蜜芽传媒

I volunteered for the RAF and reported to Edgeware, Middlesex, for interview and medical. I was passed fit in wind and limb and accepted for flying duties as an under training (u/t) Wireless Operator/Air Gunner.

I was taken to RAF Uxbridge, put up under canvas for the night and attested the following day, 28 September 1940. One week later I was posted to Blackpool for the initial square-bashing course on the Pleasure Beach South Shore. On completion, while awaiting a wireless operator鈥檚 course, I was posted to RAF Bircham Newton (on the Sandringham Estate), where I was placed in the Fire Section, serving on the station and also on the satellite landing field at Docking, an emergency landing field for aircraft in trouble returning from bombing operations on the continent. Often planes would land having been badly shot-up and with some crew members either seriously wounded or dead. It was an early experience of what flying life in the RAF resulted in and possibly held for me.

In March 1941 I returned to Blackpool, to North Shore this time, to start my initial wireless course at the Winter Gardens. On passing out at receiving and sending Morse Code messages at 12wpm, I attended the Radio and Wireless School, RAF Yatesbury, for advanced training on equipment and increasing Morse speed to 18wpm.

From there I moved to RAF Cottesmore for ground wireless duties for several months. At Cottesmore I made my first flight, in an Anson, on condition I manually wound up and later lowered the undercarriage: it took 187 turns of the handle!

My next posting was back to RAF Yatesbury, at last to commence my flying training. Up to 22wpm Morse speed and operating radio equipment while flying in D.H. Dominies and Percival Proctors. I left Yatesbury as a Leading Aircraftman (LAC) on my way to No. 1 Air Gunnery School at RAF Pembrey.

In August 1942 I finally passed out as a Sergeant Wireless Operator/Air Gunner. I had been in the RAF for almost 2 years by this time. And it wasn鈥檛 only me, for there were many of us who had been through the same procedure. Stories were told of volunteer Air Gunners joining up and reaching Operational Training Unit (OUT) stage in under 6 months, and operations in Bomber Command shortly after!

Although I had been fretting at the tardiness in getting to an operational squadron, I was later to feel very grateful for the amount of general and ground experience that I gained, which I believe helped me to survive.

Later in August 1942 I went to No. 3 RDFS at RAF Prestwick for a radar course (ASV 鈥� Air to Sea Vessels) training on Blackburn Bothas, usually piloted by Polish pilots. Apart from the Air Gunnery course, it was the first time in my life I had been out of England and it began what I call my love affair with Scotland, and also Scottish people, which exists to this day.

I then moved on to No. 5 (C)OTU (Coastal Command OTU) at Turnberry to crew-up and train on Bristol Beauforts, torpedo bombers. I was fortunate enough to join a crew piloted by Roy Sutton who had been a staff pilot at Turnberry on Ansons for some time, an Observer named 鈥淩usty鈥� Ruscoe and Bob Ashley a co-W/Op.AG, all of us being sergeants. Everything was going well, when out of the blue Roy and Bob were killed in a crash on night exercises. It was a tremendous blow. I had known Bob for some time through our joint training courses, and with Roy and Rusty we were blending nicely and getting on very well together.

Bob鈥檚 real name was Farnon, but he was well-known pre-war as Robert (Bob) Ashley as a singer with some of the most popular bands in the country, such as Jack Payne and others, also Louis Levy in his 鈥楳usic from the Movies鈥� programme. Bob had a magnificent voice with which he entertained RAF personnel wherever he was stationed. It was a tragedy he died so early in his flying career before he had the chance to get on operations. He had no need to volunteer for flying duties and could easily have had a safe, cushy, posting on ground duties. He could have followed the example of many so-called entertainers or celebrities and entered the RAF as a Drill Instructor and passed out as a Corporal after a 6-week course. He would then have been stationed at one of the Reception Centres such as Blackpool, Morecambe, Torquay and the like for the duration, in civilian private billets. One saw these entertainers(?) finding time to fit in engagements on occasions perhaps in London and on the radio and in the seaside theatres where they were billeted. But that was not Bob. He was very enthusiastic and keen on flying and he wanted very much to be at the sharp end of things.

Because they were a real part of my first crew, it was a great shock when Bob and Roy were killed, and I have never forgotten them.

An amusing story of Bob was one evening when George Elrick and his Band were appearing at the Gaiety Theatre, Ayr; Bob took me to meet George Elrick, who asked him if he would sing a song with the Band that evening. He agreed and then asked if he could borrow my tunic which he said was in better condition than his. So he wore my tunic for his performance while I stood in the wings with his tunic on. That happened too on other occasions. Shortly after his appearance at the 鈥淕aiety鈥� he was ordered down to London with other RAF celebrities to appear in a Gala RAF Celebration Concert at the Royal Albert Hall. This was also broadcast on national 蜜芽传媒 鈥� it was either a Saturday or Sunday evening. Bob sang two popular songs of the day that evening: 鈥淚鈥檝e got Spurs that Jingle Jangle Jingle鈥� and 鈥淵ou Walk By鈥�. That was his last public appearance, for the following Friday, 7 November 1942, he was so tragically killed.

