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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/571/10320/BFraserDKFraserDKv1.2.pdf
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Title
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Fraser, Donald Keith
D K Fraser
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IBCC Digital Archive
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Fraser, DK
Description
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12 items. Two oral history interviews with Warrant Officer Donald Keith Fraser DFM (1924 - 2022, 1566621 Royal Air Force), a memoir, his log book, photographs and service material. The collection also contains an interview with Sylvia Fraser, his wife. He flew a tour of operations as a flight engineer with 101 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Donald Keith Fraser and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
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2016-11-04
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. 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.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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WO DONALD KEITH FRASER
DFM 1566621
101 SQUADRON
JULY 1943 – MARCH 1944
CREW NAME: WL EVANS
[photograph of Donald Fraser]
[page break]
[photograph of Bomber Command Memorial]
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Contents
Page
Chapter A Introduction. 1
Chapter B Prior to World War II. 3
Chapter C Joined RAF 23rd July 1942. 7
Chapter D 101 Squadron Base Ludford Magna. 11
Chapter E 101 Squadron Operation Dates and Targets. 15
Chapter F 101 Squadron Notes on Various Operations. 17
Log Book and Battle Orders. 34
Chapter G Christmas 1943 and Christmas Dinner Menu. 41
Chapter H After Operations posted to Heavy Conversion Units. 45
Lindholme. 45
Bottesford. 47
Cottesmore. 51
North Luffenham. 52
Chapter I Advances in Technology. 55
What if? . 57
Chapter J Aircrew Bomber Command. 59
Wartime Bomber Squadrons. 60
Bombing of Berlin. 60
A Day in the Life of a Squadron. 61
Clothing Worn on Operations by our Crew. 62
Contact made with Two Crew Members plus information on others. 63
Chapter K The Lancaster Story. 67
Further notes relating to Black Thursday including information given by Len Brooks our Rear Gunner. 73
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[four photographs of author and Avro Lancaster]
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INTRODUCTION
Over the past 50 to 60 years I have enjoyed reading many books about bomber crews who flew with Bomber Command during World War II especially during the period from mid July 1943 until the end of the war. These books contained many accounts of true grit and heroism carried out by crew members. There are, however, a few experiences recalled which appear doubtful, a number of reported instances which are far-fetched or quite ridiculous to have suggested could have occurred.
Crews of the heavy bombers normally consisted of seven crew members all of whom were well trained to carry out specific tasks and as a team made up a competent crew capable of carrying out the various operations asked of them.
Operations were normally carried out over Europe (mainly to Germany) targets being the main industrial areas, factories, railway junctions and yards and eventually towns and cities, such as Berlin, Hanover, Hamburg, Leipzig, Frankfurt to name a few, all of which by 1943 the inhabitants were heavily involved in production for the German war effort.
The Bomber crews objectives were to carry out the operations they flew on to reach the target, drop their bombs and return home safely with their aircraft undamaged. Remember all these young men were volunteers, highly trained with the Pilot usually the “Skipper” and Captain, this was not to say that he gave all the orders and that no crew member acted until he gave that order. The Flight Engineer and Wireless Operator were the most mobile within the aircraft, therefore, if a situation occurred within the fuselage either or both could intervene by giving a quick call to the “Skipper”, or should a fault occur with the engine, the Flight Engineer would usually be the first to notice and carry out the essential remedy while informing the Pilot of the situation with procedure carried out. For a crew to be efficient and confident they had to be alert at all times, watching, listening and acting immediately. Survival required a highly trained crew team with loads of confidence in one’s self and in the other crew members and in the aircraft, so giving them a very strong attitude to press on.
A dedicated, loyal and skilful ground crew, a strong reliance in the Almighty (or what faith one had) and with very importantly more than normal, good luck, having lady luck on your side.
I have therefore put on paper a few experiences which happened to our crew while flying over Germany during mid 1943 to mid 1944. The following are not from diaries – they are what I recall after a long time. The experiences are genuine, the timing may be a little out, but to the reader it will still show the excitement, the pressure, sometimes fear, but above all the confidence and determination the crew had to carry out the task involved and return back to base with a full crew still intact.
A question I have been asked many times “why did you enjoy flying and with such odds against staying alive?” My answer, I loved flying, I enjoyed the excitement and I volunteered. I also liked the thought of coming back to base to a good meal and I felt safe and secure in my sometimes cold bed with its nice white sheets, compared to the Army personnel who
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worked under much more difficult conditions not knowing when they would eat or sleep and under conditions just as dangerous as ours, in fact, in many, more so.
By the end of writing I hope that I provide you with some idea of what these then young crew members of Bomber Command endured when flying over Germany for 6 to 7 1/2 hours at a time in a Lancaster bomber with around 2,000 gallons of fuel stored in tanks in the wings and with up to five tons of bombs slung under their feet along the fuselage, travelling at 250 miles an hour in the dark at 20-21,000 feet in height with temperatures of from -10 to 20oC below zero and with German fighters trying to shoot them down and with anti-aircraft guns (which could be very accurate) also trying to blow them up, just to make our journey a little more scary at times to find that on returning when we reached the English coastline that it was covered in thick cloud and dense fog making it almost impossible to find somewhere to land. Some of the words most suited to express the emotions of the crew in certain situations could be excited, interesting, scary, fear, relief, apprehensive and difficult.
I think, however, that the Brylcream boys done a very good job all these years ago.
Happy days!
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CHAPTER B
PRIOR TO WORLD WAR II
1919-1939
The First World War ended in 1919 after four years of fighting and with a very heavy loss of life on both sides. Those who were lucky enough to survive and return home found it extremely difficult to find employment.
The Government had created some opportunities by forming the Forestry Commission with the role to establish over the coming fifty years a supply of timber sufficient to make the UK self sufficient in wood requirements. This was to be created by the purchase of large areas of land, mainly in Scotland and North England (cheap less productive land) then cultivating and planting this land with conifer species. To achieve this management had to be trained and forestry workers had to be recruited.
Forestry schools were established throughout England and Scotland to educate and train management staff. One such school was opened at Dunkeld in Central Scotland where a Mr Simpson received his training and he afterwards took up the post of Nursery Manager at Tulliallan Nursery, Kincardine on the Forth.
During the war the larger estates had suffered from the lack of gamekeepers and staff to carry out the maintenance and control of vermin etc, therefore there were many vacancies for people interested to fill these posts. My father and two of his brothers did just that, they became keepers on some of the very large estates in Scotland.
My father and mother were married shortly after the war and he took up an appointment as a game keeper on a large estate near Stirling, where my sister Jean and elder brother Sandy were born. In 1923 he moved to take up Keepering on Tulliallan Estate near Kincardine. The family lived in the East Lodge which was situated adjacent to the main road from Kincardine to Dunfermline and next to the land belonging to the Forestry Commission nursery. This is where I was born on 24th August 1923. Two years later the family again moved, this time to take on the position of head keeper on Donibristle Estate and lived in the small village of Auchtertool, Fifeshire where my two younger sisters, Betty and Mary were born. These were from what little I can recall, were happy times, the family did not have much spare cash but had sufficient to satisfy the family needs.
Mr Simpson lost part of his right arm during the first War and had an artificial part fitted. In 1949 I joined the Forestry Commission Research Branch and guess where I was stationed, at Tulliallan Nursery and Mr Simpson was still there. He told me that when my father left the East Lodge in 1925 he bought his hens and chickens from him. In 1950 the Forestry Commission built around 20 houses for its staff some 400 yards west of the East Lodge and Sylvia and myself were lucky enough to have one of them. Mr Simpson played an important role in our lives over the next 30 years, however this is another story.
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Moray estate during the winter months arranged a number of pheasant shoots to which a number of friends and associates of the Lairds (The Earl of Moray) were invited to attend.
The 29th January 1929 was one of those days and the shoot covered the area which my father was responsible for. The morning started with rain, however the shoot commenced and the guns and beaters started with good success. A good number of birds were raised and shot, as the day continued the weather became worse and by lunchtime, thunder and lightning had started so it was decided to call the shoot off. During the morning a few birds had been shot, but had not been collected by the dogs so my father with his two spaniels decided he would retrace the morning route and see if he could collect lost birds. The weather continued to deteriorate, while he was crossing a fence he was hit by lightning. As the day went on and he had not returned the other two keepers decided they would go and look for him. They found him where he lay by the fence with his two dogs nearby. This was a terrible and tragic day for all concerned, my mother with five children all under the age of 11, no house and little money coming in to support the family. My mother did have two sisters who stayed in Edinburgh and who visited fairly regularly and helped all they could with the family. The estate owner, the Earl of Moray and the Estate Factor were very helpful and within a week or two, arranged for the family to move to Aberdour where they gave us a house with a fairly large garden (this became quite a good asset especially when the War came).
I was told when I was much older that at the time there was much talk about what should happen to the family the suggestion being that the family should be split up with the three girls staying with mum and the two boys (Sandy and myself) being placed with other people possibly with a relative or with other people. Our mother strongly disagreed and said none of the family would leave they would stay together. I believe that my mother made the right decision, had the family been split up, our lives would have been totally different and not for the better in my opinion.
These were hard times for our mother (in those days there was not the same support or financial assistance available to call on as there is today) however somehow our mum managed to sort things out and keep all the family together. Unfortunately we as children were too young to contribute in the way of bringing in money to the home, our mum was a very likeable person and soon made friends and was extremely capable of working to earn money, she turned her hand to doing housework and helping people in their homes and for two days each week helping in Donibristle Estate house, which meant a fairly long walk to get there (one mile each way).
She and her sisters were always very happy smiling people always ready for a joke, this helped to make life much better for everyone. She still had friends on the estate and the whole family occasionally in an evening would take a walk of around three miles to visit Mr and Mrs Linton, he also was a gamekeeper on the estate.
Our mum was also a good Christian and attended church fairly regularly and also enjoyed attending some of the concerts and meetings held in the village hall, she also was a member of the WI.
The estate was very good to the family we received twice a year a load of fire wood, which myself and Sandy would chop up into suitable sizes to use on the fire. In the Spring the estate workers would come to dig over the garden and planted potatoes which helped greatly, this meant that all we (Sandy and I) had to do was keep the garden free from weeds and hill up the potatoes and plant some vegetables.
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As time moved on and we the children grew older all by the age of eight or nine years managed to find jobs. Sandy and myself delivering milk before going to school and then delivering groceries after school and at weekends Jean our oldest sister assisted in the Cooperative grocery shop. This of course all helped to bring in some money.
The school leaving age at that time was 15. We all attended Aberdour school initially. At the age of 11 the choice was either moving to Burtisland school which was a technical college or go to Dunfermline high school, both schools were a distance away from Aberdour and required travelling by bus. All the girls, Jean, Betty and Mary enjoyed Dunfermline High, while Sandy and myself went to the technical school. We all got excellent grades in the exams. I left school in 1938 at a time when the job situation was very limited with little choice. I had two interests, first to be a forester, my dream being to see all the high elevation land covered with trees as it was during much earlier times and take part in that operation. Secondly to become an Engineer.
I applied for two jobs, one on the Moray Estates to become a trainee forester, the other to become an apprentice mechanic with a garage company in Kirkcaldy.
Both replied and I decided to take up the forestry appointment. This proved very enjoyable and I loved the variety of jobs and gained volumes of experience working with two brothers, Bob and Will Ewan. Will Ewan was foreman and took a liking to me and gave me all the encouragement and opportunities to carry out everything which was available. The Second World War commenced on the 3rd September 1939 and when I was 17 1/2 years old I volunteered to join the RAF on flying duties and became a flight engineer. So in the end I got both my dreams to come true. After the war being demobbed in 1946, I took up an appointment to become a probationer at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh. In 1948 I joined the Forestry Commission Research Branch.
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CHAPTER C
JOINED RAF 23RD JULY 1942
The Second World War started on 3rd September 1939. I’m not going into details regarding the reasons why Britain thought it necessary to do so as I believe most people know the reasons.
Prior to the war during the summers of 1937 and 1938 the Territorial Army held their camps on the outskirts of Aberdour on grass fields owned by Mill Farm, which was situated adjacent to the Sheriff Road. To us as youngsters it was exciting and interesting to see double rows of horses tethered along a single rope and the troops living under canvas in large tents. To see the different tartans depending on which regiment was resident in camp at the time, such as The Black Watch, The Camerons or The Gordons.
They were the first troops to be called up for service followed by people from certain professions and the general public of different age classes, one had to be 18 years old before being recruited.
All three services required recruits and there was a certain agreement of allowing people to join the service of their choice, however, if one service was short of personnel then recruits had no choice but to go where sent.
I was sixteen years old when the war started and when my time came to be called up I wished to join the RAF and, if possible, to fly on reaching my 17th birthday. I decided I would volunteer for the RAF on flying duties. Volunteers usually were given the opportunity to serve in the service of their choice.
I recall discussing the war with a few of my colleagues and suggesting that this war would change the face of Europe, and would also change all our lives completely if we survived.
I was called up on 23rd July 1942; my orders were to report to Warrington Recruitment Centre. My stay there was for two days where I, along with many more of my own age were fitted out with uniform and all other necessities. We then travelled to Blackpool to commence our training and embark on a flight mechanics course.
Blackpool like many other seaside resorts had many private residences available (usually used as holiday accommodation or bed and breakfast), these were now being used to accommodate RAF recruits.
I with others was billeted in Montague Street, South Shore near to the South Shore beach. This turned out to be excellent, the landlady treated us extremely well, and we each had our own bedroom and facilities. She had to supply us with breakfast and evening meal, and normal washing facilities. In fact for all the time I was in Blackpool, which was just under a year I stayed there, the RAF supplied our towels etc. In fact two evenings a week we had what was called ‘shower parades’. In total there was near 10,000 RAF personnel billeted in
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the town, so through the town certain buildings such as baths or swimming pool areas were converted into showers, rows and rows of showers with dressing accommodation alongside.
The recruits such as ourselves were divided into groups of between 40 and 50 and each group had a corporal in charge, he was in charge of all our activities such as the shower parade. We had to assemble at a point near to our billet on certain evenings each week. The corporal would march us to the showers then afterwards march us back, he was also responsible for us on all other activities.
The course of flight mechanic was a very intensive course covering both theory and practical work. This was carried out at Squires Gate near St Anne’s, three miles east of Blackpool and was originally a small airport. The hangers were converted to workshops for training purposes.
We were transported in bus convoys daily, morning and evening to and from the base with our same corporal, Lofty Clark, in charge. We also carried out the usual training and skills necessary to be a good soldier including physical training, assault course, rifle drill and route marches. Most of these were carried out on the area around the South Shore pleasure ground. The mechanics course lasted for five months. At the end of each fortnight we had verbal exams and after six weeks written exams, each exam had to be passed before one could move on. If I remember all our group passed their exams.
After the mechanics course we were given two weeks leave and on return commenced on a fitters course, which lasted a further five months, the same routine as previously. What I forgot to say, we had a break in the morning and afternoon when the NAAFI vans arrived serving a bun and a cup of tea.
By the end of the further course we were capable of dismantling an aircraft engine and reassembling it with success. We also had a basic knowledge of the aircraft workings at this stage before moving onto the next stage of our training, the flight engineer course.
We were divided into those who would be flying on Halifaxs [sic] and those who would fly on Lancasters, fortunately I was selected to fly on Lancasters.
Blackpool was a fairly good place to be stationed at, as with its many parks there was always plenty of opportunity to play sport, which was very much encouraged by the RAF. I spent most weekends playing either football or rugby; in fact for the 1942‑3 season I played rugby for Blackpool’s third team. There was little time in evenings for anything, as I said two nights were taken up with shower parade, then most weeks a further two nights for other activities. Every Sunday there was a church parade, one had to attend the parade but not the service if it was not your religion. Most places in Blackpool were closed, however, the lower levels of the tower were still open and I remember the organ was still being played and the ballroom was open at certain times.
For the flight engineers course those of us that were to fly on Lancasters were transferred to St Athans, South Wales. The course was originally intended to last eight weeks however, on arrival we were told that flight engineers were in such short supply that the course was being crammed into two weeks. To enable this to happen we worked a 12‑hour day, seven days each week, however, the course was a success and we all knew the basics about the Lancaster workings, although we still had not flown in a Lancaster.
At the end of the course we were split up into groups of six and told to report to a certain Air Training Unit. I had to report to Lindholme near Doncaster, where other members of crew which included pilot, navigator, bomb aimer, mid upper gunner and rear gunner were already
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at Lindholme operating as a crew for a period of four weeks awaiting for flight engineers to become available.
On arrival we were introduced to our crews and the following day we were flying as a complete crew, however, not on Lancasters (Lancasters were too scarce to be used on training duties). We flew on Halifax, this was a heavy bomber and gave the pilot the opportunity and experience of flying heavy aircraft. We continued training and flying at Lindholme for a further week.
As a complete crew and along with one other crew from the same course at Lindholme we were posted to 101 Squadron which was based at Ludford Magna seven miles west of Louth Lincolnshire. This was a recently built airfield; the runways and perimeter roads were complete along with the aircraft stand pods. Accommodation was nissen huts as were the messes. Roads and paths around the areas were still not laid; Wellington boots were the order of the day.
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CHAPTER D
LUDFORD 101 SQUADRON
Ludford Magna
Ludford Magna, a small village situated on the main road between Louth and Market Rasen, was to change dramatically as the area was chosen to be the site for one of the new warfare RAF bomber airfields. Work commenced in spring 1943 and by May the airfield was ready for occupation however, as with many other war built sites, many buildings were far from being useable.
The airfield had three runways with the main runway, which was two thousand yards long from north to south. The other two runways were 14 hundred yards, one of which ran east to west. They were all connected by a narrow perimeter track of which there were 36 standing pods. All personnel accommodation was nissen hut type buildings and erected on the north side of the main road running through the village, some distance from the main airfield.
101 Squadron took over occupation of the airfield in late June but even then there were no hardcore paths leading to the billets or the ablution blocks. This meant that travelling to and from billets or airfield, the only serviceable footwear was rubber boots. We as a crew arrived in late July and I remember squelching in the mud around the base and when it rained circumstances were even worse, and it did rain quite a bit during the autumn and winter hence the airfield got the nickname of Mudford (instead of Ludford) and was well deserved.
On days when operations were planned the routine was briefing which was held at a certain time when all crew members met in the briefing room where the CO (Comanding [sic] Officer) addressed the crews stating which crews were flying and which if any were on standby in case any crew members were unable to fly.
The CO would then open the curtains on the wall covering the maps and the target, after which the various heads of section gave details of weather expected on route over target and on return, also bomb load, fuel load and any other relative information such as height levels expected to be flown at by the different aircraft. Lancasters usually flew at one or two thousand feet higher than the Halifax, which would be flying at around 19,000 feet.
It was most important for 101 Squadron to keep strictly to the timing and height levels as with ABC (Airborne Cigar equipment) on board, 101 Squadron crews task was to cover the rest of the bombers flying on the operation, along the route to the target, through the target and on the return route. Example, if the target time was 20 minutes for all aircraft to pass through the target and if 101 Squadron had 22 aircraft flying, each aircraft would be allocated a time through the target of one minute apart.
This put considerable pressure on the navigator and pilot, the route was always discussed among the crew members such as pilot, bomb aimer and engineer in order to help and assist the navigator to stay on course such as any landmarks, heavy barrage of ack ack or search
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lights, as these would usually mean certain industrial areas, towns or cities. Also if weather conditions were good possibly a certain bend on a river or railway, or road crosses, these markers were always very helpful to the navigator to keep him on course and on time.
All crew members had different personalities we all, however, accepted that we were professionals and some of the best in our trades, and that belief and the fact that we worked extremely well as a crew. We trusted each other’s judgement and carried out the requirements without question.
The crew (our crew) was organised similar to a football team we had a captain in our pilot Wally and with a few key team players who had the ability to carry out other members’ duties. They were Navigator, Jimmy, could act as bomb aimer, Eric our bomb aimer had sufficient knowledge of navigation to bring the aircraft home, and myself as engineer could in an emergency takeover and fly and land the aircraft. The gunners were the crewmembers most out of touch with the others. In my position I could watch their turrets for movement and could keep in touch with them, and if for any reason their turrets were not moving I could give them a call. I could easily see the mid upper gunner Bill and see the rear gunner guns Len when they turned to port.
Eric our bomb aimer lounged in the front compartment of the aircraft on lookout for other aircraft and to aid the navigator, his map reading was spot on, and he liked to give a commentary of what was happening leading up to the target – such sayings as men it’s bloody marvellous, we are bang on time over the target, then this was his time he was in control, he was very precise with his left slightly, right a little, hold it there, left a little. I would be watching for other aircraft and for fighters, and as he said on this occasion that it was over Berlin I said hold it Eric another Lanc is just passing immediately beneath us. He said: “I have missed the target we will have to go round again”. In this situation Eric was in control and Wally our pilot even with a few strong words said to Jimmy our navigator “give us a new course to bring us round again”. There were the occasional shouts from the gunners such as “fighter on port, eleven o’clock” or “watch that searchlight” or “collision between Lanc and Halifax – no parachutes, poor bastards”. The wireless operator Norman (Nobby) was good at his job he never panicked. Nobby could obtain bearings when others couldn’t. I think he did naughty things on the frequencies to get priority. He had the warmest place on the aircraft.
Jimmy our navigator was superb, conscientious, every course had to be accurate and everything he did he gave a reason for his decision. Wally our pilot would discuss with him the situation for the change of course and automatically changed course. Wally was an excellent pilot, steady and a good captain and we worked well together, we the crew called him our taxi driver. Taking off with a full bomb load and possibly two thousand gallons of fuel was the most nervous part of the trip, after receiving the green light he would taxi onto the runway, line up, test the engines remembering we had probably some waiting for five to ten minutes, with slow engine revolutions which could overheat the engines. We together would open up the four throttles when the engines were screaming he would release the brakes and the aircraft would start rolling along the runway. When we reached the 90+ speed he would require both his hands on the controls and I would push the throttle controls fully forward, keeping the port engines throttles slightly ahead of the starboard engines throttles, as I found that the Lancaster tended to veer to the port on take off or nearing the end of the runway. If we were still on the ground I would push all four throttles through the barrier, this gave the extra power we only used this in extreme cases, as it was hard on the engines and used extra fuel. Once in the air Wally would say “undercarriage up” then “flaps up” and we would start climbing on a spiral course until we reached the height of around ten thousand
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feet before setting course on our operation. I would adjust engines to obtain speed required with minimum revs.
As I previously said 101 Squadron operated ABC, which meant we carried an eighth member of crew. A specialist, his job was to jam German radio transmissions to the night fighters’ ground based controllers, his operating place was just behind the main part of the port side about 6 ft square with no external vision. It was said that these members had no one crew to fly with and were allocated a crew on an operation base, this maybe true however we were a very organised crew and this arrangement did not apply. We therefore were allocated Ken as a crewmember and he flew with us during the remainder of our tour.
101 Squadron radio call was for aircraft ‘Bookworm’, control tower ‘Bookshop’.
Returning to after briefing was completed we returned to the mess where a meal was always arranged which consisted of a main course of egg, bacon and chips. We then dressed into our flying kit, collected our parachute and made our way to the crew room where we collected our flying rations, these consisted of sandwiches, Horlicks tablets chewing gum and a flask of coffee or tea. If you wished wakey wakey pills to help keep you awake while flying (none of our crew ever indulged in these) we also collected a package containing money and maps of the countries over which we would be flying on the chance that we may be shot down.
After a few operations, the crew was allocated our own aircraft, for us X² the dispersal point was quite a way round the perimeter track and close to the road. The aircraft was parked facing away from the road and perimeter fence so when Mac our ground crew sergeant in charge of X² and his colleagues required to clean their dirty, oily boilersuits they would wash them in a can of fuel and hang them on the fence behind the aircraft, then when the engines were tested the slipstream would blow dry their clothes.
There was usually four or five technicians allocated to each aircraft with either a corporal or sergeant in charge. They were a grand bunch of lads, dedicated and had to work in the open under all various weather conditions from high summer temperatures to severe cold and winter weather conditions. They also had a remarkable collection of spare parts hidden away in their crew hut, which they built up over time from broken Lancasters. This enabled them to carry out repairs and patch up any enemy damage that had been inflicted on the aircraft. This meant that the aircraft could be kept serviceable and ready for action without delay and not having to ground the aircraft while waiting for spares from the stores.
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CHAPTER E
OPERATION DATES AND TARGETS
[photograph of author]
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Operations 101 Squadron 1943-44
Operation – Date - Place
1 - 20th August 1943 - Leverkusen.
2 - 30th-31st August 1943 - Munchen Gladbach.
0 - 31st Aug-1st Sept 1943 - (Abortive) Berlin. Starboard outer feathered, landed on three engines.
3 - 3rd-4th September 1943 - Berlin. Held in searchlights for five minutes.
4 - 23rd-24th September 1943 - Mannheim.
5 - 29th-30th September 1943 - Bochum.
6 - 2nd-3rd October 1943 - Munich. Shot up over Amiens landed Tangmere.
7 - 5th-6th October 1943 - Hanover.
8 - 20th-21st October 1943 - Leipzig. Electrical problems.
9 - 3rd-4th November 1943 - Düsseldorf.
10 - 10th-11th November 1943 - Modane. Fuel shortage, landed Tangmere.
11 - 18th-19th November 1943 - Berlin.
12 - 22nd-23rd November 1943 - Berlin. Rear turret frozen up.
13 - 26th-27th November 1943 - Berlin.
14 - 16th-17th December 1943 - Berlin. Heavy losses fog on return. Many fighter flares around target area.
15 - 20th-21st December 1943 - Frankfurt.
16 - 24-25th December 1943 - Berlin. Rear turret u/s starboard outer feathered.
17 - 29th-30th December 1943 - Berlin.
18 - 1st-2nd January 1944 - Berlin.
19 - 2nd-3rd January 1944 - Berlin. Mug passed out through lack of oxygen.
20 - 5th-6th January 1944 - Stettin. Best photo in bomber command.
21 - 15th-16th January 1944 - Brunswick.
22 - 27th-28th January 1944 - Berlin.
23 - 28th-29th January 1944 - Berlin.
24 - 15th-16th February 1944 - Berlin.
25 - 19th-20th February 1944 - Leipzig. Heaviest losses in group.
26 - 20th-21st February 1944 - Stuttgart.
27 - 24th-25th February 1944 - Schweinfurt. Best photo in group.
28 - 25th-26th February 1944 - Augsburg.
29 - 1st-2nd March 1944 - Stuttgart.
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CHAPTER F
101 SQUADRON
NOTES ON VARIOUS OPERATIONS
In late July 1943 after completing my flight engineer course and joining the other crew members at conversion unit Lindholme near Doncaster, with two other crews we arrived at 101 Squadron based at Ludford Magna. The crews were always known by the name of the pilot and out of the three crews that arrived, two crews had the name of Evans; W L Evans and A H Evans. I was the flight engineer assigned to W L Evans’s crew and had flown with them at conversion unit, however, the records had been mixed up and showed me as flight engineer to A H Evans’s crew. The simplest method of resolving the problem would have been for me to join A H Evans’s crew and the other flight engineer to join W L Evans’s crew. W L Evans, however, said definitely not, I was his engineer and in no way was I not flying in his crew, the records were therefore corrected.
For the next three weeks we worked as a crew getting to know each other and familiarising
ourselves with the aircraft. When we were told that we were to be on operations we had
flown 33 hours in total, 12 of which was night flying.
Both crews flew, our first operation was on 22nd-23rd August 1943, the target was Leverkusen. There was of course much excitement among us and especially when at briefing the curtains covering the maps on the wall were opened and we saw the target, we were the new bods not knowing what to expect. We listened carefully to what was being said by the various Heads of Section regarding the weather, hot spots to miss along the route, where fighters could be expected and where flak would be very heavy.
Leverkusen was a German town situated in the near proximity of the Ruhr Germany’s main industrial centre, where a high percentage of their heavy equipment was made. The Ruhr had been visited many times and considerable damage carried out which helped delay their war equipment this was an operation to attack specific targets, which would further upset and delay their war effort.
After briefing we returned to the mess for a meal, which usually consisted of egg, bacon and chips. Takeoff was scheduled for around 21:30 hours so before that we had to collect our parachutes rations and packet containing money, maps etc to cover the countries over which we would be flying in case we had to bail out.
We then changed into flying kit before catching the crew bus out to our aircraft. The next task was to carry out the pre-flying checks on the aircraft, then start the engines.
Wally then taxied the aircraft along the perimeter track towards the takeoff runway, waiting in the queue for the aircraft in front to obtain the green light to takeoff. Then our turn, green light given, we turn onto the runway, line up at the end, carry out the formal checks between pilot and engineer. Wally our pilot and skipper then holds on the brake as I open up the four
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throttles, pushing the port two slightly ahead of the starboard two, let brake off and feel the aircraft rush along the runway increasing speed rapidly (this was the most exciting part of the operation as far as I was concerned).
As the throttles are fully opened and as the end of the runway is nearing, the heavy aircraft laden with fuel and bombs leaves the tarmac behind. Relief. Pilot: “undercarriage up” engineer “undercarriage up, brakes on off”. Pilot “flaps up”, engineer “flaps up”. As the undercarriage and flaps are raised you could feel the plane sink a little before starting to climb. Pilot to navigator: “course and speed, and height”. I would then reduce throttle to minimum revs to produce power sufficient to keep climbing at the speed asked for, then as far as possible synchronise the four engines to cut out unnecessary noise. The noise from four Merlin engines was a noise that you never forget.
Taking off and managing to get this large aircraft off the ground safely while possibly carrying two thousand gallons of fuel stored in the wings and a full bomb load under your feet, as I said previous, was always the most exciting part of the operation as far as I was concerned and I always marvelled at Wally’s skills in achieving this without any mishaps. I was always relieved, happy and knew that everything would be all right until we had to do it all again on the next operation.
We had no troubles with our landing at base on return from Leverkusen, taxied to our parking space, caught a crew bus which took us to the debriefing room where we received a nice hot cup of tea or coffee with a spot of rum in if wanted. The debriefing consisted of an Intelligence Officer asking a number of questions about what we saw on route, anything unusual, searchlight positions around built up areas, flak, fighter activity. Did we see any planes being shot down and did we see any parachutes appearing and anything else, which may be of interest.
We were then able to return to the mess for breakfast. While having breakfast, A H Evans and crew arrived, we had a few words regarding the operation and made our way back to our billet for a few hours sleep, luckily it was coming up to high moon period so for the next ten days there were no operations.
The second operation, which both crews were on, was to Munchen Gladbach on 30th and 31st August, we had another fairly quiet trip without any problems and landed safely on time at Base. We heard that two planes were late, one of which was A H Evans, we held on at breakfast hoping to hear some news. News came through that a SR Lancaster had landed further south due to fuel shortage, it turned out not to be A H Evans and crew. The following day we heard the dreaded news that A H Evans’s crew was reported missing and presumably shot down. This was later confirmed.
This was a new experience for us to know that seven young men who we had been friendly with, even for a short time, were no longer around. The engineer had come through the same training as myself – mechanic course fitters course at Blackpool – followed by flight engineers course at St Athans, then crewing up at Lindholme. He was slightly older than myself therefore not in my squad although I did know him on the course to say hello, and as you know both crews joined 101 Squadron on the same day and I almost changed places with him.
The same routine was followed each time we took off and continued to be the most anxious time and possibly the most scary and nervous moments of each operation. We soon realised that each operation was different with its own hazards and that flying over Europe for however short or long a period, it was a very dangerous and frightening place to be.
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The normal procedure for all aircraft after takeoff was to start to gain height, circling the area until reaching a height of around 10,000 ft before setting course for the target. Around the Lincoln area there were at least 20 airfields, each with at least 20 aircraft flying on each operation, that was why the residents living in the area knew when operations were on by the noise of 400 planes all circling to gain height. Once a course was set we tried to reach a height of at least 15,000 ft before crossing the enemy coast.
There were certain things that we had no control over such as the weather, the conditions on route could be quite different from that forecasted. Increased wind speeds, a tail wind instead of a nose wind, these affected the navigator greatly who was trying to stay on route and be at a certain point within the time space of the operation. More so with 101 Squadron, responsible to give protection by using ABC over the full length of the operation. Thunderstorms and heavy clouds could also cause icing up of the engine air intakes and front edge of the wings (remember temperatures could be as low as -20°) and if not dealt with could cause engine failure.
Fog, however, was the most serious problem, thick fog in the UK on return. Blanket fog so thick it was impossible to see anything from the air or the ground, this caused heavy losses of aircraft as returning from flying with low fuel levels, trying to find a landing ground was impossible, for many resulting in heavy losses in aircraft and crews. Conditions improved slightly when FIDO was installed on some runways.
There were hazards from conditions which crews did not expect as the Met weather forecasts had given much more favourable conditions, otherwise we should not have been flying. As soon as we flew over the Dutch coastline we expected to be greeted by flak and if ground conditions were good by enemy fighters, depending on the operations route, flak could be very heavy and accurate especially round the towns and cities. Searchlights then also came into play especially those with the strong blue coloured lights. If caught by one of these it was almost impossible to lose them they were also radar controlled by anti-aircraft guns, which were especially accurate and many aircraft became casualties.
There was also a fair risk of collision bearing in mind that on the route to the target there were possibly between 400 and 600 large aircraft (100 ft wingspan) all travelling in the same direction at the same time, making for the same point and expected to be over the target all within the space of 20 minutes or less (granted there would be a range of heights between some, possibly within a band of 2,000 ft). Think of it as 600 cars travelling along a motorway all doing 70 miles per hour, all expecting to pass point ‘A’ at between 01:00 and 01:20 hours. If congestion occurred the car driver would see and would slow down, there was no way of changing lane or slowing in an aircraft. It was therefore very clear to us as a crew early on that flying over Europe was a very dangerous and frightening place to be and if we were to succeed we had to work as a team, be alert all the time whether for two hours or eight hours. This we managed fairly well, we recognised that the safest place to be was in the middle of the concentration along the route. It was usually those who had strayed off course that were picked off by fighters or became casualties by flak.
Our navigator Jimmy was therefore a very important member of the crew (he was an exceptionally good navigator) the rest of the crew could also help him which we did if conditions were clear telling him of certain markers, such as there is heavy flak ahead to 11 o’clock, or we are just passing over a river with a railway line and road alongside or such like information.
He could then take action if necessary and give a change of course to Wally our pilot, or if we had a strong tail wind ask me to reduce speed slightly. So we had two-way conversation
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between key members such as navigator, bomb aimer, pilot and engineer but only with reference to the operation in hand.
The rear and mid upper gunners role was to continually scour the sky by rotating from side to side in their turrets, with one turning to starboard the other turning to port, the bomb aimer controlled the front myself had the only view to watch the gunners and watch ahead and to the sides, while the bomb aimer carried out his other work such as dropping window or preparing for his bombing run, therefore we were fairly well covered. If another aircraft came close or overhead, or below us on our bombing run a crewmember could give the alarm. If a fighter was seen and showing interest then mostly the gunners gave the alarm “fighter starboard, 2 o’clock, dive now!”. Wally would dive immediately and carry out a corkscrew manoeuvre then return on to normal course, this usually worked. If for any reason I could see the gunner’s turrets not moving I would give them a call, only once was it necessary to take further action (this is recorded later) usually they were just having a short rest or such like.
Fuel was also a concern, petrol was rationed throughout the UK as most of the supplies had to be imported, therefore fuel for aircraft was also closely regulated on Lancasters to 200 gallons per hour flying time. Therefore if the estimated time for an operation was seven hours, fuel allocated was 1,400 gallons plus 200 extra, a total of 1,600 gallons.
The flight engineer therefore did have some control; it was dependent on how efficient he was in regulating the engines (similar to driving, there are good drivers and not so good drivers). The Lancaster had six fuel tanks, three in each wing with the small tank on the outside of the wing which could only be pumped into the middle tank, the other two on each wing could be used in tandem or individually to feed the engines.
It was the engineer’s responsibility to use the fuel distribution the most successful way so that whatever happened the maximum fuel was available to keep the engines running. To such ends I fully used the centre tanks each fuelling the two engines on port and starboard when sufficient was used pump tank fuel into tank two, then using fuel evenly from the other two tanks to supply the port and starboard engines.
If anything unforeseen happened such as a tank being damaged from enemy flak or fighter guns, the minimum fuel loss would occur and I could re-adjust my method of usage by opening and closing valves.
All engines could be run from one of the four tanks, this meant keeping a log and recording every ten or fifteen minutes. It was also necessary to record engine temperatures and oil pressure and with experience listening to the noise of the engines could give a good indication of how efficient they were running. Fuel could be saved by making sure that, when possible, the engine revs could be reduced and that other control on the aircraft such as flaps, etc were being used at optimum levels. This saving in fuel could be the difference between touching down safely or not, on the odd occasion when fuel loss occurred from a leaking tank or when on reaching the base area it was under thick fog and extra flying was necessary to find a suitable landing site.
Life on the base was very mixed, flying on operations was usually carried out during the dark nights of the moon and these two weeks could be hectic, operations could be on two consecutive nights resulting in our crew getting to bed at around 05:00 hours and then having to be ready for pre-briefing and head of section meetings, followed by main briefing at 15:00 to 16:00 hours and once again ready for takeoff by 21:30 hours. Other times operations could be scheduled and then cancelled because of possibly extreme weather
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conditions over the UK or over the target area. The dark nights were therefore a continual case of being ready to fly when called upon.
The period of high moon was more relaxing. Training and practice still had to be carried out such as bombing practice for Eric; this was carried out on targets set in the North Sea a few miles off shore. Gun practice for Len and Bill carried out on a moving target towed behind a small plane off the coastline.
The station had an excellent gym where one could keep fit which was essential and a very good library of general reading material and technical information. I also spent a considerable amount of time on the simulator improving my flying skills and landing procedures, also the period when crews could have some leave. I always travelled home on these occasions.
We were on base during the autumn (harvest time) as a crew we decided to help the local farmer with stocking and collecting his grain crops as our accommodation Nissen huts were situated near to the farmstead, in return he offered us a pile of fire wood to keep our stove lit during the colder nights as the coke ration was rather limited.
Ludford Magna was a small village supporting two pubs, a post office and a small but very nice church during the 11 months, which I spent at the base. I had never been in either of the pubs. I had attended the church service on a number of occasions.
The Women’s Institute also ran a small unit situated on the main street where one could obtain a nice cup of tea and a cake, also within a mile radius there were two small cafes which crew members frequently visited during the day for a tea and a bun.
During off flying periods we as a crew fairly regularly visited the Kings Head Hotel in Louth where we had a meal. Crewmembers also received generous leave, seven days approximately every 6‑8 weeks depending on weather and operation timing. We had extra rations of chocolate, vitamin tablets and cigarettes. On leave from Ludford I always travelled home to Aberdour in Fife, Scotland. It was a long, slow journey, going on leave we usually managed to go by transport from the base then catch a train at Louth to Grantham where we could catch the train on the main line travelling between London and Edinburgh. This was usually an overnight train and usually very packed by other military personnel doing the same. The train usually reached Edinburgh during the night or very early morning then another wait to catch a train to Aberdour. The conditions occurred on the return journey unfortunately the train reached Louth early in the morning when no such transport was
available; it was then a seven mile walk back to base.
Leave was a time to catch up with family and friends and especially to catch up with sleep and to chill out and rest. I said earlier that we did have good rations of sweets, chocolates and cigarettes which I usually was able to take some home.
During the winter 1943/44 we had several days of heavy snow and naturally this added to the mud when it melted, it also meant that to keep operational the runways and perimeter tracks had to be cleared of snow, every available person, air crews and ground crews, armed with spades and shovels turned out to clear the snow. We were treated with the odd drop of rum to keep the cold out and our spirits up, and to keep us digging.
Our billet nissen huts had snowdrifts around them, these Nissen huts were unlined and in bad weather there was considerable condensation inside and this used to run in the corrugations of the sheeting and if the temperature was cold enough, it would freeze. We did have heating in the form of a round pot stove with chimney from top of the stove up through
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the roof. Coal or anthracite was the main fuel, it was of course rationed and in short supply. There were raids between huts to obtain extra supplies. The odd chair went missing along with any spare pieces of wood to help out. If you were lucky and had sufficient supply to completely fill up the stove and get it and part of the chimney extremely hot then it would keep the hut warm until the next morning.
During the summer the problems were different, it was earwigs that would climb up the inside of the huts and occasionally drop into beds. I remember one of our crew members, I can’t remember who, while sleeping an earwig crawled into his ear and he had to pay a visit to the MO to have it removed. Field mice could also cause annoyance.
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NOTES ON VARIOUS OPERATIONS
Operation 3
3rd/4th September 1943
Target: Berlin
We had a reasonably quiet trip keeping clear of the various hot spots on route and staying well on course, searchlights were many on the approach to the target with some very powerful blue lights. As we prepared for our bombing run we got caught by one of these powerful lights and no matter what we did we could not lose it, and if we did a further light caught on to us. We were flying at 22,000 ft; Wally decided the best manoeuvre was to put the aircraft into a power dive and loose [sic] height quickly.
After four minutes we were down to 18,000 ft and still dazzled by its glare just then a Halifax, which was flying at a much lower altitude, drifted across under us and the light caught on to it, then the Halifax completely exploded. It had received the full blast possibly intended for us. These blue searchlights and guns were radar controlled and worked together.
We reached the target and bombed at the lower level then set for home and had a quiet trip back to base. We were a bit shaken up by what had happened to the Halifax and in future made a mental note to keep well clear of blue searchlights. The navigator noted in his log the position of this light so if possible it could be targeted for special attention.
Operation 6 (705 hours)
2nd-3rd October 1943
Target: Munich
Takeoff time for the operation was 18:45 hours. For us as a crew this was a quiet trip, we had no problems with enemy fighters, searchlights were few and by keeping strictly on course found no problems with ack-ack. We reached the target on time, bombed and started on our way home still without any troubles, then as we thought we were doing well without warning we were shot up by anti aircraft guns near the town of Amiens which caught the underside of the body of the aircraft and along the wings. From this we developed a fuel leak. In trying to evade further damage from the anti aircraft guns Wally put the aircraft into a power dive at around 21,000 ft, trying to pull it out took Wally and myself great strength pulling on the control column, we were down to 5,000 ft when we finally levelled out. On inspecting the aircraft at Tangmere we found that many of the rivets on the lower side of the wings had been stripped open owing to the strain on the wings caused by the speed in diving, and counted over 80 holes of various sizes along the body and wings however after refuelling the following day we decided the aircraft was airworthy and safe enough to fly back to base where we could have repairs carried out quickly. Mac was not amused when he saw the Lanc X not X² but was pleased that we had brought it back safely for his team to repair it.
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Operation 8
19th/20th October
Target: Berlin
During the week previously I had been told that more new Lancasters would be arriving at base and the one with X² as its recognition number would be allocated to our crew and from then on for our use on operations. Up until that date we operated on whichever aircraft was available. Mac, a ground engineer (Sergeant) had arrived on the station in July, until now he was a spare engineer, X² became his charge for all servicing and repairs. We struck up a great relationship between us and after each operation, as soon as possible I would contact Mac and tell him of any problems which we had experienced during the flight. I was thrilled to think I would be the only person operating these engines and I could nurse then [sic] whenever possible and be reasonably sure that they had not been misused for no good reason. Mac had warned me that because of the lack of time, the aircraft had been checked and was serviceable, however, he and his team had not yet had the time to check all electrical and hydraulic circuits.
Takeoff was 17:30 hours and all went well until I retracted the undercarriage, it appeared to lift ok but the warning lights indicated that it had not fully locked. We proceeded to circle and climb and as we reached the Dutch coastline Nobby, our wireless operator, was having problems with his equipment, I then had a temperature gauge on one of the engines reading an excessively high temperature. The engine appeared to be working satisfactorily, however, we were still only a short time into our operation. I was concerned what may continue to happen and without radio contact we could have a problem.
We still had a full bomb load on board and high levels of fuel, under these conditions we could not return to base and land without losing our bombs. Wally was in agreement with Jimmy our navigator, they decided that they would set course for Texel and drop our bombs on the installation there. This we did then returned to base. As we had no contact with ground control we landed without permission.
On return before landing, however, we dropped our undercarriage and as the lights were not showing we did do a shallow dive with a quick pull up, this jerked the undercarriage down and all was well. The problems were resolved, the pressure gauge was faulty, meaning the undercarriage was not fully engaging because of limited pressure on the hydraulics.
Operation 10
11th/12th November 1943
Target: Modane
Normally as we have said previously operations were usually carried out during the nights when there was no moon. This was full moon; a beautiful bright night with clear skies which meant that aircraft flying could be seen for great distances. We had no trouble in reaching the target with little or no opposition from enemy fighters, searchlights or flak. Even on the way home it was trouble free and we could see and watch the marvellous sights of the high mountains as we passed over them and then without notice flying over Amiens a blue searchlight ‘coned’ us, immediately followed by heavy and accurate ack-ack fire which burst very close to us, causing some damage to the underside of the aircraft and to one of the fuel tanks, luckily no crew member was injured.
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This was not a great problem it only meant isolating the tank involved, eventually causing a fuel shortage. I said we would not have sufficient fuel to reach base, so Jimmy (our navigator) gave Wally a course for Tangmere in South England where we landed. On checking we found that the aircraft was not too badly damaged around 50 holes of various sizes along the underside of the fuselage and two holes in the side and front window where a piece of shrapnel entered in and out again, as well as cutting a hole in the sleeve of my flying jacket. This I did not know until I was removing my jacket.
The following morning we refuelled and returned to base.
Operation 14 (Black Thursday)
16th-17th December 1943
Target: Berlin
This was supposed to be a very quiet trip as reported at briefing in the late afternoon. The weather was so bad over Europe that no fighters would be able to fly therefore the route would be straight to the capital Berlin, and straight back out – should be a very easy journey, unfortunately things did not turn out this way.
As we crossed over the Dutch coast the weather took a dramatic change and instead of cloud and thick fog, conditions were good for flying and the fighters which were supposed to be sitting on the ground were flying on strength and interrupting the bomber stream, and we noted a few running battles and a number of aircraft being shot down. Within a short time it was clear that this was going to be a night to remember. The attacks continued all the way to the target, fortunately we remained clear of any trouble except for seeing the odd fighter going in the opposite direction.
There was the usual heavy concentration of searchlights and heavy activity of ack ack over the target creating a heavy barrage. We bombed on target and set on our route for home, this proved uneventful for us although we did see a few fighter battles being continued.
The weather by this time was beginning to close in with much more low cloud as a result Wally decided to carry out a gentle decent, reaching the coastline at around 2,000 ft and by this time we knew that there would be trouble with low cloud and fog. We were alerted by base that Ludford was fog-bound and that we should proceed to Driffield, this was when it became very difficult. By now all the crewmembers were active in trying to find any ground markers all with little success, Eric who was still in his front position shouted “pull up Wally – I’ve just seen a barrage balloon”. Jimmy quietly informed us we must be over Hull, I’ll use this as a reference check.
By now we had been in the air for 7 1/2 hours and from my calculations our fuel was becoming in short supply. Nobby (wireless operator): “I’m picking up a signal” RT messages from Dishforth and Catfoss but they could see no lights through the fog.
Then Catfoss offered to put a light on for us, they, however, realised that we were very low and put the beam aimed parallel to the ground.
Presumably, because of the light what Wally and I saw was a farmhouse and buildings, we both acted simultaneously, Wally pulled the control unit full back, I slammed the throttle fully open, luckily I had been flying with the engine booster pumps on so there was no delay in the engines producing full power. As the power emerged we somehow managed to lift the aircraft over the buildings we must have been only feet away from the ground because as the
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aircraft pulled up the tail wheel clipped the farm entrance gate, I think that it must be true to say that the beam of light from Catfoss saved our lives.
Wally: “How much fuel have we left?” My reply, ”Very little, what should we do?” Jimmy: “Take course for base and try to land there”. We decided to return to base and as luck would have it Eric caught a brief glimpse of something he recognised followed by a few sodium lights of the outer ring lights and as we circled round Wally said “I think I will go round again as I will then have a better chance of landing”. “No” I said, “we do not have the fuel for that”. So with some quick manoeuvring he managed to bring the aircraft back on course. Unfortunately, as I have said previously there are so many airfields in Lincolnshire that the outer perimeter lights cross over each other and this is what happened to us because we were flying so low we managed to pick up the occasional light expecting it still to be the lights for Ludford. Unfortunately we had crossed over and unbeknown to us were travelling on the lights for Wickenby. On having a glimpse of the runway lights Wally turned in and asked for permission to land thinking it was Ludford, Ludford control said yes but we can’t see you. We landed safely part way down the runway the fog was still very thick. Wally to control: “We have landed but fog too thick to see”. Control: “You have not landed where are you?”. Wally and I looked at each other “Wally we have haven’t we?” Then a further voice came on, this is control Wickenby we think you have landed here “who are you?” Wally told them and asked them to give directions. Leave the aircraft where it is, we think it is still on the runway, we will send transport to collect you when we find you. After 20 minutes a crew bus collected us and eventually dropped us off at the mess where we had a meal and it was Wickenby.
Wickenby was a wartime base similar to Ludford and with similar living accommodation. We were given a nissen hut where we had a cold bed. As we were extremely tired after our ordeal we had a good sleep.
We woke up to a much better day and there on the runway was Lancaster X² just where we abandoned it. I arranged for fuel and a starter trolley to be delivered, prior to refuelling Wally and I started the engines, carried out the pre-flying checks.
The engines fired up and ran for 2 to 3 minutes then began spluttering and then stopped. We had run out of fuel, the decision not to go round again was the correct decision.
Mac our ground engineer and his staff were there to meet us on our return and gave hand signals in order to park up on our parking point. Mac said: “where have you been” and gave me a big hug. “I think I heard the old girl last night and we came running out hoping to see her, I’m sure it was her she has a noise all of her own, a sweeter, quieter noise”. However, when we checked the time we thought that we must have been mistaken because we were sure that she did not have the fuel to last that time. Then we heard that a Lancaster had crashed on the rising ground hear [sic] Louth so we then went to bed – none of our aircraft landed last night, apparently they are scattered across the east side of England as they are from all the other bases round about.
“Is she ok?” Mac asked. “Yes” I say. “You might however check over the engine booster pumps as they were used a lot last night”. Mac: “What’s happened to the cowlings around the tail wheel?” Me: “Oh, give the tail wheel mounting a good inspection Mac”. Mac “Why, what happened, surely Wally didn’t do this on landing, he usually lands on the main wheel first”. Me “No, we hit a gate”. Mac “You what? You hit a gate, why didn’t you open it first!” Mac: “Yes, will check her over and make her ready for tonight if required”. Fortunately the fog again returned with poor visibility, it was 4 days before we flew again and then the operation was Frankfurt.
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We found out later that out of the 483 Lancasters that flew that night 25 were lost over Europe from a combination of attack from night fighters, flak and collisions. Another 29 Lancasters from crashes, which occurred due to the thick fog conditions experienced around the airfield on returning home and trying to land.
Mac also confessed that he and his engineers were completely fed up with the time they had spent working on the carburetting on the engines, ensuring that the fuel taken up by the engines was the least possible and me insisting that they check the volume over and over again until no more could be done.
He now agreed that all the effort made now paid off as if not there was no way that she could have kept flying for that period of time (8 hours 30 minutes) and he said thank you.
Each aircraft carried seven crewmembers, 101 Squadron aircraft carried eight crewmembers. On the attached page there is a paragraph which Len Brooks, our rear gunner told his recollection of the night’s events due to the fog.
Considering the events of that night in a rational way it is difficult to believe what happened could have happened with a satisfactory ending.
We had travelled across Europe direct to Berlin and back escaping enemy fighters, flash lights and enemy ack ack fire without mishaps, only to arrive back in Lincolnshire to find all the eastern side of the UK that the cloud base had almost reached ground level. Base diverted us to Driffield and we found ourselves over Hull and among barrage balloons. We were flying low to try to find some marker which we could relate to such as outer ring lighting or runway lighting, as there were a number of airfields in that area.
Nobby our wireless operator said I’m picking up RT messages from Driffield, Dishforth and Catfoss but they could not see us because of the fog. Catfoss offered to put a light up for us realising we were so low, their beam was almost parallel to the ground. How was it that the beam came on at that precise moment? How was it that we acted so quickly with the control column and obtained such a quick response from the engines? The aircraft must have climbed at 40‑45% because as the power took over the tail wheel caught the gate leading into the farmhouse, meaning that the aircraft was at most four feet from ground (travelling at 150 miles per hour), this meant covering the ground at 88 ft per second. The time we had to clear the farmhouse and building was less than one second, how could that happen?
We know what Len Brooks said, he felt the power from the engines and looked down and saw the chickens in the farmyard scampering away from their coupes denoting that the aircraft had climbed exceptionally quickly. How did the aircraft pull itself up and over a two storey building in such a short distance? What would the consequences of been had the aircraft not made it? How many people were in the house; farmer’s wife and family? How many children? In fact what was their experience of it, did they sleep through it or were they very scared? We don’t know. How many animals were in the steading, was there a milking herd of 20 to 30 cows? The destruction could have been tremendous, as it was no one was injured as far as we know.
We gained some height; Jimmy gave Wally a course back to base. Why was it just at that precise moment that the fog thinned to allow Eric to recognise an object followed by the sodium lights of the base outer circle? Wally saying that he thought he should go round again, I say no we haven’t the fuel, Wally doing an unconventional manoeuvre to bring the aircraft back on course and immediately picking out further lights of the outer ring. However, by this time we had left Ludford outer ring and crossed over onto Wickenby outer ring. We kept on circling round very low to keep lights in sight and luckily spotted the runway lights
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and landing part way along the runway thinking we had landed at base surprised to find it was Wickenby we had landed at, then being told to abandon the plane where it was on the runway. Had we been directed to taxi off the runway and round the perimeter track to a conventional parking area I think the engines would have cut out on the way giving all the crew a complete shock. As it was it was only myself and Wally who realised the seriousness of the situation when we started the engines the following morning.
As I said earlier this was supposed to be a very uneventful operation, in and out of Europe. The average trip to Berlin was around 7 1/2 hours flying time, fuel 1,750 gallons, this I consider could have been estimated at around 7 hours maximum flying time, 1,700 gallons.
I realise that I was always considered better at conserving fuel than most engineers however, how did our aircraft manage to stay airborne for 8 1/2 hours and give out as soon as we touched down. This turned out to be a very exciting but frightening night, how was it that we managed to avoid the various objects we encountered and still managed to bring X² back safely. This was an episode that as a crew we never talked about.
Operation 16
24th/25th December
Target: Berlin
Takeoff time if I remember correctly was early evening in order that we should reach the target before midnight. On board each aircraft was a mix of various bombs, high explosive, incendiaries and delayed timed bombs triggered to explode on Christmas Day.
It was an uneventful night for us, keeping our place on route, seeing some ack-ack activity
aimed at those aircraft, which strayed off route and seeing the occasional night fighter gun tracers streak across the dark sky.
We reached the target on time and Eric was preparing for his bombing run when I noticed that the oil temperature gauge on the outer starboard engine was reading very high. I had to decide the best action, normally on the bombing run I would be on lookout watching for other aircraft approaching us from above or below us and was all the other spare members of crew, it was critical to have maximum look out because of the concentration of aircraft all making for the same point. Many collisions occurred in these situations; damage could also take place by aircraft flying above by dropping their bombs without watching what was below.
I said “Wally, feathering starboard outer”. Wally to Eric: “Cancel bombing run, engine feathered, have adjusted revs on other engine”. Jimmy: “Wally take course so-and-so and go round again”. This was a very difficult and dangerous decision to take as our aircraft would be on an entirely different direction from all other aircraft and exposed to enemy fighters.
We as a crew had previously discussed what we should do in the event of something like this happening, the conclusion was that after flying all this way to the target our first priority was to put our bombs on the target, so any distraction must be remedied first before the bombing run was made. Hitting the target was the only reason for being there. Eric carried out his bombing and the result was that the bombs scored a direct hit, this was confirmed from a self-operating camera situated in the bomb bay and rolled when the bomb doors were opened.
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Afterwards we set off on our return run on three engines but because of limited power instead of holding our 20,000 ft altitude Wally and I decided to make a gradual descent, passing over the enemy coast at 5,000 ft and making our way direct to base on the instruction given by Jimmy our navigator.
The engine proved to be suffering from a faulty gauge, this, however, we had no way of knowing and had it been an engine seize up and possibly resulted in an engine fire, we could have been in serious problems being an easy target for enemy fighters. Wally made a very professional landing on three engines, of course he always did make a good landing in the dark, it was during daylight that he always had a few Kangaroo jumps before rolling along the runway.
Operation 19
2nd/3rd January 1944
Target: Berlin
I would expect that everyone would experience fear on a number of times during their lifetime being frightened is nothing to be ashamed of. Fear can be brought on instantly by such things as an explosion, a fire or such like, then fear can turn to panic. Controlled fear can be felt when one expects that they are likely to die, on the motorway getting caught up in an accident when cars are travelling at speed.
Our crew experienced such emotions once when on operations over Berlin when our Lancaster was hit by ack-ack fire, which exploded very close to us and caused severe damage to the fuselage from shrapnel, also causing loss of all communication. After checking all engines and fuel supplies, and assessing for any further damage I realised that Bill’s (our mid-upper gunner) turret was stationary with no signs of movement from him. I knew that something must be wrong so I touched Wally gave the thumbs up and pointed towards the rear. I collected a portable oxygen bottle and on the way through the aircraft I touched Nobby on the arm and signalled him to follow me. True enough Bill was not in his turret, with the light from my torch we found him trying to open the fuselage rear door and in his panic he had no parachute with him. He seemed very strong and determined to leave the aircraft. The only way to prevent this happening was to hit him with the oxygen bottle. We were able to man handle him back to the rest bed. When giving him the oxygen bottle he began sucking
it like a baby, we made him comfortable with a blanket then returned to our positions.
This episode had taken over 30 minutes at probably the most dangerous period of any operation over the target with lights being shone from the torch and loss of lookout crewmembers (mid-gunner and myself). Luckily the aircraft was not too badly damaged between 40 to 50 holes along the fuselage.
In early January Bill reported sick, which meant that we required a mid upper gunner, Dave who had lost his crew was looking to join a new crew, so he joined our crew and flew with us until we completed our tour of operations.
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Operation 28
25th-26th February 1944
Target: Augsburg
I have little recognition of what happened on this trip, it however was of great importance because this was the first time on any operation that Lancasters had been fitted with 2 x 0.5 guns in the rear turret instead of the 4 x 0.303 guns. Furthermore it was only 101 Squadron who had them.
These turrets were made by a small local company from Gainsborough and designed in conjunction with 101 Squadron’s technicians; this gave the Lancaster a much greater firepower.
At briefing it was announced that six aircraft, which included our X², were fitted with 0.5 guns and that crews should take the initiative and attack fighters rather than take evasive action.
All I remember of what must have been relatively quiet was that the 101 Lancasters that were carrying the new turrets and firing at the fighters, it was the fighters that were taking evasive action and as the fighters were unaware that only a few aircraft were fitted with these much more effective guns. Over the next few operations there was much less fighter activity which was much less effective.
On a number of operations as well as dropping window we also dropped leaflets, the leaflets were typed in German and gave information as to how the war was progressing (propaganda information).
All operations were usually carried out at twenty thousand feet plus for Lancasters, other types of aircraft would bomb at slightly lower heights because of the thin air at above 10,000 ft. Oxygen had to be taken through masks and also because of the altitude temperatures could drop to as low as -20o, so much so if you touched any metal part of the fuselage with your bare hand it could stick to the metal and because of condensation one had to free the ice from your mask frequently.
Operation 29
1st-2nd March 1944
Target: Stuttgart (8 hours 10 minutes)
During the 1930s and 40s the winters could be very severe with long periods of frost and snow. March 1944 commenced with heavy and prolonged snowfall resulting in Ludford runway being covered in over 8 ft of snow which had to be cleared before flying could continue. At that time there was no heavy snow clearing equipment available, only the normal tractors that were on site, therefore to move the snow every person on the station not on duty was put on snow clearing. The aircraft standing points were cleared first so that ground crews could operate then the task of clearing the main runway commenced spades and shovels were the tools of the day. Generally I think everyone enjoyed it with plenty of high jinks and laughing, many snowmen being made along the runway edges.
Operations were ordered for that night 1st March therefore the runway had to be ready for takeoff by 16:00 hours. It was crucial that 101 Squadron was available because we were the only Squadron operating CIGAR a jamming device which prevented German radar from
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contacting their fighters to give them instructions. Bomber Command refused to fly without 101 Squadron’s aircraft.
It was determined that the runway would not be fully cleared, however, if four hundred yards were ready aircraft could take off with a light fuel load, fly to the neighbouring airfield Wickenby, fully fuel and bomb up there.
Briefing took place mid afternoon; flying was laid on for 16:00 hours. We were the first plane off without trouble, a further two followed, the fourth didn’t make it on the cleared runway part, ploughed into the snow and skidded off the runway closing it. This meant that four of 101 Squadron’s aircraft carrying CIGAR were available. On the operation the aircraft were spread out along the route covering the period of the raid. (ie approximately five minutes apart)
Our aircraft was fuelled and bombed-up at Wickenby and took off among the planes from Wickenby. The operation as far as we were concerned was quiet, with few fighters, no troubles. We bombed on time and returned for home crossing the Dutch coast at around 10,000 ft, then continued to base Wickenby, then de-briefed, had breakfast and then to bed. We stayed at Wickenby for two more days before we could return to Ludford.
On our return our Squadron Commander told us that we had completed our tour of operations and since the squadron moved to Ludford we were the only crew that had achieved that, so he didn’t want to test our luck any further.
The following two days were spent testing the new rear turret with the 2 x .5 guns under various flying conditions, including high level flying at 25,000+ ft and it proved to be equally good under all conditions.
Five days later we all went on leave, this was the break up of the crew after which none of us met again, during the war that’s how things happened.
Before going on leave I went to see Mac to tell him the situation. “Can’t you stay?” he asked “where are you being posted to?”. “I think I may be posted to Lindholme as an instructor”. “Why can’t you stay here then and instruct here? I will miss you, you’ve taught me more about carburettors and how they work. I know I told you you were a pain in the neck to my chaps, you demanding that they check and monitor the engines performance to obtain maximum fuel savings. I will continue to carry out your instructions and to see if I can help save other crew’s lives as we have just recently experienced on X²”.
“If you do a further operation tour, come back here and I will try to look after your aircraft again for you, all the best, good flying”.
Operation Highlights
I have highlighted only a few of our more exciting operations, many of which have been written about and described by other aircrew presumably because these were the operations which for some reason caught the headlines and probably they were the crew members which survived.
It must be remembered, however, that every operation had its dangers. The fact that the aircraft flew over enemy territory was a dangerous place to be, with it being usually in darkness and with anywhere up to 600 aircraft plus on many occasions, all making for the
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same target within a time limit of between 30 to 60 minutes alone had its dangers and problems.
When I say that we had a quiet trip this usually meant that our crew had no major problems and every member carried out his duties as an individual and as a team member. This did not mean that minor problems did not occur such as the rear turret freezing up causing problems for Len (rear gunner) from severe cold and lack of visibility or wireless operator loosing [sic] contact with base or even Wally and myself with ice forming on the wing edges from travelling through cloud. On one occasion the whole crew suffering because of being caught up in a thunderstorm, the aircraft being thrown about like a toy, falling immediately to 1,000 ft and back up again, something that no one had any control over.
Cold was a further concern; the temperature could fall as low as -20 to 30oC below zero. The metal of the aircraft if you touched it with your bare hand, the skin could stick to it therefore gloves had always to be worn. There was warm air circulated throughout the aircraft this was controlled from a duct situated near to the wireless operator’s station and at times should he become very warm would turn it down.
Oxygen masks were also worn as above ten thousand feet oxygen was necessary and it was a continual task to have to remove the ice from your mask, as it built up due to the moisture created from breathing. As you can imagine the gunner being isolated from the main cabin area suffered even more.
The enemy could also cause a few problems on route. Fighters had an advantage over the heavier, slower bombers and the fact that bombers had four engines creating a fair amount of exhaust flame and light made it easy for the fighters to see us. Generally if a fighter was spotted by the gunners in time it was safest to take evasive action.
The action would come say from the rear gunner ‘fighter 3 o’clock approaching’ following ‘dive, dive to port’. The skipper would immediately throw the aircraft into a dive and do a corkscrew manoeuvre, regaining back on his normal course. This generally worked; it was the fighter which was not spotted by the lookouts which caused the problem as they would normally attack from below the rear of the aircraft strafing the fuselage with bullets.
Search lights. The normal searchlight could be a problem for aircraft at lower levels and were situated around most towns, cities and industrial sites, however, there was another much more dangerous blue searchlight, much brighter which could penetrate to much higher altitudes and operated in conjunction with anti aircraft guns. Being caught by one of these was an unfortunate experience and usually resulted in severe damage or the loss of the aircraft. We on one occasion suffered this experience, the blue light locked on to us and no matter whatever we did it was impossible, after about three minutes Wally decided to put the aircraft into a controlled dive to loose [sic] height, as we did so a Halifax aircraft which was operating at a much lower height came across our track. The anti aircraft guns operating in conjunction with the searchlight opened up and the Halifax just blew up. We had a lucky escape.
As I said some anti aircraft guns operated in conjunction with searchlights, however, the bulk of them were situated around towns and cities and created a heavy barrack in order to keep the bombers from bombing at low levels, the result could be seen and occasionally heard, and on one occasion over Amiens felt.
Returning from Modane on a bright moonlit night without warning this small unit of guns opened up and a shell exploded very close to us, fortunately not causing any injuries to the crew. Shrapnel caused damage to the fuel lines causing a leak in the pipe and holes appeared
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in the fuselage, and along the wings and side windscreen of the aircraft. We made an emergency landing at Tangmere in South England and on inspection found over 100 various size holes along the length of the fuselage and wings.
The piece of shrapnel that hit the windscreen had entered through the starboard side unbeknown to me had ripped through my flying jacket sleeve and gone out through the front window, again, lady luck was with us.
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Log Book and
Operations Record Book
(Battle Orders)
Every crew member kept a log book showing every date, time and flying details carried out.
I have copied some pages which correspond to copies of the Squadron’s battle orders, referring to operations 14, 15, 16 and 17 as detailed in my log book.
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[page from authors logbook]
[underlined] TOTAL FLYING HOURS NOVEMBER 101 SDN [/underlined]
[underlined] DAY [/underlined] 3 hrs 30 mins
[underlined] NIGHT [/underlined] 39 hrs 45 mins
[underlined] TOTAL 43 hrs 15 mins [/underlined]
DECEMBER
16 – Lanc III X2 – WO EVANS – FE – 14 OPS – [underlined] BERLIN [/underlined] QUIET TRIP – HEAVY LOSSES – FOG ON RETURN LANDED AT WICKENBY – 8 hrs 30 mins.
20 – Lanc III X2 – WO EVANS – FE– 15 OPS – [underlined] FRANKFURT [/underlined] MANY FIGHTER FLARES AROUND TARGET AREA – 5 hrs 50 mins.
24 – Lanc III X2 – WO EVANS – FE– 16 OPS – [underlined] BERLIN [/underlined] REAR TURRET U/S STRB OUTER FEATHERED – 7 hrs 10 mins.
28 – Lanc III X2 – WO EVANS – FE– 17 OPS – [underlined] BERLIN [/underlined] 6 hrs 40 mins.
[underlined] TOTAL FLYING HOURS [/underlined]
[underlined] DAY [/underlined] 0 hrs 0 mins
[underlined] NIGHT [/underlined] 28 hrs 10 mins
[underlined] TOTAL 28 hrs 10 mins [/underlined]
[underlined] DECEMBER 101 SDN [/underlined]
[signature] OC ‘C’ FLT.
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[indecipherable page]
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[indecipherable page]
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[indecipherable page]
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[indecipherable page]
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CHAPTER G
CHRISTMAS 1943
I always thought of Christmas as a time for giving and receiving, a time of joy and happiness, a time for families to come and meet and join in the happiness of the event. It was of course a time to remember, to consider ones relationship with family, friends and others and how relationships could be improved. Christmas 1943 was different; it was a time of anxiety and many other emotions, anxiety not only for the crewmembers but more so for the folks at home.
Before joining the RAF we lived in a small village where everyone knew each other. There was three of us in the forces, my older sister Jean, my brother Sandy and myself, living at home with my mother our two younger sisters Betty and Mary. So quite often my mother would be stopped in the street and asked how one of us was getting along, furthermore she had received a telegram stating that I had not returned from an operation and that further information would be forwarded when received (one must remember that at that time (1943) telephones were a luxury so the only method of communication was by the Post Office. Christmas 1943 was also the first Christmas that we had not all been at home).
The ground crews also had similar feelings when waiting for their aircraft to return from an operation and then the relief when they saw the aircraft landing and taxiing in.
