking out from the stairs, just caught the basket and I had a choice. Shall I go down with the basket [laughs] or try and retrieve what I could, but I decided to let the basket go [laughs] and save myself.
AM: Save yourself.
RW: And there the ugly manager, who was one of the bosses sons stood at the bottom, with his hands on his hips and he saw, he saw all the ware down there, all smashed, and he said, ‘I’ll stop that out of your wages’ [laughs].
AM: And did they?
RW: No, no, they’d have been forever [laughs].
AM: I was going to say wages probably wouldn’t have been enough, would they?
RW: No [laughs] so that was that.
AM: So that was your introduction to work.
RW: My introduction to work.
AM: What about the RAF, how did you come to join the RAF?
RW: The RAF yes - what happened there?
AM: What made you want to join?
RW: From there, I went, I had several other jobs you know, trying to make a living in the 1930’s, wasn’t easy, and I walked around for miles getting jobs for five shillings a week. And then I was always interested in the RAF and I wanted to fly and so I went to join up when the war started and er, they said, ‘no, no’. I said ‘I want to be a pilot’, because my uncle had been a pilot and been killed, and um, but I always, right from a tiny child, wanted to fly, I wanted to be a pilot, and so they said ‘no, we have enough pilots’, and um, my maths wouldn’t have been good enough anyway.
AM: This was right at the beginning of the war, 1939?
RW: Oh yes, the beginning of the war, when the war started.
AM: So you would be twenty two?
RW: Twenty two, that’s right and I had been married. I made the mistake of getting married, and er, anyway I had a daughter by that marriage and she is now ninety seven, eighty seven, sorry, and amazingly enough, she visits me, she stills lives near Stoke-on-Trent.
AM: Yes, excellent.
RW: And she comes now and then to visit. I, then, that’s right, oh they said, ‘if you want to go into aircrew, if you want to fly, we can offer you the um’, what shall I say, oh yes, ‘offer you the way you can get into aircrew and you can be the wireless operator, and then from wireless operator, you would be an air gunner. That’s the only thing we can offer you if you want to fly’, and so this is what happened. I joined up, I was called up and I offered my services then, and I was called up in January 1940 and I did my ITW in Morecambe, sent to Morecambe, and that was quite an experience, because we all walked down the street in Morecambe and they said, ‘you eight in that house, you eight in the next house’, and so this went on and as we were allocated this one house and the dear lady, who was the boss of the house, she was coming downstairs and we were just coming into the house, into the hall and she said, ‘I didn’t want you here, I’ve had enough with guests through the summer’, [laughs] and so that was our introduction to this place. She wouldn’t let us use the lounge, we had a little room at the back and then they had a kitchen, where we were allowed in, but not the lounge [laughs], and I wasn’t very popular with her because I didn’t like her attitude, and she said we had to be in at ten o’clock at night and so one of us used to stay around, say like if we went to a dance, you see, and so this is what we did and er, we made it enjoyable. I think the pranks we got up to such as I cut out a skull and crossbones and put it in the light that it shone, the light shone through the skull and crossbones [laughs]. They had um, a, a bit of a showcase in there and I saw er, a cup in there, I thought, the old man, poor devil, he was really under the thumb with the old girl, and I saw a cup in there, an inscribed cup and I thought, marvellous, he must have been a runner or something like that, and so when I examined the cup, fortunately the door wasn’t locked on the showcase, and I was disgusted to see that it was for mineral waters [laughs]. The cup was given for being very good with his mineral waters, and so what happened there was, I filled it with cold tea [laughs]and I wasn’t very popular at all.
AM: No.
RW: We were allowed to go upstairs to our rooms, she complained about, about the rifles, we all had our the Enfield rifles.
AM: Because you were square bashing?
RW: That’s right, yes, up and down the streets, and so um, she complained because we put our rifles in the umbrella stand in the hall, so she said, ‘no, they must go upstairs and under your beds’, so fair enough, this is what we did. But at ten o’clock in the mornings, we had to get up early, but at ten o’clock we had a tea break and so we all, the whistle went and we all had to fall outside in the street and er, the old boy had to make the tea, you see. By the time he’d made the tea for the eight of us, the whistle went again [laughs] so we had to form up outside again, and er, also the rifles had to keep going upstairs under the beds [laughs], so by the time we had done all these things, then we were going to be late on parade so that’s fair enough we managed it.
AM: Oh good.
RW: Yes, and then we were eventually, we were called by the CO, we had to go, we were called into the CO’s Office in Morecambe and – left, right, left ,right, halt - and er, we stood, the eight of us there, and we stood in front of the CO, and he had his bits of paper on his desk and he said ‘which one of you is Wade?’, so - left, right, left, right, halt - ‘Right, I’ve had complaints from your landlady’, and er, he read out all these different things that I had done in the house. And then I tried to explain, I said ‘I’m guilty of what she said, but it’s very difficult to go up and down the stairs in our boots and not make a noise’, that was one thing that she went on about, and the other thing was that she had to take up the stair carpet and so we were making more noise going up and down the stairs and this went on for a while, but the CO, ‘well, you won’t be here for very much longer’, which we weren’t fortunately, but next door they had a marvellous time, the eight in there, and they were allowed into the lounge and they had a piano, and the pianist there, I’m trying to think of his name - Ronnie, Ronnie, but he played at the BBC and er, his friend ran the Squadronaires.
AM: Right.
RW: I forget his name now, they were a nice couple of guys, and they also were able to fraternise with the two daughters [laughs] so they were unhappy to leave Morecambe [laughs]. Anyway we went from Morecambe up to um, to do the wireless course, wireless operators and er, so as I say I joined in January and when I went to Swanton Morley, no, not Swanton Morley, I’m trying to think of the name of the place we went to now.
AM: No, never mind
RW: It’ll come, and um, that’s right, and so I started a course there as a wireless operator and er, I did quite a few months there, doing Morse. Very difficult, very difficult and I was very happy to leave there [laughs].
AM: Did you pass?
RW: I passed, yes, we had to, and from there I was interviewed, now I was hoping they were putting me onto a pilots course [coughs] and I was interviewed by a group, and they were ex pilots from the First World War and um, as I sat there they were asking questions, ‘why did I want to fly?’ and I said ‘I’ve always wanted to fly since, I, since being very small’ and so er, I thought I am going to get my course as a pilot. But the one question one of these old boys threw at me was, ‘what would your feelings or attitude be, if you fired at a German and you saw his face disintegrate due to your bullets?’ I said ‘bloody good show, that’s what I joined for’ and so [laughs], and they all looked at me, you know, ‘who’s this crazy guy we’ve got here’ [laughs] and so that went on, and I thought, oh no, they’re going to put me on a pilots course. ‘No’, they said, ‘no, you will be an air gunner’. So I went down to South Wales and did an air gunner’s course there and this is just about the end of the Battle of Britain, and er, we were being bombed and shot up every day and night there, and er, and I was chased down the runway one day by a Junkers 88 and I managed [laughs], the bullets were going all around me and I got behind a sand bin and they came through the sand, the bullets from this 88 and then the hut, the hut we were in the, the normal RAF Huts.
AM: Nissen Huts.
RW: Yes, that’s right, all wood, and er, one day they bombed and destroyed the one each side of ours then we had to lie down flat as they strafed us, the bullet holes through the hut, through the wood.
AM: And this was at training camp in South Wales?
RW: In South Wales, yes, day and night. We weren’t allowed, as air crew, we weren’t allowed to sleep in the huts so we had to go out in the field and within tents and sleep outside, and there again, I was a bit crazy and I slept behind the beds. I put my mattress down there and then I thought ‘what’s it going to be?’ and my DRO’s, one of our men, was killed because he didn’t get in the tents, so I was turfed out of there and I had to go into a tent and er, that was the end of the Battle of Britain.
AM: Of the Battle of Britain.
RW: Yes.
AM: What was the training like Ron, the air gunner training?
RW: Oh it was intense, very intense and we had, had er, we had the um, Fairey Battles, Whitley’s 1’s and 3’s which were, they were pretty awful things this is why they had, and the Whitley 5’s we finished up on, they were also rubbish, [laughs] sorry to say. And um, as I said training had to be intense because we were the only ones carrying the war to the Germans, Bomber Command, and so from there other things happened you know, I was lucky to get away with we were, because they were bombing night and day.
AM: Because of the bombing?
RW: And so er, from there I went to OTU at Abingdon.
AM: Abingdon, Oxfordshire.
RW: That’s right, Abingdon, and er, that was very intense. We had very few hours off and because we were needed, and so from there a very good friend of mine, he was a pilot doing his training too and we were formed up into fives.
AM: So it was five, there were five of you in your group?
RW: Five in a group.
AM: This was for a Whitley?
RW: Whitley 5, yes, and er, Mac was his name, MacGregor Cheers and I’ve got it in my book, and he didn’t want to be a pilot, he wasn’t happy training as a pilot, poor Mac. There was me, I wanted to be a pilot and he would have rather, rather been an air gunner but it didn’t work out that way.
AM: How did you get together as a crew?
RW: Oh there we er, we had, later on when we got to the squadron, I moved on to 58 Squadron er, from training and um, this, our CO there, he said ‘I’ve been having too many complaints from you, from all air crew about the Whitley’, and we said ‘we’d rather be on the Wimpeys’, you know the Wimpey?
AM: I don’t know the Wimpey.
RW: Yes, the Wimpey was the one, I’m trying to think of it now, the Wimpey. We were on the Whitleys, I was flying on the Whitleys, this was the, this will probably tell you in the book there [looks through the book].
AM: I can’t find it, never mind it doesn’t matter.
RW: Anyway, we’ll find it yes. It’s my age [laughs].
AM: You’re allowed [laughs].
RW: And so we said we’d rather be on different aircraft, we didn’t like Whitleys, and he said, ‘anymore complaints and you’ll be off flying, you’ll be grounded’, he said ‘you fly in this and it’s a very good aircraft and you have to fly it’.
AM: Where was 58 Squadron based then, at that point?
RW: We were at Linton on Ouse.
AM: Okay.
RW: And that is where we had to form up and choose the crew, choose the fives, and er, it was very good, very good. And, oh yes, when I arrived there, our flight commander came through the hangar, I came from one door and he came through the other door, flight lieutenant, and um, he said ‘my god, we are glad to see you’, he said, ‘we had a rough night on Berlin last night and we had one aircraft left in our flight’. So he said, ‘come and meet the lads’, so off I went in the crew room and er, I met the lads and er, he said ‘right, this is Ron, Ron Wade, and er, he wants a cup of coffee. What do you want, tea or coffee? Who’s on making coffee?’, ‘Oh, I did it yesterday’, ‘now make him a cuppa, whatever he wants’, so I met the lads that way. But er, how we formed up in a crew we went into flying control and into the room there and all milling around meeting each other, formally or informally and this is where we formed up, and er, I was very lucky guy. I had a lucky war really because my original crew, I was taken off, we did two trips, two trips, I forget where it was now, but they said, ‘right that’s me softened up so you are being replaced by this Graham (I think his name was), Graham, because he ditched in the sea and he has been on leave for a couple of months, but he will be taking your place’, then last heard of, they came down in the sea, so this Graham had two trips, two operations both into the sea and the second time they weren’t recovered, so I was very lucky there, but I said to Amy, ‘how must his parents have felt?’
AM: Yes
RW: Because I think of him now, taking my place I had through good luck and he had the bad luck. My folks had the bad luck with my brother being killed and me being [unclear] after six months they thought I’d been killed.
AM: So just wheeling back a bit.
RW: Yes.
AM: So you didn’t, you were taken off that crew and then, presumably, put with another crew?
RW: Yes
AM: And did some more operations?
RW: Yes, with another crew, and then I was waiting to get on another crew and er, it was rather boring because I was sweeping, I was cleaning the snooker table and I got very good at snooker, and I was waiting and then I had several attempts to go on ops but something happened every time. And then on a Whitley 5, they um, they had a lot of what you call exacter trouble. If they snatched too hard then it would go fully fine and we would have to turn back and so er, this happened, different things happened and I didn’t get, because I had, I just, oh yes, what happened, from the trip before, it had been a bit hairy, got a few holes in it and er, I had a premonition from that, that as we were coming into land, I saw the runway and I thought I won’t see this again, I’m going to be killed. Strange feeling, it was a very, very, it, it and I knew I was going to be killed, strangely enough and I wanted to get this trip over, the next trip over, all my crew who were going to be my crew were on leave and I should have waited to come back but this is on January, January 8th I think, I think it’s in there, the book. Oh yes, my roommate, I won’t mention his name, but he came back from leave and he said that he was tired, he knew what the trip was going to be, it was a tough one, Konigsburg, and er, the CO said, ‘there are two fighter areas’, so he said, ‘keep North and be very wary because of the fighters’, and I knew that it was going to be tough because of so many things going on there. And so er, I volunteered for this, and he said that he was tired so the sawbones gave him a pill and told him to go to bed, so I volunteered, do you want to go to bed because always a thing come back, leave, he had a tough one, crew didn’t make it, we were losing so many in those days. And so off with his name, on with mine, just the [unclear] they wanted and er, I thought, I’m going to get it over with, and so off we went and this is when we were in Holland, North Holland, and then we had, they hit the port engine and we set on fire.
AM: Where? On the way to drop your bombs?
RW: Yes.
AM: On the way there.
RW: On the way there, yes, and er, we thought we were going to come down in the North Sea, we were going over the North Sea at the time, and January you didn’t live very long in the North Sea, and so we thought, that’s it, and all the rest of the crew were aged nineteen and I was the oldest.
AM: You were an old boy, twenty three?
RW: Twenty three, yes, and so um, the navigator said, ‘I don’t think we’ll make it, we are not going to make Holland’ and so the skipper said, ‘right I don’t know what you are going to do, but it’s no use coming down, we’ll have to go down into the sea and about five minutes that will be it because Whitley’s didn’t swim very well’ [laughs]. And so I was in the, I was flying as a rear gunner at the time, operating as a rear gunner, and by the way before that I had done a trip from um, the, when I was at OUT, I’d been, I was on a crew, going, dropping leaflets over Italy. We had a trip to Turin and it’s in the book there and dropping leaflets and we were attacked by two fighters and I told the pilot to do this um, manoeuvre to get away from them and um, then when we came up again, they fired at us and then I had the new Brownings, four of them, and they really did damage because I fired at them and then they turned and smoke poured from both of them and they retreated and went back. I didn’t know if they went down or not but they weren’t happy, and so that was an earlier.
AM: So that was Italy,
RW: And I was going to tell you.
AM: So now, now you’re on your way to Holland?
RW: That’s right on operations, I’d gone from there and I had a photograph taken by picture post in the turret, in the rear turret, showing off these new Brownings , and er, yes, so back to the squadron, on our way to Wilhelmshaven and then we were hit and I thought that’s it, this is my premonition coming because fire broke out and it was getting close, my job to get, we were given the order to bail out although if we wanted to over the sea, but by this time the navigator had informed us that we could make it, we just made it, North Holland, so we had been told to bail out. I had to get out of the rear turret somehow, we’d been losing height at quite a pace, so when I got out of the rear turret, because my parachute was in the fuselage, and so I had to open the rear doors of my turret, crawl out, then the order was to get my parachute and harness, ‘cos there’s no room in the turret for them, so my training was that I got these and then I had to get back into the turret with great difficultly, close the doors, turn ninety degrees and then go out backwards.
AM: Right
RW: But fortunately for me, as I was getting my parachute and harness and I put them on, the first wireless op came down the fuselage and he jettisoned the door, waved to me and the sparks and flames coming past the fuselage door, and he waved and jumped through this. Now I’m not getting back in that turret, I’ll never make it and so I was going after him and so I made for the door and, what happened next then, and, oh yes, I was about to jump and then out of the corner of my eye I saw the navigator coming down dragging his parachute and harness. He hadn’t put it on.
AM. Oh no.
RW: And so I couldn’t leave him, the plane was slipping like this – slipping, slipping, slipping - we lost a lot of altitude and we were getting pretty close, and so he couldn’t do anything because he was almost falling over every time the plane went. What had happened, the two pilots had gone from the door, from the front.
AM: So they’d bailed out?
RW: They’d bailed out, because he’d given orders for us to bail out by then, and as I say don’t forget that all the rest of the crew were nineteen, they very young. And so he went, that’s right, so I went back and zipped him up and then pushed him out, hoping that he’s there [laughs], then I went after him. Then I don’t remember anything else, apart from it had been snowing through the night, it was a very, very bad night and um, it was about eight o’clock and then I came down in this field and er, the place is called Anna Paulowna, a little hamlet, and the next morning um, a man going to work on the farm and er, he just saw me and I was covered in snow, and it had been deep snow through the night, and he found I was still ticking.
AM: So you were unconscious?
RW: I was unconscious because, what had happened, the Dutch people told me afterwards, that I had gone towards the plane, so we must have been pretty low when I bailed out. I was the last one out, and so that’s why I don’t remember anything, they said that they called to me to come away ‘cos I was making for the plane, so it wasn’t very far away, but as, what I remember when I bailed out, that I was hoping that the parachute would open [laughs].
AM: Quickly.
RW: Quickly, and the um, I wasn’t scared, strangely enough, I just wasn’t scared, and the only thing I could think of, I missed my bacon and eggs, because the only time we had bacon and eggs was when we came back from an operation, then I was calling swear words to the others ‘lucky bastards’ [laughs].
AM: No bacon and eggs.
RW: [Laughs] You’ll be having my bacon and eggs and that’s all I could think off [laughs]. I’d been looking forward to that, and then they called me to come away from the aircraft and so what had happened then, as the ammunition had been exploding, then I stopped one in the back of the head and so I’d been treated in hospital there and um -
AM: So the Dutch people found you?
RW: Yes
AM: And took you to hospital?
RW: No, oh no.
AM: Oh right.
RW: They called the Germans, because if they’d been found, they took me into the hamlet where they lived and then they called the Germans because if the Germans had come and found me first, we’d have all been shot. So the Germans took me away and then they took me into hospital because I’d stopped the bullet in the back of the head, the doctor said I was very fortunate because if it had been any deeper I would have been killed, which was my premonition. And if it had been over a little, I would have been blind and so what happened, I lost, I found out later, I lost the least of the senses that was smell and taste and I’ve never been able to smell and taste since. I can taste, I was tested for it when I came back home and I can taste sugar, salt, vinegar.
AM: So things that have a strong taste.
RW: That’s right yes, that’s all I can taste, so that was it.
AM: So you are in the hospital, you’ve been treated?
RW: Oh yes, I’d been treated.
AM: Then what happened?
RW: What had happened, I had an enema, do they call it? It was a hell of a mess [laughs] and then I was in this ward and er, I was, I remember being in this bed and looking up and there’s a fellow waving to me across the ward, and I thought, ‘who the hells that. I don’t know him’, and this went on for a whole day when he was waving and that was the navigator.
AM: Right
RW: And I didn’t recognise him and this went on and after a while it came, my memory came back again.
AM: So that’s two of you in the hospital?
RW: That was in the hospital. Oh yes and um, when I got talking to the navigator again, he said, ‘careful’, because I was well known for my dirty jokes at times [laughs], anyway different thing he said, ‘be very careful what you say because that one there, is a Nazi’. The only time they listened to the radio was when Hitler was making a speech so he said, ‘very, very careful what you say’. He used to go to the cupboard there, get this radio out, switch it on when Hitler finished speaking, disconnect, back in there, so he said, ‘be very careful’ [laughs], and from there I went in an ambulance, that’s right. They took me to an old camp, the French, French and Belgians in there and um, I’d asked one Frenchman there, he spoke English, if he could get me some information because we were right next to an airfield and they were working on the airfield, and I said, ‘can you get me an old coat to wear and er, then I can make my way with you to this airfield’. Somehow I was going to, although I was a wireless op, I knew the controls and I was going to try and steal a plane and get back home.
AM: This is in the first camp after the hospital?
RW: In the first camp, yes, and er, it was a rough old camp. I remember the blanket I had was 1917, and er, it was rough, and er, and I’ll never forget having, oh yes, they said, ‘can’t you taste that?’ I said, ‘why it’s all right’. I was eating this stuff, sauerkraut [laughs], rough sauerkraut, they were dished up with, I said, ‘no’ [laughs]. Anyway just after that, next day, two great big Nazi’s came in, ‘wait’, so this Frenchman must have, must have told them what I was up to because they took me and after seeing films of people being taken for a ride, I went in this Opel I think, I think the car was an Opel, it was an Opel, and the one as big as Gary. I had one each side of me, I was down middle of them, and off we went and er, I was taken down to the station, down near the station, into the large, like a town hall - left, right, left, right - up in front [laughs], not so nicer man, this CO, and he said, ‘right, this and that’ [unclear] it was a big desk, I’ll never forget and he said, ‘this man here has had his orders, and he is going to take you on the train to Frankfurt and he’s been warned and told that if you try to escape, or do anything, he will shoot you dead’.
AM: He spoke to you in English?
RW: Oh yes, oh yes in English, and so um, I was, people were trying to attack me on the way up, up to this town hall.
AM: Civilians?
RW: And one man came with a knife and the guard had to fend him off and others because they’d had an air raid there, you see, and so off I went, and went up to this town hall and that’s when he had his orders, anyway I was taken back down to the railway station.
AM: What town was this Ron?
RW: This was in Cologne.
AM: You were in Cologne by then.
RW: Yes, and I was driven right the way down there, and so I thought, oh yes. When I was in the waiting room and other er, Germans were in there, you see, drinking coffee, suppose that’s coffee and things like that, nothing was offered to me [laughs] and so then I said oh, ‘stand up’, and the door opened, as this door opened a major (unclear) he came in.
AM: An English, a German?
RW: No a German, a German major, he came in and they all gave the Nazi salute, ‘Heil Hitler, Heil Hitler’, yes, I came out I said, ‘Heil Churchill’, oh, he was just turning to go and I said this, and he got his gun out his Mauser, his Mauser or whatever it was, and I thought, well you’ve done it this time [laughs], and then he said ‘English schweinhund’ (unclear) off he went. I got away with that one [laughs], especially as I had just had this
AM: The warning?
RW: Warning yes, and um, and that was that and so when the train came, we went up to Frankfurt and um, he was watching me like a hawk.
AM: Were you handcuffed to him or anything?
RW: No, no.
AM: There was nowhere to run to though is there?
RW: No, but all the way I was wondering how I was going to belt him and looking at the window, how strong is it because I was going to smash it with his rifle, you see.
AM: Right.
RW: And it was quite a journey, beautiful trip from Cologne, up to Frankfurt but that’s in my mind all the time, how am I going to get out of here and get rid of him [laughs], and then the chance didn’t come, didn’t come. His eyes were on me every step of the way, he was scared he would have been shot if I had escaped, and so we went to my first real prison camp that was up to the um, what they called, it wasn’t a Stalag, before the Stalag.
AM: Was it a Dulag, Ron?
RW: A Dulag, and once again this officer, German officer came in and I was in the cell there, and one very high window, and er, oh he said, ‘I speak English very well, I was educated in Oxford’, and er, he said, ‘you will find we will treat you very well now, but er, a few things to add’, and er, he said, ‘this form here’, he’d got a form with a red cross on the top, ‘so all you need do is answer a few questions, so there you are’, and he said, ‘first of all, do you smoke?’, and I smoked in those days, so he got a packet of Capstans and a box of Swans.
AM: Vesta.
RW: Vesta matches, put them on the top there and there I was, smoking away, ‘right then, first things, name, rank, number’, that’s all right, name, rank, and number, and so put those in, he said, ’good, then we will let your parents know or what have you, that you are alive and well and injured’, and so um, that’s all right. ‘Now these other things’, and I looked on this form, ‘what squadron, your CO, what was his name, and the airfield you took off from, what was the aircraft you were flying, note it down here’. ‘There we are and that’s all I can give you, name, rank and number’. He said, ‘surely you want your people to know, you want your parents to know you’re alive?’, ‘yes course I do and that’s what you have to do because that’s all I’m giving you, my name, rank and number’. Then he became a German, and he went red and he did a lot of words came out that weren’t English and he said, ‘then you’ll stay here until you do fill that in’, and [laughs], and he grabbed the matches and cigarettes and put them in his pocket, and so I was fortunate in as much as I had to be taken up to the hospital to get my bullet hole seen to [laughs] and so I got away with that. Next cell he, whoever it was, had had a rough time, I heard him groaning and yelling and I think they beat him up because he wouldn’t answer and I refused too. The next morning they had taken my uniform away through the night, they’d taken it, I had to strip it off and they took it all away. The next morning, I saw they knew where the map was in the shoulder, then they’d taken the button off.
AM: So all the stuff that was to help you to escape?
RW: That’s right, they knew where it was, they’d taken it and the needle, the compass needle had gone out of the button [laughs] so then you weren’t full of tricks, and so that was Dulag, and from there, I was taken, I went to, yes, Stalag Luft 1, yes, I was taken there next.
AM: Were you still being taken on your own or were you with other prisoners by then?
RW: No I went in, the other prisoners I met there in Dulag and um, you know it was great to meet them and speak English, it was great and they’d give tips and that. I went to Stalag Luft 1 and um, then we stood at the gate welcoming the boys coming in and it was a sandy soil and we got them to throw the lighters and things in there, because the guards were trying to keep us back, you see, and as we went towards the gate, we did this at every camp we went to, throw your things in, throw them in, throw them in, because they had been stripped of things mostly and so what they did, pick them up and give them back to him and then, and then when we couldn’t get down to things, we just trod them in.
AM: Trod them into the ground?
RW: Into the ground as they forced us back, because them bleeders were very sharp [laughs].
AM: So you could go back for them later?
RW: Yes that’s it, and especially went from Stalag Luft 1 and then did about eighteen months there and then we were moved to Stalag Luft 3 and er -
AM: So what year are we now, 41 probably?
RW: My god, yes.
AM: So you were shot down early 41.
RW: January 41 yes.
AM: And then you were in hospital and eighteen months.
RW: I wasn’t in the hospital for eighteen months.
AM: No, no, the hospital and then you were in Stalag Luft 1 for eighteen months.
RW: That’s right.
AM: So we are now?
RW: Now in Stalag Luft 3.
AM: Probably early 43?
RW: About 43.
AM: By this time.
RW: And we did, and went to this new camp, er, we hadn’t heard of before.
AM: How did they move you, on trains?
RW: Yes, and er, yes, on cattle trucks, they weren’t very clean. There’s wire both sides of the entrance of the cattle truck and we were put in twenty each side, standing up, you couldn’t sit down, we were packed in. When you think half a cattle truck, and so this is how we moved, sometimes we had better accommodation but this new camp we went to was Stalag Luft 3, everything is new there, all the huts were new and so we started a different life.
AM: Were you the first intake into Stalag Luft 3?
RW: We were yes, from Stalag Luft 1 into Stalag Luft 3, and then, after that, they started to bring the RAF prisoners from other camps into Stalag Luft 3, and er, they said, ‘you’ll never escape from here, we’ve learnt too many lessons’, but we did, the lot, a lot of people said they tried, escaped from there and they probably tried but they didn’t succeed and it was difficult, and then all the different things, books had been written by prisoners [laughs] and things, no, it was very difficult. I tried once and out of the corner of our hut, I got down and one man from Cheltenham said, ‘you’ll get us all shot, you know’ because I dug through the floor and dug down and I could see where workmen had been, electricians or something yes, been working outside and there was a trench near the camp, near the um, wire and so I got down there and then got out there in the early hours of the morning. It was dark and er, I thought I can get under the wire, get under there, escape, fair enough, so I tried this and then I heard a guard approaching with his dog. Dogs, they were more like wolves, and he had got this one and I heard him coming along and so I got out of there, swiftly went up the road, oh yes, and I had an experience, I ran between two huts and I didn’t see wire stretching from one hut to the other and I ran into it, and it got me in the mouth, took me off my feet and I was strung up and the wire went into my mouth and forced, forced my teeth out. I lost seven teeth, and I landed on my back and then there was the guard and the dog, and he was afraid of that dog as I was [laughs], they weren’t trained to be friendly and so I was put into the cooler from there.
AM: What was that like?
RW: Rough. I had water to drink, bread, well when they say bread, black bread, just bread and er, I was in there for over a week.
AM: On your own?
RW: Oh yes, yes, oh yes.
AM: And no teeth.
RW: No teeth, they’d come out, I have no teeth now. I tell people that um, if I’ll say I had my teeth out, all paid for [laughs]. But um, all the time we were trying to, if we had any ideas about escaping, we had they had to go to this Massey who was the -
AM: What was the name sorry, Ron?
RW: Massey, Group Captain Massey, and you had to give your ideas to him for the escape committee, but something we noticed when we first went into Stalag Luft 3, that one part where the fence was, they hadn’t built any German huts or anything there, it hadn’t been finished. And so John Shaw, my good friend, he noticed this first and he said, ‘we’re gonna go try that’, he said, ‘we go first, the four of us’, I forget the other one and he said, ‘I go first because I noticed it first’. I said, ‘okay, then I’ll go, you get away now, I’ll go follow on’.
AM: How were you going to get out, were you going to tunnel under?
RW: Tunnel under there because they hadn’t built anything that side, so this is what we are going to do, and so you’ve got to appreciate, so John decided to go. What happened, bang, bang, and I have a photograph I’ll show you, with John, and shown in his coffin, he was shot right through the heart, so if people thought that these guards were asleep in the huts, no, and they were crack shots, they got him right through the heart, poor John.
AM: So the other three of you didn’t go?
RW: No, we’d been discovered that was it.
AM: Did you know the people who were involved in the great escape?
RW: No.
AM: No.
RW: No, they were mainly officers. You see what happened, we started off these tunnels under the cooking, took that away and then got all that (unclear) and then dug down to do the tunnels, but then again, we said this would happen, the officers took over, we started it as sergeants and then they said, ‘no, we are going to take over’, and then we were moved eventually to Heydekrug.
AM: To?
RW: Heydekrug.
AM: Which is?
RW: Heydekrug.
AM: Which is another camp?
RW: Which is another camp, yes, so we’d done a lot of work. I was, I helped out with moving the earth wearing these things there, but the soil, the soil we brought up from below, it was a different colour, so we had to take this earth from down below, walk around, walk around and distribute it and dig it in as we were moving, because they were watching us all the time.
AM: These are from the tunnels you dug?
RW: That’s right, yes [laughs], and we were getting rid of the earth, tons of earth, you know. It’s boring.
AM: Well yes, what else did you do in camp?
RW: Oh all kinds of things, apart from trying to escape [laughs], and er, we wrote shows. We did this, you see, and Les Knowle became a very good friend of mine and he was a pianist before the war, before he joined up and he, a professional pianist, was very good too.
AM: Was he the one next door to you in Morecambe or a different pianist?
RW: No, no, it was a different one.
AM: A different one.
RW: No, Les Knowle, he was a different one. This one I’m trying to think of his name, Ron, I forget now, but he went on to the BBC and worked from there and he was on the RAF Band.
AM: Yes.
RW: And then he became well known.
[Interruption]
AM: I’m just going to pause for a moment.
RW: Have you anywhere else.
AM: No, no, so we’ve got shows, what about, did you do any education they had?
RW: Oh yes, yes, and um, I’ve a pencil, and I was studying maths actually and I was going to do a course on maths and it was difficult because it was very, very cold, very cold, up in Lithuania, this was and getting close to Russia and so I was studying and then trying to write out holding the pencil.
AM: So literally holding it with whole of your hand?
RW: That’s right.
AM: Trying to write.
RW: Trying to write, it wasn’t easy, but it was quite good and then I studied, I was studying, was architect because I had been in the building trade, you see. I was taken away from the factory when I was fourteen.
AM: When you were fourteen yes.
RW: By my brother-in-law, who was, um, he’d come to the factory, fortunately before they absolutely killed me [laughs], and he said, ‘you, out’ and he took me away and made me an apprenticeship joiner.
AM: So you were a joiner. Going back to the camp in Lithuania.
RW: Oh Yes.
AM: So what happened then as, what did you know about what was happening in the war?
RW: We had clever people as sergeants, not all officers then. We had people from all walks of life as sergeants.
AM: As sergeants yes.
RW: And er, we had entertainers from the stage, and I wrote um, with Les Knowle, he wrote the music and I wrote the words for shows on the stage and I’ll show you a picture of him, but I don’t know if you have ever heard of Roy Dotrice?
AM: Yes
RW: You have? Well Roy, I’ll show you a picture.
AM: His daughter was an actress, Michelle.
RW: That’s right, he had two daughters, one lives in the States, Michelle, I was watching her the other night.
AM: And was he in the prison camp with you?
RW: Yes, yes, and then I never thought that he would, because he was very young, he was born in Jersey and he changed his age. He was very much younger than me then and he came over to the mainland and joined the RAF.
AM: What happened at the end of the war, how did you find out that the war was ending and what happened?
RW: Oh yes, now then, we had our radios that were built out of things, things we’d stolen from the Germans. I remember walking behind one man carrying, carrying a box and stealing something out of there and when they, they used to um, we used to be woken up in the early hours of the morning by the Nazis. They used to come in and get us out of bed, tear the place apart, and never put it back again, and all things taken out and then we would be walking around the compound from the early morning to late at night while these Nazis were searching and they, yes, and they used to go away with things. Oh yes, we used to steal their hats and their gloves and they weren’t very happy [laughs], and also if anyone escaped, they used to have what we called a sheep count, and they’d form up the barriers so we used to have to go through, and they’d check and check the numbers, you see, and we used to go through and then we used to go back round, and come in again, in the end they had more prisoners than they wanted [laughs], and that was one gag we got up to, and then some had contact at home. You’ve possibly seen it in the letters they used a code in a letter which the Germans couldn’t spot.
AM: To say where they were?
RW: That’s right, all kinds of things.
AM: So how did you find out that the war was coming to an end? From the radios?
RW: From the radios we had, yes. We had certain guys who were very clever, clever electricians among us, all kinds of things they used to do, where if a German came in the front about or something, a buzzer would ring at the far end telling whoever was doing something, escape committee at the other end.
AM: To stop them?
RW: Then bury the stuff again.
AM: Gosh.
RW: And then all things like that and um, the, yes, parts for the radios be stolen from the Germans [laughs] and they would build a main radio that one clever man used to operate. I forget the names now and um, they used to come around the huts and give us the, the news we used to get daily news, we knew exactly what was happening back home, and e,r when the invasion came, the first time, the Germans were gloating when they said, ‘that was your invasion’, when so many Canadians were killed, remember, my minds going.
AM: On the beaches at, yes.
RW: Yes, where so many were killed, and the Germans thought that was our invasion. They said, ‘you’ve had your invasion, you’ll be here’, I was told that I would be there for the rest of my life, they used to enjoy telling us this, that we would be there and we will be rebuilding Germany.
AM: Because they would win.
RW: That’s right.
AM: Sadly for them but thankfully for us.
RW: Oh, thankfully for us.
AM: They didn’t.
RW: But they loved telling us that we would be there forever.
AM: When it did all end? Were you involved in the long march?
RW: Oh yes.
AM: You were.
RW: That was the worst part of it.
AM: Gary’s making faces.
Gary: I’ll leave it.
RW: Okay. That was a tough one, the long march.
AM: How long were you on the march for, Ron?
RW: I can’t think now.
AM: Months, it was months, wasn’t it?
RW: Months, months, bad weather, bad weather, so many died, and then we were, we had no food and they’d been trying to get through to us and then this one Red Cross wagon appeared and he said, ‘this is the third load I’ve had. I’ve been shot at, and destroyed, then I have gone back and got another load’, and finally, well you know the story.
AM: Sadly.
RW: And some sights there, on that march, and one man, he was signalling with his coat in the meadow, this meadow where we were, shot up by the fighters and I saw him just cut in the air.
AM: Shot at by German fighters?
RW: No, by our fighters.
AM: By our fighters.
RW: Yes, they thought we were Germans.
AM: Right.
RW: And he was just cut in two, Roger. Next time I saw him, just his legs standing there, top half gone and they killed forty, fifty of us there, it was a rough one. Oh, and we were in twos, they delivered these Red Cross parcels, we shared one between two, and when we were shot at by Typhoons by the way, based locally and all the way through, we’d been shot at by Spitfires, and what have you, Hurricanes, they thought we were Germans. And on one occasion, we were walking, they made us walk at night because, so through the day, we had to sleep in barns with their animals, and the Germans, the German people used to give things to the guards but nothing to us, not like this country where there were prisoners, their prisoners there given food but we never got anything from the Germans. If we wanted a drink, we had to wait till we got to rivers, lakes, or something or get washed.
AM: So how did you get rescued in the end?
RW: Oh that is another story. The 10th Hussars. We were hearing reports our, our troops across the Rhine and how close they were getting and we were being marched away, we were going to be hostages and Hitler would have got rid of us eventually, we’d have been shot or what have you. We were heading for Norway somewhere and they were taking us as we were going to be hostages, but so many things happened we were shut up, barns were set on fire, men were there.
AM: With men in them?
RW: Yes.
AM: Yes. But the 10th Hussars were?
RW: The 10th Hussars caught up with us and oh, they were marvellous, they treated us like royalty. They set up trestles in this village in Ratzeburg in Lubeck, Ratzeburg, and er, this little village and it was in March, was it May?
AM: So May of 45?
RW: We went through Luneburg, where they signed the Armistice, and we went through there and then we came back through there when the signing had been done, and it was marvellous, so they set up tables there with food on, couldn’t eat it.
AM: I was going to say, could you eat it?
RW: No, no. One man died because he tried, he tried to eat, couldn’t. Then we came back from Lowenberg on Lancasters and I’ll never forget seeing white girls, posh ladies all made up, I thought they, I thought they were on the stage somewhere, heavy lipstick.
AM: Once you got back you mean?
RW: And this is when we, no, when the 10th Hussars. Oh yes, that’s another one, we had the, this major, English major. I said, ‘can I help?’ because I had had stomach trouble and couldn’t eat anything, so I felt this marvellous feeling.
AM: Freedom.
RW: Freedom, marvellous after four and a half years, freedom. And I’d stuck my neck out several times, one man, I bent down to pick up food or something, I don’t know what it was, peas somebody dropped on the road, and this guard, he came behind me, kicked me up the backside and I went over and I got up and turned round to gonna belt him, and the look on his face, and his Tommy gun was there waiting for it, just what he wanted. All they wanted, an excuse.
AM: To kill you?
RW: Yes and er -
AM: When you saw the Lancaster?
RW: Oh yes.
AM: You’d been in Whitleys, what did you think of the Lancaster?
RW: We saw the side of it really [laughs].
AM: Four engines.
RW: Four engines, yes, marvellous.
AM: So they brought you home in the Lanc.
RW: Yes, they landed at, forget now where it was, down South somewhere, and as we landed they opened the door and a lovely young WAAF came, and I had my box with some belongings in. This girl got it and I grabbed it back from her she said, ‘it’s all right you are home now’ [laughs] and er, she led me off and as I was talking to her, going up to the hangar, I said, ‘this is a holiday’, this is VE Day, you see. I said, ‘you’re on holiday, what are you doing here?’ She said ‘oh we volunteered, we were the lucky ones’. I couldn’t understand it ‘cos we were filthy and the first this they did - whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
AM: Shower?
RW: Not a shower.
AM: Water?
RW: No - debugged.
AM: Oh right, oh sorry, they sprayed you?
RW: That’s right, yes, before anybody could touch us [laughs] and then they had all this food out, I couldn’t eat anything, not a thing, and then from there we came up on the train to where we went, see that photograph, and we came up there, all there, all the records were up there. That was marvellous. Then one day we were taken over, over there, records and what have you, but I went home and that was a rough time because I found my wife, I had my daughter, was that much older, she was only two and a half when I went away, she was seven she didn’t know me, didn’t know me, didn’t want to know me. And er, then my wife had met me at the station, although I didn’t want to see her because I’d had reports and she wrote to me and didn’t want to know me ‘cos she’d met an American and she wanted to get married to him. And so um, that was my homecoming, didn’t want to know me. I‘d had a letter from her saying she wanted a divorce, which I wanted too after that, and then my folks had been trying to meet the train to tell me what she had been up to, what she’d become, well you can understand it, it had been a long time.
AM: Yes.
RW: But the way she did it, she dyed her hair, it was red, and er, I’d asked a friend in camp who came from Stoke, from near where I was, where I lived, if he could find out why, what’s happening because she didn’t write to me. I’d only one letter that I had and she wanted more money, it’s all she was interested in.
AM: So your pay while you were a prisoner of war goes to your wife, doesn’t it?
RW: That’s right, it went to her and then she wanted more money, and so I came back and went up and met my wife, as I say, I didn’t know anything what she had been doing, no one had told me and this friend in camp, I’d asked him to find out what was happening, why I hadn’t had any letters from my, my wife and er, he put it off all the while. I said, ‘have you heard from your wife?’, ‘no’. I didn’t know anything about it.
AM: He wouldn’t tell you?
RW: No, and so when I got back, it was my wife who knew, my wife. He said to me, he said, ‘Ron, I couldn’t tell you what I found out about her’.
AM: No.
RW: Couldn’t tell you. So I met her and she was all over me and I met all her sisters and her brothers because it’s difficult, very difficult because my folks had been trying to meet me off the train but she’s the one who had been told.
AM: She’s the one who’s entitled to know.
RW: That’s right, and she’d got the time of the train, she met me, all the other trains had been coming in my side had been.
AM: They all missed you?
RW: They’d all missed me, everyone.
AM: Oh dear.
RW: My homecoming and I felt like going back.
AM: You married again though. Amy.
RW: Yes.
AM: I’ve met Amy and she is lovely for the record.
RW: Yes, oh the best thing that ever happened to me.
AM: Wonderful. I’m going to switch off now, Ron.
RW: Yes okay.
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 Ron Wade
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Annie Moody
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-07-26
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AWadeR150726, PWadeR1503
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
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01:44:54 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
British Army
Description
An account of the resource
Ron was born in Stoke-on-Trent. He left school at fourteen and tells of his experiences working in a pottery factory doing odd jobs until he was called up. He joined the Royal Air Force in 1939 at the age of twenty-two. Ron trained as an air gunner at RAF Morecambe after initially wanting to be selected for pilot training. He completed his air gunner training in South Wales at the end of the Battle of Britain - he tells of being strafed by a Junkers 88 and the damage that was inflicted to the Nissen huts. Ron flew the Whitley, which he did not enjoy. He then went to an Operational Training Unit at RAF Abingdon before moving to 58 Squadron based at RAF Linton on Ouse. Ron tells of being forced to bale out in 1941 after his Whitley was attacked by two German fighters over the the Netherlands. He did not remember that much since ammunition was exploding and a bullet hit him in the back of the head, leaving him with memory, taste and smell impairment. Ron also tells of his first interrogation by a German officer and how his humour nearly causing trouble at the at Cologne railway station. He was transferred to Stalag Luft I and then to Stalag Luft III. Ron tried a few times to escape but was discovered every time - he also details the death of his close friend during one attempt. Ron was eventually transferred to Stalag Luft VI (Heydekrug, Lithuania) which was his last camp before the end of the war. However, with the end looming, Ron was then forced to go on the long march. He then tells of some of his memories of the event, including being strafed by British fighters. Ron was freed when the British Army 10th Hussars caught up with the group near Lubeck, and he tells the story of his homecoming in May 1945.
Contributor
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Vivienne Tincombe
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Oxfordshire
England--Yorkshire
England--Lancashire
Netherlands
Poland
Germany
Lithuania
Poland--Żagań
Germany--Barth
Lithuania--Šilutė
Wales
Germany--Oberursel
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940
1941
1945-05
58 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
animal
bale out
bombing
crewing up
Dulag Luft
escaping
Ju 88
Nissen hut
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
RAF Abingdon
RAF Linton on Ouse
RAF Morecambe
Stalag Luft 1
Stalag Luft 3
Stalag Luft 6
strafing
the long march
training
Whitley
-
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2487/42972/ATeasdaleA221220.2.mp3
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Teasdale, Audrey
Audrey Pitts
Description
An account of the resource
21 items. An oral history interview with Audrey Teasdale (b. 1923, 2135963 Royal Air Force) and photographs. She served as a WAAF in the officers' mess at RAF Waddington.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Audrey Teasdale and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2022-12-20
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Teasdale, A
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AT: Er, from my own point of view I, you know, after the exam had gone before I got my act together and so none of us really managed a qualification, but we were all very well educated. And my Harry, er my two eldest brothers, they both worked in the Coal Board, as I said, my father was a colliery manager and Fred was in administration with the local authority. My Tom, the middle brother, he finished up as a company secretary for the Coal Board. We did all our study after school, y'know, we did it all off our own bats and erm...
BW: So was it night school that you went to?
AT: Night school and as we progressed, you'll see what I did, y'know but er, so it was night school and it was, y'know, interesting things and, you know, getting on with life generally and we had this encouragement from home and...
BW: You say your Mother was Victorian, she worked in service.
AT: In service yes, yes...
BW: Whereabouts did she work, was it a grand house or something?
AT: Yes, she's worked, yes, cos there's photograph there, I think, with one of the people she was with. Oh no, yeah, yeah. She worked with gentry but she also, at one point, worked at the girls grammar school in Wakefield. Yes but lovely lady.
BW: And what age were you when you left school?
AT: 14.
BW: Which was standard at that time.
AT: Standard, yes. And, do you want to know my occupation from then on?
BW: Yeah, what did you go on to do?
AT: My first occupation, I used to walk to the station, which was a mile away, then get a train to Leeds. And I worked for a firm called Barrens and it was a tailoring firm and I worked in their offices and it all related to production and y'know, what they were using and the sort of stuff that went on to the actual finished product and that sort of thing. So I did clerical work with them and I followed on where I got a job in Wakefield. I worked with a jeweler, a very top shop jewelers, you know, it was Appleyard's, in a terrific arcade, terrific shop. So I went there and then from there I was always sort of in the retail business and I went to work at the Co-op, ha! And I worked in the furnishing department where I was first assistant and I did all the erm, now then, the word, you know when they can't afford to pay...
BW: Debt.
AT: Er, actually making out the agreements for them to sign, you know, when they'd got x number of years to pay it in, y'know, that sort of thing. The name just escapes me.
BW: Repayments?
AT: Er, yeah, it was, it was, y'know, basically the lay out of what they'd bought, the interest to be paid and, and the period that they were going to pay it in. Yes, and that was it, all official and then they made the payments to the [unclear] and I did that and I was first assistant for sales.
01:08:24
BW: How long were you doing that job for?
AT: Oh it was, y’know, it was sort of between the jobs, you know, between that and my service really and er, yeah, and I did sort of clerical work and I actually went into the WAAF from there.
BW: Do you remember where you were, where your family was, when war was declared?
AT: At home. Yes, yes, er my youngest brother, the two boys - the elder brothers, they obviously were in the Coal Board, working in the Coal Board, and of course, were exempt. Fred, the youngest one, was in administration with the local authority and of course, he was conscripted. And he was in the Green Howard Regiment and stationed in Northern Ireland. But he never went abroad. A great brother and we used to, when I was in the WAAF, we used to write to each other and he kept in touch with home, and y’know, we'd always continue, you know, keeping in touch.
BW: So how old were you then when war was dec... when war broke out?
AT: About 23 and it broke out in '39...
BW: So you [unclear].
AT: Yes and then I went to, went to, I was conscripted and then I actually went into the WAAF 15th December 1942.
BW: So, what sort of choice did you have? You mentioned you were conscripted, how did that work, particularly for women because we think of men as being primarily conscripted but...
AT: Yes. I sort of could have gone the fire brigade, which didn't appeal at all [laughs]. Land Army but I think what did it [laughs] I was out one day and I saw this advert [laughs] "Join the WAAF and work with the men who fly", and I thought, 'That's for Audrey' [laughs]. So that's what I did.
BW: OK
AT: And of course, I could have been anything then, I could have been a balloon operator - barrage balloon, doing anything, really. But basically, all my time I was in the officer's mess and my, all my work was generally clerical and y’know, relating to the crews and different things.
BW: So you decided to join the WAAF. Did you, ah, it may be perhaps too detailed but I'm just interested to understand did you have to go into the air force recruitment office to complete that or was it different, did you go in to sign up?
AT: Er, I remember, you made the decision to go and then of course it just took place after that. I remember going down to, I can't remember where it was but I was interviewed and it was discussed and yeah. That's very vague to me but I do remember that.
BW: I was going to ask you about your interview and whether there was a particular test that you sat for example, maths or English or anything like that?
AT: No, no qualifications. Basically it was the things you were interested in.
BW: And how long between you being conscripted did it take for you to actually get into training?
AT: More or less immediately.
BW: Right.
AT: Yes, I remember I, it was, 15th December '42 and I went, I think, to Innesworth in Gloucester, where I was kitted out then that didn't take long and then I came back to Morecambe to do my square bashing and I was there about a fortnight. We lived, I lived in billets in the West End of Morecambe and that was very funny.
BW: How long did you spend there?
AT: Just a fortnight. It was a training and it was so funny because obviously it was winter, it was December, it was icy. We had a flight sergeant who did a thing and I'll be [laughs], quite [unclear] what he said but we couldn't stand up and he said, "What do you want me to do? Whistle the bloody skater's waltz?" [laughs]. And the other thing that was interesting about the square bashing was, they'd horses on the promenade and there was poo all over the place and you were marching away merrily and if you got your foot in that everybody got it from behind. You used to be absolutely blathered sometimes. But, that was quite an experience, the icing and the horse poo [laughter].
BW: And I believe you would have your passing out parade on Morecambe prom, is that right?
AT: Yes, yes...yeah.
BW: And it must have been pretty close to Christmas when you passed out of your fortnight's training.
AT: Yes, yes...yeah.
BW: Or just past.
AT: Yes, yeah. I can't remember that but I do know I went from there to Lindholme, Doncaster. I didn't stay there very long. I don't know, really and there was a lot of army personnel there at that time. And I don't know what the purpose of that. I wasn't there that very long and then I got a posting to Waddington. And when I got to Waddington, my time at Waddington, I was actually with 9 Squadron, which was English, 44 Squadron, which was Rhodesian and 467 and 463 which were Australian and I sort of did my service there. And from the first day, you know, I sort of worked in the officer's mess and I did lots of clerical work relating to that. Occasionally I did waitressing and I always used to get the job of the VIPs who would have a special room and I would serve them. Like Wing Commander Nettleton VC. I met him. And lots of personalities, you know, they came through. You know, met a lot of people.
BW: You mentioned Wing Commander Nettleton.
AT: Yes.
BW: He led, I think, the raid on Augsburg, which was quite a famous raid.
AT; Yes.
BW: What were your recollections of him? Did you meet him often?
AT: Lovely man. And he married a WAAF officer. Yeah and I remember service tea for them when they came, when she came. Yeah, yeah.
BW: So you were on the base, there, at Waddington, in the officer's mess, were you there pretty much all of the time, were all your duties conducted in...?
AT: In the officer's mess, yes. I did, sort of, I used to get the, the battle orders, if you'd like to call them that and I knew the crews, where they were going and they used to get a special meal when they were going on a flight cos it was often a nine hour flight and I used to, you know, make sure that they got their flight [meal], you know. They all passed through the desk and I checked that they were there and that they should get this meal, and what have you and, so that was that and of course, when they came back and...
BW: So, because the orders were going through your desk as an admin clerk, you would probably know where they were going before they did.
AT: Yeah, yeah.
BW: And was it you that put the orders up on the board each night?
AT: No, no. I was just responsible for the crews, the crews that, you know, who was going through. And this was another funny thing, they were so funny, the life they were living and you know, it was a case of eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we, we'd be...they were so, so, you know. And so respectful that it wasn't like it is today, it was, the changes in men's [sic] because they'd so much. I think probably in the early days of the war, when the WAAFs and sort of, army, you know they got the women in, I think probably in the early days they got a lot of the rough but at the time that I was going in, in '42, we got the greatest respect. And they, the crews, knew exactly who was who and what was what and...you understand what I am saying? And, yes, they made an effort. But what I was saying, they were so funny cos, I remember one time, [they were returning] and I was sat at my desk and I looked up at this officer and he smelt beautiful [laughs] and you know, for one moment, I thought, "Anything I can help you with?" and I said, "Have you been flying, Sir?" He says, "No, I've been for a walk in the park!" [laughter]. Yes, so, needless to say, he hadn't but he'd obviously managed to shower and smell beautiful [chuckles].
BW: So, where were you, yourself, billeted?
AT: I were in the Waafery [sic], a beautiful house, I don't know if it's still there, a beautiful old building on the left as you went into the 'drome. Do you know the Waafery? I might have a photograph somewhere.
BW: That was the name of it - The Waafery?
AT: Yes, yeah, yeah. And there was, we used lovely bedrooms and I think I may remember, I was on the ground floor and there was three of us in most bedrooms and, there was a night when someone got through the window on the ground floor - he was obviously looking for a WAAF but [laughs] it wasn't one of us three [laughs]. So, yeah, I lived in there.
BW: So, did you make good friends with the other WAAFs there?
AT: Yes, very good, yes. I've got pictures of them. Yes, really good friendships. And all the staff I worked with, really, because there was the cooking staff and y’know, and everything that went with...and I used to go to some beautiful functions, you know, the officers used to have at The Bulls Head and I mean, the food wasn't a problem, y’know, you got beautiful food and everything and we were just on duty, basically, to see if everything was all going alright.
BW: So it wasn't just your room mates you got on well with, you got on well with the other...
AT: I got on well with the crews and everyone, hmm. Yes, there were, I mean, the English, y’know, were very much the stiff upper lip type and a little bit more serious, 'Yes sir and no sir, three bags full, sir', sort of thing but the, er, Rhodesian and the, y’know, Australian they were so laid back, you know. I mean, we didn't, we couldn't have hair on our shoulders and we were not supposed to fraternise with the officers but, you know, they were so completely different to our officers. Nevertheless, our officers were still very nice.
BW: So, the officer's mess wasn't segregated between squadrons presumably, it was a large - was it a large mess for all of them?
AT: It was a large mess and of course, you had your sergeant's mess and your other ranks, yeah but you know, if I, on my first day arriving back on camp I was in the other rank but I spent my...
BW: So what would a typical day look like?
AT: In what respect?
BW: Well, what would you, would you sort of be up maybe six in the morning and into work for eight or what? And would you spend, say, half the day in the office and the other time at mealtimes on shift? How would it work for you?
AT: No, it wasn’t.. I don't remember it being too specific because you had flights at different times and you know, it varied.
BW: So you were just required to serve meals at particular...?
AT: Times, yeah. And operational meals were separate of course, at a different time of the day but I don't even remember what sort of a shift I worked, you know, the hours I worked or anything. But it was all very normal to me, you know, nothing outrageous.
BW: So it seemed fairly regular hours and then would you have evenings off, most evenings?
AT: Oh yes, yes. Yes, you'd nothing after a meal was served, really. And, of course, at that time I could have been somewhere else, i.e. they weren't all going on operations, yeah.
BW: You mentioned, erm, serving meals to crews who would be out on the night raids, on the missions into Germany and occupied territory, did you ever get to hear what their targets were, did you get a sense of where they were going or was it only when they came back?
AT: Only when they came back, really, yes, yes and you know, it wasn't, that was unpleasant, really because we knew them so well and you know so many went for a burton and, you know their life span wasn't very long, was it? For a, y’know, a newly qualified pilot who would probably be 19 or 20, you know, going on their first ops and lifespan were about a fortnight, wasn't it.
BW: So, when the crew lists were up and there was a raid on for that night, would you be serving them their meal around lunchtime or mid afternoon?
AT: Well the night raids it would be going on, you know, towards you know and have the time to check in, you know, that sort of thing.
BW: Yeah. I was just thinking, because they'd have to allow, you know, you sort of work back from when they would have to be over the target and they've got to go to briefing
AT: Yes and they got to go to briefing, yes, all that, yeah. But, I didn't particularly clock all that because I worked to a timetable.
BW: And when you got the time off on the evenings, what kind of things were you able to do, socially?
AT: There were always something, I mixed with people then and you know, we used to get to dances in the sergeant's mess and there was sport, I used to play tennis and we were always going down to the local pub and celebrating something, y’know, someone had done their first trip or finished a tour of ops or it was somebody's 21st birthday or, y’know, something. We'd a nice social life and we used to go to the villages nearer and we had bikes and we used to cycle to the other villages and go to the village dances and we did a lot of dancing, ha! [chuckling].
BW: Did you get into Lincoln, itself?
AT: Yes. Now, at the weekends, we were allowed to wear civilian clothes and y’know, when we went dancing and there's an officer there in a crew, who, we won [chuckles], we won a jitterbugging competition [unclear]. You know, it was lovely, there was a lovely spirit, lovely. We'd lots of things to do, really.
BW: So who would you socialise more with because you were working in the officer's mess, dances in the sergeant's mess, so would you mix more with officers or with NCOs or with other ranks?
AT: I think I probably mixed more with the officers but I still enjoyed the company of the sergeant's mess so, or the other ranks, if it comes to that. But, Brian Fallon, one of the officers, actually come [sic] and spent a leave at my home in West Yorkshire. You know, I had a lot of contact with them and I suppose I was more inclined to have...but nevertheless, I did, er. I've got a thing there, somewhere, where it was an invitation to the last dance of the 467 Squadron or something like that, you know.
BW: And was Waddington where you stayed throughout your WAAF service?
AT: No, when, oh... nine squadron went to Bardney and the Rhodesian squadron moved on and so the last few years I was with 467 and 463 and er. What was the question there?
BW: Did you stay at Waddington or did you move on elsewhere?
AT: Ah, yeah, I went to, when I left Waddington, cos it was at the end of the war, I went down to Silverstone in Northants and that was, you know, there wasn't a great deal to do. It was almost like a civilian thing because we were preparing to be demobbed. But there again, we had a nice carry on, I remember being introduced to greyhound racing [chuckles], when I was in Silverstone. Now then, what was the name of the place, it begins a 'B'... Anyway, I can't remember it. And we used to go to this, and there was a chappie who worked with the greyhounds and the first race you could guarantee a 'cert' and he used to mark our cards for us [laughter]. I always remember thinking, "Oh, if I had only had just put my wedge on it..." but I didn't, I just put my pittance cos it was so little.
BW: So what did you get paid?
AT: I can't remember, but I do remember, at one point, I got an increase and instead of saluting and saying "963" I said, "Thank you!" [laughs]. I was so delighted! Not very popular! [laughter]
BW: So Silverstone was quite different to being at Waddington. You must have been at Waddington, probably, 18 months - two years, easily?
AT: Two years yes. I spent very little time at Lindholme.
BW: Were there particular raids or events that you remember at Waddington? Because the squadrons took part in them during that time but I wonder if anything came out through the talk with the squadrons or [unclear]
AT: No, no. I remember the experience, various experiences, because I remember seeing the greatest bonfire of my life when I was at Waddington because I was watching them come back and I was stood next to a WAAF officer, she was watching as well and they German, the Messerschmidt followed them back and they strafed the 'drome and they didn't hit a Lancaster bomber but beyond, which offices, was the incendiary dump and they hit that and poosh! You can imagine, the place was lit up, it was amazing. That was an experience. Different things happened, you know.
BW: When people look at photos and some film footage they would see, as the bombers took off, people gathered at the halt point waving them off...
AT: Yes, I personally and others, used to go and walk on the perimeter track and we were living very dangerous cos of the 1000 lb bombs but we used to go and wave them off cos, you know, we knew the crews and where they were going. We used to go onto the perimeter track.
BW: And did you watch them come back?
AT: Well, no, no because that could have been early hours, you know, whatever. Basically, we went to see them off.
BW: And, it might sound a daft question but, were you attached to a particular aircraft, did you recognise particular aircraft or did you just generally go and wave everybody off?
AT: Yes, yes, we knew the crews and different things and, of course, as you'll be aware, Hitler said that no enemy plane would ever fly over the German territory but at Waddington, we reach a hundred trips and I've got some classified photographs of the bombers, y'know and 'S' for Sugar, obviously there'd been more than one crew that did the hundred trips but that particular 'S' for Sugar did the hundredth trip [sic].
BW: Did you ever - you were obviously good friends with the pilots and crew - did you ever get shown around a Lancaster, did you ever get inside one?
AT: Yes, I've been inside one, yes.
BW: Did they ever take you flying on one?
AT: I never took, actually, after the war, the WAAFs, we could go to do a parachute jump and what have you and, it got off the ground and then I think there was an incident and the WAAFs panicked and it stopped. Yes, so we'd that opportunity. But I've obviously been in and I've sat in every seat, I've even been in the bomb aimer's part [chuckles], y'know. So I knew the aircraft very well.
BW: And at the time you were there they were mainly flying Lancasters, did you, did they fly anything else, were there other aircraft that came onto the base that you could go and see?
AT: No. Of course the Spitfire pilots were escorts, you know, for the bombers. A lot of Canadians and Polish people flew the Spitfires but generally, it was strictly Lancasters. I mean, you mentioned the Stirling, you know, I didn't see anything of those. Of course, I was around when there was all the talk about the Dambusters and Barnes Wallis and the bouncing bomb and, I didn't, I actually, I didn't personally meet, I wasn't personally introduced but, Gibson came to the 'drome at one point. So I was around when all this was happening.
BW: So when you heard about the dams raid, what was the atmosphere like, how did you feel when you heard about it?
AT: The Dambusters? Oh it was amazing because there was an awful lot of work went into it, you know, a lot of tests and then for them to actually crack it and flood everything I felt it was amazing. I mean, it was a serious business, I always say it was an experience I wouldn't have liked to have missed but there was a lot of sadness and, you know er and I mean, like its happening in Ukraine now but I mean we flattened Stuttgart and Berlin and y' know, but its all, but that was on targets, wasn't it, it wasn't on civilians but nevertheless, they got involved in it, didn't they? So there were lots of civilians.
BW: Did you hear about these raids when crews came back? What was the atmosphere like in the mess, I mean you'd served some of these guys before they went out. What happened when, you know, the crews perhaps didn't come back?
AT: Well, obviously, there were the sadness, you know, because people had got to...and there's crews, you know and of course, a lot of the...I knew a friend, actually, who flew and, he erm, they got shot down and, for a while I didn't personally get to know whether...anything but I did keep in touch with Peter's parents, he lived in Watford and I remember the number, Bushy Heath, 1428 [laughs]. And it was Peter Kimber and I think, actually they'd a hairdressing business in London and I think, family must still be running that. But for my 21st birthday he bought me a Mason & Pearson hair brush [laughs], which was very expensive for me then. [laughter]. Yeah, erm, no, they'd obviously, they'd, you know, the crews were all gelled together, you know, and, but er... [siren]
BW: Sorry about that. So, yeah, you said the crews were all gelled together.
AT: Yes, yes, and there wasn't a morbid, nothing morbid about it. It was a job, it was a duty and y'know, they got on with it.
BW: Did you...I'm just trying to picture the scene in the mess when the crews come back for their first meal after a raid and obviously you, as catering staff or general staff, you're serving in the mess, you'd be laying the places...
AT: I wouldn't be there when they came in, I'd not necessarily be there but there was no, nothing morbid or...I mean, they weren't throwing a party but y'know, it was a job.
BW; And you'd only find out later, of course, whether...
AT: The crews that had gone missing hadn't got back. You checked in everybody who was coming back, y'know but of course, the others...[unclear].
BW: And you mentioned earlier that fraternising with the aircrew, whether officers or other ranks, wasn't allowed but obviously it went on. Did you or your friends, your friends in particular, end up in serious relationships?
AT: No, no. I had, mine were friendships, y'know, I had some great friendships but, no, I came home and married someone from the village [chuckles]. But, y'know, I enjoyed the time and I had some respect for people and, yeah. I mean Brian Fallon came home but, well, we just, y'know, it was a friendship and we just, I was giving him the opportunity to come and have a civilian life, if you like, at my home.
00:32:38
BW: How did your parents feel about you being in the WAAF and on an operational base?
AT: My Mum was very worried initially but obviously, no objections to the decisions I made. But, obviously, I'd never been away from home, y'know and it was a big thing to do really, wasn't it?
BE: And did you, yourself, get leave, periodically?
AT: Oh yes, yes, it was about every six or eight weeks, leave, yeah, yeah. And yes, y'know, my parents always liked to see me. But my brother, Fred, my youngest brother, the one in Northern Ireland with the Green Howards, he used to write to me and of course he knew everything and the people I were meeting, and what have you and he wrote a letter to my mother and he says, "Mum," he says, "Audrey's life must be mangled something rotten." cos I was always telling him of someone, y'know, a friend, who had gone for a burton, y'know.
BW: And you were talking about Scampton, before we began recording, it had a reputation as a jinx base?
AT: Yes, we used to feel that, the jinx, because, yes, there was always some incident on take-off or something, y'know, we at Waddington always regarded it as a jinx. It was just, just happening there. And of course it was Lancaster bombers then.
BW: And were then any other bases that had a similar reputation or others that had a particularly strong reputation?
AT: No, Scampton was the only name that I remember ever being connected with anything like that, y'know, just felt that there was something...y'know? I never watched anything that weren't always airborne, y'know, they got off and they were away.
BW: And have you ever seen the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight since, have you seen the Lancaster fly, since?
AT: No.
BW: I was just curious if you'd seen it and whether it provoked any particular memories when you saw it fly. But if you've not seen it...
AT: I've only ever seen in parades like, in anything to do with London and armistice and what have you. In fact I, while I've been here, I've got back into art and doing things and for Remembrance Day I did a wall in the dining room and I had the Lancaster bomber and I had poppies coming out of the rear, just for...
BW: And that was just for the painting...
AT: Just for the painting, yes, yeah, yeah. Just for, y'know, for remembering. And we did a lovely wall this time, didn't we, for the armistice.
BW: So, you moved down to Silverstone in Northants, after Waddington and I'm assuming this would be around early '45, cos you said you were demobbed from there.
AT: Yes, it was about August-ish [sic] time, somewhere round about then.
BW: They started flying POWs back from Germany and Continental Europe, did you get to meet any POWs, did you see the Lancasters bringing them back at all?
AT: No, no, I was aware of, y'know, we had prisoners of war, they were actually on the camp, doing jobs, y'know, we had Germans, Italians, erm. I remember those two nationalities specifically, the prisoners were working on the camp.
BW: That's really interesting because I've not heard of that before. I've heard of, obviously, enemy POWs being held in the UK but not that they were working on RAF bases.
AT: Yeah, yeah, well I'm sure I'm right. Yeah.
BW: And what kind of things would they be doing?
AT: Nothing terribly important, they couldn't get themselves into trouble.
BW: Presumably they were just labouring.
AT: General labouring, I'd put it down like that. But I learned a few words of [chuckles] "Bellagambi" [belle gambe] was going round quite a lot.
Ann: Nice legs! [laughter].
AT: Nice legs! [laughter].
BW: That was from the Italian POWs.
AT: The Italians, yes, yeah [chuckles], yeah, yes. No, they were definitely on the camp because I can't imagine where else I'd have met any of them...[chuckling]. Are you learning something, Ann?
Ann: Oh yes, absolutely.
BW: So were you, I'm assuming you must have been at Silverstone when the war ended, when the news came through, what was the atmosphere like at that point?
AT: Well, of course, VE Day, I would be, that was first, wasn't it? And then of course we had Japanese bombing Pearl Harbor, didn't we, and that brought it global and America came into it, didn't it? So that was the latest one to go...wasn't it the latest..?
BW: Well, I was thinking about the end of the war and you mentioned VE Day and then there'd be VJ Day in the August, as you were saying.
AT: Yes.
BW: What was the atmosphere like on the base when the news of the war's end came?
AT: Do you know, I don't remember.
BW: I just wondered if you might have had parties or celebrations or anything...
AT: No... no.
BW: Maybe you had extra leave?
AT: No...no...no.
Ann: Do you need your glasses on, Mum, if you're looking at photos? Your reading glasses?
AT: No, that was Matt O'Leary, an Aussie.
BW: So, we were just looking at that photo of the rear gunner but it's inscribed 'All My Love, Ken' but it's not someone who rings a bell with you?
AT: No, ha! I must have been drunk! [laughter]. I don't think so.
Ann: You have had lucid moments, Mum, about him! [laughter]
AT: I do recognise the face but do y'know, that's someone, he escapes me. I know this gentleman here, this is Terry King.
BW: Terry King?
AT: Terry King, yeah. He's the one where he's lent me his jacket when it was cold. I think he was a navigator [laughs].
BW: You wouldn't happen to know which squadron?
AT: It would be 467 or 463.
BW: OK, but he was definitely an Aussie?
AT: Definitely an Aussie.
Ann: And definitely Terry King? It's just remarkable, isn't it, remembering that, Mum. There was Matt O'Leary as well.
AT: Matt, Matt O'Leary. He's there and I think the big photograph...
BW: Which would be this one of seven aircrew in front of a Lancaster.
AT: [Pauses]. Look at the other two, can we?
Ann: Which one could have tempted you to live in Australia, Mum?, Was it Matt O'Leary, you did mention you could have been living in Australia.
AT: Mmm. I thought I had one of Matt with a crew.
BW: Erm.
Ann: I think you were looking at that one, Mum, excuse me, just let me [unclear] him at bottom right, yeah.
BW: So that's the four guys on the bottom right.
AT: That's him there, look and he's an Aussie. It was one weekend and we were dancing in Lincoln and we won a jitterbutty [sic], it wasn't the one where they threw you over the hedge, y'know, it was clever footwork [laughs].
BW: So was it a village dance?
AT: No, it was in the city centre.
BW: OK. And was it, were there a lot of RAF aircrew taking part?
AT: No, it was civilian and a mixture, yeah, yeah. But we cracked it!
BW: And you came top?
AT: We won it, yes, yeah.
BW: So, just as a general question, how easy was it to learn to dance in those days, because it seems everybody did it as a social activity but where did you learn?
AT: I danced with my three bothers from being that high because there was ten years between myself and the eldest and, you know, we used to go to the village dances and I could always go to village dances cos the others would always bring me home safely. So I've danced all my life, really. I love dancing.
BW: And it just happened that you paired up this particular...
AT: Yes, we were friends, y'know and we'd gone into Lincoln to the dance and, that was it.
BW: It was a spur of the moment thing, presumably.
AT: Not a spur of the moment, we'd intended going into Lincoln, which a lot of us did do.
BW: So this photo shows a Lancaster crew, seven guys in front of a Lancaster.
AT: And do you know, I don't know any names on there, I can't...
BW: No, there's none on the back, it just says.
AT: No, these were classified, I got, y'know, the pictures...
BW: But it says 'The crew of S for Sugar'.
AT: S for Sugar, yeah.
BW: So that, presumably, is the crew with 100 missions...
AT: A thousand... with... the missions, the last crew to crew it, presumably. Y'know, to get the hundred trips. There's one of the photographs, it shows quite clearly, doesn't it, that 'no enemy plane will ever...'
BW: Which is this one, there's a crowd in front of the aircraft.
AT: Yeah, yeah, that's, y'know, obviously, other ranks and whoever else was there.
BW: Do you remember that occasion?
AT: No, no, I wasn't among that but that was the... of course...I got the photographs.
BW: This particular one's a Lancaster being, what they called, 'being bombed up' also is S for Sugar.
AT: Yes, yeah.
BW: Did you ever get to see the crews bombing aircraft up?
AT: No, No.
BW; There are a couple of photos here, with friends, which one is you and who are the others?
AT: That's me, in the middle.
BW; OK. And who...?
AT: Do y'know, their name escapes me, I can't remember.
BW: And this one also shows you but this time you are on the right and there are a couple of names on the back. Do you recall those?
AT: I don't really, no, I don't.
BW: No problem.
AT: It was a long time ago and but, you know, we were friends.
BW: Do you know where they were taken? Were they taken during training or it looks like they might have been taken...
AT: Er, it was at Waddington, it was Waddington, it looks like first post thing.
BW: OK, did you keep in touch with your friends after the war at all?
AT: No, no. No, I y'know, got on with life again [laughs].
BW: And we were talking about the Australian crews earlier and obviously Matt was a good friend who you won the competition with, do you know if he survived the war?
AT: I don't know, no.
BW: OK.
AT: Obviously it'd be sometime in that period, y'know, the period, he was there most of the time I was there. But I don't know...Peter, Kimber, when I rang his Mum, she said, y'know, I sort of asked had she'd heard anything and she said, "I've heard this morning, he's been made a prisoner of war." So, obviously he survived and he would get home. That was another, y'know, just friendship.
BW: But you didn't hear anymore from Peter? You didn't hear where he was or what had happened to him?
AT: No. Nothing at all.
BW: How did you feel when you got the news, were you relieved?
AT: I was so pleased that, at least, he was safe cos he could have been blasted into eternity, couldn't he? Yes, I was very pleased and pleased for his Mum.
BW: were the rest of his crew captured?
AT: The concern was Peter, y'know, I was enquiring about him and she told me she was absolutely delighted, yes.
BW: And you were never tempted to move to Australia, having got to know some of these Australians. Did they ever try and tempt you with them?
AT: No, actually, there was one thing: a lot of them they [were] staunch Roman Catholics. Y'know, I thought it was one thing, leaving your country but also, being Church of England and being brought up in that way. But it didn't really, there was no one who meant that much to me, to do that, cos you've got to love and care to take that step, haven't you? And when I met my husband, that was it and I'd just 15 years of super marriage and y'know, short-lived but I didn't work during that period and, we weren't like ships that passed in the night. So, we'd a good life Ann, hadn't we?
Ann: Yes.
AT: And we just had the one daughter.
BW: You said earlier that you'd left the WAAF in August, around August '45.
AT: Yes.
BW: What happened next? You'd worked and had experience in administration, you'd worked at admin in the WAAF, what happened after you left?
AT: I came back...I think I went back to the Co-op, I had a decent position there. Er, do you know, I don't think I did anything then. And then I met Norman and y'know and the next thing was marriage.
BW: When was that, when did you meet?
AT: Er, well, he lived in the same village and I'd been friends with his sister, y'know, she'd been a good friend for many years. But, suddenly that was it. So, you know, obviously, that was after the war and... What year did I get married, Ann, was it '53?
Ann: 53.
AT: 53. And you were born in 56, weren't you? Yeah. But I never worked once I got married, I never worked. And then, of course, my husband died young, at the age of 39. You've spoken about this, have you, Ann?
Ann: Only briefly.
AT?: Yes, yes. It was tragic really, a minor operation and he got an infection in the hospital and the drug they had used damaged a kidney. And I travelled to Leeds with him from Wakefield, left Ann in the care of the nurses at the hospital and he died between Leeds and Wakefield, er Wakefield and Leeds. And I had to wait ten days for a post mortem, because the coroner wasn't happy but at that time the medical profession were very much round each other and it was brought in 'misadventure'. So that was it. So, about six months after that I hadn't the confidence to pick up a telephone. I was devastated, wasn't I, in a mess and you witnessed it, didn't you, unfortunately. When Norman died, Ann had just turned 12 months at grammar school, obviously very clever and y'know, Norman and I had plans and we saw great things in the future and so, in my mind, I just wanted to bring my daughter up, see her through university and I never had to decide [unclear] beyond her age of 18, when she could manage her money. It was a very sad time.
0:12:09
BW: And you just had that short time between, finishing with the WAAF and working in the Co-op where you went back to and then married life.
AT: Yes, yes, and, so when Norman died I had to get my act together and y'know, go out to work. So the first job I took, I got, was with the county council and it's statistics, erm...sorry, and I worked with the county, the fact that I needed to work and keep a roof over our heads, y'know and money, I wasn't averse to any change or anything I was asked to do, so consequently, over the time, I built up a, y'know, a lot of information about various things and then, I got involved with the director, who used to be appointed as a Guardian ad Litem in care related proceedings at the court either relating to children in care y'know, where there was a conflict of interests and er, and er, children who had probably been placed for adoption, and the putative father, y'know, was objecting. So I worked with the director getting reports to the director, it came to me, did all the documentation and I made sure that the social workers got out and saw every respondent that had the right to be seen and heard, regarding those proceedings. So I'd got that experience with the Guardian ad Litem and then, years later, the social service - they amalgamated the children's department and the county and [they] became Social Services and later, in '75, it's a long way ago, in't it? [The 19]75 Act the local authority said that the, all the...the government said that the Local Authorities had to become adoption agencies. So I had all this knowledge about, already, about adoption so I got all the White Papers from HMSO regarding the adoptions and proceedings and what the government expected and I studied it all and I got an interview for the post on the board of directors and I got the job. And one of the directors said, "I wish I knew as much as Audrey about the Children Act," [laughs]. And that's the sort of thing, I was saying, my brothers and I, that's what we've done, we've progressed but it's been our effort, you know. So that was it and I thoroughly enjoyed it cos it was so interesting, y'know we approved prospective adopters and we accepted children for adoption and lots of babies and some of the mums could only tell, all they knew about the father was, they could only tell you the colour. You know, they'd known these were one night stands and things - all very interesting. And of course we arranged placements and y'know, all the time we never had a problem and we got some really good placements. And then after, it came into force at 18 they could have knowledge of the prospective adopters so I did Section 26 counselling, which meant interviewing the mum because we didn't let anyone turn up on anybody's doorstep saying, "You're my Mum."or anything like that. We made sure that they, the natural mother, was happy with the decision that we were making and all that. I worked with professional people, y'know, solicitors, police and everybody, but thoroughly enjoyed it. And got a nice side of it, going to the pediatricians with babies [chuckles] and I did that till I retired and I could have stayed longer but my grandson was, [to Ann] you were pregnant, and I thought, " Oh, Norman's missed so much and I'm not going to miss these babies so I retired at 64. I had the ability to carry on but I didn't.
BW: And, just to, I suppose, come back to the RAF and Bomber Command, you've been to the IBCC at Lincoln, how do you feel, seeing that?
Ann: That was me.
BW: Oh, I beg your pardon.
AT: What was that?
Ann: You know I went down to the International Bomber Command Centre?
AT: Yes, you went, didn't you, yes. I've not been but I'd love to but I don't think I could make it down there.
Ann: No, they've offered to entertain [you] but no.
AT: Yeah but I've read the book. [to Ann] You got the book, didn't you. And I refresh my memory with it. Yes, yeah, it's very, very impressive, very impressive and it's amazing what they've done with the grounds. I was looking for the Waafery, [laughs] but I guess they've demolished it but it was a beautiful building. There was another nice thing in the village, I don't know the name of it, it was a nice pub, where we went, but there was a man in but it was only like a shed but he used to make jam and lemon curd tarts and we used to go and buy [laughs] them from this man in the village. Lovely time really.
BW: So, knowing about the memorial, how do you feel about there being a memorial to the crews of Bomber Command?
AT: I think it's wonderful, I don't think they should ever be forgotten. No. I think it's wonderful, I love the way they've got the walls with all the names, and the gardens, I think it's beautiful. And I think they deserve remembering, y'know, they've given their lives, and young lives.
BW: Cos, the guys were largely only around the same age as you were at the time, weren't they? The chaps in the RAF, the aircrew, they were only around your age.
AT: They were, yes, yes, very young, yes. That was the sad thing, it was so much in life going, y'know.
BW: Whereas you say, I think you summed it up well, you wouldn't have wanted to have missed the experience...
AT: Oh no, no, not for a moment. And I've often thought about it, haven't I?
Ann: Yeah.
AT: Yeah, I did not [unclear] it's an opportunity I wouldn't have missed. It was really good.
Ann: I think it's affected Mum's outlook on so many things because I think, for my Mum's age group and generation, you've got a very rounded, cosmopolitan attitude towards people of all nationalities and I think that's quite impressive.
AT: Hmm.
BW: And through all the things we've talked about this afternoon, are there any other aspects or recollections that you want to add from your time in the WAAF?
AT: No, I don't think so, I think I've covered it. You know I enjoyed the life, enjoyed the company of the people and the various things. Do you know, I'm 99 [unclear] but not very long ago I was, he was speaking to me on the phone and he said, "Mum, do you ever regret any of the decisions you've made in your life?" and I said "No, and I'd make them all again, all the same." Because, since my husband died I had this tunnel vision and it was family and I wanted to see Ann where, y'know [unclear] but then, you see, grandchildren came and then that was another life line and I've just, I had so much happiness with Ann and the children so I've not really wanted anything else. And strangely enough, when I came to this home and it was my decision but we chatted it over, didn't we, because Ann gave me 24/7 care when I came out of hospital, which was a near death experience and she gave that care and I could see what was happening and I, I mean, I had a good life, born into the right family, met the man I loved, enjoyed 15 good years and y'know, I wanted Ann to enjoy her children so I made the decision to come in here. But when, about the same time I met a man, he was upright and mobile but he'd had an accident, his wife had died and he'd scalded himself and he'd come in for respite care, initially and he was a professor of politics but he was such an interesting man I had a friendship with him while he was here, which was about five or six months, wasn't it Ann?
Ann: Yep.
AT: And it was a nice, good friendly relationship but he died just before Christmas but that was nice, y'see. But that's life, isn't it?
BW: Well, I've no other questions and you've answered everything very thoroughly and clearly so, thank you very much for your time.
AT: Yeah, thank you! Cos you been very tolerant and we haven't interrupted you very much, have we?
BW: Not at all.
[Audrey laughs]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Audrey Teasdale
Creator
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Brian Wright
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2022-12-20
Language
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eng
Format
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01:12:25 Audio Recording
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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ATeasdaleA221220, PTeasdaleA22020002, PTeasdaleA22020003, PTeasdaleA22020004, PTeasdaleA22020005
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-12-15
1945-08
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Yorkshire
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Type
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Sound
Description
An account of the resource
Audrey left school at 14 and began work as a clerical assistant for a tailoring firm in Leeds, then moving into furniture sales.
Audrey was 23 when the war started and was conscripted on 15 December 1942 electing to join the Women's Auxiliary Air Force. After her kitting out at RAF Innesworth she did some basic training at RAF Morecambe, then posted to RAF Lindholme and eventually to RAF Waddington where she worked as an administrator in the officer's mess. At that time there were four squadrons on the station: 9, 44, 463 and 467 Squadrons.
Audrey's duties in the officer's mess included checking the crews against the battle orders to ensure only crews flying that night got the special pre-flight meal and waiting on tables for VIP dinners, including Wing Commander Nettleton VC. She describes her friendships with the other staff and especially with bomber crews, mostly nice and respectful. Audrey and others would gather on the perimeter track to see them off. She and many others were billeted in a beautiful old building, known as "The Waafery”. Audrey describes her busy social life, dancing at many venues and winning jitterbug competitions. Remembers being called ‘belle gambe’ [beautiful legs] by Italian prisoners of war.
Audrey also describes the events of one night when an enemy fighter followed the aircraft home and strafed the airfield, hitting the incendiary dump, which exploded.
After the war, Audrey eventually worked for the local authority’s adoption service after the tragic death of her husband at a young age.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sally Coulter
Andy Fitter
44 Squadron
463 Squadron
467 Squadron
9 Squadron
animal
bombing
Eder Möhne and Sorpe operation (16–17 May 1943)
entertainment
Gibson, Guy Penrose (1918-1944)
ground personnel
Lancaster
mess
military living conditions
military service conditions
prisoner of war
RAF Lindholme
RAF Morecambe
RAF Silverstone
RAF Waddington
sport
Stirling
strafing
training
Wallis, Barnes Neville (1887-1979)
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/897/11137/AInstoneTS160407.2.mp3
7c8b1df35b6fe1825732490236a0b301
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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Instone, Thomas
Thomas Stanley Instone
T S Instone
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Flight Sergeant Stan Instone (b. 1925, Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a flight engineer with 419 Squadron and became a prisoner of war.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-07
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Instone, TS
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
CB: Right. My name is Chris Brockbank and we are currently in Slough talking with Stan Instone about his experiences with 419 Squadron RAF, RCAF in the war and also his POW experiences. But Stan could we start off please with your earliest recollections of life. The family. Where you went to school and that sort of thing.
TI: Oh yes. Well, I was born on the 1st of January 1925 in a small urban district outside of Nottingham, about three miles outside which was actually a mining community or part of a mining community. And my father was a miner at that time and so I saw very little of my father one way or another. But anyway I had a very happy childhood because we lived next door to my grandmother who I adored and it was a very close community. At the age of nine my father decided to leave the mine and go in to insurance and he got a job in Great Yarmouth actually. So as a nine year old I went to Great Yarmouth which I thought was fantastic. By the sea and all the rest of it. And we were there until more or less the outbreak of war where he got a promotion in his job in insurance and moved to Greenford which is not too far away from here. And oh, while I was at great Yarmouth I was at Great Yarmouth Grammar School. And no great academic. Nothing, nothing startling but, you know I enjoyed it etcetera. But moving down to Greenford it was rather more difficult. I went to Southall County School which was a sort of a grammar school which was a mixed school and I’d only ever been at an all boy’s school and the sight of girls was a bit too much [laughs] I think. But anyway I didn’t stay very long and the bombing started. And my, having a younger sister three years younger than myself and my parents decided that I and my sister should go to my grandparents in Carlton outside Nottingham because it would be in a safer area than the London area you see. Anyway, I was there for a while and then he got another promotion. But this time to Blackburn in Lancashire. So, up I went but by this time I was fifteen years old and I thought school was no longer appropriate as far as I was concerned. And so I got a job with a factory outside Blackburn and it was making Bristol aeroplane Hercules engines. You know the 14 cylinder sleeve valve engine, you see and so right from the start I had a sort of RAF associated background as it were. And we were going through, it wasn’t an apprentice but it was like a trainee going from section to section on lathe milling etcetera etcetera. So I got myself a fair engineering background and also being well aware of how the engine was put, you know the parts you made and how it was put together you see. And at seventeen and a half I volunteered for the RAF and went to, I was in, oh and see I’d joined the ATC in Blackburn. And it was very good because we were, went to various places. Kirkham for air gunnery. They had a turret there we were allowed to fire. At Squires Gate where we actually took off in Ansons and things like that. So, and then I also did a summer course at Silloth near Carlisle where we were flying Ansons you know. They were flying Hudsons but we were not allowed anywhere near the Hudsons. We were allowed to play with the Ansons you see and so that was that. So I had a fair background in the ATC and I had probably about twenty hours I suppose in the, in the air you know. Anyway, I applied for this — pilot of course. I wanted to be a pilot. Everybody wanted to be a pilot of course. And I was rejected almost immediately. And I did a, the next operation was a wireless op air gunner but I seemed to fail my Morse aptitude test. And the only thing on offer was a straight AG. And I thought no. I daren’t go home and tell me mum I was a straight AG because at that time the life expectancy of a rear gunner on ops was about twenty minutes. So that was it. So, anyway I thought well later. So I decided well if I couldn’t fly at least at eighteen I would join as ground crew. I thought I’d be a flight mech you see. So I joined up in Edinburgh and I got my 3021416 and I was posted to Arbroath. That was the square bashing place you see. I’d only been in two weeks, two or three weeks, and the call went through for remuster to flight, they were looking for flight engineers then. But on my first interview flight engineers weren’t mentioned although they were in being of course. But you probably know the original, the early flight engineers were recruited from the ground crew. Corporal fitters to, you know air frame and engines and given a short course and that was it. But then they decided on a direct entry flight engineer. So, anyway within two or three weeks I re-mustered. I volunteered for a flight engineer. And I was then sent to a selection board in Edinburgh and had a whale of time there. I answered all the right questions. I don’t know if you ever did the — they had an SME. They called it a SME 3. It was like a television screen with a rudder bar and control column. And there was a random dot on the screen itself and by, you know operating the control column you went to try and get your dot in line with that. Seemingly I did very well. Anyway, up to the, you know the preliminaries I saw these senior blokes sitting in there looking very important and being an AC2 at that time smart salutes etcetera. And, and they asked me various questions and they said, ‘Well, I think we could recommend you for pilot training.’ I was a bit surprised. He said, ‘But. There’s a but,’ he said, ‘Because there’s so many in, in the queue as it were it was nine to twelve months before you were likely to start the course.’ Because as you probably know any PNBs, that’s pilot, navigator, bomb aimers were being trained in the Empire Air Scheme in Canada. Some in America obviously and, as was then Rhodesia. So, well I’d sort of set my heart on the flight engineer. I said, well I would go for an engineer, a flight engineer. And he was a bit nonplussed. He said, because he like me didn’t know much about what a flight engineer did you see but I remember him saying, ‘You’ll be in charge of three, four very powerful engines,’ you see. So I said, ‘Well, fine sir. Thank you very much sir.’ You know. Anyway, I wrote, went back to my, finished off my basic training and almost immediately I was down to ACRC. That’s the Aircrew Reception at St Johns Wood you know. Lords. Three weeks there. As a serving airman of course. We were in a flight of serving airmen. I mean I’d got oh about three months at that stage mind, you know. Really serious. Anyway, I then was posted to Whitley Bay for ITW. Six weeks there and then St Athan on a six month, well about six or eight months at St Athan and I finished. I finished in June. Early June ’44 at St Athan. Just before, well just around about D-Day it was actually. I had a week’s leave and I found myself at 1664 Conversion Unit. No, there was no preliminaries in between. Finished at the course, the [unclear], and then on to the, and there as you may know the flight engineer’s course is all ground work. No flying whatsoever. In fact at the, the engineering school at St Athan there wasn’t a whole aeroplane. There were bits of one but no, all we had were circuit boards and engine stands and stuff like that, you know. So we had to learn about hydraulics, pneumatics, electrics, you know, instruments. You know. Anything to do with connecting with an aeroplane because although there were heavy bombers — the Stirling, the Halifax and the Lancaster they were all very similar. You know the systems did differ. There were differences as you know but there’s handling differences but basically they’ve all got the same sort of components you see. Anyway, I passed out well and was awarded my sergeant’s stripes and brevet in June ’44. Then as I say a week later I was at 1664 Conversion Unit. Now this was the point that I’d had virtually no flying. I think I’d done three hours in an Oxford over the Bristol Channel I think while I was at St Athan. And that was my total flying experience in the RAF. But I’d come with about twenty hours ATC. I was more experienced than most actually and having got to Dishforth and see these great big black Halifax 2s and 5s. God, have I got to sort of fly those? You know. And so it was a question of you flew as second engineer with whoever would take you. Now, all that meant was that the engineer who knew a bit more than I did would show you the various knobs or levers to pull etcetera. Whatever it was. Anyway, I think we flew like that for a couple of weeks or so. And then one day the tannoy went. Tannoy went and it said, ‘Will all engineers not yet crewed up report to the engineering section at 1400 hours.’ Which I duly went there and we were wondering, there was I don’t know how many engineers there. Probably a dozen or more and, probably fifteen or so, I don’t know. Anyway, there was, I had a friend who I’d been at St Athan with so we were very, very close. You know. Alright. And anyway with that eight Canadian pilots came into the room looking for engineers. And so there was two flying officers and six sergeants. So I thought to myself, ‘Well he’s a flying officer. He must know more than I do,’ so I went up to this guy and all I said, ‘I’ll be your engineer if you like.’ He said, ‘Ok by me.’ We shook hands and that was the selection you see. And my mate went to the other flying officer and did likewise. So, we were taken. We were crewed up then. So we, now my crew had just come up from OTU at Honeybourne. They were flying Whitleys. And we hadn’t, the bomb aimer had dropped out and so we were without a bomb aimer at that particular time. But we did our normal sort of circuits and bumps and local flying and day cross countries and so on and so forth. And then it came to night flying and so we did that. We were scheduled for night circuits and bumps. Well, we had a screened pilot at first you see. So we took off. These were Halifax 2s by the way and I had type trained on Halifax 3s. That was with the radial engines. Nothing to do with Lancasters at that stage. And we took off. Did a few circuits and bumps and the screened pilot said, ‘Ok. Do a couple more on your own and call it a night.’ Well, we took off alright. No problem. But coming on the circuit to land, in the engineers compartment in the Halifax was behind the pilot and it was Rolls Royce engines and of course they had cooling flaps. And I noticed one of the engines was running a bit on the hot side. And the controls for the radiator flaps were like four fingers and up for closed, down for open or whatever it was. Anyway, I thought well I’ll open, you know open the flaps up you see. And then I went to open the flaps. No resistance at all. No hydraulics. So I said to the skipper, I said, ‘There’s no hydraulics on there. We’d better try the undercarriage.’ We tried the undercarriage and expected the, you know the thump and the green lights. And nothing happened. So we were circling around and the skipper tried a bit. Climbing and diving and things like that. Shook it around a bit in the hope that it would happen. And anyway I mean I was starting to panic a bit at that stage you see and — because it appeared that one, one had partially come down and the other was still stuck up in the nacelle. So we, there was an emergency system whereby you opened a cock as it were to allow air into the system and theoretically gravity would take over and the weight of the undercarriage. But there was no spanner missing for the cock [laughs] Anyway, this wasn’t going to happen at all so anyway somebody suggested, well there’s the header tank in the rear of the fuselage. A cylindrical one about this high. And if it contained the fuel there’s a hand pump on the side and a bit of luck you could pump like mad and — but shining the torch in it [laughs] it was like Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. It was bare. Nothing there. Oh God. Now, I don’t know who it was suggested it but somebody said, ‘Well, there’s the elsan there.’ So, we all had a good pee in the elsan [laughs] those that could and we tipped the contents of the elsan into the header tank and believe me the smell was [laughs] terrible. I can smell it today. Anyway, pumped like mad and suddenly clunk and green lights came on. And we landed. Just like that. So, that was my first experience of, of night flying. And that seemed to set the tone for the Blaney crew as we were then called. The Blaney crew. Because everywhere we seemed to went we seemed to run into a certain amount of bother. And that was it. So that was my first experience. And then of course we went on to night cross countries. And ultimately then we were posted to 419 Squadron in September 1944. OH, by the way in the meantime at Dishforth we did a couple of leaflet raids on France while the Normandy operation was, was in being as it were. In the old Halifaxes. And, but, so now seven of those crews that came through at that particular time were posted at the same time to Middleton. The 8th one was still, they hadn’t done quite so well on their, on the OTU so they were behind. But they were subsequently lost. They’d done a leaflet raid and didn’t make it back. So that was the first of the eight crews gone. And at the, at the end of the, well by the time I was shot down the other crew with the flying officer had actually gone to 44 Squadron on Pathfinders. They survived the war. And of the other six one rear gunner survived. So, that was the subverse of the, out of the original fifty seven five of our crew survived. The whole of that George Bates crew survived and one other. I met him in Germany by the way. And so the thirteen out of the original fifty six people you see. And that was the, that was fairly sort of average squadron loss I would have thought at that particular time. So anyway that was the training done and then in October they decided we were good enough to operations. And my first one was a night operation to Essen. We got buzzed by a fighter plane again. But we got, we got back but our squadron commander was killed on that particular one. McGuffin was killed on that raid. And then we did a, the next day we did a daylight on Essen. And this one again there was a great, a great big Lancaster flying above us with its bomb doors open and a four thousand pounder, I’m not joking, it dropped between our port, our port wing and our port tailplane. Just like that. If we’d had a big stick we could have touched it, you know. Really. Anyway, that was, that was that. Then we did a daylight on Essen. On Cologne. Saw the cathedral. But it was fairly quiet that one. And a night Cologne. Anyway, in the space of seven days we did nine trips err nine days we did seven trips. And then we come to Bochum. And that was a nasty one this was. And we’d previously gone from [pause] flying south from Middleton because Middleton was the most northerly of the bomber stations you see. So we’d fly south, congregating around about Reading, around this area. Head over Beachy Head into France. And then nearly all our targets were Ruhr targets anyway so heading north you see. But this particular one was on Bochum which again is a Ruhr target of course. We’d flown over the North Sea, over the Hague and we got flak all the way. All the way from the coast right up to the target. Then suddenly there was no flak. Oh God. You know what that means don’t you? Fighters. And there was. We had five fighter attacks. One after the other. And the rear gunner actually hit a 109, a 110 rather. Twin engine one. And he was, he was credited with that as a kill. The mid-upper had seen you know had hit a ME109 but hadn’t — you know. It was only a possible. Nothing else. But then there was some guy got on the back of us and he really — well that’s it. He knocked out the rear turret. Badly wounded the rear gunner. And we went in to, I don’t know whether it was deliberate or accidental but the pilot put us into a steep dive and we were, you know virtually like that. And we were doing over three hundred miles an hour in a Lancaster which is a bit on the fast side actually. But we managed to pull out about two thousand feet and set course for, for Woodbridge near Ipswich. And so my job then was to find out what had happened to the rear gunner. So I went back and he was still conscious actually but he was [pause] he’d lost an eye and he had wounds, a badly wounded arm and chest but he had more important I didn’t realise at the time because his helmet was blood soaked and he had I think at the end the count was thirty shell splinters in his head actually. Anyway, I got him back to the rest bay and sort of did what I could for him but by that time we were getting closer to Woodbridge so I had to go back and sort of make sure the, because the fuel situation. I mean, after all that’s what the engineer’s main job was fuel management you see. And anyway we got back as far as Woodbridge but the skipper you know on the approach we’d been, we radioed in we had injured on board etcetera and we couldn’t get the tail down. It was sort of, you know sort of down like that and we had to more or less stall it in to get it, you know, to get down. Anyway, the ambulance came and took the rear gunner away to [pause] Ely I think it was. Ely Hospital. And when we went to inspect we found that the starboard fin and rudder was virtually gone and the starboard elevator just, just curled under like that. So how my, how that pilot had managed to pull out of that dive you know with virtually no elevator control at all. Anyway, that was it. So that was a really bad night and that was the, our ninth trip. We had a weeks’ leave and back again. And then it became the winter time had started. We were only flying about two. Two a month then. We did, just went on and on like that, we did a trip to Dortmund, Duisburg. You know. You name it we’d been there. You know, from, on the Ruhr Valley. And the Ruhr Valley was a pretty horrible place. Was, you know because there were so many flak guns etcetera. And if the guns weren’t there the fighters were. And ,and then it sort of went on until the 20th of February 1945. The night we took off on to Dortmund. We’d been there before and [pause] but we didn’t make it. About twenty miles short of the target we were, now the book says we were hit by flak but we were not. We were hit by an upward firing fighter. He hit us in the starboard wing and the bomb bay. Mind you we still had the bomb load on board. We had a four thousand pounder and twelve cans of incendiaries. And there would be about two hundred gallons I suppose in the mid tank still. And I’d my and I’d drained the wing tank. I don’t know if you realise it there’s three tanks in each wing on a Lancaster. The main one’s in board of, in the fuselage in the inboard engines and mid tank between the two engines and then the wing tip tank. And we had, originally we’d had about sixteen hundred gallons which was a normal load for the Ruhr. And anyway the mid tank was on fire. Burning furiously behind me because I [pause] I’d hoped we could put the fire out. Had it been in the engine bay the extinguishers might have worked but the tank we had on fire with that amount of petrol it was hopeless. And then the small fire had started in the bomb bay. Anyway, the skipper gave the order to bale out. And, and the, at that stage the bomb aimer was already in the compartment. He’d opened the hatch but instead of throwing it on to the bomb sight which he was supposed to have done he’d dropped it through the hole. And what happened? It jammed solid in the opening. At that stage the navigator pushed past me because that was [pause] and he was jumping on the, on the thing to try and free it. And at that stage the rear gunner called up saying he couldn’t get out of his turret because the doors, the doors had iced up. Now on some of these some were hinged and some were sliding and the idea was he used to push it like that. But he couldn’t open it because you know even a car door in the icy weather you can’t open it sometimes. Well, that had happened. Now fortunately, anyway I went back, I said I’d see if I could do anything. I went back. By the time I got there the navigator, the wireless op and the mid-upper had gone and the entrance door were swinging open. Things like that. Anyway, I went back to the turret but he’d already turned it around and fortunately for him I think he’d turned it with the flames because I think, we think what happened was the flames from the, the the fire in the wing tip had actually thawed the ice on the doors and he was able to open it. So he managed to open his doors and he went out backwards. Now, on our squadron the rear gunners had pilot type ‘chutes. On some they had an observer type which they kept inside the fuselage. On ours he had the pilot type ‘chute. Well, he went out but he got his foot caught so he was being trailed behind the aircraft. You know, with the flames sort of — not badly burned but sort of. And anyway he rolled over. Had to leave his boot behind. Not his foot. His boot. And he came down. Well, at that stage I’d gone back to the pilot and said, well I just, I’d already got my parachute on and I just sat on the hatch and I expected the pilot to follow me. And I don’t remember any more at all. And I woke up on the way down and there was seemingly bits of aircraft flying with me. You know. Like that. You know I was very comfortable. You know. Lying on my back there falling and [pause] I thought I’d better do something. I pulled the rip cord and suddenly there was this terrible jerk and it sort of shots up and shots up and eased on the shoulders there. I looked down and there was the cloud base and I was just about to drop through it. And I remembered ah that the Met man, he said the cloud base over the target would be eight thousand feet. So I thought oh I’ve got eight thousand feet to go. But I hadn’t. As I dropped through this cloud I saw this dark mass below. What’s that? And suddenly I was in a pine, a pine forest. And I just just went through the tree. Just clump, clump, clump. Just like that. And I don’t think I hit the ground any, any harder than that. So I undid my, you know unbuckled the parachute and took the Mae West off and tried to hide them and started to walk. But I’d been hit in the arm and I was, and the face. Not. Not seriously but it was bad enough to sort of be a bit a bloody as it were. But I was picked up within, within hours. And I’d hoped to get to you know to get up to Holland but I’d lost my escape aids on the way down and so I was struck. So I was in the village lock up for about two days I think. And that was a horrible time. It was damp. Cold. And then I started, my chest then started to really pack up and I was getting so breathless I was [pause] Anyway, after two days the guards came. ‘Raus Raus.’ And there was a truck outside and then there was my bomb aimer and the two gunners and a load of [stiffs?] as well mind you know. And we were taken then to Dortmund. To a Luftwaffe station at Dortmund. A night fighter station it was. And we were then in a, in a cellar there for a couple of weeks. So, at this stage I will have to pause again because —
CB: Right.