While waiting to be included in a new crew, I was made a temporary instructor on the Hampden Flight. In early January 1943 the whole 5(C)OTU set-up was moved to Northern Ireland to two new airfields, the Beauforts to Long Kesh and the Hampden Flight to Maghaberry. Names that became more notorious during the troubles later between the IRA and the Loyalists. My main recollection at this time was catching the train from Lisburn to Belfast and with a colleague becoming friendly with the cast of a long-running musical in Belfast, 鈥淲hite Horse Inn鈥�.

However, it wasn鈥檛 long before I was on the move again, this time to make up a Wellington crew at No. 3 (C)OTU at RAF Cranwell. This crew was made up of Sgt John Biggs, the pilot, with F/O Vic Dale, a Canadian, as 2nd Pilot and an Australian, F/Sgt Jack Rose, as Observer. The other two W/opAGs were Sgts Norman Evans, a Welshman and Bob Davies from Kent. After completing the course with my new crew, surprise, surprise I found myself back at RAF Turnberry with No. 1 TTU (Torpedo Training Unit), this time of course on Wellington Wimpeys. We weren鈥檛 too long here, just a couple of months, before our next move to RAF Talbenny in South Wales, where for some unexplained reason our skipper, Sgt John Biggs, a very likeable young man from Worcestershire, was removed from the crew and we never saw him again. He was replaced by Sgt George King who came from Hinckley in Leicestershire.

We collected a new Wimpey and flew it to Ras-El-Ma and then Setif in French Morocco. The aircraft was retained and we were put into a holding camp on the beach at Maison Blanche near Algiers. My main recollection here was playing cricket in impromptu test matches against the RAAF flyers who were also in transit. It later transpired that several of our opponents on the beach were included in the Australian team that played England in the 1945 Victory Test matches. However, this was 1943 and in early September we were flown to another transit camp, Almaza, just outside Cairo. My main occupation was trying to keep myself fit and I played quite a lot of football for the Sergeants鈥� Mess team.

Then in December 1943 it was back to the UK in an old Norwegian liner (for want of a better word) called the 鈥楤ergensfjord鈥�, from Ismalia through the Suez Canal and the Mediterranean, out into the Atlantic in convoy. I spent the worst Christmas of my life in hammocks with the cockroaches and other wild life 鈥� seven decks down! The Christmas lunch I recall was a bird which was called a chicken, of indeterminate age, and a sweet of dried apricots that at some stage had been harvested from the Sahara 鈥� very crunchy! I think the trip lasted the best part of 3 weeks, eventually docking at Greenock. Never was I more pleased to see Scotland!

On arrival back in the UK we were posted in January 1944 to 271 Squadron at RAF Doncaster. 271 were in the process of converting from H.P. Harrows to Douglas Dakotas (DC3s); they were in Transport Command and preparing for the coming conflict of the Second Front in Europe. Because Dakotas only had a crew of 4, there were changes in our make-up. Vic Dale and Jack Rose were transferred to other crews and replaced by W/Os Denny and McManus. George King asked me to remain with him and Sgts Norman Evans and Bob Davies also went to other crews.

In February 1944 the squadron was moved to a new airfield at RAF Down Ampney, named after a small village in Gloucestershire. The main claim of the village was for being the birthplace of Ralph Vaughan Williams, the celebrated composer and son of the then local vicar. Other than an interlude in April 1944 to ferry a Dakota from Hendon to Karachi.

I stayed at Down Ampney until August 1945. During this time our efforts were focussed on the invasion of Europe and the ongoing supply of men and materials in support of that operation. One other important function was to land initially at forward airstrips and other bases to bring back the worst seriously injured stretcher cases. For this operation we carried a WAAF Nursing Orderly and could accommodate 12 stretcher cases. This was a very worthwhile and satisfying job.

Perhaps our most important operation was called 鈥楳arket Garden鈥� involving the towing of gliders and dropping of paratroops and supplies at Arnhem. We went 4 times in six days and it was a very hazardous operation. The Squadron lost a number of aircraft, including many of our friends. We carried no armament and had to fly straight and level at a low altitude and low speed and were more or less 鈥榮itting ducks鈥� for the Bofors and light AA guns. I remember during one stressful flight, Mick McManus pulling at my trouser legs and, quite unconcerned at what was going on around us, said, 鈥淩eg, what are your views on post-war reconstruction?鈥� It was a remark that made its way around the Squadron! We were the only squadron on Transport Command to have one of our members, F/Lt David Lord DFC, awarded the Victoria Cross. Although his plane was hit and set on fire, he went on trying to keep the aircraft straight and level so that the panniers could be dropped to the men below. The VC was awarded posthumously.