There was also a period of what today would be known as pressure, then it was just part of the job although some individuals did suffer from depression and for some this ended their flying career. All crew members had to be physically and mentally fit to survive.
It was early morning on Christmas Day 1943, we as a crew had just returned from an operation, the target Berlin. After debriefing we arrived for breakfast at around 6:30 hours, the atmosphere in the dining room was best described as noisy as you would expect from 150 young men aged between 19 and 23 years old, until you really looked around and saw one, two even three empty tables then the atmosphere changed to a more sober one.
Christmas dinner was being served at 13:00 hours, this gave us time for a few hours sleep before arriving back at the mess around 12:50 hours. The meal was good and all seemed in high spirits. We finished eating and were enjoying a cigarette when the duty officer arrived, he slowly walked up to the bar and turned the Toby Jug sitting there towards the wall, this was our first indication that operations may be on, slowly the mess began to empty as the air crew members began to leave.
It was a cold but pleasant afternoon as I hurried along the perimeter road thinking of past Christmases and remembering the simple things, the pink or white sugar mice, an apple and orange possibly a few sweets, we never had many presents, hand knitted socks or gloves, then my thoughts were interrupted by seeing coming towards me a tractor pulling a bomb trolley with a mixed load of bombs on board, and further to my left I could see a fuel bowser topping up a Lancaster. Normally the aircraft were filled with 1,200 to 1,400 gallons of fuel
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sufficient for a five or six hour trip, if the trip was going to be longer then the aircraft were topped up.
On arrival at our Lancaster X² Mac, our ground engineer, was there standing in front looking at the aircraft, I said ‘”what are you doing?” Thinking he answered “isn’t she beautiful, I don’t want her to fly tonight. I am the happiest sergeant on the Squadron. Before I arrived at Ludford I had been with 101 Squadron for 18 months and during that time I had lost seven aircraft under my control. Since being here and in charge of X² and you as the flight engineer after five months I still have the same aircraft. Do you know how many operations you have flown in X²?” “No I don’t “, I replied. “Eleven and six of which was to the big city Berlin and we are still going strong.” “Let’s go and carry out ourground checks”, I said.
We had just finished when Wally our pilot arrived. “I thought I would find you here” he said. “I thought we could carry out a test flight and check out the hydraulics on the undercarriage?” “Yes I have fixed them” said Mac. “Let’s go” said Wally, “coming” I said to Mac. He hesitated then said “I haven’t got a parachute”. “Neither have we” I said.
We fired up the engines, taxied out, got the green light from control and were airborne. I then vacated my seat and let Mac have it. As I checked all the fuel and engine gauges etc we climbed to around 300 hundred feet, flew in a south west direction and as we banked to starboard there standing on the ridge was the magnificent building Lincoln Cathedral with the city spread out below it. We were privileged to see it yet also very humbled and it seemed than that what we were doing was right and that this was a ‘just war’ and had to be won. I touched Mac on the shoulder and pointed down. I’m sure he was brushing a tear away.
Ten minutes later we had landed with everything ok including the hydraulics as we closed the rear door of the Lancaster X² we hugged each other and I’m sure we all said a short prayer, at least I did.
[inserted] [Christmas dinner menu RAF Ludford Magna Sergeants Mess 1943 [/inserted]
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Briefing was scheduled for 19:00 hours. All two hundred of us where [sic] there on time and the Group Captain arrived and slipped up onto the platform, the wing commander brought us all to attention. I noticed that the curtains covering the map on the wall stayed closed “I’ll be brief” said the Group Captain, “all flying has been cancelled for tonight because of severe weather conditions over Europe. I also wish to thank you all for the maximum effort and success, which has been put in during the past five months. Good show and good flying from now on. I will let you go to continue your Christmas celebrations, have a good time, good night and god bless”. Mac got his way and X² did not fly on Christmas night.
Briefing was scheduled for 19.00 hours and as I said all flying was cancelled, this only lasted for 15 minutes, after which all the members of the 25 crews that would have flown, along with all the other necessary ground staff support teams necessary to service such an operation (all in 350‑400 young people) were now free to do as they wished, however as by now it was around 19.30 the choice was limited, retire to the mess or the local pubs.
As we the crew were now making our way back from the briefing room, Norman (our wireless operator) announced that he was visiting the pub to see if they had any beer “Are you coming?” “No” I said “I’ll make my way back to the mess”. Bill (our mid upper gunner) said “I’ll join you for a beer”.
The technical section of the squadron was situated on the south side of the main road which ran from west to east through the village from Market Rasen to Louth. The living accommodation and messes were located on the north of the road.
On reaching the main road instead of crossing and carrying on up the lane to the mess for some reason I turned right and continued along the main road, as it was extremely dark walking in the centre of the road as this was the safest place. As I continued I heard music and singing coming from the pub on the right everyone seemed to be happy and enjoying themselves, further on and on the left was the other pub ‘The Black Bull’. I could hear footsteps coming and going, but could not recognise the people, here also was the sounds of people enjoying themselves.
A little further along the road on the left stood the small church, as I approached I could hear the organ music and the congregation singing carols. I remember thinking if I was thinking of attending church I should have dressed. I was in battle dress and should be in uniform, however to return to the billet and change it would make me too late for the service.
I found myself at the church entrance I looked through the entrance hall, I could see a chink of light coming from under the heavy door. I pushed the door open and heard the creaking noise, on entering I stood for a few seconds to allow my eyes to become accustomed to the light, a few members of the congregation hearing the door turned to see who entered, as I moved across to take a place in the pews an elderly gentlemen from the other side came across squeezed me on the shoulder gave me his hymn book “we are on verse three god bless” and returned to his place. The church was fairly full mostly of elderly people man and female with a few children, all were singing and appeared to be enjoying it, the service was not a format which I knew, however I felt good to be involved and somehow very pleased to be there. All those in church appeared to believe in what they were singing and doing and further more believed that all the service people on the base were doing what was right and that they all had their full support that the war was a righteous war and a war that had to be won.
At the end of the service I quickly left the church and made my way back along the main road. I was somehow excited so much so that I remember running all the way and turning
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right until I reached the mess. There were a number of people sitting around having a drink and/or reading. A colleague was reading the picture post magazine which had an article covering 101 Squadron. When I asked him if I could have a look, he said “I’ll keep it for you”. On the centre two pages was a photo of a Lancaster with staff standing around and on the wings etc, inspecting the photo closely I noticed that it was not a 101 Squadron Lancaster as it did not show the special aerials to work ABC. (The programme had been arranged unfortunately while we (our crew) were on leave and a Lancaster from Wickenby had been used).
I checked to see if the rations had come in and found a good selection of cigarettes were available Woodbine, Captain, Players and Gold Flake and there was also some chocolate.
The dining room was closed, on a trestle table at the end was a collection of bread, cheese and butter. I took a few rounds of bread and a chunk of cheese and made my way back to the billet, on arrival I found Wally, Eric, and Jimmy were there and they had a good fire going, making the chimney almost red hot. They were sitting reading and asked “where did you get to?” “Church” I said “you should have said I would have come with you” said Eric, “I didn’t know, I brought some bread and cheese for toast if you want it”. “Thank you” said Wally “have a mug of tea, the teapot will still be hot on the stove”. “I called in at the mess they have cigarettes and chocolate in. Only a letter for Bill which I have brought back. He and Norman were going to the pub. Where is Len (our rear gunner)?” “Oh, he has gone to try to hitch a lift home to Grimsby, remember if opps are on tomorrow give him a ring to let him know so that he can return, I have his telephone number” said Wally. “Do you want something to read?” asked Eric. “No” I said, “I think I will turn in and catch up with some sleep”.
This 1943 Christmas was at least different from all previous ones and part of my life which I will never forget.
The next time we flew was on 30th December and then again the following night on 31st December both operations were to Berlin. Mac continued to service X² and over the next 3 1/2 months we completed a further 13 operations to complete our first tour.
We didn’t always bring the aircraft home in the same condition as we started, however, we always brought it back and Mac and his crew always managed to repair it and have it serviced ready for the next trip.
We completed our tour in late April 1944 and the crew were all split up and we went our separate ways all as instructors. I joined the staff at Lindholme as a flight engineer instructor. In June D‑Day arrived, we were again temporarily called up as reserved in case the invasion went wrong, fortunately all went well. I was later transferred to Bottesford then Cottesmore and ended up at North Luffenham where by now VE Day had arrived in June 1945. We were again crewed up to join the Tiger Force to operate against Japan. Luckily for us VJ Day came much sooner than expected with the use of the hydrogen bomb being used on Japan, which stopped us from being posted to the Far East.
I stayed at North Luffenham until demobbed. Lincoln Cathedral played an important role in our lives as we used to use it as a landmark when returning early in the morning from operations and provided weather conditions were good, when we saw the cathedral we knew we were safely home again. Sadly Lancaster X² only flew two more operations after we finished and was lost over Mailly le Camp, France on the 3rd/4th May 1944.
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CHAPTER H
HEAVY CONVERSION UNITS INSTRUCTOR
LINDHOLME
BOTTESFORD
COTTESMORE
NORTH LUFFENHAM
After Operations
After completing our tour of operations with 101 Squadron in April 1944 the crew went on leave for around ten days and while on leave I received information informing me to report to Lindholme on such a date.
Lindholme was 1656HCU the conversion unit, which I had reported to prior to being crewed up and joining 101 Squadron. Ludford Magna as I had said previously was an airfield specially constructed as a utility base to carry on the war against Germany. All buildings, temporary constructions accommodation nissen huts were situated in small groups situated around the unit site.
Nissen hut accommodation for up to eight persons situated in the wilds half a mile from mess, flight units ablution block 20 yards away with washing and shower facilities, no heating (as you can imagine it was very cold in winter). The accommodation had a stove in the centre of the hut with a chimney, which went up through the roof, used coal or anthracite as fuel and required lighting daily. These huts were extremely hot in summer with regular visitors such as field mice, ants and earwigs. In winter they were extremely cold and damp with condensation running down interior sides and dripping on beds etc.
Lindholme was a peacetime permanent station which had all the niceties available, good roads comfortable, centrally heated one-person accommodation with all mod cons including dining room with waitress service. This to me was the biggest difference between Ludford and Lindholme.
Lindholme then was a conversion unit where pilots and crews had completed their initial training on smaller aircraft then upgraded to the heavy, four engine bombers such as Halifax and Lancaster. Lindholme trained Lancaster crews; it was here where additional crewmembers such as gunners and flight engineers joined in.
Having completed a successful tour of operations my role now was to introduce flight engineers who had completed their year long course, at possibly Blackpool and St Annes’s as up to this time these trainees had only briefly seen the interior of a Lancaster, far less done any flying.
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Unfortunately because of the shortage of Lancaster bombers arriving to the squadron, the conversion units such as Lindholme were still using Halifaxs [sic], this did not cause too much of a problem for the other six members of the crew (except the engineers) as it was a heavy bomber and the handling regarding flying and landing was similar to the Lancaster giving the pilot the experience of flying a large, heavy plane.
The engineer’s role was the same on all heavy bombers so the experience gained was still valid and it still gave him the necessary confidence. The difference being some of the instruments and dials on the Halifax were in different positions to that of a Lancaster. The crews would have a period of familiarisation on reaching the squadron before finally carrying out operations.
Life was so much more comfortable working on a base with all mod cons as expected for the 1940s.
My role along with others was to aid the trainee engineers to familiarise themselves with the aircraft inside and out, and when flying with their new crew, introduce the engineer to his role such as to the large number of switches and dials on the main panel and also the instruments on the engineer’s panel.
One of the main tasks was how to change flying on the various fuel tanks safely, the other how to feather an engine if required without causing any problems, how they as a person fitted in with the other crew members. Therefore while the pilot was under instruction with a pilot instructor mainly on what we called circuits and bumps, which was taking off, flying around and landing again. I would also fly and show the engineer and make sure he was confident and safe in his execution of his duties.
The time varied depending on how quickly the pilot took to prove himself capable and the instructor pilot was satisfied that he could safely fly and land such a plane, this could take anything from a few hours to many hours.
I used the experience, which I had gained over the past year of flying many hours in different conditions to make sure that these young operators had a better chance of completing a successful tour than I had. I tried to emphasise on them the need to be fully committed to their job of making sure they knew their role and capable of carrying out all the safety checks which should be carried out by themselves even although someone has said that they have done so, that they used the engines efficiently and monitored the fuel available as economically as possible. I had prepared a schedule, which if used in conjunction with the gauges and filled in every fifteen minutes in flight or so gave instant information if any problem had or were occurring to the fuel position, when action could be taken.
Lindholme being a permanent station was well equipped and had space available for each crew members to have their own section huts which proved most usual [sic] and I spent a good part of my time being available to talk with these trainee engineers, discussing any problems or whatever.
In any month I spent on average around 50 hours in actual flying time either day or night flying. This was made up of flying with possibly 10 different pilots on 26 to 30 different flights. The flights were generally around the airfield at fairly low altitude, up to two hundred feet carrying out circuits and landings with pilot, instructor and conversion crews. We therefore did not carry parachutes; this also gave the trainee crews a little more confidence to think that we had confidence in them.
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In June 1944 two days after D-Day I attended an instructors course at St Albans, South Wales lasting for four weeks, which proved most instructive, enjoyable and created confidence with ample time for self expression. After that I took the opportunity to attend any other courses, which became available such as a course on jet engines – something for the future, update course on the improved Merlin engines coming into service and a short course on Stromberg carburettors. The RAF at this time was looking to the future and on the levels and quality of staff they were likely to require once the war ended, but with the peace still to be kept for years on. At present most if not all of their engineers and a station or base engineer were all from senior ground staff, so when I was asked if I would wish to embark on such a course (the course was quite complex covering all aspects of engineering ground and in flight) I said I would.
After quite a lot of time on reading (time which I had) I eventually sat the paper and was very happy with the results 89% success, this was of course only part of the paper an oral examination was also required which up until I was released from the RAF I had not taken, however, these showed on my records.
1668 Heavy Conversion Unit,
Bottesford
After leaving 101 Squadron I spent a short period at Lindholme as a Flight Engineer Instructor before moving to Bottesford. Bottesford was another war time base similar to Ludford Magna and from where Lancasters also flew, however, in early 1944 it had become surplus to requirements.
The living accommodation instead of being Nissen huts were constructed of fabricated wooden framed units. Being available it was used as a holding base for American troops waiting for D Day resulting in the accommodation being left in a dreadful state.
During August 1944 1668 Heavy Conversion Unit took the base over and myself and few others were in the advance party. On arrival we found it difficult to find accommodation suitable to live in however, after a few days of hard work managed to make progress with repairs. Among the early arrivals were two air gunners both of whom had completed their tour of operations. Jock on Wellingtons and Jack on Lancasters. The three of us became really good friends for all the time we were on the base. In fact, Jack is still a good friend, he now lives in North Cirney Nr Cirencester and we have a card from him each Christmas.
The base was situated midway between Newark and Grantham on the left, half a mile off the main A1 road, walking or cycling were the only methods of transport for getting around the base or for travelling further afield.
We had been at Bottesford for just over a week when this night the three of us decided to have a ride around, on reaching the main road instead of turning left for Long Bennington and Newark we turned right towards Grantham. After cycling along the A1 road for about three miles we came across a signpost, which read Marston and Dry Doddington so we decided to go left and see where the lane would take us. After a mile we came upon a nice looking pub on the corner of the crossroads called the Thorold Arms where we decided to call and have a beer this being Friday evening. The pub was open, furthermore this was the first time that I had entered a pub since I joined 101 Squadron, as I had promised myself that so long as I was flying on operations I would not have a drink.
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Training at Bottesford got under way relatively soon and by early September crews for conversion to Lancasters were arriving in number. The routine was very similar to that at Lindholme.
Crews arrived without any experience of the Lancaster and it was our role as instructors to train the flight engineers to a standard where he was competent and safe to act on his own, and to pass on my experience which would make him feel more confident, while other staff members were doing the same for the pilots and the other members of the crew.
Bottesford as I said previously was a base built around 1942 to a standard sufficient to allow Bomber Command to carry the war to the enemy, where heavy bombers such as the Lancaster could operate from. Carrying a bomb load to most destinations necessary and to cause severe damage to their war effort.
From the staff viewpoint it was a complete change from the comfort offered by a peacetime base with all the mod cons, even including waitress service in the dining halls.
Bottesford was however a very happy unit where, so long as the training and flying was carried out on time to a very high standard, all was well.
It was becoming clear that with D Day over with the Allied Troops now moving across Europe as expected and on course, that victory in Europe was only a matter of time with the need for heavy bomber operations becoming limited. This meant that the training for crews could be relaxed and extended, therefore to ensure the trainee flight engineers interest and enthusiasm was kept alive. Two other instructors and myself introduced a short course on engine maintenance, this course lasted three weeks, the purpose of which was to strip down an engine completely, then reassemble it so that it would fire up and run. We had available to us a Lancaster, which had recently run off the runway on landing and was declared not airworthy. The four Merlin engines were still in good condition; this meant that with four engines and four trainees working on each we could entertain sixteen students.
The course proved a great success and it was felt that all those involved had afterwards a better understanding of the engines, which could possibly save their lives in the future.
As the weeks passed three of us, Jock, Jack and myself, had more free time and when on an evening we decided to leave camp we usually ended up at the Thorold Arms. By now we knew many of the locals as well as the family and were being brought into the evening events, such as playing darts. There were a number of really good dart players and eventually we, along with Sylvia, also became an excellent partnership.
Five months on. Christmas 1944 was a completely different Christmas to that of 1943, by now Sylvia and myself were seeing quite a lot of each other and I was still on duty over Christmas, I was asked to spend Christmas day with the family, we had a lovely time. A few days later I was on leave and travelled north to spend New Year with my family in Aberdour.
Our friendship blossomed and we were spending more and more time together and with Sylvia’s family and friends. Sylvia had a brother and three sisters; Roy was the oldest followed by Eileen then Sylvia, with Gert and Brenda the two younger sisters. Roy was also in the RAF on air-sea rescue and spent most of his time overseas.
Eileen was on munitions working in Grantham; Sylvia also worked in Grantham in ladies hosiery. Gert worked in a bakery with Brenda still at school.
In the evenings when the pub was open Sylvia helped serve in the bar with her father and mother Gert usually at weekends. During early 1945 flying at the base continued smoothly
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and generally without incident. We had one scary incident during night flying practise, an enemy light bomber managed to evade the radar controls and came in along the runway following one of the Lancasters and dropped cluster bombs along the length of the runway. This did cause some excitement as these bombs could explode from the vibration of the landing aircraft. Fortunately the runway was cleared without any injuries.
The other excitement was when one of the Lancasters, which we had just received from squadron required an air test to check its airworthiness before being put to use as a training aircraft. One of the staff pilots and myself as engineer was asked to carry out the test which we did, doing all the usual flying and checking the various instruments and controls. We decided to put it in a downward power dive, at first all was fine and the controls responded perfectly then it happened the port outer propeller began speeding up. No matter what we tried it continued to increase then it disappeared, the two on the inner engines seemed all right, the propeller in the starboard reached well above the normal speed but stayed in place. We quickly reduced our speed and dive, and made a quick return to base and landed on two engines, the aircraft did not pass its airworthy test. We found out later that it was a fault with the balance plates on the, then, new four paddle bladed propellers.
I, by now, had spent eight months as an instructor resting from the pressures of flying on operations and I knew that in the near future it may be necessary to do a further thirty operations, either across Europe or possibly against Japan. A few of us were thinking along the same lines and discussing the possibilities with others of forming crews.
There were two staff pilots on the base who were seriously thinking to the future, with whom I would have been happy to fly with and to this end we took every opportunity of carrying out test flights and then engaging in some low flying, which we expected would be necessary for the future especially if the enemy were the Japanese.
I increased my link training and spent considerable amounts of time keeping fit and up-to-date on all aspects of flying which could be beneficial to our survival. There was suggestion floating around that a new Tiger Force was being formed, which was likely to operate against Japan.
The river Trent gave an excellent corridor to practise low flying as there was at that time no obstacles such as power lines, telephone lines or high buildings to restrict flying. The river banks were relatively high with a river width in excess of 130 ft where the Lancaster wingspan was 101 ft and could easily be tucked in below the level of the banks, great flying, great excitement and very satisfying.
The war in Europe was progressing well, the need for heavy bombers was becoming less and with now limited targets. In mid April a few of us were informed that it was almost 12 months since we last flew on operations and it would now be necessary to do a further tour, more information would be available shortly.
On 8th May 1945 the Prime Minister, Sir Winston Churchill, announced the termination of the war in Europe to the whole country and his speech was broadcast over the station Tannoy system at 3pm. The afternoon was then devoted to sports activities and there were parties in all messes during the evening.
I was not on base, this was the date selected on which I was to be presented with my DFM at Buckingham Palace by King George VI. My mum and Aunty Kate travelled down from Edinburgh on the overnight train in the early hours of the morning; I joined the train at Grantham. As usual it was standing room only so I met up with my mum and Aunty on the platform at Kings Cross station. If I remember correctly the investitures commenced at
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11am so we had time for breakfast then made our way to the palace. There were many RAF personnel there as well as family members to watch the ceremony and see their relatives presented with their medals. We were all greeted on arrival and then informed of the procedure.
The King seemed very thin and poorly, dressed in an Admiral’s Naval uniform. After shaking hands with him and him pinning the medal on my uniform he asked me which squadron I flew with. I told him 101 Squadron, he replied “One of the elite I believe, good flying”.
We were out of the palace by 1:30pm, by this time the news that the war in Europe was over was known and London was beginning to fill up with people. Everyone was in party mood, singing and dancing or just walking around. London had been under blackout conditions since the start of the war in September 1939. Today things were different all the dark days were over; the people of London were showing their joy. Every light possible, which could be lit, was lit and the streets looked most inviting, it was an amazing sight. My mother and Aunt Kate were booked to stay the night in London so I saw them to their hotel then I made my way back through the crowds to Kings Cross and caught the train back to Grantham. What a day to be in London, VE Day the 8th May 1945 celebrating the end of the war in Europe. There was a real sense of relief and everyone was there to have a good time and to party.
The train was again packed, mainly with service personnel making their way home on leave. I arrived at Grantham around 5pm and from the station phoned the Thorold Arms expecting to speak to Sylvia. She and Eileen had gone to the church service and not yet returned so it was Sylvia’s dad that answered, he said he would tell Sylvia on their return that I had arrived in Grantham. It was agreed that Sylvia would come and meet me cycling on one bicycle and pushing the second for me to ride back to Marston, however, on her travelling along the A1 road towards Grantham she met a person she knew cycling from Grantham. She stopped and asked him if he had seen an airman walking and he said no. Previously to this an RAF vehicle had passed Sylvia with RAF personnel on board, thinking that I had thumbed a lift and that I would be dropped off at the road end leading to Marston she decided to turn back. As I was not waiting at the road end she then thought that I must have decided to go back to Bottesford, collect my own bicycle and return to Marston later.
Sometime later Gert happened to look out of the window at the Thorold Arms and shouted to Sylvia “Jock is coming down the road”. Sylvia, thinking she was having her on didn’t believe her until she herself looked out the window. My other pals Jock and Jack had already arrived and all including the locals were having a great time. As the evening progressed and the drink continued to flow a game started where the aim was to collect as many possible pieces of other peoples [sic] ties by cutting off the ends, this was all taken in good fun until one person who had just been given a new tie for his birthday, that day, by his wife and she was not amused at seeing it being cut to pieces.
The end of the war in Europe sealed the fate of most of the war time built heavy bomber bases, they had completed their usefulness for which they were built, that in giving Bomber Command the opportunity required to take the war to the enemy, which they had accomplished very successfully.
Food on the stations was very good with a real selection most of the time. Sundays was the time when the menu suffered as most of the catering staff had time off and tea was usually laid out to help yourself, mostly cheese, bread and butter, and possibly a few cakes. This possibly was the reason why on Mondays the sweet was often bread and butter pudding, something I didn’t like then and even now when on a menu I still shy away from.
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This was the time that Petula Clarke was often on the radio, in fact every lunch time she recorded a song especially for RAF Conversion Unit 1668.
Bottesford was no exception for within six weeks the complete Conversion Unit was closed down and I, along with others, moved to new surroundings to the peacetime base of Cottesmore where all the staff enjoyed the luxuries of a permanent built unit. Working conditions within the base were very relaxed, with all enjoying a five day week when most weekends were free unless on duty. Flying hours, however, as far as I was concerned still reached between 33 to 44 hours each month.
During June onwards, now that the war was over in Europe, it was still most important that the peoples of Europe, friends as well as enemy, that Britain controlled the airspace and continued to show this by having continued aircraft flying in the skies around.
Certain trips were carried out in order to show ground staff, who had carried out such an excellent job in sometimes terrible conditions to keep the bases and aircraft serviceable along the last five years the opportunity to see for themselves what conditions across Europe looked like now. These trips were given various names: the Ruhr Express, Cooks Tour, Happy Valley Express, each lasted five to six hours flying time where up to 12 to 15 personnel were on board plus the crew of four.
I, as Flight Engineer, was on a good number of such trips. They were enjoyed by most and showed the devastation which had occurred to many of the towns and cities across Europe, in vast areas which had received attention from bombing by the RAF followed by the destruction caused by the Armies fighting their way to Berlin since D Day.
The destruction was terrible with many large areas just a pile of rubble or shells of buildings still standing. The thing which impressed me most was the number of churches and round towers such as commercial chimneys which still stood.
Such a trip would cover from a base to Ijmunden, Amsterdam, Arnhem, Nijmegen, Wesell Dortmund, Essen, Duisburg, Düsseldorf then back to base. Or base to Cologne, Bonn, Aachem Rotterdam then home.
Cottesmore
Cottesmore was situated between Grantham and Stamford, four miles west of the A1 road near the village of Ashwell and six miles north west of Oakham, so our move was only a few minutes flying time. There was much movement between stations, which gave the opportunity of visiting different locations which we heard about but not visited, such as Drem in East Lothian, Ternhill and Shawbury in Shropshire, and many others which helped to make life more enjoyable.
Being stationed close to Stamford and the main road north it wasn’t difficult to hitch a ride or at worst catch a bus or train to Grantham.
Our stay at Cottesmore was fairly short lived; we then moved on to North Luffenham another of the pre war built stations with all the usual mod cons. North Luffenham is situated south west of Stamford, one mile off the A6121 road. Before leaving Cottesmore I had confirmation that we were crewed up and to expect instructions shortly regarding a further tour of operations in the Far East but before that certain procedures would have to be carried out, such as doctors reports and certain jabs given. However, six weeks on and we were still waiting.
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The war against Japan was expected to last for some considerable time, however, the introduction of the Atom Bomb by the Americans and the use of them by the American Air Force brought the Japanese war to a very quick end. We had at the time just received our preliminary dates and instructions for flying out to the Far East. This announcement that the Japanese had surrendered cancelled this and we missed the opportunity of joining the Tiger Force. The use of the Atomic Bomb on two Japanese cities seemed, and was, a terrible thing to do and caused terrible casualties among the Japanese citizens in these two cities.
However, if it had been necessary for US troops to land and fight their way through all the various islands the casualty list was estimated that it could have been one million plus service people.
North Luffenham
The war in both Europe and Japan was over which meant that working conditions at North Luffenham changed as from now. There was less requirement for further training of Lancaster crews. There were a large number of service men and women in all three services hoping and wanting to get back to Civvie Street as soon as possible. The government also had a problem in that across the country there were not the organisations or jobs available to employ all those excess to requirements service personnel. Therefore a delaying action was in place to slow down the release. Lancasters were of course used for various operations such as dropping food supplies to the people of Belgium and Germany and for bringing home prisoners of war from Germany and elsewhere and from bringing to the UK survivors from the torture camps.
The top chiefs of all three services were of course now considering the future of the armed forces. The Air Force was no different, we had won the war but not the peace, the peace may be a lot more difficult and to that end the Air Force was trying to assess and ensure whatever happened they had sufficient of high quality personnel to carry out this purpose. Therefore as personnel were being demobbed, if they should have certain qualities they were being given the opportunity to stay on by being offered certain incentives.
While at Luffenham I took the opportunity of attending as many courses as possible, improving my knowledge and information regarding the services and of course continuing to add to my flying hours, something I enjoyed doing.
Our job on the unit was similar to any other staff member, flying still took priority, other duties such as Duty Officer and such like was also now part of our programme.
I recall an interview which I had with the Group Captain Section Leader arrived at the flight office and said “Jock, the Wing Commander wants to see you”. “What have I done?” “Nothing, it’s good news, make your way to his office for 11am.” “I’m flying at 10 o’clock”. “Ok, after that will do”. I arrived at his office next day around 9.55 am, his secretary showed me into his office. I saluted, he said “Good, come and sit down” then the interview went something like this: “I have been looking over your record and I see that you have carried out a lot of flying, almost 2000 hours. There are not many people who can live up to that, you must enjoy flying?” “Yes I do”.
“I also see that you have attained a pass, in fact an extremely high pass on the Chief Ground Engineer course, unusual for aircrew even although you are a Flight Engineer”.
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“Your flight commander also told me you were highly respected and thought of at Cottesmore because of your work with Engine Service course. You would seem to be going back to Civvie Street?” “Yes sir”. “Do you want that?” “Possibly”.
“Even with all your exceptional work the war is over so I can’t recommend you for a medal however, what I can offer you – you know that the Air Force is looking for people like yourself for its future success – therefore the offer I am prepared to put to you is stay on in the Air Force as a Chief Ground Engineer with Flying Officer on entry (permanent) with good promotional opportunities to at least Flight Lieutenant or even Squadron Leader. Think carefully about it, don’t make your mind up now, come and see me in one week’s time.”
The unit continued flying and with training. The war being over the RAF was keen to show off their aircraft such as the Spitfire and the Lancaster, which had been so brilliant during the war, to the general public so a number of open days throughout the UK were arranged whereby the public could come along and see over all these war time aircraft. These days proved very popular.
To show off the Lancaster we landed at the base involved, stayed for four to five hours opening the Lancasters up and allowing people to enter by the rear door, make their way up through the fuselage past the pilots positions and exit through the flaps in the bomb aimers compartment, at the front of the aircraft reaching the ground by ladder. Two of the open days I remember going to were Finningly [sic] and Haverford West.
During my time in the RAF I only met up with my sister Jean on one occasion and that was when I was at St Athans in South Wales, she was stationed at Bridge End and we managed to meet for an hour or two, where we met I cannot recall. My brother Sandy was stationed at Swinderby for most of his time in the RAF as a fitter servicing Lancasters, and even although we were relatively closely stationed to each other we never once met up and even when I occasionally landed at Swinderby we never managed to get together. Of course these plans were always last minute arrangements and we might only be there for an hour or so before taking off again.
After two weeks I made a further appointment to meet the Group Captain and told him that after serious consideration that I had decided to leave the RAF and return to Civvie Street. I believe that he was disappointed, he wished me success in whatever I decided to do, we shook hands and I left his office.
I was demobbed on 10th September 1946 at Uxbridge then travelled north to Stamford, Sylvia had earlier moved to Stamford to further her career as a shop buyer, by working in a much larger ladies fashion store, travelling to Stamford on a Sunday evening, returning home in the Saturday evening. This meant that we saw more of each other on my time off.
The other opportunity that was open to me on my demob, as I had over a 1000 flying hours, was to join BOAC. Unfortunately the base was Australia and the airline travelled between Australia and Ceylon. Also available because I had A‑level passes on RAF teaching courses gave me the opportunity to train as a technical course teacher.
Both of which I declined and decided to return to Civvie Street and continue in forestry, which was always my first choice and as my future notes will show.
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CHAPTER I
ADVANCES IN TECHNOLOGY
WHAT IF?
Advances in Technology
Most of the technology was designed to combat the increasingly efficient enemy night fighter’s control system, in July 1943 window was used for the first time. Window was made up of thin strips of aluminium foil (approximately 9" long) packed in bundles of approx 100. It was the bomb aimer’s responsibility to drop these down a small chute filled in the front compartment every 15 minutes along route. With all other aircraft doing the same, the concentration played havoc with the enemy’s ground and air radar sets, however, it could not deter the enemy fighter threat for a long period of time, as the Germans managed to overcome this problem.
During D-Day window was used with great success in fooling the Germans that a second landing area further east along the coast was to happen. 101 Squadron completely serviced this operation by dropping window, continually moving across the channel for 48 hours, which meant that German defence forces were stretched along the French coastline rather than being able to concentrate on the D-Day landing site. By the time they realised their mistake the landing had a strong hold.
Other new aids such as RDF (Radar Direction Finding) known as Monica was trialled by 101 Squadron, but was short lived simply because the enemy night fighter crews became efficient at tuning into the signals omitted by Monica.
In July 1943 another new system known as Ground Cigar was operating twenty-four hours a day from a site on the Suffolk coast, jamming the whole of the 38‑42 MHZ band known to be used by the German fighters.
It became obvious to the boffins that to be really efficient the system needed to be airborne, it was envisaged that a single Bomber Command squadron should be allocated the new RLM role and would operate within the main part of the bomber stream. This highly responsible task was given to 101 Squadron, the new system was known as ABC or Airborne Cigar. The ABC required an additional crewmember known as a Special Duties Operator; the area behind the main spar normally occupied by the aircraft emergency couch was converted to accommodate the new equipment. Externally, 7 ft long aerials were fitted to the aircraft, two along the spine and the third under the forward fuselage. The special duty operators were German speaking and became the eighth crewmember in 101 Squadron crews.
The role was to jam the radio transmissions made by the German night fighters ground based controllers. ABC equipment consisted of a panoramic receiver and three transmitters; the receiver could pick up all 24 different frequencies being used by the crystal controlled VHF sets. Its eight crystals each covered three wavebands used by the Germans’ night fighter
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crews to receive the necessary information about the bomber stream location. Once the operators were able to use their German language skills to find the active controller frequency he put down a key connected to one of his transmitters, which broadcast engine noise on that frequency effectively jamming it over a range of around 50 miles. He repeated the process until he had his three transmitters effectively jamming three German frequencies.
In theory, eight of the 101 Squadron Lancasters could cover all 24 frequencies in use during the night.
This equipment was quite weighty therefore so-called unnecessary equipment such as the steel plates behind the pilot’s head and the steel door behind the front compartment were removed to counter the weight increase.
ABC was very effective in jamming the German night fighter’s ability to connect quickly with the main bomber stream. The other downside was when the 101 Lancasters specials were operating their equipment these aircraft could be readily picked up by German night fighters and searchlights. With the squadron suffering much heavier losses than any other squadron in Bomber Command. There was a plaque in the middle of Ludford Magna remembering the 101 sacrifice, it read:
[border] 101 Squadron Lancasters based at Ludford Magna
from June 1943 with highly secret ABC radio and 8 man
crews flew on every major Bomber Command mission
suffering the highest losses of any squadron in World War II [/border]
Ludford Magna was also selected as one of the first airfields in the group to have FIDO fitted. FIDO (Fog Investigation and Dispersal Operation) this was justified because of 101 Squadron’s key role within Bomber Command.
The equipment consisted of two pipelines running along the edge of each side of the main runway with perforated holes in the pipes. In extremely foggy conditions when aircraft were due to land petrol was forced along the pipes which was then set alight, this helped clear the fog sufficiently to allow aircraft to land safely. One of the disadvantages being should an aircraft with fuel leaking or swerving off the runway an explosion could occur causing loss of aircraft.
This equipment came into us in January 1944. The standard rear turret fitted to the Lancaster was the Fraser Nash with four 0.303" (rifle calibre) machine guns, which were always thought to be of poor quality in terms of armament. A new turret was built by Rose Brothers of Gainsborough after much discussion with personnel from 101 Squadron. The new turret was easy to control, had more room for the gunner and better vision. Six aircraft from 101 Squadron were the first to receive the new turret. Our aircraft X² was one of the six (2 x 0.5 calibre).
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On 25th/26th February 1944 when we visited Augsburg, operation 28, Len our rear gunner was excited about the possibility of using them against a German fighter and witnessing what effect it would have.
1943‑44 was an excellent period to join 101 Squadron. The squadron had just moved to a new base at Ludford Magna near Louth, Lincolnshire and was well placed to carry the war to the enemy. A highly rated squadron within 1 group, a squadron which was given every opportunity to prove itself as one of the best and we were so lucky to be part of it.
The squadron was involved in all that was happening. New equipment was becoming on stream such as ‘Window’, ABC, upgraded Lancasters, FIDO and the introduction of the more superior rear turret. As days and weeks passed our crew was becoming the most experienced so as a crew were very much involved, we flew on the operation when Window was first used. We were also on the operation ABC was first introduced into Bomber Command and our aircraft X² was one of the six aircraft fitted with the new turrets.
These were exciting times, sometimes frightening, anxious and tiring, however, as a crew we worked as a team. We were loyal to each other, dedicated in what we were doing and hence very satisfied with the results we achieved. On completing our tour of operations we were the only crew that had completed a tour of operations since the squadron moved to Ludford Magna. Statistics showed that if Lancasters lasted more than five operations they were exceptional.
All who served in the forces have memories, some good, some not so good. My memories of being in the RAF are of being good and exciting times not to be missed.
My memories of being part of 101 Squadron are also of exciting times, with plenty of different experiences, most when flying. Some exciting, some frightening, one or two horrific, others best forgotten, however, a part of life which I am proud to have been part of and on the whole really enjoyed.
On 12th June 1944 I received confirmation that I had been awarded the DFM.
What if?
The situation seemed very strange, here was seven or eight young men from various backgrounds and from different areas of the United Kingdom, who had for the best part of a year lived and dined together. Worked as a close team under very difficult and dangerous conditions and after completing a tour of operations went on leave a few days later, moved from base on to other jobs and from then until the end of the war had no further contact with each other. In fact until recent years I still had no contact. It was 2001 when I met up with Norman our wireless operator and then years after that out special operator Ken.
What if when I joined 101 Squadron Wally Evans, our pilot, had not insisted that I was his engineer and I had joined A H Evans’ crew as their engineer? A H Evans’ crew were lost on their third operation.
What if when our Lancaster was caught by the blue searchlights over Germany, if the Halifax which drifted a few thousand feet below us into the path of the searchlight at that split second and received the full impact of the guns had not done so? We would be just another statistic.
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What if when over Amiens we received only comparatively slight damage from exploding shrapnel which passed through the window, just caught my flying jacket sleeve and then went out through the windscreen? Had I been standing three inches to the right the result could have been very different.
What if on returning to base from operations over Berlin on 16th December 1943, when caught up in thick fog and was diverted, if the beam light put up by Catfoss had not been at that precise moment when we were flying at zero feet from the ground we would have ploughed into the farm house. Another aircraft lost on operations. Or when on reaching base Wally had not accepted my advice and decided to go round again on another circuit before landing, we would have crashed due to shortage of fuel.
What if I had decided to accept my commission and stay in the RAF as a Station Engineer probably reaching rank of Squadron Leader or had joined BOAC as a flight engineer possibly based in Sidney Australia, or had taken up the opportunity to become a teacher teaching technical subjects? Life would have been so different, however, I believe I made the correct decision, in fact I know I did. This however is for another time to discuss.
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CHAPTER J
AIRCREW BOMBER COMMAND
WARTIME BOMBER SQUADRONS
BOMBING OF BERLIN
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SQUADRON
CLOTHING WORN ON OPERATIONS BY OUR CREW
CONTACT MADE WITH TWO CREW MEMBERS PLUS INFORMATION ON OTHERS
Aircrew Bomber Command
A typical description of a bomber crew at the time was provided by the ministry publication entitled Bomber Command. The men of Bomber Command are appointed to fulfil a special mission. Their life is not that of other men, not even those in the other branches of the service. It’s very physical conditions are different for them now; a day is much of the night, as much of the day is a time for sleep and repose. Discipline is constant yet flexible. Triumph and disaster are met with and vanquished together.
Air Marshall Arthur Harris, Air Officer Commanding in Chief Bomber Command 20th February 1992. He was known as Butch, the opinion of him varied in accordance with our losses, if they were heavy then his popularity (if that was the right word) suffered. You must remember that most aircrews never saw him when he visited Ludford, I thought he was stone faced, severe and even cynical over our effort. I disagree with those who dubbed him arrogant – he certainly was not. Nevertheless, if his crews did not see enough of him to love him they certainly appreciated what he was doing for them, he gave his command a much-needed sense of purpose. Up to the end of 1941 many people tended to regard strategic bombing as little more than a wasteful sideshow. It was Harris who proclaimed loud and long
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that Bomber Command was vital to the war effort and that his crews should be given the best of everything, because their efforts would be decisive in the final outcome.
After a successful raid the C‑in‑C would send a signal to the squadron saying good show keep it up this meant a great deal to men who knew that they stood a less than even chance of surviving a tour of operations.
Harris was also a great innovator, he called for better navigation and bombing aids, better lit flare paths and increased safety conditions on take offs and landings.
GEC was one of the aids which he had pressured for which enabled the navigator to plot his position relative to a ground station, this turned navigator from an art into a science.
Wartime Bomber Squadrons
People of the younger generation can get the impression that Bomber Command was one big, happy family. This was not so, squadrons were very much individual entities, we didn’t mix much with other squadrons and they assumed the character and charisma of the people who were on the squadron at the time.
As a result, few outsiders will ever appreciate what it was really like to serve on a bomber squadron unit. Not wishing to dwell on the dark side of squadron life I was twenty years old at the time, life was for living, we got on with the job. The higher direction of the war was for the older types – 25 years old and above. They were enjoyable days and of course we always expected to come back, suffice to say therefore that at least 277 aircraft were lost or went missing from 101 Squadron between July 1943 and 1945 and that the squadron lost 1094 crew members killed in action and 178 taken prisoner of war.
This was the highest casualty rate of any RAF squadron in World War 2.
Bombing of Berlin
It is difficult for ordinary citizens to visualise the effect of concentrated aerial bombardment.
Un Sangro front in Italy, often spoken of as the biggest land bombardment of the war, 1400 tons of shells came down in eight hours. Remember the front was many miles in length and mostly open country yet they smashed the German defence and prisoners spoke of the astounding paralysing effect of these heavy bombardments. Now compare the figures of the air assault, take as an instance only one raid in January 1944, 7300 tons of bombs went down on Berlin in 30 minutes. Remember too that the bombs fell into built up areas on a shorter front than a land attack. Remember too that tonnage for tonnage a bomb contains a much higher explosive charge than a shell. No city, no defence system could stand up to such attack for long delivered as Bomber Command was doing.
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War time Bomber Station – a normal day’s work load
The total number of personnel on the stations was around 2,500 including officers, male and
female personnel.
The station was equipped to perform as an individual unit like a small town with runways of sufficient length so that the aircraft could take off and land from where to attack the enemy.
It carried sufficient supplies of food, stocks of all the necessary maintenance supplies such as aircraft parts, tyres, turrets, engines and down to all the other small items like rivets screws everything necessary to keep the aircraft flying.
In every hour of the day people were working and with 2,500 staff on board the station could exist from the rest of the country for weeks. Time meant very little to staff and many would not know which day in the week it was or which date in the month it was. Sundays were just another working day.
The work was continuous, outside interests were possibly intentionally forgotten, all friends and family had to remain outside the airfield boundaries.
The best way of describing a normal working day is by eight am the bomb handling crews would already be hard at work sorting out the various bombs, such as the 4,000 lb (cookies) mounting them onto low engine driven trolleys, others would be packing the incendiaries into special cases, similarly all the other bombs likely to be used on operations. All these would be loaded onto special transports and dispatched around the airfield to the Lancasters which would be flying later that day if operations were on.
This operation would carry on well into the afternoon. Other staff would be doing the same with cartridges, feeding thousands of them into their ammunition belts and distributing them to the guns in the aircraft.
Other airfield staff would be filling the fuel bowsers which held 2,500 gallons of petrol and filling up the Lancaster fuel tanks which held 2,140 gallons. The fill up amount would depend on the time of the operation (Lancaster used an average of 200 gallons per hour). At the dispersal points ground crews would be carrying out their inspections on the aircraft under their control, engine fitters would be carrying checks on engine’s plugs and instruments, turrets and undercarriages and tyres, while others would be doing other pre-checks on the airframe wings, intercom and oxygen bottles etc., should any faults be found then an air test would be necessary to be carried out by the Pilot and Flight Engineer to make sure all was well. If a fault was still found and was connected with the flying ability of the aircraft further work would have to be carried out, a further air test would be required. Occasionally a complete engine may have to be replaced putting great strain on the ground crews.
While all this was happening other special staff would be working against time. The Intelligent Officer checking maps and up to date information regarding the target and route. The weather people checking the last minute weather conditions.
In messes the kitchen staff would have to prepare breakfast, lunch, tea and supper for around 200 people on top of that when operations were on a meal consisting of chips and egg had to be prepared and served approximately two hours before take-off time for the aircrews. In the locker rooms each flying crew had to have a parachute, flying helmet, safety aids, maps and money of the countries over which they would be flying, in case of being
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shot down. Sandwiches, extra rations prepared by the WAAFS and parcelled up to include chocolate, fruit, chewing gum and other items of refreshment.
The Station Officer and Flight Commander would be selecting the crew and working out the technical data for the journey.
Up until now the aircrews who may have been flying the evening before would be, during the morning, catching up on sleep (having got to bed around 4 to 5am), and in the early afternoon catching up with information etc. from their own Flight Officer or be visiting the aircraft to discuss with the ground crew, Sergeant-in-charge, any problems from the previous operation. Then probably the Pilot and Flight Engineer would have to carry out a test flight.
Once it was announced that operations were on, the aircrews had to attend briefing, have their meal then collect all necessary equipment from the locker room ready for being transported to the aircraft, to carry out the pre-flight checks ready for take-off. Only then after this could the ground crew relax, have a meal, a wash and have some time to themselves, if there was any time left, then be ready for the aircraft returning home anytime from five to eight hours later depending on the distance of the target.
Crews on return were interviewed by the Interrogation Officer, then have their meal and then to bed for hopefully a good sleep, to be ready for what were to happen the next day.
The Clothes Normally Worn on Operations by our Crew
In Bomber Command there was no laid down dress code for air crew to wear when flying on operations, every Squadron in fact every person had his own preference, all had to wear the RAF uniform, however what they wore under or over was entirely up to individuals (the RAF uniform had to be worn for safety reasons in case they landed in enemy territory, in uniform they became prisoners of war, in ‘civies’ they were most likely to be called spies and possibly shot).
Most of the operations carried out on Lancasters (in fact from all heavy bombers) were from heights of 20,000 ft or over where temperatures could drop to as low as -35 or -40oC below zero.
There was a certain amount of heating within the aircraft, this was heat which originated from the engines through ducts and entered the fuselage in the wireless operators compartment, therefore while the wireless operator and the navigator were roasting a little of the heat could be felt by the pilot and engineer, the bomb aimer who was in the front and the gunners in their turrets received no benefit, they had to source heat from other means.
As I indicated earlier it was an individual choice what clothing they wore, however I can tell you what our crew would normally wear, starting with the most comfortable.
Wireless operator: Normal RAF battle dress, heavy white jersey up to the neck, Mae West, parachute harness, flying boots and silk gloves.
Navigator: Normal RAF battle dress over silk underwear, heavy jersey, Mae West, parachute harness, flying boots, leather shoe foot with lamb’s wool tops (easily cut off), silk gloves plus leather gloves.
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Pilot and Flight engineer: There was much less heat reached the front of the aircraft therefore we wore silk underwear, long johns under RAF battle dress, heavy white woollen jersey up to neck, leather gloves over silk gloves. No Mae West, parachute harness, flying boots leather shoe base and leather flying jacket.
Bomb aimer: He usually flew in the nose of the aircraft which could be very cold, he wore silk underwear, long johns, RAF battle dress usually two heavy woollen jerseys and heavy over suit, Mae West, parachute harness, silk gloves, woollen gloves and a pair of leather gloves on top plus the normal flying boots.
The two crew members who suffered most from the cold were the gunners.
Mid upper gunner: he was still within the aircraft which gave some comfort. He wore two complete suits of silk underwear, two woollen jerseys, RAF battle dress, unheated over suit, heated over suit, Mae West, parachute harness, woollen scarf, woollen head cover under his helmet, three pairs of gloves, silk, woollen and leather, heated flying boots.
Rear gunner: This was the coldest place in the aircraft in fact he was actually outside the rear of the plane, so if it was expected that the temperatures would be around -20oC he would wear that similar to the mid upper gunner however if the temperatures were expected to drop to say -40oC he would add on extra layers of clothing and wear five pairs of gloves.
The gunners flying suits were electrically heated from a plug-in switch as were their helmet and gloves, their flying boots were also electrically heated, therefore if everything worked properly they were reasonably comfortable, this was however not always the case, a fault in the electrical system, possibly caused by enemy action, then they had problems and could receive severe frost bite, resulting in loss of fingers, toes or even more.
When the gunners were dressed up to ready to fly, it was difficult for them to walk and reach their position in the aircraft. The rear gunners especially looked like the advert for Dunlop tyres!
One of the main reasons for all crew members wearing silk gloves was if you caught the metal part of the aircraft with your bare hand it was so cold that the moisture from your skin would stick to the metal and leave you with severe injuries.
In the aircraft flying at over 10,000 ft oxygen had to be used which meant using masks attached to the helmets, which every few minutes you had to break the ice which had formed around the mask from just breathing.
The oxygen was also distributed through the aircraft from a single supply at each crew position there was a supply tap, there was also emergency bottles at each position, these would last for around 10 minutes.
We all also carried a whistle which was attached to the top left hand buttonhole of our tunic. The sound from a whistle carries much further than the human voice. It could be used to attract attention to one’s self in a dangerous situation or for making contact with others.
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Contact made with Two Crew Members after 60 Years plus information on others
Living in Scotland during the 1950’s and 60’s we had little choice of attending any of the activities which took place such as Airfield Open Days, Squadron reunions, or fly pasts, and it wasn’t until the early 1970s when we moved down to Shropshire that we began attending the occasional ‘open days’ (by this time Brian was old enough to be interested), Sylvia’s mum and sister’s home was in North Hykeham, Lincoln, only a short drive from Waddington RAF station, so this was our first visit of many which proved interesting and a good days entertainment.
We then in 1998 decided to revisit Ludford Magna (101 Squadron airfield) and the small church in the village where a Book of Remembrance was, the Book of Remembrance was of interest to me as it contained all the names of the aircrew that had been lost during the period which 101 Squadron had been there, as I said in my earlier notes that when we arrived at Ludford in July 1943 there was four crews two of which had the name of Evans, WL Evans and AH Evans, at Lindholme Heavy Conversion Unit. I was crewed up with WL Evans’ crew, and carried out my training with them, however when we arrived at Ludford somehow the paperwork was wrong and I was crewed up with AH Evans’ crew. It was suggested that as neither crews had been on operations the obvious thing was just to leave the paperwork as it was and for me to change over to the AH Evans crew, and the other Flight Engineer to take my place, Wally Evans would not agree, I was his Flight Engineer and that was how it had to be. All four crews flew on the same operations, on our first two, all returned, on our third AH Evans crew did not return, and by our fifth operation only our crew WL Evans were still operating. Checking in the Remembrance book sadly, I was able to read and realise how lucky I was that Wally had faith in me all those years ago.
While in the church we met a lady who looked after the church and was in fact decorating it with flowers, as she said this weekend coming was the 101 Squadron Association Reunion, when a service was held in the church followed by the laying of wreaths at the small memorial and afterwards the Women’s Institute laid on in the village hall tea and cakes for all, and if the weather was kind the Lancaster bomber would give a flying display.
In the year 2000 I joined the 101 Squadron Association and have attended the reunion every year since in early September, and in recent years Brian and Pauline have also joined us, joining the Association has proved very good as we have met many veterans who were flying during our time in the Squadron and other very interested people. It was through the Association Newsletter that I made contact with some of our crew members whom I had not heard from for nearly 70 years. They are Norman Ellison, our Wireless Operator and Len Brooks, our rear gunner.
In the summer of 2002 after writing a short article for the 101 Squadron Association Newsletter I was contacted by Chris, the son of our Wireless Operator (Norman Ellison) asking if I was the Donald Fraser who flew with his dad in 1943‑44 with 101 Squadron. After the telephone call Chris arranged for Sylvia and I to go to his home to meet his wife Christine and James his son, he lives in Exeter, his dad’s home was in Dawlish only a few miles apart. Chris then took us to meet his mum and dad, it was great to see him after 63 years and as such was quite emotional for both of us. It was so good to meet his wife Pauline. We stayed for around two hours before travelling on our way to Woolacombe. We met up again over the next two years, unfortunately Norman’s health deteriorated and he passed away on 13th February 2005. We attended his funeral, since then we exchange Christmas cards and the odd telephone call each year with his wife and Chris and his family.
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Norman also kept in touch with Wally Evans (our Pilot). After the war he emigrated to Australia where he lived for a number of years before returning to the UK in the mid eighties when he again contacted Norman, they then tried to contact all the other crew members, unfortunately the only member that made contact was Len Brooks, our rear gunner, Norman understood that Wally died in the late eighties.
Len Brooks, our rear gunner, we all knew that he lived in Grimsby for most of his life. During our time at Ludford whenever there was no flying on, he would take the opportunity to visit home which only took him over an hour to hitch a lift. If there was any change on flying one member of the crew would give him a telephone call and he would return to the Squadron very quickly.
During the 1980s and 90s there was a large number of books written covering the war and Bomber Command, I enjoyed reading many of them, even although as you know I did not believe all that was written, many of the books covered the time we were flying, as a result many of the operations we flew on were mentioned in them. There was a series of books written by Patrick M Otter on Bomber Command One Group, the group which 101 Squadron was in and operated throughout Lincolnshire. On reading one of Otter’s books called “Maximum Effort” I came across a picture of a number of air gunners while they were stationed at Lindholme as Instructors during their rest period. On a closer look I recognised one as Len our rear gunner. On contacting Mr Patrick Otter in 2004, he said it was 16 years since he spoke with Len at his home in Cleethorpes. However he could find no trace of him in the local telephone directories, he said he had left a message at the RAFA club in Cleethorpes to see if anyone knew what became of him, and if he had any response he would drop me a line. We thought that he had passed away around 2001‑2002.
I also made contact with Ken Lewis our Special Operator through the Newsletter, Ken also wasn’t in the best of health, however he arranged for his son in law to drive him from Reading (his home) to Lincoln. We had a great time at the Reunion lunch catching up with the past in September 2006, Ken’s profession was in Insurance which he spent all his working life in. Unfortunately he was unable to attend any more reunion meetings.
At the end of the war Norman had been in touch with Bill Blaynay, our Midupper gunner, who part way through our tour of operations after an unfortunate incident was released from flying. He told Norman that he had been reassessed and had his Sargents [sic] rank reinstated, other than that we have no other information about him.
There was still two more crew members still unaccounted for, Jimmy, our Navigator and Eric, our Bomb Aimer.
Shropshire during the war had a number of Heavy Bomber Airfields, Ternhill, Shawbury and Cosford which are still in service today. Prees, and Sleap, were both wartime bases flying Lancasters, at Prees the hangers are being used as storage units for commercial companies. Sleap is now the home of Shropshire Flying Club using part of the runway, a few buildings and the Control Tower. It is open to the public, where you watch the small aircraft flying and one can enjoy and a good cup of tea and a cake and have a good chat with people who are still interested in flying.
There is also a small Museum covering plane parts from World War II. In the last three years Sylvia, myself and friends occasionally drop in for a cup of tea, by now we know a few of the staff who are all Volunteers and very interested people.
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Jimmy Grant, Navigator
On one of our visits in 2012 I had taken with me the 1943 Christmas Dinner menu for 101 Squadron, all the crew members had signed it in the inside, most people looking at the menu thought that we had had an excellent meal considering there was a war on.
Mike Grant one of the longer serving volunteers at Sleap Museum, who aids in researching the items that are given to the Museum before they go on display to the public.
Meantime he is also tracing the history of the oil pipeline which carried the millions of gallons of oil from the ports, across the UK down to the Channel ports and on to the D Day landing sites and beyond. This will be a very interesting book to read when it is published, soon.
On seeing the menu Mike said “I know this signature, he is one of my family, see how he writes the ‘G’ and the ‘r’ in Grant, we all write our signature the same way, and we were all told off at school for not writing properly”. We worked out that Jimmy our Navigator was his uncle. After the war he said the family had gone their separate ways, as many families did, so he had no idea where Jimmy would be now – it’s a small world.
We still have no idea of what happened to Eric our Bomb aimer.
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CHAPTER K
THE LANCASTER STORY
It became clear reasonably early in the Second World War that if Britain had any chance of winning, Bomber Command had to take the war to Germany, deep into its industrial heart, which was not possible with the short range light Bombers.
It was decided by the War Council that a much larger aircraft which could travel further, with a much heavier bomb load into Germany was needed, hence the introduction of the four engined heavy bomber, the Halifax and the Lancaster.
1942 marked the turning point for Bomber Command, Marshal Travis Harris (later known as Bomber Harris) was appointed Leader of Bomber Command. He believed that Bomber Command given the necessary aircraft and equipment, could play an important role in winning the war by strategic bombing of Germany’s industrial towns and cities.
Harris ordered a 1000 aircraft raid on Cologne be carried out. Fortunately the operation was credited as a success, this persuaded the Government to allocate Bomber Command high priority for aircraft and more importantly navigation aids and radar which were vital for accurate delivery of bombs on targets.
The development of the Lancaster continued with a few prototypes being produced, the production of Lancasters increased slowly at first and gradually stepped up reaching their peak by the end of 1944.
The earlier two engine bomber had a second pilot to aid the captain with a crew number of five, however on the four engined heavies where crew members could move around the fuselage, a change was necessary. The heavies had a mid upper gun fitted requiring a mid upper gunner; because of pilot shortages owing to the increase in numbers of new squadrons coming on stream and the increased complexity of the four engine bomber, this called for a specialist engineer to replace the second pilot, so the flight engineer was created, the standard crew of the Lancaster comprised of seven specialists, Pilot, Navigator, Flight Engineer, Wireless operator, Bomb Aimer, Mid Upper Gunner and Rear Gunner. Each was an expert in his own field and each a vital cog in the overall crew, rank played no part in the airborne life of the crew.
The Lancaster was involved on most of the important operations, such as the Dambuster Raid on 16/17th May 1943, The Battle of the Ruhr, Battle of Berlin, (Overlord, the name given to the Invasion of Europe 6th May 1944) and Operation Thunder Clap, mass raids against supply and communication targets such as road and railyards continued, and against German naval shipping at Le Havre.
In late July a bombing campaign against the V-weapon sites commenced as there was fear that Germany had a new secret weapon, raids were carried out on launching and storage sites, these operations took much of Bomber Commands efforts throughout the autumn of 1944 as did the attacks against the French railway in support of Overland. In September the
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Navy believed that Tirpitz (the German Battleship) which was anchored in the Kaa Fjord in Norway was about to put to sea. Bomber Command was again given the task of destroying her. On the third attempt on 12th November 31 Lancasters attacked the Battleship. This time on arrival the weather was clear over the ship, no smokescreen obscured the target, during the attack several hits were seen by the Lancaster crews, followed by a heavy explosion, one of its magazines blew up, then the mighty Battleship rolled over and capsized.
By the end of 1944 the Allied Armies were approaching the Rhine, come the end of March 1945, they had crossed the river in strength and were advancing on Berlin.
Bomber Command’s role assisted by the United States Eighth Airforce was to support the Allies by bombing Military targets, and in supporting the Russian Army on their advance from the east on Berlin.
The last major attack of the war took place on 25th April 1945 by the bombing of the Bergholf (Hitler’s Eagles nest) and the SS barracks nearby.
The war in Europe ended on 8th May 1945 (VE Day), however just previous to that operation Manna was put into action, which was dropping vital food supplies to the starving civilian population of the Netherlands (the Germans agreed to the dropping areas) a similar operation dropped food parcels to the Dutch population. A large number of Lancasters were involved, these operations stopped on VE Day.
With the war in Europe over, plans were made for the repatriation of British and Commonwealth prisoners of war under the code name Operation Exodus, many Lancasters were converted to carry 25 passengers for this purpose. Flights continued bringing prisoners home from across France and Germany. Receiving camps were set up in the United Kingdom for the thousands of men returning home from Europe.
Although the war was over in Europe, many Lancasters were preparing for war in the Far East, known as the Tiger Force, it was agreed that 10 Squadrons of Lancasters would be used until the New Lincoln Bomber came on stream which had much longer fuel ranges. Fortunately the Japanese war ended sooner than expected (because of the use of the Atom bomb) resulting in Tiger Force not being required. Myself along with many other crew members were very relieved, because flying over Japan would have been very difficult and dangerous.
After the war the Lancaster continued flying carrying out various roles until the new aircraft came into service, of the approximately eight thousand Lancasters that were built only a few are left with only two airworthy aircraft, one in Britain and the other in Canada.
During World War II Lincolnshire was known as Lancaster County, because of the large number of squadrons scattered across the County (28 in total). Today most of the land then used is now returned to agriculture. It is still difficult to travel around without driving past the site of a famous airfield.
The airworthy Lancaster belongs to the Lincolnshire’s Lancaster Association, based at RAF Coningsby and is part of the Battle of Britain memorial Flight. Each year this flight performs at many air-displays entertaining thousands of people and serves as a living memorial to those air crew who gave their lives in the defence of their Country.
There is a second Lancaster which has its home also in Lincolnshire at East Kirby and belongs to two brothers, Fred and Harold Panton, the aircraft is maintained to a very high standard,
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where the public can have a taxi ride in the Lancaster, and enjoy the sound of the four Merlin engines.
The people of Lincolnshire were the first to know when the RAF were on operations, as with 28 squadrons based throughout the county and each squadron with at least 20 aircraft serviceable, the sound made from over 2000 Merlin engines, as they circled and climbed to reach a height of 10,000 ft before setting out across Europe was tremendous. People from the Netherlands told me (after the war) that during the war they lay in bed at night hoping to hear the special sound made by the British bombers, and as they passed over, they wished them success in their operation and prayed that the young men who flew in them returned home safely.
During operations I listened to the four Merlin engines purring away for five or six hours, the sound was magic and something I will never forget.
I am one of the thousands who have been entertained over the years by attending many of the fly pasts and open days, where the Lancaster has been carrying out the flypast, firstly to hear the sound of the Merlin engines which is music to my ears, then to see this superb aircraft flying towards you at around 200 feet nearly always brings a tear to my eyes for memories past.
Date: 30 Aug 1943
This picture was taken from the camera operated in conjunction with the opening of the bomb doors and Bomb Aimer releasing his bombs on our 2nd Operation to Munchen Gladbach. The picture plotted the bombs hitting the target.
[photograph of bombs hitting target]
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Lancaster Bomber
Specification
Length: 69ft 4ins (21.08m)
Wingspan: 102ft 6ins (31.00m)
Height: 20ft 6ins (6.23m)
Maximum Speed: 300+ mph
Range loaded: 2,600 miles app
Ceiling loaded: 24,000 ft
Internal payload: up to 7 tons
Full fuel load: 2,140 gallon
4 Merlin engines 1390 hp
(The latest Lancasters could be better in all specifications)
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[photograph of Avro Lancaster bomber]
[photograph of Avro Lancaster cockpit]
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[inserted] 16th December 1943 14th op. [deleted] Page 3 [/deleted] [/inserted]
Black Thursday
[inserted] Further notes on our 14th operation on 16th December 1943 [/inserted]
[crest]
AT A minute before midnight on the night of December 16. 1943 Lancaster LM395 emerged briefly from low cloud just north of Caistor. There was barely time for the pilot, Sgt Stan Miller of Scarborough to register what was happening before the Lancaster struck high ground near the town. When rescuers arrived they found no survivors among the crew of seven.
Crashes amongst Lancasters returning from ops or on night exercises had become an almost regular occurrence in Lincolnshire by the winter of 1943. But that night something awful was happening as the 1 Group aircraft returned from a round trip of eight hours to Berlin.
The raid that night had been specifically planned to catch the defenders fog bound on their nightfighter bases across Northern Europe. Instead, the mist came down and shrouded many of the airfields in Eastern England as the bombers were returning.
That night 483 Lancasters and 15 Mosquitos raided Berlin. Twenty-five aircraft were lost to a combination of night-fighters, flak and collisions over the German capital. At least another 29 Lancasters were lost in crashes when the bombers returned to airfields blanketed in fog.
1 Group suffered more than most with 13 aircraft being lost and 56 men killed in crashes on or around their bases. 100 Squadron was hit hardest of all, losing four aircraft, including two which collided right over the airfield at Waltham. 460 at Binbrook lost two as did 166 at Kirmington. And single aircraft were lost from 625 Squadron at Kelstern, 101 at Ludford and 12 and 626 lost a Lancaster each at Wickenby.
During briefings that afternoon, crews had been told that Bomber Command had been waiting to mount a raid on Berlin when the weather was so bad that the fighters would be grounded and they would have an easy trip. This was to be it.
The planned route was straight in and out again over Denmark. But the fighters, which were supposed to be sitting on fog-shrouded airfields across Holland, Belgium, Northern France and Germany, were airborne, and the first intercepted the stream of Lancasters over the Dutch coast and there were running battles, until the bomber stream turned for home across Denmark. Twenty one aircraft were shot down and four lost in collisions over Berlin itself.
The weather became progressively worse as the aircraft returned and by the time the 1 Group Lancasters began arriving they found the cloud base had almost reached ground level.
Crashes began to be reported from almost every airfield. Tired crews were unable to pick up the circle of lights which by then had been fitted around most of the dromes. Some came down in open fields, some, like LM395, simply flew into the Wolds. At Waltham, two Lancasters from 100 Squadron, O-Oboe and F-Freddie, collided as they circled looking for the funnel of lights that could guide them to safety.
One man who remembers that night vividly is Wing Commander Jimmy Bennett, who had arrived at Waltham three weeks earlier to form the new 550 Squadron which was due to move to North Killingholme in the new year.
Bennett. with two tours behind him already, chose to fly that with 'Bluey’ Graham and his crew.
"Our take-off was early, about 4.30 in the afternoon, and even then visibility wasn't very good and it was plain we were not going to be in for a very pleasant journey,” he said.
The bombers emerged from the cloud cover which was supposed to protect them over the North Sea. “There was no high cloud and at times we could see dozens of aircraft around us," Bennett recalled. "The clouds below cleared slightly over the city, we dropped our bombs and got away again. There was some fighter activity but we were not bothered.
"Coming back the cloud started to increase again and it was clear that by the time we reached England it would be almost right down to the deck. Bluey decided to come down through the cloud over the North Sea. In conditions like that it was always wise practice. Lincolnshire may have been fairly flat, but other places weren’t and there were always a few of what we called "stuffed clouds" around, clouds which contained something hard, like a hill.
"We dropped down into the mist but Bluey picked up the outer circle of sodium lights at Waltham, stuck his port wing on them and followed them round until he found the funnel and put her down.
“We rolled along the runway to the far hedge and we were already aware that planes were coming down all around us, landing at the first opportunity, so we decided it would be a lot safer to leave the aircraft where it was and walk the rest of the way.”
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Black Thursday
[picture of aircraft]
100 Squadron had suffered terribly that night. So had 97 Squadron at Bourn in Cambridgeshire. It lost no fewer than seven aircraft in crashes.
The 1 Group Summary, which was circulated to all squadrons at the end of December, recorded: “No opportunity for striking at our objectives must be lost. This being the case, it is obvious that, in addition to the enemy on the far side, the elements of this side still have to be mastered.
“As an illustration, after the raid on Berlin on December 16/17, a widespread and unpredicted deterioration in the weather at our home bases occurred.
"No diversion areas were available and many deplorable accidents resulted while our aircraft were endeavouring to break cloud and land."
The Summary continued: "An investigation has now been completed which shows the accidents cannot be attributed to a common factor. Some aircraft broke cloud too quickly, some broke cloud too slowly and continued to sink, whilst others ''slipped in” on a turn while endeavouring to keep the airfield lights in view."
It added: "Conditions were vile and unexpected yet 136 aircraft landed safely. We must continue to strive for better airmanship and more effective ground control.
But no number of investigations and changes to procedure could erase the memory of that wooden hut near Louth for Wing Commander Bennett.
One crew which narrowly escaped joining the casualties that night was one from 101 Squadron at Ludford. [inserted] X2 [/inserted]
Len Brooks, who was the rear gunner in a Lancaster flown by Sgt Walter Evans, remembers that they were diverted to Driffield because of the bad weather. Over East Yorkshire they were picking up RT messages from Driffield, Dishforth and Catfoss but could see no lights through the murk.
Then Catfoss offered to put a light up for them. " They realised we were very low and put the beam almost parallel to the ground right on us. I remember feeling the power go on. the nose lift and suddenly I saw under the turret chicken huts, a garden shed and finally chimney pots flashing by. That Iight had saved us.”
[inserted] This refers to the aircraft being suddenly given full power to lift itself over the farm buildings [/inserted]
Mr Brooks also remembers the first time Ludford's new FIDO fog dispersal system came into use. This consisted of a system of petrol burners the length of the runway, the theory being that the heat generated would drive the fog away. It worked, too, the only problem being that the hot air caused a great deal of turbulence over the runway.
