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Bert’s Story.

The first seventeen and a half years of my life you could say were fairly normal. I left school at sixteen to work for Aylesford Paper Mills as a Student Papermaker; The Company was renowned for its prowess in sport, and encouraged workers to play hard. In my case, I followed athletics and in particular the sprint distances. We would attend meetings under AAA rules at White City Stamford Bridge. United Services, and at home venue Aylesford. During this early period the wage for 6 days of an 8-hour shift was take home pay of £1. We received from the company a work-mans pass on the Southern Region railway that enabled travel for six days for five shillings. I would give mother ten shillings and have the other five shillings for pocket money. I well remember during the summer of 1939 when on 2 to 10 shift I would cycle 20 miles each way in order to save the five shillings for clothes.
Life was very full, and every other weekend I would try to return to my parents who were now living at Westcliffe on Sea in Essex. During the week I lived in lodgings in Larkfield in Kent near to the works. I was home for the weekend of 3rd September 1939 to hear the then Prime Minister, Chamberlain announces we were at War with Germany. It was not until the following month of October when War first showed itself. At about 11:15pm the air raid warnings were sounded and within minute a bomber had released its bombs nearby. Next morning my father and I went to see the damage that was only half a mile away. A school gym had been hit and four bombs landed between two rows of houses. Only one person was killed.
Over the coming months war really built up and it was usual place to see German bombers pursued by British fighter aircraft in the skies of Kent, Essex and over the Thames estuary. At one time returning to work a Dornier 17 was travelling at the same height as the top deck of my bus. It later crashed at West Malling.
Life was much like this until MAY 1940.
MAY 1940 was the turning of the tide. Suddenly the Germans started a push to the west and we found ourselves being pushed back to Dunkirk and the over run of Norway .Now Norway was very important to the paper mills as they supplied all of our wood pulp for the manufacture of paper. By the arrival of the month of the June, the affairs of war looked bleak and our main force in France evacuated. It was at this point that knowing one would eventually have to serve in the HM Forces I decided to volunteer for Royal Air Force Aircrew The other main factor being that we were placed on a three day week and it was nearly impossible to live on the wages paid at that time.
I worked out my required notice and returned home to Essex. My father and three brothers had been evacuated with their respective schools to Mansfield Notts. Belper, Derbyshire, and Whalley Bridge in Cheshire. Mother had information that rented housing had been found in Mansfield where father was based at the Technical College, and occupation would be possible in about two weeks. Mother and I were kept busy preparing for the move in between some of the worst air raids we were to experience. I remember the daylight raid the Germans made on Shellhaven on Canvey Island. A pall of black smoke some fifty miles long blacked out the sky over our house at 3pm.
We seemed to have had a lot of live stock to dispose of. Well this was part of wartime policy on outbreak of war. Father had decreed we make our effort, and apart from the garden being turned over to entire vegetable production, we stocked up with rabbits that produced a good food to flesh ratio. In our case Belgium Hare crossed Flemish giant does, with bucks of the Dutch breed. This cross breed produced meat rather like chicken, very white, and enjoyable to eat.
Because we were only in the first few months of war the product line had risen to about seventy at various ages. The meat ration had not yet been reduced so we had not started eating the produce in large amounts. The local butcher taking most off my hands made disposal easy. Nothing was wasted the timber from the hutches being used to board up the windows. This policy proved fruitful as only one window was damaged during the remainder of the war.
We arrived in Mansfield for the first time ever, after a long journey from Essex in Armstrong’s removal van, complete with an unsold litter of rabbits. We gave these to removal men who seemed to be interested.
The house contents stayed in the van until next morning. We then went to The Clifton Hotel where we stayed for the next few days until the house contents were in place. Our address now was 2 Stanley Villas, Nottingham Road Mansfield.
Shortly after arrival I had a letter to attend a Medical Examination at Mansfield Centre, and then instructions to report to the Royal Air Force at Nottingham. Then sent to London by train with Instructions to report to the Aircrew Selection Board at Euston House near, Euston station London.
