蜜芽传媒

The first part of the course involved revolver and rifle firing, which I managed particularly well, before ground instruction on the machine guns which involved stripping down and assembling and diagnosing the different types of stoppages. A major part of the air gunnery course was aircraft recognition, starting off fairly simply by the use of photos of enemy aircraft in the clear, then later having to identify in poor visibility conditions by the use of camera films. This was of course essential for survival in certain conditions.

Then we started our flying on Blenheim MK4s mainly over the Bristol Channel. Firstly air to ground firing at targets at sea and later air-to-air firing at drogues towed by Lysander aircraft which of course involved assessing the amount of deflection required.

Our flying was somewhat curtailed due both to bad weather and serviceability of these somewhat worn-out Blenheims that had been on the initial bombing operations in 1940 and 1941. Towards the end of my flying at Air Gunnery I was with a Polish pilot, an ex Battle of Britain Warrant Officer 鈥� who had rather limited English. Whilst we had been flying for a while he told me we had to return to base quickly as thick fog was developing. He made an attempt to land, with me in the turret. In the short finals I saw a church spire then one or two trees go whistling by, close to a wing tip. He put full power on and we did an overshoot before repeating the process in the rapidly worsening fog. Again we did not make it. Then, in his somewhat broken English, he said he would try once again but, if he failed and as we were getting a little low on fuel and insufficient to make a diversion as the fog had become wide spread we would head inland, climb to about 3,0000 ft and he would order me to bale out before he did likewise. Thankfully we made it at the third attempt.

At that stage I had very little flying experience and the thought of baling out so early in my R.A.F. days was a little disturbing to say the least. The day after completing the course we became proud possessors of the brevet and sergeant鈥檚 tapes and had a farewell talk from the C.O. before receiving posting instructions.

As there were only a few who were married they were given the option of postings to UK bomber squadrons. The majority of us bachelors were to go overseas. However a great pal of mine Bill Buttle, and also a bachelor, wanted a UK posting. This was granted but he made the mistake of making a sarcastic remark to our instructor who, a little later, said there was a requirement for one more overseas and that this would be my pal Bill. Later he and I joined the same squadron in the Desert Air Force and he also survived. Four years later on demob leave he and I would meet up in London and play snooker below Jack Solomans boxing gym in Windmill Street just opposite the famous Windmill Theatre (鈥� we never closed鈥�) before going on to the Overseas league Club in Lower Regent Street where we became members together with other ex鈥攕ervice officers spending our gratuities, about 拢100.

Incidentally years later, flying with Ralph Fisher in BEA it transpired we were club members at the same time. A drinking friend of his at the club was Neville Heath, also ex RAF. One night, walking back to his hotel room Ralph fell and damaged his nose producing a nosebleed. The following day he had to put his jacket and trousers in for dry cleaning. A few days later the police interviewed him concerning a murder, as initially he was a suspect. After another murder, Neville Heath was arrested and found guilty of being a mass murderer of women 鈥� the last a WREN in Bournemouth.

To get back to the end of my Air Gunnery I was given 14 days embarkation leave with orders to report to the RAF Wilmslow near Manchester. This was to prepare for an overseas posting that required numerous inoculations and being kitted out in tropical uniform which included a topee to ward off the tropical sun. Most of us discarded it in favour of a bush hat, much later out East.

Whilst on embarkation leave I met a nurse from Whitechapel Hospital. Winnie Fowler and I became very fond of one another. Then on our farewell night she cried a little because of her fears for my future and that I may not survive the war as aircrew. I told her not to worry 鈥� that old saying 鈥渙nly the good die young鈥�. Ironically it was Winnie who did not survive. We corresponded until I had a letter from her sister to say that she had died of kidney failure but hoped that I would survive the war. Of course I replied and said how sad I was at the news.

I spent about 10 days at Wilmslow where we had most afternoons off. One afternoon visiting Manchester I had perhaps one of my most embarrassing experiences. This occurred in Woolworth鈥檚 when a plump middle-aged woman put her arms around me and almost shouted out to other customers and staff "Oh what wonderful heroes you airmen are". I wanted the ground to open up and probably blushed scarlet knowing that I had just qualified as aircrew with my bright sergeant stripes and Crevet and had not at that stage done any operational flying. On telling of my experience back at RAF Wilmslow we all had a good laugh, at my expense of course.