He recalls that two aircraft ahead of them declined to land, despite the exhortations of the station commander, Group Captain Bobby Blucke. When it came to their turn they were so low on fuel they had no option and Evans virtually forced the Lancaster down onto the runway.
[inserted] [symbol] Len Brooks our Rear Gunner He was looking backwards from the aircraft therefore had a completely different view from the others of the crew [/inserted]
[photograph of the rear gunner, Len Brooks]
102. An unknown gunner standing by his turret. 12 Squadron, Wickenby, May 1944.
74
[page break]
Training the Crews
[crest]
BEFORE BOMBER Command could launch its projected expansion in late 1943 and 1944 it had to have a ready supply of crews. And that meant an increase in training establishments.
Changes in the training system meant that each Group became responsible for turning out its own heavy bomber crews. With Lindholme in South Yorkshire as the Base station, Heavy
Conversion Units were set up at Faldingworth, Blyton and Sandtoft with other training units being based at various times at Hemswell, Ingham and Sturgate.
Most of the1I Group crews were to go through these training bases and many felt that flying with operation squadrons was considerably safer than in the HCUs.
Until more Lancasters became available, their conversion to four-engined heavies was largely on Halifaxes, and in particular on the early Mark I and lls. They were underpowered aircraft which had already been discarded by operational squadrons in favour of either Lancasters or the much superior later marques of the Halifax. They also had some nasty habits, particularly when inexperienced crews tried one particular manoeuvre which effectively blocked the airflow over the tail and was responsible for the destruction of a number of these aircraft.
One ex-12 Squadron crew remember starting six cross-country exercises from Sandtoft and failing to complete one of them. There was little wonder that Sandtoft became known throughout 1 Group as Prangtoft.
Sandtoft itself was, like the other training airfields, originally intended as an operational station.
The site. which is alongside what is now the M180 between Scunthorpe and Thorne, was selected by Air Ministry surveyors in January 1942 as suitable for use by heavy aircraft and work started that October on the construction of the airfield. It was intended that it would come into use as a bomber airfield in January 1944 but in the meantime, it was decided to earmark the new station for a Heavy Conversion Unit.
It officially opened in December 1943 (although it was by no means complete, not unusual with newly-opened airfields in 1 Group at the time). The first unit to operate from there was A Flight of 1667 HCU which moved in from Faldingworth, followed by its other two flights. Later in the year a fourth Flight was formed and this became the Flying Instructors’ Flight which in turn provided the training for instructors within 11 Base which also included Lindholme and Blyton.
[photograph of gunnery instructors]
133. Gunnery instructor at Lindholme in 1944. On the extreme left is Bob Dunston, an Australian who had lost a leg while serving with the 8th Army at Tobruk and later volunteered for the RAF as an air gunner. The picture comes from Len Brooks of Cleethorpes, pictured second from the left.
[inserted] Second from left is Len Brooks our Rear Gunner [/inserted]
75
[page break]
[blank page]
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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WO Donald Keith Fraser
Donald Keith Fraser's memoir
Description
An account of the resource
Memoir describing his life and service career in the RAF. He also gives a list of 29 operations he participated in with notes on specific operations, and recounts a brief history of the Lancaster.
Creator
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Donald Fraser
Format
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80 typewritten pages
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BFraserDKFraserDKv1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France
Germany
Great Britain
Poland
England--Lincolnshire
France--Modane
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Leverkusen
Germany--Mannheim
Germany--Mönchengladbach
Germany--Munich
Germany--Schweinfurt
Germany--Stuttgart
Poland--Szczecin
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
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Tricia Marshall
David Bloomfield
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944
1 Group
101 Squadron
1667 HCU
aircrew
bomb trolley
bombing
bombing up
briefing
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
Cook’s tour
dispersal
Distinguished Flying Medal
fear
FIDO
fitter engine
flight engineer
flight mechanic
fuelling
Gee
George VI, King of Great Britain (1895-1952)
ground crew
Halifax
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
memorial
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
navigator
Nissen hut
Operational Training Unit
perception of bombing war
perimeter track
petrol bowser
radar
RAF Bottesford
RAF Catfoss
RAF Coningsby
RAF Cottesmore
RAF East Kirkby
RAF Lindholme
RAF Ludford Magna
RAF North Luffenham
RAF St Athan
RAF Waddington
RAF Wickenby
runway
searchlight
service vehicle
Tiger force
Tirpitz
tractor
training
Window
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1519/30375/BGambleATGambleATv1.2.pdf
2657924e2f12afbc9e2eaea6afe49c54
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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620 Squadron
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-06-23
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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
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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
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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!
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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
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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.
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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
-19-
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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…………..!!!!!!!!!!!!
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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]
-143-
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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.
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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
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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
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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]
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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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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.
[line of stars]
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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.
[line of stars]
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The town of Goch was a market town very close to the Dutch border and more or less on the line of what had been at one time the old Seigfried line. It had suffered badly from savage fighting when the big push was launched on the 8th February 1945, the day after I failed to return, when the Allies attempted to reach the Rhine all along the front. The Canadians had forced a passage by the most bloody hand to hand fighting along the very road in which we were living after they had taken Weeze and most of the houses still bore the marks of the battles as did many places in the town centre. The houses adjacent to us were not the only one's that were boarded up skeletons and the Town Hall was still pock-marked with scars from shell and morter [sic] splinters as well as anti-tank and canon fire but despite it all life went on as near normal as one would have expected at home.
The attic rooms above us were not part of our let but we investigated at one time and I immediately regretted it as it upset the girls. The flimsy doors at the bottom and the top of the narrow winding stairs were both splintered with bullet holes and the walls were well and truly peppered with holes and some very nasty stains which obviously would not wash off. The attic itself was no better and there were still remnents [sic] of uniform scattered about and it would appear that nothing had been done other than to clear the casualties of the battle. It was not difficult to imagine the desperate and bloody fighting that had gone on in that place and we only ever went up there that one time.
Despite it all, the Germans had built a memorial to a British officer who had been appointed as Town Major to manage the civilian administration which was standard procedure after the battle had passed through. It was neccessary [sic] to get public facilities running properly as soon as possible and tie up the minimum number of fighting personnel. His job was to help to get things going again as smoothly as possible and to that end he applied himself in such a way that he became highly respected by the locals for his ability to be hard working, fair and just. Unfortunately, it had to be a memorial plaque as, once the town was capable of running itself again he had rejoined his unit up at the front and had been killed in action. It was something to think about that their appreciation was so recorded which
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was more than could be said for some of the German military whose presence in the area still showed…but in a different way. In the town of Kevelaer, which was renowned for it's manufacture of religious artifacts, there was a tall wall alongside a church absolutely riddled with bullet holes where a large number of the population had been lined up and shot..by the SS!, as apparently the battle raged to and fro they had been evacuated several times for their own safety until finally they refused to be moved. They were prepared to stay and take their chance and after seeing that terrible sight I could understand that the population of some German towns were prepared to show their appreciation for their deliverance from the yoke of Nazizm [sic] .
Eventually the time came for the two eldest girls to start at Hamm when the new term started and they set off by train with others who they had met between terms. It seemed better that way and probably allowed them to settle a bit quicker...but they did not like it that was for sure. Boarding school discipline was not to their liking and the school buildings were a bit grim. They were converted SS barracks and most of the pupils were quite certain that the matron had been left behind by the SS when they evacuated all those years ago!, but they coped.
We went to Hamm whenever the opportunity arose. Week-ends when they were allowed out and half-term so we took them about as much as we could to places of interest but there was invariably tears when we were obliged to leave.
Fortunately the journey through to Hamm was only just over two hours but it was an interesting route whether by autobahn or the 'scenic' route. The autobahn route was right through the 'Happy Valley' Ruhr industrial complex that had received such a pounding from Bomber Command and still showed it and the scenic route to the North was through some very badly damaged towns, including Wanne Eikle when we diverted to have a look at the place. Nevertheless, it was surprising how quickly the economy was recovering. When we first arrived a great deal of our transport and services were provided from local resources under the reperations [sic] agreement but as industry recovered that was was coming to an end and British products were taking over.
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We had plenty of friends in and around Laarbruch and at other RAF units in the area. There were plenty of places to visit and Arnhem and Nigmegen [sic] were near enough for shopping expeditions
as well as paying our respects at the military cemetary's [sic] both at Arnhem and the Reichwald. Despite the fact that the camp had very comprehensive facilities we got out and about as much as we could. If we were going to be stationed in Germany we were going to see it, particularly when the eldest girls were home from Hamm or we visited then there. I remember once asking the technical F/Sgt in charge of the radar how he liked the place and was surprised to find that he did not think much of it but after a little more discussion found that he had not been outside the main gate since he had arrived!. Even by the end of his tour he had only been 'outside' twice and his wife not at all. It seemed a bit 'head in the sand' to me as most people we knew got about as much as possible.
There was one place we found, a little different from when I first encountered it, and that was the spot where I had landed safely in 1945 and nearly got shot by the side of the road. The house where I was first interrogated was as it was imprinted on my mind. Only 22 miles from Laarbruch. I even entertained the thought when I scouted around the area that I might recover two soggy one pound notes and my old I.D. card. Some hope!. The area of small nursery pines had grown to some 50 to 60 feet high and although I looked around the area I could find no sign of the whacking great hole that 'D' Dog would have made if that was where she came down. I never have found the crash site. It was years later that I made a serious attempt to find it but MOD Historical Records could not help other than to say that they had information that they could not disclose. Possibly a cover up for the fact that they knew nothing although they were interested to know where we baled out and why. 'D' Dog was the only aircraft Bomber Command lost that day and the crash site is still listed………………..
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as 'unknown'. That local tour was one of many that we made to places that were engraved on my memory and noted in my diary. At Krefeld I couldn't even find the airfield!. At Dusseldorf the old airfield had been swallowed up or otherwise expanded although the ghosts of the past were swirling around when I surveyed the area on more than one occasion from the terminal buildings.
At Frankfurt although I followed the road out towards Ober-Orsal I could find no sign of what had once been the infamous interrogation centre of Dulag-Luft. Throughout the next two and a half years there were not many areas that we did not visit as we ranged far and wide with the benefit duty free pre-paid petrol coupons that were more than enough for our requirements. Shortly after starting the daily routine of setting off for the airfield one morning I picked up a Warrant Officer who was heading the same way. He too had only just arrived and lived not far from us. He was the Technical Wing Adjutant and his son was destined for Hamm school the same as our girls. That was the start of a long and deep seated friendship of the sort that one rarely made in the service as most friendships were like the ripples made by a stone in a puddle. They tended to dissipate when one or the other moved on but we are still in touch after 35 years.
I was soon certificated and operational. The work at Laarbruch was slightly different although it was not a continuous 24 hour shift system that I had become used to but we kept a skeleton crew on standby outside normal working hours to fulfill [sic] the requirements of 2nd Tactical Air Force. The aircraft were Canberra bombers and the more modern delta wing Javelin night fighter. A touch of both Bomber Command and Fighter Command which made for some very interesting procedures. Other than that the rest of the set-up was fairly standard. The GCA radar was the same type that I had used at Tangmere and I was promptly placed in charge of it for it's operation proficiency which included checking out other controllers and to train to a high standard of re-positioning and setting up of the equipment when the runway in use was changed. The requirement was to do it within an hour which was a tall order considering that there was the operations trailer, the power supply trailer and rest
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caravan weighing in all about 40 tons to be moved with great care considering that it contained some quite delicate equipment and cost around £250,000!. Bend that little lot and someone's head would roll........mine!.
The route to Hamm took us down to the new bridge at Vesel, slightly up river from the remnants of the ends of the-old bridge that had been destroyed during the war in that hottest of all hotspots. It was from that very area that massive armies had gathered to force a crossing of the river and where Churchill had fired one of the first shots of the assault by pulling the lanyard of a very big gun and where the biggest Airborne landing of 22,000 men had been landed by glider and parachute on the East side of the town. A very historical place militarily and a slightly battered one having been given a terrible pounding by Bomber Command prior to the attack by ground forces. Nevertheless, a lot had been rebuilt and the new system had taken advantage of a lot of open space and vast quantities of rubble. We usually swept through and in a few miles had linked up with the autobahn.
I got my first taste of motorway driving out there when they were were [sic] still building the M1 in the UK although the southern end was usable I had not used it but it was like a battlefield. 90% of the autobahn traffic seemed to be VW Beetles and the like with a top speed of a little over 70mph, about the same as mine, but it was the way they were driven that put the wind up me.
There was no speed limit and drivers just hurled themselves along at maximum possible speed with foot flat on the floor all the time, come what may. Nose to tail, bit between the teeth, no leeway whatsoever and no margin for error, just going like the clappers all the time. I really felt as if I was back in the Battle of the Ruhr and found it decidedly uncomfortable. I don't think that there was ever one journey that we did that we didn't see the results of what appeared to be suicidal driving so I started to try and prove that the MT instructors at the base were not going to include me when they quoted the statistics of 90% of drivers [underlined] will [/underlined] have an accident whilst in Germany. [underlined] They were right though [/underlined] !. I came unstuck eventually. In the meantime I just battled on. On one occasion we had just cleared the Ruhr
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area on the autobahn heading for Hamm with particularly heavy traffic developing into two solid streams doing around 60 to 70mph and I felt concerned enough to do as I still do today under such circumstances....get into the 'slow' lane where there was at least room to duck onto the hard shoulder if there was trouble. I was suddenly aware that way ahead stop lights were coming on like strobing airfield approach lights and was immediately on the alert. I suppose other drivers concentrating on the vehicles directly in front were not aware that the stop lights were coming on were getting closer and closer and then as it was obvious to me what was going to happen I jinked out onto the hard shoulder. I must have done it with split second to spare as some 200 vehicles shunted each other with the screeching of brakes, bangs, thumps and the sound of tearing metal and breaking glass. It was followed immediately by the cries of the injured when all other noises had stopped.
No-one in our immediate area was badly hurt although there were numerous head injuries and the odd broken limb with a fair bit of blood splashed around so it was out with the first aid kit and to the rescue. Fortunately, in addition to the mandatory first aid kit I had for years kept a large package of war-time wound packs in the car and they came in very useful although I what some people thought when they found that they were British Military packs dated 1943 I couldn't say. They did the job despite the fact that in most cases the safety pin was rusted!. Small matter. I had found them in an abandoned store in a pill box at Oakington in 1947…..I was not the sort of a bloke to waste things!. They lasted many years. In that instance we were luckier than the majority and it took an hour and a half before the autobahn ahead was cleared sufficienty [sic] for us to proceed past piles of smashed up vehicles, and then we came to the root cause of the pile-up. Unbelievable!. There were [underlined] two [/underlined] white police cars mangled together more or less standing on end up against a bridge support. We subsequently learned that they had been heading the long snake of cars to keep the speed down but had been playing 'tag' and had obviously not-been very clever.
I felt at the time that 'someone' was definitely out to get me having so far escaped all other intentions of the Germans to eliminate me and it did not improve Dorothy's attitude to
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sitting in what was often classified as the suicide seat, ie, the passenger seat of a right hand drive vehicle being driven on the right hand side of the road. There was even more apprehension by the time that particular week-end was over. We had just got into Hamm and rounding a corner had to duck to miss the car ahead that had lurched around the corner, bounced off of one of the large concrete cylinder things that were liberaly [sic] sprinkled around their street corners and then finished up with the front wheels over a small garden wall. It was a British Forces registered vehicle also heading for Hamm school but no-one was hurt and the driver declared that he needed no assistance so we pressed on. Nevertheless it was a great weekend with the girls who enjoyed their visit to Munster zoo we thought no more about driving and it's associated problems until we were on the return journey.
I was gaining slightly on a VW Beetle but held back for a while as it was lurching about over both lanes in very light traffic. It was some time before I ventured alongside and was somewhat shocked to find that all of the windows were closed and steamed up and all four occupants were asleep, including the driver, hunched over the wheel. I gave the horn as much as I could for as long as I could to rouse everyone, making signs to wind down the windows until it was safe to pass and felt after that that I had done my good deed for the day as that bloke was very close to running off of the road. He would not have known much about it though as he was doing what most beetle drivers did. Foot still flat on the floor regardless.
As always there was continual movement of personnel, most people having settled into a 2 1/2 year tour. We had with us people that we had known at many units including Amman and Egypt as well as Mareham [sic] and Wyton so of course the usual thing was happening with the married quarter waiting list as we went up and down like a yo-yo. There was one movement that had occurred just before we arrived although would not have made any difference to our quarters list, that of the Station Commander whose Adjutant I had been at Marham but he had gone on with more promotion. After that apparently almost every move he made was with further promotion until he eventually retired as an Air Marshall with a Knighthood and a handsome string of awards and
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decorations including; GCB, KCB, CB, CBE, OBE, DSO, DFC, AFC, and I must confess that I am proud to have received a great deal of instruction from him in the three years that I was his Adjutant.
The eventual allocation of married quarters at Laabruch could not have come at a better time. 53 Weeze Strasse was not the most suitable of places but it had enabled us to recover our finances to the satisfaction of both the bank manager and our-selves, and I hope, Frau van Cooke, so we moved into our comfortable centrally heated house shortly before the winter set in and had a damn good house warming party to celebrate.
Everything sailed along quite happily despite the girls dislike of boarding school and our youngest was soon into her third year but we were outgrowing the little Ford Popular and it's three speed gear box was a bit tedious at times. It was time for a change and we considered all the options. In the end I ordered the new Ford Classic (tax free) from a firm in Chichester in Sussex with a part exchange deal and it was all done when we went back to the UK for a holiday covering the school term break.
That was going to be the car that would see me through for the maximum number of miles before another change became neccessary [sic] . I ran it in carefully and the engine was treated with all the right things to achieve longevity and when our leave was up it was fully prepared to do anything asked of it, nevertheless, no sooner than we were back into Holland on the way back one of the first things we came across was a car upside down in a ditch at the side of the road with arms and legs hanging out of broken windows. I only stopped for a quick look and decided that there was little I could do that would not involve and upset the family so I pressed on for about half a mile until I saw a house with the sign outside denoting that they had a phone, nipped in and asked them to telephone ambulance and police to get to the scene, and then continued my journey. I've sometimes thought that I might have been able to do more at the scene but the inside of the car was like a butchers shop with not a lot of hope for the occupants.
The Classic was soon re-registered with British Forces plates and as it was a new model it always attracted a great deal of interest wherever we went. There was usually a crowd around
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it wherever it was parked.
There was one place just over the border in Holland that we visited regularly. The village of Well was an interesting little place and one of it's most comfortable establishments was a little restaurant and bar on the side of the River Maas. 'Auntie' Nellie was mine host and she was a remarkable person. She was well known for her resistance work and had been responsible for numerous evaders to pass along another link in the chain back to the safety of their own lines. It had obviously needed someone like that who was handy to assist in the river crossing. The Maas was quite wide and fast flowing at that point and the nearby bridge was a war-time Bailey built especially to carry military traffic from Eindhoven; still carrying heavy traffic. Our free week-ends were often spent there for shopping and for refreshments in the restaurant, watching the barges chugging by with all manner of goods piled on them and the bargees washing, bicyles [sic] , dogs, or watching a UK football match on the tele. but there was a bit of a problem with that. The football commentary was usually in Dutch so a radio was set up alongside and we had a commentary in English for the same match that suited the Dutch, English and German patrons who all gravitated to that place. Great fun greatly assisted by good strong Dutch beer, or possibly something hotter and stronger on cold days.
We visited the area many years later and it had not changed much and one of the girls plus her own family visited many years after that and it was still pretty much the same. We had a lot of time for the Dutch people and found no difficulty in integrating. In fact, we could quite happily have taken up residence there.
Crossing the Dutch/German border just North of Goch a few months after getting the new car the windscreen disintegrated in my lap and of course being a new model not yet on sale on the continent it took a week before a Dutch Ford agent could fit another but that was nothing to what happened later. With a new car I thought that I had overcome the love/hate relationship that I had always had with motor vehicles, but I was always
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to be in trouble with them one way or another.
Something else cropped out that I was not overjoyed about. The 'cold war' that was the very reason that we were out there demanded emergency establishment manning in the event of going to 'Red Alert' and on that deployment I would have been immediately on my way to my war establishment post. To Gatow, Berlin!!!, right in the middle of the contested Russian Zone. Just my luck. I would much rather have been going in the opposite direction!, away from any conflict but due to it's security classification I had to keep that possibility under wraps.
Life was anything but dull. The job of Station Fire Officer landed in my lap again almost as soon as I moved into quarters although it was the usual arrangement. A senior fireman did the work and 'Sir' was the dogsbody who took the flak if anything went wrong but it still helped to know as much as possible about the job. I had learned the hard way but the crash/rescue element was always under the operational control of Air Traffic Control and I thought that having got that job it would be enough---wrong again!.
There was plenty to occupy my mind and my hands. There were liaison visits of all sorts on a two way basis. The local German and Dutch fire services were entertained and visa versa (but not both at the same time). At one time I had two Luftwaffe NCO's for several weeks to polish off their GCA training although their initial training had been with the Americans and we all used the same procedures. Even our GCA was of standard American design. All very interesting!. A very daft situation arose with them on one occasion as naturally they were billeted with us and it seemed natural for them to use their camera's. It is true that we did have one very secure area in the vicinity of the Canberra dispersals on the far side of the airfield but the Service Police were I think a little over security concious [sic] when they pounced on them in the domestic area and ripped the film out of the camera's. Typical. I did have a word with the senior policeman but it was a waste of time. He reckoned that he was not having Germans photographing our installations. Bloody daft!. They had built the station for us in the first place!
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My interest in photography had developed further to the extent that I joined the unit photographic club, a move that I was to regret later and although the facilities were a bit run down I was able to widen the scope of my activities in that field as I had sold all my processing gear back at Wyton when finances were taking a bit of a hammering. What happened next was just waiting to happen. The current Officer I/C (in-charge) was posted and they did not look very far for his replacement. There were no terms of reference so I was instructed to write my own for approval and then my brief was simple. "It's a mess, put it back on it's feet". I knew it was a mess, the trouble was that I had told too many people. In the main it was used by people for standard processing at a profit, and who were not very interested in cleaning up. It did not take long to find out that there was about twice the number of people booking out the keys as there was on the register so it was a matter of going back to 'square one' to lock the place up and out of bounds to all but a selected few who were formed into a committee until a new system was set up I had the place refurbished with all the enlargers overhauled by a local German photographic supplier, new black-outs and racking resulting in four good booths. Eventually we agreed the maximum number of people that we could have on the register, all old membership cards were invalidated and new cards issued against the subscription register which was to be renewed annually and 'bingo'. With new rules, a studio and lecture room we opened up and it flourished. One feature I introduced was processing on certain nights only and a weekly 'beginners night' series of talks for the benefit of those, schoolchildren, wives and all, who wanted to know the basics. I well remember my own first efforts when every other word the 'experts' said was 'double dutch' to me so I was determined that each of the four talks was pitched as low as possible and repeated every month. It worked well and it was popular.
As we went into the first Winter we were glad of the design of the married quarters. Airmen's and Officers were all built along the same lines albeit to a different standard. The typical concrete box built on top a cellar and around the plumbing. There was no piping showing inside or outside. The cellar was
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the utility area, with concrete wash tubs, floor drainage and other mod. cons. and a store room. It all looked rather like the inside of a submarine with huge pipes and turn cocks along the passage…..but there was no boiler!. Hot water was provided by a huge boiler system to the whole station along deep insulated piping on a communal basis, the only base in Germany to have such a system and it made everything very comfortable and convenient. Especially when an Officers wife went 'down below' to see how the plumber was getting on with a job only to find that he was sitting in one of the wash tubs, in the buff, happily blowing bubbles in oodles of hot water. Now that's what I call initiative and it caused a bit of a giggle when the story got around.
Later on our store room became the 'Den' where the girls and their friends congrgated [sic] to get away from the 'oldies' but at least they had their own space. Goodness knows how many there were down there at times after we got fed up answering the door and fixed up a string and a bell system through the outside grating.
Being a house of concrete the attic had a concrete floor as well and all the roof beams had built in hooks for what I assumed to be hammocks if ever they were needed as barracks providing a very useful sleeping area particularly if anyone was overwhelmed with visiting friends and relations from the UK.
As it happened we never were and although my father-in-law expressed an interest to visit us and take the opportunity do the tour of the WW1 battlefields he found it more than he could bring himself to do and could not set foot on German soil; and he never did. The memories of his brother being blasted into eternity at his side, and his own wounds were too strong for him ever to forget that episode in his life.
Before the winter was out we skated and tobogganed. Everyone enjoyed themselves in the light fluffy snow of the kind that one did not normally see back home until at last Spring broke through and work and play took over the scene again. The Winter was a bit hard although nowhere near as bad as the one to follow but a lot happened in between.
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One tour we put together for the early Summer holidays came unstuck. It was planned as a round robin right down through Central and Southern Germany, into Bavaria, Austria and Switzerland, France and back home over at-out ten days. It did not quite work out like that although we were making the most of it until it went wrong.
We went to Nuremburg and found the site of Stalag X111b but there were no huts left, only a police Guard Post and we were allowed to browse around. Then on to Stalag V11a Mooseburg and back to Munich for a night stop. The memory plays funny tricks though. Despite my notes I found it very difficult to locate some places and even when I did positively identify places from the notes they were sometimes unrecognisable. We had already found the same problem around the UK!. However, our navigation went a bit haywire down in Austria when we took a wrong road up in the mountains and instead of going into Switzerland we found ourselves back in Germany again. Not that it mattered much. All of the scenery was absolutely splendid and eventually we were into and out of France crossing the border into Germany again near Strasburg. We were ahead of our schedule so we decided that we would head for home rather than go for another night stop and were about ten miles South of Heidleburg when some idiot driver pulled a stunt that upset a few people; us included and so we finished up with a night stop anyway.
I was the tail ender of seven or eight vehicles in convoy doing near enough 70mph in the 'fast' lane with no traffic in the other lane when a light truck going like a bat out of hell came up behind making angry signals with his lights for us to get out of the way, which I did and then I resumed the tail end position. I did not stay behind him long as obviously no-one else was going to move over for him so he pulled out and went through on the wrong side. No doubt he had worked himself into a frenzy of agressive [sic] behaviour, (what is called road rage today is nothing new) and as soon as he got to the head of the column he did something quite unexpected. I could see the whole thing happening as if in slow motion as he literally hurled his vehicle across the bows of the leaders and them stood on the brakes. What happened next was anything but slow motion but long before
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anything happened directly I was on the brakes and everyone on board slid up against something solid before each and everyone of the cars shunted one another with a series of thuds until despite my heavy breaking we slammed into the one in front with such a wallop that it shot forward again into the one in front and our roof rack landed in the road between us. It was very fortunate that I was 'tall end charlie' as I am quite sure that we would have had one in the back of us as well.
After a quick check to see if we had any injuries, to be very relieved to find that only the eldest had had a scratch from a broken Coke bottle I dispatched her immediately to about fifty yards back along the centre section to start waving her white cardigan like mad, and got everyone else out onto the central reservation in case some damn fool back-ended us. It was not difficult to get out of as the impact had given us a 'droop snoot' and the doors had sprung with an overlap of some four inches. One could see at a glance that that we were not going anywhere in that car for a long time.
Checking on the vehicle in front and recovering the roof rack disclosed that the middle aged couple in the BMW that I had hit were badly shaken but otherwise unhurt although their car was quite badly damaged. The front end was bent, the back end was scrunched, the boot lid had sprung, and the exhaust had fallen off. They were both in tears though as the car was absolutely brand new, direct from the factory on delivery with only 22km on the clock but that was the least of my worries.
Between listening to their tales of woe, refixing the roof rack and repacking some of our spilled goods with a very watchfull [sic] eye on the traffic that was still hurtling by I still had time to take a few photographs before the police arrived and my daughter could retire from her rather exposed position to the relative safety of the central reservation where all the damaged cars had been pushed once the police were satisfied with explanations and that the exchanges of insurance details had been attended to. That's the way German traffic law worked; 'he who does the bumping does the paying', so you dealt with the one in front and the law is satisfied.
Breakdown vehicles appeared as if by magic but we had to wait a lot longer than most to get cleared as I, being a member of
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the military, had to be dealt with by the appropriate military authority, in that area, the U.S. Army, who could not have been more sympathetic and helpfull [sic] . The car was eventually winched onto a civilian break-down vehicle, (which I subsequently had to pay for) and off it went with us following up in a staff car to see it settled in a field full of other wrecks. Our surplus goods were left in the care of the driver of the breakdown-truck before we were finally deposited at the steps of a very nice Hotel in Heidelburg.
In normal circumstances we would have enjoyed that visit to the beautiful city of Heidelburg but not that time. We were just about broke. I had a Hotel bill to consider as well as the train fare back to base. I did not have a German bank account and there were limits that one could do then with a UK chequebook. Nevertheless, we dredged up every mark and phenig [sic] that we could, including the kid's pocket money but it didn't allow for a meal so we just had to picnic on the bits and pieces that we had recovered from the car and ultimately went to bed very tired if not a little hungry. It still took a long time before sleep came to me. Here I was again, virtually stranded in Germany wondering what was going to happen next. Every piece of the day’s action kept floating in frost of my eyes. Of all the damn silly things. All those occasions of war-time flying over enemy territory escaping injury by the skin of my teeth, to finish up in Germany with a pranged car and very nearly a damaged family as well.
I made myself a promise before I want to sleep, to never, ever again put myself or my family in such a situation again. There had to be a way to adjust one’s driving technique to reduce the risks, so I was going to have to swallow my pride. Meanwhile I had become one of 2nd TAF's motoring statistics having been told that nine out of ten drivers would have an accident I had scoffed at the idea...but they were not wrong.
The following day after paying our bill and buying tickets there was not much left in the kitty so it was rolls, butter, sausage and fizzy drinks bought locally for breakfast and for the journey, then we were off.
That part of the journey was a tour to remember for it's sheer
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beauty but I think that I was the only one to remember it in detail. The weather was perfect. The scenery along the Rhine was picture postcard stuff of vinyards [sic] and castles perched high up on hillsides especially the area around Koblenz was too good to miss particularly as I had run out of film and could not even afford to buy another. I kept waking the family up to look at, it but at that stage of the game they were not too impressed although I was out to make the most of it. To hell with the car, insurance would take care of that and the most important thing was that we were all together and all in one piece. That's all that mattered. We eventually arrived back at Goch, a colleague picked us up and that was the end of that holiday and touring for a while. There were letters to write and reports to make as we eventually settled down to life without a car. I tried to negotiate for the car to be transferred to Holland for repair as it was a new model not yet available in Germany although it was filtering onto the Dutch market but the agents for the UK insurers who were based in Hamburg would not entertain the idea and weeks went by as they deliberated. In the meantime my neighbour who had just bought a new car agreed to run it in by driving me down to Heidelburg to pick up all the stuff that we had been obliged to leave behind. It had all been prepared and packed and even lunch was provided for us. He and his Frau earned our gratitude and their remuneration for their thoughtfulness. It helped me overcome my dismay when I went to see the car sitting forlornly among the wrecks. It had already been vandalised, possibly on the assumtion [sic] that it would be a write-off. All the wheel trims and the front wheels had gone as well as the wing mirrors. The battery had gone and the petrol had been drained off all ten gallons of it as we had only just fuelled up for the home run. I had been relying on some of that to help us to do the 300 mile round trip but someone had beaten me to it. Of course no-one knew anything about it. The yard did not belong to the recovery chap and there were notices around in German disclaiming responsibility for any losses etc. It was to be expected!.
The months went by and were particularly frustrating. Having looked the car over carefully on that visit I figured that it ought to be classified as a write-off but the insurance company
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disagreed. I tried to get it taken to Cologne, the German manufacturing centre for Fords but eventually it was transferred to Mannheim for repair. I found out later that the front was completely cut off and replaced, something that would not be acceptable today but that was it and they had the last say. I was without it for six months and a lot of annoyance which did little for my blood pressure.
I busied myself in work of one sort and another. We did not go out of camp much and the girls had settled themselves into local employment so it was the photographic club that received most of my attention which was soon flourishing financially and with a lot of enthusiastic new members. So much so that Laarbruch was selected as the venue for the Command Photographic Competition. It all went well with the cooperation of the Education Flight and the fact that I won two awards had nothing to do with the fact that one of the judges had been my neighbour at Wyton. All entries were coded which was standard practice.
Air Traffic Control was more or less routine. By that time I was convinced that I had covered just about every aspect and I was still making it known annually, that I wanted area radar training for the future. Nevertheless, I had one experience which I thought might have influenced a decision but it didn't.
I was doing stand-by shift in the radar track after I had been informed of a large formation practice of aircraft from 2nd TAP units to the South-East of us and I had been monitoring their progress when I was asked to take control of an aircraft being flown by the C in C who wanted see how the formation was shaping up.
It was really difficult after taking him on. I found out from the formation Ieader the detail's of the altimeter setting and then working him on a different frequency did a perfect fighter interception placing him just above and 100yds behind the formation. He even asked if I was a Fighter Controller and was somewhat surprised to find that he was being controlled by an airfield radar. He did say "as good as any fighter control interception" but he didn't bother to find out who I was!.
Our GCA was not without it's troubles though. There was one
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expensive internal item absolutely vital to it's operation that was costing dollars to replace and contracts had-been let to produce them in the UK under licence but they didn't always last for the expected running time but at least we had replacements. Our headphones were a different matter. Some of then were the original issue with the radar unit and were always in need of repair which was common in almost every similar equipment in the RAF. I found that intolerable. Aircrew helmets and associated communications equipment cost hundreds of pounds to ensure absolute reliability and safety and I was sometimes sweating a bit when we were obliged to operate in marginal conditions with our own equipment that could fail at any time. I indented for new head-sets to be told that they were too expensive and were to be repaired locally. I made a fuss and some were taken away by Command signals workshops for repair but very few people knew that I had got something else up my sleeve.
My contacts with my opposite number in the Dutch Air Force at Vokel was very helpful in finding out that their Bell helicoptors [sic] used the same sort of headset and were replaceable under a NATO agreement. A liaison visit exchanged three of them but I kept that quiet. The only time they came out was when we were operating in marginal conditions; and I kept up the pressure for total replacement much to the annoyance of the technical staff particularly when the refurbished sets proved to be unreliable. Eventually, wondering how long it would take to get something done before the next winter set in I really put the cat among the pigeons. I did a 'Douglas Bader' and signalled 2nd TAF HQ that the radar was declared 'non operational-training in visual conditions only due to technical problems'. Phew!, that really did get things moving. I knew through the 'grapevine' that new UK produced headsets were becoming available and that the C in C of Coastal Command had authorised the local purchase of replacements for his radars...that was good enough for me and was part of my argument and I flatly refused to change the status of our radar until something similar was done. As with Douglas Bader the result was dramatic. Within a week all the stops had been pulled out and I received replacements direct from the manufacturers completely by passing the normal stores
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procedure. All I had to do was to pass the invoices back through stores to confirm that I had got them and turn in the old one's for write off. We were operational immediately but I got a hell of a lot of 'stick' for it. Bader might have got away with it but I didn't. I had upset too many people along the line by taking a short cut and there were no thanks for my achievment [sic] .
In the late summer I did another liaison visit that was most interesting; to our Fighter Control Centre at Udem....in the war-time bunker that the Luftwaffe had used to track our bomber streams and direct their fighters although of course it had been modified to our sytem [sic] . It was similar to our UK fighter Control Centres that I had been in although it just felt different but what was interesting was the fact that there were a lot of Luftwaffe personnel around as a new generation was being trained by us. It led to to [sic] another liaison visit later when a few of us went to a radar controlled Luftwaffe ack-ack unit somewhere towards Wesel. Now that was interesting; less than ten miles from where a similar unit had shot us down in 1945 and very enlightening.
The winter was nearly upon us when I eventually received notice that the car was ready for collection so off I went to Mannheim only to find that as far as I was concerned it was not. It was lacking all sorts of bits and some parts were still unpainted so I returned without it. There was an angry exchange of letters between myself and Hamburg and claims for costs until I was eventually told it was positively ready so off I went again. Then the s……hit the fan. Hardly anything more had been done and although I phoned the Hamburg office and got the OK to take it subject to a settlement the repairers would not release it until it was paid for. Oh boy oh boy!, what fun and games. More phoning, Hamburg making arrangements to transfer money via banks, a night stop for me and eventually it was released so off set for the 230 mile return journey, and not before time. It was a good job that I had fuelled to the brim as the weather did not look at all promising. I soon connected with the Autobahn and had not gone more than 30 miles when I ran into a snowstorm that turned into a blizzard, just what I wanted!, although it
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slowed things down considerably and the traffic thinned out as snow came down in about the heaviest fall I had ever encountered. It was very soon some two or three inches deep and going was getting difficult although mostly I was in virgin snow and still getting a grip. I pressed on nevertheless having in mind that it looked as if I was going to have to make another night stop somewhere but then found that in the confusion of the poor visibility in the ten lane junction near Frankfurt I had picked up the wrong lane and was on my way North-East, towards Wuppertal!. There was only one thing to do and that was backtrack. Although the snow had stopped leaving a depth of about 4ins. it would have been quite impossible to go across country so it was back 20 miles and then find my way through the network of the ten lane junction again until I was on track for Cologne once more. By that time it had got dark and I was somewhat relieved to be heading in the right direction at last and was working out my ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) when there was a hold up. It took some time for the traffic to creep forward and over the brow of a hill before I could see what had caused it all. There was a large articulated lorry on it's side blocking most of the carriageway and the police were only allowing one vehicle at a time down the hill past it as by now the snow had become impacted and it was a bit like an ice rink. When my turn came to make the descent I was amazed to find that the firemen and the 'wreckers' were actually cutting the lorry to pieces with blow torches to remove it in sections and was very relieved when I was finally in the clear again and heading for home. It took a total of twelve hours to do the journey. I had left in daylight and arrived with the dawn feeling hungry and very very tired. It was just "Hello, don't ask qestions [sic] and Goodnight”.
I finally came too, refreshed, reported that I was back and started the negotiations with Hamburg to restore the car to it's new state which I estimated would cost another £300 and they paid up in full. That was not the end of it though....
Winter soon descended with a vengance [sic] . It got cold and then colder. The bottom fell out of the thermometer and one morning, in common with many others I found the car locks frozen. Possibly
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like others I poured almost boiling water on in an attempt to unlock it but it froze as it hit the car and it was several days before the temperature went up a little to allow everything to release. then a great deal of the new paintwork came away with the defrosting!. I was very cross to say the least but I had it all renewed within the allowance that had been made by the insurance company. That still was not the end of it………but then the winter really set in.
Even the underground pipes froze in places and the works department produced a device that had not been used for years. It was a mobile motor driven generator producing a low voltage high amperage current that was attached to the fire hydrants and when the power was switched on it virtually heated the pipes up and they thawed. I had never seen anything like it before but at least the Fire service was kept in business. Even in the readiness areas the immersion heaters in the fire vehicles were needed to avoid freezing up. I put the fire dept to work to flood and freeze a fairly large depression of grassed area which produced an ice rink for several weeks. The centre of it was nearly two feet of solid ice and it was so cold that even the moat around Well castle in Holland was frozen to a depth of over two feet. Nevertheless we were still in business until it snowed again. We had been waiting for it and all the snow clearing machinery had been brought out and made ready but when it did start it made what I had been through when I brought the car back look like a little flurry. It snowed and snowed continually until there was a good ten to twelve inches over the whole airfield; and not the sort that would go away!.
With no flying possible we started to tackle it with everything we could muster to get the airfield clear. One machine had flame heaters for melting an icy surface, a hopper with finely graded sand with a worm feed which distributed the sand on the melted surface before it froze again. Result; a sandpaper type surface that was ideal for braking on at the upwind end of the runway. That's the way I figured it but everyone had different ideas particularly among those who had taken charge of the operation. It was attempted on snow, it was overworked and eventually it had a major breakdown. The various teams pushed and shoved snow all over the place with the snow ploughs and one crew even
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managed to put a twelve foot bank right in the runway threshold!. The equipment was the best with four wheel drive MAM diesel trucks with chains, and the blades could be swung either way for a left or a right cut, two splendid 'Snow-go’s' with flail intakes and plume blowers but the whole lot was being used piecemeal. Some ploughs had been used as bulldozers and a lot of snow was just being shifted from one place to another without opening up areas. After 24 hours of quite useless effort I stuck my neck out and produced a sketch plan of my own and there was very little argument. Obviously I couldn't make a bigger cock-up than had already been made and it was accepted. I assembled six ploughs in echelon with a half blade overlap followed by the two Snow-go’s and working on a plan to shift the snow [underlined] away [/underlined] from the taxyways [sic] we were off. It worked like a charm and mountains of snow was being cleared without blocking up other access points. At the end of the first cut I took the whole lot into a dispersal to swing the blades for the next run in the opposite direction when the CO turned up and 'suggested' that I would be better employed clearing snow instead of messing about changing the angle of the blades. He was not amused when I 'suggested' that "I was doing it my way" but really, there was no basis for any argument. I had already cleared half of a mile long taxyway [sic] in one sweep which was more than anyone else had done in the last 24 hours so with his permission I would like to carry on and prove a point, and perhaps he should judge my efforts by the result, particularly as others had not achieved much. How to get on and influence people!!!!, but I was cold and tired and past caring.
However, it did work as I expected and we were the first 2nd TAF airfield to be declared 'open' despite the fact that after I had left a colleague in charge whilst I went for a meal on my return found that he had managed to put 200 tons of snow back where I had just cleared it from. At least I had justified my plan and we were invariably the first 2nd TAF airfield to be declared clear after subsequent falls of snow. There was only one way to do it and I spent hours out on the airfield in -15 to-20 degrees. I followed it up with a written 'Snow Clearing Plan' with sketches and techniques to show how the basic plan could be adapted for any airfield and it turned up
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in print later. There were no thanks, just hard work and chilblains although there was a certain amount of satisfaction in having done something practical and useful. It was a relief when the deep freeze gave way to the first signs of Spring though and thoughts turned to planning the last holiday we were likely to get in that area. Before that happened an urgent problem put Dorothy into the Military Hospital at Vegberg near Rhiendalen for about ten days and we very nearly did not get the holiday but the planning was well advanced so we decided to go for it.
We had been fortunate in purchasing a slightly used but almost complete camping outfit so the destination was the Costa Brava in Spain. There were several dummy run exercises in the garden for putting up the tent until everyone knew what they had to do and the day came when all was assembled, loaded on the car and off we went.
Up to that point in time we had done no long distance travelling since the car had been repaired although there had been no problems. They started when we reached the area around Frankfurt when we were on long hill climbs when there were signs of overheating in the clutch and the most terrible noises from the gear box. With a little experimentation I found that the heat and the noise could be reduced by holding the highest gear for as long as possible which was not easy as the car was so heavily loaded. Eventually the decision was made after our first night stop at Frieburg that we would press on to the half way point at Geneva and that if it did not improve we would turn about. Strangely enough it was only lower gear hill climbs that produced the problem and in fact when we tried the odd run unloaded it was OK. We pressed on although I still had no idea what was causing it. I just wanted to be on holiday.
Actually we nearly abandoned it for other reasons. Dorothy did not like camping!. Not after our first night stop anyway. It was the way we had pitched the tent on a very slight slope in the semi-darkness and the natural movement in our sleep that found us up against the sides of the tent. That and the noises of the frogs at the lakeside did not exactly induce sleep.
Somehow we managed to retain some sense of humour even when in the early hours of the morning Dorothy had twisted herself up in her sleeping bag and I was awoken by gurgling noises and
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"get this b……zip out of my mouth"!!!!. That and the fact that it had started to rain heavily did not improve matters. It did not stop us moving out though. With a wet tent on top that then weighed twice as much as when we started!.
The next stop was Geneva where we were aiming for a camp site on the banks of Lake Lemon and it rained nearly all the way. What fun!. We had to put up a wet tent and I very nearly turned about at that point. Nevertheless, there was a pleasant little restaurant not far from the site and we indulged ourselves to the point of feeling a lot more comfortable by the time we turned in.
It had at least stopped raining but everywhere was clinging cold mist and these were the conditions when we packed up and moved out again, heading for Orange in the south of France where we were planning to stay with friends. We just ploughed on and on and on in those conditions through the Swiss mountains not seeing much more than the road is front of us until we got into France and the weather cleared up at last. We had a comfortable night stop in real beds and managed to get the tent up to dry out. We had arrived just in time for the May Day celebrations and had a great time dancing and drinking in the square on the fringe of the ampthitheatre [sic] . I think somehow that managed to bring us back to some sort of normallity [sic] .
Rested, well fed and with a dry tent packed off we went the following day heading for Spain and for a long time the weather was fine until shortly after we stopped for a break in Perpignan. Then it started to rain again. That was just what I wanted through the Pyrenees! and there was still a long way to go.
By the time we got to the border we were enjoying a full blown thunderstorm with lightning, thunder and lashing rain but the French customs just waived us on and we only made a short stop at the Spanish customs. Just long enough for the customs officer to determine that we were a British family on a camping holiday. That brought forth peals of laughter and he brought all his mates out to join in the fun. What's the Spanish for "blood silly British"??!!!!. We just laughed with them and pressed on but I was getting very very tired by that time and we had another good laugh before we finally stopped for the night.
Some time after we had left the border post we were being........
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followed by a German registered mini-bus and the damn fool driver made several dangerous attempts to overtake. Why he could not have been satisfied in following someone who was doing the 'pathfinding' for him I do not know so when we came to the edge of a town I thought that I would give him the opportunity to pass as I groped my way through a left and a right turn and several inches of water which almost obscured the line of the road. The mini-bus driver thought his chance had come as he surged past on what he thought was the road straight ahead and finished up along a shopping boulevard and came to a grinding halt mixed up with cafe’ tables and chairs!. He certainly paid for his impatience but enough was enough. If we got to Tossa-de-Mar that night we would still have put the tent up so with about 60 mls to go we decided that a comfortable night stop in a Hotel in Gerona would be a good idea. It was!. A meal, a drink and I crashed out.
The weather had cleared up by the morning and it was only about 30 mls to our destination through the winding roads of the area lined with carbuncled cork oaks. We were on site, tent up, and prepared to stay for at least ten days.
I think it was worth the effort. With a family of five I don't think we could have done it any other way even though there had been a few problems on our 1062 mile journey. We were not the only people ever to have had problems. One of our neighbours in the previous year had undertaken a motoring holiday to the North through Hamburg and on to Denmark and Sweden but had lost most of their baggage when their roof rack had seperated [sic] from the car and was very nearly pulped. There is no guarantee that all will go according to plan even with the more modern form of air transport to exciting places; not when several days may be lost sitting around an airport lounge or the hotel has been double booked. We had ten supurb [sic] days bathing, taking in the sights, and cruising around. The strange thing was that the car behaved itself so it didn't seem worth doing anything about. Perhaps one of the most interesting roads that we took was the coastal mountainous route from Tossa de Mar to San Feli'u. Only about twelve miles as the crow fly's but with most spectacular scenery and [underlined] 365 [/underlined] hairpin bends which actually doubled the road miles but it was interesting to say the least. We cruised the
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Costa Brava taking in the sights, eating and relaxing where it took our fancy, had a day in Barcelona and the scenic route through the Sierra de Montseny area to return stopping at numerous unspoiled villages where we were welcomed with open arms. Today there is always the tendency to want to dash from place to place along the new coastal motorway system and miss a great deal of the real Spain but we lapped it up. We even got used to the Spanish style of driving!. especially in the wrigly [sic] mountain areas. The locals had a tendency to maintain the maximum speed come what may, with the result that they approached blind corners at high speed, on the wrong side of the road, blasting away on the horn. The theory was that if there was no answering blast from anyone approaching from the opposite direction then it was safe to continue fast; and on the wrong side!!!. A bit dodgy nevertheless.
We have many recollections of that holiday, like the first time one of the girls took to the water in her new bikini only to find that as soon as it got wet it went transparent. A bit embarrassing for a sixteen year old, and we found that there were quite a few British on holiday there including one RAF couple who actually lived in Gogh. We made the most of it anyway and the day finally came when we had to be homeward bound.
The weather had generally improved and after getting back into France we took a different and very scenic route through the foothills of the Cevennes to Lyon and on to Bescancon and Belfort to finally pick up the motorway system northbound and home only making two stops en route. I was glad to get home. Being the only driver on a journey like that does impose a certain amount of strain but I was soon back to work and an opportunity to find out what had caused the heat and the noise but everything seemed OK until I checked the gear box oil level. Absolutely empty!!. I cross checked the detailed worksheet that the workshop had provided (in German of course) which showed that they had for some reason stripped both the engine and the gearbox and meticulously recorded every nut and bolt removed and/or replaced.....except the replacement of the gearbox oil. I think that possibly the only reason the gear box survived some 6000 miles without lubricant was because I had treated all the original lubricant with a propriety molybdenum after it's running
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in but to say I was annoyed is an understatement. It resulted in an absolutely stinking letter to the insurance company, who typically, would not accept the complaint without comment from the workshop.....and the workshop made every excuse in the book to avoid the issue. I gave it up in the end as I had just been notified of my next posting with nearly six months notice. Unheard of for me. I was going to Valley in North Wales so there was not much more time to finish our touring. We did the area towards Berlin to visit friends at Gutersloh who had visited us previously. That was the chap that had also been a POW with me, and at Wyton, and Marham, who had visited the Reichwald War Cemetery with me and whilst walking around was telling me how he was the only survivor of his crew when they had been shot down a year earlier than myself in a Halifax, near Krefeld. Naturally he wondered where his crew had been buried as we viewed some of the 5000 aircrew graves when he stopped with a gasp. There they were, all six of them in one row!!. Talk about "There but for the Grace of God go I"!. I retired to a respectful distance to allow him to compose himself. Whilst we were that way we visited the Mohne Dam and the Sorp and back at Laarbruch we visited Amsterdam and did the tourist thing by canal bus. We visited the amazing scenic park of De Efteling and another place in Holland which was an inland sort of water park. Probably the for-runner of Centre Parks, Bad Boekelo. Inland but just like the sea-side with fine sand and lots and lots of safe water fun. The first time we had come across the wave making machine but it will always stick in my mind for one incident. Everyone was lolling about and Dorothy was returning with some ice-cream with her sandles [sic] producing spurts of sand as she walked. Just as she approached a young Dutchmen in a reclining position who was inspecting the inside of a sandwitch [sic] , one of the spurts of sand left the toe of her sandles [sic] and joined the mustard, splat!!!. He looked up in amazement and then burst into laughter as we all did. So much the easier way of dealing with it and he shared our sandwiches!. We finally found the area of the windmills. There is only one area where they are plentiful and that is in the canal area east of Rotterdam. Kinderdyke. One of the few areas where national dress is often worn and very photogenic. About the last interesting event that I recall
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in Air Traffic Control matters was at the commencement of a flying excerise [sic] when our Javelins were sitting on the Operational Readiness platforms at the end of the runway hooked up to the Fighter Control network as we were so that we were able to listen out on the net but I was not prepared for what came out of the box…….. “Achtung……. Achtung……. XXXXXX(callsigns) shcramble [sic] ……shcramble [sic] ."…followed by the interception instructions. It was the first time the Luftwaffe controllers had been placed in the 'hot seat' and I must confess that it raised a few eyebrows among among [sic] a few of Bomber Harris's 'old lags" who formed about 50% of our controllers. As ironic as it was we had no option but to move with the times.
We were coming to the end of our visits to our favourite cafe at Nijmegen. A delightful family run establishment where no order was too much trouble for the somewhat rotund proprietor. We invariably topped off our shopping expeditions there and it was one place where I saw muscles [sic] served up as a meal on their own....in a large enamelled washing up bowl!. I like muscles [sic] but enough to fill a kit-bag in one go would be bit too much for me but one of the national dishes I believe. I wouldn't like to cope with that if any of then was a bit 'off'.
With plenty of time to sort things out and having been told that quarters would not be immediately available I managed to arrange a rental at Amlwych [sic] on the North side of Anglesey and our friends who were also posted to Valley more or less at the same tine arranged a rental in Holyhead. Of course there was packing to arrange. Goods in store in St.Ives to be transported to Amlwych [sic] , travel arrangements to be made etc, etc. The process was no longer a daunting prospect, we had done it often enough!, and eventually we cleared the station and we were on our way.
Dorothy and the girls went under service arrangements and flew from Wildenwrath on their way to Worthing and I set off with the car loaded to the hilt via the Hook and Harwich. It was an absolutely dreadful crossing in a Force 9 gale. People were being sick all over the place, and it was virtually impossible to sleep. All the berths had been booked and a good good [sic] many others and myself were making the best of deck chairs lashed to the decks. The usual seats and benches offered very little comfort as people were being thrown off of them all over the
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place and the bar and kitchens shut early as it was so difficult to cope with the pitching and the tossing. There were some very unhappy looking passengers around when we docked in the morning and I must confess that at times during the night it would not have worried me if we had foundered....I think I just wanted to die!. Nevertheless we started to dissembark [sic] and I was not in a hurry but one Army Officer who had obviously been well ahead of me had allowed his discomfort and his haste to get the better of him. It does not pay to get 'stroppy' with Custom Officials!.
He was standing by his car, tearing his hair out as they were removing absolutely everything from it which had been as loaded as mine. And I mean everything!. They had removed the seats, emptied every compartment and opened every package. It was strewn all around the car. I felt bad enough as it was so I declared every cigarette, gram of tobacco, and drop of booze and when they had deducted my allowance only asked for a nominal payment on the excess!: There was a little fuss over the car which I had already re-registered and re-placed the UK plates. They reckoned that I had jumped the gun but the documentation was all in order although there was some other documentation that was not quite right that at least we had a laugh about. I was bringing back our Budgie and [inserted] I [/inserted] had pinned it's import licence to the cage. Trouble was there was only half a licence, the other half was in the Budgie!. There was enough of to get by with and I was off to Worthing.
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Dublin Core
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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
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A T Gamble
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Multipage printed document
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eng
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Text. Memoir
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BGambleATGambleATv1
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Wehrmacht
Wehrmacht. Luftwaffe
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Bedfordshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Skegness
England--Suffolk
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Wiltshire
England--Norfolk
Wales--Gwynedd
Wales--Porthmadog
England--Cumbria
England--Barrow-in-Furness
England--Oxfordshire
Germany
Germany--Krefeld
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Cologne
Germany--North Friesland Region
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Germany--Hamburg
England--Cambridgeshire
Germany--Nuremberg
Italy
Italy--Turin
Germany--Peenemünde
Germany--Berlin
France
France--Modane
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Jordan
Jordan--Amman
Temporal Coverage
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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
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Peter Bradbury
115 Squadron
149 Squadron
15 Squadron
214 Squadron
3 Group
620 Squadron
622 Squadron
9 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
B-17
B-24
bale out
bombing
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
Botha
C-47
coping mechanism
crewing up
debriefing
Defiant
Do 217
Dominie
Dulag Luft
evading
fuelling
Fw 190
Gee
gremlin
ground personnel
Halifax
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Me 109
Me 110
meteorological officer
military discipline
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
P-51
Pathfinders
petrol bowser
prisoner of war
Proctor
promotion
RAF Barrow in Furness
RAF Cardington
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Feltwell
RAF Marham
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Stradishall
RAF Turweston
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Yatesbury
recruitment
Red Cross
searchlight
service vehicle
Stirling
strafing
tractor
training
Wellington
Window
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/730/19589/PBurkittWF17010011.1.jpg
9c4a9ad6b4b2f753f85f54f21632ba99
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Title
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Burkitt, William Frederick
W F Burkitt
John Burkitt
Description
An account of the resource
16 items. A photograph album, photographs and documents concerning Sergeant William Frederick 'John' Burkitt (1922 - 1944, 1320846 Royal Air Force) He flew operations as a flight engineer with 9 Squadron from RAF Bardney. The collection also contains an oral history interview with Hilary Crozier about her uncle. <br /><br />Additional information on William Frederick Burkitt is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/103229/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Hilary Crozier and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-09-26
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Burkitt, WF
Access Rights
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Permission granted for commercial projects
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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WAAFs and barrage balloons
Description
An account of the resource
Album page, seven photographs of groups of WAAFs, two with a barrage balloon in the background.
Format
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Seven b/w photographs on an album page
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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PBurkittWF17010011
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Balloon Command
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.
Conforms To
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Pending review
ground personnel
Halifax
service vehicle
tractor
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
Dublin Core
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Title
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Stephenson, Stuart
Stuart Stephenson MBE
S Stephenson
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Stephenson, S
Description
An account of the resource
20 items. An oral history interview with Stuart Stephenson MBE, Chairman of the Lincs-Lancaster Association, and issues of 5 Group News.
The collection was catalogued by Barry Hunter.
In accordance with the conditions stipulated by the donor, some items are available only at the International Bomber Command Centre / University of Lincoln.
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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Copies sent to:
Stns. 9
S Th 10
B 6.
[Indecipherable] 2
Base 1
[Stamp] Base Copy.
V GROUP NEWS V
JUNE * 1944 * [deleted] SECRET [/deleted] * NO * 23
FOREWORD by A.O.C.
June has proved to be a month of record achievements. For the first time in its history the Group despatched 3,000 sorties of which a very high percentage were successful. Much of this success is due to the flare and marking teams who are now getting into their stride, and there has been a similar improvement in bombing. For the first time the average crew bombing error from 20,000 feet for the whole Group is below 200 yards. If the reduction of 50 yards which was achieved during June can be repeated during July, the number of bombs falling on the average target will be increased by something in the order of 50. This can be seen by looking at any P.R.U. photograph and counting the number of craters which are shown in open fields on either side of the target.
I therefore ask all crews to continue with their efforts to reduce bombing errors in the knowledge that by doing so they will add to the striking power of the Group to an extent which could be achieved by no other means. The new orders for maintenance which have recently been issued should help the Instrument Section, upon whom so much depends, to improve the serviceability of the sight, and eliminate minor inaccuracies.
On two occasions during the month the Group came up against the main strength of the German Night Fighter Defences, and on both occasions suffered serious losses; although over the whole month the missing rate was below the average for previous months. Nevertheless these instances show the vital importance of gunnery and the need for improving results by every means in our power.
There is ample evidence that the combined power of the rear and mid-upper turrets will bring down enemy fighters if the aim is correct. As an example, there is the case of “M” of 207 Squadron whose crew on the night of June 9/8th destroyed two JU. 88 and one ME.110. Although results such as this will always remain exceptional, it should be possible to improve the accuracy of aim over the present general standard. Fighters are now available in 1690 Flight for affiliation exercises and every chance must be taken whenever the weather is suitable especially at night. The bombing team has shown how greatly it can improve its results by methodical training and analysis and I now look to the gunnery team to do likewise. I will do everything in my power to provide them with means and facilities for training, but much is a matter for each gunner. Night vision, methodical search, aircraft recognition, turret manipulation, clearing stoppages, can only be improved by hard individual work.
The effort which the Group has put in during the month had been made possible by the high standards of serviceability which have been achieved, and I congratulate all ranks who have helped to get aircraft and equipment into the air. The Armament sections have loaded a record tonnage of bombs while all other sections on each station have contributed their full share to the success achieved.
Finally, I congratulate No. 51 Base on completing more than 8,000 hours of training and passing out a record number of crews. In particular I would mention No. 5 L.F.S. who completed a month’s flying with no avoidable flying accidents.
[Page break]
GUNNERY
[Underlined] BASE GUNNERY LEADERS [/underlined]
June has seen the establishment of a S/Ldr Air Gunner at each Base, and a list of the officers concerned is appended at the foot of this paragraph. Whilst these officers will be concerned with all Gunnery matters, their main functions is to improve the standard of training throughout the Group, as it has long been realised that with long periods of operations the Squadron Gunnery Leaders are fully occupied and can find little time for all the other aspects of Gunnery. The Base Gunnery Leaders will, therefore, be able to devote their time to improve training facilities and equipment, and to ensure that the equipment is available in sufficient quantity to ensure the maximum benefit being obtained from it. They will also be able to supervise the preparation of Gunners for Gunnery Leader, A.G.I. and Specialist Sighting Courses, to enable the candidates to have the best possible chance of passing these courses, thus avoiding wastage of valuable vacancies. The appointment of these Officers to S/Ldr posts offers more advancement for Gunnery Leaders, and is an indication that the importance of air gunnery is receiving recognition. We wish the officers concerned good luck in their new appointments, and hope that very shortly dividends will be paid by this new establishment.
51 BASE – S/LDR HIPKIN
52 BASE – F/LT McCURDY
53 BASE – F/LT BEALE
54 BASE F/LT HOWARD
55 BASE – F/LT BREAKEY
[Underlined] GUNNERY LEADERS’ MOVEMENTS [/underlined]
An error appeared in the Movement’s column for May, regarding 467 and 44 Squadrons, and is corrected below.
F/Lt Clarke ex 1660 Con. Unit to 44 Sqdn.
F/Lt Cleary ex 27 O.T.U. to 467 Sqdn.
Other movements are:-
S/Ldr Undery ex 1690 B.D.T.F. to H.Q. No. 5 Group.
F/Lt Cass, ex L.F.S. to 630 Sqdn.
[Underlined] COMBAT REPORTS [/underlined]
Considerable time is wasted in returning incorrect combat reports to Squadrons, through claims being made which do not conform to the standards laid down by Bomber Command, as issued to all Units. The Gunnery Leaders must ensure that information entered is correct in every detail and that all claims are submitted under one of the headings, i.e. “Destroyed”, “Probably Destroyed” or “Damaged”. Numerous incidents occur when information regarding Tail Warning Devices is incomplete, and it is emphasised that this is most important and must be included in combat reports. Combat reports could be forwarded to Headquarters 5 Group more quickly than at present; the standard pro-forma is now in general use and should help in the preparation of reports. Units should check that only this amended pro-forma is used for this purpose.
This Month’s Bag
[Cartoon]
[Underlined] DESTROYED [/underlined]
Sqdn. A/C Letter Date Type of E/A
207 “M” 7/8.6.44. JU. 88 (c)
207 “M” 7/8.6.44. JU. 88 (c)
207 “M” 7/8.6.44. ME. 410 (c)
630 “Y” 9/10.6.44. JU. 88 (c)
44 “O” 9/10.6.44. ME. 109 (c)
97 “D” 9/10.6.44. DO. 217 (c)
50 “U” 15/16.6.44. JU. 88 (c)
207 “F 21/22.6.44. ME. 109
57 “G” 24/25.6.44. ME. 109
57 “G” 24/25.6.44. JU. 88
97 “Q” 24/25.6.44. JU. 88 (c)
207 “B” 24/25.6.44. ME 109
[Underlined] PROBABLY DESTROYED [/underlined]
106 “G” 6/7.6.44. ME. 110 (c)
467 “X” 21/22.6.44. T/E.
[Underlined] DAMAGED [/underlined]
207 “J” 1.6.44. T/E (c)
57 “P” 1.6.44. JU. 88
50 “D” 6.6.44. ME. 410
9 “O” 6/7.6.44. JU. 88 (c)
630 “O” 6/7.6.44. JU. 88 (c)
630 “V” 9/10.6.44. JU. 88 (c)
97 “Q” 9/10.6.44. JU. 88 (c)
106 “F” 14/15.6.44. FW. 190 (c)
207 “D” 24/25.6.44. ME. 109
Claims annotated (c) have been confirmed by Headquarters, Bomber Command.
[Underlined] ODD JOTTINGS [/underlined]
A new type of two-piece flying suit is on trial in 53 Base, and the results will, in due course, be made available.
Replies have been received from all Units in the use of the Pilot type parachute for rear gunners and recommendations forwarded to H.Q. Bomber Command. With slight modification to the turret, this idea seems feasible, but may call for a revision in the type of clothing to be worn.
Ampro projectors are appearing in operational units for assessing Cine Gyro films. The establishment is one per station.
Units are again reminded that filters suitable for the Shadowgraph and 16 m.m. projector for use in night vision training are available. When requesting an issue of these filters from H.Q. 5 Group, units are to confirm that they have a [underlined] fully [/underlined] blacked out room for night vision training.
CLAY PIGEON SHOOTING
Instructions have now been issued to all Stations to construct a sandbag traphouse for clay pigeon shooting, and full details given for the layout of the range. Severn P.F.O’s are attending the Instructor’s Course on the 7th July, and the remainder on the 23rd July; these instructors will pass on to Unit Gunnery Leaders instructions for these practices, to ensure that at least two officers are available for conducting the exercises. Gunnery Leaders should press for the construction of the traphouses and ensure that all equipment is overhauled and ready for use.
AIR TRAINING CARRIED OUT IN CONVERSION UNITS AND SQUADRONS DURING JUNE.
[Table of Fighter Affiliation and Air Firing Exercises by Squadron]
Fighter Affiliation Grand Total = 1493
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 2
[Page break]
AIR BOMBING
[Underlined] ATTACKS ON LIMOGES MARSHALLING YARDS [/underlined]
1,424 bombs were dropped. Of this total 844 craters have been counted on the P.R.U. photographs. We can therefore only consider 59% of the total number of bombs dropped.
The M.P.I. of all craters was established and a circle of radius 150 yards was drawn. Inside this circle the number of craters that could be counted totalled 152 and the remaining 692 craters were counted outside the circle. Therefore the Pilot and Air Bomber’s error for 692 bombs was greater than 150 yds.
With our 152 bombs inside the 150 yards circle we achieved 10 hits per acre and if we assume that of the bombs not counted, we obtained the same percentage inside 150 yards our hits per acre would increase to 17.
There were 211 bombs between the 150 yards and 250 yards circles. The maximum errors permissible for these bombs to get them into the 150 yards circle are:-
125 yards – average line error
160 yards – average range error
We all agree that these limits are reasonable and that crews should not have errors in excess.
Now, if the bombs had been contained in the limits of 125 yards line and 160 yds. range, our resultant average radial error about the M.P.I. would be 175 yards. This would mean that instead of sending the 96 aircraft to Limoges that we had to, we need only have sent 59 aircraft to achieve the same number of hits. We would then have had 37 aircraft free to attack the factory at ??? There were, of course, 330 bombs seen outside the 250 yards circle and great effort must be made to eliminate the errors that were responsible.
The Moral! – You must practice, practice and practice until you are a certain “A” category crew.
!!! [Underlined] CREW CATEGORISATION [/underlined] !!!
A+ Crews – 60 yards or less
A Crews – 100 yards or less
B Crews – 100 yds. to 150 yds.
C Crews – 150 yds. to 200 yds.
D Crews – Over 200 yards.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined]
[Table of Crew Categories by Base]
[Underlined] “GEN” FROM THE BOMBING RANGES [/underlined]
[Underlined] EPPERSTONE: [/underlined] Plotted 1597 bombs aimed by 309 aircraft.
[Underlined] OWTHORPE: [/underlined] Plotted 1510 bombs aimed by 319 aircraft.
[Underlined] WAINFLEET: [/underlined] Plotted 2056 bombs aimed by 440 aircraft.
HIGH LEVEL BOMBING TRAINING
[Table of High Level Bombing Training Statistics by Squadron and Conversion Unit]
THE BEST RESULTS FOR JUNE
In the April “News” it was threatened that owing to the improvement in Crew Errors, it may be necessary to lower the qualifying figure for the inclusion of errors in this column. June has produced the largest number of below 100 yards errors yet, and in consequence only those crews who have obtained crew errors of 80 yards or less, converted to 20,000 ft. can receive publicity.
Squadron or Con. Unit. Pilot Air Bomber Navigator Error at 20,000 feet.
9 F/O Blackham F/O Elphick F/O Wenger 72 yards
44 F/L White Sgt Jenkins F/S Jones 66 yards
P/O Baxter W/O Young W/O Rutherford 50 yards
P/O Stewart Sgt Stubbs Sgt Wright 65 yards
49 P/O Appleyard F/S Jameson F/S Blumfield 78 yards
P/O Arnold F/O Dewar W/O Fleming 72 yards
57 F/S Clark Sgt Johnson Sgt Lugg 65 yards
83 P/O Meggeson W/O Franklin F/O Wicker 65 yards
F/O Kelly F/O Irwin Sgt Burleigh 58 & 64 yards
97 F/L Van Raalte F/O Arnold F/S Williams 52, 69 & 78 yards
S/L Ingham F/O Perkins F/L Chatten 69 yards
467 P/O Waugh F/S Southgate F/O Semple 67 yards
F/L Brine F/S Luton F/S Sutton 80 yards
617 P/O Duffy F/O Woods F/O Bell 42 yards
F/O Knights P/O Bell F/O Rhude 48 yards
P/O Jingles F/S Hazell F/O Beal 63 yards
619 P/O Johnson Sgt Vaughton F/S Tranter 79 yards
F/L Howes F/O Baker F/L Harrison 74 yards
1654 C.U. F/S Beharrie Sgt Dean Sgt Brownhall 74 yards
F/S McKechnie F/S Wallace Sgt Little 53 yards
1660 C.U. P/O Dyer F/S Howard F/S Lemaire 74 yards
F/S Millar F/O Banks W/O Wilday 70 yards
1661 C.U. F/O Franks F/O Orry Sgt Roe 78 yards
F/O Furber Sgt Le Marquand F/O Hassel 78 yards
5 L.F.S. S/L Smith Sgt Wallis Sgt Page 49 yards
F/O Edwards F/S Wallace F/O Nunn 54 yards
Congratulations to F/L Van Raalte and crew, 97 Squadron for the outstanding 3 exercises!!!
