PDA

View Full Version : Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II


Pages : 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 [31] 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52

Fareastdriver
10th Oct 2015, 08:56
We used to use Mepal as a joining fix for Oakington (5FTS) in 1962/3

We jet jockeys at Oakington (5FTS) in 1961/62 used to use Ely cathedral; Mepal was far too close.

Alright for a Varsity, I suppose.

smujsmith
10th Oct 2015, 18:59
Chug #7500,

Thanks for that, an interesting link that may throw up a bit more info, or oodles of it. :ok:

Smudge

Danny42C
12th Oct 2015, 23:05
At around 0100 yesterday (12th Oct) I was roaming round the wasteland which is our daily TV diet, and came in half-way through "Into the Wind" (Channel 19, "Yesterday", 1230-0200). No doubt this is an old one, and many of you may have seen it before, but it was new on me. Judging by the appearance of the "oldies" wheeled on to tell their stories, they were in their 80s, which would place it some 10-15 years ago.

I found it a riveting discussion of the ethics of our Bomber Campaign in WWII, concluding (inevitably) with the destruction of Dresden at the end of the war. I thought it very fair and well balanced, and would very much like to see it again. But I can find no way of "catch-up" on Channel 19 (any IT wizards out there ?), so will just have to keep an eye open to see if, sooner or later, they put it on once more (as they do most programmes).

That is not the main purpose of this Post. MPN11's page 375, #7484 (7th Oct) re: "Bases", gave a very interesting link (thanks, MPN11 !):

<http://www.raflincolnshire.info/bom.../bombercmd.htm>

Which in turn led me to:

R.A.F. - Lincolshire - Info.
_____________________

Strategic Bombing Directives

Jul 1941 saw the Chiefs of Staff make one of their most important statements with respect to bombing operations, signaling their support for total war from the air and an all-out offensive by the only Service able to target the enemy's centres of gravity effectively at the time.

"We must first destroy the foundations upon which the German war machine runs - the economy which feeds it, the morale which sustains it, the supplies which nourish it and the hopes of victory which inspire it. Only then shall we be able to return to the continent and occupy and control portions of his territory and impose our will on the enemy . . . . it is on bombing on a scale undreamed of in the last war, that we find the new weapon on which we must principally depend for the destruction of economic life and morale."

Following the extreme attrition of the Bomber Command force during 1941 this was superseded on 14 Feb 1942 by a new area bombing directive.

"It has been decided that the primary objective of your operations should be focused on the morale of the enemy civil population and in particular the industrial workers". The Chief of the Air Staff, Lord Portal supplemented with his own thoughts "I suppose it is clear that the Aiming Points are to be the built up areas and not the dockyards or aircraft factories."

As this our favourite Thread has once again lapsed into the Slough of Despond (Page 2 on Mil. Av.), I thought it opportune to air this well-worn subject once again and invite comment.

Danny42C.

MPN11
13th Oct 2015, 08:45
Strategic Bombing Directives ...

I suppose that Feb 42 Directive contained a lot of compromise, in that the RAF was being tasked with what it was capable of doing. By that I mean by night, with limited aids to navigation and bombing in unpredictable weather, never mind the opposition from night fighters and flak.

There was no point in tasking BC with precision bombing of individual factories or other pinpoint targets - the means simply weren't available.

... IMHO, E&OE

Warmtoast
13th Oct 2015, 09:39
Destruction of Dresden by David Irving

This book, 337-pages long, is available as a free download as a PDF file here: http://www.fpp.co.uk/books/Dresden/Dresden_1995.pdf

Air Marshal Sir Robert Saundby wrote the foreword:


FOREWORD
by
AIR MARSHAL SIR ROBERT SAUNDBY
K.C.B., K.B.E., M.C., D.F.C., A.F.C.


WHEN the author of this book invited me to write a foreword to it, my first reaction was that I had been too closely concerned with the story. But though closely concerned I was not in any way responsible for the decision to make a full-scale air attack on Dresden. Nor was my Commander-in-Chief, Sir Arthur Harris. Our part was to carry out, to the best of our ability, the instructions we received from the Air Ministry. And, in this case, the Air Ministry was merely passing on instructions received from those responsible for the higher direction of the war.

This book is an impressive piece of work. The story is a highly dramatic and complex one, which still holds an element of mystery. I am still not satisfied that I fully understand why it happened. The author has, with immense industry and patience, gathered together all the evidence, separated fact from fiction, and given us a detailed account as near to the truth, perhaps, as we shall ever get.