I am not sure of the exact date but it must have been early January 1943 when some 50 of us aircrew boarded the troopship "Duchess of Richmond" about 18000 tons, at Liverpool. Little did I know that it was the first of 4 troopships, for my sins. The next day we set sail but of course not being told where we were going. We steamed up to Greenock near Glasgow where we joined what at that time was the largest troopship convoy. On board were around 40,000 troops, mainly soldiers, with us 50 aircrew.

I think it was about a day or two out from the UK when the officer in charge asked if we aircrew would volunteer to man the light guns on board, mainly the Swedish Oerliken pom-poms in 6 turrets. The main defence being a 4-inch gun at the stern manned by the Royal Navy gunners. Although there was a saying in the R.A.F. "never volunteer for anything" - though of course we were all volunteer aircrew - most of us did volunteer and never regretted doing so. Four of us were allocated to a particular gun turret. I think mine was on the port side amidships which we manned 24 hours. This gave us two great advantages. One gave us priority at the head of the vast queue when the shop opened up for just an hour a day to purchase such items as cigarettes, sweets and toilet accessories. We had to take a bit of stick from the queue that had been waiting ages.

The second advantage, that came a bit later when we were in the tropics, we were able to sleep in the gun turret. A bit uncomfortable but at least we were breathing clean sea air as opposed to being battened down below decks from 11pm to 7am. The only occasion when we missed out was one night in a tropical storm that almost drowned us in the turret. One of the pleasanter experiences was the wonderful sunsets when down in the tropics. It is difficult to describe the multitude of colours, occasionally offset by rough weather in tropical storms. Also watching flying fish and porpoises alongside the ship.

The convoy comprised some 50 ships, perhaps half being troopships, ours being the largest, the rest a mixture of cargo vessels and oil tankers. As escort in addition to numerous destroyers we had the old Ark Royal aircraft carriers and we aircrew took a great interest in and admiration of the skills of the "string-bags" (swordfish) doing their dawn and dusk patrols, particularly in bad weather conditions attempting to judge the landings on a pitching flight deck.

As with all wartime convoys the vessels were in line ahead and about 5 lines a breast and proceeding at about 12 knots, the speed of the slowest. Every few minutes changing course in a zigzag fashion to make things difficult for any German U-boat. Abeam Gibraltar the Ark Royal and an escort of 2 destroyers left us to go into the Mediterranean at Gibraltar. A day or so later we noticed that instead of heading roughly south, we were steaming west.

This continued for about 3 days and we said jokingly that if we continued we would finish up in the West Indies. Of course we were told nothing for security reasons in case we became POWs but later in Cape Town we discovered the reason. Admiralty intelligence discovered that the Germans had learnt of our large troopship convoy and had positioned a U-boat pack spread out from the African coats and into the Atlantic to catch us. Eventually we turned back towards the east and must have avoided the main U-boat pack although we did lose two ships being torpedoed at night.

The only time we fired our guns was for practice when our vessel moved to one side of the convoy and we fired at some targets a few hundred yards away. Before finally reaching Freetown, Sierra Leone most vessels were running short of fuel and drinking water because of the extended voyage and we were on a very tight ration for water. We never got ashore at Freetown, by all accounts not missing much. After refuelling the convoy we set sail again southwards.

Eventually after about 4 weeks we arrived at Capetown South Africa in March 1943. The hospitality of the South Africans I shall never forget. As we berthed the dockside was lined with cars and many of us were taken out and wined and dined. I had a wonderful 2 weeks ashore at a South African transit camp on the lower slopes of Table Mountain called Retreat. One of my regrets is that I never went to the top of the mountain as it was enveloped in cloud.