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 3
[Page break]
AIR BOMBING (CONTD.)
[Underlined] “GEN” FROM THE SQUADRONS [/underlined]
[Underlined] 50 Squadron (F/Lt Hearn, D.F.C) [/underlined] report that to try and reduce bombing errors to a minimum a system of practice bomb plotting on small perspex covered boards is being inaugurated. The errors will be plotted on this board and the reason explained verbally to the Air Bomber, Captain and Navigator. In case of suspected instrument error the Bombing Section will examine the results plotted with the Instrument Section.
[Underlined] 57 Squadron (F/L Keats) [/underlined] report that a modification to permit the emergency jettisoning of smaller H.E. bombs only when a mixed load of 4,000 H.C. and other H.E. bombs is carried has been suggested by an Air Bomber and submitted for approval. An isolation switch would be incorporated in the circuit between the Connell Pre-Selector and No. 13 Station. This switch would be permanently wired down except when the special load of 4,000 H.C. and other H.E. bombs is carried, in which case it would be left up for take-off and put down by the crew when a height of 4,000 feet is reached. In the event of engine failure at take-off, the pilot could jettison the smaller H.E. bombs safe with the jettison toggle instead of the normal jettisoning of containers by Type H Jettison.
[Underlined] 52 Base [/underlined] report that [underlined] 12 [/underlined] aircraft took off between [underlined] 08.30 hours and 09.30 hours [/underlined] on 4th July to carry out High Level Practice Bombing. Early morning details can be sure of the best bombing weather!!
[Underlined] 106 Squadron (F/L Morgan) [/underlined] report the following outstanding exercise:-
Pilot:- F/O Meredith
Air Bomber:- F/O Mitchell.
As the port outer engine had to be feathered before completion of the cross country, bombing was carried out on only three engines. As Gee was thus u/s and as petrol was running short, no wind was found, but the wind velocity found on the last leg of the cross country was used for bombing. This wind velocity was found at 18,000 feet, whereas the bombing was carried out at 14,000 feet owing to having only three engines. Thus a fairly large vector error of 214 yards (Converted to 20,000 feet) resulted, but the bomb aimer’s error was only 16 yards at 14,000 feet, which is an error of 19 yards when converted to 20,000 feet.
[Underlined] BOMBING LEADERS’ CORNER [/underlined]
Bombing Leaders in 54 Base are:-
83 Squadron – F/L Bedell
97 Squadron – F/L Rogers, D.F.C.
627 Squadron – F/L Mitchell
[Underlined] F/L Harris, D.F.C. [/underlined] has arrived from H.Q. 6 Group to take over Bombing Leader duties at No. 5 L.F.S. Syerston.
[Underlined] F/L Honnibal [/underlined] (ex 92 Group) has succeeded F/L Keats as Bombing Leader to 57 Squadron.
[Underlined] F/L Keats [/underlined] (57 Squadron) has moved to H Q 92 Group.
[Underlined] BOMBING LEADERS’ COURSES [/underlined]
F/O Clegg (44 Squadron), F/S. Booth (619 Squadron) and F/O Linnett (207 Squadron) obtained “B” Categories on No. 84 Course and F/O Nugent (61 Squadron) obtained “B” Category on No. 85 Course.
[Underlined] SQUADRON BOMBING COMPETITION [/underlined]
The month of June was notorious for bad weather, numerous operations and stand-by’s. Hence the competition entries were fewer in number than of late. It has been decided to include the Conversion Units in the Competition under the same rules as for the Squadrons. It is realised, however, that they have an advantage over Squadrons in so far as they have considerably more qualifying entries from which to make selection. However it is hoped that squadrons will make determined efforts to beat the Conversion Units in July. Out [sic] congratulations are extended to 51 Base for their high standard, and their commanding positions in this, their first entry!!
PILOT AND AIR BOMBER’S ERROR AT 20,000 FEET
1st 1654 C.U. – 60 yards
2nd 619 Squadron – 62 yards
3rd 1660 C.U. – 68 yards
4th 1661 C.U. – 69 yards
5th 44 Squadron – 70 yards
6th 467 Squadron – 78 yards
7th 5 L.F.S. – 83 yards
8th 49 Squadron – 85 yards
9th 83 Squadron – 90 yards
10th 9 Squadron – 92 yards
11th (630 Squadron- 96 yards
(106 Squadron 96 yards
13th 463 Squadron- 107 yards
14th 97 Squadron – 109 yards
15th 207 Squadron – 116 yards
16th 57 Squadron – 124 yards
Non-qualifying Squadrons:-
17th 50 Squadron (6 exercises)- 106 yards
18th 61 Squadron (3 exercises)- 91 yards
[Underlined] BOMBING LEADER COMPETITION [/underlined]
F/Lt Walmsley, D.F.C. – 52 Base – 76 yards
[Underlined] BIGCHIEF COMPETITION [/underlined]
G/Capt Johnson, D.F.C., A.F.C. – 88 yards
(R.A.F. Station, Syerston)
[Underlined] ? ? AIR BOMBERS’ QUIZ ? ? [/underlined]
1. What can cause an apparent Vector error in practice bombing?
2. List the possible causes of Large Random Errors.
3. What errors in practice bombing will be caused by low suction?
4. If you set the wrong T. V. what kind of error will you get?
[Underlined] MARK XIV BOMBSIGHT – DO’S AND DON’T’S [/underlined]
DO:- (i) set Bomb T.V. (the TV’s of all bombs likely to be dropped should be recorded on the levelling card on the top right-hand corner of the computor).
(ii) Set Target height against Q.F.E. ([underlined] SEA LEVEL PRESSURE [/underlined]).
(iii) Set [underlined] INDICATED [/underlined] Wind Speed because Bombsight Computor works on Indicated Air Speed and indicated height (indicated wind can be found from true wind by SUBTRACTING 1.5% per 1000 ft of height).
(iv) Synchronise bombsight compass with Pilot’s D.R. repeater (by pressing in and turning the synchronising knob on the side of the Computor box.)
(v) Check that sufficient suction is reaching the bombsight gyros.
(vi) Remember to turn on air supply to the bombsight by means of the Bombsight Cock.
(vii) Be sure that the Pilot puts main control cock of “George” to OUT when Bombsight is to be used, or no compressed air will be available.
(viii) Keep the bombsight clean and check all the loads are correctly attached.
(ix) Liaise with the Instrument Section who maintenance [sic] your bombsight.
DON’T (i) Use the Emergency Computor until you have checked the bombsight and tried to correct the fault.
(ii)Touch the reflector glass of the Sighting Head when the gyro is running (the gyro is always running when the engines are running).
(iii) Forget to adjust the levelling scales for the all-up weight. (The Flight Engineer will know the A.U.W.).
(iv) Put any pressure on the reflector glass – even the edge of a map may lead to the toppling of the gyro when the engines are running.
(v) Let anything, not even your oxygen mask, press on the Sighting Head. (The upper part is supported on anti-vibration mountings which prevent the bearings of the gyro being damaged – the least pressure can make the alignment inaccurate).
(vi) Stow parachute, window, etc. near any of the leads to the Computor Box or Sighting Head.
(vii) Forget to liaise with the bombsight maintenance staff.
[Underlined] OPERATIONS (Continued from back page) [/underlined]
were daylight attacks) with varying degrees of success. Notable among these attacks were the operations in daylight against WATTEN and SIRACOURT on the 19th and 25th respectively. In both cases direct hits are claimed on the launching ramps involving damage which, it is hoped, will put them out of -commission at least temporarily.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 4
[Page break]
NAVIGATION
No long range sorties have been carried out during the month; in fact almost all the targets have been in Gee range. No Navigational difficulties therefore have been experienced. Broadcast winds have not been attempted during the month because of shallow penetration.
One major navigational “boob” was, however made during the month by a Navigator of No. 106 Squadron. The aircraft was detailed to attack a Ruhr target, and reached the enemy coast on track and on time. The Navigator then gave the next course to the pilot who in error steered 100° different from that given him. The Navigator was at fault in not checking the course with the pilot. The aircraft continued on the wrong course for six minutes until a Gee fix was obtained. The sortie was eventually abandoned because of the time element. This is another example of what can happen if you do not carry out the correct drills. Immediately the pilot says “on course” make it your first duty to check the true course steered.
[Underlined] ANALYSIS OF WIND FINDING. [/underlined]
During the month an analysis of errors which may arise in windfinding has produced the following probable error:-
Probable Error
(i) Inability to read A.P.I. to nearest half minute of Lat. and Long. 1 mile
(ii) Inability to plot a position in Lat. and Long. accurately (e.g. Air Position and Gee fix) 1/2 mile (at least)
(iii) Inherent error in H2S fixes of at least half a mile. 1/2 mile
(iv) Inability to plot an H2S fix to within 1/2 mile because of mile scale limitations on chart 1/2 mile
(v) Probable error in synchronising of D.R. compass repeaters when airborne. 1 mile
(vi) Error in Compass swing of at least 1°. 1 mile
(vii) Probable error in measuring off length of wind vector, because of mile scale limitations, on chart. 1/2 mile
[Underlined] Total [/underlined] 5
Therefore if a wind was found over a period of 15 minutes it would be possible to obtain an error of 20 m.p.h!! Fortunately, of course, some of the errors will cancel out, but even then there will always be a residue which, multiplied by four, may still give a large error.
It will be noticed that careless errors in taking of Gee and H2S fixes, reading off A.P.I. co-ordinates, incorrect plotting etc. have not been mentioned.
The problem now is, how can we eliminate the above errors. Action has already been taken to eliminate points (iv) and (vii). Station and Squadron Navigation Officers are urged to discuss the above list with all Navigators on the Squadron, and submit any suggestions to Group Headquarters immediately.
Don’t be afraid to give us all your suggestions. Remember, the more accurate w/v’s we obtain, the more accurate the bombing, concentration and timing.
Referring back to careless errors, by far the largest of these are plotting and computing errors. A list of exercises to improve plotting and computation was forwarded to each S.N.O. some weeks ago. It is the responsibility of each S.N.O. to see that these exercises are completed at regular intervals. Short computation tests, lasting 15 – 20 minutes should be completed every morning if this is possible. There is always a spare half hour between assembly at the flights and commencing N.F.T’s. The plotting tests should be carried out at least once every fortnight, particular stress being laid on wind finding. Make it a point always that the tests are analysed immediately after completion, and the results made known as soon as possible.
Many Squadrons have adopted the above procedure, and are being well repaid. There are still one or two Squadron Navigation Officers, however, who say they are too busy to do such things. Don’t let this be your excuse – try it conscientiously and well for the next fortnight, and note the improvement in the work of your Navigator.
[Underlined] AIR POSITION INDICATOR [/underlined]
All Navigators will now be conversant with the resetting modification fitted during the past months. It is hoped that maximum use is being made of this device, which should considerably simplify resetting.
Yet another modification to simplify resetting has been suggested by the Navigation Staff at Syerston. It is the fitting of a “winder handle” to the resetting knob. Only one handle need be used when resetting and, much more important, the time taken to reset will be reduced by at least 2/3rds. The above modification has been submitted to Bomber Command for approval, and as soon as this is obtained, all aircraft will be modified.
Several Squadrons have been persevering with the graphical resetting procedure, but this has not proved very successful. When the modification suggested by Syerston has been fitted to all aircraft, all objections against resetting regularly will have been overcome, and it will be possible to adopt the standard procedure of resetting the A.P.I. regularly.
[Underlined] NAVIGATION TECHNIQUE [/underlined]
During the summer months it is hoped we may further the Navigation technique to such an extent that Navigation will be considerably simplified during the winter period. We must aim for simplification and standardisation in use of A.P.I., H2S and log and chart keeping. This will be of considerable benefit to the Conversion Units. At the present time a Navigator is taught one method at the Conversion Unit and another on the Squadron – consequently he is proficient at neither. Ideas are being collected from Squadrons and it is hoped to present to Squadrons and Conversion Units the ideal Navigation technique. Let us have your suggestions.
[Underlined] PRACTICE BOMBING WINDS [/underlined]
The results of the drive on practice bombing and wind finding have, on the whole, been satisfactory – but in certain cases they have been disappointing. The Conversion Unit Navigators have surpassed many operational Navigators. A vector error of less than 5 m.p.h. should be your aim.
Improvements have been made during the last 7 or 8 weeks, and the average vector error produced this month is 7 3/4 m.p.h. – a commendable effort on the whole but there is still room for improvement.
It was stated in last month’s News that a monthly Bombing Wind Finding Competition would be held. It was the intention to publish the best eight vector errors for the month, but so far there have been 14 instances where NIL vector error was obtained and a further 14 instances of vector errors of 2 m.p.h. and below! It has therefore been decided to issue the AVERAGE vector error obtained by each Squadron and Conversion Unit for the month. The order is as follows:-
[Table of Average Vector Error by Squadron]
[Underlined] Average Error: [/underlined] Squadrons – 7 m.p.h.
Con. Units – 8 m.p.h.
It will be noted that only one Squadron has achieved the ideal, i.e. a mean vector error of 5 m.p.h.
[Underlined] UNION NEWS [/underlined]
S/Ldr Day, D.F.C. Base Nav. Officer, Scampton to Ops.II H.Q. 5 Group.
S/Ldr Mould, D.F.C. S.N.O. Dunholme to Base Nav. Officer, Scampton.
F/Lt. Bray, D.F.C. 207 Sqdn. to S.N.O. Dunholme.
F/Lt. Woodhouse, D.F.M. 44 Squadron Nav. Officer reported missing.
F/Lt. Craven 50 Squadron Nav. Officer reported missing.
F/Lt. R. Adams, D.F.C. 630 Squadron Nav. Officer reported missing.
F/Lt. Lascelles, D.F.C. 1654 C.U. Navigation Leader to be Squadron Nav. Officer No. 50 Squadron.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 5
[Page break]
ARMAMENT
[Underlined] A RECORD MONTH [/underlined]
The month of June produced two new records when a total of 3000 sorties was flown, resulting in 11,708 tons of bombs dropped on enemy territory, an increase of 3,000 tons over our previous record in May. All armament personnel can be justifiably proud of their contribution, particularly as this phenomenal tonnage represents only a fraction of the tonnage actually handled during the month.
[Underlined] ELECTRICAL BOMBING GEAR [/underlined]
One drop of water in the wrong place may result in several thousands of pounds of high explosive failing to reach the target – a startling yet true statement. Bad weather has necessitated leaving aircraft bombed up for several consecutive days, and as no aircraft can be guaranteed waterproof, it is quite possible that some of our recent “summer weather” has seeped into the bombing circuit.
All Armament Officers are reminded if the correct procedure to be carried out when aircraft are left bombed up after the cancellation of operations, and a quick reference to Air Staff Instructions would not be amiss at this stage. Are your electrical circuits tested each day, and do you always remove pyrotechnics from the aircraft immediately after the cancellation? Check up on these and all other relevant points, and ensure that the [underlined] full [/underlined] load reaches its destination, and not just a small fraction of it.
[Underlined] ARMAMENT BULLETIN [/underlined]
The Bomber Command Armament Bulletin for June has now arrived and contains some very interesting and useful information, particularly the suggestions made for improving the condition of bomb dumps in general. Page 9 of the Bulletin refers to the difficulties encountered in the storage of cluster projectiles and introduces a new type of tracking which is intended form a temporary hard standing in bomb dumps which have no suitable storage space for this particular weapon. Supplies of this Summerville tracking have already arrived at some stations in the Group and although it is, as yet, too early to express an opinion as to the efficiency of this equipment, it is considered that it will prove to be a very great asset.
FAILURES TABLE
[Table of Armament Failures by Types and Squadron]
A= MANIPULATION B = MAINTENANCE C = ICING
D = TECHNICAL E = ELECTRICAL F = OBSCURE
[Underlined] GUN FREEZING [/underlined]
Although the immediate danger of gun failures due to freezing has now passed, the problem of preventing such failures is still being very carefully investigated, and to assist in this investigation samples of hydraulic fluids have been taken from gun turret systems of operational aircraft for analysis by the Ministry of Aircraft Production.
A [indecipherable] of water in suspension in hydraulic fluid is sufficient to cause the oil to freeze at a considerably higher temperature, and consequently the importance of ensuring that oil containers used to fill gun turret systems are free from water, cannot be too strongly stressed. Results of this analysis will be forwarded to all Bases and Stations when received. We hope that they will be negative.
[Underlined] AMMUNITION [/underlined]
The repeated changing of ammunition from night to daylight sequence results in all ammunition bolts being handled several times a week. If ammunition is transported in suitable containers and handled carefully when being loaded into the aircraft, no misalignment should occur.
The necessity for ensuring that only correctly aligned ammunition is loaded into gun turrets should be brought to the attention of all armourers and air gunners.
NAVIGATION TRAINING
The emphasis during the past month has been on wind finding for practice bombing, and we are pleased to say that Navigators on the Training Base have risen to the occasion and produced excellent results. The most notable performances have come from Winthorpe, where seven Navigators obtained a Nil vector error. This drive on wind finding has created a desire to find equally correct winds during Navigational exercises. The result has been a big improvement in track keeping and timing.
From time to time improvements on the A.P.I. are suggested. The latest suggestion comes from F/O Richardson of No.5 L.F.S., who has suggested a modification to facilitate re-setting. This modification, if adopted, will reduce the time taken to reset the A.P.I. by at least 2/3rds. Good work Syerston!
H2S training is getting into its stride at Wigsley, and 1/3rd of each course is now being trained. Only one trainer is available at Wigsley at the moment, but as soon as the second trainer arrives it is the intention to train 50% of all crews. Winthorpe and Swinderby Conversion Units are already training half their inputs. Pupils are receiving approximately 14 hours air training, and at least 20 hours ground training. When more aircraft are available it will be the policy to train more crews rather than increase the number of flying hours per pupil.
Bullseye exercises have been seriously interrupted by bad weather, but 10 and 12 Groups have co-operated to the maximum extent on every possible occasion, and several good exercises have been completed.
[Underlined] THIS MONTH’S “OVER KEENNESS” [/underlined]
A Navigator on a cross country flight who was endeavouring to work the Swinderby system of obtaining six minute fixes and winds, experienced Gee failure. He immediately instructed his W/Operator to obtain a M/F fix every six minutes. The W/Op. found the ether rather congested, so he attempted priority fixes – much to the concern of the M/F Section, R.O.C, 5 Group and No. 51 Base!
Public Relations
Public Relations work during June has been rather confused owing to the altered nature of the Command’s operations, and the uncertainty of many circumstances. Only a few reports were issued to the press at any length by the Air Ministry News Service.
Three war correspondents have flown in Group aircraft on operations: Mr. Ronald Walker, of the “News Chronicle” who went over Caen with S/Ldr. Fairburn of 57 Squadron on June 12/13; Mr. R.J. Kiek, of the Netherlands Press Agency, who flew over a French target with his countryman, F/O Overgaadu of No. 207 Squadron, on June 16/17; and Mr. Kent Stephenson, B.B.C. War Reporter, who unfortunately failed to return with W/Cdr. Crocker of No. 49 Squadron on June 21/22.
(Continued in Column 2)
(Continued from Column 3)
Three parties came to our stations: June 1st, Dunholme, Mrs. Billingham (Reuters), Miss Tredgold (South African Argus) and Mr. Fletcher (Sport and General Press Agency Photographer) for the visit of the Prime Minister of Southern Rhodesia: June 17th, Waddington, Mr. W. Farmer, of the “Melbourne Herald”; and June 22nd, Waddington, Mr. Wilkins and Miss Elizabeth Riddell (journalists) and Mr. J. Warburton (Sport and General photographer), for the visit of the Duke of Gloucester.
A party of employees of the Firma Chrome Plating Co., of Sheffield, visited the Sheffield Squadron (No.49) on June 3rd.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944.
[Page break]
SIGNALS
[Underlined] WIRELESS OPERATORS (AIR) [/underlined]
June was quite a fair month from the aircraft signals point of view, but improvement can and must be made. It is hoped every endeavour will be made by Signals Leaders to raise the standard of Aircrew Signals operating to a high state of efficiency.
Have all Signals Leaders read and digested 5 Group Signals Instruction No. 13, and acquainted all their operators with its contents?
This instruction lays down the requirements for W/T Control Operators. Endeavour should be made to bring every Operator up to the standard required. Two Squadrons have already carried out air tests with quite satisfactory results. One important point – once an operator reaches the standard required, he must, by constant practice maintain that standard, and to ensure that he does, he may be required to do an air test with Group at any time, without previous warning.
[Underlined] DAILY INSPECTIONS. [/underlined]
Signals Leaders, do you ever take a quick run out to your aircraft and check over the “Daily” done by your W/Ops?
An aircraft of this Group took off on Ops one night, was only airborne a short time when the intercom. failed. Cause – faulty 2v 20 Acc! The W/Op did not carry out the correct drill for the use of emergency intercom. as laid down in 5 Group Aircraft Drill No.11, Appendix “A”. Result – one early return and one load of bombs the Hun did not receive. Was this the only dud 2v 20 Acc. airborne that night? Or was he the unfortunate W/Op. who, through his lack of knowledge or carelessness in carrying out his emergency drill, was found out? We wonder!! It would be worthwhile checking up on these accs. in the aircraft. Yes, there was a lot of truth in the film “BOOMERANG” !
The new Wireless Operators (Air) log has now gone to the printing press and should be available for issue very soon. We hope to see some very neat and fully detailed logs returned, just to show your appreciation.
[Underlined] GOOD SHOWS [/underlined]
This month’s Good Show comes from 57 Squadron, by an operator who showed coolness and initiative in fixing up his broken dinghy aerial (fixed) and operating his dinghy radio, thus enabling the rescue aircraft to “home” on his signal.
The aerial mast was broken while erecting, and the operator fixed his aerial lead into the aerial part while other members of the crew took turns at holding the aerial aloft, by the insulated part which separates the aerial from mast.
This is an excellent example of cool and intelligent thinking under very difficult circumstances.
[Underlined] EARLY WARNING DEVICES [/underlined]
The co-operation of W/Op. and Gunner reporting on unserviceability of Early Warning Devices is improving, but there are still the few cases of discrepancy appearing in these E.W.D. reports and Combat reports. Just a little more drive in this direction will eradicate this, so Signals Leaders and Radar Interrogators, do your stuff.
Manipulation failures are still occurring, mostly due to lack of experience, and every effort must be made to eliminate them. Efforts are being made for every Squadron to have one Early Warning Device Instructor, and quite a few Squadrons have them already. Signals Leaders, get your W/Ops over to them for that little extra instruction which means all the difference between failure and serviceability of your E.W.D. and sends your Squadron percentage of serviceability soaring.
The cards, depicting combats on Monica, sent from this Group to Headquarters Bomber Command, are now in the process of being reproduced and will soon be available for issue to Squadrons and Conversion Units.
[Underlined] GROUP W/T EXERCISE [/underlined]
The alteration to the time of the Group W/T exercise has met with universal approval from all Squadrons, and there has been some good operating. The reallocation of Squadrons to Sections 1 and 2 should also help to make the exercise more interesting by eliminating the possibility of any two transmitters “blotting out” each other due to their close proximity.
[Underlined] VALETE ET SALVETE [/underlined]
Our heartiest congratulations to W/Cdr. Skinner on his promotion and his appointment as Officer Commanding No. 14 Radio School. We wish him every success in his new sphere.
Our congratulations also go to S/Ldr. Andrews on his appointment as Signals Leader, 92 Group.
Five Group are poorer by two very popular officers.
44 Squadron will welcome F/O Hughes (a former 44 Sqdn. W/Op) as Signals Leader.
[Underlined] W/T FAILURES [/underlined]
The W/T failures percentage against total operational sorties has shown a great decrease during the month. There were 27 failures reported out of 3,000 sorties – the percentage being 0.9, the lowest figure for many months. The maintenance personnel are to be commended for repeating last month’s record of zero maintenance failures. Out of this enormous number of sorties, only two aircraft returned early as a result of signals defects. The number of component failures (equipment) was 14. Surprisingly enough, not one condenser or resistor defect was reported; R. 1155 output valves again proved troublesome.
[Underlined] V.H.F. FITTING [/underlined]
At the time of going to press, 200 aircraft are fitted with V.H.F. equipment. The speed of fitting has placed us well ahead of schedule. Units are reporting that they are receiving a considerable number of crystals which on test have been found inactive. R.A.E., Farnborough, have evolved a modification (R.T.I.M. No.629) employing a choke unit type 45, which, in A. D. G. B. aircraft has proved quite successful. When the choke units become available, units will be notified.
[Underlined] MANDREL [/underlined]
There are two main reasons why the total number of Mandrel fitted aircraft in this Group has fallen. They are (a) supplies of Col.9 not forthcoming, and (b) large scale V.H.F. fitting drive, which has absorbed all available Signals manpower in the squadrons. It is emphasised, however, that squadrons must ensure that all their complete Mandrels are fitted as soon as possible. The Countermeasure Party is still available at Group Headquarters in readiness to offer assistance.
[Underlined] CARPET II [/underlined]
Contrary to many beliefs, Carpet II is in no way connected with Persian Markets. It is, however, a new radio countermeasure device fitted to the Illuminating Force aircraft of this Group. It is quite popular with the C.S.O!
[Underlined] RADAR [/underlined]
Base Signals and Radar Officers attended a conference at Group Headquarters on 16th June, to discuss the Bomber Command proposed establishment of Radar personnel. After considerable discussion and divergence of opinion the proposals were accepted. Some alterations were suggested in connection with accommodation and holdings of spare equipment, and these were forwarded to Bomber Command. It is understood that the proposals are now being considered by the Establishment Branch at Bomber Command.
[Underlined] BOOZER [/underlined]
Sufficient Boozer equipment became available during the month to enable fitting to proceed in our two Boozer squadrons. As this equipment is in very short supply, every effort must be made to make immediate use of all that is available. Test equipment is at the moment, difficult to obtain, but a proposed re-distribution of the total Command holdings should ease this situation.
[Underlined] REPEATER INDICATORS [/underlined]
It has become increasingly obvious from scrutiny of combat reports that Tail Warning Devices are not being watched continuously by the Wireless Operator. Originally it had been hoped that with training and experience a W/Op would be able to carry out his W/T work whilst, at the same time keeping one eye on the Tail Warning Device, but this has been found to be very difficult. The possibility of repositioning the Tail Warning Indicator so that two of the crew can watch it, has been thoroughly investigated, and found impracticable. Experiments have been made to ascertain the possibility of using a second indicator. This repeater indicator is located adjacent to the Gee indicator. An indicator standard for both Monica IIIA and V, has been designed and tested by the Group Trouble Shooting Party. It has proved quite satisfactory and Bomber Command have been asked to arrange for its early introduction. The design of a simple Fishpond repeater indicator proved too great a problem, and it is now expected that a second standard Fishpond indicator will be the only answer.
[Underlined] GEE [/underlined]
Gee was once again the leader in serviceability, showing a new high percentage of 97.77 out of 2,639 sorties. This was obtained in spite of the decrease in new equipment available, and a consequent reduction in the spare sets which squadrons were able to hold.
(Continued on Page 8 Column 1)
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 7
[Page break]
SIGNALS (CONT.)
[Underlined] H 2 S [/underlined]
A total of 1249 sorties was completed by aircraft equipped with H 2 S Mark II, and of these 103 experienced difficulty; the remaining 91.76% were serviceable throughout the sorties. The fitting of this equipment to 619 Squadron has not yet been completed, but it is proceeding as fast as circumstances will allow. The movement of the Bomber Command Fitting Party to Dunholme will ease considerably the strain of fitting now being carried out by squadron personnel. The supply of fitted aircraft is keeping pace with the number of trained crews.
Mark III H 2 S has shown a decided improvement and the 76 sorties completed resulted in a serviceability of 92.11%. Supply of this equipment is still very grim, but does show signs of improving.
[Underlined] FISHPOND [/underlined]
As is to be expected, this equipment followed in step with H2 S, 92.72% of the 1236 sorties being free of difficulty. Training has shown very decided improvement and the operational reports indicate that W/Ops. are having increased success with this equipment.
[Underlined] MONICA [/underlined]
Monica IIIA remained at almost the same level as May. 830 sorties were completed, and there were 39 difficulties reported. The remaining 95.31% gave completely satisfactory results. Monica V came closer than ever to overtaking its predecessor with a percentage serviceability of 93.91. The more prevalent causes of unserviceability have been almost eliminated, and the lesser difficulties will no doubt diminish as further experience is gained by Radar personnel. The supply position of both types of Monica becomes increasingly difficult, so squadrons must do their utmost to conserve their existing equipment, and to keep all sets serviceable. The delivery of a Monica Trainer to the Aircrew School at Scampton should help squadrons considerably in their training programme.
The serviceability figures for the month are very gratifying. They indicate a decided increase in the standard of training and workmanship of Radar personnel. In these days of intensive operations, it requires hard work to keep all our equipment serviceable, but the bombing results are more than worth the effort. With the introduction of the proposed establishment, and an adequate number of Radar vans, we should be able to meet the rain and altitude trials of winter on better than equal terms.
[Underlined] TELEPHONE EXCHANGES [/underlined]
Last month’s issue of the News contained a cartoon for which we, in Signals, accept no responsibility. We are delighted, however, to be given the opportunity to refute the allegation of inefficiency which was inferred by publishing the following bouquet.
Skellingthorpe has produced some surprising figures showing the number of calls handled by the Admin PBK during a 24-hour non-operational period. A total of 3,725 calls was handled during this period, and of these 3,143 were extensions – to – extension calls. The Station Commander comments – “My opinion of our operators, always high, has gone up still further”, and – “at Skellingthorpe we have an exchange staff second to none”. We hope that this latter remark will be accepted as a challenge by other exchanges within the Group.
[Underlined] TELEPRINTER TRAFFIC [/underlined]
In April of this year, this Headquarters Signals Office was handling about 9,000 teleprinter messages per week. A drive was then inaugurated to divert traffic to less congested channels, such as D.R.L.S., and our weekly total fell in five weeks by 4,000 messages!
Now that “D” Day has passed, however, the total is commencing to rise. This must be checked, since as the Western Front develops, our commitments increase – It’s often quicker by postagram – at any rate for Admin messages.
EQUIPMENT
[Underlined] LANCASTER SPARES [/underlined]
This month sees a changeover in our method of demanding spares for Lancasters. Instead of demanding straight on to the M.P.O. demands are now placed on No.207 M.U. who are in a position to supply.
Equipment Officers will help No. 207 M.U. provisioning to a great extent by keeping a close watch upon demands for Lancaster spares, and ensuring that demands are going to No.207 M.U. and not to the M.F.O.
[Underlined] MECHANICAL SWEEPERS [/underlined]
A point to watch is the serviceability of mechanical sweepers. If these machines go u/s it means that runways cannot be kept clear of flints and stones, which means a rise in consumption of tyres. The aircraft tyre situation is still acute, and every care must be taken to get the maximum amount of life out of every tyre.
Equipment officers should therefore look into the holdings of spares for mechanical sweepers, and in conjunction with the M.T. Officers provision wisely on those parts which have a habit of going u/s. This will keep the sweepers serviceable and the consumption of tyres down.
[Underlined] WINTER CLOTHING [/underlined]
Now the English summer is upon us it would be wise to overhaul items of winter clothing such as overcoats, waterproof overalls, leather jerkins etc., and get them into good trim for the forthcoming winter.
It would be better to do it now instead of waiting for the winter when these items will be in great demand.
[Underlined] BLANKETS [/underlined]
Instances have occurred where it has been found that Stations have been holding blankets far in excess of their entitlement as laid down in A.M.O. A. 700/43. A quick check of stocks may mean the release of many blankets with a subsequent saving of man-hours at the factory which manufactures them.
[Underlined] EQUIPMENT (Continued from column 2) [/underlined]
[Underlined] OXYGEN TRANSPORT CYLINDERS [/underlined]
Attention is drawn to Headquarters Bomber Command letter BC/S.21459/E.6, dated 30th June, 1944.
The scale of issue of these items is 32 per squadron. Equipment Officers should make every effort to reduce any surplus holdings and return these cylinders to the M.U.
GARDENING
5 Group’s gardening this month amounted to two small but useful operations by No.44 Squadron against two of the Biscay U-Boat lairs, on the nights of 6/7th and 8/9th. Planting was done in H 2 S from high altitude and some excellent P. P. I. photographs were obtained. A total of 30 vegetables was planted.
Although the record breaking figures of April and May were not reached, the Command planted the considerable total of 1772 vegetables, in some 20 gardens. Over 1,000 were directed against the U-Boats – off their bases and in their approach routes to the Western end of the English Channel. This, combined with vigorous and successful action by air and surface striking forces has brought almost to nothing the threat to our Invasion supply lines, in spite of the massing of the U-Boats to the West of the Channel in the first few days. Nearly 600 vegetables were laid in the Channel itself, to impede enemy surface craft – principally E-Boats – in their anti-invasion operations. (Here, we gratefully admit, we were helped more than a little by the wholesale slaughter of these vermin in their harbours by the bombers). Certain North Sea gardens received some 150 vegetables, and Mosquitos of 8 Group planted a small number in the Kettegat.
During the three months preceding “D” Day well over 7,000 vegetables were planted by the Command, 5 Group being responsible for 908. These figures show that in actual quantity we distributed about one eighth of the Command total. What they do not show is that nearly all our operations were special ones, involving either exceptionally long distances (DANZIG); exceptional accuracy from very low level (KONIGSBURG CANAL); exceptional weight of attack in one night (KEIL BAY) or gardening in daylight (KATTEGAT). We do little routine gardening, and so do not get regular practice, but our recent successes show the value of keeping up to date in slack periods.
Results are beginning to come through, but details of casualties still refer to at latest three months ago; in fact, in the latest list we discover that 5 Group sank a U-Boat in April [underlined] 1943! [/underlined] Fortunately some reports get through more quickly than that, and news of the tremendous indirect effects of the pre-invasion gardening is plentiful. We hear of the route from TRELLEBORG to KIEL (150 miles) being marked with a [underlined] WRECK [/underlined] buoy every 1 – 2 miles; of Swedes and Finns laying up their ships rather than risk out mines, and the Ministry of Economic Warfare states that the mining of the Kiel Canal, backed up by the mining which preceded and followed it in the Baltic and North Sea approaches to the Canal, caused an [underlined] IRRECOVERABLE [/underlined] loss of 3 million tons of overall imports/exports to the German War Machine.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 8
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AIR SEA RESCUE
June brought a record number of operational sorties and, at the same time, an increase in the known number of incidents involving Safety Drills.
A squadron aircraft disappeared over the Irish Sea on a navigational exercise with the loss of the entire crew. Four crews had occasion to use the Parachute Drill, two were successful; in the third, four members who baled out were lost in the sea; in the fourth the rear gunner had a cannon shell through his parachute, and a gallant attempt by the Air Bomber to share his own parachute was un successful.
[Underlined] 9/10th June. [/underlined] S/44 Squadron returning from operations, got out of control in bad weather. Its position was uncertain, and the captain ordered the crew to abandon the aircraft. Four members had jumped when the pilot regained control. They fell into the Thames Estuary and were drowned. The aircraft landed at base. None of those lost attached their K-type dinghies before jumping. [Underlined] MORAL [/underlined] – If in doubt about your position always take your dinghy with you.
[Underlined] 21/22nd June. [/underlined] Z/44 Squadron was hit in the starboard elevator from extreme range by a night fighter over enemy territory. The aircraft dived sharply with the elevators jammed, and when over the vertical the pilot considered he had no hope of recovery and ordered the crew to abandon. The Air Bomber was jammed against the rear of his compartment. The Rear Gunner was caught in his turret and trapped by piles of ammunition on his lap, caused by a runaway servo feed. Four members baled out and their parachutes were seen to open. The captain eventually regained control and flew the aircraft back to base, navigated by the Air Bomber.
S/630 Squadron was badly shot up by a fighter. Wings and fuselage were riddled, and the rear turret so badly damaged it was a wonder the gunner escaped injury. The rear gunner had a cannon shell through his parachute.
With the assistance of two crew members, the pilot flew the aircraft back to this country where, due to damage, he found he could not turn and so was forced to bale out his crew.
At the risk of grave personal injury, the Air Bomber allowed the Rear Gunner to attach his parachute clips to the “K” Dinghy ”D” rings of his (the Air Bomber’s) harness, and the two went out together. Unfortunately, his “D” rings tore through the webbing when the parachute opened and the Gunner was lost.
[Underlined] SUCCESSFUL DITCHING [/underlined]
A/57 Squadron on the same night was returning across the North Sea at 7000 feet when all engines failed, apparently through shortage of fuel. The Captain immediately warned his crew, and ordered the Wireless Operator to transmit S.O.S. The Wireless Operator switched I.F.F. to “Distress” and transmitted “S.O.S.” and the aircraft callsign about ten times before being ordered to his ditching station.
The aircraft ditched ten minutes later. The pilot made use of his landing light which helped him to judge his height, but having no power the aircraft struck the water very severely breaking off the tail. The Captain’s harness had not been tightened sufficiently and he was flung upwards, making a large hole in the perspex and cutting his face deeply. The pilot left the aircraft by means of this self-made hole. The Flight Engineer was also flung upwards and cut his nose on the fuselage roof. The gunners were flung over the flapjack but were uninjured, falling on top of the Air Bomber who was also unhurt, and the Navigator cut the back of his head.
Exit was made from the aircraft “except-
(continued on page10, col.3)
[Underlined] SAFETY DRILL COMPETITION RESULTS [/underlined]
[Underlined] Place Dinghy Drill Parachute Drill [/underlined]
1 52 Base 52 Base
2 53 Base 55 Base
3 55 Base 53 Base
[Table of Drill Results by Squadron]
No crews in No. 54 Base were tested during the month.
[Underlined] Points arising from Safety Drill Tests. [/underlined]
(a) A number of crews have not thoroughly read “5 Group Aircraft Drills”.
(b) Insufficient use of made of the intercom in practicing “Safety Drills” – the more use that is made of the intercom the more informed and less worried the crew will be.
[Underlined] FOOTNOTE. [/underlined]
The monthly summary of Ditchings in Home Waters for May, 1944, shows that 508 airmen were concerned, of whom 242 (47.2%) were saved – a marked percentage increase in lives saved.
RECENT GOOD SHOWS
An aircraft of No. 207 Squadron, flown by F/O Smart, collided over the target with another Lancaster which broke cloud above on the port quarter. In spite of the fact that the entire port fin and rudder were torn away and the port tail plane, elevator and aileron badly damaged, F/O Smart completed the bombing run and showing great skill, flew the aircraft back to this country where he made a successful landing.
By his prompt action, F/O Sanders of No. 463 Squadron averted what could have been a serious accident. He was taking off with full bomb load when the starboard tyre burst at a speed of approximately 90 m.p.h. Displaying great skill, he controlled the swing and made a successful take off, and after completing the sortie landed his aircraft in such a way that only minor damage was sustained.
P/O. Meggeson of No. 83 Squadron showed a fine example of airmanship. The port inner of his aircraft caught fire. Though he was unable to operate the fire extinguisher or feather the propeller, by maintaining a very low airspeed, he succeeded in controlling the fire and few his aircraft back to base, where he made a successful landing.
As a result of combat with an enemy fighter, and aircraft of No. 61 Squadron, piloted by P/O Passant, was severely damaged. The starboard fin and rudder were shot away, the fuselage and starboard main plane badly damaged, and the starboard tyre burst. P/O Passant displayed great skill and determination in flying the aircraft back to this country where he made a successful landing.
- AND SHOWS NOT SO GOOD
Whilst making a night approach in 7 miles visibility, and aircraft struck a tree 1000 yards from the end of the runway. When the aircraft eventually landed the Pilot stated he had had a successful trip but that the aircraft felt very heavy to handle. This was not surprising as he was still carrying full bomb load when he landed.
Whilst flying at 8000 feet, all four engines of a Stirling cut. The aircraft lost height to 600 feet before the engines were re-started. The First Engineer was changing tanks when the engines cut. They started again when the Second Engineer turned the petrol on!
In broad daylight, after a clear straight run of 200 yards, a pilot taxied his aircraft into an M.T. vehicle standing on the perimeter track.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 9
[Page break]
ENGINEERING
The number of sorties carried out totalled exactly 3,000; this constitutes an excellent effort when it is considered that this number of sorties affected serviceability very little and a much larger number could have been laid on had the weather permitted and circumstances required them.
A large number of acceptance checks had to be carried out during the month and some excellent work was carried out by the Group Servicing Section, and the very fine spirit which exists within the Group was made evident by bases which had few acceptance checks to carry out volunteering to accept aircraft for check from other bases. This greatly decreased the period which would normally have elapsed to bring this large number of Lancasters to operational standard.
1.003% of aircraft which either failed to take off or returned early were due to technical faults for which the Engineering Branch is responsible. This 1.003% includes defects beyond our immediate control and remedial modification action is being taken in respect of many of the defects. It is good to know that not one of these aircraft failed due to a maintenance defect, and squadrons are to be congratulated on this aspect. The following squadrons had no early returns or cancellations due to Engineering defects during June, and are awarded a “big hand”:-
44, 83, 97, 467 and 619 Squadrons.
Failures are still occurring of the now famous oil pipe from relief valve to dual drive, and it is hoped that all promises made during June will reach fruition during July.
[Underlined] GROUND EQUIPMENT [/underlined]
The effort which is put in by maintenance personnel to maintain this high standard of aircraft serviceability has been increased on many stations to maintain a similar high standard of serviceability of ground equipment. It is pleasing to see the drive which is progressing to maintain these essential aids to serviceability. When a “set-up” looks efficient, it invariably is efficient. Nothing looks so inefficient as a dirty hangar with trestles, wheels, cowlings and any odd items lying around the floor in pools of oil, whilst engine platforms are oil saturated and the equipment generally filthy. This state of affairs does not exist at any station in this Group, but there is considerable room for improvement on certain stations. Once a high standard of efficiency has been achieved it can easily be maintained, but don’t sit back and maintain your present standard unless it is highly efficient.
Many grand jobs have been carried out during June to keep the serviceability high and it is very difficult to pick out any single base in this News.
[Underlined] ELECTRICAL AND INSTRUMENTS [/underlined]
During the past month a drive was made to improve the maintenance of the Mark XIV Bombsight. Results have shown a marked improvement, but we will not be satisfied until every sight in the Group can be guaranteed accurate. Much more care must be taken in the levelling and lining up, as it is in these operations that most of the errors occur. The Mark XIV Bombsight is one of those instruments which requires plenty of liaison between Electrical officers and the Air Bombers’ Union, and it has been noted that this is now very effective.
Electrical sections deserve a pat on the back for the very intensive efforts they have put in during the latter half of the month. The list of modifications does not get any shorter, yet initial checks are still being completed in 24 hours.
[Underlined] TRAINING UNIT SERVICEABILITY [/underlined]
[Table of Aircraft Serviceability for Stirlings and Lancasters]
Flight Engineers
[Underlined] ADMINISTRATIVE ADJUTANTS [/underlined]
Many more administrative adjutants to the Chief Technical Officer are required; these adjutants will be volunteers from tour expired commissioned Flight Engineers. They will be responsible to the C.T.O. for the efficient administration of the Servicing Wing, and for the discipline and welfare of all the technical personnel on its strength.
Apart from this new post for Flight Engineers, there are also vacancies for administrative duties in the M.T. Section on Base Stations, and the duties will generally be the same as Adjutant to the C.T.O.
It will be seen that these posts have created quite a new avenue for Flight Engineers, but every facility will be given them to improve their engineering knowledge while undertaking administrative duties as their primary roles.
Flight Engineer Leaders must bring those vacancies to the notice of the commissioned Flight Engineers who are about to finish their tour of operations.
[Underlined] NON-COMMISSIONED FLIGHT ENGINEERS [/underlined]
A course of instruction for newly screened N. C. O. ‘s commenced at St. Athan on 7th June 1944. The object of this course is to train screened Flight Engineers to take up their new duties as Instructors in Heavy Conversion Units and Lancaster Finishing Schools.
Revision and technical subjects are included in the syllabus, but the course is designed mainly to teach the technique of lecturing.
As this course is most important to new instructors, it is hoped that all Flight Engineers will be enthusiastic, for much will depend on their results if the standard of lecturing is to improve in our Conversion Units and Schools.
TRAINING
Despite the bad weather towards the end of the month, 51 Base flew a total of over 8,000 hours and produced 130 crews for Squadrons.
Twice during the month, 1654 Conversion Unit, taking a leaf from the book of 1661 for May, laid on “operational” take offs for aircraft on night exercises. They got 17 and 22 off on these occasions in almost as many minutes.
Re-organisation of the Heavy Conversion Units commenced in the last week of the month to ensure that training of crews under the summer output can be increased to the highest level. Under this new system intakes of 11 every six days will go into the Heavy Conversion Units and the Group target figure for the month is 160 crews.
Each Conversion Unit now consists of 3 large flights, each of which is sub-divided into two. The Stirling Academy has also been split up into three parts, each one becoming the nucleus of a small flight at each Conversion Unit.
The Base had a very much better month from the accident point of view, and tyre bursts are now the only chronic complaint left. Undercarriage pylon failures have been reduced and coring has slipped rapidly out of the Base vocabulary.
New appointments within Base include Wing Commander Derbyshire, D.F.C., as Chief Instructor, 1660 Conversion Unit, and Wing Commander Kingsford Smith as Chief Instructor 1654 Conversion Unit.
[Underlined] AIR SEA RESCUE (Continued from page 9) [/underlined]
ionally quickly” and all the crew members were in the dinghy almost before they knew it. The kite container was lost in transit, but all other equipment was transferred to the dinghy – a parachute found its way in, but was afterwards lost in the excitement of getting clear of the aircraft which was keeling over and threatening to come down on top of the dinghy.
This crew merely got their feet wet in boarding the dinghy but later got the seats of their pants wet because of a small hole in the dinghy which was subsequently plugged.
The pilot was weak from loss of blood, and shock, so the Air Bomber took charge and bullied the rest of the crew into activity. They say this did the world of good. The aircraft floated for about 10 minutes.
The dinghy mast was broken when being stepped, but the Wireless Operator managed to connect the aerial to the dinghy radio and almost continuous transmissions were made with other crew members holding the mast erect. Some hours later they were spotted by 91 Group Wellingtons which brought in an A.S.R. Hudson. A Lindholme dinghy was dropped, but failed to inflate though the crew managed to collect three of the ration containers. About 14 1/2 hours later a Naval Launch picked up the crew and took them into Yarmouth.
This crew had done a practice dinghy drill on the day before the incident, and attribute much of the success of this ditching to that fact.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 10
[Page break]
ENEMY AGENTS – CARELESS TALKERS
On the 30th January, 1942, there was published a document of some importance – to wit A.M.C.O. A.9 of that year.
It was important because it cleared the air of a good deal of confusion on the subject of security, and it achieved this by defining the functions of Security Organisation – thereby defining what is meant by the term ‘Security’ – and it laid down the organisation by which these functions were to be performed.
Security was by no means a new subject. Prior to the appearance of A.M.C.O. A.9/42, a vast number of thoughts on the subject had already made themselves felt, chiefly in the form of posters. They bore a slogan – “CARELESS TALK COSTS LIVES” – they sought to impress the truth of this slogan by representing pictorially such distressing events as ships being blown up, aircraft being shot down, and so on, all, by implication, the result of the wrong word being spoken at the wrong time in the wrong place. These were reinforced, in lighter vein, by coloured drawings, more or less amusing, of Hitler listening beneath a table at which, presumably, two people were discussing the future plans of the Allies; of Hitler repeated ad infinitum in the pattern of the wall paper; of Hitler looking out of the frames of otherwise harmless pictures: all of them indicative of the ubiquity of Hitler, and of the truth of that apalling [sic] statement “Walls have ears”.
And since the appearance of A.M.C.O. A.9/42, these pictorial exhortations to verbal discretion have been emphasised to us, in the R.A.F., by a quantity of printed matter in the form of lectures, bulletins, reports, instructions which, if expressed in terms of tonnage of paper they consumed, or if placed end to end, or on top of each other in one column, would, one feels sure, provide much indigestible food for thought in the shape of one of those totals which impress more by number of their digits than by any meaning they are able to convey to the ordinary mind. Add to this the number of words which must have been spoken in lectures on this subject since the 30th January, 1942, the countless man-hours devoted to the study and promulgation of this gospel of silence, and our total will become more astronomical and, therefore, more meaningless than ever.
Staggering as this total would be, however, it would never reach the dimensions of those our enemies could provide in the same field of endeavour, for the very good reason that they had been at it long before we commenced piling ours up. Japan, for instance, had been preaching the gospel of silence to her people for something like twenty years before Pearl Harbour. She taught it not only to her soldiers, sailors and airmen, but to the man in the factory, the woman in her home, the pedestrian on the street; with the result, as the writings of any of the foreign newspaper correspondents, some of whom had been in the country for years, will tell you, it was next to impossible to find out anything worth knowing about the country’s strength, or her intentions.
And what of Germany? Those Germans who were not born silent, or had not achieved silence by the time Hitler took them over, had silence so thoroughly thrust upon them that they really came to understand how and to know that even the walls of their own homes could grow ears. They were left in no doubt whatever upon the value of silence when it came to discussing either the affairs of the Party or of the Fatherland.
All of which surely points to the conclusion that silence in war-time, or, in other words, Security of Information, must be a matter of very great importance. Of course it is. You know that already. The meanest intelligence, you will point out, can grasp quite easily the simple truth that, if you prevent the enemy from knowing what you are up to, you place him at a serious disadvantage; you render him, so to speak, both deaf and blind, and, therefore, easier to deal with. Any fool knows that.
They [sic] why do people talk? Why do they write home letters full of chatty information about their stations? Why does one feel so certain that, were it possible to tap, at once all the telephone lines in the vicinity of our stations all over the country, one would become possessed of a mass of service information about all sorts of things and people – whither, why and when such a squadron is moving, who have finished their tours, where people are posted to, who didn’t come back last night, who the new C.O. is, and where he comes from, what the weather is like, what are the chances of a scrub tonight, how the R.A.F. is fed, clothed, housed, organised – and so on and so on? Not to be too depressing about it, let it be stated at once that one would probably, even certainly, gain much less information than would have been the case say two years ago; but who would like to bet that there still wouldn’t be plenty to be picked up?
So, why, after all the effort that has been made, all the money that has been spent, the paper that has been used, the words that have been spoken, should this be so? Now here, it is suggested, lies the root of the matter, and if this root can be dug up and examined, the apparently indestructible weed of Service Gossip, a weed which, while harmless, perhaps, nine times out of ten, can, on that tenth time, produce enough poison to be fatal to precious lives and expensive material, can be understood, and to understand any problem is the first step towards solving it.
Let us examine it then. People talk because that is the easiest and most natural way for them to express their thoughts. They talk their thoughts, they think about their daily lives; therefore, they talk about their daily lives. Now apply that formula to the R.A.F. and what do you find? You discover a service filled, for the most part, with very young people, a number of them still in their formative years. They talk their thoughts, they think their lives, their lives are, at the moment, the R.A.F; therefore they talk about the R.A.F. To go on from here; they are young people who have been brought up in countries in which free speech, outside the debateable limits of the law of scandal, is as instinctive as breathing. They have never had occasion to practice this habit of silence - a most difficult habit to acquire – and finally, they serve in a force which has been publicised, photographed and if one may use such a word, glamourised, more than any other organisation ever has before. Flying, as the R.A.F. flies, is a continual source of wonder to the lay mind. This business of lifting tons of explosive material off the earth at one spot, transporting it at phenomenal heights to another spot hundreds of miles away, and there dropping it in spite of such discouragements as flak, fighters, the weather, and so on, is something of a miracle to the civilian, and, naturally enough, he wants to know about it. The youngsters of the R.A.F. are, of course, the horse’s mouth, which is given every encouragement to open itself, and to remain open. And when a W.A.A.F. goes home on leave Mother wants to know what it’s all like – the food, the quarters, the station, what they do there and that gives her mother something to talk about to somebody who will pass it on to somebody else who will…..why go on?
It is, you see, a personal problem. There is no mass-produced solution to it. It is every man and woman for himself, and only he and she can deal with it. How? Well, try this recipe. Try writing home letters in which you never even refer to the Station upon which you work, beyond, of course, the address in the top left hand corner. Apply the same rule when you leave your Station, even when you meet another R.A.F. type. Regard every telephone you use as a menace because it is you who are using it, and finally, when you have finished your work for the day, don’t make conversation out of it in the mess or the canteen. Try these four riles as an act of self-discipline, and never relax, and you will solve all your problem and, what is far more important, you will solve one of the great problems which confront your country. Difficult? Yes, very. Impossible? No. It has been done. There is a station which once had the privilege of guarding part of a great and important secret. It wrote its letters by the thousand, it went to the nearest town, it went on leave. But never a word got out. No less than 12,500 letters from that Station were opened over a period of three weeks, and only two minor indiscretions were discovered in them, both after the great event. If you were a stranger, you couldn’t get very far on that station without being questioned; every rumour heard on or off it was faithfully reported – just in case. The result is history, not only because the event referred to was one of the best kept secrets and, therefore, one of the most successful undertakings of the war, but because it provided proof that, with the problem fully explained to them, the A.C.2. and A.C.W.2. can keep a secret, can keep their mouths shut and their pens discreet, and can do so as a matter of conscience, and as an act of self discipline.
Now if only the civilian could be persuaded not to make the R.A.F. talk……
(Continued from Col. 3 page 12)
(c) I.A.S. within 2 m.p.h. and height within 50 feet.
It’s practice which, makes perfect.
Gunnery is the order of the day for you and your crew again. Keep a banking search going. See that your guns and gunners are in first class condition. Check up on your corkscrew and patter.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 11
[Page break]
[Cartoon] SPORTS [Cartoon
[Underlined] CRICKET [/underlined]
June was not a cricketers’ month; the weather was “flaming [sic] but not in the sense of the old adage. Fielders and batsmen alike quailed before wind and rain. As a cricketers’ month it was grand for Rugger. In spite of the weather, however, several stations got in a full programme.
[Underlined] SCAMPTON [/underlined] – This station managed to complete the amazing total of 25 games. In addition, W.A.A.F. personnel played four games. Any challengers for an inter-station W.A.A.F. game? The Aircrew School represented the Station in five of the games, and themselves played 10 inter-course matches.
[Underlined] FISKERTON [/underlined] – had five station matches, one of which, with Woodhall, was abandoned after Fiskerton had knocked up 87 for 8. Their other games were as follows:-
V Dunholme at Dunholme – Fiskerton 72 for 7 Dunholme 68 all out
V Fiskerton Village at the Camp – Fiskerton 108 for 6 Village 29 all out
V Bardney at Fiskerton – Fiskerton 62 all out Bardney 22 all out
V Scampton at Scampton – Scampton 120 for 9 Fiskerton 71 all out
In addition to this successful record several inter-section games were played.
[Underlined] BARDNEY [/underlined] managed five station games, and are now getting into their stride under the captaincy of F/Lt Wardle.
[Underlined] DUNHOLME LODGE [/underlined] had three wins, one draw, and one loss from five games. They beat 5 Group H.Q., Welton Home Guard and Scampton, drew away with 5 Group H.Q. and suffered their only defeat at home with Fiskerton. An inter-section knock out is in full swing, with 12 teams competing.
[Underlined] METHERINGHAM [/underlined] had an unlucky month, with four postponed matches out of the six arranged. Against Coningsby, Metheringham scored 37 for 1 (Coningsby 179 for 7) before rain stopped play. The only completed game was with R.C.A.F. Digby, who hit 60 for 6 against Metheringham 56 all out.
Inter-section games produced some close results, viz:
Flying Control 55 for 7 V R.A.F.Regt. 50 all out
“B” Flight 60 all out V “A” Flight 36 all out
Servicing Wing Fitters 60 all out V Servicing Wing Riggers 65 all out
“B” Flight 43 for 5 V “A” Flight 39 for 9
In the Base Commander’s Trophy, 106 Sqdn dismissed 617 for 70 runs, but they could not bat and the game was abandoned.
[Underlined] 5 Group H.Q. [/underlined] played five games, four of them being away, since the 5 Group pitch has not yet “settled down”. They produced the following results:
V Dunholme, at Morton. 5 Group 148 for 8 Dunholme 89 for 8 (Draw)
V Dunholme at Dunholme. Dunholme 129 for 6 5 Group 64 all out (Lost)
V Swinderby at Swinderby. Swinderby 88 for 7 5 Group 83 all out (Lost)
V 93 M.U. at Collingham M.U. 77 all out 5 Group 84 for 6 (Won)
V Newark Town at Newark Newark 77 for 8 5 Group 72 for 5 (Lost)
There were two intersection games, in one of which the “Hall” beat the rest by 136 for 8 against 99 for 8.
[Underlined] GROUP CRICKET COMPETITION [/underlined]
Woodhall beat Coningsby in the final of “A” Section, so now Syerston (winners of “B” Section) meet Woodhall in the deciding game for the Trophy. The game will probably be decided on Saturday or Sunday (July 15th or 16th) at Woodhall Spa. Woodhall have taken over the town’s local ground, and with the addition of a score board and sight screens now have one of the finest grounds in the Group. The game will be one of the features of Woodhall’s “Wings for Victory” Week, and given good weather will be a highly successful event between two of the strongest Group teams. It is hoped that the A.O.C. will be able to present the handsome silver bowl to the winning side.
[Underlined] ATHLETIC MEETINGS [/underlined]
[Underlined] METHERINGHAM [/underlined] ran a highly successful Athletic Meeting on Saturday, 3rd June, when favourable weather for once coincided with a stand-down. Fourteen events were contested on an inter-section basis, the trophy being a shield presented by Corporal Ward, Instrument Section. The final placings of the teams were as follows:-
Winners: Navigators – 137 points
Second Pilots – 93 points
Third W/Ops. – 83 points
Fourth Rear Gnrs. – 82 points
Fifth Air Bombers – 78 points
Sixth Engineers – 63 points
Seventh M.U.Gunners – 43 points
Mrs. McKechnie presented the shield to F/Sgt. Croft, who assisted the Navigators by winning the 440, 880 and mile. Another outstanding performance was by F/O Gantschi (Air Bomber) who won the 100, 200, 220 and Long Jump.
[Underlined] 54 BASE INTER-SQUADRON SPORTS MEETING [/underlined] was on Saturday 17th June. 83 Squadron won the Base Commander’s Trophy, scoring 35 points, but 106 Squadron, with 33 points and 617 with 32 points, were good losers. 106 Squadron, feeling fit, provided winners for the 440, 880, mile, 3 miles and Long Jump. F/Sgt. Croft again had a field day, winning the 440, mile, 3 miles, and running second in the 880 yards. There was a big crowd at the games, and enthusiasm ran high. Lord Brownlow, Lord Lieutenant of the County, presented the prizes.
[Underlined] 93 M.U. SPORTS [/underlined] 93 M.U., whose work is so completely bound up with 5 Group, ran a highly successful Field Day on June 24th. Besides the usual athletic events, side shows, boxing and dancing made up an excellent programme. They plan another Gala Day, in aid of the P.O.W. Fund on August Bank Holiday Monday, and any personnel who can reach Swinderby will be sure of an enjoyable day.
SECOND THOUGHTS FOR PILOTS
[Underlined] FRESHMEN [/underlined]
Get down to crew Gunnery problems in July. Check your knowledge of the corkscrew, polish up your patter and do all the fighter affiliation you can.
Careful trimming of your aircraft ensures accurate flying. The correct sequence of action is:-
Fly the aircraft straight and level, trim the elevators, trim all load off the rudder and finally trim out any aileron load.
2.5° of skid at 10,000 ft. means an error of 250 yards on the ground. This common bombing error is often unconsciously caused by pilots sitting tense and rigid on the bombing run. Ensure the aircraft is properly trimmed and the [underlined] relax [/underlined] and fly the aircraft naturally and carefully.
If you find it difficult to read the instruments when coned by searchlights, get your navigator to call the airspeed. Make it a standing arrangement with him.
Here are the common faults in night circuits, don’t allow these errors to “creep” in.
(i) Edging in towards the flare path on the down wind leg.
(ii) Not allowing for drift on approach.
(iii) Failing to close the throttles when touching down.
(iv) Going too far across wind before the final turn in.
Should you have to land without flaps, remember to lengthen your downwind leg as the approach will be flatter and therefore longer. Start the final turn in earlier since the turn without flap will be wider, and approach at 125 m.p.h. Touch down as soon as possible and expect a longer landing run, and be prepared to use brake progressively.
[Underlined] VETERANS [/underlined]
Are you brake conscious? Brake efficiency falls off with rise in temperature of – brake shoes and drums. Avoid continual use of brakes, control direction by engine and release brakes as soon as possible to allow heat to go into the air and not up into the tyres. Never apply full brake at once. This induces tyre creep.
If you have to land in a very strong, gusty wind, use only 40° of flap and aim to do a wheel landing. Make a normal approach and when the wheels touch, ease the stick [underlined] slightly [/underlined] forward and keep it steady till the tail sinks on to the ground.
A word on Met; remember that forecast height of cloud base id always height above sea level. Bear this in mind if you are forced to break cloud at a diversion aerodrome, and allow for height of ground.
Have you and your crew an “A” category for bombing? You can have if you accept nothing less than these limitations;
(a) Course within 1° (b) Bank within 2°
(Continued on page 11 Col.3)
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 12
[Page break]
ACCIDENTS
The award of the Silver Model Lancaster to the Unit having the best accident rate for the six months ended June goes to No. 106 Squadron. This squadron had one accident for a total of 6,848 flying hours. Nos. 49 and 57 Squadrons also had one avoidable accident, for a total of 6,743 and 6,294 hours respectively. These squadrons are to be congratulated on a splendid achievement, It’s up to the other Squadrons to dethrone the champions during the next three months. GO TO IT!!
Altogether there was a decided improvement in the number of avoidable accidents during June.
36 aircraft were damaged in the Group by causes other than enemy action. This is a reduction of 15 compared with May, and the improvement is also reflected in the avoidable accident total which stands at 16 for June as opposed to 20 in May.
Of the aircraft damaged, 12 were CAT A, 5 CAT AC, 5 CAT B, and 14 CAT E.
[Underlined] AVOIDABLE ACCIDENTS – 51 BASE RECORD [/underlined]
51 Base are to be congratulated for the lowest number of avoidable accidents for a long time; 4 aircraft were damaged under this category. The squadron total of 12 for the month was an increase of 2 over May’s total. Details are as follows:-
Squadron – Ground collisions (taxying) 3; overshoots landing 2; undershooting 1; Swings landing 1; Flying into high ground 1; Collision in air 1; errors of judgement 3; TOTAL 12.
51 Base – Swings taking off 1; Swings landing 2; Taxying 1; TOTAL 4
[Underlined] ACCIDENT CAUSES [/underlined]
[Underlined] Taxying. [/underlined] 3 of the 4 taxying accidents in the Group follow the usual pattern. One struck a trestle outside dispersal at night, and no taxying light was being used. Another hit an M/T van left unattended just off the perimeter track, while a third (a Stirling) broke its tail wheel when it ran off the perimeter track. The 4th taxying accident was caused by a Flight Engineer starting up the engines of a Lancaster without permission. Brake pressure was low and the aircraft moved forward and struck another parked alongside.
[Underlined] Swings [/underlined] Three of these occurred on landing. One was a Mosquito in which the pilot, flying a Mosquito for the first time, was not quick enough in correcting. The other two landing swings were by pupil pilots on Stirlings, and were due to inexperience more than anything else. They both knew the correct drill, however, but were slow to react. The swing on take off occurred in a Stirling, when a pupil pilot opened the throttles too quickly and failed to control the violent starboard swing which followed. The undercarriage collapsed.
[Underlined] Other Accidents. [/underlined] A Lancaster returning in poor weather descended through cloud and hit a hill 500 feet above sea level. This accident has not yet been fully investigated, but preliminary evidence indicates that the pilot lost height contrary to orders at briefing.
Another Lancaster on return from Ops. in good weather hit a tree 1000 yards from the runway on his approach. The wing tip was torn off but the pilot went round again and made a good landing on his second attempt. In this instance the bombs were still on board unknown to the pilot. His Air Bomber had told him that all bombs had gone. Air Bombers please note!!
Two Lancasters overshot on landing at strange airfields on return from operations. The bomb load exploded after one of them crashed.
A formation flying collision resulted in the destruction of two aircraft this month. Number 3 of a “Vic” formation knocked the tail off the Leader.
The two remaining avoidable accidents cocurred [sic] on operational flights. One pilot lost control in cloud on return and ordered his crew to bale out. Four of them left before control was regained. They had not been told to take their ‘K’ type dinghy packs with them and landed in the sea. The aircraft made a safe landing at base.
A Mid-Upper Gunner firing at searchlights on the ground damaged the port fin of his aircraft with a burst. The solenoid had jumped from its bracket. The gunner was at fault.
RADAR/NAV
[Underlined] GEE [/underlined]
Most operations were within normal Gee range and no exceptional results have been recorded. There has, however, been a substantial decrease in jamming which may be due to the increase in the number of frequencies now in use.
Non-H 2 S squadrons are now equipped with the new R.F. Unit 27 and have had several chances of using it during the month. As yet there has been no opportunity to test its efficiency at long range, but reports indicate the signal strength to be good with little or no interference. It is hoped that the supply position in regard to these new units will improve shortly and H 2 S Squadrons can then be equipped.
Several changes in Gee transmissions have taken place recently, and it would be advisable for all navigators and wireless operators to check upon these and make sure they are using the right frequencies and aerial loading stud at the right time.
One word regarding Gee homing. It is apparent from recent operations that navigators are not checking up with Gee on the position of the markers. There is little excuse for this, as most operations at the present time are within normal Gee range and subject to little or no interference. Navigators would be well advised to check up on their homing procedure now – because sooner or later the time will come when owing to weather conditions bombs may have to be released on Gee.
With regard to Gee training, a modification is being issued shortly which will enable navigators to carry out dry swims and Gee homing procedure with the trainer. The first will be issued to Scampton Aircrew School and should prove an interesting and invaluable “toy”.
[Underlined] H 2 S [/underlined]
The targets this month have been rather disappointing for the H 2 S operator, and H 2 S has been little used. Whilst Gee may seem much simpler to use it is essential for all operators to use H 2 S as much as possible on these short range operations to augment training. We may switch to the longer range targets with little or no notice, and if operators have been relying to a very great extent on Gee, some difficulty with H 2 S may be experienced.
Just a word to Captains; your navigator depends to a very great extent upon the bomb aimer and his efficient manipulation of the equipment. If you are keeping him in the nose the whole of the time on these short operations he is getting little or no H 2 S training. A.S.I. BL/17 dated 26th April, 1944, details the duties of Air Bombers in H 2 S aircraft and however short the operation, Captains must see that this instruction is complied with.
One word with regard to H 2 S training on operational squadrons. With the present commitments there is very little opportunity for air training, but this does not prevent operators from obtaining as much ground training as possible. Ground trainers are available at all Units and they are yours to use at will. Squadron Navigation Officers and H 2 S Instructors should ensure that all operators get at
(Continued in Col. 2)
[Underlined] RADAR/NAV (Continued from col.3) [/underlined]
least 30 minutes practice every day and should make periodic tests to see that operators are remaining efficient.
H 2 S operators will be interested to hear that 54 Base have been carrying out some experiments in the assessment of a Paramatta attack, and conclusions reached show that assessments can be made to within approximately 1/2 mile of the correct position. If this assessing can be carried out on operations it may prevent many attacks from developing around T.I’s a considerable distance from the aiming point. Preliminary trials are now being attempted with regard to Wanganui attacks and it is hoped that something useful may be produced for next winter’s operations.
Training at Conversion Units is progressing satisfactorily and Wigsley is now producing H 2 S trained crews.
There are still a few people in the Group who are sceptical about the amount of H 2 S. training carried out at No. 51 Base and in fairness to the effort being made by the Conversion Units, it would be advisable to outline the training being carried out by them.
Up to June 1st this year, 111 H 2 S trained crews have been produced by the Conversion Units, of which only 6 were sent to non-H 2 S squadrons (of these crews, 3 were Flight Commanders and 3 Australians).
With the increase in the number of H 2 S squadrons it became increasingly apparent that more crews would have to be trained by the Conversion Units and instructions were issued to that effect.