TI: I’m sorry about that
[recording paused]
CB: Ok. Right. So we’re just continuing from the night fighter station and what you did at the night fighter station.
TI: Well, at the night fighter station we were put in a cellar. Put in a cellar there with bunks. With very little facilities. There was no, no blankets and very little sort of in the way of bedding at all. But we were, there was quite a number there. There was the four of us actually. The two gunners and the, and the bomb aimer and myself. No sign of the pilot, navigator or the, or the wireless op. And we were there for a few days but I was, and there was an American colonel, a P47 pilot. A Thunderbolt pilot. He’d got very badly burned around his neck and all he had was a paper crepe bandage around there with all pus and stuff. And there was an American bombardier with a large chunk of flak in his buttocks mind so he was sort of face downwards you see and I at that stage I was just, I was really having difficulty breathing actually altogether. Anyway, they decided that there was about four or five of us who were not very well as it were. We should, they would transfer us then to Dulag Luft which was in Frankfurt. And so we were taken by truck and from, from Dortmund, from the, from the [pause] to Dortmund Station. And that is where the article in the book there was. Anyway, there was two guards with us and there’s, there would probably be about a half a dozen more. But two Americans very much in evidence with their uniforms etcetera. And we were there and suddenly an old guy, he’d be about fifty I suppose but by that he was very old by our standard who saw the Americans and he really went wild because he was shouting and screaming and you know by which time the crowd had sort of got attracted to this you see. And some of the guard pushed us into a corner and they put their, held their rifles in front of us and told, told them to go away. And it had got very very nasty actually because I think undoubtedly had the, had the guards not been there we would have been done over. As to how badly is another story. But anyway fortunately a train came in and their trains were not very frequent in Germany at that time and so everybody rushed to get on the train and we were put on this train to Frankfurt. And I think it took us about three days I think to get from Dortmund to Frankfurt because every time there was an air raid the train was stopped and go into a tunnel if there was a convenient tunnel and it just, so it went on you see. And I got to Dulag Luft and, ‘My name is Instone, my rank — ' You know. ‘3021416’ and I was put in solitary confinement. And I had nine days solitary confinement actually. Anyway, on the ninth day the doors had opened. I was taken there and this is the scene I will never ever forget because it was a small room about this size I suppose and there was a German officer. Immaculately dressed. Monocle. Sabre scar, cigarette holder. ‘Ah Good morning sergeant,’ he said, ‘And how are you this morning?’ [laughs] But on his desk was two rather thick orange covered booklets. One said, “419 Squadron” and the other said, “428 Squadron.” And of course my eyes went vrrr to the 419 ‘Ah sergeant. You’re 419 I see.’ He said, ‘There you are.’ He said, ‘There’s all the, there’s all the records,’ he said, ‘Tell me were you a Darlington or a Stockton man?’ Well, of course it was Darlington. Middleton St George is halfway between Darlington and Stockton. So you either went one or the other you see because the train was there. So I was a Stockton man. He said, ‘How’s sergeant — how’s Squadron Leader Black? How’s he getting on?’ He was, he was the squadron leader you know. He knew more or less everything. Oh, he said, ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘Do you go to the Oak Tree?’ Which was just up the road. Well, you know. Anyway, he said, ‘Your crew,’ he said, ‘Your pilot, La Blaney,’ and he went on. And — La Blaney. I said, ‘No. Not La Blaney.’ And I was a bit reluctant to say very much but his initials were LA Blaney but being a Canadian squadron it could have been like a French name like La Blaney you see. But anyway, but all the crew was just there. As indeed was me and crews of others. You know previous things. Anyway, it was eventually, he questioned me about various things which I either didn’t know or was unable to tell him anyway. And we parted. He said, ‘You’ll have a shower now.’ That was a first time I’d had a shower since I’d been down there, you know. Or a wash even. So, and then, we were then sent to a transit camp run by the Americans. Somewhere outside of Frankfurt. And then we were eventually, eventually we were in to cattle trucks. Loaded in cattle trucks. You’ve seen these people going to Belsen and stuff like that. Well, it was very much like that. About, it was supposed to be forty [arms?] and ten horses or something like that in these thing but we were actually packed literally packed to the gills. You could either stand or sit. It was one of those like that. And I think four days there. Between there and Nuremberg. We were allowed out to have a pee, whatever you know but that was all. I don’t think there was any food at all at that stage and when we eventually got to Nuremberg which was Stalag XIII-D. And the first person I saw was my wireless operator. Andy Kindret. And he was waiting at the gates and he’d been waiting at the gate for all the intakes and so we were, so then there was five of us together in Stalag XIII-D. Well, conditions weren’t good there because I think we had a a communal mess I think. Anything that was at seven thirty in the morning. I think it was a slice of rye bread and a bowl of gruel or something like that. And at 6 o’clock or thereabouts in the evening was the same. Same thing. And that was that was then. We did actually manage to get a Red Cross parcel there which was fantastic, you know. And we were not there very long. We could hear the guns from the, from, from the east. Or the west actually because the Americans were coming up. It was the American sector at that stage. And they decided to move us out so by this stage the amount of inmates in that compound was two thousand. So we then, we went, so we marched. Marched is [laughs] shuffled I think more than anything else. We advanced. We had no idea where we were going. We were just going south. Further into Bavaria actually. And we eventually found, got to Moosburg seventeen days later actually. It was nearly a hundred and fifty miles. Nearly. You know. And we got there to Stalag VII-A at Moosburg. And then it was so crowded. It was just almost impossible to move, you know. And there was, the only food we were getting was, because it was nearer the Swiss border we were getting Red Cross parcels through. So there was Red Cross parcels or parts of Red Cross parcels available and that. So we managed actually but we were there. We weren’t there very long. And on the Saturday night, this would be about a week before VE Day I think because we didn’t know about VE Day at that stage there was a pitched battle. Because apparently in the town of Moosburg was an SS garrison and the Americans were on the other side and the camp was used as a firing range as it were. And we spent the nights under the hut actually. But there was no, no captives. All the SS garrison were wiped out apparently. And then General Patton himself rolled into the camp. Into the camp in the Sunday, on the Sunday afternoon. Pearl handled revolvers and all, you know. And what, what did amaze me actually the American Red Cross staffed by girls was there with a bread making machine and a doughnut making machine [laughs] and the queue for [laughs] two miles. Well, I don’t I know how long it was. For a slice of bread and a doughnut. And that was it. But then the Americans started to shift the Americans out because there was two airfields quite close by there. There was Straubing or Regensburg. And they were being shipped out but we were there for about four days after, after the, we were released by then. And we were eventually taken to [pause] I think it was Straubing. That was the camp by the aerodrome. There had been Junkers 52s there. You know, the three engine ones there. And we were there for another three days on the airfield waiting to be picked up. And we were eventually picked up by, again by the Americans in Dakotas and taken to Juvencourt and spent the night in a American transit camp at Reims. Again, the memory that will live with me forever is that there was an open air cinema with Judy Garland in, ‘Meet Me in St Louis,” I think. On a white wall. And so that was — and the American dishes with about fourteen compartments of this that and the other [laughs] you know. And the next day again we went to Tangmere. Well, back to Juvencourt and by Lancaster to Tangmere. And then thence to, from there to Cosford. And that was really the end of the — I was there for another three or four days because I had a [pause] my chest had improved somewhat but not good. But they weren’t very happy about it and I was there for a few days while a medic, and a new uniform and stuff like that. And eventually went home to Blackburn. And then eventually I had about eight weeks leave I think and then back to — I was, back to [pause] I did a course which I thought was demeaning. A flight mech’s course at Melksham. You know. Because I’d already done a leader’s course and I knew more than what the, what the instructors were saying actually. But they were there. And I went then to Hawarden near Chester. I finished up there. And so I was demobbed from, from there in June ’47.
CB: So what did you do at Hawarden?
TI: I was sergeant in charge of mods. We were rebuilding. We were, they were doing Halifax 3s and 7s. Taking the bomb bay out and putting panniers in and flogging them to the South African. The South African government. We were also re-skinning Anson 19s. They were the VIP Ansons, you know. They had plywood wings. Wing covering and that sort of skin like that. And I was in charge of mods and stuff like that, so. It was not a very, it was a job I didn’t like at all. I wanted to get back on to obviously flying or even in something more technical you know. But they decided because of my state of health I suppose that was it. But I tried. I kept saying, ‘Well, can I get back?’ ‘No.’ ‘No.’ ‘No.’ ‘No.’ Anyway, I finished up with a small pension, but it [pause] That was it.
CB: So when in 1946 did you come out?
TI: ’47.
CB: ’47 I meant.
TI: June.
CB: June. Then what did you do?
TI: Well, the place I’d worked at before was no longer. Well, it was British Celanese then. It went on producing. And I worked for a local government for a while. But my health was bad. Blackburn was not the best of places to be in actually because I don’t know, I don’t know if you know much about the north of England but Blackburn was a mill town. And I think at one stage it had a hundred and seven mill chimneys belching forth black smoke and there was always an industrial haze over the, over the town. And if it wasn’t raining it was going to rain, you know. So, it was one of those places. And I was, I had a particularly bad spell and I went to see my, my doctor. Well, he was on, on holiday and his locum was an ex-Merchant Navy doctor I think. A fellow called [unclear] I’ll always remember this guy. He had sticking out hair and wire rimmed glasses, ‘What’s wrong with you then lad?’ I said, ‘My chest. I can hardly breathe.’ So he examined me, you know. He said, he said, ‘Lad,’ he said, ‘For Christ’s sake get out of this bloody place or it’ll kill you.’ He said, ‘Emigrate. Do anything but get out of this place because if you stay here you won’t be around much longer.’ So I literally took him at his word because at that stage my parents had moved down to Weymouth from Blackburn. My father again had a promotion in his job but had left me behind. And so I went down there. That was a good move and a bad move because it improved my health. My health improved considerably because of the southern climes you know and that sort of thing. And I worked for the local police. I worked for the police headquarters in Dorchester. I was in charge of all stores and uniforms. Things like that. Quite an important job really but as a civilian that was. And of course I had the advantage everybody liked me [laughs] And there, but after a while I got to the stage where I was getting nowhere. I’d got as high as I could you know from a money point of view. And I came to London. I had a girlfriend then. She was a nurse in London before, this was before Jenny of course. And I said to her, ‘Let’s go to Windsor. I’ve never been to Windsor before and I want to see the Air Force Memorial at Runnymede. Anyway, as it was we went to Windsor. I was quite amazed. And Runnymede I thought was marvellous, you know. But right next door to the Runnymede was — it was called Shoreditch Training College. Teacher Training College. And I had been doing a night school course in Dorchester on model engineering and such like that and the instructor had said, ‘Have you ever thought about going into teaching?’ I said, ‘No. I’m much too old now,’ you know, because I was in my thirties by this stage you see. He said, ‘I think you’d be alright.’ So I said, ‘Where did you train?’ He said, ‘Oh, I trained at Shoreditch.’ But Shoreditch at that time was in Shoreditch, London you see. But after the war they’d moved out to Cooper’s Hill, you know which was next door to the Runnymede. So I applied and got there. I did three years. Very enjoyable. And qualified as a technology teacher which I continued to do until I was, I retired in 1990 when I was sixty five. In the meantime I met Jennifer of course and the rest is history there. And, but I retired from the school I was at in [pause] well they said, ‘But we’d like you to carry on for a bit,’ so I did another three years part time because you can’t do too much otherwise it affects your pension. And I finished there and the local grammar school said, ‘Can you help us out?’ So I did then another five years part time. So all in all by the time I got to seventy two they said, ‘Well, I’m sorry. But the, we don’t think the insurance company is going to cover you anymore.’ And a, and a friend of mine who I’d worked with before his technician had an accident with a circular saw you see. And he said, ‘I’m desperate. I’m desperate. Can you help me out?’ So I worked there until I was eighty two [laughs] but I didn’t — after that I said, ‘No more. That’s it.’
CB: Fantastic.
TI: That’s it.
CB: That’s very good. Thank you.
TI: I think we’ve got to show you something else now haven’t we?
CB: Just, can I just ask a couple of questions?
TI: Yeah.
CB: One of the interesting things that’s difficult to broach and talk about is how crew members came and went. Now, some people were wounded so they had to go elsewhere. But others because of their mental state. And you said that the bomb aimer didn’t come from the OTU. What had happened to him?
TI: I don’t know. I really don’t. I never. I didn’t find out at all. It was a closed shop as far as I was concerned. We picked up a second tour man actually at, at Dishforth and we remained. He’d, well I don’t know whether he’s still alive but we were in contact until quite recently weren’t we? Mark and I went over to Canada to stay with him for a while. And he’d been over to us. He and his wife. His wife died. His wife died some years ago. But I think the last we heard he couldn’t manage himself. He was in pain at the hospital. But we’ve, in spite of everything I’ve not heard nothing more so if he’s still alive I don’t know but he’s older than me. He’s about three or four years older than me anyway so he’d be well in to his nineties anyway. Other than that now the rear gunner — excuse me I must go to the [unclear] again. I’m not doing very well.
CB: You’re doing fine.
[recording paused]
TI: The rear gunner.
CB: Right. We’re restarting after a short break. Rear gunner.
TI: The rear gunner who had been badly wounded over Bochum on the 4th of November ’44 came to the squadron two days before our final trip. He’d, he’d been awarded the DFM. DFM. He had an eye patch but he was on his way back to Canada but he [pause] so we had a night out as you can imagine. In Stockton. But anyway he was a very — he went back to Canada. He survived the war but he died in a car, a motorbike, a motorcar accident in America in the 60’s I think. Was it, Mark? We found out because he had, he wanted me to go over to Canada because I was one who got him out the turret. He felt he owed me something. He wanted me to go to Canada and get me a job there but with the RAF and my health it was no go. By the time I thought about it he’d gone off the radar as it were. But he’d the last I heard from him he was going into hospital to have these sort of splinters done.
CB: What was his name?
TI: Lanctot. Donald Lanctot. And — but he, he went to the States as a surveyor or something wasn’t it, or a [pause] He’d got some qualification anyway.
CB: Ok.
TI: And he married an American I think. Was it in Malibu? In Malibu I think. Malibu.
CB: It can’t be bad.
TI: Can’t be bad. But he died in a auto accident in the ‘60s.
CB: Sad. What about the other? Because you got through gunners. Several.
TI: Well, we lost, I lost contact with the two gunners. I was in contact with Andy Kindret because Andy was, we were buddies. We shared a room at Middleton and he was with me constantly throughout the march and in fact I said if it wasn’t, if it hadn’t have been for Andy I don’t think I would have made it anyway, you know. But he looked after me and he was a great help. But of course he lived in, just outside Winnipeg and he took a, he got married and had children and he was a commercial, a commercial artist first of all. And, and he worked for Canadian Television on set design and stuff like that.
CB: Ok.
TI: And retired. He was about six months older than me actually. But he died just shortly after he retired. But he’d just, he was just finishing — the last letter I got from him to say, “I’ve just finished a painting of our Lancaster.”
CB: Right. Brilliant.
TI: “And when I’ve done that I’ll send you a copy.”
CB: Right.
TI: He never did actually because he died. I got a letter from his son, you know because his son had sent all his effects to Nanton Air Museum.
CB: Right.
TI: Again near Winnipeg. And again it was Mark that found the information.
CB: Let’s just quickly. Your son Mark. What were you going to say?
MI: I was just going to highlight he is particularly interested in the gunner who went absent without leave at Dishforth.
TI: Oh yeah. Yeah.
MI: And also Kenny Shields.
TI: Oh yes. That’s right. Yes. I’d forgotten about that.
CB: So the one who went absent without leave. What happened there?
TI: He was sent to Sheffield.
CB: Yeah. Prison.
TI: Which was an Aircrew Detention Centre. And he came back but the skipper wouldn’t have him. He said, ‘I can’t rely on you. I can’t rely on you because if you go away. Got to be absolute.’ I mean, and then Ray Altham came in. He was one of the guys around Dishforth you see. So, Lanctot was the rear gunner and Ray Altham was the mid-upper. But when Lanctot, Don Lanctot was, you know, lost the eye etcetera we had to have another. So, Ray Altham opted to go in the rear turret and we got another guy called Kenny Shields. He was actually a wireless operator rear gunner but he was a very, he wanted to fly with us anyway and did. He was killed in a road accident. He was a Canadian but he had relatives in, I think it was Wigan. If it wasn’t Wigan it was one of those mill towns anyway. And at Christmas, we were on leave that particular Christmas and he’d had too much to drink and not being aware of driving on the left, you know. He stepped in front of a bus and that was the end of that. And he was buried at [pause] he was buried at Harrogate. In the Stonegate Cemetery there. And then we got this guy called Nozzolillo. Lou Nozzolillo. And he was first, first Italian descent. First generation Canada. And a good guy. Very. But you know but apparently he did very well in government because he lived in Canberra — not Canberra. Ottawa. And something to do in government. Quite high up. But I’d no real connection with him at all. It was Phil. Phil Owen and Andy. Andy Kindret first of all. Phil Owen came over. And we were, we were buddies then actually. But —
CB: So the crew was all Canadian except you.
TI: Right. That’s right.
CB: And all sergeants except the pilot.
TI: No. No. No. The pilot was a flying officer. As was the bomb aimer.
CB: Right.
TI: He was a flying officer. He was a second tour man actually.
CB: Right. So how did the crew gel?
TI: We did. Absolutely. And that was, that was what, it was the — I couldn’t have wished for a better crew. I would have flown anywhere with them, you know. I had tremendous admiration for my pilot you know, and you know we had a very [pause] you know, and got on very well. And I’ve been asked before but being Canadians there was no bullshit if you understand what I mean. There was very much, it was Christian names all the way down the line as it were. And I mean obviously there was, if there was a ceremonial parade it would have been different but I mean in the air and on the ground it was first names and that sort of thing. And we looked after one another as, as a crew. As a bomber crew particularly you’ve got to look after one another. You know, you do your job in your, in your area and that’s it. And that’s it. But being an engineer I found it suited me great because Lancasters, I went from training on Lanc err Halifax 3s which was the radial engine one which incidentally I’ve never flown in on to Lancaster 10s. So I knew nothing about the Lancaster so I had to learn it very quickly from Dishforth or from the squadron itself at Middleton. And we found the, the Lancaster totally different from the Halifax 2s. It was so manoeuvrable and light. You know. It was. Whereas the Halifax was a bit — on the Merlins I think the 3s and 7s were very good. But the 2s and 5s were with the Merlin engines were not. Very heavy. Very. And on the stalling oh terrible when they stalled. You know, it was a real judder etcetera etcetera. But the Lancaster was a very kind aircraft. It was a pilot’s aircraft I think, you know. And being a flight engineer we sat up front. We had, only had a canvas seat actually. I mean had we been, had we, we sort of had to assist the pilot on take-off and landings obviously and things like that. Well, our main job was to monitor you know the temperatures, pressures of all the, all the instruments and stuff like that. And calculate the fuel because as I say we started off with about sixteen hundred gallons and I think we had six little [pause] you know, gauges. So you couldn’t tell within probably a hundred gallons how many you had in the tank. So you had to work out. We knew exactly. We had a chart anyway but certain revs and certain boosts etcetera we would be using around about fifty gallons per hour per engine, you know. That sort of thing. And depend on if there was a headwind or something like that. But whatever. So we calculated the fuel so we knew more or less what was in the, in each of the tanks. And of course we had to, manually we had to sort of operate. So on take-off we always took off on the main tanks. That was inboard and over the target always on main tanks because you couldn’t be, you know mucking about sort of changing cocks. But on the way out I would drain the mid, the tip tanks and then on the way back we’d sort of juggle it until such time when we were coming in to land we were on main tanks and there. Because as you probably know it was a court martial offence if you landed with less than thirty miles, thirty hours, thirty minutes flying time. Unless it was an emergency mind. So —
CB: So when you talked about your role when sitting next to the pilot how did you — what were you actually doing with the throttles and how was the pilot communicating with you on take-off and landing?
TI: Well, the pilot had the, he had the, you probably know the outer throttles had a — were curled at the top. So the pilot would take them in his right hand and I, as an engineer would push up the, the others behind him you see. So he would actually manoeuvre the aircraft partially by the, by the throttle settings, you see. And it was my job on take-off to be through the gate you know. That was it. Three thousand and up if you were lucky you know. And then after, after then it would be after three minutes he would fly on full power for three minutes. Then you’d throttle back and start your, start your climb etcetera.
CB: So what, what would be the revs that you climbed at?
TI: Well, it would be three thousand initially but then —
CB: Yeah. But then what?
TI: Then we would drop to about twenty six hundred.
CB: And then cruising when you were straight and level.
TI: Well, more or less two six.
CB: Ok.
TI: We were flying out about a hundred and eighty and you’d come back at two twenty. That was the, that was the sort of average speeds for the — dependant on the winds as you know but it would be on an average and we, and we would get approximately one mile per gallon out of a Lancaster.
CB: Right. So you’re going out at one eighty knots.
TI: Yeah.
CB: And there was a reason for that.
TI: Well, I think because you kept, you kept the engines, you kept the revs down to about two six you see and of course you had variable pitch so, so we had to do the prop settings as well you see. There was the —
CB: As an engineer.
TI: As an engineer. And so it was. You had to do your log every twenty minutes anyway to work out your fuel. You know. So it was, you were fairly well occupied, but you had, you could move about the aircraft if you wanted to because everyone else was stationery. You know. They were stuck. But I could go to the bombsight. The idea was bomb aimer used to sit with the navigator. He would look at the H2S and the navigator was the Gee. The Gee one. Well, there was one actually when there was a navigational error which I think was, it wasn’t very funny at the time but as I, and I can’t remember what time it was but I know it was a Ruhr target and I know we flew over Mönchengladbach which was a German artillery school mind [laughs] Anyway, we were due as a second wave on this particular target and when we were, when the first wave was going in the navigator said, ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, ‘I’m on the wrong chain.’ And we were fifty miles south of track. So we pressed on [laughs] in the better position and of course by the time we got to the target every other bugger had gone home.
CB: When you said, ‘On the wrong chain,’ you’re talking about GH.
GH. Yeah.
CB: And he was on the wrong chain of GH.
TI: That’s right.
CB: The navigation aid.
TI: That’s right.
CB: Yeah.
TI: And I think every flak gun in and around the area opened up. I’ve never seen so much flak in my life. I really haven’t. You could, you could smell it even. When you could smell, when you could smell cordite it’s bad. Well, anyway we got apparently untouched. We got back thinking oh heroes. But no. We got three. Three cross countries to improve navigating [laughs] Anyway, anyway we had [cough] I’ve got a frog in my throat. To follow up on that the ground crew couldn’t get the starboard inner started on the following morning. It wasn’t going. Anyway, the inspection they saw a small hole on just the leading edge. Now as you probably know there’s all the pipes, all the plumbing’s on just behind the leading edge and a piece of flak had actually penetrated the outer skin and flattened the fuel line. But it, while we were in the air I suppose the booster pumps in the tank and the you know the suction of the, in the engine itself had managed to draw fuel. So we had suffered those sort of engine problems but it wouldn’t start. So they had to cut that bit out and put a new bit in actually. But that was, you know surprising, you know.
CB: Amazing. Going back to the fateful incident where you were shot down was the — you said it was a German fighter underneath. Who saw that?
TI: Nobody.
CB: Right.
TI: That was the whole point. You see, the rear gunner said it was two bumps. Two. Two flak. Two bursts of flak. I knew it wasn’t flak because all it was was bump bump. That’s all there was. Just two shells hit us actually and immediately the wing tank burst into flames. And yet its gone all the way through. In Chorley we were shot down by flak but we weren’t. If you read that article there the guy that found us that shot us actually he’d actually scored a hundred and — a hundred and twenty two kills in his career of which —
CB: A German you’re talking about.
TI: Yeah. Of which a hundred and twelve were four engine bombers. And we managed, a friend of ours in Canada had actually had researched it and he found the name of the pilot that actually shot us, shot us down because he shot two down that night. We were, there was one earlier on and then we were the second and he went to return to base. But he, like our rear gunner was killed in an auto accident in the 60s.
CB: Was he really?
TI: He was from a well to do family in wine apparently and admitted in one of the wine in France as a —
CB: At the time you were shot down were you aware of the German Schräge Musik system?
TI: No. We hadn’t. But it was, you see the one I’m talking about over Bochum was that the Wild Boar as they called it was a free for all but in the latter stages the, it was the Schräge Musik actually.
CB: Right. Ok. Now, another question’s to do with when you were a prisoner of war. So, at the end then there was the Long March. So could you tell us about that? How did that come about? And what happened?
TI: Well, it wasn’t. Ours was the short march. As against their —one incident which I failed to tell you about this. On the march. I think three days after Nuremberg we were straggling along the road in between pine trees. It was a narrow, well, a good road but narrow and a deep ditch either side with pine trees either side and there were three Focke Wulfs came over. Three Focke Wulf 190s came over. Followed by three P47s. The Thunderbolts. Oh we were all, all fired up about getting, you know getting the, giving that Focke Wulf what for. But the next thing we saw was the three, three P47s nose down strafing the column. So we were strafed by the Americans. But they broke off. They must have realised. They killed fourteen of the, in the, in there but it was a horrible situation that was. You could feel the bullets, you know. I know we were on the road one minute and the next minute we were in the ditch. I mean I think all the living records were broken [laughs]
CB: And not everybody was killed presumably.
TI: No. No. There was —
CB: Of the people who were hit.
TI: No. It was fourteen. Fourteen were killed.
CB: Killed. And then wounded as well or not?
TI: Yes.
CB: Others.
TI: They broke off and after that a lone Spitfire used to come over every day and waggle his wings to say we know you’re there actually. And then so it was not a pleasant march because the weather was pretty awful at the start. Cold and wet. And you were sleeping anywhere. Outside. Under the hedge. Anywhere that was sort of going. And food was virtually non-existent. And then it improved tremendously as we got further south. So the weather became again almost, almost pleasant you know because it was, I mean one of the nicest nights we had was in the cattle shed. Literally with the cows. And it was warm and dry. Well, nearly dry anyway [laughs] And so it was, it [pause] it was an experience anyway but —
CB: So how many days was the march running?
TI: Seventeen days I think. I think it was seventeen.
CB: And at the other end what happened?
TI: Well, we just in, just all in one compound. A huge compound with lots and lots of people. I think at the end of the war — we actually did visit the camp later. Years later. Was it fifty eight thousand in the, in there?
JI: Eighty. Eighty.
TI: Eighty. There was eighty thousand POWs in Moosburg.
CB: Mainly army were they?
TI: Anybody and, anybody and everybody. It had been. We went there and I must have been I’m sorry about that —
CB: It’s ok. We’ll just stop.
[recording paused]
CB: Restart. Ok. Good. Fire away. What have you got there? “The Final Touchdown.” So what’s that story?
TI: That’s the —
CB: This is a newspaper story.
TI: The one. It was in 2014. That was before Vera. We were due to take a piece of Lancaster. Now, I think Mark ought to come into this because he’s the one that did all the work.
CB: Ok. Let’s just pause a mo. We’re now talking about when the Australian — the new, the Canadian Lancaster Vera came over to Middleton St George and you were there.
TI: This was before.
CB: Yes.
TI: This was before.
JI: Yeah. I think, I think you’re at cross purposes. But there is a story. He’ll tell you.
CB: Ok.
JI: Get it in context.
CB: Right. Go on then Stan. Then Mark.
JI: Quite an interesting one really.
CB: Go on Stan.
TI: Well, it was Mark actually that discovered a German Archaeological Society were looking for some wreckage of — I believe a Halifax wasn’t it? In the Dortmund area. Not having any luck at all. Quite how he got on to them I don’t know but he did and he contacted, he said, ‘Well, I know my dad’s Lancaster blew up around that area in February ’45.’ And so they did [pause] it was a village called Sprockhövel. About twenty miles from Dortmund roughly. I don’t know. And anyway they, they tried excavation and things like that without very much success and they contacted the local farmer who at that time was a six year old. At the time of the shooting down was six years old and his uncle owned the farm and he’d since then inherited it. And apparently he said, ‘Well, I’ve no idea he said but I’ve got an idea that there was. My uncle used a lot of aluminium pieces to repair chicken coops and stuff like that. I’m not all together sure but I think there’s a couple of bits down in the cellar.’ So they went down in the cellar and sure enough there was two pieces of aluminium and on one piece apparently there was a serial number and they could actually, I think again through Mark’s expertise of whatever that they were able to trace it back to Victory aircraft in Canada with the serial number of KB804. And so I was — so they invited us over. And I must say I was very reluctant to go to Germany because having dropped bombs on them I wasn’t too sure what the reception was. But I was totally amazed because they — Sprockhövel is as I say twenty miles south of Dortmund and the nearest railway station is Bochum. And Bochum was the one where we had that nasty incident. But we were met by Karl and his, met by Karl on Bochum station, taken to Sprockhövel and we were given a reception. Mark and his wife went and Jenny and I went and we had a remarkable reception. You know. We were feted and, you know. And then in the town centre at their museum they’d got the, and they had a picture of, of that one. The small one, you know. Which you can get through there anyway. And all the crew and things like that. And they’d this piece of metal. KB804 you see. Quite a thing. Anyway, they arranged newspaper things. The Burgermeister of the town came and a television crew from Dortmund came. So we were feted weren’t we actually? And that was it. And we, you know came away. And a few days later the family came over with a chunk of Lancaster. Would you like to see it?
CB: Absolutely. Yes.
TI: I’ll get it.
CB: Right.
JI: Where is it?
TI: In the garage.
CB: We’ll stop for a mo.
[recording paused]
CB: Stan’s been to the garage so we’re now looking at the piece of metal from his Lancaster that was brought back to the UK by the German family.
TI: Sixty nine years after the —
CB: Sixty nine years after this.
TI: Event.
CB: And you were supposed to take this up to Middleton for the reunion.
TI: Well, Mark took it up.
CB: Mark took it up.
TI: I was in hospital.
CB: Oh right.
TI: I had pneumonia.
CB: Yeah.
TI: Mark took it up but to me it means a lot actually.
Other: Yeah. Absolutely.
CB: Extraordinary.
TI: And so —
CB: So this is a good six feet long and a foot wide.
TI: Yeah. But I was and the point is that I was very proud to be a member of Bomber Command but, but having with my experience of Dortmund, particularly Dortmund station. Having travelled through the streets of Dortmund and seeing the terrible devastation and the chap who’d lost his family to the American bombing etcetera I did feel some remorse as it were you know so — and since then on our subsequent visits to Moosburg, Nuremberg and to Sprockhövel in Germany I found the German people so much nicer than I ever thought they were. You know. And you know I I you know I’ve got a certain amount of regret for dropping bombs on them because at eighteen, twenty thousand feet dropping bombs it’s so impersonal. On the ground you see the devastation. It sort of hits you a bit. And so you know I’ve got a certain amount of remorse as far as of that. I was, I did my job. And I’m glad I did my job but it's the but again isn’t it? How I feel about it.
CB: So, as a crew what was your attitude in terms of going on raids?
TI: Well, we wanted to. It was, well we wanted to do thirty trips and finish. Finish a tour. That was, that was the point. You started off. You volunteered for it and that was your job. It was a job. Nothing more than that. And yes you were worried. You hoped you were going to make it but you always hoped it was going to be somebody else, you know. And that was the point. And I think the navigator in the latter stages had started to feel the effect actually. And I think that was when the muck up of the, you know the navigational south of track etcetera. And he became, he got very, of course the navigator was probably in the worst position of all because he was curtained off behind the pilot you see so he never saw the outside unless he wanted to poke his head behind the curtain. And so he was not aware of the flashes and the bangs and stuff like that you see and I know that if there was any sort of near, ‘What’s that?’ you know. That sort of thing. I think we were finding that he was getting a little a bit, a bit flakey as it were, you know. But we, he was a good navigator as far as I was concerned and I would never have anything said against him or that. But there it is.
CB: Did you ever try to get a reunion of all the crew after the war?
TI: No. Well, I would have liked to have done but we were never, we never were in a position to sort of afford the trip.
CB: It would have been a bit expensive wouldn’t it? Yeah.
TI: And of course they were well spread, you see. There was two in Winnipeg. The two, the wireless op and the rear gunner were Winnipeg. Or near Winnipeg. The pilot, well he was dead of course but New Brunswick on the eastern side. The two, the tail gunner Lanctot and the navigator were Montreal and Lou Nozzolillo was originally Toronto you see. But so they were so spread that it was very difficult.
CB: So they didn’t get together either.
TI: No.
CB: No. Ok.
TI: And, you know I think probably Andy and, and Ray they may have.
CB: Because they were close.
TI: They were relatively close but that was all.
CB: Now, we’ve covered a lot of things and in, in that conversation that’s prompted Vic to think of something. He wants to ask you a question.
Other: When we first started you told us about what it was like to come back. And I don’t think on the record that we actually talked about that. But I mean thinking about different times, different situations these days if somebody that went through something like you went through on a daily basis apparently or near daily basis would be, would be given all sorts of support. But I gather that when you came back —
TI: No. There was nothing.
Other: Would you like to talk about that? And can I put this down on the floor?
TI: You just, you just resumed. You know. My mates were getting demobbed at that time. All the ex-ATC people were getting demobbed at the same time so we formed that. That was our support. But there was no support as far as no counselling. No nothing.
Other: No.
TI: You just got back into the bosom of your family and that was it, you know.
Other: Yeah.
TI: But I found it awful. I did find it awful. I wanted to go back into the air force. I really did because I found Civvy Street dreadful after the air force, you know.
Other: What sort of period are we talking about here in terms of finishing? Well, of course you were still in the RAF weren’t you after —
TI: Yeah. That’s right.
Other: But what about when you were just coming back. What? That’s what I had interpreted.
TI: Well —
Other: When you first —
TI: That was the difficult part because as I say we had eight weeks leave actually from returning from Germany to going back. I was then posted to Melksham which was a camp that had been closed down but they’d reopened it because they didn’t know what to do with redundant aircrew. That was the top and bottom of it. I mean some were lucky enough to sort of still be clearing bomb dumps and stuff like that. And a few were just sort of dropped back on to Training Command or something like that. But the majority of us we were nobody. And especially being, you know with the Canadian Air Force we’d no, we’d nowhere in the RAF at all you see. We had, I mean all I ever did on training. Training establishments as far as the RAF was concerned so I’d nobody. And it was very very difficult feeling. I mean alright I got on, on the course at Melksham. I made friends and stuff like that. And eventually posted to Hawarden. I made friends there and I was quite, quite happy in as much as I would have been far happier had I have been able to fly. Fly again you see. But I was just sort of seeing out my time really because you know my having —my health was gradually improving and you know it was [pause] that was it. But as a [pause] there was nothing if you understand me. You just sort of carried on and did what you could, you see.
Other: Yeah.
TI: And jobs were not easy to get actually because you know especially with the factory I had worked at had closed. Had closed down as far as I was concerned and so I got the job in sort of local government and not that I liked that very much but it was you know it was a job you know.
Other: On a similar theme do you want to say anything about your — I think Kindret was your buddy was he?
TI: Kindret. Yeah.
Other: Yeah. Do you want to tell us about anything, you know? What the support was between the two of you because I think you said something like you didn’t think you’d have got through it if it hadn’t been for him.
TI: Well, at Middleton St George when we — when we went to Middleton St George first of all we were in Nissen huts just outside. Quite close to the Oak Tree in fact. I don’t know. Chris knows. Probably knows where the Oak Tree is but —
CB: Yeah.
TI: But then as crew were shot down or finished their tour or whatever then we moved in. Of course the officers then moved into the officer’s mess and the sergeants into the sergeant’s mess and that was just inside the main gate. And 428 was one side and 419 was the other. Well, Andy and I were fortunate to share a room on the top floor of this, of the mess. And, and we had a great relationship. I mean, you know we had similar interests and things like that. He was, his parents were Ukraine actually and they moved to Canada. He’d been born in Canada so he was first generation there. But he used to write home in Russian. That sort of thing. So, but he was a great, a great artist because I always regret he did a crayon sketch of a Lancaster while we were on the squadron and he gave it to me. And of course in the ensuing moves between families and things like that it’s got lost, you know. So it was something that I do regret. But — and we used to go to Stockton together. He had a girlfriend and I had a girlfriend and that sort of thing, you know. And he had intended getting married to a girl in Stockton actually but when we got shot down that was, well it wasn’t the end of that as far as he was concerned but when we got back to England and he got kitted out again he went up to Stockton to see the girl with the intention of actually getting married but there was a sailor. They, they were of the opinion that we’d been killed you see and so she’d moved on. Moved on to the Navy [laughs] rather than the air force. And so he came to visit me in in Blackburn. I was still with my parent’s house at Blackburn then. And we had one hell of a time before he went back to Canada. And that was really the last time I saw him actually. Although we wrote. We wrote regularly, you know but as we got older you know it got to be a post, you know a letter and then a postcard and that sort of thing. But we were in contact right up to the end as it were. But he did support me. Particularly on, on the march with the, you know because my chest was bad and you know and things like that. And I really quite honestly I wanted to give up. I got to that stage I couldn’t really take much more. He was the one that prompted me, ‘Come on.’ You know. That sort of thing. And it was — so I owe a lot to him. I owe a lot to the crew. To the pilot. To him particularly and, and to Phil the bomb aimer. We’ve been friendly for years and that sort of thing and it’s a great loss to me when the crew, the breaking up of the crew itself.
CB: It was the family.
TI: A family. Absolutely. Yeah.
CB: Yeah. At the end of a raid you returned with the aircraft normally undamaged you said. So what did the crew then?
TI: Well, there’d be a debriefing of course.
CB: Ok.
TI: And then —
CB: And how did that go?
TI: You would, you know, they would do then you would have your meal and go to bed. And that was the end of that. And the following day you would, you’d find out whether you were on. If the battle order had been put up. If not you would push off in to the town or somewhere like that because Middleton was a good station but there was no facilities whatsoever. No cinema. No bar or anything. Oh there was a bar in the officer’s mess. And there was nothing in the sergeant’s mess. All there was was a billiard table. That was all. So, if you wanted entertainment you went elsewhere you see. And it was, as I say it was on the the railway station. The train went one way. Stockton one way. Darlington the other. So it was either or, you see. I got to Stockton. That was my first time there and you know I got established. Got a girlfriend there. Not, not serious, you know. It was more interesting [unclear] there. But it was alright. Then to the local dance hall. La Maison de Dance it was. What a name [laughs] La Maison de Dance. At the end of Yarm Lane. But it was, you know it was entertainment as it were because you you never knew, you know when, where, were you, whether you were going to make it or not you know. That was, it was always at the back of your mind. And I remember that night at the, on Bochum the rear gunner was he was very lively. He was a great one for the girls mind but he was very lively. That particular night he was very very quiet. Very, you know shut in on himself as it were. Totally out of character. Whether, whether some symptons had told him that he was going to get it that night I don’t know. But equally the, on our last last trip, our last trip as it were I had misgivings as well you know. There was something. I didn’t think I would. I never thought I would make it quite frankly.
JI: No.
TI: And I always thought with the amount of sort of, of crews being written off and that sort of thing I didn’t think I would make it actually. I think while I was there, there was only one crew finished the tour.
Other: When you say you had misgivings. Did you have misgivings every time you went?
TI: No.
Other: No.
TI: No.
Other: So —
TI: I mean you —
Other: So it was something quite unusual.
TI: You were, you were worried. That’s not to say you weren’t worried. You really were worried you know.
Other: Yeah.
TI: But it was you got to the stage well if it’s going to happen to us. If it happens to us it happens to us you know and there’s nothing you can do about it. You know. It was —
Other: So you learned to live with a lot of anxiety really.
TI: That’s right. Yeah.
Other: Yeah. When you say you came back and you went to bed. I mean what was sleep like?
TI: You were usually so tired out you know.
Other: So you were exhausted really.
TI: Exhausted. Yeah. Because you were, you were in the air for between six to eight hours and then you went you’d had your, the briefing beforehand. Then you had your debriefing afterwards it would be most of a day you see.
Other: Yeah.
TI: Or a day and a night actually. And I suppose most of our, most of our — I only did two daylights. All the others were night trips you see. So you were getting back 5 to 6 o’clock in the morning sometimes you see. And then of course you were just crashing out. And then all you did was wake up around about lunchtime. Go in to the section to see if there was a battle order up and If you were not on that you sort of, ‘Right.’ So, we said, ‘Skipper?’ ‘Ok.’ That’s it. There was virtually no discipline in the sense that you had to be there. You — if it was ok with the skipper that was ok. And that was, that was it. As much as that. And we had leave every six weeks which was a great thing actually. And on two occasions two of the crew, you know the crew came — the navigator came with me and and the wireless operator, you know. So they came with me for a weeks’ leave in Blackburn of all places [laughs] So, but it was [pause] it was something I wouldn’t have missed if you understand what I mean. It was —
CB: Absolutely.
TI: To me it was every, when I’d got a crew I was really somebody. You know. I felt I was somebody. You know. And we did our job to the best of our abilities but what, as I say what really turned me off was at the end of the war from being a somebody you became a nobody. And that was what really really hurt. It really hurt actually because we were just ignored. That’s absolutely. And I said that the public generally went a bit anti aircrew you see. Especially Dresden. After Dresden of course you know. And, you know, and so that’s why I didn’t bother sending for medals. I didn’t want anything to do with it at all. But it was Mark that actually said, ‘You ought to send for your medals.’ And he did. And of course since then he’s made sure that you know I’ve got as much information as I have done. Other than that, left to myself I wouldn’t have bothered at all.
Other: Were you on the Dresden raid?
TI: No.
Other: No.
TI: I was shot down a week after.
Other: Right.
TI: I would have been. We were on leave. We were on leave. That’s right. On the Dresden raid. We were on leave. Then straight back and shot down.
CB: So, just on this context of when you left the RAF you were very unhappy with the arrangements. You came back from being a prisoner of war. You didn’t have any link with the crew because they’d already gone to other places anyway.
TI: That’s right.
CB: So you didn’t want to take up your documents. That would be your logbook and other things. Did you have anything that you recovered?
TI: Well, in the sense that they sent some things home, you know. To my parent’s home. Yes. But nothing. Nothing really. Just general things you know.
CB: Right.
TI: And no I didn’t and I was sorry that I didn’t get the log. I’m sorry I didn’t get the logbook. But you know. One of those things, you know. And that they said they destroyed it as well. Mark did actually write to Gloucester.
CB: Yeah.
TI: And they said no. They were destroyed and that sort of thing.
CB: So what prompted Mark, your son, to look into your experiences?
TI: He became very interested in medals. Even as quite a young child actually. And he got to [unclear] he knew that I’d been in the RAF you see and he sort of started to of course at that time you could pick up the ’39 ’45 in any junk shop for pennies as it were you see. And I think he started collected. But he was more interested in not the medal themselves but the sort of the story behind the medal you see. And he’s got a fair collection actually on that. And it was through that that he sort of I suppose gee’d me up and said you’d better to do something about it, you know. I’m glad he did because you know otherwise I — and more recently I was, I’d been given the Legion d’honneur of course.
CB: You have. Good.
TI: By the, by the French.
CB: Yeah.
TI: Government. Just for, you know for my small part in the liberation of France etcetera you see. So I feel, another thing I feel very strongly about of course is that they stopped issuing the Aircrew Europe medal after D-Day. So anybody that flew after D-Day was not entitled to the Aircrew Europe. You were just entitled to the France and Germany Star. Whilst I think the guys that were on the D-Day landings more than deserved the France and Germany Star believe me but to bracket us all. Alright, Mark. I’m off [laughs] To bracket us all with the France and Germany star was you know. There’s been some atonement by the fact we have now a clasp for Bomber Command on the ’39 ’45 Star but that’s all. You know.
CB: When did you receive your clasp?
TI: A couple of years ago wasn’t it? About. Sort of like that.
MI: One of the first.
CB: And for your Legion of Honour. Where did you go for that?
TI: Didn’t. Came with the postman.
CB: Oh right.
TI: Came in a box. I didn’t want, I didn’t want the fuss and bother.
CB: Ok.
TI: Being kissed on the cheek.
CB: Any more?
Other: One more.
CB: Yeah. From Vic now. Vic asking another question.
Other: Going back to the Dresden business and the impact that has had. I think you were suggesting from the public on the aircrews. Can you tell me something about how that evolved for you? I mean I’m thinking that there was a Dresden raid. I don’t know anything about how information came around. Like on the BBC and things like that.
TI: What did, what did surprise me I knew nothing about it in — I was on leave I think when the Dresden raid was on. I saw nothing in the newspapers or anything like that at that time. I think there must have been on the radio there was a raid on Dresden. It didn’t make any impact on me. I was shot down a week later in Germany but there was never any mention in Germany of Dresden. And I thought there might have been. There might have been some repercussions etcetera towards aircrew but there wasn’t which was rather surprising in itself. But it was the general public that sort of had gone on and of course —
CB: In Britain you mean.
TI: In Britain. That sort of took and Churchill had turned his back on aircrew you know. He just ignored us then. And he was, he’d been forced you know with Stalin etcetera. He agreed. I don’t think Harris wanted to bomb Dresden. I don’t think so. But it was Churchill’s, you know that sort of the role was supporting the Americans and you know for the Russians because Dresden was, it was the largest garrison town anywhere in Germany and it also was a rail, a rail network as well to the east and things like that. It was a very important town was Dresden. But it was unfortunate that they, they bombed it to, you know, almost to destruction.
CB: Well it was actually in the context of the overall bombing.
TI: That’s right.
CB: It wasn’t unusual in terms of other cities having been bombed to destruction. It was just a more.
TI: I know but I mean I think —
CB: A sensitive topic at the end of the war.
TI: Yeah. It was. Very. It was a bit over the top really. It was a thousand bombers and the Americans as well. But also what annoyed me was the British have been, have been given stick for the Dresden raid yet there’s no mention of any American involvement.
CB: No. It’s really interesting isn’t it?
TI: And you know this is a —
CB: There’s a story associated with that.
TI: I knew very little about the Dresden raid actually. It was only since then of course all the you know the newspaper articles and things like that about Dresden and stuff like that. And it was, there was no question about it that the aircrews were not held in great esteem after the end of the war.
Other: Yeah. So actually the last thing you said it’s the newspaper articles and so on much later is it?
TI: Yeah.
Other: You think. Yeah.
TI: Yeah.
Other: Yeah.
TI: Yes. And it was you just didn’t there was no point I talking about it. You talked with your mates.
Other: Yeah.
TI: And things like that.
Other: Yeah.
TI: But there was no point. Nobody was interested.
Other: Yeah.
TI: That was it. You’d done the job. Just like an ordinary soldier, you know. Whether you’d been in D-Day or were a cook in the cookhouse or anything like that. You were just a soldier or a person. That was it. Full stop.
CB: Now, your wife Jenny’s quite a bit younger so she’s got a comment to make.
JI: Yeah. Well, I was at school. Just getting towards leaving school. CND had just started. I think the first march was 1958. And it was around about that time that a lot of the activists who were marching for CND were building up a pressure group on Dresden. And people were volunteering to go after that to go and rebuild Dresden. I’d never heard of Dresden before that. So I mean I would fix it in 1958 that that’s where it came from.
CB: Yes. Well, there was a very interesting East German component in that but we’ll ignore that for the moment.
JI: I think that went above the head of a sort of seventeen year old schoolgirl. Not necessary.
CB: Any more from you?
Other: No.
CB: I think we’ll stop there. Thank you all very much indeed.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Stan Instone
Creator
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Chris Brockbank
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-04-07
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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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AInstoneTS160407
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Pending review
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01:33:18 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
Thomas (Stan) Instone was working at a factory making Bristol Hercules engines but volunteered to be aircrew as soon as he was of age. Initially his application was unsuccessful but he persevered and trained as ground crew. He later remustered as a flight engineer. After training he crewed up with a Canadian crew and was posted to RAF Middleton. His aircraft was attacked by a night fighter and the rear gunner was seriously injured and ultimately lost an eye. Stan was able to get him out of his turret. Stan and his crew were eventually shot down and the surviving members all became prisoners of war. He was initially at Stalag 13D before the long march to Stalag 7A. His poor health made the journey particularly arduous and he credits his fellow crew member with the strength to carry on.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
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Canada
Germany
Great Britain
Poland
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Dortmund
Poland--Łambinowice
Poland--Tychowo
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
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1944-09
1945-02-20
1664 HCU
419 Squadron
Absent Without Leave
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
Dulag Luft
final resting place
flight engineer
ground crew
ground personnel
Halifax
Halifax Mk 2
Halifax Mk 3
Halifax Mk 5
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
military ethos
military service conditions
perception of bombing war
prisoner of war
RAF Middleton St George
RAF St Athan
Red Cross
sanitation
shot down
strafing
the long march
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1174/11743/ATylerEA171208.1.mp3
82be60320d9bed0c821a6805065d97f6
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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Tyler, Elizabeth Anne
E A Tyler
Description
An account of the resource
Seven items. An oral history interview with Elizabeth Tyler (b.1952), five photographs and a postcard to Mrs Margaret Tyler,
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Elizabeth Tyler and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-12-08
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Tyler, EA
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is Friday, the 8th of December 2017, and we are here in Edith Weston talking to Liz Tyler about several topics, but the first one is to do with the purchase of the family’s farmland for the construction of North Luffenham airfield. So, what are the original information about that?
EAT: Well, my father always said that on Friday, the 1st of September at one o’clock, they’d all come in for lunch, and two men turned up at the back door, well dressed, all suited, well spoken, and they said they wanted to acquire the land that they had in the Parish of North Luffenham, some of it in Edith Weston and that was it, there’d be no going back. Grandad said, what about the mangles? And they said, no, you’ll be compensated, there’ll be, that’s it, you’re finished, you’re not going back and a few weeks later they saw mangles going off in lorries towards the Jam factory. At that point, obviously the family quite [unclear] that they’d lost it, they lost seventy four acres, which was quite a lot in those days, and I think was little concern whether it was because grandad didn’t want his twenty-three year old son to go off to war, I don’t know, but they were successfully farming here before all this happened so, we can only guess that it was loss of land, loss of farming, loss of income, and they went through the war, they had to rent land at Manton, rented quite a lot at Manton and I believe they had some down at Wiston down as well but in 1945 the farmer next door died and they bought his farm and it all got back on, even [unclear] gave up the land at Manton.
CB: So how did they feel about, what do you think the feeling was about the land being given up?
EAT: I would think Grandad would be quite grumpy about it because they were farming, he was farming at Pilton and farming at North Luffenham and they were farming here and they came here in 1903, obviously with the view to acquire more land, that’s what they did in those days so, I would think he’d be quite upset about it, they seemed quite successful, his father was quite successful. I did read something from, can’t quite remember the year, about 1913 or 1914, there was about five thousand three hundred assets, now not necessarily cash in the bank but assets, although the property they were on at that point was owned by the Ancaster family so that was all rented, so any more than that.
CB: Cause Lord Ancaster owned most of the land
EAT: Oh, they owned the entire village of Empingham and Edith Weston, everything, Pilton, the whole lot. Edith Weston came up originally in 1913 for sale and one of the Ancasters died and then unfortunately the younger one died as well in about 1923, ’24, the next the whole of the village of Empingham in west came up, Pilton was sold in 1953.
CB: Right.
EAT: And North Luffenham, it was a massive area that they owned, so from Grimsthorpe Hall, Grimsthorpe Castle
CB: Right
EAT: Near Bourne
CB: Now, as far as the family was concerned, actually, looking here at the deeds of the purchase, of the sale rather, they are in three separate sections, that’s because they didn’t own the land right across there presumably, did they?
EAT: They didn’t. This was the guy next door, then this one, this is Needhams now, I presume it was Stokes at the time, that field is still there, it’s still empty
CB: Right
EAT: But our land looks as it’s got the housing on it
CB: Yes
EAT: On the Severn Crescent
CB: No [unclear]
EAT: No
CB: The other houses?
EAT: Severn Crescent and Welland
CB: Oh, right
EAT: The offices are here
CB: Yes. So then the airmen’s married courters is there?
EAT: Yes, it’s definitely at Severn Crescent and Welland Road
CB: Yeah
EAT: So here, I’m not too sure whether that’s the MT section now, not exactly too sure but the golf course is here now. So-
CB: Yeah, put in in later time by the RAF.
EAT: Yes
CB: Yes
EAT: Yes, it’s still there so and of course the officer’s mess. Where the officer’s mess is.
CB: Yes
EAT: Grandad always used to, we still got the stackyard opposite, Grandad used to take his cows across the road apparently
CB: Right
EAT: And we owned the two fields either side of it as well so
CB: And the officer’s mess overlooks the valley, it’s a very nice spot to be but it’s an expansion period airfield design, so it’s an impressive building but it was added to, wasn’t it, in later years for the language school?
EAT: Yes, it was, it was a lot of flat buildings and a row of garages, believe it or not, so, yes they are overlooking the fields. It seems an odd place for the officer’s mess, it seems out of sync with the rest of it, you know, the whole campus on this side of the road and the officer’s mess is near the village
CB: Yes. It wasn’t unusual for the officer’s mess to be slightly away from the main activity, but it just happened to fit there by the look of it
EAT: Lost me paper
CB: And so, Grandfather was not too happy really about it happening, about the purchase, the requisition but did he get income from doing work for the RAF, once the airfield was being, had been constructed and was operating?
EAT: I don’t think so, I don’t think there was any, I know they, I think they rented, every so often you can get a bit of grass keeping back or something and I think most folks had some land on there for haymaking, but whether, it must have been during the war, because there’s a story of Grandad’s daughter, my Aunt Mary, driving a costa car, driving across the airfield during the war and a bomber of some sort coming in, she was an awful driver and she got this old car and drove too close to this thing as it came in and it shattered all the glass in the car. So, she was taking tea up when they were flying so that had to be
CB: Yeah
EAT: To my way of thinking during the war so therefore they were haymaking on the edge of the camp presumed, I think, on the North Luffenham Road.
CB: Right. Was the farm actually, mainly arable or was it?
EAT: Oh, it was a typical farm of those days
CB: Or was it a mixture?
EAT: It had a few cows, they did some, we had a little milking parlor, they got sheep, they got chickens, they got turkeys, they got arable, they grew the barley and they grew the oats, the oats was crushed up for the animals that they’d got and they got some cattle, beef cattle so it was a typical, absolutely typical small farm of that time.
CB: So, with the loss of land for doing all these tasks in farming and it wasn’t all their land that they took, then where did your grandfather go to continue his farming?
EAT: He rented Normanton
CB: Right
EAT: Where the nursery is now and the fields along there
CB: Three miles away?
EAT: Yes, about three miles, yeah. I remember bouncing down there on a trailer when I was quite small and so that tells me it was definitely on the right-hand side just beyond where the present garden nursery is, so
CB: And that was rented also from Ancaster, was it? Or was that outside the Ancaster boundary?
EAT: I don’t know the answer to that, I really don’t
CB: How many acres?
EAT: I’ve never heard of Ancaster selling Manton, of course Manton had its own hall anyway, some wealthy folks there, I don’t know the answer to that one, to be honest with you, but I have never heard of Ancaster selling at Manton
CB: So, Grandfather wasn’t pleased about the possibility of his son going to the war, what actually happened to him? Did he continue farming or did he-
EAT: Oh, Dad continued farming, yes, he did
CB: He did?
EAT: Not, I don’t know, it’s something we never spoke about, but you know, sitting here looking backwards now Dad was twenty-three in 1979
CB: ’59, ‘39
EAT: Oh, ’39, yeah and he was born in 1916 and it just makes you wonder, it was his only son, he had a son and a daughter, it just made you wonder if Grandad was slightly panicked by the fact that he might have to go off to war but I don’t know, Dad was, he became part of the home guard, and Grandad was ARP and he what was called a school field now next door to the officer’s mess, it’s full of little bits of grenade and shrapnel.
CB: Yeah
EAT: Which I presume they, because I actually, one of my hobbies is metal detecting, I spent hours digging up what they’ve blown up and the field is, I got a bucket full of them
CB: Yeah
EAT: Absolutely chocka block with this
CB: Yeah
EAT: It was five fields at that point of course
CB: Yeah. What were they doing to create these?
EAT: Practice I presume, in the home guard practice field,
CB: Right. Yeah
EAT: Funnily enough, on eBay, fairly recently I have seen an ARP box with Grandad’s name come up on it
CB: Ah, really?
EAT: And it was found at the Newark show, I didn’t buy it, I’ve got no family to pass it on to, I’ve got pictures of it of course, I’ve pinched those off eBay but I haven’t got the actual item but it was G T Tyler of Edith Weston.
CB: Amazing
EAT: And his little, something medical on it, he was, he did some medical course in 1911 or 1912 and there was a copy of that and now funnily enough, it makes me wonder because his wife did the same course and earlier on in the First World War we’ve got, or I’m not actually sure the First World War, we got some pictures of the women in the Red Cross in the barn. So, whether that’s how they met we don’t know.
CB: No. Now the extent of the airfield is more than five hundred acres
EAT: Yes, I suppose so
CB: So here we are talking about a relatively small amount
EAT: According to this paper that I’ve got it’s 73,036 acres or thereabouts
CB: Right. Who were the other farmers who gave up land?
EAT: We know the Mackies were one of them
CB: Right
EAT: Of Edith Weston
CB: Cause their farmhouse was at the end of the far, of the eastern side of the airfield
EAT: It was. They had to give that up because they had a red lamp on the top of it, got the pictures of that
CB: After the war
EAT: But it’s at the end of the runway this was and it was dangerous for them to live there so they moved them and build a brickhouse further up which Edward Mackie moved into, Ted Mackie and his wife but Richard, the son, still lives in Edith Weston now, he’s about eighty four now I think
CB: Yeah. What, any other, do you know the names of the other farmers? I just wondered how many farms were involved. Cause looking at the map there, they are all sorts of field-
EAT: Yes, there was
CB: Delineations there
EAT: Can you stop that?
CB: Yeah.
EAT: You’ll ask the questions
CB: They moved to the, to Edith Weston in 1903 but it was rented, then they bought, when did they buy the farm?
EAT: They bought the farm on a [unclear] dated the 5th of January 1925 between the Honorable Gilbert Heathcote-Drummond-Willoughby Earl of Ancaster, Baron de Willoughby de Eresby and Baron Aveland [unclear] and it was George Thomas Tyler that bought it
CB: How much money, does it say?
EAT: Probably does but I can’t find it.
CB: Never mind
EAT: But of course, there was more allowment and this farmhouse and everything else at that point
CB: Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, the farm was requisitioned you said on the 1st of September ’39. What happened then about payment?
EAT: Well, we assume there must have been compensation for the crops, I can’t find any paperwork on that, but I am still looking. There’s a letter saying that on the 1st of May ’41 from the solicitor saying I’ve enclosed a copy of the conveyance to the Air Ministry which you need to return to me on Friday and then on the 11th of August 1941 from Barclay’s Bank addressed to G T Tyler of Edith Weston, we beg to inform you we received from Messrs Philips Heavens and Dons that’s the solicitors the sum of three thousand four hundred and seventy nine pounds, fifteen schillings and seven pence for the credit to your account, they’ve also returned to deed’s covering the reminder of your property.
CB: Right
EAT: That’s from the standard bank manager of Barclay’s Bank
CB: Right. And we are covering the documentation on this later. Ok.
EAT: What is that?
CB: So now we are moving on to recollections of your mother and stories you know of about activities when the airfield was running in the war, because there were a lot of crashes
EAT: Ah, there were crashes, there were all sorts of things going on, my mother was born in 1926, was only about thirteen when the war started, it wasn’t long after that she lost her father, she did have to go to Sanford High School and on, it was the same day that Coventry was bombed apparently but she didn’t know that at the time, on Thursday in November, she said, in 1940, it was a real pea soup, a foggy day, the fog never lifted all day, the train that she went on from Luffenham station was late, this was heading into Stanford and as soon as she arrived at the high school the sirens sounded so she joined her classmates in the shelter, which was under the balcony of the rear hall near the shower block apparently. The siren went four times that day and virtually no lessons were taken, the last time it went it was at 3.40 just before the lessons ended. Now the teachers in those days decided that the girls that had got to catch a train might as well leave so they all trotted off down to the station and as they crossed the bridge and waited under the canopy for the train, they heard an approaching airplane coming from the Barnick Tunnel direction and the fog was dense and they all came out from the canopy to have a little look and see what it was and this plane was going over the station and they saw the swastikas on the wing and the machine gun bullets hit the station. Now, everybody ran back under the canopy and the plane continued following along the rail track. No one was injured and later they heard that the plane had been shot down in Melton Mowbray. Nobody was injured in it at all, but the next day one of the classmates had died, Silvia Smith, 13 years old, the only child of Mr. and Mrs. Smith who ran the newsagents and tobacconist in Oakham. They just presumed it was shock. And for many years the, I think mother said she could see it in 19, the Sixties or Seventies, she went to the station, she could still see the marks on the wall. So, that was that. That was that one. On the day that war was declared the 3rd of December 1939, after they’d heard that war had been declared about eleven o’clock or at eleven o’clock, mum and grandma went down to see great grandad and after about twenty minutes they came back to Manor Farm, Mrs. Pick stood at the letter box, she was crying, she thought her two boys, Ken and John would be called up but of course they weren’t because they were farming and they did remain at Pilton through the war. And Harry Pridmore was busy in the yard and he said to mum that he wanted to go and check the cattle in Marriot’s field which is down on the Luffenham Road and she said, she didn’t really want to go cause she was scared but her dad said it would be ok, he wouldn’t send her if it wasn’t. So she reluctantly set off on her bike and then she left it by the spring and ran across the field, she crossed the iron stone railway track she saw Mr. George Dexter standing in the middle of Marriot’s field, he was smoking a cigarette, he said that all the cattle were well and she just glanced at them to be sure and the cattle were in the corner field in a small archway under the railway and they heard a train coming along. It was a long train with many, many carriages, it was doing about twenty miles an hour and he looked up and saw this absolutely packed with evacuees all with gas masks on their shoulders and all wearing labels. Some were waving and some were crying. Mother, Mrs. Margaret Tyler said she couldn’t, she could see them, Mr. Dexter, he was a hard working, tough sort of man, non-emotional sort of chap, but he got tears flowing down his face and she got, she heard him saying, just look at them, poor little buggers. [pause] It’s not really part of it but part of the World War Two, the Camden girls High School were evacuated to Stamford and they shared the school, the girls were billeted in the towns and they had their lessons till 1.30 and then they did sport or whatever and the girls shared in but they moved on after a year and went to Nottingham.
CB: I’ll stop there for a minute. Now you have a mysterious one here under the title of Winking Willy
EAT: Well, my mom always talked of Winking Willy which was, well, I’ll tell you what she said about it, she said it was part of a different location every night with no routine, it was a huge rondo on a four wheel trailer pulled by an RAF lorry and all the locals called it Winking Willy. It was manned by two or three airmen and they parked up and waited for fifty to sixty planes, she wondered if they were Lancasters she didn’t know but so these planes were waiting to land and about 1944, ’45, the pilots, this was all about 1944, ’45, but the pilots knew the location, it parked on Redhill at Morcott and sometimes on the Lyndon to Wing Road at the ranglings which is a field at Pilton at the gateway. It could not come through, she said the gated road to Lyndon so it used to go to Luffenham and Pilton towards Wing and then turn down the Linden Road. [pause] Ah yes, she then tells a little tale of when herself and the land army girl were taking tea to the chap that worked for them, they were loading sheaves in the eleven acre field and Charlie was driving the tractor and pitching, Diamond was still, that was the horse, it was still pulling the blue cart which had two wheels on the rear and small ones at the front which enabled it to turn sharply, now Diamond apparently was wearing blinkers but she saw Winking Willy coming round [unclear] Corner so she took in immediately left and went straight through the hedge, the car stuck in the hedge, and mum and the land army girl were stranded. So also now as part of my metal detecting routine I do go down on the Lyndon to Luffenham Road below Pasture House onto Bob Sewell’s field and I pick up a lot of snippets of wire and he said there was lights in the bottom of that valley but I really don’t know much more about that. I know that mum tells the tale of the Hampden that crashed, it was, the farm worker was only, they had to share the house at one point, they were short of a cottage for him, so he was there between October ’41 and June ’42 and one winter’s evening these Hampdens were coming along the valley from Luffenham turning, they seemed to turn left as they came there and go over the manor farm house which is where they lived at Pilton and so that’s what the pilots told them. So they watched all these planes coming along and one quite simply didn’t turn and it went straight on and they saw it explode, it went into the field just again what they called Pilton bridge on the Pilton to Lyndon Road, I think they said there was four men in it and they were obviously all killed, now, mum shouted to the farm worker, who was having a meal of some sort, I think, his tea or whatever, and he ran down, in his slippers, straight down Lyndon Hill, mum was about fifteen or so at the time, she followed him and he ran straight into the field and, but mum got as far as the gateway and she heard all the bullets going off and she took fright and she ran back up the hill, back to Lyndon and that’s about as much as I know about them.
CB: Just intriguing, it sounds as though they tried to-
EAT: I have to say, I’m sorry to but in, but I have to say as a metal detectress, I’ve been to that field and there is not a sign of any metal anywhere, they picked the whole lot up, gone.
CB: Interesting, right. In the early days, they flew Hampdens or other planes that would be regarded today as pretty ropey but later they had Lancasters, so what have you got on Lancaster incidents?
EAT: My dad always used to talk of the Lancaster that crashed in, well, he called it stackyard, just fifty yards behind this house now. It was on a training flight apparently, on a cross country training flight and there was apparently eight on board which is unusual and I’m not terribly well informed on planes, but it came in a bit further down the runway than it should’ve done apparently and for some unknown reason it hit or it was always said that it hit a naffy tea wagon which destabilized it somewhat and the guy had to, I’m not into planes I don’t know technical terms, how to get this thing back in the air and try and do a circle and re-land but in doing so he clipped, as he came into Edith Weston, he clipped the trees, some very high trees at what we call Gibbs Pitt and he must have clipped those and brought it down immediately. Now how he got it parked into that stackyard, it was such a small area, we got the barns on the left, a barn in front of him and two big old beech trees on the right hand side and it’s always said that if it’d had kept going, it’d had took the church and now Elsie Melbourne, in front of this there are some houses on what is now King Edward’s Way and apparently Elsie Melbourne he was born in the house there, she was busy looking out of the bedroom window and she saw it coming straight to her and she absolutely petrified and then it just disappeared behind the woodyard buildings and that was the end of that. George Oliver, he was an evacuee who came to Edith Weston and lodged with Mr. and Mrs. Woolhead with his two brothers, he was nineteen at the time, had a job with Mr. Moxlow of home farm which is immediately a house behind this, where this thing crashed. On that afternoon he rode his bicycle into the paddock and propped in on a haystack and at the time of the crash he was milking the cows literally in a shed, literally a walls width from where this thing crashed, he heard a tremendous noise and he came out of the shed and he saw the plane crash through the trees and explode as it hit the ground. He said flames were shooting out between the buildings straight at him, he thinks, this was his comment, he thinks the plane flipped as it landed and it threw the gunner out of the plane. The man sat on the curve in Church Lane, he was very badly injured, George is now 91 years old, he lives in Hertfordshire and this is dated 2016, he claimed on his insurance at the time and he got ten pound compensation for the loss of his bicycle. Raymond Connington, he was in the, he was the son of the landlord of the Wheatsheaf pub and he was in the kitchen when he heard the noise, oh, bear in mind this was a Sunday afternoon that this happened and he looked out of the window and saw the Lancaster approaching and he just heard the crash and he ran down and jumped on his bike and when he reached what is now called Church Lane, the plane was well ablaze and the bullets were spraying everywhere. The plane crashed near to the barn and when they looked at it from the church, there was a good strip of grass on the left hand side which is such a small paddock and these beech trees had survived and the paddock itself was full of hay and strawcobs which were all on fire and Mrs., it wasn’t Tyler’s property at that time, it was Mrs. Moxlow of home farm, she fed her hens and when she saw them later, they were shuffled up to the size of tennis balls and the snacks smoldered for about a week. Another lady’s son, [unclear] who was Sonya Dobinson at the time, her father was in the RAF and they were lodging at Grange Cottage at one point and she said that the smog and the smoke just covered the village for about a fortnight, it just went on, it just never stopped. Winnie and George, Winnie Ball and George Barlow and Eileen Davis were all in number five Edith Weston which is now 10 Well Cross, they were all playing cards and their mom and dad had gone on to Humbleton to see a relative, all these folks, they were used to hearing the planes going overhead and didn’t take a lot of notice, until this one came, it got louder and louder and there was a huge bang and the walls of the cottage shook. They all ran outside and saw smoke and flames and within minutes the airmen from the base were running down through all the gardens across Well Cross, anywhere, whatever they could get through they went through any access to get to the crash site. And by the time George and Winnie and Eileen reached Church Lane, the road close signs were in place. Oh, and years later, funnily enough, and I don’t think I’ve got a picture of this but in years later, in about 2010, ’08, ’10, sorry about that, the barns were sold and they were taking the covers off one of the windows and they couldn’t understand when they got this timber boarding off this particular window, why the thick timber window frame was black and burnt and but that would appear to be damage from the crash and it’s the only evidence that we’ve got. That’s it.
CB: Subsequent to that, research was done and a memorial was eventually, so what’s the story of that?
EAT: Well it was, well, I decided to start doing some village history, not particularly old, I was looking sort of anything of mid eighteen hundreds to ninety, well pre reservoir really and so I went on and tried to get some photos and bits and bobs, which I did, and of course it resulted in a village reunion which is where I’ve met all these people and got all these stories from but I wrote a book at the time it was A Village called Edith Weston. It was published in 2008 I believe and in it there’s just a couple of lines about this crash and Mrs. Moxlow and the chickens and then because, you know, we’ve got a lot of RAF or ex RAF now settled in the village, what rank I have no idea but Mr. Jury from St Mary’s Close
CB: Squadron leader
EAT: Squadron leader, he got in touch with me, came round one evening, we had a little chat and decided we’d probably get a plaque upon this. So he set about doing the official RAF bits and I set about doing the witnesses and the people that we wanted to come to the service, they weren’t actually here at the time, you know, all these little lads that were telling these tales of sitting on the wall and dodging the bullets and mum and dad shouting at them to come off and all the rest of it and then going desperate for a bit of, what is it? The broken airplane
CB: Yes, bit of the wreckage,
EAT: Wreckage
CB: Yeah
EAT: But of course they couldn’t get it
CB: Yeah
EAT: Trying but these lads couldn’t get in so, anyway this is how it started, I went to see the vicar, I think Mr. Jury saw the vicar, whose name just escapes me at the minute, and we had difficulty to getting it on March the 4th cause it was short notice, it was only about end of January, February time when this was going on and, but in the end we did and we had it on the 4th, Friday the 4th of March 2012.
CB: Brilliant, yes.
EAT: So we had
CB: And what sort of turnout did you get?
EAT: Oh, we must have had forty or fifty, sixty people, I think. We started off at the pub, the service was at three o’clock I believe. Now, the one chap that wanted to come was Thompson, who lives up Sunderland direction. I’d found him by looking in the church records, funnily enough he’d been diverted off the M1 motorway and he came pretty close to Edith Weston and he thought, oh this was years ago, about twenty years ago, and he’d thought he’d take a ride past, and he called in the church and funnily enough he called in this house at the shop and the shop directed him to my mum and he came and had a word with my mum as to what she remembered about the Lancaster crash and she filled in a few bits and bobs because hers was hearsay as well of course because she wasn’t living here at that time
CB: No
EAT: [coughs] excuse me, and he’d gone to the church and he’d put his telephone number down on the church visitor’s book, so I rang him up and it was his uncle that was the rear gunner. Now, Thompson was desperate to come down for this but unfortunately on the, as this was on the Friday, on the Wednesday his father-in-law died, so he couldn’t come, so he sent a huge bouquet of flowers, which was put in the church and, but he just couldn’t come, he’s got a lot of history on it
CB: Fascinating, yeah
EAT: Since then I’ve been out to Lutterworth church and found one of the graves and took some pictures of that and I intend really to go to, Cambridge has got three, the Australian between Cambridge I believe and Kirby Muxloe rings a bell, I think there is one there, but the one up north we are struggling to find it at the minute, so, but I will get it done
CB: Because very often the burial was at the site or the, near enough to the graveyard
EAT: Yes
CB: Near the crash
EAT: No, there’s not one of them here, there’s none in, we have no, we have a couple of military in Edith Weston but there’s quite a war graves place in, at North Luffenham church but none of these airmen are buried there. Three Australians definitely in Cambridge, one’s in Lutterworth, one went back up north, Sunderland direction, one went back I can’t remember to the left, Lancashire, across there somewhere and one’s in Leicestershire
CB: Did somebody from the Canadian-
EAT: Australian
CB: I’m sorry, the Australian High Commission come?
EAT: I believe he did but for that you really have to talk to Mr. Jury because I’ve got the photos but I’m really not into the military
CB: Ok
EAT: I didn’t do that, there was a chap who came from London with his wife
CB: Yeah
EAT: And a man came from a magazine [pause] but I can’t remember that either
CB: Ok
EAT: But I have the details, I think I’ll forward them
CB: Tell us about the plaque. How did you put it together?
EAT: Well, Mr. Jury did all the plaque organization, I, he came to me and we decided on or he decided on the layout and then we changed it slightly but then it went away and he dealt with all of that. The only thing I did was pay for it. I can’t remember exactly how much, it was three hundred and forty five, or three hundred and twenty five pounds and I said, I’ll pay for it out of the proceeds of the book that I’d written because I had put it, the money all into a separate account to do something for the village, buy a bench or something, so the plaque money came out of that
CB: Brilliant. So just describe the plaque, could you? What’s it made of, how did you produce the, looks like stainless steel?
EAT: Yeah, no, the plaque was definitely Mr. Jury
CB: Yeah
EAT: It was done and dusted, I came and he bought it here and that was it, I had nothing to do with the plaque
CB: And where is it been installed?
EAT: It’s now to the left of the church gates, there was a little bit of aggravation on the fourth because we were not quite quick enough. Mr. Jury wanted this to happen in the summer on 2016 but I felt, if we gonna have it, we gotta have it on the 4th of March, it was as simple as that, it had to be done on that day and the vicar agreed with me. So, but we did have a rush so of course on the actual day the plaque, the ceremony was, the memorial was done, which as I say, I keep saying was the 4th of March, the church hadn’t given us permission to put it on the wall, so it had to be propped up just for the ceremony and there was a slight disagreement but then they found a suitable stone just to the left of the gate, which was absolutely ideal for him and that’s where it is today
CB: So you can see it if you drive past in the car
EAT: Indeed, you can
CB: And it has the names of all eight of the crew
EAT: It does, it has some logo at the bottom
CB: Yeah. Now, what other, when these things are being decided, then you get two things, principally one is an option, a number of options, as to where to locate them and the other is the opinions that go with the options so what other places were considered?
EAT: Well, it was the far end, as you’re looking at the church stand, looking at the church, it was the far end on the right hand side of the wall, on the right hand, at the far end that it wanted to go to, and everybody seemed quite in agreement about that but again I disagreed with it to be honest because to me that is getting towards the lines and whilst the chap at the lines said, oh, I don’t mind it being on my wall, I felt that in time, when the lines is sold and hopefully the plaque will outlive most of us here, so I felt there might be trouble on that and then I said, no, it really ought to come onto the church wall. I think the idea of putting it on the lines, the house called the lines wall was the fact that it can be done quickly, we could’ve done that on plaque day, but this was more longer term to me, so it had to go on the church walls, therefore you had to have the diocesans permission from Peterborough which we couldn’t get in time, six weeks paperwork I believe.
CB: How were you deciding the options in terms of, cause the crash was in the rickyard
EAT: Yeah
CB: Or the yard with a lot of hay in it
EAT: I have an aerial photo of that paddock
CB: Right
EAT: Whilst it was still a paddock, you can see how small it was, it’s now the six houses on it now, which is Church Lane, the barn’s still there although it’s now a house and converted but the original little tractor shed has come down, it’s no longer there but it was really quite a tiny, tiny, tiny place
CB: Yeah
EAT: How on earth that Lancaster landed
CB: Extraordinary
EAT: And missed everything I have no idea. But the trees it hit were only just across the way of course, very tall trees and it came down within a few yards really.
CB: And for many years there was just the stump of a burnt-out tree nearby so, what happened to that?
EAT: We assume when the six houses arrived, which I think was about 1972-ish, that the beech trees survived, the original beech tree outside number twelve, of course it’s now gone although it got a TPO on it, it’s gone because there was, I think they said it was foundations that were being a problem but of course we now have the new extension and yes the tree is gone and yes we can now see Rutland Water
CB: GPO being
EAT: Tree Preservation Order.
CB: Right
EAT: We now got a twig stands in its place. Give it a couple of hundred years it might replace it [laughs]
CB: Right, that’s very good.
EAT: I’m sorry, I’m not, I was not into that tree coming down as you probably got the drift, I said it survived that bloody Lancaster crash and now because [unclear]
US: [unclear]
EAT: No sooner done it and he sold it, that’s what he wanted, he couldn’t get a placid view of the water, you see, with the tree there, bought it there the tree quite happily
CB: No. So
EAT: Still I really can’t, I’ll find you that picture, you probably got it but it’s such a small
CB: I think it would be good to see. The, there was a service associated with this [unclear] fight afterwards so what were the considerations in doing those, how did you decide on the order of service?
EAT: I think the vicar took charge, I can’t remember what his names was, John or somebody We’ve not got a vicar, vicar, we got one now
CB: He’s
EAT: Brian Nichols has died
CB: Oh
EAT: Brian Nichols, he was vicar a long time. I had nothing to do with this
CB: But was there a committee formed to
EAT: No, no
CB: Make a decision or?
EAT: Didn’t seem to be
CB: How did, so, the vicar decided on the form of the service
EAT: I think during, the vicar, I’m not, I don’t actually no whether these men that, I think and I might be wrong, you have to see and if you’re going to see Jury, that’s not switched on, is it?
CB: It is at the moment
EAT: It is?
CB: It’s alright
EAT: Mr. Jury is not well
CB: I know, I’ve spoken to him
EAT: I think, I may be wrong but I think there is a procedure, so I think once the military folks got involved in it, the procedure kicked into gear really with the vicar
CB: Yes
EAT: John, I can’t remember his name but John, he lives at Empingham but I think it seemed to evolve at that point, I’d gone off meanwhile to get all these witnesses, trying and get them in from Norwich and Bourne and
CB: How did go about that?
EAT: I’m sorry?
CB: How did you go about getting the witnesses? Did you-
EAT: Well, there were people I’d known through the book, that had given me photos for the village, so I am pretty well in contact
CB: Did you write to them at first or did you?
EAT: No, I got on the telephone.
CB: Yes
EAT: One lives in Norwich, one lives in Bourne, there’s one just at Caldecott, the, it was too late a thing for the evacuees, they’d really gone past the point of driving up from Welwyn Garden City so they couldn’t come, Mrs. [unclear] had died, so, yeah, we all just got them together really, and one or two of the old villagers, they were like me really, offsprings of those that were there at the time, so we all gathered together so
CB: It was a good event
EAT: We were very lucky actually, just before the pub burnt down [laughs]
CB: Yes. Well, that’s a good point
EAT: It was. I don’t know what we’d have done otherwise. Probably had something in the village hall, I think
CB: Yes, probably. Well, it’s a very good village hall.
EAT: Yeah
CB: What about the church procedures, because by implication from what you said earlier there was what was perceived as foot-dragging in again the church administration so, so what
EAT: Well, the vicar did his best but he couldn’t, it’s a standard, a bog standard thing that had to be either six or eight weeks notice given for this and we just, it wasn’t, by the time six or eight weeks was up, it was well after, it was into March but we missed it by a fortnight, couldn’t do anything about it, just couldn’t, it’s, that’s the way it works and that was it, there was nothing we could do
CB: Yeah. Ok, right
EAT: So I believe, I don’t know quite where it was propped, it was propped somewhere on the church wall at the time, I think and whilst these Australian and one or two of us stood in front of it, so
CB: There are plenty of pictures supporting that anyway
EAT: Oh, lots of pictures, lots of pictures
CB: Yeah, good. Just pause there, thank you very much
EAT: We did, we did incidentally whilst,
CB: Wait
EAT: We did have, Peter Burrows used to live in the village, he used to live at number 12 Well Cross after the war, I must admit, but he knew a chap in Stamford, one of his ex next door neighbours, and this is former neighbour Robert Renard, who lived, now at King’s Road at Luffenham, he was formerly in the RAF at Cottesmore and Wittering
CB: Right
EAT: But he always plays the last post
CB: Oh, does he?
EAT: So, we were very lucky, we got in touch with him and he was absolutely delighted to turn up and do just that for us, so very lucky with that
CB: I think it was supported by the British Legion and the RAF Association as well
EAT: I believe it was, yes
CB: Yes, good. Stop there, thank you. The additional information about RAF North Luffenham is that it was constructed by engineer’s main contractor John Lang & Son and it comprised grass runways initially but it had a B1 hangar, it had two J type hangars, and three T3s. Early on it opened in December 1940 and was closed in 1998. The elevation is 350 feet and the pundit code was NL, November Lima. The first squadrons were 61 Squadron of Hampdens which came in 1941, followed by 144 Squadron which was also Hampdens. It’s significant that this, the Tylers witnessed a number of these planes crashing in the valley around North Luffenham. That’s it.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Elizabeth Anne Tyler
Creator
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Chris Brockbank
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-12-08
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ATylerEA171208
Conforms To
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Pending review
Format
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00:40:55 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Civilian
Second generation
Description
An account of the resource
Elizabeth Anne Tyler talks about her family’s farmland, its history and when it was purchased by the Air Force for the construction of RAF North Luffenham. Mentions various episodes of wartime life around Edith Weston, as reported by family members and neighbours: her mother witnessing, as a schoolgirl, an enemy aircraft strafing the train station in 1940; a train packed with evacuees; a Hampden crash near Pilton. She gives an account of a Lancaster crash as told by various witnesses and recounts her efforts made to commemorate the aircraft and its crew with a ceremony and the unveiling of a plaque.
Contributor
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Peter Schulze
Steph Jackson
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Pilton (Somerset)
England--Rutland
England--Somerset
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941
childhood in wartime
crash
evacuation
final resting place
Hampden
Lancaster
memorial
RAF North Luffenham
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1875/46440/SHarriganD[Ser -DoB]v090002.mp3
8598a787d9cade4d126b750d930ea0c2
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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Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-06-19
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire
Description
An account of the resource
34 items. Interviews with veterans recorded by Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire.<br /><br />Interview with Bertie Salvage <br />Three part interview with Dougie Marsh <br />Interview with Terry Hodson <br />Interview with Stan Waite Interview with John Langston<br />Interview with Nelson Nix <br />Two part interview with Bob Panton <br />Interview with Basil Fish <br />Interview with Ernest Groeger <br />Interview with Wilf Keyte <br />Interview with Reginald John Herring <br />Interview with Kathleen Reid <br />Interview with Allan Holmes <br />Interview with John Tomlinson <br />Interview with Cliff Thorpe and Roy Smith <br />Interview with Peter Scoley <br />Interview with Kenneth Ivan Duddell <br />Interview with Christopher Francis Allison <br />Interview with Bernard Bell <br />Interview with George Arthur Bell <br />Interview with George William Taplin <br />Interview with Richard Moore <br />Interview with Kenneth Edgar Neve <br />Interview with Annie Mary Blood <br />Interview with Dennis Brader <br />Interview with Les Stedman <br />Interview with Anthony Edward Mason <br />Interview with Anne Morgan Rose Harcombe<br />
<p>The following interviews have been moved to the relevant collections.<br /><span>Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46454">Kathleen Reid</a></span><br />Interview with Wing Commander <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46467">Kenneth Cook DFC</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46456">Colin Cole</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/46464">Charles Avey</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46470">John Bell</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46459">Les Rutherford</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46460">James Douglas Hudson</a></p>
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Interviewer: This is an interview with Mr Richard Moore at his home in Lincoln talking about his wartime career as ground crew in the Lincoln area.
RM: Ok. We’ll go from there. Well, I joined up when I was eighteen and my first port of call was Weston Super Mare which as you know is not very far from home and I did six weeks square bashing there. We lived in private houses and we were well looked after. When that six weeks was up I was posted to Locking which is just outside of Weston and I was there for seven months learning my course. After we passed out, some of us passed out, some didn’t and my first squadron was Squires Gate at Blackpool. Boulton Paul Defiants they were. Something new to the Germans because not only did they have a pilot they had a mid-upper turret as well, a gunner so it could fire front and back. But Jerry soon got, soon got wise to it. A very clever race the Germans. I went on leave and when I came back we’d moved to Woodvale in Southport and those planes were call Beaufighters. They were twin engine light bomber. And one day our chief came to us and said, ‘I’ve got to post six of you to a place called Swinderby.’ Oh, we were going to Sicily. The squadron was going to Sicily. I said, ‘Well, I know where Sicily is but where’s Swinderby?’ He said, ‘I believe it’s in Lincolnshire.’ ‘Alright,’ I said, ‘I’ll be one to go to Swinderby then.’ Good job I did. They took a pasting in Sicily. And we get to Swinderby and it was, ‘Oh, we don’t want you here. You’ve got to go to Wigsley.’ So we go to Wigsley. ‘Oh, we don’t want you here.’ Back to Swinderby. In the end, in the finish we were at Wigsley and we were working with AV Roe men doing crossed aircraft and our chiefy turns up and says, ‘Drop everything. Get all your toolboxes and kit. We’ve got a bit of a job on.’ He didn’t say where but he took us back to Scampton and I see these Lancs. There was one in a hangar. No bomb doors just two arms down you see. I thought these are queer Lancasters.
Interviewer: This would be early 1943.
RM: Yes. Yes. And so, a chap and I worked all night on one of them. God, it was damned cold in that hangar. It was in May, wasn’t it? It was May time and all of them had been flying low over the water and all the plates underneath towards the rear gunner were all mashed in. We had to change all them. And I lived in Saxilby at the time. I could live out because my wife in Saxilby and I wasn’t far away and as I was cycling down Tillbridge Lane they were taking off on this raid. Didn’t know anything about it. I know the chap’s dog had got killed. Nigger. It was killed the day before they went and Gibson said, ‘Bury it at 12 o’clock. That’s when we’ll be over the target.’
Interviewer: Did you see anything of Guy Gibson or —
RM: Oh, I saw him in the distance. I’ve met Micky Martin.
Interviewer: Oh yes.
RM: He was a nice bloke. Australian he was. He was a good pilot. So and off I went home and the next day we knew all about it.