At the camp in the sergeant鈥檚 mess we were very impressed with the cheapness of drinks 鈥� something like sixpence for a spirit of liqueur. There was no rationing and no shortages of anything. We had come from wartime Britain and the blackout to South Africa where Cape Town was a blaze of light. Every morning on the parade ground each of us sergeants was allocated a squad of airmen to drill in front of South African army N.C.O.s in the same category as our Guards as far as toughness was concerned. After about an hour鈥檚 drilling I used to take my squad out on a route march. When out of sight of the camp I ordered them to fall out for a smoke before returning to the parade ground. After lunch we had the rest of the day off to visit Cape Town and enjoy civilization again.

Before leaving the UK my Uncle Maurice and Auntie Grace gave me the address of distant cousins in Cape Town. I contacted them and was made most welcome. They lived in a suburb of Cape Town called Sea Point 鈥� a marvellous area. They asked me if I was going to be there long and of course I said I had no idea but hoped I could spend the war there 鈥� ever an optimist. They were an elderly couple he having been, before retirement 鈥� the Post Master General of Cape Town. Incidentally a cousin of my host became Lord Geddes who I vaguely recall visiting with my mother at Wood Green, North London when I was about 10 years old.

I am sorry I did not keep in touch with my distant relatives after leaving South Africa. Several times we spent afternoons at the surf beach at Muisenberg, a wonderful place.

Then very abruptly we boarded the infamous Khedive Ismail an 8,000-ton vessel and very regretfully saw Table Mountain disappearing over the horizon. That fortnight was the best part of the war for me. We sailed in convoy to Durban and as we approached our berth we were welcomed by the famous "鈥淟ady in White'鈥�- Perla Gibson who died in 1971. She was an opera singer and dressed all in white, standing at the end of the jetty gave her part of the war effort by singing to the visiting troop ships. A most memorable experience for us that we never forgot.

We spent two days at Durban and got ashore once for a route march before sailing again northwards with the voice of the "Lady in White鈥� sending us on our way. The Khedive Ismail was a hell ship having being patched up after bomb damage in the Suez Canal. The food was bad, potatoes and bread full of weevils. Again we aircrew manned the light guns on board during the voyage to Mombassa in Kenya for refueling where we didn鈥檛 even get ashore. Finally we sailed up to Egypt and disembarked at Port Tewfic to board a troop train to Kasfareet, an aircrew transit camp.

The Khedive Ismail met her fate though very tragically a little later in convoy from Kalindini-Kenya to Colombo in Ceylon. For many years after the war the circumstances were hushed up but were finally released in the 1970鈥檚, which I discovered in a report 鈥淭he Red Duster at War鈥�, by John Slader (pp 262-263). Whilst in convoy (KR8) and is the lead Commodore鈥檚 vessel in the Indian Ocean at position 00.57n-7216E near the equator on the 12th February 1944, she was torpedoed by a Japanese submarine, the I27.

The troopship of 7,513 tons had left Kenya on 5th February with nearly 2000 troops on board, including about 84 WRENs and nurses bound for SEAM at Colombo. Two torpedoes hit the vessel amidships, breaking in two immediately and disappearing in a cloud of smoke and fire. The total loss of 1,383 lives was one of the worst during the war. The added tragedy, which was the reason for the secrecy for so long, was the attempt to attack the submarine by depth charges by the two escort destroyers, HMS Petard and HMS Paladin. The depth charge explosions killed many of those who survived the initial sinking. Perhaps this episode was the theme of the book 鈥淭he Cruel Sea鈥� by Nicolas Monserrat and later the film with Jack Hawkins as the destroyer Captain.

On arrival at the aircrew transit camp I was somewhat disillusioned that first evening in the Sergeant鈥檚 mess when in conversation with a pilot who said he had been stuck there for about six months and that I probably had the same future. Imagine his shock when about four days later I told him I had just received my posting to an operational squadron. There was little fairness in war I suppose.

My posting was to 117 Squadron (see Appendix A for history of 117 Squadron, from 鈥淩.A.F Sqaudrons鈥�) whose base headquarters was at Bilbeis, some 30 miles north east of Cairo. After a couple of days I flew as supernumerary to El Djem the forward base of 117 Squadron that was a mobile squadron in support of the 8th army.

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