Despite the fact that [underlined] extra time or aircraft [/underlined] are allowed for this training, the Conversion Units are now taking 50% of the
(Continued on page 14 col.1)
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 13
[Page break]
HONOURS & AWARDS [Cartoon]
The following IMMEDIATE awards have been approved during the month:-
[Underlined] 44 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/L P.A. DOREHILL, D.F.C. D.S.O.
F/O McKENZIE D.F.C.
[Underlined] 50 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O B.H. BOTHA D.F.C.
[Underlined] 57 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O R.E. WALKER D.F.C.
[Underlined] 106 SQUADRON [/underlined]
W/O J.A. CUNNINGHAM D.F.C.
[Underlined] 207 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O T.T. SMART D.F.C.
F/O W. McINTOSH, D.F.M. D.F.C.
P/O C.B. SUTHERLAND D.F.C.
[Underlined] 617 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O G.S. STOUT D.F.C.
[Underlined] 627 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/L H. STEERE, D.F.M. D.F.C.
F/L R.F. DAVIES, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
[Underlined] 630 SQUADRON [/underlined]
A/F/L/ G.H. PROBERT D.F.C.
The following NON-IMMEDIATE awards were approved during the month:-
[Underlined] 9 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/L L.C.A. HADLAND D.F.C.
F/O W.W.W. TURNBULL D.F.C.
A/F/L E.M. ARMSTRON D.F.C.
F/O M.J. MAY D.F.C.
F/O F.B. HALL D.F.C.
F/SGT J.W. GREENWOOD D.F.M.
SGT J. WATERHOUSE D.F.M.
P/O A.E. GILES D.F.C.
P/O B.G.L. ROGERS D.F.C.
[Underlined] 9 SQUADRON (Contd.) [/underlined]
P/O W.A. GALL D.F.C.
F/O J.A. PRIOR D.F.C.
P/O W.F. POSSEE D.F.C.
P/O F.G. HAYLER D.F.C.
F/SGT J. LEVER D.F.M.
F/SGT W.I. WILKINSON D.F.M.
F/SGT J.C. DICKINSON D.F.M.
SGT D.E. LAYSHON D.F.M.
F/SGT R.H. McFERRAN D.F.M.
F/SGT F. LOMAX D.F.M.
F/SGT J. RYAN D.F.M.
SGT J.H. TURNER D.F.M.
F/SGT LOMAS D.F.M.
F/O D.H. PEARCE D.F.C.
F/O McMASTER D.F.C.
P/O J.D. DUNCAN D.F.C.
P/O S.W.A. HURRELL D.F.C.
P/O H. BLOW D.F.C.
F/SGT H.F. SMITH D.F.M.
[Underlined] 44 SQUADRON [/underlined]
SGT L.J. HUMMELL D.F.M.
SGT F. GARRETT D.F.M.
P/O F.B. SOAPER D.F.M.
F/SGT K.R. BLUNDELL D.F.M.
SGT R.H. BATEMAN D.F.M.
A/F/L R. McCURDY, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
P/O T.W. BLACK D.F.C.
F/SGT E. BARTON D.F.M.
F/SGT P.A. DEACON D.F.M.
F/SGT M.C. WRIGHT D.F.M.
F/SGT E.D. PRATT D.F.M.
P/O A.C. BAKER D.F.C.
F/O R.H. MAURY D.F.C.
F/O A. RIMMER D.F.C.
SGT D. CHARLES D.F.M.
F/SGT A.J. GURR D.F.M.
F/SGT W.H. BARKER D.F.M.
SGT WILLETT D.F.M.
SGT R.H. TURRELL D.F.M.
P/O J.A.W. McCALLUM D.F.C.
SGT H.G. CAPPS D.F.M.
F/SGT H.S. TILLER D.F.M.
SGT J.C. THOMPSON D.F.M.
F/SGT F.H. BARNES D.F.M.
SGT E. HEDLEY D.F.M.
F/SGT M.M. SCOTT D.F.M.
[Underlined] 49 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/SGT J.H. PRYOR D.F.M.
[Underlined] 49 SQUADRON (Contd.) [/underlined]
P/O J.V. REDDISH D.F.C.
F/SGT S.E. STEVENSON D.F.M.
P/O C.R. ROANTREE D.F.C.
F/SGT D. ANDREW D.F.M.
P/O BLACKHAM D.F.C.
F/SGT M.R. PRICE D.F.M.
F/SGT V.F. PITCHER D.F.M.
P/O D. JONES D.F.C.
F/O W.J.V. HAMILTON D.F.C.
F/SGT J.J. PAGE D.F.M.
P/O G.M.E. WELLER D.F.C.
SGT J.A. KIRWAN D.F.M.
W/CDR A.A. ADAMS D.F.C.
[Underlined] 50 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O D.J. LUNDY D.F.C.
P/O L. DURHAM D.F.C.
F/O M.J. BEETHAM D.F.C.
P/O P.E. THOMPSON D.F.C.
F/O H.R. MOSSOP D.F.C.
F/O K.W. ODGERS D.F.C.
F/O P.A. CUNNINGHAM D.F.C.
F/O A.H. BIGNELL D.F.C.
F/SGT J.C.A. RODGERS D.F.M.
F/SGT N. HORSLEY D.F.M.
F/SGT A.D.F. SPRUCE D.F.M.
F/O L. HORNER D.F.C.
F/O H.S. SHORTT D.F.C.
F/O R.G.G. PAGETT D.F.C.
F/SGT D.E. WESTERMAN D.F.M.
F/SGT R.A. COLLINGWOOD D.F.M.
F/SGT C. TURNER D.F.M.
F/SGT R. STANWIX D.F.M.
F/SGT A.L. BARTLETT D.F.M.
F/O A.S. KEITH D.F.C.
P/O A. MORRISON D.F.C.
W/O J.A. WILDING D.F.C.
SGT W.M. RUNDLE D.F.M.
[Underlined] 57 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/L D.H. REID D.F.C.
SGT J.C. EVANS D.F.M.
P/O E.A. DOWLAND D.F.C.
P/O C.J.M. MARTIN D.F.C.
SGT T. DAVIES D.F.M.
F/O J. SIMMS D.F.C.
P/O J.H. COLLINS D.F.C.
(Continued on page 15, Column 1)
[Underlined] RADAR/NAV (Contd. From page 13 Col.2) [/underlined]
crews passing through and giving them full H 2 S ground training with 10 – 15 hours air training. This output will be sufficient to satisfy the requirements of all H 2 S squadrons. These crews should reach the squadrons by the middle of August.
In the meantime H 2 S squadrons will have to put up with a quota of non H 2 S crews and continue to train them.
To further ease the training commitments of both the Conversion Units and squadrons, it is hoped that H2S training will be introduced into the Scampton Aircrew School by the middle of August. This training will consist of approximately 5 hours lectures with further time in manipulation of the H 2 S synthetic trainer. It is to be appreciated that this training will have to be in addition to the present essential navigational training carried out at the School, and navigators and air bombers must be prepared to undertake some of it in their spare time.
PHOTOGRAPHY
[Underlined] SUMMARY OF PHOTOGRAPHIC RESULTS [/underlined]
[Table of Photographic Results by Squadron]
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944. PAGE 14
[Page break]
Aircrew Volunteers
(a) New Volunteers
(b) Accepted by A.C.S.B.
(c) Posted for training
(d) Awaiting interview by A.C.S.B.
[Table of Aircrew Volunteers by Base and Station]
WAR SAVINGS
(a) Pence saved per head of strength
(b) %age of personnel contributing
(c) Total amount saved
[Table of War Savings by Station]
TOTAL £15,498 13 9
LINK TRAINER
The number of hours link practice carried out by pilots during the month shows an increase over last month’s total. There is, however, still room for improvement in the standard of instrument flying. This can only be achieved by close co-operation between Link Instructors and Pilots.
The new Link Syllabus was distributed to Stations in the middle of the month and should now be in use at all Units. It is again emphasised that this Syllabus is progressive and if full value is to be obtained from it, Pilots and Flight Engineers must ensure that they complete all exercises, and keep an accurate record of the exercises carried out.
[Table of Link Trainer by Squadron]
[Page break]
[Blank page]
[Page break]
HONOURS & AWARDS
(CONTINUED)
[Underlined] 57 SQUADRON (Contd.) [/underlined]
SGT J.T.WATTS D.F.M.
SGT F.A. SIMMONDS D.F.M.
F/O G.S. JOHNSON D.F.C.
SGT F. ROBERTS D.F.M.
F/O R. DAVIS D.F.C.
F/SGT R.W. CLEARY D.F.M.
F/O K.D. SMITH D.F.C.
[Underlined] 61 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O E.A. WILLIAMS D.F.C.
P/O J.E.R. WILLIAMS D.F.C.
SGT L.G. BOLTON D.F.M.
F/SGT C. BALDWIN D.F.M.
P/O E.H. WALKER D.F.C.
F/SGT L.W. CROMARTY D.F.M.
F/SGT R.A. BUNYAN D.F.M.
P/O W.C. MacDONALD D.F.C.
F/O N.F. TURNER D.F.C.
P/O D.E. TREVETHICK D.F.C.
P/O G.A. TURNBULL D.F.C.
SGT. W.A. LEE D.F.M.
P/O J. BARR D.F.C.
P/O C.A. HAIGH D.F.C.
F/SGT LYNCH D.F.M.
F/O S.J. BEARD, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
F/SGT C.P. STEEDSMAN D.F.M.
SGT G.M. WARD D.F.M.
SGT McQUILLAN D.F.M.
F/SGT C. WILCE D.F.M.
[Underlined] 106 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O J.C. BELL D.F.C.
F/O A.F. POORE D.F.C.
F/O G.E.D. TOOGOOD D.F.C.
P/O A.E. BRISTOW D.F.C.
F/SGT J. GRAVES D.F.M.
F/O R.J. ELSEY D.F.C.
F/O R.A. ROBERTS D.F.C.
F/SGT V. LYNCH D.F.M.
P/O P.J. RICHARDS D.F.C.
F/O W.R. LEE D.F.C.
F/O J.H.S. LEE D.F.C.
SGT T.C. WALLER D.F.M.
F/SGT G.R. CARLILE D.F.M.
F/O F.M. MIFFLIN D.F.C.
F/SGT A.D.J. GROOMBRIDGE D.F.M.
F/O C.J. DUNN D.F.C.
P/O R.A. HINCKLEY D.F.C.
F/O D.L. CRAMP D.F.C.
F/O D.V. GIBBS D.F.C.
F/L C.J. GINDER D.F.C.
F/SGT D. PINCKARD D.F.M.
F/SGT F. MYCOE D.F.M.
F/LT W.A. WILLIAMSON D.F.C.
F/SGT F.L. HIGGINS D.F.M.
F/O D.A. PAGLIERO D.F.C.
F/O R.L. WAKE, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
F/SGT R. APPLEYARD D.F.M.
SGT V.H. BLACKWELL D.F.M.
P/O J. O’LEARY D.F.C.
F/O A.V. WITHERS D.F.C.
F/O R.P. RAMSAY D.F.C.
F/SGT S.J. HALVORSEN D.F.M.
SGT J.G. LANCASTER D.F.M.
F/SGT E. CLODE D.F.M.
SGT R.F. LAWRENSON D.F.M.
[Underlined] 207 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/SGT J.G. MYERSCOUGH D.F.M.
SGT D. FRISKEY D.F.M.
F/SGT E.C. THOMPSON D.F.M.
P/O C.W. BARNETT D.F.C.
SGT W.G. LAMONT D.F.M.
F/SGT J. SKELTON D.F.M.
P/O R.G. CAMPBELL D.F.C.
P/O D.R. DEARMAN D.F.C.
P/O K.L. WRIGHT D.F.C.
F/SGT E.H. BUNN D.F.M.
SGT D.C. MARK D.F.M.
SGT F.H. HAZEL D.F.M.
SGT F.C. DOWLING D.F.M.
SGT R.M. GALLOWAY D.F.M.
[Underlined] 207 SQUADRON (Contd.) [/underlined]
F/LT H.L. McCARTHY D.F.C.
F/O D.S.P. SMITH D.F.C.
F/O C.T. HARPER D.F.C.
F/O A. HOLLINGS D.F.C.
[Underlined] 463 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O R.A. CURTIS D.F.C.
F/O E.R. FREEMAN D.F.C.
F/O A.E. VOWELS D.F.C.
F/O W.H. BROOKER D.F.C.
P/O H.R. MAHON D.F.C.
F/O F.B.M. WILSON D.F.C.
F/O J.E.R. REES D.F.C.
F/SGT J.B. CHILDS D.F.M.
[Underlined] 467 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/LT D.F.S. SMITH D.F.C.
F/O F. MORRIS D.F.C.
P/O A.R.T. BOYS D.F.C.
F/O W.H. GOLDSTRAW, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
W/O H.C. CHANDLER D.F.C.
F/O D.T. CONWAY D.F.C.
F/O J.A. COLPUS D.F.C.
P/O M.F. SMITH D.F.C.
P/O N.D. MARSHALL D.F.C.
F/O F.J. NUGENT D.F.C.
F/O H.S.L. CROUCH D.F.C.
F/O G.G. ABBOTT D.F.C.
P/O A.A. TAYLOR D.F.C.
P/O A.P. SPERLING D.F.C.
F/SGT G. NOBLE D.F.M.
[Underlined] 617 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O P.N. BUTTLE D.F.C.
P/O P.E. PIGEON D.F.C.
P/O H.A. WEEKS D.F.C.
P/O J.H. CLAY D.F.C.
F/O E. WILLSHER D.F.C.
W/O J. DACEY D.F.C.
F/O J.S. WATSON D.F.C.
F/SGT McCLELLAN D.F.M.
F/SGT L. EATON D.F.M.
F/SGT R.J. HENDERSON D.F.M.
F/SGT APPLEBY D.F.M.
F/SGT W. HOWARTH D.F.M.
F/O R. ADAMS D.F.M.
F/O A. HILL D.F.C.
F/LT WILSON, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
[Underlined] 619 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O J.G. THOMPSON D.F.C.
F/O H.L. VICKERSTAFFE D.F.C.
F/O W.E.D. BELL D.F.C.
P/O G.G. TAYLOR D.F.C.
F/SGT J.A. FEATHERSTONE D.F.M.
F/O N.B. MORRISON D.F.C.
W/O B.T.J. HUCKS D.F.C.
W/O C.G. TURNBULL D.F.C.
SGT M.H.G. KING D.F.M.
P/O J.P. HIND D.F.C.
P/O J.I. JOHNSON D.F.C.
P/O E.K. ALLEY D.F.C.
P/O R.T. BOULTBEE D.F.C.
F/O P.H. TAYLOR D.F.C.
W/O R.A. WESTAD D.F.C.
F/O T. WILKIE D.F.C.
F/O JOHNSON-BIGGS D.F.C.
F/LT R. AYTOUN, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
F/SGT J.H. BRYANT D.F.M.
[Underlined] 630 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O A.C. BLOIS D.F.C.
P/O T. SMART D.F.C.
W/O L.H. TODD D.F.C.
P/O R.T. HUGHES D.F.C.
F/O G.W. BRAKE D.F.C.
W/O D. ROBERTS D.F.C.
F/O A.J. WRIGHT D.F.C.
F/O K.R. AMES, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
P/O F.R.G.A. HIGGINS D.F.C.
W/O H. GLASBY D.F.C.
F/SGT T.H. SAVAGE D.F.M.
FLYING CONTROL
All stations are to be congratulated on the excellent landing times produced this month, in which the average for the Group is below the 2 minutes per aircraft mark. In particular, Waddington recorded consistently good times for each operation. One [sic] the night of the 24/25th June this Station landed 32 AIRCRAFT IN 31 MINUTES, the average being less than 1 minute per aircraft. This is a record for the Group, and probably for the Command.
One word of warning, however; recently aircraft from another Group were diverted and on arrival at the diversion airfield proceeded to use their own Group landing scheme, with which the diversion control staff were not familiar. It is sufficient to say that confusion followed, with extreme danger to the aircraft and crews concerned. A.S.I. FC/11 contains the standard diversionary control procedure and must be adhered to.
[Underlined] STONES, CONCRETE AND METAL [/underlined]
Every stone, every sharp edge of concrete, every spent cartridge or piece of metal, constitutes a menace to tyres.
During the last 3 month there has been a very high average of tyres changed on accounts of cuts – (25 per station per month). Recently, endeavours have been made on stations to overcome this menace, but the intensified clean-up of perimeters, runways and dispersals must be maintained.
FLYING CONTROL must ensure that not the smallest break in the perimeter track or runway is overlooked, that grading does level up with the perimeter track and runways, and that any looseness in the surface of the French drains is attended to at once. Station Admin and Clerks of Works must help to the utmost.
GROUND CREWS must assist by seeing that their dispersals are thoroughly clean, and AIRCREWS watch carefully that cartridges cease to be a menace to tyres.
TRANSPORT – keep the sweepers fully serviced and see that nothing is loose on vehicles employed on the airfield.
ARMAMENT, too, can assist by ensuring that the access roads to the bomb dump are clear of stones and that wooden chocks from bomb trolleys are recovered before aircraft move. A 4” x 3” block with nails in it is not healthy treatment for a tyre!
ONLY BY FULL CO-OPERATION CAN THE ULTIMATE AIM BE ACHIEVED-AN AIRFIELD 100% SERVICEABLE.
JUNE LANDING TIMES
[Table of Landing Times by Station]
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944 PAGE 15
[Page break]
OPERATIONS
At dawn on the 6th of this month, the first Allied troops landed on the Normandy coast. A contribution towards the success of this amphibious operation was no doubt made in the effective silencing of most of the shore batteries. During the last month and again on three nights prior to D – Day this was one of the Group’s tasks. The heavy railway gun battery at WIMERAUX was attacked on the 2/3rd and although the interpretation report embraces previous attacks, there is no doubt that severe damage was inflicted; a large number of new craters being seen around the target. Both the western turntables have received direct hits.
The coastal defence batteries at MAISY (4/5th), ST PIERRE DU MONT (5/6 th) and LA PERNELLE (5/6th) next received our attention. Little could be gleaned from photographic cover as to the precise damage to the targets, but their apparent failure to contest our landing bears testimony to the success of the raids.
Another pre-invasion target was the Radar Jamming Station at FERME D’URVILLE. This target was attacked on 3/4th and, to quote A.I.C.U. “The station is completely useless”.
Our beachhead having been secured, our bombing role turned to close support of the land forces. The 21st Panzer Division was moving into CAEN to threaten the British Beaches. Two road bridges in this town were accordingly scheduled for attack on the 6/7th; both bridges were hit, and the road approaches heavily cratered, presenting an embarrassing obstacle to the Hun. On the same night an attack was directed against the ARGENTAN Railway centre. This raid also was calculated to hamper the arrival of reinforcements, which object was achieved by the severing of almost all the tracks and the destruction of many essential buildings.
During the day of the 7th, elements of the 17th Panzer Division were concentration [sic] in the FORET DE CERISY, a number of ammunition dumps, fuelling points and tank harbours having been located in this area. This was our assignment for the night 7/8th, and although results were not spectacular, many bombs fell on the aiming point.
The battle of communications continued on 8/9th against targets south of the battle area, when the marshalling yard at RENNES and rail junction at PONTAUBAULT were attacked. Severe damage was sustained at the former target while at the latter, the tracks were cut at several points.
One of the outstanding operations of the month was against the SAUMUR tunnel on the 8/9th. Already the railway junction had been attacked on 1/2nd with excellent effect, but the later attack on the tunnel left no doubt that the line would be denied the enemy for some time to come. A direct hit on the roof of the tunnel at its southern entrance has probably caused a major collapse while the tracks and embankments are severely damaged.
Our attack on the railway junction at ETAMPES on 9/10th was rendered extremely difficult owing largely to adverse weather, although hits were scored on the electrified railway north east of the junction.
The possibility of the enemy using the PARIS/ORLEANS route to effect troop movements led to a request for the destruction of the marshalling yard at ORLEANS on 10/11th. The mission was successfully undertaken, all through lines being severed and further damage sustained to rolling stock railway depots etc.
The attack on POITERS on 12/13th in which very severe damage was inflicted on the railway facilities was designed to delay the 2nd S.S. Division, believed to be moving up from South France.
On the same night support was given to our troops advancing East and West of CAEN, by the further bombing of the town’s road bridges.
The Lehr Panzer Division is reported to have visited AUNAY SUR ODON on the same night as aircraft from this Group, namely, 14/15th. AUNAY is completely obliterated – speculation is rife as to the fate of the Panzers.
Photos taken the day following the attack on the LIMOGES marshalling yard (23/24th) indicate that fires were still burning in the area, and that all tracks in the sorting sidings have been blocked.
AT VITRY LE FRANCOIS on 27/28th damage was almost entirely confined to the west end of the marshalling yard where all the tracks have been cut. Other damage throughout the yard is apparent.
For 48 hours the spotlight of war turned from the battlefield to the sea, to the harbours of LE HAVRE and BOULOGNE where a powerful force of small craft had been assembled by the enemy with a view to menacing our supply lanes. It is now reported that as a direct result of the two raids on 14/15th and 15/16th no fewer than 80 vessels have been sunk or seriously damaged. Damage to port installations is also severe.
Oil targets have been attacked sporadically since the war began, but in the knowledge that the enemy is suffering from fuel shortage we returned on three occasions to attack his resources.
At CHATELLERAULT on 15/16th a fuel dump was raided, considerable damage resulting to storage units.
The attacks on WESSELING and SCHOLVEN Synthetic Oil Plants on 21/22nd were not, however, satisfactory and, influenced by bad weather conditions, were off the mark.
During the month two gardening operations were undertaken, on 6/7th and 8/9th.
In the concluding phases of June our attention was diverted from Normandy to the rather more immediate problem of combating the flying bombs which had commenced to operate over this country on 12/13th. On the whole, weather was exceedingly unco-operative, but, despite this, 10 missions were launched (three of which,
(Continued on page 4 Col. 2)
WAR EFFORT
[Table of Operations with Sorties, Accidents and Stars Awards, by Squadron]
Squadrons are placed in the above table in order of “successful sorties per average aircraft on charge”. In view of their special duties, Nos. 83, 97, 617 and 627 Squadrons are shown separately. In cases where a crew has flown aircraft of another squadron, the sortie is divided between the two squadrons.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.23. JUNE, 1944.
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Title
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V Group News, June 1944
5 Group News, June 1944
Description
An account of the resource
Five Group Newsletter, number 23, June 1944. Includes a foreword by the Air Officer Commanding, and features about gunnery, air bombing, navigation, armament, navigation training, public relations, signals, gardening, equipment, air sea rescue, recent good shows, and shows not so good, engineering, training, flight engineers, enemy agents - careless talkers, signals, second thoughts for pilots, accidents, radar / nav, honours & awards, photography, aircrew volunteers, war savings, link trainer, flying control, operations, and war effort.
In accordance with the conditions stipulated by the donor, this item is available only at the University of Lincoln.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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1944-06
Contributor
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Anne-Marie Watson
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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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18 printed sheets
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Identifier
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MStephensonS1833673-160205-27
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Temporal Coverage
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1944-06
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
1944-06-08
1944-06-09
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
1944-06-16
1944-06-19
1944-06-20
1944-06-22
1944-06-24
1944-06-25
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France
Germany
Great Britain
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
France--Caen
France--Étampes (Essonne)
France--La Pernelle
France--Le Havre
France--Limoges
France--Paris
France--Rennes
France--Saint-Pierre-du-Mont (Landes)
France--Saumur
France--Vitry-le-François
Germany--Wesseling
France--Villers-Bocage (Calvados)
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
5 Group
617 Squadron
627 Squadron
83 Squadron
97 Squadron
air gunner
air sea rescue
aircrew
bomb aimer
bomb dump
bombing
bombing of the Boulogne E-boats (15/16 June 1944)
bombing of the Le Havre E-boat pens (14/15 June 1944)
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
Bombing of the Saumur tunnel (8/9 June 1944)
bombing of the Siracourt V-weapon site (25 June 1944)
bombing of the Watten V-2 site (19 June 1944)
bombing of the Wizernes V-2 site (20, 22, 24 June 1944)
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
ditching
flight engineer
Gee
H2S
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
mine laying
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
pilot
radar
RAF Dunholme Lodge
RAF Scampton
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
rivalry
service vehicle
tactical support for Normandy troops
tractor
training
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2032/32673/P78Sqn17010013.2.jpg
d2137571ccdfa16306e2088b86e08478
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Title
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78 Squadron. Photographs
Description
An account of the resource
Seventy three items. Folder subject submitted by donor. Photographs of aircraft, bombs, aircrew and groundcrew.
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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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78 Sqn Info
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Tractor pulling a line of bomb trolleys
Description
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A airman driving a tractor pulls a line of bomb trolleys each carrying two general purpose bombs past a revetment.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
Format
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One b/w photograph
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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P78Sqn17010013
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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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bomb dump
bomb trolley
ground personnel
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1909/35369/PPappinJ1705.1.jpg
6c36f28af6119955d17bad3a51431bd7
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1909/35369/PPappinJ1706.1.jpg
b31c8606cec942c5ee02ba6770718f7d
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Title
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Pappin, John
J Pappin
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-07-23
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Pappin, J
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items. The collection concerns Sergeant Robert Hanslip (Royal Air Force) and contains correspondence and photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Pappin and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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The boys behind the bombers EH/MCN.
Ground crews play their part in the great raids on Germany, preparing and servicing the giant bombers for every flight from this country.
Photograph shows – the ground crew keep warm, appreciating the warmth from the brazier at a Halifax bomber station, during a respite from preparing and servicing machines for raids on Germany.
FOX DEC/ 23rd 43. 304296.
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Title
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The Boys Behind the Bombers
Description
An account of the resource
Five ground crew warming themselves by a fire. Behind is a Halifax and further behind is a control caravan attached to a tractor. On the reverse is a typed note with an explanation. The image is intended for publication in newspapers. Second from the <span>left is Leo Groark.</span>
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-12-23
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
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eng
Type
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Photograph
Format
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One b/w photograph
Identifier
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PPappinJ1705, PPappinJ1706
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Temporal Coverage
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1943-12-23
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription. Under review
control caravan
ground crew
ground personnel
Halifax
military service conditions
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/743/19914/MCleggPV[DoB]-150701-01.pdf
ad71298fb0817912eaa5f8dc06dc121c
Dublin Core
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Title
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Clegg, Peter Vernon
P V Clegg
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items and five sub-collections. Main collection contains a log of Pathfinder operations from RAF Wyton 1943 -1944, histories of the Avro repair facility at Bracebridge Heath, and Langar, a biography of Squadron Leader David James Baikie Wilson, biography of Squadron Leader Lighton Verdon-Roe, a book - Test Pilots of A.V. Roe & Co Ltd - S.A. 'Bill' Thorn, and two volumes of book - Roy Chadwick - no finer aircraft designer, Sub-collections contain a total of 29 items concerning the Aldborough Dairy and Cafe as well as biographical material, including log books for Alan Gibson, Peter Isaacson, Alistair Lang and Charles Martin. <br /><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1772">Aldborough Dairy and Cafe</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1768">Gibson, Alan</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1769">Isaacson, Peter</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1770">Lang, Alastair</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1771">Martin, Charles</a><br /><br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Peter Clegg and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-07-02
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
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Clegg, PV
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Underlined] THE AVRO
REPAIR
ORGANISATION [/underlined]
I) Bracebridge Heath.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Peter V. Clegg. [/underlined]
THE AVRO REPAIR ORGANISATION
INTRODUCTION
In 1939, prior to the start of WWII, with a growing number of Avro Ansons in RAF use, and the imminent equipping of RAF bomber squadrons with the new Avro Manchester, A V Roe and Co Ltd decided to establish a repair depot well away from its production facilities in Manchester. It was logical to look at a site near the operational airfields where their aircraft were based, and so a management team was sent across to Lincolnshire to find a suitable place close to the city of Lincoln – where a supply of labour could be guaranteed – and the depot was established at Bracebridge Heath, just south of Lincoln and close to RAF Waddington.
The organisation being set up was to comprise two main Divisions – the first one being the operation of a Repair facility for practically all the sections and assemblies of the Avro aircraft in widespread RAF service – and the second being the control and administration of groups of Avro engineers, known as ‘Contractor’s Working Parties ‘ or ‘CWP’s’ (later just called ‘Outworking Parties’), who were set up on every RAF base where large numbers of Avro aircraft operated.
When Avro aircraft suffered from Category ‘A’ damage (ie the repair was beyond the RAF unit’s own capability) the CWPs on the base took over, and requisitioned the necessary spares from Bracebridge Heath (and the factory in Manchester if necessary), and repaired the aircraft in a hangar allocated to them with the help of RAF engineering staff.
Where the aircraft suffered from Category ‘B’ damage (ie repairs on site were not possible, and the aircraft had to be dismantled for transport) the various sections of the Avro Ansons, Manchesters and soon Lancasters, were sent back on RAF ‘Queen Mary’ trailers to Bracebridge Heath for com[inserted] l [/inserted] ete overhaul and then for re-assembly.
When Bracebridge Heath first opened in late 1939, Ansons were initially dealt with there, the various sub-assemblies arriving by road, being completely stripped and rebuilt. Usually these were then taken down the A15 a mile or so to RAF Waddington, where a large Avro CWP was given the use of Hangar 1 for the duration of the War and re-assembled them there. RAF pilots from the base would be asked to test-fly them when ready, and pass them as fit for Service use again.
As the new Manchester heavy bombers went into service at Waddington with 207 Squadron from November 1940 and operations began over Germany in February 1941, the Avro CWP’s rapidly increased in number to cover all the RAF bases involved, and at the same time the size and complexity of the Manchester meant that Bracebridge Heath could not itself cope with the overhaul of all the components. Thus a number of other firms were asked to assist in repairing various parts of the bomber.
1
[Page break]
Soon, the increasing number of Category ‘B’ Manchesters and (from March 1942 onwards) Lancasters meant that Avro’s needed to open another suitable depot in the area, where complete Lancasters could be rebuilt rapidly from all the overhauled components, and put quickly back into service.
Thus it was decided to open such a facility at the newly-built RAF bomber station at Langar, Notts, in September 1942, controlled from Bracebridge Heath, where sections of Lancasters could – as at Bracebridge – be stripped down and repaired, but assembly of the complete aircraft could also be carried out on a small production line system. For this, all the components would be sent there from the many works now engaged in Lancaster repair.
Coincidentally 207 Squadron (of Manchester fame from Waddington) now re-equipped with Lancasters and moved into Langar in September 1942, the same month that Avro’s new works opened there. The history of this Avro site, embracing as it did an absolutely vital role over the next three decades, and yet a largely unsung success to the outside world, is now recounted here with the help of some of the surviving men and women who so conscientiously worked there between 1942 and 1968.
PART I
THE BRACEBRIDGE HEATH WORKS
The site chosen by Avro’s for their repair workshops and for the control of the CWP’s, was an old Royal Flying Corps (RFC) aerodrome at Bracebridge Heath, just 2 1/2 miles south of Lincoln on the east side of the A15 road, but more importantly, just one mile north of the large RAF bomber base at Waddington.
With a cemetery on one side, and a lunatic asylum on the other, the field at Bracebridge Heath had developed in the Great War as a landing ground (called Robey’s Aerodrome) where the Lincoln firm of Robey & Co began to build aircraft under licence (Maurice Farman Longhorns) later joined by Clayton and Shuttleworth Ltd (another local firm) building Sopwith Camels and Triplanes there. Short seaplanes were also built under licence.
In 1917 it became No. 4 Aeroplane Acceptance Park, where newly-built aircraft were flight-tested and accepted by the Royal Flying Corps (RFC), and six permanent brick and wooden lattice ‘Belfast’ hangars were built, together with a variety of temporary buildings.
The aerodrome closed in 1920 , and the six stoutly-built RFC hangars were used between the wars by the Lincolnshire Road Car Co (the local bus company) and other firms in the motor or engineering trades.
2.
[Page break]
[Map of Bracebridge Heath and environs indicating Lincoln one mile to the north, showing the Avro Repair Works and the Road between Avro works and ARF Waddington (along which some aircraft were towed). Waddington airfield also marked]
[Page break]
[AVRO Photograph of Bracebridge Heath, showing the Belfast Hangars]
[Page break]
[Diagram of A.V.R.O. Bracebridge Heath site showing the layout of the facilities]
[Page break]
As these substantial hangars were still in good shape at the start of WWII, Avros decided to requisition three of them for their new Repair Organisation, and took up occupation in May 1941, gradually expanding to other buildings on the site as the war went on.
Site Layout
The layout of the Avro site can be seen in Diagram 1 (not to scale). The No. 1 hangar was divided into three sections, being in effect Belfast hangars No. 4-6 of the original RFC aerodrome (their hangars 1-3 were in an identical block parallel to and on the north side of this, and the Lincolnshire Road Car Co retained use of these throughout WWII for use as a bus depot).
A security fence was built around the new Avro site, to segregate it from the bus depot and the other buildings were added as the War progressed.
The interior layout of No. 1 hangar is shown in Diagram 2. Both of these diagrams were prepared from memory by Frank Harlow who worked there from 1945 to 195 [deleted] 0 [/deleted] [inserted] 8 [/inserted] 1958 reflect the layout of the site just after WWII.
Frank recalls:-
“No. 1 Hangar was typical of the hangars of the Great War period, buttressed brick end walls and interior brick arched walls supporting wooden lattice-work curved roof trusses, in this case giving three large, clear, uninterrupted areas.
No. 2 Hangar, the Stores Hangar, and Canteen were all new buildings built during the War.
The diagram of the layout of No. 1 Hangar gives a general idea of its arrangement. All these different items were not necessarily being worked on at the same time but over an extended period.
No. 2 Hangar was almost exclusively used for the repair of Category ‘B’ Ansons after the war- all different marks.”
Personnel
When the works opened, the senior managers and personnel were drafted in from Avro’s Chadderton and Woodford factories, and many of the workers were recruited from towns like Hull, Derby, Coventry and Birmingham. Cyril Greenwood was one who came down from Hull to work there just after Avros opened, and at the age of 19 went to work in the newly built No. 2 Hangar.
At first No. 2 Hangar was used for stripping down Manchester bomber assemblies, and in particular the mainplanes – when repaired, the assemblies were sent back to RAF bases where the Avro CWPs put the whole aircraft back together again.
3
[Page break]
[Underlined] Frank Harlow [/underlined]
[Hand drawn diagram of the Avro BBH Site plan N.T.S.] [Underlined] Diagram 1 [/underlined]
[Page break]
[Underlined] Diagram 2 [/underlined]
[Underlined] NOTE:- ALL THESE AREAS OF ACTIVITY WERE CHANGED AROUND TO SUIT THE WORK AVAILABLE [/underlined]
Frank Harlow
[Underlined] SUPERVISORS AND MR. THOMASON HAD OFFICES ABOVE THE TIME OFFICE [/underlined]
[Underlined] INTERIOR OF No 1 HANGAR [/underlined]
[Page break]
No. 1 Hangar (Belfast type from WW1)
[Photograph of a hangar]
[Page break]
Soon, the Manchesters were replaced by Lancasters, which arrived in ever increasing numbers for the rest of the war.
The first overall Works Superintendent was Mr C L Hatton, who was drafted in from being Superintendent in charge of Avro’s Experimental Dept at Ringway Airport. He was in charge of both the Bracebridge Heath works, and the growing organisation of Avro working parties at RAF stations (CWP’s). Before long, he would also be in overall charge of the second Avro repair factory, set up at Langar, Notts.
The day-to-day running of Bracebridge Heath – the aircraft repair, and the stores side – was in the hands of Mr Thomason, and the Chief Inspector was Bill Sturrock.
Later on, ‘Snowy’ Langton succeeded ‘Charlie’ Hatton as overall Superintendent, and by then he needed a Deputy, Mr Dowell.
One of the early workers to be sent across from Manchester was Mr V A Savory, who was the AID Inspector, and his tall figure, always seen to be walking slowly around, was familiar to all for many years. He walked slowly because of the injuries he had received when he escaped from the crash of the R101 Airship at Beauvais in France.
Cyril Greenwood came from Hull in 1940 to work at Avros at Bracebridge Heath. He stayed until the repair of aircraft on site finished in 1958, but his first impressions of the job are interesting:
“In those early days we travelled to Avros by bus. At one time the bus company had a strike, but the Air Force and Army stepped in and provided us with various vehicles to get us to work!
We worked seven days a week from 07.30am sometimes until 19.00pm, including overtime. We had one weekend off once a month, and I was then able to go home to Hull. There were always long waits at railway stations and always crowded trains. I constantly got caught up in the bombing raids on arrival. The City of Hull took a very great battering.” (The Avro works did shut completely for the normal summer and Christmas Holidays.)
“In Lincoln, I suppose we were rather lucky, we had a share of German raids but no comparison to other places. (Rather surprising, seeing we were surrounded by aerodromes!) My first visit to Lincoln was to find lodgings, which I was to share with another Avro worker, who also came from the same city. He was a very good artist, he drew various caricatures of members of the staff (I still have one of our foreman, although it is now rather dilapidated). Sadly, he died quite young of meningitis.
My wife started work on ‘nights’ at Avros, dismantling the aircraft. All the screws, nuts and bolts which were attached to the all the wiring, had to be undone and kept for
4
[Page break]
renovation. When she decided to work ‘days’, she was put on a bench near me, where she was itemising and recording various spare parts all the time.”
Ken Mumby started work in 1942 at Bracebridge Heath and remembers:
“I started at A V Roe after working as an Electrician on East Coast Radar Stations, when the Manchester bombers were still flying. I only worked on Lancasters at Bracebridge Heath and also at Waddington before going ‘outworking’ to various sites. At Bracebridge Heath we had all the sections – nose, front section, centre section and rear section, etc. I was on the Electrical Section and in many ways it was so different to the modern day aircraft (we had to deal with the entire aircraft wiring in those days!)
I have vivid memories of a Manchester bomber in the early days, being towed on the A15 (minus wings) to Bracebridge Heath to be worked on … would be only about a one mile journey. I never saw a Lancaster being towed on the A15 and they were not done so, to my knowledge. At B [inserted] B [/inserted] H many girls cleaned aircraft with ‘Tricolene’ and were given a pint of milk a day to counteract the effects of fainting, etc!”
In those early days there were two main functions at Bracebridge Heath – Salvage (of damaged parts) in Hangar 2, and Repair of all the different sections in Hangar No1 (the 1914 block). Many girls were employed in the Salvage unit recovering various components and instruments, etc.
There were other girls taken on in Hangar 1, like Mary Chambers in 1941, who was placed in the fabric repair section. She remembers working first on Anson wings and tails, recovering them with fabric and doping them afterwards. Soon, Manchester tails and the [deleted] r [/deleted] n Lancaster parts arrived, to be recovered. Occasionally odd objects like some of the special bomb doors for 617 Squadron’s aircraft appeared at the works for repair. May also remembers that when Rolls-Royce Merlin engines arrived at Bracebridge either before, or after repair, the fitter who took charge of these were usually from Rolls-Royce itself. Large lorries and trailers would take refurbished parts from Bracebridge down the road to Waddington when ready, or to other RAF stations, and later, to Langar.
As the number of crashed and damaged Lancasters rapidly increased, neither Bracebridge nor the new Avro works at Langar (opened in September 1942) could keep pace. Thus, other companies were brought into the Avro Repair Organisation including Brush Electrical at Loughborough and Northampton (wing sections in particular); the LMS Railway works in Derby (centre sections, etc.); the Bailgate works in Lincoln (nuts, bolts, rivets and pipes, etc.); Avro’s own Yeadon factory (bomb-doors, etc.) and so on.
Outworking Parties in WWII
Keny Mumby was put on a ‘Contractor’s Working Party’ soon after starting at Bracebridge in 1942. He remembers:
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“While ‘outworking’, I worked at about 20 or so RAF Stations in Lincolnshire and Yorkshire, a lot of them Satellites, repairing damaged ‘Lancs’ from various raids. It was much more interesting than being in the Factory, and an interesting incident occurred when I was sent to Linton-on-Ouse (Yorks). As I approached the aircraft on dispersal, I didn’t think the aircraft were Lancasters at first because they had radial engines (Hercules). I am given to understand that they were one of the few Squadrons in England with the Mark II Lanc.
I also spent some time at Scampton with the ‘Dam Busters’ Squadron. At first we knew nothing of the planned Dams Operation. We had no idea, except that we saw the Bomb well modification to take the ‘spinning bomb’, and ‘Lancs’ flying about 30ft above us whilst we were at dispersal points working on other aircraft.
Whilst working at Syerston near Newark and at other sites, when night operations were taking place, we were not allowed off the ‘drome until all aircraft were over our coastline – which meant an hour or two’s delay in waiting for 25/30 aircraft getting airborne and away. This was in case there should be any ‘Fifth Columnists’ amongst us!
Most of the sections of the Lanc used to be delivered from Bracebridge by 60 footers (a common sight down Cross-o-Cliff Hill and along the A46 out of Lincoln, to the various ‘dromes and Satellites). This was the general means of transport I had to get to jobs. At other times we were taken by car, often by a Crash Inspector. I recall being taken to Woodhall Spa by an AID Inspector one day to work on a Lanc which had to have 2 starboard fuel tanks fitted. All I had to do was to connect up the fuel gauges and pumps, and the Inspector went to the other side of the airfield to look at another crashed Lanc. He didn’t take long, because the main spar was twisted and reduced to salvage, ‘Cat. E’.
Sometimes I went to ‘dromes further afield in Yorkshire, and on one occasion to an American base where we had to stay several days and lived in the Mess with the Servicemen. At other times, if it meant several days work we would go to the local Police Station for accommodation.”
Ernest Bradley was another Avro employee who started at Bracebridge in 1942, and was soon put into the Outworking Party down the road at RAF Waddington:
“I was in No. 1 hangar working on the Engine staff. I loved it because we could see the aircraft taking off on Bombing raids, and count them next morning when we came to work and believe me I saw some very gruesome sights. Any damaged aircraft came to us for repairs. I remember going into one Lancaster that came to us. I arrived at work one morning and it was parked outside the hangar, and had some holes in the wings and body. I climbed inside to check it out and the first thing I saw was a shoe saturated in blood and then I saw that the rear turret had a mass of bullet holes in it. It also had blood stains all over it, a very nasty sight, but of course we were at war. I saw an odd aircraft now and again that had belly landed, but were considered to be ‘write-offs’.
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Working on repairs it was common place that at least one worker had to go up with any aircraft repaired. It could be anyone of the workforce. At the end of the war, after working on an ‘Avro Lincoln’ it was due to be tested, and to stop any sabotage (the real reason) someone had to go up with it. I remember we completed this aircraft and I was having my tea break when the ‘Boss’ came in. He said to me: “Go over to the Parachute Hangar and tell them you need a Parachute”. I said: “What do I need one for?” He said “You will be going up at one-o’clock with the aircraft you have just worked on. The pilot will be down shortly”. The aircraft was duly taken out of the hangar ready for testing. Everyone looked about it, saying: “I wouldn’t go up in that for all the money in the world”. Another said: “It won’t get off the ground”, and “Glad it’s you not me!” After tea break a pilot officer came up to the aircraft. “Is this the one for the Test Flight?” The Boss said: “Yes, its ready and this chap will be going with you”. Even the pilot said to me jokingly: “If you have to bail out you will probably fall out of the parachute!” (But he did say he was only joking). A few of the workers standing outside on the tarmac said: “It’s been nice knowing you ‘Charlie’”, but I liked it when we got airborne. The pilot stood me behind his seat and said “Hold on to it!”
Tom Bourne, who worked at Avros as an aircraft fitter, firstly at Newton Heath in 1936, then Chadderton just before WWII started, was selected to be posted to Bracebridge Heath in 1940, as the new Repair Organisation began to expand. He poignantly remembers:
“We were housed in an old, First World War hangar, not far from RAF Waddington, home to 44 Rhodesia Squadron, who later took delivery of the new Lancaster bomber which was to take part in the daylight raid on Augsburg, Germany – and which resulted in Squadron Leader John Nettleton being awarded the VC.
After working at Bracebridge Heath for a while, I joined a small outworking party and made my way to RAF Skellingthorpe near Lincoln to repair a Lancaster damaged the previous night, while on a raid over Germany.
On reporting at the main gate, I was issued with a pass and entered a different world, where aircraft were taking off and landing every second. The sound was deafening. My party was directed in the general direction of our aircraft, which was on the other side of this huge airfield.
We started off walking round the perimeter, and were soon overtaken by a Lancaster trundling round to the take-off point. This was closely followed by another so we stood aside to let it go by.
This one stopped, with a squeal of brakes and the rear gun turret swung round, and the ‘Tail-End Charlie’ fired his four Brownings into a sand pit put there for this purpose. He was just clearing his guns, which was a normal procedure – although no one had told us! It caused some amusement with the cockpit crew, who had a good laugh at our expense.
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Following that, a tractor pulling a train of live bombs zig-zagged its way past. We decided it would be better if we walked on the grass!
We eventually reached our dispersal and safety! It was my first sight of a fully operational bomber and a Lancaster close up! As it had been on a bombing raid over Germany the previous night everything was in place – the ammunition racks leading to the gun positions were full of live bullets, all of different colours, denoting their particular use. One in every ten was a tracer – then came incendiaries, armour piercing and to make up the ten, the ordinary bullet.
On entering the aircraft, I could feel the atmosphere – the smell of sweating bodies, disinfectant from the ‘Elsan’, gunpowder and stale breath. The interior was still warm from the previous night’s operation. We read the damage report and finally got sorted out. The NAFFI [sic] van sailed by un-noticed, until it was too late!
At the end of our first day at Skellingthorpe, we trudged back round the perimeter, which was by then relatively quiet – all the aircraft were on their dispersals, being ‘Bombed-up’, ready for the coming night’s ‘OP’.
This was my first experience of a Bomber Station, and one that would be repeated many times over the next three years.
Lincoln was surrounded by Bomber Stations. From our digs in the High Street we could hear the different squadrons all starting their engines, one by one, until the air trembled with the noise! It would then go quiet, when they all assembled at the take off point. Then, one by one, they would open up and charge along the runway, the Merlin engines perfectly in tune. When the wind was in a certain direction they flew directly above our digs, their navigation lights winking in the night sky, disappearing above the clouds. Within minutes all the noise would be gone, and a deadly silence would descend. A large percentage of them would never return.
Next morning, after eight or nine hours airborne, the lucky ones could be heard circling above, awaiting their turn to land. Some had been shot up, others had wounded aboard, who would be met by ambulances, and stretchered off to the hospital on the station. We never made friends with the aircrew – there was never any time. They were here today and gone tomorrow.
This was a sample of life on a typical Bomber Station. Damaged aircraft were repaired, aircrew replaced, hearses, bedecked with flowers from grieving relatives, mingled with tractors pulling their loads of death. Bicycles by the dozen were being ridden in every direction, mainly by WAAF’s, who played a large part in everyday life on a Bomber Station.
Bomber Stations such as Scampton, Waddington and Skellingthorpe, all used Lincoln Cathedral as a beacon, on their return across the North Sea.
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In the hangars, a section was always reserved for ‘Old Bangers’, formally the pride and joy of aircrews, who had failed to return after a raid. If ‘OPs’ had to be cancelled, they would pile into them, and chase down the country lanes to their favourite watering hole. Here they drove the usually quiet locals mad, with their antics. After all, they had such a short life – every moment was precious – and if their lives were extended by spending a night in the ‘nick’ so what? Once a ‘Tail-end Charlie’ with staring eyes recounted when on the previous night’s raid, he opened up on an enemy fighter. It was only the presence of a Staff Sergeant that saved him from being a resident in the local ‘nick’! – you were always warned that ‘Careless talk costs lives’.
Every so often these ‘Old Bangers’ would be auctioned off to the local dealers, who would, in turn, sell them back to the new intake. They would eventually end up in the hangar to be auctioned off once again and so on.
There were the odd times when a little light relief helped to ease the tension. Once I was seated in my favourite W Op’s seat in the aircraft at dinner time while I watched the antics of two RAF officers, who rowed out in the middle of a static water tank. One of the officers stood up and pointed a pistol upwards. By the time he had plucked up the courage to pull the trigger, the pistol was pointing across the road and the contents ended up draped over the telephone wires. The two officers finished up in the bottom of the dinghy, laughing their heads off. It seems that the object was a new type of distress signal – a rocket propelled kite, to be used by aircrews who had ditched in the ‘Drink’ (come down in the sea) after being hit over the target. This was a common occurrence in the days of 1,000 bomber raids.
In those hectic days, as our lads were returning, so the Yanks were format [deleted] t [/deleted] ing above, on their way to bomb in daylight raids. On the nights when our lads were at home they met up at the pubs in Lincoln, with the Yanks. There was never any trouble, just high spirits. The Yanks were all six or seven feet tall – and usually commandeered all the city pubs. They, of course, had the money. They were also very generous and would buy anyone a drink!”
The war ends
As WWII came to an end Frank Harlow arrived at Bracebridge to work for Avro there. He recounts:
“The passing of time may have dimmed my memory, but I will remember the day I started work at A V Roe Bracebridge Heath – it was May 7 1945. The next day, May 8, was VE day and was declared a holiday.
I was one of a group of RAF tradesmen in 1942, given the opportunity to volunteer to work on aircraft production, initially for a minimum period of six months – after review it was decided to leave us doing this vital work of national importance. In the first place I
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was directed to Coventry, to work on the production of Bristol ‘Hercules’ engines, later in 1945 I was directed to work at Avros at Bracebridge Heath.
My impression on entering the gates was that it looked like a big scrap heap – bits and pieces of aircraft were dumped everywhere! Many times, however, this heap of junk yielded a vital item (not available in stores) to complete a job. Eventually, during the next couple of years the yard was gradually tidied up.
Inside the hangars things were more organised. I was placed with a group repairing Lancaster D3 and D4 sections which took up one side of hangar No1. On the opposite side was a fabric section mainly doing work on Ansons, ‘rebagging’ fuselages and recovering control surfaces and doping them. On the far side was a detail section making various items (ie brackets, ribs, etc., which were made of sheet metal, requiring cutting out and bending or folding), as and when needed for both ‘Outworking Parties’ and inside shop use. Also in this hangar, spaces were found for working on Lancaster fins and rudders, a drawing store, a tool stores and a spray bay.
Across the concrete yard another hangar (No. 2) at this time dealt mainly with repairs and re-building of Ansons, and employed quite a large woodworking gang.
Next to this was a large stores hangar dispatching sections and parts of aircraft daily to many destinations.
During the first couple of years while I was at Bracebridge Heath, some special jobs came along for attention, like a York for General Smuts of South Africa, a Lancastrian ‘Aries’ for polar flights and an Avro 504N for restoration.”
With the War over, Lancaster repairs continued for a time but Yorks, Lancastrians and then Lincolns began to appear in small numbers. Later, Ansons needing ‘Cat B’ repairs began to appear in continuous order, some landing at Waddington and actually being towed up the A15 on their wheels by a company tug. The tug also took some Lancasters on their main wheels – but minus their outer wings which were removed in Hangar 1 at Waddington. These Lancasters were on a one-way journey to be completely broken up at Bracebridge – hence the untidy ‘dumps’ that Frank Harlow saw on his arrival.
Ron Morley, who worked at Bracebridge from 1946 to 1958, firstly in the Engine Bay and later in Inspection, also remembers seeing the Lancaster’s – minus outer wings – being towed up from RAF Waddington along the A15, and on arrival at BBH, someone would operate the undercarriage lever, and the great aircraft would sink slowly to the ground. Men with blow torches would then move in to complete the scrapping.
A York or two were also towed up to Bracebridge with mainplanes removed, overhauled and towed back to Waddington for test-flying, but most Yorks (including that of General Smuts) were dismantled and re-erected in Waddington’s Hangar No. 1 – by now only half of which was needed by Avro’s outworking party there.
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The number of personnel working at Bracebridge (both in the works and with the Outworking Parties) had risen to some 1,582 at its peak in 1943 in WWII (approximately 1,100 being on day shift and 480 on night work), but soon after the war finished and Lancasters were no longer needed, the total workforce dropped to some 623 for the repair work on Ansons, Yorks and Lincolns.
The list of Category ‘B’ Yorks and Ansons repaired at Bracebridge Heath or Waddington by Avro after the War, as far as is known, is shown in Appendix ---
Cyril Greenfield remembers how, just after the end of the war:
“I was sent to ‘Waddington’ Aerodrome for a while. There we worked on the Yorks, servicing and refitting them. One of these belonged to Sir Winston Churchill (LV633 ‘Ascalon’). Field Marshal Smuts was another whose plane we refitted there (MW107). A pair of binoculars belonging to him which were said to be valuable went missing, and consequently we all came under suspicion and were all questioned about the loss. Eventually, they came to light again. We also serviced Mountbatten’s York and gave it a 100 hour service.
Back in the factory at Bracebridge again, Lancasters were now stripped of their turrets and other armament and were able then to be turned into passenger planes, some of which were sent to Argentina. We built wing tips and various parts for the Shackletons, including some sold to South Africa.
The Anson was another type we worked on, and I remember Sir Stafford Cripps (amongst other VIP’s) visited the factory and shook hands with me, saying he was very interested in what we were doing.
I thoroughly enjoyed my time and work at Avro’s and was so sorry when it was closed.
I made some good friends there, some have since passed on, some I still bump into.
I also met my wife there and (I might add) we have now spent 52 years together!”.
Frank Harlow remembers the transition from War to Peace at Bracebridge Heath:
“In my time, I remember that Ansons were towed along the A15 from Waddington to Bracebridge Heath.
Larger aircraft needing major over-haul etc, were taken apart at Waddington and elsewhere where outworking parties were based, the various sections and sub-assemblies being sent to BBH. In the event of major damage and repair it could mean replacements being taken from stores to help speed up the turn-around of aircraft.
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Complete assembly of Lancasters was not done at BBH, Outworking gangs being R.G.
Being responsible for this at Waddington and other RAF bases.
At BBH, salvage, repair and refurbishment of various sections and sub-assemblies of the Lancaster was one of the main jobs until some time after the war.
When they were finished, checked and inspected they went into stores to form a pool of serviceable items. For instance, my first work at BBH was on D4 sections under chargehand Mr Charlie Rogers. Up to 20 D4s would be on the section at any one time, they were completely stripped out, repaired, resprayed and turned out as good as new. Other sections were similarly organised, working on D3s, D2s and D1s, bomb doors, fins, rudder, etc, emphasis being placed on where the shortages were greatest. I well remember once that main planes were the top priority.”
Frank remembers the various people in charge at Bracebridge in the early 1950s.
In overall charge of Bracebridge, the Outworking Parties and Langar, was ‘Snowy’ Langton. His duties included travelling regularly to all these sites to sort out problems and keep in touch with the personnel.
Langton’s deputy was Mr Thomason, who ran the Bracebridge Heath works and devoted all his time to this.
The Chief Inspector was Bill Sturrock.
In No. 1 Hangar, Mr Rastall was in charge of the Detail Section. He was a ‘master of improvisation’ and worked wonders with the simplest of tools.
Mr Lawson – one of the earliest employees at BBH – was the Chargehand on various fuselage sections, while ‘Charlie’ Rogers was the Chargehand on the D4 sections.
Frank Vamplew was Chargehand on the mainplane sections.
“In No. 2 Hangar”, Frank remembers, “where the Ansons were undergoing repairs, Mr Andrews, Mr Brown and Mr Hutchinson supervised the work with Mr Pratt in charge of the woodworkers (‘chippies’). At one time in No. 2 Hangar, when the Electrical Section was based there, Mr Lance Wingard was in charge. The Hydraulic Section was also based in this hangar, but I cannot remember who was in charge.
Ron Morley also remembers the transition from War to Peace at Bracebridge Heath.
“I went there after the war and did not see an Anson for some time, as the factory was engaged in the demolition of Lancasters. Eventually the Ansons started coming in for Repair and Reconditioning, etc. I worked first in the Engine Bay, preparing Engines for the Lancastrians and Yorks. Then I joined the Inspection Dept. and soon found
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Myself in the Inspection Office, where I took over the job of Quality Control Inspector, which included the acceptance of Aircraft items for repair on Contract Loan, and issuing the details in the appropriate Departments for action. At that time I had about 20 Departments to inspect, and had to issue Reports on them each month (including Waddington, where we had half a Hangar where Lincolns were repaired). I don’t recall the exact date when the Ansons started to come in, but it was part of my duties to go to Waddington to check the Modifications embodied and to draw up a list of Appendix ‘A’ items (such as Radio Equipment, Clocks, Instruments etc) – in short, all Air Ministry Equipment destined to be replaced when the Aircraft returned to the RAF.
When I returned to BBH I had to prepare lists of my findings for the various Depts before the necessary work could be commenced. This particular work was not always as easy as it might seem – for instance one day our Transport Dept took me to Waddington in the snow and when I rang for them to collect me they said the road was blocked. I was the only one there at this time, so decided to walk back via the main Sleaford Road, which was the nearest, so I set off across the aerodrome where the wind was so fierce that it was blowing most of the snow in my direction. Luckily I had my ‘clapper board’ which I held in front of my face. I thought it was like Amundsen going to the Pole! When I reached the main road, the snow was quite deep, but it was only another half a mile and was I glad to get back!
My job latterly concerned the collating of all Modifications, etc, and typing them into the Aircraft Log Books and submitting them to the AID for perusal and signature, prior to the Test flight and despatch. I rarely saw the Test Pilots, but was informed of their arrival from Manchester or wherever.”
Developments in the 1950’s
Frank Harlow remembers how the 1950’s began to bring changes to the work at Bracebridge.
“Early in the 1950’s space was cleared for the building of the experimental delta wing 707 aircraft. Two were built, a 707A and 707C. When completed the aircraft were towed along the A15, which runs past the depot, on to Waddington airfield, and flown off from there. I did quite a lot of work on these aircraft, and recently after over 40 years I saw the 707C again in Cosford Aerospace Museum!
Various members of the supervisory staff had an interest in the building of the 707’s, in particular a Mr Taylor. I worked closely with him on several occasion during this period. Later, due to his recommendation I was transferred to the Machine Shop to the job of marker-out.
Meantime work was still continuing on Ansons, and Lancaster sections. About this time a small Machine Shop was set up at one end of the Stores Hangar, its main function being machine ‘one-offs’, or small batches of ‘priority’ and ‘urgent’ items. I had about eighteen months working there as a ‘marker-out’.
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As near as I can recall in 1953/54 a small Drawing Office was established, to which I transferred from the shop floor. The Drawing Office”, Frank remembers, “ was originally established to take over the work concerned with the development of the Vulcan, as Chadderton’s Drawing Office was getting swamped with work on the new Avro Supersonic developments of the Vulcan – the Avro 730 and later, 732. But cancellation of these projects in 1956 left BBH with DO capacity to spare. At this time at Langar work was proceeding on an order for the South African Air Force for Shackleton MR3 aircraft with tricycle undercarriage. The drawing office at Bracebridge Heath became involved with much of the work to do with modifications to these aircraft. This meant frequent trips to Langar, producing the necessary ‘on-the-spot’ sketches, and instructions for work to progress.
It was not unusual by the mid-50’s to see various sections of Lincolns, or Hunters undergoing repairs etc, but work in the repair hangars then tended to ease off.
Mr Stobart, often called ‘Tubby’ was in charge of the newly installed machine shop, while Peter Lodge came to BBH to set up the Drawing Office, and interviewed me when I applied to be transferred to his department.
The sections of Hunter fuselages I saw at BBH were new items in Primer paint only. I think they were sent in for modification, and returned to store.
Not having an airfield at BBH, flying and flight-testing did not take place, hence there was hardly any contact between personnel here, and the test-pilots at Waddington or Langar.
Equally, the Out Working Parties at Waddington, Scampton and elsewhere had very limited contact with the workers at BBH, in the normal routine.
I finally left A V Roe’s in 1958, after 14 happy years.”
Some funny stories were told of the towing efforts up and down the A15 road between Bracebridge and RAF Waddington. Ron Frost, who was born in Hamble and worked in Detail (and later the Jig & Tool Section) at BBH from 19 [deleted] 3 [/deleted] [inserted] 4 (1949) [/inserted] 9 to 1962, collected these from the monthly meeting of ‘Avro-ites’ who still meet on the first Thursday of every month in Lincoln, to talk of the old days:
“’Ron’ Dickens was the aircraft tug driver who carried out this task, and his friends remember that in order to swing on to the road from the works there was little room to clear the wingtips, due to a telegraph pole in the way. A chap had to unwind the turnbuckles supporting the offending pole to get past. This was standard practice until one day there was a cry from up the post – it appears they had missed seeing the GPO engineer up the post doing his job! Another story was told, that one day a large car met them head on, while towing an Anson on the A15. The car driver challenged their
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authority to be on the road with an aircraft in tow. The answer was: ‘We have been doing this for years’. The reply was: ‘Well, I’m the Chief Constable, so get permission from me in future!’”
The 707s
Five of these small delta wing research aircraft, built to provide data for the Vulcan bomber programme, were flown between September 1949 and July 1953, the last two being assembled at Bracebridge Heath and test-flown at RAF Waddington.
The first of these, an Avro 707A (WZ736) was actually test-flown at Waddington by Sqd Ldr Jimmy Nelson, AFC on February 20th 1953, and the second, an Avro 707C (WZ744) was test flown at Waddington on July 1st 1953 by Sqd Ldr Jack Wales, DFC.
Ron Morley remembers that there was a works dispute on at the time that one of these was waiting for its first flight, and the entire Inspection Dept was recruited to get it ready for flying.
Donald Broomhead, in the Wing Dept remembers working on making wing ribs for the 707s and John T Woods recalls:
“Eventually I made some of the patterns, being a cabinet maker by trade, for the prototype 707A aircraft. I have many memories of the days at Bracebridge Heath, including when the first 707 was towed up the Sleaford road to Waddington Airfield for its first flight, and one wing tip hit a tree! On another occasion, the 707’s undercarriage would not lock down.
Many of the machined parts of the Vulcan airframe controls were made in the machine shop at Bracebridge Heath. At this time I was a machine shop inspector, and I remember the difficulty we had with the aileron bearing housings!”
Bracebridge’s versatility
Len Binding joined Avros at Bracebridge Heath at the beginning of February 1946. He had served with the RAF in India during the War and was a brilliant airframe restorer. It was he who had discovered the glue in the wooden Mosquito wings was perishing in the humid Tropics, and had them grounded – thereby saving pilots lives.
He listed the chronological order of events as the 1950s and 1960s passed by at Bracebridge:
“With the war over, surplus Lancasters were being cut up for scrap in the open areas between the hangars when I arrived there.
Avro York and Lancastrian
In hangar C1, an Avro York and a Lancastrian were under-going major repairs. The fuselages were split at the transport joints and the sections fitted in their respective
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[Photograph of men around a prototype Vulcan aircraft] Avro 707A, WZ736, built at Bracebridge Heath, being towed up the A15 to Waddington Airfield to be flown by Sqd Ldr Jimmy Nelson, AFC.
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bogies. When structural repairs were complete and the sections re-assembled, the fuselages, complete with centre sections and undercarriages, were fully equipped and tested.
With the co-operation of the police, the aircraft, less mainplanes, would be towed from the factory along the A15 road to the boundary fence entry point at RAF Waddington. Factory personnel working on the station carried out fitment of mainplanes, outstanding work and finals.
Other departments at the factory were repairing York mainplanes – tailplanes – fins – ailerons – elevators and rudders. This work rapidly increased during the Berlin airlift.
Major repairs to a second Avro York followed, along with various sections:- (D1 and D2, [deleted] ) [/deleted] also [deleted ( [/deleted] D4).
Avro Anson (All Marks)
Major repairs and overhauls to Avro Anson aircraft commenced in B1 Hangar, followed by the manufacture of Anson metal tailplanes, mainplanes and centre sections in C1 Hangar. The Ansons were completed at Bracebridge Heath, then towed to RAF Waddington via the usual route.
Lancaster Spares
Various Lancaster fuselage sections, including undercarriages, wheels, tyres and brake units were serviced for the Argentine Air Force, which had bought a number of used Lancasters. This was part of the spares requirement.
Avro 707A and 707C
It was decided to build an Avro 707A and a 707C at the Bracebridge Heath factory, which included all the relevant sub-assemblies and the majority of details. Main jigs were installed for the assembly of front and rear spars, mainplanes, centre section, rear fuselage and fin, but the nose assembly was built at the Woodford factory and equipped at Bracebridge Heath. Wooden fixtures were used for the other major sub-assemblies.
Final assemblies and functions were carried out at Bracebridge Heath. The aircraft were then towed to RAF Waddington via the usual route, where finals and flight-tests were carried out.
A Slight Deviation from Aircraft!
During a slack period at Bracebridge Heath, C1 Hangar got involved with the manufacture of ‘Choc Ice Cream Machines’, which not only coated the ice cream with chocolate, but wrapped the final product!
Hawker Hunter Fuselages
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Quite a large number of crated Hawker Hunter fuselages were forwarded to Bracebridge heath [sic] for modifications. Jigs and the necessary parts were manufactured on site, and when modifications were embodied, the fuselages were re-crated and returned.
Shackleton MR2 and MR3 Aircraft
Jigs were installed for the manufacture of:
Outer mainplanes, inner mainplanes, fins, rudders, tailplanes, elevators and bomb doors.
Shackleton and Lincolns
Other departments carried out repairs similar to those mentioned above, plus fuselage sections.
Argosy AWA650 Freighters
The manufacture of the Argosy freighter was allocated to various sites. The Woodford factory task was the centre section. Bracebridge Heath’s task was to build the inner and outer wings.
A meeting was held at the Chadderton factory to discuss the programme, which I attended with the works superintendent from Bracebridge Heath. Pre-drilling had caused many problems in the past, so at my request they agreed to leave the rib flanges undrilled. However, I lost the battle regarding the tank bay inner skins, which were delivered pre-drilled.
I don’t know who produced the wing spars, but they had to be ‘returned to sender’. The booms had been produced from an incorrect material specification.
Eventually we received another set of front and rear spars, and so commenced building the inner wings. Although progress was good, it was impossible to meet the completion dates. The Armstrong Whitworth delegation was not satisfied, they wanted the workforce doubled. I think the theory was: ‘If the job took one man one hundred hours, a hundred men would produce it in one hour!’
The pre-drilled holes in the tank bay inner skins were not in line with the rib flanges, so blank skins had to be made and the workforce had to be increased to satisfy Armstrong Whitworth.
The inner mainplanes were removed from the jigs and put in transportation bogies before final fitment of the inner tank bay skins, in order to commence work on the second set. It became obvious to me that problems would arise and the job would take longer to complete.
Frank Wilson, the design engineer covering the queries and problems could see the humorous side of the job and wrote the fictitious Drawing Query Form below (Frank later became the Project Designer for the 748 aircraft). On my retirement, I went to see
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Frank Wilson at Woodford and he said: ‘Lenny, I’ve got something for you’ and gave me the Drawing Query Form that I had not seen since 1958!”
Works expansion
By the early 1950s, Bracebridge had acquired much needed extra facilities, as Len Binding recalled:
“In Hangar B1, jigs were installed for the manufacture of Vulcan engine access doors, and to keep up with the demand, a night shift was introduced.
Bracebridge Heath factory also by now had:
- A small but very efficient Design Office and a comprehensive Drawing Stores, complete with drawing printers.
- A large MOD store
- An average size Machine Shop was set up at the time we commenced to build the 707A and 707C, which proved a great asset. Outside contracts for machining soon began to flood in.
There was also an excellent Instrument Test Room and like the Machine Shop it was not short of outside contracts for overhauling and testing.”
The actual repair of aircraft and production of new ones (eg the 707s) all finished in 1958, however, leaving only the component repair and overhaul sections in operation and the control of the Outworking gangs – which by now had all kinds of varied tasks to undertake.
Outworking Parties in the later years
Bracebridge Heath’s Outworking Parties covered work at RAF and Naval Stations an also airports on the following aircraft: Lancasters, Lincolns, Shackletons, Vulcans, Victors, Nimrods, Phantoms, the Argosy, 748 and Andover (which included the ‘Queen’s Flight’ at RAF Benson and the VIP Flight at RAF Northolt).
The work included repairs (some were extensive), modifications, servicing and occasionally major inspections.
Len Binding, as one of the Foremen at BBH, was soon involved with the Outworking Parties and listed some of the tasks he was engaged on over the next 30 years or so from the HQ at Bracebridge:
“Shackleton Aircraft Grounded (July 1959):
In July 1959 the Shackleton aircraft were grounded at home and abroad until ‘Special Technical Instruction 69’ was embodied.
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Outworking Parties from the Bracebridge Heath factory carried out the necessary work on the applicable RAF stations in the United Kingdom. An inspector and I flew to Singapore to advise on the embodiment of the above mentioned Special Technical Instruction with 205 Squadron personnel at Changi and Seletar. Another team covered the aircraft in Malta.
The work involved the removal of the removal of the inner mainplane trailing edge, to expose the rear spar; then the removal of the web-to-boom attachment bolts and dowels in the area, measuring approximately six to eight feet outboard of the inboard edge of the rear spar bottom boom. The holes had to be cleaned and inspected using intrascopes, and all results were recorded. All web-to-boom bolt holes were then opened up to 1/32 oversize, and new oversize bolts and dowels fitted.