That the bombing of Dresden was a great tragedy none can deny. That it was really a military necessity few, after reading this book, will believe. It was one of those terrible things that sometimes happen in wartime, brought about by an unfortunate combination of circumstances. Those who approved it were neither wicked nor cruel, though it may well be that they were too remote from the harsh realities of war to understand fully the appalling destructive power of air bombardment in the spring of 1945.

The advocates of nuclear disarmament seem to believe that, if they could achieve their aim, war would become tolerable and decent. They would do well to read this book and ponder the fate of Dresden, where 135,000 people died as the result of an air attack with conventional weapons. On the night of March 9-10, 1945, an air attack on Tokyo by American heavy bombers, using incendiary and high explosive bombs, caused the death of 83,793 people. The atom bomb dropped on Hiroshima killed 71,379 people.

Nuclear weapons are, of course, far more powerful nowadays, but it is a mistake to suppose that, if they were abolished, great cities could not be reduced to dust and ashes, and frightful massacres brought about, by aircraft using conventional weapons. And the removal of the fear of nuclear retaliation -- which makes modern full-scale war amount to mutual annihilation -- might once again make resort to war attractive to an aggressor.
It is not so much this or the other means of making war that is immoral or inhumane. What is immoral is war itself. Once full-scale war has broken out it can never be humanized or civilized, and if one side attempted to do so it would be most likely to be defeated. So long as we resort to war to settle differences between nations, so long will we have to endure the horrors, barbarities and excesses that war brings with it. That, to me, is the lesson of Dresden.
Nuclear power has at last brought us within sight of the end of full-scale war. It is now too violent to be a practicable means of solving anything. No war aim, no conceivable gain that war could bring, would be worth a straw when balanced against the fearful destruction and loss of life that would be suffered by both sides.

There has never been the slightest hope of abolishing war by agreement or disarmament, or for reasons of morality and humanity. If it disappears it will be because it has become so appallingly destructive that it can no longer serve any useful purpose.

This book tells, dispassionately and honestly, the story of a deeply tragic example, in time of war, of man's inhumanity to man. Let us hope that the horrors of Dresden and Tokyo, Hiroshima and Hamburg, may drive home to the whole human race the futility, savagery, and utter uselessness of modern warfare.
We must not make the fatal mistake, however, of believing that war can be avoided by unilateral disarmament, by resort to pacifism, or by striving for an unattainable neutrality. It is the balance of nuclear power that will keep the peace until mankind, as some day it must, comes to its senses.

Molemot
13th Oct 2015, 09:57
Danny..."Into the Wind" seems to be next up on October 21st...

Into The Wind | Yesterday Channel (http://yesterday.uktv.co.uk/shows/into-the-wind/episodes/)

Again, in the wee small hours.

mmitch
13th Oct 2015, 10:21
Danny.
The link in Molmot's post will give you one to watch on line. You have to put up with ads for a minute first...
mmitch.

Danny42C
13th Oct 2015, 19:32
MPN11, and Warmtoast,

Many wise words. As an old uncle of mine (ex-WWI in the trenches) put it: "When the scrap metal starts flying about, everybody's liable to get hurt !"

And in a Post long ago, I remember saying: "Harris would have liked a rapier, but he only had a club". He had to use the club as that was all he'd got.


Molemot and mmitch,

Thanks, both ! Have noted it in my diary, looking forward to it.

Cheers to all, Danny.

DHfan
13th Oct 2015, 22:35
I thought "Into The Wind" rang a bell...

Website here: Into The Wind (http://intothewind.co.uk/)

Steve Hatton started the project when he was at university in Lincoln in 2003 and it was finally available in 2011. He thought it might take him a couple of years!

He asked for assistance on the Flypast forum early on and then posted periodic progress reports.

Chugalug2
14th Oct 2015, 09:23
Danny thanks for the heads up for this thoughtful and thought provoking programme, and thanks Molemot for the watch-online link to it. It was fitting that those who gave us their thoughts and recollections on the Bombing Campaign were those who actually took part in it, survivors from all over the world that looked back with their regrets, justifications, hopes and fears.

As one of them said, there are no just wars, there are just wars. WWII was a fight for survival on all fronts, and like all wars had to be fought hard from beginning to the very end. That is my own take on Dresden, that one target among so many hundreds that so concentrates the minds of documentary makers, just as it did this one. It served the German war effort and was as legitimate, or illegitimate, as any other target. The fact that the fat lady got up to sing shortly afterwards is immaterial; you fight to win and to win as soon as possible, lest your enemy suddenly moves all the goalposts without informing the ref!

