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Early in the war, my friend Harold Tonge and I decided to enrol in the RAF. He was interested in the mechanical side whilst I leaned towards the radio side, so we went to a recruiting centre where we were interviewed and I was questioned about my knowledge of radio. The long and short of it was that I had to remain and he was to go home until a later date. That left him with the task of advising my parents that I would not be going home for some time.
After some square bashing (at Padgate I think) a few of us were sent to Hull to a College to learn more about Radio. We were billeted in private houses and personally was treated very well. During an air raid an incendiary bomb came through the roof - fortunately we had a sand bag handy and managed to smother the fire so no-one was hurt.
After our course, I was selected to become a Radar Mechanic, and following further training was shipped in a convoy on transport Y16 to some then unknown destination.
A group of British and Canadian Radar Mechanics were aboard. We guessed we were bound for India but no one told us, although a regular soldier who had previously served in India started giving lessons in Hindi. The boat paused near to Freetown, where we had to wear long trousers and roll down our sleeves to reduce the risk of mosquito bites Obviously we could not go through the Med so travelled via South Africa. We were all given tasks to do on board, some of our lads worked in the holds and obtained provisions for the officers mess. One or two whisky bottles somehow got broken to our advantage! A “crossing the line” ceremony was held on 11 February 1943 and we were all given a certificate signed by Neptunus Rex. On arrival at Cape Town we disembarked and were taken to a camp some miles North of the town. The coloured men addressed us as “Master” and many of the toilets were labelled “whites only”. After some 10 to 14 days we embarked on another ship and called at Durban, where we spent a day looking at the sights. Then on to Bombay. Here we camped fairly near the sea and spent some of our spare time sea bathing or bathing in the “whites only” swimming pool. After about a week we were put on a train to Calcutta with enough American K rations to last the journey. As you can imagine it was a long hot trip, one way to cool down was to wait until the train (a steam train of course) stopped to take on water and then strip off and go under the water tower for a shower!! I don’t know what the locals thought! The train stopped periodically for the better off citizens to go to the station restaurant for a meal, we occasionally also went and the train guard always gave us plenty of warning when the train was about to depart. To get a cup of tea or coffee you took your mug up to the engine and asked the driver to turn on the overflow valve and we’d fill up with hot water.
On reaching Hoogly station in Calcutta we waited in a reception area for a few days before being bussed to an airfield called Baigachi-some 30 miles out and passed the civil airport of Dum-Dum. We were housed in bashas (huts made with bamboo walls and thatched rooves) these were divided into rooms for about 6 or 8 men, there was a punka-wallah at the end of the building and each room had a punkah to stir up the air. Our beds comprised a wooden frame on legs with string tightly stretched from top to bottom and from side to side. Two or three times a day the char-wallah came round selling tea from a large urn with a small fire underneath. The huts were close to a man made lake which the medical team periodically sprayed to kill the mosquito lava, we were also fairly close to an Indian village and one day a couple of us went to see what it was like - we were greeted with coconuts from a local tree which they split in half and gave us to drink the milk.
I was by then a Corporal Radar Mechanic and we had a small workshop on the airfield but no power until our officer ( a Canadian) managed to get a generator from Dum-Dum. We built a shelter for it and soon had it going and a supply of electricity. I was fortunate enough to repair a faulty piece of Radar equipment early on and was thereafter nearly always in the workshop whilst the others were taking out and replacing equipment in the aircraft.
When the Japanese increased their bombing in India and Burma, the squadron (176 night fighters) used to send a couple of planes on stand by to Cox’s Bazaar nightly and a ground crew member would stand up behind the pilot and in front of the Navigator/gunner. (Defiant aircraft at that time) to assist with ground crew duties on arrival.
During our time at Bagaichi I got the chance to go on leave with a friend to Darjeeling, we got the train from Calcutta and changed somewhere up the line to a small hill train which zigzagged up the long steep hills towards Darjeeling - it was a spectacular journey. We stopped just before Darjeeling and a group of coolie girls took our kitbags, hoisted them onto their heads and led us to the service camp bungalow. After a few days we were offered a place on a tea plantation in the hills and stayed there for about a week.
Shortly after returning to base I was on a detachment to Ceylon (Sri Lanka as it is now) another long train journey passing exotic temples. We were based at Minnerea- a remote airfield in the middle of the island. Once, on night duty on my own, a mongoose crept into the hut and made me jump, though it was probably more startled than I was. Whilst in Ceylon I walked to Pollanarua (spelling?) an old capital and saw lots of fascinating statues etc. I had a few days leave and visited the Temple of the Tooth in Khandi.
From there I rejoined the squadron just outside Madras and was later on a detachment near the coast where after a few days had a hurricane and most of the huts were damaged, we sheltered in a brick built cookhouse! From here back to Calcutta for a few days before heading for Mingaladon (Burma), but the pilot decided he could not land there so dropped us off at a remote place en route and then went on a weekends leave in Calcutta without telling our squadron, so we were posted missing until the following Monday. During our stay there we saw lots of parachute drops of supplies for our ground troops. We were told to keep our weapons handy because the locals kept raiding the place for parachute silk or hopefully for any that that had not been picked up. We were later bussed to Mingaladon and saw many signs on the buildings that the Japanese had recently occupied this airfield. During a trip to Rangoon for supplies I saw a beautiful temple with a gold covered dome.
After about 3 1/2 years I returned home via the Med. The little dog we had didn’t know me when I arrived, but whilst sitting down with my family for a meal she suddenly decided it was me and went berserk!

Frank Potter

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