On my return from holiday, the next task was to commence changing the bottom spar booms of 205 Squadron aircraft, not only on the inner mainplanes but also on the centre section. To do this, quite a lot of equipment had to be removed from the fuselages.
We were allocated a hangar at Langar and commenced the removal of engines, bomb doors, inner and outer mainplanes, fuel and oil tanks and landing gear (undercarriages). All electric cables, etc had to be released and withdrawn from the rear fuselage and stowed in the centre section. The fuselages were split at transport joints (centre section front and rear spars) and the sections located in their respective bogies.
The inner mainplanes were transported to another part of the group for modification.
Centre section bottom booms were removed, using safety raiser and skates to take the weight after the web boom bolts had been removed and also to assist in withdrawing it.
The old booms then became the drilling patters for the manufacture of new replacements.
Then we had to re-fit and line up the pre-drilled holes of the new boom with the existing holes in the web, so that satisfactory drilling and reaming could commence. (Broaching equipment was not available.) When the booms were finally bolted to the webs, re-assembly then commenced.”
Channel Airways HS748s:
On August 15th 1967, at the grass airfield at Portsmouth, Hampshire, heavy overnight rain the previous day had made the grass very slippery and in the course of landing there, two of Channel Airways new HS748 Series 2 airliners each skidded when braking after touchdown.
Both aircraft damaged their undercarriages and one (G-ATEH) skidded through the boundary fence onto Eastern Road outside, blocking it.
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An over-enthusiastic Chief of Police ordered a tractor to tow this 748 clear of the traffic, back onto the airfield and in doing so the wire hawser of the tractor cut through the rear fuselage and rear pressure bulkhead – “like cheese-wire through cheese”, as Len Binding said.
He was invited to take a team down to repair G-ATEH and – as part of the usual procedure – they built a cover around and over the affected ends of the 748s on scaffolding, to enable them to work underneath in a dry atmosphere.
Len remembered:
“Our hangar was comprised of scaffolding covered with corrugated iron sheeting, and we used old railway wagons for our office and stores. We had very efficient central heating!”
(He was later congratulated by the Air Registration Board for an excellent repair to both aircraft.)
“Hindustan Aeronautics Ltd – Kanpur Division (Period 1966 to 1967):
Preparations to carry out a modification programme on Venezuelan 748 aircraft were just about complete, when I was asked to take over in India because the team leader had been flown home seriously ill. (He later died within a month or so of his return to Great Britain.)
India was an enjoyable experience, but I wanted to be more involved and also with different aircraft. However, the company flew me home for my 25th wedding anniversary and then tried hard to get me to return (but they could not persuade me).
Andover C.Mk1 (Avro 780):
At RAF stations Abingdon and Thorney Island, repairs and modifications were embodied on the above aircraft, including ‘The Flight Data Recorder’ and the rial installation of height encoding altimeters.
Andover C.C.Mk2 (Avro 748):
At the ‘Queen’s Flight’ at RAF Benson, various teams worked there embodying modifications and carrying out repairs. Similar work was also done on the VIP Flight at RAF Northolt.
748 Aircraft XA-SEY at Miami Airport (1968):
The repair consisted of replacement of cracked bottom skins and a reinforcing plate in the vicinity of the main undercarriage. This required the removal of the main undercarriage and pivot members.
The 748 aircraft was owned by Fernando Barbachano. He was quite a character, and very generous. On completion of the aircraft repair, Barbachano offered the team a free
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week’s holiday on the island of Cozumel, including the return fare to the island from Miami. Payment for drinks would be the individual’s responsibility. Two members of the team accepted the offer, and had a wonderful time!
Belgian Air Force 748 Aircraft at Brussels Airport:
Fuel leaks had occurred at wing access panels, caused by over tightening panel attachment screws. To rectify, all panels and frames were replaced.
748 Aircraft G-ATAM – the Company Aircraft leased to Philippine Airlines (October 1968):
Preparations for the lease of Avro’s own 748 aircraft G-ATAM, were carried out at Langar. The new registration was PI-C1020.
Towards the end of the lease, PI-C1020 was damaged at San Fernando Airport, situated on the West Coast of Central Luzon.
Philippine Airline employees repaired the aircraft, under the instructions of our Bracebridge Outworking Party.
AW Argosy Freighters (June 1969):
A hangar was made available at De Havilland’s works at Downsview, Canada for the repair of Argosy aircraft which had developed fatigue problems in the bottom boom if the front spar (inner wing), at the root end joint, port and starboard.
When building the Argosy wing, all holes were produced to BS 1916 H7 fit, whereas the Shackleton wing was to Newall Standard ‘A’ fit.
Simulated tests on replica joints proved the Shackleton joint was superior.
We experienced great difficulty in removing the bolts and bushes, but the breakthrough came when we warmed the spar boom and used liquid Nitrogen to shrink the bushes. The root ends were then cleaned, including the removal of stress corrosion. Reinforcing plates and shackles were re-plated at De Havilland’s. The holes were opened up to Newell Standard ‘A’ fit and oversize bolts were fitted. The main boltholes required oversized bushes to be fitted.
Blackburn Beverley Freighters:
At RAF Abingdon, a working party carried out a major inspection and a modification programme on the Beverley freighter.
Vulcans on various RAF Stations:
Bracebridge Heath had working parties on Vulcan stations at Finningley, Scampton, Waddington, Coningsby and Cottismore [sic], working on modifications and ‘Category 3’ repairs.
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The ‘Rapid Start’ modification programme commenced at RAF Coningsby. Other stations were involved later. (November 1969)
The work on ‘Blue Steel’ was mainly carried out at RAF Scampton. (October 1971)
I visited RAF Akrotiri in Cyprus on two occasions, once to advise 103 Maintenance Unit on repairs to a Vulcan that sustained a bird strike and had caught fire. The second time I went out with a small team to deal with corrosion problems.
Vulcan Fatigue Modifications (1001 and 1013):
The aircraft had to be jacked up and roughly levelled using the star plate, then finally rigged using a dumpy level and sighting rod. The trestles were positioned at the respective points and adjusted during the rigging procedure. At this stage the wing tips needed to be raised 1 1/2 inches so the root end wing joints were in the no-load condition.
Modification 1001 consisted of the removal and replacements of the front bottom wing root forgings port and starboard. (The forgings have four legs, one leg mates with the bottom boom of the mainplane, the other with the bottom boom of the centre section, the other two legs fit into the transport rib, one vertical the other one aft.)
Modification 1013 comprised the removal of shackles and reinforcing plates from the remaining wing root forgings, port and starboard, that were not covered by Modification 1001. The shackles and reinforcing plates were sent to the Chadderton factory for checks and replating. When re-assembled, all joints got cocooned.
To gain access to all root end joints to front and rear spars top and bottom, the following had to be removed or partially removed:-
Engines, jet pipes, intake skins and jet pipe tunnel skins. The outer top and bottom skins port and starboard of the centre section were peeled back sufficiently to gain access to the root end joints.
Extensive drill and reamer kits were required, complete with pilot and slip bushes, plus ‘Delapina’ honing equipment.
The holes were to Newall Standard ‘A’ fit with a honed and polished finish – hole sizes were 5/8 inches to 1 1/2 inches in diameter.
Hardened steel reinforcing plates were fitted both sides of the booms and produced a sandwich of hardened steel – light alloy – hardened steel. Great care was needed when honing, not to produce a barrel shaped hole. The equipment used for checking were internal micrometers and dial test indicator.
The transport rib bottom boom had to be cut back to allow the removal of the old forging. This was replaced by steel shackles, when fitting the replacement.
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Although the main bolts through shackles, reinforcing plates and booms were relatively easy to remove, special extractors were required for the removal of the remaining bolts holding the forgings to the aircraft.
Due to the hight tolerances on these holes, temperatures could and did affect fitment of bolts.
We carried out these modifications at RAF stations Waddington, Coningsby and Finningley.
Vulcan B.Mk.1 XA911 at RAF Waddington:
During a flight over the North Sea, Vulcan B.Mk1 XA911 suffered a bird strike in one of the port engines, which ingested the birds, coughed and blew up. The debris from this was sucked into the adjoining air intake, causing the second engine to go the same way.
One turbine disc smashed through the engine casing, cutting two engine access doors in half.
The inboard engine rib 63.5 was damaged. The centre engine rib 113.5 was sliced in two.
The outboard engine rib 162.5 was extensively damaged and required special drawings for the repair, also special equipment for blending out and polishing of the bottom boom, which took many hours of tedious work before the repair could commence.
Turbine blades had been flying around like shrapnel, some going right through the port wing fuel tanks. One piece went through to the outboard tank and then through the mainplane front spar web.
Repairs were carried out to most port mainplane ribs and the recuperator bay. A number of intake skins, expansion joints and jet pipe tunnel skins had to be replaced.
Bird strikes have caused similar damage to other Vulcan’s, but not quite so severe.
A modification was introduced much later – the fitment on titanium shields to protect the engine ribs.
Vulcan ‘butchery’ at RAF St Athan (1970):
Design and Stress Departments asked for a perfectly serviceable Vulcan aircraft to be taken out of service for research purposes, before agreeing to extend the life of the fleet. A drawing was produced, indicating how the aircraft should be cut up.
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Ken Smith, the Vulcan Project Designer, arranged a meeting at the Woodford factory to discuss the requirements with personnel from an RAF maintenance unit who were going to take on the task. I was also asked to attend this meeting.
However, after studying the drawings, the RAF representatives requested the company to do the work, and so it was given to me to do!
The Vulcan selected for this ‘butchery’ was the first B.2 production aircraft, XH533.
Phantoms:
When Vulcans moved from RAF Coningsby, they were replaced by the Phantoms. The predominant work involved modifications, although the working party was involved with a couple of ‘Category 3’ repairs were also carried out at HMS Heron at Yeovilton, and HMS Daedalus at Gosport.
Nimrods:
The major work at Kinloss and RAF St Mawgan included modifications, corrosion problems and occasional ‘Category 3’ repairs.
At RAF Wyton there was a modification programme only.
Ghana Airways 748 Aircraft at Accra Airport (May 1971):
Ghana Airways personnel were manoeuvring the aircraft from the hangar when the damage occurred. The hangar door grazed the aircraft in the area of the pressure head and static plate.
We carried out a small skin insertion repair and replaced both the static plate and pressure head.
Dan Air 748 Aircraft repaired in the Concorde Aircraft Hangar:
At Charles de Gaulle Airport a Dan Air 748 aircraft made a bad landing. The nose landing gear was torn from the nose wheel bay structure. During preparation for the repair, corrosion was found at Former 252F, and further aft. It was obvious a galley had been fitted in this area, but the floorboards had not been properly sealed to prevent spillage seeping through and collecting in the fuselage bottom structure, which caused the corrosion.
Avro York at Staverton Airport:
The curator of ‘Skyframe Museum’ obtained an Avro York aircraft that originally belonged to ‘Skyways of London’. He requested Avro’s, Hawker Siddeley Aviation and Titanine (the paint manufacturer) to respray the aircraft gratuitously, and to make it look like Churchill’s aircraft (LV633 ‘Ascalon’)
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Titanine agreed to supply the paint and Hawker Siddeley Aviation agreed to supply the labour. We had a drawing of Churchill’s aircraft showing the square windows. So by masking the round windows, and by careful spraying, we achieved the desired effect.
Varig 748 at Porto Alegre – Brazil (March 1972):
At the request of Varig Airlines, Peter Grimley and myself flew to Porto Alegre in Brazil to carry out a survey on a badly damaged 748 aircraft. A pilot under instruction was doing an asymmetric take-off, and to correct a fault, power was applied – but to the wrong engine – and the aircraft dropped one hundred feet and pancaked! I would like to have repaired it, but after a meeting with the engineering director in Rio it was decided to write it off.
In appreciation for our services a conducted tour of Rio was laid on, including a hotel adjacent to the Copacabana Beach!
The President of Ecuador’s 748 at Guayaquil, Ecuador (October 1972:)
The President’s VIP 748 Series 2A (FAE 001) was severely damaged by an ‘Andes Airline’ DC-6 aircraft that was being taxied by their Chief Engineer. He was immediately arrested and imprisoned for sabotage, however, several weeks later he was cleared of the charge and subsequently released.
Jim Hayworth, the Assistant Chief Stressman, and myself travelled to Guayaquil to assess the damage, and after a meeting with the Fuerza Aerea Ecuatoriana (FAE) it was decided to produce a section of the starboard wing in the jig at Chadderton, which we then spliced to the existing undamaged part of the aircraft.
Colombian Air Force (FAC 1103) at Bahia Solano (July 1973):
My first visit to Bahia Solano almost ended in disaster when we developed engine trouble during our flight in a DC-3 aircraft flying from Bogota. The aircraft lost height rapidly over the mountainous jungle of Choco. Thankfully we just made the airstrip.
A radio fault on board prevented communication with Satena Airline’s headquarters, so on landing, Bahia Solano’s short wave radio was used to contact them. The call sign was ‘ALCATRAZ’! Four hours had elapsed before contact was made, and by then Solana assumed we had crashed, so they instigated a search, using five aircraft.
The spares required for the engine did not arrive until the following day, so we had to stay overnight at the shanty Hotel Bahia. That evening we sat down for dinner on benches at tables that did not look particularly clean. When the first course arrived it was ‘Fish Head Soup’. I realised then I would have to get food and water flown to us weekly from Bogota, and also obtain a cook!
That evening I met Michael G A Hill, a John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation Fellow – (Becado) 1972. He was carrying out a typographical study of Colombia’s Pacific Mountain coast. During our conversation, the subject of communications came
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[Photographs of a damaged aircraft with men inspecting damage] The President of Ecuador’s Avro 748 before repair.
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up and it was then he advised me to use the Morse facility, even though Satena and Company agent, Robert McAllister disagreed. Michael’s advice was to ‘print all messages clearly, do not write’. This turned out to be good advice, as the operator could not read the message but understood the letters.
The compressor unit supplied was unserviceable, so Satena sent a replacement. It ended up with both units being strapped together so the engine on one unit drove the good compressor on the other. Our troubles were not over. Within a few days, the unit’s petrol tank disintegrated, and we had to improvise, using a bucket and plastic tubing. The next things to go wrong were the units engine bearers. The only material on site was light alloy extrusion, so I used that, but made two sets of bearers which allowed us to complete the task.
The damage to the 748 was extensive, the undercarriage struts, beams and brackets broke through the mainplane top skin and also through the shroud and jet pipe.
Twelve months after repairing FAC 1103 at Bahia Solana, I received a newspaper cutting from an employee of Satena Airlines, showing a 748 crash in the Columbian jungle. It was FAC1103 again! Only this time it was terminal – the 748 had taken off from Bahia Solano again, and hit a nearby mountain top, killing all 32 passengers and crew on board!
The crash was found to be due to pilot error. To clear the mountain the procedure was to do a circuit of the airfield to gain height. However, the pilot was in a hurry to get back to base to clear outstanding paperwork, so on take-off, he sat the aircraft on its tail and opened up the engines thinking he could clear the mountain and save time. As you can see, he failed!”
Len Binding was at Woodford with ex-Chief Test Pilot Jimmy Harrison (by now Product Support Manager) at the time the news of the Columbian 748 crash came through. Jimmy said there had been a flash in the sky before the crash, and Len remembered that Satena often carried aviation fuel about in drums, to replenish the local supplies at the remote airstrips. Len had noticed once that a can had been leaking on board one his [sic] flights in Columbia, and the passengers sometimes smoked near them! He wondered if this might have been a cause in this case.
“The President’s Aircraft (FAE 684) Severely damaged at Cuenca, Ecuador:
As the President’s aircraft was approaching Cuenca, ground control advised the pilot not to land due to the atrocious weather conditions. The captain decided to land, however, and on touch-down, the aircraft aquaplaned and was heading for a sheer drop at the end of the runway. He managed to slew the aircraft around and into a ditch.
Jim Haworth and myself flew to Ecuador to assess the damage. From the photographs I took we could establish what materials and spares were required, as well as tools, drawings and ground equipment.
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[Photograph of an aircraft being repaired] The Avro 748 of Lineas Aereas del Caribe being repaired at Merida, Mexico.
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Leeward Islands Air Transport (LIAT) 748 Aircraft:
Jim Haworth and myself travelled to St Vincent in June 1977 to survey a damaged aircraft (VP-LIW) which turned out to be the old Channel Airways aircraft (G-ATEH) that I repaired at Portsmouth Airport. On completion of the survey, I received a telex to travel to Bogota to meet ‘Airclaims’.
At Antigua in November 1979, I carried out a modification programme which included ‘Ground Proximity Warning’ and Direct Measuring Equipment (DME).
Satena 748 Series 2A (FAC 1101):
On arrival at Bogota in June 1977, I made contact with ‘Airclaims’ who asked me to do a survey on a Satena 748 (FAC 1101) at Arauca Airport.
The damage was mainly confined to the nose-wheel bay structure, skins, equipment and nose-wheel undercarriage. There was also some damage to nacelle fairings and main undercarriage doors.
748 (VP-LIW) at St Vincent:
I returned to St Vincent to repair the above aircraft (ex-G-ATEH of Channel Airways) which was extensively damaged. The undercarriage struts, side load beams, downlock beams, brackets and undercarriage pivot members were forced into the wing. A lot of debris went through the mainplane top skin and through the shroud and jet pipe. The only parts serviceable of the inboard and outboard engine ribs were the top beams. Which gave added problems with alignment. The centre engine rib was scrap.
Incidentally, Johnny Briggs, an Avro Engineer, married Jan, an Air Stewardess with ‘Leeward Islands Air Transport’. Her father, Frank Delisle, owned the airline at the time.
748 Aircraft at Georgetown – Guyana (November 1977):
Problems existed with the flying controls and control locks on the aircraft. It only took a few days to rectify, thank goodness. (The climate there took some getting used to.)
748 Aircraft at Longue Pointe de-Mingan (April 1978):
Mingan is situated on the northern bank of the St Lawrence River in Canada and when I arrived there the settlement was snow bound. The pilot of Northern Wings (Les Ailes Du Nord Ltee) had a ‘white-out’ on landing the aircraft. The crash had extensively damaged the fuselage and had also damaged the nose-wheel bay. We built a wood and glass greenhouse building over the entire nose of the 748 amongst the deep snow drifts, and worked under cover.
Bundesanstalt für Flugsicherung at Frankfurt Airport:
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[Photograph of an aircraft being worked on under a shade] Repairing an Avro 748 of Philippine Airlines at San Fernando Airport. The children are having a Christmas Party!
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We were allocated a fabulous unused hangar at Frankfurt Airport, which not only had overhead lighting, but also strip lights along the sides. The hangar doors were power operated. For the company who eventually purchased or leased the hangar there were other facilities that included a large built-in restaurant, kitchen and showers. We appreciated the showers [inserted] – [/inserted] after all, we were not used to such luxury!
We carried out a large modification programme on two of their seven aircraft (all used for radio calibration work).”
This is the end of Len Binding’s list of ‘Outworking’ jobs that he was concerned with, but other Bracebridge teams naturally worked on many other accident repairs during these years, at sites all over the world.
Assistance with test-flying
‘Jock’ Donaghy was the name of the pilot who lived at Waddington, and helped Peter Field-Richards out in test-flying the Ansons rebuilt at Bracebridge after ‘Cat B’ repairs.
He is believed to have been in the RAF and flown Sunderlands during the War. When the war was over, he obviously had difficulty getting a job at first and joined Avros at Bracebridge Heath as a fitter. Ron Morley, an Inspector there, recalls how ‘Jock’ carried a tool box around with him with only two items in it – a large spanner that was useless (as it had a broken end) and a hammer whose pane had also broken! Perhaps it was more of a gesture!
Later on, when numerous Ansons were being rebuilt, Jock’s flying experience was approved by Peter Field-Richards and he was allowed to test fly most of them from Waddington.
Jock was obviously used to over-water navigation – he apparently left it to the Flight Engineer to let him know where he was during the local test flights from Waddington. Ron Morley remembers that Jock always seemed rather remote – a bit of a day dreamer – and every Thursday and Friday he would head for the local fish and chip shop in Bracebridge village. On one notable occasion, when Jock started his car to get back to the works, his steering jammed and he couldn’t turn the car to the right. So he managed to get back by always turning left – sometimes more than a complete circle!
When the Anson testing was finished, Jock kept his hand in at flying, in various other jobs. He was tragically killed some years later, while reportedly flying an ex-WWII German aircraft back to the UK, when the aircraft ditched in the sea, killing his second wife (who was acting as navigator). He left a son.
Out-of-hours activities
Some of the Bracebridge Heath veterans began to engage in their own aviation activities as a hobby, out of work time.
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Thus, the Chief Inspector, Bill Sturrock (who was killed years later in a motor car accident while on holiday in South Africa) had a pilot’s licence, as did Jeff Cox and Jack Robie.
Lee Binding was also a member of the group and they used to repair and maintain light aircraft and crop dusters, Austers, etc, at several sites around Lincoln/Leicester, including a hangar at Wellingore, another at Grantham and another on the A46 north east of Lincoln. Bill Sturrock (who had learned to fly in Canada in the RAF) flew the aircraft after they were repaired. After Bracebridge, Bill Sturrock went to Avro in Manchester to become Customer Service Manager, after a spell in Mexico for HSA as a Sales/Service Representative.
The Avro 504
May Chambers from the Wing Dept remembers the time that she worked hard to re-cover and dope the wings and fuselage of a veteran Avro 504N biplane at Bracebridge sometime in the 1953-56 era. This 504N (D7560) had been shot down in the Great War and repaired and put on show in Hull Museum. It was a genuine A V Roe built machine, and in WWII German raids on Hull had damaged it again. Hence Avro agreed to restore it once more, and when completely renovated it was sent down to the Science Museum in South Kensington.
In the photograph (taken by the ‘Lincolnshire Echo’) May Chambers and the head of the Wing Dept, Arthur Wood, are seen with some of the staff who so beautifully restored the 504N.
The ‘Dambusters’ film
When the famous film was made about the ‘Dambusters’ raid by 617 Squadron, featuring Richard Todd as Wing Commander Guy Gibson, VC, DSO & Bar, DFC [deleted] and [/deleted] & Bar, the Avro staff at Bracebridge Heath were given the task of building the ‘bouncing bombs’ for the filming.
John Woods and another ‘chippie’ there remember making these, and fitting them to the surviving Lancasters at ARF Scampton. (At that time, the bombs were still on the Secret List, and those built by Avros were of a spherical shape – not cylindrical, like rather large depth charges, which later turned out to be the correct wartime shape.)
John also helped to renovate the interior of the Avro company ‘hack’ Anson (G-AGPG) which had a VIP interior for flying Directors and customers about. John and the other ‘chippies’ French-polished the interior mahogany fittings and renovated all the wood work.
Bracebridge in later days
After the repair and rebuilding of whole aircraft ceased in 1958, Bracebridge Heath occupied a site of approximately 9 1/2 acres, and remained the Headquarters for the Manchester Division Repair Organisation, with a labour force not down to 223. It
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[Photograph of a group of people standing in front of a biplane] The Avro 504N renovated at Bracebridge Heath for the Science Museum.
[Photograph of three men and an aircraft being towed on a road] The Avro 707A being towed to Waddington.
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embraced the Ministry of Defence CRSP store (Contractors Repair Supply Procedure), the British Aerospace Standard Part Store, and a Design Department, but still retained the facility for the repair and overhaul of some aircraft parts.
Stores Organisation
The Stores Organisation included the largest airframe Ministry of Defence CRSP Stores in the United Kingdom, having a floor area of some 67,449 square feet, a British Aerospace Standard Parts investment Stores occupying more than 9000 square feet, and a General and Tool Stores occupying almost 4000 feet.
With some justification Bracebridge claimed that the Stores Organisation was one of the most efficient in the British Aerospace Aircraft Group.
Military Spares
The buying and supply of military spares (CRSP) meant placing orders through and on behalf of the Ministry of Defence for the repair and major refurbishing of main components for aircraft produced by all factories within the British Aerospace Aircraft Group. Such spares were also made available to a number of outside companies recognised as approved sub-contractors.
BBH also assisted the Royal Air Force in maintaining their operational requirements and the factory’s Contractor’s Working Parties continued to undertake major repairs in the field.
Investment and General Stores
The purpose of the British Aerospace Standard Parts Investment Stores was to hold all surplus stock items which had been bought commercially, or manufactured in economical quantities and were surplus to immediate contract requirements. All factories within the British Aerospace Group drew holdings, where available, from Bracebridge which were held for immediate issue on request, obviating the problem of ordering excessive build-up of stock within group factories.
The visual display unit located in Stores Records, supplied up-to-date information on the Company outstanding orders and stock – also items on Ministry of Defence orders. The progress of these items being manufactured on the shop floor were able to be monitored, enabling promises to be obtained from Production Control by Progress Department. This ensured an efficient turnround of spares. Issue of available spares on priority requests were invariable [sic] completed between 12-24 hours and ordinary issues between 24-48 hours (as transport permitted).
The General and Tool Store supported working parties (CWPs) operating in the United Kingdom and overseas – also the bay servicing and repair unit at the depot.
Bracebridge carried out these vital functions for Avro (later British Aerospace) for the next 24 years after 1958, finally closing down completely at the end of September 1982.
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The old No. 1 Hangar built for the RFC is now owned by a haulage firm, and the walls still seem in good condition, although the roof and wooden doors are looking dilapidated and the building stays empty. No. 2 Hangar and the Stores building are occupied by the Dalgety Group, and are well maintained. No evidence remains of the heroic work that went on here in WWII to keep badly damaged Lancasters flying, nor of the decades of post-war achievements in repairing all kinds of Avro aircraft.
May Chambers, who worked there from 1941 to 1968 and claimed the customary gold watch for 25 years dedication and service, still says that people seemed so much kinder to each other in those days and everybody cared so much more than they do now – and they were the happiest days in her life! You can’t get a much better epitaph than that, for a remarkable company!
31
[Page break]
APPENDIX 1
A V ROE & CO LTD – ‘BRACEBRIDGE HEATH WORLD SERVICE ORGANISATION (previously the ‘Avro Repair Organisation’)
PRINCIPAL PERSONNEL AND DEPARTMENTS
I) In mid-1950s:-
a) ← [Underlined] HQ at Bracebridge Heath, Lincoln [/underlined] ) Caps
[Underlined] Chief Superintendents (in sequence): [/underlined]
1. → C (‘Charlie’) L Hatton
2. → F (‘Snowy’) Langton
[Underlined] Financial: [/underlined]
Mr Dowell
[Underlined] Chief Inspector: [/underlined]
‘Bill’ Sturrock
b) ← [Underlined] Repair Depot at Langar, Notts: [/underlined] ) Caps.
[Underlined] Superintendents (in sequence):- [/underlined]
1. → Robert Ingrid
2. → ‘Phil’ Lightfoot, and his Asst Supt W.G. Cooke
3. → C Oatway
4. → ‘Johnny’ Smallwood
[Underlined] Secretary to above: [/underlined]
Indent all names etc. → Mrs Forster
[Underlined] Sheds 1 & 2 – Senior Foreman [/underlined]
→ Ron Eaton
[Underlined] Sheds 3 – Senior Foreman [/underlined]
→ Ernie Beatles
[Underlined] Sheds 5 & 6 Senior Foreman [/underlined]
→ ‘Dad’ Harold Walker
[Underlined] Shed 7 – Senior Foreman [/underlined]
→ Harry Houghton
[Underlined] Flight Shed – Senior Forem [deleted] a [/deleted] en Flight Test Engineer (in sequence) [/underlined]
1. → George Arthur Norman
2. →’Paddy’ Armstrong
3. → Roy Browne
[Underlined] Other Personnel: [/underlined]
Indent → [Underlined] Senior Foreman – [/underlined]
[Page break]
Shed 6 (Spray Bay) – Ernie Cooke
Shed 5 (Detail Section) – Sam Wilcox
← [Underlined] Departmental Foremen – [/underlined]
Engineering – ‘Doug’ Fletcher
Instruments – J Nightingale
[Deleted] Instrument] [/deleted] ‘Nobby’ Clarke
Heavy Gang – T Shepp[deleted] a [/deleted] erd
Crane Drivers – Mr Clarke
← [Underlined] Other Staff [/underlined]
Tank Shop – L Needham
Shed 5 – (Hydraulics) F Abthorpe
[Deleted] - (Hydraulics) [/deleted] C Kelly
- (Internals) B Brewer
- (Electrics) Bill Brumby
[Deleted] – (Electrics) [/deleted] Ted Prior
[Deleted] – (Electrics) [/deleted] J Johnson
Shed 6 – (signwriter) Mr Mapletoft
Shed 7 – (Fuel & Oil Bowsers) A Kirk
[Deleted] –(Fuel & Oil Bowsers) [/deleted] H Prigeon
Control Tower – (Electrics/Radio) T Corfield
Main Stores
- (Drawing) Miss E Bint
- (Tool) Miss N Cowlishaw
Canteen
- (Manager [deleted] s [/deleted] ess) 1. Miss Piddington
2. Mrs Gri [deleted] m [/deleted] nnals
- (Cashier) Miss E Spencer
[Deleted] - (Cashier) Miss E Spencer [/deleted]
Works Engineer
- (Maintenance) Stan Rogers
- (Electrical) Jack Calver
Site – (Transport) Paddy Ryan
- (Fire Tender) A Moor
- (First Aid) Nurse Smart
- (Security) J Spencer
- (Gardner) Eli Tucker
[Page break]
← [Underlined] Aeronautical Inspect [deleted] or [/deleted] ion Dept (AID):- [/underlined]
Mr Barr
C Collins
Alec Messenger
‘Taff’ Davis
Mr ‘Dickie’ Bird
Victor Savory (R101 Survivor)
← [Underlined] Avro Inspection Dept:- [/underlined]
Chief Inspector – J Yarwood
Asst Chief Inspector – J McCirdy
Inspectors –
‘Johnny’ Smallwood Les Willis A Sills
D Fairhome B Finlay ‘Tiny’ Wright
A Dale S Walker W Pride
‘Jock’ Cameron P Haynes ‘Bud’ Abbott
D Allen Ken Allen ‘Dixie’ Deene
G Smith ‘Ted’ Robinson B Radcliffe
‘Bill’ Williams ‘Sid’ Dawes E Hopkinson
T Keene J F [deleted] o [/deleted] irth D Warren
E Sheppard ‘Paddy’ Russell J Wor [deleted] i [/deleted] mhall
T Jenkins H Fletcher S College
D Roberts C Smalley J Farmer
A Powell L King C Perkins
‘Bob’ Graham Mr Pritchet ‘Johnny’ Bull
H Platt ‘Don’ Grieves Doug Culley
Tommy Liffe
Planning Dept
- Mr Moorhouse
- ‘Pete’ Hughes
Drawing Office – Mr Flannery
Time Keeper – H Beard
Police Supt – Joe Spencer
II) [Underlined] Changes in above by 1967: [/underlined]
Johnny Smallwood became Works Superintendent (from Avro Inspection Dept)
Ted Andrews became his Asst Works Supt
Doug Fletcher became Senior Foreman – Shed 2 (from Foreman – Engineering)
Muriel Brown became Canteen Manageress
Neil Cunning [deleted] ham [/deleted] ton bec [deleted] o [/deleted] ame [deleted] s [/deleted] Works Engineer
Jack Wright became Asst Works Engineer
Alec Farmer became Police Supt
George Norman became Senior Foreman – Trials Installation (TI) Hangar.
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
The Avro Repair Organisation. Bracebridge Heath
Description
An account of the resource
A history of the Avro Repair Organisation at Bracebridge Heath. Aircraft with Category B damage were disassembled and taken to Bracebridge for repair. Contractor’s Working Parties repaired Category A damaged aircraft on their station using spares requisitioned from Avro.
On the picture of the Avro 707 being towed along the A15 towards Waddington, the men on the Clarktor 6 towing tractor are, from left to right: David Coney, J.H. 'Bert' Thomason and 'Ted' Andrews. The truck driver, mostly hidden is Ron Dickens. Following the aircraft is an Austin Somerset Avro company car.
Creator
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Peter V Clegg
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
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Anne-Marie Watson
Richard Coney
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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46 typewritten sheets with annotations
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Personal research
Photograph
Identifier
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MCleggPV[DoB]-150701-01
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1939
1940
1941
1943
1945
1946
1949
1950
207 Squadron
Anson
Lancaster
Lancastrian
Lincoln
Manchester
RAF Langar
RAF Waddington
service vehicle
Shackleton
tractor
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/319/8311/PRaettigDW16030005.2.jpg
e94bead96974589f69d8f5a6d62fb8be
Dublin Core
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Title
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Raettig, Dennis
Dennis William Raettig
Dennis W Raettig
D W Raettig
D Raettig
Description
An account of the resource
72 items. The collection concerns the wartime service of Leading Aircraftman Dennis William Raettig (b. 1920, 1136657 Royal Air Force). Joining the Royal Air Force reserve in 1941 he trained as a flight mechanic (Engines) before being posted to 104 Squadron (Wellingtons) at RAF Driffield. This squadron number was later changed to 158 Squadron flying Halifax at RAF East Moor, followed by moves to RAF Rufford and Lisset. The collection consists of a memoir, correspondence with family and acquaintances, family history, service and personal documentation, lucky charms,personal items, cap, boots, squadron tie, research on bombing in Hull as well as photographs of air and ground crew and aircraft. It also includes an oral history interview with Joan Raettig (Dennis Raettig's wife).
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Sue Burn and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-06-23
2016-07-08
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.
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Raettig, DW
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Title
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Ten airmen with a tractor
Description
An account of the resource
Six airmen standing round and four sitting on a towing tractor. they are wearing battledress or tunic and three have side caps. At the rear a towing bar and in the background open ground, engine trestles and a line of trees. Dennis W Raettig front centre.
Additional information about this item was kindly provided by the donor.
Format
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One b/w photograph
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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PRaettigDW16030005
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
ground crew
ground personnel
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1252/16851/PCheshireGL18100110.1.jpg
55db869ebd7c170bc9306367f279563a
Dublin Core
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Title
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Cheshire, Leonard
Cheshire, Geoffrey Leonard
Baron Cheshire
Description
An account of the resource
374 items concerning Group Captain Leonard Cheshire VC, OM, DSO & Two Bars, DFC. Collection consists of photographs of people, vehicles, places, aircraft, weapons and targets; documents including, private and service letters, signals, telegrams, intelligence reports, crew lists and official documents. Cheshire served on 102 and 35 Squadrons and commanded 76 and 617 Squadrons. The collection includes details of 617 Squadron's precision bombing operations. Also included are two sub-collections: one containing 21 photographs of Tinian and Saipan, the other consisting of 37 audio tapes of speeches given by Cheshire after the war.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by The Leonard Cheshire Archive and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is property of the Leonard Cheshire Archive which has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a royalty-free permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘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.
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Permission granted for commercial projects
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Tallboy bomb and crane
Description
An account of the resource
A large bomb is being lifted by crane above a bomb trolley attached to a tractor. There are two men to the left, the rearmost holding one of the bomb's fins. A man stand to the right of the bomb with another sitting in the crane. Reported as labelled Tallboy. Additional information about this item was kindly provided by the donor.
Format
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One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
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PCheshireGL18100110
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
Is Part Of
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Cheshire, Leonard. Aircrew, people, decorations and bomb damage
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
License
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Royalty-free permission to publish
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
Rights
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This content is property of the Leonard Cheshire Archive which has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a royalty-free permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘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.
bomb dump
bomb trolley
bombing
service vehicle
Tallboy
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1636/25976/PShawSR16020108.2.jpg
ae21d93daa3b3ea5658ea604bd17c915
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1636/25976/PShawSR16020109.2.jpg
92eeb14077aa0c538aad64101d0f5c72
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Shaw, Stanley R. Album 2
Description
An account of the resource
46 items. Photographs concerning Stan Shaw's service in the RAF.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Stanley Shaw and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Creator
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Shaw, SR
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-01-14
2016-02-11
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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Shaw, SR
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Title
A name given to the resource
Stan Shaw on a Tractor
Description
An account of the resource
Stan Shaw driving a tractor in front of a Wellington. In the background is a man on a bicycle On the reverse 'U.T. Tractor Driver!! Aden. Jan. 1947'.
Format
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One b/w photograph
Language
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eng
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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PShawSR16020108, PShawSR16020109
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
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Yemen (Republic)
Yemen (Republic)--Aden
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1947-01
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Temporal Coverage
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1947-01
Conforms To
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Pending identification. Things
ground personnel
service vehicle
tractor
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1310/18768/PGeachDG16010008.1.jpg
f0f5278534e629b6b20abcb091d2e686
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Geach, David. Scrapbook
Description
An account of the resource
Scrapbook containing 66 photographs taken during his training in Great Britain and Canada, and with 623 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Harry Wilkins and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-03-14
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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PGeachDG1601
Dublin Core
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Title
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Snowplough and gym
Description
An account of the resource
Photo 1 is a snow plough tractor. Behind are wooden huts.
Photo 2 is inside a gym with two badminton courts and a stage. On the wall are winged air gunner and observer crests.
Format
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Two b/w photographs from a scrapbook
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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PGeachDG16010008
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
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.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
air gunner
aircrew
observer
service vehicle
sport
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/659/8932/BAndersonRJAndersonRJv1.2.pdf
ec9e1bb95758e7ae0310e8c3d9401ca5
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Anderson, Robert
Bob Anderson
R J Anderson
Description
An account of the resource
One item. An unpublished memoir by Flying Officer Robert Anderson.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by
Christopher Nash and 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
2016-06-06
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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Anderson, RJ
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Drawings of Australia shoulder flash, RAAF pilot’s brevet and medal ribbons.]
[page break]
1.
This is not written as any kind of record of facts, neither does it include any of the finer detail. It is only a vague outline of my own experience of a relatively short, but crowded period, while I was involved in surviving a war as one of many aircrew. No doubt many other people have much different ideas, mainly because their experiences would have been different, some better, some worse, I had no experience of injury to myself or crew, either through enemy action or just plain accident, but there were times when we put that down to our better than average good luck. Not once did we even have what could be called a crash landing. My crew would disagree and say they were all far below the average safety level, but could still grin when they said it, so there were times when I accept that as almost praise, they still hoped for some miracle, even if it didn’t happen.
But back to the beginning
[signature] R J Anderson
[page break]
2.
At the beginning of the war in Europe, all of our age group were called up for home service in the army. A referendum for overseas conscription having been defeated. However P.N.G. was a mandated territory at this time so it was included in home territory.
I joined the 3rd Div. sigs as a despatch rider because I had an interest in motor bikes, but the army didn’t ride the way we did. Of course you had to take your own bike along as the army only had a few, mostly antiques.
They soon managed to acquire every side valve model in the country to make up the numbers. Mine, being OHV, I took home again, the army thought these were unreliable.
The courses here were very simple, internal combustion engines, Morse code, sig by flags etc. plus the usual armaments. The rest was pack drill and physical exercise.
Went OK, until our selected officers turned up to take command straight out of school. Perhaps they could count to ten without using their fingers, but they didn’t know one end of a gun from the other, let alone what went on in between. They also had the greatest ability to get lost once they were more than 10yds (3m) from the main road. So a few of us decided we would be better off somewhere else. We all thought, perhaps if we could fly, we may have some hope of getting away from the stupidity (just do as you are told we are never wrong) how could anyone achieve anything that way.
Not that we thought air force officers would be any different, but if you were flying by yourself, you should have some chance of making some of your own decisions, be they right or wrong. So, as the camp period lasted only three months, we then returned to normal work until our next call up for another three months.
At this time we just signed on, not as pilots as we had hoped, but just as aircrew, the airforce [sic] then sorted you into whichever they considered you most suitable for.
Of course there was a very tough physical examination to pass, and then back to school three nights a week to catch up on maths, etc. it was then left up to the airforce to claim us from the army. As they had first claim because we were already partly trained. However I managed to get my release two days before the next camp was due to begin. So I carried on the night school until called up for the airforce. By this time the empire air scheme was getting well organised. Ours was No. 23 course at Sommers. Accommodation was mostly huts, but some tents, just to make up until they could build more huts.
It was the day after our arrival in camp when the Japanese entered the war, of course this must have added to the need to speed up the training, but it still took nearly four months of solid study. Subjects included - all maths, alg, geom, trig, etc. Morse code, send and receive minimum 17 words to minute. Met, Navigation, theory of flight, internal combustion engines, carburation, super chargers some physical and structural stresses, and a lot more interesting junk that you would never hope to use in practice.
As it had been a few years since I had left school, it wasn’t easy but some of these were new subjects anyway.
Four of us from the army course had arrived for this intake, so I wasn’t the only one with strange ideas. (I was later told that the 3rd div. was almost wiped out in New Guinea, perhaps they didn’t have time to learn).
A lot of time was put into physical training too up and down the sand dunes etc. as many of this intake were league footballers, rugby players from N.S.W. and some of our better known athletes in other sports, the competition was always pretty keen.
[page break]
3.
I remember being told off by a W.O. because I let one chap beat me at something I said “yeah, but I could have beat him if I have to”. He said “My boy, you only come second once in a war there is no second chance”.
He was so right.
Here too, were the first of the assessment boards, you marched into a room, when called, to face 4 or 5 officers, ex-school master types, seated behind a long desk, each with a list of questions to fire at you.
The questions would be on all strange unrelated subjects, often overlapping before you had time to complete your answer to the previous question.
There must have been a reason somewhere as these were regular up to ops squadron, but at the end of the course we were divided into groups, pilots, navs, wops etc. and sent to different camps for further training in our selected fields.
I was lucky enough to be selected as a pilot. Our mob went to Western Junction (Tas) to start on Tiger moths.
Our quarters were unlined gal iron huts with no heating which was not a lot of protection from the snow on the hills outside. I think most of us slept with our clothes on plus a few spare news papers tucked between the couple of issue blankets, but no one complained too much, after all, we were doing what we had set out to do.
Between the flying we still did plenty of ground courses, Nav, Morse, theory of flight etc. Met became a very important subject now to learn the types of clouds and try to read the winds and weather conditions that went with different types at different heights.
The link trainer is the first introduction to practical navigation using instruments only with no possibility of map reading from sightings on the ground, however the main aim at this time was to learn to fly instruments only.
The “link” is a little dummy aircraft fixed to the floor, fitted with a complete set of instruments, controlled entirely by the pilot. It is capable of doing all turns, climbs, dives, spins, variations of speed and heights, flying any compass course etc. in fact anything a plane can do without going anywhere, but always the instruments register everything the pilot does.
You climb in the same as in a plane, a cover goes over the trainee so you cannot see anything outside your little cabin. All instruments have repeaters on the instructions desk, along with a pen on wheels, as on a recording graph, this plots your track you actually fly on a map. Speeds, height etc. can be read off along the track by the instructor.
A map of a chosen area is fixed to the bench top, with North corresponding to your compass North; and the pen set at your starting point. You have a similar map with your track, turning points, heights etc. marked on it, so if you can fly the correct courses you have worked out, at the correct speeds, then the pen on the desk will trace the correct track on the map, but I think most of us went off a bit. The only to tell when to turn is when your calculated time for that track is up. Trouble is, if you go off track, or flown too fast, or too slow you are no where near where you should be when you turn, and the error increases as time goes on. Hard to believe when you see the results on the map on the desk. However the instructor can talk to you through the intercom, so he does put you right now and then. It’s easy to go into a spin at the beginning, if you are good enough you can, get out again, if not you crash without getting hurt, but either way it’s a good way to practice.
[underlined] Tiger Moth [/underlined]
Basic trainer for R.A.A.F. in fact most of the Empire air training at the time. This is a simple aircraft, very stable in flight, fully aerobatic, speed about the top speed of my motorbike, but no trees to miss.
It has no flaps, no super chargers, only one petrol tank, fixed propeller, with a strong head wind it can fly backwards relative to the
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ground, open cockpit, no radio, only a tube speaking system between the seats. There are no brakes either, which makes it hard to taxi. Only method of steering is by use of the rudder, but with a strong wind from the side, it can be greater than the airflow from the slipstream, which means the aircraft automatically turns into wind, only correction is a burst of throttle against a full rudder, but the stick must be held hard back or this will lift the tail and smash the prop into the ground.
Tiger Moth DH 90
Engine 130hp Gipsy Major Inverted
Span 29’ 4”
Length 23’ 11”
Height 8’ 9”
Take Off [deleted] Height [/deleted] W/T 1825 lbs
Max Speed 109 mph
Top Ceiling 13600 ft
Range 302 mls
Fixed prop No brakes No flaps
A fairly high drop out rate at this time considering the already carefully selected personnel, mostly through lack of co-ordination etc. most of these would be able to fly quite well but there just isn’t time to teach them. This was my first experience of hearing of someone freezing (mental & physically) one chap on final approach pointed the tiger at the end of the runway and just kept going until it hit.
He was unhurt, a tiger lands rather slowly, but he stayed in hospital a couple of days before the shock came out. Most of those who failed this initial course were changed to other aircrew ratings usually wireless ops or gunners.
Obviously a tiger is a very easy aircraft to fly, obviously I was not very good, because it took me a long time to go solo. It seems there was a lot to learn and my trouble was I could not accept anything without trying it first, so I wasted too much time just doing the same things over again. Little things like crabbing or skidding on approach or side slipping to lose height because I started too high.
It would have been hard to get lost here, because we only flew in good weather, never far from the drome but I guess we managed to fit all the essentials in and gradually built up our confidence.
Provided you did the routine checks before take off and landing everything worked out OK. They said of the tiger, if it was properly trimmed when flying and you got into trouble, you just took your hands and feet off and it would get itself out but I didn’t try that one.
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It was still very cold flying in the open cockpit between the snow covered hill tops, so most of the trips were pretty short. This has advantages too because it gives more takeoff’s [sic] & landings for the total hours flown.
One of my instructors had been an instructor in civvy pre-war. He had joined the airforce hoping he would be put into fighters and sent to New Guinea, but the airforce needed good instructors rather badly and obviously knew he was far more valuable as an instructor.
This was very good for us but rather frustrating for him. Just about the end of my course his frustration started to show, but this was even better for me because it did teach me some of the things to watch in low flying. Low flying in civil flying is anything below or about 500ft, low level flying in the airforce is just above to just below the tree tops. In daylight this is not too bad, in moonlight it is rather worse, add in flak and searchlight – you need a lot of luck.
He picked a day with a fairly strong wind, but once we were airborne he said “I want to show you a few things, unofficial of course so you will have to forget they happened OK?”. I said “OK” and began to wonder what this was going to be.
We drifted away from the drome to one of his paddocks where he took over control and said “ hands and feet off and just watch”, he then dived down to grass level at full speed and went charging along with the wheels just touching the grass until he spotted a hare running in our direction, he tried to hit it with the wing tip, of course this is very hard to do because the wing hides the object from view when you get close to it. Then climbed and turned towards our starting point, but he couldn’t see the hare again.
His next effort was to pick two trees spaced a little apart, he obviously knew his paddock. We were now going in the same direction as our first run so he built up speed again and dived straight through between two trees with not a lot of space either side. We then returned to our starting point again, he then said “right you’ve got it, I want you to fly between those two trees like I did, but don’t go low enough, stay just above the tops OK?”.
Well-it’s just as well I stayed above the tops because I would have gone straight into the tree on the right hand side. Not so good he said.
Next we went to the left of the paddock and again turned towards the trees. He managed to do a steep turn to the left just before we got to the first tree. Back to the starting point, and as before, it was my turn, but again above the tops. Back to the routine exercises..
When we landed back at base he explained why he had shown me these effects. He said he had picked a day when he knew the wind was strong enough and in the right direction for his paddock. What he wanted to show me was the effect of wind drift on the aircraft relative to the ground. If the wind is head on, you go much slower relative to the ground. When you fly with a cross wind your aircraft goes sideways at the same speed as the wind is blowing regardless of the speed you are flying at. If the wind is from behind you, you go that much faster relative to the ground.
The reason I would have hit the trees on the first run through was simply because I had not allowed for any drift. The reason I would have hit them on the second run was slightly different, partly because the wind would again have blown me into the trees, but also, when an aircraft or any object is travelling in a straight line at speed and you try to change it’s direction it tends to continue in the same direction.
In the case of aircraft you change the attitude of the aircraft, but it’s kinetic energy carries it on it’s original direction for some distance, so the trick is to learn to allow for this.
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The one thing he did say is a good idea for beginners was to practice on the clouds, but always remember the clouds don’t move, but the trees and houses always move.
He was so right.
His object on the first crossing was not to chase the hare, it need not have been there, it was only to check the wind drift while we were clear of the trees.
This later proved to be a very valuable lesson.
At this time the Japs were well involved in our war getting closer to our north every day, but some of us were still chosen to go to the U.K. I for one tried to change it but it seems big decisions like that can’t be changed. So a few of us were posted to Sydney. The crossing from Tas. to Melbourne in that little tub must rate as one of the roughest, being the only time I was sea sick. Our trip from Melbourne to Sydney must have been one of the worst too. Anyone who travelled on this trip pre-war must have really needed to go. We were all unloaded at Albury to change trains. It was a different gauge rail in N.S.W. at that time. Then packed into N.S.W. trains like squashed sardines, we were supposed to sleep that way, I’m sure we didn’t.
We camped at Bradfield park in Sydney waiting for our ship, but the Japs had sunk it somewhere so we all came back to Melbourne to wait again for the next one.
This was the Klip Fontain a 10000 ton Dutch freighter that normally carried a few passengers. The only armament was a singly [sic] little cannon mounted directly aft., but it was a fairly modern motor ship, cruised at about 18 knots. So there was no escort and we went far to the south from the usual trade route.
Not much out of the ordinary on this trip except for one incident where we almost had a head on collision with another ship at night, no lights of course, our little ship almost dived under when turning to starboard. The idea was to run directly away so that the gun on the aft deck could be used but it must have been one of ours, so we just continued on our way.
We had some rough weather which was unfortunate, because a table came loose in the temporary mess hold. It must have spent the night bashing everything to pieces because the next morning there was only a great pile of match wood left and thereafter we had to stand up to eat.
Three of us volunteered to be guard Capt.’s on this trip, against our principles really but it gave us full access to the cook house which is not a bad idea. The duty of the guard Capt.’s was only to check on the odd guards who were posted at different points around the ship 24 hours a day. No problems really until I went to check on one guard stationed in the hold one night. This was a pretty terrible position. It was an empty hold but the previous cargo had been a load of cow hides, they had removed all the hides but the smell in this closed area was most noticeable. There was also one steel door that swung with a creak all night, perfect ghost atmosphere, no one knew what was being guarded either. Anyhow I had just opened the hatch at the top of the stairs (not ships talk) when the poor guard pulled the trigger of the rifle. The bullet went crashing from wall to wall to wall making no end of noise in the confined area, but he did not manage to shoot himself so I wandered down and talked to him, but I did hold the rifle. It only delayed the inevitable, he was scrubbed in Canada and sent home.
It is essential to get some exercise on board ship, so our mob had to do the usual drill. One of the chaps job pre-war was a pianist at the Tiv” [sic] for the ballet more for a change than anything he taught us to do some different steps, like the about turn and change step etc. quite spectacular for the ballet, but it was just exercise for us.
Eventually arrived at San Pedro USA and made a slow trip by train up west coast to Vancouver, then across the rockies [sic] to Edmonton which was our base camp until we once again sorted into our respective groups for training purposes.
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We were rather worried about this train trip after our last experience, but there was no comparison, these trains had all the mod-cons including a porter to look after you. The porter didn’t get paid by the company, but had to tender to the rail company to get the job, his only pay was a from tips collected from the travellers. He had to clean all the carriages as well as look after his passengers, also the seats had to be made into beds every night, including the ones that folded down from the top, very comfortable too. We couldn’t afford to tip him on every occasion so we all put in and paid him at the end of the run. He made far more than we did that week. Travelling up the west coast changed our ideas of American life completely, we had looked to America as Gods country but that was only for the few. The people we saw were extremely poor. The farm houses would not have passed for decent pig pens in Australia, but the one big difference was the cars they drove, all late model yank tanks, petrol at that time was 3 pence per gal, in Aus it was about one shilling and eight pence.
The contrast in the farms was very similar to the desert and Mildura, which turned out to be typical of all the parts we saw, either they had the lot or nothing at all, not what we were used to.
The Canadian Pacific Rail, over the rockies to Edmonton was perhaps a little better than the Yank train. The railway paid their porters but you still had to tip some times. The scenery on this run must be some of the best in the world. The rivers are magnificent, often packed with Oregon logs floated down to the mills, then held by booms across the river until ready to be used.
Probably the one reason for such scenery is the fact that at the higher altitudes the air is so cold you can see even small detail for miles.
Continued across the rockies to Edmonton, which was our base camp until we were once again sorted out into our respective groups for training purposes. Edmonton at that time was a fairly big camp, but mostly for new recruits, so they were trying to teach discipline in a big way.
This wasn’t part of our deal. They were not very interested in us. There was nothing for us to do, so they kicked us out of the gate each morning and were not all that happy to see us back each night. Sometimes they held a roll call so a few of us would roll out and answer for everyone and everyone was happy.
Eventually posted to camp Borden, an RCAF camp about 60mls north of Toronto to continue our flying training. Our party have been divided into two groups, some to train on twins on dromes further west and our crowd to train here on fighters.
We were taken over by a French Canadian flight sgt who’s job it was to march us from place to place as required. English was not always his best subject so we used that as best we could. Probably one of the best scenes while doing drill was, first to march with our thumbs straight up. He stopped us all and said “non non non” took a long time to learn to keep our thumbs down, next we did the change step we had practices on the ship, then the about turn, he was very patient, perhaps he was use to idiots.
He had his laugh in the end though, once the snow arrived. We were marching down to the flight one day and coming back the other way was a group of Canucks, as they went behind a hut from us we all broke ranks and quickly made snowballs, when they were clear of the building we threw everything we had at them, but we didn’t know much about snowballs and they had spent their lives at it. They killed us in no time flat and the sgt thought it wonderful. Unfortunately they had a keen type officer with them who may have copped a snow ball, because he was very much in favour of putting us all on a charge of some sort just on principle. Their local basket ball team decided to challenge us to a game, so we said OK even though we had never heard of the game. It only
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lasted about 5 minutes before we were all ordered off the court. It seems you are not allowed to bump your opponent off the floor.
Here we saw the first example of instant lawns. They had erected a new flag pole and levelled out the ground around it as a parade square. Next they brought in great rolls of turf and rolled it out, side by side, rolled it down and watered it. Much quicker than sowing seeds, anyway they probably wouldn’t have grown it was just before the snow.
Their living conditions and food were much like the Yanks, so far ahead of ours, what with grapefruit and tomato juice etc. Just help yourself. The huts too were central heated, we didn’t realise at the time that this was essential to survival later when weather really got cold. Perhaps it was an early hint when Bing’s new film was put on in the camp theatre. “White Christmas”. It was the first white Christmas I had ever seen. I didn’t think Tassie was cold anymore.
Our first aircraft is a Yale. This is an early development of the NA16, ordered for the French air force training, but at the fall of France they were taken over by the EATS (Empire air training scheme).
A small advance on the tigers, being a monoplane, with fixed undercart, fixed prop-boost, radio & intercom, closed cockpit, rudder
Yale
Early model of NA 16
Engine S3 HL Wasp 350hp
Fixed undercart
Flaps and Brakes
Harvard
Engine 600 hp Prat [sic] & Whitney
Span 42’
Length 29’
Height 11’ 8”
Take Off Weight 5300lbs
Max. Speed 208mph at 5000’
OP ceiling 24000’
Range 730mls
Operated brakes, hydraulic flaps, a bigger motor, radial instead of inline, but still gills to control engine temperature a bit more work to do, it did fly faster, but not as stable, which meant you had to fly it all the time.
Next on to the Harvard which is a further advance on the Yale. Bigger motor DH hydromatic prop, retractable undercart etc. At this time, the drome was covered with snow rolled hard by large corrugated rollers, no runways visible. Strange to spin on landing, to be able to do nothing but sit and let it spin while it slid along until it stopped.
Here I won the award of the week for taxiing with flaps down. Just forgot to put them up after landing. It seems lumps of ice can be lifted by the slipstream and put holes in them.
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A lot of experiences I had here were very valuable later but rather frightening at the time, surprises like, to fly on a “clear” day and drop from a big height on landing. On complaining to the instructor because the aircraft stalled at higher speed, I was taken back to the aircraft where he said “watch this” and bashed the wing with his hand, from the point of impact, cracks spread across the wing. It was covered in clear ice therefore the aircraft was much heavier. When ice is present (if you know) landing speed is increased.
Next was to get caught in snow, nothing visible outside except white parallel lines, not easy the first time, not easy any time.
Next was to be lost while flying No.2 in formation practice in fog. Broke formation in a thick patch and lost No.1.
I called base and was told to use emergency map, but there was no map, someone needed it more that I did I guess. Finally found a small town, and described this to base i.e. Direction of main street railway crossing etc. given a course to fly from their recognition, called again in 10 minutes, very relieved to note that his voice was louder.
Leader landed in snow field safely but the kite stayed there until after the snow.
Here too, I flew into cloud deliberately for the first time, I was quite sure I was right and the instruments were wrong, but I came out the bottom in a very fast spiral dive, luckily there was enough room to correct before the ground.
This was the beginning of another duty that had a steady increase. Pall bearers for some of our mates who were not so lucky. Often there was little left to bury, so mostly just a bag of sand to make up the weight but the smell was always the same.
One of the airforces [sic] faults I thought. Always for these “Honours” they pick the duty detail from the top of the list i.e. Names starting with A.
A good number dropped out from here, some sent home, some to other aircrew musterings, w/op, bomb aimer etc. There were many strange landings, even upside down on the golf course. Luckily I always got home.
The last part of the training here was an advanced unit, bombing, dive bombing etc., all on the bombing range. There was also a machine gun range, so, while trying to do low flying, we could shoot at sea gulls, never hit any of course but it was fun to try. Tried to fly formation on the migrating wild geese too but they were a bit too slow.
The weather here was extreme to us, to see hard frozen snow blowing like sand to be confined to heated living quarters because 10 minutes of bare skin exposure could mean frost bite. Tales of people loosing [sic] fingers etc., but the worst we saw was similar to sunburnt skin going brown and peeling, only on fingers and ears. Chaps flying with cockpit open because of bad visibility.
A great deal of pressure was applied towards the end of the course when it came to tests.
The first was a non-stop aerobatic act with [deleted] no [/deleted] [inserted] AN [/inserted] instructor to tell you what to do next and ensure you didn’t stop or make them too gentle.
After 3 / 4 of an hour of rolls, barrel rolls, loop rolls off the top, rolls off the bottom, even a couple of high speed stalls (unintentional) just bad flying, I was happy to get my feet on the ground. Next came unannounced again starting at “A”. A new instructor said “instrument test” I said “I haven’t done any” He said “I haven’t time to wait for that you can do some now”.
These aircraft were the same as the others except for a cover that fitted over the pilots cockpit so the only thing you could see were the instruments.
The instructor of course was not enclosed he had to watch for other aircraft as well as your flying.
I found this rather hard at this time even though the routine must have been fairly simple, compass courses, changes of course e.g. 180’ to 68’ to 240 to 60’ etc. with rate one turns, but I managed to turn the wrong
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[underlined] 10 [/underlined]
way sometimes. Perhaps I would never make a pilot even after all the link training.
Another of my better efforts was to try to land with the wheels up. The Harvard, like most planes, has two indicator lights that show red with the wheels up and green with the wheels down, it also has a loud horn right behind your ear, this only works (automatic) when you close the throttle with the wheels up as on landing.
Guess I had (a) forgotten to put the wheels down (b) check the lights (c) ignored the red lights from the control tower (d) ignored the hooter in my ear (rather bright boy) but I Couldn’t ignore many red very lights they fired off from everywhere, so I had to go around again.
Didn’t get the award for that, I guess it must have been beaten by someone else that day.
The miracle was, I eventually passed and had my wings but I was nowhere near the bright boy of the course.
Up to that time, there were two incidents of over confidence. The first at about 100hrs in “Tigers”, the second at about 300hrs total. So I was much luckier than some of my course. On looking at the registration numbers of aircraft I had flown (log book) it would seen you hardly even flew the same aircraft twice. I suppose each aircraft is slightly different so it is better practice to fly different aircraft each time rather than get used to the same one.
Our next step, we hoped, was England and Spitfires. After a short leave in America we assembled at Halifax NS. To await a ship. This must be one of the worlds coldest ports I think, everything covered in clear ice, it was hard to stand up without sliding down the hill.
In time we were joined by other courses, some who had flown Ansons, Cessna twins etc.
The ship was rather large 45000 tons. “Andies” built for the south American run (pre-war) therefore it was fairly flat bottomed for shallow water. This of course meant it rolled continuously and sometimes rather too much. We had to put two ropes over our bunks to keep us in but that was no real problem. Again we were unescorted, it being a fast ship, but this time we were somewhere up near the north pole, its [sic] just as cold as the south. As the spray went over it built up as ice on every rope on the rigging even the deck was covered in ice, caused many broken arms when people slid as the ship rolled, then they crashed into the superstructure to stop, arrived iat Glasgow after a very rough and very cold trip but we did avoid the subs. Then down to Bournemouth to await posting. At this time there was no need for fighters. The change was now to bombers so very few made it to “Spitfires” but some did manage “Beaufighters” as night fighters.
The next step for me was to Oxfords. These little twin engine aircraft were very easy to fly after the violence of single engine flying, but you could not do aerobatics, not even a spin, in fact we were told, it was impossible to recover from a spin because the fuselage blanked the airflow over the rudder, therefore the plane wouldn’t straighten out. Didn’t try to prove it.
After conversion a good deal of this flying was navigation, trying not to get lost, but you could always get a fix (your position) if you had to by radio, you just called up and asked for a fix and kept your transmitter button pressed until they took a bearing on you from two different points and sent the point where these crossed back to you add the time and direction you have flown since the fix and that is where you are.
After this came night flying, from one pundit to the next on a cross country circuit.
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Airspeed Oxford
Engine Two 375hp AS Cheetah x radials
Span 53’ 4”
Length 34’ 6”
Height 11’ 1”
Take Off Weight 7500lbs
Max. Speed 185mph at 7500ft
OP Ceiling 19500ft
Normal Range 960mls
The distance between the pundit called for 20 minutes or so straight flying until you could read the next one. A pundit was a red light fixed on the ground, usually near a drome, the light flashed the letter of the drome in Morse code so all you had to do was pick the right one, do your turn on it and fly the correct course to the next one.
It was carefully chosen weather for beginners so there were no real problems, but it is strange to be alone in a plane at night for the first time looking down on nothing except an odd beacon flashing somewhere in the distance (there was a total blackout).
Differences in planes were not hard to overcome. To apply the brakes on a “Harvard” you pushed your toes down, as in a car, one wheel only (for steering) you pushed that side rudder forward and toe down. So aircraft was steered while taxiing simply by slowing the side you wished to turn towards. In a twin engined [sic] aircraft you can turn by using more power on the outside motor.
The brake system was a little different on English aircraft. There were two leavers [sic] on the wheel either, or both would put the brakes on, the rudder was then used to distribute pressure to both or either wheel as before.
Unlike single engine planes you don’t have to wobble from side to side to see where you are going when taxiing, only other difference was on take off where you could increase power on one motor to help correct swing. This was good in the first part of take off, before the slip stream had enough power over the rudder.
For some forgotten disciplinary punishment I was told to shift 14 planes from one side of the drome to the other without help even from the ground crew. To start a Oxford, you must climb onto the wing and insert crank handle into inertia starter (i.e. wind up the spring some 40 or so turns) repeat on the other side motor, prime both motors, put the push bike in the kite, climb in and start, if you miss the start, out and wind again, you then taxi to the other side of the drome, park the aircraft and return on bike, about 1k for next aircraft. A very slow job, but you do learn how to start engines. My first experience of .05before it was heard of as such. At the party the night before I must have been “reasonably” full, but of the next morning. The job was to fly 7 w/ops on a training flight. I only had to fly all the courses they could work out from their fixes (loop) and
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eventually return to base. I didn’t realise, alcohol removes oxygen form [sic] the blood, so does altitude. On return I had so much trouble trying to see the drome let alone the runway it wasn’t funny.
In fact the chewing gum turned to sand in my mouth. I offered to let anyone of the w/ops try, but they were not impressed, none of them had seen one of these kites before.
Managed to arrive after about the fourth try. Later I learned the answer (just breath [sic] plenty of oxygen from the oxy. Bottle).
Another part, of this course was the SBA (Standard beam approach and landing). This is approach and landing on Lorenze beam. All done on instruments with no outside vision. A hood is fitted over learner with instructor in the right hand seat keeping full external vision. You are then flown to some point away from the drome and given a course to fly, so you fly back until you cross the beam.
A beam consists of a 2˚ wide control beam (steady buzz) with identification superimposed in Morse, outside that, on one side dashes, on the other side dots.
As you cross the beam you carefully time the width of the beam, then a rate 1 turn 90˚, fly for 1 minute, and another 1 90˚ back toward the beam, time the width of beam again as you fly through. If it is more, you are going away, if less, you are going towards the drome. You then turn back onto beam, heading toward the drome. You must cross the drome to find which marker comes first. Reduce height to 1000 ft (having landing permission from drome and Barometric pressure set on your altimeter, checked with control tower).
Fly along the beam, if you swing to the left you get –s, if you go to right you get .s so you try to stay in the middle. When you cross the outer marker you must start to let down at 300ft per minute, holding steady decent [sic] rate and keeping in centre of beam (beam is getting narrower as you approach the end of runway).
When you cross the inner marker (lights on main beam) you should be at 100 ft cut throttles and prepare to land (wheels and flaps are down before outer marker of course). This is not easy because at this point, the beam is very narrow and with even a light cross wind it is hard to stay in the middle, but even in bad weather, there would be some lights to see, so the last part would be a visual landing (you hope).
At this point when practising, instructor sometimes releases cover, which gives you full visibility, surprise, there is a control tower right in front of you. Not good for the nerves, but it proves you must stick to the beam.
Back to Bournemouth again to wait for the next posting. In between there is nothing to do, so we are often selected in small groups and sent off somewhere to do a short course in something or other just to fill in the time, until we can be posted to further flying training.
As Bournemouth is on the south coast, the whole beach front is guarded by barbed wire with gun emplacements at intervals. There were a number of a/c a/c guns (light) Bofors, I think, in front of our pub. Just to keep them in practice, they sometimes flew a fairy battle along parallel with the beach and towing a drogue, much to our horror, it only took two or three shots to knock the drogue down.
So we were beginning to wonder what our chances were going to be if it was as easy as all that. However there came a day when 2 FW190’s sneaked in low across the water, sure, the gunners saw them soon enough but they flew around quite safely, just going up and down.
Just for good measure they flew straight down the beach, machine gunning everything, as they went, then turned out to sea and disappeared untouched.
Well at least there must be some chance for survival, watching the trace from the guns, it was always too high – too low or just too far behind, but they were not amateurs flying those kites and they were pretty fast.
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Our next training exercise, just a few of us, who’s names started with ‘A’ were packed off to Whitly [sic] Bay new [sic] Newcastle. This is our third commando style camp, on arrival, in the late afternoon, we were shown to our huts, which we thought were a bit strange, because they appeared to be almost new houses, unused, but there was no glass in the windows, OK well maybe it would be a bit cold, but we were used to changes by now so we soon got off to sleep alright, but not for long.
It seems the KG5 was being fitted out just down the road. Its [sic] hard to sleep when the sirens go, but its [sic] much harder once the guns start. It was soon obvious why there was no glass in the windows. There was one big gun just outside our “hut” each time it went off, it caused quite a compression in the room as well as the noise. We had no idea where the nearest shelter was, so we just stayed put. This course was mostly unarmed combat, with the usual assault course to run over, but also a ‘demo’ of how to throw hand grenades. I don’t know why. Interesting when one didn’t go off, after a given waiting time an officer and an NCO crawled out with the necessary equipment and placed a small charge, which exploded the grenade, and everyone was happy.
The usual was 6 of us in the trench at a time and the instructor and each of us had to throw one grenade in turn out of the trench and down the range toward a target, observed by someone with files [sic] glasses out side to check the results.
This went OK until one idiot hit the edge of the trench and the grenade fell back in. In the half second panic that followed, we all went vertically upwards, then sideways, without touching the sides, then flat on our faces. It must have been a very long fuse, because it seemed age before it went off harmlessly in the trench. Can’t say the instructor was at all happy. His Scots. Accent was hard to understand normally. None of us ever knew the words, but I’m sure we got his meaning. It did prove we were all fit enough though.