It is also interesting that I met my wife, Ina Logan, at Down Ampney. She was a WAAF Corporal who arrived at the station just after the Arnhem operations. I was introduced to her at a Mess Open Night on her 21st birthday and we were married in January 1945. It hardly needs to be said that she was Scottish and we were together until September 1987 鈥� for 43 years 鈥� until she died from lymphoma.

In June 1945 our crew was sent on a short glider-snatching course at RAF Ibsley, which being newly-married, I felt was tempting fate somewhat! The reason for this course became apparent a little later, when we were transferred to No. 48 Squadron, our sister squadron at Down Ampney, and posted to the Far East in early August. We were stationed at RAF Patenga (Chittagong) on the Bengal/Burma border. At this time George King had got his commission and was a Flying Officer. Our Observer was still Mick McManus and he and I were Warrant Officers. We had left F/O Alan Denny back in the UK.

In the short time I was at Patenga, we were kept busy flying supplies and personnel to many places in Burma and India. When going to destinations in Burma we had to fly above a 13,000 ft mountain range. As our Dakotas were no longer in pristine order and had a maximum ceiling of 17,000 ft (approx), we had to leave early in the morning before the sun was up, make our delivery and get back before the cumulus-nimbus cloud built up over the mountain range. It was an experience! On one occasion we did have engine trouble, lost an engine and came down at a Staging Post called Cox鈥檚 Bazaar on one engine. The squadron had to send another aircraft from Patenga to bring us back.

Two other happenings of note occurred while we were stationed there. I became captain of the Squadron football team. We used to play against other service teams in the area (when I wasn鈥檛 on flying duty). There was the occasion in one match when the ball was kicked out of play and landed near a group of water buffaloes. I went to collect it and normally the water buffalo is a placid beast. For some obscure reason a particular one took exception to me and decided to charge. The Squadron magazine reported it as the funniest sight of the week, as this Warrant Officer had broken the world sprint record for the 100 yards across the Burma Oil Company鈥檚 football pitch. I was not amused!

Also whilst at Patenga, I received a telegram informing me that my wife had given birth to our daughter, Janice, on 28 October 1945. Her head was well and truly wet with our allocation of Indian bottled beer!

In January 1946 the Squadron received notice that it was going to be disbanded, and shortly afterwards, following three weeks at Rangoon Group HQ, I was posted to RAF Kallang (Singapore), as Signals Briefing Officer.

It was 鈥淕ood-bye鈥� to George King and Mick McManus. I had been flying with George since July1943 and Mick from January 1944. There was no doubt that we complemented each other and there was complete confidence between us. Our joint experiences enabled us to get through the many differing situations that came our way. I am still in contact with George King after all this time, over 58 years, although sadly Mick McManus died very suddenly in July 2000.

I was not long at Singapore. In fact the day I arrived, as the Senior Warrant Officer there, I was made CMC, Chairman of the Mess Committee. The only memory I have of my short time there was when the first batch of British WRENS arrived. We quickly decided that we should hold a Dance and Open Night in the Mess to welcome them, and I was deputed to visit their HQ and try to arrange for some of them to be allowed to visit us. There were many Senior RAF NCO鈥檚 in the Mess who had been out in India and Burma for 3 or 4 years and hadn鈥檛 seen young, attractive white ladies for that time. It was a lovely evening, and I can still remember one particular redhead, dressed in a vivid green dress who was very stunning. A very memorable occasion, and worth recalling, even now. I came home on the 鈥楥apetown Castle鈥� in March 1946 and was demobbed on Easter Saturday 1946.

My RAF life had a profound and tremendous impression on me. It was where I made the transition from boy to man. Coming from a poor home in Central London, the experience really opened my eyes. For the first time I met other people not only from all over the UK, but also the rest of the world, many of whom became firm friends. Also it enabled me to fly, when flying was still an adventure, and to see many parts of the world beyond my wildest dreams in 1939. I was one of the lucky ones to survive, and I never forget the wonderful friends and pals 鈥� the cream of the Nation鈥檚 youth 鈥� who never came back and who live on in my memory. The RAF, in fact, was my university course on life.

Finally to come back to Turnberry, a place that has always attracted me and even drawn me back on occasions. I was stationed there twice (in 1942 and 1943) and seeing it now returned to a notable golf course, it has retained that extra special interest to me. The lighthouse runway will always remind me of Roy Sutton and Bob Ashley.

Whilst I was there in 1942 and 1943, I was introduced by Roy Sutton to a delightful family in Maybole, Mr and Mrs Johnstone and their four daughters, Flora, Mayne, Vera and Stella. They were a sample of the Scottish folk whom I found so sociable and just nice to be with. They were also a vital part in forming what I call my love affair with Scotland.

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