Interviewer: So you saw these aircraft obviously different to the normal Lancasters.
RM: There were no bomb doors you see.
Interviewer: Did you wonder what was, you know happening?
RM: No. Nobody said anything. I said, ‘Well their just two arms now. Then we realised it was for the swimming, the swimming bomb you see. Yeah. And we lost what seven did we? Or was their eight I think we lost.
Interviewer: Yes. It was eight. Yes.
RM: Fifty six men. And Martin and Gibson, they kept flying each side of the dam to give the other chaps to get in and draw the flak off. But it took the last bomber to break the dam.
Interviewer: That’s right. Les Knight.
RM: And then they went to the other one but they couldn’t get to the third one. That was impossible I think. They’d run out of time. Yes, it was quite a great occasion. But as I say within a few days we were off. We went to Bardney.
Interviewer: How many of you were there working on the —
RM: Well, there would be about maybe a group of us. About fourteen I should think because there was fitters, engine men, riggers. There were air frames, wireless operators, electricians and what else did we have? We wouldn’t have the bomb people because people, special people put the bombs on the planes. But you know —
Interviewer: Did you actually see the bombs that were going to be put on these?
RM: No. I did not see them.
Interviewer: They were all —
RM: No. Because once we finished at night we went to bed. Us two, then the rest took over in the morning. And then they said, ‘You can’t go out of camp.’ And I wanted to go home you see. Anyway, they let me out. I got on my bike and I said I was going down Tillbridge Lane as they were taking off. A wonderful sight.
Interviewer: Three of them together in waves weren’t there?
RM: Yeah. Yeah. Yes. A bit of a noise but it was great.
Interviewer: And you saw the bombs. The different bombs.
RM: No.
Interviewer: Rather than the —
RM: Yes.
Interviewer: The usual. Hanging below —
RM: That’s right.
Interviewer: Below the –
RM: These sort of bombs and then of course the next thing was the Tallboys. weren’t they?
Interviewer: Yes.
RM: Terrific they were sized. Yeah, so when I came back the next day he said. ‘We’re off again.’ So we went to Bardney. M for Mother had crashed and we wanted to get it up in the air again.
Interviewer: So you were repairing the crashed aircraft.
RM: Yes. Yes.
Interviewer: And getting them ready for —
RM: Yeah.
Interviewer: Flying again.
RM: That’s right. Got them in the air because we were losing a lot of planes you see.
Interviewer: Right.
RM: And also, when a plane had done a big, we had to do a major inspection on them and when they had done so many flying hours just to make sure they were alright for because I mean it’s like a car isn’t it you do so many miles and you have an MOT or whatever they call it. And so we worked on M for Mother. First night on ops she never came back.
Interviewer: Oh dear.
RM: That was a bad job that was. Then blimey the lorry rolls up again. ‘Come on. Get in.’ Syerston in Nottingham. Just at the border that was and we had twelve major inspections to do on Lancs there. And after that then we were disbanded because the war was nearly over.
Interviewer: Right.
RM: So, 5 Group, Bomber Command was disbanded and we ended up, some of us on a BABs flight testing this new radar on a Oxford, Airspeed Oxfords two engine planes. Sent down somewhere in the south. I can’t tell you the name of the place and I met Micky Martin. We had a good old chat about the old days and —
Interviewer: Did he talk about the Dams raid?
RM: Yeah. He didn’t say a lot. He just, you know sort of, ‘Lucky to be alive,’ sort of thing. But he was a good pilot.
Interviewer: He was a bit on the eccentric side, wasn’t he?
RM: Oh yes. Yes. He didn’t say a lot I don’t think. But Australians are either or. You know. Got plenty to say for themselves.
Interviewer: They usually have. Yes.
RM: But yes. It was, it was good years. We, oh we went off. We went, before that I missed something out. We went to East Kirkby to do some jobs there and as our bombers came into land one, early one morning the German fighters followed them in and shot the camp up. There were cannon shells all over the place. We were diving for cover everywhere. One poor WAAF got killed.
Interviewer: Oh dear.
RM: But I don’t know what was the matter with our radar to let the Jerries get in so close to our bombers as they were landing. And there was one took off one night when they were going on a raid and it blew up. Went down the runway and the only man who survived was the rear gunner. He was blown out so he survived. He was lucky. I don’t know why it blew up like that.
Interviewer: No. What were your feelings during this time? I mean, did you, did you realise you know the important job you were doing?
RM: Oh yes. Yes.
Interviewer: And —
RM: It was a really worthwhile job. I mean I know we were only ground crew but they couldn’t have done without us could they?
Interviewer: Couldn’t have got off the ground without you.
RM: No.
Interviewer: Literally.
RM: I mean sometimes we had to refuel the planes you know. It was good.
Interviewer: And it was good camaraderie between you.
RM: Yes. Yes.
Interviewer: You all.
RM: Oh yes. We never —
Interviewer: Did you get to know many of the aircrew?
RM: Not a lot. No. Because I mean I didn’t [pause] when we did an inspection every morning, you’d do a DI every morning on the planes, a Daily Inspection in other words that was about all you saw of them. It was you know the only time perhaps you saw them, when they got an eye on you and you pulled the chocs away. That was it you know. They didn’t sort of mix a lot with ground crew.
Interviewer: No. Did you, you worked on Lancasters?
RM: Oh, I started off as I told you on Boulton Paul Defiants.
Interviewer: Yes.
RM: Beaufighters.
Interviewer: Manchesters.
RM: Yes, I —
Interviewer: Did you work on those?
RM: To be honest, yeah. I flew a Manchester.
Interviewer: Oh really.
RM: Not very far mind you.
Interviewer: No. No. I think —
RM: I was —
Interviewer: That was the trouble with them.
RM: We were at Swinderby and I went up with this pilot and he said, ‘Would you like to fly it?’ I said, ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He said, ‘Go on. Take the controls but I’ll keep my feet on the rudders. But don’t turn it left or that way or we’ll flip over and we’ll be gonners.’ I didn’t do it for long but it was, it was an experience.
Interviewer: How fantastic.
RM: Yeah.
Interviewer: They were.
RM: Oh, those engines were too big for those planes. Vulcan engines. I knew one crossed up near the tree in Saxilby village one day. My misses said, ‘I thought you might have been on that.’ I said, ‘No. I wasn’t.’ But she did play hell with me one day because when we were at, when I was at Swinderby before all this we [pause] I was picked to go with this group we had a little section as you turn off the Newark Road to go to Swinderby camp there’s a bit of a corner of a field. We had a little section in there we had a Spitfire in. We were working on an Halifax bomber and all that sort of thing and one day chiefy said, ‘I want a rigger and an engine man to go down to the Percival Gull works in Luton. I said, ‘Oh, I’ll go.’ Daft like. And my friend, a chap called Saul he said, ‘I’ll go as well.’ So we gets on this Airspeed Oxford and off we set off and we were going over London and nearly run into a barrage balloon because we were flying into the sun. He saw it at the last minute and we got down there. Landed in a field and came back safely. When I told her about it she went bananas. She said, ‘You stupid idiot.’ Sort of thing. ‘Because you have a daughter,’ she said, ‘Remember.’ I said, ‘Well, there you are.’
Interviewer: You’re here to tell the tale anyway.
RM: Yeah. Yes. And then as I say we got on this radar business at [unclear] and then well we kept flying different places. Dakotas we used a lot to fly about in. And then we went down to St Mawgan in Newquay and worked a bit on there. Different planes because a lot of them were obsolete then, weren’t they? The Wellington and the Hampden and the Stirling they’d all got, well they weren’t much cop really were they? To be honest. They did their job but they were very vulnerable.
Interviewer: Yes.
RM: Especially the Wellington because it was only fabric. And I was going to be a flight engineer but my wife said, ‘No, you’re not.’ Because they used to get their head shot off you know, the poor old flight engineers because they stood beside the pilot watching all the dials.
Interviewer: That’s right.
RM: So I didn’t do that. I said, ‘Well, I survived the war so I should have been alright.’ Anyway, as I said as we went down and we stayed down at Newquay for a bit at St Mawgan and then they come to me one day and said, ‘You’re going to Leconfield.’ I said, ‘Leconfield? Where’s that?’ he said, ‘In Yorkshire.’ I said, ‘That’s a hell of a long way to go to be demobbed.’ I was going to get demobbed you see and so I get to Leconfield and we stopped there working on Wellingtons of all things. And then a load of RAF, these young ATC cadets turned up and were going for a flight on one of these Wellies. That crashed.
Interviewer: Oh dear.
RM: Terrible. Lost. Lost all these kids. Just couldn’t understand it because I mean they were, we all thought they were in tip top condition. Anyway, I got on a charge there because what was he called? He was a mad man our engineering officer. He came around and he found some water on the bed in the, in the Wellington and he asked me, ‘Why didn’t you see that?’ I said, ‘Well, it wasn’t there when I did the DI.’ But he wouldn’t have it so he put me on a charge.
Interviewer: And what was the outcome of that?
RM: Oh, I got seven days, I think. Confined to barracks. That’s all.
Interviewer: Right.
RM: Nothing, it wasn’t serious.
Interviewer: And what, what had been the problem?
RM: Well, there was —
Interviewer: Did you find out? Was there a leak.
RM: Well, there was a hatch.
Interviewer: Yes.
RM: There was a leak and it must have rained or something and dropped through on to the bed.
Interviewer: Right.
RM: Because it wasn’t there when I did it or I’d have mopped it up. But these things happen, don’t they?
Interviewer: Yes.
RM: Got to find a scapegoat you know for some, some of these jobs. Yes. So when I was at Leconfield and then we were on the bus next morning to Uxbridge getting your demob suit and then home.
Interviewer: Right.
RM: My daughter didn’t, didn’t want nothing to do with me. Didn’t know who I was.
Interviewer: What do you feel about your war years?
RM: Very good. Very good. A lot of camaraderie. Whatever you call that word. Camaraderie is it? I can’t remember.
Interviewer: Camaraderie.
RM: That’s the word. Yeah. Yes. Everybody looking our for each other. That was one thing about it. And the NAAFI were good. They came around every morning. Tea and a wad you know. Great.
Interviewer: You didn’t get a chance to have a flight in a Lancaster.
RM: No.
Interviewer: No. Would you have liked one?
RM: Yes. I could have done but I don’t know why I turned it down. I don’t know why. And I wish I had now. I missed that. You never know. I might get a chance.
Interviewer: Yes, indeed.
RM: Go to Coningsby and say, ‘I want to come up with you, mate.’ Yeah. So there we are. But very good years. Good crowd. I don’t think we had many troublemakers you know. You do get some but not a lot. I only ended up LAC so I was nothing. Leading aircraftsman. That’s all. I didn’t get my stripes.
Interviewer: Well, you were doing a wonderful job like all the ground crew.
RM: Yeah. All these different aircraft. I can’t believe how they started from a Boulton Paul Defiant and ended up on a Lancaster. The Halifax wasn’t a bad bomber either.
Interviewer: No.
RM: That was quite good. The Halifax.
Interviewer: I think each crew was very fond of its own aircraft.
RM: Oh yes. Oh yes. Yes.
Interviewer: Anybody who flew in the Halifax.
RM: With this Just Jane. Who was that? Which was that? Was that a Lancaster?
Interviewer: That’s a Lancaster.
RM: Yeah.
Interviewer: That’s the Lanc well it’s a Lancaster that’s at —
RM: Coningsby.
Interviewer: East Kirkby now.
RM: East Kirkby. That goes up and down.
Interviewer: Yes.
RM: Up and down the runways.
Interviewer: That’s right.
RM: You can taxi in it. Yeah.
Interviewer: Yes.
RM: Well that that did a lot of raids didn’t it? A lot of raids, Just Jane, I think. They’ve all got their bombs on the side of the cockpit.
Interviewer: That’s right. Yes.
RM: Yeah. Happy days. But really. Was it worthwhile?
Interviewer: I think, I think we’ve got to think that it was.
RM: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Interviewer: We don’t want to think that fifty five thousand lost.
RM: Men plus.
Interviewer: Died for nothing. I mean.
RM: No. That’s what I think. Sometimes I wonder was it worth it and then I think well we had to keep them away, didn’t we?
Interviewer: We did indeed. Yes.
RM: We were alone, weren’t we? I mean the Americans wouldn’t have come into it if it hadn’t been for Pearl Harbour.
Interviewer: No. No.
RM: They were selling fuel to the Japs. Then the Japs go and bomb Pearl Harbour just to say thank you. Oh dear. Oh dear. I don’t know. It’s [pause] I don’t know what to make of this. What’s going to happen, do you?
Interviewer: I don’t. It’s been absolutely fascinating, Mr Moore.
RM: Was that alright?
Interviewer: That’s fine.
RM: That’s about as much as I can tell you.
Interviewer: Yes, that’s —
RM: There’s bits I’ve missed out because I lost my memory a bit you know.
Interviewer: No, it’s been really interesting. Thank you very much.
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Title
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Interview with Richard Moore
1004-Moore, Richard
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SHarriganD[Ser#-DoB]v09
Creator
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Claire Bennett
This Interview was recorded by Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire.
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Royal Air Force
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eng
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Sound
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00:16:49 audio recording
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Pending revision of OH transcription
Pending OH summary. Allocated C Campbell
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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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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Somerset
England--Yorkshire
Description
An account of the resource
Richard Moore served as ground crew at RAF Locking, RAF Squires Gate and RAF Wickenby.
Beaufighter
crash
Defiant
ground crew
ground personnel
Lancaster
RAF East Kirkby
RAF Leconfield
RAF Locking
RAF Swinderby
RAF Wickenby
strafing
Wellington
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2221/38714/MB CR 4. Ada Breschi.1.mp3
4ce8eb8b96da0daeed2632f0a24148cd
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ISRPt. Survivors of the 1943-1944 Pistoia bombings
Description
An account of the resource
12 interviste a testimoni dei bombardamenti alleati di Pistoia, realizzate da Claudio Rosati tra il 1983 e il 1984 con l'intento di comprendere e studiare gli effetti che le incursioni aeree hanno avuto sulla popolazione civile tra il 1943 e il 1944. Gli esiti della ricerca furono esposti al convegno internazionale di studi “Linea Gotica. Eserciti, popolazioni, partigiani” svoltosi a Pesaro il 27/28/29 settembre 1984 e pubblicati nella rivista Farestoria n. 1/1985, edita dall'Istituto storico della Resistenza di Pistoia. L’istituto, dove le cassette sono state in seguito depositate, ha gentilemente concesso all’IBCC di digitalizzarle e di pubblicarle in licenza. Le interviste conservano la struttura originale, che può essere diversa dal modo in cui le interviste dell’IBCC Digital Archive sono di solito realizzate. La digitalizzazione rispecchia fedelmente le caratteristiche delle registrazioni originali, con minimi interventi. In base agli accordi con il licenziatario, i sunti delle interviste sono dati in italiano ed inglese.
12 oral history interviews with survivors of the Pistoia bombings, originally taped by Claudio Rosati between 1983 and 1984 with the aim to understand the fallout of the 1943-1944 operations on civilians. The findings were presented at the international symposium “Linea Gotica. Eserciti, popolazioni, partigiani” (Pesaro, 27/28/29 September 1984) and then published on 'Farestoria' n. 1/1985, published by the Istituto storico della Resistenza di Pistoia. The Istituto, where the tapes were later deposited, has kindly granted permission to the IBCC Digital Archive to digitise and publish them. Interviews published here retain their original format, which may differ from the way IBCC Digital Archive ones are normally conducted. The digitisation captures faithfully the characteristics of the original recordings with minimal editing only. According to the stipulations with the licensor, summaries are provided in Italian and English.
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.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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CR: Dica del primo bombardamento, la sua esperienza, quello che si ricorda.
AB: [incomprensibile]
CR: Ma vi eravate abituati?
AB: Noi che si faceva la sera? [incomprensibile] con le valigette di quello che si poteva portar via, no, dei soldi e l’oro lì a portata di mano e quando venian l’allarmi s’andava e ci si rifugiava nientepopodimeno nella Fortezza di Santa Barbara.
CR: Perché voi dove stavate?
AB: In San Marco, in San Marco, però all’inizio. Vicino alla Chiesa evangelica, ecco.
CR: C’è un rifugio lì?
AB: E c’era i sotterranei e finito l’allarme si ritornava a casa e mi è rimasto impresso questo primo bombardamento perché arrivati a un certo punto un se ne potea più e si disse ‘Basta, un ci si move più’ [incomprensibile] e si disse ‘Stasera un ci si move’. Dalle persiane però – allora non c’eran gli avvolgibili, c’eran le persiane, a un certo punto però, mentre passavano, si vide un affare di luci infinita [?] e erano i famosi bengala che venivano giù, sicché ci si mosse, ci si mosse e non potendo ormai il tempo – perché principiavan a venir giù, ormai un si potea anda’ fin laggiù, ci si mise nel sotterraneo della Chiesa evangelica [incomprensibile] e ci si mise lì, il che venne giù –
CR: Eravate soli?
AB: Io, la mi’ sorella e la mi’ mamma.
CR: Ma [incomprensibile]
AB: No, no, c’era altra gente, perché all’ultimo minuto in quella maniera lì pigliavan [?] a scappa’ tutti più o meno, a scappa’ – e poi [?] quando successe nella Piazza della Sala, del Corso, là – io mi ricordo s’andò in giro io un riconoscevo più Via Fonda per esempio, che era tutto un ammasso là – il Corso sembrava trasformato, sembrava –
CR: Ma che si prova in quei momenti Ada? Quando si sente fisicamente –
AB: Senti, non te lo so – in quel momento era il primo, non c’era né spavento né sgomento, c’era – non lo so come dirti – si rimase lì tutti pietrificati senza rendersi conto neanche quello che poteva – che poteva essere un bombardamento perché sai –
CR: Anche l’altra gente uguale?
AB: E ci fu uno accanto a me, o una, una maestra mi pare che fu, che io la redarguii anche un po’ perché mi sembrava bestemmiasse, dice ‘Giù, fanno bene gli inglesi a bombardare, o americani che siano’, si vede lei capia più di me e io dissi ‘O che dici?’ perché la conoscevo, no, e dice ‘Bene che venga giù’ e io in quel momento rimasi un po’ – un po’ sbalestrata perché non capivo perché quella diceva in quella man – perché digiuna di politica in quella maniera lì – io mi ricordo che quando venne l’Armistizio – e venne sì, che venne l’8 settembre, si fece i falò anche per la strada, poi venne il mi fratello e ci disse quello che ci doveva dire, perché disse ‘Ma siete matte, principia ora’ e di fatti principiò allora, perché dopo l’8 settembre principiarono a entrare nelle caserme e sai in San Marco – in San Marco quanti ce n’è passati di quelli del [incomprensibile] in Via Atto Vannucci che andò giù tutta, no, quella lì, perché passaron di San Marco e li portaron alle scuole Attilio Frosini, là, i prigionieri, gli ufficiali e i soldati, ma più che ne passavan di San Marco e più che le porte s’aprivano, che n’entrò dentro – doe vedean le porte aperte e quelle sulle porte a dire d’entrare. Ne sparì tanti, ecco, di que’ ragazzi, che n’ho vestiti tanti in casa mia [incomprensibile] che poi l’ho riaccompagnati io. Son venuti qui a casa mia, che c’era qualcuno del paese del mi’ babbo [?] richiamati e di leva e si vestirono, ma dovetti [?] riaccompagnarli in stazione. Uno lo doveo riaccompagna’, facendo finta, con una donna n’accompagnai diversi alla stazione, l’unica cosa che mi preoccupava era che [incomprensibile] e invece la stazione era giù completamente, sicché di treni ne passava pochini [?] e insomma mi ricordo che il capo stazione ci aiutava [?] e c’era il coprifoco, la sera feci tardi e insomma ce la feci ma – però tu le facevi – io non lo so – senza paura. Tu li facevi così spontanei che non ti veniva niente, il pensiero non c’era più dell’incolumità, di quello che ti potea succedere, proprio non c’era, perché io – t’ho detto – quando poi successe che – quando videro i soldati abbandonare per esempio il distretto militare in Piazza San Lorenzo, c’entrarono i civili di San Marco [incomprensibile] entraron dentro e invece arrivarono i tedeschi, dalla mi’ cucina si vedeva Piazza San Lorenzo, capito, montando su una sedia io vidi fucilare i disgraziati al muro, dalla finestra, ecco, quello son cose che lasciavano impietrite, perché poi principiarono a frucare le case, noi il pensiero che ci s’avevano i vestiti militari di questi ragazzi, ci s’avea le gavette, come si chiamano? Avean lasciato tutto, invece in casa mia non ci vennero.
CR: Ma come mai non ci vennero?
AB: Non lo so, facevano un po’ a caso e principiarono questi qui e poi fucilarono questa poera gente [incomprensibile].
CR: Ma i bombardamenti successivi invece sfollaste?
AB: Dopo quel bombardamento lì, naturalmente, s’andò a fini’ a Cignano, sopra Candeglia, che era un paesino – un è come ora, che tu ci vai anche col tram, là c’era – su a scaloni, a pietre, dove tu mettevi i piedi e dove un tu li mettevi, ecco, per arriva’ lassù e allora – ho domandato anche alla mi’ sorella, ma anche lei non si ricorda niente – dev’esse’ un barroccio di carbonaio che ci portò lassù [incomprensibile] e siamo stati undici mesi –
CR: Quindi i prossimi bombardamenti non vi hanno toccato?
AB: No, ma si veniva in giù io e la mi’ sorella a lavorare, che lei era alla Farmaceutica pistoiese.
CR: Ma vivevate con paura, o no, dopo il primo bombardamento? C’era un po’ d’ansia del bombardamento, o no, nei giorni successivi?
AB: C’erano perché ti venivano sempre all’ora di mangiare. Noi si veniva in giù – che c’era un trasportatore che non potendo in cima – a valle, giù, lasciava il camion con le bande dalle parti, per bene, no, come per portare il bestiame e la mattina, chi arrivava in tempo, ci portava in giù, tutti ritti ma ci portava in giù e naturalmente la mi’ sorella andava da una parte e io andavo da un’altra, ma si stava con un cuoricino, perché lei scappava da una parte, io scappavo da un’altra, perché allora io andavo in Piazza Garibaldi all’ufficio, all’Associazione Industriale in Piazza Garibaldi e lei invece alla farmacia che era nel Corso, sicché s’arrivava la mattina quando c’era quest’omo, sennò si facevano sei chilometri a piedi e s’aveva gli scarponi – gli scarponi da montagna, perché bisognava che tu camminassi. Poi di lì, dopo il primo bombardamento – che anche in Piazza Garibaldi andaron via tutte – fu più lì – quel palazzone d’angolo fu colpito più che altro nei vetri, nelle finestre e tutte queste cose qui, che ci si stava e non ci si stava. Ci si stette un poino, poi al secondo bombardamento che non mi ricordo qual è – poi te ne dio altri due o tre, ma non – ci trasferirono a Capostrada [incomprensibile] e ci trasferirono gli uffici lì. Quindi, arrivati a Pistoia io dovevo andare fino a Capostrada, si prendeva – quando c’era, alla meno peggio – uno dei tram che non mi ricordo neanche se era del Lazzi, la mattina – che gli si mise anche un cognome – mitragliava, c’era un aeroplano che veniva e mitragliava.
CR: Non è che buttasse bombe? Mitragliava?
AB: Mitragliava.
CR: Ma è possibile Pippo?
AB: Sì, mi pare, guarda, sì, mi pare e allora ognuno stava a turno con la testa fuori dal finestrino per sentire il rumore –
CR: Ma chi mitragliava? I civili?
AB: Mitragliava i civil – e ci passavano lì gli automezzi tedeschi, su Viale Adua andavano sulla Via Bolognese –
CR: Ecco ma quando bombardavano, Ada, voi avevate l’impressione che colpissero i civili volutamente o che pure invece sbagliavano ma volevano colpire altri –
AB: Io penso di no, perché mitragliare un tram – non credo io che –
CR: Quindi, ecco, non avevate impressioni che volevano terrorizzare la popolazione?
AB: No, io direi di no, però a quell’epoca eravamo tanto digiuni di politica, di queste cose qui, che ora si penserebbe diversamente ecco –
CR: Però la sua opinione era di no, che non è che volessero –
AB: Io penso invece che lì, data la strada, prendevano tutti la Via Bolognese e la Via Modenese per scappare per andare in su, perché loro viaggiavano così, penso che fosse in quella maniera lì, ecco, e mi ricordo che un giorno naturalmente c’acchiappò e si scese tutte in una fossa, per dirti – per dirti la paura. Quella mattina fu veramente paura, si scese io e delle mi’ colleghe e ci si mise nella fossa, però appena arrivate lì – che poi tornavano indietro – si cercò d’infilarsi nel mezzo ai campi là, allora però – sai, l’ha’ viste le stradine di campagna che poi c’hanno il muro che divide un campo e un altro? Allora con gli scarponi si scavalcò un muro che io un ti so di’ quant’era alto Claudio –
CR: [incomprensibile]
AB: E si scavalcò questo muro, che poi quando fu finito non si rimontò, non ci riuscì, e mi ricordo s’andava in – però finito il mitragliamento, ecco, riprendeva la – ecco, si ritornava normali, normali perché mi ricordo era maggio a quell’epoca lì e le mi’ colleghe – io non mi son mai azzardata, no, loro che trovavan: ciliegie, piselli, quello che trovavano –
CR: Durante il – dopo –
AB: Dopo il mitragliamento, era fame, capisci? E mangiavan, io non m’azzardavo mai perché son sicura [incomprensibile] non m’azzardavo a prende’ du’ piselli ‘Che fate voi laggiù?’ [enfasi] –
CR: Il contadino?
AB: Appena toccata, sì, io ti dico questo, ma mitragliamenti – diversi, ecco, in quella maniera, però ti dico, dopo veniva lo spirito di conservazione, io non lo so, venia fa – ecco, il che si trovava si mangiava e poi s’andava a finire agli uffici, alla Smet [?] quel giorno – io non ti so dire se vo in ordine cronologico –
CR: Sì, ma non m’importa.
AB: Io mi ricordo che la segreteria del direttore, no – sicché quasi tutti eran richiamati e quindi presi il posto io, ero alla ragioneria e io c’aveo da risponde’ al [?] direttore, come facevo pressappoco e mi ricordo quel giorno – a mezzogiorno e mezzo, così, sonava sempre l’allarmi, sempre a mezzogiorno e mezzo, il tocco e il direttore disse ‘Sai che si fa stamani?’ dice ‘ Si firma la posta [?] e si va, sennò qui’ dice, per non andare in delirio sa’, tante volte – insomma si firmò la posta e quello fu, io credo, la mi salvezza, perché finita la posta io mi misi a correre sulla Via Bolognese e raggiunsi quell’affarino [?] a Gello che poi si salta e si va sul ponte, ora c’è sempre, sì?
CR: Sì.
AB: È una stradina che c’è la mensa doe qualche volta ci daano il secondo anche a noi. Il primo, perché il seondo ci si portava e non c’arrivai, perché noi quando si scappava in continuazione s’andava o all’Apparita [?] o alle Volpaie, so che le chiamavan le Volapie –
CR: Le Volpaie, che poi lo bombardarono.
AB: Sì, quella volta lì io principiai ad attraversare il ponte, a ‘mbecille, invece di rimane’ indietro –
CR: Perché i ponti li bombardavano.
AB: Invece di rimane’ indietro, rimasi a metà del ponte e mi misi aderente all’arcata del ponte –
CR: Rimase sul ponte?
AB: E rimasi lì, tutta distesa.
CR: Proprio un obiettivo –
AB: E mi ricordo come ora aveo i piedi d’un contadino, i piedi nudi – perché non c’avea neanche le scarpe – appiccicati al viso, ma non mi mossi, quella me la ricor – m’impedì d’anda’ nelle Volpaie doe ci cascò, dissero, venti bombe, io non ci credo –
CR: Ma che c’era alle Volpaie? Come mai bombardarono –
AB: Non lo so –
CR: Non s’è mai saputo –
AB: Quando – fu quel giorno e mentre eravamo lì si principiò a vedere il bombardamento di Piteccio –
[parlano contemporaneamente]
AB: Per butta’ giù il ponte e ce la fecero, perché poi è stato ricostruito. Ti dico, quella lì fu paura, però non si capiva dove avevano bombardato, perché chi mai andava a pensare che il ponte era quello che faceva passare tutte le truppe e scappare [?], no? E fu quella lì, quella volta lì, che a me m’andò bene, perché se ero di là [incomprensibile] [rumori di sottofondo].
CR: Ma morti ce ne furono?
AB: Aaah [enfasi] tanta, Piteccio?
CR: Piteccio.
AB: Dio bono, se ce ne furono? Te bisognerebbe che tu potessi sentire anche la Magda [?]
[incomprensibile]
CR: Ma risentimento ce n’era Ada per chi bombardava o no?
AB: Sì, sì, sì, sì, ce n’era tanto di risentimento, ce n’era – non tu capivi quello che – poi veniva fori – eran le notizie che si sapevano che – era il disagio, perché te tu dovevi pensare che la sera si ripartiva quando si sap – insomma, eravamo un po’ incerte, impaurite, si passava nientemeno – si prendeva da [incomprensibile], Germinaia e s’andava su a rifinire [incomprensibile] a piedi, che poi un giorno ci si ritrovava sempre con la mi’ sorella, eran que’ viaggi – perché noi si veniva in giù, [incomprensibile] si facea la spesa e la sera ci si riportava quel che si trovava e si tornava in su, perché voglio di’ la verità: aiutate da quello o da quell’altro, fame, proprio fame, non se n’è avuta, almeno – però tu devi pensare che bisognava andare a trova’ la farina.
CR: Quel sacrificio che costava trovare tutto.
AB: Beh, sì, sì, che poi [incomprensibile] e quella lì fu la volta che io ebbi paura –
CR: Quella lì di Gello?
AB: Quella lì di Gello, perché trovarsi –
CR: Cioè uno pensa che finisca –
AB: Che finisca, sì, sì, sì, che è finita, dopo però passava, passava, perché la vita di quegli undici mesi lassù non s’è mai avuto un raffreddore nessuno, con la neve siamo andati in giù [?] siamo scappati in settembre, siamo venuti via il settembre dopo, sicché, la sera ci si riuniva, tutti, tanti sfollati, si veniva in giù, si giocava [incomprensibile] [rumori di sottofondo] poi me ne ricordo un altro, un altro che ti dico la filosofia anche poi che veniva, no, perché t’ho detto per solito era nell’ora –
CR: Del pranzo.
AB: Del pranzo, sicché io mi ricordo aveo preso la spesa e portata a casa [incomprensibile] e t’ho detto, non veniva sempre la voglia di scappare perché t’era proprio venuta a noia, quando ti venivano – proprio tu ti sentivi avvilita, ecco, invece quel giorno, pensa e ripensa, me lo ricordo come ora, agguantai [?] i mi’ pentolini e andai nell’Arcadia [incomprensibile] ero lì sul muro, sul muro – venendo da San Marco, sul muro a destra, che guardavo giù, sul muro e mangiavo, ero sola con – e principiarono, e principiarono, non ti so dire se a [?] San Paolo –
CR: È probabile.
AB: San Paolo e vicino – no, perché Via Palestro fu un’altra volta, perché già io all’ufficio un c’andavo più, perché da Capostrada era troppo brutto e ci trasferirono a Candeglia, alla Villa Rospigliosi, gli omini sparirono [incomprensibile] e quindi lì s’andava ancora in ufficio e finì nell’Arcadia, nell’Arcadia in diverse persone tutte alle mura, tutte sdraiate, ma ti dico, io mangiai, quando venne giù no, andai dalla parte di là e mi sdraiai per terra, però, t’ho detto, ti tiene un senso come quando una ormai – non l’abitudine, però tu diventavi un po’ apatica –
CR: Un po’ di automatismo –
AB: Sì, sì, proprio – perché tu li sentivi tutti i giorni, tu scappavi, ma tu correvi con quelli scarponi mi ricordo facevo un baccano – io mi ricordo, sulla Via Modenese, un baccano quando si veniva in giù all’insù, quando [incomprensibile] alle discese con quegli scarponi si parea il giorno del giudizio proprio, ecco. Avvilimento, rabbia, ti venia di tutto [incomprensibile] invece un’altra volta mi prese e non mi ricordo come fu, fatto sta che trovai un’altra mia amica sempre lì di San Marco, o cammina cammina, io un te lo so dire, caro Claudio, se si passò dall’Arcadia, insomma s’andò a finire verso le Fornaci, senti, e a me mi dicean tutti ‘Te dai bombardamenti tu mangi’ e un si mangiava mai Claudio: o tu mangiavi quando bombardavano o non tu mangiavi, perché era sempre quell’ora lì, io mi ricordo – sai i campi come sono fatti? A scalini, no?
CR: A terrazza.
AB: A terrazza, e allora messa lì con le spalle al muro e col tegamino in mano e c’era già l’allarmi [incomprensibile].
CR: È stata bombardata molto Pistoia.
[parlano contemporaneamente]
AB: Ecco, ma anche lì però, t’ho detto, arrivati a un certo punto tu li sentivi l’allarmi [incomprensibile] quando senti [?] l’aeroplani in cielo che hanno il rumore sordo, uniforme e viene – viene subito quel pensiero lì, perché tu l’avevi nell’orecchi, perché era quel rumore sordo, non era come passano ora [imita il suono degli aerei attuali], [imita il suono degli aerei dell’epoca].
CR: Ma ve ne siete ricordata? L’ha sognato? Le è rimasto questo fatto dei bombardamenti o poi dopo –?
AB: Dopo si dimentica, dopo si dimentica, però a qualsiasi evento, qualsiasi – parlando di guerra, parlando dell’armi nucleari, o che, tu rivai a ripensare a quelli lì e ti fanno maggiormente paura, te lo immagini te? Ma, ecco, voglio dire, tutti si scappava, ma ti dico, delle volte si rideva, perché andando a casa la sera [incomprensibile] ognuno teneva d’occhio [incomprensibile] passavano i barrocci dei carbonai: Iano, Baggio, c’eran tutti carbonai e andavano in Maremma, no, e portavano giù il carbone [incomprensibile] finché andava, Claudio, ci si faceva porta’ e una di quelle volte lì, mi ricordo, la mi’ sorella aveva la fascia della Croce Rossa [incomprensibile] e gli presero il fidanzato –
CR: Glielo presero?
AB: I tedeschi, sulla via che andava sopra – da Candeglia noi eravamo a Cignano, sicché a un certo punto c’era il Ponte del Paoli e noi si tagliava e invece di andare a Iano si tagliava e si saliva su e li portaron via, sicché si disse [incomprensibile] con l’orologio [incomprensibile] s’accontentavano se tu gli davi qualsiasi cosa perché [?] ti minacciavano.
CR: I tedeschi?
AB: Qualcuno sì, qualcuno perché prendeva roba, prendeva gli oggetti che più gli parevano [incomprensibile] insomma, lui lo lasciarono anda’, con l’orologio, era bello –
CR: Riuscivate a distinguere, Ada, ‘Questi sono gli inglesi, questi sono gli americani’ o no?
AB: No, no.
CR: Quindi non lo sapevate chi era che bombardava?
AB: No, pensa [?] noi si diceva ‘Gli americani’ –
[parlano contemporaneamente]
AB: No, no, perché ormai c’era il che degli americani che s’avvicinavano e di fatto, a un certo punto, noi si rimase lassù, si rimase sfollate lassù, ferme, perché giù un era più – un era più il caso, perché si avvicinavano, non venian mai, un arrivavan mai, perché io mi ricordo si parlava allora se non sbaglio di Bonelle.
CR: Ma sembra lo facessero anche per far fiaccare il movimento partigiano.
AB: Sì.
CR: Per trovare almeno dopo, nell’Italia liberata, il movimento partigiano [incomprensibile].
AB: Non lo so, mi diceano che eran a Bonelle, pieni d’ogni ben di Dio, perché allora dire ‘Pieni d’ogni ben di Dio’, Claudio, gli americani che un arrivavan mai e lassù si faceva dei turni [?] in cima a un poggiolino [?] si vedeva tutta la strada e allora a turno [incomprensibile] i tedeschi, perché gli ultimi giorni i tedeschi venian su, cercando di scappare a piedi e trovare la Via Bolognese, capito? Sicché per far rimpiatta’ gli omini, chi andava nei tombini, ecco, c’era gli austriaci per esempio, che tu li vedevi, avranno avuto diciott’anni, diciasett’anni –
CR: Eran giovani.
AB: Giovanini, bianchi, bianchi, impauriti più di noi, che una volta si disse ‘Arrivano, arrivano, arrivano’ e siamo per scappa’ e si ritrovarono a viso così, guarda, sa’ in quelle case di campagna che tu sbuchi da una e [incomprensibile] l’ultima cosa più brutta fu quando principiarono a mitragliare, allora questi omini scavarono il solco sottoterra –
CR: Ma dove? A Iano?
AB: Io ero a Cignano e –
CR: Ma perché [incomprensibile]
AB: Perché eran sopra Cignano e Pistoia.
CR: Ma perché mitragliavano a Cignano? Allora era contro la popolazione –
AB: Passavan sopra.
CR: Però facevan contro la popolazione allora.
AB: O erano partigiani, perché ti dico questo –
CR: Perché a Cignano non c’eran mica obiettivi militari –
AB: No, no, no, ma passavan di sopra e quelli che venivan di giù –
[parlano contemporaneamente]
AB: All’inizio fecero una specie di caverna, ma lunga, sottoterra e quando principiavano a mitragliare [incomprensibile] quando si poteva – ma non ci si faceva quasi mai – ma insomma ci si rintanava, ma tu avessi visto che tunnel avean fatto, lungo, io che soffro di quella maniera lì che me le sogno la notte –
CR: Soffre di claustrofobia?
AB: Aaah [enfasi] qualcosa ci dev’essere perché io – o m’è rimasto, perché a me – se me lo sogno m’alzo a sedere la notte e tocco il letto per sapere dove sono [incomprensibile] giù si prese tutta la Bure, perché s’avea paura del mitragliamento e infatti ci prese per la strada e facemmo ‘Cammina, cammina’ che poi avea quant’e me, quanti n’ho io ora, con le coperte ciondoloni e si venia giù, giù, giù per la Bure e s’arrivò fino a un pastificio. Allora c’era il pastificio Cecchi e ci si rimpiattò dietro una parete di questa casa perché avean principiato a mitragliare e la cosa più bellina [incomprensibile] feci così per vedere un po’ la situazione e mi trovai il muso di questo nero, d’un moro, con tutta la rete in testa –
CR: Per nascondersi, per mimetizzarsi.
AB: [incomprensibile] non aver mai visto nessuno e pensare in quella maniera lì –
[parlano contemporaneamente]
AB: Ma un’altra volta, sempre con la minaccia dei bombardamenti, però quella volta lì non ce la feci, e mi dissero ‘Se tu voi [incomprensibile] la farina’, a Bonelle. A Bonelle mi dissero dove, verso Bonelle, ma io a piedi, parti’ da Cignano, insomma cerca, cerca, mi dette una bicicletta ma senza copertone, col ferro, sicché venni giù, feci un baccano [incomprensibile] arrivai – c’è il Ponte alla Pergola, per andare a Bonelle, inizia ‘sto ponte [incomprensibile] un carro di tedeschi, con quei cavalloni [incomprensibile] avean dei cavalli – io un lo so – enormi, io un so se tu l’hai mai visti –
CR: No.
AB: Avean de’ cavalli sembravan due dei nostri, con dei pianali lunghissimi e c’era i tedeschi a guidare e più altri due o tre sopra [incomprensibile] la volontà di un far vede’ che scendevo, ce la feci fino in cima [enfasi], la passione di di’ ‘Non ti do la soddisfazione, non ti do la soddisfazione di scendere’, la feci fino in cima, arrivai, mi dettero il grano, li misi nella borsa, arrivai a metà strada, mi si bucò, non c’era nessuno, neanche un’anima, era verso mezzogiorno, con una sete, Claudio, che io non ti so dire, non c’era una fonte che buttasse, sicché mi ricordo – mi ricordo proprio ero avvilita, perché perdevo, ci feci du’ becchi con du’ affarini dell’erba, sa’ un po’ più duri, riuscii a cosarla, la mi’ sorella mi vedea arrivare, mi venne incontro fino in Porta Fiorentina, perché dice ‘Questa qui –’ [incomprensibile] l’unica cosa che bevvi – c’era un baracchino di cocomeri, mi pareva d’aver visto, bada, Claudio, il paradiso, io – come quella volta, dissero i tedeschi che faceano saltare questo ponte sulla Bure e noi si scendea giù per andare a prende’ l’acqua e disse che l’avean fatto saltare alle due, avvisavano che alle due avrebbero fatto saltare il ponte, s’andò a prende’ l’acqua io e la mi’ poera mamma, invece delle due lo fecero saltare a mezzogiorno, ci si trovò in mezzo [incomprensibile] s’arrivò a Candeglia e principiò a mitragliare che tu andavi imperterrita, Claudio, non tu capisci per il che.
CR: Ma vennero bassi?
AB: [incomprensibile] venian bassi, perché su non ci si dormiva [incomprensibile] ci davano il pane bianco [incomprensibile] lo davano per la distribuzione, chi arrivava prima – e una mattina [incomprensibile] principiarono a mitragliare e io dissi ‘Se devo mori’, moio, ma il pane lo prendo’ [incomprensibile] se la ritrovo, guarda, una sghezza –
CR: L’ha conservata?
AB: La conservai e l’ho ritrovata in una cassa su, però non so dove l’ho appoggiata, ma tu vedessi – [incomprensibile] la raccattai per ricordo [incomprensibile].
CR: Perfetto, guarda, quello che m’ha raccontato.
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Interview with Ada Breschi
Description
An account of the resource
L’intervistata è Ada Breschi, nata a Pistoia il 22 settembre 1917, impiegata. L’intervista è effettuata da Claudio Rosati a Pistoia, presso l’abitazione dell’informatrice, il 22 settembre 1983. Dopo l’Armistizio, Ada Breschi aiutò numerosi militari scappati dalle caserme. Assistette alla fucilazione di Piazza San Lorenzo. Durante il primo bombardamento si trovava in casa con la madre e la sorella, in San Marco. Non riuscendo ad arrivare al rifugio antiaereo della Fortezza Santa Barbara, si ripararono nei sotterranei della chiesa evangelica vicina. Successivamente sfollò per undici mesi a Cignano. L’Associazione Industriale di Piazza Garibaldi per la quale lavorava trasferì gli uffici in Capostrada: lì si recava in tram; lungo il tragitto ricorda i frequenti mitragliamenti di un aereo nella zona di Viale Adua, che probabilmente cercava di colpire automezzi tedeschi diretti verso l’Appennino. Ricorda gli allarmi e i bombardamenti che spesso avvenivano tra ore le dodici e le tredici. Racconta dello sventato tentativo di arresto del cognato da parte dei tedeschi, dei mitragliamenti sopra Cignano durante la loro ritirata e delle difficoltà nel reperire pane e farina. <br /><br />
<p>The interviewee is Ada Breschi, clerical worker, born in Pistoia on 22 September 1917. The interview was conducted by Claudio Rosati in Pistoia on 22 September 1983, in his house. After the 8 September 1943 armistice, Ada Breschi helped many servicemen who had deserted their barracks. She witnessed the Piazza San Lorenzo execution by firing squad. During the first bombing, she was at home with mother and sister, in the San Marco neighbourhood. When they didn’t make to Fortezza Santa Barbara shelter, they took refuge in the cellar of a nearby evangelical church. Then she spent eleven months at Cignano, as an evacuee. When the Manufacturers’ association - then headquartered in Piazza Garibaldi – moved to Capostrada she commuted there by tramway. Strafing was frequent in the Viale Adua district, probably aimed at German vehicles which tried to reach the Apennines. Bombings mostly took place between noon and one o’clock. Reminisces how her brother-in-law was almost arrested by the Germans, the strafing at Cignano, and the difficulties to source bread and flour.</p>
Date
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1983-09-22
Identifier
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MB CR 4
Creator
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Claudio Rosati
Spatial Coverage
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Italy
Italy--Pistoia
Type
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Sound
Format
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01:08:26 audio recording
Coverage
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Civilian
Language
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ita
Temporal Coverage
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1943-10-24
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
bombing
evacuation
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/113/1172/PMuratoriG160314.1.JPG
d025a0e5e087dd2fd35d9177353e109f
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/113/1172/AMuratoriLG161125.1.mp3
7c8e7a4862d309778edec6e027bc9b61
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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Muratori, Gino
Gino Muratori
G Muratori
Description
An account of the resource
This collection consists of one oral history interview with Gino Muratori who recollects his wartime experiences in Rimini.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-03-14
Identifier
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Muratori, G
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
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Daniele Celli: Oggi 14 marzo 2016, parliamo con Muratori Gino, classe 1929. Prima domanda che ti faccio.
Gino Muratori: Nato a Bellariva.
DC: Nato a Bellariva. Prima domanda che ti faccio è questa. Com’era composto il tuo nucleo famigliare quando c’è stato il primo bombardamento di Rimini. Quanti eravate in casa?
GM: Noi in casa eravamo mia nonna, mio nonno.
DC: Nonna materna?
GM: Materna.
DC: Materna.
GM: Nonna.
DC: E si chiama, te lo ricordi il nome, cognome e la classe, se ti viene in mente?
GM: Ostia, mio nonno dunque, è morto nel ’51 a 94 anni.
DC: E aveva 94 anni. Lui si chiamava?
GM: [clears throat] Gaspare.
DC: E di cognome?
GM: Angelini.
DC: Angelini.
GM: Angelini.
DC: Eh, sposato, eh, la sua moglie?
GM: La nonna si chiamava della Rosa che era parente qui dei della Rosa di Bellaviva.
DC: Di Bellaviva.
GM: E si chiamava Angela.
DC: E lei più o meno a che ora [unclear]?
GM: Dunque lei è morta a San Marino nel ’44.
DC: Ah lei è morta per il passaggio del fronte, tua nonna?
GM: Sì, è morta per il passaggio del fronte però di malattia perché lei.
DC: Tifo?
GM: No, lei, è venuto che, lei non ha voluto venir via da Rimini perché mia nonna, il primo bombardamento che ci han fatto, che han fatto a Rimini è morta una figlia sotto i bombardamenti.
DC: Ostia!
GM: Capito, una [clears throat] una figlia e una nipotina, hai capito.
DC: Lei stava di già ancora a San Martino quando c’è stato la guerra?
GM: No, no, no, mia nonna stava qui.
DC: Ah giusto, era nel nucleo con te.
GM: Erano già venuti giù loro da San Martino.
DC: Erano già venuti giù.
GM: Mia nonna dopo è stata tanti anni qui a Bellariva. Mia nonna aveva sette figlie, sette figlie femmine. Una stava a Riccione, una a Viserba e una
DC: No, quello, io voglio sapere quello del tuo nucleo famigliare.
GM: Il mio nucleo, c’era mio babbo che è stato anche in Germania, lui.
DC: Classe, il tuo babbo? Nome e classe.
GM: Mio babbo era del ’93.
DC: Del ’93.
GM: ’93.
DC: E si chiamava il tuo babbo?
GM: Ubaldo.
DC: Ubaldo. Sposato con?
GM: Con mia mamma Eucillia.
DC: Di soprannome, di cognome?
GM: Di cognome Angelini.
DC: Ah, Angelini, giusto. Angelini.
GM: Era una Angelini lei.
DC: E i figli? C’eri te e quanti?
GM: Io, Franco e Luciano.
DC: Franco di che classe era?
GM: Franco è del ’40, ’41 credo.
DC: E Luciano?
GM: Luciano è del ’26. E’ il più grande Luciano.
DC: Luciano è il più grande di tutti.
GM: E’ il più grande di tutti.
DC: Dimmi esattamente dove abitavate.
GM: Noi abitavamo in Via Pesaro
DC: Quindi?
GM: Numero 1, dove c’è la piscina dell’Oceanic.
DC: Sì.
GM: Lì c’era la casa dove eravamo noi.
DC: Via Pesaro 1. E quando c’è stato il primo bombardamento dicevi che la tua nonna
GM: Quando c’è stato il primo bombardamento mia nonna abitava Bellariva e io ero per un pelo che ci sono scappato, ero andato a rinnovare l’abbonamento, che io avevo un, lavoravo allora a Rimini facevo il meccanico dentista, no?
DC: Ostia!
GM: Pensa te [unclear]
DC: Con chi? Ti ricordi?
GM: Ah, con.
DC: Il dottor?
GM: Con Lazzarotto.
DC: Lazzarotto. E dove aveva il suo ambulatorio?
GM: Aveva l’ambulatorio giù per il corso. Avevo poi Marcello Drudi, lo conosci Marcello Drudi?
DC: Marcello...
GM: Drudi.
DC: Che fa il dentista
GM: Faceva il meccanico dentista.
DC: Sì.
GM: Dopo lui è andato a lavorare con il fratello del Lazzarotto che ha imparato il mestiere lì. E me son de fè fabbri da questo.
DC: [laughs] Le vabbe’ se continui ti lì
GM: [unclear]
DC: Oddio però anche un fabbro insomma.
GM: Sì. Dopo.
DC: Se entrava nel giro buono [unclear] stava bene. Era tutto un altro lavoro.
GM: E’ stato [unclear] Io dopo ho lavorato tanti anni da Fochi però dopo avevo tentato la scalata ma.
DC: [laughs]
GM: L’era sempre che la zente non aveva mai il soldo, paghè, l’era un casen te capì?
DC: Te mi, M’hai detto prima che durante il primo bombardamento, tua nonna ha perso due familiari?
GM: No, mia nonna sì, ha perso una figlia che era sposata, che aveva un albergo in via Cormons.
DC: Come si chiamava tua zia?
GM: [clears throat] Mia zia si chiamava Aldina.
DC: Angelini Aldina.
GM: Aldina.
DC: Angelini Aldina.
GM: E la bambina si chiamava Anna. Siccome aveva sposato lei un Corbelli, sposata con un Corbelli.
DC: Quanti anni poteva avere quella bambina?
GM: Avrà avuto, [unclear] Dio Bono!
DC: Più o meno.
GM: Avrà avuto cinque anni. Avrà avuto cinque anni.
DC: Quindi loro abitavano in Via Cormons.
GM: Loro avevano la pensione Primavera in Via Cormons. Che è andata giù in pieno con una bomba, hai capito? Erano
DC: Primo bombardamento su quella zona.
GM: Perché lì è stato un trucco. Diciamo che han dato l’allarme e io con l’allarme ero proprio vicino alla Villa Rosa.
DC: Proprio sul, la via del filobus.
GM: La via del filobus.
DC: All’angolo quasi con Piazzale Kennedy.
GM: Dove è venuto giù il ponte dell’Ausa che han colpito. [clears throat] Io ero andato a rinnovare l’abbonamento perché era il giorno dei santi in [unclear]
DC: Il primo Novembre.
GM: La vedi qua che vedo oggi [unclear]
DC: [unclear]
GM: Quando ho rinnovato sto abbonamento e difatti vado là, era chiuso. Allora il filobus non c’era, mi sono incamminato a piedi e lì nel Viale Montegazza c’era una mia cugina che abitava e c’era suo figlio che era un ragazzino più piccolo di me che è andato, era lì vicino il Bar Ceschi, che adesso è i Duchi, peta che è il ristorente Chi Burdlaz.
DC: Sì.
GM: E’ lì che c’è. Lì tiravano, lui aveva una fionda che tirava i [unclear]
DC: [laughs]
GM:E allora abbiamo chiacchierato un po’ così e poi io mi sono incamminato e ho detto: ‘Andrei per trovare mia zia’, hai capito,
DC: Sono qui vicino.
GM: In Via Cormons, no, e appunto là c’è l’allarme adesso quando c’è il cessato allarme appena e difatti c’era un bus fermo vicino la Villa Rosa. Da il cessato allarme e m’incammino per il bus, il bus parte e arrivo a Bellariva.
DC: Fai in tempo di arrivare a Bellariva.
GM: Faccio in tempo a Bellariva che han dato, c’era l’allarme ancora e difatti.
DC: E quindi ha suonato due volte la mattina.
GM: Due volte. Han dato il cessato allarme e nel tragitto da Villa Rosa a Bellariva
DC: Altro allarme
GM: C’è stato un cessato allarme però il, quello che guidava con la sciampugnetta, hai capito,
DC: Certo.
GM: l’altro dritto, e io son venuto a casa. Quando son venuto a Bellariva avevano già sganciato le bombe lì a [unclear]
DC: Lì il rumore del bombardamento non l’hai avvertito.
GM: Io non l’ho sentito, s’è sentito, quando sono sceso si è visto solo sto fumo nero che veniva
DC: Dalla città. Dalla zona marina centro.
GM: Dalla zona marina centro. Ho detto, puttana madonna, l’è bumbardè, ah, ie bumbardè, bumbardè, [unclear] dicevano, no. E così è stato, allora.
DC: Sei tornato a vedere dopo lì?
GM: No, no, no, e dopo è tornato il mio babbo, è tornato a vedere, perché mia nonna fa: ‘Ma Dio bono, [unclear] bombardè la dàs marina centro’.
DC: Andè veder che bordello.
GM: E difatti la pensione è andata giù completo, lei con l’allarme era già, è uscita e poi è [unclear], ha fatto in tempo ad entrare in casa.
DC: Tracchete.
GM: Andè zò da cegerme adoss.
DC: E’ morta altra gente lì? E la pensione, c’era della gente dentro o erano tutti [unclear]?
GM: No, nella pensione c’era, è rimasta sotto solo lei e gli altri figli si sono salvati che c’era, è rimasta una scalinata in quella pensione che andava nella sala e c’erano come dei gradini, si vede che era di cemento e c’era come un tunnel, come un sottoscala.
DC: Si sono infilati lì sotto?
GM: E s’infila lì sotto
DC: [swears]
GM: Tre delle figlie e lì [unclear] hai capito e quello è stato un disastro perché hanno fatto nel primo acchito lì, hanno preso proprio la scia della Villa Rosa che hanno buttato giù il Ponte dell’Ausa e poi hanno colpito lì nella Via Fiume, nella Via Trieste.
DC: Sono arrivati fino laggiù al gasometro.
GM: Sì, il gasometro.
DC: Anzi, con le bombe Via Gambalunga.
GM: Sì, l’hanno compito il gasometro in pieno [unclear], quella volta, sì.
DC: Ho parlato con una signora che stava di casa vicino al gasometro. Ha detto: ‘Noi eravamo andati alla messa dai Paolotti in città. Mentre torniamo’, dice, ‘siamo arrivati davanti al duomo, suona l’allarme, siamo corsi nel palazzo [unclear] che c’era un rifugio antiaereo’.
GM: Sì.
DC: E si sono messi lì sotto. Dice: ‘Abbiamo sentito le vibrazioni del bombardamento’, perchè loro lì erano vicini. Ha detto: ‘Il mio babbo a me e a mio nonno ci ha lasciati da un collega di lavoro’, che era in ferrovia lui.
GM: Sì, sì.
DC: E lui è andato a vedere giù. Dice: ‘Io da quel giorno lì non sono più tornata a casa. Siamo andati da un’altra parte’.
GM: Ah sì sì.
DC: ‘Mia mamma era rimasta a casa a prepararci da mangiare, è rimasta sotto le macerie.’
GM: E dopo il secondo bombardamento.
DC: Il 26 di novembre.
GM: Di novembre, allora poi è successo che, c’era la miseria qui no, allora si cercava di prendere qualche soldo. Da Milano, quando c’è stato il primo bombardamento là nel [unclear].
DC: Sono venuti un sacco di sfollati.
GM: Sono venuti un sacco di sfollati a Rimini. E allora...
DC: C’era gente anche qui a Bellariva che era venuta sfollata o erano in città, a Marina centro?
GM: Marina centro fino lì Via Pascoli c’erano tutti
DC: Erano tutti concentrati là.
GM: C’erano tutti quegli alberghi, quei due, perchè si contavano con le dita gli alberghi
DC: Sì non
GM: C’era l’Internazionale che era lì vicino, prima di Piazza Tripoli, era prima di Piazza Tripoli che avevano messo su lì una grande, dei grandi uffici di Milano e allora c’erano molti impiegati che lavoravano là. Avevano preso tutto loro l’albergo.
DC: Si era trasferita la ditta praticamente.
GM: Sì. Allora noi cosa abbiamo fatto? Io, Feruzzi e Zamagni andavamo alla fermata del filobus di Marina centro che scendeva la gente perché sull’Ausa non poteva passare la linea. Era interrotta.
DC: Era interrotta, perché c’era il ponte rotto.
GM: E noi con un velocino, andavamo a prendere le valigie.
DC: Facevate il trasbordo.
GM: Facevamo il trasbordo fino a Piazza Tripoli.
DC: E lì facevate [unclear]
GM: E da lì partiva l’altro bus che andava fino a Riccione e allora prendevamo
DC: [unclear]
GM: Dieci centesimi, venti centesimi, capito? [laughs] Un pomeriggio andavamo giù perché uno [unclear] era un [unclear] con delle ruote alte lì. Facevamo da cavallo e due salivano, hai capito? Un po’ per uno. Quando siamo a Piazza Tripoli vediamo le strisce in alto. Dio bono, gli apparecchi! Prendi ‘sta via.
DC: Non aveva suonato l’allarme quella volta?
GM: Non l’abbiamo sentito noi quel giorno lì, non l’abbiam sentito, abbiamo visto sti apparecchi, facevano tutto quel fumo dietro. ‘Gli apparecchi, dio bono, via, via, via!’ Giù in marina.
DC: Venivano dal mare? Te lo ricordi?
GM: No, venivano da monte.
DC: Da monte.
GM: Da monte.
DC: Quindi il secondo eh?
GM: Quel giorno lì, Il secondo bombardamento che noi andavamo verso
DC: Verso Riccione in quel momento
GM: Verso marina centro.
DC: Verso marina centro.
GM: Gli apparecchi, [unclear] zù in marene, la stanga pron e via, lascia [unclear] giù sotto la mura del lungomare.
DC: Del lungomare.
GM: Difatti, dio bono, venivan zù lì, [makes a booming noise] e cadono un sacco di bombe in acqua anche, no?
DC: Addirittura sono arrivati in mare quel giorno?
GM: Le bombe sono cadute anche in mare, allora noi tagliamo sulla spiaggia [unclear] andon zò verso Bellariva per mareina, però lì al direzione dei Angeli Frua, [unclear] l’Hotel Belvedere che è vecchio che è rimasto lì.
[dog barking]
DC: Tutto decrepito, quello che è ancora tutto messo male?
GM: Adesso come una volta.
DC: Sì.
GM: Però funziona ancora, funzionante, hai capito?
[Dog barking. Female voice: sta zitta.]
GM: Lì c’erano, sulla spiaggia c’erano i tedeschi con la contraerea, hai capito?
DC: Contraerea secondo te erano quelli...
GM: Che sparavano agli aerei.
DC: Ma canna o singola o quelle mitragliatrici...
GM: No c’erano le mitragliatrici a quattro canne, quattro canne.
Ui: Quelle da quattro canne, ho capito.
GM: E c’erano i reticolati fino ad un certo punto prima di arrivare nel mare, no, prima di arrivare sulla spiaggia. E allora c’erano i tedeschi [mimics angry screaming] te capì?
DC: Vi facevano andare via?
GM: Ci facevano segno, no? E noi quando hanno fatto segno ha detto: ‘Ma dai, tagliamo verso la ferrovia, andiamo giù per la ferrovia’.
DC: Guai.
GM: Guai.
DC: La ferrovia era
GM: Siamo andati giù in direzione [dog barking] della pensione, aspetta, lì c’è l’Audi, sai dov’è l’Hotel Audi. Vicino
DC: No adesso comunque, comunque dopo si ripiglia.
GM: L’Hotel Plata hai capito che adesso l’hanno chiuso perché era tutto scasinato lì.
DC: Quindi voi da lì avete preso...
GM: Abbiamo preso verso la ferrovia e la direzione, poco in là ci sono le officine.
[dog barking]
DC: Porca miseria, [laughs]
GM: E’ apparsa una formazione [speaks dialect], erano anche bassi, no, lì, bombardamenti [unclear] hanno fatto. Si me e Giorgio e [unclear]
DC: Giorgio chi, quello del distributore?
GM: Giorgio, no, era Giorgio Feruzzi, che adesso è morto lui.
Ui: Non ce l’ho presente.
GM: Quattro, cinque anni fa, dieci anni fa.
DC: Quindi siete andati in
GM: Era un mio collega, era un mio amico
DC: Coetaneo.
GM: Coetaneo, di, della stessa classe eravamo.
DC: Siete andati vicinissimi al ponte.
GM: Siamo andati lì, proprio lì [speaks dialect] finì, Dio bono. Allora dopo è passato sto bombardamento e siamo andati giù direttamente giù per la ferrovia e siamo arrivati a Bellariva, hai capito.
DC: L’antiaerea gli ha sparato a quegli aereoplani, secondo te ?
GM: Sì sì sparavano.
DC: Sparavano.
GM: Sì, sparavano, sì sì. E allora
DC: Erano aerei con quattro motori che c’avete guardato o no, erano alti?
GM: Non erano tanto, si vedevano, non erano quattro motori.
DC: Perché la prima volta mi hai detto che facevano le strisce.
GM: Sì, facevano le strisce.
DC: Perché dopo poi c’è stato un bombardamento anche il giorno dopo, il giorno successivo, grosso anche quello.
GM: Sì.
DC: In Novembre ce ne sono stati tre.
GM: Tre. C’è quell ch’è ste gross.
DC: Il terzo è stato grosso grosso.
GM: Ecco dopo lì, da quel bombardamento lì, sono andato a lavorare alla Todt, alla famosa Todt.
DC: Dov’era la sede della, dov’è che ti sei iscritto?
GM: La sede della Todt, niente come quando, di toi uperaio la Todt allora.
DC: Sì, ma dove sei andato te materialmente a[unclear]?
GM: Alla Maddalena, allora c’era la colonia Maddalena.
Ui: Colonia Maddalena, ah, a Marebello.
GM: Marebello, lì dalle colonie.
DC: Lì era la sede della Todt.
GM: Lì c’era, lì c’era, erano tutti i campi da grano quelli, no. C’era la colonia poi erano tutti i campi da grano, una casina in fondo. Si contavano con le dita le case lì. E c’erano tutti i camion [unclear] perché Maddalena era il centro dove facevano i cassettoni per le, per armare, il cemento armato, hai capito.
DC: I getti di calcestruzzo.
GM: Lì c’erano tutti i falegnami e la manodopera come noi, la mattina ci prendevano, prendevano
DC: Quindi quello era il punto di ritrovo e da lì vi portavano dove.
GM: Quello il punto di ritrovo. Tutte le mattine noi andavamo giù, lì facevano l’appello, hai capito, ti chiamavano, e poi salivi, si saliva sui camion che c’erano tutti autisti della
DC: Camion tedeschi o?
GM: Camion tedeschi.
DC: Tedeschi.
GM: Erano camion tedeschi che erano, gli autisti erano prigionieri
DC: Ucraini.
GM: Ucraini, erano tutti ucraini.
Ui: Polacchi, robe così.
GM: [unclear] Non erano armati nè niente. Avevano una divisa nera così e facevano, e ci portavano là.
DC: Eravate in molti a lavorare lì alla Maddalena?
GM: Eravamo in parecchi. La mattina andavamo giù perché dopo da là c’erano tre, quattro fortini che erano tirati giù dopo la guerra.
DC: Dove?
GM: Per togliere il ferro.
Ui: Dove ’là’?
Gm: Dopo il ponte, sai dov’è il Carlini che fann le barche?
Ui: Sì.
GM: Ecco, là.
DC: Là c’erano quei quattro fortini con i cannoni dentro?
GM: Eh, quelli lì.
DC: Quelli che guardavano il mare?
GM: Noi facevamo quelli.
DC: Quelli, lavoravi in quelli? Ma lo sai che c’ha lavorato anche il mio suocero?
GM: Ah sì?
DC: Lui era di Viserba Monte.
GM: [unclear] lì lavoravano parecchi.
DC: Senti cosa mi ha raccontato lui, non so se questo lo puoi, c’era gente che lavorava che veniva anche da fuori. Lui m’ha detto:’Io lavoravo con uno di Bergamo, che aveva un bambino con lui’. Il figlio, perché si vede che non sapeva dove lasciarlo.
GM: Però dopo, la sede, si vede che c’erano dopo altri punti di riferimento per questa organizzazione.
DC: D’incontro. Lui mi sa che faceva dalla corderia.
GM: Ah dalla corderia, ho capito.
DC: Che era un altro coso grosso che usavano i tedeschi.
GM: Noi partivamo da là, dalla Maddalena e quando c’era l’allarme ci portavano a Viserba Monte. Ci caricavano, davano l’allarme, si andava in campagna perché non potevano.
DC: Quanti mesi hai lavorato con loro secondo te?
GM: Due mesi.
DC: Quindi sei arrivato?
Gm: Sì, a Dicembre, così mi sembra.
DC: Perché se hai detto dopo il bombardamento di fine novembre.
GM: Dicembre, gennaio.
DC: C’hai lavorato dicembre e gennaio probabilmente.
GM: Due mesi ho lavorato.
DC: Se, te hai lavorato sempre a quei fortini là a Rivabella.
GM: Sì, noi facevamo la calce praticamente ecco perché dopo tutto il legno venivano giù coi camion tutte ste cose già pronte, queste.
DC: Perché quelli erano grossi, quei fortini lì a Rivabella.
GM: [unclear] Erano grossi, sì, sì, erano grossi.
DC: Ho visto delle fotografie.
GM: Ce n’era uno anche qui.
DC: Hanno messo prima i cannoni dentro e poi gli hanno fatto il calcestruzzo, te ti ricordi?
GM: Quando hanno messo i cannoni io non.
DC: Te non c’eri.
GM: Io non c’ero più.
DC: Quindi prima [unclear]. Li hanno messi dentro dopo.
GM: Sì, dopo, dopo, li hanno messi dentro.
DC: Qui vicino
GM: Qui ce n’era uno più grosso, eh.
DC: Dove? Spiegami un po’, che mi interessa molto.
GM: Qui.
DC: Toh.
GM: Era ne, qui, sai dov’è il gas?
Ui: Sì.
Gm: Qui, c’è quella stradina che viene che c’è il divieto, lì, la prima strada.
Ui: Guarda, così guarda. Questa, allora questa è la ferrovia. Via Chiabrera.
GM: Chiabrera.
DC: Qui ci sono gli uffici del gas.
Gm: Del gas. Qui c’è
DC: E qui adesso c’è la rotonda.
GM: Sì.
DC: Dimmi un po’ dov’era?
GM: Qui c’ è la prima, la prima strada.
Ui: Sì.
Gm: Qui. Poi dopo, c’è la prima col semaforo, la seconda col semaforo.
DC: Sì.
Gm: La prima strada qui e il bunker era qui.
Ui: Ed era grosso quanto, secondo te?
Gm: Ah, era grosso.
DC: Una stazza così?
GM: Eh, anche più grande.
DC: Quindi questo era un bunker.
GM: L’hann buttato giù lì proprio quando sono venuto giù io.
DC: Questo è il gas.
GM: Qui
DC: Bunker.
GM: Quando sono venuto giù io dalla parte verso Riccione, l’hanno forato con due cannonate. C’erano proprio i
DC: I buchi.
GM: I buchi delle cannonate.
DC: Ma questo qui secondo te, doveva tenere un cannone o era più?
GM: Ma quello lì penso io che tenessero mitraglitrici credo.
Ui: Qui lungo la ferrovia, allora, [unclear] quello della frutta cinquanta metri più in qua attaccata alla ferrovia, un metro
GM: [unclear]
DC: Sì, c’è un fortino piccolo.
GM: Eh.
DC: Sono andato a fargli la fotografia.
GM: Sottoterra vai anche lì eh.
DC: Questo qui.
GM: Quello è profondo.
DC: Ha, il, la botola sopra.
GM: Sì, la botola sopra che c’era una mitraglia penso io.
DC: Secondo, o era una riservetta, dico, sì, secondo me lì sopra ci doveva stare la mitraglia.
GM: Lì c’era questa piatta, questa cosa tonda che si vede che c’era una mitragliera
DC: Da fronteggiare.
GM: A quarantacinque gradi, vai a capire, a novanta gradi, e in più c’era una casamatta dentro. Casematte erano tutte quelle tonde di ferro che erano
DC: A cupoletta così.
GM: Erano tonde, tonde, proprio tonde. E avevano una porta di otto, nove centimetri. Che noi, quando io lavoravo da [unclear] dopo la guerra.
DC: Andavate a recuperare la roba.
GM: Abbiamo tagliato ste porte per fare il tasso per raddrizzare il ferro, per battere il ferro
DC: Per lavorare
GM: Hai capito?
DC: [laughs] Quella era roba bona.
GM: Ce n’era una anche vicino il [unclear] dove c’era, dove finiva la mura del De Orchi.
DC: C’era un fortino lato mare?
GM: C’era una casamatta di ferro così.
DC: Allora questa è la De Orchi.
GM: Eh. Di dietro.
DC: De Orchi. Questo qui è il mare.
GM: Sì.
DC: Dov’è che era sto fortino?
GM: Questo è il mare, il fortino è, dunque questo è la De Orchi, qui, qui. Era qui.
DC: Questa era uno di quelli piccolini, cupoletta.
GM: Tutto ferro, tutto ferro.
DC: Ah, solo ferro.
GM: Solo ferro.
DC: Ah , ostia!, interessante. C’è una fotografia nei libri della guerra lì dei [unclear]? Bunker.
GM: Quello è tutto ferro, tondo. C’era
DC: Tutto ferro.
GM: Con porta di spessore da dieci centimetri.
Ui: E qui intorno ce ne erano degli altri che ti ricordi te?
GM: No, qui, qui, qui, e qui [unclear], no.
DC: Sai dove ce n’è uno ancora esistente?
Gm: Eh.
DC: In Via Zavagli. Te sei a monte e vai verso il mare.
GM: [unclear]
DC: Come passi il primo ponte della ferrovia, guardi sulla spallata così della ferrovia, c’è il fortino. A trenta metri dalla Via Zavagli. Ci sono andato dentro, ho preso le misure.
Gm: [unclear] perché io ho visto un altro coso come quello della [unclear]
DC: E’ fatto così a due livelli.
GM: Ho capito.
DC: Sopra il tetto ha, stranamente ha la porta verso il mare, che non è, sembra illogico. E’ così guarda. C’ha la porta qui così,
GM: [unclear] verso il mare.
DC: si alza un po’ e qui c’è la feritoia. E’ fatto così, tutto in calcestruzzo. E qui la porta e la feritoia guardano tutti due
Gm: E’ quello che te sei andato qui perché invece
DC: Invece quello è così, è un rettangolo praticamente smussato un po’ indietro così
GM: Sotto si va, si va giù coi gradini sotto da dentro nel recinto dalla casa.
DC: Ah, anche quello c’ha la porta qui.
GM: Quello c’ha la porta.
DC: E il buco qua sopra.
GM: C’ha la porta verso il mare.
DC: Verso il mare.
GM: Sì. Infatti
DC: Guarda, è a un metro dalla linea ferroviaria, dalla rotaia.
Gm: Quella casa lì l’ha presa uno, ma sotto c’ha fatto la cantina.
DC: Sì c’ha fatto la cantina, ma non è tanto grande questo eh.
GM: No.
DC: Questo sarà largo così, è più lungo, è un rettangolo ma non è molto largo. Non so se lo usavano come riserva per le munizioni.
GM: Può darsi, senz’altro. Senz’altro.
DC: Tuo babbo che lavoro faceva in quel periodo?
GM: Mio babbo lavorava all’aeroporto allora al tempo di guerra.
DC: Cosa faceva?
GM: Dava benzina agli aerei così, hai capito?
DC: Ostia! Ma va!
GM: Eh sì, perché, dopo lui è stato in Germania.
DC: Coso qui, Antimi
Gm: Antimi, il falegname?
Ui: No, Antimi, adess l’è mort pure et ma lui durante la guerra era sotto naja, era in marina. Antimi, aspetta eh, sta, stava di casa, hai presente la rotonda qui dell’ospedale?
GM: Eh.
DC: Vai verso Riccione. Una, prima di arrivare in Via Rimembranza, lui sta in una di quelle casette lì. In Via Fasola.
GM: Fasola?
DC: Sta, lui di casa durante la guerra.
GM: Ah, ho capito.
Ui: Era di quella famiglia che stavano lì di fronte alla Coca-Cola. Un pochettino più verso Rimini.
GM: Sì [unclear]
DC: E lui lavorava dentro l’aeroporto e, se ricordo bene m’aveva detto, che era assieme, cosa che c’era, c’è un meridionale qui a Bellariva che anche lui era, lavorava dentro l’aeroporto.
GM: In tempo di guerra?
Ui: Sì, non so se faceva il calzolaio.
GM: Ah, può darsi.
DC: Come cus ciema, è famoso qui a Bellariva, sicuramente te lo conosci ma adesso mi sfugge il nome, e lo stesso. E lui quindi metteva benzina negli aeroplani, faceva questi servizi così. Porcaccia loca!
GM: [unclear] dopo, sì, mio babbo nel prima ha lavorato anche con il comune di Rimini, però lavorava d’estate, sai il lavoro era quello lì in tempo prima della, in tempo di guerra o prima della guerra, [unclear] ogni tent, si muradure.
DC: Dove capitava.
Gm: Dop l’è andè in Germania, è stato due tre anni là.
DC: Faceva le stagioni o stava fisso?
GM: No, no, lui, lui lavorava in una fabbrica di, dove facevano i sommergibili.
DC: Ostrica! Ti ricordi in che città era?
GM: Era witt, eh Wittenberg.
DC: Tre anni filati è stato là?
GM: No, veniva a casa in licenza.
DC: Faceva le licenze. Porco boia!
GM: Lui e mio zio, tutti e due.
DC: Perché qua mancava il lavoro.
GM: Eh, qua mancava il lavoro, dopo ha fatto sta cosa. Il primo anno l’ha fatto a Villach, in Austria.
DC: E li che cosa, fabbrica di che cosa?
GM: Lì campagna.
DC: E mio suocero l’è andè in Polonia a piantar patè di un anno.
GM: Anche lì fè in campagne dopo l’è [speaks dialect] il secondo turno l’ha fatto là in Germania.
DC: Perché pagavano più di qui.
GM: Ostia, pagavano [unclear] poi.
DC: Però mi ha detto mio suocero l’era un freddo
GM:Ah, l’era dura no però
DC: E’ arrivato là in maggio c’era ancora la neve dov’era lui.
GM: [unclear] Noi, io avevo tre fratelli, erano tutti e tre in Germania erano. Uno è rimasto anche fino la, il passaggio dei russi diciamo. [speaks dialect]
DC: [laughs] Dio poi!
GM: Hai capito? E invece gli altri due e mio babbo e mio zio, ce l’hann fatta a venire a casa [unclear]
DC: Dio poi! [laughs]
GM: Con una licenza e poi nel [speaks dialect]
DC: [speaks dialect]
GM: Sta bombardè forti là.
DC: Porcamiseria. La Germania dove c’erano le fabbriche l’hann rasa praticamente al suolo.
GM: L’hann raso al suolo.
DC: Il terzo bombardamento di Rimini, anzi forse è stato il secondo. Dei caccia di scorta hanno sganciato i [unclear] nella zona del Ghetto Turco.
GM: Sì, i serbatoi.
DC: I serbatoi.
GM: I serbatoi, sì sì.
DC: Ti ricordi di averlo visto te sta cosa?
GM: Sì sì. Che venivano giù sta cosa, puttana [unclear].
DC: Una signora. La Gattei [?], [unclear] la mamma di Gattei [?]
GM: Sì.
DC: [unclear], La mamma di Gattei [?]
GM: Sì.
Ui: Il coso, il vecchio bagnino di Bellariva.
GM: Sì sì.
DC: Lei mi ha detto: ‘io stavo là vicino al Ghetto Turco [unclear] abbiamo visto venire giù sti robi strani [unclear] ah, Dio poi! Ma venivano giù piano, che di solito le bombe, quando prendevano velocità, non le vedevi più no. E questa si continuava a vedere [unclear] sai che sarà, corri di qua, corri d’là, arrivano per terra, non succede niente. Allora tutti avevano paura, disi, scoppierà per terr. Allora dice che c’era un carabiniere là c’la dett: ‘[speaks in dialect] che vado a veder io. Tanto ormai sono vecchio, anche se muoio io’. Quand’è arrivato là ha capito che erano serbatoi di benzina. Dopo [unclear] che qualcosa hanno rimediato ma c’era rimasto poca roba.
DC: Quindi anche te li hai visti scendere?
GM: Sì sì.
DC: Si capivano che erano caccia su in alto?
GM: [unclear] quando c’era la, la formazione degli aerei, quella era per il terzo bombardamento adesso [unclear] perché [unclear].
DC: Cert. [laughs]
GM: Mi ricordo che ero, ero lì dove c’è il semaforo adesso, no, la Via Rimembranza era tutta campagna. [speaks dialect] mi fa:’dio bono’, difatti venivano da Riccione e andavano verso Rimini. C’era la caserma Giulio Cesare, che c’erano ancora i soldati lì. H a dit, Puttana madonna guarda quanti aerei. E difatti si è visto proprio, io mi sono messo nel fosso, sembrava che queste bombe cadessero proprio sopra di noi.
DC: Dio poi!
GM: Puttana Madonna! [speaks dialect] Invece, hai capito, [unclear] vicino la mura della caserma, hai capito. Ah la Madonna! Era un bel disastro.
DC: Robe che non si dimenticano eh.
GM: Eh, non si dimenticano.
DC: [unclear]
GM: Ti faccio vedere un libro che ha scritto mio, un figlio di una mia cugina.
DC: Su questo argomento qui?
GM: Che racconta anche lui [unclear]
DC: Va la!
GM: Di questa. Tutti, ci sono tutti racconti, non so se tu l’hai visto quel libro lì.
DC: Come s’intitola?
GM: A m’arcord.
DC: Prova a far vedere, che mi interessa moltissimo. Che ci sia anche in biblioteca, l’avrà depositato.
GM: Non credo.
DC: Signora, voi di solito a che ora cenate, che non vorrei.
FS: Ma no no no, tardi.
DC: Tardi.
FS: Tardi, eh.
DC: [laughs]
FS: No no, non si preoccupi.
GM: Aspetta, ‘la città invisibile’.
DC: Ce l’ho.
GM: Ce l’hai?
DC: Ce l’ho. La scritto chi, tuo cugino? Tuo parente?
GM: No, c’è un racconto che è di un mio parente.
DC: Coso?
GM: Rodolfo si chiama.
DC: Francesconi?
GM: Francesconi.
DC: Te sei parente con Francesconi?
GM: Francesconi è il figlio di una mia cugina buona.
DC: Lo sai che io da un racconto [unclear] qui?
GM: [speaks dialect] Sarà zinquanta, sessanta anni.
Ui: Fa vedere la fotografia di Francesconi che di faccia non me lo ricordo.
GM: [unclear] vieni a pagina qua.
DC: Questo è bellissimo, sto libro qui. Il racconto di Rodolfo. Fa veder. Perché qui c’è un racconto anche di un altro di Bellariva.
GM: Germano Melucci.
DC: [unclear] sull’elenco non c’è.
GM: Stai qui, stai qui.
DC: Non l’ho trovato sul elenco telefonico.
GM: Te dè me il numero.
DC: Dio bonamma! Rodolfo, fa veder la foto.
GM: Questo è tutta, tutta storia, tutta la parentela anche il mia, la mi zia, che era su nona, hai capito? Dopo c’era mio cugino.
DC: Questo è ingegnere? No.
GM: No, lui no, lui è chimico credo.
DC: Ingegnere chimico. Sta a Riccione?
GM: Sì.
DC: Lo sai che io c’ho parlato con lui?
GM: Sì?
DC: E mi ha prestato il suo diario da fotocopiare?
GM: Ah sì?
DC: [laughs] Perché gli sono andato a chiedere se aveva voglia di raccontarmi. Lui mi fa, mi ha guardato, fa:’ma perché fa sta cosa?’ Dico: ‘Guardi, io sono un appassionato, io ho letto un libro che c’è’. E mi fa:’sa che sto diario l’ho dato alla biblioteca di Cattolica’ che dovevano fare qualcosa, tipo una pubblicazione così. Ma lo vuole leggere? Dico:’magari, se vuole, ma si fida?’ dico perché io lui non l’avevo mai visto, c’eravamo incontrati così per le mie ricerche.
GM: Sì sì sì.
DC: Me l’ha dato, mi ha prestato il diario, me lo sono, lui qui ha fatto la cronistoria di tutti gli aerei che ha visto cadere.
GM: Sì sì. [unclear] tutto.
DC: Ha fatto una roba fuori di testa. Ma ha visto un sacco di roba questo qui eh. Poi si erano spostati là nella colonia a Misano.
GM: Sì perché la colonia lì, perché mia zia.
DC: Ma pensa te, è tuo parente [laughs]
GM: Aveva sposato un Amati, no. I famosi Amati di Riccione.
DC: Di Riccione.
GM: Anche parente c’è qualche [unclear] eccetera e praticamente il marito di mia zia era uno che stava bene, era uno che, una persona, un grande pescatore.
DC: Stava a Mirano mi sembra lui, Francesconi?
GM: Mirano, lui è stato
DC: C’ha lavorato?
GM: Francesconi era il babbo di Rodolfo, hai capito, che era un gerarca fascista. E’ stato in Libia, cred che sia mort, na, na, dop la guerra l’è torni. [speaks dialect] direttor l’Alitalia un per. Hai capito?
DC: Com’era, uno di quelli che
GM: Dopo mia cugina si era disunita da lui come
DC: Quest na, è Germano?
GM: Questo è Germano.
DC: Dio bonamma, l’ho cercato che gli volevo parlare.
GM: [unclear] sta zitta. Questo è un altro libro di chiesa, però racconta anche un po’ questo di bombardamenti. Questo è “una spiaggia, una chiesa e una comunità”.
DC: E chi l’ha, ah, Manlio Masini. Bravo che lui scrive
GM: Questo è ’43. Dal ’12 al ’43.
DC: E parla del [unclear], anche qui della guerra?
GM: Questo parla un po’ della guerra anche.
DC: Sei amico te con lui, lo conosci?
GM: Masini? No, questo qui me l’ha dato un mio amico che era un professore; Marcello [unclear] perché el cognom [speaks dialect]. Era, siccome faceva, d’estate faceva il, il, parlava bene l’inglese e il francese, faceva, lavorava per, con l’areoporto per le agenzie, ora ho fatto anche il tassista, te capì? Per sto [unclear]
DC: Per un certo periodo.
GM: E allora hai capito, beh comunque, c’è la storia di qualche bombardamento perché c’è anche Marvelli, che ha lavorato anche lui nella Todt.
DC: Ah, lui era ingegnere.
GM: Lui era ingegnere.
DC: Era lì alla cosa, alla Maddalena, come sede, lui? [unclear] in giro?
GM: Ma io non, io non me lo ricordo. Io ho letto qui che lui ha lavorato nella Todt.
DC: Sì ma l’hanno detto che lui era.
GM: Hai capito, ho letto qui che c’è un racconto.
DC: Forse lui magari era in una delle altre sedi.
GM: Lui era ingegnere, hai capito, dopo parlava bene il tedesco lui perché la mamma era tedesca di lui.
DC: Ah, non lo sapevo questo.
GM: Hai capito.
DC: Fammi vedere il titolo che me lo scrivo. Allora, Manlio Masini, una spiaggia, una chiesa, una comunità. Fammi una cortesia.
GM: Dimmi.
DC: C’hai il numero di Germano, hai detto?
GM: Sì sì sì.
DC: Dammelo subito che così non mi dimentico che dopo, dopo di te, becco anche lui [laughs]. Che belle foto che ci sono.
GM: Qui ci sono anch’io in una processione.
DC: Ah sì? Te frequentavi la, il coso dei Salesiani?
GM: Io nel, nel ’38, quando ho passato la cresima, tutti [unclear] lì perché la chiesa era a Piazza Tripoli, noi qui non avevamo la parrocchia, hai capito?
DC: Non facevate con la Colonnella?
GM: No, la Colonnella era dalla parte di là. La Via Rimembranze era, una parte della ferrovia in là era Colonnella e fino, sulla destra era Colonnella e sulla sinistra era Piazza Tripoli. Comunque
DC: Ah, quindi te eri collegato là.
GM: Io ero collegato con la chiesa di [unclear], quindi Germano, Germano, Germano, Germano, 380424.
DC: E abita anche lui in questa via qui?
GM: Lui abita dirimpetto [unclear] c’è pure il tabaccaio che fa angolo qui.
DC: Sì.
GM: C’è un tabaccaio no. La stradina lì, la seconda casa, c’è un cancello con l’automatico.
DC: Con l’automatico. Ah, dio bo, lo chiamo eccome. Lo sai che l’ho cercato anche sotto Riccione, [unclear] siccome quelli lì sono quasi tutti di Riccione, dico, si vede che sta a Riccione [unclear]
GM: [unclear] Ha il distributore a Riccione.
DC: Ah.
GM: Allora uno c’ha regalato il libro, lui, me l’ha dato lui sto libro.
DC: E’ bellissimo.
GM: E allora dopo [unclear] ho letto tanti
DC: Questa storia qui.
GM: Eh.
DC: Il racconto di Dino, questo.
GM: Sì?
DC: Che era il fabbro di Spontricciolo.
GM: Spontricciolo.
DC: Lui, assieme ad altri due, ha tenuto nascosto un americano per tre mesi, un aviatore che si era buttato il 5 giugno del ’44 nella zona di Ospedaletto. Erano in dieci, sei li hanno catturati subito, quattro
GM: [speaks dialect]
DC: Era, ma adesso arriviamo anche lì,
GM: Quando zè rivà, in che periodo che è caduto l’aereo?
DC: Cinque giugno ’44.
GM: Difatti, quando il fronte è passato in
DC: In settembre.
GM: In settembre
DC: Qui hanno combattuto a [unclear] dai primi di settembre.
GM: Era una fortezza volante.
DC: Era una fortezza volante.
GM: L’è cascè [speaks dialect] perché una volta c’era una fortezza volante, noi da porta san marino
DC: Vedevate tutto.
GM: Prendevamo una galleria che aveva tutto lo sbocco e abbiamo visto tutta la battaglia dei carri armati, si vedeva tutto, hai capito? E poi, era uno che aveva un binocolo buonissimo [unclear]
DC: La galleria quale, quella del Borgo Maggiore?
GM: No, era l’altra.
DC: [unclear] al convento dei frati?
GM: No. Dunque partiva, dal Borgo Maggiore partiva, dunque, petta,
Ui: Ce n’era una che faceva tutto il giro del monte
GM: No, Il nostro giro, la nostra galleria, quando tu venivi giù dalla città,
DC: Sì.
GM: Da San Marino, per andare già nel borgo, prima di prendere la penultima curva che [unclear] il borgo
DC: Che fa tutto il giro
GM: Sotto quel, quel coso lì c’è l’entrata di questa galleria
DC: Che fa tutto il giro del monte
GM: Che va, va a finire
DC: Al convento di Valdragone. Mi sembra, no?
GM: No, no, no, no, quello va a finire a Santa Mustiola. E prende un’altra galleria ancora che va nel borgo dopo.
DC: Ho capito.
GM: Ce n’erano due, hai capito, uno attacca l’altra.
DC: Quindi voi eravate dalla parte che guarda verso il mare.
GM: Noi guardavamo, sì, noi guardavamo verso il mare perché eravamo, quando uscivamo dalla galleria c’era uno spiazzale lì. Vedevamo il mare, Serravalle, e vedevamo, e se andavi su poi dopo vedevi anche Riccione eh cioè, però dovevi andare sulla strada, hai capito.
DC: Sì.
GM: Perché c’era la strada lì. Era una galleria che era ottocento metri credo, faceva un ferro da cavallo faceva
DC: Sì, girava intorno al monte,
GM: Sì.
DC: Praticamente.
GM: E vedevamo tutto Verucchio, tutto il Montebello, tutte le cose lì, tutti i compartimenti.
DC: Era una zona praticamente.
GM: Dalla galleria vedevi proprio i ultimi tedeschi scappava via
DC: E parlami di quel [unclear], di quella fortezza volante.
GM: Di quella fortezza volante, allora, è successo che sta fortezza volante andavano verso
DC: Verso sud.
GM: Verso sud.
DC: Stava rientrando da un bombardamento.
GM: Stava rientrando da un bombardamento. E questa che è qui ha preso verso la campagna qua, verso Cerasolo, su, su, e andava verso l’Arno. E poi tutta una volta si sono buttati via sti [unclear]
DC: Paracaduti.
GM: L’apparech andava verso Cattolica così, hai capito, [speaks dialect] quel casca.
DC: C’erano due caccia che lo attaccavano sta fortezza volante o era da sola?
GM: No, era da sola la
Ui: Allora è quello lì. Hai visto quello lì.
GM: Era da sola.
DC: Perché un mese prima ce n’era stato un altro sempre [unclear]
GM: Per me quella lì è stata colpita dalla contraerea.
DC: E’ esatto.
GM: E’ stata.
DC: A Bologna.
GM: Eh, difatti.
DC: Era andata a bombardare a Bologna.
GM: [speaks dialect] questo [speaks dialect] si vede che c’era qualcosa che non andava.
DC: I colleghi di, gli altri aeroplani che erano più avanti,
GM: Sì.
DC: Perché lui era rimasto attardato,
GM: Sì.
DC: Che non gli andavano i motori.
GM: Difatti [unclear] questo era lì per [unclear].
DC: Hanno scritto che era esploso in volo l’aereo. Te ti, quando è andato sul mare, secondo te, è andato giù nell’acqua o l’è sciupè?
GM: Io non ho visto [unclear] perché io [unclear] orca madonna butta zò [unclear] dopo hann detto che poi un po’ li hanno presi.
DC: Sei li hanno presi. Tre sono finiti a Monte Grimano e sono stati nascosti da un signore, con cui ho parlato, che li ha tenuti in casa
GM: [unclear]
DC: E il quarto era quello che ha aiutato lui.
GM: Ha avuto un bel coraggio.
DC: Quelli si sono incamminati, sono riusciti ad arrivare all’interno. Dopo hanno trovato dei partigiani che li hanno portati a Monte Grimano, in sta famiglia che stavano in una casa isolata. E lì sono stati circa due mesi. Poi dopo è arrivato il fronte e sono riusciti a consegnarsi. Lui invece che era rimasto aiutato da uno lì che era nella zona, questo, Dolci
GM: Sì, sì, sì.
DC: Questo, il Dolci di soprannome, era sfollato a Mulazzano.
GM: Ho capito.
DC: Dice, sono andato giù, per vedere dove erano atterrati sti aviatori. Dice, l’er ved un camion fascisti e tedeschi, ia ciap su, erano nel grano, dice, hann tirato, c’hanno mitragliato sopra in alto no questi col fazzoletto bianco così si sono arresi, dice, li ha ciap, ha detto, torno su a Mulazzano. Arrivo a Mulazzano e trovo un signore con la bicicletta che mi fa: ‘te’, siccome lui dava in giro i giornali proibiti, L’Unità così, faceva propaganda no, non era un partisen però si dava da fare e dai, lui era giovane.
GM: [speaks dialects]
DC: [speaks dialect] [laughs] Allora mi dice: ‘mi avvicina un signore con la bicicletta ha detto: ‘te che sei un partigiano, hai presente il Ristorante Vannucci a Mulazzano?
GM: Sì.
DC: Dietro il ristorante Vannucci, giù nella scarpata c’era questo aviatore, che qui c’è anche la fotografia, che si era slogato una caviglia e non riusciva a camminare. Diceva: ‘anda zì e aiutè perché quello non ries a moversi’ e da lì è nata la storia. E lui e gli altri, e un altro me l’ha raccontata tutta, ha fatto un libretto che ho depositato in biblioteca.
GM: Qui c’erano partigiani uno che faceva il tassista con me, lui è, per dire, che poi va detto, si chiamava Amati, Amati Gino, se tu guardi anche sul computer c’è Amati Gino
DC: A Rimini?
GM: Rimini sì. Era assieme con i tre che hanno impiccato lui eh. Quelli che sono scappati, è scappato via [unclear]
DC: Che è riuscito a
Gm: Scappar via a bruciapelo. La storia di lui.
DC: Lui è ancora vivo?
GM: No, è morto
DC: Vacca boia!
GM: E’ morto due, tre anni fa. E [unclear] dimmi Gino, insomma quante semo partigiani? [speaks dialect] durant la guerr eran tut partigien. [speaks dialect] In partigien sem sette o otto.
DC: [laughs]
GM: Quei poveracci che hanno ammazzato che poi delle grandi azioni non le hanno fatte.
DC: Grandi azioni qui a Rimini non le hanno fatte. Tagliavano i fili del telefono, mettevano i chiodi
GM: Bolini con la mazzetta, [unclear] fucilè fradè per sbai.
DC: Chi Bolini?
GM: Quelli di Bolini che
DC: Ciavatta.
GM: Ciavatta. Però
DC: [unclear]
GM: Era imparentato coi Bolini
Gm: Ciavatta er, erano quattro o cinque fratelli, no, la sai la storia
DC: Te li conoscevi, sì, me l’hanno raccontata.
GM: Io ho preso la pensione da loro quando
DC: Quando hai cominciato
GM: Quando hanno incominciato a fare la pensione a Marebello.
DC: Ah, Marebello avevano loro?
GM: Avevano la Pensione Emma lì no, che c’è ancora. Era dei Ciavatti quella lì.
GM: Che dopo poi loro ne hanno fatto un’altra là a Rivazzurra. E quella lì l’han venduta e noi l’abbiamo preso da lui in affitto quando
DC: Ho capito.
GM: Dopo l’ha presa una certa Giunchi e allora lì mi ricordo che ancora c’era ancora la mamma che era ancora [unclear]
DC: Poi con la storia che il fratello non si era consegnato [unclear]
GM: [unclear]
DC: E non tocchiamo questo discorso che qui siamo sul personale, dopo.