The air raids here were fairly frequent although there was usually only about a dozen planes at a time. There were plenty of guns on the ground, and someone said about 3 acres of rocket site, so plenty of noise and plenty of searchlights just to brighten it all up. An interesting variation to some of these rockets was that they fired a kind of net into the air, which was then held up by parachute but also trailed small explosive charges in the hope that an aircraft would fly into them, never heard of any being effective, but how would you know.
We had been to sneak a look at these rockets, when we got caught in the next air raid. The rocket launches seemed very simple, just an angle iron frame that could be rotated and vary its angle for height. The rocket appeared to be dropped on, similar to a mortar, but ‘wooshed’ off instead of a bang.
Anyhow when the raid started again we didn’t know the area, so we didn’t know which way to run for a shelter. Someone spotted a shop verandah in the dark, across the street, so we raced across and stood close to the wall laughing at the tons of shrapnel falling and bouncing on the road. All OK until we looked up and noticed there was only a frame left above us, so we would have been just as safe anywhere, but it didn’t last long, and this was another lucky day. It seemed to be a big risk to put expensively trained aircrew in the middle of air raids, but you did see the other side. I never knew later why they claimed the Germans didn’t have rockets. Perhaps they thought we would believe them or the rockets would go away or may be they just didn’t know how to counter them.
Our next posting is to Litchfield on Wellingtons. Lichfield was officially an Australian operational conversion and training unit, but shortage of some categories of aircrew meant that RAF bods had to fill the vacancies, so, six pilots from here, six navs from somewhere else, six w/op, six bomb aimer’s and six gunners all arrive and sort themselves into crews. Usual method seemed to be to go down to the local and tell each other how bad you were at your particular branch of
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14
flying. My crew all believed me, but claimed they were even worse. So out of this batch of “no hoper’s” we had to mould a unit.
The idea being that each man knew his job to perfection, but more than that, there must be complete confidence, understanding and instant unquestioned action from everyone. Perhaps we were lucky here too, because it was the best English weather (no ice or fog).
The course was designed to give each of the crew a chance to learn his part in conjunction with the rest of the crew.
Navigation trips to test navigator, w/op and bomb aimer, accuracy of pilots flying too. I suppose, and often a friendly fighter attack to test the gunners ability with camera instead of guns. In the evasive action, directed by rear gunner, we sometimes had some very sick crew members.
As this course advanced, the trips became longer and more complicated often across country north ward up the Irish sea to Scotland, often in or above cloud most of the way. On one of these trips we were in 10/10 cloud off Scotland at 13000ft. when there was a very big ‘explosion’ I thought we had been hit by a navy shell, as everything smelled of burnt sulphur, but at the same time we had been propelled downward. Out of the bottom of the cloud height now 2000ft. no sign of any navy craft on the sea, but we were flying level.
On accessing the damage we found a burnt out wireless set, trailing aerial burnt off, some fabric burnt off fuselage and the port wing. Decided better to land at nearest drome to check the damage properly. So, we headed for Prestwick, but arrived at the same time as about 50 Boston’s that had just crossed from USA as their fuel was almost out we had a longish wait before landing.
On inspection, they patched out fabric replaced a tyre (flat) and sent us home with only R.T. Decided we had flown into a cu-nimb (thunder storm) inside the stratus, been hit by lightning and dropped the 11000ft. in a vertical down draught. I don’t know but I didn’t do it even if, I did get the blame.
Next effort was a night cross country trip. The idea of these, was practice for us and practice for the home defences i.e. a/c a/c searchlights and also night fighters.
The searchlights would pick you up and the a/c a/c would fire real shells, but always much lower than your altitude even the searchlights were small and let you off pretty easy. We never saw a night fighter (maybe they were painted black).
The first time we saw a searchlight it was right on our starboard wing. I dived all over the place trying to get away but it didn’t even move. Well the top end didn’t move, didn’t go past our wing either but the bottom end shifted. Se we stopped our evasive action and turned our landing light off. The w/op had to disconnect the wires at the switch, something had shorted out.
The landing light, on a wimpy is set in the under side of the wing, pointing straight downwards, if used for landing, there is a lever operated by the pilot which swings the beam anywhere between straight down and straight forward. I don’t remember anyone ever using a landing light in practice but I’m sure we would have been shot down a dozen times with that light showing (must have lost another 10 out of 10 for that little effort).
On our next night cross country trip two crews, ourselves and Fred Mathews were given new aircraft. These were fitted with a new automatic mixture control, one lever less to pull. There is no flight engineer in a wimpy so the pilot had to do all these things himself as well as all the checks on gauges, oil pressure, brake pressure, oil temp., head temp. fuel gauges etc.
To check fuel gauges you had to lean across and press a button on the far side of aircraft, this lit up the gauges to show amount of fuel left in tanks. You must do this at regular intervals to ensure fuel is used evenly, to keep balance of aircraft, you can, by changing taps, use fuel from any one tank. Usually emptying outside tanks first.
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15
At some point, less than half way, I decided to check total fuel left. Had to call on navigator to workout quantity used for distance travelled compared to distance left to go. We went straight home without any corners and lost a few more points, I guess for not doing the trip. The other new kite had the same trouble but ran out of fuel and crash landed on the railway line near Manchester, probably mistaking the signal lights for a runway, but who knows, he could have called “mayday”.
Our next job was a trip to Manchester by train to bury the bods. Flying lost a few more points in my book. No survivors Fred’s rear gunner had been grounded and a substitute had made that trip (some people are not lucky). There were always extra gunners on this course, because when some crews finished, they were posted to four engine conversion units and needed another gunner (mid upper) other went to wimpy squadrons with standard crews. Not all front line aircraft were four engine at this time, as this was almost the end of our course, we were told we would need another gunner so I asked Vic (our rear gunner) if he knew one he could get along with. His immediate choice was ‘Titch’ Fred’s gunner who had stayed at home. This completed our crew, except for f/t engineer who joined us at con unit.
So we now had self 25 f/sgt. As pilot, not very efficient nearly always in trouble, mostly because I liked to try my own ideas and RAF does not approve of anything outside its standards (just like the army).
Rod Ramsay Aust. f/o navigator about 32 ex Commonwealth Bank, married, very serious, very cautious, very thorough and often very worried (perhaps he was right).
Alan Withers Aust. P/o Bomb-aimer about 28 married also worried at times (they both had more sense than I did) Alan had been on same course as me as, a pilot. Had passed in Tas. On tigers and then posted to cesnas [sic] in Canada where he was scrubbed as pilot and remustered as bomb aimer.
He would have been one of the few at Litchfield [sic] that I had known before. These two, I think were good friends with similar problems both starting to loose [sic] a bit of hair, down the middle, so one was baldy and the other was egghead. The argument over who was the worst was not enough to stop them joining the same team and trying to drown their troubles down at the local, but that didn’t really work, not beyond those few hours anyway.
Blue Kellaher Aust. Sgt w/op about 23, redhead Irish ancestors, rather carefree, happy sort of bod. “She’s apples mate” being the favourite saying but still very efficient underneath. Only trouble was he was almost always airsick in the earlier part, sometimes to the point of being helpless, lying on the floor, don’t think he ever quite got over it, but he never complained either.
Vic Blackwell rear gunner RAF Sgt. At 34 the eldest of the crew, married with two kids ex Watford footballer and still very keen on his soccer. Insurance salesman before the war, but a very keen gunner now as his target practice could prove.
Titch Crowley mid upper RAF Sgt. About 21 about 5ft. high with a very small face to match, in fact we often wondered how he could see once the oxy mask was on his face. His favourite saying in the Air, when asked about some kite in the area was always “I can’t see nothing mate” in perfect cockney.
This was not exactly Rod’s idea of English. He would say “Of course you can’t see nothing, you idiot, no one can” but we were stuck with it, you don’t change years of perfect English dialect just like that.
At this time there was very little time left to improve (we thought) but we still tried anyway.
As the captain of this bunch of ‘airmen’ I suddenly found myself responsible for all their mistakes (as if I didn’t make enough myself). Just the little things, like my immaculately dressed rear gunner, who marched carefully up to receive his pay. Signed the pay book, stepped back, stood
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to attention and saluted, turned and marched away. He was almost to the door, before there was a screech from the WOD who had just noticed he was wearing his cap in his shoulder strap instead of on his head.
Vickers Wellington
Engine I590hp Bristol Hercules
(x1)1590hp(v1)1650hp(xv1)1870h
p
Span 86' 2"
length 64' 7"
Height 17 6"
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Max. Takeoff WT 29000lbs
Weight
Max. Speed 12000ft
OP Ceiling 19000ft
Range with I500lbs 2200mls
Or "Blue", who could walk past the CO with one hand in his pocket and say "Gooday mate" instead of saluting.
So we were a pretty scruffy bunch over all, not exactly RAF standard I'm afraid.
At the end of this course I had to front up to the flight commander to give my assessment of each of the crew. I thought they were much better than he did. He then suggested I put in for a commission, but I said "No thanks I'd rather be a w/o better pay and no bills. He said "In that case I will have to give you a different report won't I", so he tore that one up (its sometimes hard to win).
Just before we left Litchfield we were lucky enough to have a try in their new flight simulator which they had just installed at a cost of about [symbol] 1,000,000.
This looked like a wheat silo from the outside. Only the pilot and nav did this exercise as a combined trial. We climbed to the top of a great flight of steps, there was a small platform mounted out into space with a couple of seats, a set of flying instruments in front of the pilot and a complete nav set up for the nav who sat sideways and just behind the pilot. This could be used for day or night training but it was only night for us. So all the lights were turned out, then very little showed on the ground, the sky showed only stars and occasionally cloud cover.
The ground was a very big map, you took off and flew like the link trainer but there was no pen on the map, instead the map moved across exactly as you flew over it. The stars moved too, in relation to your speed and direction. To map read from this height at night is always impossible except for the odd bend in river or a scrap of coast line, but the
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nav could nearly always take astro shots, so it was a help. No one told you anything about the trip you were doing before we started. We were just, given a target area and told to plot our track and times over the target etc. So off we went, climbed to height, and set our course for target.
Imagine the surprise as we crossed the enemy coast, the searchlights came on right on target (us) and, slung between the floor and sky were wires with lights at intervals up their length. These flashed in order from the ground upwards just like real Flak, when any of them came near enough to our little cockpit area, it rattled all over the place and almost fell to bits. Not a very good feeling in the dark, especially when you know how high you are above the floor, but you can't really get hurt or shot down.
We also spent a few hours doing dingy drill, in case we ever had to ditch. For this they had a wrecked wimpy just sitting on the ground, so the whole crew took up their usual positions for flight, and in theory we did a ditching. We then had to release all escape hatches, dingy etc., clamber out and into the inflated dingy. For this we were given just over 1 minute, lost a bit of skin off the shins and elbows etc. Escape hatches are not padded. The other half of this was done in the pool. Dingy to be inflated and everyone to get in. Apart from the cold and the wet, this wasn't too bad.
Two crews. Bruce Simpson and ourselves are next posted to Conversion unit at Swinderby 5 group, so it would seem we will go to one of the Aust. Squadrons in this group either 463 or 467. On arrival, there was little time to look around, we were allotted a flight engineer, Johnnie Lancaster from Lancaster, RAF Sgt. Johnnie was just 19 and had been an apprentice to a pro golfer (Cotton I think). Perhaps because of his age, and the short time since leaving school, he rather tended to stay strictly to the book. I couldn't say that for the rest of the crew. So there were times when he was lonely, but he knew his job well enough. There were some `Lanc's' here, but only enough to do the final conversion. The first part
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had to be done on `Manchester's'. These were the original, almost as big as the `Lanc' (looked the same) but only two engines instead of four. Engines were bigger and heavier but not very reliable. We almost got through without a serious problem until we had to do gunnery practice over the Wash. While Alan (bomb aimer) was firing the front guns, a hydraulic pipe burst. This completely covered my windscreen with dark coloured oil. No trouble to fly home as I still had instruments, could also see out the sides OK, but nothing out the front so it would be hard to land.
Manchester
Engine Two Rol's Vulture. Each motor was made by joining
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two rols Kestrels one inverted, to form an x section
giving 176hp.
Span 90' 1"
Length 69'
Height 18'
Takeoff Weight 50000lbs
Max. Speed 273mph
OP Ceiling 19200ft
Range 1630mls
On the way back, I got the bright idea that if I opened the side window, and by keeping my left arm pressed against the side. I might be able to slide my hand around to the front and wipe a little spot, enough to see through. I then reduced speed, lowered wheels and flaps to get the maximum drag, but the slowest speed you can fly these at is 120mph. I only had part of my arm out when the wind took it backwards. There must be a better way of breaking an arm. So I gave that idea away very quickly, but that didn't solve the landing problem. Had to raise the wheels and flaps and return to base. By now the crew were only half as worried as I was. At least that was a change, but time was running out and the oil was worse than ever.
It was taboo to have anyone in the nose on landings in case of a crash but I decided if I put Alan down there to look through the nose cone, he could guide me onto the runway, as on a bombing run (right left, left steady as required) I would have to hope he was right, and I could judge the height out of my side window. The landing worked OK but it was lucky Alan had done some time as a pilot, because the hardest part is often keeping straight on runway after landing and there is very .little time to check a swing (which would finish in a ground loop) with about 30 tons at 90 mph in a machine that is not really made for road work.
Anyhow we made it safely but had to keep Alan in the front to taxi back. Now I'm in trouble again for not notifying control of this little
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problem before I landed, so I asked just what could they have done to help/ [sic] The answer was simple, "The fire cart and ambulance could have followed us close down the runway. (Oh well).
Again I am called up to the flight commander to see if I have considered a commission, again I refuse, but within no time at all I have to front up to the CO. He didn't propose that I took a Commission this time, he told me I must because there was no way that I, as an NCO could give orders to the officers in my crew. So either I took a commission or lost my crew and start again. I did point out that we got along quite well, but he didn't agree (just not done, old boy, What?) Later I learned none of this had much to do with it. The real reason for having a commission was in case we were POW. We would get much better treatment as officers. I don't know why this didn't apply to w/ops; and gunners though. Soon after this we converted to Lanc's, a bit bigger, a bit heavier, two extra motors, but much more manoeuvrable and a much better rate of climb. A lot of the load is taken off the pilot now, as the engineers job is to check all gauges, temps, boost, revs, fuel etc., he even helps on takeoff by locking throttles once you have top power, raising undercart and flaps, when told (pity there are no dual controls I could have sat and watched). Also there are repeater dials on gyro compass and airspeed, one for the pilot, and one in nav compartment. This allows Nav to call airspeed on take off and landing so that pilots job is keeping it straight, and judging height and distance etc.
It is the engines of every aircraft that always seem the most important item. You can get by with some bits missing from other places, but those fans up the front end have to keep going all the time (you hope) so, even at the beginning you must learn to look after the motors, and when times of pressure do arrive, you try not to exceed their limits. Its not always easy to slow them down when you want to go faster, but when the gauges say that's the limit its a good idea to take notice. The basic principle is the same as any internal combustion engine, but a bit more
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sophisticated with extras like super charger (sometimes 3 stage) fuel injection dual ignition (magnetos). Always variable shutters of some kind to control air flow over (oil coolers) radiators, an [sic] inline engines (water glycol cooled). The theory being that the engine gives its best performance at the correct temperature, therefore the shutters must be used to keep the temperatures constant, head temp, water temp, oil temp, etc. In the cold winter mornings it could takeover half an hour just waiting for the motors to warm up. It may seem a waste of time, but on take off, a small loss of power can leave you with some very anxious moments. The standard drill was simple, warm up motors, run up to test maximum revs. In fine pitch (3000) reduce to 2650, switch off one mag switch, note rev. drop, turn on again, switch off other mag switch, note drop if any, turn on again. If rev. drop is greater than 100 rpm. mag must to checked, could be just a bad plug, but often it was moisture in the mag.
If mags are OK revs. Up to 2850 test pitch control, return to fine pitch, check all pressure gauges etc. if all OK you should be ready to taxi.
Take off for small aircraft was simple. Stop before runway check [inserted] TR [/deleted] [deleted] l [/deleted] imes, mixture, pitch, fuel, flaps, sperries (instruments) gills gyros etc. get OK clear from control, turn onto runway, open throttle push the stick forward to get the tail up, hard rudder to stop the swing caused by slipstream, hold it until flying speed is reached, checking swing as speed builds up, ease back on the stick and climb away. The heavier twins were usually held on brakes until the motors were reved up to get more power, this took less distance to get flying speed. In the loaded Lanc. we used all the runway, brakes locked on until the two inner motors were flat out and locked. As the outer motors were then reved up and the tail started to bump off the ground, the brakes were released to let it roll forward, as speed was gained, some swing could be conected by pushing one outer throttle more than the other, but as speed increased the rudders became effective. There is a lot of strong wind from four motors going flat out, but it does tend to go in a spiral rather than straight and therefore pushes
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the tail to one side. Trims must be set before take off to help counter this swing (part of standard pre takeoff check). Continual checks on all instruments must be taken while in flight, especially oil pressure and temperatures. Temperatures can be controlled by changing radiator openings but loss of oil pressure would mean the engine would seize and often go on fire. So it was better to close down the motor than take the chance, but if it were only the gauge at fault you would have to be a `dill' to close the motor down and loose all that power, as well as overloading the remainder, loosing fuel economy and making the kite much harder to fly.
So a faulty gauge was always a worry. Even after you had decided it was definitely the gauge at fault, you could never be really certain until you had landed and had it checked, and by that time, it didn't matter anyway but the ground always felt a bit more solid somehow once you had made it back to base.
After some practice in all aspects of bombing, fighter attacks, searchlight, a/c a/c, High level bombing etc., we were posted to a squadron. Not an Aust. Squadron as expected but 106 at Syerston. This was a permanent pre war base and now has 2 squadron 106 61 both RAF both operating from here. This causes a bit of crowding when everyone returns at the same time. We get a few days to settle in before I go on my first `op' just as a passenger with an experienced crew, but it does give some idea of conditions to be encountered in the future. The crews pilot was Flt A Poore 617 sqd. Unfortunately the weather is getting much worse by now, also the nights are getting longer, this means longer trips and much more time spent over enemy territory.
I think this combination plus bigger concentrations of aircraft on both sides took a lot of fun out of flying for the next few months.
As a crew we decided we had to change some of the standard RAF patter between the gunners and pilot, as it was too vague and too slow. Our new idea worked alright in practice but it was a bit hard on
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w/op and navigator who got very little (if any) warning and therefore no time to prepare for the violent evasive action. Often the Navigator would loose all his equipment including charts which were thrown all over the place.
We missed one trip from Syerston just because we couldn't find the kite in the fog. Another night we had to be guided to the end of the runway by following a truck. Take off was on compass but not too bad. Our worst trip here, was to return in a very heavy storm. Our radio was u/s so we missed the diversion order to another drome. Couldn't contact control for permission to land, finally came very low over tower and used the aldis lamp. When we finally landed and turned off the runway all the four motors cut out (no petrol) I reckon we spent too much time trying to do the right thing. Should have landed first and asked afterward, but it takes time to learn. Someone said "If you live you learn if you learn you live" (chicken & egg situation). About this time, it was decided someone else needed this drone, so we all had to do the big shift, 61 squadron going to Skellingthorp [sic] and 106 to Metheringham. Apart from the problems in shifting to a partly finished drome in the middle of winter (mud everywhere, no showers, huts were still pretty basic and the training had to continue as often as possible. Must have been rather rough on the ground crews. One of the reasons for so much continuous training was the addition of new electronic equipment. We now had 25 different sets fitted into our kite, including H2S monica mandril, fishpond G. etc. H2S (radar) and G were navigation aids, some of the others were supposed to detect fighters, confuse fighters, you name it we had it. Unfortunately the fighters often used these beams we were transmitting to detect us, even radar could only be used for short intervals without having an angry JU88 on your tail (makes life interesting don't it).
By this time we have a reasonably efficient crew, who work together very well. It seems to fall on the pilot (as captain) to help sort out each crew members personal problems because somehow they seem to
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show when flying. He must therefore be able to judge how much work load can be applied without help from someone else. I don't know who checks the pilot or how they can help, but maybe they did at times. These air crew generally are a pretty quiet lot. The only time they play up is on leave. The bar in the mess is open most of the time, but usually empty. Nothing like those airmen of 1918 most of them seem to be just too tired I would think. By reports from other dromes, our losses are very low, but always there are new crews coming in as replacements, new aircraft tom. Still "Cockies" airforce (Cochrane being the AOC 5 group) were often accused of getting the best aircraft and maintenance facilities but they didn't [inserted] g [/inserted] [deleted] b [/deleted] et the best of targets. They sometimes operated as a special force on specially selected targets (not always easy) 617 squadron had been formed for this purpose by taking a couple of senior crews from each squadron in the group and combining them to form a new squadron. Gibson was from 106. Their aircraft were all specials, depending on the job they were used for.
Interesting to watch the reactions of the old crews to the new replacements. They could tell you how many trips they would manage before they went missing. Trouble was, even the old crews, who were doing the judging didn't often get past 20 before their luck ran out. The terrible weather must have been a big factor in so many ways in our losses it was always bad or worse, We once had to spend the afternoon digging snow off the runway just so we could take off. If you think digging snow off a 3000yd runway is easy, (try it). On one of our earliest trips Kassel we went into cloud at about 200ft from take off, came out in a small hole over target, back in again to return, but had to land away from home because cloud had come down to ground level. (Good test for sprog crews).
Takeoff's and landings were always dicey. Take off because it was always a heavily loaded kite, and therefore had trouble getting flying speed. We had very little time to take off. All aircraft having to taxi
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along tarmac facing down wind, which meant motors overheating very quickly. If there was ever a slight hold up we had to try to turn partly into wind to get some air through the radiators, but there was no room for error, one wheel in the mud at the edge of the tarmac would stop half the squadron getting off (other half came from other side).
Our take off rate was about 1 every 3/4 minute and land one every minute. In take off you were very close behind the next aircraft so there was much buffeting from his slipstream.
Given the heavy load and the low flying speed it was often hard to hold it in the air. Each alternate aircraft turned slightly port or starboard, which meant by the time you get to 200ft you were OK.
Landing problems were even worse. Just too many aircraft trying to land at the same time and all nearly out of petrol.
Often aircraft from other squadrons diverted because their home drome was closed or we would go to their drome for the same reason. (very thick fogs were common).
One of the jobs allotted to the bomb aimers on each op was to throw out "window". Window was the code name for the aluminium foil strips. These were cut to the exact length to match the German radar frequency. Each one gave the same reflection as an aircraft on the radar screen, so each time another hand full was thrown out it showed up as another 30 or so aircraft.
Being very light in weight, it slowly drifted downwards. With hundreds of aircraft doing this it formed one big box of reflections and it was almost impossible to pick one as a single aircraft. Excepting of course for those who got outside or too high above the box, or the leaders, who were always the little blip on their own with the fan shape of aircraft trailing out behind. There are safer places than being leaders, especially when you are in front of P.F.F. (Path Finding Force).
One other problem for all aircrew was loss of night vision when you were hit by searchlights before you had time to turn away, it meant
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you could not be sure of seeing another aircraft even if he were close for the next five minutes or so.
There is no way you can use a light to see any of the instrument, as this would show outside, so to overcome this, the instruments were all done with luminous paint, barely visible, but set high up behind the pilot on both sides, were two ultra violet lights directed onto the instrument panel (invisible) but the power could be increased to make the instruments show up much brighter if required, even then these had to be kept as low as possible because it could spoil your vision too.
On one return we were diverted to a drome up north and stacked to 13000ft. They said later there were only 3 dromes open in the whole of England. Some control points even told their crews to head their kites out to sea and bale out, but I didn't know of any that did that, but trying to imagine 6 to 8 hundred aircraft trying to land on three dromes in the dark with very little fuel, so very little time left for anyone. It also meant those 3 dromes didn't have the best of weather either. This could explain why so many trips were cancelled at the last minute I guess. Well that's for main force anyway, because there were always shot up kites who had priority (lost more on return than by enemy action some nights but these were never counted in the losses) only the ones the enemy could positively prove, that is the ones that crashed inside their territory. There were times too, when the enemy fighters came in with the bombers returning and shot up the dromes and unsuspecting kites. Each of our kites was fitted with I.F.F (Identification Friend or Foe) but obviously you could not shoot down every kite that didn't have it working, there were lots of reasons why it might not be, shot up or burnt out etc., but the result was the same. So out went all the lights, this included our own navigation lights, which we had just switched on. Had to wake everyone up to watch for other aircraft because they were not all flying in the same direction now, and the chances of collision were very high.
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"George" (auto pilot) was fitted to all aircraft but I don't think it was used very often even on the longest trips. I sometimes tried to use ours on the early part, climbing to height over England, but it always did the same trick, a steady turn to starboard, so it was pretty well useless. Never the less it was always set in "spin" ready to be put in an emergency. One of our crews with a full bomb load and hotly pursued by fighters had completely lost control in a dive, even the trims had no effect, in desperation the pilot engaged "George" and out they came. Even the fighters had given up by then. Its quite a sensation to build up a speed like that in the dark. You do think about the kites flying lower than you. Also wonder if the wings will stay on when you are trying to pull out of the dive. The pressures on your body are so high its impossible to lift an arm. Your head is on your chest and your eyes seem to be halfway down your face, but you recover instantly the pressure comes off.
Ice is one of the big worries in this weather. The moisture builds up on the cold aircraft as condensation all over then freezes to ice as you slowly gain height because of the fall in temperature with altitude, therefore the all up weight increases and slows the rate of climb even more. Leading edges of wings are covered with a deicing strip and thick grease. This causes ice to crack and flake off which helps, makes some terrible noises when the slipstream throws it against the fuselage though.
Carburettors have icing problems also even though they have heaters. Also the pilothead (airspeed and static pressure for instruments). It is fitted with electric heater, but doesn't always manage to cope with these temperatures.
Another effect was a build up of static electricity in the fuselage. This caused pale blue flames like metho burning. They danced along the wing edges etc. but the worst was the flickering on the windscreen, each section of perspex had its little row of flame top and bottom which continually joined in the centre then flicked apart again. Disturbing for two reasons, one because you could not see out (we were used to that
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anyway) by wondering what would happen, if we ran into the other side of the charge (+ or ).
I was later told, this is a very old phenomenon known to the earliest sailors. They called it St. Elmo's lights (not harmful well, not at ship speed).
To be able to read the clouds, was often important too, as it could indicate changes of wind etc. which would help the navigator but there was no way we could change course drastically to avoid the rough ones, so we had to press on, bumps and all.
Often on return from Berlin we would climb a little higher (to about 25 or 26000ft) here you would be clear of cloud (nearly always) :because it was too cold to hold moisture but there would be continuous `con' trails as each kite left its own track behind it, no need to navigate, just follow the road and keep a very careful watch for fighters.
This almost proved our undoing on one occasion as I had forgotten about the predicted flak. Thinking the box of aircraft below should cover us, but their radar was better than that. We were too high at
27000ft. Caused a bit of a panic when a couple of big shells exploded right under our starboard wing.
The shrapnel sounded like hands full of gravel hitting a tin fence. Somehow we had been rolled over by the blast. No one was injured but my straps had been too loose and we were obviously in some trouble because I was jammed hard up against the instrument panel with my head trying to push the roof out. I called up each bod in turn to check how they were, gunners didn't appear to be too bad (guess they were used to it) but everyone else complained they were lying very heavily on the roof by now, with the force built up so high, the only thing I could do was to jam the stick forward against the panel and hold it there. Seemed to be an hour before we came out, then the rubbish returned to the floor and we were almost on course again just a couple of thousand ft. lower. Bomb aimer was unlucky, seems he got to the floor first in his compartment,
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followed by the pressed steel tins (which had held the window foil) one of these landed on his head and cut through his helmet. His explanation was quite colourful, but there were far more complaints from the navigator as all his charts and equipment had been sucked out a hole in the side. We were almost to the Dutch coast anyway so we knew our way home and the G was working for the last bit. I did put the nose down to help us along.
Our usual kite in the earlier part was O orange which we shared with another crew when we have a night off they fly in it.
I guess we were late getting back from leave one night, just in time to see the kites returning (early takeoff) as we stood and watched them join the circuit one above the other circling while waiting to descend and land, we were more than surprised to see one idiot going the opposite wa [deleted] s [/deleted] y around, that is against the traffic on a one way street. So we waited to we him land. It was a good landing so we didn't know why. We didn't know who either until next morning. Our beautiful O was shot to pieces, great holes in the fuselage, hardly any tail section left, but it had flown home, even if it could only turn one way. Replacement kites came in almost daily, but not this time. We had therefore to fly N as a second crew to a senior crew, but it wasn't long before they went missing and took the kite with them.
We then became the senior crew on a new N, (very doubtful privilege) but did get stuck with one ground crew, which was good because they tried very hard to keep that kite perfect. The second it had stopped rolling on return, they were there to see how much damage I had done to their master piece. There never backward in telling a rival crew, theirs was the best aircraft on the station and theirs was the best aircrew flying it. I suppose it helped their morale's because it must have been a terrible job in the freezing cold (anyway they didn't have to believe it did they).
There were times when an aircraft had problems soon after take off. It was very obvious you could not land again with a full load of
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petrol plus bombs. OA weight being too great. You then carried on out over the wash or north sea to a safe spot and dropped the 4000lb. `cookie' before returning to land. We were always told where any ships might be just in case, but one night someone must have been in trouble very early and the cloud cover was pretty thick so the bomb went down a bit early, no one had said the navy was underneath but they soon let us know, don't know if they hit anyone but they fired off a lot of a/c a/c and we weren't very high at that time.
Overall the Berlin trips were as rough as any 7 to 8 hours duration, but even though the track and direction would be changed, the defences were always very heavy. You would see every kind of German aircraft; in the air using all kinds of rockets and things (unheard of). They often flew aircraft above and parallel to the bomber stream, dropping flares down each side. This would light up a long corridor with bright reflection off the cloud (if any). There were faults in our system here, because you could watch our kites being, shot down but there was no way you could even warn them. Our own evasive idea seemed to work very well. We rolled a lot to let the gunners see below as well as other points. A lot of the attacks came from below as this was a blind spot unless you did roll. Its hard work with a heavy kite at this height, but it always gave us time to break first. Its a nice feeling to see the trace or rockets going the wrong way and no damage to the old kite. We always lost the fighter too, which was a comfort.
Bombing runs were always dicey, as you had to hold straight and level for so long.
First on the run in onto aiming point then it took about 2 minutes for bombs to fall from this height. The camera was timed to take its pictures where the [deleted] flak [/deleted] flash went off. This gave a row of overlap photos of where you had actually aimed at, also showed every little wobble in your flying. Almost held too long on one occasion, rear gunner warned me of dornier sitting out of range directly astern. Gave an unheard of
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order "weave mate". I did [inserted] , [/inserted] just as a rocket whizzed past on the starboard side leaving a great trail of flame. We had sometimes seen kited [sic] shot down by this method, but it was usually from much closer and almost directly below. There was very little chance of escape as there was usually just one big explosion when the bomb went off.
We always reported these sightings but were always told, such things couldn't happen because no one had equipment like that. Much later they called it slanting music which sounds a bit like the proper name in German.
We did loose [sic] a lot of kites at turning point especially the first ones on the way out. A lot of kites, no lights of course, converging onto one theoretical point at the same time and height from different directions, often in very thick cloud. As each two collided, there would be a visual explosion, followed by a bump, if close, then many different coloured lights as everything that was left fell burning to the ground. Each different metal used in the plane burns with a different colour.
No wonder there were so many bods missing unaccounted for.
Another strange sight at this height on return from Berlin, was a sheet of thin vertical cloud at right angles to out [sic] track. As each aircraft went through it left a clear hole. The result when we arrived looked similar to a sheet of pegboard bigger and softer of course.
Its at this time, for the frst time that you realise, there are so many often very important decisions to be made instantly as well as some you have little time to think about, but it is so obvious they are all your decisions and you must be sure they work out. Its no use afterwards, if there is an afterwards, to say well it was your idea and it didn't work, because you, as the captain went along with that, but you had to remember too that each one of the crew was a specialist at his task, so when there was time you accepted his judgement before the final decision. The instant ones were instant and mostly the well proven theory. Its better to do something than to do nothing because even if you were wrong there
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may be a chance to change but if you have done nothing the opposition has done it all, there are no prizes for second and you don't exist anymore.
The old saying from WWI still applied the quick and the dead.
We had done very few trips when we found ourselves up front with the leaders. I mentioned this to Rod (Nav). He said "Yes I know, I complained to the nav officer and said we needed more experience before we got a job like that", but he was taken over to the results board, (showed times, tracks, aiming points etc.) and our results were up near the top, besides a few more of the old crews had failed to return and someone had to take their place (great, its hard to stay young and innocent) one other drastic effort of a weather change was notable, as we crossed the north sea on return, the rear gunner (looking towards the better light in the east) complained about the size of the waves, as my altimeter was reading 1000ft I told him he was mad, nobody could see waves from that height in the dark. Next the bomb aimer enquired about a fixed light approaching from high up front. Turned out to be a lighthouse on the cliff above. We had to climb rather smartly to get over it. Didn't know why a lighthouse should be operating during war time, but it was lucky that it was, we could have made quite an impression on return. It was normal practice to get a new altimeter setting (barometric pressure) on return just in case there had been a change in pressure (front) I usually left it a bit later than this, didn't usually get that low, that early either, but I was trying to beat one of the other crews back to base so I had pushed the nose down to gain some extra speed. I still came second in that race.
On one relatively good day without ops, we have a practice run for high level bombing. Take off climb to 18000ft or so, do a run across the bombing range, drop a few little practice bombs and return to base and check the results which are phoned through and plotted on target map.
Unfortunately we are 3/4 down the runway on take off, but no airspeed call from the Nav. This is not too unusual, as the IAS does not start to show a reading until about 60mph. He suddenly realises it is not
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working a quick glance at mine just proved he was right, but by this time there is no room left to stop before the fence anyway, so off we went. Of course you can't do a bombing run without an indicated air speed. It has to be set on the bomb sight, so we must return to have it fixed. After calling up for permission to land, we had to evade their enquiry as to the reason for return because the correct procedure for a landing like this is rather long and complicated, involves another aircraft flying beside you but slightly in front, the idea being if his speed is right, you should have some idea of you [sic] speed.
I decided we were better on our own despite a few groans, and reminders from the crew. Later someone said we were better off without an airspeed indicator, as that was the only decent landing we had done up till now. Later the ground crew Flt. Sgt. Went [sic] to a great deal of trouble to line up his crew to thank us. It seems the penalty for this fault in maintenance was a bit rough on all who had signed to say it was OK. The fault must have been pretty obvious because we still managed to do our practice trip and I don't think anyone else even heard about it. One other fault that developed before take off was a complete loss of brake pressure, right at the end of the runway. As this [sic] . In [sic] my opinion was going to be an easy trip (French special target with 617) I decided to take off and worry over brake pressure on return. Should have known better, but I called up base just after crossing south coast on return to tell them of the problem. I did know there were crash dromes with extra long runways so I thought we would get diverted, but we still had to return to base, where they put the engineering officer on the air. He couldn't help us so we were sent back to Wittering. Here they had a 61/2 mile long runway and I think we used most of it, trouble is without brakes to check the swing, you must use inside motor (inside the swing) but this doesn't slow you down. There were watch towers at intervals along this runway, all lit up and after we had passed the third still going very fast I was beginning to get a little worried. I had no idea, at that time, how long this runway was, but having
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lost our main speed the last bit slowed down fairly quickly. Had to leave the kite to be towed back to maintenance by a tractor, returned to base the next day. Never did find out the cause of the trouble, probably a burst pipe. I did think to myself "next time we stay home" its [sic] just as bad as being shot at.
Another thing I tried, to overcome this loss of control on take off with heavy load of bombs I picked a night with take off just before dark (bad judgement) as I was too easily recognised I held it down on the runway to about 140 then lifted the wheels without climbing away this built up speed very quickly. Also put the bods riding their bikes along the road at the end of the runway into the ditch. Vibrated a few things off the mantle piece in farms and caused many complaints all around. CO (Group captain) had a well selected set of words to say next day. Completely ignored my protest that the higher the speed the safer the flight. His final words were something like this, "Look Andy I know you can do that with your eyes shut and your hands behind your back, but think what will happen when some of the new crews try the same thing, you are supposed to set a good example (well I did try).
Next time I had to front up for a similar variation of the rules his final words were "you don't have to be the best pilot in the airforce but you could to be the oldest." It was a good thought, but there was no chance of me being either of those.
At one point our flight commander went missing, his replacement was a bit keen, and said a few nasty things about the appearance and discipline of our crew result I'm up before the CO again.
This time he was on my side, reminded the new bod that we were a very experienced crew and going by the results shown on the board, also very competent, but as he was only the CO G/cp. and not the OC flying on our next trip we had to leave our Nav. Behind [sic] and take the squadron Nav. Officer who volunteered to check us out. His confidence was quite a
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compliment as this made his 143rd trip. He had no complaints on return so it just faded out.
I managed to get into a couple more disagreements with the OC flying w/cm mostly over our revised method of evasion and the instructions that went with it.
He thought it was quite wrong, we should stick to the standard RAF procedure which, he said, was proven, l didn't say for 1914, but a voice from down the back end said "Why don't thee tell the silly mate" and that didn't raise our share value either, even worse, no one could identify the voice (strange language English as she is spoken).
Shortly after this we won the fight against a couple of jerry night fighters without any damage to ourselves, which was rather lucky as our guns didn't work for a while.
One went down in flames and the other climbed slightly above us before it exploded but we were only allowed one as no one else had recorded the other one going down.
I was then called in to tell the OC how we did it, my reply was "Exactly as you said Sir". Didn't go down at all well, in fact he kicked me out of his office instantly.
Soon after this he went missing and I had second thoughts as I said to Rod "he was on our side." Rods [sic] reply surprised me, he said "No mate, anyone who tried to teach his crews that rubbish had to be one of Adolphs [sic] best men". (Great, but there were 6 others in that crew who had no choice). Then again war is like that. The one thing that is for certain by now is that you make no friends, it isn't good for the morale, they just don't last long enough and that sometimes makes you think maybe its my turn next.
We had always managed to cope with fighters. Its obvious you never see the fighter first, otherwise he would not be attacking you, but if you can see him soon enough to be able to turn away as he is closing in and just before he opens fire then the nose of his aircraft hides you and as
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he has to fire in front of you, on your line of flight to hit you his trace always went high and behind. He then has to pass and attack from the other side but mostly he would loose sic] you in the dark.
We also managed to escape the searchlights very quickly, before they had time to cone up. This meant we kept away from usual a/c a/c or fighters that were near enough to catch you but when it came to beating all the a/c a/c it was only luck.
The intelligence figures were something like 22000 heavy guns many of them mobile units on the track in, often about the same on the way out again. It didn't pay to fly over towns. They soon told you where they were.
Most heavy guns worked in conjunction with the searchlights. The system was very effective. If you became isolated enough to be picked out by radar, the first you knew, was a flick of pale blue, then a steady beam fixed on you. This was the master beam light, directly controlled by radar. It doesn't operate until you are located. Instantly this light comes on, all other standard lights in the area close in on it, giving a very wide cone of lights from all sides, if you had not escaped by then, you were in for a very bad time, because as you flew out of range of those ; behind, another batch in front picked you up progressively. Every gun within range tried it's luck, so the air got a bit thick, even the fighters would sometimes have a go if the guns didn't seem to be winning. It's not good to watch this show and not be able to help, but you can't afford to watch either. The only method of searchlight evasion we got to work was an instant height loss of a minimum of 2000ft almost straight down. Someone calculated that this would get you out of the narrow radar beam quickly enough so that they didn't know which way to follow. Maybe it did, maybe it was only luck, but if you could beat the lights forming a cone with you in the middle, it seems to be hard for them to pick you up again. A lot of flak was fired directly upwards into the general formation area. Many of these shells came very close and no doubt hit a lot of kites,
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but even if you got bumped about and sometimes rattled with shrapnel, you never worried unless this was followed closely by a repeat, then it was time to make a hurried exit to somewhere else.
To see a main force target on a clearish night must have been rather frightening for a new crew for the first time, large, coloured target indicators (these were different colours, like the colour of the day, they changed fairly often to try to stop the enemy imitating them with similar flares over empty fields) e.g. 2 red 1 green, I [sic] similar combination. Usually these were parachute flares, backed up at intervals with new ones. Searchlights everywhere, when they could get through the cloud, when they couldn't, they shine on the clouds turning them into a bright white base, silhouetting all aircraft for everyone above to see.
The better German fighters used this to great advantage, their method was simple. They stayed high above the bomber stream until they picked out one kite flying reasonably straight and level, then closed in the distance until they were almost level, but still high above. The next step was to dive almost vertically down passing just behind the bomber, they by lifting the nose almost vertically upwards they lost speed quickly, but they were also directly, and pointing at the bombers bomb bay, usually unseen by that crew. There is no vision downwards, no one to look either.
A long burst of cannon fire set the bombs off or at the worst, for them, hit the motors, tanks, pilot or crew. The need for them at this time was a very quick retreat to miss the bits remaining so they would flip over onto their back at the top of the loop and dive away below. To do this in the dark is not an easy thing, the only aircraft that I saw that could do it, was the JU88. The ME210 was supposed to be their best aircraft for night fighting, but I never say [sic] one do this.
It was not true to say the rear gunner was often the target of the fighters, he was a very small target compared to the centre section but he was often the first in line from attacks from the rear. His job also needed
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a lot of cool nerve too, because he had to watch all the tracer coming straight at him while trying to shoot back, some of it goes very very close.
The main force on major targets was usually (not always) divided into 3 phases one behind the other, in theory anyway, to spread some of the congestion over the target area, but this still left about 200 aircraft crossing the same point at the same time, at about the same height for each phase. The point of fire for all a/c a/c guns was obvious, so there was one big black ball, (smoke) from the exploding shells, which was filled with red to orange flashes from the new ones going off. I'm sure everyone held their breath for the bombing run, as you had to stay straight and level for so long, until you were right through to the other side.
To look at this from the approach, you would say it was impossible to get through without being blown apart. You did get bumped by the flak and often much too close to other aircraft. Once on a Leipzig raid, a fighter going in the opposite direction over our head, was so close, I could seethe [sic] rivets in his wings. Just a few inches lower and our luck would have run out with a big thud. The closing speed would have been somewhere about 700 mph, at that speed, in the dark, there is no way you can see him quickly enough to do any evasion. The type of marker used on these targets (above cloud) is always dropped before the target, and, therefore must be bombed on a fixed, pre arranged heading and speed so that the bombs carry on past the markers (aiming point) to the target below, on clear nights the markers are on the ground.
This bombing run must have been the cause of many losses too, especially for beginners. As I remember out first trip as a crew, the bomb aimer called bomb doors open as we approached the target, we held the straight and level for what seemed to be a quarter of an hour, despite the nav's protests that we were nowhere near the target. In the end we closed the doors and flew on until we came to the target. That was the first time our bamb aimer had seen a target and his judgement of distance was not very good.
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Under these conditions you are a sitting duck if a fighter turns up, but you couldn't blame him, as a target is visible for a long way from that height, some times up to 300mls from that height, especially to the last phase of the attack (beginners).
Here I should add, an experienced crew have the bomb doors open for the minimum time. The bomb aimer steers you onto the target before the doors open and he knows exactly when to call to close them again.
The nervous tension is still pretty high for those few minutes, probably just because you know the concentration of flak and aircraft in such a small area.
On our first trip I remember being soaked with perspiration, even my gloves were wet through, but you improve on that with practice. We wore three set of gloves, first silk, to stop them sticking, then wool to absorb the moisture, then long leather gloves over the outside to stop contact with any metal we had to touch. To touch any bare metal at these temperatures means your skin just sticks to the metal if you try to pull away you leave your skin stuck there.
A lot of kites were hit by falling bombs from higher flying aircraft, the usual bomb load for this type of main force target, being one 4000lb cookie and the rest of the load made up of hundreds of small incendiaries (4lb). These were square in section and packed tightly into crates, held in place by a bar across the bottom. When dropped, the bar felt away and the incendiaries just fell out to spread in all directions.
The method of dropping was usually progressive, one crate after another, called stick bombing, so this spread the bombs over a longer area. Idea was that the 'Cookie' blew things apart and then the incendiaries lit it alt up, with all these bombs dropping in such a limited time and area, it's no wonder the rescue services had problems. The numbers of people killed was often in the thousands in one raid, they didn't count the injured. It was said that any airman unlucky enough to come down near the target
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area was treated as a war criminal and hanged on the spot by the civilians, so you hoped the army found you first.
We did quite a few courses in unarmed combat in training, partly to keep fit and partly to help if there was a chance of escape. We were also given a 3 cal revolver, as was our right, but told it was a good idea to leave it home. If you had a gun in your possession at the time of capture, you could be shot on the spot (Geneva Convention).
In view of the reported mood of the German people that seemed to be a very good idea.
It seemed to me there would be very little chance of escape from Germany, unless you could speak German anyway. Perhaps in France or Belgium where you might get local help it may have been different.
Most of our clothing was made to rip to pieces so that we could pass as civilians, even the fur lined tops could tear off the flying boots, some of the buttons on our battle suit were really compasses, but you had to have two, one to act as pivot for the other.
We carried small maps and a small compact high energy food pack. Mostly dehydrated, which needed water to increase it's volume and make it edible, also a bundle of money relative to the country flown over, but we always had to give it back on return (maybe it was real). Standard
drink of orange juice and a small bar of chocolate.
Standard equipment for each aircraft to be checked before takeoff included, portable oxygen bottles, fire fighting equipment, first aid kits, including plenty of little tubes (toothpaste type), but smaller, when the cap was removed, there was a built in needle for injections, each tube held a measured shot of morphine for anyone who had been shot up or injured, with strict instructions as to the number of shots that could be given within the time limits. A major problem on these trips would have been fatigue. After an hour or so on the return trip, you would tend to relax, not because you wanted to, just because you were going home and it was
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so much easier to fly a kite without the bomb load and over half the fuel load used up.
I always called every member of the crew in turn about every 10 minutes, just to check in case of oxygen loss or freezing. We were issued with "wakey wakey" pills to be taken if you got too tired. I took one on return from Berlin one night, but it had the opposite effect I kept dozing off and people were calling me (quite a change). The effect didn't last long, and needless to say it was never repeated. I should have tried one out first when we were not flying, but I took their word for it when they said it would work, not my usual practice, but it may have worked under different circumstances. Made you wonder about the pep pills in the escape kit though.
There was no question about being tired. Everyone would have been the same, the daily routine didn't allow for much time off: One problem was the broken times of operations. As there is so much dark time at this time of the year, take off time was sometimes 4pm and sometimes 00.30am but regardless, aircraft still had to be tested daily, weather permitting, there was also the training required for new equipment which took all our spare time, and we were often briefed for ops day after day, but often it would be cancelled sometimes as late as when we were getting into the aircraft and all ready to go.
At one period, we were briefed to go to the same target 10 nights in a row, and in view of the threat to security everyone was more than pleased to see a change of target.
A short period of worry one night on a Berlin raid was caused by a simple fault, the Packard Merlin's we had were fitted with solenoid cut outs on the carburettors, this just meant, to start the engines you had to turn on the switches, this energised the solenoids, which turned on the fuel.
Unfortunately we must have run into another load of static on the way, this somehow turned off the solenoids with the switches still on. No
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one was very happy, when the old kite went into a noiseless steep glide, heading for the deck with a full bomb load, but fortunately the noise started up again just before we had decided to bail out (guess we were always lucky).
This has just been another Berlin raid, we have had our usual share of troubles, but this may have shown one weakness in our system of communications. Basically, it was, complete silence from everyone unless they needed something. The idea being the time for gunners to call, must not only be as short as possible but also be as clear as possible. This can't happen if someone else is talking, so no talking.
The one exception was the pilot who had to call each member of the crew from time to time. This was kept to a minimum like Vic OK?, Titch OK?, you could not call the w/op because he was off the intercom, operating anti fighter electronics or the wireless, but the Nav could check him. Pilot could see the engineer, so the only other one was the bomb aimer, it was just a quick check, but always had been effective. This night was different, on the last check, the rear gunner had complained of the cold, (not surprising, as the temp. gets down to 60°C below at this height) his electric suite wasn't working but he said he was OK. This time there was no answer when I called. This could mean a loss of intercom' contact or worse, so I called the Nav to put the w/op (Blue) onto the intercom.
I must explain the situation to him, because being off the intercom, he didn't know anything was out of normal routine.
Something like, “Blue can you take a couple of portable oxygen bottles and check on Vic". There was a lengthy period of silence to follow, but also the tension builds up because we now have a blind spot. I can't fly far from straight and level to help the mid upper gunner to see, as I would like to. I must just fly straight to help the w/op as much as possible.
When he arrived at the rear turret, it was sideways on, so he bashed on it, but got no reply, so he had to rotate it by hand to get the
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doors to line up with the back of the aircraft. When he got the doors open our gunner was almost unconscious, so he then pulled his intercom plug out and put his own in. We decided the first thing to do was to put him onto a portable oxygen bottle and take him out of the turret, then replace him with the mid upper gunner, but he was very firmly frozen to the floor and he just couldn't shift him. However he soon started to regain consciousness with the oxy supply flat out. Next the w/op looked at the rubber tube on his helmet. There had been a slight downward bend in the rubber tube and because of the extreme cold all the moisture from his breath had condensed and formed ice in the tube untt had completely sealed off the supply, and no one lasts very long at this height without oxygen. Having achieved all this "Blue" was then able to quickly check his flying suite circuit.
The heating elements are built into the suite, but all the press stud type buttons are the contacts from the power supply.
Somehow he had undone a couple, which cut off the power supply. Normally he would have checked these himself, but no one is very efficient when their oxygen supply is gradually cut off.
Once the heat in his boots came on again, and he had his oxygen supply back, he decided he was OK to stay there.
After that I called a little more often.
We all thought "Blue" had done a terrific job, back at base they said it was just routine, just the same effort required as putting out the fires in their crazy electronic junk, which was pretty often anyway.
To me it was quite an achievement to find your way down the length of a bouncing aircraft, over all the built in obstacles, in extreme cold, on emergency oxygen, and all in complete darkness, then find your way back again. He must have looked something like a modern day frog man without the flippers, but he would have had to carry the bottles as they didn't come in packs. Just routine when you know your job (they say). You Wonder [sic] how many crews were lost this way too because, had
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we been attacked at that time, we would have had no warning, and, assuming we were not shot down in the first attack, we would have had no chance to revive our gunner. Maybe the mid upper would have managed OK after the initial attack, but he is completely blind to anything below, and we would have had only two guns instead of six.
Care had to be taken to check every order or direction given. As everything in the aircraft is in complete darkness except for the small sealed compartment of the w/op and nav. With all the outside noises, it was very easy to have the course given by the nav. at turning points misunderstood.
It had to be a spoken heading, no use writing it down because you can't read in the dark. The nav. then had to check the new course on his repeater compass. On one trip I misread the given course and flew off on an eastward course at a tangent, out of the protective block of "mirrorcover", but by this time we had a fair idea of where we were by the permanent concentration of flak, so we soon corrected and set a new course direct for the next turning point, which put us back into the stream
again.
Luckily, (we thought) although we were a single, isolated little spot (on radar) all ready for the radar to find, and all that would follow, we didn't even get challenged by a light, a gun or a fighter.
On some of the Berlin targets we saw strange little football shaped objects flying at our height, always with a vertical pale blue bean going straight down from their centre point. We reported these at debriefing, but they didn't exist, we were told, and although they often changed direction, I never saw one do any damage to anyone. Still they were treated with respect because we though they had to belong to the enemy, we never got close enough to fire at them so I don't know what the result would have been. (30 years later, they were still unclaimed by either side), some called them phoo fighters, and claimed they came from outer space.
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A great deal of effort was spent by the enemy placing false markers in the wrong place, building dummy towns in their attempts to divert the bombing, and it did work to a fair degree, especially with the inexperienced crews, but a careful look would show slight differences in the colours used and a radar scan would prove it wrong, but then not many aircraft had radar at this time.
Through all this our old kite staggered on, often tested to the maximum and sometimes seriously over strained, but I though, as long as it was prevented from skidding, that is, provided always there was no structural damage done to the spars or controls.
On one of our shortest raids (Essen) which was fairly heavily defended, being a very important industrial centre in happy valley. We were unlucky enough to have about a foot shot off one blade of the port inner prop. This changed the balance so much that the whole aircraft jumped up and down at a great rate. The nav. had trouble keeping his junk on the table. So we decided to feather a motor and go hone on three, but we didn't know which one it was, or what the cause of the vibration was at this time either.
The only thing was to try one at a time, started at the port outer, it was ok, next the port inner and there was no doubt that was the one causing the problem, but (so sorry old chap) no port inner meant no generator and therefore the power for the G set and a heap of other goodies we needed, so I turned it on again, and to over come some of the vibration, increased the revs on that motor. The effect of this was to put the motors out of syncro, also increased the vibrations, but the bumps were smaller and much faster. Everyone managed to cope much better. I though[inserted] t [/inserted] the closer we could get to base before that motor packed up, the easier it would be.
We had to keep a very careful watch on all the gauges. Especially the heating side, but it lasted all the way. It should have been turned off and feathered before landing (anti fire etc.). I did think about it and
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decided it was still giving plenty of power, therefore I decided to use it as normal.
In the next days maintenance, the whole front shaft and gears had to be changed, not important compared to the job it had done. It's no wonder so many praised the Merlin.
As our average fuel consumption was always 1.1 mpg and the loss of power from one motor would have forced us to use more revs on the remaining motors this could have caused a possible shortage before we got to base. We may have had to land away from home, and we only did that when we really had to.
Of course there was a good chance too, that by driving this motor at these revs, and so far out of balance, it should have pulled itself to pieces (The good luck was still on our side).
Main force bomber command operated at this time as a unit. The total number of aircraft for each raid varied according to the number each separate squadron could manage to get back to airworthy state for the night. The other factor being that often the main force would be split into two or more raids to try to divide the enemy defences.
The usual briefing held by each squadron, would give you, the target and the tracks to follow and the times to bomb, also all the forecast winds, cloud conditions, possible ice etc., as well as the known defence strong points. Unfortunately they didn't know them all, just because so many guns were mobile, and if they could get early warning from their radar they sometimes managed to get within range.
The target would be marked by PFF, but many aircraft still had trouble getting there on time. One big problem was always the winds given by met. when there was 10/10 cloud there could never be any reference points visible to compute drift from, and when you had to fly in cloud, sometimes 3hrs or so without seeing anything, this would call for very accurate flying so that the nav. could do all his courses and times
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from dead reckoning. This means if you have flown all your courses accurately then you should arrive exactly on target exactly on time.
As we were fitted with radar, it became our job, with other senior crews, to lead, checking our dead reckoning points against radar points. Rod then had to complete a corrected wind and "Blue" signalled it to group. From these results, corrected courses given by the leaders, a mean course was taken, then relayed from group HQ back to the following aircraft. A tribute must be paid to this aircraft that it could fly so accurately under such conditions, with such a heavy load. In contrast to today's aircraft, they were loaded to their maximum for their power, but flying at this height they were hard to keep straight and level, in fact they seemed to wallow all over, obviously they didn't.
It took along time to climb through the often very bad weather, and there was no way you could get above it eve [inserted] n [/inserted] with a light build up of ice. I [inserted] t [/inserted] was just a lucky guess by the met. people as to what was out in front, sometimes an unlucky one. Add to all that the total commitment of a very advanced enemy defence system (e.g.) to ask for a fix (your position) over England was relatively quick and safe but to break radio silence over Germany meant a stack of fighters on your tail if you managed to avoid the Flak. (It was better not to be a leader).
An example of a bad forecast was on a trip to Leipzig, everyone at the higher altitude was caught in an unsuspected jet stream, ourselves included. This meant we had to circle over Berlin area for 3/4 of an hour to wait for bombing time. For some strange reason there was almost no a/c a/c so it was not as dangerous as it sounds, but it should have been.
It seems, or so the theory said, the a/c a/c. didn't want to fire because it would give their position away. (I don't believe it).
If we had dropped our markers, chances were that all the kites flying at lower levels would not have got to the area before the markers had burnt out.
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Interesting to watch the Flak coming up. The lighter calibre, quicker firing guns sent up streams of trace. They called it hosepipe Flak. It seems they wobble the guns similar to holding a hose pointing upwards, and the trace took the same shape as the water would.
To look down on it starting from the ground level it appeared so slow, it was hardly moving but in no time at all the speed increased until it flashed past almost invisible and often much closer than you expected. The big ones you never saw at all, only the flash when they went off and cloud of smoke left behind. There is nothing you can do about these, no way to avoid what you don't know or can't see, either you are lucky or you are not.
A case of good luck by one of our crews was to be hit by a shell as it went upwards, but it didn't explode, however it did go right through the main wing area and cracked the main spar. They flew it gently home without much trouble. Luckily they were not attacked by fighters on the way or the wing would have fallen in half, but they, and the rest of us too, were amazed that it had held together for so far.
Another of our kites, on his bombing run, was hit by an incendiary falling from a higher flying kite. It got stuck just near the port inner motor, just above the main fuel tank on that side and burned away like any good incendiary should burn. There was no way they could put it out, so the pilot put into a steep dive and built up enough speed to blow it out. He came home to tell us all about it too, we couldn't say it didn't happen, you could see where it had been.
We didn't see many of the crashes that happened near our drome, we were mostly flying too. There was never a panic as in civvy dromes, when the whole town is waiting, often there is no warning at all, but the fire cart and ambulance are always ready and waiting.
One of the crashes happened on take off: As the kite crashed off the end of the runway, the "cookie" broke loose, it didn't explode as it should have, but rolled along and split the casing and then started to burn.
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Explosives usually burn safely enough unless there is some compression. As this casing had split, they decided it would be reasonably safe enough to go out and extinguish it just in case, but they never made it. The compression built up in one half enough to explode all that hadn't burnt.
The blast from this always has one strange feature, although there is always an overall shock wave fairly evenly all around, there are also narrow strips of very intense pressure that are quite unexplained, so it is possible, as in this case that one chap lost an arm, the other just disappear.
There were many, like one of ours, badly shot up but still holding together. He was on the down wind leg nearly ready to turn in for landing, but as he put his wheels or flaps down, they must have been holding things together, the aircraft suddenly fell apart and dived straight into the ground. It's height would have been about 1000ft, but when they dug the motors out they were 12ft down. We were diverted to a Canadian drome one night because of bad weather at our base, had the usual trouble getting down from a crowded sky, but had made it safely and parked off to one side of the drome as directed. Climbed out of the kite to stretch our legs and wait for transport. It soon became obvious there was something wrong as a couple of incoming aircraft got red lights and had to go around again.
We soon spotted the trouble, coming in very low and making funny noises, he too must have been shot up badly and was going to do a belly landing because he was off to the other side of the runway. The general procedure for a belly landing is to land on the grass, as this causes less friction than the concrete runway, and also because the kite digs into the ground and slows down much quicker. It also keeps the runway clear for further use by other aircraft, which was very important.
We watched this chap do a beautiful landing, but as he slid along the ground a great stream of sparks went flying out the back just as though
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you were grinding steel on an emery wheel but much bigger, as the plane skidded on, the sparks followed, but at the back end there was a little flame which soon followed the plane, so we concluded he had broken some petrol lines somewhere.
By now the ambulance and fire cart were chasing madly across the runway with all lights on but there was along way to go to catch up. The plane was slowly losing speed by now, but the little flame was going faster as though it was trying to beat the fire cart. As the plane lost speed, the starboard wing tilted downwards and something on that side dug into the ground. The tail of the plane lifted and. turned so that it came to rest at right angles to it's original direction , but that little flame had got bigger and soon caught up the remaining space.
The ambulance was leading the race, but just at this point the driver turned sharply away, he was none too soon either. The explosion that followed was more like a woof than a bang and the surrounding air seemed to be sucked in towards the flame rather than pushed away. A great cloud of smoke and flame rose above the plane lighting up the whole drome. The top escape hatch had been sprung, but no one left the aircraft.
l was awakened from my staring by a ground staff corporal who was saying "your transport is waiting sir," your equipment will be ok in the plane, come on sir, bring your crew there is nothing you can do now and it's better not to watch."
The fire cart arrived and charged straight in, but time had already run out.
As we went around the other side of the drome in the transport there were a few small explosions, maybe tanks or oxy bottles or even the ammunition, but l don't think it made any difference now. After debriefing, we were invited to the mess and open bar. These boys were already celebrating, they had only lost 5 kites, but they had drunk enough grog to float the navy. We soon left their party and found ourselves some beds.
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There was very little left of the aircraft when we took off next morning, just an outline surrounded by a few trucks and crews trying to clear up the metal remains.
About this time our group decided to install a "Fido" system on our drome. Fido was set up with a pipe down each side of the runway with burners at intervals and just off the side of the drome, a large storage tank of petrol. The petrol was pumped through these pipes and all the burners were lit. This used about 58000 gals an hour. Apart from the light it gave, the heat generated dispersed the fog for the full length of the runway giving a long tunnel to land in. This was not finished before we left, so we never landed on it. I think this would have been a very crowded drome in the future, but they did install a few others at other dromes too.
Bomber dromes are always large areas. The requirements are always the same. A central control watch tower to control air traffic and direct all taxiing on the ground. Long runways, a perimeter taxi strip all around and off this, dispersal points for parking all aircraft at intervals so that they were never in bunches or a straight line. This gives some chance or saving a few kites when the place is shot up or bombed. Just outside the tarmac area, the flight offices and crew rooms and at an other point, opposite side of drome, are the living quarters; all using the same system of dispersal, but the big disadvantage is transport between points. Because there is a shortage of fuel in war time everyone is issued with a push bike to go between all necessary places.
Aircrew, going from flight huts to and from aircraft being excepted because of the load of flying equipment they always had to carry. This always has to be returned and put into [inserted] D [/inserted] [deleted] f [/deleted] rying rooms between flights. This helps to avoid the risk of frost bite caused by moisture freezing at the lower temperatures of the higher altitudes, and so, about twice a day every day, everyone rides the distances between the mess huts and the flight rooms on the bike. We sometimes cheated, rather than ride
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around the road, we climbed over the fence and rode around the perimeter, which was probably 20 yards shorter. It was the morning after one of our crews night off that we were doing this trick, partly to have a look at one of the kites that had been shot up the night before. There was no doubt it had had a bad time going by the holes in the side of the fuselage, been caught in searchlight cone and hammered with heavy flak, but it did get back to base.
We didn't take much notice of the crows fighting over the scraps as we passed until one came out of the kite with a lump of meat, then the fight for possession was on again. No doubt the medics had done a good job of cleaning up the night before but it was dark, and the wounded would have had first priority. The final cleanup would be fnished later. Someone said, it doesn't really matter how the recycle job is done anyway, but there wasn't a lot of laughter for the rest of the day.
Perhaps these are the reasons you don't make many friends.
The set out of [inserted] c [/incerted] [deleted] d [/deleted] rew rooms was always about the same. Flight commanders office on the end, next the pilots room, then the navigators, W/ops and gunners, in that order. May seem strange to separate categories, it did have its advantages, mostly it gave the newer crews, divided as they were to learn a lot from the older crews, that is from the same categories in the experienced crews. I know I learned a lot from the older pilots in my earlier stages. Just the fact that they argued about different ways of doing the same thing. You still had to make up your own mind which way was right, but there were so many things you had never heard of.
There were other moments too, when some were sitting around the very hot pot bellied stove trying to keep warm, someone would get out his cigarette lighter and flick the flint over the hot top. The little flashes that continually rose in the thermal were so like flak in the distance. I'm sure it didn't do much for some of those shattered nerves.
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By this time I think my flying had calmed down a bit too, it may have been the result of experience, or fatigue, or perhaps even the influence of the little WRAF I had met at Syerston before we parted from 61 squadron.
That was only a few weeks really but it seemed like years.
Some of the group leaders had always been opposed to the main force bombing idea led by PFF, believing they could do better by bombing in smaller groups on selected targets. So about this time 5 group (Cochran AOC) started to do tests on a new idea of special bombing, but as their aircraft were stripped of almost everything excepting guns, so that they could carry the big bombs, 6 crews, 3 from 106 squadron sometimes 3 from squadron were picked to lead the way and mark the target area.
Allowing for wind drift, 3 aircraft flying parallel dropped 3 parachute flares at an even spacing as we crossed the area, followed by the next 3 planes, then return and drop 3 more.
Cheshire (first flying a Lanc., but later a mosquito or mustang) would fly around at low level until he could definitely identify the target. He then dropped a spot fire (ground marker) as close as possible to the target. We usually had to go around again a few times and back up the flares as the first ones burnt out. When he was satisfied his marker was close, he would call in his kites to bomb in order. His call was often, e.g. on heading of 185 bomb 30yds to port. The original idea didn't work because he marked the target but the first bombs blew the markers away, so he had to change and mark away from the target. It worked very well, as we hit one target 30ft. x 30ft. about 600 miles from base, but of course these were only French factories taken over by the Germans and never very heavily fortified.
On one of these, out [sic] kite, the last to bomb was the only one to hit the target. (Allen's head got bigger) but someone did hit something one other night. The explosion at ground level must have been fantastic, there
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were rocks about the size of houses coming down from above us and we were at 8000 ft.
One of our main worries on these trips were the magnesium flares. They were carried almost loose in the fuselage, extremely unstable, burnt with a brilliant light, but very dangerous to carry around especially with the bumps. The poor W/op had the job of dropping them down a special shute exactly when the nav. told him to.
We nearly always had some delayed action bombs on these targets too (1000lbs.) each. The delay time varying from one hour to a day or more. This idea is to stop a quick clean up, as you would have to wait until all the bombs had exploded before it was safe to start to repair the damage, or defuse all the bombs first.
On return one night, we were diverted to a drome down south, and left our kite to a local ground crew for servicing, unfortunately it was not a bomber drome and the ground crew were not used to bombers. I awoke to a terrific panic, it seems we had a temporary hang up, one bomb we didn't know about, after we had closed the bomb doors, the bomb had just dropped from it's cradle and lay on the bomb doors all the way home.
When they pumped the doors open for inspection it dropped onto the tarmac with a thud. No one managed to start to run away, the shock much have been too great.
Then they realised it was a delay. The action of a delayed action bomb was simply a glass tube with filler in it. At the other end is a little container of acid which brakes [sic] when bumped, the acid then eats through the filler until it ignites the cap. The delay time can be changed by changing the length of filler in the tube.
No one knew if the action had started from the first bump to the bomb doors or the second bump to the tarmac, or what the time delay was anyway, so we were most unpopular. Finally they took the only chance they could, there was no one there to defuse it, no time anyway. The tied it on a long rope to a truck and dragged it across the drome into some trees
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on the far side, but no one was allowed to take off for 2 days, in case it went off at that time. Don't know if it ever went off but it just proves how gentle the old kite was, or maybe it was a dud, but we had sat on it all the way home. (Some people are still lucky).
It was only a I000lb.'er. We weren't very popular when we got back to base either, was one way of getting a night off.
We did have some troubles on the Nuremburg raid (main force) because it was a very clear night bright moonlight, without any cloud, and the defences picked up the bomber stream very early. It was normal practice to log every kite that was seen to blow up or get shot down (time and place). This would be checked up by command after return to give total later. Knowing your own losses, you can tell time and place of enemy planed [sic] shot down, provided they have been logged. There were too many on this night, most crews stopped logging them, mostly because it took too much time on the intercom. We needed it far more than ever in case of sudden attack. We were supposed to be sending back wind corrections but we were continually attacked by an ME210. We could usually loose a fighter fairly quickly, but it is not so easy on a clear night like this, almost daylight at this height, he keeps coming back, so the only hope you have is to beat him on the turns.
In theory he has to point in front of you if he is going to hit you, but you [inserted] r [/inserted] gunners can shoot all the time he is within range.
Unfortunately our guns didn't work for a while (frozen oil lines). The guns, like the turrets were operated hydraulically, but because the turret was continually moving, the oil remained free, just the little bit up to the guns that was isolated that remained static unless the guns were fired. There should have been some way to circulate the oil without firing the guns, because of this delay the fighter was getting in a bit too close, that is dropping his speed and trying to follow behind us, we would then be a sitter every time we turned. It was just as well it was a Lanc. We
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were in, there weren't many fully loaded bombers good enough to stay inside a determined fighter.
There was no time or chance to jettison the bombs so I was beginning to wear down a bit before Vic got his guns going properly. The 210 soon paid the price of getting in too close after that. There was great relief and satisfaction in Vic's voice when he said "got the b - " understandable, l felt the same way. He had put up with a lot of trace going very close for some time, to see that explosion must have been pretty good.
We didn't get much of a break before Vic reported another, ME 109 this time, approaching by weaving across as he closed in from behind.
We let him came in as close as possible without us loosing [sic] the advantage. When the time came to fire Vic said starboard, as we turned, one burst was enough, he climbed to starboard and burst into flame before falling to the ground.