A fellow traveller that day was a guy named Dick Featherstone, who after a few hours built up a friendship to last out the war. He had never been to London before and with my limited knowledge I was able to find his sister who worked as Manager for Sainsbury’s at Potters Bar in North London. We waited for her to finish work on Saturday, and then she took us back to a large bungalow on the outskirts of the town.
She apparently lived there with a cousin, who turned out to be Ivy Benson a lady band leader of the time who continued playing post war. Dick and I met her on our next visit. After three days of tests at Euston we had in fact been placed on deferred service until call up in three months.
The first thing next day was to report as instructed to the Ministry of Labour. My first encounter was a middle-aged guy who asked if I wanted to work his side of the counter. If its good for you I thought, it will do for me as a stopgap. I was invited for interview, and the next day was informed to start on the following Monday as a Temporary Clerk Grade 3. I continued to work here until I was called-up on 4th Oct. 1940. I had to report to Royal Air Force Cardington in Bedfordshire. This base being famous for its Airship Moorings used as a base for Airships in the first war and since. It was the usual jargon in the services after our first parade, such as “anyone do shorthand”? Good! They are short handed in the cookhouse get over there now, and so on. Most of our day was taken up with kitting out, and our capacity to lift a full kit bag. This was to be the mode of transporting ones total kit from place to place to where ever you were posted, so this was to be a respected piece of equipment. The total locking device being a piece of rope threaded through metal eyelets drawn tight and knotted.
In my case the first to be loaded was the tin helmet, hardly made of tin but certainly a good metal pressing. It would present its self at the base of the kit bag and when housed on the shoulders would make good defensive armour. Later I found a padding of long johns was improvement round the tin hat
Our stay at Cardington lasted four days before we entrained for the square bashing part of our initial training at Morecambe in Lancashire, this being an open town unit. We were all billeted in private boarding houses with a Senior N.C.O. who was billeted in the same house. The whole unit was made up of flights situated at various locations in the town. The sea front was mainly used for marching, the so-called square bashing. Out in the suburbs would be the rifle ranges, and fields for sports activity. Billets were mainly three men to a room. The landlady also handed out discipline. A seaside landlady can be worse than a N.C.O.
Our stay lasted until we were so called passed out normally after six weeks in the unit. We had our moments here and managed at least one weekend at home without passes. Dick also had managed a visit to the theatre to see his hometown friend who was appearing in Carroll Levis Discoveries. Diane Darling was her stage name. Dick did not stay with us he had been selected as a Pilot and was posted to an I.T.W. The remaining three of us were all posted to R A F Hendon in north London.
On arrival the usual “short- handed in the cookhouse” greeted us and we found Mason and myself finishing up in the spud room, with Pascoe taken on in the Airmans Mess. Our billets were the front room of a house that formed part of the empty married quarters. The good thing was that they were outside the camp and so we were free to move in and out without passing a guard.
Time was not really a problem as we were all busy seven days per week. To get leave we had to fix with each other. But then the problem was that we would need to get a reserve supply of potatoes in stock already peeled.
We were known as Camp Optical Surgeons!
Dick Featherstone, we learnt was being posted to USA. He was going to be trained as a Pilot. This was before the USA was involved in the war. I later got to know he was in Phoenix Arizona. He went in civilian clothes and did not get into uniform until he returned to Canada after his training He later returned to U.K. to take his advanced flying training.
We met on Lincoln station, when he was posted to RAF Digby. I was taking a weekend leave at home in Mansfield.
The three of us continued in our daily duties. Life was quite good; Bill being in the Mess area kept us supplied with ham, bread, butter, which we used at nights for supper. The pubs close by were also quite good. Near by was also a Chinese laundry, which was great, to have our collars starched and polished, really gave a smart look for inspections, and Being out of sight in the Mess saved us from daily parades.
Life continued much the same. We all had photographs taken at a studio in Bond St. by the salesmanship of a cockney spiv of those days on the camp. Word started spreading around the camp that all aircrew trainees were to be taken off fatigue type duties. Couple of weeks went by before the facts really surfaced but at least it was true not normally the case.