GM: E allora voglio dire che c’entravano [unclear] i partigiani, a volte [unclear] ah ma sei partigiano, ma che partigiano [unclear]. La battaglia [unclear].
DC: Durante il terzo bombardamento di Rimini i caccia tedeschi, te non so se te ne sei accorto,
GM: Caccia tedeschi.
DC: Caccia tedeschi hanno attaccato la formazione e hanno abbattuto due bombardieri, due fortezze volanti che sono andate a cadere, una a Città di Castello e una a Campo, che è verso
GM: Quello, quando è stato quel bombardamento lì?
DC: Quello è stato il 27 Novembre del ’43. Poi dopo ci sono stati quelli grossi
GM: Infatti, però hanno buttato giù anche un caccia tedesco che c’era un, c’erano i caccia della
DC: Della Repubblica Sociale.
GM: Della Repubblica Sociale.
DC: Quel giorno secondo te, è caduto?
GM: [speaks dialect]
DC: E dove sarebbe caduto questo aereo lì?
GM: Sarebbe caduto là verso San Marino credo, sia caduto là a Fiorentino, penso io.
DC: Dietro San Marino, due aerei della Repubblica Sociale sono caduti, abbattuti per sbaglio dai tedeschi. Pensa te. Uno è caduto verso Montecopiolo e uno una decina di chilometri più in là. Questi italiani della Repubblica Sociale Italiana stavano inseguendo,
FS: Oh ciao!
DC: Ciao, salve, non salve, ciao [laughs], te, scusami, sai. C’hai il babbo che, è uno classe 1929 che può raccontare un sacco di robe e non m’hai mai detto niente?
SFS: Eh, certo, come no.
DC: Eh no, no. [laughs]
FS: Ne abbiam parlato, ne abbiam parlato.
DC: Come stai?
FS: Bene, te?
DC: Non c’è male.
FS: Come va il tuo libro?
DC: Eh io due, ho depositato due libri in biblioteca.
FS: Ah sì?
DC: Sì.
FS: Dai, ma due.
DC: Raccogliendo le robine così ma robine così da bastare eh
FS: Vabbè, ma sei un appassionato infatti la Patrizia è mia amica la Patrizia, quella bionda bionda della biblioteca
DC: Ah sì, la [unclear]
FS: La [unclear]
DC: [unclear]
FS: Mi dice sempre perché una volta così abbiamo parlato. Mi fa, ma dai ma [unclear] parlare di storia perché anche lei è laureata in, proprio in storia moderna, hai capito, la sua specializzazione. E allora faceva: ‘Ma dai non lo conosci, non, coso, Celli, no, ti ricordi, ‘come non lo conosco’, ha detto, è anche venuto a casa mia per, che facevi l’albero.
DC: Sì che facevo le ricerche
FS: Le ricerche. E infatti allora insomma.
DC: Allora mi faccio raccontare anche dal tuo babbo quello che ha passato lui. Dio bon, c’ha una memoria della Madonna, il tuo babbo.
GM: [unclear]
FS: Il mio babbo, ha su quelle cose lì il mio babbo, mio zio Luciano di là, dio bon, chi li ferma più. Infatti fai bene, stai facendo un [unclear]
DC: Io adesso raccolgo, dopo vedrò.
FS: Vedrai.
DC: Adesso intanto cerco di raccogliere.
FS: Ah bene bene bene. Poi dopo fa. Adesso qua che li verrai a vedere, eh, quei depositi là?
DC: [unclear]
FS: Devi chiedere alla Patrizia.
DC: Fammi vedere i libri di Celli. Ma ti dico, io non sono bravo a scrivere, quindi, è giusto per non perdere la memoria di quello che mi racconta.
FS: Eh, hai fatto bene. Le hai praticamente solo depositato come documento.
DC: Come documento.
FS: Come documento che se uno vuole reperire delle cose, no? Un ambientazione.
DC: Se uno vuole fare una ricerca sul passato bellico di Rimini, lì ci sono delle notizie.
FS: Come no, come no.
DC: E uno, che dicevo adesso al tuo babbo, è nato da una storia che ho letto su sto libro qui. Qui c’è uno che ha aiutato un americano
FS: E chi è, perché adesso non ho gli occhiali, città?
DC: ‘La città invisibile’.
FS: ‘invisibile’. L’ho sentita dire. E chi è l’autore?
DC: Fabio Galli, Glauco Galli.
GM: Glauco Galli.
FS: Glauco Galli.
DC: Deve essere uno che [unclear] dalla politica e adesso penso che abbia una carica a livello di provincia o di regione.
GM: Ah sì?
FS: Può essere.
DC: Deve essere un politico lui.
FS: Ma guarda. Bene allora quando mi capita, io vedo sempre, al sabato sono andata a trovare la Patrizia, adesso me li faccio vedere quei libri.
DC: Uno non te lo daranno sicuro perché è in unica copia ma il secondo che ho fatto su quella storia lì, è in duplice copia, quindi uno può uscire. Poi se lo vuoi, se mi dai l’indirizzo di posta elettronica, ti mando il pdf, te lo leggi così.
FS: Ah, beh dai, scrivilo. Daniela, no aspetta, danimurat
DC: Danimurat
FS: Danimurat, con una t, @alice.it. Ecco, a posto.
DC: Ti mando le ultime due che ho fatto.
FS: Grazie.
DC: Anzi, sono tre depositate in biblioteca. Uno che stava lì [unclear] Pino Burdon, adesso sta qui in Via Carlo Porta [unclear]. Lavorava da Ciavatta, quelli che facevano le reti dei letti.
GM: Burdon. Pino.
DC: Fabbri, la, sua moglie qui in Via Carlo Porta doveva avere un negozietto di mercerie mi sembra, c’hai presente?
GM: Burdon. Stavano in Via Pesaro una volta.
DC: Ma forse quello sarà un altro parente, qualcosa di collegato, mi aveva raccontato una storia durante ste ricerche che mi aveva incuriosito tantissimo ma non riuscivo a trovare riscontri. Lui aveva visto passare sul mare un aereo tedesco con sei motori, bassissimo, perché c’erano le nuvole che erano
GM: Allora avevano i sei motori?
DC: Avevano[unclear] aerei da trasporto di quella stazza lì.
GM: Sì ne avevano.
DC: E’ andato a sbattere contro il coso di Gabicce.
FS: Davvero, la cosa, il monte lì?
DC: Sì, ho sentito con dei ricercatori storici di areonautica, non lo sapeva nessuno di sta storia qua. E allora, cerca, cerca, cerca, ho trovato uno di Gabicce che lui personalmente non se lo ricordava, però c’era un suo vicino di casa che gli aveva raccontato sta storia. Ci siamo messi in contatto, siamo andati a fare un sopralluogo, mi ha fatto vedere dove era caduto, ho chiamato i miei amici di Bagnacavallo col metal detector, sono venuti, abbiamo trovato i pezzi, e c’era un testimone oculare che ci ha detto dov’era caduto quindi sapevamo che era lì e poi dopo guardando su internet, al cimitero tedesco della Futa, tra Bologna e Firenze, c’era, c’erano nove militari morti il 16 dicembre del ’42 e ho trovato il riscontro di quei nove lì, registrati nel cimitero di Pesaro perché un mio amico delle Marche, che ho contattato attraverso internet, chiedendogli se sapeva di sta storia, perché non riuscivo a trovare riscontri. Lui me l’aveva raccontato, questo qui di Bellariva e non c’era, non riuscivo a trovare né una data
FS: Certo, non riuscivi a trovare riferimenti.
DC: Riferimenti per approfondire la ricerca.
FS: Eh certo.
DC: Allora, un mio amico bravo, uno di quelli con il metal detector, che si sa spatacare bene con internet, ha trovato sti nove caduti cinquanta chilometri a sud di Rimini. Cinquanta chilometri serìa Fano però Gabicce, poi con quell’aereo lì ne è caduto uno solo qui intorno. E dopo ho sentito anche quelli del cimitero.
GM: [unclear]
DC: Andavano giù in Sicilia.
FS: Ma no, me l’aveva raccontato coso a me, [unclear] una volta
DC: Mulazzani?
FS: Mulazzani perché io una volta
DC: Di sto aereo con sei motori?
FS: No, che passavano questi aerei. Che lui si ricordava
DC: Andavano giù. Seguivano il mare, la costa.
FS: Ma aveva parlato anche di una rotta. Adesso a m’arcord perché avevo scritto per la Granzela no, il giornalino facevo perché intervistavo [unclear] anch’io dei personaggi ma giusto a livello di narrativa, non di storia. Però naturalmente quando che ne so, magari intervistavo Mulazzani o mio zio, erano tutte cose legate alla guerra perché per loro era un ricordo vivo.
DC: Era qualcosa che, ecco, esatto.
FS: Quindi mi raccontava di questo, di questi aerei
DC: E insomma, dopo ho sentito quelli del cimitero di Pesaro. Gli ho detto, guardate, io ho trovato sto riscontro di nove caduti perché questo, l’amico delle Marche mi ha detto:’Guarda, io non so di questo aereo caduto, però ho trovato nelle mie ricerche un servizio su Il Corriere dell’Adriatico che parlava di un funerale di tedeschi ma non diceva né dove erano morti e né di che aereo erano’. Però un numero così, guarda, alcuni tedeschi, il funerale. Allora con quell’articolo lì, sentendo col cimitero se trovavano riscontro con la data di quell’articolo, mi ha trovato gli stessi che erano su al cimitero del Parco della Futa. Lì c’era scritto che era un aereo con sei motori perché c’era la sigla dell’aereo e quindi si è chiuso il cerchio.
FS: Si è chiuso il cerchio.
DC: E dopo ho presentato anche quella lì [unclear].
FS: Che bella questo.
DC: Ti mando anche quella.
FS: Ma questo, guarda, stai facendo un lavorone.
GM: Sì, anche a San Marino è caduto uno.
DC: Sì, è andato a sbattere contro la montagna un giorno che c’era nebbia. C’è, nel cimitero di San Marino c’è
GM: C’è l’elica.
DC: La tomba con l’elica. Sono andato a fargli la fotografia.
GM: Ah sì?
DC: Quei miei amici col metal detector hanno fatto un libro su tutti gli aerei che hanno censito loro.
GM: Su quella collina, sotto la città
DC: Montecchio si chiama lì, mi sembra.
GM: Non so. Dove ero io, io ero a Le Piagge, [unclear] che è poco lontano dal centro, no, dal paese e c’è una collinetta, hai capito, che si va giù a Santa Mustiola lì e st’aereo [unclear] quella volta.
DC: Veniva dalla zona di Ravenna e stava rientrando anche [unclear].
GM: Ma io penso che era uno di quei bimotori,
DC: Bimotori, bravissimo.
GM: Pippo, Pippo il bombardiere, che faceva [unclear], butteva zò una bomba.
DC: Buttava una bomba di cla, una bomba di là,
GM: Sempre quel fazeva.
DC: E disturbava il sonno della gente.
GM: Buttava i bengala, che s’illuminava tutto, no e poi faceva un giretto e [makes a booming noise] [unclear].
DC: Ma sai che quegli aerei
GM: Al Ponte di Verucchio, quando noi eravamo nella galleria, [speaks dialect]
DC: [laughs]
GM: Hai capì, ecco, arriva Pippo buttava zò i bengala e poi [makes a booming noise] e no i ne ciapava mai quel ponte, l’ha fat saltar per aria i tedeschi
DC: I tedeschi quando si sono ritirati
GM: Quando si sono ritirati. Hai capito?
DC: M’ha detto uno che stava dalla parte di là, m’ha detto, [unclear], i pezzi della roba che sono saltati, ha detto [unclear], ha detto, anche loro, ha detto, abbiamo visto un sacco di attacchi su quel ponte e non l’hann mai ciap.
GM: Non la mai ciap. Tutta scena [unclear]
DC: [speaks dialect]
FS: Ma pensa te. Bravo. Allora bene.
DC: Ti mando se c’hai voglia di leggere qualcosa
FS: No, ma è interessante, no ma mi piace molto la tua passione, no, perché io ce l’ho con i libri quella passione lì, nel senso come ricerca degli scritti, delle, no, a chi appartengono. Adesso non le faccio più quelle ricerche lì, però prima mi piaceva. E dai, è bello, è bello quando scopri, no
DC: A me piace tantissimo.
FS: Che arrivi, come hai detto te, che [unclear]
DC: Che riesci a trovare i riscontri
FS: Arrivi al, che ne so, al manuscritto del, questo [unclear] l’ha scritto quello, per dire.
DC: Io al tuo babbo gli ho chiesto per telefono, sai di quei due fucilati perché.
GM: Ho dunque quelli lì, sì io ho sentito un paio di volte
DC: A colonia De Orchi hanno [unclear] ragazzi
GM: Però, ho chiesto a mio fratello anche perché [speaks dialect] che cla volte hanno amazzè tutti a De Orchi perché io mi ricordo, quando sono venuto giù dalla guerra diciamo che siamo venuti che son venuto giù prima io dei miei, di mia mamma e di mio babbo, no, mio babbo era venuto giù, di mia mamma. Era passato mio cugino che andava dal dottore a San Marino perché aveva un infezione in un occhio e lui stava [speaks dialect]
DC: Al pedrune
Gm: Al pedrune. E io sono andato con lui che pioveva come oggi così. Siam passati tutta la campagna dove c’erano ancora le mine, i mort ancora mess a gambe de fura,
DC: Dio poi!
GM: hai capito?
DC: Cos’hanno visto questi.
FS: [unclear]
GM: Proprio c’era ancora.
DC: Tutto così, era successo da poco
GM: Il mio babbo, [unclear] con un casco su un bastone,
DC: [unclear] Un bastone.
GM: Per gli inglesi metteva il casco inglese, se eran tedeschi metteva il casco tedesco.
DC: [speaks dialect]
GM: [speaks dialect]
DC: I tedeschi li lasciavano così più che altro, m’hann detto.
GM: Sì guarda. E voglio dire che sono venuto giù e dopo che dopo, il giorno dopo sono andato a prendere la bicicletta [speaks dialect] alla dugena da una mia zia che era sfollata lì. I cupertun [unclear]
DC: [unclear]
GM: Allora [speaks dialect] cercione
FS: Madonna.
GM: [speaks dialect]
DC: [unclear]
GM: Strada vecchia di San Marino che era tutta una colonna di carri armati. [unclear] Puttana Madonna [unclear]
DC: Loro ce l’avevano la roba, eh.
GM: Tanta roba che ha questi qui. Ti facevi il coso coi tedeschi che erano ridotti [unclear]
DC: All’osso. [unclear]
GM: Con le vacche
DC: Con le vacche [unclear]
GM: Che dopo [unclear] ero arrivato lì alla Grotta Rossa, me davano cioccolata, m a’rcord ne [speaks dialect] sta bicicletta cerciun [unclear]
FS: Cioccolata [unclear] ce la puoi fare.
DC: Ma chi che l’aveva mai vista, la cioccolata?
GM: Non l’avevo mai vista la cioccolata. Hai capito?
DC: [laughs] [unclear] E allora che cosa ti diceva tuo fratello di quei due?
GM: Mi diceva:’Na, [unclear]
DC: No, no [unclear]
GM: Perché Gino, ma perché lui era in ferrovia mio fratello, no, aveva, era giovane, [unclear] diciassett diciotto anni. Però lui prendeva tutti i treni, tutti i giorni il treno poi passava da mia nonna che era ancora qui e poi dopo ogni tanto veniva a vedere della casa e poi andava a prendere il trenino per venire su a San Marino, noi dopo eravamo a San Marino.
DC: Finché ha funzionato.
GM: E lui sapeva più informazioni. Lui ha detto che:’No, lì l’unica cosa è che hanno ammazzato, sono stati quei tre tedeschi che tenevano la resistenza da [unclear] che poi erano seppelliti lì vicino [unclear]
DC: Come mi dicevi, me l’ha detto Zangeri, che li hanno seppelliti lì dove c’era quel traliccio
GM: Sì bravo.
DC: Davanti a Papini la, coso lì.
GM: Sì, erano tre tedeschi lì.
DC: Guarda che è vero quello della fucilazione.
GM: Sì, quello della fucilazione può essere, però la ricerca non c’è di quelli lì.
DC: Adess sta a sentire cosa mi è capitato. Il primo che mi ha raccontato di questa cosa è stato Tonino Baschetta, quello che fa i cesti a [unclear].
GM: I cesti.
UI. Lo conosci?
GM: Sì sì.
DC: Sandrini lì. [unclear] poliziotto [unclear] suicidato.
GM: No, non lo conosco.
DC: Sandrino, due anni meno di noi aveva.
GM: [unclear]
DC: Tonino Baschetta sta qui in Via Davanzati, qui, è vicinissimo. Qui, e lui [unclear]. Quando noi eravamo bambini avevano la bottega attaccata al Bar Vici. L’alimentari.
FS: Ah. Eh. Eh.
DC: Suo figlio, lui quando era bambino dice, loro stavano lì vicino alla Corial, sopra la [unclear]. Dice, c’avevano i tedeschi in casa perché venivano su dal fronte, si schiaffavano nelle case del contadino e dice, cosa faccio io ero diventato amico con loro, molti erano giovani cosa facevano la mattina presto? Prendevano i loro carri, andavano già verso Marina centro, le case con i bombardamenti erano tutte disabitate, spaccavano la porta, entravano, portavano via di tutto. Dice, facevano dei carri di roba. Arrivavano lì a casa mia, facevano le casse di legno, schiaffavano roba dentro, portavano alla stazione e mandavano in Germania. Fa, ma sono stati lì da me due tre mesi, dice, la roba, la roba che hann port via, io andavo con loro, ha detto, perché ero giovane. Un giorno tornando con sti carri, arrivano lì vicino al tiro a volo, un tedesco in mezzo alla strada li ferma, sentono la scarica di fucile e poi li fanno passare. Quando arriviamo davanti, [unclear], li hanno fucilati tra la colonia e il gruppo di bagni che c’è verso il distributore di Giorgio.
GM: Sì sì sì.
DC: Lì contro il muro li hanno fucilati.
GM: [unclear] anche a me avevano detto così.
DC: E lui mi ha detto: ‘Il tedesco, quando siamo stati lì vicino, mi ha messo le mani sugli occhi ma io sono riuscito a vedere. C’erano due ragazzi stesi per terra. Dicevano che erano due toscani che li avevano presi a tagliare i fili del telefono dei tedeschi e li hanno fucilati. Invece, avevo mandato, sapendo, pensando che fossero partigiani, ho mandato mail all’ANPI di Ancona, all’ANPI di, tutto qui intorno,
FS: Sì sì sì.
DC: All’ANPI di Firenze, all’ANPI di Ravenna, non mi ha rispost nienche nissun. Solo un istituto di Ravenna mi ha dato risposta che loro non conoscevano sta storia. Un giorno, leggendo un libro di Forlì, di Mambelli che ha fatto la cronistoria di quello che succedeva soprattutto a Forlì, ma due libri più grossi di quello, con un sacco di dati interessantissimi. Trovo, tre marzo 1944, fucilati due ragazzi a Forlì e di uno c’era anche il nome. Erano di Faenza. Questi qui probabilmente erano, si erano dovuti arruolare nella Repubblica Sociale verso, quando te ti sei iscritto nella Todt. Molti per non dover farsi richiamare, andavano nella Todt perché lì eri esentato dal presentarti. Questi qui probabilmente hanno cercato di scappare via, li hanno presi e li hanno fucilati. Quindi su quel libro ho trovato un nome, vado al cimitero di Rimini, c’era il nome lui e di quell’altro. Quindi son i due nomi, erano tutti e due del ’25, avevano diciannove anni e li sono venuti a riprendere i familiari dopo nel ‘45, dopo la guerra. Ho conosciuto [unclear]
GM: E allora come diceva quello lì che li hanno fucilati
DC: Li hanno fucilati lì contro il muro
GM: Alla fine del De Orchi e l’altra palazzina.
DC: Sono entrato in contatto con uno di Faenza, gentilissimo, che mi ha mandato anche dei dati su Rimini che li ha rimediati non so dove, e lui mi ha mandato anche la fotografia di uno di quei due. M’ha mandato la fotografia del monumento che c’è a Faenza dove ci sono riportati i loro nomi ma dell’altro ancora non sono riuscito a rimediare la foto. Ho sentito con quelli dell’anagrafe di Faenza. Mi hanno detto che, volevo parlare con, contatto con i familiari per vedere di avere.
FS: Eh sì, un riscontro diciamo vero.
DC: Dei riscontri. Di uno sono morti tutti, un altro si è trasferito a Cesena e con quel nome lì non figura nessuno. Adesso dovrei provare a sentire se a Cesena mi dicono, vivono, ci sono degli eredi perché dopo c’è il discorso della riservatezza, è un po’ fatica.
FS: Sì, un po’ fatica.
DC: Però,
FS: Può darsi che
DC: Può darsi che come l’hann fatto gli altri
GM: Io mi ricordo questo qui
DC: E quelli di Faenza dell’anagrafe mi hanno mandato un documento in pdf dove c’è scritto addirittura: ‘fucilati dai tedeschi’ e c’è anche il nome di un tenente della repubblica sociale che era andato sotto processo per quel, per quell’uccisione. Che era di Pesaro questo qui, quest’ufficiale.
FS: Ma pensa te.
DC: Quindi.
FS: Devo salutare. Ciao carissimo.
DC: Piacere di averti visto.
FS: Alla prossima.
GM: Però l’hanno,
FS: Continua così.
DC: [laughs]
GM: Non l’hanno, dico pure, l’hanno spenta così perché io dopo.
DC: All’ANPI qui di Rimini non sa niente nessuno. Li hanno fucilati. Potevano dire, sono due partigiani.
GM: Infatti io mi ricordo che eravamo, ma ti ho detto, dopo la guerra subito, e dopo siamo andati a lavorare un po’ anche con gli inglesi, a lavorè anche a De Orchi [speaks dialect]
DC: Con gli alleati.
GM: Con la [unclear]
DC: Che lì c’erano un magazzino di roba m’hann detto della Madonna.
GM: Madonna.
DC: [laughs]
GM: [unclear]
DC: [laughs] Però, tu, petta adess bisogna che la va a chieder perché se no la mi madre, la mi moglie. Te vuoi andè a prender [speaks dialect] uno di sti dì?
GM: Sì, sì, la facciamo.
DC: Dai, così continuiamo il discorso del bombardamento di San Marino. Comunque te ti ricordi un sacco di roba.
GM: Sì, eh mi ricordo tutto quello che
DC: Petta eh, l’ultima roba che m’hann detto su quell’aereo che avete visto
GM: Sparire
DC: Sparire.
GM: Io, per me è cascat [unclear] quell’aereo
DC: Gli alleati, i loro colleghi hanno detto, è andato sul mare, è tornato sulla terra ed è esploso in volo. Dovrebbe essere caduto tra Gradara e Gabicce, quelle zone lì, Cattolica, quel settore lì.
GM: Quel settore lì è caduto quello lì, [unclear]
DC: Un mese prima di questo fatto, ma non so se te l’hai visto, era passato, basso stavolta, perché questo doveva essere abbastanza su, era passato un altro quadrimotore che avevo dietro le calcagna due aerei tedeschi che, un da sotto e un da sora il mitraglieva. Sono arrivati fino a San Clemente, anche lì si sono buttati tutti i paracadutisti tranne il mitragliere di coda che, poretto si vede che l’avevano ucciso quei, i caccia
GM: I caccia
DC: E poi questo qui è andato a cadere tra Levola, Saludecio, Montefiore, quelle zone là. Te questo, te lo ricordi un aereo grosso, basso, che lasciava il fumo, attaccato da due caccia?
GM: No, ma io mi ricordo un’altra roba, che eravamo a San Marino che una formazione di aerei tedeschi, inglesi che andava verso nord, che passavano
DC: Bombardieri
GM: Bombardieri che andavano verso la campagna
DC: Sì
GM: E lì si sono sfilati dall’aeroporto qui di Rimini
DC: Sono decollati da qui, gli sono andati dietro
GM: Sono andati dietro e lì c’è stato un [speaks dialect] quella volta ma era in [speaks dialect].
DC: Perché ha incominciato il bombardamento?
GM: Perché c’era, c’era i caccia inglesi che c’erano anche i [unclear]
DC: Quelli con due code?
GM: Con due code.
DC: Sì.
GM: Puttana la Madonna.
DC: Li han fatt combattiment?
GM: Combattiment [speaks dialect]
UI. [laughs]
GM: [speaks dialect] dopo l’è finì perché [speaks dialect]
DC: [unclear] Quindi erano anche abbastanza bassi.
GM: Bassi, si vedeva proprio [unclear], puttana madonna, e la formazione andava avanti. E c’era sto combattimento che avevano fatto sopra Cà Berlone [?], Santa Mustiola
DC: Però non è caduto nessun apparecchio, secondo te?
GM: Non ho visto cadere nessuno, io lì.
DC: Questo non me l’aveva mai raccontato nessuno.
GM: Ah e l’è cla volta l’è sta un cumbattiment
DC: Quanto potrà essere durato, cinque minuti, dieci minuti?
GM: Eh
DC: Gli ha sparà na [unclear]?
GM: Sì dieci minuti, sì, sette minuti sicuro.
DC: Secondo te quanti aerei ci potevano essere in questo combattimento?
GM: La formazione dei caccia, [unclear] ce ne erano due, tre, che giravano.
DC: E chi è il tedesco, secondo te?
GM: E il tedesco, penso, due o [unclear]
DC: Altrettanto.
GM: Altrettanto.
DC: A Monte Tauro c’è stato un combattimento aereo. Due aerei si sono andati anche a sbattere e quello americano è morto poeretto. Il tedesco si è buttato con il paracadute.
DC: Io ho visto una volta proprio in volo sopra Covignano [?] sempre dalla galleria allora che lì Covignano ogni tent i caccia
DC: Lì hanno attaccato di brutto.
Gm: [unclear] Una volta proprio ho visto, proprio presi in pieno con una cannonata.
DC: Ne è caduto uno di aereo sotto la chiesa di San Fortunato. E [speaks dialect], sai dove gl’è? A metà sulla spalla ho parlato con uno che stava nel Ghetto. Dopo la guerra lui, quando è finito i combattimenti, ha recuperato un motore che l’ha portato giù e l’ha venduto alla stracciaia. Se, come dici te, lo hanno preso, lui si è schiantato lì contro la costa, a metà costa.
GM: Dopo [unclear], il giorno dopo
DC: Che aereo era, secondo te? Era un caccia?
GM: Era un caccia, erano i famosi Spitfire, hai capito.
Ui: Uno si era schiantato alla garitta della dogana. Che aveva fatto l’attacco basso
GM: Anche
DC: L’ha sbagliè, non ha calcolato bene, ha strisciato il terreno, s’amazzè lì.
GM: S’amazzè lì. Ah, qui passeva da sopra lì quando vedevano, io mi ricordo una volta c’era due, tre camion tedeschi che passavano uno ogni tanto, no, perché stavano in distanza. Era sempre un tedes sora. La Madonna, l’era un caccia [speaks dialect] un caccia sopra
DC: Come l’ha visto, eh
GM: Come l’ha visto, puttana madonna, che il tedesco s’è buttè del camion e
DC: [laughs]
GM: [mimics machine gun sounding]
DC: [speaks dialect]
GM: [speaks dialect] Prima di, tra Verucchio e Borgo Maggiore, sulla strada lì.
DC: Arca madonna, sulla strada da, quello che girava
GM: Ah lì [unclear]
DC: Uno m’ha detto è tedesco ma aveva messo, un italiano, dovevano andare a Pesaro a prendere materiale. M’ha detto, m’avevano messo sopra il carro che io dovevo guardare [unclear] [laughs] ho detto, batti sulla cabina se vedi caccia che a buttèm a terra. Ha dett, se m’andè ben cla volta. Dai, che adesso ti lascio.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with Gino Muratori
Description
An account of the resource
Gino Muratori (b. 1929) recollects three Rimini bombings that occurred in November 1944, one of which was aimed at the Ausa river bridge. Mentions his grandmother losing two relatives when their boarding house was destroyed. Remembers how on 26 November 1944 they didn’t hear the alarm sounding and sought shelter only after seeing aircraft approaching. Describes evacuees being temporarily housed at local hotels. Remembers German anti-aircraft guns and barbed-wire fences, and recollects being employed by the Todt organization as a construction worker, toiling alongside Ukrainian and Polish prisoners of war deployed as truck drivers. Tells of his father being sent to Germany to work in a submarine factory. Discusses various anecdotes; dogfights; aircraft jettisoning fuel tanks; looting of private houses; strafing of German military transport; "Pippo" dropping flares and bombs at night time. Describes the whereabouts, use and general arrangement of German fortifications along the Adriatic coast.
Creator
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Daniele Celli
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-03-14
Contributor
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Peter Schulze
Format
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01:05:29 audio recording
Language
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ita
Identifier
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AMuratoriLG161125
Coverage
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Civilian
Spatial Coverage
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Italy
Italy--Rimini
Temporal Coverage
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1944-11
1944-11-26
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.
Type
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Sound
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
childhood in wartime
civil defence
evacuation
forced labour
home front
Pippo
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1875/46434/SHarriganD[Ser -DoB]v030002.MP3
3c775849a6ea16bffcf1f3136d1c9dd9
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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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Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-06-19
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire
Description
An account of the resource
34 items. Interviews with veterans recorded by Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire.<br /><br />Interview with Bertie Salvage <br />Three part interview with Dougie Marsh <br />Interview with Terry Hodson <br />Interview with Stan Waite Interview with John Langston<br />Interview with Nelson Nix <br />Two part interview with Bob Panton <br />Interview with Basil Fish <br />Interview with Ernest Groeger <br />Interview with Wilf Keyte <br />Interview with Reginald John Herring <br />Interview with Kathleen Reid <br />Interview with Allan Holmes <br />Interview with John Tomlinson <br />Interview with Cliff Thorpe and Roy Smith <br />Interview with Peter Scoley <br />Interview with Kenneth Ivan Duddell <br />Interview with Christopher Francis Allison <br />Interview with Bernard Bell <br />Interview with George Arthur Bell <br />Interview with George William Taplin <br />Interview with Richard Moore <br />Interview with Kenneth Edgar Neve <br />Interview with Annie Mary Blood <br />Interview with Dennis Brader <br />Interview with Les Stedman <br />Interview with Anthony Edward Mason <br />Interview with Anne Morgan Rose Harcombe<br />
<p>The following interviews have been moved to the relevant collections.<br /><span>Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46454">Kathleen Reid</a></span><br />Interview with Wing Commander <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46467">Kenneth Cook DFC</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46456">Colin Cole</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/46464">Charles Avey</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46470">John Bell</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46459">Les Rutherford</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46460">James Douglas Hudson</a></p>
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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Interviewer: Hello. Hello. Hello. This is a recording made at the house of Anthony Edward Mason. We’re here to record his childhood memories as he remembers them whilst living in the neighbourhood of RAF Waddington during the war. So then, Tony, really what can you recollect from your earliest years?
AM: Well, I can [pause] just these big planes coming in. Coming in to land and taking off at night and coming in to land and, and going up to, yeah we were very near to the edge of the dispersal point. To going up to the dispersal point on a nice day I suppose to look at the planes and, and occasionally being lifted over the, over the fence and put into the planes and shown around. And you know the thing I really remember is the, is the wing. You know where the wings came across the fuselage it was like a big mountain to me to climb over and, and that, that was a bit that stuck in my mind. And yeah, we got shown around the cockpits and the gunnery parts and things like that.
Interviewer: How old were you at this time?
AM: I was, I would be about seven then. I was five I think when the war started. I’d be about seven. Seven or eight then I think and, oh, here’s the boss coming and you know we didn’t go every day or anything like that but we had —
Interviewer: Oh, yeah. You were looking in the cockpit.
AM: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. And then, you know we just, you know we just, we [pause] I don’t know what. What, whether they were British personnel or not. I can’t remember whether they were British personnel. I understand that they were Australian but I’m not sure and and that was, you know that was part of what we used to do. And then there was another incident when a plane coming in to land and I seem to remember had been damaged in bombing and coming in to land and damaged and crashed in a field just short of the runway and, and caught fire and burned out. And later on when it was all cold and cleared up and what have you my brother went up with some friends of his to see the crash site and found, found some coins, burned coins and brought those home and he was showing them to my father. And he just said, ‘Oh, give them to me and I’ll put them in my pocket and shine them up for you,’ like really. And that was just that’s always been a standard joke that really.
Interviewer: I know you were young then. Did you find the war exciting as a child? Was there a lot of activity?
AM: I don’t think we did. There was a lot of activity. A lot of air activity but I don’t, I can’t remember ever finding it exciting. It was we were there in among it and, and you know it was that. It was mostly in the, you know latish on in the evening or you know early evening or later in the evening when they were taking off and they were coming back in in sort of breakfast time. In the morning seemed to be when they were coming back in to land and the rest of the, in the daytime it always was quite quiet rightly. And this is what we found out when we went to, to look at these planes at the dispersal point was that there was a lot of work going on doing repairs, patching repairs and you know bomb loading and things like that which we saw like those and, but I can’t ever remember it you know being excited about it. It was. And then there wasn’t so much news about. We didn’t know what was, we didn’t know where they were going or what was happening or whatever like. There wasn’t like there is now. You know, television news before it happens basically. There was, there was no news. There was very little news. We had a newspaper but there was very little news in the papers. And so actually we didn’t know unless something happened quite close to us. We didn’t know really what was happening like really.
Interviewer: Your parents, did you ever notice them being anxious at any time? Or were they concerned?
AM: Well, they were. They were always concerned when the planes were coming in because they were coming over the house. You know, it was like, you know when I went out to see this this German, well I assume it was a German plane coming over in the morning and my mother’s first instinct was to throw me under the kitchen table basically because I mean they knew. They knew a lot more than I knew what was likely to happen like really. And —
Interviewer: Yeah. Do you want to tell us a bit more about the German aircraft then?
AM: Well, you know that, that, you know, it really has stuck in my memory about it because I must have been, I must have gone outside to get my cycle out to go to school or whatever and, and it came. I looked up. It came. I heard this plane overhead and looked up and it was quite low. It was only just above the house I thought and it was, it was firing shots. They looked to me they looked like pretty lights coming out of the thing like really and, and then I just said to my mum, ‘Come and look at it. Come and look at this like.’ And she just put me under the table basically and —
Interviewer: Head for cover.
AM: Yeah. That’s it. And but you know we didn’t hear anything about that at all like really and oh, we didn’t, we didn’t hear anything about the plane that had crashed at the time. We knew it had crashed because we, we must have seen the fire, I think.
Interviewer: Yeah.
AM: But, but that was, that was sort of late. That was quite early morning I think when that came in and crashed like really.
Interviewer: Yeah.
AM: So we didn’t hear it.
Interviewer: Right. Your father, he worked up at —
AM: He worked at Dean’s Farm. Dean’s. He was, Patrick Dean he was, he was a gentleman really. I mean, it was, the Mere Hall was, was the absolute bees knees like really. It was the only big place anywhere near, you know. There was Branston, Bracebridge Heath but it was only, and everything went off there. They used to have little concerts in the, in the concert room and the concert room I think was above the garage. And the church, yeah we used to go to church and the church was in the Hall in this concert room. I think it was all one room and everything, everything that happened at the Mere was there like really and my dad was the groom. He was a groom. You know, he’d been through the First World War and I think [pause] I never found a lot about that but we, we formed the opinion since that he was taking horses to the Front and things like that. Nothing was ever said about that. Not at any time. And he was a groom for Patrick Dean.
Interviewer: I understand also he joined the Home Guard, didn’t he?
AM: Yeah. He was in the Home Guard. Yeah. We had quite a few laughs with the Home Guard like from what I can remember really because they used to, at Branston. I think the Home Guard branch was at Branston and he I mean he used to cycle down there on a Saturday morning. They used to have a, have a, you know a bit of a mock battle and things like that. A training scheme. And sometimes we we all used to go down and watch if it was a nice day and we did have a few laughs with that. He was, he was, he was just a member of the Home Guard, I think.
Interviewer: Yeah.
AM: I don’t think he was anything special like really.
Interviewer: Yeah.
AM: But I don’t think they had rifles or anything. I can’t remember seeing rifles or anything like that. They never had anything to fire like.
Interviewer: Using pitchforks.
AM: Yeah. Probably so. Yeah.
Interviewer: Yeah.
AM: But in the, you know during the war he was, he had to work on the farm like. He was, he wasn’t mechanical at all and I think he, they taught him to drive a tractor to do the ploughing and things like that and, and at the end of the war I think you know at the end of the war he just threw the licence away like.
Interviewer: Brilliant.
AM: He wasn’t, he wasn’t mechanically minded at all and he was a groom all of his life. Right up to he died. He died in 1956. I did my National Service in 1954 to ’56 and, you know then I came back.
Interviewer: Yeah.
AM: From, I was in Libya for fourteen months. And I came back from Libya and he was ill then like and he died.
Interviewer: Oh dear.
AM: In that year. Yeah.
Interviewer: One of the things that obviously a lot of children remember is your thoughts about the rationing.
AM: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Interviewer: How did that affect you?
AM: Well, I mean it did. Well, it did affect us in many ways, you know and we’ve said this many times that it didn’t affect us as much as it affected other people because from, from right from my early memories we always kept a pig every year and killed the pig and so we had a lot of pig meat and things like that. If they’d got, a lot off it had got to be eaten in a fortnight or at the most three weeks because there was no freezer or anything like that so a lot of, you know they used to salt, we used to salt a lot of the meat down. But the sort of you know the pork pies and sausages and we always made pork pies, sausages. Pigs fries. All sorts of things like that. But they had got to be eaten fresh basically like. So we always had, we always did have meat and we always, certainly in private houses that I’d lived in with my dad, my parents we always had a big garden and and basically we were self-sufficient in vegetables and everything. We always kept a few chickens at home and things like that.
Interviewer: That’s the bit your mum told me.
[pause]
AM: Yeah. Oh yeah. Yeah. My mum stopped having sugar. Having sugar in her tea like and things like that you know. That, that made the difference. I don’t think it made a difference to us but it did to her and I suppose to my dad really.
Interviewer: You didn’t miss sweets or anything like that then.
AM: No. Well, I think, well I mean when we, you know we were nowhere. There was, there was, yeah there was we were nowhere near shops anyway you know. I’d just you know we used to get odd coppers. I used to go to school at Branston and we got, we used to get, you know coppers for sweets I think at Branston because I can remember once going to the Post Office at Branston which was the other side of the road from the school and I went. I must have got some money from somewhere to go and get some sweets. I went and bought a pot of sweets and went straight across the road into school and left my bike in the Post Office yard. Came out of school and thought I’d lost my bike. So we had a big search around then to find the bike like really. But you know so we must have. But we didn’t, I mean we didn’t have, it wasn’t the amount of sweets there is now you know to get anyway like really.
Interviewer: Yeah.
AM: And same with crisps and things like that. I mean we, we used to have bags of broken crisps. I think they were a penny. A halfpenny or a penny I think they were but they were all the really broken bits like really. I mean we, it was, it was a hard life for my family really. For my parents anyway because you know they weren’t very well paid in those jobs like really. But it was a job he liked and you know he never, I mean he never had, I can’t ever remember him ever going anywhere for a holiday and you know but that was his life. The horses were his life like really. And I, I mean I worked with him. Later on a I worked with him. I finished up. We’ll stop a bit. Yeah.
[recording paused]
AM: At the end of the war, at the end of the war you know we sort of, once, once the restrictions had been removed and things like that my dad decided that he would, he would like a move like really and he moved to Welbourn. Just nicely outside of Lincoln really. To another groom’s job there but he only stayed there for about a year and then he moved to Aisthorpe to, they were both doctors we worked for at Aisthorpe and he had about seven or eight years there I think and and taught me a lot. Taught me a lot of all my, I mean was, I did all my, I was did a lot riding. In fact, I worked in a racing stable for a short time up here at Waltham. Just up the road here to Waltham. And he taught me to ride and —
Interviewer: Right. So I mean obviously when the war finished and it was very difficult for society to get back into what it was before the war did you notice then that things happened like the social events at the Hall etcetera?
AM: No. We didn’t.
Interviewer: The hunting.
AM: No. There was very little social. Yeah. There was very little social events at the Hall. If they had a concert, if they got somebody to come and do a concert, you know it was very very rare like really. And the only, you know I mean my dad didn’t go to church. My mum used to take us to church on a Sunday. I think it was Sunday afternoons we used to go but some, some of the family was expected to go I think when they were in private service. Things like really you had to do as you were told when you were in private service. Moreso than other work like really but, but I didn’t, I can’t think that I noticed any real difference but I mean it was a totally different world. We got to Welbourn there was more social life at Welbourn that we’d ever known like really. And —
Interviewer: So you got back to school. You were going to school.
AM: Yeah. Yeah. I went to —
Interviewer: And —
AM: I went to school at Welbourn.
Interviewer: That must have been routine was it during your time there really?
AM: Yeah. Yeah.
Interviewer: Just the everyday sort of thing.
AM: Yeah. Yeah. That’s it. I mean you know there was yeah there were shops. There were was shops in Welbourn and things like that you know. A baker’s shop and there was a [pause] during the, during the war when we were at the Mere most of our provisions came either through a visiting Co-op or something like that coming and taking an order one week and bringing it the next week. Or the paper. We used to have our paper delivered and he would you know if we wanted something out of Lincoln he came from Bracebridge Heath I think but he would get. I can remember wanting a pocket knife and it must have been my birthday or something like that and he brought this pocket knife. You know, my mum was giving him the money and he brought the pocket knife and that, you know. There wasn’t the ease to get things in those days that there is now like really. Everything had got to be organized and for quite a long while after the war finished it was like that really. When we lived at Aisthorpe I think they used to come around taking orders like really.
AM: Well, thanks very much.
Interviewer: Ok.
AM: That’s been absolutely wonderful.
Interviewer: Are you sure? Yeah. Yeah.
AM: Just to reminisce back.
Interviewer: Yeah. Yeah.
AM: To the childhood in the war.
Interviewer: Yeah.
AM: If you wanted all that you could have asked —
Interviewer: We’d like to thank you for that anyway. Right. Thank you very much.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Anthony Edward Mason
1001-Mason, Anthony Edward-World War II
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SHarriganD[Ser#-DoB]v03
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
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Civilian
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eng
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Sound
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00:16:48 audio recording
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Pending revision of OH transcription
Pending OH summary. Allocated C Campbell
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Dave Harrigan
This Interview was recorded by Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire.
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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.
Description
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Anthony Mason grew up in the area around RAF Waddington and recalls some of the activity there during the war.
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Julie Williams
childhood in wartime
crash
RAF Waddington
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1875/46444/SHarriganD[Ser -DoB]v150002.mp3
0da16dbb93a637dcc3de8e409d1af514
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1875/46444/SHarriganD[Ser -DoB]v150003.mp3
259431274215222c5fd47fd96858361e
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Title
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Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-06-19
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire
Description
An account of the resource
34 items. Interviews with veterans recorded by Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire.<br /><br />Interview with Bertie Salvage <br />Three part interview with Dougie Marsh <br />Interview with Terry Hodson <br />Interview with Stan Waite Interview with John Langston<br />Interview with Nelson Nix <br />Two part interview with Bob Panton <br />Interview with Basil Fish <br />Interview with Ernest Groeger <br />Interview with Wilf Keyte <br />Interview with Reginald John Herring <br />Interview with Kathleen Reid <br />Interview with Allan Holmes <br />Interview with John Tomlinson <br />Interview with Cliff Thorpe and Roy Smith <br />Interview with Peter Scoley <br />Interview with Kenneth Ivan Duddell <br />Interview with Christopher Francis Allison <br />Interview with Bernard Bell <br />Interview with George Arthur Bell <br />Interview with George William Taplin <br />Interview with Richard Moore <br />Interview with Kenneth Edgar Neve <br />Interview with Annie Mary Blood <br />Interview with Dennis Brader <br />Interview with Les Stedman <br />Interview with Anthony Edward Mason <br />Interview with Anne Morgan Rose Harcombe<br />
<p>The following interviews have been moved to the relevant collections.<br /><span>Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46454">Kathleen Reid</a></span><br />Interview with Wing Commander <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46467">Kenneth Cook DFC</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46456">Colin Cole</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/46464">Charles Avey</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46470">John Bell</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46459">Les Rutherford</a><br />Interview with <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/items/show/46460">James Douglas Hudson</a></p>
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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Part 1.
CA: Christopher Allison.
Interviewer: Good afternoon. Would you just like to give us your name and date of birth please.
CA: The 23rd of the 9th ’25.
Interviewer: And your name again.
CA: Christopher Allison.
Interviewer: Thank you very much. And you were in the Royal Air Force during the war. Yeah? That’s correct.
CA: Well, I joined up in ’43.
Interviewer: Ok, thank you. We’re here with the children now from the Primary School.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: And each in turn would like to ask a question of this gentleman.
Student 1: What did it feel like to actually have been, you could think about being killed every day?
CA: Well, you had to live with it otherwise you just, you know you’d just fizzle out. You have to live with it really, you know.
Interviewer: It was a difficult time, wasn’t it?
CA: Well, it was. I mean I lost a mate. He was only nineteen. I thought oh my God. And then I thought well you’ve got to live with it or you know you just fall to pieces especially looking like that.
Interviewer: That’s right [laughs] So you’re, I’ll just ask a question then if you’d like to come in again then so we’ve got some background.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: So you were posted on to Lancasters then.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: What was your position on the Lancaster?
CA: Flight engineer.
Interviewer: Flight engineer.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Ok. Right.
CA: I know this is a C on here but —
Interviewer: I know what you mean.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Yeah. Ok. Do you have a question you would like to ask?
Student 2: Yeah. How did it feel not knowing if your loved ones were safe at home while you were fighting in a foreign country?
CA: Well, you have to live with that as well because you see my dad died when I was eight so there was only mum on her own wasn’t she and you had to live with it.
Interviewer: Yeah. Yeah. One thing they found out that in the Blitz of course, you know whilst people were fighting over the skies of Germany people were dying back in England from the same bombing.
Other: Yes. That’s right.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: My dad died through wars in the long run from World War One wounds.
Interviewer: Right.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Yeah. Which a lot of guys did after the war.
CA: Yeah. Yeah.
Interviewer: They just lingered on. Yeah.
CA: Yeah. Yeah.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Ok, would you like to ask a question.
Student 3: How was it like to work on the Lancaster bomber?
CA: Well, it was alright as long as you were safe. It was lovely you know. there was nothing wrong with them at all and especially —
Interviewer: How many missions did you fly then in total?
CA: Well, I wasn’t a gunner but you had front gunner there like and a mid one there and the rear gunner used to catch it really bad. Once they attacked you it would be the rear gunner what got it first. The only advantage he had he could open the back door, swing it around and he baled out. Easy as that.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Did you complete thirty missions then?
CA: Not many. No. No.
Interviewer: No.
CA: Because the lads had done most of the hard work when I got to Kirmington.
Interviewer: Right.
CA: Well, I was, I tell you I met Bomber Harris and Donald Pleasence. You remember him, do you?
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: Well, they got shot down in Germany somewhere and the French got them back and when they got back to England they had a caterpillar but it was on the tie.
Interviewer: That’s right.
CA: And he was a smashing guy, you know.
Interviewer: Yeah. Ok. Have you got a question now?
Student 4: Yep.
CA: Right.
Student 4: When you were in the war did it, was it frightening trying to, in the Lancaster bombers?
CA: What? Frightening?
Student 4: Yeah.
CA: No. No. No. You’d be sad but not frightening. It was sad. Very sad. It gets me now sometimes.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: When we go to the Memorial don’t we? Sadness and —
Interviewer: Yeah, that’s one thing I found. I’ve done a lot of these recordings.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: And one thing I find is that a gentleman who like yourself just survivors I’ve talked to some people who were the only survivor of an aircraft. They feel a lot of sadness and its sometimes guilt.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: That they’re the only ones that got through it and, you know it seems to be something that runs through it.
CA: You have to live. You have to live with it and the first bit I saw of a German I did my twelve weeks training at Skegness and he flew down there and he shot the blooming clock tower up. Have you heard about that?
Interviewer: Yes. I know. Yeah. Yeah.
CA: Yeah. Well, I was there when they did that.
Interviewer: Right.
CA: And then when we went down south they flew in one morning when my mate was walking down for training and they machine gunned us. So what we did we fell on the floor and rolled out the way. But the sod come again the next day. But they got him. The next day he come they was waiting for him. Yeah.
Interviewer: Yeah. We’ve got two other gentlemen here with us now if I just get a different aspect.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Roughly the same questions really. How did you feel? You know, obviously —
CA: Yeah.
TB: My name is Tony Bradley. I was born in 1930 so I wasn’t actually in the Armed Forces during the war but I lived in Hull and Hull got very badly bombed during the war and to me, I was ten years of age and when I got involved I went in to the Army Cadets and I finished up as an air raid warden’s runner. But the war to me at that time was exciting. Not frightening at that, in the beginning because it didn’t involve me but a little while later on it did get very frightening and when I first saw people being pulled out of houses who were dead or injured which I did see I began to realise what war was all about. My mother had a very lucky escape because we were right in the middle of Hull where we got a terrific pounding. We lost buildings all around us and you just didn’t know from one raid to the next whether you were going to be lucky enough to escape from it because there was a lot of people killed in Hull. I was pleased that I wasn’t in the war a few years later. At the time I just wanted the war to carry on because I wanted to get in it because I had two cousins who were flight engineers. But its later on in life when one goes into the Services oneself, I was in the Royal Navy and I went to Tobruk and had my first interview with death as it comes in wartime was at the Knightsbridge Cemetery and I was with one of my friends looking for his brother. And when I saw all those gravestones that really brought home to me what war was all about and it’s pointless. It carries on. It doesn’t achieve anything except bring a lot of misery to a lot of people.
Interviewer: Thank you very much. Yeah.
PB: And it never leaves you does it when you see those gravestones.
TB: Yeah.
PB: A lot of that, you see I went through that with the, during the war you know we were in air raid shelter.
TB: Oh yes.
PB: Being, you know bombed and everything else. But as I say later on I went in the Royal Marine Commandos and I did what? Nearly a years training when I went in there from square bashing to Naval gunnery to Tarzan courses and all the rest of it, you know. Tent lines on Dartmoor the middle of the night. Crawling under tracer bullets and of course in middle of the winter we were in tents.
CA: Yeah.
PB: And all that type of thing but eventually I was destined to go to, I was in this here drill shed at Stonehouse Barracks in Plymouth after I’d finished my training. I was a hundred percent fit and I got this here call. ‘Marine Bateman, one step forward. To the right. You’re going to Korea.’ Of course, I was [sub] engineer specialist and eventually I thought well that’s it. We were going to out in civilian clothes and be kitted out by the Americans you see and of course I was going to be blowing up bridges and one thing and another and anyhow they got that many volunteers thinking it was the Americans they thought there would be plenty of food, you know. Gum, you know. Chewing gum and all the rest of it. So they got volunteers and I finished up going to Malaya. So I mean that wasn’t much better. And I finished up in the jungle in Malaya for nearly three years and once getting out there I was taken out to some little outpost called Grik and we was in these here thatched roof huts. There was rats infested and just air flow and I had an orange box crate for a bedside cabinet and so on and we used to go out on patrol. And one particular time I always remember I went on a twenty four hour patrol and finished up on the twenty nine day patrol in the same clothes I had stuck, you know that I had on.
Interviewer: Yeah.
PB: And of course we weren’t getting no airdrops because the jungle was too thick and so we were eating tree bark. We had some natives from Borneo who showed us a few things how to do. We was eating tree bark, raw fish and we managed to live on that for twenty nine days. We had to cross the River Perak, a fast flowing river. Two of the Marines got washed down the banks. They got drowned. And we finished up going down elephant tracks and we had to go to this place called [Tomanga?] Some disused tin mines. And I always remember when we got out there we had to identify some bodies which was in some dried up culverts so we could smell them about two miles away. But one of the worst thing that’s ever happened to me when we’d got in some swamps, a sergeant and nine Marine Commandos and we got ambushed. There was somebody played a bugle and we were just getting picked off. There was no ground cover. Getting picked off and these Australian Air Force were strafing the area in these Mosquito bombers. A wooden structure type of plane. Strafing the area and the bandits fled otherwise I wouldn’t have been here now. They didn’t know anything about us and we finished up with three.
Interviewer: Yeah.
PB: Three of us left out of the ten.
Interviewer: So you see what happens back. Not just World War Two. This country has been involved in a lot of conflicts.
PB: A state of emergency and what our idea was to resettle the people instead of them trying to starve the bandits out of the jungle because they was going in to these [campons] and demanding food. So what we had to do is put them into big compounds where they couldn’t help the bandits.
Interviewer: Yeah.
PB: So that was initially, and of course another time I must tell you this I was in an ambush position. We got some information that these bandits was going to come along this track at a certain time of night and just before it got dark we got laid out, oh the sergeant said, ‘No talking,’ and we had little travel ropes to each other so we weren’t allowed to talk. One pull and so on, you know and we was, when I got laid out with my Bren gun I realised I was on an ants nest and of course I could feel them wriggling underneath me. They were supposed to have come along with this longish trap within the hour and it was two and a half hours later they came along and I see these lanterns coming along. And of course, when we got there we ambushed them and we killed nine and carried them back on bamboo poles.
TB: Can I just bring one thing to you is if, if you think on this that since the Second World War there has only been one year when we haven’t had a serviceman killed in some conflict or other.
PB: Yeah.
TB: That’s something to think of.
PB: And every time I see these dead bodies come back I think about my mates. You know lads of about what? Twenty? Twenty one years old, you know. And you think to yourself what’s it all for?
TB: Its not only that it’s when you see dead bodies.
PB: Yeah.
TB: I was out in Suez before the conflict actually started. I was ashore doing some work on the electricity station there and we had a party of Mauritians and a sergeant and a major and they were ambushed and if you’d have seen what the natives, I say the natives, see what the natives did to those bodies you’d never forget it.
PB: No.
CA: No. That’s true.
PB: That’s why I’ve never slept with my wife for twenty five years because I’ve had her in strangleholds and shouting out and she’s not slept with me for twenty five years. Do you want my name by the way?
Interviewer: Please, at the very end. Yeah. That would be good.
PB: Right. I’m John Patrick Bateman. I joined the Marines. I was born in 1928 and I joined the Royal Marines in 1949.
Interviewer: Thanks very much.
PB: And I came out in ’58.
Interviewer: Right. So you got a little synopsis there. Have you got anything? Any thoughts about that then? What you’ve just been hearing.
Student: That’s pretty scary.
PB: Are you going to join the Marines or the Naval or the RAF? Are you going to join?
Student: The RAF.
Student: Going to join the —
Interviewer: You’re going to join the Air Force —
TB: You are.
PB: The RAF.
Student: Yeah, RAF.
PB: Why?
Student: My dad’s in the RAF.
TB: Fair comment but do what you want to do.
PB: Yeah.
TB: Not what other people want you to do.
Student: Yeah, I just I like the RAF. I like planes. It’s —
PB: Well, I was in the Army Cadets. I came out of the Army Cadets and went into the Navy. I came out of the Navy. I went to work Marine Services. I was a marine superintendent of diving and I took up flying and flying became my life. I was addicted to flying. I had my own glider. I taught gliding and I took a private pilot’s licence and I used to think if I had only been old enough [laughs]
Interviewer: Yeah.
TB: But no. So do what you want to do.
PB: Same as me you see. I was in the I was in the Scouts. The Cubs, then the Scouts, then the Sea Cadets and you know, and of course I used to do lots of in fact I used to do fire watching. I was working at a munitions factory during the war and the blokes, the chaps used to say to me, ‘Will you do my turn tonight?’ Three and six a night it was and I used to do the fire watching.
Interviewer: Yeah.
PB: In a little shed.
Interviewer: Well, that gives us an insight. Sorry would you like to say one other thing?
TB: Just it’s just one thing when you’re talking among your peers remember three things. Three letters. PPR. Pride, Respect and Responsibility.
PB: Yeah.
TB: And they’ll take you through life being a good citizen.
Student: PPR.
PB: And they will be. They will be.
Interviewer: Ok. Thank you very much.
CA: Like I was saying about [unclear]
PB: It’s nice of you to listen to us anyway.
CA: We flew down the blooming Humber.
PB: Pleased to meet you. What’s your name?
Part 2.
[Preamble at start]
Interviewer: Right, Chris. So —
CA: Do you want my full name now?
Interviewer: Yes, please. If you could start with your full name.
CA: Christopher, Christopher Francis Allison.
Interviewer: And your date of birth?
CA: The 23rd of the 9th ‘25.
Interviewer: And which forces were, which armed forces were you in?
CA: In the RAF.
Interviewer: Ok.
CA: RAF.
Interviewer: Ok.
CA: Yeah. Yeah.
Interviewer: And you said your service number.
CA: Oh, 3007708 [laughs]
Interviewer: That’s wonderful. So, Chris what we look for is to begin your career in the RAF and can you tell us a little bit about joining? You said you volunteered and that was something your father said you’d never, should never do.
CA: I did. Yeah.
Interviewer: But you did.
CA: I did, yeah.
Interviewer: So what happened? What made you volunteer?
CA: I don’t know. I was always crazy about flying like you know and I was in the Air Cadets for about two years. We used to go to Immingham every week.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: And that’s why I flew from Binbrook to Waltham in a Wellington just to get a little bit of experience like you know.
Interviewer: Yes. Yeah.
CA: And then from there it all happened. I went to Sandy for a week to get my uniform.
Interviewer: Right. Yes.
CA: And from there we went to Skegness and we were there for a good twelve weeks.
Interviewer: Yes.
CA: And you learned how to use all the rifle, a revolver and all that lot you know, and hand grenades and whatever. And I think we was, we stayed there until that Christmas time because the, all the officers they served us with the, a Christmas meal like you know. And then gradually we went down south to now where the devil did we [pause] Portree. And well, I must admit I don’t know how long I was down there for. How long have we got down there? Anyhow, I wanted to come on leave but the officer said you can’t go until we’ve had D-Day and so that was it. But my mate and I were walking to do a little bit of work. You know, information like hydraulics and flying and this German aircraft come in and machine gunned us so [laughs] me and my mate we just dropped on the floor and rolled out of the way like this and I think the RAF Regiment gentleman got a bit of a rollicking because he should have fired at him but I think he did the next time and that was the end of that. We never saw him anymore like. And then we had odd crashes here and there like. There was a, well it wasn’t a Wellington, the next one. A Warwick. It took off and it, it stalled, turned over and crashed into the empty yard where there was a guy doing a job. So that was the end of that story. Then another one, I think it was a, I think, I think they were learning on a Beaufighter and this pilot came in and he slipped across and he knocked a civilian guy over and killed him. And when he got out and see what he'd done he fainted. But the aircraft came along and hit the side of the, the air raid shelter where we were inside. So we were lucky in the air raid shelter and that was the end of that. That’s, that’s all happened there until D-Day and then of course we were free to move when we wanted to like. So then I came on leave of course, you know.
Interviewer: So, that was, that was your training period was it? And that was to be —
CA: Well, yeah. For the, you know hydraulics and everything else connected with the aircraft.
Interviewer: So, and that was to become a flight engineer.
CA: Well, yeah. It was but more or less. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Interviewer: So after that what happened next?
CA: Well, eventually I got posted to Elsham and there were two squadrons there and I don’t know how the devil I fiddled it but I said, I must have said I lived at Keelby and I fiddled and got to Kirmington on 166 Squadron and that was it. That was lovely and then we were mucking about there like on to, well I think I was on two bombing missions. I don’t know. I can’t remember and then a leaflet raids and you know things like that because the lads had done all the big stuff there like you know. We lost a thousand guys any rate there.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: Yeah. And, and as I say Bomber Harris come this night and they said, ‘You’ve got to line up with the rest of the guys.’ Well, they were all around you know, the Red Arrows, not the Red Arrows, listen to me. Dambusters and he come along and was giving them medals. And that’s what he said to me. ‘Where are you from airman?’ I said, ‘Just down the road, sir.’ Well, I was because Keelby was only about three miles away and that was that. And then of course I met who have we got down here? Donald Pleasence, you know, the actor and Bomber Harris. And then oh, I forgot to tell you when I was down south Montgomery. Montgomery came when I can speak properly and he gave the guys medals there because they’d knocked a wall down somewhere did Mosquitoes. Can you remember that?
Interviewer: Prison.
CA: Yeah. [unclear]
Interviewer: It was the Dutch prison wasn’t it?
Interviewer 2: The Amiens raid at prison.
CA: Ah, we found out more two or three years ago, didn’t we? There was more to it than that and he looked like Montgomery. I should say it could be wasn’t it? Yeah, and so that was that. Yeah. Well, they flew in low there didn’t they and knocked this wall down these Mosquitoes and that was it.
Interviewer: Yeah. And released the French prisoners.
CA: I forgot about that with looking at this. What else do you want to know then?
Interviewer: So you’re on an operational squadron by then.
CA: Yeah, by then. Yeah.
Interviewer: What was it? What was your job when you —
CA: Well, you were flying —
Interviewer: What was the job in the aircraft?
CA: Well, I suppose if worst comes to the worst if the pilot got hit and killed you would have to take over but you were just more or less function. Make sure everything was working alright, you know. Looking at your meters and God knows what because we had everybody else like. There was seven of us you know. You had bomb aimer and navigator and wireless operator. All that lot like you know.
Interviewer: And you would sit just behind the pilot.
CA: Aside. At the side of the pilot. Yeah.
Interviewer: What was your job say? Can you describe what it’s like taking off or —
CA: Well, as long as you got, as long as you got plenty of revs on and all that you were alright. Of course, you had to come into the head wind to take off. Oh yeah.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: You see at Kirmington you used to take off, start off the other side of the road. They’ve scrubbed all that now haven’t they at Kirmington.
Interviewer: Right. Yeah. So I mean what was your did you fuel, making sure the fuel went to the right engines and the right tanks and this sort of thing.
CA: Well, yeah. I mean it was a hundred octane what they flew with like you know. Oh yeah. And never everything, nothing really went wrong. It could have done but it didn’t do.
Interviewer: Well, done. That was a part of what you’d do.
CA: Well yeah, because as I say most of it had gone by the Germans. They’d lost their, lost their sting a little bit by then, hadn’t they? I mean I was only in what two years.
Interviewer: But what was it like then? So if you were flying over Germany any, can you describe what it was like to be in your seat and —
CA: Well, not really. As long as everything happened alright you come back alright. I don’t, you couldn’t live with that otherwise you wouldn’t do it.
Interviewer: No.
CA: No. No. You, we couldn’t be frightened. No. No. No.
Interviewer: Did you, did you —
[unclear asides]
[recording paused]
Interviewer 2: We’ll talk about those now. Yeah.
Interviewer: Ok. So, but you did fly over places that had already been bombed.
CA: Oh yeah. That’s right. Hamburg and what have we got down here? Hamburg [pause] Dresden. We’d go down Heligoland. The dams. Leaflet dropping. Leaflets. Oh yeah. I went over Holland as well and, yeah.
Interviewer 2: Did you drop food to the Dutch?
CA: Pardon?
Interviewer 2: Did you drop any food to the Dutch?
CA: No. No. No.
Interviewer: What about you said you flew over the dams and —
CA: Oh yeah.
Interviewer: And Dresden. What was it like? What did you see?
CA: Well, it looked like as though, it looked like a sea because they’d done these dams to flood the German’s, all the works and all that. And I think it, they succeeded for a while but they were saying the Germans soon built them up again.
Interviewer: Yeah. Yeah.
CA: Aye.
Interviewer: What about Dresden because that was, that was towards the end of the war.
CA: Yeah. Dresden. Well, no. I don’t know. You see you had to go, I think when you got to ten thousand feet you had to have oxygen like you know but as you got depending on all what you were briefed on. Whatever you know.
Interviewer: Yeah. Yeah.
CA: Oh yeah.
Interviewer: What would you think was the most difficult moment you had in the air?
CA: Well, I think, I don’t know there was only once we were going back and there was a thunderstorm on. I mean, I know fog could be bad thing like but I don’t think we ever came across fog. I know I was coming back over the Humber and it was a bit rocky like you know because it was thundering and lightning but once you got to Kirmington if you saw if it was daylight enough you could see the spire which was green and you knew you were safe home again like, you know.
Interviewer: So, the thunderstorm. What happened with that because they can be dangerous can’t they?
CA: Well yeah. Just, just made the aircraft do a little bit of that and that’s it.
Interviewer: [unclear]
CA: Well, well they were just normal guys and they seemed to all take it in their stride and well, I don’t know. They lived as though they were going to live forever.
Interviewer: Yeah. What about those that didn’t. You know, that didn’t come back.
CA: No. No. I don’t know. I don’t know. Bless them. It all happened so quick.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Any personal friends of yours that —
CA: Well, there was only that one guy I was telling you about who was nineteen and he, I don’t know. It’s a shame really when I think about it isn’t it? They never saw, well I mean they was all around about nineteen to twenty five I think. Some of the pilots must have been a young person like you know.
Interviewer: Yeah. And he, he went down.
CA: I’d have thought. Yeah. Yeah. Well, as I say quite a few survived but they were saying on the telly the other night that if you baled out there the, the German guys looked after you but the population they would kill you didn’t they? Eh? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. They, they I don’t know if they had to bale out over Germany and France or somewhere or they crash landed there but they all survived and then when somehow they got back to Kirmington and if they come back they got a, put a caterpillar on their tie. Yeah. Yeah. And the other one was a ladybird. I don’t know which was which now. I should. I don’t know. But the French used to get them back somehow. They were pretty good like that.
Interviewer: And did you say Donald Pleasence was —
CA: Oh, he was there at Kirmington and in them days he had a good mass of hair [laughs] But no, he was, he was I didn’t know much about him like only he was famous wasn’t he in the end.
Other: Yeah. Very.
CA: And if, if anybody was very very lucky and did, got about thirty trips they used to go to Kirmington pub and celebrate. Oh, some had designs on that aircraft Jane. There was Jane painted on the pilot’s side and then the Beer one, B for beer it was every time they’d done a mission there was this, this beer dropping into a glass. Then on that side there was all the missions they’d done and glasses of beer. It was lovely. I mean like there was A for Apple, B for Beer, C for Charlie and all that like.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: But there was some of them they couldn’t do paintings on there.
Interviewer: Did you have a painting on your aircraft?
CA: Well, we had [pause] no I don’t think we had because I was sort of fiddling about a little bit on W-William and you see we went right down. Well, I think we had twenty six aircraft and W X Y Z, you see. So, well, one was X-ray of course. No. We hadn’t. No. No. Some of them were hit and miss all the time. The biggest thing of all was I can’t understand it they never mentioned the girls what used to fly the Lancasters to replace all these to Kirmington, Elsham did they?
Interviewer: No.
CA: They’ve never been mentioned.
Interviewer: It was only after the war that they talked about the ATA girls.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Now that these young girls were the same age as the pilots and —
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: They used to fly them on their own.
CA: Well, they must. They must have brought the Lancaster to Kirmington on their own mustn’t they? On their own.
Interviewer: Yeah. Yeah. Do you remember the number of your Lancaster. Whisky.
CA: No, I don’t. No, because only a number. If it was A you would have to go through the alphabet wouldn’t you? A B C D E F like.
Interviewer: How many missions did you do, Chris?
CA: I reckon about, I reckon about four.
Interviewer: Yes.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Yeah. Yeah.
CA: Because there was nothing left really was there? What were you saying?
[recording paused]
CA: I don’t know why we dropped the leaflets. I thought it would tell them to pack in fighting. Yeah.
Interviewer: And this was in Norway. You went over dropping leaflets in Norway.
CA: I should say so. There must have been, you know. Yeah. Yeah.
Interviewer: To stop the, to say don’t fight.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: Yeah, because we was, one time the Italians were with the Germans weren’t they? Eh? I don’t know. He must have at the end of the war he died at Kirmington. He must. I don’t know whether he, I don’t know much about the Lancaster but apparently in order to the Americans used to do carpet bombing and for some unknown reason they got underneath in the way and it damaged the aircraft and he must have panicked when he come over Kirmington because he baled out and he got caught on the aircraft.
Interviewer: Right.
CA: And he just fell to the bottom and it killed him and I saw that. I saw him coming down and he just missed an haystack by about a hundred yards. It might have saved his life. I don’t know. But he must have panicked for some unknown reason.
Interviewer: And the aircraft landed.
CA: I don’t know where it went.
Interviewer: No.
CA: It went, it went over the Humber somewhere and nobody seemed to know anything about it. No.
Interviewer: Ok. Well, let’s, were the Lancs difficult to look after in terms of, you know —
CA: Oh no.
Interviewer: Your job as the flight engineer. Were they complex?
CA: Oh no. I think they always say they were the best aircraft to fly. I think they were brilliant. I know there was the Halifax or what we used to call the Halibags but Halifax and the Lancaster and that was the last one they did towards the end wasn’t it because like that other guy, Somerscales he was on [pause] No. Not that guy. He was on, on about a half a dozen different aircraft. No. He, no, George, no. Stan Somerscales, they were flying back to England and they had been on a bombing, a second bombing mission and they got you know shot up badly and they were struggling. He saw this village or town ahead of them and he was struggling to get the aircraft away from it. He told the crew to bale out and the last guy, ‘Pass me my, pass me my parachute.’ Well, he should have had it. He should have been sat on the damned thing. Poor old George, it crashed and I think he died with the nuns looking after him. That’s the guy I was on about. He hurried in front of someone.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: And he got the DFC.
Interviewer: Yeah. You mentioned that you knew Morse and that —
CA: Oh that. Yeah.
Interviewer: And you used to sometimes swap signals and not such —
CA: Well, yeah. You know on very, very rare you’d get some crackpot rear gunner would give you a funny message on there. If you remember. I’ve forgotten Morse now. All I can remember is dot dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot. SOS.
Interviewer: So the gunners would flash Morse to the following aircraft and —
CA: Well, yeah. I think, oh I know something else. I think every aircraft used to have a pigeon aboard if I remember right. Didn’t they? Yeah. When you just mentioned that. Because if you succeeded alright like you’d have a job to, if the Germans were keeping an eye on you they would have Morse wouldn’t they? Pigeons would be different, wouldn’t it? And instead of coming back through —
Interviewer: Sorry Chris. Finger trouble on my part. Where were you?
CA: Yeah. Me and my mate had been out somewhere for the day and we come back at night time and we didn’t come through the main entrance what’s security. We come in, we cut through somewhere and the next day one of them, well it was a flight sergeant or somebody or the warrant officer said, ‘Oh, the CO wants to see you.’ I thought oh my God, we’re in trouble because we didn’t come through the security gate like. So I walked in there and there was a lady CO. She said, ‘Oh, come in airman.’ She talked real posh. She said, she said, ‘Do you want to go out in Class A or Class B?’ I said, ‘Well, I don’t know ma’am.’ I said. ‘My mam’s a widower and —' I said, ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Oh’ she said, ‘You’d better go out and think about it and come back.’ So I went back and I said, ‘I’ll go out in class B ma’am.’ And that’s what I did because you see otherwise you had to wait your time didn’t you? If you’d been in say so many all in like a section weren’t you? A B C D.
Interviewer: Right.
CA: So I came out in B.
Interviewer: Right.
CA: So back to Sandy again I went didn’t I? I got my civilian suit and all that didn’t I?
Interviewer: Yeah. So just we were talking earlier that you’d gone back to Scotland and you’d been put in charge of some German prisoners of war.
CA: Oh yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Interviewer: You want to just talk.
CA: Oh, you didn’t get that did you?
Interviewer: No.
CA: Oh yeah. And then, I don’t know. I don’t think they knew what to do with us because they were trying to get rid of us like after the war and then she just said, ‘Well, would you like to just see to these German prisoners of war? They’ve got to go and do a job.’ Like, and that’s what I did like and they were pretty good really in a sense and you got talking to them. They spoke pretty good English and you know there was three categories A, B and C like. Some were Germans, some mid-way and some with us like you know and they were doing jobs and we used to wander up in the morning and he said, ‘Do you mind if we put these containers under each tray? Make it drip.’
[telephone ringing – recording paused]
Interviewer: How you guarded the prisoners so that —
CA: Oh yeah. Well, he just said, ‘Will you guard these Germans. He said, ‘Just get a Sten gun but no ammunition. So, of course, I go in the armourer and I said, ‘I’m going to take ammunition.’ You know. I’m not taking any chances. So that’s what I did. But they were brilliant I must admit and [pause] yeah. They behaved pretty good.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: Yeah.
Interviewer: To the tree.
CA: Yeah. Yeah, well as I was saying when the phone rang, oh yeah, he said, ‘Do you mind if we tie these containers to each tree and cut it so that the sap runs into the bottle like?’ I said, ‘That’s alright.’ And then he was talking about it and when we come back I said, ‘What’s all that about?’ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘We make our own, we do our own hair cream.’ He said. ‘Do you want some?’ I said, ‘You must be joking.’ I said, and he took his hat off and he’d got a lovely mop of hair which the Germans had and that was the end of that conversation. They used to say, ‘I will make this for your mother.’ And you know, oh yeah. They were lovely. And that was the end of that.
Interviewer: Yeah.
[recording paused]
Interviewer: Alright. Yeah.
CA: Oh aye. And I used to write the letter and then of course had to go through all the rigmarole at Kirmington and hoping that he got the letters but he never got the letters.
CA: Right. That’s interesting.
Interviewer: Yeah. I told you about that guy used to write to. He was an Army guy. I said, ‘Did you —’ when I saw him after the war, ‘Did you —’ pardon?
Other: Name?
CA: His name? Oh, I don’t know what his name was. I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t remember his name.
Interviewer: Yeah.
CA: I can’t remember.
Interviewer: Yeah, I mean that’s —
[Recording cuts suddenly].
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with Christopher Francis Allison
1007-Allison, Christopher Francis
Identifier
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SHarriganD[Ser#-DoB]v15-02, SHarriganD[Ser#-DoB]v15-03
Description
An account of the resource
Interview in two parts.
Part one.
Chris Allison served as a flight engineer. He answers questions from school children about what it was like to fly in a Lancaster.
Also taking part in this interview was Tony Bradley who was a child in Hull during the war, and Patrick Bateman who served in Borneo in the Royal Marines.
Part two.
Christopher Allison served as a flight engineer on 166 Squadron at RAF Kirmington.
Creator
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Dave Harrigan
This Interview was recorded by Aviation Heritage Lincolnshire.
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
British Army
Language
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eng
Type
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Sound
Format
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00:15:33 audio recording
00:23:23 audio recording
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
Pending OH summary. Allocated C Campbell
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.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Borneo
Great Britain
Malaya
England--Lincolnshire
166 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
childhood in wartime
flight engineer
prisoner of war
RAF Kirmington
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/944/11387/PMakensL1701.2.jpg
05b7ba41508ba4dde289a303dae307f7
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/944/11387/AMakensL170117.1.mp3
f837a144815b5928751ae6cb9c78ae50
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Makens, Louis
L Makens
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Sergeant Louis Makens (1921 - 2018, 1442236 Royal Air Force). He flew six operations as an air gunner with 196 Squadron before being transferred to 76 Squadron. He joined a new crew as a mid under gunner and their Halifax was shot down 18/19 March 1944 on his first operation with them. He became a prisoner of war and took part in the long march.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-01-17
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Makens, L
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DK: Right. So this is David Kavanagh for the International Bomber Command Centre interviewing Louis Maken.
LM: No. No. No.
Other: Louis.
DK: Louis. Sorry. Sorry. Louis Makens.
LM: My grandson. He don’t like it.
DK: Misinformed. I was misinformed [laughs] 17th of January 2017. If I put that there.
LM: Yeah.
DK: If I keep looking down I’m not being rude I’m just making sure it’s still working. I’ve only been caught out by the technology once. It was a bit embarrassing.
LM: It wouldn’t take a lot to catch me out.
Other: No. It wouldn’t.
DK: Right. Ok. What I’m going to ask you first of all was going back now what were you doing immediately before the war?
LM: I worked on a farm.
DK: Ok.
LM: Market gardening and ordinary agriculture on a farm.
DK: Ok. So and then war started. What made you then want to join the RAF?
LM: We had, we were called up weren’t we? We had to register and I went for an interview and they gave me the choice of what you’d like to do and not being very smart I volunteered for air crew.
DK: Right.
LM: And went back to work and I suppose it must have been about a few months. Something like. I was about nineteen I got my call up papers saying to report to Uxbridge.
DK: Right.
LM: That was where they had done all the interviewing.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And they asked you silly, well not silly little questions I suppose but half multiplied by half. That was one of the questions on, at the interview. And another one was if the Suez Canal got blocked how would the transport, how would they get cargo around to England?
DK: Oh right.
LM: And which was a long way around.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: The Cape of Good Hope, wasn’t it? And from then on I just had my papers come in. Called up. Report to Uxbridge and then from Uxbridge I went to a place called Padgate. We were kitted out at Padgate and I actually volunteered wireless operator air gunner.
DK: Right.
LM: And I’d done Blackpool in 1942 and there were some old hangars there where we used to do Morse Code [coughs] Morse Code in and I had a spell there and they asked for straight air gunners which was a lot quicker course.
DK: Right.
LM: Why? I don’t know why I volunteered for that. I don’t know to this day. Anyway, I volunteered and I was taken off the course there and from then on I had a life of leisure.
DK: Right.
LM: I went to a place called Sutton Bridge. That was a fighter OT Unit.
DK: Yeah.
LM: General duties. From Sutton Bridge the whole squadron moved up to Dundee and under the Sidlaw Hills. And there was a Russian aircraft landed at the airfield at Dundee.
DK: Oh right.
LM: And the camouflage was really marvellous.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And that was where I was on general duties up there as well. What we were doing going around with little bits and pieces. Anything. Anything there was to do which you’d gather what general duties mean.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Everything. And then I was called to, I got my call up from —
DK: Just stepping back a bit you never found out what the Russian aircraft was doing there then.
LM: Yes. Molotov.
DK: Oh right. Ok.
LM: Molotov came over.
DK: Oh.
LM: I’m sorry about that I should have —
DK: Did you actually see him?
LM: Yeah. No I never. No. No.
DK: No. Oh right.
LM: Only saw the plane at a distance.
DK: Oh right.
LM: Oh yeah.
DK: Wow.
LM: And it was quite funny really because I wouldn’t have believed it. There was a Scottish lad worked with me and he said to me, ‘Louis,’ he said, ‘How would you like to my parents and just meet my parents and just have a cup of tea with them.’ They lived in Dundee.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I had to get him to interpret what they said. I [pause] Dundee was really broad and I felt a really Charlie because you had to say, ‘Sorry. What did you say?’ and I had, I had to say things like that. But from there on I got called back to a place called Sealand.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And that’s where I met up with two lads who had already been the same thing as me further afield but they’d been on a wireless so they had decided to remuster as well. Quicker course. We’ll get in to action. Silly weren’t we?’ Anyway, Stan Gardiner was one of them and Harold Lambourn and how, I think Stan Gardener was a welterweight boxer. I didn’t realise that at the time.
DK: Oh right. Yeah.
LM: But I often wonder. We parted because they remustered as pilots.
DK: Right.
LM: And I remustered to straight air gunner. Well, while we were at Sealand we used to go with a Polish squadron and fly with a Polish squadron in Lysanders. Dive bombing for the ack ack training. And we used to fly up the Dee and almost looked up at the houses because you approached and then they’d quick climb and then dive on their guns.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But then I was posted to, from there I left them and I was posted to [home] house in London. That’s where we done the Lord’s Cricket Ground. Was it Lords or the Oval? One of those. And that’s where we’d done gas training and things like that and from there I was posted on to Bridlington and that’s where I done my gunnery, ITW for the second time.
DK: Right.
LM: And from there I was posted on to Stormy Downs.
DK: What did, what did the training involve then at ITW?
LM: At the ITW?
DK: Yeah.
LM: It was back to square one. You know what I mean by square one? Square bashing.
DK: Oh right.
LM: But we did go in to, Bridlington had on the front there was a shooting range. A twelve bore shooting range. Clay pigeons.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I won the competition and won twelve shillings and sixpence. And there was —
DK: You obviously went into the right duties then as an air gunner.
LM: I came away the best shot of the lot. I suppose I must have been. But no. But cutting it short there at Bridlington and then Stormy Down. From Stormy Down we went to Stradishall.
DK: Yeah.
LM: First we were on Wellingtons and then Stradishall was conversion on to Stirlings.
DK: Right.
LM: Now, I think —
DK: Just stepping back can you remember what it was you were flying at Stradishall? Just —
LM: Stirlings at Stradishall. I’m trying to think where I’d done my OTU. I’m not so sure where the Wellington, when I’d done the OTU on. I went to so many places. I’m not sure if I could swear blind.
DK: No.
LM: Where the Wellingtons were stationed. Where we, they had so many of them.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But I finished up at Stradishall and that’s where we were crewed up and already crewed up and I happened to be the seventh member of the crew.
DK: Right.
LM: Which I was a top gunner. A mid-upper.
DK: How did the crewing up work?
LM: Just, I was just introduced to them.
DK: Right.
LM: They were already crewed up.
DK: Right.
LM: But as they —
DK: They needed a gunner.
LM: As a yeah. They had to have a top gunner.
DK: Yeah.
LM: For the start of the four engines. Then finished Stradishall. And that’s where I’d done the odd circuits and bumps and that sort of thing. And one particular night I was laying in bed and I heard this machine gun fire and it was a Focke Wulf had come back that night. I got up the next morning. A Focke Wulf had come back and shot one of our planes down doing circuits and bumps and the only one hurt or I think I’m sure the news was that he got killed and he was Canadian. And he was a screened pilot. What we called a screened pilot.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Was one who, you know —
DK: Already done a tour.
LM: Already done his tour and I think he was teaching us to land.
DK: And he was killed in a, back in the UK while training others.
LM: Yeah. A fighter come back with the bombers to wherever they were going to or from and must have picked up Stradishall and that was how. So the next night we had to go. I was on the next night on circuits and bumps and of course the warning was if there’s a bandit in the area all the ‘drome lights would go out.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And of course, what happened? All the lights went out didn’t they? And we were still stooging around, stooging around, stooging around, waiting for well we didn’t know what was going to happen. Everybody was on edge and all of a sudden the lights come on. It was a dummy run. So we were a bit relieved about that but then after my OTU there and the, and the conversion at Stradishall I was posted to 196 Squadron Witchford.
DK: Right. Ok.
LM: As the mid, mid-upper gunner.
DK: Still on Stirlings.
LM: Still on Stirlings.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Yeah.
DK: So what were your thoughts about the Stirling then when you first saw it and flew in it?
LM: Well, as we went to Stradishall they stood behind almost on the edge of the road where we went.
DK: Right.
LM: And they were massive and if you can imagine what a Wellington was like. Quite low down.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You could almost touch the nose. These Stirlings. They’re twenty two foot to the nose in the air. I have to be careful what I say if this is going down on there. But —
DK: We can edit the bits out later.
LM: Well, yeah. You’ll better cut this piece out because I think what happened our pilot who he’d been out in Rhodesia, flying out in Rhodesia and I think when he saw them he got a fright.
DK: Really?
LM: We had [laughs] we had some near misses. Or near tragedies. When you come in to land you’ve got your three lights. Red too low.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Green. Lovely. Amber too high. We would come in on no lights at all.
DK: Right.
LM: Nose down. And I just used to sit there like that. ‘Christ, what’s he doing?’ And I could have landed the plane quite easily because when you sit in that top turret a beautiful view and I used to sit on the beam like that and check, check, check and I could get that to a tee. I’m not boasting about how. I couldn’t fly a plane anyway. But the bomb aimer, the wireless operator he had his parachute like that every time we landed and we came in —
DK: Not giving the pilot confidence is it? Or having confidence in your pilot if he’s doing that.
LM: No. None whatsoever.
DK: No.
LM: We’d been to Skagerrak mine laying and we came in this night and I got caught sharp a bit. Get down a bit. Down a bit. A bit high. Came in. Bang. We hit the ground, smashed the undercarriage up.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Soared up unto the air and of course came down again and the undercarriage had gone because we went down on to one wing and slid, as luck would have it we went off the runway onto the grass. We never did land on the runway or take off on it. There was either run off at the end or whatever. Oh, you have got to watch what you put on there haven’t you? [laughs] He might be alive. I don’t know what happened. Later on I was, we didn’t, we went on, went from Witchford to Leicester East. Irby.
DK: Right. Just going back to Witchford can you remember how many operations you did from there?
LM: Altogether there was six.
DK: Right.
LM: That was the seventh one. Number seven on the night we got shot down.
DK: Right.
LM: And that was the first time on the first raid we’d done with, first I’d done with Halifaxes.
DK: Right. So when did you convert to the Halifax then?
LM: Well, I didn’t convert. I was just, we were made surplus.
DK: Right.
ILM: We went towing gliders and that sort of thing and eventually that was what they called we were transferred to what they called the AEAF. That’s the Allied Expeditionary Air Force so therefore they decided they didn’t want a top turret. Extra drag. Which you would get wouldn’t you?
DK: Yeah.
LM: With the top turret on so we were made redundant in a way.
DK: Right.
LM: And there were six of us were taken off 196 Squadron and we were posted to Marston Moor and from Marston Moor we were then sent up to Holme on Spalding Moor. They had then fitted a gun emplacement, a beam if you’d like to call it that underneath the plane.
DK: And that’s on the Halifaxes.
LM: That was on the Halifaxes.
DK: It was like a belly gun in effect.
LM: A mid-under they called it.
DK: Yeah. Right.
LM: It wasn’t a turret as such it was just a, it was a piece of metal stuck on the bottom as near as near as I can explain it.
DK: Right.
LM: You had a .5 between your legs.
DK: Was that something the squadron itself had done or was it an official —
LM: It was what they were trying to get.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We were getting so many attacks from below.
DK: Right.
LM: Because as you know you can’t see below your own height can you?
DK: Yeah.
LM: It’s very difficult to see. You can see upwards but you can’t see below your own horizon.
DK: And were you aware at the time that a lot of the attacks by the Germans were from underneath?
LM: It was known.
DK: It was known.
LM: It was well known.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Oh yes. Yeah. That was well known. That was the idea of fetching this gun underneath.
DK: Right.
LM: And the Germans knew very well that we were [pause] well no protection underneath at all coming up from —
DK: So, you’re now with 76 Squadron at this point.
LM: That was 76 Squadron.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Yeah.
DK: So, you’re now in the, in the belly.
LM: That’s it.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Well, I had never met my crew that I flew on that night with.
DK: Right.
LM: We went to briefing. We went, we’d done a little bit of training on it. There weren’t all that much more training to do. It was only sort of getting used to a .5 and that sort of thing and a fair old go on that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And the first time I actually met my crew was when I was a prisoner of war.
DK: Oh right.
LM: Well, after I’d been shot down I should say.
DK: Right. So you only did the one operation [unclear]
LM: That was the very first one.
DK: And you were shot down.
LM: We were shot down the very first night. There was six of us went and I think there were three of us allocated to go that night.
DK: Right.
LM: March the 18th 1944. I should have been at a wedding.
DK: Can you recall where the operation was to?
LM: Yes. Oh yeah. Frankfurt.
DK: Frankfurt. Ok.
LM: Yeah. Frankfurt. And we were about twenty, twenty minutes from the target.
DK: Right.
LM: And everything was quiet. Not a very good thing in a way and we hadn’t crossed any borders as such for anti-aircraft or anything like that and every now and again the pilot would just call up and say, ‘Are you alright?’ And so forth, ‘Gunner.’ So forth. And the next thing I knew there was a blaze of bullets, well incendiaries, you couldn’t see the bullets. Incendiaries. And I sat in the turret like that you see facing the rear and the bullets came through, went between my legs. Almost. I was stood. They went between my legs. Well, there was the pilot looking out the front. There was the navigator [pause] could have been I suppose. The bomb aimer should have been in the, in the astrodome looking out. Top gunner in the top turret. The only two of us who saw the bullets were myself and the rear gunner.
DK: And this was from a German aircraft presumably.
HLM: That was [laughs] that’s hard to say.
DK: Oh right.
LM: I don’t know. We never saw the plane. It was head on.
DK: Right [unclear]
LM: So was it one of ours?
DK: Ah.
LM: Well, I’ll never know.
DK: No.
LM: I don’t think so.
DK: No.
LM: But they were fairly heavy. It weren’t small machine gun fire so it could well have been a night fighter. And when you think that no one up front saw the tracers at all.
DK: Were they an experienced crew do you know? Or —
LM: Were they —?
DK: Were they an experienced crew that you —
LM: They’d done, they’d done seven nights. They’d already done seven operations.
DK: Right. Ok [unclear]
LM: Yeah. And four that night.
DK: Right.
LM: Yeah. Yeah. They weren’t over experienced. Like I was I suppose. But, but they hadn’t, they, I sometimes think how ever I got away with being missed in that dustbin when you think of the midair of that aircraft wing as mid —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Fuselage.
DK: It’s, you’re in there then.
LM: That’s right. That little bit underneath.
DK: Yeah. Do you know what other damage was done to the aircraft then? Or —
LM: Well, we caught on fire.
DK: Right.
LM: Yeah. They hit the inboard. The inboard starboard engine and I thought well that’s all right. With the old extinguishers put the flames out. Anyway, we went on a little while and there was quite a, it was getting quite light then because we were on fire and the pilot, David Josephs was my pilot. Never knew him at the time.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But I found out later on and he said, ‘Prepare to bale out.’ Which is the first thing, isn’t it? So I opened my hatch up and just stood there. Kept on the intercom. Kept on oxygen and the top gunner he’d already got out of his turret and he came down and opened the back hatch.
DK: Right.
LM: And he must have thought because it was quite light because of the flames and so forth and he thought, I think he thought I’d been hit because I was still in the turret and standing up. He came back and he went to get a hold of me like that and I went, ‘Ok. I’m alright. I’m alright. I’m ok.’ Well, the pilot hadn’t told us to bale out then. But he did eventually say, ‘Right. Well, better get out. Bale out.’ So that was myself and the top gunner. We went to the back hatch and when you go out you have to roll out otherwise you’re likely to hit the tailplane or the fin.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Which is easily done. So it was quite comical in a way. It must have been a comedy act. We stood near the hatch or laid near the hatch arguing who was going out first. I’d, I’d seen it happen. People who baled out and they’d extinguished the flames, the [unclear] switch or something like that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And put the flames out and they’d flown back.
DK: Right.
LM: I thought I’m not going to be, I’m not going to be here on my own so we, Spider went out first and I toddled out behind him. But I went out with my arms folded like that because when I put my parachute on you don’t wear it all, you sort of have it beside you.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: So I quick put on my hooks.
DK: So you [unclear] then
LM: Clipped them on the hooks.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And I think what happened you’re supposed to leave, lose speed count up to seven because you’re travelling at a hundred and something, a hundred and eighty mile an hour. The first thing I knew, bang. The parachute had, whether the slipstream caught my hands and my parachute, must have pulled the parachute, the rip cord.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The next thing I knew that was bang. Oh, the pain, the jerk on your neck. People don’t realise it’s a —
DK: As the parachute opened.
LM: Oh yeah.
DK: Yeah.
LM: It almost feels like you break, you know.
DK: So is it is it a chest ‘chute you’ve got then?
LM: Yeah. Chest.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Chest it was. No seated ones then. We always carried them and just stuck them in the little hole at the side of the, of your turret.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And anyway, I don’t know how long it was coming down but when I looked down I thought, oh shite. Water. I thought I can’t be over water. That’s one thing I always dreaded. Coming down in the, in the sea. And what it was the plane was on fire and that had gone down and there was snow on the ground and little hillocks that looked like waves.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And [unclear] It just looked like a patchwork of little waves. Anyway, the lower I got they disappeared. Anyway, I hit, the next thing I knew I was laying on my back groaning. I can remember now as if it was yesterday I laid there and thought oh, oh. I sort of shook myself up and of course up I got and I tried to pull the parachute in and got caught on a tree.
DK: Right.
LM: Right on the edge of a wood. As I went to pull the parachute in I thought, oh Christ there’s someone there. One of my old crew. So I sort of called out. No answer. It was just somebody falling in.
DK: Yeah.
LM: It wasn’t a crew at all. It was a piece of grass that was just doing that with the back light, the back sight of the flaming plane where it had gone down on the horizon.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Was casting this little piece of grass going along. I could imagine someone pulling a parachute in.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Anyway, I couldn’t get the parachute off the tree. I tried to get it down and I had to leave. What I’d done I just curled up under a hedge and I don’t know where the hell [pause] escape kit. Lost it. I had it, you had it park it on the side of your leg and it must have come out as I was upside down or —
DK: What would have been in the escape kit you’d got [unclear] ?
LM: Oh, you’d got a map.
DK: Right.
LM: Chocolate. One or two. Quite little bits of ration material.
DK: Right.
LM: A compass, etcetera but I lost them and so I curled up under a hedge and I had to sleep until it was daybreak. And I got up the next morning and when I woke up and I thought now sun is coming up in the east. If I go towards the sun I might make my way to France. But I wasn’t anywhere near France, was I? [laughs] Not really. I wouldn’t have met, I don’t think I would have, I don’t know. But anyway, I knew I wanted to go east because of the sun coming up and Germany here, France going in that direction sort of business and I thought if I make my way that way I might be able to come up against somebody but I went and I travelled for a day and never saw anybody. The next day I was walking what do you do? I covered my, took my boots and covered them up. I was lucky in a way digressing a little bit normally you know the old flying boot we used to have?
DK: Yeah.
LM: The old fleecy lined things.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Huge things. Well, I hadn’t. My equipment hadn’t arrived at 76 Squadron so I borrowed the squadron leader’s equipment. His flying boots. And we had, I had an electrically heated suit.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Because it was cold. We are talking about twenty two frost and I had an electrically heated suit. That’s your socks and just a jacket and I had his size elevens flying boots. Normally your flying boots fly off which they will do quite easily. That just shows the force of the parachute opening doesn’t it?
DK: Yeah.
LM: And how I kept them on I can only imagine I had electrically heated socks inside them. That’s how I think, the only way I can think I kept those shoes or flying boots three times the size of mine.
DK: So they were wedged in there with the sock.
