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In and Around Bassingbourn Airfield, Cambridge 1939-1945

Sept. 2nd 1939, my eighth birthday. My brother, 10 years older then myself, was in the Territorials, busy packing his kit bag and preparing to report to Cambridge. Initially in the Royal Engineers, he had transferred by 1941 to the RAF and subsequently went to N America for pilot training. Unfortunately he had a weak eye, so his sight was not considered good enough and he went on to be trained as a bombardier instead. Eventually on returning to the UK he was posted to Lincolnshire, flying with Lancasters.

Prior to the outbreak of WW2 he had been training as a Cost Surveyor with Messrs John Laing, Construction Engineers. One of his first experiences concerned the construction and development of Bassingbourn Airfield. He was shot down in 1944. Laings continued to pay his wages until his death. After being posted as ‘missing’ it was not until Ground Forces were moving through Germany some months later, that a British serviceman came across two sets of graves in a pine forest. He noted his discovery in 1945 as follows:

The other evening during a stroll through nearby woods, I came to ”a corner that is forever England”

In a clearing among trees were twelve small mounds of sandy earth: seven in the first row, five in the second.

Each sported clumps of pansies. All were headed by black wooden crosses bearing the names of ‘Englischer Flieger’ - English airmen.

Seven are marked “Shot down 22.5.44 — ‘Offizier DA BACON, ‘Flieger’ JAGGER, EVANS, BLENKORN, OLIVER, AMPHLETT, and an unbekannter (unknown) Englischer Flieger.”

The others are “Flieger TROPMANN, gefallen (died) 2.5.44” “Fleiger CAYER, GALBRAITH, BOVAR and KEGSING all 2.11.44

If by these names and dates it is possible for relatives of these airmen to identify their dear ones, I will deem it an honour to have been of service.

(signed) 1061491 Cpl. R.J.K. CAHILL
Fire Section 2nd Tactical Air Force Comm. Sqdn B.L.A

He sent a letter to the Daily Express with reference to all the names as above, including my brother’s. The graves were in perfect condition and planted with pansies. Subsequently the Red Cross returned his personal possessions which had been safely held by local German villagers. For many years I had his wallet and watch. The remains of the two crews were eventually moved to an official war cemetery at The British Military Cemetery, Reichswald Forest, 3 miles south-west if Cleve, Germany, where they will be maintained in perpetuity by the Imperial War Graves Commission.

I believe that the RAF flew Blenheim and Wellingtons bombers from Bassingbourn, one of which crashed in Melbourn village close by. They were returning from a mission to Germany and with the dregs of their fuel just failed to make their Base.

My father was Head Air Raid Warden for Melbourn and we would receive the ‘Alerts’ along with the ‘level of risk’, as they occurred; then the ‘White’ for the all clear. This warning came from Cambridge and in those days we had a system of ‘winding’ the telephone, to pass on the risk level of the warning.

Very soon after the outbreak of war, we received all the gas masks, including the all-enveloping Baby units for the youngest and the Mickey Mouse masks for small children. Our dining room floor and table were covered with them. The population of Melbourn came to the house to collect their masks, their names being crossed off the list.

My father was a farmer —butcher and had a contract to clear the kitchen waste from Bassingbourn Airfield, where several thousand American airmen came to be based. He had two pressure boilers to sterilise the waste, which he would then feed to his Wavell herd of Essex pigs. The herd was named after General Wavell’s success in North Africa, when he took 10,000 Italian prisoners. This was prior to the arrival of the Germans under Rommel. Having a pedigree herd, father exhibited at the Breed Society’s Show and Sale at Chelmsford. From an early age I helped maintain the record books — all the sows had official names — as is the case today, of course.

Having served in WW1, my father was well aware of the loneliness of men away from home for long periods and through the Bassingbourn Station Chaplin, Father Daniel Hunt CP, invited a group of men over from time to time for an evening meal, or lunch on Sundays - especially after loss of comrades killed in action. I remember these occasions very well, probably because of all the fuss they made of me. In return for the Open House held by my parents, we were invited to an evening meal at the Base, followed by the ENSA film show for the evening, starring Ginger Rogers. My memory of the meal is of a massive steak covered in strawberry jam and sweet corn ! On occasions they would roll up at our home with the means to give my parents a treat. This included fried chicken… and ice-cream by the churnful - which was kept in the shop’s Cold Room and handed-out amongst the customers.)

Once the USA had joined in the ‘common cause’ of the war effort, Bassingbourn was used for Flying Fortresses, and the nearby Duxford Field for fighter planes — Mustangs. Often, as we waited for the morning bus in Melbourn to take us to school in Cambridge, the Fortresses would be taking off, and one would hear the tremendous roar of their engines as they passed overhead on their way across the channel. When we returned home in the evening they would be returning to base, well spread out and very low, and we could see the holes in their fuselages and wings; some, with one engine out of action. One morning when we arrived at school we found it ablaze from incendiary bombs dropped overnight.

A young woman living locally looked after one of the NAFFI vans, going round various bases. When on holiday from school I would go with her as she drove round the perimeter track at Duxford. The ground crews were busy here, servicing the Mustangs. We would hand out coffee or tea with various snacks. On one occasion I remember well, a plane performing a celebratory ‘loop the loop’ crashed with another. I don’t know the fate of the pilots.

Father Hunt was very special to me, and if he was with us when it was my bedtime, he always said prayers with me. My family kept contact with him over the years following the end of the war. In 1984 I was in the States on business, staying with our eldest son. I rang the base at Fort Drum in NY State and was able to speak to Father Hunt. He said we must go up and visit him, and this we did. My wife and I stayed in one of the visitors’ chalets. By coincidence, this happened just at the very moment of his retirement and we were able to attend the last service he would be taking. He introduced us to his congregation as they all filed out of the church, telling them of the hospitality given by my parents during the difficult war years.

On Royston Heath there was a POW Camp for Italian prisoners. Those considered a low level of risk went out in their POW uniforms to work on local farms. My father had one such, to help with the pigs. After a period of approval, he was trusted enough to be billeted in one of our outbuildings. A farmer’s son, his father had always told him to look out for any British soldiers and to surrender to them at the first opportunity! Always finishing his allotted work faster than my father had anticipated, he would come knocking at the kitchen door, asking my mother to give him more work to do. As a 14-year old I would drive a tractor with a manual reversible plough, needing help to swing it over, and this involved Angelo working with me. He really became a friend. My mother made his quarters as comfortable as she reasonably could, within their limitations.

In 1983 while we were in Italy, my wife and I tracked down his family, living near Tivoli. We received an amazing welcome, just one little friend of the family able to speak any English. Sadly, Angelo had died the previous year. But we met many members of his family who were overwhelmingly kind. Following tradition, when a new baby is born he/she is named after the person in the family who has died most recently. Angelo called his eldest daughter ‘Teclas’ after my brother’s name of Douglas and in recognition of the fact that while Angelo had been treated like one of the family in England, my family had lost their eldest son and I, my brother.

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