I found myself posted to Northolt. This was a unit run from two houses on a started building estate in 1939. The roads on the estate had been prepared but short of the top dressing. The remainder of the estate land being covered by small buildings called ROBINS, which in turn housed up to five fighter aircraft in covered storage. Our duties were to guard these buildings twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Again if leave was granted it was by exchange with another.
We were billeted in private houses with families whom I guess were paid for by the Air Ministry. I shared with another named Les Sidwell. We swapped with each other for leave. Never found him after the war after many attempts.
As the war progressed replacements of fighters for squadrons were supplied from this unit; the aircraft being towed down the road to Northolt airfield for take off by the Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA). Many of these pilots were women.
After a couple months or so we were returned to Hendon for onwards posting to Blackpool to start our wireless training. Again housed in private billets our training in our case was in the towns “Tram sheds” having been converted for this purpose. Yes! The evil three were together again and we never had a dull moment most nights we were out at the Tower Ballroom, or the Tower Wrestling, for which we had ample supply of pass-outs, which we used at half time.
Girls were a hazard. They normally lived out of town and left going home to the last tram and we would have the walk back into Blackpool should we wish to take them home. Should you wish to fancy one it was policy first to find out where she lived? We were here for about three months before we passed out at twelve words per minute at the Morse code. In service patter we were all posted in all directions, Pascoe went to Wick, I was posted to Sydenham in Northern Ireland outside Belfast, and Mason went to a Midlands airfield.
I arrived in Belfast which even then had its problems, over seven foolscap sheets recording the out of bounds places. We arrived about a week before I found out the main camp being posted to be NUTTS CORNER. This left about twenty-four bods on care and maintenance. I managed one leave home by air to Hendon but problems resulted when you wanted to be back and weather had prevented this. The boat had its problems too. I noted always Shepherds Pie on the menu. The steward said you had to make it easy for the fish. No bones you see?
It was with great relief when the postings came through for the next posting to Air Gunnery School. The main reason being it was our only way for promotion from now on at least to LAC, or if you finished the course, our prospects to higher rank. Rank meant more pay so you see why all important, the pockets hardly bulged on 34/- per fortnight, 9d per day went home to mother by virtue of an allotment made when we first enlisted. Bless her, after the war ended she gave me a bankbook, she had saved the whole of that allotment for me when the war ended. “God be with her”.
We arrived at the next R.A.F Base being Llandwrog situated on Caernarfon Bay in North Wales; it was titled No 9 AGS. Well we had been to some places, this beat the lot. It was a hutted camp but dispersed over a large area, one site sleeping quarters, one site domestic area ie cookhouse, Airman’s Mess. You woke in the morning bathed, walked approx. two and a half miles to Breakfast. Then another two half miles to the education block and airfield. The locals were not what you would call friendly; an odd lot who spoke two languages but when you were close by would suddenly break into their native Welsh.
Eight weeks here was taken up with all the lectures to understand the machine gun, turrets, and air to air firing at targets being towed by I would say very brave men. The aircraft we used here were Whitley 1s. An aircraft of pre-war standards, and speed. Fairly safe I would think if you avoided Mount Snowdon that seemed to always be in sight. Take off was very good as we always took off over the Bay of Canarvon so would have a soft landing should we have needed it. Our course was No 2 up to now had no prang’s. We did well and completed our course and now would look forward to our next posting. I was lucky I had been allocated to Number 25 Operational Training Unit at Royal Air Force Finningley, near Doncaster. This was only some thirty-mile distances from my family wartime temporary home at Mansfield. As we would spend several months here it could not have been better. Some weekends I was able to take home a pal who was far from his own home. This for him to make it possible for weekend leave, and company for me. Who? Just cannot remember who after so many years but I am certain he was later killed in action. I think he was a Davies.
My lot did not seem to be easy, first I was on Number 13 Hampden Course, and next it changed to 6th Manchester Course and finally No1 Lancaster Course, all in space of three months. The basic reason for this was Policy change. They had recruited ex number of wireless operators, Because of the change of plans to four engined aircraft they would need less wireless operators but twice as many Air Gunners. We were in that batch and so we were not required to finish our Wireless course to twenty-five words per minute, and simply passed this stage to our present training plan. But authority said not a word it just happened knowing full well the bods were keen to get to a squadron.

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