LM: They must have been fairly —
DK: Yeah.
LM: No end of people. That’s the, my pilot lost his.
DK: Yeah.
LM: He was walking about with a, when I saw him last, the first time I met him he had got pieces of rag wrapped around his feet and that was one of the problems. Getting frostbite.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I think I got a little bit of frostbite on that ear and it’s still there. But lucky I didn’t get any more and no one else did. Anyway, I eventually I got, I did walk into two, I’d compare them with our Home Guard.
DK: Right.
LM: Two old boys walking over a bridge and where the village was, God knows, I have no idea and these two old lads walked towards me and all of a sudden they walked towards, crossed the road towards me like that and he pulled out a big revolver and I, that’s it. So I put my hands up. ‘Flieger. Flieger.’ And they took me back to their headquarters all dolled out with Hitlerites and all that sort of thing on the wall and they weren’t very, they didn’t seem too bad. They were the oldest of people and they took me to their little headquarters and then they had to get the Army to come and pick me up and they took me to another, somewhere else. Got above, it was only a walk from somewhere else to there. Well then, they sent in ex-RAF. The Luftwaffe.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Two of them came and picked me up and I was a little bit lucky in a way because we were walking along. They didn’t bother too much about whether you’d got hit or not. The Germans didn’t care. If somebody hit you with a hammer even. We was walking along and it was a Hitler Youth I think. Something in that region. He came up, he said, a lot of them spoke good English. He said, ‘Did you raid Cologne? Were you on a raid on Cologne?’ I said, ‘No. No. No. No.’ I said, ‘This was my first raid. First time.’ Well, it was a lie because I’d already got the 1939 43 Star on my tunic.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And he didn’t think nothing. He couldn’t have been, he couldn’t have fathomed that one out because well he probably didn’t know what they, what it was anyway.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And he just went away because Cologne was awful one wasn’t it? That was an awful thing.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And eventually they took me to their barracks and they were good. They gave me, the Germans, they gave me a lovely piece of black bread and jam. I’d had one taste of it and I threw it across the bloody cell. I thought, oh Christ and I couldn’t eat it. I just could not eat it. Which I learned different later on. Well, I went and laid on this old bunk of a bed sort of thing and the next thing I knew there was a boot in my back and they, then they brought the pilot. They’d got the pilot.
DK: Right.
LM: And one, I think that was the rear gunner. They’d picked them up as well. And that’s the first time I had met my pilot.
DK: Bizarre.
LM: And we were on our own until we got on with the crew itself.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But for some reason David Josephs, name spelled Joseph, J O S E P and do you remember Keith Josephs?
DK: The politician?
LM: Yes.
DK: Oh yes. Yes.
LM: He was the dead spit.
DK: Oh Right. Oh.
LM: Exact. Exact. Well he palled, why I don’t know.
DK: Yeah.
LM: He palled up with me.
DK: Right.
LM: Not his crew.
DK: Did you think he was related then or —
LM: Well, I would have swore blind he was. He never said. We never spoke about private life. We never told each other what we’d done, or what we did or what we hadn’t done or anything like that. It was just you met them and that was it.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Like when we left we never left any, I often wish I had have done. Kept in touch perhaps with two of the lads I escaped with. I would have loved to have known what happened to them.
DK: No.
LM: But you don’t. You’re so keen to just carry on. Carry on. Carry on regardless of what goes on around you really. It’s —
DK: So were you then sent to a proper prisoner of war camp at that point?
LM: I was taken back. Now this is the bit that really peeved me at one time because I often think of it. They took me back to Frankfurt.
DK: Right.
LM: And I saw Frankfurt’s Railway Station what they were doing to Germany that we were doing or we were getting over in London and I thought the very same thing. There was people on the station with a, one particular person there was a woman with a little child and they’d got a basket, a linen basket like that between them.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And I suppose they were trying to get out. Mind you that was two days after they’d been bombed quite a bit then day and night you see. We were full incendiary. That was all we carried that night was incendiaries.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But that, then I’d done solitary confinement. They put you in solitary there and there was a raid on that night and that [pause] we had all sort of a, there was solitary confinement and there was a blind you could almost it was like a slab of blind and the light, you could even see the lights flashing through this sort of one of these old plated blinds sort of things.
DK: But flashes of the explosions.
LM: Yeah. Of the, of the raid.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Yeah. And I was there three days and they asked you all sorts of questions and a corporal he must, think he was a corporal he looked like it to me. Got a couple of stripes of some sort and he came down and he interviewed so forth to this. He’d got a big list where I’d come from. You only say what you know. Or you’re supposed to say name, rank and [pause] name, rank and whatever.
DK: I was going to ask that. If I could just take you back a bit did you have training as to what to do if you were caught as a —
LM: None whatsoever. We were —
DK: Ok [laughs]
LM: We were just told the general thing. Name, rank and number.
LM: It was a general thing. Name, rank and that’s all.
DK: So you had no other training if you ever were captured.
LM: No. No. that’s all we, never even had trained parachute jumping. Never had. Never had a [pause] The art is the falling over and rolling over you see.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Well, I hit the ground straight legged.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And I think that’s why I knocked myself out. I think that’s the reason. I must have hit the ground straight legged.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Instead of doubling up and falling over.
DK: Yeah. And rolling. Yeah.
LM: Which is the correct way.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I knew the way but you can’t tell how far off the ground you are you see.
DK: At night. Yeah.
LM: And the last fifteen feet or the last little bit was like jumping off the wreck and like jumping off a fifteen foot wall when you hit the ground quite hard.
DK: Yeah.
LM: So that was part and parcel. They’d never done, I don’t know if it was the pilot’s fault or not. I don’t know ‘til this day if he should have made his crew take part in —
DK: Training. Yeah.
LM: Escaping or whatever or what to say what not to say. No one else did. We never had any training of that at all.
DK: And, and dinghy practice. Did you ever have any of that?
LM: No. we were, I did learn to swim.
DK: Right.
LM: At Blackpool and if we could swim a width.
DK: Right.
LM: That’s all you had to do.
DK: So you had no training on what to do if you crashed on water, baling out or — [unclear]
LM: No, we had none.
DK: No.
LM: I think some did.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We had no training whatsoever.
DK: Wow.
LM: Never had. They just, all they told us was when you go out to roll over the hatch.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Rather than the other way.
DK: Avoiding the —
LM: I had seen a lad. He had knocked his teeth out. He’d hit the tailplane. But apart from that we didn’t. It was —
DK: Yeah.
LM: The discipline I suppose we were treated very leniently.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Because when I I thought I was going to get out of a church parade so when I joined up they say religion. I said none. I thought I’ll get out of church parade doing this and they put atheist on my dog tags.
DK: Oh right.
LM: So they were on until the day I lost them.
DK: Oh right. Can I just take you back then to Frankfurt? You were interrogated there after three days.
LM: Yes.
DK: Solitary confinement, so you’ve only given name, rank and serial number and that. What happened after? Next after that?
LM: They don’t [pause] they will keep you there and keep asking you questions and they showed me a list. I thought good God. They could have shown, they could have told me much more than I knew. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. If I’d have wanted I couldn’t have told them anything.
DK: So their intelligence then on the aircraft, the squadron —
LM: They knew every airfield. They knew every airfield and what there was. They got this map of every, almost every airfield in this country.
DK: Wow. Did they know who was based there on these airfields?
LM: They knew the squadrons as well. They’d got the squadrons down. My old squadron 196.
DK: Yeah.
LM: That was down there. I may have shown that because I thought 196 I just and the realised then that —
DK: Yeah.
LM: You don’t think that they’re using you know on the spur of the moment. I thought 196 and Witchford.
DK: So they had all that intelligence. Did they have names at all as to who the commanding officers were?
LM: No idea.
DK: No. No.
LM: No. I don’t. What on the German side you mean?
DK: On the other side. Yeah.
LM: No. I wouldn’t. No. No. There was the treatment we got in the prison camp we can’t grumble.
DK: Right.
LM: I mean we went over there.
DK: Can you remember which prison camp it was?
LM: Yeah. After leaving, after leaving Frankfurt.
DK: Yeah.
LM: On the old cattle trucks and we were going along and I thought oh whatever is that smell? Christ. And there was a lot of us in this cattle truck. I didn’t realise at the time it was an American and he had been, he must have been loose a little bit for a while before he got caught because he’d got frost bite and his foot had got gangrene and I’d never smelled anything like it. He sat with his shoe off and he was like that and I realised then what he’d got. And his foot was absolutely. I don’t know what it was like inside the sock but he’d obviously got frost bite and it had turned to gangrene.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And we called at a place called Sagan. That’s Stalag Luft 3.
DK: So it’s Stalag Luft 3.
LM: That’s the officers.
DK: Yeah.
LM: That’s the officer’s camp.
DK: Right.
LM: Stopped at the officers off or whatever there was to get off there and from there on we travelled through Poland by train and I can’t tell to this day how long so I weren’t one of those who made notes of where we were, what we’d done, it was just one of those things. You accepted what had happened and eventually arrived at a place called [pause] up in Lithuania [pause] Sally, what was the name of it?
Other: I weren’t there grandad.
LM: Anyrate, it was not, not all that far away from, now when you get to my age that happens you know. You lose your train of thought a little bit don’t you?
DK: I do now [laughs]
Other: Yes. So do I [laughs]
LM: But no, I —
DK: So it was a camp in Lithuania.
LM: Stalag Luft, no, Stalag Luft 6.
DK: Stalag Luft 6. Right.
LM: Up in Lithuania.
DK: Right.
LM: That’s right.
DK: Ok. Ok.
LM: Anyway, with the name Twy, I think it was [Twycross] or something like that. We were the furthest north of any camp.
DK: I was going to say that’s someway east isn’t it you were?
LM: Yeah. We were right up near the Russians.
DK: Russians. Yeah.
LM: Because it was a bit [pause] Dixey Dean. A great footballer wasn’t he?
DK: Yeah.
LM: He was our camp leader.
DK: Oh right.
LM: Yeah. Dixie Dean.
DK: Did you get to know him well?
LM: No. No.
DK: No.
LM: Oh no. Didn’t. Well, I knew him.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But he didn’t converse with very [pause] He could speak fluent German.
DK: Right.
LM: Been a prisoner of war for a long while and he used to go to Sagan the officer’s camp and converse with the Germans there on the conditions of camp and all that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Because he knew the Geneva Convention backwards.
DK: Oh right.
LM: And when we could, 19th June 1944 when, the Second Front —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Now, they knew that in the camp but no one said.
DK: So, it was a decoy then.
LM: They wouldn’t let us know.
DK: No. Right.
LM: They knew that Dean and his escape, whatever they were radio, they’d got a radio because they used to come around and give us the news each night. Someone would come around and just and sometimes a German would do that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The old goon would.
DK: So how big was the camp there? How many prisoners were there roughly.
LM: I don’t know but I’d hazard a guess. In our camp compound alone there would be one, two, three, four, five, six, sixteen, six, eight. Oh, three or four hundred if not more.
DK: Right.
LM: Yes. They were all officers. All NCOs.
DK: NCOs. Yeah.
LM: And then —
DK: And what were you in? Were you in sort of cabins or Nissen huts or —
LM: One long, one long hut.
DK: One long hut.
LM: There were bunks.
DK: Right.
LM: And if the weather was nice and we were going on parade and roll call then some of the lads would play up and they would nip up or make a count wrong. We reckoned they could only, they could only count in fives the Germans. So we said they could only count in their fives and the lads would play up a bit. But if it was raining.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We used to put a head out the end of the pit and they would come along and count you and we behaved ourselves then.
DK: Right.
LM: But there was a case where we came, we could, later on it must have been getting towards August we could hear the Russians from where we were.
DK: Right.
LM: The tales we heard about what happened to the Russian guards and the German guards when they got taken by the opposite side.
DK: Yeah.
LM: They didn’t take prisoners.
DK: No.
LM: They didn’t take either side. They didn’t touch the prisoners but the guards they shot them. So there was no love lost between them.
DK: No. So —
LM: Well eventually, yeah —
DK: As I say could you briefly describe what the camp looked like? Presumably you’d got barbed wire as a —
LM: Yeah.
DK: Watch towers and —
LM: Yeah. You had the old, I’ve got a couple of paintings upstairs that a fella had done in the prison camp.
DK: Right. Right. So it’s a compound thing.
LM: It was a big, what it amounted to was, was a big area.
DK: Right.
LM: And your huts one, two, three, four. Long huts. About must have been more than twenty yards I suppose all tiered both sides. You had an odd table in the middle and around the outside of that was your walking area.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Always had that. Then you had a warning wire. They called it a warning wire. That was just a little board that ran along. You mustn’t put your foot over that otherwise they would shoot you.
DK: Yeah.
LM: If you put your foot over the warning wire. Then you had your barbed wire.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And then the goons were up in their —
LM: In towers.
LM: Towers.
DK: And you were just watched the whole time.
LM: Oh yes. Yeah. Yeah.
DK: So, what, what did you do to pass the time because days must have —
LM: Walk around the, we weren’t allowed to go out. Now, early on they were allowed to go out as working parties but there were so many RAF tried to escape.
DK: Right.
LM: Escape. And they stopped it. We weren’t allowed outside the camp. Once you were in there you didn’t come out until they wanted to move you which they did us. From the Russians you see.
DK: Right.
LM: And no, we weren’t allowed outside the camp.
DK: And —
LM: It was —
DK: And with the restraints there would have been were you treated well then? Or treated [unclear]
LM: In the camp there was no hard [pause] no. But I don’t think I would say I was treated badly. We went over there to kill them but to me we were treated fairly. Geneva Convention. They abided by that.
DK: And what was the food you got then?
LM: Well, that, now that’s sauerkraut.
DK: Right.
LM: And there was an American parcel and an English parcel. Now, the English parcels, well obviously England was struggling to even feed their own people, weren’t they? So they weren’t the serviceability of the package wasn’t very good because we would get in the British parcel or English parcel we would get condensed milk.
DK: Right.
LM: Well, that weren’t, that wouldn’t keep. But the American parcels were in a nice cardboard box and we’d get oh quite a little bit of chocolate etcetera etcetera and you know different things in there.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And used to tide us over. You’d only get a parcel between perhaps four or five or six or seven of you.
DK: And are these parcels that have gone through the Red Cross then?
LM: Yeah.
DK: So they were done, made up in Britain or America by the International Red Cross.
LM: They were already sent. Yeah.
DK: Somehow —
LM: They were the Red Cross. Yeah.
DK: Right.
LM: But they used to puncture them before they came. They couldn’t empty them but they could puncture the tins before they came in.
DK: Right.
LM: And this went on until when we, we knew the Russians weren’t far away. We could hear gunfire in the distance and we were told this and that, this and that. And then eventually they said we would have, they were going to move us out of the camp to another camp. So we deserved what we got in a way because there used to be what they called in the American parcel it was called klim. It was a lovely powdered milk. It was milk spelled backwards.
DK: Oh right. Yes.
LM: See. That was called klim. Milk spelled backwards.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We had, when you said did they treat us alright we weren’t badly treated as such at all but the food weren’t, it was a bit sparce. I mean we got a loaf of bread and that was black bread between seven.
DK: Right.
LM: And no argument as one would cut it up in seven pieces and you just had a slither of a loaf. No argument at all about how big yours was and how small it was or whatever.
DK: I suppose you had to get on with your fellow prisoners then.
LM: Oh yes. Yes. Because you could soon lose your old temper. I’ve seen that happen but not not very often. Not very often because when well I suppose in a way we were very, everybody was an individual in their way because we weren’t like the Army as such. We didn’t mix like the Army did because you were a crew on a crew.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You just kept your crew. You had somebody look after you when you went in for your meals and so forth in the sergeant’s mess and that sort of thing. But then we had, they told us we were going to evacuate to a port. We had to walk to a port called Memel. That was in the Baltic.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Well, we could hear the Russians firing and so forth and whatever was happening and we decided we couldn’t take all this stuff with us because we’d got quite, as we came out of the camp they were crafty in a way because before we came out of the camp we thought well we’ll not, we won’t leave anything. What people can eat or do so we had Oleo margarine and they were tins about that big. Quite a lot we had of that. And we stood them up and we were throwing these tins at each other. Had the bloody tins stood up. And there was also this klim milk. Now that was really you mixed that up and it would make, you could make a real nice cream of it.
DK: Right.
LM: So we thought we’re not leaving that. So what we’d done I don’t know whether you’d call it carbolic soap. What they used to call Sunlight? You know the old, what they used to wash.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The old ladies used to wash with. We grated that up. We put that in with the milk and we left it there and I reckon the Germans must have, they must have tried that and instead of them getting a nice cream there was this powdered milk. This powdered milk all mixed in with the little grated —
DK: Just soap.
LM: We even powdered up.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Just like the milk so they really couldn’t say look at it and think I ain’t very keen on this. So I, we did pay for it later on. And anyway they marched us to this port called, it was Memel and had to go down in a coal ship. We had to go down this hatch and you left all your, whatever equipment you’d got you had to leave that on the deck.
DK: Yeah.
LM: So we said, ‘We’re not going down there. Not going down a bloody hole in a ship and go through the Baltic.’ They said, ‘If you don’t go down we’ll put the hoses on you.’ And they threatened to hose us with the, they’d got these hoses on deck and so forth so we did actually go down in to the hold of the ship. But there weren’t room to sit. Not to lay down especially. You could just squat.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The trouble was that some of the lads all they had to escape was a ladder, a vertical ladder to this little sort of porthole and some of the lads got a bit of diarrhoea as well because it wasn’t long before the food sort of affected people.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And if they wanted to go to the toilet which a lot did. They couldn’t stomach, some people couldn’t stomach this sauerkraut and things like that so they did have to go to the toilet pretty regular. I was one of the opposite. Absolutely. And anyway, we went to go down in to the ship and away we go and they had what they called the old [unclear] and that was for the mines.
DK: Right.
LM: To ships against mines. We’d already mined that with, with these acoustic they were quite a huge mine. About, they’d be about fifteen foot long.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Twelve, thirteen, fifteen long what we used to drop and that was a bit of a risk because you had to —
DK: So you would actually drop mines in to the Baltic.
LM: Yes. Yeah.
DK: And were now —
LM: I hadn’t dropped them in to the Baltic but I had elsewhere.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The RAF had.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And they would [pause] they would, that was a bit of a hazardous old job because you had to come down almost to zero feet. You cut your, you dropped your flaps just to sort of give you a bit of buoyancy and you cut your speed down as low as possible. Just above stalling speed. You’d be down to perhaps a hundred and twenty mile an hour and only about two or three hundred feet high.
DK: Yeah.
LM: So if you were lucky you didn’t go over a flak ship but if you did then they could just blow you to smithereens. So that was, people used to say that used to count as a half an op.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But it alright maybe it weren’t because you used to go there, come back and never see a thing.
DK: But you were still on an operation.
LM: You were lucky, you were lucky if you to just get by and —
DK: Yeah.
LM: And never even have anybody fire at you but no, we I suppose the prison camp weren’t too bad and we’d done three seventy odd hours on that boat and you were allowed up on deck one at a time so you could just imagine how long, I don’t know how many I wouldn’t like to say hazard a guess how many were down in the hold of that ship. Hundreds of us. Sitting there. And we came to a place called Swinemünde.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: You’ve heard of Swinemünde have you?
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Have you? Nuremburg was laying there. One of their battle cruisers?
DK: Right.
LM: They took us off the ship and we went, had to get in these cattle trucks and the barbed wire was across the centre of the carriage. You had a half a door, half a door where the prisoners could get in. The other half was for the guards to get in.
DK: Right.
LM: And we had to take our shoes off but what have we got and put them through the barbed wire into the side where the guards were. And then the Germans used to pee in them at night if they didn’t want to get out, couldn’t get out. They used to use them as a toilet.
DK: Wonderful.
LM: And while we were there there was a raid on or supposedly. It weren’t really a raid I don’t think because I learned afterwards that was only one plane and they put a smokescreen over the whole docks and the Nuremberg opened fire on that. It was an American plane, broad daylight and the cattle trucks you could see daylight appear between the wood. Those guns exploding, the vibration we weren’t all that far away from Nuremberg itself.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And so anyway that’s when they took us out from there. They took us across down to a place called [pause] it was quite a way we went. I don’t know the name of the place really. I couldn’t say because they were the same as us. They did block, there were no names on villages or anything like that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We eventually arrived at our destination and I never heard this. I can honestly say I never heard it. Some of the lads who wrote, if you read the book called, “The Last Escape” they said the Germans, they could tell. They could hear them sharpening their swords, their bayonets. But I didn’t hear it. To be truthful I never heard any. Maybe if I’d heard it I wouldn’t have paid much attention to it anyway. So they unloaded us from the trucks and then made us line up in fives and I’d got this kit bag. As luck would have it I’d got my kit bag. When I got off the boat I’d got this kit bag with my name on and I grabbed that and so I carried that with me and whatever stuff you could carry on your own.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You, or somebody sorted out later on and they loaned us, took off, we come, they lined us in fives. The same old thing again and these, all the guards at that particular time that started off were young Naval lads.
DK: Right.
LM: And we reckoned they came off that they were coming from a Naval dockyard just to see. To escort us to this camp Stalag Luft 4B.
DK: Right.
LM: Not far from Stettin. Well, everybody had got their kit and I stood like that and with the kit bag down the front and this German lad came along and I’ve still got a wound, a star there I think. One of them, he stuck a bayonet in you see. He said, ‘Pick it up. Pick it up.’ So I looked at him and that’s where he stuck the bayonet. As luck would have it it went in to my finger and it came up against my belt. An old hessian sort of RAF belt. Oh. And they had to pick it up and hold it there while we were just waiting. Then they they all —
DK: Your hand’s bleeding presumably at this point.
LM: Very little.
DK: Oh right.
LM: Hardly any blood.
DK: Right.
LM: I reckon it just went right to the bone.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Quite painful. I’ve got a little scar there now which, which you can see some left me a little bit of a scar there. They’re still there today. And they started, we had to march off and it weren’t a march at all. We had to run. Well just imagine they started on the lads up the front and while they carried their kit they kept —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Jabbing. Jabbing. Jabbing, and one lad had over seventy bayonet wounds we counted on him when we got the other end and until they’d dropped their kit they kept sticking the bayonet in and so of course we being quite tail enders we were, it was like steeple chase. And then of course then they got on to us and we, when we started off we’d some little bits and odds and pieces what we’d accumulated.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Picked up here and there. When we got to the camp we’d got absolutely nothing. I’d got a shirt on, trousers, shoes and that was my lot.
DK: And everything else had been lost up the road.
LM: Everything we had to drop.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And they had machine guns all lined up beside this sort of, more or less an old cart track we had to run up and some bright erb at the back was firing a rifle or a, I believe it was the officer with a, with a revolver and we never stopped. Nobody stopped to find out who it was. We just had to run and we actually thought not combined but individually I think ninety nine percent of us thought we would run into a hole. A pit. We did. I did. I thought we was going to be shot because they’d already done that. That had already happened to prisoners. They’d took them and shot them and we again we thought this is what was happening. No one said that to each other. Never said it to each other but afterwards when we got to camp people said, ‘Christ,’ he said, ‘Well, I began to think that’s what was happening.’
DK: Yeah.
LM: And people did but they never spread it because no way would there have been any escape because they’d got machine guns lined up each side of this old dirt track and when we got to the other end I mean that was just, we were just covered in dust. It was in August so it was the middle of the summer.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And there was a fella who used to sleep right next door to me. His name was [Mcilwain]. I’ll never forget him. Well, in, while we were in the camp there was a little Pole and he was watching the Americans at the game of baseball when it was, we played it with a softball. And he was stood around here like that and one of the lads had a whack at the ball and it threw out and it hit him in the teeth and knocked his teeth out. He was a little Pole. Quite a small lad. And when we got the other end of the camp I was with [McIlwain] and [McIlwain] got hit with a rifle butt. And when we got, when we eventually got to the camp this little Pole said, ‘Cor,’ he said, ‘I was knackered.’ The language you used to pick up there. ‘I was knackered,’ he said. ‘But when I saw [McIlwain] get hit with a rifle butt,’ he said, ‘He just went like that and carried on he said, ‘I could have run on for miles.’ So, I mean there was a lot of, there was a lot of —
DK: Humour.
LM: Fun.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I mean, it was a place where you could see the funny side of it but not when, it wasn’t all that funny but later on when you look back.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And anyway, we were at that camp and then we stopped there until February 1945 and then —
DK: How were you treated in the second camp once you got there?
LM: Not badly. Not badly. All our huts were off the ground there. They were better huts.
DK: Right.
LM: And you went up a corridor in the middle and your rooms were off each side. Two, four. Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen. Sixteen in a hut.
DK: Right.
LM: Two there. Two here on each side of the door and they had a tortoise stove and David [Dewlis?] was on the bunk above me and I slept in the bottom one and the lad on the next bunk to me was a New Zealander.
DK: Yeah.
LM: A lovely lad. Long Tom we called him. He was Long Tom. He was about six foot three and he used to sing the Maori’s farewell and a little tear would run down his cheek. Oh yeah. He decided that, he didn’t make a habit of singing it but every now he would sing that little old song. I know the words to that right off. Oh yeah.
DK: I’m quite conscious we’ve been talking for an hour. Do you want to take a break or something.?
LM: I don’t mind. Yes. Yeah. Lovely.
DK: Yeah. Shall we just stop there for a moment?
Other: Yeah. That’s fine.
DK: It’s just I’m rather conscious.
[recording paused]
LM: Fine. Yeah. Yeah. Lovely.
DK: Ok. So I’ll put that back there again. So just to be — talking about the cold weather and the movements.
Other: Yeah.
DK: And prisoners. So just to recap then it’s, it’s February 1945 and you’re in the second —
LM: ’45. Yeah.
DK: And you’re in the second camp and they’re not treating you too badly. What’s happened then?
LM: January. February. They said that due to unforeseen circumstances, they didn’t say why, or why or not, or not we’d got to go. We’d got to move out of the camp and they were going to march us out of the camp. I think we were then what was there, there was somebody else interfering or something was happening and we had to move camp. That was up near Stettin we were and we could see vapour trails. While we were there vapour trails used to go up and we thought they were taking the weather. Apparently, what we were watching was the V-1s and V-2s take off.
DK: Right.
LM: Didn’t know that at the time but going back a little bit I remember a JU88 was fitted with jet engines before ours.
DK: Right.
LM: They had a jet engine fitted to a JU88. No. Yeah 88 not the 87. That was a Stuka.
DK: Right. Yeah.
LM: But the, the eighty eight, yeah. And we weren’t —
DK: You saw one of those fly by then did you?
LM: You could hear them.
DK: Hear them. Right. Yeah.
LM: And see.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You could see them when they came over and you would think that sounds unusual for an aircraft engine and —
DK: Yeah.
LM: And they must have developed that before we did because that was the Germans who brought on the atomic bomb wasn’t it? For the Americans.
DK: Yes.
LM: Their scientists.
DK: Yeah. And the rockets to the moon.
LM: Yeah.
DK: Yes. Von Braun.
LM: Yes. Yeah. And no we were told that we had got to move and we said the treatment we’d had we were not going to go out of the camp. Silly thing to say but there we are. We are not going to move. We are going to stay where we are because we got treated so badly to go to that camp we said we wouldn’t go out of this one and the major, he was an old Prussian. When you say Prussian they were the old Germans weren’t they?
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And I reckon he was quite an oldish fella. Upright. Real slim, upright. Lovely he was. And he said he would come with us so there would be no ill treatment at all. And we didn’t get ill treated at all. We said we’d come out but the number of people within one or two days had to fall out. Blisters on their feet, had diarrhoea or something like that and my pilot David Josephs, that’s what made me think he was a bit of a politician’s son, he was, David was taken off after a second, I think it was two days he walked with us. After then they had to take him off in the little bandwagon. Whether he went to hospital I don’t know. I never knew. Even when we came home I never knew what had happened to him.
DK: No.
LM: And I kept in touch with him. Oh yeah. We kept in touch. And but at, he was, walked for an hour and we’d have a rest but when you get up again your feet began to tell on you. But that didn’t make no difference to me I’d been so used to talking over rough ground and so forth that didn’t come hard.
DK: Right.
LM: But people used to say, ‘How did you get on with monotonous walking?’ I said, ‘Yeah. What you do, all you do was just look at the persons feet in front.’ And that was just, it was just a tag along behind each other.
DK: Did you know roughly how many people were in this column as you remember?
LM: Oh, I haven’t a [pause] The whole camp.
DK: So —
LM: And there was not just us.
DK: Right.
LM: There were lots of others as well.
DK: So it could be thousands or —
LM: Oh yes. Walking through Germany what they said one morning we got was if you get attacked which there was. I didn’t see any of it to be truthful but some of them were attacked by Typhoons flown by New Zealanders and the idea was half of you would dash. We used to walk through tracks usually. Never, if you went through a village that was occasionally and the funny thing when we went through a village we used to stand up, pull ourselves up and sing and march. And the Germans didn’t like that and the guards didn’t like it either. And then after you got through the village it was like this, sort of striding along but when you walked through a village you put your parts on and started singing. But there was some got shot up.
DK: Did the villagers react to that at all?
LM: They left, the would leave water out but we weren’t allowed to touch it.
DK: Right.
LM: Because there was so much change of water. I don’t think it would have affected me at all.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Because I’d even later on I even drank out of a blasted river and so I don’t but other people it upset very quickly.
DK: Yeah.
LM: People were suffering with diarrhoea and that sort of thing and anyway we started off and a lot fell out. A lot fell out with diarrhoea, bad feet and that sort of thing. And we would have what they called after eight days you’d have a rest.
DK: What happened to those who did fall out and couldn’t —
LM: Took them back to somewhere. Hospital or something like that to give them a bit of treatment I think.
DK: Right.
LM: I couldn’t say. I don’t know what happened to them.
DK: Ok.
LM: I think, well they got back because David he got back.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And we used to write to each other just at Christmas time.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And —
DK: So how long were you on this march for? How many days roughly?
LM: February [pause] And I actually wrote a letter home. Air mail home to my mother on April the 29th. So we were walking from more or less I think somewhere in the middle of February.
DK: To the end of the war basically.
LM: Yeah. February. March.
DK: April.
LM: April. The end of April. But I had, we at the end of the march we had to during the march we could barter sometimes with the farmer. And I had a lovely Van Heusen shirt which had been sent to me by somebody so I swapped this shirt for a kilo of fat pork. Well, we had been walking across Germany with [unclear] and a biscuit perhaps a day. So you can tell what our stomachs were like. They weren’t very lined at all.
DK: Yeah.
LM: They weren’t lined at all.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And I swapped that. I said to Tom and, two of us. Long Tom and Leftie and we’ll fry it down. We’ll cut it into like chips and we’ll fry it down because to eat it as raw meat you couldn’t do that so that’s what we thought we would do. We stuck it in an old klim tin.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Lit a little fire and that night we were in this barn and the old rats would run over you and we got lousy as well. Oh, crikey yeah. And they were, they were big lice as well and we went and curled up and went to sleep. Made a sleeping bag and I used to tuck that right under your head so that no rats or anything could get in with you. And they used to run over you but you used to sort of knock them off.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And squeak and go off ahead and that night we went and [laughs] in the barn and I heard Tom, Long Tom up he got, out he went. The next thing Leftie the other side of me he was gone. And do you know I feel sick. Sick as a [pause] I feel. I’m not being sick I’m not going to. I didn’t buy that stuff to be sick. No way. And I wouldn’t go out. I laid there and I would not be sick. And I thought I’ll imagine I’m drinking a cup of cocoa and I was drinking this cup of cocoa and in the bottom of it was these chips. So it was, it was so awful that had [pause] we had lost all the lining off our stomachs. You passed blood. You would actually pass blood.
DK: So over these weeks then did you have the same German guards or were they changed?
LM: The Germans. Oh, you never knew who was with you.
DK: Right.
LM: Yeah. Some, they didn’t walk all the way with us —
DK: I was going to say —
LM: We would have different guards.
DK: You wouldn’t have different guards all the time then.
LM: Oh yes.
DK: Yeah.
LM: They were all old. Usually the old ones.
DK: Right.
LM: The old Luftwaffe as well.
DK: Right.
LM: And we walked. There was, I think there was something like, yeah, something about four hundred miles we’d done or something similar to that and then they were going to take us back towards the Russians. We’d just come over the River Elbe and I said to my two mates, Long Tom and Leftie, I said, ‘I’m not going back over that blasted river.’ They said, ‘Well, you know, I don’t fancy going back to the bloody Russians the other side.’ So we had said if we see a chance we’ll make a run for it. Well, we were going through this. We always walked through woods, lots of woods off the main track and so forth so we got a gap. ‘Ok, Tom.’ Off we, we ran off. Off we went. Mind you the guards I don’t think they were shooting at us. Never hit us anyway. They was a few shots going off but we carried on running and we came to a river. A little river. It was about as wide as this room and mind you this was time, that was in March time so a bit cold. So we thought if we cross the river, we were playing games I suppose, if we cross the river the dogs won’t be able to pick us up.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But the river was running quite, quite fast and there was little saplings been cut down beside the river so I picked one of these up and I gave it to Leftie and Leftie went across and held this stick you see and chucked one in the water, walked across sideway. So I went across and I held this stick for Tom to hold on to a branch and then come across this what we’d laid in the river. And there was a shot rang out and Tom lost his balance and he went backwards in the river. Got all his clothes on so he got out obviously and we made our way as we thought we had heard of [Saltau?] and that was where the Americans were.
DK: Right.
LM: We thought if we get to the Americans we’d be alright. Well, we got to the edge of a, it was a sort of a spinney we went through and then we came to the finish of the woods was that were open fields. So we stopped there and we decided we’d sort of camouflage ourselves. We’d put a bit of stick in. I had a, I had a German type Africa Corps hat which was a mistake I found out later but [pause] So we put this hat on and I’d got that and somebody knitted it somewhere along the line and we waited until it had got slightly dusk and then we decided we would come out of this little old wood and make our way as we thought towards Saltau. We just came out and we could hardly believe it. We turned left. I can see it even now. Turned, came out of this little wood. We turned left and walked along and we went, ‘Bloody hell.’ There was three blokes laid in the ditch. A little ditch. It wasn’t a ditch as such it was just a dry ditch. Say it that way.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Three Americans err three Australians. Three Australians laid in that ditch just been shot down and they had got escape equipment and everything. But they were also full of beans. Eggs and bacon. So just imagine us three weighing about seven stone and they had just, we’d just walked across Germany. Four or five hundred miles across there and they had just been shot down full of beans. And we walked at night and potato fields, it didn’t matter what was in the way we just walked according to the compass. And I remember particularly we came to a fence of barbed wire. A bit silly. We climbed over the fence of barbed wire. We had to walk across and all of a sudden we started to go in and in and in. Our feet began to get rather mud wet. They come up and I said to the others, I said, ‘Run. For Christ’s sake, run.’ And we ran and we ran through a bloody bog. We didn’t realise how silly we were and we came to another barbed wire, another fence and climbed over that. That was to take the animals out.
DK: Oh. Ok.
LM: That’s what we reckoned.
DK: Yeah.
LM: To keep the animals out of this.
DK: Bog. Yeah.
LM: This bog. We got the other end we took our shoes and socks off and wrang our socks out and they were full of this sort of mud. And anyway we carried on and we used to stop for about have a sort of an hour and then sat down and you would sweat, sweat, sweat when you were walking. Then you stop for five minutes. Ten minutes you’d freeze. Really we were so weak I suppose that, of course the Australians weren’t weak they weren’t weak were they?
DK: I was going to say they were —
LM: They were, oh they were fit as fiddles.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Oh yeah and anyway we, we dodged here, dodged there and carried on and eventually we came up and we heard people in the foreground as we were going in front of us. They were German troops. Walked right into them. So I reckon he was a middle of the range officer and of course they caught us and we had to go over and he looked at us and I reckon he thought what a shower and he gave us some little tablets or sweet or whatever you’d like to call them. They were about an inch long and about a half inch wide and like the old throat lozenge.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Remember the throat one?
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Well, these were white. I reckon they were vitamin tablets. He handed them out to us and he got the corporal to walk back with us to a little village called Bispingen. And we came back to this little village and that’s where he left us. In a hotel.
DK: Right.
LM: We were put up in this hotel and that night we went out. All six of us went out. We was talking to the German people which was no man’s land then you see.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And we were saying to the woman there, one woman Tom was talking to, he could speak fairly good German and about Saltau, she said, ‘oh,’ this is the honest truth this is, ‘Don’t go. Don’t go to Saltau. The Americans are there,’ she said, ‘They shoot anything that moves.’
DK: Yeah. They still do.
LM: That was a yarn but she said that’s what the Germans said.
DK: Yeah.
LM: She said, ‘Don’t. I wouldn’t go to Saltau.’ So we, we stayed there. Lovely hotel. We weren’t allowed to go upstairs.
DK: So —
LM: We had to sleep downstairs.
DK: So you were put up in a hotel by the Germans.
LM: Yeah. Yeah. They left us there. They didn’t want us. We were, we were a menace.
DK: Do you think the Germans at this point knew the war was lost and it just wasn’t worth —
LM: Yes. Yes, because another time they might have shot us mightn’t they?
DK: Yeah.
LM: And anyway, we were in no man’s land so they were retreating quite badly. And anyway, one particular day the sun was shining lovely. We set outside this hotel enjoying ourselves and there was a German lorry came around from the little village to where the centre of the village was. Another hotel further up the road. Came around the corner. All of a sudden it stopped and out they got and made a dive for it. Couldn’t make much out of it you see. And then I heard this plane and then looked up. There was one Spitfire. One Spitfire just going along. Of course, we, we were from, they knew us.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I mean they weren’t going to shoot us were they? They knew. There was us sitting on the front of this blasted hotel, ‘Oh yay.’ I thought you, daft sods weren’t we? A Spitfire up there never knew who we, I said to Tom, I said, ‘He could have turned around and shot us, Tom. Couldn’t they?’ But no. They were our friends weren’t they? You could see the funny side of it. Ignorant weren’t we? Plain ignorant.
Other: Yeah.
LM: Didn’t care. Anyway, we sat [laughs] they gave us a bowl of soup each day. They made a bowl of soup and there was pork cut into little old squares but they weren’t, they weren’t really all that nourishing. Weren’t all that good. Anyway, we were very pleased with it. And then a young lad came down to us. He said, ‘A Panzer. Panzer. A British Panzer.’ So lovely. Away we go. We ran up and around the corner and thought double double. There was a bloke on a half track or one of these little Bren carriers it was.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: We had to double up to them. Didn’t know who we were you see because I’d got this blasted African Corps hat on and so, anyway we had to run up to them and he stood there and when he realised who we were and then of course they gave us cigarettes and so forth. But they then put us in the hotel right at the top of the street where we ran to when they was coming in to the village. So the next morning I wrote a letter. One of the Army lads gave me an air mail to write home and that was how I remember the 29th of April when I first wrote home to my mother to say that I was ok. And the next morning they said, ‘Right. The truck will, you get in the truck it will stop twice. The second time it stops you get out and you will go back to the [echelon].’ That’s the depot isn’t it.’
DK: Yeah.
LM: So Long Tom, Leftie and myself. We got in one truck and the three Aussies got in another. So we’re, off we go. Off we go. Funny. Eventually we stopped. The Army lads said, ‘What are you doing here?’ Well, we said, ‘You’ve got to stop twice and we’re going back to the [echelon].’ He said, ‘We weren’t stopping,’ he said, ‘You should have been in the other truck.’ So there’s us three.
DK: Oh no.
LM: We’re on patrol with the blasted Army. They gave me a rifle and put me on a half-track and I thought they said the war was over for us. It doesn’t look much like it. We’re going along the road and they’re firing at bloody copse over the other side. A little old copse there.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I suppose Germans are in. They was firing. These people was firing at something. The lads up the front. So here we carried on. We went, we had a stop at this little village and we weren’t very nice. The Army weren’t very nice.
DK: Do you want me to stop?
LM: Can you turn —? Yeah.
[recording paused]
LM: Yes.
Other: Yeah.
LM: Yes.
DK: Right. So I’ve got it switched back on again. So there we go. We’ll move that there. So you’re now with the British Army.
LM: Yeah.
DK: What’s happened next then?
LM: Well, while we were with them on their, on patrol we got an old vehicle. A little old sort of a Austin 7.
DK: Right. Yeah. Yeah.
LM: In one of these villages and Tom said he could drive you see and we got this thing started. It started up and we were driving around the village in this little motor and we called and went in the shop. It was a baker’s shop. They sold everything I suppose not just bread, they had cakes and everything in there and they couldn’t wait to give us stuff. We weren’t in uniform as such. I mean not really. We were, we were looked like bedraggled bloody gypsies really. I mean just imagine what we were like. Thin as rakes.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And we went in a shop and the German women said, ‘Your bread.’ And the bread we had, the old black bread that weren’t nice at all. That had got a thick layer of Greece on the bottom. But when we, they gave us a loaf of brown bread that was like cake. It was just like cake to eat. Their brown bread. Ordinary brown bread after eating black bread and but anyway we, eventually we got back. They dropped us off and two days we were there on patrol and then they took us back. We got back to the [echelon] and had to go through a de-louser.
DK: Yeah.
LM: DDT. Take all your clothes off. Shave because that’s where the lice grow on and when I came for a medical well first of all they were spraying DDT out of a hose from a container with no masks on. I mean that stuff now. That hangs in people’s bodies. You can’t get rid of it can you?
DK: Yeah. It’s banned, isn’t it?
LM: DDT.
DK: Yeah. It’s banned.
LM: And they were just spraying this all over you, under your arms, everywhere. And I wonder how many people got affected with that. The Army lads were doing it.
DK: It’s carcinogenic. It can cause cancers.
LM: They did all the spraying. Awful stuff.
DK: So its banned now.
LM: But anyway, we had to shave yourself and and the doctor said to me, he said, ‘Ahh,’ he said, ‘Impetigo.’ I said, ‘I don’t think so sir.’ He said, ‘Yes, that’s what I —’ I said, ‘ I don’t think so.’ I said, ‘It’s lice.’ I said, ‘That’s where I’ve scratched myself.’ ‘No. No. No. No.’ So he gave me one of those blue bottles. Years ago you used to get these bottles of blue weren’t they?
DK: Yeah.
LM: From your medical —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Perhaps you don’t remember. You’re not old enough to know that. They were poisonous stuff sort of business. And you’d get them an old blue bottle about that tall. I never used it. I come home and just washed myself. It went. It wasn’t impetigo at all. It looked like it I suppose because —
DK: Scratching.
LM: And you could, the lice was nearly as big as my little nail. They were huge. Just think of them crawling over yourself.
Other: Oh, I feel sick now.
LM: We never had any in the camp though. It weren’t ‘til we came out on the march until we got lousy. There was no lice in the camp whatsoever.
DK: So how did you get back to the UK then?
LM: I came back. We were taken to [Machelen] Airfield.
DK: Right.
LM: Picked up by, they kitted us out with Army clothes then.
DK: Right.
LM: Took all our old, took our old rubbish away and gave us a new Army uniform sort of business and I was picked up on a, I can’t tell you where, I’ve no idea where we actually got to. The airfield we flew from in a Dakota.
DK: Right.
LM: And I sat in this Dakota and there was a lad came up in the, on the aircraft. He said, ‘Have you flown before?’ I looked. I said, ‘Yes. Yeah. Yeah.’ He said, ‘Oh that’s alright,’ he said, ‘We just wondered if you had never flown before.’ I never said nothing. I thought no. He don’t know any different does he like.
DK: No. I suppose some of the Army POWs may not have flown because they would have been shipped out of there.
LM: That’s right.
DK: Captured. And that was the first time they flew.
Other: Yeah.
LM: Of course, there were lots of them. I mean we had lads we called them the Wizards of Oz. There was three of them. I don’t know how they came in our hut but I reckon they swapped over with some RAF lads.
DK: Right.
LM: That’s how we always reckoned they were, they kept themselves to themselves but we reckoned, we used to call them the Wizards of Oz. there was three of them. They never give any, never said nothing you know didn’t talk much. They were Army boys really and they swapped I reckon.
Other: Oh.
LM: With three RAF lads.
DK: So did, do you think you were flown back from somewhere in Germany?
LM: Yes. Yeah.
DK: So you were in Germany.
LM: Yes
DK: So can you remember where you arrived back in the UK?
LM: Yes. Brize. Not Brize Norton. Cosford.
DK: Cosford. Right. Ok.
LM: Cosford. Yeah. Came back to Cosford. I think it was Cosford we came back. If it weren’t Cosford we landed at that’s where we got rekitted.
DK: Right.
LM: At Cosford. What was the other one where they brought all the, repatriated all these prisoners a little while ago?
DK: Oh Lyneham.
LM: No. No. No. Down that same place.
DK: There’s Brize Norton.
LM: Brize Norton.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Not Brize Norton. Was it Brize Norton?
DK: Yeah. There’s Lyneham and then Brize Norton and —
LM: Lyneham was another one.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: I think it was Cosford I came back to.
DK: Right. Ok.
LM: And they sent us on leave for six weeks. All they gave me was four for some reason. They only gave me a pass for four weeks. I didn’t mind. I didn’t, I weren’t bothered all that much.
DK: Was there any sort of debriefing about your time as a POW? Did they ask you any questions?
LM: Yes. When we came home they, we had to go and stand in front of a board.
DK: Right.
LM: And they did, just weren’t all that interested I don’t think. I don’t think they didn’t seem to worry much. I mean, we, I don’t think they were enquiring about names or anything like that. They just, well, to be honest I don’t think they didn’t give a shite about us.
DK: No.
LM: They couldn’t wait to get us home and get us on leave it seemed to me and of course I don’t think they wanted us in the RAF all that long or whether they did or not I don’t know. We were probably getting paid too much and anyway when we came home you had the chance to remuster. I volunteered. Like a bit of a silly bugger I volunteered to go out to Japan.
LM: Right.
That’s why. I said I’d fly, I said I’d love to go and fly out to Japan now and fight out there. I thought what a bloody a dickhead wasn’t I?
Other: You didn’t know did you?
LM: What. No, he said, ‘No. We wouldn’t let you to do that again.’ They said no. Wouldn’t be allowed to do that. And anyway, I took a course on, back to Morse Code.
DK: Right.
LM: I was going to do that sort of thing and I thought oh no. This isn’t for me and actually I couldn’t concentrate at all. I couldn’t concentrate. My concentration was just gone so I remustered then to a teleprinting course and we used to send, write letters home. How quickly you can pick up a typewriter.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And you had an old metronome on the desk in front of you.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You had your big blackboard. You know I expect. And no numbers or letters on the keyboard. You had to feel them. Always work from the middle bar. And, ‘Oh, shit I’ll never do this.’ But how quickly —
Other: Where is your typewriter?
LM: Huh?
Other: What happened to your typewriter, grandad?
LM: Don’t mention about my typewriter what I bought and my [pause] they gave my typewriter away.
DK: Shall we turn this off again? [laughs]
LM: They couldn’t wait. I paid forty five pounds. No. sorry. Not quite that. I thought I’ll go upstairs the other night. I thought I’ll go up. I’ll do a bit of, I’ll get my old typewriter out of the spare room because my right hand isn’t very good now. I had a bit of a stroke but I had that. That was like what they called deprivisation.
DK: Right.
LM: And I get a little pension for that. But I was ages before I got it. Nobody came. I went in A1 obviously. I came out a down B2. Never said nothing about giving me a pension though. Not a thing. Couldn’t give a damn.
DK: Well presumably, well you clearly weren’t in the best of health when you came back.
LM: No. No.
DK: But was there any medical care that you received or —
LM: No. No. I went. No. No one bothered.
DK: No.
LM: No. No. No. If you went sick you went sick. If you didn’t you didn’t. Simple as that and I just —
Other: [unclear] ever since.
LM: I took the, then I thought this seemed good to me I said what I’ll do because they didn’t mind you remustering. They knew what state we were in I suppose.
DK: Yeah.
LM: For we weren’t in the best of mental state I don’t think then. We’d got so lax and not having to do anything. Sort of just walk around a bloody compound and I mean I weren’t too bad I was only thirteen months but some of them four or five years and I took a driver’s test and I came out the, out in Blackpool and the School of Motoring. The initials —
DK: Oh, the British School of Motoring [[ yeah.
LM: Up near Blackpool. Weeton.
DK: Right.
LM: In Blackpool. And the corporal said, another lad in the back, they were Austin 7, 10s like, he said. Went out the back around these you could see the hills in front of you in the distance, sort of the wasteland at the back of Blackpool. We got away to the front, still a bit of waste ground. He said, ‘Now, I want you to get to the top of that hill in top gear.’ And there was a gateway down there. I put my foot right down and went up that hill like a bomb. Yeah. No trouble. We got pulled up and loaded on and the boy in the back he said, ‘You scared the life out of me.’ I said, ‘Why?’ he said, ‘Well you nearly hit that gate post.’ I said ‘[unclear] Through there. I said, ‘He said, the corporal said to me he wanted me to get to the top of the hill in top gear.’ He wanted me to stall it you see, didn’t he?
DK: Yeah.
LM: Wanted me to start off on a hill but I didn’t. I foot rode up this blasted hill.
DK: So, what year did you actually leave the RAF then?
LM: I had two ranks.
DK: Right.
LM: Warrant officer air gunner and an AC2 driver.
DK: So you left as an AC2.
LM: Yes [laughs] Yes, I don’t, but I passed. I could drive anything when I came out.
DK: And what year was that that you came out then?
LM: 1946.
DK: Right.
LM: Came out in ’46 and started work in, my leave was up on the 6th of September 1946 and I started work on the 6th. On a Tuesday.
DK: Doing what? What was your career after that then? What did you do?
LM: Well, I thought I really loved to work on the land.
DK: Machelen Right.
LM: I loved the horses.
DK: So did you?
LM: Especially.
DK: Did you go back to —
LM: No. There wasn’t no money in it then was there?
DK: Right.
LM: So, Vic Bale, how I knew, I went to school with him he ran foremen men at Fiddlers Garages at Stowmarket.
DK: Right.
LM: He said to me, he said, ‘Lou,’ he said, ‘Are you —.’ Oh before then I, yeah that’s right. Yes. Yes. He said, ‘Lou, are you looking for a job?’ I said, ‘No. Not really, Vic.’ I said, ‘Not for a while. Just see my leave out and I’ll have a look around,’ I said, ‘There’s plenty of place in Stowmarket.’ He said, ‘Well, my dad you see has just gone as a foreman down at the old chemical works.’ He said, ‘There’s a firm, a Swedish firm going to make boards, building boards from straw.’ So I thought well I knew old Harry, his dad. I knew him well. So I went down. ‘Yes, boy.’ He said, ‘Yes, boy. You can start tomorrow if you like.’ I said, ‘Lovely Harry. I’ll start. Make it Tuesday.’ I said, ‘That’s the end of my leave.’ So I went and that’s where I started and I was the first one to start there. Then there was another lad. He was a Dunkirk lad.
DK: Right.
LM: Frank [Wasp]. He joined the next day. And then another lad he was in the Army he was a PT instructor. He joined on the Friday. So that we three started off at [unclear]
DK: [unclear]
LM: And the bloke who came to show us how to run [unclear] hadn’t a bloody clue. He hadn’t a clue. Not any idea.
DK: So just stepping back a bit have you stayed in touch with any of the, either your crew at the time or those that you escaped with?
LM: Well. No. Never. I’d have loved to. This was what I was saying earlier on. We never kept, the only one, now I had a letter come from some while ago now from the flight engineer.
DK: Right.
LM: When we were shot down. Did I know, he’d got my address from David Joseph’s wife —
DK: Right.
LM: Because David used to write to me. Well, when I say write it was a postcard at Christmas and all we wrote on it, “How are you? Ok? Having a nice time? Cheerio.” And that’s all that was said.
DK: So you stayed in touch with your pilot for a few years.
LM: Only on a —
DK: On a card.
LM: His mother used to write to my mother.
DK: Right.
LM: During the war. During that war and David he, what made me think he was a Joseph, the old Keith Josephs offspring they lived in Shakespeare Country.
DK: Right. Yeah. They must be related.
LM: Then I got —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Then I got a card come from him. “We’ve changed our address. I’ve now bought a farm at Bourton on the Water.” So we were on, me and the wife were on holiday. We called at Bourton on the Water. There’s a river runs through the street there isn’t there?
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: A lovely place.
Other: Bourton on the Water.
LM: And I went into a Post Office. I said to the lady I said, Mock Hill, Pockhill Farm it was called. I went into the Post Office. I said, ‘Hello dear.’ I said, ‘You wouldn’t know the whereabouts of a David Josephs who live in Pockhill Farm would you?’ She said, ‘Yeah. They’re just up the road there on the right hand side.’ But he had died then. He’d had a brain haemorrhage.
DK: So you never met him again.
LM: I never met him. No.
DK: I’m rather conscious of time. I’ve just got one final question.
LM: Yeah. Yeah.
DK: And it’s really about how after all these years you feel about and you look back on your time in the RAF and a POW. How do you feel about that now? Is it something —
LM: I sometimes wish I’d have taken, what I ought to have, I sometimes think why didn’t I get a reserved job on the land? I could have been I don’t know. I wouldn’t have been I don’t know. I wouldn’t have been in a position I finished up with now at anyrate.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I had a good number when I, when I retired. A production manager at [unclear] when I retired so I wouldn’t, I was well looked after. The old governor I think sometimes that was a good thing that I went through that because otherwise I think I would have been on the farm until the day I died.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Or the time I retired. But I didn’t and —
DK: So in a strange way it was —
LM: It altered my life altogether because, yes.
DK: Some good came out of it.
LM: Because I suppose in a way I wouldn’t have gone, well a little example. When I was at school we had one day out in a year. Sunday school.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Had to go to Sunday school every Sunday. Stowupland and Creeting St Peter. I used to live at Creeting St Peter and that we used, they’d come from Stowup and pick us up at Creeting St Peter. Now, I’ve never been out of the village because we used to get to Jacks Green, that’s just nearly into Needham and somebody would ask, ‘Can you see the sea yet?’ That’s how naïve we were. Hadn’t been out of the village. When I went to London that was the first time I’d ever been in London in my life.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And I got on the Underground and it didn’t bother me at all.
DK: Yeah.
LM: No, I just asked a porter. I wasn’t afraid to ask and mostly the black ones were ever so helpful. Oh yeah.
DK: Better turn this off quick.
LM: Well, they were and in those days —
DK: Yeah. Yeah. No.
LM: I’m sorry Sally but —
Other: No, that’s fine, grandad.
LM: I didn’t say that.
DK: It was actually because we had full employment then that there weren’t enough people to work on the Underground so recruitment was actually done in the West Indies to get people.
LM: Oh right.
DK: To come over and work on the Underground and London Transport. Ok. Well, at that point we’d better stop. Well thanks very much for that.
LM: Yes.
DK: I’m turning this off now.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Louis Makens
Creator
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David Kavanagh
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-01-17
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AMakensL170117, PMakensL1701
Conforms To
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Description
An account of the resource
Louis Makens worked as a farm worker before the war but volunteered for aircrew. He discusses his training on Wellingtons and operations flying Stirlings with 196 Squadron including a crash landing, and glider towing. His Halifax was shot down 18/19 March 1944 on the way to Frankfurt. It was his seventh operation, but his first as a mid under gunner with 76 Squadron from RAF Holme-on-Spalding Moor. He became a prisoner of war and discusses that as an extra gunner with a new crew, he only got to know his pilot David Joseph during captivity. He describes his capture and treatment and the conditions at Stalag Luft 6, the contents of Red Cross parcels, and the prisoners' attitude to the guards. He describes the conditions on the long march through Germany away from the advancing Russians. Eventually he found the advancing Allied army. After the war, he was remustered as a driver and was demobbed in 1946. He found employment with Stramit manufacturing strawboard building material.
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Germany
Great Britain
Lithuania
Poland
England--Yorkshire
England--Suffolk
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Lithuania--Šilutė
Poland--Świnoujście
Poland--Tychowo
Lithuania--Klaipėda
Temporal Coverage
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1944-03-18
1945-02
1945-06-19
1946-09-06
Format
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01:42:22 audio recording
Contributor
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Julie Williams
196 Squadron
76 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bale out
bombing
evading
Fw 190
Halifax
Initial Training Wing
Lysander
mine laying
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
RAF Bridlington
RAF Holme-on-Spalding Moor
RAF Marston Moor
RAF Sealand
RAF Stormy Down
RAF Stradishall
RAF Witchford
shot down
Stalag Luft 4
Stalag Luft 6
Stirling
strafing
the long march
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/709/10107/ABirchallJW170816.1.mp3
ea889d81b3af8f15e94dfed07b1db474
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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Birchall, James William
J W Birchall
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with James Birchall (b. 1923, 16062 Royal Air Force). He was shot down and became a prisoner of war.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-08-16
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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Birchall, JW
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DB: This interview is with James William Birchall and it’s on the 16th of August 2017 at 15.50 hours. Also present in the room is Mr Brian Keen. James — or apologies, Jimmy.
JB: Thank you.
DB: Tell me a little bit about your life before you joined the RAF.
JB: The RAF. If I start reading. I left grammar school at sixteen which was the usual time then. I went into a solicitor’s office. At eighteen I wanted to volunteer for the RAF and I was in the Air Training Corps. My older colleagues were volunteering but at that time there were too many volunteers so they put us on what they called deferred service. ‘We’ll call you back in another six months to start your training for air crew.’ I thought if I go in December they’ll call me back in June which would be about the right time to start. But on the 7th December 1941, I remember that date because it was Pearl Harbour, I went to RAF Cardington for medicals. The warrant officer said, ‘You’re one of the lucky ones. Down for immediate service.’ I said, ‘No. I don’t want to come in the middle. I want to come in the middle of the year.’ And he said, ‘Oh, you’ll have to explain that to the group captain and it’s Friday afternoon and he’s gone playing golf. You can’t see him ‘til Monday.’ So, I stayed in this empty camp. Everyone had gone off for the weekend. The warrant officer on Monday said, ‘Write out why you should be given this deferred service.’ He underlined various sentences in red pencil, went into the group captain, came out and said, ‘The group captain’s considered your case and you’re still on immediate service.’ I went to the Aircrew Receiving Centre and that’s ACRC at St Johns Wood. Spent Christmas there on picket duty. Then finally went for the Initial Training Wing at Stratford on Avon where you did initial training. Square bashing, learning aviation law and things like that. Then you did what was called a grading course flying Tiger Moths to see if you had an aptitude because most of the flying training at that time was done in South Africa or Canada or America. Our weather was too bad. Anyhow, I soloed in eight and a half hours. If you hadn’t soloed by ten hours then you were out. I soloed in eight and a half hours. The instant I’d done this I was shipped off to Calgary in Alberta, Canada. It’s rather a coincidence that my son who is a medical consultant he got a scholarship to Stow and then on to Cambridge to study medicine. He’s there now. I won’t carry on about him. He is married and has three daughters. Flying training. I did my elementary flying training in Calgary in PT17s which were like biplanes made by Boeings. They’re still using them today for wing walking. Single-engined. Very good for aerobatics. Very good for training. From there they assessed your aptitude for fighter aircraft or multi-engined aircraft. Bombers. I thoroughly enjoyed instrument flying. We did some instrument flying in the PT17s with the hood up. Then I, we were then moved to Service Flying Training School which was at a place called Penhold, flying Oxfords. And it was parallel to the Rockies. I got my wings on the 18th of December 1942, exactly a year from my start. Sailed back from New York in the Queen Elizabeth carrying fifteen thousand troops. Mostly American. Crossing the Atlantic at the height of the U-boat packs. There were too many of us but at that time the RAF had units that would absorb you. So they gave us a commando course at Whitley Bay. Swimming in the North Sea in January and February wasn’t fun. To assimilate us back in to flying we went on a refresher course and then we did a lot of beam approach flying and then from there on we progressed to OTUs. Operational Training Units where we flew heavy twins. Wellingtons. Lovely aircraft. The pilot had a cushioned leather seat instead of just a metal bucket seat where you sat on your parachute. Wellingtons are much heavier, much bigger than Oxfords. We did a course of about fifty hours flying Wellingtons from Seighford near Stafford. And then here in a big hangar at Stafford men were gathered in groups of aircrew. Navigators, bomb aimers, radio operators and rear gunners. ‘Go and pick your crew.’ That’s how it was done. We then trained as a crew on Wellingtons. Did one or two operational flights at the end of our training over North France. From there we progressed to a Lancaster Finishing School. LFS at Lindholme near Doncaster flying Halifaxes and Lancasters. About the same size as Lancasters Halifaxes were much heavier to fly with a very strong undercarriage. I’ve got here built like a brick shithouse but I don’t know whether you [laughs] Lancasters were a delight to fly. Beautifully balanced. More delicate. But you had to be careful on take-off. If we opened up and then it goes on to say that they would normally swing to the left and you’d got to be ready to correct it. After Lancaster, Lanc Finishing School I went to 12 Squadron in 1 Group at Wickenby near Lincoln. I did three or four bombing trips there. One was to Hanover. And then it’s here where we were shot up by a Messerschmitt 109 and we got the impression, it felt like a bucket of hot coals had been thrown over us because it was a tracer hitting us. I felt a kick in my back and nothing else. And then we were — we lost our mid-upper gunner. He was, his Perspex turret had splintered and part had gone in his eye and he lost his eye. At the time I got — I then went with him to the Medical Centre. We were x-rayed and they found that I’d got a bullet in my back, and a couple of — I’m getting [pause] Then I, when I was in hospital at Rauceby for three months when I was fit again I was a head without a crew because my crew had been cannibalised while I was away. But there was another crew without a head in 103 Squadron. Their captain had gone on a flight as a second pilot with another crew to get experience and he’d been shot down. So, here was a headless crew and here was a head without a crew. That crew had been trained together from the beginning. They were all NCOs, and ultimately when we were shot down they were sent to an NCO POW camp all together. So, I never really saw them again until after the war. Another trip of interest was to Nuremberg on the 30th of March 1944. I think everyone knows that date. And the briefing we got from Bomber Harris said, ‘Very shortly Bomber Command will be called upon to support the invasion of Europe.’ And Sir Arthur Harris is anxious to strike at one last target before this happens. It’s a target he knows is very dear to Churchill’s heart. Nuremberg deserves a maximum effort and that is what it’ll get. Then there will be ten squadrons in one group, eight squadrons 3 Group. Etcetera. In addition there are fifteen Mosquitoes adopting an intruder role. So you will have lots of company but keep a good look out at turning points. And then it says Pilot Officer JW Birchall, Captain, Lancaster ND700 which took off at 22.10, landed at 06.46. Coming back of interest he coasted in at Selsey Bill. We were based south of the Humber. Ninety six aircraft were lost and a further ten were damaged on landing and were written off. I think I’ve got further details separately. The type of German night fighter technique, it was called schrage musik which apparently means slanting music which means jazz. It’s the German for jazz. The twin engine night fighters mounted four twenty millimetre cannon behind the pilot, sticking out of the cockpit at an angle. The ground radar monitored these night fighters in to the bomber stream and using his airborne radar the navigator could direct his pilot towards the target. When he got about two miles away the night fighter could duck down and come up underneath the bomber. We didn’t even rumble it. We couldn’t see underneath in Lancasters. He could then almost read the registration of the aircraft fifty feet above him. They then had the gunsight arranged so they didn’t aim at the middle of the aircraft to kill the crew. They were like ourself. He just wanted to knock out the aircraft. And — no I won’t. So, I think this is getting a bit laboured isn’t it? The next one was Dusseldorf on the 22nd of April. I think I’ll probably try and summarise that. They were, on our squadron there were fifteen aircraft detailed to go to Dusseldorf and we lined up each side of the runway and the aircraft ahead of us, we were still waiting, took off and on take-off he swung off the runway into the soft ground. Undercarriage collapsed. His bomb load exploded and we could see the crew evacuating, rushing off. But instead of cancelling operations the tower said, ‘We’ll change to runway — ’ I think it was runway 22. So it meant that all the ones behind me had all got to turn around with their bomb load on on the perimeter track. And some got off and some didn’t. And we had just got to the stage where we were lined up and then the tower said, ‘Aircraft not airborne return to dispersal.’ Now, at that time we were conscious that the set course time had been and gone about twenty minutes before. So we were going to be twenty minutes late even if — so I said to the chaps, ‘What shall we do? Shall we do as we are told and go back to dispersal or shall we go?’ So, we all said, ‘Oh, let’s go.’ So we all went and tried to catch them up. I asked the navigator to give me a straighter course. He did this, which took us right through the Ruhr up to Dusseldorf and so we, we got hammered going through the Ruhr and by the time we could see the fire of Dusseldorf ahead of us we were still about thirty miles below it err before it so we carried on. We dropped our bombs. And then we turned for home and suddenly something hit us. Just about knocked us on our back. And it must have been one of these night fighters with its four twenty millimetre cannon. It had formated underneath us and bingo. The number three engine, the starboard inner engine was on fire. We put out the fire. The engineer put out the fire with the extinguisher and we feathered the engine and we were going to hope to get home on three engines. But then we saw the fire come back again and it was really burning very intensely and getting very close to our number one tank which I remember was five hundred and eighty gallons. It got to the stage where we couldn’t do anything about it. We used the fire extinguisher. So I had to, told the crew to abandon the aircraft. Well, to abandon aircraft in Lancasters you have got to be dominated by that big spar which goes right across. So, people like the wireless operator, the rear gunner, the mid-upper gunner who were behind, aft of that big spar could go out through the main back door. The people who were in front of that would never stand a chance with parachutes on and all the rest of it so they would go out through a small hatch underneath the chin of the aircraft. It was a padded seat that the bomb aimer used to lie on while he was lining up his sights. So the place was blazing. I was holding it as fast as I could while the other ones got out. I could see the flight engineer went out, the bomb aimer went out. And I managed to see the navigator and he went out but I had a, an impression that his flying boots were on fire somehow. And he was interested in knocking flames out when he went out. And unfortunately the bomb aimer, whose job was to jettison that hatch before he went out he brought it indoor and he’d left it inside. And with the motion and the suction this I could see as the navigator went out wedged cornerways in the hatch. I couldn’t get out myself there. So the only way I thought was to get out through the roof. Now, I wasn’t thinking rightly because the little exit in the glass panelling we used in practices for dinghy drill with the aircraft supposedly floating on the water so we had to get out above it. But if you’ve got a parachute on and your flying gear to get out so I remember I panicked. I tried to rip this metal canopy apart. Couldn’t do that. So then I hit on the idea unhook my parachute, push it through still holding the rip cord and then I could follow it out. And it pulled me out so I was lucky to get out. So, that was how I made my entrance into Germany. Now, I I think I’m, that was a photo, a squadron photograph we had taken. I’ve got an arrow here with me. In the original which the wireless operator got he’d got a little arrow on this side but it’s chopped off a bit so we couldn’t see. So I put a ring around it. But it shows how big a Lancaster was when you see the whole squadron including the bull dog which was the mascot. But then you have the WAAF drivers. You have all the ground crew and it’s a lot of people to man fifteen aircraft. I think that was just on the official records of this ME 741 in 103 Squadron. It was built in April ’44 and it was lost over Dusseldorf on the 23rd of April having only flown thirty one hours. My capture — well I don’t think that’s [pause] I landed. Well, in your battledress you had a kit which gave you foreign currency and of maps of Europe so you could escape. And as was coming down I got all this out and I thought oh, this is alright. I can make a trip now through Germany and Spain. I also noticed that I heard the German all clear because we were so far behind the rest of them once they shot me down there was nothing [laughs] That made sense because we were the last aircraft over the Ruhr and we’d been shot down. So they sounded the all clear and I remember thinking the German all clear is the same as ours. I started to concentrate on where I was going. It was a moonlight night. I could see the River Rhine and thought I was going to land in it. And I could see I was drifting away from the Rhine so I was alright. Then I could see something round coming up in the moonlight and I thought that’s either a round greenhouse or a summer house. I couldn’t make out what it was I was aiming for. And I plonked down and found it was an ack-ack gun emplacement and these were all the sandbags around it. There was only one Luftwaffe man guarding it. The rest had all gone back to their billets having heard the all clear. He was surprised and he called an officer who attempted to interrogate me. He spoke, ‘Some German?’ I said, ‘No,’ I said, ‘English?’ He said, ‘No.’ So we had a bit of French and didn’t get very far. A train took us. We got a train the following day to Krefeld where we were to be taken to a Luftwaffe collection point for shot down POWs. At that time there were a lot of Americans because every time a Flying Fortress got shot down there was a ten strong crew. We got off the train and we walked. Walked to the town centre where a tram car would take us to the collection place. I was with this corporal who made me carry my parachute. I’d landed heavily so my knees were very painful. On the way to the square we made to turn up a little side street when he hesitated and walked past it. I thought oh he doesn’t know his way. But as I walked past that little street I had a glance up there and saw four RAF sergeants hanging from lampposts. Krefeld was part of the Ruhr which had taken an enormous pounding. And I thought this is real, this is happening. When we got to the Square and waited for the tram car people gathered around to see one of the terror fliegers carrying his parachute. They were very volatile. Surged in. Kicked me. Hit me. I remember one big plump fellow with a walking stick shouting that I’d, ‘Bomben my kinder and frau in Dusseldorf.’ He walloped into me. Knocked me down, kicked me, jumped on me. I was losing consciousness when I heard a pistol shot. I think it must have been the guard whose responsibility I was. Four SS men arrived which terrified me even more in their black uniforms with skull, silver skull and crossbone badges. But they held the crowd back ‘til the tram came along. Two of them came on the tram with the guard and for once in my life I was grateful to the SS for saving me from being hung up on that next lamp post. That was a bit of the parachute which I got the crew to sign after the war. I’ll just rabbit on. I don’t want to. Yes? The interrogation — we were at this collection point for a couple of days when they took us, a group of us, mostly Americans to the main flyer’s interrogation centre at Oberursel near Frankfurt. Built specifically for interrogating prisoners. I was in a solitary cell, eight by six. I paced up and down. The walls were all lined with some sort of thick absorbent cardboard and the window had bars on it. It was hot in Frankfurt in April and in the daytime they would switch on a big radiator in each room and close the shutters from the outside so you really cooked. At night the radiators went cold and the shutters were opened so you were exposed to the night and got very cold. That was the only form of torture I suffered. They fed us much the same blah blah blah. After about a week I was taken to a big interrogation office where a Luftwaffe major who spoke excellent English did the interrogating. He was very friendly. He said, ‘I’ve told the German High Command that you are a shot down British airman but they don’t believe me. You are a spy.’ I said, ‘No. I’m not a spy. I’m wearing my uniform. I’ve got my dog tags for identification.’ He said, ‘Yes. But all spies, not knowing where they are going to land put on a uniform so they, they’d be helped by the Geneva Convention. Dog tags. they’re no proof.’ He said, ‘Well, tell me about your aeroplane. If you are a shot down British airman we’ll have the wreckage of your plane with its registration on. Tell us that.’ I said, ‘No. All I can tell you is name, rank and number.’ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘Tell us some members of your crew because we will have caught those. That will confirm you are a shot down British airman.’ ‘No. Name, rank and number.’ So, he said, ‘Well, I’m sorry. I can’t convince them that you’re not a spy.’ And then, well they, which is the German High Command I think, ‘You’re not a spy and that orders are that at 8 o’clock tomorrow you will be shot.’ I didn’t sleep much that night. 8 o’clock still no jack boots down the corridor outside my bell. Breakfast came at the usual time. I was there for another week thinking that if they ask me again I’ll tell them anything they want to know to prove that I was a shot down airman and not a spy. Well, it just goes on. But anyhow the next time he interviewed me he had, it was in the same briefing room but he’d got a large map on the back wall and a lot of these manilla folders with the squadron crest on the front. And he thumbed through these and he had his pink tape on the map behind him but he didn’t have our base on it. The tape was just from the English coast. They could monitor where the bomber stream was on the radar. He was thumbing through some brown manilla files on his desk. Each one with the squadron crest on. ‘Oh yes. 103 Squadron. Recently you’ve had quite a few losses on your squadron.’ On such a night so and so was shot down. He had three or four of these but thinking about it they had been shot down. They’d have been interrogated so he'd have got their details. Then he said, ‘Did you know your squadron commander had been recommended for his DSO?’ We didn’t. I didn’t know if it was true. He was looking to see my reaction each time to confirm if what he was saying was correct. I asked him about one of my chums who was shot down and hadn’t come back. ‘No. He probably had to ditch in the North Sea so we wouldn’t have any details of him.’ All very plausible. So, he asked me one question about the funnel. The leading light funnel leading to the runway. And he called this, he says, ‘Out of interest what’s this Christmas tree you have at night along your runway? A series of lights you call a Christmas tree.’ Did he mean the six mile funnel of lead in lights? One aircraft was coming in to the land and unknown to us a night fighter infiltrated. Coming in behind him on final approach. Positioned under him and shot him, shot. The aircraft crashed and they were all killed. This must have been what he was talking about. So it was a different form of interrogation he made. Confirmation of known facts and the Christmas tree question. But he did give me the consolation, ‘We’ve established you’re a shot down airman.’ Can we have a break now?
[recording paused]
After the interrogation they took us by train to Stalag Luft 3 at Sagan in Silesia. The notorious camp of the Great Escape where seventy six officers escaped on the night of March the 24th ’44. Only three got back to England. The rest were re-captured and on Hitler’s express orders fifty were shot. I arrived in the camp before this fact was known. The senior British officer, Group Captain Massey demanded of the German commandant that their bodies should be returned for a decent internment and perhaps a monument. And although told that they had been shot while escaping the bodies came back to indicate that they had not been shot in the back but in the front. It looks like a firing squad. We tried to find things to do. I read the whole of Charles Dickens. We had one navigator and he set off to run a navigation course up to the standard of the Civil Navigator’s Licence Second Class. You could get documents through the Red Cross and do the final exam through them. It was something constructive to do and I got my licence. We had lots of theatres. There were, there were POWs who enjoyed training for theatre work and they used to put on a play for us every week or two. We, the audience dressed in our best blue which we’d sent from home. I remember Blythe Spirit. And Messaline, which was written in the camp about a Greek prostitute, I think. There was Pud Davies, that was Rupert Davies who later played Maigret on television. Then there was Commander John Casson RN. He was the son of Dame Sybil Thorndike. He worked in the management side of theatre. There was Talbot Rothwell as was known. We knew him as Tolley. Another expert thespian who now produces the Carry On films. And also Peter Butterworth who was also on the Carry On team. There was one effeminate Squadron Leader, Bobby Lomas who always played the female. And the whole camp, starved of female fancied him. There was no rapport with the German guards with strict rules, but when we had a theatre show we invited the commandant and the senior guards to come and gave them the front seat. And we of course dressed in our best blue. So, all very prim and proper. We were still tunnelling. There was one under the theatre hut. And you — the tunnels dug through sandy soil required to be shored up by slats from bed boards, and each bed had eight slats. And when you were called to surrender one slat for shoring up the tunnel you took the biggest slat and split it in two so you gave one to the tunnel but you still had eight. You could see the Germans doing inspections through the windows as you were lined up outside counting the slats. But the slats were getting thinner and thinner and eventually a bed would collapse. If it was the top one of three tiers it would come crashing down on the two beneath. No more tunnels were successful while I was there. Then we met the winter, the bitter winter and the Russians started their offensive across Poland, and they had liberated Warsaw. And at Sagan we heard rumours that we POWs were either going to be shot or taken on a trek. Hitler wanted to hang on to POW officers for possible bargaining at the war’s end. They could let the Russians take other ranks from their camps to Odessa and ship them back to England. The week before we’d seen horses and trailers with big boilers and chimneys. One or two people had been in Belsen or Buchenwald and had even seen these Death Camps. So we started to get a bit twitchy when a dozen of these boilers were lined up outside. Were they going to incinerate us? We decided that if they did we’d make a mad rush for the wire and try to climb over. We’d all be shot but it was better than being cooked. Anyhow, the following morning it had all gone. It was a German field kitchen. On the 27th of January, about 10.30pm we got the call, ‘We are marching out in one hour’s time. Take a blanket, take your overcoat, your greatcoat and gloves if you’ve got any.’ And we left at midnight on that date, the 27th of January where snow had been snowing for the past three weeks. And we marched for two or three weeks in the snow from then. The Germans didn’t know where we were going. We were just wandering aimlessly about. It got really cold and we had one instance where we were sleeping just outside the, on a barn, outside a barn. And in the morning the Germans came, prodded three officers but they had frozen to death during the night. One was Pop Green. He was quite an old one. I was marching on the side when I, with German tanks going past I collapsed having been struck by a tank and I was just hauled out by my buddies. We all pulled together. We marched almost to Hanover where they took us by train. Locked us in cattle trucks labelled forty hommes or eight chevaux. They packed us in as tight as they could and we travelled about Germany for two or three days. Those with dysentery were crowded into one corner and the rest took turns sleeping. Half lying down while the others half stood up. We were occasionally given rations when a field kitchen caught us up. It was barley glop. Boiled up barley but it was nice and hot. We drank rusty water from the tap on the side of the engine. When the train stopped we were allowed to walk about with the guards all around. The spring weather came and we were met very often by Typhoons or Tempests, some of which came out of from Selsey. The — that time they had they, they thought that we were German troops evacuating so they would take pot shots at us. And on one occasion towards dusk we were parked in a field with guards all around and we heard Merlin engines. A Mosquito doing a reccy had spotted a field full of troops so soon, the next thing a Typhoon came and had a go at us. One or two people got injured. Part of our walk finished up in a field by a German autobahn with a bridge nearby. Under it for safety were four or five German horse drawn carts. A couple of Typhoons spotted them and started shooting, annoyingly killing the poor old horses. We felt very sorry about that. As we crossed the Elbe some more Typhoons or Tempests had a go at the ferry. Wasn’t very successful. Nobody was hit. We then stayed at a place near Lubeck and we were told that we need not stay in Lubeck because they had typhus or, or typhoid. Instead we were permitted, we got the German commandant to agree to take over a large estate and he was very cooperative then because he knew the end of the war was in sight and he hoped we would speak up for him afterwards. Anyhow, we persuaded the troops, the German troops to throw hand grenades into the lake. The fish floated to the top and we swam in and got them. We dined well from there. When we got back to England they expected us to be skin and bone but we were fine and fit from living in the open. The, the Germans surrendered on May the 8th. We were, on May the 2nd we were liberated by a jeep with a driver and a British army corporal who stumbled across us. ‘You’re all liberated now. Stay here. Don’t try and wander. We’ll arrange transport to take you back to England,’ So, they took us to a Luftwaffe station called Diepholz where Dakotas or Lancasters took us back to England where we arrived in the afternoon and interrogated to find out what we’d seen in Germany that might be of interest. Any secret weapons or whatever. They gave us money, identity papers, clothing, railway warrants. So, on the 8th of May, VE Day we worked right through the night and I was given a train pass and arrived home the next morning in South Lancashire. No one was at home. They were all at church celebrating VE day. When they came back what a surprise. They’d heard nothing from me since September the previous year.
[recording paused]
My trip back from Germany was from a place, a German Luftwaffe station called Diepholz and we came back in a Dakota to one of the OTUs, in Oxfordshire I suppose, called Wing. It so happened that my future wife was in air traffic control at a place called [pause] it was at Westcott where the — no. My mind’s gone. Hut in Stalag Luft 3. We had fifteen of us in three tier bunks and in the top bunk there was a New Zealand squadron leader called Len Trent. And he was, used to be sleeping there in the afternoon and we had nothing else to talk about so we used to spend hours arguing who would win the war. Would it be fighters or bombers? And then we heard his voice, ‘For Christ sake shut up. I want to get some sleep.’ And we all stayed together where ever we went. We all stayed together. And we finished up by being interrogated in England. And there was Len and the other fourteen of us and we were all wanting to get cracking so we could get off home but Len was still being interrogated and talked. And we said, ‘Come on Len. Come on. You’re holding us up.’ But, ‘No. No. No. Shut up. No.’ And it was then, just after VJ day that word came out that Leonard Trent, New Zealand Air Force had just got the VC. And he hadn’t mentioned it of course to us. Well, he didn’t know at that time. So, that was Len Trent. I think it was three trips at 12 Squadron at Wickenby and then I got this bullet in my back. So, of course that was, although my crew then, we’d all been trained together I lost them at that time when I had to go in to hospital. They’d been cannibalised and so as I said I had then to take over a new crew on 103 Squadron and we didn’t do very many trips there. Altogether I think it was about twelve, thirteen but this was the time in April ’44 when the Germans had really organised themselves with these four cannon. And they would see where the bomber stream was going. They would then direct the night fighters into the bomber stream. The navigator in that night fighter could see his echoes and he would then direct his pilot on to the targets there. And when he got within two miles they’d duck down underneath and from then on [pause] And I spoke afterwards. Went to a place in London. There was some discussion I vaguely remember. Lord Tedder was there. But this fellow was a night fighter pilot and he said that it was, he regularly shot down four or five Lancasters every trip he did. And the average tour length at that time was about seven because you didn’t stand a chance. Yes. When I was shot down the team at the back got the mid-upper gunner, who was unconscious having had his face shot up. And they hooked his parachute hand over the ripcord which was the you know, the silver thing on the side which, and he was unconscious but they turfed him out thinking well that was the best they could do for him. And apparently he woke up the following day in a cabbage field. Blood all over himself and the parachute there. So he must have automatically pulled his parachute. So, I met them all afterwards and he’d lost his eye so coincidence that I had two mid-upper gunners lost their eye. But there are bits when you’re sitting on top there. There’s any, I’ve got the strip. These were reflections. We were all very young. Initially it was a game. I’ve got the parachute of the trip I was shot down in. I got the crew to sign it. The camp we were in. Fifteen sleeping in three tier bunks. Well, this was on the top bunk was Len Trent, New Zealand accent said, ‘For Christ sake.’ During that week in solitary in the beginning I thought I must think of something. Today, I will think entirely for the whole of the day on my mother, tomorrow my father, then my brother. Dragging up everything I could think about them to keep my mind occupied. How people survive in solitary for months I don’t know. I didn’t have a girlfriend at that time. I didn’t meet Heather ‘til after the war. So, I don’t think — these are just reflections. Then I think you’ve seen this one about when I went from RAF Feltwell. I’d been a little time when I was promoted to fill the squadron leader. Yes. This is about posting Heather to RAF Mildenhall ten miles away. She used to cycle over to see me and we carried on. Feltwell closed and was taken over by the Americans to store Polaris. I was then posted to Mildenhall because the squadron leader was demobbed. Then the group captain came. So I think that is that now. One — and that is in the camp I’d forgotten that I kept a diary. It was on a very thin flimsy paper and it was written in pencil and my mother must have been, at the end of the war she got hold of it. And this then came to my cousin and she said, ‘Oh, this is wonderful. You must make a record of it.’ So, what she did. Well, she wrote to, to the Bodleian Library in Oxford to see how you could preserve these things and what he should do. And then they contacted the RAF Museum at Hendon who were very interested and they have now been given, I think most of these books. But I’ll show you. I won’t go through them because it’s going to take you too long. I can say on this march, this long march we had the guards marching alongside us to see that we didn’t escape, although no one would want to escape in those conditions. But the guards were very old men and they got further and further behind. So they were moving slower than we were and they finished up at the back of the column. So then the guards had vehicles to collect them, take them to the front of the column, put them down and they started on the front of the column and gradually drifted back to the [pause ] but they were very, very old. This June ’46. On the 22nd of June Heather and I were married in Pinner Church after Heather’s demob in May. I applied for a vacancy in Civil Air Traffic Control having had my military experience. When they interviewed me the minimum recruiting age at that time was twenty five. However, when they saw me they reduced the age to twenty three and I was in. I landed up, they posted you nearest your home. I landed up at Speke Airport, Liverpool. Now, I think it’s called John Lennon Airport isn’t it? While there I did a month’s leave relief for a controller at Ronaldsway which was at Douglas Isle Of Man. Both Heather and I enjoyed the holiday although it was so cold that we ironed the sheets to warm them up before getting into bed. In 1947 I volunteered to open up Belfast Civil Airport. At the former RAF airfield called Nutts Corner. I soon devised a new routing coming and going from the Isle of Man direction. At that time the inbound and the departures all followed a common routing between Belfast and the Isle of Man and then further down to Manchester or Liverpool or, or London. So, we had to devise some way of separating them because if you had one aircraft coming in and another one going out you couldn’t climb one and descend one through the other. So, I hit upon the idea that I would, I went to see the Belfast BBC transmitter site which was well south of the inbound route. And departing aircraft then took off and turned south homing on the BBC beacon, and the, my efforts were approved. We had two separate routes and I was rewarded. Some, something else I did on the radar I became fifty pound richer. So, anyhow I must have impressed someone because in 1950 I was transferred to open up the Air Traffic Control Experimental Unit based in the north west corner of Heathrow, and with access to a radar installation. The ATCEU was a small unit. Just four controllers. Two operation officers and a team of radar radio staff at our disposal. The projects in which I was most involved was the use of a third parallel runway for Heathrow. We decided that the introduction of a third runway was not feasible or cost effective and to have a second runway at Gatwick at a later date would be more feasible. Sixty years later, well it’s now about seventy years later the government is still undecided. Another project I had was to visit manufacturers who were providing radars. There was Cossors, Deccas, Marconis and Plesseys. And the three of us enjoyed that project which determined, it was to determine the gappiness, the cover of any new radars coming by using one of our Civil Aviation Flying Unit’s aircraft from Stansted. We could fly slices through radar beams at various heights and thus determine whether a particular envelope was reliable. Then there was another project of new procedures for increasing the landing rate at Heathrow. And that got rather complicated. It involved the use of two radar talk down systems. In fact, later on we tried putting a trial. We arranged to close Heathrow for one night between midnight and 5 am. We borrowed four aircraft from the Civil Aviation Flying Unit plus four aircraft from the Empire Test Pilot’s School at Farnborough and invited any scheduled aircraft to participate if they wished. The second GCA unit was provided and we were all set to go when the minimum weather conditions we’d agreed were right on the lower limits. As half of headquarters had come to watch and Heathrow had been notified as closed and the aircraft and the aircrews were standing by I said, ‘Ok. We’ll go.’ It worked out a marginal success although one Farnborough Canberra aircraft on being guided back to the holding stack for another go, he lost himself and he declared Mayday and we spent some half an hour looking for him. We found him over Manston in Kent. In all it wasn’t a great success but once or twice when conditions were right and I was the watch manager at Heathrow I initiated a system but really it wasn’t a resounding success. There were too many variables which could fail. The other thing which was interesting, a possible high level holding procedure for the newly introduced family of jet aircraft. The Comet was the first jet aircraft coming along and with the Comet of, with the introduction of the Comet as the first commercial jet we worked closely with two BOAC pilots, Captain Rodley DSO DFC, and Captain Majendie DFC MA, ex-Cambridge and he was very much a boffin. And they were taking over the Comet from the manufacturers at Hatfield and they were evaluating it. One of the things we were rather concerned about was how much fuel they would use if they got to hold over Heathrow. And the favourite suggestion was for the Comet to reserve a slot but to hold at high level. When its approach time came the Comet would make a high descent in to the approach phase. I made many Comet flights at the time before the demise of that first and the British passenger jet aircraft. And in 1954 we moved into a newly built house at 40 Gatehill Road, Northwood where Ian was born. Two years later it was decided that I should get more experience in Air Traffic Control Centre work along the airways. And I became the watch deputy supervisor to facilitate travel to watchkeeping hours. We had to buy a three quarter acre plot on prestigious Stoke Park Avenue, Farnham Royal so we could get there by public transport at the later hours. Three years later, 1959 I was promoted to a grade one and transferred to become the D Watch manager at Heathrow. One of five watches. Each with some eighty controllers and twenty assistants. On one occasion and probably from my experience at the EU I was co-opted into the accident investigation branch to help concerning an aircraft crash at Gatwick. I left watch-keeping and became assistant chief controller at Heathrow with operational responsibilities and contact with companies. Ian was just starting at Stow and Heather, having refreshed her secretarial skills had become PA to Mr Robbins, European manager of Johnson and Johnson and then when they moved to South Wales she left there and became PA to Mr Bales, training manager at International Computers Limited at Windsor. And then a memory from my Bomber Command days. Our friend and neighbour at Stoke Park Avenue was Robin Mobbs, widow of Sir Richard Mobbs whose father had founded the Slough Trading Estate after World War One. She invited Heather and me to lunch with a friend of hers who lived about a mile away. That was Don Bennett. Air Vice Marshall Donald Bennett CB CBE DSO and the Chief Executive and founder of British South American Airways flying Lancastrians. We both enjoyed that lunch with that distinguished guest. Concorde was the only regular supersonic commercial flight which caught my interest. The Russian Concordski, roughly modelled on Concorde was briefly operational but sadly came to a tragic end at the Paris Airshow. As the Americans never did develop a supersonic airliner they had a jealous admiration for us Brits. Yet having spoken with various British Airways Concorde crews a common theme arose. Concorde, departing from Kennedy would sometimes be shuffled towards the back of the queue awaiting departure thus burning fuel which may have been critical when it arrived at Heathrow. Another instance — to obtain the maximum arrival rate the radar director was positioned inbound aircraft of various approach speeds at different distances to ensure that the second aircraft would be about two miles out when the first one had landed and cleared the runway. We found that for no obvious reason the runway had not been cleared on one occasion and Concorde had thus to make a missed approach and re-position for other, for another try. The puzzled radar director assured me that they had left adequate spacing when turning Concorde on to final approach. After several of these instances I looked back through the records and found that frequently aircraft ahead of Concorde, having landed were slow to clear the runway. They were often Pan American or Transworld Boeing 707s or 747s. Coincidence? Again, when I was assistant chief ATCO there was one instance where Speedbird 02 had been well placed behind a British Midland prop jet which, having landed and missed its turn off point, was continuing slowly to the next. At six miles out, ‘Speedbird 02 request landing clearance.’ From the tower, ‘Negative 02. Continue your approach. There’s traffic clearing the runway.’ At four miles out ‘Speedbird 02 requests landing clearance.’ ‘Negative 02. Continue your approach. The traffic is still clearing the runway.’ Then at two miles out, ‘Speedbird 02, I’m landing on this approach and if the other buggers are still on the runway I shall spear him.’ ‘Traffic just clearing 02. You’re now clear to land.’ I didn’t put this word on it. I said, ‘If the other aircraft is still on the runway,’ [laughs] but it was obvious that he was getting a bit — Later an apologetic Brian Walpole who was the Concorde flight captain he phoned me to explain that 02 had been much delayed when taxiing out for take-off at Kennedy. Consequently, was very low on fuel. If he couldn’t land off that approach he would have needed to fly to his nominated alternate, Gatwick and land there. Surprised, I asked him why he didn’t declare an emergency as he would have then ensured and we would have then ensured the runway was clear for his approach. He replied that knowing transmissions galvanised the press who monitored our frequencies if Concorde had declared an emergency it would have been headline news. When Brian Walpole invited me to his office upstairs for lunch I was surprised to find that the flight manager of British Airways top flight lived in a small cramped corner office with walls plastered with photographs of prominent people on Concorde flight deck. Each of them had been given a speech bubble with amusing comment. The Queen Mother was saying, ‘I could take to this. It’s much quicker than by train.’ He invited me to join him on a crew training flight in Concorde the next day. We were off just before 8am. Landed at Gander in Newfoundland, refuelled, filed a flight plan and were back at Heathrow a little after 6 pm having spent an hour in Canada. 1970, I was elected to go to the Joint Services Staff College. I became the second controller only to be accepted on to the JSSC course at Latimer which was composed of middle rank officers from the three services plus ten Commonwealth high rankers and a handful of American officers from all services. There were also three civilians. A nautical architect, a Hong Kong police superintendent and myself. Having been security cleared, vetted by two admirals and an air marshal at the Ministry of Defence in Whitehall. I enjoyed that fascinating six months course involving high level lectures from all walks of life. Government, cabinet ministers, diplomats, service chiefs, scientists, heads of security as well as military exercises including Cold War and nuclear exchanges. Being a joint service course we had the choice of outside attachments to each of the services to see how the other service worked. At that point [pause] where are we? Our — for my army visit I opted to go to Berlin which was the prize place, this was when the Wall was still there, because I was interested in their airway system and their traffic sequencing. More like Heathrow. A dozen of us in the team were housed in the brigadier’s residence overlooking the Berlin Lake which had supposedly belonged to Herman Goering, where we were briefed on the interaction with the Russians during the Cold War and the Berlin Wall. As military personnel we were allowed through Checkpoint Charlie to tour East Berlin. We found the methods used by the intelligence services most interesting. Our air force options covered a choice of a week on the Scottish RAF station where their involvement with flights in Nimrods proved very popular with our Naval members. These aircraft flew long range air sea rescues acting as command and control centres. Our Army members seemed to favour attachments to the newer Avenger and Phantom fighter units. I opted for a visit to Brize Norton to see the RAF troop handling which was coupled with a visit to RAF Valley in Anglesey to see pilot training. In Valley I was invited to fly in a Folland Gnat which brings Red Arrows fame, flown by the chief flying instructor Wing Commander Max Bacon. It was fascinating how tiny and so very light on the controls after Lancasters. Having been shown all its capabilities we did some very low flying in the designated low flying area of Snowdonia and we scared all the cattle underneath us too. Wonderful course. I remember one of our social gatherings at Pleasant Corners. Heather pulling out all the stops and Ian, back from Stow was helping. Amongst the sixteen officers at that party were Colonel Nigel Bagnall who became later chief of the general staff, an American commander in the Royal Marines who was OC flying on the American aircraft carrier Nimitz which was, I think the biggest American jet aircraft carrier they had. On which I believe he said they had seventy Phantoms. And the other member was Wing Commander Peter Harding. He was a great friend of mine. Largely of course because he was on this, on the RAF side and who later rose to the dizzy heights of Chief of the Defence Staff. So he was above the military. The lot. I also remember a Group Captain Beausoliel, who was head of Ghana. Now, it turned out that Wing Commander Peter Harding later came to grief. Do you remember his case? You probably wouldn’t. Well, he had a strong liaison with some woman who also was associated with a Russian and she said, ‘No. They couldn’t carry on their alliance.’ So, she said, ‘Well, let’s just have one meal in the Savoy.’ And as they came out she bent over and kissed him and she’d tipped off the press. And from then on that day he gave up his post. Not only as the supreme of all the armed forces but as the RAF. So, I’m sorry for Peter. But then this was the critical bit. Later in 1970, on completion of that Joint Services Staff College Course I was transferred to the Southern Division Headquarters at Heston. They felt that I was more a boffin now rather than just a practicing controller. Under a deputy director one section covered the airways and the other section covered the airfields. I became in charge of airfields and maintaining the level of air traffic control at various units. I was responsible for maintaining that and it includes non-civil aviation units in the southern part of England from — we had to look at the Scilly Isles, the Channel Isles, Bristol, Gloucester, Northampton and Norwich. Across that. And all airfields south. Along the south coast we covered Ashford, Shoreham, Goodwood, Southampton, Hamble, Leigh on Solent, Bournemouth, Exeter, Plymouth, Jersey and Guernsey. So, we had a twin Commanche at our call and what we had to do was when a new controller went to his unit, until he was valid he got his basic driving licence but he had to be checked out. So before he was validated he’d got to be checked by us and then we could sign his licence and then he could go solo. And so we had this twin Commanche and one of us would fly. I didn’t do any flying because I didn’t keep my licence going. But one of our team of four would fly and say, ‘I’ve got — lost an engine. I can’t maintain height.’ Or, ‘I have lost my RT,’ and you’d have to go to a system of one click for yes. Two clicks for no. All that sort of stuff. So —
[pause]
Test. And Ian had left Stow and was reading for his medical degree at Clare College, Cambridge. I had to occasionally fit in just to sort of keep Ian in the picture. I moved back to Heathrow as the deputy chief, acting as a stand in for the chief controller. Amongst other tasks I covered the oversight of our Radar Training Unit and including the Validation Board. As the Chairman of the Health and Safety Committee I remember we were — on the same floor as my office was the Civil Aviation Medical Centre where pilots were expected to make the grade once a year. And as such I could sometimes see them when they came past my door on the way in or out. And one or two, one I recognised as Douglas Bader whom I had seen very shortly in the POW camp. But then because he was such a naughty boy what with him always wanted to escape they sent him to Colditz. So, we had a talk and I’d got a big conference table, a big mahogany conference table in my office and it didn’t have four corner legs but it had two central legs. And he came in, having a chat and he jumped on the table to sit on the table and of course the thing upended. And I rushed around and I just caught him in time and pushed. Otherwise he’d have been a goner. So, then I said, ‘Would you like to have a look around air traffic control?’ So he said yes. So, I took him and when it came to the very steep steps up to the glasshouse I suddenly realised what a faux pas I’d made because he couldn’t have any legs to walk up there. So I said, ‘Oh, last week the Queen Mother visited us and she walked up those steps.’ So, he said, ‘Well, of course anything she can do I can do.’ Typical Douglas Bader. And he did. He pulled himself up with his arms, trailing his legs behind. And when they got on the next step off he’d go again. So, and the next time I met him was when I had a phone call from the personnel manager of [pause] I’m thinking. Shell Mex, one of the big petrol station. And they had just taken over an HS125 which is a small fast twin jet aircraft and they’d take that over for use by the board when they were going. So, he said, ‘Oh, we’re just doing a route flying stretching this out. We’re doing longer and longer legs to see what the aircraft capability is and tomorrow we’re going to Milan. Would you like to come with us?’ So, ‘Yes, please.’ So we went out there on to the tarmac and who was there to meet us was the flying, the pilot, Douglas Bader. So we recognised each other then. Anyhow, he flew us down to Milan. We stayed in the aircraft. He re-fuelled. He filed his flight plan for the return trip and on the way back this personnel manager for Shell Aviation said, ‘Oh, well let’s sample the [pause] the dish, the spread that they’ve given us.’ They’d got a refrigeration and all the rest of it so out came this on this little table and just the three of us sat down. So, halfway through or toward the end he said, ‘Well, is there anything you can think of that’s missing?’ So I jokingly said, ‘Well the wine you gave us. Those was wine glasses when they’d been used there’s no place to put them again.’ ‘Oh, quite right. The trip’s been worthwhile,’ [laughs] So, he was grateful that I’d found nowhere to store used glasses. So, that was random. There was one occasion where since I’ve often been asked whether I’ve ever needed to make instant life-saving decisions. I had one such memory. As a watch manager at Heathrow I arrived to take over the afternoon watch at 13.00 hours. I checked with my approach control supervisor that his full team had arrived and I went up to the aerodrome control. The glasshouse. One team member from my team had not arrived. And the off-going man was still on duty. Now, partly to retain the respect of my team members and partly to maintain my own validation I periodically took over an operational position. Although I was aware of the other managers policies of why keep a dog and bark yourself. At that time, with an easterly wind Heathrow was landing from the west over Windsor Castle and departures took off to the east over London. Northolt had also been required to take off in the same direction. And if they were routing going south after take-off they’d make a left turn and route around north of Heathrow and down to the west. So, I took over the [pause] the, I let the landing, the last departing man go. I took over his air departure position with six aircraft at the holding point. There was a Turkish Airline Boeing 727 who had just lined up and I had given him clearance to take off and he started to roll. He was halfway along the runway when I heard someone behind me shout, ‘Christ. The Northolt one’s turned right.’ Well, immediately, in a flash I visualised two heavily laden aircraft colliding and crashing right over London. Although almost too late I instructed my aircraft, then close to flying speed, ‘Cancel take-off. Cancel take-off.’ Thank goodness he reacted immediately. Finally stopping at the upwind end of the runway. I thanked him and asked that he clear the runway to his left. He replied, ‘Negative. Can’t move. My brakes are red hot. I require ten, twenty minutes for them to cool down.’ Another occasion the chief and I visited Chicago because they were supposed to have more aircraft flying than we did. We found the reason was that they just packed them in and expecting that they would, some, a lot of them would not make the landing. Would have to overshoot. Well, we took a pride in getting most of them down. And it turned out the, the pilot on that VC10 was, had been in A flight 103 Squadron while I’d been in B Flight. Here we are. Incidentally, in my report I included the fact that on our return Heathrow was landing on westerlies. That is aircraft arriving from the west were required to fly past the airport turning back on to the final approach at about seven or eight miles. I heard the captain, because I was on the jump seat, I heard the captain ask his first officer if he would like to have a go at final approach and landing. Even to my inexperienced eye I thought his turn on in a heavy aircraft would position us on about a two or a three mile final approach. However, he made a turn on whilst still doing his landing checks. Yet he made a spot on landing. In my report I noted his name. First Officer N Tebbit. Norman Tebbit. Barcelona — we went to Barcelona. Shell Aviation. Milan and that I’ve already told you about. The personnel manager. I recognised Douglas Bader, Chopper blades. I don’t think you’d be interested in the chopper blades. Perhaps I, as inspector of Air Traffic Control Standards for the South of England I visited Netheravon one of the several military and Naval units which operated to civil ATC standards. As they had six helicopters on a night cross country when we were there soon after they were due to return we visited their control room. Now, unbeknown to Netheravon, RAF Lyneham were practicing night parachute jumps over Salisbury Plain using C130 Hercules. As it happened the two exercises coincided. The helicopters with downward facing landing lights appeared as did the higher flying Hercules. The paras were dropped about two or three miles away. Visions of paras carving up chopper blades. Being carved up by chopper blades. So I enquired why there wasn’t any coordination. They thought it more really approached military operational standards. I got the system changed. Netheravon or, if closed Middle Wallop would coordinate movements over Salisbury Plain. Another one, Sir Laurence Whistler. He, it appeared that some industrial group were making a royal presentation of a cut glass bowl engraved by Sir Laurence Whistler. It would show Windsor Castle with the City of London and Heathrow Airport in the background. This was required by the company to present to the Queen. He said that he would need to get a perspective involving the use of a helicopter positioned over Windsor Castle. Now, I considered this would need coordination between the helicopter, departing aircraft and that I should fly in the royal helicopter to reflect the coordination. I was suitably impressed by the interior walls and ceilings of quilted with cream plastic insulation. The tables and chairs and book racks had holding copies of London Life, Illustrated London News, Tatler and Vogue. It did however have the characteristic of a helicopter vibratory flight. He was pleased with the sketches and later sent me a photo of the finished engraved bowl. I won’t go on about the time when we’ve argued with the Duke of Edinburgh. So, I could go on but it’s taking too much time. So, that was my civil one. I can’t go on about this. I think I’ve probably have mentioned this diary which I kept. We’ve got mice [laughs] This was a entry from the Royal Air Force Museum. An entry to this it was probably a thing I would get from you isn’t it? It’s 125 towing a small glider. Now, we didn’t know what the glider was. At that time it was secret and it turned out to be a Messerschmitt 163 and it was towed up into the American formations. It only had ten minutes endurance and it would decimate the Americans. And then of course it would glide down. So this was this. We didn’t know what it was. And this was a Messerschmitt 110 towing a very small tubby glider. The wingspan of ten to twelve feet. I don’t know what that was. It was some memorial with a swastika underneath. Well, I was next on the list to get a new aircraft and the fellow ahead, who’d had the last one he was shot down so I got the new one. And I went into the control tower to watch it arriving and out of that when it landed, a lovely landing, came someone in a white overall with a helmet on and then a second person. So, I was waiting for the rest of the crew but there was just these two. They came over to the control tower, came up and then the pilot then took off his helmet and it was a woman. See, we’d never heard of, and beyond that she had no navigator, no radio. She’d just ferried this. And I’ve got the book about, “The Female Few,” and there are pages and pages. And she was quite a bright girl. She went to Oxford. She was head of Somerville College and obviously did a lot of and she did learn to fly before the war. And when I met her again when I was at this Experimental Unit and we were working to see how you could increase movement rates at Heathrow. So we borrowed some civil aviation. Two of them, or four of them, I think for that. And we had a break for lunch and who should one of them? Lettice Curtis.