We were able to resume course, perhaps we were lucky once again, he must have just turned to follow us on the turn, instead he climbed to starboard and burst into flames before falling away, but after 3/4's of an hour of continuous evasion, we didn't have much idea where we were or what the wind might be either. Had to use the radar to locate out position again, thus inviting more fighters, luckily none came.
Although this was very hard work on the physical side, it was a clear night, there was always a clear horizon to be seen and therefore no excuse for bad flying, quite unlike a dark night with heavy cloud, that means you do violent aerobatics in the dark.. [sic]
Always, after the first turns the instruments spin violently and are no use to fly by, they need a little time flying relatively straight and level again before they settle back into proper functional use.
Easy enough to fly with out instruments when you have a clear horizon, but not so easy when you have neither. Could be why it was
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easier to loose the fighter too because they had to turn sharper to get inside your turn. Combine this with a very restricted range of vision and you had to win, provided you saw him before his attack, (but you had to win anyway.
By this time we had long since qualified as senior crew having [rest of page blanked out]
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be at sea level to avoid radar detection from land or German navy ships in the area.
For this trip we all had new aircraft, must have been one off specials at that time, I never saw anything like them again, even to the end of the war. They were “Hush hish” too. They arrived on the drome and [rest of page blanked out]
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We were now approaching the canal at right angles we had to climb to 150ft. (bombing height), and turn to starboard for the bombing run. About this time, it seemed every searchlight and every gun (well three or four anyway) east of Berlin went into action, none of them were ours either but we were the only target. Mines had to be dropped all from the same height, and at intervals down the length of the canal.
By now the trace was coming from both sides and we were forced downwards, so I called for more revs from the engineer. He said "yes I think so too." The terrific surge of power that followed put us all back in our seats. Our speed jumped to about 300mph. All that was left to do was go up and down to dodge the trace, and hope it worked, as we couldn't swerve away from the narrow canal. Sometimes we were down below the banks and the trace was firing down crossing from each side just above our heads, but we still had to come up to 150ft. each time to drop a mine. By now our gunners were using up a lot of ammunition putting out searchlights and gun posts, but you can't shoot the ones in front, only the ones behind, we could have used another man in the front turret, the bomb aimer was far too busy at the time. One searchlight came on from out across the bay in front pointing straight down the canal. Although it was almost blinding, it did save our lives as it showed up the masts of a ship in the canal, I pulled hard back on the stick to gain some height and we were able to clear the tops, then quickly down again. At the end of the canal, hard back again, this time straight up. The only thing I have seen (before the jets) that could climb like that was a contra prop spitty and that was much later.
By now I had my first chance to look at the instruments. Johnny had pushed both boost and revs to the maximum, no wonder it leaped forward. When I said that was a bit much, his reply was positively rude. The kite was hardly damaged and we still had one mine we hadn't time to drop before we came to the end of the canal. Maybe we were going too fast, maybe I didn't get up to height often enough, but we did have an
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alternate dropping spot off the coast, so down again and dropped it and turned for home. Back across Sweden, on across Denmark. Still low level but not like the target area. Our worry now was being so isolated, even if they all got through (which they didn't) there were only 6 kites and almost 900 miles to go, but I think this monster was almost as fast as most fighters at this height, but it would be so easy to get plotted as we crossed Denmark. Our luck was still on the good side. Perhaps all the fighters had followed the main stream south, perhaps they hadn't had time to refuel, or perhaps they mistook us for "mosies" [sic] which did a regular run to Sweden. Given a little start they knew they couldn't catch them.
Our aircraft was isolated again (under guard) on our return, so it wasn't only the mines that were "hush, hush" but it had been flown away early next morning and we never really got a look at it.
If old N was a good kite (and it was) this monster was magnificent.. [sic] I don't know how it would have been at high level though.
Still 8000hp is a lot of power to pack into one kite. We did use it all for that short time. It's only after, that you notice the effects.
The next day I found the pressure had lifted a thick layer of skin off the palms of both hands, they soon healed back again.
That was about all the damage, didn't even see how many holes there were in the kite, couldn't have been many or they wold have had to patch it up before it went.
Only a few more trips to do at this point but none of the older crews left, and no one has managed to finish a tour from our flight either.
Have even lost a crew on their last op. As this was about the worst period for losses during the war, due to an all out effort by bomber command prior to invasion, and a corresponding all out effort by the enemy's opposition, and added in some of the longest raids in some of the worst weather, especially on take off and return. The fogs would have been enough, but added to this and very well mixed in, must have been thousands of tons of coal smoke caused by every little factory chimney
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working night and day flat out and producing something for the war effort, even some private houses were used.
It was normally very easy to find your home base, you simply got reasonably close by navigation and then joined in on the circuit lights of the drome. Our drome always had a Sandra light (little searchlight) pointing straight up from the control tower. The circuit itself was a ring of lights mounted on poles at regular intervals, and pointing straight upwards.
The only break in the circle of lights being at the entrance to the runway in use.
As you enter this space for approach, there were two straight rows, one either side set on converging angles to guide you onto the runway as the sides of a funnel. At the beginning of the runway on the ground level, on both sides of the runway there was a GPI (glide path indicator). This can only be seen from the approach end of the runway. It is divided into 3 colours giving angles of approach (height) ie. red too low, green ok, amber too high. This gives points of touchdown on runway, amber - too long, green ok, red -too short. No other lights are visible from the air, but at very low heights, or at touchdown, there are lights down each side of the runway and along the taxi strips, all are hooded so that they can°t be seen from above about 100ft.
On one nights return, a rude awakening came, as we approached our drome with trace going in all directions from intruding fighters, who had come in undetected with the bombers. This caused no end of confusion, as all aircraft lights went out. All the drome lights were out excepting for the hooded ground lights and the GPIs. Thanks to the easy handling of the Lanc., a few of us managed to land. We simply set the direction of the runway on the gyro compass, flew straight down the runway, took our time form [sic] the time we crossed the GPIs flew for 1 minute, 90° rate one turn to port, flew for 1 minute 90° turn to port, flew 2 minutes, another 90° rate one turn port and flew for I minute, and there on
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the port side were the GPIs another 90° turn into compass heading letting on normal approach on GPIs. Almost at ground level the runway lights became visible, so the rest was a normal landing. We did have to use the radio RT with control to keep spacing and notify of being clear etc. There were no nav. lights to look for even for taxiing on the.ground.
It's doubtful if this was a useful exercise, as the drome had been shot up already, I gather before the lights went out. The risk of flying at 1000ft. with wheels and flaps down must have been pretty high, (you could not do evasion) and the fighters could not stay long anyway. I suppose it could have left more time for someone who could have been running short of fuel.
Some of the intruders were chased by our night fighters about this time, and it seems the further they went the further our fighters got left behind. It's possible they were some of the first of the jets (German) to operate over England. I didn't see any of them.
Up until now we have had three "Boomerangs", early returns because of faults in the aircraft. The responsibility is with the pilot, he is always supposed to press on provided there is some chance of getting to the target. For my part, I couldn't see why, when your kite wont go any higher than 8000ft. because it is covered in ice or the guns or instruments wont work. All of these, or even some of them would just mean you would almost certainly by shot down. That is a loss of one Lane., plus a fully trained crew. If you turn back, you have to drop the cookie in the sea, but provided you land it safely, that's the only loss. If you were shot down, the cookie didn't hit anything anyway.
To me it seemed better to run away and come back another day than dig your own grave. Not what heroes are made of though is it?
Probably the worst torture for the old Lanc. would have been the standard evasion, 5 group corkscrew. As the gunner called the position of the attacking fighter, i.e. port or starboard, the stick was pushed hard forward, at the same time, full aileron and full rudder on the same side
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(say port) so full roll to left full rudder to left with full downward dive. As the speed builds up very quickly you must then roll to the right, with full roll and full rudder, still going down. As the speed builds up, the controls become much harder to operate, so before it gets too high you must start to pull out, hard back on the stick again while still turning to the right. This is the point of greatest strain, if the speed has been allowed to build up too high, it becomes impossible to shift the controls without using the trims. As the speed starts to fall off on the way upwards, you then roll back to the left i.e. full left roll, full left rudder. This has regained some of your height and should be somewhere near your original course, (depends on how good your flying is). Speed drops off very quickly near the top of this climb, so care must be taken not to let it get too low or you are again a sitting target with no flying speed left to manoeuvre with if the fighter is still there. Mostly he will overshoot you on the first dive. Either way he is just about ready to attack again, so you must repeat again, usually from the opposite side and hope again to lose him on the break again in the dark. There is no way you could have time to jettison your bombs, so in view of the total weight involved, and the accurate way you have to fly, if you want to keep the wings on, this gets to be hard work. With reasonable flying the old kite could take it much longer than l could.
Later, while instructing at Litchfield, I tried this manoeuvre in a hurricane [sic]. It's easy to see why a fighter found it hard to follow, especially at night. The only way seemed to be to drop the speed, let down 20° of flap and try to stay behind, but if you have to fire in front of the bomber, you can't see him, so you go straight on while he goes the other way, and just as we found on ops, you are a sitting target for the bombers gunners.
Our last trip with 617 was to carefully bomb the railway yards at Paris. By this time 2 squadrons of PFF (path finding force) have been reformed in 5 group to take over the marking job we had been doing. It seems the deport [sic] for all our escapees trying to return along the
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underground escape line was right there beside the tracks. Bombing had to be spot on, or not only would we kill our mob, we would also break the escape line. However, there was not a lot of a/c a/c to worry over, so we were down to the usual 8000ft. at that height the old Lane. was so stable to fly you could land the bombs within feet of the aiming point. So we were happy to wreck the railway and I don't think anyone was hurt (quite a change). The flak increased on the outer edges of the city, but compared to the German targets it was like the kids with pea shooters, Our substitute navigator spent his time, not only counting the gun flashes on the ground, but timing from the flash on the ground to the explosion of the shell. This somehow gave him the position and calibre of each gun. Not that that helps much as most of them are mobile, but I guess it kept him busy and helped to calm his nerves.
He was the only aircrew member left on the squadron from when we had started. Even the CO who should not have been flying was missing.
Flak happy was the term used to describe crews at our stage, and at times it was true. No one would have known the dangers better than we did, but often we would ignore the flak that was too close for too long and just say ha ha you missed again, but the flak didn't hear you, it didn't go away either, it just kept trying. I'm sure this was never over confidence, just plain fatigue, sometimes I would alter course to clear a heavy concentration of flak, and Johnny would say "go straight through, it won't hurt you", well it doesn't either unless it hits you.
About this time we had a visit from the ABC who's object appeared to be a recording for transmission on stations in Australia. They needed a crew to glamorise I guess. They tried very hard to get us to say how good we were, and how easy it was to beat the opposition, but this wasn't a glamour crew. The conversation was all one sided. Someone said something like, "no mate we are not a good crew really, its just that we are lucky, lucky that we haven't met anyone on the other side that's
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better, so far, but that doesn't mean we wont [sic]." So they gave up. I'm sure they would have broken the record before they got out the gate. There was never any place for a crew on a squadron once they had finished their tour, in fact the postings were through before the last trip. I did have to front up to the new CO to give a final assessment on each of the crew members ability, relative to where each would be posted as an instructor, but that was all.
The Australians were going beck [sic] to Litchfield but the rest were split up to various RAF depots. Met Vic, rear gunner, once on leave in London but never heard from the others.
Back at Litchfield, things have changed, it's almost a complete RAAF station now excepting for the ground staff. Instructors are all ex ops, (there are some who finished a tour).
Some who are very much afraid of flying now, many with an controllable, unconscious twitch in hands and face muscles and some who claim they fly much better when they are drunk, but a lot have managed to remain reasonable [sic] normal (I think).
Most pilots go into the flights teaching conversion to wimps (Wellingtons). I managed to get into the gunnery section. We take a crew with their pilot flying and their gunners in the turrets. These are all dual control "wimpies", so the instructing pilot has the right hand seat and gunnery instructor is able to instruct from outside the rear turret (inside the kite of course). We can direct the fighter to do all the different styles of attack from different directions by RT. As it was often hard to get the fighter to do the attacks we needed, we often had to change over and fly the fighter ourselves on the next trip.
The turrets were fitted with cameras instead of guns (IR for night) practice [sic]. Our Hurricanes had a light (IR invisible, except to the film) set in both wing tips, so the film showed not only the direction of the gunners [sic] fire, but by measuring the width of the lights on the film you could tell the range when he started to fire and when he stopped. That's if he managed
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to get you in the picture of course. If you found, in theory, you could shoot him down too easily, you had to go back and try to teach the pilot to improve his evasion. Twice I managed to overdo this bit. The first time was a nasty surprise, I didn't realise you could make anyone so afraid. I had expected them to be used to violent aerobatics but most of these new pilots were trained on twins and their aerobatics had been limited to steep turns.
Anyhow I had done my best to show them how to beat the fighters, (it's not easy in the daylight) and handed back to him to fly back and land. He went ok until the final approach, but at about 300ft. I realised we were going straight in. The poor bloke had pointed it at the end of the runway and frozen hard, just like the one in Tassie had done.
It isn't easy to take the controls off a bloke in that state (but you can). So I had to take him back the next day and do it all again. This time it didn't even worry him. I think there should be a bit of crazy aerobatics in everyone's training.
The next time this happened I was watching for it, but I was more surprised, as the pilot had done one tour of ops. in the middle east on "Wimpies" should have been able to fly them better than I could, but as he said, he had never seen a fighter let alone having to evade one.
By this time it made little difference which aircraft we flew in. We had Miles Master, Martinets, and Hurricanes as fighters and half a dozen fighter pilots to help out, so there was plenty of practice, you even got attacked when you were flying the Hurricanes.
The Master was really designed as an advanced trainer, but it was nearly as fast as a Hurricane and very manoeuvrable, just a little bit stiff, which was a bit more tiring. The Hurricane must have been one of the best aircraft of it's time, it flew like a bird, always exactly right.
In fact in fog you could fly it straight down the runway, because you can see down through a fog but not across.
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Wheels and flaps down, just at the far end of the runway, you cut the throttle, lift the nose and with full rudder it falls over sideways, points it's nose straight at the ground, then with just a little throttle, it lands it's self back along the runway. It has to be a thick fog to do this or the noises form [sic] control can be very disturbing.
In one of our brighter moments here, when the first Martinet arrived, two of us decided we would fly it. The Martinet is a two seater, advanced from the Master, bigger motor etc. We found the hand book with all the instructions and positions of all the controls etc., my mate in the back seat with the book. We were half way down the runway when I realised I couldn't get the tail to lift off, so I'm shouting out where's the trim (hadn't done my checks?) but he couldn't find the page, so we took off at about 90° from the runway and had to fly around finding things before we could land again not really dangerous, but not very professional either.
We did a very short course in instructing from here. It was a joke I think, the instructor RAF was still 1918 and never more than rate one turns (it would be too dangerous at night) so after our little disagreement as to how to evade a fighter, I found myself grounded as incompetent again, which didn't go down too well with the rest of the flight They did all the work, I just sat and watched. After a while they got sick of that, but they found they had to import an outside qualified instructor from somewhere else to do a test before I could fly.
When he did arrive he picked everything I did around the taxi strip. Taxied too fast etc. Even had the gunner swing his turret on take of, which acts like a rudder and makes the kite turn unless you counter it. After cutting the odd motor and trying just about everything else that could upset normal flight. He said "you can take me back, I hate perfectionists", but his report not only put me back to work it upset the CO who said I had tried to get grounded in the first place. Which must prove --- (it ain't what you say, so much as who you say it to).
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Most of our training trips took us across the west side of England as this was well clear of all ops dromes and testing areas, although it did cross much of the area used for training glider pilots (pre invasion). Also the storage area for all invasion equipment. The roads were filled with tanks, trucks, etc. parked end to end, ready to move in a continuous line south to the ports to cross the channel when ready. Many of the fields were stacked with fighter aircraft. It appeared to be impossible to fly them off, until you looked close enough to see the hedges were only painted on the grass.
The aircraft we flew here had no effects from enemy action but we still had minor troubles with the odd panels falling off.
They.were old and well worn planes (not by today's standards) but they had had a very rough life. Sometimes a motor would give up. One motor on one Wimp continually gave trouble while flying, but on the ground tests it was always 100%. After l had continually written it off as u/s they stripped it down to find it had no top left on one piston, just burnt out.
It seems that was fairly common on Herculies [sic] motors.
One incident here while night flying, was to hear a trainee pilot call control from dispersal area and ask for an ambulance to be sent out. To the girls insistent query "why?" he said "my rear gunner has crashed through the prop, he's not very pretty."
No one ever knew why he turned his turret sideways and got out over the side, as he would do if he were abandoning aircraft in the air. Normally on the ground, he would centralise the turret and come out through the aircraft. No one knew why he walked straight through the prop. either.
One of our gunnery instructors RAF who often flew with me in the Wimp, was an Englishman with strange pre war interests, one was the ancient castles which he often flew over and he could recognise from a quick glimpse through a little hole in the cloud, he would then tell you it's
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history, all very interesting too. There are a lot of castles along the Welsh border line. His other hobby had been mountain climbing, which had taken him to the same area.
As these were all dual control aircraft, but we only took gunners for practice over the Irish sea he often used to fly us back from the right hand seat. This way he could follow his own selected track back and pick out as many interesting spots as possible to tell us about. On one trip we were flying along a deep valley, just above the hill top level on either side, when we were hit by a very strong down draught. I managed to take over with full power and full climb before we landed in the river, but it shook his faith in his flying ability a little. Proved I should not have been asleep too.
On one of these trips I noticed a Wimpy flying along below me with both props feathered and streams of black smoke pouring out the back of both motors. I called up to report this, as I expected he would have to crash land somewhere pretty soon, but the answer from control was slow incoming back. When it did, they just said "shut up and forget it, it's under control" couldn't see how, but I had done my part.
This turned out to be fuel tests on jet engines which were mounted directly behind the normal engines testing various types of fuel mixtures in flight, so it was all quite safe, just looked dicey to someone as ignorant as I was. Jets were stilt unheard of at this time excepting to the few who were working on their development.
Certainly the German had then [sic] in operation, but I doubt if you would be able to pick a jet at night, especially if you had never heard of one before.
As the war in Europe was coming to an end, the demand for transport aircraft was increasing, so I applied for a transfer to a transport squadron flying Halifaxes [sic] to the middle east and back which I thought would be a change.
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In due course I was told to pack my bags as I had the job, but right then the war in Europe finished and I lost the job, because all Australians were grounded. It seems our government had been trying to get us back for the Jap war for a long time, but they didn't want anyone killed after the war in Europe ended. So this left us with nothing to do. It was a points system really, how long you had been away from home, how many ops. Hours you had done, married or single etc., most of our points were much too high, so no more flying.
We had a visit from some bod RAF who was trying to give away some AFCs and MIDs but no one wanted those. When he asked "why?" someone said "it's a joke mate, you have to get killed in the navy to get an MID." He was not anti navy, but he did point out some facts, like, if you are in the navy in one battle, it may last 2 hours, there may to so many tons of shells fired, there may be a few "bods" damaged etc., but everyone gets a gong to commemorate that battle as well as the few, (sometimes many) who are decorated, whereas on one Berlin raid, 6 to 8 hours, thousands of tons of explosives used, minimum about 300 "bods" missing but it's just another raid, you don't get a gong for that, you don't get a gong for 6 raids, not even for 10, and that's about 70 hours over enemy territory and 3000 lives, and you still have 20 more to go, but he didn't sell his gongs.
However he was right about his gongs, the usual for bomber command seemed to be one for the pilot as leader, sometimes one for the navigator, but there were pilots here who had done their 30 trips for nothing.
Our crew of 7 must be hard to explain too, as 5 got gongs and 2 didn't. They were in the same kite on the same raids. Also I got an immediate award for one raid, that means nothing for 29 others.
Cheshire was given a VC because he was the leader of the 617 group who pioneered the new marking system. Just watching him I think Cheshire earned 6 VCs on his own. As gongs are no use to the ones who
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get them, maybe they boost the morale of the newer recruits, maybe it's just something for the papers to write about. Afterall [sic] the civvy population needs a boost too.
Back in civvy street a gong can be a definite disadvantage.
It's hard to compare the airforce officers to the army officers, for many different reasons, first the army were completely inexperienced, being straight from school and depending on the odd corporal and Sgt from the permanent malitia [sic] to help them out. Whereas many of the airforce were also straight from school (civvies) but were specialists in their fields i.e. pre war pilots, navigators, Morse code operators from PMG etc. They were not required to know the admin. Side, that was left to about 2 or 3 who had been regular airforce who we rarely sa[deleted] y [/deleted] w anyway.
It was not until we were getting towards our final training that we had much to do with the pre war types. Most of them were good blokes, but they seemed to have trained as a cross between a commercial pilot and a politician, very good pilots, but their combat tactics were still 1914. They refused to change as the Germans had. Most of them were out of ops. by now but still in the front line squadrons as admin. We did try to tell them of some changes, but it isn't the thing "old chap", no junior has the right to suggest a change to his senior. The whole thing has to wait until the top brass issues an order and it creeps back down the line. In these times you had to change almost every day because of all the new junk on both sides.
Every effort was made to advance the electronic side, but no effort seemed to be made to counter the Germans counter actions except by the crews themselves, perhaps this was considered the best way, because no one would be better informed than the ones who had done the trip last night, and it was up to each crew to listen to all the reports.
As for comparison to the army officers, this was a different end of the war and secondly a different war anyway.
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I have no doubt the army officers improved if they managed to live. There were a few of the original airforce officers left, but very few.
A percentage managed to survive the war because they were shot down and taken prisoner. The percentage of pilots in this lot was relatively low because they had to stay with the aircraft to try to keep it under control until the rest had managed to bail out. Some managed to crash land, I don't know how. George kept it straight enough for a few who were quick enough, that's if George still worked. Some ditched in the Zider [sic] Zee, but they did survive, some of us were even luckier, we just went home.
It' [sic] easy to see this has many faults.
The first is the limited, and therefore monotonous use of language, like jumping up and down in the one spot. The other criticism is to say it put down our efforts, to hide them behind a camouflage of good luck, but, this was a good crew, in my opinion anyway, one of the best in bomber command. This may seem strange because it was not a specially selected crew, rather it was one that just happened.
As these crew members met at OUT for the first time in most cases, it was their own choice whether they stayed together, or walked away and joined someone else. There never appeared to be any conscious assessment of anyone's ability or character, they just came together and stuck, for better or worse, may have been quite different if someone didn't fit though, I'll never know.
The one exception being the engineer, who was allotted later. All of these had one thing in common, they were inclined to rebel against the approved system.
Caused me no end of trouble at times, but to me it was good, as it proved they could think beyond the standard RAF text book. Not that they said it was wrong, just that it was sometimes out of date, and there could be something better.
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It is true that underneath, this was a very confident crew, but they never overestimated their own ability, nor under estimated the enemy either. I think it is also true to say others had a higher opinion of us than we did, but I think this could have been, because, after the first couple of months we had lived long enough to be a senior crew and it is natural for the new crews to look up to experience.
At least three others in this crew had the ability to be the leader and make all the decisions, but I had to be the undisputed leader just because all the quick decisions, there are many, have to be carried out by the pilot, therefore time, or mostly lack of it, dictates that he alone is the leader.
We all tended to give more credit to the other members of the crew than to ourselves. Never when they could hear you of course, e.g. on return from Nuremberg, after debriefing, I was leaving the hut when the CO stopped me. Thinking I could get in first, I said "my gunners did a very good job Sir", He just shook his head and grinned as he said "yes but you weren't too bad yourself'. Here I should explain that debriefing is all done in the one room, but only the first part is done as a crew, you then divided into sections, pilots, navigators, wireless ops, gunners, each in their section, so you never know what they say about you.
As far luck.
It was the end of a briefing for a Berlin raid. The CO finished off with, "and good luck to all of you, any further questions?".
Someone's navigator, more to break the tension (there is always tension at briefing) than to be serious I think, said "Yes Sir, can you define luck for us?". Without a moments hesitation the CO said "certainly, in any high risk to personnel business, I define luck as complete dedication in attention to detail and eternal vigilance". Maybe that could account for a lot of things, perhaps even 99% but not all. Just think of one 4.7 AC shell.
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They predict you [sic] height, speed and direction etc. They assume you fly a straight line, which you don't. The minimum range is about 5 miles, assume the shell goes straight, which it might, assume you zig when you should have zagged.
It's true a predicted shell will always be fairly close, but you can't dive into a trench, you can only hope. Then there are the hundreds fired straight up into your bombing run when you can't do anything except fly straight. If one shell misses you that's lucky, but they fire a hundred or more at you in one night. If they all miss, to me that's a lot of luck.
I don't think that 1% is as small as it looks.
When counting the nightly losses, it was the policy of bomber command to show only the aircraft missing which they knew the enemy could positively be certain came down in enemy territory.
Therefore the figures shown are highly misleading e.g. Nuremberg raid --- next morning the loss posted on the ops. room board in our crew room was 145. The German news in their broadcast claimed 130, so our figures immediately dropped to 120. From there it slowly came down to 96.
In the period in which we were on ops., the average loss per raid was 7%. According to Rod that was 7% per raid x 30 raids = 210% chance of being shot down. The final figure of 106 sqdn, adjusted for overall duration was about .15%.
Hard to work that out, until you realise that they take the total number of trips done by all Lanc's. and then divide by the total losses of 106 sqdn. In praise of our ground crew, I should mention one small episode that stood out.
The usual procedure for us, prior to ops, was to air test our aircraft in the morning, return it to dispersal, note any faults found, if any, ready for take off on ops.
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About 3/4 hour before take off time, they would run all motors to warm up before we arrived. This meant everyone's aircraft was ready for take off at about the same time, so there were few hold ups.
We arrived at our aircraft one night in time to get ourselves organised, do the final run up and checks ready for take off, only to find the motors closed down and the complete ground crew starting to work like crazy on one motor. In a few minutes one ground crew member was peddling his bike frantically back to the hanger while the rest were erecting their mobile decking around the port inner motor and stripping off the cowlings and prop. Thinking we had no hope of going anywhere, much to our delight, I called out to the chief (staff Sgt) to see if we were scrubbed for this one.
He said "may be but wait a while first." In a couple of minutes, a truck with a frame mounted on the back, left the hanger and raced out to our site, returning the bod on his bike.
It then backed to the motor in question, removed the prop, backed further under the motor until it was bolted to the frame. At the other end of the motor, all the control cables, fuel lines, oil pipes, electric cables etc. were removed. Next another truck arrived with a new motor. The old one drove off to the hanger, the new ones backed in, and the controls were being replaced as the first of our kites were starting to taxi out for the take off.
In next to no time the last cowling was screwed back into place, the motors primed, and the chief was holding up his hand to start.
It had taken less than an hour to completely change the motor and remove all stands etc.
We got off about 1/2 hour late. I wouldn't have believed it, considering the freezing conditions. These poor bods had to work out in the middle of the paddock, in all the wet without any protection even from the wind, but their idea was different, if we wanted to go, the least they
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could do was everything they could possibly do to help, and we depended on them all the way.
To Quote Harris
"in bomber command we had to lay on, and more than often than not, carry through al [sic] least one and occasionally more than one major battle every 24 hours. That was a situation no naval or military command has ever had to compete with. Navy's fight 2 or 3 battles per war. Army's maybe a dozen, we had to lay on during my 31/2 years well over 1000."
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[underlined] FINIS [/underlined]
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Huricane (11 C)
Engine Rols [sic] Merlin xx 1200 hp
Span 40 ft.
Length 31 ft. 5z [sic]
Max. Speed 340 mph
Camouflage on most day fighters was standard green and brown on upper side but usually light blue underneath.
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Miles Master (11 )
Engine Wasp Jun 825 hp
Span 39 ft.
Length 31 ft.
Height 11ft. 5”
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Miles Martinet
Engine 870 hp Bristol Mercury xx or xxx
Span 39ft.
Length 30ft. 11"
Height 11ft. 7"
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Wing Area 238sq ft.
Weights Empty 4640lbs
Loaded 6750lbs.
Max. Speed 240 mph
Range 694mls.
The airforce like the other services used many words and phrases developed within their own system and this became standard language, hard for any outsider to understand. None of this language had been used in these notes, but some of the following may help with some explanation.
One of the bigger differences between the services seemed to be. Troops in the army stayed in their units for longer periods and became close friends, the navy likewise many staying on the same ship for the duration, but even as a crew, in the airforce you were divided, first by rank, and also by living quarters, seldom sharing even part of the same hut, but you were forced into very close cooperation when it came to flying.
Looking at the time of arrival at OUT. That is the first meeting of most of the crew. It was only 2 months before we were a complete crew and one more month before we were engaged on ops.
At the end of ops we once again became separated individual people again.
Some we never met again.
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There is no attempt to detail any raid, as many are a repetition of the previous ones. The attacks by fighters, flak, searchlights, etc. could and did happen at any time on any target. It also seems pointless to detail all the casualties and crashes, so a description of only one of any type has been included.
True, some raids were relatively free from challenge by enemy defences, owing to factors such as weather condition etc. It [sic] we could climb above the thick layer of heavy cloud with ice, into clear conditions, and the fighters had to climb up through worse conditions, even with their greater rate of climb, they sometimes didn't get through, but if they acid it would reduce their endurance time. No doubt they had problems on landings with fogs too, but it is easier to do a tight circuit in a fghter than in a bigger kite.
The weather did not effect the a/c a/c in any way except to make visible coning by searchlights impossible, l would say there were very few trips without some fighters, and none without some fighters, and none without searchlights and a/c a/c and always the big risk of collision. A constant search of the sky from wing tip to wing tip and above, on return your vision passed over, and checked, all instruments and back to starting point. An aircraft flying in the same direction and apparently parallel could appear small in the distance, but before your vision returned to it, it could slide across your track and just too close.
Most a/c a/c guns on low level raids were quite different, being small calibre, i.e. machine guns and 25[inserted] .[/inserted] 5mm cannon, much greater in
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numbers in the local target area and much faster firing rate, bit like flying through a woven screen, so the evasion tactics had to change, but there was still the target to hit. Some low level targets had many "blimps" on cables. Our aircraft were fitted with cable cutters on all sections of the wings i.e. when the cable hit the wing it slid along until it hit the cutter which automatically fired a chisel against an anvil, hopefully cutting the cable, didn't happen to us.
The Lanc. was progressively overloaded, even carried 22000lb bomb, compared to the fortress's 3000lb bomb load, that's a big difference but it didn't have many guns. The little 303's range was only about 400 yards, the 20mm cannon on the German fighters was much, much greater. The theory was, you can only see so far in the dark, but they must have forgotten about the hundreds of searchlights and the reflection from the clouds. Later they installed 2/50 cal guns in some rear turrets also put a few night fighters mixed in with the bomber stream, never saw one. They said there were 5 one night on Berlin but about 800 bombers spread over ? miles. Our fighters, like the Germans were fitted with a radar device to detect the German fighters never heard any of the results.
About this time (the battle of Berlin) the Germans changed from offensive to defensive, i.e. switched their bombers to fighters. They claimed their bomber pilots were very successful as night fighters. In the battle of Briton the English bomber pilots were not successful as fighter pilots but of course the Germans would have been very experienced pilots by then, and there were quite a lot of them. The twin engined types JU88 ME210 & ME410's were directed mostly from ground radar the single engined types ME 109 & FW 190's fitted with radar as our night fighters were. They were directed into the bomber stream by radio R/T from ground station, then let to find their own targets.
Some comments say there should be much more detail on the technical side of flying, but there seems little you could say about this, the
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basics were trying to avoid the heavy icing on fuselage and wings which increases your overall weight and drag, and trying to get the best economy for fuel. In time of attack by flak or fighters the economy becomes a secondary thought. Constant checks on all gauges with adjustments could always help. We tried to maintain the most height possible on longer trips, but this was often dependent on the winds.
You did get better ground speed at higher altitudes therefore better economy but the best was at near ground level without using second stage supercharge. Would be very unsafe for mass bombing and you can't drop big bombs from there unless there are time delays, you can't time delay "cookies" they just go off on contact.
As much depended on good navigation as any other factor, no point in wandering around over enemy territory with a bomb load unless you find the target, and the best height for navigation would have been about 8 10000ft, but I think they would have been very short one way trips at that height, unless you were very lucky.
Max. cruise speed for a Lanc was given at about 270mph perhaps 300mph may have been a little under rated for a "special" flat out at ground level.
Details of landing procedures were standard, but very necessary when so many aircraft were trying to land at the same time.
Our squadron call sign "optrex" our station call sign "[deleted] O [/deleted] Affray". So as we approached the drome we called (optrex nan to affray over) rely [sic] (affray to optrex nan, followed by the position you were allotted to land, i.e. first aircraft "funnel" that is approaching to land, second aircraft, down wind, i.e. wheels and flaps down parallel with runway and heading away from touch down point. Third, cross wind, i.e. right angles to runway and flying across the far end of runway before the down wind leg, all at 1000ft from there all aircraft step up 500ft, continue on a left hand circuit and listen to call as each aircraft clears the end of runway after landing, then you drop down to next lower position in order. All aircraft
[page break]
have nav lights on (normally) so most are visible from the ground up in a big spiral circuit around the perimeter lights (DREM).
There are emergency calls on fixed frequencies for anyone who was in trouble or got lost in fog. Mayday which is still used internationally and Darky which was mostly used by anyone lost in fog. You had to call darky three times followed by your call sign three times. Your position was then plotted and you were then given a course and distance to fly to the nearest drome that would accept you landing, but if you didn't get the procedure right you got no reply.
We sometimes laughed at the Yanks, lost in fog on return from a daylight raid, we should not have done that, because we did know what the feeling of wondering how to get down when the fuel was quickly running out, and it can be harder to find a drome in daylight than in the dark, the lights do help.
The Yank system was different to ours, where each of our aircraft had it's own navigator, and flew independent of all others, the Yanks, because they flew in formation, followed their leader and dropped their bombs when he did, so the problem came when the formation broke up on return and had to find their own bases.
You would hear things like "Hello Darky honey, MIs brown's little boy Johnny sure is lost up here" but Darky didn't answer, even after so many calls however they did vector a fighter across to identify him and lead him to a drome. This was not always the safest thing to do because they never minded who they shot at, so the escort had to be pretty careful. It was often said "the Yanks didn't need an enemy."
Darky's worry was any enemy raider could use the system to pin point any drome, which would be a big help to him if he were trying to bomb it.
There was never any white around the roundels on any camouflaged aircraft on ops. The thin yellow line was a gas detector, just in case the enemy dropped some gas bombs on the drome.
[page break]
This would give some warning in case personnel were isolated in a raid and lost all communications. Everyone carried gas masks at all times, some thought they were too heavy and replaced them with spare socks etc. Luckily there were never any gas bombs. The socks just kept the appearance in the shape of the bag.
Medals were rarely granted before the end of a tour therefore none were worn around the station or on ops by any aircrew. Some of the administration staff who had them from WW1 or a previous tour of ops were the exception. There appeared to be some form of grading here, in that only higher ranks could get higher standard medals. VC's always excepted. There were only two VC's while we were there. Cheshire of course (not our squad), the other was Jackson, Miff’s crew, but as he was taken POW I don't think this was granted until after the war. Miff’s was a Canadian, very solid build, always a happy type, tended to be common. His kite was U for Uncle so it carried the insignia of Stalin and called Uncle Joe. The story of this episode is in one of the Lanc books (I think). Miff’s was killed in the crash.
Another of the kites E easy had it's insignia painted on for some time before they decided they would paint the words on. We take anything. The next trip (Berlin) they took just about every thing the enemy could throw at them, but they brought it all back.
Much time was spent cleaning perspex especially by the gunners, always a damp cloth and plenty of cigarette ash, but as the smallest speck shows up at night, even if you know its there, it still distracts your vision, so finally the whole back panel was removed from the turrets.
Don't know how they managed when the turret was turned past the 90° as you would be in very strong wind, but they must have done it on the canal raid. The normal loading for machine gun belts for normal targets (aircraft) was one standard, one armour piercing, one incendiary, one trace, but when you have four guns each firing about 1200 rounds a
[page break]
minute this gave too much trace, which ruined all your night vision, so much of the trace was replaced with standard or incendiary.
Each squadron or group had it's own crest, but like the group photos few people ever bothered about them, it's only long afterwards you remember them, but I have forgotten the faces now anyway.
Bill Akers, one of the original intake went to a lot of trouble to try to find out the fate of all those in this intake. Some refused to say.
o. 1. I.T.S. Somers
I J.G. Alston W/ag P.F.F.
2 no sure think A.S. Simpson
3 R.A. Kingston Pilot K.I.A. R.A.F.
4 D.O. Donaldson discharged qualif. to run farm
5 R.F.C. Badman Pilot K.I.A. RA.F
6 D.C. Carter Pilot K.I.A. R.A.F
7 K. Travina Gunner K.I.A. Germany 1944
8 J. Bellock D.F.C. Pilot
9 D.V. Harvey W/op K.I.A. R.A.F
10 No idea
I1 P. Walters Pilot died POW Far East
12 C.J. Thoday Catalina Pilot
13 G.R. Balcombe Pilot K.I.A. R.A.F
14 A.V. Withers D.F.C bomb aimer our crew
15 Do not know
16 Do not know
17 C.W. Milburn Pilot discharged to run farm died
20/5/80
18 Do not know
19 J.W. Bassier Catalina Pilot
20 J. Humphrey D.F.C. nav P.F.F
21 W.R. Lardner not sure
22 D. Fisher W/ag returned died since
[page break]
23 G. Blanch K.I.A 5sqdn
24 R.F. Anderson Pilot D.F.C
25 S.G. Lee Pilot K.I.A R.A.F
26 K.C. Bell left to run farm
27 R.J. Adams W/ag 10sqdn K.I.A
28 R.C. Martin Pilot buried Germany
29 M.J. McCann not known
30 F.N. Birch Pilot Ormond Trnsprt Cmmnd
31 B. Woods D.F.C gunner P.F.F died after return
32 W. Bates unknown
33 S. Williamson D.F.C P.F.F W/ap transport to Japan,
drown Port Phillip Bay 1980's
34 C.T. Akers D.F.C gunner
33 A. Lord Pilot K.I.A R.A.F
36 L.G. Rigg Returned
Of the pilots in this course (23) it shows only 2 out of every 10 in the European theatre (R.A.F) survived, of the other categories 8 survived to every 2 K.I.A but as many are not accounted for this is not a true summary. Only one pilot in the Pacific area died as a POW, but only 4 of this original course went to Tas, others must have been at different EFTs.
We never had any connection with P.F.F. P.F.F was started because in the earlier times Bomber Command couldn't even hit Germany. So Bennet [sic], an Aust, a pre war commercial pilot with a great deal of experience with air lines flying international routes and regarded as one of the best air navigators in the world, was given the job of forming a squadron to mark the target area. He had already done a tour of ops, been sho [deleted] w [/deleted] t down over Norway and escaped back to UK. Also set out the air route for convoys of aircraft flying from USA.
His idea was to take the best crews from odd ops squadrons and further train then to be pathfinders, but many of the squadrons sent their worst, wanting to keep their best, he tried them and sent them back. Harris was against having any group as more elite than any other, saying it was only one air force (didn't mention 617). 5 group wanted their own markers, of which we were part. As the feelings on both sides became
[page break]
stronger Harris decided to take two Lanc squadrons off P.F.F and return them to 5 group, but P.F.F still had to train the replacements. The first of these operated on Paris (20/04/44) just before we finished. I have been told that all crews joining 106 later were asked to volunteer for P.F.F after they had done 6 trips. (perhaps Cochrane didn't give up). The difference in target marking was simply that 5 group, that is, Cheshires mob, picked one select factory which specialised in a product considered important to the war effort, and that was our only target. The theory in main force, P.F.F, was more to select one area of a city containing several important factories. The R.. [sic] A.F said, there are two ways to stop production, one knock out the factories or two, knock out the workers. The workers can't produce without the factory the factory can't produce without the workers, but even a combination of both must be effective.
The main difference in 5 group marking was the use of a master bomber (Cheshire or Martin). Their job was to mark the specific factory and direct the bombing of each aircraft, but our trips with them had very few aircraft, not the hundreds as in main force. As there seemed to be no count kept on casualties of conscripted labour, and many of them were forced to work on war production, the loss of life to them will never be known. I did meet one Balt out here long after the war. He asked if we had bombed Leipzig on that date. When I said we had, he said how very good we were, the bombs had all around them in their camp, but no one had been hurt. It was a night of solid cloud, the winds were all wrong, we all bombed on sky markers, we didn't even know they were there. (I'm sure he was very lucky).
When returning from each trip we called control and were given a QFE & a QFM i.e. barometric pressures for one, your own base. When this is set on your altimeter, you altimeter would read zero feet at ground level on your drome. The other was the barometric pressure at sea level, so if you were diverted to any other drome, you had to adjust for the height of that drome above sea level. The heights of dromes are marked
[page break]
on your maps. It is critical that all aircraft landing at one drome have the same altimeter setting, otherwise the variation in heights in the circuit would be very dangerous.
Date Target A/c no. No a/c on op Time Op loss
(hrs.)
1943
Sept. 27 Hanover P ja973 678 6 5.6
Oct. 18 Hanover O dv297 360 6 25 5
28 Leipzig N ed801 258 2.50 4.5
22 Kassel U in301 569 6.25 7.6
Nov. 3 Dusseldorf O dv297 589 4.40 3.1
22 Berlin T jb593 764 7.50 3.2
26 Berlin O jb534 443 8.05 6.2
Dec. 2 Berlin O bj534 458 6.45 8.7
3 Leipzig O jb534 527 7.50 4.7
16 Berlin O jb534 483 7.35 5.2
Jan. 1 Berlin Z ni339 421 7.30 6.7
27 Berlin N jb664 515 3.10
28 Berlin N jb664 677 7.45 6.8
30 Berlin N jb664 534 6.35 6.2
Feb. 15 Berlin N jb664 891 7 4.8
19 Leipzig N jb664 823 7.15 9.5
20 Stuttgart N jb664 598 3.15 1.5
25 Augsburg N jb664 594 7.55 3.6
[page break]
24 Scheinfurt N jb664 734 8.20 4.5
Mar. 1 Stuttgart N jb664 557 8.15 7
15 Stuttgart N jb664 863 7.25 7.3
18 Frankfurt Njb664 846 5.30 2.6
20 Angouleme N jb664 20 7.05
14 a/c of 617
22 Frankfurt N jb664 816 5.50 4
25 Lyons N jb664 20 7.10
14 617
24 Lyons N jb664 20 8
26 Essen N jb664 705 5.10 1.3
30 Nuremburg N jb664 795 7.20 11.9
Apr. 5 Toulouse N jb664 144 7.20 617sq
9 Konigsberg B 6 9.15 106&9
18 Swinernunde N jb664 168 7.15 2
20 Paris rlw stn N jb664 247 4.15 617 2
22 Brunswick N jb664 238 5.55 1.5
1943
Struck fighter flares before we reached the Dutch coast, saw a P.F.F kite going down in flames. Rear turret u/s from Hanover. "Blue" had to go down and pump oil every 15mins. 0/0 cloud, flak moderate. Came back north over Baltic and Denmark. Had to let down over sea, were damn near on the deck. Almost cleaned up a light house, had to climb to clear it. Nearly had our time. Lost one crew, P/O storer [sic] , they were only kids and had put off their leave to be home for Christmas.
December 21st
P/O Starkey and crew took our kite to Frankfurt last night and got it all shot to hell. Half the port rudder and elevator shot off by cannon, about half the port aeleron [sic] too, broken main spar and plenty of holes in the wing, they were lucky to get back, they could only do right hand turns.
December 23rd
Briefed for the big city, take off put off from 1650 to 2340, taxied out, then a kite bogged on end of runway, prevented us from taking off, in bed by 0230.
[page break]
1944
January 2nd
Berlin 9th trip 94821lbs of bombs 1425mls 7hrs 30. Took off at 0028, near miss by Scarecrow over north sea. JU88 passed 20ft above going the other way like a bat out of hell, a bit too close for my liking, nearly pranged by a Lanc on the way home, stupid bastard was weaving like the clappers.
Two crews lost P/O Holbourne & P/O Garnet, Holbourne was in our hut, he was married.
January 22nd
Briefed for Magdeburg but a kite bogged in front of us and prevented 6 of us from taking off.
January 27th
Started off for Berlin but boomeranged. Pressure line in mid upper turret broke, then API went u/s. First G box blew up, later H2s box blew up and caught fire, managed to put fire out and decided to press on regardless, but just before we reached the Dutch coast, rear turret went u/s, so decided to come back. Loud cheers.
January 27th
Berlin 10 trip 9037lbs 1425mls 7.45hrs.
Went in over Denmark and Baltic, saw a Lanc shot down over Sylt, and saw it explode on the ground. Near Rostock engaged by heavy flak bursting just under the tail, close enough for us to hear it. Shrapnel rattled against the kite we bounced around all over the place.
Fighter had [deleted]tb [/deleted] go at us with a rocket, successfully evaded it and it just passed over the top of us. Then another fighter came in and tracer whizzed over the top of the starboard wing. Took off after midnight landed 0800 in bed by 1015.
January 29th Monday
Berlin 11th trip 10702lbs 1287mls 6.35hrs.
[page break]
Took off 1720, in over Denmark out over Holland, moonlight, saw 10 kites shot down. Just before target, a JU88 went down in flames, spun, lost a blazing wing, then exploded, a wizard sight, that will teach the bastards to interfere.
Saw a combat going on and both kites went down in flames. F/O Forsyth was hit by a rocket from DO217 fired from a free gun mounted on top when enemy a/c was flying 800ft below. Rocket burst in bomb bay bomb load saved the pilot. Bags of fighter flares, Kirkland missing.
February 15th Berlin
12th trip 10036lbs 1328mis 6.35hrs.
Vic's oxygen gear froze solid and he passed out just before reaching target. "Blue" went back and changed his helmet, was pretty shaky too, as there were evidently plenty of Jerry fighters up by the amount of tracer flying around. Vic must have been out for 10 minutes. A bit more flak than usual but no fighters sighted by us. Had another fire in some nav equipment, but soon put it out.
Heaviest raid yet on Berlin.
2500 tons, 900 odd 4eng kites.
One of our kites flown by P/O Dickenson pranged in circuit area, only survivor a cove named Ramsay mid upper a/g. This kite was our old O Oboe. Alan and Rod have worked it out that out of the 20 crews at OUT four months ago, there are only 8 left.
February 19th
Leipzig 13th trip 9710lbs 1304mls 7.15hrs.
Took a 2nd Dickie P/O Bartlett
Weather was bloody awful, bags of ice, had to do 12 dog legs and an orbit to fill in time. Fighters were waiting for us over the north sea and followed us all the way around. Saw about 6 kites collide over target. Fighters whizzing all over the place 79 kites lost, biggest loss yet, one crew from ours missing, Dickie Legget.
February 20th
[page break]
Stuttgart. Boomeranged as generators were u/s.
February 24th
Scheinfurt, 14th trip 9238lbs 1491 mls.
We were in the second attack, 2 hours after the first and saw the first attack start while 300 400 miles away, visibility marvellous, saw Switzerland plainly, it was a wonderful sight, moonlight on the snow and all the houses with their lights on. Quite [sic] trip. On the way back over England saw an air raid on London saw 6 Jerry kites sho [deleted] w [/deleted] t down.
February 25th
Augsburg. 15th trip 9060lbs 1521mls.
After 6hrs sleep out of bed again, quiet trip, my compass u/s. Bob steered wrong course and we went over Switzerland but were only one minute late on target by cutting comers. Snowing when we arrived back.
March 2nd
Stuttgart. 16th trip 9584lbs 1430mls.
Nothing much happened, our nav lights were u/s so we arrived back late purposely and our ground crew had given us up for lost.
March 16th
Stuttgart. 17th trip 9762lbs 1483mis.
We had to go in 5 minutes ahead of P.F.F.
Attacked by a DO217 with a belly gun, combats all around.
March 19th
Frankfurt. 18th trip 12326lbs 1006mls.
Took a second Dickie, Ken Warren, too many searchlights for my liking. 22 kites missing.
March 21st
Angouleme. 19th trip 5998lbs incendiaries only 1116mls.
Went on special do with 617 squadron (Gibson & Cheshires, Dambusters). We acted as P.F.F for them 617 went in with 12000bders [sic], they go off with quite a thump, each one bombed in turn, we spent an hour over target. Brake pressure u/s on return had to land at Wittering.
[page break]
March 22nd
Frankfurt. 20th trip 12536lbs 1106mls.
Heaviest and most concentrated raid of all time. 3000 tons in 15 minutes. Bounced around by Flak over target. Picked up by searchlights but thanks to Bob we got away from them. Slipped s/lights with kites on either side coned, saw only one fighter.
March 23rd
Lyons. 21st trip 10082lbs 1245mis.
With 617 again, spent one and a half hours over target, marking and bombing.
March 26th
Lyons. 22nd trip 5998lbs incendiaries 1362mls.
We acted a [sic] P.F.F. Target was a factory 100yds by 50yds. Going on navigation only, I told Alan when to drop the flares, and our first flare hit the factory roof and set it on fire.
March 29th
Essen. 23rd trip 13436lbs 860mls.
First trip to happy valley since November, ran into a bit of Flak over target, lost a foot off one of the prop blades, made the kite vibrate like hell.
March 30th
Nuremburg. 24th trip 10032lbs 1405mls. Bright moon light all the way. Just south of happy valley the fun started, an ME210 attacked us, both Vic and Titch scored hits on it. He came in several times and each time Vic poured lead into him and sent him pitching and tossing all over the sky. Some of his stuff came uncomfortably close. Later Vic picked up an ME109, got him with a long burst, he went down in flames and exploded on the deck. Combats were going on all around us, saw 8 Lancs go down in flames in 20 minutes. Heaviest loss yet 96 kites out of 600.
For March we did 9 trips, 7 in 10 nights, briefed 14 nights in a row.
[page break]
April 5th
Toulouse. 25th trip 9396lbs 1386mls.
With 617 sqd Alan's bombing was the best for the night
April 9th
Konigsberg canal. 26th trip 78501bs 1739mls.
Longest trip we have ever done, 9.5 hours.
Briefed to go in at 150ft and if we thought defences were too hot we were told not to go in, first time this has happened. Only 6 aircraft on this, 3 of ours & went with main force as far as Danzig then went on another 100 miles loosing height to cross coast at 1000ft, then lost height to ground level, had to climb to go over a factory. As soon as we started our run we were picked up by 4 searchlights and about a dozen 20mm from a distance of 50yds to about 600yds. Their fire forced us down to 10ft from the water. Bob did a wizard job lifting and dropping the kite to dodge their fire, four of the five mines dropped dead in the centre of the canal, one hung up. Vic. Titch, and Alan opened up with their guns between them accounted for 5 S/ls and a couple of gun positions. Canal was only 156ft wide and our wing span was 104ft, so had only 8yds clearance on each wing tip. We were so low that we were below the level of the canal banks. As we came up the canal ship shone it's S/l right in Bobs eyes and blinded him, how he kept the kite in the air I don't know, it was a super human effort. Had the ship not put it's light on we would probably have crashed into it.
We whizzed along at 3000 revs and +18 boost, must have been doing 300mph. Only our three kites dropped their mines. Old "Butch" was tickled to bits, saying, "it was the best effort since the dam busting." Even the Admiralty condescended to give us a pat on the back. We became famous over night, but they can stick this honour and glory, it's too dangerous. Bob was recommended for a DSO and myself a DFC. These were back to a DFC for Bob and SFA for me. Next day we heard a
[page break]
sub was sunk in the canal after hitting one of our mines. The canal was closed for 16 days, bottling up a cruiser (Koln) and 43 subs in the harbour.
These mines could not be neutralised, only way to remove them was to explode them, this would play hell with the canal banks and those who try.
April 18th
Swinemunde. 27th trip 7850lbs 1428mls.
Mining again came back over Sweden.
April 20th
Paris. 28th trip 7850lbs 710mls.
Central rail yards. Quiet trip, light Flak.
April 22nd
Brunswick. 29th trip 12234lbs 1050mls.
These records of target are originally from Alan's diary, but as I got them from Rod, it is obvious they have been rewritten to apply to a navigators view, as the nav rarely sees anything outside. As Alan's original notes were rather colourful, Rod must have censored them. Also the first 9 trips are missing, the total, including 3 boomerangs should have been 33 but ended at 29. Less the first 8 or so. To try to fill in the first few trips ---
September 27th 1943
Hanover. 12830lbs 950mls
My first trip, went as 2nd dickie with F/L A Poore and his crew. They left 106 and went to 617 sqdn. A very good skipper, a very good crew. For me an interesting and useful trip, although there were no problems, maybe he knew how to keep out of trouble and still do the job.
October 18th
[page break]
Hanover. 12827lbs 949mls.
Our first trip as a crew. This was the trip when Alan ordered bomb doors open so long before the target, but luckily we had no problems.
October 20th
All instruments u/s, G u/s caused by heavy ice, cloud base on return 400ft, only 4 a/c landed back at base.
October 22nd
Kassel. 11962lbs 915mls.
Went into low cloud at takeoff, cloud all the way small hole over target, back into cloud, on return. Diverted on return, cloud base 800ft heavy static in cloud, all instrument flying.
November 3rd
Dusseldorf. 13128lbs 782mls.
Clear night with lots of searchlights.
November 22nd
Berlin. 11994lbs 1230mls.
This would be our first Berlin raid. Everything possible happened on most of these.
November 26th
Berlin. 11279lbs 1455mls.
10/10 clear with heavy con trails and fighters everywhere.
December 2nd
Berlin. 10856lbs 1234mls.
Bad forecast for winds, heavy losses.
December 3rd
Leipzig. 998lbs 1351mls.
December 16th
Berlin. 9740lbs 1328mls.
[page break]
Defences always very heavy, all types of a/c, many med. sized with rockets mounted as free guns on top of fuselage, often used captured a/c, even Lancs flying above and to each side of the stream dropping flares to assist the fighters.
"The bomber command war diaries" cover a general history of all the bomber raids. Well, almost all.
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
Robert Anderson's memoir
Description
An account of the resource
Robert Anderson describes his training in Tasmania and Canada, and his tour of operations to targets in France and Germany with 106 Squadron.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Robert Anderson
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Trevor Hardcastle
David Bloomfield
Steve Christian
Peter Bradbury
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
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58 photocopied sheets
Language
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eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BAndersonRJAndersonRJv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Australian Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Australia
Great Britain
France
Germany
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Staffordshire
France--Angoulême
France--Lyon
France--Paris
France--Toulouse
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Essen
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Königsberg in Bayern
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Schweinfurt
Tasmania
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944
106 Squadron
5 Group
617 Squadron
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
bombing of Kassel (22/23 October 1943)
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
Cheshire, Geoffrey Leonard (1917-1992)
fear
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Ju 88
Lancaster
Manchester
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Oxford
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Lichfield
RAF Metheringham
RAF Skellingthorpe
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
searchlight
service vehicle
Tiger force
tractor
training
Wellington
Yale
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1981/39137/PHawkesRW17010001.2.jpg
f72f860d4f5f3beeb0d47402b18b655f
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
Hawkes, Robert Wilfred
R W Hawkes
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-11-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Hawkes, RW
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items. The collection concerns Robert Wilfred Hawkes (b. 1922, Royal Air Force) and contains photographs. He flew operations as a bomb aimer.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Wilfred Paul Hawkes and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Personnel and aircraft
Description
An account of the resource
Description - Five photographs in an album.
#1. Six airmen, Hawkes, Robert Wilfred is front left. It is captioned: ' THE CREW' -(SIGNED ON BACK)' and is a copy of item #39143 in the collection.
#2. A view of the pilot's station in a Lancaster. Seat, control yoke, gauges and levers are visible. It is captioned 'INSIDE 'UNCLE' '.
#3. Three ground crew standing in front of a Lancaster. It is captioned: 'JOE/BRUM/ALLAN. GROUND STAFF'.
#4. Six men posing on and in front of an Oxford. Two are seated on a tractor, three are standing at the rear of the tractor and one is standing on the aircraft's port engine. It is captioned: 'TOM EARL (EXT LEFT) CANADA.'
#5. Two members of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force seated in a tree. Both are in uniform and wearing greatcoats.
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Five b/w photographs on an album page
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PHawkesRW17010001
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
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
aircrew
ground crew
ground personnel
Lancaster
Oxford
pilot
service vehicle
tractor
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1590/25409/BNicholsJEKNicholsJEKv1.1.jpg
cbe50360a1b926785f807c8f91e86d36
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
Nicholls, Jill Ethel Kathleen
J E K Nicholls
Thomson, Jill Ethel Kathleen
Goodfellow, Jill Ethel Kathleen
Description
An account of the resource
57 items. The collection concerns Jill Nicholls (b. 1921, 2011088 Royal Air Force). The collection contains documents, photographs, mementos and a considerable number of poems. It also contains an album in a sub-collection with documents, newspaper cuttings and photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Julie Stocks and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2020-02-01
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Nicholls, JEK
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Memories of R.A.F. Elvington from,
Jill Ethel Kathleen Nicholls. W.A.A.F. (Cpl)
I was posted to 77 SQD M.T. Section R.A.F. Elvington from Middleton-St. George near Darlington, arriving on a very cold November day in 1942. W.A.A.F. quarters were not completed at that time, and we were billeted in a nissen hut some distance from the Camp.
Initally, [sic] the M.T. Section was situated in an old farm house on the Aerodrome. I was detailed to drive a 30 cwt. Bedford for the W.T. Section. We did of course have other driving duties from crew coaches to tractors but mainly I stayed with the W.T during my Service at Elvington.
There was quite a lot of social life on Camp e.g. film shows, musical evenings, local and E,N,S,A, [sic] concerts, Mess parties and of course the liberty bus to York. Betty’s Bar was much frequented by the R.A.F in those days and the local pub at Elvington was also popular. We all had bicycles so could attend dances in the surrounding villages. Looking through the first camp magazine to be published 15/9/43 called D.G., it is quite surprising to find just how many social activities were available. Group Capt S.S. Bertram D.F.C. was C.O when the first D.G. was published. Later, Wing Commander L. Lowe M.B.E. D.F.C. was Squadron C.O.
Working closely with Air and Ground crews, one felt very much a part of the every day happenings in the Squadron, every crew lost was a personal loss. Forty five years on, memories fade, but the sight and sound of the Halifaxes taking off on ops, waiting with a coach at a dispersal point in the early hours of the morning listening for the sound of the first arrivals home and the joy when they all returned, that is something that will always remain in my mind. I’m sure Ann, Lesley, Kay, Betty, Sylvia, Helen and many other M.T. girls will know what I mean.
In 1944 I was posted to R.A.F. Sandtoft, before the arrival of the Free French. Those of us who had to leave the Squadron were sad indeed, but for my part I am very proud to have been a small part of the Elvington scene during the war and to have had the privilege of meeting and working with so many wonderfully courageous people. On a visit to Elvington some years ago, the old Farm House was still standing. On a later visit it had been demolished. To me, during those war torn years, somehow, it had been ‘Forever England.’
I joined the W.A.A.F. in June 1942 and was released in Oct. 1945
Mentioned in despatches January 1945
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
Memories of RAF Elvington
Description
An account of the resource
Posted to motor transport section of 77 Squadron at RAF Elvington in November 1942. Writes of duties, location and social activities. Mentions commanders and feeling part of the squadron. Posted to RAF Sandtoft in 1944. Gives dates of service June 1942 to October 1945. Mentioned in dispatches January 1945.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
JEK Nicholls
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One page typewritten 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
BNicholsJEKNicholsJEKv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
England--Lincolnshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-06
1942-11
1945-01
1944
1945-10
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
77 Squadron
entertainment
ground personnel
military living conditions
military service conditions
RAF Elvington
RAF Sandtoft
service vehicle
tractor
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2067/34278/PStimpsonMC19050011.1.jpg
54d3559f19dd6712188a60b9680bbfbe
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2067/34278/PStimpsonMC19050012.1.jpg
97dda3367504dcde30b1082f8284166e
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
Stimpson, Maurice Cecil
Description
An account of the resource
124 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Maurice Cecil Stimpson DFC (1921 - 1944, 155249 Royal Air Force) and contains his log books, photographs, documents, and pennants. He flew operations as a pilot with 156 Squadron and was killed 15 February 1944. <br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Tony France and catalogued by Barry Hunter. <br /><br />Additional information on Maurice Cecil Stimpson is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/226992/">IBCC Loses Database.</a>
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-09-22
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Stimpson,
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Maurice Stimpson and Crew
Description
An account of the resource
Maurice and eight crew members, including ground crew. They are sat on a tractor in front of a Lancaster. On the reverse '2 Groundcrew from L Harold, Johny, Joe, Robinson, Roy, Bill, Maurice.'
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PStimpsonMC19050011,
PStimpsonMC19050012
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
aircrew
dispersal
ground crew
ground personnel
Lancaster
pilot
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1174/18481/PTylerEA1703.1.jpg
67bcd58973cd7ec109a9cada6aa4133e
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
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
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
2017-12-08
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Tyler, EA
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
Margaret Tyler on a tractor, binding
Description
An account of the resource
Margaret Tyler, nee Pridmore on a tractor, using binding machine.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PTylerEA1703
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.
Great Britain
England--Rutland
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.
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1174/18480/PTylerEA1702.1.jpg
4870eacc9d39f1e49b28505057e30782
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
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
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
2017-12-08
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Tyler, EA
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
Margaret Tyler on a tractor with a prisoner of war
Description
An account of the resource
Margaret Tyler (nee Pridmore) and Chris Musial drilling at Manor Farm, Pilton, Rutland.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PTylerEA1702
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
Wehrmacht
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Rutland
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.
prisoner of war
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/777/10555/PFalgateD16030105.2.jpg
026ca4fedada8b6814973eb4a06a824e
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
Falgate, Donald
D Falgate
Description
An account of the resource
69 items. The collection concerns Squadron Leader Don Falgate (136896 Royal Air Force) and consists of 68 pre-war, wartime, and post-war photographs and a handwritten detailed account of his tour. Don Falgate trained in Canada and flew operations as a bomb aimer with 463 Squadron from RAF Waddington.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Paul Falgate and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-07
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Falgate, D
Access Rights
Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies.
Permission granted for commercial projects
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
Lancasters in the snow
Description
An account of the resource
Snowy landscape with five Lancasters on their dispersals, in the foreground tractor and bomb trolley with large bomb, armourers waiting to load.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PFalgateD16030105
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground personnel
Lancaster
military service conditions
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/814/22694/PEvansD17030091.2.jpg
8e0c062f46cb7bf09f956d83c83fb836
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
Evans, Ernest Darwin
D Evans
Description
An account of the resource
71 items. An oral history interview with Darwin Evans (1921 - 2017, 1049547 Royal Air Force) and photographs, including several of Lancaster nose art, Lancaster W4783 AR-G George, and crashed or damaged aircraft. Darwin Evans served as an assistant to the Navigation Officer in 1 Group.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Darwin Evans and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-11-01
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Evans, D
Access Rights
Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies.
Permission granted for commercial projects
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
Lancaster tail
Description
An account of the resource
The tail of a Lancaster being towed by a tractor. Also assisting is an airman on a bicycle. It has squadron code 'AR' and 'DV296'. This aircraft crashed at Teltow, Berlin December 1943 with the loss of all crew.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PEvansD17030091
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Australian Air Force
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.
460 Squadron
ground crew
ground personnel
Lancaster
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2044/33169/PProbynEA17010055.2.jpg
caa5dc8f0011cc4165f514503c811925
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
Probyn, Ernest. Scrapbook
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-04-23
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Probyn, EA
Description
An account of the resource
42 items. Scrapbook containing photographs and clippings.
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
Lancaster Paintings
Description
An account of the resource
Two paintings of a Lancaster from an album. In the first, by David Shepherd, the Lancaster is being readied for an operation with bombs being loaded and a fuelling truck waiting. <br />In the second three Lancasters are taxying for take off.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two colour prints on an album page
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Artwork
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PProbynEA17010055
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
arts and crafts
bomb trolley
bombing up
dispersal
fuelling
Lancaster
perimeter track
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/814/22625/PEvansD17030034.1.jpg
6bd2d25812b6d6ca812779c7072d575f
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/814/22625/PEvansD17030035.1.jpg
6be75bf8b6578dd9440b9c84dc261f61
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/814/22625/PEvansD17030036.2.jpg
798e3e92f8f512fb567d600e6f71463e
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
Evans, Ernest Darwin
D Evans
Description
An account of the resource
71 items. An oral history interview with Darwin Evans (1921 - 2017, 1049547 Royal Air Force) and photographs, including several of Lancaster nose art, Lancaster W4783 AR-G George, and crashed or damaged aircraft. Darwin Evans served as an assistant to the Navigation Officer in 1 Group.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Darwin Evans and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-11-01
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Evans, D
Access Rights
Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies.
Permission granted for commercial projects
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
Lancaster maintenance
Description
An account of the resource
Three views of Lancaster under maintenance. Photo 1 has an engine trestle at the nose. In front is a tractor with a bomb trolley carrying incendiaries. Photo 2 has several engine access frames under the engines and a long stepladder at the nose. A bomb trolley with bombs is in front of the aircraft. Photo 3 has access frames on the starboard inner engine and a stepladder at the starboard outer engine. A oil tanker is under the nose and a line of bombs is waiting on a trolley.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Three b/w photographs
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PEvansD17030034,
PEvansD17030035,
PEvansD17030036
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
bomb trolley
bombing up
dispersal
ground crew
ground personnel
incendiary device
Lancaster
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2343/43572/PDrinkellWG22010006.2.jpg
76c962d5d466fd152b811a1d8d94faa9
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
Drinkell, William George
Description
An account of the resource
23 items. The collection concerns Squadron Leader William George Drinkell (b. 1921, 55113 Royal Air Force) and contains his log books and photographs.
He flew operations as a pilot with 50 Squadron.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Jill Harris and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2022-06-27
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Drinkell, WG
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
Lancaster Bombing Up
Description
An account of the resource
Front/port view of a Lancaster being loaded with bombs., watched by the aircrew.
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PDrinkellWG22010006
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
aircrew
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground crew
Lancaster
nose art
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1544/28346/EHoadNEGarnerKM701207-0003.2.jpg
f53b27f4353257c575c7dfcccbdaa4cb
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1544/28346/EHoadNEGarnerKM701207-0004.2.jpg
c5650d86794336b6029d1f5714860d1a
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
Scrimshaw, Christopher Charles
C C Scrimshaw
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
2016-09-30
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Scrimshaw, CC
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items. The collection concerns Pilot Officer Christopher Scrimshaw (1905 - 1944, 957856, 182431<a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/120871/">I</a>Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, photographs and documents. He flew operations as an air gunner with 61 Squadron. <br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Kathleen Garner and catalogued by Barry Hunter.<br /><br />More information on Charles Scrimshaw can be found via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/120871/">IBCC Losses Database</a>.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Lancaster Bombing Up
Description
An account of the resource
Nine ground crew and six aircrew under the nose of Lancaster 'N'. The ground crew are working on bombs on bomb trolleys. The aircrew are dressed in flying kit. On the reverse stamped 'Daily Sketch Copyright', 'Graphic Photo Union' and handwritten 'Specimen No. 4/M4245.L'
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Daily Sketch
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
EHoadNEGarnerKM701207-0003,
EHoadNEGarnerKM701207-0004
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
aircrew
bomb trolley
bombing up
dispersal
ground crew
ground personnel
Lancaster
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2304/42035/PEwingRL1909.1.jpg
991d5053098f53bdc262bb9d0eb91e1f
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
Ewing, Robert Logan
Ewing, RL
Ewing, Bobby Logan
Description
An account of the resource
49 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Robert "Bobby" Logan Ewing MBE (Royal Air Force) and contains <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2308">An album</a>, photographs and documents. He served as a medical officer.<br /><br />The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Alison McCoy and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-11-16
2019-12-04
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Ewing, RL
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
Lancaster at Wigsley 1943
Lancaster Preparation
Description
An account of the resource
A Lancaster being refuelled. There is a man driving a tractor and a trolley has oxygen bottles. Captioned 'Lancaster Wigsley 1943'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PEwingRL1909
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Nottinghamshire
fuelling
ground crew
ground personnel
Lancaster
petrol bowser
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/154/1947/PWatsonD1508.2.jpg
7b8def1879937aabc11801f6b214057d
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Watson, Don
D Watson
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. An oral history interview with Don Watson (1448934 Royal Air Force) and four photographs relating to Don Watson's wartime service with 61 Squadron at RAF Skellingthorpe. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Don Watson and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-08-11
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. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Watson, D
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Access Rights
Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies.
Permission granted for commercial projects
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
Lancaster and its bomb load
Description
An account of the resource
Lancaster 'N' with pilot at the controls looking out of the open cockpit window. At the nose are trolleys with bombs being prepared by seven armourers. Six aircrew wearing Mae Wests are standing behind the bomb trolley. A tractor and buildings are in the background.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PWatsonD1508
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
aircrew
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground personnel
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 3
pilot
service vehicle
tractor