蜜芽传媒

THE RAF AND OUR WAR
Part 1

When war was declared in September 1939, it was met by many different attitudes, but nearly everyone knew it had become inevitable. To my generation, the result of the baby boom after the 1st world war, it was startling. Nevertheless, with no knowledge of what it entailed, it also seemed rather exciting. The politics of the previous several years with so many activities on the streets between communists, fascists, labour, independent labour, peace pledge union, and many others was indicative of serious trouble. With the rise of Hitler, the Spanish Civil War and the power of the U.S.S.R. behind the Left, our Government seemed oblivious of the likelihood of serious conflict, yet everyone was talking about when, not if, war would break out.

Those of us who served in WW2 were called upon to do a large variety of tasks. Some met the enemy face to face, some had hair-raising experiences being shelled, bombed, shot down, sunk, or shot and many of their stories have been told, whilst many others should be. In common with a large proportion of us I had a very average war.

When war was declared, my employer Shell (Then Asiatic Pet Co), sent most of us home, so that they could work out their strategy. I had a couple of months with very little to do, and nothing happened war-wise except the movement of the Forces to France. I was then told to report to Lensbury, our Shell Club in Teddington. I was quite clear that I wanted to join the RAF as a fighter pilot, so I volunteered.
Life at Lensbury was very good, first time away from home, I bought myself an old motorbike 1934 AJS on which I used to come back home some week-ends, I had a girl friend there but we never got very serious. I had bought a bike when I was 16 for 25 shillings, it was a 2 stroke Dunelt 1930, but I had trouble keeping this going. The AJS cost me 拢2-10s.

Lensbury, being the Sports Club, was ideal for those of us waiting to be called, we were able to play tennis, squash, snooker, cricket etc., or take out a boat on the river. My temporary job was in the Cable Dept, where I worked on the Telex link with the Netherlands, so we got the immediate news when the Nazis invaded and the last message when the link closed and Germans entered the building. Some of the staff escaped and joined us in the U.K.

I joined the Lensbury fire service for something to do, our job was to get the staff to the shelters in an air raid, and to deal with any fires resulting. We had one or two raids but no serious damage.

When Churchill took over the whole atmosphere changed from one of not knowing what to expect to an outward defiance, rhetoric can make a world of difference to people as Hitler discovered.

There were a number of dog fights overhead during the summer of 1940, and I was now anxiously awaiting the call-up, which seemed to be taking an awful long time. This eventually happened in November 1940. A large group of us reported to Cardington where we spent a few days on "Induction", which was being lectured to about what was expected of us. Then we were shipped off to Bridgnorth in Shropshire to do our 4 weeks of square bashing and other physical exercises. It was only at this point that those of us who were destined to be aircrew were told that there were no postings for us yet - we were very disappointed but were now allowed to wear white flashes in our forage caps to show we were aircrew u/t's (under training). We were to go to Wyton which was a Wellington bomber base in East Anglia, where we were trained as ground gunners on Lewis guns and allocated gun emplacements around the Airfield. Most of the attacks were at night and they never actually bombed the Airfield, just flew across. We were not allowed to fire at night unless given specific orders even though we manned the emplacements because we might give away the location of the field. It was all very frustrating. Many of the old Whimpy bombers failed to return and others crashed on landing after being shot up, but they were good old crates that held together well due to their geodetic construction.

Eventually our pilot training postings came through. there were only six of us at this particular airfield, and one of those dropped out I remember because his mother was so worried that he was to be aircrew. We were posted to Babbacombe in Devon on 17th May for a bit more general instruction, then to Newquay where we did a number of courses for six weeks which had little to do with flying.

At last, 12th July, and off to Weston Supermare where there was a small airfield with Tiger Moths, and after some more lectures and cockpit drill, my first flight on July 14th, "Air experience" with F/O Walters. Everyone remembers his first flight. I, as well as others had worries that I might be sick (I used to be sick on a coach). Most instructors were a bit sadistic about their pupils first flight and seemed to reckon that sickness was an achievement. Once we were airborne I knew that this was for me, and had no intention of being sick. He did several rolls and loops and I was delighted
and secretly very relieved.