Just my take, and contrary to some of the views expressed by those who were there. Thus will it always be I suspect.

Molemot
14th Oct 2015, 11:23
Strictly not on the thread topic, but I came across this on a Facebook group and felt that, although lengthy, those here might find it readable...it was posted by Mark Drinkall, I know not the provenance....

Seems it was too long...so here it is in two posts...

On the afternoon of 30 August 1940, 303 Kosciuszko Squadron, still undergoing training at RAF Northolt, was carrying out an exercise in escorting a group of Blenheim bombers when a formation of German planes came in sight. Squadron Leader Kellett, the unit’s British commander, wanted to get the vulnerable Blenheims and his own planes out of the battle zone.
Pilot Officer Ludwik Paszkiewicz, who had noticed the enemy planes first, reported his wish to attack them over the radio, and, apparently receiving no answer, he took matters into his own hands and peeled off from the formation.
He went for the nearest of the German planes, a Dornier 17, which he shot down with a single burst of his machine guns. Having chased off the others he returned to Northolt, where he landed a little after the rest of his squadron. He was ordered to report immediately to Kellett, who gave him a thundering reprimand in front of his fellow pilots for leaving the formation without authorization.
Kellett then privately congratulated Paszkiewicz on his skilful attack, and announced that on his personal recommendation the squadron had been posted operational as from the next day. Thunderous cheers greeted the news. The pilots had been getting desperately restive as they watched the other squadrons stationed at Northolt, one British and one Canadian, go up on operations every day. They were also at loggerheads with some of their British superiors, nucleus of old hands from 1 Warsaw Air Regiment, many of whom had clocked up several kills in Poland and France. They included Zdzistaw Henneberg, who had brought his whole flight safely to Britain after the fall of France; Josef Frantisek, a Czech who had joined them in Poland and fought with them in France, knocking out eleven enemy aircraft by the time he reached Britain; Urbanowicz, transferred from RAF 145 Squadron; Zumbach; and others.
Grouped together in their own squadron, the Poles were not on their best behaviour, like those posted to British units. ‘They were a complete law unto themselves,’ in the words of a British fitter stationed at Northolt. ‘Nobody could control them.’ Their clannishness and cockiness put backs up and irritated those less concerned with their flying and fighting skills than with having to live and work alongside them. ‘The Poles were a funny bunch, actually,’ remarked the same fitter. ‘We used to get along.... reasonably well, but there was no real love lost between us.’
There was even less love lost between the Poles and the detachment of Irish Guards assigned to the base, and their differences flared dangerously on at least two occasions. One was at a dance in Ruislip, when a disagreement over dancing partners turned into a pitched battle after which a number of guardsmen had to be hospitalized. The other was sparked off by an altercation between drunken Polish ground crew returning to base and guardsmen checking their passes. ‘Machine gun fire from the south-east corner of the aerodrome!’ barked the tannoy in the operations room, to the consternation of the station commander, Group Captain S F Vincent. ‘I became thoroughly alarmed, thinking of parachute attacks, fifth columnists or something equally serious,’ he writes. When he went outside his own ears confirmed his alarm. ‘There was the Guards and the Poles having a proper firefight.’ Both sides soon ran out of ammunition, and Vincent managed to restore order. He also managed, miraculously, to hush up the incident, thereby avoiding a string of enquiries and commissions, but he had the Irish Guards replaced by the Coldstream Guards.
Group Captain Vincent was a regular officer in the RAF who had seen action in the First World War and, at 43, was on the old side. An enthusiastic flier, he understood the feelings of pilots, and he was not wedded, like some, to minute observance of regulations. But he did have certain responsibilities, and he had been given the firm instruction that ‘until all the Poles learn to speak English properly, they stay on the ground’. The primary concern was that if they did not understand English, the pilots could not be directed to an interception point or vectored home over the radio. Vincent did what he could. The pilots were given bicycles, told to don radio transmitter sets, and made to cycle around Uxbridge football pitch in perfect flying formation, responding to every order they received to turn one way or the other. ‘I could not declare them operational until they could understand English better, so they hated me!’ writes Vincent.
Squadron Leader Ronald Kellett, 303’s commander, was more popular. A small, jovial figure known throughout the service as ‘Boozy’ Kellett, he was an Auxiliary who despised most regular RAF officers and liked to tell them so. And he could afford to. His father owned a coal-mine in Durham, he had been brought up in a stately home, and he made a respectable living as a stockbroker. He was also a very experienced flier. He delighted the Poles – and annoyed the regulars – with his magnificent Rolls-Royce and his subversive attitude.