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Title
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Interview with James William Birchall
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Denise Boneham
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-08-16
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
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ABirchallJW170816
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Pending review
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01:33:02 audio recording
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eng
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
James Burchill was in the ATC before he volunteered for aircrew training. He was expected to be deferred but was told he had been chosen for immediate service. On one operation he was injured and by the time he was ready for operational duties again he had lost his crew. He reformed with a crew who had lost their pilot on his second dickie flight. His aircraft was shot down and the crew became prisoners of war. While being walked to the collection point under guard he saw four RAF crew hanging from lampposts. When he was seen by the civilian population they set on him and he was rescued by members of the SS. Jim took part in the Long March and saw the bodies of men who had frozen to death. After the war Jim had an interesting career in civil aviation and became involved in the Joint Services Staff College courses and the Air Traffic Control Experimental Unit.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
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Germany
Great Britain
Poland
England--Lincolnshire
England--London
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Nuremberg
Poland--Żagań
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Germany--Diepholz
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941-12-07
1942-12-18
1944-03-30
103 Squadron
12 Squadron
aircrew
animal
bale out
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
crewing up
Dulag Luft
entertainment
Halifax
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
lynching
Me 109
Oxford
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF hospital Rauceby
RAF Lindholme
RAF Seighford
RAF Wickenby
shot down
Stalag Luft 3
strafing
the long march
training
Typhoon
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/501/22409/MCurnockRM1815605-171114-093.1.pdf
eefebf0061109ce009f489c044488d92
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Title
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Curnock, Richard
Richard Murdock Curnock
R M Curnock
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Curnock, RM
Date
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2016-04-18
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Description
An account of the resource
92 items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Richard Curnock (1924, 1915605 Royal Air Force), his log book, letters, photographs and prisoner of war magazines. He flew operations with 425 Squadron before being shot down and becoming a prisoner of war.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Richard Curnock and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
A WARTIME LOG
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
A WARTIME LOG FOR BRITISH PRISONERS
Gift from
THE WAR PRISONERS’ AID OF THE Y.M.C.A.
37, Quai Wilson
GENEVA — SWITZERLAND
[page break]
[hand drawn R.A.F. crest]
[hand drawn sketch of a Halifax aircraft]
[page break]
THIS BOOK BELONGS TO
R M CURNOCK. 2108
SUNNYCROFT.
59. MINEHEAD STREET.
LEICESTER
[Y.M.C.A. crest]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
CONTENTS
Addresses of the Crew Page 122
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
1
[private addresses - aircrew]
S. J. Wheadon — G I. Dunsmore — Wesley Skink
[page break]
2
More of The Crew
C. A. Stowell — R. Friskey
[page break]
3
Pals
Gord. McGillway — Robert J H. Prince — A. Laing. — George. F. Cole.
[page break]
4
Basil Cotton — Eric G. Standen. — A. G. Hunter
[page break]
5
Jack French — A. G. Fripp. — W. N. Wiffen — Jim Toole.
[page break]
6
C. A. MELLING. — J. M. Hudson — ALFRED HUNT
[page break]
7
A. J. Gulucke — W Marshall Featherstone — F. A. Bartlett — George. A. Kirk.
[page break]
8
David Y. Young, — D, Stubbs, — W R Forbes,
[page break]
9
John. Waldron.
[page break]
20
[blank page]
[page break]
21
APRIL 20th 1945 To our Engineer “Ginger” Wheadon
Ginge was killed by a bullet from a Typhoon whilst we were resting during a march on April 19th 1945, he was killed instantly. We are trying to get some of his personal kit to bring home for his Mother and Mary his girl. He was buried at a village of Heydekrug, 4 KM. from Gresse where we had just drawn food parcels. He was buried by our Padre and a parson. The time of his death was approximately 12 noon.
Harry looked after one or two of the badly wounded lads, I went back to Ginger only to find that all his kit had been taken and his pockets empty. Some thieving B — had pinched everything he had on him.
I only hope the food
[page break]
22
choked them and all the other things brought them the worst luck possible.
[page break]
23
[blank page]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[hand drawn sketch of a scantily dressed female firing a bow and arrow]
MAMA MIA
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[hand drawn sketch of a person holding a tray of steaming tea, the steam is obscuring their face. From out of the steam is another face saying “WHERE”]
[underlined] BREW UP DICK [/underlined]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[hand drawn sketch of an air gunner in the rear turret of an aeroplane. The fuselage of the aeroplane is twisted like a corkscrew.]
NOT SO VIOLENT NEXT TIME CHUCK!
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
1st
[underlined] D. H. TIGER MOTH [/underlined]
[hand drawn sketch of a Tiger Moth aeroplane]
[page break]
[hand drawn sketch of a Lysander aeroplane]
[page break]
3rd
[underlined] BOULTON PAUL DEFIANT [/underlined]
[hand drawn sketch of a Defiant aeroplane]
[page break]
[underlined] AVRO ANSON [/underlined]
[hand drawn sketch of an Anson aeroplane]
[page break]
5th
[underlined] AIRSPEED OXFORD [/underlined]
[hand drawn sketch of an Oxford aeroplane]
AIRSPEED OXFORD
[page break]
6th
[underlined] WELLINGTON] [/underlined]
[hand drawn sketch of an Wellington aeroplane]
WELLINGTON
[page break]
[hand drawn sketch of a Halifax aeroplane]
HALIFAX III
[page break]
[hand drawn sketch of a Dakota/DC3/C47 aeroplane]
DAKOTA
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[hand drawn sketch of a line of washing hanging above 4 cupboards]
[page break]
[hand drawn sketch of a drunken man leaning against a crooked lampost]
OPERATIONS CONTINUING ACCORDING TO [underlined] PLAN [/underlined]
[page break]
55
[blank page]
[page break]
56
[blank page]
[page break]
57
[underlined] A KRIEGIES X COMMANDMENTS [/underlined]
I THOU SHALT NOT REFUSE ANYTHING.
II THOU SHALT DO NO ARBIET. NIETHER [sic] SHALT THOU DO DHOBI. NIETHER [sic] SHALT THOU LABOUR WHEN ON STOOGE NOR DO ANYTHING IN HASTE. THOU SHALT ALWAYS ENDEAVOUR TO BLUDGE.
III REMEMBER THAT THOU KEEP HOLY PARCEL ISSUE DAY.
IV HONOUR THE RED CROSS. Y.M.C.A. AND GENEVA CONVENTION LEST IN THE DAY OF NEED YOUR CRIES GO UNHEEDED.
V THOU SHALT NOT WALK OVER THE WARNING WIRE.
VI THOU SHALT NOT BE FOUND OUT.
VII THOU SHALT GET INTO AS MANY RACKETS AS POSSIBLE.
VIII THOU SHALT EXPOSE THE REST
IX THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOURS SPACE
X THOU SHALT NOT COVERT THY NEIGHBOURS BEDBOARDS, NOR HIS PALLIASE, [sic] NOR HIS DIXIE NOR ANYTHING THAT IS HIS.
[underlined] AMEN [/underlined]
[page break]
62
11
12 didn’t sleep very well about 4 1/2 hrs up 6.30 picked up a 7.10 went to Bristol thru evesham stratford still [one indecipherable word] about breakfast, transport cafe dripping toast into depot [inserted] lunch on way back [/inserted] back to Shawbury for delivery into work at 3.45 did some jobs home about 5.20 went to badminton home just after 10-00 bed at 12 and slept quite well up once only.
13 up at 11.30 breakfast read paper read a part of book Dutch resistance watched [one indecipherable word] long range desert group. Sea of sand Richard Attenborough, went for walk in garden finished The stand started another about Dutch resistance. very good.
14 didn’t sleep well up 10.30 lovely morning went in garden and did a bit of tidying up same after dinner.
15 very cold and windy had log fire sat by but chilblain on toe playing fine tune had to move to other end.
16 after dinner started jigsaw. B out. phone rang got it too late bed 11.30 raining.
17 up 9.30 walk to Branston. Peter phoned from work wonder what budget surveyor B gone to town made self coffee 11.30 Rich cold no Badminton raining would have walked down B hair then TLG home been on own most of today.
[page break]
18th Rough nite with children snowed today most of morning walk in Garden afternoon cut some plaster off to set at toe.
19th Nice morning B at Drop out then hair do finished nuzzle watched snooker went to badminton read a bit bed at 12.
20th up 10.30 was going for walk but it snowed for a while. Went for walked [sic] when finished 1.30 it is snowing again.
21 Not good night snowed again today watched snooker and filmed T.V read book F Forsyth fourth protocol. J Stewart film to finish up bed 12.05
22 up 10.30 after good night went for walk round new st met a number of folks after dinner Peter came in Sues car then their house to watch Rugby France Ireland. F won Wales v Scotland S won then to B & R for tea then played cards till 11.50 nice meal not too [one indecipherable word] home at 12 now watching final of [one indecipherable word] snooker [two indecipherable words]
23
24 Up 7.30 to LRI FOR 8-50 straight in had plaster of saw doc no more treatment, walk as much as possible no [one indecipherable word] 3 wks leg all scaly and white feels funny not much sleep went to badminton Lynden taking me into work Mon
[page break]
64
25 up by 10 cold day tho sunshine finished book 4th Protocol F Forsyth good Frank came in 3pm went 4pm brought book on RAF, been for walk but not very good, starting work Mon.
26th Went for walk as far as Branston foot rather swollen read watched tele Rick & C came told us they have decided to go back to Aussie later this year [two indecipherable words] winch went badminton watched Bowls
27th Two slates of [sic] roof had to prop up fence mine also blown down by Mrs Austin lots of destruction severn bridge closed also Humber an M2 lots of lorries blown over
[page break]
65
[blank page]
[page break]
104
AUGSBURG — FRANKFURT AM MAIN — DAEMSTADT — FALLINGBOSTEL NR HANOVER — THORNI (POLISH CORRIDOR — HYDECRUG [deleted] NR HANOVER [/deleted] EAST PRUSSIA — MARCH - CELLE CROSSED ELBE HEADING FOR LUBECK — LUNEBURG CAMP FLEW HOME
[page break]
105
COSFORD
[page break]
106
RANKS AND SERVICE Nos OF FRIENDS
[page break]
107
[blank page]
[page break]
108
[list]
Letters received and sent.
[page break]
111
[blank page]
[page break]
112
[blank page]
[page break]
113
[blank page]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
WAR PRISONERS AID
AIDE AUX PRISONNIERS DE GUERRE
KRIEGSGEFANGENENHILFE
WORLD’S ALLIANCE OF YOUNG MEN’S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATIONS
ALLIANCE UNIVERSELLE DES UNIONS CHRÉTIENNES DE JEUNES GENS WELTBUND DER CHRISTLICHEN VEREINE JUNGER MĀNNER
Quai Wilson, 37
GENÈVE (Suisse]
Centre International
Addresse Télégraph, : FLEMGO-GENÈVE
Compte de Chèques postaux : 1. 331
Téléphone 2.70.60
Dear Friend,
After the Canadian and American editions of the War-time Log, here is a special issue for British prisoners of war. Though its format is somewhat different, its purpose is just the same as the others: to bring you greetings from friends and to facilitate your recording some of your experience during these eventful years.
Not everyone will want to use this book as a diary. If you are a writer, here is space for a short story. If you are an artist, you may want to cover these pages with sketches of your camp, caricatures of its important personalities. If you are a poet, major or minor, confide your lyrics to these pages. If you feel that circumstances cramp your style in correspondence, you may write here letters to be carried with you on your return. This book may serve to list the most striking concoctions of the camp kitchen, the records of camp sports or a selection of the best jokes cracked in camp. One man has suggested using the autograph of one of his companions (plus his fingerprints?) to head each page, followed by free and frank remarks about the man himself. You may write a commentary on such photographs as you may have to mount on the special pages for that purpose with the mounting-corners in the pocket of the back cover. This pocket may be used for clippings you want to preserve, or, together with the small envelopes on the last page, for authentic souvenirs of life in camp.
Your own ingenuity may suggest to you many other ways of using this book, which comes to you with our greetings and good wishes.
Yours very sincerely,
WAR PRISONERS’ AID OF THE YMCA.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Dick Curnock's Wartime Log
Description
An account of the resource
In the log Dick Curnock recorded crew and friends names and addresses, an obituary of Ginge Wheeldon who was shot by a Typhoon whilst on a march, cartoons, sketches of aircraft, dates of letters received and samples of window.
Creator
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Dick Curnock
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29 page handwritten book
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eng
Type
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Text
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MCurnockRM1815605-171114-093
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Leicester
England--Leicestershire
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.
Temporal Coverage
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1944
1945-04-19
1945-04-20
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Alan Pinchbeck
David Bloomfield
aircrew
Anson
arts and crafts
C-47
Defiant
final resting place
flight engineer
Halifax
Lysander
military living conditions
Oxford
prisoner of war
Red Cross
strafing
Tiger Moth
Typhoon
Wellington
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/501/22419/BCurnockRMCurnockRMv1.2.pdf
dd6c1f8bb85b78fcd0c5a2ab7464a67a
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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Curnock, Richard
Richard Murdock Curnock
R M Curnock
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Curnock, RM
Date
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2016-04-18
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Description
An account of the resource
92 items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Richard Curnock (1924, 1915605 Royal Air Force), his log book, letters, photographs and prisoner of war magazines. He flew operations with 425 Squadron before being shot down and becoming a prisoner of war.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Richard Curnock and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[photograph]
Richard Montague Curnock
My War Story
[page break]
[underlined] CONTENTS [/underlined]
Page Number
Foreword 4
World War II begins 5
Samuel William Curnock 7
Dick's War Begins 10
Dalcross 10
Wellesbourne- Warwickshire 11
Heavy Conversion Unit - Dishforth (York's) the crew is completed 13
Tolthorpe - Squadron station 14
Our First Mission 15
The Second and Final Mission 16
Prisoner of War-number 2108 17
Stalag Luft VI - Heydekrug 18
Kriegies 10 commandments 20
Torun Stalag Luft 357 25
Oerbke near Fallingsbostel 27
The Long March 27
19th April 1945 28
The end of the War nears 31
Military Transport Training 33
Horsham 34
Egypt??? 35
To Italy 36
On the Road to Bari 39
Mercy Mission to Egypt 43
Dakota back to Italy - Treviso 46
2
[page break]
Reunions 49
Appendix 1- RAF flying log book 52
i) Gunnery course results 52
ii) Gunnery training 53
iii) - vi) 22 O.T.U 54-57
vii) - viii) 1664 Conversion Unit 58 - 59
ix) 425 Squadron 60
x) Flights to visit Bob in Egypt 61
Appendix 2 - Berlin cemetery plan 62
Appendix 3 - The March 63
Appendix 4 Red Cross map of prisoner of war camps
i) Long march route and map correction information 65
ii) Long march route 66
iii) Blue cross in circle marks where Dick was shot down. Red
cross near Frankfurt where he was moved to 67
iv) Red line shows route taken by Dick. Torun (Thorn camp) 68
v) Poznan - Stalag Luft XXI D 69
vi) Stalag Luft VI - Lithuania 70
3
[page break]
Foreword
The following writings are a combination of Dick's recollections as he remembers them in 2013/14. Also within are additions (in blue) from earlier recordings by Barbara, and information taken from his Wartime log (given to him by the Red Cross when in his first POW camp). And from his RAF navigator's; air bomber's and air gunner's flying log book.
Richard Montague Curnock (in his own words January 2014)
I was speaking just recently to Shirley and Steph about the anniversary of the shooting of the 50 POW's that attempted the escape from Stalag Luft 3, as I was at that time also a prisoner in another camp and was recounting how we took the news of this wholesale murder of our fellow airmen, also what the Germans retaliated with was an excuse for their prisoners over in North Africa having to sleep in tents (which anybody knows most troops lived that way in the desert) they took all our mattresses off the bunk beds, which left us with about five or six bed boards only and one blanket too sleep on, also we had two tables and a few chairs to each room, these they also removed.
All this happened whilst we were herded out of huts on to the parade ground where we were surrounded by hundreds of the German army in lorries with mounted machine guns, also the troops were on the ground with machine guns also lying on the roofs of the huts were virtually surrounded and all you could see guns pointing your way.
4
[page break]
[underlined] World War II begins [/underlined]
Guess it is time for me to start this saga of my war time story, which started when it was announced that Hitler had not replied to our letter stating of no reply had been heard from them by 11am on 3rd September 1939 then we would be at war with them, no reply so we were at war again.
I was a fifteen year old and had been working for a year and half, the first twelve months in a piano shop on Belgrave Road, was sacked for not dusting the violins and bows that hung on the walls "enough times".
My day started at 8.45 washing the front of the shop which was on a corner, so had two large windows and tiles along under the window, then dust all the pianos and they needed polishing regularly, sweeping regularly, attending to customers who wanted to pay for the their [sic] pianos which they paid for weekly. Pianos were priced at the lower being 12 pounds for an upright and 15 pound for an over strung, we had a special made for a customer a baby grand, the wood used was walnut and cost 35 pounds was on show for a week.
[photograph]
Dick, Sam, Bob and Mary, Minehead Street. 1940-1
Next job was making boot polish and paint that was used in the boot and shoe industry. My job was delivering the product to a lot of factories in Leicester and as far as Wigston and Oadby on a bike with a large basket over the front wheel, which held quite a lot of cans, they weighed nearly as much as I did that's another story.
5
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[photograph] [photograph]
Dick in ATC uniform 1941 Bob, Dick, Sam and Mary (1941)
6
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[underlined] Samuel William Curnock [/underlined]
[photograph]
Samuel William Curnock RAFVR: newly qualified sergeant pilot 1942
Brother Sam was already in the RAF and over in Canada training to be a pilot and I had then joined the Air Training Corps on third September 1941 as an aircrew cadet, brother Bob I believe was waiting to go into the RAF as a trainee pilot, I believe that during his tour over there Sam was killed in a flying accident at Gibraltar in 1942 (26th September 1942).
7
[page break]
[photograph]
Our flying crews have their recreation room at the United Kingdom landplane base
Sam (second from left) in a recreation room
There was nothing to how the accident happened but that the aircraft crashed into the sea at Gibraltar with no survivors. The pilot was a senior captain, Sam was a second pilot officer and they had an officer wireless operator. We were led to believe it could have been sabotage but no one knew.
It was then I decided I would get in the RAF quicker if I re-mustered as an air gunner instead of waiting for my pilot navigator course to come through.
In 2009 Peter and Jayne received a phone call from Jonathan Falconer who was researching Sam Curnock, the extract below gives more information on the circumstances of Sam's death than the family had ever known before.
Extract from "Names in Stone"-Jonathan Falconer.
Sam had volunteered to join the RAF in October 1940 on his eighteenth birthday, just as the fortunes of the RAF seemed to be swinging in its favour after the desperate air battles of the Battle of Britain in the summer months. He learnt to fly on Tiger Moths at 7 Elementary Flying Training School, Desford; Leicestershire. Before sailing to Canada; for further flying training at 73 Service Flying Training School; north Battleford, Saskatcheqan [sic] .
Sam qualified as a pilot and returned to England. With a shortage of flight crews for civil aircraft he was transferred in May 1942 to fly transport aircraft with Britain's national airline; BOAC.
in September 1942, Sam was Second Officer in the four-man crew of Whitley MK V, G-AGCI, which was operated by BOAC on its route between the UK and Gibraltar. Thirty-three year old Capt Charles Browne was in command of "Charlie-India".
8
[page break]
Charlie-India had flown into Gibraltar from England on 10th September 1942 and the aircraft's Master had stated in his Voyage Report that the aircraft was tail-heavy for the landing. The aircraft left again for England on 13th September, but her Master decided to turn back after only 25 minutes, reporting that Charlie India was now flying nose heavy.
Not long before his death, Sam was second pilot in a BOAC Whitley that crashed in England on take-off due to engine failure. He was uninjured and managed to walk away from the wreckage. In the fortnight that remained before her fatal crash, Charlie-India was the subject of several engineering inspections and three test flights after report by several pilots of nose and tail heaviness during flight. These problems appeared cured, but on 19th September the Master reported that Charlie-India was underpowered during take off and the initial climb, and unstable in flight. A further detailed inspection was carried out and another test flight was arranged.
To add to Charlie-India's woes, on 24th September the twin Bristol Hercules engines of an RAF Beaufighter was run up on Gibraltar's tarmac, tail on to the BOAC Whitley. The powerful propeller wash from the two radial engines caused damage to the trailing edge of the Whitley's elevators and the rudder trim tabs. Engineers made temporary repairs to the elevators, the damaged trim tab mechanisms were replaced, and a test flight was arranged for 3.56pm on 26th September.
With Charles Browne in command and Sam and the rest of the crew, Charlie-India took off normally from Gibraltar's east-west runway at 3.56pm and climbed out over the Bay of Gibraltar to about 300 feet, whereupon Browne eased the Whitley into a left-hand turn. Then something went badly wrong because the aircraft assumed a power glide attitude and continued in a shallow dive until it struck the sea at 3.59pm, sinking almost immediately in more than 900 feet of water.
Naval vessels were on the scene within minutes. Apart from a few small items of wreckage floating on the surface, the aircraft was not recovered. There were no survivors from her crew of four, and no bodies were ever recovered.
BOAC's technical investigators launched an immediate inquiry into the crash and on 29th October 1942 they made their report. Its conclusion was based more on informed speculation than hard fact, but in the absence of any wreckage or survivors this was the best that could be hoped for: "The precise cause of the accident cannot be determined, but a possible cause was an uncontrollable elevator trimmer tab due to a fracture in some part of the actuating mechanism .... There exists a possibility that subsequent to the take off one or both of the elevator trimmer tab mechanisms fractured, with the result that the Master was unable to maintain longitudinal control of the aircraft."
9
[page break]
[underlined] Dick's war begins [/underlined]
22nd March 1943; When l was 18 and 11 months I was called up (RAF (V.R) volunteer Reserve) and was sent a rail warrant for travel to London and Lord's cricket ground which was the Aircrew Receiving Centre (A.C.R.C) for al! aircrew candidates were we were kitted out and billeted in hotels all around the St Johns Wood area, loads of marching around going from one lecture to another with lots of marching exercises around the hotels, and in between times you were taken to a medical centre for inoculation, stand in line both arms bared, left arm two injections one inoculation right arm then out to the street, where there were bodies al! over the place, some bodies flat out other holding their arms and moaning. When they managed to get all of us in some semblance of order, we marched back to our hotels, but swinging of arms was painful and was not done with any energy.
After our initiation into RAF life we were on a train to Bridlington to learn navigation, armaments mathematics- aircraft recognition plus as always plenty of marching from one lecture to another, one other pastime was Morse code and the Aldis lamp, this was done with someone being sent to the end of the breakwater with an instructor with an Aldis lamp and they sent signals to the rest of us on the beach in twos, one reading the signal being sent and your friend writing it down, we used got some very weird messages at end of a session.
My next stage of training after Bridlington was Bridgnorth where unfortunately there was an outbreak of scarlet fever and German measles and unfortunately I happened to catch German measles and was put into an isolation hut, one of many for the recruits who had caught one of the diseases. I was put into a room of my own and had two weeks being looked after very well by a WAAF nurse during the day, and my night nurse who looked after me exceptionally well and was a lovely young lady. And as my condition improved she brought a radio into my room and we managed to have a dance and then she would tuck me up for the night with a cuddle and kiss goodnight.
After two weeks it was back to work where we did have a lot of lectures about armaments - aircraft recognition - Morse code with mathematics also but mainly armaments, how to dismantle a machine gun and also put it back and hope it worked alright.
Aircraft recognition was a priority knowing which the enemy was and which ours. My time spent with aircraft recognition at home kept me getting top marks in every exam we did, we had night vision exams where pictures were shown on a screen as if you were in a turret and had to identify the aircraft shown, my trouble was the fellows around me were always asking me what the aircraft was, the instructor stopped me helping them, he said that they would not be any use unless they got to know themselves. From then on I was removed from my seat and had to sit by the light switches turning them on and off as required. After finishing this course my instructors gave me a very good report and should get on well.
[underlined] Dalcross [/underlined]
Dick RAF flying log book information can be seen in appendix 1
My section was then sent on leave for a week after which we had to board a train to Scotland, destination was a place called Dalcross (near Inverness, Moray Firth) which turned out to be our Initial Flying Training course on Avro Ansons.
10
[page break]
Pilots converting on to twin engine Airspeed Oxford after training in Canada. This was now 17.7.43 and my course here lasted until 28.8.43 (appendix i) and ii)). The training consisted of being taken up in Avro Ansons six training gunners and an instructor we took it in turns to sit in the turret which had one gun in it attached was a camera which we had to train on a fighter aircraft which made a dummy attack on you, all exciting stuff, except when the fighter was late arriving and you had to fly round and round a church steeple, that was when my last coffee and biscuit decided to reappear, this happened three times, each time I was sent to the sick bay and gave an explanation of what was happening, I was given a glass of horrible liquid and told to report back for more flying. This occurred twice more by that time my stomach stopped playing around and settled down to the rigours of flying.
We also had firing with the one gun at a drone towed behind another aircraft and our bullets had colours on the tips so that they could record the number of hits. Our results were pathetic as the guns would only fire two bullets at a time and then jam so you then had to rearm it; we also used camera guns with which we had more success.
It also happened to be a training camp for pilots on night flying on airspeed oxfords.
Bob had by this time gained his pilots wings in Canada and was back in England and was posted to Dalcross near Inverness. I think this was during July 1943 and August 1943 to train on twin engine Airspeed Oxfords. Neither of us knew we were there until one evening we were going into Inverness and just happened to be walking down the road to catch the bus into town when I spotted Bob who was as surprised as I was; from then on we spent a bit of time together until he was posted elsewhere.
I continued at Dalcross to become a Sergeant air gunner had quite a good report from all the training staff and was given above average report from most of the tutors, not that it helped much as the ammunition we were using had a wide flange on the bullet casing as it was American and caused it to stick, you could only fire a couple of rounds and then you had to re-cock it again, life was hard on us.
[underlined] Wellesbourne- Warwickshire - meet the crew [/underlined]
18.9.1943. (Appendix iii) t [sic] vi)) My next posting was to Wellesbourne (Warwickshire) the Operational Training Unit to start being crewed up with members of a crew. The procedure was for the pilots to have a chat with the navigators, wireless operators, bomb aimers and air gunners and then ask the ones he wished to be his crew if they would join him Charlie (Chuck) Stowell, the pilot picked Bob Friskey as navigator then Eugene Fullum our wireless operator, the next was our bomb aimer Gordon Dinsmore, which left the rear gunner, which I believe was unanimous decision by them all that was me. We then spent our time getting to know each other; that is we went out at night doing a spot of drinking and rather a lot of talking or the other way round.
11
[page break]
[photograph]
Bob Friskey, Eugene Fullom and Chuck Stowell
[photograph]
A copy of the only photo of the crew: Back row: Bob Friskey, Gordon Dinsmore
Front row: Eugene Fullom, Dick Curnock, Chuck Stowell
This was at Gaydon the satellite airfield to Wellsbourne, here we started flying as a crew in the Wellington bomber, doing practice bombing at targets on the coast and various places also we had
12
[page break]
fighter aircraft doing dummy attacks during which I had a camera gun and it recorded my success against these attacks we also did firing at a draught [sic] towed behind another aircraft, with our bullets being painted different colours so they could count the number of hits we scored. This proved to be very hap hazard as the ammunition we were using was American and every second round got stuck in the breech and had to be manually ejected so our scores were very low. We did quite a lot of cross country flying for the navigators to gain experience a lot of it at night time.
We also did a lot of circuit flying at night so that the pilot could manage to get us back to the airfield safely. Some nights were a bit bumpy as he misjudged his height, my head used to get a lot of knocks on these occasions and the skippers name was anything but "Chuck".
[drawing]
Picture drawn by Dick whilst a prisoner of war
[underlined] Heavy Conversion Unit - Dishforth (Yorks) - the crew is completed [/underlined]
14.1.1944. ( appendix vii and viii) We moved on next to a conversion unit which meant going onto four engine aircraft this was at Dishforth (near Ripon, Yorks) 1664 Heavy conversion unit. The aircraft was a four engine Halifax bomber for which we needed two extra crew; a mid upper gunner and a flight engineer. These we met and we all moved into a hut so that we would could get know each other. The mid upper gunner was a Canadian from a farming background a rather slow on the uptake but we got on well together. The engineer was from Salford a tall lad and red haired. The mid upper gunner was Wesley (Wes) Skerick and the engineer was Ginger Wheadon.
13
[page break]
[photograph] [photograph]
Ginger Wheadon Wes Skerick
At this stage we were beginning to get to know each other and in the evenings we were usually down in mess having some light refreshments, Bob Friskey didn't very often come, as he had not been married very long and took to writing to his wife almost every evening, so the rest of us went into Burroughbridge [sic] the nearest town to have a few beers, this we managed quite well with a another couple of Canadians from another crew who Chuck knew, and we each bought a round of drinks which lasted us most of the evening.
[underlined] Tolthorpe - Squadron station [/underlined]
7.2.1944. (Appendix ix) We then moved from Dishforth on to our squadron station which was at Tolthorpe near Easingwold still up in Yorkshire. It was the only French Canadian squadron from Canada, although all spoke English there was a lot of French spoken between most of the other crews, also most of the senior officers were from French ancestors. They could get very aggressive to each other as happened one evening later on.
Here there were four squadrons of Halifax bombers with around 60 planes. The squadrons with mainly Canadian or French/Canadian crews were:
[picture of 425 Squadron crest]
420 Snowy Owl
425 Alouette (the Lark- Dick's squadron)
431 Iroquois
434 Blue Nose
14
[page break]
We did lots of night cross country to various parts of the England to give the navigator, targets to find and which would be our target to bomb later on, also we had a bombing range which we had to find and drop practice smoke bombs on and from a certain height, some pilots tried to drop from a lower height so that they were getting better results and a higher percentage of hits. Not our pilot he said we would go as high as the aircraft could climb and then drop our bombs, which we did, only to be told on our return we were still too low, to which the skipper said that the Wellington couldn't climb any higher, and the rear gunner had a tin of drink in his flying suit pocket that was frozen no more was said on the subject.
We as a crew were sent to a camp which was to improve our fitness, which we didn't think was necessary as we all felt fit and well, we were allocated a hut and promptly forgot, we went for meals regularly and were not called on to do anything apart from eat and sleep, Eugene Gordon and myself walked around the fields and found where they were growing swedes, carrots, turnips, so we borrowed a few and cooked them on our stove in the hut and with other bits from the cookhouse and had some good meals in the evenings. Fortunately we were only there for about 10 days, and then were sent to squadron.
The squadron was from Canada and had only been in England a short while and we joined it at the end of January 1944 in which time we got to know the aircraft we to fly in, it was a Halifax MK3 K.W.U for Uncle. Unfortunately for us we only did about 14 hours training on our aircraft.
[photograph of Halifax bomber]
Halifax Bomber
[underlined] Our First Mission [/underlined]
February 24th/25th we were called for a briefing and found we were due to fly a bombing trip to a place called Swinefurt [sic] , a long trip to the south of Germany which would be an eight hour round trip but unfortunately the port outer engine decided to cause a problem and stopped altogether, we couldn't climb to our bombing height due to lack of power and could not carry on at this low height, so the skipper decided we had best abort and return to base dropping our bomb load at sea. Which we did, and landed back at air station about three hours after take off. Not a good start at all, but the fault was found to be a blockage in the fuel pipe to the engine.
15
[page break]
[underlined] The Second and Final Mission [/underlined]
February 25th/26th we were on our second trip which was a bombing raid on Augsburg (North West of Munich) to bomb a factory making ball bearings for tanks, from which we failed to return. Our aircraft was hit by anti aircraft fire and both the engines on our left side were put out of action and caught fire. The noise it made when the shell hit our left side was like a firework being let off inside a dustbin. Then the next thing was flames coming past my turret Chuck our skipper came over our intercom asking if we were all uninjured which he did by calling each one by name. Then he said that we were not going to keep going, so had to bale out, each one of us saying we understood, good luck and made ready to bale out. What to do first I thought, disconnect my intercom, then the oxygen tube, think we were flying at a height of around twenty four thousand feet so would I have enough oxygen to keep going to get my parachute which was in a rack in the fuselage and then get the panel open in the fuselage floor for myself and mid upper - which was Wes to jump out. We shook hands and shouted good luck and looked down through the hatch to see the flames from the engines flying by so put my leg out and flow of air pulled the rest of me out!!
Suddenly everywhere is quiet, you are supposed to count to ten before pulling the ripcord to your parachute by the time I counted up to four I didn't hear any noise so pulled my ripcord and was instantly jerked upright, with my flying suit collar up round my ears and it was very quiet.
My thoughts whilst drifting down were varied and very worrying to say the least, it had my thoughts in turmoil.
Below was a patchwork due to snow and could have been fields, but from a height of 20000 feet there was no telling what it was going to be. My thoughts of a church spire came to mind or there was an industrial town down there with factories with tall chimneys also electric power cables, or a town with tall house and me hanging from the roof. The later [sic] was near to it as I came down between two poplar trees and I landed in a town house garden in an apple tree. I had my parachute hanging up in the tree, which I decided to pull down but it must have snagged and a piece ripped off and was left hanging in the tree what I had pulled down and bundled up and slipped under some buses [sic] . I then decided to find a way out of the garden; so removed my flying kit as I would be very conspicuous walking around in it. At that time I was just in my battle dress getting very cold, I then found a road running alongside the garden, so jumped over the wall onto a road started walking past some large houses all about five stories high, I had landed in a large residential area of a town. Then the siren for what I presumed was an air raid starting, so I walked up another road to miss people around that area, then the siren started again and people started running around (I discovered later that they had two sirens at the start of a raid and also two all clears) by which time I was back to where I had landed in the garden. So I hopped back over the wall and decided to put my flying suit back on as I was feeling very cold.
What to do now I thought; sleep seemed the best option or wake someone up and tell them who I was and call the police. I ended up curling up and sleeping and was woken by a squirrel running around me and then two elderly ladies coming our of the house next door and saw a piece of my parachute stuck up the tree, they shouted and ran back indoors and about 10 minutes later a policeman came down the garden path with a little pistol pointing at me and said hands up or words to that effect. Which I obliged, he then told me to take off my flying suit and go in front of him where
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he had left his cycle, and for me to put my clothes on his bike and we walked into the town to a police station. There were lots of people in the police station a lot were ex army with battle scars but quite polite, except one old boy who should have been in a home for the elderly along time ago, saying we would never win the war by sending us over to spy on them.
[underlined] Prisoner of War -number 2108 [/underlined] (Appendix 4 - iii) -Red Cross Map of prisoner of war camps)
I was then escorted to the Gestapo headquarters in the town which I discovered was Darmstadt (South East of Frankfurt) (on this journey Dick cut up his parachute with his penknife so that it couldn't be used by the Germans), and there met up with Wes, Eugene and Gordon whilst waiting there a rather irate man came in and picked up a chair and was going to hit Eugene with it, but fortunately I was able to stop the blow hitting Eugene with my flying suit, we found out later that Eugene had fractured his spine, releasing himself from his parachute harness whilst still hanging along way from the ground, which meant he had to go to a hospital so we didn't have any further contact with him.
Wes, Gordon and self were then taken by two armed guards to a building being used by the Police and handed over to Dulagluft Interrogation HQ on a tramcar with civilians on board who looked at us rather hostile, good job we had a couple of Luftwaffe guards with us, on the way through the streets there were a number of bodies hanging from lampposts turned out to be American airmen shot down on an earlier raid, quite a jolt to the system.
At the Interrogation HQ all our belongings were taken from us and we were then put into a cell with only a bed and a chair in it, no windows and an electric light on all the time, so you didn't know what part of the day or night it was. Dick became prisoner of war number 2108.
Then every so often an officer came in and said he was from the Red Cross and he would make sure that my parents would be notified where I was and was alright, but was being held in Germany as a prisoner of war and would be able to write once we had been sent to a POW camp. This treatment went on for quite a time you didn't know what day it was or time of day, we were fed soup and black bread and had brown water which they said was coffee, two or three times I was taken out and interviewed by an officer who told me who our commanding officer was and he had a daughter, had I met her, and then proceeded to tell me about the Halifax bomber but it wasn't doing much damage and we were losing them at a fare [sic] rate every night. When after a few days we were taken into the camp and given an American plastic suitcase in which was all manner of toiletries and clothes -a pair of slip on slippers, a towel, a face flannel, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, pyjamas, packet of pipe tobacco and a pipe, packet of twenty cigarettes, some vest and pants, a bar of chocolate a meal can opener, also an American army shirt.
We stayed there for a short while until they had enough bodies to fill up a lot of cattle trucks to take us to our next camp. I was then issued with our name and prisoner of war number, mine being 2108 and made of metal, we still had only our battledress uniforms and it was February so felt the cold. (Appendix 4 - iv)
Then one morning we were paraded on the square with our cases and marched off to the railway yard where our train awaited, there was no difference between first and third class, you were just herded along and pushed up into a cattle truck 20 prisoners into each end of the wagon (The wagons had written on the side - 40 hommes or 8 cheveaux, this became part of the POW insignia after the war),
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with the centre section for the guards, so each wagon was divided into compartments by a wire netting wall. There were no toilets so you had to wait until we had been shunted off the mainline and were then allowed to do your do's sitting on a log which was alongside the railway line, at first it was very embarrassing but after three or four days you didn't bother just got on with it.
We had a stop each day for a bowl of soup and drink of so called coffee. Forgot to mention that each truck had a guard sitting on top of the wagon and must have been covered in smoke from the engines. Sleeping was almost impossible with twenty people in a small space, but you managed you might have had feet by your head or a bottom, because the only pillow you had was your plastic suitcase.
I didn't keep a record of how long the train trip was but was told it was ten to twelve days, we passed through a couple of large stations but could only see out through the gaps in the sides of the trucks as the guards closed the doors, were surprised at one station when we went slowly past a train of open trucks packed with people they were either Jews or displaced persons being taken to places of forced labour, we couldn't pass them anything so had to just let them pass without being able to speak to them.
[underlined] Stalag Luft VI - Heydekrug [/underlined] (Appendix 4 - vi)
We finally arrived at our destination Heydekrug (in Lithuania) and Stalaf Luft 6 which meant in German prison camp for airmen. This was in East Prussia on the Baltic coast and was built on sand, so that tunnels couldn't be dug in the sandy soil, that didn't stop some of the hot heads from trying. Only one was tried and the Germans had some idea this was happening and brought a motor roller in to run up and down between the huts, it found a tunnel starting out between two huts and it sank into the sand about six feet and was stuck for two days, when they finally tried to move it, they couldn't start it as a lot of the parts had somehow gone missing, the Germans never did the same trick again.
All the crew members met up again here, except for Eugene, who was in hospital. The camp was divided into 3 compounds, two of which contained 2,000 men, the third being smaller held 1,000 men. Dick was in one of the larger compounds, with 60 men to a room. Dick and Ginger were in the same hut, the other crew members elsewhere.
We had some good men who cold [sic] turn their hands to anything and make things out of bits and pieces, one being a clock which went backwards made from an old gramophone. Also we had radios I think there were two, both were built inside Dixie's which was an eating and cooking pot.
We had some well educated lads with as a lot of early aircrew were from college undergraduates who were in the call up age range, so they started up classes in the camp on a variety of subjects, and you could qualify for a degree as the Red Cross got permission from the Germans for this to happen. One of the POWs that made use of the books was Peter Thomas, who became a Welsh MP after the war and later Lord Thomas.
My only inroad into anything like this was to draw in our POW book, we were issued with, like a diary was the drawing of the aircraft they flew in and the air force inscription over the top; and I charged one cigarette for each drawing, not a lot but helped out. I believe a number of people at home sent me cigarettes through the Red Cross but only two tins of tobacco got through to me, these were St
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Bruno and they lasted me some time. They would have lasted longer but I used to roll some into cigarettes and fellows used to drop by for a couple of puffs.
[drawing of book]
One of Dick's drawings
Dick also found a talent for needlework. He unpicked the silk lining from his flying boots, and made a cravat, with the RAF crest embroidered on it.
Cigarettes were used as currency for buying food, if and when the Red Cross food parcels arrived, they were divided up and were allocated, as 1 parcel between seven or ten men, not a lot, but as some kriegies didn't want some of the item they sold them for cigarettes. (Kriegies was short for Kriegesgefangenen which is the German word for prisoner of war)
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[underlined] Kriegies 10 commandments [/underlined]
[drawing of scroll]
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We had radios which were hidden in various places. In our hut we had the men who looked after the radios. One evening after being shut in, lookouts kept watch whilst repairs were being done. Suddenly someone shouted Goons up. An officer with three men plus an Alsatian dog walked in, the tables were cleared very quickly, everything dropped into a carton and passed down the lower bunks, it arrived at my bunk and I had nowhere to pass it to so I hid it under my knees under a blanket and picked up a book to read. The dog came sniffing around but kept on going by, when I sort of came too I found my book which I was supposedly reading was upside down. Good job the dog didn't notice it.
[drawing of hut interior]
Inside one of the huts in a camp
Mornings started with the overnight latrine bucket having to be emptied, not a nice job we had a rota in the hut and two of us had to take a 30 to 40 litre container almost full and take it and empty it at the toilet block you invariably finished up rather damp and needed a good wash.
Next it was the guards shouting "RAUS!" get out the parade ground for morning head count and anything that the Germans thought we should know, like how well they were doing in the war but didn't say where.
After the head count which could take quite some time, they couldn't agree on the figures and had to do it again sometimes it was our own faults [sic] for moving around whilst they tried to count us.
Finally all was right so off for breakfast the German rations were not very plentiful. It started with what they said was coffee, first in the morning, but what it was made with didn't question, but it was hot and with adding powered milk you drank it, it had to be fetched from the cookhouse in metal jugs.
Dinner was usually a soup of some sort could just be potato or sauerkraut and on a good day you were given corned beef which was send to the camp from Argentina, another soup was swede with potatoes, we were also issued with a fish cheese which was not very palatable but you ate it.
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Bread, black was issued per day, it varied in the amount which was either 6 or 10 persons sharing a loaf which was about 8 or 9 inches long about 4 inches wide and could be 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 inches deep that is they were thicker one end than the other, so one can imagine trying to share it out to either a combination of three or twelve.
Then to the cookhouse for our very large cans of ertzats [sic] coffee I still don't know what it was made of but it was wet and warm and washed down your breakfast if you ever had any. You were dreaming about eggs and bacon and toast and marmalade but didn't make a habit of it.
The next part of the morning was spent washing and shaving or not then cleaning up your space and making it tidy, then any washing you had to do for which you had to boil water which meant finding some material to burn, bed boards were used but there was a limit to how many you could sleep without and still have a straight back. As I previously mentioned classes were being held in huts all around the camp during the day also we had the parade ground on which was played sports, football, rugby, rounder's and also they had physical exercises for those who wanted it, we had a stream running through a part of the camp which was used to see who could jump it in one go! If not you had a free foot wash and legs and shorts!!
During the evenings one of our newsreaders would come in the hut, with days news that had been listened to on one of the radios (Daily Express reporter Cyril Aynsley was one who took it down in shorthand), some of us would keep watch at the door and be ready to stop the reader if any Germans happened to be about.
Most nights it was a nightly ritual to have a walk, around your section of the camp and have a chat with anyone and everyone. Then back to your hut for a late evening drink of tea or coffee which entailed lighting up your blower to boil the water. When we then had to either get to bed or light a candle and try and read but not for long.
[cartoon drawing of brew up]
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[photograph of washing facilities]
Washing facilities of Stalag 357 Fallingbostel
Our washing and shaving facilities were very limited, with some of the camps having the washing troughs in the open, ours were inside, just a trough with cold water running along it with holes in it about 18 inches in between to allow the water to run out into another trough below. If you wanted hot water it meant you had to get the blower out find some paper - cardboard or wood to burn to get some hot water. Wood was hard to come by unless you used your bed boards, which left you with another bend in your back. So it was usually a cold water shave and not everyday.
There was a shower room but this was situated about half a mile from the camp and we were taken there under guard once in about six weeks, why it was so far from the camp no one knew.
We were searched on leaving the camp and again when we returned, what they thought we would steal from room which only had showers and all in one large room. The water was switched on for about 10 minutes so you had to be quick.
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[letter confirming POW status]
Letter received by Dick’s Father, from the Chaplain at Tolthorpe
We were allowed to write home one letter and two postcards each month, which I think most of us took the opportunity, although it took quite a long time for the first ones to come from home. My first on arrived on August 14th having been sent from home on May 28th in all I think my mail total for my stay in Germany was a total of 42. 34 from Mum and Dad and a further 8 from friends and the caterpillar club confirming I had become a member.
[photograph of family] [reverse of photograph]
Family photo Dick received, the reverse shows the German censor’s mark
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There was a lot of aircrew arriving in the camp that they had to get two large tents and add them on to the rows of huts, each one held a further hundred men which didn't help our food rations. Not long after this we were told that we were to be moved into Germany.
[underlined] Torun Stalag Luft 357 [/underlined] (Appendix 4 - iv)
The place was actually in a part of Poland which had been the Polish Corridor and was Thorn or Torun Stalag 357. So we had to get packed up and ready to go in two days as the Russians were headed our way, so it was take the essentials, our pots and pans and the blower which was used for heating water mostly; any food plus your blanket and toiletries any spare clothes, some of the Canadian families had sent things over which were ice skates and baseball bats, most of which were left behind.
A wind up gramophone was smashed up plus all the records, and on the walk to where we had to board our cattle trucks which was about two miles away the road or more like a country track for carts was littered with discarded equipment people decided they could do without.
Once we were at the train which was waiting us at the trackside, no station. We were herded into the cattle trucks, 40 persons per truck; 20 bodies in each end of the truck. The centre used for the guards. They also had a guard sitting on top of each wagon wearing goggles and had a machine gun.
This trip took us about five days and nights on a slow train to Torun (on the river Vistula), and one wasn't very clean and tidy upon arrival.
The others at Heydekrug that were being shipped by boat from the port of Memel had a very bad time on the boat as they were herded into the hold of a boat and spent between five and seven days on board in horrible conditions on the way to a camp in Germany.
Our trip by train took about five days of shake rattle and very uncomfortable and one stop a day for the toilet, and sad to say we had to use a corner of the truck to relieve ones self.
We arrived at Thorun, which was a large camp mainly army prisoners and we were crowded into huts about 120-140 per hut and the meals we had were very poor in quality and quantity. We were only there for 6 weeks and once again were on our cooks tour again, back into our 40 hommes or 6 cheveaux carriages with a small amount of straw spread across the floor which had large gaps between the floor boards and no central heating, and again another train journey of six days to our next camp which was Fallingshostel [sic] which was about 80 miles north of Hanover. This again was an army camp but now accommodated American air force as well as us British and was split into three separate camps which also included a Russian compound. (Appendix 4 - i) and ii)
Also around this time I wanted some shoes as mine were about paper thin and I managed to get a brown pair of American army boots which was just what was needed if we were going for a long walk.
The huts were the usual having two tier bunks down each side of the room and a further rows [sic] up the centre of the room, with a large stove in the centre which wasn't used as there was no fuel for it.
The cookhouse supplied us with what was called coffee and made from what we really never found out what, but we called it coffee because it was brown. The food from the cookhouse was mainly
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some sort of soup, mainly potatoes with some sauerkraut like cabbage added. Sometimes we would have a ration of corned beef which the Argentineans sent over in bulk for us and very good too. We did also had what the Germans called cheese, but it tasted very fishy but never quite found out what its origin was our supplies of Red Cross parcels were getting few and far between with so much disruption on the railway.
Where they originally intended to have one parcel person per week, we were now having to make do with one parcel for ten men and had to last them a week or longer until more arrived.
Being closer to some large towns we now had the sounds of bombers targeting them at nights, we also had some low flying Mosquitoes shooting up the railway not far from us.
We all stood outside the hut watching when one of the guards shouted at us to get inside; of course no one moved so he took his rifle off his shoulder and put a bullet in the chamber. But forgot there was one already in, so it sent a round flying out onto the ground. The old fellow looked at us shrugged his shoulders picked up the bullet and left us to watch.
[photograph of prisoners]
Prisoners of war watching allied aircraft - inside Fallingbostel
Life here was not very good as there were too many of us cramped into huts, we did have an unusual game some evenings - because as it got dusk we had some large flying insects around, about an inch to inch and half long with a hard shell body. We used to wait them and then hit them with a wooden stick, scoring two points for a certain hit and one point for a probable; you had to produce a body for the two points. But there wasn't any prizes for a high score only a mess of squashed bodies.
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[underlined] Oerbke near Fallingbostel [/underlined]
The news we had from the Germans was that during the next couple of weeks we would be leaving camp and would be marching north to a holding area somewhere near Hamburg.
Our last camp at Oerbke near Fallingbostel was very large and housed British soldiers - some Russians also American airmen, the war was drawing to a close and the Russians were approaching us from the East and the Allies from the South so the beginning of April 1945 we going to be made to leave the camp in sections and carrying all our possessions. (Appendix 4 – i) and ii)
[underlined] The Long March [/underlined]
There is more information on the Long March in appendix 3
Whatever a holding area was meant to be for and why they would want us there was never discovered. There was a lot of speculation that they were going to drive us into the Baltic and drown us or otherwise just put us in barbed wire enclosure and leave us, but they didn't.
Instead we were marched out of the camp early April to begin a long trek northwards. The first lot we were marched out of camp April 6th in parties of about 500, everybody loaded with bags and blankets a box of food, a water bottle and all your clothes which didn't amount to much. I was glad that I had been given a new pair of army boots, also an overcoat, French army blue but very thin and not very waterproof but better than nothing. We covered varying distances each day, the weather varied from wet and windy to very cold, and we were not sure where would be sleeping the next evening.
It turned out that first night which was rather wet with rain, our accommodation was a field, no trees or high hedges to shelter us so it was rather a nasty start to our walk, which was on rough tracks through farmland and we managed to collect some vegetables from fields we passed although the guards were told to shoot anyone found doing it, which meant just about everybody.
Our second night was under the stars in a field.
It was on our third day we arrived in a village and were taken in to the church for our nights lodging sleeping anywhere you could lay out on the pews and under them and in the aisles. We had to boil water outside for our tea, on our blowers.
As we progressed each day through the county we saw American aircraft by their vapour trails going on some bombing mission.
There were some days after marching or should say walking, or hobbling, that we would finish up in a farmyard, this was welcome as we soon found eggs about. Some lucky lads found barns that were not in use as the cattle were in the fields; this allowed chicken and sometimes a small pig to enter the barn which was quickly turned into a meal.
One occasion was a nice bit of garden behind a barn that was full of ripe rhubarb, must have been about 10 feet wide and 14 feet long, within a very short time it was clear, the farmer was furious, he got an officer who said he would punish any prisoner found with stewed rhubarb. He walked around
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with the farmer looking in every saucepan or a fire, in which lo and behold they were full of stewing rhubarb, he just shrugged his shoulders and that was it.
Later in the month we had to cross the river Elbe by a railway bridge, but as we approached it there was a column of tiger tanks coming over and their tracks were breaking up the road as they passed. Our guards suddenly vanished into air raid shelters and circling over the bridge was one Spitfire. With the Germans firing at him with machine guns mounted on the ends of the towers at the ends of the railway bridge, but they were nowhere near hitting him as they fired miles behind him. They were useless.
When it quietened down and the tanks had all gone our guards came out of their air raid shelter and herded us across the bridge.
We must have covered a fare [sic] distance as we have been walking every day from the 6th April and it is now midway through April and the weather is improving, but our lodgings don't improve, the villages we go through gave us drinks of water and now the guards turn a blind eye.
It must have been mid April that was about the 18th April that we stayed at a farm that was rather run down and neglected. Cow sheds were filthy and hadn't been cleared so no one could sleep in them so we were in the open up against walls. I was itching around my waist and found that it was lice, so I needed a good wash, but where so had a look around and discovered a duck pond covered in greed [sic] weed, there had to be water under the weed, so clothes off make a hole ain [sic] the weed and lower myself into about 8 inches of water and a foot of mud, it was wonderful and I got rid of a lot of the lice.
We stayed one night in a farm where the farmer had a stable for a couple of horse, on a walk round with another chap, I found this stable and it had a water tank on top, so we had a look and found a pipe leading down from the roof with a large tap at the base, we hurried back for our toiletries and towels. I said you sit in front of the tap which was about 4 inches across and I will turn it on, which I did, and oh dear the water came out with such force he shot backwards across the cobbled floor on his bottom. He said you wait until it is your turn. It was a wonderful feeling to get your self refreshed.
[underlined] 19th April 1945 [/underlined]
Still moving North on about the 19th April we were informed that at our next stopping place we were going to get a Red Cross food parcel, one parcel per man at a place named Gresse, this was very good news as it was about three weeks since we last had one.
We were walking through a rather large forest for quite some miles now and were informed that on the other side we would be issued with our parcels.
We had been living on soup some overnight stops and now and again ertzats [sic] coffee reputedly made from acorns.
So to be handed a parcel for your self was out of this world and very much needed. So we came out of the forest along a track which was about 18 feet wide and had about another 6 or 8 feet either side which was about a foot lower and then a few trees sort of along the edge after them were fields and quite a lot more trees.
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At this time we were having a rest on the track starting to open up our parcels, when we heard some aircraft flying parallel to us about half a mile away. They sounded like Hurricanes so could be ours so kept sorting our parcels, when we heard these load explosions coming down the road towards us. The aircraft turned out to be our own Typhoons equipped with rockets and cannons plus machine guns and anti personnel rockets.
I flung myself down and into the ditch which was only shallow and behind a plant which was about a foot high and about eight inches wide. it was just something to hang onto. The guard who had been sitting by a tree had been wounded and next to me an Aussie Sergeant wireless operator had been shot through his head and chest, my nearest bullet hit my boot heel, as I felt it but it just left a line across the heel.
The two others I shared everything with were Ginger Wheadon and Alec Laing, who were no where to be seen. So I decided to walk back and found Alec not far away but very shaky. So told him to stay put and I would look for Ginger, on my way back up the track, I was giving drinks of water to people who had been wounded and were waiting for treatment either shock or wounds, but couldn't find Ginger.
There were people calling out for their friends, I came across one fellow sitting by a tree with the lower part of his body a mess, although he asked me for a drink as if nothing was wrong. Just as I had given him a drink a couple of his pals came and took over whilst I carried on my search for Ginger.
At one hedge I passed there were legs sticking through so I hopefully looked on the other side, but hastily moved on as they were all there was.
There were quite a few bodies lying about on the track but not Ginger, someone suggested I looked in the fields near where we had been; a lot of men had run across them, so I did and found him but he had been hit in the chest whilst running and was dead.
He must have left his belongings in his haste as I never found them.
In Dick's Wartime log book he wrote on April 20th 1945 - "to our engineer Ginger Wheadon. Ging was killed by a bullet from a Typhoon whilst we were resting during a march on April 19th 1945, he was killed instantly. We are trying to get some of his personal kit to bring home for his Mother and Mary his girl. He was buried at a village of Heydekrug, 4km from Gresse where we had just drawn food parcels. He was buried by our Padre and a parson. The time of his death was about 12 noon.
Having looked after one or two other badly wounded lads, l went back to Ginger only to find that all his kit had been taken and his pockets empty. Some thieving B……. had pinched everything he had on him.
I only hope the food choked them and all the other things brought them the worst luck possible."
The count was 35 POW were killed also 6 of the German guards.
I searched around and found one of our seniors who I gave him Gingers name which apparently someone else had already done so after finding his name and number on his dog tags. So I returned to where I had left Alec and we moved on down the road to the next village where we stayed for the
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night in field with a couple of barns in it but some good thick hedges to bed down under and found a barn with some straw in which we used as bedding.
Dixie Deans our camp commandant spoke to the officer who was in command of the Germans guarding us to let him go through the German lines accompanied by a German officer with a safe conduct note, to then contact the Americans, and let them know that there were 20,000 allied prisoners on the line of their advance and to advise them to let their airbase know of this situation. This was done and Dixie Dean and his accompanying German officer cycled back through the lines and after sorting out the burial of our lads in the churchyard at Gresse.
They were buried in a mass grave and the German priest held a service for our lads and also the guards that were killed. (After the war the RAF personnel killed in this attack were reburied in a new Commonwealth War grave cemetery outside Berlin see appendix 2).
The injured where taken to a hospital at Boizenburg for treatment, and no doubt sent home for further treatment.
Our English Padre was to march on with the others as he would not attend the church service as it was not his parish.
That was April 19th 1945 which will always be remembered as it was just a few days before my 21st birthday which I very nearly could have missed, that was a dream that haunted me for quite some time.
We constantly saw American aircraft around but they were mainly bombers heading Hamburg way we did pass an airfield that had JU88's on it but it had been bombed and most of its aircraft destroyed.
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[War Graves Commission citation]
Ginger's burial place, to the right of the building in the distance (see Appendix 2 for cemetery map)
[underlined] The end of the War nears [/underlined]
We carried on Northwards and the farms that we stayed in were larger and did have some decent barns, but were rather a lot bodies and not everyone got in a barn. Alec and my self usually found a well and stayed out with the weather now being quite good. My birthday on the 26th April was nothing special I think maybe I had an extra piece of chocolate and maybe made a cigarette with my pipe tobacco and smoked it all myself, otherwise we usually passed them around.
It's now the beginning of May the weather is quite good and there are lots of American aircraft leaving vapour trails, we think Hamburg or ports in the North were their targets.
We settled down on the 2nd May in a small outhouse with no windows or doors just three walls and a roof that would have let in more rain than it kept out and wondering what tomorrow would bring.
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When we woke to a fine morning and made a drink someone said look all our guards have gone during the night, so we then went to find what our next move was.
We were told not to go out on the roads running North as there were German panzer troops still in that area, this information we got from an officer in jeep which came on ahead of the English and American troops who pushing the Germans back in this area.
We were then informed by Dixie Deans that we were to find some means of transport and make our own way South to Luneburg where our troops had built a pontoon bridge over the river Elbe and from there proceed to a German airfield situated near Luneburg, which had been turned into a reception area for POWs.
The area around the airfield became littered with vehicles we had acquired including a fire engine, a few tractors some civilian cars, horse and carts, motor cycles and a couple of buses.
My mode of transport was in one of the buses so had a comfortable ride to the reception centre.
May 8th 1945. The road we had to use to get the river crossing was littered on both sides with German and English military vehicles which had been bulldozed off the road so that others could get through to the pontoon bridge at Luneburg.
We spent a couple of days here being subject to a delousing period that incurred someone with a spray gun putting it down your back and front and also each trouser leg.
After which they took your particulars and you were given an identity card with your name, number, rank, and squadron number and told to find a bed in one of the huts and report back in the morning. If we had anything which we didn't need there was a bonfire on which we could get rid of old clothes not that we had much. But some of the prisoners had picked up guns and ammunition on the way which they decided to get rid of, there was a lot of exploding ammunition going off all night and the next day.
We had a breakfast of coffee and a slice of toast and then had to go on a parade ground and form up into groups of around 40 to await the arrival of aircraft for our homeward flight to England and a POW reception centre at RAF Cosford in a Dakota, used as transport and troop carrier the workhorse of the air force.
Here we were met by nurses and WAFs and again given the treatment of delousing, then a check over by doctors and lots of questions as to how you felt. Then it was a sit down meal, but our stomachs would only take a small amount, l can't remember what was on the menu but I know I could only manage a little, and a nice young WAAF sat with me and talked me into eating a little more. I really couldn't eat anymore, but had more tea so I could keep her talking with me.
We were then subject to being kitted out with new uniforms and glad to be out of the old stuff. The only [sic] I kept was my American army boots which had walked many miles or should say kilometres over German countryside, they lasted a good many years as my gardening boots. They still have the mark on the heel where a bullet from a typhoon clipped it when we were shot up.
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We only stayed at Cosford long enough to be kitted out and given some idea of how would carry on until our number for demob came up.
I had still about a year to do so was given a choice of ground trades which was, clerk in accounts, pigeon keeper or store keeper. What a choice is that it I asked and said that I didn't like any of these and wanted to be assigned to the transport division either as a driver or in admin. The Officer said he would put my choice forward but didn't think I would be lucky as so many had chosen transport as an option. So it was then we had to collect our travel warrants and any pay we had coming plus identity cards and ration book.
It was now late May and a start of long awaited leave which was for about four weeks to get me back into being fit again, I arrived from Cosford at London Road station and a neighbour who was a taxi driver happened to be at the stand and so he shouted over to me to get in his car. After putting my bags in and much hand shaking from other people I was on my way home. Mr Shuker talked all the way and got me up to date with what had been happening in Minehead Street, and upon arriving there he slowed down and hooted so people could know that he had arrived with a neighbour. There was quite a lot came out and gave me a cheer, and upon arrival at home I [sic] most of our neighbours were there with Mum, Dad and Mary. It was quite a homecoming with lots of hugs and kisses from all the close neighbours, it was something I’II never forget.
It took a while to get used to a normal bed and home routine but it was good to be home.
My two pals Ken and Derek who were both in the air force Ken was an engine maintenance engineer at fighter station, while Derek was a Corporal in the RAF police service. They managed a spot of leave whilst I was home so we spent a few days together.
The first evening they took me down to our local pub which was the Blue Moon. This was the first time for me to go out for pint.
Ken and Derek ordered pints, but I said that mine had better just be a half, which was just as well as when I got up to go the bar to order another round my legs gave way so I didn't have any more. So Ken and Derek took me home, I could manage to walk but not very steady, I guess that my system hadn't had any booze for quite some time but would get around that problem in time.
[underlined] Military Transport Training [/underlined]
My leave seemed to pass very quickly and very soon a travel warrant arrived to say that I was being posted to Melksham, and it turned out to be a course for Drivers-motor transport, I was told previously that there was no chance for this as so many had tried but were told they had no chance. Lucky me as my Aunts and Uncles all lived around this area at the village of Wingfield, so I would have some place to go at weekends.
So up one morning and off to catch the train for Melksham and becoming a driver for the air force in what sort of vehicles one wondered.
It turned out to be initial training was on vehicle maintenance as you had to be able to keep your vehicle in road worthy conditions at all times.
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We had a very rigorous course on engines and ensuring they were in good running order with oil and water checked daily, there were lectures every day on subjects such as Highway Code road traffic signs and use of hand signals and being courteous to other road users.
Our first driving lessons were with British School of Motoring civilian instructors driving mainly Austin cars, each car had three learners with tutor and took it in turns at the driving. I had some goes at driving but this was a trifle different as you had to double de clutch as if you were driving a vehicle without synchromesh gears. One instructor was very strict and if you didn't get it right he had a wooden mallet with which he used to clout your knee with, it worked well, my leg went up and down like a yoyo, after just one tap.
If you passed you then passed on to RAF instructors to learn the different types of vehicles you would encounter, these were classified as Hillman Minx used a lot by junior officers, then on to 15 cwt hundred weight [sic] for light loads, then three ton vehicles used for ration collection and general work. Progressing then to the lorries, eight ton and ten ton lorries and the five and seven ton cranes, last of all came the sixty foot long trailers for carrying aircraft when dismantled for repairs.
Having mustered [sic] this little lot you had to pass a driving test on a three ton vehicle and one of the other larger vehicles. After passing all this you had a written test on all subjects and if all was well you were given a driving certificate and were now an MT driver.
What was nice about this posting that every weekend I could spend on the farm with my Aunt and Uncle it was called Sparrow nest farm and they kept cattle for milking, and I was not at all good at milking but helped out fetching the animals in for milking and taking the milk churns on a tractor and trailer to a platform on the roadside ready for the lorry to collect which was twice a day.
Alternate weekends were spent in Wingfield village with Aunt Hilda and Uncle Bill and Granddad who was Aunt Hilda's Uncle, he and I used to play cards in the evenings and he used to beat me at cribbage quite often even though he was missing a lot of his fingers on both hands due to wounds in the First World War.
One morning I awoke and on looking out my bedroom window overlooking a field there was a white object there in a corner, so when l got up I said to my Aunt I'm just going to see what's in the field, and when I got there it was a mushroom the size of a dinner plate, yes I had it for breakfast.
Another time Granddad and I were walking down a lane when a rabbit ran out from the hedge, I had a walking stick which I threw towards it and it stopped running because I had killed it, broke its neck and so we took it home and Auntie skinned it and it made us a dinner.
I used to catch a bus from camp to Wingfield but Uncle Bill always took me back to camp on his motorbike and no crash helmet.
[underlined] Horsham [/underlined]
When I finished at Melksham I was posted to Faygate near to Horsham, it was a maintenance unit, where we were sent out to dismantle aircraft that were not required anymore.
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My vehicle that I was allocated turned out to be a six wheeled lorry a left over from the last war, a
1918 model it would not start on the starter motor so had to be towed.
I got up into the drivers seat to which there was no door only canvas panels which just hooked across also the whole cab was just canvas. The steering wheel was about 2 feet in diameter like a bus, the gear lever was about three foot tall and the handbrake was on the right side and about four feet tall, I wondered what I had let myself in for.
They towed me out of the gates with a three ton Bedford lorry on to a main road and I managed to get it started. They then left me and said over to you and don't forget that this vehicle has not got synchromesh gear so you have to double declutch on all gear changing.
After about two hours and 15 miles later I had mastered it all and found my way back to the unit.
There were no facilities for accommodation on the camp so we had to be billeted at Horsham and commute every day by train. But we were away quite often for three or four days, we spent two days at Monston [sic] airport dismantling an Avro Anson that had overshot the runway and went through a small plantation of trees, which left it a write off, so my band of lads reduced it down to a scrap heap. We had to stay there awaiting the vehicle to collect the parts so had an extra day there.
Over [sic] next trip was down to Boscombe near to Bournemouth and we were told we would be there for four or five days as we had to dismantle quite a lot of spitfires which had been made redundant at Christchurch airfield. So we had to look for accommodation in Boscombe, which we found in a Salvation Army hostel and had five days there.
I parked my lorry in the railway goods yard as there would be someone with a vehicle there to give you a tow in the morning. The old lady surprised me one morning and started first time on the starter motor but that was the only time.
That was my only trip with her as t was assigned to a brand new three ton Bedford lorry. It was the same that we trained on at Melksham and I was to use it to collect all the supplies for the officers mess also all the others so had quite a decent job, also whenever we had rations to collect I was
accompanied by a WAAF which was a nice change from a load of lads.
I was checking tyre pressures and as these vehicles were equipped with its own air pump driven by the motor it was quite simple, but as I was checking one of the front tyres the wind blew the drivers door open and I stood up and hit my head on a corner and finished up flat out, not very long though but decided I had better go to sick quarters and get patched up as it was bleeding a lot. I passed a few people who asked if I was okay but I just said yes and they carried on. At sick bay they patched me up and I went back to finish the job and the motor was still running. So switched off, locked up and retired to the mess prior to catching the train.
[underlined] Egypt??? [/underlined]
Next day I was back into camp and was informed that I was moving on. It was that I was being posted to Egypt, l made a request to see our commanding officer who was an ex aircrew Squadron Leader, saying that I wasn't happy being posted abroad and that I had done my bit for the country and thought it most unfair as there were lots of people who hadn't left England.
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He listened to me and yes, he saw my complaint but he didn't think he could alter the decision and if I gave it a bit of thought, look at it as a holiday paid for by the Government for what you went through. So, yes that sounds reasonable and I'll go along with that, and thanked him. He said he wished me well and try to enjoy your cruise. He would have liked to have joined me, he said.
Went home for a spot of leave and got ready for my next forage into the unknown.
I was then sent a travel warrant for an air force camp situated at Newhaven to be kitted out with my overseas uniform, two khaki shirts and shorts plus long trousers and socks, then some inoculations for tropical diseases then were claimed ready for travel.
We were then told we would be travelling by the Medlock route that is from Newhaven to Dieppe in France by boat and thence by train down to Marseilles where we would be shipped across the Mediterranean to Egypt.
After the trip across to France at night we then continued through Switzerland and snow, it was very cold, but the villages on the mountainsides looked like the one on postcards very romantic amongst the snow. The French trains were not the cleanest but must have moved a lot of British service men since the war had ended over here.
At Marseilles we left the trains at the docks and boarded an American Liberty boat for the next part of the journey. We were shown into the first deck which was fitted out with beds in tiers of three the whole width of the ship and about forty or fifty foot in length. I managed to get one of the lower ones. When we settled in I was told and shown to the bakery, and was put in charge of 6 airmen which was very good as we had very new bread at our meal times. The six airmen worked well and we got along very well with the American crew.
We set sail in the evening and had a quiet evening up on deck, the weather was calm so after supper decided to turn in but couldn't sleep, the motion of the ship wasn't helping me and it took ages for me to eventually nod off.
Our second day went well and my lads and I ate well, but this next night we had a storm and Liberty boats are welded together not riveted and creaks in every joint. I wasn't very happy but just kept lifting the bows up after it went down in a trough. Didn't get much sleep and was glad to reach Alexandria and then taken to a camp at Damunbur and it was very hot and our accommodation was in tents that were built over three foot deep dugouts which gave you a bit more head room than just a tent. We stayed here for about three weeks.
[underlined] To Italy [/underlined]
But apparently there was nothing for us in our line of work required here so we were shipped back across the Mediterranean to Naples in Italy, where we stayed for a couple of days. We made the most of it seeing a part of the world and some of the Roman era, also there were plenty of young and very beautiful senoritas.
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[photograph]
Stanco, Dick's dog
We stayed in Naples for two days and were then told that we would be moving on to any [sic] airfield a few miles outside of Udine in a northern village of Potsuolo, which was the desert air force headquarters known as D.A.F.H.Q. Here were 3 squadrons which flew Mustang fighters. We were attached to DAF headquarters transport section and did all the movement of materials and stuff. This was very good as it entailed collecting the rations from stores which was about twenty miles away, but the roads in places was awful and stony. One item was an open top tin of jam which an Italian was carrying in the back, unfortunately a back tyre exploded like a bomb going off, my poor Italian thought he had been shot as he was covered in jam. After changing the wheel we continued back to camp.
[photograph]
Potsuolo
Another job we had was taking personnel up to our leave hotel up in the mountains for a week at a time and the driver stayed with them and drove them to scenic places, one of which was a lake about thirty miles trip, but was well worth seeing. It was but the road was very rough running along the side of the mountains our wheels were on the very edge of a few thousand foot drop and were running on
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a log which had been built into the road where the edge had fallen away, very bad for the nerves. Other places were when crossing over the bridges from one side of the mountain to the other. These were just planks of wood about three inches thick and about ten or twelve inches wide about fourteen feet long spaced about six inches apart on wooden beams. There was just enough room to get the vehicle around the ends onto the bridge, I only bent the tool box that was on the chassis when we were going.
[photograph]
Dead Slow Ahead!
It was a wonderful place called Cortina quite scenic we stayed for lunch and then I decided to return knowing it was a long way back and I would be on the outside looking down into the valley.
I said to the chap sitting next to me when we get to the logs set into the road edge, tell me how much room I've got your side, his remark was that my side mirror was about two inches from the rock wall which meant when I looked out that my wheels were running on the top of the logs, my legs shook a bit but I thought we came through this way so should be okay going back hopefully.
[photograph]
Dick's leave hotel in Forni Avolti, to the left of the church with a cross marked on the roof
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The hotel was very good and there were quite a few locals and there was a lady there with her daughter, the mother worked in the hotel and her daughter who was about 10 or 12 decided that when a few of the locals and us went for walks she would come and hold my hand and look after me, her name was Tina. We walked across one field and the melting snow had made a three or four foot wide stream down the grass, there was about twelve in the group and it was decided to jump instead of finding a place to cross. We all decided it was no problem just a short jump should do it, but it didn't. I think we all had very wet legs far the rest of our walk, but we all enjoyed it.
[photograph]
Tina and Friends
Most evenings there were four musicians who would play for us, sometimes a good old sing song of tunes of the times, and that led into dance music which was very tiring, as the girls that worked there kept going most of the evening and made sure we kept up with them. Lana the Austrian girl if she got hold of you your feet hardly touched the ground. But they were all good fun. The week passed very quickly and it was drive them back to camp and back to work.
Every other week we were duty driver for a day, which meant servicing the commanding officers vehicles; that he wanted to use that day. You had to knock on his caravan door and go in and ask him which of his three vehicles he required that day. From a jumble of blankets a voice would say either Merc or Jep or Util, which interpreted was either Mercedes or Jeep or his Utility, so you checked all three to make sure you got it right. You were busy taking officers to meetings and also running them into town to various places sometimes just so they could do some shopping.
[underlined] On the Road to Bari [/underlined]
Some days I was office boy handing out jobs to the drivers, this I didn't like as I would rather be out driving, and I was very lucky, our M.T officer who was also ex aircrew said he had a job for three vehicles to go down to Bari, where they were closing down an airfield and we had to bring back the furniture from the officers mess. Would I like to be one of the drivers? Of course that would be very nice, he then said and I shall be going as well to make sure we bring back the right things. So my friend another ex aircrew now a driver and the third driver was a corporal who had spent quite some time in Italy and knew his way around. We also had three airmen armed with rifles as guards, on to each vehicle so we had all the bodies required for the trip.
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[photograph]
On the Road to Bari
So it was up early one morning, pack the essentials for the trip which we had no idea how long we would be, so we took a change of clothes for it [sic] we went out in the evening at some stage of the journey.
Out [sic] first stop was at Rimini which was a holiday resort on the coast and there was an air force station there where we could find a bed for the night.
We left Udine and passed by Venice into Padova then for Ferrari, the roads were quite good but the towns and villages had been taken quite a bit of damage. From here we headed for Ravenna on the Adriatic coast. It again was a holiday resort; like most places took a lot of damage, then on to Rimini and a well earned rest. Out [sic] mileage for this leg of our journey was approximately 432 kilometres.
Some of the vehicles we passed on the way were rather weary, the loads they carried were unreal some were the width of the lorry but finished up twice the width at the top. The tyres were smooth and the engines were held together with bits of wire. The Italians were noted for have good mechanics, we had one of them in our section who could just listen to an engine running and get to the cause of the trouble straight away.
Back to our trip, we left Rimini the next morning after checking our vehicles and filling up with petrol heading for our next stop which was to be Rome. Our next road was heading inland across Italy into the more agricultural part of Italy, the traffic was very mainly bullock carts with four of them in the shafts pulling very large loads which hung over the sides and took up a lot of road space. Also we kept passing a lot of women and children carrying canes on their heads and shoulders, l thought that if one turned to chat with another it would cause chaos down the line if we hit them.
One thing that we noticed was the lack of bridges crossing the roads, mostly the countryside was very flat and were either agricultural or cattle. The towns and villages we passed through were a bit showing the signs of war damage and were trying to get back to normal. In the villages there were always lots of children on the streets and all were begging for chocolate, no doubt remembering the times the Americans were there.
We reached Rome in the evening and found the army barracks were we to stay the night, we all decided we would have an early night as tomorrow was a shorter trip and we could spend a little more time in Naples which we did. The road from Rome was fairly good although there was plenty of damaged buildings everywhere and not much building taking place although it was mainly getting the
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places ready for residents to return to repair jobs mostly. Although in Naples we found that the night life was very much alive, and we spent a few hours around the night clubs, and the officer and we two warrant officers were quite happy after consuming numerous bottles of wine with some very good food. And so to bed quite happy, not looking forward the next day's trip which was going to be a long one.
Up early the next morning and had a good breakfast and refuelled our vehicles and away on the road to Bari which is situated on the North coast of Italy, known as the heel of Italy. The road out of Naples was very busy with most vehicles having enormous loads and engulfed in a fog which we were glad to leave behind and over to our right was Mount Vesuvius but only a trickle of smoke from it. We were then heading North East and the road was less busy, and was pretty rough, villages we passed through had been very heavily damaged. We stopped for a meal or I should say a sandwich, and a family in a nearby house were having their spaghetti, there was an old lady with a plate full which was devoured in a very few minutes, guess she was hungry.
[photograph]
Still on the Road to Bari
We pressed on as it was starting to look like we were going to head into some rather wet weather, we did, and finding the place we wanted was not easy. The leading lorry with our officer and corporal driving, found what they thought was the right track to the airfield which turned out to be a very narrow road just wide enough for one lorry. After about a mile the road finished and we were left with the prospect of reversing all the way back to the main road in the pouring rain. There was no where we could have turned round as the fields had been ploughed on both sides. So about half an hour later three very wet headed drivers, a very wet officer and a guard who had walked back along the track with torches to guide us. We found the right road and got to our destination, and a good hot meal was very welcome.
I seem to remember that we didn't need much rocking to sleep.
We found out the next morning after breakfast that what we were collecting was a lot of electrical equipment which was too valuable to leave and could be useful elsewhere along with quite a lot of furniture from the officers quarters some of which turned out to be large mirrors about 5 foot high by 3 foot wide with a very ornate surround, and I don't recollect whether they survived the journey, it would have been very lucky if they had. Our three young guards did alright and had an armchair for the ride back. After we had packed everything into the lorries it was dinner time, so we had a very
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good meal and washed down with some very nice wine, and decided to stay the night here and start at 8am the next morning, so we had a look round Bari which had a good port for ferries to Yugoslavia across the Adriatic. Retired to our beds ready for the start back.
The trip back to Naples was uneventful but in Naples our guards had their hands full keeping loads of youngsters from climbing up the sides of the Lorries and stealing anything. Most of what we had was furniture which was stacked on top of the wireless equipment so they left empty handled.
It was evening time when we finally arrived in Naples so didn't go very far around the town just had a drink or two and then retired to bed.
Next morning it is up and away on our next leg to Rome where we hoped to spend a little time looking around the place as there is plenty to see, and walked around the centre of the Coliseum where the gladiators did their acts, and I was glad that I wasn't acting in it, and I think the lions that did an act had already eaten that day.
[photograph]
Coliseum Rome
Later on we found a good restaurant where we had a good meal washed down with a very good Italian wine, and walked back to our billets in an army barracks and so to bed.
Not looking forward to our next trip as it is a long run and not very scenic from Rome up to Rimini, mainly farming country and only a couple of towns on the way, the one consolation was that it stayed fine all the way.
Rimini was an army controlled town so there were lots of tanks and all types of weaponry around and we stayed in army barracks that night and we were up early the next morning as it was a long trip back to Udine.
We took the road out of Rimini for Rarenna along the coast, hence our next town was Venice where we stopped for a short rest and found a restaurant for a meal which was steak mushrooms and tomatoes washed down with a red wine, very nice too.
We were then only a couple of hours from our destination and our own beds. The whole trip had taken us about ten days, but that said the items we brought back was it worth it.
Overall we had a good look at how the Italians lived and were good mechanics, as they managed to keep their Lorries on. the road tied together with lots of wire and a lot more faith.
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We had a football team made up of NCOs and we played against teams from other ranks and also from the squadron that was stationed here. I was given the position of right wing and was usually up against a six foot left back of the opposing team, I don't think we won many of our matches, but it was a bit of good fun.
[photograph]
Military Transport Football Team
It is now getting into September and we are still living in tents, and have had a lot of rain recently and the camp was rather badly flooded, my other occupant and I were lucky our tent survived the storm, we had a lot of tents blown down and the roads were flooded and it took quite a while for everywhere to dry out.
Our leave hotel in Grado on the coast was popular and we ran an evening bus most nights, and it was one of my jobs as a driver to take the bus down to the town at 5pm and collect them again at 10pm from the town square. Most made it in time and on my trips we seemed lucky and didn't have any missing bodies, most of them were quite happy. I had four days leave and stayed in our leave hotel, very nice food and comfortable beds also there were grapevines where we had breakfast, so grapes were on the menu every morning. First thing after breakfast I went down the road and at the store shop used to buy a melon and take back to the hotel and have a waiter cut a square hole in it and put in a good portion of wine then put it in the fridge and have it with our evening meal, very nice finished the meal with it.
[underlined] Mercy Mission to Egypt [/underlined]
it was around September 15th that I had a call from the office of the Adjutant to tell me that I had been given ten days leave to go to a hospital in Egypt where my brother Bob was ill, and it would help him return to good health if he had a relative to see him. I was staggered and amazed as I had no idea of his whereabouts and that he was ill.
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18.9.1946. So I had to sort my kit out what I would require and managed to pack it in my small side pack. I then had to collect the pass and papers needed and so to Udine airport, arrived there at an early hour as flight was at 9.00am in a Dakota aircraft next stop Rome. Had a hotel for my overnight stay and very nice too, good food and bed and a very good night sleep.
My flight next morning which was to be about nine hours leaving Rome at ten past seven in the morning and we landed in Malta at 9.45 to refuel the aircraft had a drink there then left for our next stop which was El Adam in North Africa. Only stayed fifty minutes again to refuel and left at 4pm for our next stop at Almaza which we arrived at 6.30pm which was my stopping off place for Cairo.
I was driven to the Heliopolis hotel and shown to my room and then taken to the dining room and had a good meal.
I was very hot after being quite cool in Italy so changed into my shorts, but it was still very sticky hot, so decided to have an early night see what tomorrow brings.
! was up early as the night was very hot and I didn't get much sleep. I had a good breakfast and had to sit around and await my transport to the hospital.
20th September a car arrived and I was driven to the Helmieh hospital, where I was taken to meet the colonel of the hospital, who welcomed me and hoped my presence would help in Bob's recovery. He then told me I was to be accommodated at the Sergeants mess of the main hospital. There were numerous sections to the hospital, a fracture unit, dental unit, isolation unit which Bob was in eye and ear unit, it was quite a large place.
I was issued with a pass the [sic] to the isolation ward in which Bob was in with note to say the above named warrant officer was permitted to visit his brother signalman Curnock in isolation ward 1 and full preventative measures should be taken.
The sister I gave the note to just laughed gave me back the note, took me by the arm and gave me a hug, and said how lovely it was that I was able to have leave to go there, and then she took me to see Bob. He was surprised as he had no idea where I was, but he was very thin, white, and I looked like an Indian next to him as in a photo of us together.
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[photograph] [photograph]
Dick and Bob at Helmieh hospital, Egypt
My time at the hospital was spent on visits to Bob every day, having a game of snooker with some of the other members of the mess, or at other times some of the nurses and sister would ask me to escort them into Cairo to do a spot of shopping which I did quite willingly.
My ten days leave passed rather quickly, but when I rang the air booking centre in Cairo, I wasn't on any of the flights so had to wait another week. In fact it was the 25th October before my flight for Italy was finally here, so I had about 6 weeks of a 10 day leave.
Each unit had its own Sergeants mess and most evenings there was entertainment in one of them. Once or twice a week there was horse racing in one of them, and in the dental mess one night they had a Derby meeting, the horses were bid for at the start and I bought number two for two pounds after bidding against the colonel. And it won the race and I was twenty two pounds richer for a while, but lost a bit on the following races, good fun though.
The other entertainment was a quiz night which was quite hilarious, with answers to some questions quite ridiculous but funny. Others had classes which were well attended by all, as we had lots of nurses and sisters to make a good evening of it.
At another sergeants mess they held a bingo night with some other entertainment as bingo wasn't very popular.
In the sergeants mess some of them had nicknames, one was known as bash he was a boxer in Civvy Street; we also had a slash as he was always cutting himself when shaving, so I had to have one and was known as the parachute kid.
We had a snooker table in the mess and I had plenty of practice on it as I had quite a lot of time to fill in.
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Time passed and I finally had my seat booked for my return to Italy. So then I had to say my farewells to all the friends that I had made during my stay and to Bob of course and also I went to see the colonel and thanks him for all they had done for Bob and also making my stay a pleasant one.
[underlined] Dakota back to Italy – Treviso [/underlined]
So on the 26th October my flight was at 6.30am so was up early for the return journey. One of the sergeants had said the night before that he would take me to the airport as he was duty driver for that day. So once again I joined up with a Dakota of the South African Air force at Almaja airport stopping at El Adam to refuel then on to Malta where we stayed the night. The next day we were away at seven am on the last leg to Rome.
At Rome airport I was informed that the personnel of the 239 Wing Desert Air Force; had been moved to a place called Treviso so that where I was being sent. They said my kit had been transferred already so I had to get to this place, but found out that I was booked on a flight to an aerodrome just outside of Treviso.
[photograph]
Sergeants Mess Treviso 1945, Dick and friend
There was transport at the aerodrome and I was taken to our sergeant mess which was a town villa in Treviso and was shown to my room and where I was reunited with my kit bag.
This was luxury after living in tents for a long period with wash basins and baths and there were ladies to do your laundry and any repairs to your clothes.