Many lectures and some 12 hours flying time later came my first solo, just a 10 minute circuit and landing, but as with other pilots I remember every second of it, that taxiing out to the take off point, zig-zagging along very carefully as instructed, knowing the instructor was watching. Pause now, no aircraft approaching to land, cockpit drill (Don't forget anything). Check again, no aircraft approaching. Turn into wind, open the throttle, keep the nose straight, stick forward, here we go, how's the speed, taking a long time, good! tail's up. Now, this is it, ease the stick back, come on, get off. YES we're airborne. Now, Mr. Instructor, How's that! That's only a part of it. Now we've got to think about the landing. O.K. lots of time,800 feet, turn left O.K., just a few seconds, left again. There we are, there's the field, nice long trip down wind, nothing to do till we turn cross wind before the approach. Let's look around and feel good. Hang on we are way past the end of the field, got to turn now. He'll be watching still, so must do a good three point landing. Right, throttle back, stick forward, keep the airspeed up, over the fence, don't drop it in, let it settle gradually, throttle right off, hold it. YES! on all three points - wonderful. Back to the Watch tower. Switch off. Where is he, not a sign. Parachute out and back to the crew room. There he is.... "Well done," he says "You might have landed closer to the Watch tower" he adds with a laugh. "Sorry" I said and it was over, but I was very, very happy. There have been many times since then in various aircraft when I have emerged through the clouds to be met by the clear sky and the snowy tops of cumulous cloud and felt that same joy of flight.

Before the Battle of Britain, pilots with 30 or 40 hours flying time would have been sent into combat. Thanks to the few, the training of pilots had now changed from short term expediency to long term planning. It was clear that we were being trained for the new breed of aircraft.

By this time the RAF had got itself well organised, and training for pilots had been extended considerably. Our initial training was quite extensive, over 50 hours of all types of aerobatics including instrument flying etc

Another good memory from the Tiger Moth days was when the Chief Flying Instructor took me on a check flight. Returning for landing I was some 2 or 300 feet too high on the approach, so I asked 鈥淪hall I go round again Sir?鈥�, 鈥淣o鈥� was the reply, 鈥淪ideslip her in鈥�. This is normally forbidden on the circuit, but who was I to argue, so I pulled the stick over, firm right rudder and down we went, pulling out at a pretty low level and dropping it on a good three point landing. 鈥淲ell done鈥� he said, 鈥渂ut don鈥檛 ever do that again.鈥�

Now we are told that we will be going overseas to do our advanced training. this is going to take a lot longer than we thought. Some of us will be going to the U.S.A. and some to Canada. Our group report to Wilmslow and after a few days hanging around we board the "Highland Princess", brought up from the South Atlantic as a troopship. We are told it is a flat bottomed boat which doesn't mean much to us until we get out into the north Atlantic and the waves hit us, the roll is incredible, anything not fastened down just rushes from one side to the other, and back again, and back again! Whether it was the perverseness of the sailors or standard practice, we did not know, but the first meal out on the first full day was "Pork and beans" and the number who sat down to this on the Mess deck was quite few, and even fewer when the meal was dished up. Having overcome the possibility of air sickness I was equally determined not to be sick at sea. If I felt the slightest pangs I went on deck and stood in the cold wind until it went.

It took 10 days to reach Halifax, Nova Scotia where a train was awaiting us for the trans-Canadian trip. Our destination was to be Calgary in Alberta. Once settled on the train we mused over the delights of being sent on a Canadian holiday at the Government's expense. After rationing back home the delights of being served with fabulous food for 5 days in a world at peace made us feel alternately thankful and guilty.

From Calgary we were coached to Penfold, a very small town (we would call it a village) where we were to do our A.F.T. on Airspeed Oxfords. Winter in the prairies was cold, not just ordinary cold but very cold, sometimes 40 below. Fortunately it was dry and properly clothed it was great. Some of us learned to ice skate on the lakes and this was wonderful. We sometimes got together in huge whips across the lake and the end travelled at fantastic speeds. The lake was too big for anyone to hit anything, the worst that could happen was to fall and finish a long trip on belly or butt. We had bonfires on the ice and roasted sausages, the war seemed a long way off. Three of us got together and formed a singing trio, not that I ever fancied myself in that role, and we practised all the old harmony songs like Grandfather's clock and Green Grow the rushes O. We used to travel to and from Penfold on the camp Bus and often gave a rendering of the latest practise.