He had two flight lieutenants, Athol Forbes and John Kent, an intelligence officer, an adjutant, an orderly-room corporal and three senior ground crew NCOs to help him turn these Poles into a fighting unit. The fact that they considered themselves to be one already did nothing to help him. To make matters worse, Kellett, Kent and Forbes did not get on together.
Kellett and Forbes spoke fluent French, which permitted them to communicate with some of the Poles. Kent, a Canadian from Winnipeg, was ‘thoroughly fed up and despondent’ about his new job. He was a very competent officer, but he was arrogant and tended towards bossiness, which did not endear him to many. He was also ambitious, and probably resented being placed under the command of an Auxiliary. ‘All I knew about the Polish Air Force was that it had lasted about three days against the Luftwaffe and I had no reason to suppose that they would shine any more brightly operating from England,’ he writes. He spoke no French at all, so he concentrated on learning a few key words of Polish, which earned him the sobriquet of ‘Kentowski’.
Kellett was less concerned with linguistics than with the pilots’ skills. One pilot remembers him pointing to a plane and uttering the word ‘Hurricane’, then flapping his arms like a bird and saying ‘Fly’, and then pushing the pilot towards the plane. Kellett quickly realized that these were excellent fliers; but, being new to it, they often left the radio switched on when not using it, which jammed the frequency, or forgot how to use it at critical moments.
More worrying was that, with little experience of retractable undercarriages, they sometimes forgot to lower them when coming in to land, and being unused to closed cockpits often forgot to open and lock the covers before landing (a precaution against being trapped in a burning machine). They soon got the hang of their Hurricanes, and although only the most rudimentary communication had been established, the squadron was needed in battle. English or no English, the Poles felt that they were ready, and in this they were not mistaken.
On the squadron’s first operational day, 31 August, six planes went up on patrol and returned to base having shot down four Messerschmitt 109s, with two more unverified. The pilots were euphoric, not least at the ease of fighting in proper machines.
‘I caught up with him easily,’ one of them scribbled in the squadron scrapbook that evening. ‘He grew in my sights until his fuselage filled the whole luminous circle. It was certainly time to fire. I did so quite calmly, and was not even excited, rather puzzled and surprised to find that it was so easy, quite different from Poland, where you had to scrape and strain until you were in a sweat, and then instead of getting the bastard he got you.’
Telegrams of congratulation poured in. ‘Magnificent fighting 303 Squadron,’ ran that from the RAF Chief-of-Staff. ‘I am delighted. The enemy is shown that Polish pilots definitely on top.’ As a treat, the pilots of 303 were given a day off – the very last thing they wanted. The RAF believed it was good for the psychological health of pilots to spend as much time as possible off the station. There was some justification for this with respect to British pilots, who could go home to their families. Polish pilots posted to RAF squadrons were often taken home by their British colleagues or relaxed with them at suburban tennis clubs, but the pilots of the all-Polish squadrons were isolated and had nowhere to go. They regarded it as a punishment rather than a treat to be grounded, particularly on 1 September, the anniversary of the German invasion of Poland.
On 2 September they were in action again, over the Thames estuary and Dover, downing two German planes, with another two unverified. Along with a signal of congratulation, they earned themselves a light rebuke from Air Vice-Marshal Sir Keith Park of 11 Fighter Group. ‘The Group Commander appreciates the offensive spirit that carried two Polish pilots over the French coast in pursuit of the enemy today,’ it read. ‘This practice is not economical or sound now that there is such good shooting within sight of London.’ The British were still nervous of ‘Polish hot-headedness’.
The squadron went on notching up successes without any losses. On 5 September they shot down seven more planes and damaged one and on 6 September they repeated the same score, this time losing six of their own planes, but the only pilot hurt was Kellett. This meant that it was Forbes who led them on the following day to head off a massive German raid on London, which Göring termed ‘the historic hour when our air force for the first time delivered its blow right into the enemy’s heart’. He had come to the Headquarters of the Luftwaffe and Fleet at Cap Gris-Nez to take personal command.