I certainly enjoyed having a nice hot bath and retiring to a good bed and hoped that I wasn't to be moved again, as I had had enough of travelling for a while.
At Treviso it was usual routine doing runs into town and around the airfield, towing petrol trailers around to the aircraft for refuelling. Also fetching blocks of ice for the bars of the officers and sergeants also messes of other ranks. By the time you got back to camp there was a lot of water in the back of the truck and you had to lift blocks of wet ice into the various messes, a cold job.
From Treviso it was only a few miles into Venice and we spent a few weekends there, and got to do a lot of walking, you could have a gondola ride but they charged the earth, so we usually walked.
St Marco's square was very popular with lots of shops and cafes around. There was an abundant supply of jewellery shops and also the square had hundreds of pigeons, making it quite messy.
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There was a bell tower in one corner which had a large bell on the top. Apparently an Italian gent decided to inspect it too close and his head flattened by the bell hammer, very nasty.
There were lots of bridges over the canals and as you went into the centre where they had warehouses it was a rather different place, the canals were not so dean, and people living alongside them just threw rubbish out of the windows, not a good healthy environment to live in.
We found a very good restaurant in Treviso down a back street a very smart little place, who did beef steaks, which you could pick from a large selection and then you could see them being cooked and you then selected what you wanted with it.
Time passed very quickly at Treviso and was January before we realised suddenly that our demob numbers would be coming up soon. And it was January when we were told that some of us were going home and that we could be going to Villach in Austria to catch a train for the trip across Austria, Switzerland and France and home.
The day arrived when we were notified that we had reached the final week in Italy and would travel by train to Villach, and thence start our journey home. We cleared with all the necessary forms as was needed, paid any mess bills and said our farewells to rest of the transport department and was then taken to the station.
It was an uneventful journey to Villach where we had to stay overnight and there was thick snow there and rather cold with long icicles from roves [sic] of our huts.
[photograph]
Villach - with icicles
I met up with some of the other lads who had travelled with me on our trip out earlier, when we were leaving; waiting on the road for transport to the station a whole lot of youngsters arrived with sledges, so all we had to carry was our small kit, the kit bags were loaded on the sledges and so on to the station.
Our train was in and so we went aboard with kit bags on the corridors and rest of our kit on the racks, it was then that we all got into the spirit of finally going home. The trains were French so the toilets had no seat, just two places for your feet and a hole in the middle, not very comfortable.
With it being January everywhere was very white with snow and I took some pictures of the mountains as we passed into Switzerland which was wonderful. Coming out of a tunnel on the
47
[page break]
mountainside and there was a village and it appeared to just be hanging on. It went on like this from many miles as we went through Switzerland and into France.
[photograph]
Switzerland from the train
We stopped in Paris station for a hot drink and a sandwich and managed to have a wash and brush up before our next stop which was to be Dieppe and a channel crossing to Newhaven.
The trip over was uneventful but the sea was rather rough and there were one or two heaving stomachs to prove it, and we arrived in the dock, and then when we had sorted out our kit bags from a very large heap, the train was waiting in the station to take us to the demob centre, which was at No 101 Dispersal centre at Kirkham in Lancashire.
This was the place where you returned to civilian life once again. It is now the 21st January 1947 about to sort out from a large selection of shirts, underwear and suits and find some that is a reasonable fit. After which you went and tried on the items you had selected and handed in your uniform, well most of it, l remember that there was a shirt, a pair of shorts and some desert socks along with the boots that I wore during our sight seeing tour of Germany. Then you had to see numerous sections who dealt with your pay due to you and the amount of leave which turned out to be eighty days from the 21st January 1947.
You then had to collect your travel warrant, your pay also was entered in the back of your service release book and you had to collect it from the post office when it was due, and they would date stamp it in the back of your pay book.
My return home was a wonderful feeling after all my travels. At the station the neighbour of ours who had a taxi cab saw me and had me in his cab very quickly.
Upon arriving at Minehead Street the first thing I saw was the street still decorated with flags and bunting after the end of the war in Japan and not for me.
Mr Shuker sounded his horn and slowed down and there were a lot of people came out to welcome me home and of course Mum, Dad and Mary and our close neighbours were all waiting and I was smothered with their welcome.
And so I looked forward to a nice long holiday and getting used to civilian life once more.
48
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[underlined] Reunions [/underlined]
Dick's mother (Arabella Curnock) had welcomed several of the Canadian crew members into her home, and had corresponded with members of their families back home in Canada during the war.
Bob Friskey's wife Isabella in Abbotsford also wrote to Dick and Barbara after their marriage, as well as continuing to correspond with Dick's mother. It was from them that the news came that "Chuck" committed suicide some time after returning home.
Rob died sometime after, but Isabella continued to write to Dick.
Wes and his (Scottish) wife Mae made contact again sometime in the 1970s, when Dick received a phone call at the Thurmaston plant of Thorpe and Porter where he worked. The call was from the railway station in Leicester where Wes and Mae were - accompanied by the youngest of their five sons!
Dick went to pick them up, and they stayed overnight with [sic] at Queniborough before carrying on their journey to Scotland. Wes and Mae paid a short visit to Dick's mother, as Wes had stayed with her during the war when on leave.
In 1984 a lady who lived on Upperton Road (Mrs Tobin) was clearing out a house on Minehead Street (no 59) which was formally the Curnock family home. Amongst the papers was an unopened letter from Eugene Fullum in Montreal. She looked in the phone book and found a R Curnock and rang and this got Dick and Eugene back in touch.
[photograph]
Eugene and Dick 1985 (Leicester Mercury photo)
Eugene came over the UK in 1985, and when Dick and he met it was the first time they had seen each other since the police station in Germany the day after they had been shot down.
49
[page break]
[photograph]
RAF Prisoner of War insignia
[photograph]
Gordon, Eugene, Dick, Wes, 1987 Reunion
50
[page break]
[photograph]
Dick in the rear gunner position of a Halifax bomber; at Elvington, Yorks. 2004
[photograph]
Dick exiting the Halifax, the last time he did this, the Halifax was on fire and he was about to parachute into enemy territory
51
[page break]
Appendix 1 – Dick’s RAF flying log book – 17.7.1943 to 25.8.1947
i) Gunnery course results
[document]
52
[page break]
Appendix 1 - ii) gunnery training
[flight log book document]
53
[page break]
Appendix 1 – iii) 22 O.T.U.
[flight log book document]
54
[page break]
Appendix 1 – iv) 22 O.T.U.
[flight log book document]
55
[page break]
Appendix 1 – v) 22 O.T.U.
[flight log book document]
56
[page break]
Appendix 1 – vi) 22 O.T.U.
[flight log book document]
57
[page break]
Appendix 1 – vii) 1664 Conversion Unit
[flight log book document]
58
[page break]
Appendix 1 – viii) 1664 Conversion Unit
[flight log book document]
59
[page break]
Appendix 1 – ix) 425 Squadron – shows the last mission Dick flew to Augsburg
[flight log book document]
60
[page break]
Appendix 1 – x) Flights to and from Egypt to visit Bob
[flight log book document]
61
[page break]
Appendix 2
[drawing of Berlin War Cemetery]
Ginger Wheadon is buried in 6.B.19
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[page break]
Appendix 3 -The March - source Wikipedia
"The March" refers to a series of forced marches during the final stages of the Second World War in Europe. From a total of 257,000 western Allied prisoners of war held in German military prison camps, over 80,000 POWs were forced to march westward across Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Germany in extreme winter conditions, over about four months between January and April 1945. This series of events has been called various names: "The Great March West", "The Long March", "The Long Walk", "The Long Trek", "The Black March", "The Bread March", and "Death March Across Germany", but most survivors just called it "The March".
As the Soviet Army was advancing, German authorities decided to evacuate POW camps, to delay liberation of the prisoners. January and February 1945 were among the coldest winter months of the 20th century in Europe, with blizzards and temperatures as low as -25 O C and even until the middle of March, temperatures were well below 0 O C Most of the POWs were ill-prepared for the evacuation, having suffered years of poor rations and wearing clothing ill-suited to the appalling winter conditions.
In most camps, the POWs were broken up in groups of 250 to 300 men and because of the inadequate roads and the flow of battle, not all the prisoners followed the same route. The groups would march 20 to 40 kilometers a day - resting in factories, churches, barns and even in the open. Soon long columns of POWs were wandering over the northern part of Germany with little or nothing in the way of food, clothing, shelter or medical care.
Prisoners from different camps had different experiences: sometimes the Germans provided farm wagons for those unable to walk. There seldom were horses available, so teams of POWs pulled the wagons through the snow. Sometimes the guards and prisoners became dependent on each other, other times the guards became increasingly hostile. Those with intact boots had the dilemma of whether to remove them at night - if they left them on, trench foot could result; if they removed them, they may not get their swollen feet back into their boots in the morning or, worse, the boots may freeze or be stolen.
With so little food they were reduced to scavenging to survive. Some were reduced to eating dogs and cats and grass-anything they could lay their hands on. Already underweight from years of prison rations, some were at half their pre-war body weight by the end.
Because of the unsanitary conditions and a near starvation diet, hundreds of POWs died of disease along the way and many more were ill. Dysentery was common; sufferers had the indignity of soiling themselves whilst having to continue to march, and being further weakened by the debilitating effects of illness. This disease was easily spread from one group to another when they followed the same route and rested in the same places. Many POWs suffered from frostbite which could lead to gangrene. Typhus, spread by body lice, was a risk for all POWs, but was now increased by using overnight shelter previously occupied by infected groups. Some men simply froze to death in their sleep.
In addition to these conditions were the dangers from air attack by Allied forces mistaking the POWs for retreating columns of German troops. On April 19, 1945, at a village called Gresse, 30 Allied POWs died and 30 were seriously injured (possibly fatally) in a "friendly-fire" situation when strafed by a flight of RAF Typhoons.
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As winter drew to a close, suffering from the cold abated and some of the German guards became less harsh in their treatment of POWs. But the thaw rendered useless the sledges made by many POWs to carry spare clothing, carefully preserved food supplies and other items. So, the route became littered with items that could not be carried. Some even discarded their greatcoats, hoping that the weather did not turn cold again. As the columns reached the western side of Germany they ran into the advancing western Allied armies. For some, this brought liberation. Others were not so lucky. They were marched towards the Baltic Sea, where Nazis were said to be using POWs as human shields and hostages. It was later estimated that a large number of POWs had marched over five hundred miles by the time they were liberated, and some had walked nearly a thousand miles.
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[page break]
Appendix 4 – i) Stalag Luft 357 – long march route, and camp numbering correction information
Red Cross map of prisoner of war camps
[map]
65
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Appendix 4 – ii) Stalag Luft 357 and long march route
[map]
66
[page break]
Appendix 4 – iii) Blue cross in circle marks where Dick was shot down. Red Cross near Frankfurt where he was moved to
[map]
67
[page break]
Appendix 4 – iv) Red line shows routes taken by Dick. Torun (Thorn) camp shown
[map]
68
[page break]
Appendix 4 – v) Poznan – Stalag XXI
[map]
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[page break]
Appendix 4 – vi) Stalag Luft VI – Lithuania
[map]
70
[page break]
26th April 2014
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
My War Story
Description
An account of the resource
A memoir written by Dick Curnock. It covers his wartime service and also his service after the war for the RAF. It covers his brother Sam and his accident as a pilot. Dick started his training at Lords in London, Bridlington then Bridgnorth and Dalcross. Next move was to Wellesbourne where he crewed up and practised bombing from a Wellington, then Dishforth for conversion on to Halifaxes. His squadron was 425 at Tholthorpe and he undertook night flying training. On his second operation he was shot down near Augsburg. He was taken prisoner and interrogated before being transferred to Stalag Luft VI. He describes his life there. As the Russians got nearer they were transferred by cattle truck to Stalag Luft 357 at Torun. Next they were subjected to the Long March in April 1945. During this the flight engineer, Ginger Wheadon was shot by an RAF Typhoon. After being liberated and returning to the UK he served briefly in Egypt then Italy as an RAF transport driver. During this time he went to Egypt to visit his brother, Bob who was ill in Cairo. Eventually he was demobbed from Italy via Austria and Paris.
Creator
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Dick Curnock
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2014-04-26
Format
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71 printed sheets
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BCurnockRMCurnockRMv1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Austria
Austria--Villach
Canada
British Columbia--Abbotsford
Québec--Montréal
Egypt
Egypt--Cairo
France
France--Paris
Gibraltar
Germany
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Darmstadt
Germany--Schweinfurt
Great Britain
England--Bridlington
England--Horsham
England--Leicester
England--London
England--Melksham
Italy
Italy--Bari
Italy--Cortina d'Ampezzo
Italy--Naples
Italy--Padua
Italy--Ravenna
Italy--Rimini
Italy--Rome
Italy--Udine
Italy--Venice
Malta
North Africa
Poland--Toruń
Germany--Lüneburg
Poland
Lithuania
Poland--Żagań
Lithuania--Šilutė
Germany--Bad Fallingbostel
England--Christchurch (Dorset)
Québec
England--Dorset
England--Leicestershire
England--Yorkshire
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
1945
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Peter Bradbury
22 OTU
420 Squadron
425 Squadron
431 Squadron
434 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
animal
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
arts and crafts
bale out
bomb aimer
C-47
Caterpillar Club
crash
crewing up
Dulag Luft
final resting place
flight engineer
ground personnel
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hitler, Adolf (1889-1945)
Hurricane
Ju 88
lynching
mess
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
navigator
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
P-51
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Boscombe Down
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Bridlington
RAF Cosford
RAF Dishforth
RAF Elvington
RAF Gaydon
RAF Inverness
RAF Manston
RAF Tholthorpe
RAF Wellesbourne Mountford
Red Cross
sanitation
service vehicle
sport
Stalag Luft 3
Stalag Luft 6
strafing
the long march
training
Typhoon
Wellington
Whitley
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/31/249/ABottaniP1601.1.jpg
370b5e924083c290f03135227fd331c4
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/31/249/ABottaniP161202.1.mp3
85ca9ca58ae587f9b1096e8123c0f9e2
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
Bottani, Paolo
Description
An account of the resource
One oral history interview with Paolo Bottani who recollects wartime experiences in Milan.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
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
Bottani, P
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-12-02
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
EP: Come prima domanda le chiedo di cominciare da prima della guerra, prima che cominci il conflitto, eeh mi racconti un po’ della sua famiglia, eeh dove eravate e di che cosa si occupavano i suoi familiari.
PB: Sì eh prima della guerra naturalmente ero piccolino quindi la memoria un po’ un po’ un po’, un po’ annebbiata diciamo così. Però mi ricordo bene che la mia famiglia era una famiglia di operai, eeh immigrati, mio papà proveniva dalla provincia di di Piacenza e mia mamma dal cremasco, eeeh erano operai purtroppo mio papà viveva un momento difficile per le sue idee politiche, non voleva iscriversi al partito fascista che era per la maggiore a quei tempi e non gli davano il lavoro perché lui non era iscritto al partito, quindi questo m’è rimasto impresso benché piccolino, perché la famiglia di conseguenza ne ne soffriva. Mia mamma invece era volgitrice di motori elettrici alla Ercole Marelli di Sesto San Giovanni. Avevo una sorella che era impiegata presso una ditta di cosmetici, la Beiersdorf. Ecco questo è quello che mi ricordo del periodo anteguerra. Nel 1940 poi, mi hanno iscritto alla prima elementare come tutti i bambini ed ho frequentato qui a Precotto la prima classe, elementare. Mi ricordo che eravamo tanti bambini, oggi si lamentano delle classi affollate, noi eravamo in quaranta, quindi la maestra della quale mi ricordo il nome, Angela Arpiani, era una brava signora torinese e ci aiutava parecchio perché eravamo abbastanza discoli eh: che i genitori al lavoro, noi eravamo a casa da soli, non c’erano le badanti o le babysitter o, eravamo in giro per le strade, qui a Precotto era una zona rurale, c’erano campi, e noi ci ci divertivamo ad andare per i campi. Quindi la prima e la seconda elementare direi che, essendo pure in guerra, perché la guerra è cominciata nel ’40, non abbiamo subito parecchie eh diciamo difficoltà, a parte la faccenda di mio papà che non lavorando era costretto a fare dei lavoretti così un po’ in nero, si dice oggi, per poter portare a casa qualcosa, e poi aveva l’orto che lo lavorava e ci dava la possibilità di, di vivere ecco. Il brutto comincia verso la fine del ’42 l’inizio del ’43, cominciarono i bombardamenti, cominciarono le difficoltà della vita. Ecco lì ho cominciato a mettere nella mia mente le difficoltà proprio, di vivere, molti disagi come per esempio il freddo, la paura, il freddo la paura, e la fame, e la fame, cominciava a scarseggiare il cibo. Il freddo era terribile perché difficilmente avevamo la legna per bruciare, andavamo in giro a raccogliere qualche pezzettino di albero, di di ramo rotto degli alberi, portarlo a casa noi bambini per poter scaldarci, però era la fiammata del momento e quindi il calore era molto, molto scarso. Poi eeeh i geloni: col freddo la conseguenza logica per noi bambini erano i geloni sulle mani sui piedi, eeeh oggi non vedo più i bambini con i geloni, ma io mi ricordo facevano male, molto male questi geloni. Specialmente quando la mamma ci lavava, ci faceva il bucato come si dice nel mastello in casa, eeeh i geloni venivano fuori, col calore, un dolore immenso proprio. Poi c’era la paura del, dei bombardamenti delle sirene: ecco io una cosa che ancora ho in mente adesso quando sento una sirena, scatta dentro di me come una una un uno stato psicologico che mi richiama quei momenti là che dovevo scappare, è rimasto in me. Perché la sirena era sinonimo di bombardamento ‘Scappa, scappa!!’ perché arrischi la vita. E quindi questo qui è continuato per alcuni anni fino al ’45 e devo dire però, nel ’42 finita la seconda classe, mia mamma e mio papà decisero, visto che cominciavano a bombardare Milano, di spedirmi, di mandarmi a casa di mia zia a Crema, come sfollato. Quindi non non, vi immaginate anche lo stato di disagio trapiantato in un’altra località, nuovi nuovi bambini da conoscere, un modo di vivere che era differente dal mio purché simile, per carità, però molto differente. E così sono stato a Crema per, per un paio d’anni, però a Crema bombardavano, quindi la situazione era pressoché identica Milano Crema, non sapevi più dove andare, ecco. E mi ricordo che una volta mi hanno portato a casa, per vedere la mamma, mio zio, e nel ritorno, quando siamo ritornati a Crema, la difficoltà è che il treno arrivava fino a Cassano poi c’era il ponte sull’Adda, naturalmente bombardato, e quindi noi dovevamo traversare su una passerella larga poco più di di, circa un metro, sopra il fiume con un corrimano da un lato solo e dovevamo attraversare questo fiume di sera, al buio, e mi ricordo ancora il vortice delle acque che correvano sotto e m’ha creato uno stato di paura veramente notevole, però era l’unico mezzo per poter andare a prendere il treno dall’altra parte per poi proseguire per per Crema. Quindi anche quello lì uno stato di disagio. Dicevo prima, Crema veniva bombardata come Milano più o meno perché c’era il ponte sul fiume Serio e ogni due per tre erano lì gli aeroplani, e lì ho provato una sensazione durante il bombardamento. Dunque Crema non era attrezzata coi rifugi come Milano, a Milano quasi tutte le case avevano i rifugi sotterranei negli scantinati, Crema invece non c’era questa, non credevano che venissero a bombardare, erano meno preparati. E quindi si rimaneva in casa, si rimaneva in casa, rimanendo in casa lo spostamento d’aria, io mi aggrappavo a mia zia in un angolo della casa perché sentivi la casa che ‘Ooooooh cade cade cade!’ ci aggrappavo a mia zia perché avevo la sensazione che la casa, la casa cadesse, veramente una sensazione terribile. A crema poi invece ho subito un mitragliamento, e lì l’ho scampata proprio per poco: venivano i caccia, lì passavano le colonne tedesche che da Cremona andavano a Milano e una volta noi eravamo bambini, giocavamo per strada eeeeh è arrivato un paio di caccia, ma così all’improvviso senza neanche suonate le sirene, che se suona le sirene noi scappavamo. Arrivano sti caccia ‘Aaaaaaaaaa papapapam’ cominciarono a sparare, noi non sapevamo più dove andare, le pallottole ci battevano ai fianchi del del, sulla strada, e io un bel momento mi sono buttato dentro ad una porta che ho trovato e poi il caccia è passato, via andato con la sua bella scaricata di pallottole, e fortunamente [sic] non ha colpito nessuno ecco. Poi dopo, quando sparano le mitragliatrici, diciamo rifiutano i bossoli delle delle delle pallottole, noi bambini andavano a raccoglierli, andavamo a raccoglierli perché dopo li vendavamo, perché era ottone e quindi l’ottone aveva un significato anche saltar fuori la mancetta per per comperarci qualche caramellina, quando c’erano eh. Quindi l’esperienza di crema è stato un po’, un po’ pari a quella di Milano ecco, l’unica cosa che che che, la difficoltà scolastica perché da una scuola all’altra quindi ho avuto delle difficoltà. Poi, come dire, ecco una cosa che ho imparato, ho imparato il dialetto cremasco cose che invece qui parlavo in milanese ecco e quindi mi è servito anche quello. Quindi i miei genitori vedendo che bombardavano Crema e bombardavano a Milano allora tanto vale che tu ritorni a Milano. Ecco e allora mi han riportato, terminata la la quarta classe, mi riportano a Milano e mi iscrivono alla scuola qui di Precotto. Ironia della sorte, io dovevo andare, perché a Precotto non c’era più posto, alla scuola di Gorla dove c’è stato quell’eccidio di duecento morti. Fortuna, destino, mia mamma è andata a brontolare col col provveditore, il direttore, un certo Peroni (mi ricordo anche il nome) certo Peroni, è riuscita a farmi tornare a Precotto, perché noi venivamo dalla parte opposta della scuola, quindi era molto distante, andando a Gorla raddoppiavamo la strada, allora il il direttore là si è un po’ convinto e ci ha concesso di ritornare a Precotto eh ecco e quindi questo qui mi è andata anche bene. Ecco la vita a Precotto durante la guerra: era terribile, la paura era tanta, la paura era tanta, come dicevo prima le sirene poi a Milano suonavano alla gran più bella, però noi ormai bambini eravamo abituati a a questo genere di vita, perché nonostante tutto noi bambini giocavamo, perché c’era pericolo, c’era la fame, c’era il freddo però si giocava, con quello che c’era, coi giochini lì di poco conto che si potevano racimolare allora, e giocavamo. Poi eeeeh è venuto quel triste giorno del del bombardamento della scuola: ci siam recati a scuola eeeh va beh è venuto non so se devo raccontare il fatto ma penso che sia ormai risaputo, beh comunque mi han tirato fuori dalla scuola eeeh sano e salvo, tutto imbiancato, tutto impolverato. Ecco l’unica cosa che posso dire che è anche un qualche cosa che fa un po’ ridere, mia mamma era al lavoro a Sesto, io sul viale Monza che stavo andando a casa, non c’era in giro nessuno, ecco una cosa che mi ha messo anche paura, ero solo per strada, non c’era nessuno neanche un’anima proprio, tutti richiusi per per il timore del bombardamento, ed ecco che appare un un un signore in bicicletta, non so neanche chi fosse, io l’ho considerato un angelo custode dopo, che mi fa, io non so mi esprimo in dialetto ‘Uè tì nani in doe te vè?!’ cioè ‘Tu bambino dove vai? ‘Eh sun drè andà a ca’’ ‘ Cià ven chi che te careg in mi su la cana della bicicletta e te porti a cà’. Perché io ero a quasi, quasi un chilometro la mia casa da quella zona lì. E così mi ha portato a casa, arrivo a casa, mia mamma non c’era, mio papà neppure, tra l’altro non erano neanche al corrente che era bombardata la scuola. Arrivano, no arrivo io veramente, arrivo io e mio zio ‘Oh vin chi poverino vieni qua che ti met tuto sporco, bagnato’. Io avevo una sete terribile perché il bombardamento ti lascia la polvere in bocca e il sapore di zolfo. ‘Vieni qui che ti do un bicchierino di Fernet’ [laughs] io quella volta lì m’han dato da bere il Fernet, una porcheria solenne, non ho bevuto più il Fernet in vita mia. Ecco, dopo questa esperienza che grazie al cielo ne sono uscito, ecco i miei genitori mi rimandano a Crema [laughs] perché qui le scuole non c’erano più eh, tanto è vero tanti miei amici qui a scuola uno andava presso una mensa, quell’altro presso uno stabilimento, quell’altro presso l’oratorio della chiesa, cioè le varie classi le hanno smistate. Io invece mi hanno mandato a Crema e ho completato gli studi elementari lì a Crema, ecco. Questo qui è a grandi linee la la mia esperienza di guerra, però quello che mi ha segnato maggiormente è stata la lontananza dalla, dalla mia famiglia per un certo periodo, il freddo la paura, la paura, la paura anche del del Pippo che di notte veniva a sorvolare la città e tutti avevamo timore le finestre, chiudevamo tutto, spegnevamo la luce che temevamo che questo Pippo qui sganciasse qualche, qualche bomba ecco, quindi questo qui è a grandi linee eh, il dopoguerra. Il dopoguerra è stata, è stato bellissimo, cioè siamo rientrati, però mi sono rimasti i segni tanto è vero che quando suonavano le sirene degli stabilimenti, io abitavo vicino a Sesto e a Sesto c’erano tanti stabilimenti, io scattavo come una molla e e partivo per cercare rifugio però dopo sapevi che oramai è finito, però è rimasta dentro ancora quella quella quella sensazione lì di scappare, fuggire, fuggire la paura era terribile, il bombardamento è brutto eh, i bombardamenti son brutti. Quando andavamo in rifugio in braccio a mia mamma che bombardavano qui a Milano, tremavo come una foglia, era il mese di agosto eh ero lì che tremavo ‘Eh ma tu sta fermo Paolo sta fermo, sta qui tranquillo’ e io tremavo tremavo tremavo, probabilmente l’effetto della paura, col senno di dopo eh non lo so, e così, e comunque la guerra l’è l’è, è una brutta roba dai diciamo così. Poi nel dopoguerra invece non è che le cose andassero meglio eh, grazie al cielo mio ha trovato da lavoro, da lavorare come autista e quindi qualche cosettina si muoveva, però il freddo c’era, perché ancora il riscaldamento non non era avviato, non c’era ancora la legna per bruciare, il carbone cominciava ad arrivare pian pianino, quindi nel ’46 è stato un anno piuttosto pesante ancora che ha risentito dell’essere stato in guerra. Io a scuola mi hanno iscritto ad una scuola di avviamento al lavoro, a Sesto, e andavo a piedi eran quasi tre chilometri, tutti i giorni a piedi andata e ritorno, a piedi andavamo perché mezzi c’erano ma costavano, c’era il tram di Monza che portava là. E quindi andavamo a scuola ma più delle volte d’inverno ci lasciavano a casa perché non avevano la legna per riscaldare le le classi, per cui per noi era una, era una pacchia nel senso che i bambini basta dire di non andare a scuola e tutti contenti ecco. Se devo dire un particolare che del bombardamento eh, quando è suonato l’allarme che i maestri ci hanno indicato la via del rifugio in maniera anche veloce ‘Su su bambini muovetevi che che il pericolo è incombente’ ecco in quel momento lì è scoppiata, e mi ricordo bene, una gioia infinita tra noi ragazzi ma non perché suonasse l’allarme, era era in procinto un bombardamento, no no perché noi smettevamo di fare lezione e quindi eravamo felici beati e contenti, come tutti i bambini del resto eh, vivono la guerra ma anche sanno giocare ecco e questo qui, ho sempre giocato, ho sempre giocato ecco, studiato poco perché va beh, ero a casa sempre da solo nessuno mi mi spingeva a studiare per cui ecco io penso che che.
EP: Vorrei farle qualche domanda sul, su proprio quando è scoppiata la guerra: lei si ricorda che cosa si diceva, che, quali erano i discorsi un po’?
PB: Sì sì mi ricordo che c’era dell’euforia, eran tutti contenti, mi ricordo di questo, sì sì, mi ricordo, vedevo le persone anche i genitori, a scuola, parlavano dell’entrata in guerra dell’Italia, però lo dicevano con una forma ‘Tanto si vince, porteremo a casa la ricchezza, staremo meglio’ e quindi c’era una euforia, c’era euforia, c’era euforia. Fino al ’42 eh, poi ha cominciato a spegnersi e poi dopo è successo quello che sappiamo un po’ tutti immagino.
EP: Ehm riguardo invece appunto l’esperienza del bombardamento, lei si ricorda che cosa succedeva dentro il rifugio, quali erano un po’ le cose che si facevano?
PB: Ah sì sì guardi, siamo rimasti in rifugio, da quando è suonato l’allarme, è scattato l’allarme, saran passati due o tre minuti, perché la scuola di Precotto era su un piano terra no e quindi entrare in rifugio, a parte qualche fatto un po’ unico che non è riuscito ad arrivare in rifugio ed è morto, però noi bambini siamo riusciti a scendere abbastanza velocemente. E dicevo prima, in forma anche abbastanza gioiosa, cioè non pensavamo certamente che venivamo bombardati, eravamo contenti perché, dicevo, abbiamo smesso di far lezione e via era felicità no, e quindi eravamo gioiosi, quindi nel rifugio giocavamo, ah i soliti spintoni ‘Ti ohe, aaah bim bum’ le solite cose dei bambini. Poi a un certo punto, dopo pochi minuti eh, perché è successo quasi subito, si spegne la luce, oibò, si spegne la luce poi cominciano, un boato enorme, tremato tutto cominciato a cadere i calcinacci, polvere, odore di zolfo, bambini che piangevano, altri che che si lamentavano, uno era sporco tutto di sangue, e allora lì è cominciato a essere un po’ una faccenda più più seria ecco. Io come dico però, nonostante tutto, non ho perso la calma, sinceramente, dico la verità, ero abbastanza tranquillo, paura sì, ma tranquillo, e poi dopo pian piano dopo dieci minuti circa, la sapete immagino la storia di quel sacerdote che che, don Carlo Porro, il quale ha intuito che han bombardato la scuola, è corso subito, e assieme a tre o quattro volontari, ha aperto un pertugio perché ha capito che eravamo ancora sotto, ha aperto un pertugio e lì ha cominciato a sfilarci. Io sono stato il penultimo a uscire, ci mettevamo in coda, i maestri, devo dire i maestri abbastanza coraggiosi, devo dire, sì perché sono stati capaci di mantenere la calma e soprattutto di creare un po’ di ordine, quindi ci hanno incolonnati e si è creato una specie di scivolo con le macerie, siamo arrivati al soffitto del dello scantinato e lì c’era questo pertugio, ci prendevano le braccia e ci tiravano fuori come tanti salami no. E lì, poi dopo non succedeva nulla, io mi ricordo che il signore che che c’era lì vicino ‘Ecco ades te sè fora’ parlo in dialetto scusatemi eh ‘Te sè fora, va cur cur a ca’’. E io mi dicevo ‘Mah cur a ca’?! Cur a ca?! Ma dove vado?’ era tutto bombardato, non sapevo più dove fossi. Quindi vai di qui, vai di là, dove sono? Dove vado? Non c’era nessuno, ma in un bel momento mi sono ritrovato in una via che conoscevo, via Bressan, e di lì sono entrato su viale Monza e poi ho incontrato quel signore in bicicletta che mi ha portato a casa, però primo momento, sono rimasto veramente scioccato perché, mi hanno detto ‘Vai a casa, vai a casa corri vai a casa che c’è ancora pericolo’ [coughs] però vai a casa, era era difficile perché non si capiva più nulla, poi sul viale c’erano il tram, che era stato divelto dalla dalla, dai binari del tram, era lì mezzo su mezzo giù, un cavallo poveretto con uno zoccolo tagliato via, perdeva sangue, si lamentava, tutte scene di questi tipo, no? Terribili, però persone nessuna, ecco ripeto, una delle cose che mi ha colpito, la solitudine che mi son trovato quando mi han tirato fuori dal dal rifugio, ero proprio solo, c’era nessuno, no ‘E adesso cosa faccio io?’, dopo ho trovato quel signore lì che mi ha portato a casa ecco.
EP: Ehm tra, tra i bambini della classe, lì nei giorni, nei momenti successivi al bombardamento, ne avete riparlato, è stato un argomento anche?
PB: No. Come dico, io non ne ho riparlato coi miei amici perché m’han portato a Crema. Ecco a Crema, lì la direzione, i maestri, la propaganda fascista, diciamolo così, eeeh mi hanno accolto come, non dico come un eroe ma come uno che che, che che ha compiuto un atto bello, doveroso no, perché ‘Eh bombardato, eh qui, gli americani assassini!’, cioè la solita propaganda del regime, e quindi mi han fatto ergere a eroe, detto così in parole, e quindi non ho potuto parlare con, con i miei amici, dopo nel ’46 li ho rincontrati però oramai era finita la la, e quindi non ne ho parlato perché mi hanno portato via subito, per cui, e ho avuto quella esperienza qui del, di Crema.
EP: E appunto anche dopo la guerra c’è stata occasione di rincontrare le persone che avevano avuto quella esperienza?
PB: Sì ma non ne parlavamo, no, non ne parlavamo. Probabilmente c’era un silenzio, un silenzio anche timoroso di dover rievocare situazioni tristi, di paura, di di sofferenza, probabilmente questo, no non ne abbiamo mai parlato, no, no.
EP: E riguardo eeh la fine della guerra proprio, lei si ricorda i giorni finali, che, se se ne parlava, che cosa si diceva.
PB: Sì sì sì. Io mi ricordo, dunque ero a Crema, purtroppo, purtroppo, ero lì sfollato, mi ricordo che il 25 aprile una, un gruppo di partigiani, tra l’altro mi hanno colpito anche veramente, armati fino ai denti, con, sembravano dei dei banditi del del, messicani con le con le con le strisce di cartuccere, i mitra, i mitraglieri, e portavano delle donne, ex collaboratrici fasciste che le avevano rapate e pitturate di rosso la testa, ecco passavano per la via lì, così, ecco questo qui mi ha colpito, mi ha lasciato un po’ un po’ come dire, non mi è piaciuta la cosa ecco, non mi è piaciuta, proprio una brutta, un brutto ricordo di quella lì, che poi mi han detto poi che queste donne qui le portavano al campo sportivo e lì le hanno uccise tutte ammazzate, fucilate ecco. Quindi mi ricordo ero lì a Crema ho vissuto questo momento brutte del dopoguerra, della presenza di questi partigiani che erano accaniti, proprio veramente, forse perché sono un tipo tranquillo non non mi, non mi ha sfagiolato tanto ecco quella presa di posizione lì verso quelle donne, anche se colpevoli per carità, io non non voglio giudicare, però quel trattamento lì, così meschino no, non mi è piaciuto ecco dico la verità questo. Poi dopo nel periodo della fine della guerra c’è stata la la la come dire, la restituzione delle armi, mio zio aveva lì tre moschetti che aveva nascosto quando l’8 settembre molti militari hanno lasciato il reggimento per ritornare a casa, quando è stato l’armistizio dell’8 settembre, e mi zio aveva accolto tre militari, di Vigevano erano, eeh li han cambiati, gli han dato i vestiti da borghese e lui ha tenuto lì tre fucili e la la divisa, quindi sono andato con mio zio a restituire al comando partigiano, perché c’era l’obbligo di restituzione delle armi occultate durante la guerra, ecco, così mi ricordo questo. Qui a Milano non c’era quindi non non non ho presente, perché la situazione di Crema per per quanto fosse abbastanza indicativa però in dimensioni più ridotte, ecco sì, essendo una cittadina piccolina. Però ecco, un’altra cosa che mi ha colpito, eeeh i tedeschi che prima erano arroganti eh, perché io ho sempre avuto paura dei dei militari tedeschi, anche questa qui è una cosa che, quel modo di parlare loro che per noi era era incomprensibile, duro, forse magari a loro insaputa, però creavano in noi bambini uno stato di timore, di paura, e quando vedevamo i tedeschi, sempre armati di tutto punto eh, io parlo di Milano, vedevamo i tedeschi eeeh scappavamo perché avevamo paura, erano duri proprio, al contrario di quando sono arrivati gli americani, che gli abbiamo incontrati e ci davano qualche cioccolatino la ciuinga, cevingam [chewing gum] lì quello che è, quindi era un altri tipo di rapporto, ma ecco un’altra cosa ho avuto paura dei soldati tedeschi, poveretti come dico magari non non ne avevano intenzione di farci paura, però il loro modo di vestire, di essere armati, il loro modo di parlare così secco duro e ci ci condizionava ecco. E poi ho visto questi tedeschi sempre lì a Crema su una camionetta con questi partigiani qui che li insultavano, li picchiavano, li li, li li come dico si sfogavano un po’ verso questi tedeschi qui, giustamente, ingiustamente lasciamo domineddio a, a giudicare.
EP: Ehm riguardo a chi ha compiuto il bombardamento vero e proprio, che cosa pensava lei da bambino di questi bombardamenti
PB: Guardi a onor del vero noi non pensavamo, non sapevamo neanche chi fossero, certo eravamo come dire spinti dalla propaganda a pensare che chi veniva a bombardare erano degli assassini, ecco questo ce lo avevano inculcato bene eh, perché se voi morite, se voi soffrite, è per causa di quelli là, non di noi che vi abbiamo portato in guerra, ecco questo qui è, è quello che noi eeeh provavamo. Ecco però non sapevo, sapevamo che erano inglesi [emphasis]. Sì, e allora tante volte passavano le formazioni di aerei sopra Milano e andavano, che andavano in Germania a bombardare, noi eravamo lì a contarli ‘Uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque’ era bel tempo, il sole bello, e ci divertivamo a contare gli aerei che andavano, però quei giorni che sono venuti a bombardare eeeh la scuola di Precotto eravamo a scuola non abbiamo potuto contarli [laughs] li abbiamo contati dopo.
EP: Ehm successivamente, cioè una volta adulto, ripensando a quei fatti, che opinione le è rimasta?
PB: Beh l’opinione rimasta è che io odio la guerra, ecco qualsiasi forma di guerra proprio, non riesco a capire la necessità di fare una guerra proprio, io da piccolino ho capito che è stata una guerra inutile, proprio inutile! Quanti miei amici che sono morti ancora piccoli, quanti papà che son morti in guerra, al fronte, quanti, quante mamme nella sofferenza nella fame, quindi cosa ha lasciato? Cos’ha lasciato? Valeva la pena? Cioè è questo che mi pongo. Da adulto ho detto, ma vale la pena? Perché le guerre si differenziano, si differenzieranno dal modo in cui uno la fa ,però è sempre, la finalità è sempre quella, inutile inutile, crea solo dolore, morte, basta non crea niente la guerra non crea niente, non crea proprio niente, questo qui mi è rimasto molto impresso, tanto è vero che io son contrario eh son pacifista a oltranza.
EP: Va bene, io sono.
PB: A posto.
EP: A posto, la ringrazio moltissimo
PB: Ma di nulla.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Paolo Bottani
Subject
The topic of the resource
World War (1939-1945)
Bombing, Aerial
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Erica Picco
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Lapsus. Laboratorio di analisi storica del mondo contemporaneo
Date
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2016-12-02
Contributor
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Francesca Campani
Format
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00:33:25 audio recording
Language
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ita
Identifier
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ABottaniP161202
Spatial Coverage
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Italy--Po River Valley
Italy--Milan
Italy
Temporal Coverage
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1944-10-20
1943-09-08
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Sound
Description
An account of the resource
Paolo Bottani recalls wartime memories of a working-class family in Milan. Describes the widespread enthusiasm for the declaration of war, followed by a relatively calm period. Mentions alarms as greeted initially with joy because classes stopped and the care-free attitude of children who used to salvage shell casings for their scrap value. Recounts the first bombing he witnessed when in Crema and gives a detailed account of the Precotto primary school bombing, where he was trapped underground and brought to safety by the effort a rescue party. Describes the aftermath of the bombing on the surrounding areas and explains how the authorities presented him as evidence of the Allies’ brutality. Recalls his life as evacuee: fear, hunger, cold and painful frostbites; disrupted communication; destroyed bridges replaced by precarious footbridges, strafing. Recollects events at end of the war and describes head-shaved female collaborators paraded in shame. Mentions a life-long distress reaction to sirens and connects his strong pacifist stance to the experience of being bombed.
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
animal
bombing
bombing of Milan (20 October 1944)
childhood in wartime
civil defence
fear
home front
perception of bombing war
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/60/528/PDellEraG1701.2.jpg
256939ba01c61bf2c5e2007b8c645f83
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/60/528/ADell EraG170225.2.mp3
94a9f104f1910111032202d949bf8b81
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
EP: Ok. L’intervista è condotta per l’International Bomber Command Centre. L’intervistatrice è Erica Picco. L’intervistato è il Signor Guido Dell’Era. Nella stanza è presente Sara Troglio. L’intervista ha luogo in [omitted] a Milano e oggi è il 25 febbraio e sono le undici del mattino. Possiamo cominciare. La prima domanda che le faccio, come si è detto, partiamo da prima della guerra.
GD: Si’
E le chiedo, cosa faceva lei prima della guerra? Studiava? Quanti anni aveva? Come organizzava la sua quotidianità? Quali erano le sue impressioni riguardo a quel periodo?
GD: Prima della guerra, io ero studente. Sono stato studente fino a diciott’anni. Diciott’anni fino quando ho preso il diploma di geometra conseguito presso l’istituto, dunque, Carlo Cattaneo di Piazza Vetra a Milano. Per raggiungere l’istituto dovevo prendere il tram su Viale Monza, la linea Milano-Monza, scendevo a Porta Venezia, da lì prendevo un altro tram per portarmi verso il centro di Milano. Questo è il percorso che facevo, e l’ho fatto per parecchi anni, finché avevo finito la scuola. Il periodo significativo, cioè che ricordo bene è stato il 25 aprile del 1943, quando è stato defenestrato Mussolini e anche lì bisognava vedere le reazioni del popolo. Ricordo la stazione centrale, c’erano due fasci enormi di bronzo, sono stati proprio abbattuti [emphasis] completamente, e si sentiva proprio l’odio verso Mussolini perché indubbiamente, tutti quanti nel giugno del ’40 sembrava che fossero osannanti Mussolini, ah meno male perché, ci sembrava che fosse un motivo logico perché i tedeschi stavano invadendo tutta l’Europa, ‘come mai Mussolini non entra? ah deve entrare’. Sapevamo tutti quanti, lo sapevamo noi che eravamo giovani, che parecchie armi erano finte. C’erano i carri armati di legno per scrivere agli atti. Quando Mussolini ha invitato Hitler in Italia e ha fatto vedere che erano carri carmati di legno, i cannoni di legno, cosa incredibile. Siamo, per cui siamo entrati in guerra nel modo peggiore, tutto perché c’è questa fretta di voler agganciare, agganciarsi ai tedeschi perché, se per caso i tedeschi avessero vinto, noi saremmo rimasti fuori, invece partecipando è stata poi la nostra rovina. E adesso, diceva, scusi?
EP: Le chiedevo appunto, prima della guerra.
GD: Ah, prima della guerra, sì, sì.
EP: Prima proprio dello scoppio.
GD: Appunto, facevo questo dopo scuola. Poi c’è stata l’interruzione nel giugno del ’44 quando mi avevano chiamato per andare a fare lavori agricoli leggeri in Germania. Per cui sono rimasto da quel momento senza tessera, senza niente, ero un isolato, un disertore praticamente perché non mi ero presentato alle armi. E c’era il pericolo effettivamente che se per caso avessero beccato un qualche volantino contro il Fascismo c’era la galera, tant’è vero che un mio compagno di scuola, delle elementari questo di Sesto San Giovanni, Renzo Del Riccio è stato fucilato nell’agosto del 1943, fucilato in Piazzale Loreto, perché Loreto è diventato così famoso in seguito prima di questo omicidio, di questo fatto eh [pause]. Dunque della Svizzera ho già raccontato mi sembra, no.
EP: Ci racconti ancora, ci racconti meglio.
GD: Ho tentato di entrare, ah sì, ero entrato già in Svizzera attraverso il valico ferrovie dello stato sceso a Bienzone un paesino che c’è in Valtellina ho valicato questo pezzo di non dico di Alpi, di montagne, sono arrivato nel, in Svizzera e mi ha colpito molto avendo qui abituati agli oscuramenti a vedere questa vallata tutta illuminata proprio mi ha colpito in un modo terribile perché di la non c’era la guerra di conseguenza bisognava tutto. Dopo due giorni ci hanno rimandato indietro perché non potevamo. Comunque con noi c’era una famiglia, una piccola famiglia costituita da padre, madre e questo bimbetto, si sono fatti cura gli svizzeri di telefonare a Zurigo dove viveva questa nonna, l’hann chiamata e hanno preso il bambino praticamente è rimasta la bambina. Di cinque persone, beh tre sono rimaste, due prigionieri russi che erano con noi, il bambino e noi due invece, noi tre siamo venuti indietro. Io ho potuto riprendere la scuola, mi ero rivolto al presidente, al preside della scuola, ho detto, guardi che io sono nato a febbraio però se lei mi fa un documento come risulta dalla carta da me falsificata, è stato molto gentile tra l’altro, è stato molto comprensivo, e ho potuto finire la scuola. In quel periodo mi ricordo che erano venuti anche a fare propaganda, addirittura c’era uno, me lo ricordo come se fosse ieri, piccoletto, grassoccio con i baffettini, che faceva propaganda per le SS italiane, pensate un po’ che roba. Perché purtroppo in Italia in quel momento lì c’erano quelli che andavano alle SS, quelli che andavano alla Muti, quelli che andavano alla Resiga, insomma [pause] e in questo frangente mi ricordo che.
Unknown person: Scusi, io vado signor Guido, ci vediamo dopo. La chiave è lì al solito posto.
GD: Va bene, grazie ciao. Scusate che mi fermo ogni tanto perché devo fare un po’ mente locale.
EP: Ci mancherebbe altro.
GD: Sono passati troppi anni. E poi, dunque, un momentino, quando ho detto che ho lavorato per due o tre anni in un impresa di costruzioni a Sesto San Giovanni poi mi sono fatto la domanda all’ENI. Combinazione stavano facendo un pezzo di gasdotto e io ho spostato dei materiali di che [unclear] da parte voi ma esistono su alla SNAM, la SNAM non si sapeva cos’era di preciso e allora cosa ho fatto ho presentato domanda in Corso Venezia 16 e mi hanno assunto. Andavano a vedere però se una persona era a posto, se era idee politiche o altro, questo lo guardavano eh, il servizio del personale della SNAM. Poi, non so, l’ho già detto, sono stato all’AGIP mineraria in via Gabba, poi via Gabba siamo, tornati, andati tutti a San Donato Milanese quando San Donato Milanese è diventato grosso quartiere non solamente residenziale ma anche di uffici, hanno fatto il primo palazzo uffici, secondo palazzo uffici, vabbè insomma sono arrivato là. Io sono andato in pensione nel milenovecento, cento, sai che non lo ricordo, beh trentacinque anni dopo, dal ’50 all’86.
EP: Vorrei riportarla al periodo appunto dello scoppio della guerra.
GD: Sì.
EP: Innanzitutto volevo capire meglio la sua famiglia, se era figlio unico, se ha altri fratelli.
GD: Sì, figlio unico.
EP: E in famiglia, l’avvento della guerra com’è stato vissuto, ne avete parlato a casa, come, come è stato vissuto?
GD: Mah, cosa vuole, allora non si poteva parlarne a casa, perché eravamo un po’ inquadrati tutti quanti, no. Beh, io sono stato Balilla, sono stato Avanguardista, tutte queste, marinaretto anche a Milano va bene comunque [laughs] e abbiamo seguito questo però Mussolini era un grande uomo finché è venuto fuori tutte le magagne che sono venute fuori. No, io ricordo per esempio che il primo, nel giugno, non so esattamente se il trenta quando, il primo allarme d’aereo ecco, il primo allarme è stato una cosa scioccante mi ricordo dormivo e c’era mia mamma che veniva a scrollarmi ero in sonno profondo, ero giovane e dice ‘Guido guarda che c’è il bombardamento, c’era l’allarme allora abbiamo incominciato ad assuefarci agli allarmi aerei c’era la prima sirena, la seconda sirena, il pericolo grave, il pericolo non grave, c’era tutto un sistema. Milano, ecco questo, era circondata da batterie di contraerea. Erano cannoni che ci hanno forniti i tedeschi perché anche noi [unclear] andavamo a prendere le inferriate delle case, come a casa mia per fonderli e fare l’acciaio, figurati un po’ che l’autarchia . E quando venivano gli aerei entravano in funzione le batterie e sparavano, sparavano non si sa. Sembrerà che ci fossero anche i tedeschi a aiutarci a usare le batterie. Ho saputo poi che gli aerei, i cannoni arrivavano fino a ottomila metri d’altezza e gli aerei cosa facevano, stavano su una quota superiore per cui non si prendevano mai. Infatti in tutto il periodo di guerra mi sembra che Milano abbia abbattuto tre aerei, tre aerei, pensate un po’. Quando, quando è arrivato, quando sono arrivati dal, sempre dal sud arrivavano, a bombardare Precotto, eh quello me lo ricordo bene, i bombardamenti di Precotto, eravamo io e mio padre sul terrazzo di casa, un po’ incoscienti vediamo cosa c’è, abbiamo visto in cielo un gruppo di aerei ma erano parecchi eh sembrava che, da sotto sparavano ma, mah, dico chissà cosa sono poi abbiamo sentito come il sibilo delle bombe che scendevano e le esplosioni perché per la prima bomba che noi abbiamo scoperto qui da noi era a chilometri di distanza davanti alla chiesa di Precotto era scoppiata la prima bomba. Eh niente c’era un tram, mi ricordo, un convoglio tramviario che era stato bloccato perché c’era l’allarme ma non solo ma perché era stata bombardata la strada. Allora cosa ho fatto io, come mia madre era andata non so per quale motivi in comune, allora io parto alla ricerca di mia madre, speriamo che non sia su questo tram che è stato colpito. E sono arrivato fino a Porta Venezia. A Porta Venezia c’erano ancora le, i baracconi delle fiere lì, tiro a segno, altre giostre, ed era lì che c’erano tutti, guardate cosa è successo, a due chilometri di distanza è stato un bombardamento orca miseria lo sapevo io portavano adesso con i telefonini si sa tutto quanto ma allora e dico guardate che è successo sta roba ma no e dico purtroppo è così allora a piedi torno poi mia madre era riuscita a venire a casa da sola, siamo venuti con dei miei amici siamo venuti a piedi. Ecco un’altra cosa per esempio quando c’era l’allarme a scuola maggior parte cercava di fuggire, di non andare nei rifugi [unclear] per venire a casa, perche’ insomma e facevamo a piedi dal Carlo Cattaneo, Piazza Vetra fino qui a casa. Quando si arrivava a casa arrivava, finiva l’allarme e arrivava il tram, questo è un particolare. Serviva a noi per fare un po’ di ginnastica. Ecco. Vabbè
PD: Permesso, buongiorno
EP: Buongiorno.
GD: Patrizia, Ciao, Patrizia. Mia figlia.
PD: Buongiorno.
EP: Piacere. Possiamo riprendere?
GD: Sì, se volete possiamo parlare anche semplicemente di fatti politici. Perché prima abbiamo parlato, no del momento la caduta di Mussolini è stata il 25 aprile del ’43 e anche lì sfogo della gente perché insomma. E mi ricordo a Porta Venezia c’era ancora uno con i fascetti lì [laughs] ma scusi ma cosa sta facendo lei e gli dico guardi che non c’è più Mussolini dovrebbe averli al contrario [laughs] quello si è preso, è scappato via di volata, vabbè. Ecco invece nel bombardamento di Precotto cosa visto una cosa gravissima, sembra che sia stato un errore logistico cioè anziché prendere le ferrovie dello stato hanno preso il Viale Monza e purtroppo ci sono stati duecento e rotti morti al Gorla. A Precotto invece è stata colpita anche lì la scuola di Precotto infatti c’è ancora la foto, l’ho fatta fare io quella targa ‘scuola bombardata il 20 ottobre del 1944’. I bambini che mi dispiace perché avrei detto a un mio amico se vuoi venire lì per l’intervista era un bambino d’allora [unclear] però insomma fatto sta che grazie alla partecipazione di questo Don Carlo Porro si chiama questo, è intervenuto e altri cittadini che erano li, avevano aiutato hanno passato l’inferriata della cantina e hanno fatto uscire tutti i bambini. Come sono usciti i bambini, è crollato il rifugio antiaereo, che poi momento rifugio antiaereo per modo di dire perché cos’erano delle travi di legno con dei puntelli sotto, no, non c’era niente di particolare. E tant’è vero che Don Carlo Porro è stato insignito della medaglia d’oro al valore civile. Ecco poi andando avanti nel, in questo percorso che facevamo, mi ha colpito una ragazza giovane stesa sul marciapiede. Come pure anche un cavallo, pensate un po’ che roba, quel cavallo ce lo siamo ripresi, ripresi io e un altro mio amico che combinazione era di guardia alla stazione di Greco e dice ma ti ricordi eh? Mi ricordo quel cavallo, poveretto, era squarciato, tant’è vero che l’hanno accoppato subito, per non farlo soffrire [pause]. Ecco, il Viale Monza era, era come, vediamo, può girare la pagina c’era in fondo, ecco Viale Monza era così, ecco linea tramviaria, il percorso andata e ritorno e gli alberi. Era uno spettacolo, in estate sembrava di entrare quasi in una cosa, nell’aria condizionata perché questi rami che si riunivano in cima perché erano alberi molto alti quelli che poi fra l’altro gli alberi sono stati rubati [emphasis] in tempo di guerra perché non c’era niente. Non c’era carbone, non c’era niente. Ogni tanto si prendevano la fune, sotto con l’accetta, rompevano e facevano cadere l’albero e poi saltavano addosso come tanti topi a rosicchiare [laughs]. Insomma allora non c’era proprio più niente.
EP: Mi racconti un po’ meglio com’era il quartiere, com’era organizzato, come conducevate la vostra vita di ragazzi a quell’epoca.
GD: Allora questa zona qui di Milano, da Precotto arrivava fino a Sesto, era tutti terreni agricoli. I terreni agricoli venivano coltivati da dei contadini che risiedevano a Precotto [unclear] perché c’erano delle famiglie intere che venivano qui al mattino, i cascinotti , venivano a lasciare gli animali, facevano i loro lavori e poi alla sera ripartivano questo su con il cavallo, con le cariole perché c’è sempre un chilometro di percorso eh da qui a Precotto. I terreni erano coltivati dunque innanzitutto c’erano i bachi da seta perché ciascuna famiglia aveva un po’ il reparto apposta per i bachi da seta che rendevano qualche cosa, li portavano a Monza dove c’era il, come si chiama lì, il ricupero dei bachi da seta perché il baco da seta era un insetto un po’ schifosetto ma però eh era produttivo eh difatti in Cina per esempio la seta che ha uno sviluppo mica da ridere. Poi l’altra parte dei terreni erano coltivati a verdure. Infatti mi ricordo che c’erano gli asparagi, addirittura, insalate varie e il venerdì sera venivano raccolte questa frutta nei cesti, venivano lavati nei fossi che erano abbastanza fornito bene perché era l’acqua del Villoresi, sai, il Villoresi che usciva da Sesto e veniva qui da noi, si dischiudeva fino a Precotto. Venivano lavate le verdure e venivano portati il sabato mattina al mercato di via Benedetto Marcello, Via Benedetto Marcelo è abbastanza vicino a noi, e allora col carro portavano e vendevano i loro ortaggi e poi rientravano la sera, era una giornata abbastanza. Poi, momentino, poi molta gente invece lavorava negli stabilimenti che sono qua nei dintorni, tant’è vero che la fermata che c’era qui da noi in fondo alla nostra via la chiamavano l’agraria perche la Breda faceva macchine agricole ai tempi, poi si è messa a fare i cannoni, le macchine per, immagina l’agraria. Per cui tra le varie fermate c’era Sesto San Giovanni, agraria, Villanuova, che era a metà strada, e Precotto. Poi nel, quando hanno cominciato i lavori della metropolitana, ecco questo è un altro particolare, quando hanno iniziato i lavori della metropolitana, che qui in fondo c’era la rimessa della metropolitana, hanno scoperto ancora un paio di bombe che erano inesplose e c’era un maresciallo Bizzarri che si chiamava del genio militare, che era comandato qui a Milano, io l’ho visto personalmente proprio, veniva con una sua camionetta di carabinieri, scendeva con la sua chiave inglese, col petrolio perché lubrificava la parte filacciata, si metteva a cavallo e con la chiave inglese girava, un lavoro pericolosissimo. Non so quante bombe ha disinnescato, probabilmente lo troverete da qualche parte questo maresciallo Bizzarri perché è un personaggio troppo importante. E finiva il suo lavoro e senza prendere nessuna precauzione. Noi eravamo ragazzotti ancora e quella volta lì che era venuto eravamo tutti in giro a vedere. Imprudenza, eh, perchè successivamente i lavori che hanno fatto successivamente di disinnesco, adesso chilometri e chilometri li lasciavano completamente liberi eh. Era pericolo.
EP: E il gruppo di voi ragazzi, eravate compagni di scuola dell’istituto geometri e ragionieri?
GD: Beh qualcuno sì. Sì ma erano gli operai figli di contadini no. A parte che noi eravamo in quattro gatti erano pochi bambini qua, a Percotto c’erano, qui da noi. Le palazzine erano state costruite nel ’28, ’29, ’30 per cui non c’erano grandi famiglie. Ecco stavo dicendo che hanno sviluppato, dai terreni agricoli sono diventati, io ho una cartolina tanto che tu lo scriva, hanno lottizzato e fatto dei terreni fabbricabili tant’è vero che su una cartolina c’è scritto ‘acqua, luce, gas e il tram ogni mezz’ora’. [laughs] Questa, la pubblicità di questa cartolina probabilmente c’è anche sul. Ecco, non, altro non. Ah momento, ecco si’.I ragazzi cosa facevano, andavano al naviglio a fare il bagno ecco, il naviglio era diventato una piscina . Oppure peggio ancora e pericoloso le cave, la cava di Precotto, la cava di Crescenzago venivano utilizzate dai ragazzi, da me in particolare, a fare il bagno ed era pericolo perché l’acqua fredda poteva anche creare qualche malessere, ah. Oppure si andava al Villoresi, ma il Villoresi era molto pericoloso perché aveva una velocità d’acqua abbastanza veloce, il Villoresi. Vediamo se c’è ancora qualcos’altro che, ah ecco. Più che i bombardamenti erano i mitragliamenti. Quasi tutti i giorni dalla fine del ’44 all’inizio del ’45 arrivavano due o tre cacciabombardieri da sud, io li vedevo da casa mia, viravano all’altezza dei campi qui di Precotto e si dirigevano verso le Ferrovie dello Stato e mitragliavano, probabilmente su segnalazione del controspionaggio che c’era. E si direbbe i due piloti, guardi era una cosa incredibile, li vedevi che scendevano d’altra parte non c’era più contraerea, quelli venivano giù tranquillamente e mitragliavano ed ogni tanto si sentivano sbuffare il vapore perche’ le caldaie perforate fatti per dire [unclear], ma guarda un po’, tant’è vero che poi sono stati, della resistenza sono stati fucilati tre ferrovieri che facevano parte dei comitati antifascisti.
EP: E durante i mitragliamenti, voi ragazzi cercavate di stare a guardare o vi mettevate al riparo?
GD: No, ma io e mio padre eravamo un po’ incoscienti restavamo sul terrazzo del, perché li vedevamo [unclear] e poi giravano, perché era un percorso fisso non c’era ecco un momentino il Viale Monza tra l’altro era sbarrato, era chiuso da due muraglioni, uno sulla destra, uno sulla sinistra in modo che i metri che dovevano fare, a parte che c’erano pochi metri, dovevano fare questa esse, questo percorso forzato e lì era di sentinella, c’erano dei militari prevalentemente fascisti erano questi e mi ricordo che una volta mi sembra che su quel, su questo qui c’è scritto, era il due o tre gennaio del ’45, credo, si son messi hann visto che arrivavano questi aerei così bassi, si sono messi di sotto a sparargli sopra quelli cosa hanno fatto? Hanno virato ancora e hanno cominciato a mitragliare Viale Monza, la guerra italiana, ah povero. E il 25 aprile poi è stato l’esplosione finale che è la caccia. Ma io ricordo per esempio che i tedeschi avevano tentato, non si sono arresi ai partigiani e hanno tentato di sfondare verso la Svizzera e infatti su Viale Monza vedevo [unclear] un sacco di mezzi dei tedeschi che andavano poi a un certo momentino hanno fatto marcia indietro e son tornati e sono andati in Piazzale Fiume dove c’era la sede principale della Wehrmacht. Ecco un altro particolare per esempio. In tempo di guerra tutte le filovie di Milano erano sparite, erano state depositate al parco di Monza su dei mattoni, su dei supporti perché le gomme le hanno portate via i tedeschi. Pensate un po’ la guerra cosa faceva. Andavamo a rubare, andavano a rubare le ruote delle filovie di Milano per usarle su. Ah rubavano anche le biciclette i tedeschi, eh, intendiamoci. Ultimamente erano abbastanza accaniti contro di noi. Forse avevano anche ragione perché noi li abbiamo traditi eh, i Tedeschi, proprio uguale..
EP: Io vorrei tornare un momento alla, a quando eravate a scuola. Prima accennava al fatto che arrivavano a fare propaganda a scuola.
GD: Sì, sì sì.
EP:Con che modalità cercavano di, insomma ?
GD: Ma io mi ricordo nell’atrio dove ci sono la tromba delle scale no, e c’era lì questo tizio qui vestito da SS. ‘Eh ma dovete se volete partecipare, ah no, volontari vi trattiamo bene’ ci lusingavano un po’ sul mangiare perché c’era poco da mangiare allora e mi ricordo che a un certo momentino nel pieno di questa propaganda qualcuno dall’ultimo piano ha buttato giù volantini antifascisti oh [laughs] lo spaghetto, lo spavento generale e quello si è trovato completamente spiazzato eh, stava facendo propaganda per andare eh, e hanno buttato giù i manifesti. C’è stato indubbiamente qualche testa calda perché il capo era pericoloso eh. Ah poi gli americani dicevano ‘noi bombardiamo perché voi italiani vi dovete ribellare ai tedeschi’ ma come si faceva a ribellare. Chi si faceva. Non avevamo nessuna arma. Mah! E poi quando c’è stato il 25 aprile c’erano, andavano a cercare di prendere beh hanno fermato anche i grossi gerarchi sul ponte di Orla adesso non mi ricordo i nomi quali erano che poi la maggior parte sono stati poi fucilati, eh. Beh, sul Lago Maggiore per esempio, la, credo che sia la famiglia Petacci mi sembra che li abbiano fucilati si buttavano nel lago e venivano presi di mira. E insomma, cose tremende. Eh, insomma. Comunque per carità la guerra.
EP: Quando è scoppiata la guerra, qual’è stato il più grande cambiamento che lei ha potuto vedere, cioè dal momento in cui appunto si discuteva di intervento, non intervento, cosa fare, c’era dibattito all’interno, tra di voi ragazzi magari?
GD: No, non c’era nessun dibattito il 10 giugno del ’40. Non c’era, eravamo tutti inquadrati. Successivamente, allora, sentivamo Radio Londra, sentivamo la Svizzera, quelli si sentiva. Io avevo una piccolo radio a galena che allora e sentivo appunto questi giornali radio che arrivavano dall’estero. Faceva anche piacere sentirli, perché speriamo che finisca [pause]. Mah!
EP: E nel ’44, quando c’è stata appunto la chiamata che c’accennava prima,
GD: Sì.
EP: cosa è successo alla classe, ai compagni di classe?
GD: Eh non lo so perché io poi ho ripreso andare a scuola nel, alla fine di ottobre, ho saltato qualche mese o due mesi. Quando sono andato dal preside che mi sono presentato il quale così così poi mi ha lasciato questa carta bollata e sono riuscito ad entrare. E niente, ci siamo visti, eh allora come va. Come quando per esempio adesso non ricordo esattamente l’anno, c’è stata la campagna contro gli ebrei, ecco. Diceva, ‘allora quest’anno, guardate che il compagno Finzi, il compagno Coen’, nomi tutti ebrei, ‘non saranno più in classe con voi perche sono stati dirottati verso la scuola’. Era una scuola verso il centro di Milano e sapevamo che erano stati invece portati, non portati via ma comunque ma facevano parte di questo gruppo di persone che erano malviste dal fascismo. Anche lì. [pause] Ecco quello che mi ricordo che qualche anno dopo, magari una decina d’anni, sono andato a vedere i miei compagni di scuola quali proprio avevo perso di vista e ho visto che la maggior parte, laureati tra l’altro eh, professor Coen, la Finzi, erano diventate delle personalità perché indubbiamente la cultura di quei ragazzi lì era molto superiore alla nostra, noi eravamo più bambocci.
EP: E sulle leggi razziali, appunto, si diceva qualcosa tra compagni, vi chiedevate che cosa stesse succedendo?
GD: Appunto non sapevamo per casa, non sapevamo che Finzi era ebreo, che Coen era ebreo, non lo sapevamo. Poi dai registri segnati si sapeva che, ma indubbiamente influiva negativamente su di noi ma per quale motivo, se c’era un motivo, uno non si rendeva conto per quale motivo veniva ritirato dalla scuola e portato da un’altra parte. Non è che ti dicessero ‘guardate, li portiamo là perché adesso sono ebrei, sono di religione contraria dalla nostra’. Tant’è vero che bisognava essere, non mi ricordo, si, ariani credo, no, infatti sui nostri documenti ti scrivevano addirittura ‘razza ariana’ [pause]. Che brutte cose.
EP: Riguardo ai rifugi antiaerei
GD [laughs]
EP: [laughs] lei ha avuto esperienza di immagino?
GD: Io ho avuto l’esperienza di Precotto, quando è stata bombardata la scuola. Il rifugio era fatti di puntelli di legno, poi al massimo c’erano delle travi che venivano con dei cunei, rinforzati. Però si direttamente com era successo a Gorla, non servono a niente. C’era qualche rifugio in fondo Via Brera poi lo stavano costruendo, ma è finito la guerra e il rifugio è rimasto ancora lì. Tant’è vero che è stato riutilizzato il ricovero da un mio amico architetto, il quale anzi l’ha comprato e li vendevano gratis e quasi perchè a lungo andare un blocco di cemento non so, due, tre metri di spessore, allora cosa ha fatto quello ha costruito sopra, così maggiore sicurezza [laughs]. Tant’è vero che c’è stata dopo un esplosione in quella casa perché c’era un tizio che caricava gli accendini nel sottoscala, è stata un esplosione, e la casa è rimasta su, fortunatamente. Per esempio anche, al centro di Milano, in Piazza, rifugio di Piazza del Duomo di Milano è stato costruito dalle imprese Morganti, le imprese che ci sono qua dietro, ma probabilmente non è neanche riuscito ad entrare in funzione, credo, bisogna andare a verificare le date. Perché siamo entrati impreparati, inutile fare tante storie. Lo stabilimento c’è la fatto c’è un rifugio anche quello qua dietro in Via Adriano esiste una specie di siluro che scende dove è stata fatta la Esselunga, ecco quello lì è un rifugio antiaereo. Allora devo dire adesso, figuriamoci. Ah sì, il proprietario lì è morto qualche anno fa mi sembra, l’ha tenuto come emblema della sua vita. Per cui non eravamo assolutamente preparati. [pause] Poi la pericolosità dei rifugi antiaerei perché se non c’era lo sbarramento, lo spostamento d’aria fanno crepare tutti quanti che sono dentro, eh. I muri molto sostenuti erano quelli della stazione centrale, perche lì indubbiamente ci sono i muri che sono. [pause] Insomma.
EP: E dentro i rifugi cosa facevate?
GD: Ah niente, c’è chi pregava, chi stava seduto, si portava le candele perché il giorno che manca l’energia elettrica o come frequentemente succedeva [pause]. Non so se c’è qualche altro episodio da raccontare, mah.
EP: Avevate paura?
GD: Eh beh certo ah.
EP: Come facevate per cercare di scongiurare la paura?
GD: Ma io ricordo per esempio che c’erano tutti i campi, come ho detto prima. Gli stessi operai della Marelli quando succedeva l’allarme correvano tutti nei campi si rifugiavano dentro i fossi che asciutti, no. C’era proprio la. Insomma siamo entrati in guerra impreparati [emphasis]. Sì però non vuol dire niente, anche se fossimo stati preparati la guerra è sempre una cosa che [pause] Ha annotato qualcos’altro?
EP: Volevo chiederle se la sua famiglia è stata coinvolta in qualche modo nella guerra. Se ha avuto dei parenti che sono partiti per il fronte.
GD: Beh, Qualcuno sì.
EP: Com’era vissuto in famiglia questo distacco?
GD: Non era qui, perche io sono, mio madre e mio padre, mio padre era di Milano, mia mamma di Agnadello, un paesino vicino appena fuori ,già in provincia di Cremona comunque, dove tra l’altro era la nostra cappella quando saremo morti andremo tutti li. Ma lì avevo avuto, mia mamma aveva avuto innanzitutto un fratello a ventun’anni è morto il giorno dopo la fine della Prima Guerra Mondiale, pensate un po’ che roba. È morto all’ospedale di Chioggia, per ferite riportate. Poi c’era un altro parente che in Russia è sparito, un altro in Libia, anche lì avuto, tra dispersi e morti ce ne sono un po’ da tutte le parti. E poi ci sono quelli che sono morti in Germania, i deportati in Germania. Io avevo una signora, non so se la conosce, la signora Murri, l’avete conosciuta, perché questa signora racconta molto volentieri per quanto perché ha avuto il papà che è stato deportato in Germania ed è morto, è morto là. Deve sentire raccontare quando hanno, sono riusciti ad individuare il treno, i vagoni, perché i vagoni erano piombati, li inseguivano con questi vagoni non so fino a dove sono arrivati, e parlavano attraverso le pareti chiuse di questa gente. Questa è una cosa molto molto interessante. Tra l’altro lo racconta molto volentieri alle scuole, il suo passato molto molto duro. Abita qui vicino tra l’altro.
EP: E riguardo appunto la fine della guerra.
GD: Sì.
EP: Lei si ricorda quando è stato dato l’annuncio che la guerra stava finendo, era finita, che cosa aveva fatto voi?
GD: Eh, beh certo.
EP: Cosa avete fatto voi? Quali emozioni c’erano? Che tipo di reazione c’è stata?
GD: È stata un emozione generale perché la prima volta quando sembrava che l’8 settembre del ’43 fosse finita la guerra perché lì, si era sentito il marescaglio Badoglio, ‘le nostre truppe reagiranno da qualsiasi parte provenga’, ma cosa vuol dire, tu invece di, ti metti li a sparare ai tedeschi, a parte che un è atto non giusto tra l’altro e tutta la gente in mezzo alla strada è finita la guerra, ah bene l’abbiam preso con un sollievo enorme perché. La stessa impressione che ho avuto io quando sono andato in Svizzera a vedere i viali illuminati e qui invece invece l’oscuramento. C’era addirittura un aereo che lo chiamavano Pippo che di notte veniva a mitragliare o a lanciare le bombette le case che erano illuminate, pensate un po’ che roba. Ma non abbiamo mai saputo se erano italiani oppure no, probabilmente erano italiani. Pippo l’avete sentito nominare anche voi? [laughs] E c’erano i fabbricati, i capi fabbricato, ogni zona aveva il proprio capo fabbricato, il quale veniva a dire se il rifugio era a posto, cosa veniva, i rifugi a posto. Sì i puntelli, vabbè. Certo che se la bomba ti arriva lì dentro non c’era niente da fare, non c’era niente.
EP: E cosa pensavate voi ragazzi di chi stava bombardando, all’epoca?
GD: Quello che si pensava. Se eravamo a scuola, cercavamo di uscire senza andare nel rifugio della scuola e incamminarci a piedi per arrivare a casa. Si sentiva proprio il desiderio di raggiungere la propria casa. Perché la casa sembrava che, raggiungendo la casa, basta siamo a posto. Il senso della casa era incredibile [pause].
EP: E ripensare oggi a quegli eventi, ripensare a chi bombardava, alle, diciamo, vicessitudini politiche della guerra, che opinione ne ha adesso, a distanza di tempo?
GD: Sui delitti politici, dice?
EP: Sulla situazione che proprio era del periodo di guerra, di chi bombardava, che opinione le è rimasta?
GD: Ah, beh, certo ricordo per esempio tutte le case che venivano bombardate, c’era scritto no, ‘casa distrutta dagli anglo-assassini’, anglo-assassini proprio, ma a caratteri cubitali. E però siamo noi che li abbiamo provocati, eh. [pause] Poi le informazioni non è che giravano come adesso, adesso l’informazione se succede un fatto, , non so, Porta Ticinese, si sa subito, allora si sapeva, mah sembra che abbia fatto, aveva bombardato, non so, una certa zona di Milano. Comunque abbiamo fatto cinque anni infiniti, noi abbiamo passato la nostra gioventù in tempo di guerra. Tra l’altro bisognava stare attenti a chi uscire di sera, non si poteva, c’era il coprifuoco. Ci si muoveva tutto così di nascosto, io avevo un amico qui al confine con Sesto e uscivamo di sera di nascosto, cercando di non farsi vedere da nessuno perché c’era sempre il pericolo di trovarsi o arrestato o pigliare qualche pallottata, qualche pallottola di arma da fuoco. [pause] Qualche, io ho sentito qualche, avevamo un inquilino che era reduce dalla Russia, anche lì è stata una cosa tremenda, a piedi, non so quanti chilometri, facevano tra i tutti, tutti quanti cercavano di arrivare in Italia. Un’altra sensazione quando sono arrivati i prigionieri dalla Germania per esempio. Sono arrivati i prigionieri, [pause] la gente che non si sapeva, allora c’era la corrsispondenza erano distribuiti ai militari dicevano ‘oh è arrivata posta oggi’, tutto, la, cartoline no. E io mi ricordo la corrispondenza con mio cugino che era in Iugoslavia, ecco anche lì, che poi ti sparavano, anche di là ti sparavano, mo’ [pause]
EP: Va bene, Signor Dell’Era, io la ringrazio moltissimo del contributo.
GD: Se c’è ancora qualcos’altro ma non, penso proprio di no. [pause] Certo che a pensare la guerra è la cosa peggiore che possa mettere al mondo un uomo, un politico, oh, per carità, lasciamo stare. Ma il fascismo si era comportato bene fino alla fine della guerra. Noi eravamo inquadrati, facevamo i Balilla, facevamo gli Avanguardisti, facevamo, c’era disciplina, ordine, c’era amor di patria , tutto quanto, in apparenza almeno. [pause] Nella nostra zona abitava, ha abitato, oh madonna come si chiama quello lì, Bertinotti, abitava nella via vicino a noi, come si chiama. Poi c’è stato fino alla guerra, c’era Vanoni che era venuto qui a fare una visita a Precotto, non so per quale motivo e giocava, e ha giocato a carte, a carte che non si poteva neanche, in una osteria di Precotto, e lì è stato, non so forse l’ha preso Scala nel suo, ci deve essere, non avevo Vanoni, che gioca a carte, che non si poteva. Invece, Io invece ero a scuola invece con Cossutta, ecco anche lì la [unclear] della gente. Cossutta era un fascistello eh. Quando andava a scuola allo Zucchi di Monza, teneva concerto, teneva il filo lui, ah che, aveva gli stivaletti scuri, perché faceva parte dei piccoli gerarchi fascisti. Poi cos’ha fatto, ribaltato, è diventato il più grande comunista d’italia, anche lì. E’ morto poco tempo fa. La metamorfosi della gente. I politici fanno presto a cambiare idea, eh, e’ difficile che siano coerenti tra di loro.
Allora di questo libro qui posso darglielo, va bene? Questo è importante. Qui c’è tutto eh, c’è scritto tutto di equipaggi, tipo di aereo, la formazione, la provenienza, per cui.
EP: Grazie mille.
GD: Niente.
EP: Grazie dei preziosi materiali e della sua testimonianza.
GD: Eh no, se posso essere utile, qualcosa.
EP: Lo sa. Grazie.
GD: Niente, di niente.
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 Guido Dell’Era
Subject
The topic of the resource
World War (1939-1945)
Bombing, Aerial
Description
An account of the resource
Guido Dell’Era recollects daily life in wartime Milan, stressing inadequate war preparation. Describes a disciplined, regimented society which later turned to disillusionment. Recollects the declaration of war, the fall of the fascist regime and the end of the conflict. Contrasts with the situation in Switzerland, emphasising the lack of wartime black-out precautions there. Describes the 20 October 1944 bombing, its effects on the Gorla and Precotto primary schools, and his own role in the subsequent memorialisation of the event. Stresses the ineffectiveness of anti-aircraft fire, the different shelters and what life was like inside them. Mentions the impact of racial laws on his schoolmates. Recalls memories of Italian military internees in Germany. Describes wartime life: execution of partisans, pastimes of children, strafing of marshalling yards, antifascist propaganda, SS recruitment, graffiti on bombed buildings, bomb disposal units, Pippo, and curfew. Mentions fascists who changed camp after the war ended and became active public figures in other political parties. Describes briefly his post-war life working for oil and mining companies.
Creator
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Erica Picco
Date
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2017-02-25
Contributor
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Peter Schulze
Format
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00:50:44 audio recording
Language
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ita
Spatial Coverage
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Italy--Po River Valley
Italy--Milan
Switzerland--Zurich
Italy
Switzerland
Temporal Coverage
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1944-08-10
1943-09-08
Identifier
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ADell'EraG170225
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Lapsus. Laboratorio di analisi storica del mondo contemporaneo
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
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
animal
anti-aircraft fire
anti-Semitism
bomb disposal
bombing
bombing of Milan (20 October 1944)
childhood in wartime
civil defence
home front
Pippo
propaganda
strafing
Waffen-SS
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/3/6/ANocchieriF170202.2.mp3
b83e3fdf3e05eaa55090f4da0746ef37
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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Nocchieri, Franco
Franco Nocchieri
F Nocchieri
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Description
An account of the resource
One oral history interview with Franco Nocchieri, who recollects his wartime experiences in Pavia and Voghera.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-02-02
Identifier
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Nocchieri, F
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
FA: Sono Andi Filippo e sto per intervistare Franco Nocchieri. Siamo a Gropello Cairoli in provincia di Pavia, è il 2 febbraio 2017. Ringraziamo il signor Nocchieri per aver permesso questa intervista. E’ inoltre presente all’intervista Carlo Intropido, amico dell’intervistato. La sua intervista registrata diventerà parte dell’archivio digitale dell’International Bomber Command Centre, gestito dall’università di Lincoln e finanziato dall’Heritage Lottery Fund. L’università s’impegna a preservarla e tutelarla secondo i termini stabiliti nel partnership agreement con l’International Bomber Command Centre. Signor Nocchieri, vuole raccontarci la sua esperienza durante il periodo, diciamo della Seconda Guerra Mondiale?
GN: Sì, sì, Allora, esperienza della guerra, vediamo un po’. Posso cominciare da Casteggio. A Casteggio c’è una zona che si chiama il Pistornile e là c’è, c’era, penso che ci sia ancora, un istituto o un orfanotrofio, giusto? Quando c’era la guerra io sono stato lì, da ragazzino, proprio, no. Il problema, il problema qui è, era la fame, lì si soffriva proprio la fame era fame, perché sia a mezzogiorno come la sera, patate in brodo. Una scodellina di alluminio, perché adesso non è di alluminio, no, tant’è che l’alluminio veniva su con roba bollente, no. Mezzogiorno, sera, patate, e noi altri ragazzini, era talmente la fame che scavalcavamo il muro eccetera eccetera e andavamo a rubare il fondo del, il crostone, così in dialetto, della verza, non il crostone dentro la verza ma quello proprio, per far la fame, per eh. E sì, poi qui, siccome poi, sì, era ormai iniziata la guerra no, c’erano ancora i materassi con dentro, come si chiama quel coso lì, del, del, le pannocchie, come si chiamava quelle cose lì? La, la.
CI: Il granturco.
FN: Del granoturco, la pannocchia. Allora i materassi erano fatti con quello, ecco.
CI: Ah.
FN: Lo sai, io non lo so, penso, cioè eh. Comunque. E poi in questo istituto c’era il problema della notte per le cimici. C’erano tante di quelle cimici che ogni tanto cercavano di pulire un dormitorio di cento ragazzini. Che, ogni tanto, cercavano di pulire e col martello picchiavano sui letti e volavano giù tutta una striscia di cimici [laughs] e veniva poi pulito con lo zolfo. Mettevano lo zolfo in mezzo a questo camerone, lo bruciavano e, e poi ritornavano, ecco questa era la vita di allora. Questo in grosso modo, no. Casteggio. Perché, e no, tu non puoi parlare perché se parlate così, mi fa le domande lui forse io vado più avanti no, perché sono stato lì, perché ero stato preso, adottato da una persona, che era un po’ matto, allora non si guardava tanto, adesso per adottare un bambino, per dire, c’è una burocrazia che ti, taccate al tram, beh sai una volta andavi al nido qui a Pavia e o bene o male prendevi un bambino e te lo portavi a casa. E io sono finito così uno che aveva poi, eh, che aveva l’osteria che poi racconto man mano vado avanti no, ecco. Ed ero andato a finire quel, quello lì di quell’osteria a Reggio, come lo chiamavano. Siccome era un donnaiolo, aveva l’osteria no e per liberarsi di me mi metteva negli istituti. Dopo mi veniva a prendere a secondo i suoi giri così. Beh, questo era la’, poi c’è, andiamo a Voghera, Voghera, qui incomincia sempre in un orfanotrofio cui ero e qui la scuola, una volta facevano, venivano promossi quelli che agli insegnanti davano il salame e invece io a Voghera mi avevano promosso in base ai bombardamenti, no. Cioè, ero in un istituto, proprio in fondo di Voghera, era una scuola professionale che era davanti alla stazione, giusto? Voghera. Non mi ricordo più come si chiama quella lì, niente. Eh beh, andavo in quella scuola. Però di scuola ne ho fatta pochissima perché come partivamo dall’istituto, eravamo quattro cinque ragazzi, beh, quando andavamo in istituto, quando eravamo a metà strada suonava l’allarme. E noi eravamo contenti, perché invece di, invece di andare a scuola andavamo in giro per la strada a giocare, ma però, quando suonava l’allarme, a scuola non si entrava. Quindi quasi tutti i giorni era così, di conseguenza, un giorno di scuola, un giorno sotto i bombardamenti. Perchè lì bombardavano per ore, non hanno mai preso la scuola, ma gli aerei hanno incominciato a rompere le scatole. E invitavano di andare nei rifugi ma io come ragazzino, noi ragazzini ci guardavamo bene dall’andare nei rifugi. Quando arrivavano gli aerei così, per noi era tutto un, eravamo quasi contenti perché vedevamo questi aerei [makes a noise] e che, questo Voghera. Naturalmente il problema della fame, a Voghera io non l’avevo perché nell’istituto bene o male si mangiava. Poi avevo una tessera del pane falsa, ma o bene o male con la tessera del pane, ma insomma, con il mangiare o bene o male ce la cavavamo, tempo di guerra. E poi, e poi dove incomincio, boh, dove, dove, ecco, allora. Io abitavo nel paese Campospinoso Albaredo, sai dov’è? Campospinoso Albaredo è stato proprio la mia vita fino a quando è finita la guerra, no. Dunque, di Campospinoso Albaredo posso dire per esempio quando arrivavano i tedeschi, che arrivavano con cannoni, mitragliatrici, su carri trainati da cavalli, ma tanto belli e grossi, e passavano e noi ragazzi tutti contenti perché vedevamo tutte ste cose qua. Poi, ah, nel paese, lì a Campospinoso Albaredo la fame non c’era proprio come paese perché le uova o bene o male c’erano. Poi c’era un macellaio che uccideva tutte le settimane la sua mucca poi c’era chi uccideva il maiale, l’unico problema sì a volte mancava la carne, lo zucchero però si salvava coi gatti, lì i gatti ne giravano ben pochi perché mi ricordo io che mangiavamo i gatti come si mangiava un coniglio in tempo di guerra. In tempo di guerra era un po’ spinoso beh! E i tedeschi non hanno mai mai mai mai disturbato per la verità eh, passavano poi avevano fatto una specie di accampamento ma lasciavano vivere. [pauses] Dunque più che i tedeschi davano fastidio i repubblicani, i fascisti, quello lì sì, i repubblicani, durante, io parlo perché ero dentro, in un’osteria no, qui facevano da mangiare eccetera eccetera, lì quando era mezzogiorno mi pare sì, c’era il giornale radio che parlava il Duce e bisognava alzarsi in piedi. Se uno non si alzava in piedi intanto che c’era il telegiornale erano guai seri. Potevi essere prelevato dai fascisti, prelevato e andavi a finire a Villa Triste Broni e lì, beh, lo sai, potevi sparire completamente, no? quello lì. Dunque, ah, sì. I tedeschi, i tedeschi, eh dunque, i tedeschi, c’era l’osteria, l’unica volta che hanno dato fastidio è che sono venuti lì a cena una sera, erano una qundicina o più, hann cenato, tutti armati eh! Han cenato lì eccetera, poi hanno incominciato a bere, si sono scaldati un po’, eh me lo ricordo proprio, ero un ragazzino insomma no, ecco, e a un bel momento si sono levati proprio tutti tutti proprio nudi come dio li ha creati, tutti eh, e hanno cominciato a cantare e bere, cantare e bere, così sono andati avanti per un po’, poi sono scesi in una, c’era una cantina grossa sotto nella osteria, sono scesi in quella cantina lì e hanno aperto tutti i rubinetti delle botti, io ero terrorizzato perché poi dopo il Risù cher era quello che mi aveva preso in adozione era andato a dormire e m’ha lasciato da solo. Io ero terrorizzato, non tanto per i tedeschi ma ero terrorizzato da questo Risù perché poi alla mattina le botte erano tutte mie, no? Comunque hanno fatto un disastro, se ne sono presi e sono andati. L’unica cosa, no, no, no, loro non hanno pagato, no no, hanno mangiato e hanno bevuto e tutto, continuavano a ballare per l’osteria, lì così nudi nudi, poi sono andati alcuni nudi hanno preso il loro fucile e se ne sono andati e buonanotte suonatori. Che avevano un accampamento lì. Però nel paese poi era arrivato il terrore, c’è stato un momento che era arrivato il terrore dei mongoli. Perché si diceva che erano arrivati i mongoli che prendevano le donne, via eccetera. E il paese c’è stato una volta che era stato terrorizzato per questo, che c’erano, che erano poi, erano arrivati alla frazione lì attorno, non mi ricordo più le frazioni, per andare a San Cipriano giù di lì, c’erano delle cascine e questi mongoli, che erano arrivati insieme ai tedeschi, li chiamavano mongoli, poi io non so se erano mongoli, quel che erano. Andiamo avanti. Il pericolo soprattutto in questa osteria era Radio Londra perché c’era il Risù così che non era un fascista, no, e lui riceveva, tramite Radio Londra, e poi trasmetteva ai partigiani, tutto di nascosto. Io ero lì e di notte lui accendeva Radio Londra e l’ascoltava, io ascoltavo, ma eh, però era, di quello io avevo paura, seppure come bambino in sostanza, capivo e avevo paura perché se ti prendevano mentre ascoltavi Radio Londra ti fucilavano sul posto lì, non c’era via di scampo. Dunque, poi andiamo avanti. I tedeschi quando poi c’è stata quasi il fine della guerra, i tedeschi si ritiravano no e come erano andati giù tornavano indietro coi carri coi cannoni e allora c’era un ordine quasi tacito di non disturbare e di lasciarli andare, a lasciare passare perché poi hanno cominciato i partigiani e dei partigiani avevamo paura che disturbassero queste colonne, no, allora anche quelli i tedeschi avrebbero reagito e allora come tacito passavano zitto lì eccetera. Mentre invece poi qui al Ponte della Becca tre o quattro cinque partigiani, quello sono testimone, hanno arrestato un cento o più di tedeschi perché si sono messi d’accordo mentre i tedeschi si erano raggruppati lì, prima del Ponte della Becca, a Campospinoso andando giù verso Pavia, Tornello, è il paese, Tornello, subito dopo Tornello si sono piazzati i tedeschi e quattro cinque partigiani hanno fatto del fracasso, cioè quattro cinque, uno qui, uno là, uno là, uno sparava, l’altro dava ordini, l’altro così, e invece erano solo quattro, cinque. I tedeschi si sono spaventati e si sono arresi quattro, cinque uomini, in sostanza, no. Andiamo avanti. Oh, poi arriva, ah beh sì, quando ero ragazzino c’era il Balilla [laughs] c’era il Balilla che il Risù, sempre quello che mi adottava, non ne voleva sapere, di fatti io sono stato uno dei fortunati che non ha messo su perché era obbligatorio mettere su la divisa con tutte ste’ cose, i ragazzini ci tenevano, non perché erano fascisti ma da ragazzini avere una divisa così, poi, invece io sono stato esonerato però io ero, c’era la sede dei fascisti era proprio a fianco della osteria dove, che l’osteria era responsabile di quel locale, un grande salone, che poi, finito la guerra è servito come balera insomma, no, e lì c’era una biblioteca con diversi fucili e la biblioteca io prendevo i libri, mi piaceva leggere, no, libri del Salgari allora eh, e poi i fucili, mi divertivo con i fucili, li prendevo, andavo fuori nell’orto, sparare così, racconto cose così, siccome hai detto di raccontare e io racconto quel che mi viene in mente, no, poi comincia la Radio Londra l’ho detto no? . Ecco, per cominciare la, i bombardamenti, ecco, qui sì, dunque. Bombardamenti io mi ricordo che incominciavano a arrivare i caccia quattro cinque caccia, facevano un bordello di quei bordelli, ma come quando passano quelli aerei supersonici, lì, i Tornado, ecco, era quel rumore lì, ne arrivavano quattro cinque insieme, tutti [unclear] e arrivavano all’improvviso no e giravano sempre intorno a il Ponte della Becca, prendevano verso Pavia ah, eh non mi ricordo più, beh, c’era un posto che era una polveriera, una polveriera grossa, adesso sono tutte case, non so se sai dov’è, allora, passi il Ponte della Becca, vai avanti, poi c’è la strada, beh insomma è un punto che c’è una grande curva che poi sono ritrovati arrivi a Pavia il [unclear], una volta era Darsu, una grande curva, la strada che va giù, una grande curva, orca, non mi ricordo più i nomi, prendi la cartina e vedi. Beh, adesso son tutti villette, case, lì c’era la polveriera, e questi caccia giravano intorno al Ponte della Becca e a quella polveriera lì perché lì i tedeschi avevano messo giù la contraerea e la contraerea, quando arrivavano i caccia, sparava ma poi un bel momento i caccia lo facevano tacere [laughs] mi sono spiegato, se no, sì, piombavano e bombardavano anche, no. Per esempio, il Ponte della Becca l’hanno bombardato un centinaio di volte, l’hanno mai buttato giù, lo foravano, l’hanno buttato giù i caccia l’ultimo giorno di guerra. E allora sono andati giù, hann buttato giù i piloni di là, un pilone e una volta sul Ponte della Becca io giravo con la bicicletta e avevo un’anguria di dietro. Venivo verso Broni e l’hann bombardato io c’ero sopra, l’hann bucato però non mi sono fatto niente. Ho portato a casa un anguria intera [laughs]. Ponte della Becca. Arrivano i caccia. Quando i caccia erano riusciti a fare tacere l’artiglieria, allora arrivavano i bombardieri. Arrivavano parecchi, no, quattro cinque qui, quattro cinque là, avevano un rumore poi anche strano, una cosa e lì lanciavano giù le bombe sul Ponte della Becca, sul, su quella polveriera lì e sul Ponte del Ticino e noi ragazzi dei genitori non ce ne siamo neanche accorti dalle case perché i caccia mitragliavano eh, non scherzavano mica, facevano di quelle mitragliate e noi invece fuori a guardare perché era, ci piaceva vedere, no. Erano tremendi quei, quelli lì, quei caccia lì erano americani, non so qual’è, però erano anche cattivi perché per esempio correvano dietro a chi andava in bicicletta. Se vedevano una bicicletta sulla strada, quella la facevano fuori. C’era uno lì che era un sordomuto che andava in giro con un carretto con i buoi, carro con i buoi no, ma lui non sentiva, andava tranquillo [laughs]. L’hanno fatto fuori, proprio. Erano tremendi eh! Sparavano, andavano di quà, li sentivi e vedevi proprio le mitragliate che se vedevano sulla strada era verso sempre le quattro, tre e mezza, le quattro, se vedevano qualcuno sulla strada, quello aveva finito di vivere. I caccia, i bombardieri no, i bombardieri buttavano giù le loro bombe poi le vedevi poi eh, poi se ne andavano e via. Tutti i giorni, più o meno tutti i giorni, ma per un bel po’ eh. La polveriera l’hann fatta saltare parecchie volte che poi da Campospinoso Albaredo si vedevano proprio le fiamme, che venivano su, le botte via eccetera no. Eh, sempre in fatto di bombardamenti, il Pippo, famoso Pippo, no, che, quello proprio l’ho vissuto in pieno io, il famoso Pippo, no, che arrivava lì, lì le luci, se vedevano un lumino era, era, [laughs], e il Pippo arrivava alla sera sempre a un certo orario e buttava giù, questo lo posso testimoniare bene, buttava giù degli oggetti come delle navi, ne avevo una io, navi in miniatura, ma belle eh, io ne avevo una, disinnescata me l’avevano, erano proprio anche fatte bene, oppure aeroplanini oppure penne stilografiche e naturalmente Pippo le buttava giù, no, oltre che prendere le luci, se vedeva una luce, un lucino, appena appena, si accendeva un fiammifero, quello lì lo vedeva, era tremendo e buttava giù sti oggetti e noi naturalmente da ragazzini incoscienti andavamo a raccoglierli. Poi siamo stati avvisati che. Comunque c’è stato, questo lo racconto perché mi è sempre poi rimasto anche in mente. C’è stato un ragazzino della mia età no, eravamo sempre in gruppo, no, e ha raccolto un bordello di queste cose qui. Non sapevamo ancora che avevano questo effetto e ha raccolto e si è messo nella testa di andare a pescare. Buttandole dentro secondo noi, no, buttandole scoppiavano. E difatti siamo andati in riva al Po e io non so qui e lì sempre ci siamo sparsi per venire ed il pesce così così, lui è rimasto da solo e buttava dentro queste cose qui. E poi un bel momento una è scoppiata, l’ha fatto scoppiare queste, l’han raccolto su col cucchiaio quel ragazzino lì. E’ scoppiato anche lui, tutto un. Bene. Disgrazia vuole che fanno il funerale a questo ragazzo, tutto una fila, il paese Campospinoso aveva, c’era una strada dritta che andava a Baselica, un paesino lì, una frazione, un paesino, allora era una frazione, dove c’era il cimitero. Su quella strada lì vuoi mica dire che arriva, che arrivi i caccia proprio mentre c’è il funerale un fuggi fuggi generale nei fossi hanno mitragliato la cassa perché poi non c’erano i carri, la macchina, quando facevano un funerale portavano tutto a spalla no, e quello che avevano, portavano in spalla sto ragazzino che poi c’era dentro della carne tutta maciullata l’hann messo giù, preso in mezzo alla strada, son scappati nei fossi, hanno mitragliato anche la cassa, l’hann forata in un modo, una mitragliata di quelle lì, no, quando sono andati via poi hanno continuato il funerale con tutta sta cassa rotta. Mah, niente. Ecco questa, la storia, questa era del Pippo. Dunque, ecco, quindi, maciullato durante il funerale. Ponte Becca, dunque, poi io non so cosa devo raccontare ancora, fame no, della Becca. Ah sì, io, per mangiare, io come ragazzino sempre su ordine di quel pazzo, io lo chiamo pazzo, mi mandava a prendere il formaggio ad Albuzzano. Albuzzano c’era uno che aveva, allevava maiali, aveva una specie, faceva del formaggio, il burro, e io, ecco da Campospinoso andavo in bicicletta ad Albuzzano. Però io ero sempre terrorizzato perché alla fine del Ponte della Becca c’erano sempre lì i tedeschi che fermavano tutti, chi era in bicicletta magari gliela portavano via e io passavo lì col zaino e [pauses] non mi hanno mai fe rmato né niente e che quando tornavo col zaino dietro, con il formaggio, specie di formaggio, il formaggio, il burro eccetera, quelle cose lì, avevo il terrore che mi fermassero, non tanto il terrore dei tedeschi quanto per il Risù, quello lì era il motivo che poi prendevo un bordello di botte perché avevo avevo preso tante, se la prendeva con me mica coi tedeschi quello lì, ecco. Non mi hanno mai fermato, sono sempre passato avanti e indietro, quasi tutte le settimane con la mia scorta di formaggio, me la sono cavata così. Andiamo avanti. Ecco, poi allora qui siamo già [pauses] per tenere, c’era andavo a Stradella con la bicicletta a prendere il ghiaccio perché allora per tenere fresca la roba c’erano dei piccoli frigoriferi, scatoloni, mettevi dentro il ghiaccio e sempre con il pericolo dei caccia eh, perché, però me la sono sempre cavata fuori. Poi, vediamo un pò, andiamo avanti, eh!, E poi comincia la, i partigiani. Dunque, nei partigiani, è successo che, era tutto su lì, Cigognola, sulle zone, , sulle colline di Broni, no, Cigognola, tutti quei posti lì, partigiani del paese, ero andato su a fare il partigiano, no, però l’inverno [laughs] faceva freddo e sulle colline non vivevo e allora sono ritornato al paese, c’era un segretario che si chiamava podestà, podestà, era una brava persona e invece di farli, arrestare è andato d’accordo con i tedeschi in modo che, hanno, c’era, hanno organizzato la Todt, si chiamava la Todt, per fare le trincee sull’argine del Po, che era divertimento per noi ragazzi perché ci andavamo dentro poi a giocare, no, e hann fatto la Todt tutti sti giovani sono andati lì se la sono cavata fuori, però poi sono saltati fuori i fascisti, quelli sono diventati pericolosi più, ma di un bel po’ più dei tedeschi che poi era venuto un po’ anche l’odio, sai com’è, no. C’è stato un giorno che io ero a Broni e tornavo verso il paese. Quando sono arrivato davanti al cimitero di Broni, quattro cinque partigiani, no, fascisti, fascisti, quattro cinque fascisti mi, m’hann fermato, ero ragazzino, mi hanno fermato e mi hanno detto: ’Vieni, vieni qui perché tu sarai testimonio di quello che facciamo’. E lì c’era la ferrovia, sotto lì c’era la ferrovia, c’erano, cosa sarà stato, una quindicina di giovanotti, vero, e quattro e quattr’otto li hanno uccisi tutti e io ho visto, proprio visto, no, che coi mitra, lo Sten, avevano lo Sten loro, una specie di mitra che era lo Sten, tutto vuoto così, li hann fucilati e ‘adesso tu vai in paese e avvisi che noi abbiamo fatto questo’ e io sono andato in paese e ho detto: ’guarda, i hanno fatto questo e questo’. E c’erano dentro dei giovanotti del paese di Campospinoso Albaredo quello, che quello mi è rimasto impresso anche quello. Dunque, poi, e poi basta [pauses] e adesso io più o meno io ho raccontato quello che mi è venuto in mente poi non lo so, adesso sta a voi farmi le domande.