Flying was good, some of the locals used to think the Oxford trainers seen from a distance were bombers, and this caused us considerable amusement. We flew as far west as the foothills of the Rockies, and carried out all of the exercises required of us in a peaceful and unhurried manner. There was a scheme to entertain the British visitors by families in Edmonton and Calgary. Eric Parkin and I (He happened to live in the same Road as me in Wood Green and we both went to the same school) were introduced to a family in Edmonton, a Mr. and Mrs Nash. He was an accountant and they had a daughter, Barbara, who was engaged and to be married as it turned out just after we left. They all gave us a wonderful time, good food, skating, tobogganing etc. At the end of all this, on 30th January 1942, those of us who had withstood the flying exercises and the exams, navigation, meteorology etc., were granted our wings. The entry in the log book simply read "Awarded Flying Badge", the drop out was about 25%. This was however the opportunity for much celebration. Flying badges were sewn on at incredible speed, some in the most disgusting fashion. We all wondered when we were going to do something useful with all this training.

We returned to England on H.M.T. Orion which was much more comfortable (Wave-wise) than the Highland Princess, except that we learnt a few days out that the Germans were claiming that we had been sunk two days ago. We were highly amused but a little apprehensive in case they should make it a reality. When I look back on the two crossings of the Atlantic I realise that we were very lucky to have got through as this was the period of intensive U-boat activity.

We were now shunted down to a Pilots' reception centre in Bournemouth where we were shuffled around until we were told that we now had to go to an AFU (Advanced Flying Unit) A number of us including Jimmy Conroy, whom I had chummed up with were posted on April 15th 1942 to No 2 AFU in Brize Norton which was a Twin engine AFU on Airspeed Oxfords. This filled Jimmy and I with consternation as we were told that we were heading for bomber postings which we did not fancy.
A few weeks later we were sent on a short Beam Approach course to Ipswich Airport using sodium flares on the runway and dark goggles to simulate night flying. The day after we arrived a few of us went down town for a drink and a dance. It was there I met Helen, Ellen was her real name, but I re-christened her. I was only at Ipswich for a week, but as soon as I saw her I knew she was the one, we saw each other any time we were free and by the end of that week I knew I would be making more trips to Ipswich.

We returned to Brize Norton for another month and Jimmy and I were then told we were going to be Flying Instructors for a while, so we were posted to No 2 Flying Instructors' School in Montrose. Before going however I had proposed to Helen and to my astonishment she had said "Yes" without much hesitation so we arranged to get married in September with Jim Conroy as Best Man.

To our surprise at Montrose our first flights were on a Magister, which was a single-engined trainer, but after this we were back on Oxfords. We were becoming somewhat browned off with one course after another having now clocked up some 300 hours flying time. Jim decided he definitely wanted to get on to single engined aircraft, applied and was accepted. On 26th August I was posted to Grantham as an "Advanced Flying" instructor.

Helen and I were married on 19th September 1942 in Ipswich. We paid for the wedding, partly by borrowing money which we repaid eventually. We were very happy, very much in love and although much could be told about our intimate relations, we regard this as our private story, not to be told except to say that we both had volatile temperaments, but were very compassionate with one another, and so consumed that other contacts became less and less necessary as the years to come rolled by.

I actually spent over 2 years teaching a whole range of pilots to fly Blenheims of 3 basic types, Mark 1, Mark 4 and Mark 5(The Bisley). We were generally training for Night Fighters, but many of our pupils went on to twin engined daylight flying. In December 1942 I was sent to No 54 OTU at Charter Hall where we did a night fighter Course of sorts and I then expected to be posted to a Squadron, but we were told this was simply to improve our understanding as instructors.

I always remember what a fellow Flying Instructor told me, he said 鈥淵ou have to watch your pupils like a hawk and concentrate like hell, if you get distracted for one moment, the buggers鈥檒l kill you.鈥� This was never so true than when I had to teach two Belgian pilots named Huls and Tovell who had done some flying on light aircraft in Belgium. They both insisted that they could fly by the seat of their pants, which meant that they didn鈥檛 need things like instruments, a bit disturbing considering that was what we were supposed to be teaching. On their approaches for landing they always reduced speed below the normal approach speed, and insisted that they could tell when the aircraft was approaching stalling speed, so I shouldn鈥檛 worry. I said that if you approached stalling speed it was too late, but I was continually pushing the stick forward and shouting at them. I often wonder if they did crash after they left me and if so, how? I met and trained many pupils from all over the world, Canadians, Australians, New Zealanders, Poles, those from all over the UK and one American.