蜜芽传媒

Franks War in the RAF

By Frances Crisp (his daughter)

My late father Francis Stanley Barlow told me a few stories about his time in the RAF during WW2. Of course they might just be that 鈥� stories, but I鈥檒l record them here anyway.

Dad joined the RAF in 1940 at almost 30 years of age and did his stint at marching up and down the Golden Mile in Blackpool. He was excused boots and wore shoes instead, owing to the fact that he had contracted Polio when young and this had left him with a withered calf on one leg. Dad told me that when asked which service he preferred, he certainly wasn鈥檛 going to choose the Army (鈥渢oo much bloody running around!鈥�). And he couldn鈥檛 swim so the Navy was out too as far as he was concerned.

The RAF was a natural choice anyway since my Dad had learned to fly before the War. I still have his Log Book. And his flying helmet. The one thing that always rankled with my Dad was that he never got to fly in the War, he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder about this, saying it was because he hadn鈥檛 been to the 鈥渞ight鈥� school. For all that, his wartime photograph shows him sporting his Brylcreem like the best of them!

He came originally from Mile End and endured a deprived childhood 鈥� along with everyone else in that neighbourhood at that time. This deprivation is evidenced by his tiny stature on enlistment - 5 ft 3.5 inches tall with a 29 inch chest.

He had been a radio mechanic when he enlisted on 26 August 1940 at Cardington as Aircraftsman 2nd class. In fact he had been in on the development of the radio since the crystal set, building them cheap for his neighbours.

So, off to Blackpool 4th Oct 1940 as AC1 and then to 16 M.U. 8 Nov 1940 as LAC. On 23rd May of the following year he was assigned to 18 B.C. 23 May 1941 as LAC and on 3rd October, as a Corporal he went to I.S. School.

Following all this training, he finally joined 277 Squadron on the 18th December 1941, just in time for Christmas!

In 1942 Dad finally went abroad 鈥� on 13th April they were off to India. On 27th June he went to 5 Hill Depot.

One night in a camp in India, Dad was on guard duty. The local natives had been trying to break into the stores - they were starving. Dad鈥檚 orders were that if any natives got over the wire he was to shoot to kill. He couldn鈥檛 do that 鈥� but when a local almost made it over, Dad shot over his head and frightened him away.

Admitted to hospital 1st Sep 1942, I think with dysentery, Dad was discharged on the 18th.
Dad took a lot of photographs while over in India, of the Himalayas and the native population mainly. These photos were printed on the only available paper 鈥� blueprint paper. So instead of these old photos being ordinary black and white or even sepia 鈥� they are all in shades of blue!

On 26th September 1942 Dad was assigned to 26 W.O.U. Stn Kanchrapara 228 Group.

For some time my Dad had a companion. A mongoose, which he seemed to have kept inside his shirt. Mongooses (mongeese?) have teeth. Lots of them. But Dad never mentioned getting bitten so they must have been great pals.

I have a copy of a card that Dad sent to my cousin. Written on an official correspondence form, it is dated 2nd March 1944 and sent from Kanchrapara, India. The text is arranged around a full-length caricature of my Dad, wearing a shirt with his customary rolled-up sleeves, shorts and long socks, in which he is dangling a set of headphones from his right hand.

Dear Olive 鈥�

Received your letter O.K. but honey, your typing is as bad as your writing & about the 鈥淯tility Do-Dah! I didn鈥檛 blush! How do you like my latest studio portrait? Pretty nifty what? I hope you are feeling fit & well & how is the 鈥淎dmiral鈥� getting along? I am hoping to hear that he has sunk the rest of the German Fleet. Well cheerio honey & don鈥檛 forget to write.

Love Stan

The picture had been drawn by J Hames. The 鈥淎dmiral鈥� referred to was my cousin鈥檚 husband, who was later a witness at my parent鈥檚 wedding, who had joined the Navy as his contribution to the war effort. At time of writing this, they are both over 80 and living in Weston super Mare.

He seems to have been able to see all the sites while out East 鈥� the Taj Mahal, the Golden Temple at Amritsa. There was no other way a lad from Mile End would have seen such sites.

Once on leave he hired a horse and somehow ended up being invited to tea at a Maharaja鈥檚 tea plantation. I don鈥檛 know how true this is of course, but Dad told me (on more than one occasion) that the Maharaja had a beautiful daughter that my Dad would have loved to have married and brought back to England after the War. With all due respect to Mum, I sometimes wished he had married the Maharaja鈥檚 daughter because I would have had a built in sun tan!

The official record notes that Dad received a Good conduct badge 2nd Oct 1943.

At the end of the war, Dad said, a Japanese plane came down at their airfield, got out of his plane with his sword and walked towards my Dad, who was the only person in sight. I鈥檓 sure he was hoping fervently that this guy had heard and accepted that the war was over. Fortunately he had and presented the sword to my Dad in defeat. At that point a senior officer came on the scene and took over 鈥� including snaffling the sword for himself.

When finally Dad was put on a ship for home he had had more than enough. Dad said that they offered him a commission to stay on, but he told them what they could do with that!

So armed with a Sari bought for his big sister back home (and doubtless other gifts), Dad headed off into the sunset across the Indian Ocean. It seems there weren鈥檛 a huge amount of rations on board, so by the time they got to Durban in South Africa, he was really hungry. They were given a loaf of bread and a tin of South African marmalade. He said he鈥檇 never tasted anything better in his life!

They reached home on 20 Oct 1945, Squadron Leader Baldwin having already written on 8 Oct 1945 in the release book:

鈥淭his N.C.O. has been employed on the repair of wireless equipment of all types for the past four years.
He has a wide and general knowledge.鈥�

Dispersal in Staffordshire 22 Nov 1945, from where Dad found his way home to Forest Gate. But was home at Henderson Road still there? Yes, and still is in 2005!

My Dad was one of the lucky ones. As far as I know he didn鈥檛 have to kill anyone. As far as I know he didn鈥檛 lose any mates. He came back unscathed and carried on fixing electrical things, even going back to college at the age of 58 to learn about the new fangled colour television.

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