FA: Come, vuole dirci come si chiamava quello che lei chiama Risù, di nome?
FN: Ah, beh è morto, sì, Bruschi Alessandro. Quello lì, sì, era tremendo quello lì, è stato proprio il mio carnefice sotto un certo aspetto, no, poi dopo io un bel momento quando sono arrivato a quindici anni non ce l’ho più fatta.
CI: Fiorentini non l’hai mai visto?
FN: Fiorentini?
CI: Fiorentini, la belva, quello che comandava?
FN: Ah, sì, sì, ecco, questo potevo, questo era di Varzi, quello lì, o no? Bravo, quello l’ho visto. Cioè l’hanno fatto passare per il paese di Broni anche dentro una gabbia con un carro tirato dai buoi fino a Pavia e lui era dentro e naturalmente quando passava per il paese chi con l’ombrello, chi sputava, chi, quello l’ho visto sì. Fiorentini deve essere stato. Sì, sì, sì, sì. Poi dopo tutto questo, questo Risù, quando sono arrivato a quindici anni, poi non ce l’ho più fatta perché lui, lui picchiava sempre, no, e allora mi sono ribellato e sono scappato, via. Lui ha chiamato i carabinieri, carabinieri sono venuti da me, ma io detto: ’quello non è mio padre, se mi portate indietro poi io scappo ancora’. E i carabinieri allora, si sono fatti vedere una volta, non mi hanno mica detto più niente. Poi dopo io ho fatto tutta un’altra vita che poi sono entrato nell’Artigianelli, ma la guerra era finita oramai. Io gli Artigianelli li ho fatti, sì proprio alla fine della guerra. Perchè dopo io sono andato, ho trovato tutti bei genitori lì, poi è stata lunga la faccenda, no, tutto lì.
FA: E quando bombardavano il Ponte della Becca, la polveriera, era di giorno quindi?
FN: Sempre di giorno, i caccia e i bombardieri, sempre di giorno, sempre nel pomeriggio, più o meno dalle tre e mezza alle quattro, praticamente tutti i giorni quelli arrivavano, prima i caccia che facevano un bordello che durava anche una bella mezz’ora e più, che andavano e poi tornavano, andavano [makes a droning noise] facevano poi non li sentivi più, poi tornavano e facevano diversi giri. Poi veniva un silenzio mortale perché poi dopo bisognava raccogliere i cocci, per dire, no, per vedere i disastri che facevano, no, e poi toccavano, e allora poi arrivavano i bombardieri che li sentivi proprio da lontano, facevano anche rumore [makes a droning noise] impressionava anche se, tra l’altro, no, e bombardavano quasi sempre sempre sempre. Come arrivavano i bombardieri dopo bombardavano. La contraerea veniva messa a tacere, vero, e allora i bombardieri arrivavano tranquilli, anche il Pippo, la contraerea non riusciva mai a fare niente perché puntavano quei famosi fari, no, un po’ ma non lo buscavano mai perché poi tra l’altro Pippo veniva, girava sopra a bassa quota. Si credeva sempre che era in alto, no, ma invece era sempre a bassissima quota Pippo anzi sì, se era un giorno o una notte con la luna così rischiavi di vederlo, se era buio buio non lo vedevi però se era lo vedevi proprio, sempre a bassa quota è stato Pippo. La gente ha sempre creduto che era in alto, chissà dove, ecco perché la contraerea non è mai riuscito a prendere quegli aeroplani lì che loro con i fari andavano in alto ma lui era in basso. Non so più cosa dire.
FA: E’ mai riuscito a vederlo lei?
FN: Sì, sì. Ah io, poi tra l’altro ero curioso, ero tremendo, ero un po’ il capogruppo di sti giovanotti, quei ragazzotti lì, no, e anche quando arrivava Pippo io scappavo fuori dall’osteria così e di notte per vedere eccetera, non stavo fermo un minuto, sono riuscito a vederlo sì, parecchie volte. Sempre di sfuggita eh. [unclear] Dava un senso che era sempre lì invece era dappertutto. Correvi da una parte lo sentivi di là, correvi dall’altra lo sentivi, era sempre, magari, magari erano anche in due o tre, di quei aerei, però dava il senso sempre di uno, il Pippo, così chiamato, così famoso, per noi ragazzi era una, era quasi una, ma ci piaceva anche per dire, non ci rendevamo conto del pericolo, per quello che.
FA: Non avevate paura?
FN: No non, io non ho mai avuto paura, no no no. Io l’unica cosa che avevo paura era Radio Londra, Radio Londra.
CI: Posso parlare?
FN: Parla!
CI: Tant’è vero che Pippo avevamo pensato che a un certo momento che non era uno, erano in tanti.
FN: Sì eh.
CI: Si trovano dappertutto. Lui lo conoscevano tutti, lo vedevano tutti in tutti i posti, sempre lo stesso orario.
FN: Sì, sì, erano tanti.
CI: A un certo momento, ma sono in tanti, non può essere solo uno.
FN: Per noi era.
CI: E’ qui, è là, era, è dappertutto.
FN: Cioè per noi, peri noi tutti, anche la gente così, era uno, difatti, Pippo era uno. Però chissà quanti erano in giro perché il rumore era sempre quello, in qualsiasi angolo dove andavi, sentivi sempre quel rumore lì, quindi erano in tanti. Però era uno. Come dire [unclear], loro facevano il loro dovere, no. Gli adulti avevano paura, ma noi ragazzi no, neanche dei caccia così, noi non avevamo paura. Per noi era un soprappiù, era vorrei quasi dire un divertimento, un divertimento perché era anche un po’ una novità vedere sti bolidi, quegli apparecchi, il baccano, poi le mitragliate, perché vedi, ci sono state parecchie volte che vedevi proprio le pallottole che viaggiavano davanti a te perché quelli lì. E c’era la lomba, ecco qui, lo sfollamento, Milano, i Milanesi che si scaricavano proprio a Broni, tutti quei posti lì, no. C’era la Lombarda, che era la società di corriere, era così famosa, le corriere che andavano a Carbonella doppie col mantice in mezzo, quelle sempre puntuali alle sei, non sono mai state bombardate né mitragliate, si capisce che forse c’era una specie di accordo perché partivano da Milano, venivano a Pavia e se, erano sempre un quattro cinque corriere, neh, doppie, alle sei Campospinoso Albaredo alle sei passavano, si fermavano all’osteria perché si fermavano a bere eccetera eccetera, no, cariche anche fin sopra, andavano a Carbonella ma quelle cariche di persone, uomini, donne, di tutti i colori, arrivavano e andavano verso Broni, Stradella, così, la Lombarda si chiamava, sai perché quello me lo ricordo! Però non sono mai stati mitragliati. Mitragliavano uno in bicicletta, per dire, mentre quelli lì non li hanno mai, mai, mai toccati. Si capisce che, come ho detto, o era un accordo o sapevano che erano sfollati perché gli aerei li vedevano quelli lì eh perché erano grossi così quelle corriere, non so se c’è ancora quella società lì a Milano la Lombarda, non lo so. Però era quella insomma. Fate domande voialtri vi rispondo.
FA: Invece quando era a Voghera che era più piccolo, andavano sulla stazione?
FN: Solo sulla stazione.
FA: Solo lì.
FN: I caccia. Solo sulla stazione, almeno io, per me era quello. Ma però mica sempre bombardavano. Passavano tutti i giorni praticamente perché noi partivamo lì da quell’istituto lì, sì, traversavamo, perché era proprio l’inizio dove c’era, non so se il prato con le carceri, le carceri, davanti c’era quell’orfanotrofio lì, traversavamo tutto Voghera, e suonava, quando eravamo a metà Voghera, a metà strada, suonava l’allarme, che noi l’aspettavamo, cioè noi ragazzini andavamo a scuola, speriamo che suona l’allarme, speriamo che suona, la scuola, suonava l’allarme e loro, sai, tutta la gente scappava nei rifugi. , Noi invece scappavamo, quel fiume, no il fiume, fiumiciattolo, era cioè la Staffora, quando era in piena era tremendo, la Staffora c’era, c’era, c’è ancora, no, scappavamo lì, giocavamo lì, a tirare sassi. E lì bombardavano o se non altro passavano per spaventare più che altro. Naturalmente le scuole venivano sospese e noi siamo sempre stati promossi lo stesso. C’era la maestra di italiano che era una sfegatata, una fascista, beh stavo dicendo, una [unclear], una fascista ma era brava come e nell’esame finale, per essere promosso, mi ha chiamato: ‘Nocchieri!’. Bisognava alzarsi in piedi sull’attenti perché allora che eran tutti , e ‘chi sei tu?’, eh beh non so neanche come mi e’ venuto in mente: ‘sono un italiano e amo la mia patria’, seduto, promosso. Io sono stato promosso in italiano con quella frase lì [laughs]. Per dire no, e ora c’era un maestro, un insegnante, era un prete, lo chiamavamo Bà. Bà, l’era cattivo, aveva sempra una verga in mano. Bà se non sapeva, non rispondeva, ti chiamava davanti a lui, con la verga, ti faceva mettere le mani cos’ì, no, e poi ti picchiava il Bà. Se per disgrazia tu facevi così ne prendevi dieci volte il doppio. Diventava cattivo, picchiava, però ai ragazzi, c’erano dei ragazzi che venivano dalla campagna, no, e li mandava fuori dalla scuola scavalcando un muro a prendere, farsi dare una gallina, o le uova, e quelli erano fortunati perché quelli che avevano la cascina, che avevano le galline, andavano a casa, prendevano la gallina e gliela portavano, invece io, con altri, eravamo un quattro cinque, dell’orfanotrofio, dove andavamo a prendere le galline e insomma io, alzo la mano, vado a prendere e mi ha lasciato andare io e un altro e quando siamo rimasti fuori dalla scuola, e adesso cosa facciamo, dove, come facciamo a portare una gallina, quello se, se non portiamo una gallina ci da tante di quelle botte, stiamo, e noi siamo andati a rubare le galline [laughs], beh in un pollaio abbiamo rubato le galline abbiamo, sai, le avventure della scuola. Della guerra perché quello lì si capisce che aveva sempre fame, no, e allora lo mandava, non poteva andare fuori adesso viene neanche da parlare, ma allora e vabbè, c’è chi mandava a prendere le uova o bene o male bisognava tornare indietro con qualche cosa e allora noi, per non essere interrogati o giù di lì, chiedevamo di andare fuori di scuola ma per noi era brutta perché non avevamo i genitori, la cascina, loro, bisognava andare raccontando, c’era un ragazzo che era diventato, ma quello era grande, cleptomano, tutti i giorni andava dentro in qualche negozio e rubava o un salame o delle scatole di marmellata o rubava, o lo zucchero, rubava sempre un bordello, noi lo sapevamo, quando arrivava in istituto, cioè un collegio non era un istituto, ero, , arrivava in collegio, gli buttevamo su una mantella sulla testa, gli portavamo via tutto [laughs] e lui il giorno dopo era daccapo, tanto per divertimen to, per dire! . Sì perché c’era l’orfanotrofio c’erano i maschi da una parte e le femmine dall’altra e naturalmente noi maschi quelle, [laughs] le femmine le erano un po’, su, mi spiego, e allora cercavamo di andare di nascosto dalle femmine ma c’erano sempre le suore che ci bloccavano e le studiavamo in tutti i modi per cercare di andare di là. Le avventure di istituto. E in tempo, sì in tempo di guerra lì, ecco, c’era un orto grandissimo lì dietro l’istituto in cui si erano piazzati, hann messo giù le tende tutto, gli indiani, mi viene in mente adesso, un accampamento di indiani. Dall’alto dell’istituto si vedeva questo accampamento. E noialtri, io sempre in testa perché le combinavo sempre, le tende eravamo convinti che c’era qualche cosa di buono, del cioccolato, così, e allora buttavamo giù i cuscini in quell’accampamento lì l’inizio, però per andare là bisognava passare dove c’era il reparto delle femmine, e o bene o male aspettavamo che passassero suore, c’erano delle suore un po’ anzianotte, e quando passava una suora, due o tre sotto là e zac!. E c’è stato un giorno che abbiamo portato via un sacco, no, due o tre sacchi di roba così. Eravamo convinti che era zucchero, li abbiamo portati su nelle camerate e poi quando li abbiamo aperti era tutto pepe e allora pepe dappertutto, un disastro solo, da ragazzi, mi è venuto in mente adesso. Li indiani, c’erano anche indiani in tempo di guerra, sì, sì, me lo ricordo, il pepe, lì eccetera. Avevo una bomba a mano io. C’era uno del mio paese che è stato chiamato a fare il militare e allora era stato traferito lì nella ferrovia, la stazione di dietro lì[unclear], le ferrovie insomma ecco, faceva il militare lì. Io quando ho saputo che era lì, allora andavo a trovarlo con un altro compagno così, perché ho detto, la fame non era un problema ma c’erano dei momenti che facevi la fame anche lì, no, la fame è la fame! E allora quando andavo lì a trovare questo amico, diciamo così del paese, preparava sempre qualcosa da mangiare, ci dava da mangiare sempre in due, traversavamo tutti i binari, nessuno ci diceva niente, traversavamo i binari, andavamo lì, ci dava da mangiare. E un giorno mi ha dato una bomba a mano, la Balilla, si chiamavano Balilla quelle lì, e me l’ha data lui e ero diventato il padrone dell’istituto con quella Balilla, del collegio con quella Balilla lì. Poi lo sapevano tutti che l’avevo e allora tutti avevano paura di me [laughs]. Poi un bel momento glielo data indietro perché mi aveva spiegato di non tirare questa qui, se no scoppiava e allora poi glielo data indietro. Tempo di guerra, eh. Dunque, sì poi c’era quello lì, l’ho detto, accennato, che ecco, di qui anche i ragazzi avevano paura. C’era la Villa Triste a Broni. Proprio dove c’è la piazza a Broni grande lì c’è ancora quella villa lì. Ecco, lì è dove entravano dentro e sparivano. Uccidevano eccetera, la chiamavano Villa Triste, che l’aveva in mano prima i tedeschi poi i fascisti. Eh ma, soprattutto quando l’hanno presa i fascisti, allora lì sparivano parecchie persone, anche del mio paese ne sono sparite diversi. Quelli li uccidevano o chissà ecco. Di questa qui da ragazzino, che da ragazzino avevamo paura difatti io andavo a Broni sempre mandato a prendere qualcosa dal Risù, da fare le spese e via eccetera, io poi soldi ne avevo in abbondanza perché li prendevo dove c’erano, c’era, erano nell’osteria, no, sapevo anch’io che, e c’era un cassetto con i soldi che prendevo, io ne prendevo solo una manciata, mettevo in tasca, andavo a Broni, Stradella, andavo nelle pasticcerie, a mangiare la cioccolata, i biscotti, ne facevo delle scorpacciate, ci andavo di frequente, no, per fare delle commissioni, nello stesso tempo io vedevo e questa villa qui, anch’io da ragazzo ci giravo al largo perché avevo paura, anche era entrata un po’ nella nostra mentalità, no, e allora, Villa Triste sì, c’era a Broni sì. [unclear] La Todt l’ho detto, sordomuto quello là che l’hanno ucciso, Pippo.
FA: E a Broni e Stradella invece non bombardavano?
FN: No. Sì, poteva fare disastri Pippo, perché Pippo era anche lì. Però Broni, Stradella non è mai stata bombardata, che sappia io, no, no, no. Che poi Broni e Stradella erano diventate il centro vero e proprio degli sfollati milanesi eh, perché tutti i giorni c’era la Lombarda, c’erano queste corriere lombarde, tre, quattro, a volte sei, tutte in fila e si scaricavano tutte a Broni e a Stradella. Poi andavano su nelle colline ma tutto il giorno era una fiumana di persone, però il paese così, Broni e Stradella, le ferrovie, no, non è mai stata, anche l’industria che c’era, le robe via, la Gea, tutte quelle ditte lì grosse abbastanza ma non sono mai state bombardate quelle zone lì, che sappia io. Allora, fate domande e io vi rispondo.
FA: Va bene.
FN: [unclear]
FA: Vuole dirci qualcos’altro?
FN: No, [unclear] sono magari dopo quando siete andati via mi viene in mente delle altre. Tedeschi ubriachi, le fucilazioni, testimoni, sono cose vere queste eh, che ho raccontato, mica le invento eh. Società, avevo dimenticato società la Lombarda, la Lombarda la chiamavano, biblioteca, giovanotti, tedeschi ritirata, , amico maciullato, non mi ricordo più il nome, era un ragazzino, aveva la mia età, funerale, anche qua hanno mitragliato, la Todt, la Todt anche quella lì, faceva, che poi era il disastro quando c’era il Po in piena, con tutto l’argine bucato perché c’è stato una volta che poi il Po era arrivato fino a Campospinoso Albaredo, sì, me li ricordo un anno e appunto perché l’argine era bucato e l’acqua, era bucato da queste trincee che facevano, no, era bucato e fino a Campospinoso Albaredo una volta è arrivato il Po, anche lì c’era un bel, era un bel disastro eh, e allora e poi finita la guerra allora andavamo a prendere le lepri, correvamo dietro le lepri perché non c’era più il divieto di caccia perché in quel paese lì, Campospinoso Albaredo era il paese, era un padrone solo, gli Arnaboldi, e ho conosciuto Arnaboldi, proprio il figlio, la madre, la figlia, era un padrone solo, terreni e tutto.
CI: Era ricco.
FN: Eh?
CI: Era ricco.
FN: Era Arnaboldi. Adesso tant’è che c’è ancora, adesso c’è il ricovero intestato ad Arnaboldi poi quando poi è morto anche il figlio andava a cavallo non so è morto, allora il paese hann cominciato a venderlo, casa per casa, l’han venduto tutto però Arnaboldi era, conte Arnaboldi, capitava.
CI: Era una potenza.
FN: Era una potenza allora, quel paese era così e tutti, tutti, tutti lavoravano nella proprietà di questo conte. Quello di Campospinoso Albaredo che poi adesso si è allargato ma il paese era tutto su una striscia [unclear], tutti, tutti, tutti lavoravano per questo conte, la terra. E poi aveva ogni famiglia c’era la raccolta del baco da seta, ogni famiglia aveva la sua stanza del baco da seta e il conte Arnaboldi, il bozzolo così bisognava consegnarli tutti a questo conte, venivano pagato un tot ma non so era così, però era conte Arnaboldi quel paese lì, lo sapevi, lo sai adesso.
FA: Va bene. Allora la, la ringraziamo per questa intervista.
FN: No, io, non so, adesso, quello, io ho raccontato quello che mi è venuto in mente.
CI: Fuori programma.
FN: Fuori programma.
CI: Una cosa che ricordo bene di te quando eravamo là agli Artigianelli, tu sei arrivato che eri già, avevi già quattordici anni o che, io
FN: Eh sì, perché, sì, sì.
CI: Noi lì eravamo, beh
FN: Avevo finito
CI: Un collegio da preti, no, quindi c’era un certo comportamento e lui l’è rivà e l’ canteva, s’è scincà la pel del cul, Donna Vughere, Donna Vughere, s’è scincà la pel del cul, Donna Vughere fala giustà.
FN: Ero, no, io.
CI: [laughs] Te lo ricordi te?
FN: Sì. Eh, io ero ragazzino. Lo dico adesso.
CI: Era un po’ differente da tutti gli altri. Lui era venuto, gli altri sono venuti in un età un po’ meno, dopo la quinta elementare ma lui è arrivato già, sui quattordici anni, quindici, era, poi aveva subito una vita un po’ disastrosa via, cioè, era euforico, teneva allegro un po’ tutti eh, era un po’ un punto d’appoggi, da esterno diciamo, diceva delle cose che gli altri non si permettevano di dire ma lui.
FN: Ma no, è perché io, io ho avuto anche quella fortuna lì, nonostante tutto, io sono sempre stato un ragazzo buono, cioè bravo, buono ecco più che altro, mai cattivo.
CI: Sì, di animo buono.
FN: Ecco, animo buono. Però sono sempre stato uno, un tipo allegro e ne inventavo di tutti i colori. Per esempio io quando sono entrato negli Artigianelli, ero, sempre stato anche attivo, no, non so se c’entra con la guerra, però io.
CI: No, ma hai spento?
FN: E’ spento.
CI: Spento.
FN: Io però adesso tanto per andare dentro un po’ in tutto nel, quando sono venuto negli Artigianelli io sono sempre stato un tipo in movimento, non stavo fermo no e ho sempre organizzato tante cose, tant’è che poi è quello che ho raccontato adesso, devo avere anche delle fotografie lì. Tant’è che avevo preso anche una certa carica negli scout, no, hai presente che ci sei anche tu negli scout.
CI: Sì, sì negli scout eravamo.
FN: E nell’Azione Cattolica. E mi avevano messo anche, mi avevano dato degli incarichi di responsabilità. E allora nelle mie.
CI: Eri capogruppo te.
FN: Sì. E allora io organizzavo e avevo organizzato una gita in barca, che è quando è annegato [pauses] un ragazzo. Insomma, io ho, poi dopo sono andato, ho imparato, sono diventato insegnante, ho diretto un grande stabilimento ma organizzavo sempre le gite io, nelle scuole soprattutto.
CI: Aveva sempre la macchina fotografica a tracolla.
FN: Sì, io c’avevo sempre.
CI: Appassionato di macchine.
FN: Quello ormai è diventata vecchia, me la son messa qui quando.
FA: Quando è entrato nell’Azione Cattolica?
CI: No, beh, era una cosa particolare interna, ero, io ero l’unico che ero nelle, però per essere boy scout bisognava essere anche nell’azione cattolico. Io ero l’unico, ero un boy scout ma non ero iscritto all’azione cattolica.
FN: Sì, ma prima c’era l’Azione Cattolica dentro, l’Azione Cattolica era come c’era a Pavia, era un’associazione.
CI: Sì, era negli oratori no.
FN: Era un’associazione.
CI: E lì era radicata come internamente.
FN: Sì, come era negli oratori, insomma giovanotti così no, tant’è che quando siamo andati a Roma ho preso tante di quelle botte ma le ho date anche mi è, perché avevo in mano una statua di San Pietro, eh!
FA: Ma chi è che l’ha picchiata?
FN: I compagni, è per quello che poi non, i compagni mi sono sempre andati giù per traverso, no. Vabbè. Giravo per Pavia con un coltello perché c’erano i compagni, perché loro era il momento, vestiti da Boy Scout, sti uomini anche di una certa età che ti prendevano in giro, ma mica venivano vicino a me però. Gli altri scappavano ma vicino a me non ci venivano. A Roma tutti, se ti ricordi il nome perché, l’organizzazione , a Roma c’è stato, era l’organizzazione organizzato da Carlo Carretto, i baschi verdi.
CI: Carlo Carretto era il presidente dell’Azione Cattolica italiana.
FN: I baschi verdi, i giovanotti edell’Azione Cattolica li chiamavano i baschi verdi, a Roma tutti coi baschi verdi, no, che erano allora più di cinquecentomila. E noi andavamo a dormire con gli Artigianelli, col Vergari andavamo a dormire un po’ fuori Roma. C’era un capannone, c’erano delle suore lì e facendo la strada, vero, perché i compagni in quel, quando c’è stato l’incontro con il Papa, avevano paura di tutto questo baccano di questo giovanotti, allora avevano dato ordine di, tutti, di rifugiarsi loro nelle loro sedi. Senonché c’è stato un errore che quando è venuto, veniva oramai il discorso del Papa, tutti questi giovanotti se ne tornavano nei loro posti dove dovevano andare a dormire e nello stesso tempo i compagni avevano la libera uscita per uscire dalle loro sedi e ci sono stati gli scontri, ecco, e allora, il mio gruppo, vero, che poi posso farti i nomi, Barbierato, tutti quei, tu li conosci, li hai conosciuti no, eravamo tutti insieme e andavamo giù verso il [unclear] e nello stesso tempo veniva su un gruppo di uomini, maturi anche uomini maturi e lì c’è stato uno scontro, [unclear], cioè ma quelli là, noi l’avevamo presa così andavamo giù tranquilli, quelli là hanno cominciato a dare botte e tutti sti ragazzi, compagni, amici, scappare a destra e a sinistra, io sono rimasto da solo con quella statua lì, ho preso tanti di quei calci, ma ne ho dati via dove potevo e alcuni li ho feriti anche seriamente e nello stesso tempo, neanche a farlo apposta, è venuto fuori un temporale. Nello stesso tempo hanno fatto, facevano, si sono messi a fare i fuochi artificiali. Tra temporale, tuoni e fuochi artificiali è venuto fuori un bordello, hanno chiamato la croce verde, eh caro mio, non c’era mica tanto da scherzare eh, ecco. Comunque tutte le gite che io ho fatto, ho sempre avuto dei morti.
FA: E chi c’era come Papa?
FN: Pio XII.
CI: Pio XII.
FN: Era Pio, sì, Pio XII.
CI: Pio XII. Papa Pacelli.
FN: Papa Pacelli deve essere.
FA: E che anno? Più o meno?
FN: ’48, o no? ’48.
CI: ’60?
FN: No, che ’60. ’48.
CI: ’48.
FA: Va bene.
FN: No, no, no.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Franco Nocchieri
Description
An account of the resource
Franco Nocchieri recalls his early years as an orphan in several different towns in the Province of Pavia. He describes the bombing of the Voghera railway station, which started while he was heading to school. He goes on to explain how he and his schoolmates used to cheer during air-raids, as they were free to skip school and play. He recounts his experience as live-in delivery boy at his stepfather’s tavern at Albaredo Arnaboldi, a vantage point from which he witnessed the daily attempts to destroy the Ponte della Becca, a bridge across the Po river. Franco describes his memories of ‘Pippo’, which he tried to watch every night, and mentions it dropping explosive devices disguised as fountain pens and toys. He describes the difficult coexistence between the local population and Axis troops, stressing the brutality of fascist militiamen. He also describes the fearsome reputation of a prison in the nearby town of Broni, known as ‘Villa Triste’, where many people disappeared. He remarks on his fearless attitude, except while listening to Radio Londra, which was a criminal offence at the time. Franco comments on the food shortages of the time and describes how the poor resorted to eating cats, which were considered to be a substitute for rabbit. He also recounts several wartime events, including: a narrow escape from the Ponte della Becca bombing; widespread fear inspired by so-called ‘Mongols’ (which were part of a German foreign division); a public execution; a friend killed by a bomb believed to have been dropped by ‘Pippo’; the strafing of a funeral procession, and the sight of Felice Fiorentini, a war criminal dubbed 'The Beast', being paraded in and around the province in a cage after the end of the war. He also mentions various stories from his time as a member of the Azione Cattolica Italiana, a Roman Catholic lay association.
Creator
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Filippo Andi
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Subject
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World War (1939-1945)
Bombing, Aerial
Spatial Coverage
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Italy
Italy--Po River Valley
Italy--Broni
Italy--Voghera
Italy--Pavia
Contributor
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Peter Schulze
Date
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2017-02-02
Format
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01:05:47 audio recording
Language
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ita
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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ANocchieriF170202
Type
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Sound
Coverage
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Civilian
animal
bombing
childhood in wartime
fear
home front
Pippo
Resistance
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/57/513/ABianchiA170223.2.mp3
c09531bc10ce13351e65fbcc19291d25
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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Bianchi, Angela
Angela Bianchi
A Bianchi
Description
An account of the resource
One oral history interview with Angela Bianchi who recollects her wartime experiences in Pavia.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
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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Bianchi, A
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-02-23
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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FA: Sono Filippo Andi e sto per intervistare la signora Angela Bianchi per l’archivio dell’International Bomber Command Centre. Siamo a Pavia, è il 23 02 2017. Ringraziamo la signora Bianchi per aver permesso questa intervista. E’ inoltre presente all’intervista il signor Chierico. La sua intervista registrata diventerà parte dall Archivio Digitale dell’International Bomber Command Centre, gestito dall’Università di Lincoln e finanziato dall’Heritage Lottery Fund. L’Università si impegna a preservarla e tutelarla secondo i termini stabiliti nel Partnership Agreement con l’International Bomber Command Centre. Signora Bianchi vuole raccontarci la la sua esperienza diciamo negli anni di guerra?
AB: Sì, di quello che posso eh eh ricordarmi perché va bene gli anni son passati tanti, eh eh e volevo dire una cosa.
PCV: Riprenda quello che stava dicendo.
AB: Riprendo quello che stavo dicendo. Dunque la guerra del 1900.
PCV: No, lei viveva dove?
AB: Alla Cascina Trinchera, ecco io vivevo lì.
PCV: Il papà [unclear]?
AB: Il papà era fittabile, ecco cominciamo così, insomma perché tante parole, eeeh non è che io, ho fatto solamente la quinta, beh trans.
PCV: E quindi vivevate come?
AB: Eravamo lì, dove abitavo eravamo sedici famiglie, tutte sempre sempre, eravamo in pericolo, eh incominciava arrivare il pericolo, eh della guerra. Io andavo a lavorare a uno stabilimento di maglificio.
PCV: Dove?
AB: Via Ticinello.
PCV: Quindi vicino?
AB: Vicino.
PCV: Al ponte.
AB: Sì, passavo il ponte e poi e poi, in quelli facciamo, facevano il viale, il viale quello principale quello lì e poi prendavamo.
PCV: [Unclear]
AF: Certo.
AB: E poi prendavamo una scorciatoia, una piccola via in mezzo lì.
PCV: Quindi quello stabilimento era vicino a uno dei ponti fondamentali di Pavia cioè il ponte della.
AB: Sì, il ponte Nuovo.
PCV: Il ponte Nuovo o della Libertà o dell’Impero.
AB: Sì, sì della Libertà sì sì eravamo ai ponti, c’era anche l’altro ponte avanti quello.
PCV: Della ferrovia.
AB: Sì brava ecco. E quello lì non gli hanno fatto niente, proprio pochino, quando venivano i bombardamenti, ecco. E così ho iniziato ad andare, andavo, andavo a lavorare e, e poi eh c’erano sempre un, quel pensiero lì e la paura che, che venivano i bombardamenti. Ecco il mio padrone mi diceva ‘Andate a casa stasera, prima, perché oggi è una brutta giornata, oggi riescono senz’altro il ponte Vecchio, andare giù. E così, e così ha indovinato, allora noi, lui quel giorno lì siamo venuti fuori prima, di solito venivamo fuori sempre alle 5 nel pomeriggio ‘No! Oggi andate fuori prima un’ora che così potete, fate in tempo ad andare a casa’. Invece in quel momento lì è arrivato, ha suonato l’allarme. È stato un giorno mi ricordo come fosse adesso, ho visto tutto in televisione anche sì.
PCV: Si sentiva bene la, il suono dell’allarme com’era?
AB: Eeeh! Le, le, era una, una sirena fortissima, che se era in casa chiuso così lo sentiva, eh. Quel giorno lì sono, ognuno, eh andava dove voleva, perché i rifugi ce n’erano in piazza Botta.
PCV: Sì.
AB: In piazza Botta.
PCV: Il più vicino a voi era in piazza Botta.
AB: In piazza Botta. E poi ce n’era un altro più vicino noi, vicino alla chiesa dove c’è l’Esselunga, l’Esselunga è dalla parte opposta di lì.
PCV: Sì.
AB: Lì c’era un caseggiato eeeh.
PCV: San Gervasio Protasio era quella lì, la chiesa?
AB: Ma forse era quella lì, sì sì.
PCV: Vicino al Mondino?
AB: Sì al Mondino, ecco. Un po’ di là e un po’ di qui, ci siamo riuniti un po’, eravamo in 150 donne nello stabilimento. Io ho detto ‘No, io voglio andare a casa perché dopo i miei hanno il pensiero, e allora eravamo in cinque che abitavamo in Borgo, eh ma adesso son morti, sì eh adesso non ci sono più. Eravamo in cinque e l’altro era in tredici, si ricorda, il nome, tredici.
PCV: Sempre nel Borgo.
AB: Tredici del Borgo eh, non eravamo fatto, non erano.
PCV: Avevate attraversato il ponte.
AB: Sì.
PCV: Siete riuscite a venire qua in Borgo?
AB: Sì abbiamo fatto in tempo ad arrivare qui, lì.
PCV: Poi?
AB: Quel giorno lì son venuti, sono venuti non al mattino, perché di solito venivano al mattino alle 11.
PCV: [Unclear] Esatto.
AB: C’era l’orario eh, alle 11 bombardamento, eeeh e il ponte non li hanno, non l’hanno riuscito a buttare, e ci sono stati morti neh. I morti sono stati che hanno colpito, hanno fatto lo sbaglio, il ponte era qui, loro hanno hanno preso la parte della via dei Mille, e gli.
PCV: Anche le case.
AB: È stato un macello, eh, sì sì è stato un macello. E ci sono stati dei morti dove dove c’era, dove c’è ancora adesso Gambini, Gambini quello delle macchine, il deposito, adesso non, Gambini.
PCV: Dove abitava il dottor Gambini?
AB: Sì, no, è la figlia la dottoressa, in via dei Mille.
PCV: Sì.
AB: Eeeh che c’è la strada che va.
PCV: Sì in via Acquanegra.
AB: Là, brava. Ecco lì, hanno.
PCV: Quello là è quello che ha descritto e si chiama Tombìn.
AB: Eh sì, hanno colpito lì eh, ci sono i morti non so quanti, beh allora dopo un po’ ancora l’allarme che era andate.
PCV: Quindi lei non li ha visti quel giorno gli aeroplani passare.
AB: No, no, li abbiamo visti il giorno dopo alle 11. Che mio, il mio padrone ha detto ‘Domani non venite a lavorare perché andiamo molto male non vorrei che ci ammazzano tutti qui, e questi vengono più potenti’. Erano un 17, un 18 eh quasi 20.
PCV: Il mattino quando li ha visti.
AB: Alle 11 sì, sì, li abbiamo visti eh sì, sì sì, e infatti.
PCV: E si ricorda da dove arrivavano?
AB: Da Massa.
PCV: Esatto.
AB: Sì, sì arrivavano di lì eh. Un rumore che che le case non so come, come non hanno fatto a cadere però, e hanno colpito davvero il ponte, è stato un disastro, è stato, anche di lì ecco eh, e io venivo, venivo sempre al mattino a prendere il pane dal panettiere dei via dei Mille, che si chiamava Beretol, era il fratello della mia pro, della mia padrona dove lavoravo, eeeh e mi ha detto ‘Ninin, prima di venire a lavorare domani, vammi a prendere il pane, perché altrimenti non abbiamo più neanche il pane da mangiare’, ‘Va bene’. Ma il mio papà, perché era era, sì allora va bene, aveva preoccupazione dei figli ‘Eh va beh ma te dove vuoi andare adesso?’ ‘Eh devo andare a prendere il pane perché ho da portarlo domani alla signora’ ‘Alt! Il pane qui, di qui non ti muovi [emphasis], se dobbiamo morire moriamo tutti della famiglia’. E tutti eravamo a casa perché c’erano quelli che andavano dalla Necchi, l’arsenale, da Casati.
PCV: Quelli lì erano andati tutti a lavorare?
AB: No, no è stato proprio un riposo ecco. E lì è stato un caos, un caos da da cani.
PCV: Quindi ha ha visto quando hanno, sono venute giù le bombe?
AB: Arrivavano che noi avevamo un rifugio che l’hanno fatto alla Cascina Trinchera, che adesso ci sono tutte le case, tutte le villette.
PCV: Ah! Dove abitava lei.
AB: Dove abitavo io, c’era la stalla delle bestie, così, ma noi non andavamo in stalla, ma una stalla eeeh non pericolante.
PCV: E lì andavate.
AB: Ma non andavamo, non andavamo dentro lì.
PCV: Eh dove?
AB: Tutta la, tutti il, tutti i sedici di, di.
PCV: Famiglie?
AB: Amici, hanno costruito un sotterraneo, vicino a una campagna lì, era era mi ricordo ancora adesso, e dovevamo andare sotto lì, in campagna.
PCV: Avevate, hanno scavato
AB: Hanno scavato sì, sì.
PCV: Una fossa dentro?
AB: Sì, sì ma tante.
PCV: E il tetto.
AB: Era metà Borgo che sono venuti a aiutarci, venivano anche quelli della via dei Mille a salvarci, sì, a scappare per per poter salvarci, quello che che potevano prendere, il pane, un pezzettino di salame perché quei momenti là usava, c’erano i maiali, le galline, eh insomma non è come adesso che che bisogna correre al supermark, oh mama mama [laughs]. Io non volevo andare sotto lì perché era era profondo un paio, un paio di metri, ma anche di più. Stavo vicino alle scale per venire su, che li volevo vedere, non solamente io eh, anche gli altri signori che c’erano lì. Oh mama com’erano grossi! Li ho visti interi, sembrava ancora che venissero ancora adesso ecco, ci, siamo stati fortunati.
PCV: Quindi dove abitava lei li ha visti passare.
AB: Sì, venivano proprio eh eh, sopra il Ticino, hanno preso la la la mira sopra il Ticino che veniva, sono fermati un po’ indietro di qui dalla mia casa all’aeroporto, lì dove c’era che andava l’aeroplano Savio.
PCV: Sì, sì.
AB: Hanno incominciato a sganciare le bombe via una all’altra, via una all’altra che poi una l’hanno presa lì da vedere, eh tutto lì, disastro!
PCV: Si vedevano bene i fuochi.
AB: Oh, oh! Si vedevano bene, era una giornata meravigliosa, e è finita, non è che è finita così, che poi, il giorno dopo, sono ritornati ancora, ma non tanti così, di meno, di meno, che io ero ero ero andata, siamo andati a lavorare, pechè ero via nella casa, che poi siamo scappati, eeeh, donca siamo scappati al sotto suolo lì al rifugio dove c’erano i benedettini, in corso Cavour dove ci sono le scuole Carducci.
PCV: Sì.
AB: Lì c’era una via, in fondo a quella piazza lì, come si chiamava? Come si chiama quella piazza lì che poi.
PCV: Corso Cavour vicino al Carducci.
AB: Che c’erano.
PCV: Mah c’è piazza Botta, c’è.
AB: C’erano, ritiravano gente da far imparargli un lavoro.
FA: Gli Artigianelli.
AB: Gli artigianelli, ecco avanti dagli Artigianelli, c’era quel rifugio lì grosso che c’è ancora quel palazzo lì c’è.
PCV: Eh il palazzo Botta?
AB: Il palazzo Botta.
PCV: Il palazzo Botta c’era sicuro il rifugio sotto.
AB: Sì, sì, sì, sì eh ci sono, c’erano delle colonne più di che due uomini abbracciarle non riuscivano, e tutto, e tutto, tutti stabilimenti, se potevano, gli operai, scappavano tutti lì, e anche lì, me io avevo paura di andare nel car, sotto.
PCV: Sotto.
AB: Le cantine, diciamo così, nei cantìn. Mi mi, avevo molta paura, ecco.
PCV: Eh eh la gente sotto, come stava, cosa facevano in quell’ora, in quella mezz’ora.
AB: Niente, niente niente.
PCV: Di sotto, parlavano, avevano paura?
AB: Sì, sì non tanto perché piangevano di più.
PCV: Ah.
AB: Piangevano per la paura eh ‘E adesso viene qui mi ammazzano’ così eh sai, la la la, non lo so, perché non, non si faceva niente, c’era un cantinato sotto, grossissimo.
PCV: Buio, buio?
AB: No, c’era la luce! No, no, no per quello lì c’era la luce. Poi l’hanno messo a posto con le sedie eeeh tutte le panche, ecco, cani [laughs] i palazzi lì vicino avevano le bestie, il cane e il gatto, e lo prendevano su anche loro. E così contavamo così, cosà, così, cosà, tante cose che non si poteva nemmeno tingerle in mente, è andata così, siamo venuti fuori, e abbiamo, siamo stati molto male ecco che mio fratello poi visto che non sono andata a casa non, si è messo a cercarmi, di là, di lì, di là, di lì, poi e poi, perché il ponte non c’era più.
PCV: Si poteva ancora passare sopra?
AB: No! No, no, no, no non potevamo più era andato giù.
PCV: Allora eh?
AB: Due archi o tre né, dove, o tre, c’è ancora il segno.
PCV: Dipende dal bombardamento.
AB: Sì il bombardamento.
PCV: E quindi per tornare a casa?
AB: Eh per ritornare a casa abbiamo dovuto, perché erano già, stavano facendo il traghetto qui vicino alla lavandaia lì, perché pensavano che che ‘Tutta la gente come fanno a venire a casa?’. Un traghetto largo come il tavolo, così tutto fatto bene, i soldati l’hanno costruito.
PCV: Ah sta parlando del ponte, il ponte di barche.
AB: Sì, sì.
PCV: Il ponte di chiatte insomma, che è stato lì, esatto.
AB: È stato lì un bel po' di anni e poi, e poi l’hanno tirato via.
PCV: Si passava su quella passerella, la cosiddetta passerella?
AB: C’erano i soldati che ci seguivano, sì, sì, sì c’erano loro, sì, sì, sì, eeeh.
PCV: E quindi andavate avanti e indietro.
AB: Sì, quando dovevamo andare a lavorare dovevamo passare di lì, tutti, tutti quelli, quelli di, di che non c’erano tante macchine come adesso eh, c’erano tante biciclette.
PCV: Quindi anche con le biciclette.
AB: Sì, sì a mano, e a mano, ci aiutavano andare su, dei gradini per andare sul, sulla strada e poi proseguire a chi doveva.
PCV: Soldati.
AB: Sì, sì.
PCV: Italiani o tedeschi?
AB: No, no erano i nostri, i soldati, no no avevano la caserma eh qui, che che poi hanno cominciato a fare la ronda, si diceva così.
PCV: Cioè?
AB: Quattro soldati alla sera tenevano l’ordine del, del.
PCV: Passerelle?
AB: Sì, l’ordine della gente. Perché c’erano quelli che si, che che parlavano così e poi andava anche a pugni. Perché ‘Ti, oooh, ciapa de là, bi’ insomma erano tutti nervosi, tutti, tutti, siamo venuti un po’ strambi, eh. È finita così, e poi hanno tentato di buttare giù un’altra volta il ponte Nuovo.
PCV: Il ponte dell’Impero, sì.
AB: Sì, sì, il ponte dell’Impero.
PCV: Poi l’hanno, l’han distrutto?
AB: No, no no no, si passava la la l’hanno l’hanno, venivo quel, veniva alla sera quello della mitragliatrice che che che gli dicevano ‘Pippo!’ C’a gl’ho dit, mitragliatrice. I nostri non sono stati capaci di prenderlo, eh perché alla sera, noi appena buio, appena buio che non si vedeva, sì insomma appena buio, la luce c’era che qualche famiglia, se no avevamo la lanterna, una roba così, dovevamo metterci su una camicia nera, un coso nero, perché se vedevano un filino di luce quello lì ritornava eh e qual che al trovava al fava net, li amasaven, li ammazzavano. Qui ha ferito due donne che non hanno fatto in tempo a scappare anche di lì nelle campagne, che lui, sa dove c’è il cancello di di elettrico lì da noi?
PCV: Sì.
AB: Lì c’è un fossato, ecco sotto lì c’è un tubo di cemento così, che scarica quando viene la piena: tutti sotto lì! Non hanno fatto in tempo a scappare e l’hanno ferito, li hanno feriti, sì hanno ferito la mamma dello zio, la nonna Maria.
PCV: Ah, la nonna.
AB: Sì sì, e la nonna, la nonna.
PCV: No se no il ghe più.
AB: Eh no, il ghe più, en gh’è mia più nissun, e un’altra signora che abitava qui l’hanno a momenti non c’era, l’hanno preso anche lei in testa. Perché quello lì, che andava lì sotto, che che si rifugiava lì, aveva in bocca non so il toscano o la sigaretta, non lo so, con una luce così piccolina, e quello là veniva a bassa quota dalle case sui tetti, va ben? E disastri anche di lì, una paura enorme, di ore, un paio d’ore andava a mitragliare.
PCV: E si sentiva il rumore quando?
AB: Urche! Sì, sì, i cani, i cani davano l’allarme perché noi avevamo i cani in cascina, e urlavano ‘Ma che cos’hai?’ Si chiamava Puci, me lo ricordi mo, ‘Ma che cos’hai, stanno venendo, arriva Pippo! Andiamo, andiamo, vieni!’ e intanto venivano [makes a droning sound] un rumore ma non era grosso nè.
PCV: No eh certo.
AB: Come quello che andava su Savio.
PCV: Quello era un caccia?
AB: Era un cacciatorpediniere, eh sì. Ecco dopo gh’era anca cull’lì, altro pericolo.
PCV: Alla sera.
AB: Sì sì alla sera, aveva l’orario anche lui,
PCV: Ah cioè?
AB: Al buio.
PCV: Dopo cena?
AB: Dopo, no no arrivava alle 9, eh prima delle 9, eh si perché era d’estate e veniva su buio più tardi insomma, ecco.
PCV: Voi avevate già mangiato, eccetera.
AB: Sì, sì noi facevamo presto a mangiare la minestra non mancava mai, al pane non mancava mai, perché mio papà aveva la farina facevamo un po’ di cose, le portavo dal panettiere e senza pagare, no? Dava la farina, quella gialla, quella bianca, e noi prendevamo la farina da fare la polenta e quella bianca il pane la pasta insomma, si si lo mangiavamo così. Però la fame, ringraziamo Iddio anche se ero giovane sì, non ho mai sofferto la fame ecco.
PCV: E Pippo mitragliava solo o lanciava anche delle bombe?
AB: No, no mitragliava, con la mitragliatrice, ma sa quel poco ponte che è rimasto in piedi, quelle arche lì poche le prime di queste, c’erano le mitragliatrici nostre qui, tutte pronte, coperte di di rami che non li poteva vedere, eh eppure si abbassava si abbassava e e centrava le case le le le case. In su alla casa nostra in Cascina Trinchera avevamo la casa tutta mitragliata la parte che veniva.
PCV: Del muro di fuori.
AB: Sì, sì questa parte qui. E insomma, anca faceva, era pericolosa, e non hanno mai potuto prenderlo in nessun modo.
PCV: Ma dov’erano queste? Dov’erano?
AB: Mitragliatici? Sul ponte.
PCV: Vicino al ponte?
AB: Sì, i soldati li avevano.
PCV: I soldati
AB: Eh già.
Unknown person: Signora Anna buongiorno.
PCV: Buongiorno.
FA: Ecco prima della pausa stava dicendo della posizione delle delle mitragliatrici.
AB: Sì, erano tutte sul ponte quelle mitragliatrici lì ma non, con i nostri soldati eh.
PCV: Soldati italiani
AB: Sì sì, erano i nostri.
PCV: Tedeschi no.
AB: No, no, no.
PCV: E quella che ha, e quella vicino al suo stabilimento, sotto lì.
AB: Sì.
PCV: Al ponte dell’Impero, al ponte Nuovo, non l’aveva mai vista la contraerea lì?
AB: No, quello lì non abbiamo, la sentivamo sì, sì.
PCV: Ah ecco, ci son delle foto.
AB: Sì sì beh ci sono delle foto che hanno poi, io le avevo tutte le foto, davvero eh, avevo fatto un album, tu, non solamente io tutti i suoi nonni, avevamo sì un ricordo un po’ un po’.
PCV: C’è ancora?
AB: Eh la piena.
PCV: È andato giù con la piena, lo stavo dicendo.
AB: La piena, addio ha rovesciato tutto, e non abbiamo, abbiamo portato dal fotografo a farli vedere quelli che, ma non c’era più niente, avevamo le le, i disastri, i disastri delle case, ecco. E in su, tutti i negozi non c’erano più: panettiere, ciabattino, quel che faceva le le focacce.
PCV: In piazza lì.
AB: Eh sì, lì in via dei Mille. Ecco, basta lì è andato al suolo, tutto.
PCV: E la gente cosa diceva dopo il bombardamento?
AB: Niente, cosa diceva? Eh cercavano di di reagire per per salvarsi ancora quello che hanno potuto.
PCV: Cioè quindi?
AB: Sotto le macerie!
PCV: Cercavano nelle macerie?
AB: Certo! Sì, quello lì, ci son stati dei morti ma non so quanti, eh quelli lì mi ricordo ma non hanno trovato niente, perché c’erano anche quei momenti là, che che quello che trovavano non dicevano ‘Qui ho trovato una borsa, qui ho trovato un coso, qui ho trovato un altro’. Niente, se li portavano via.
PCV: C’erano dei ladri.
AB: Oh! Sì, sì, cercavano di portare via, non di dare una mano o quando si trovava qualche cosa di importante, ecco han trovato i morti e lì non è stato un po’, ehm.
PCV: E chi tirava fuori i morti?
AB: I soldati, sempre loro, di aiuto.
PCV: I soldati italiani?
AB: Sì, sì i nostri. No, no non c’era nessuno dei, di loro. E quel, quell’aeroplano lì che gli ho detto che ci dicevano che era Pippo.
PCV: Pippo sì.
AB: Che mitragliava non si è mai saputo se era, se erano uno dei nostri che voleva essere un po’, o uno di loro, lì che che han fat la guerra, ecco non si è mai potuto saperlo, mai, mai, mai, mai, mai, mai, mai. Poi ha cominciato a venire l’oscuramento, lì la la ronda, e poi tante cose che quei soldati lì tenevano un po’ un po’ la quiete del ponte, della gente insomma, ecco, il comune ha aiutato quelli lì che hanno perso i familiari.
PCV: Senza tetto, senza tetto, e dove il portavano?
AB: Eh sì, sì, no li tenevano loro un po’ e li hanno ritirati nelle case popolari, che stavano facendo le case popolari in viale Sardegna, vicino al Naviglio. Lì c’erano, ci sono ancora, ecco le stavano costruendo lì, che lì eh il posto c’era, insomma se non erano in tanti, un po’ ammucchiati però li ritiravano lì.
PCV: E gli altri andavano fuori Pavia?
AB: No, no, no stavano tutti qui dai parenti che avevano, gli amici.
PCV: A Travacò?
AB: Travacò, ehm Travacò e poi tutti questi paesi vicino insomma ecco. E si è incominciato, il lavoro c’era perché se ne aveva abbastanza di andare, quindi questo stabilimento c’era quello lì, non è come adesso, adesso, adesso può mettere i denti sull’ostello.
PCV: Dopo i bombardamenti andava sempre a lavorare?
AB: Sì, sì sempre.
PCV: O stava sulla.
AB: Io sono sempre andata a lavorare, lo stabilimento non è stato toccato, un po’ mitragliato, sì mitragliato sì, le schegge delle bombe, dove sono, sono andate, hanno colpito eh.
PCV: Anche a distanza.
AB: Sì, Sì no no l’ha fat i disaster. E basta e la nostra vita è finita lì basta, finita lì e adesso non tutti i miei amici sono morti, io faccio gli anni il mese, il mese prossimo 89 eh eh no sono tanti, sono tanti, però mo sì, un po’ bene un po’ male, un po’ bene un po’ male, poi c’era c’era una amicizia nelle famiglie che davano coraggio gente che tenevano su il morale, ecco alla sera eravamo riuniti tutti fuori, ma dopo arrivava arrivava Pippo a e dovevamo scappare altrimenti si raccontava quello che abbiamo fatto, che abbiamo mangiato, che, poi da quel momento lì il Duce ha fatto delle belle cose, insomma. Ha iniziato a fare le mense negli stabilimenti che non dovevamo, noi dovevamo imparare a mangiare la pastasciutta a mezzogiorno, almeno la minestra, almeno la minestra, mio figlio [laughs] sì che è nato dopo due anni che io mi sono sposata, nel 1947, lui è nato del ’49. Eh e anche lui in quei momenti là non era, non era un un, ma sì eravamo ancora un po’ un po’ un po’ con niente insomma.
PCV: Per mettere a posto tutto, tutte le macerie dei bombardamenti ci hanno impiegato tanto tempo?
AB: Eh abbastanza, sì sì sì li mucchiavano tutto il il, li ammucchiavano per lasciare la strada libera per andare in bicicletta, ecco ma in bicicletta andavamo ugualmente perché andavamo dall’altra parte del viale, traversavamo quella, quella striscia, passerella lì e ci aiutavano ecco. Ma i soldati hanno lavorato tanto, in questa guerra lì che hanno fatto, è finita nel ’45 se non sbaglio, nè, è stata un pochino dura i due anni prima di finire, insomma.
FA: Ma erano dell’esercito italiano o erano.
AB: Esercito italiano.
FA: Non c’era la milizia.
AB: No no no, io che mi ricordo no eravamo tutti noi, ecco da noi tutti da noi, tutti ragazzi che venivano da da paesi sì ma non, forestieri sì ce n’erano i soldati che vengono da Milano, Bergamo, Como chi da lì, chi da là, ma però.
PCV: Sì, erano quelli del Genio.
AB: Sì si erano tutti quelli del Genio, sì sì sì, erano comandati tutte del, c’era un maresciallo, quello lì, che che è venuto anche a casa a vedere tutte le case che erano ancora in piedi e se c’erano delle, delle riparazioni da fare, loro aiutavano. Buttava giù magari una camera, un’altra camera, i tetti, ah quelli lì sono stati, le case sono state tutte da fare, sì sì sì.
PCV: Dallo spostamento d’aria.
AB: Eeeh dallo spostamento d’aria, sì sì, ecco e noi eravamo un po’ curiosi perché volevamo vedere i danni che c’erano stati.
PCV: Eh, e quindi?
AB: E quindi noi non potevamo andare tanto in mezzo a quel disastro lì a vedere, perché non volevano eh, perché ogni tanto cadeva qualche muro, qualche parete ancora nelle case lì che erano in piedi eh e hanno, quelli che hanno avuto dei dei, che hanno avuto dei, madona sa disen, disaster.
PCV: Dei danni.
AB: Dei danni, il comune, il governo li ha aiutati, sì sì sì noi avevamo le bestie, i cavalli, si sono spaventati, erano quattro, erano pochi, si sono spaventati, le botte che sono andati giù, che sono andate giù le bombe hanno aperto le porte, si sono aperte da sole eh, e i cavalli non c’erano più, so, li hanno trovati nelle campagne, anche lì mio papà è andato in caserma a chiedere un aiuto, eh eran quater. Le mucche no, le mucche piangevano, piangevano ed erano spaventate [emphasis] ecco quello lì mi ricordo ancora, mi ricordo. Poi adesso quella settimana scorsa ho visto quel film lì e la nostra guerra che abbiamo passato, oh dio mamma mia guarda là, guardala là, hanno preso tutto questa parte del borgo più disastrato, e noi eravamo dentro, eh e avevo la fotografia, e avevo la fotografia. Dopo sono andati, a mano li hanno portati a casa i cavalli eh, a mano perché non c’erano, sì. Sì sì a mano, le mucche no, le mucche erano ancora in stalla e piangevano, e mio papà diceva ancora ‘Attenti che ades, adesso ritornano e fanno ancora un disastro, ma queste bestie qui non possiamo, non si può muoverle, il posto c’è’. Il posto c’era, il bosco grande e mio papà non ha voluto che dovessero eh eh prender le mucche perché portavano via anche le mucche per mangiare, allora lì eravamo tutti in corte, anche noi, sul cascinale lì di fieno e quello lì poteva salvare se doveva andargli giù il locale, invece no, no no la la è stato è stato tutto quasi metà rotto il tetto, tutti i tetti, tutti rotti, tutti rotti, che così quando pioveva, il fieno non si poteva darglielo bagnato e cosa doveva fare mio papà? Avevamo l’aia, prima di arrivare per andare su nella curva e andare sull’argine e la mettevo tutto allargato giù per farlo asciugare di giorno, quando c’era il sole, perché la mucca non lo mangia eh, mangia l’erba, il quadrifoglio se è bagnato, mi ricordo, ma il fieno no, e piangevano anche per la fame. Dopo mio papà si è stancato ha detto ‘Basta! Io non voglio più saperne perché qui, perché qui adesso viene una rivolta, mi vengono a prendere tutte le mucche’ e io vederle andare via, ne hanno presa una, quello lì mi ricordo, la zia che c’era una sua zia gravida che doveva ammalarsi, in corte della Cascina Trinchera, l’hanno preso una, una mucca che faceva 30 litri di latte han portato in corte e l’hanno uccisa.
PCV: Ma chi?
AB: Quello lì non si sa chi.
PCV: Chi l’ha presa.
AB: Non si, chi erano, chi erano alla notte, l’hanno uccisa in corte.
PCV: E l’han lasciata lì?
AB: No no, no no perché noi avevamo la guardia da, che curava la stalla, e dormiva lì, gli hanno fatto qualche cosa, non ha sentito, l’hanno slegata, l’hanno portata fuori dalla stalla, l’hanno messa in corte perché dopo c’era tutto il sangue lì e poi l’hanno portata via con il carro, un carro coi cavalli, no, né macchinone, né macchinino, no no no no toccava eh il carro, il carro gli hanno portato via anche un carro al mio papà, il più grosso, che metteva su il il frumento, eh che doveva andare al mulino a farlo macinare, va bene, e invece l’hanno portato via eh, non l’ha sentito né, niente tutto tutto in silenzio, non, al buio, di chiavi non ce n’erano, eh luci non ce n’erano, c’erano le lanterne, le le.
PCV: Col petrolio, le lanterne col petrolio [unclear]?
AB: Col petrolio, c’era un odore in casa, io quando andavo a casa da lavorare le dicevo ‘Mamma ma non è meglio che accendi le candele?’ ‘No, no, no, no, va più bene questo, questo qui è una vita, io sono nata da bambina che avevamo le le, questo non danneggiano la salute’. Mamma mia che odore, il petrolio, di petrolio.
PCV: La corrente elettrica non la davano, in tempo di.
AB: No, no no l’hanno dato dopo, dopo quando è andato a posto un pochino allora hanno, c’erano i lampioni, sì ma uno qui, uno al ponte, uno uno a dieci chilometri.
PCV: Erano lontani.
AB: Che luce che luce poteva fare quello lì e ci arrangiavamo così noi alle otto e mezza, le nove eravamo già tutti a letto ‘Cosa facciamo su?’ che non si poteva. La tele neanche a parlarne, la radio avevamo la radio ecco e che se lo trovavano che dopo son venuti i tedeschi eh sono venuti i tedeschi, se sentivano il rumore della radio erano capace di ammazzarlo. Quel lì m’el ricordi, il mio papà l’aveva messo in un sacco e ha messo dentro il fieno, e l’ha nascosta lì, e poi non so se l’han portata in stalla o se l’hanno messa nel fienile, sopra la stalla, era un fienile enorme eh, era grosso, la la, era grosso, lì la sas’disen la e che nome ha, la Trinchera, la Cascina Trinchera, ecco. Eh sì. L’ingegnere poi conosceva, conosceva il Duce, era un amico, quando c’erano, quando veniva il Duce a Pavia, allora noi bambini così tutti le, le femminucce bianco e nero, i maschi idem, camicia nera e via andare, eh, si si quando eeeh veniva spesso a Pavia. Sì sì sì, era eh mi ricordo che era una persona talmente, conosce Preda? Signor Preda? Quello che viene qui in officina? L’è un po’, s’è più piccul che lù, una persona ben messa, una bella persona, eh che poi è stato a Pavia, mi ricordo che ha voluto, ha fatto dei beni e non so a che famiglia, non lo so più, e gli dava e gli dava la la, i cibi. Avevamo la tessera, io avevo la tessera, fino a 18 anni avevo una pannocchia di più, più latte, più riso, più pasta, eh sì la frutta, le mele e basta mi ricordo, ma di mele ce ne erano poche perché quando arrivavano dalla frutta [laughs] erano più quelli che sparivano che quelli che dovevano.
PCV: Essere distribuiti.
AB: Essere distribuiti, eh. Poi ha passato un sussidio a noi, che eravamo giovani, fino sempre solamente a 18 anni e poi basta, la tessera non c’è stata più, sì sì dopo potevate lavorare e allora ha dit ‘Andate a lavorare’. Eh ma noi eravamo già a posto, però prendevamo qualche cosa, sì sì di premio, qualche cosa, non era non era una vita come questa né, che adesso no si da né altro, arriva sempre da pagare, in un momento la luce, in un momento l’acqua, le strade rotte, ma le strade erano giuste eh, che ci tenevano eh anche il comune, pagavamo le tasse, anche quei momenti là, che mi ricordo mio papà, ma però c’era c’era un un pavir meraviglioso, adesso fa schifo, fa schifo.
FA: No, volevo farle una domanda.
AB: Dimmi.
FA: Si ricorda come era diciamo fatto dentro il bunker che aveva, che aveva fatto anche suo papà in campagna.
AB: Sì, dunque, c’era una buca fatta di terra, no? Ecco, dopo avevamo messo dei pali, dei pali, sopra per fare presto perché veniva il pericolo, dei pali, le piante, non pali, delle piante lì che c’era il bosco e di là che non si poteva toccarlo, ma l’hanno tagliato e hanno messo tutti sopra, uno, due, tre, quattro. Sopra, per per per essere sicuri, tutti i fasci di legno, e la paglia, e la paglia, per coprire dalle schegge, per coprire tanta paglia. Ecco mettevano solamente quelle lì, sotto dopo hanno fatto tutte le panchine, sì quattro passi, quattro pali su un asse su un asse o, o le piante, uno due tre vicino e si sedevano tutti, si sedevano lì, io non, non mi sono mai seduta perché anche sotto lì non volevo andare, non volevo morire sotto lì perché avevo paura, era tutta così, di terra.
FA: Di terra.
AB: Ma fatta bene eh. Fatta bene proprio veramente, eh sembrava una casa
PCV: Le dimensioni cioè ad esempio così?
AB: Eh eh questa casa qui era il era il il.
PCV: Fin là?
AB: No, no.
PCV: Fin lì?
AB: Dalla dalla televisione di lì e andare al muro, proprio quadrato, era quattro metri, quattro per quattro.
PCV: Era come questa?
AB: Sì, sì questa è quattro per cinque, sì sì eravamo tutti, tutti via dei Mille, ah non so la gente che ci giravamo dentro sarà stato più di cento.
PCV: Va beh era un po’ più grossa, c’era un centinaio di persone?
AB: Ah senz’altro, sì sì, tutti in ordine ognuno se, chi aveva, c’erano quelli che prendevano su le sedie, perché va bene, eh non ci stavamo tutti proprio bene, io mi ricordo, tutti in giro, c’erano le sedie, ma le sedie della casa eh.
PCV: Sì, sì.
AB: Sì sì le sedie ecco eh così, di porte niente porte e tutti i fasci di legno per il tetto.
PCV: Per il soffitto.
AB: Per il soffitto e coprire con le piante verdi per non far vedere che lì c’era un buco, c’era c’era il nascondiglio, ecco quello lì me lo ricordo che dopo lì, in quel in quel coso lì hanno costruito, da lì l’hanno costruito il proprietario, il capo della della cascina, il padrone, l’ha costruito di di di muro per vedere per mettere, la pipì delle bestie della stalla, il Giuse, Giuse, che gli dicevano, Giuse, al Giuse, ecco gli hanno fatto, una un un canalino così di ferro, li buttavano dentro lì, quel canale lì andava dentro in quel.
PCV: In quella fossa diciamo.
AB: A quel fosso lì, ecco, è rimasto così, dopo hanno cominciato a dare il permesso ma dopo gli anni, da fabbricare e la cascina è sparita, e mio papà si è ritirato, è andato a lavorare, è andato a lavorare in una ditta di rifiuti della città. Lù al sa n’do ghe el fos del lunedì? Lu l’va pr’andà, speta né, el va, al giro pr’andà in cors Garibaldi.
PCV: Eh?
AB: In corso Garibaldi, el finisce il corso Garibaldi e va a finì in viale Sardegna, el va non in viale Sardegna, el va mondrit, el va su el va su che gas [unclear].
PCV: Via del Partigiano.
AB: Via partigiani, lì gh’è una via che andando su di lì è alla destra
PCV: Sì destra.
AB: Là, in fondo a quella via lì si diceva ‘Il fosso del lunedì’, il mio papà è andato lì a fare il capo, c’erano quindici o sedici donne, rifiuti della città. E lì non c’erano i bidoni, noi la bruciavamo c’avevamo le scarpe eeeh, le scarpe tutto il rudo che facevamo in casa, ma non come adesso eh, ma non c’era eh.
PCV: Certo.
AB: Ma io non lo so adesso dove, dove si va a prendere tutto perché, è tutto scatolame, eh.
PCV: Per, per per quanto riguarda i bombardamenti, quando arrivavano gli aeroplani, no voi li sentivate.
AB: Oh, oh noi li vedevamo.
PCV: Eh, ha visto le bombe.
AB: Sì, sì, sì.
PCV: Ma la contraerea? Le mitragliatrici sparavano? Quelle che aveva detto.
AB: Non gli facevano niente solamente quelle là che lavoravano.
PCV: E basta, non sparavano, non si sentivano le mitragliatici.
AB: No no no se no li amazavan tutti e li lanciavan giù anche in città in pieno eh.
PCV: Si ma quindi i soldati non sparavano contro.
AB: No, no ci sparavano solo quello lì che girava la notte.
PCV: Sì, ok.
AB: Ma tipo basta non gli facevano niente, erano tranquilli.
PCV: Sì, sì infatti.
AB: Perché i cannoni c’erano eh, i cannoni, i nostri qui c’erano eh.
PCV: Sì, però ‘No fly, no fly, no fly’ dicevano.
AB: No, niente, non li usavano ecco, perché se li usavano sulla popolazione, di popolazione non ce n’erano più, non.
PCV: Va bene, beh no io dicevo gli italiani, no niente, non gli si sparavano.
AB: No niente non gli facevano niente, eren liber, perch’è gh’eran poca [unclear]. Io penso io, perché non non andavano, che poi quando giravano per andare via, vuoti di bombe, perché si vedevano eh, erano all’altezza delle case, eh sì, eh cosa facevano? Giravano vuote, facevano tutto il giro del paese qui, della città, giro, un giro così, come dire adesso li salutiamo, li abbiamo fatti fritti [laughs] adesso andiamo a casa, eh basta. È tutto lì, erano vuoti, di bombe non ne avevano più, oramai avevano fatto quello che volevano.
PCV: E di giorno non ha mai visto passare eeeh, degli aeroplani qua proprio sul fiume che mitragliavano di giorno?
AB: No, di giorno no, di giorno ce n’era uno solo ma forse l’hanno colpito, mi ricordo uno solo, ma non erano dei nostri, quello lì, non erano dei nostri, no e l’hanno colpito, perché quel cannone lì è sempre stato messo a posto sul ponte Nuovo, è stato un bel po’ di anni lò, impossibile che lui non lo ha visto, appoggiato, lui va di qui per andare sul ponte?
PCV: Sì.
AB: Quel, quel mitragliatrice lì era alla sinistra del ponte Nuovo.
PCV: Ah prima di entrare sul ponte Nuovo?
AB: Sì prima di entrare, c’era lì un argine si può dire.
PCV: Sì, sì.
AB: Era appoggiato lì, e l’hanno lasciato un bel po’, forse quello lì che ha preso, che venivano giù per fare, per fare eeeh baldoria e uno l’hanno colpito, non sono venuti giù, eh cristiàn [laughs] eh c’è stato un bel disastro mi n’ascordi più, non mi scordo più. Io andavo a prendere il pane alla mia proprietaria dove lavoravo, che c’era ancora su prima che venivano i bombardamenti, e mi diceva eeeh ‘Linin’ perché ero piccolina insomma ‘Va vai da mio fratello e vai a prendere il pane, fai presto! vai e vieni di volata [emphasis] perché te sei capace di andare in bicicletta, vai e vieni di volata’ ‘ Sì, sì vado io signora Teresa’ si chiamava Teresa, allora io mio sono messa eeeh, e sono venuta in Borgo. E c’era già un subbuglio ‘Oggi arrivano, oggi dobbiamo andare andiamo nei boschi, andiamo giù andiamo giù, la cascina là, la Trinchera, andiamo di qui, andiamo di là’. Mama, mama come, va beh io sono andata nel negozio, mi ricordo che che il proprietario mi ha detto ‘Che ghi?’ ‘Ma sono venuta a prendere il pane eh mi dia cinque, sei, sette, otto corone e me ne dia una di più’. ‘Ah sì? Pane di farina di castagne?’ C’era tanto pane di farina di castagne, usava tanto in quei momenti là. Bis chi castè dico ‘Me daga, me ne dia una in più perché ho un po’ fame’ ‘Ah lo vuoi mangiare te, allora lo vuoi per te’ ‘Sì, sì ma quando vado a casa ce lo dico con la signora Teresa che ho mangiato un bastoncino’ [laughs]. E io invece di uno ne ho mangiato due, sono andata a casa il pane mancava. ‘Signora Teresa’ ‘Hai perso, hai perso’ ‘No, non ho perso, la volta scorsa s’è rotto il sacchetto’ invece non è vero, non era vero, l’ho rotto io. Eeeh e l’ho mangiato io è che mi sento, mi sento che ho fame, avevo quindici anni, sedici anni, mi gh’aveva sempre una fam. Come adesso, adesso io comincio al mattino e, e fin che vado a letto continuo a mangiare per [unclear] [laughs] ma non ingrasso, vè, vè. E, e so che che in quel momento lì, sono arrivata al pelo, stabilimento con il pane, e loro arrivavano, ma non hanno combinato niente, non hanno fatto niente, le bombe le hanno lasciate, ma non hanno preso niente, tutte nel fiume. Non hanno preso né quello di su il ponte Nuovo lì e nell’altro una ferrovia, e là passava il treno eh, lo volevano buttare né, no? Non li hanno, non ci son riusciti, perché forse, li hanno fatto sul ponte qualche cosa di nasconderlo, quello lì qualche cosa, quello lì non me lo ricordo più, forse perché il ponte non lo vedevano, c’era qualche cosa di strano, [unclear] infatti non l’hanno buttato, anche il ponte Nuovo, sì. Adesso andiamo indietro, quando venivamo a casa, quelli lì che venivano giù, che facevano il volo, lì che giravano, giravano.
PCV: Chi, chi?
AB: Gli aeroplani, piccolini,
PCV: Ah gli aeroplani, quelli piccoli? I caccia.
AB: Sì, fa un eeeh. Quella sera lì, ne giravano due, allora noi eravamo sul ponte, c’è una scala per andare giù, che c’è ancora mi ha detto la Cristina, siamo corsi giù dal ponte perché venivano da basso e siamo ritirati sotto l’arca, la prima, era più bassa, più piccolina. Siamo rimasti lì, io e la mia amica la Maria, la Mariuccia la Tredici, io ho perso la borsa con dentro tutto, dallo spavento’ lì c’erano le guardie non nostre, che non capiva niente quel che che.
PCV: Dov’erano? Erano le guardie tedesche?
AB: Sì, tutto nel vul, nel vul, piombate lì, non si poteva andare di lì, noi non potevamo andare giù alla scala, attraversare le le il prato e venire fuori dove abita lui, no! No, no, no dovevamo fare la strada, invece noi veniva quelle lì siamo rimaste sotto il lì, non ci hanno preso. Sono passate, sono passate quasi vicino, si sono alzati, hanno passato il ponte e è andato, è andato bene. Quella guarda lì [unclear] è venuto vicino, ci ha, ci ha battuto là.
PCV: Vi ha fatto segno di andare via
AB: D’andà a cà, a cà, a casa. Io gli ho detto con la mia vicina, con la mia amica ‘Ma sei, ma questo qui è un tedesco?’ ‘ Questo qui è un arabo!’.
PCV: Era un tedesco? Aveva sul cappotto, com’era?
AB: Sì, sì sì una striscia.
PCV: E aveva una striscia di metallo qua?
AB: Sì, sì.
PCV: Eh gendarmeria.
AB: E quello lì, un quel d’un, un quel d’un. Ma ce n’erano né!
PCV: Sì, sì sì.
AB: Uno qui, uno là, uno lì, uno lì, uno là. ‘Mama dì domani non veniamo più di qui né, no non facciamo più il ponte né, andiamo a casa dell’altra parte’. Le barche facevano servizio, di quelli che non volevano andare sulla passerella.
PCV: Ah ecco.
AB: Sì perché la passerella, da din da du da dun.
PCV: C’erano dei barchè, dei battelli.
AB: E sopra, e sopra il legno.
PCV: Vi facevano pagare lì?
AB: No, no, no, no era tutto, tutti, capaci quelli che facevano la corsa, dei battelli.
PCV: Sì, o i barcaioli.
AB: Una volta, i barcaioli sì poi quei baracconi lì, baracconi che andavano a prendere la ghiaia, si appoggiavano alla riva e quelli che volevano magari andare su li facevano attraversare il fiume, li portavano di qui, ma non ci andava su nessuno perché avevano paura. Perché quei, quei barconi lì che c’erano, con il peso, la barca, qui c’è il fiume, andava a filo, c’era tanto così era era la sponda fuori dell’acqua, e
PCV: Va beh perché c’era dentro ancora la sabbia?
AB: Sì, c’era dentro ancora un po’ di ghiaia
PCV: Ah, c’era poca riva insomma.
AB: Sì, sì, lo portavano su la sabbia, la ghiaia, era la ghiaia.
PCV: Sì, sì, allora era meglio attraversare con i barchè.
AB: Sì, i barchè, sì sì sì, cul lì non passà. Ne abbiamo passato delle belle, eh sì, è andata bene che che ci siamo salvati anche tutta la la via così, la gente abbastanza, ha ucciso solamente, è stato ucciso un otto dieci persone ma più in su, vicino alla lavandaia, quelle casette lì un po’ malandate insomma.
PCV: Sì sì quelle lì.
AB: Sono cadute, rumori, ma sa che rumore? Adesso poco tempo fa, eravamo in corte, io e mio figlio Paolo ‘Andiamo nì Paolo’ ‘Ma? Ma?’ ‘Ansentì?’ perché lui è sulla carrozzina, mi sento i piedi ‘Stammi a sentire, non andiamo avanti, andiamo indietro perché qui adesso viene il terremoto’ ‘Eh mamma!’ Eh sì, però lo sentiva anche lui dalle ruote che era, gh’o dit ‘Non stiamo qui vicino alla casa perché ades chì vien il terremoto, andiamo via’ invece l’era l’aeroplano, un disgrasià [laughs] a bassa quota né, i nostri eh qui adesso, a bassa quota avrà fatto quattro giri, sopra le case, mo mama ho dì ghì è mo l’è guera sta teinta andum a salvars, in cà, sut al pilaster [laughs] [unclear] mu mama quel cretino lì, ma scusatemi, ma doveva venire così basso? E poi l’hanno preso, l’hanno preso perché l’hanno detto dopo, dove chi era e l’hanno preso una una non era uno dei nostri, era no vendim.
PCV: Questo qua adesso?
AB: Sì, sì adesso, l’è, l’è tre tre mesi fa, quattro mesi fa, ecco non siamo, non siamo.
FA: Però era era simile.
AB: Sì, sì, sì.
FA: Diciamo la sensazione.
AB: Quasi, quasi.
FA: Le è venuto in mente proprio.
AB: E mi è venuto in mente quel quel coso lì di ‘Salviamoci Paolo, andiamo in casa, andiamo’. Perché avevo, avevamo il sollevatore lì eh, la pedana che schiacciando fuori il coso è venuta su. Poi è venuta la piena, è andato tutto [unclear].
FA: Va bene allora signora, la ringraziamo per l’intervista.
AB: Sì sì io di quello, perché di più di così, se avevo lì.
PCV: Ha parlato un’ora eh!
AB: Sì no fa niente.
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 Angela Bianchi
Subject
The topic of the resource
World War (1939-1945)
Bombing, Aerial
Creator
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Filippo Andi
Date
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2017-02-23
Contributor
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Francesca Campani
Format
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01:02:27 audio recording
Language
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ita
Identifier
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ABianchiA170223
Spatial Coverage
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Italy--Pavia
Italy--Po River Valley
Italy
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.
Type
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Sound
Description
An account of the resource
Angela Bianchi remembers wartime life in the outskirts of Pavia, where she lived on a farm with other families. Recalls her experiences of being bombed while working in a clothes factory situated close to one of the most important Ticino bridges, then a strategic target. Gives a detailed description of two shelters: the first under palazzo Botta, a vast building in the city centre; the second, a mere dugout in the middle of a field. Reminisces over the fear of being trapped underground. Recollects a number of wartime episodes: work being disturbed by bombing and strafing, food pilfering, rustling, using a precarious pontoon bridge erected by army engineers, the visit of Benito Mussolini, after which living conditions improved. Recalls 'Pippo' strafing at night, although she was never sure of its allegiance. Describes long term effects of bombing and how low flying aircraft still scare her.
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
animal
bombing
civil defence
fear
home front
Mussolini, Benito (1883-1945)
perception of bombing war
Pippo
shelter
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/70/717/AAn00974-170413.1.mp3
7b601175f7d1834f67ccdfb1c3feb0ae
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
Three survivors of the Po valley bombings
Description
An account of the resource
This collection consists of one oral history interview with three survivors of the Po valley bombings.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-04-13
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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An00974
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
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
FA: Sono Filippo Andi e sto per intervistare le signore [omitted]. Siamo a Vellezzo Bellini è il 13 aprile 2017. Ringraziamo le signore per aver permesso quest’intervista. La sua intervista, le vostre interviste registrate diventeranno parte dell’archivio digitale dell’International Bomber Command Centre, gestito dall’Università di Lincoln e finanziato dall’Heritage Lottery Fund. L’università s’impegna a preservarvi e tutelarvi secondo i termini stabiliti nel partnership agreement con l’International Bomber Command Centre. Signora [omitted], vuole,
Interviewee: Eccomi.
FA: vuole raccontarci cosa si ricorda del tempo di guerra, in particolare dei bombardamenti avvenuti nella sua zona, dove abitava?
I: Eh, mi ricordo sì, che da quel particolare lì che noi abitavamo in una cascina che era in direzione del Ponte d’Olio, era il ponte più, un punto più preciso per i bombardamenti, venivano proprio di sopra della cascina e tiravano, e bombardava sempre il Ponte dell’Olio perché lì era, non so cosa c’era, che per loro era un punto più di riferimento. Poi va bene, prima di arrivare al ponte c’era un paese che si chiamava Orzinuovi, era un paese di molti partigiani, fascisti e via discorrendo. Mi ricordo bene quel periodo lì, ecco. Poi mi ricordo quando sono venuti alla cascina per cercare un partigiano che hanno fatto la rivoluzione per tutta la cascina quale che lui, benissimo, era scappato, era scappato fuori in una campagna dove c’era la, diciamo la produzione del tabacco. Lì c’è stato un po’ di trambusto, un po’ di difficoltà di tutti, anche con la famiglia perché venivano in casa e buttavano per aria tutto per vedere se delle volte erano o nel letto o nel mucchio del granoturco, vedere se era sotto, non so perché, come faeva a capì, e invece casa non c’era niente. Poi per proteggere, anche per vedere se ghe c’era qualcheduno che diceva la verità, portavano i ragazzi, i ragazzini come me d’otto anni dietro, perché dicevano che se non si diceva la verità mi avrebbero picchiato. E allora noi non è che potevamo dire la verità perché non era in casa nostra, era il figlio d‘un nostro principale che, lui benissimo era a casa ma noi non è che possiamo dire lui era a casa. Nel frattempo lui ha fatto in tempo a scappare. È scappato fuori, loro sono andati in casa, non hanno trovato niente e la roba è stata finita lì. Poi, sì, lì al paese ci sono state tante cose, tanti bombardamenti. C’era sto signora lì che l’hanno perfino pelata, perché era una partigiana, le dava fastidio non lo so, era perché era ricca, non lo so, lì l’hanno pelata tutta.
FA: Si ricorda qualche bombardamento in particolare?
I: Bombardamenti particolare no, perché diciamo lì alla nostra cascina non è mai successo niente, vedevamo solo a passare che buttavano le schegge, dicevano le schegge, i nostri genitori dicevano le schegge, magari erano bombette, non lo so. Diciamo proprio bombardamenti lì no. Sono stati al paese e sul Ponte dell’Olio. Noi, essendo vicini, si vedeva ma non che abbiamo visto proprio.
FA: Vi arrivavano i rumori, insomma.
I: Sì, sì.
FA: Lo spostamento d’aria.
I: Lo spostamento d’aria e così via. Però vedendo proprio da buttare giù. Poi quando c’è stato finito la guerra sono passati tutti con i carri armati i tedeschi e na davan de mangià.
I: Americani.
I: Erano gli americani na devana, passavan con i carri armati, eh quanti, e li davano giù quel pane che sembravano gallette.
I: Gallette le chiamavano.
I: ecco, il pane che si chiamano gallette e lì è stato quando la guerra è stata finita. L’abbiam finita nel ’45, ecco.
FA: Ok, va bene. Eh, signora [omitted], lei invece abitava alla cascina Brunoria.
I: E infatti, lì vicino a Pavia, proprio. E quando hanno bombardato, cosa lo chiamavano, il Ponte dell’Impero, quello lì lo chiamavano? O no?
FA: Quello di cemento?
I: Quando hanno bombardato Pavia, cos’era il Ponte dell’Impero, lo chiamavano?
FA: Sì, dell’Impero, sì. Di là c’era quello della ferrovia.
I: Che e poi mi ricordo che erano i primi di settembre no, noi eravamo, io, mia sorella e mio fratello eravamo nei campi a spigolare le patate.
I: Ah sì.
P: E niente, mia mamma è venuta a cercarci, no, perché in linea d’aria eravamo lì ad un paio di chilometri eh dal ponte, o forse neanche. Adesso non mi ricordo più però.
FA: Mi pare di sì.
I: Ecco. E niente, mi ricordo il fatto che una scheggia no, ha proprio preso mia mamma qui sulla spalla. Non c’era il sangue però c’era via la pelle, si vedeva proprio la carne rossa. Quel fatto lì la vedo ancora adesso, però c’è l’ho davanti agli occhi ancora ecco.
FA: Quindi si ricorda dove eravate più o meno. Quindi eravate lì nel.
I: Eravamo lì vicino alla cascina, fuori, fuori appena dalla cascina ecco.
FA: Quindi è arrivata fino, fino a lì.
I: Sì, sì, sì, eh, le schegge delle bombe, sì, sono arrivate fino a lì, ecco. L’altro, proprio dei bombardamenti no, non mi ricordo, ecco.
FA: Perché comunque c’era una certa distanza, ecco.
I: Sì. Anche. Ma quello lì c’è stato anche quello più che mi ricordo più grande, come bombardamento, no, che hanno buttato giu il ponte lì.
FA: E poi è andata, ma è andata in ospedale o?
I: No, no, eh sì, non c’era neanche, non c’era neanche la bicicletta per andare in ospedale. Niente. No perché difatti non è che era grave, era via solo un po’ di pelle che si vedeva, la carne rossa, eh.
FA: Graffiata insomma.
I: Sì, ecco, così. D’altri fatti, ecco proprio di bombardamenti proprio no, non mi ricordo neanche, magari me l’hanno raccontato anche i genitori, ecco.
FA: Lei invece, signora [omitted], dove abitava?
I: Io abitavo a Samperone, vicino alla Certosa. Lì hanno lanciato una bomba però non c’è stato nessun morto, praticamente, perché è caduto in campagna. Però io, di fronte a me, alla distanza di cento metri, avevo l’accampamento dei tedeschi e in casa mia mio papà era in guerra, però mia mamma aveva in casa il papà e un fratello che doveva essere militare. Quindi eravamo molto, molto, molto osservati. [phone rings] Quindi eravamo un po’ sotto pressione perché avevamo in casa questo zio.
FA: Esatto.
I: E dall’accampamento, la nostra porta dava proprio sull’accampamento dei tedeschi. Quindi loro ci vedevano in casa. Infatti un mattino mio zio è sceso dalla camera, si è messo lì per mettere le scarpe e l’han visto. Quindi hanno fatto irruzione in casa, cercavano il marito, a mia mamma dicevano il marito. Lei li faceva vedere le lettere e via, dicendo che il marito era, loro hanno visto e mio papà perché aveva in casa anche il papà,
FA: Ah già.
I: Ma loro han capito che poteva. Quindi sono andati su in camera, hanno con le baionette trafitto tutti i letti,
FA: Insomma hanno fatto un disastro.
I: un macello, non l’han trovato. Non l’han trovato poi hanno fatto, c’erano i camion che portavano via quelli che c’erano a casa non trovando per loro un uomo c’era, hanno portato via mio nonno. Però essendo vecchio il giorno dopo l’han fatto venire a casa. Ricordo dei bombardamenti per noi era come se fossero lì, erano quelli di Milano, quando bombardarono Milano, che eravamo fuori nei rifugi, sembrava proprio però non eravamo proprio lì.
FA: Dove, dove vi rifugiavate?
I: Eh, c’era un campo che avevano fatto un rifugio sottoterra, sì. Andavamo tutti lì fuori in campagna, avevano fatto un rifugio, c’era un campo. Per dire, uno era qui, poi c’era come una collinetta, l’altro era più là, lì sotto avevano scavato, fatto i rifugi e noi, quando suonava l’allarme, scappavamo tutti lì.
FA: E si ricorda come era costruito il rifugio, cioè, avevan scavato e han fatto un
I: Sì, sì, proprio scavato e noi andavamo tutti lì.
FA: E han messo le travi in legno.
I: No, no, una buca.
I: Una buca.
FA: Era giusto un buco.
I: Un buco. Era sostenuto perché era un campo alto e uno basso.
FA: Ah, ok.
I: Cioè, essendo quello lì più alto, fatto la buca e noi riuscivamo.
FA: Un terrapieno.
I: Ecco, dentro e uscire fuori.
FA: Ho capito. E l’allarme, si ricorda dov’è che era l’allarme, era in paese, a Samperone?
I: L’allarme, suonava l’allarme, dire da dove suonava non lo so. E c’è stato un bombardamento sulla statale, da Samperone alla statale, lì da Pavia c’è un chilometro e mezzo. Hanno bombardato un camion, però io non mi ricordo. C’è stato un bombardamento col camion.
FA: Ehm, un’ultima domanda. Cosa vi ricordate di Pippo?
I: Pippo era tremendo.
I: Pippo, posso dire, noi tre bambini, con l’accampamento fuori, ci faceva fare la pìpì in casa, per terra sul pavimento. Perché quand’era sera, bisognava che ci fosse tutto buio, noi avevamo l’accampamento lì, non potevamo aprire la porta, andare fuori a fare la pìpì, dovevamo farla in casa sul pavimento. I bagni in casa non c’erano, si andava fuori. E l’accampamento è come, ecco, questo è la porta, e lì dove c’è la mura, c’era l’accampamento.
I: Non c’era la luce però. Io non avevo la luce.
I: No, la candela. E magari la spegni.
I: No, no, io mi ricordo che avevamo la luce, sì, sì.
I: Una piccola lampadina.
I: Io mi ricordo che c’avevamo la lampadina. La lucerna non mi ricordo.
F: No, no, no, io la lucerna che mettiamo sul tubo e sotto c’era il petrolio, no.
FA: Esatto
I: Quando si sentiva Pippo, mia mamma [backgroud noise] la ciapava un strass nero , no la n’andava in gireva insima[unclear]
FA: e lo copriva.
I: E lo copriva. Lui andava.
I: Ma noi, noi la luce l’ho mai vista da [background voice]
I: Ricordo io, la luce l’avevamo, per quel che mi ricordo.
F: Noi facevamo con la lucerna. Con la lucerna, disevan la lucerna, c’era il petrolio. Poi avevo un tubo di sopra perché c’era fumo no. E niente, eran quello lì. Mio papà gaveva mis du caden se no comel fai. El leva tacà su li, era una lucerna.
I: Io dei tre ero la più piccola
F: non ho mai visto.
I: di tre figli ero la più piccola.
FA: Va bene allora. Va bene, vi ringraziamo allora per.
I: Niente. Bene. Poi se va bene.
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 three survivors of the Po valley bombings
Subject
The topic of the resource
World War (1939-1945)
Bombing, Aerial
Description
An account of the resource
The informants remember wartime hardships endured near Pavia and Piacenza. Several stories recalled: a farmhouse being thoroughly searched for partisans, children questioned, people injured by shell splinters, a makeshift dugout used as shelter, improvised lighting at home, strafing, Germans looking for deserters and American troops giving away crackers to the children. They tell how the menacing presence of 'Pippo' forced them to relieve themselves inside on the floor. Mentions the bombings of Milan as seen from the countryside where they were.
Creator
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Filippo Andi
Date
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2017-04-13
Contributor
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Peter Schulze
Format
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00:13:33 audio recording
Language
A language of the resource
ita
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
AAn00974-170413
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Italy
Italy--Po River Valley
Italy--Piacenza
Italy--Pavia
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.
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Sound
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
bombing
childhood in wartime
home front
Pippo
Resistance
strafing