Congratulations from the staff and the government were flooding in daily. When the car arrived with the sixth message from Downing Street, Kellett had had enough, and he sent back a note to the effect that, as words were losing their power, a more appropriate token of appreciation would come in the shape of a rase of whisky – which duly arrived. But the extraordinary successes of 303 had also raised eyebrows, and the Northolt intelligence officer was asked to investigate whether the Polish claims were not on the wild side (this was before cameras were fitted to run when the guns fired). Kellett and his two RAF flight leaders insisted that, if anything, they erred on the side of caution. As well as being highly competitive, the pilots of 303 had a healthy dose of the Polish characteristic of jealousy of one another’s achievements, and none of them could get away with claiming a kill unless it had been witnessed and certified beyond doubt by at least one colleague. But Group Captain Vincent was suspicious.
The next time 303 was scrambled, he took a plane up and followed them. The squadron met a large enemy formation over the London docks. Two Hurricanes immediately climbed high above, while the rest hung back, with Vincent behind them. Then the two lone planes dived almost vertically onto the Germans, spitting fire and making as if to collide with them, which forced the bombers to break formation. ‘The Poles behind jumped in on to the scattered individuals and suddenly the air was full of burning aircraft, parachutes, and pieces of disintegrating wings,’ records Vincent. ‘It was all so rapid that it was staggering.’ He tried to join in himself, but each time he fixed on a German plane it disintegrated before his eyes as a Pole got there first, and he returned to Northolt feeling old and musty. ‘I told Wilkins [the intelligence officer] that what they claimed they did, indeed, get!’
That day, 303 had repeated their record of fourteen certain kills, but this time at the cost of their first real losses, as two pilots were killed in the afternoon sortie. One of these, Flight Sergeant Wojtowicz, found himself on his own against six Messerschmitts. The population of Westerham spilled out onto the streets to watch as he destroyed two of the enemy planes before being sent to the ground in flames himself, and on the next day the Town Council sent a message of thanks and condolence to Northolt.
A remarkable aspect of the Battle of Britain was that a high proportion of civilians could actually see it going on. As the citizens of southern England were in a sense living on the battlefield, they could even participate, when a pilot crash-landed or parachuted to the ground. This helped to create a very special brand of solidarity between combatants and non-combatants. But it held hazards for any Pole who might come down to earth in such a way: they could never be quite sure of the reception they would get on the ground, as they were often taken for Germans. Franek Surma’s parachute caught in a tree just outside a pub in Kent, and a group of Free French who had been drinking in the pub almost lynched him for a ‘sale Boche’.
Zdzislaw Krasnodebski, the Polish commander of 303, was just setting his sights on a German bomber when he was himself attacked from behind.
Suddenly the glass on my dials was splintering and the fuel tank, holed by shells, burst into flames. I wanted to jump, but I could not undo the straps. There was a moment of resignation, but the will to live triumphed and I managed to undo the straps, open the cockpit and bale out. Remembering my unpleasant experiences in Poland, I refrained from opening my parachute, so as to get out of the fighting as quickly as possible and not make a target of myself. As I approached the ground, I thought that my adventures were over, but this turned out to be premature, for out of the bushes and buildings spilled the figures of Home Guards, brandishing guns, evidently hoping to bag a German. Luckily their English sang-froid held out and they did not shoot.
Krasnodebski was so badly burnt that he was rushed to hospital, but on the whole parachuting airmen were kept by the locals as long as possible and lionized. In this way, they got to know a remarkable cross-section of English society. Czestaw Tarkowski dropped on to the top rung.
I was floating down, looking at the countryside. Fields and meadows, large old oak trees. Despite frantic efforts, my parachute caught on the top branches of one of these. People with pitchforks and staves ran up. One of them, armed with a shotgun, was screaming ‘Hande hoch’. ‘F.... off,’ I answered in my very best English. The lowering faces immediately brightened up. ‘He’s one of ours!’ they shouted in unison. Hands reached up to help extricate me from the extremely uncomfortable position I was in. I was escorted to a vast fourteenth century house, the likes of which I had never seen before. The walls were covered in oak panelling, the darkened portraits of forebears looked down attentively, and a maid in a mob-cap led me into a large drawing-room. When they found out I was a Polish airman, they did everything they could for me. I was scorched and dirty, so I was given the opportunity to wash and my clothes were cleaned up. A young woman put some ointment on my burning and raw face. At lunch, my host made sure that my glass was never empty, and the twenty-year-old wine with which I was plied warmed and relaxed my aching muscles. It went to my strained and still reeling head.
He was installed in a comfortable armchair, where he slept until he was picked up by a sergeant from his base.
The shock, the alcohol and the sunny afternoon meant that I sat in the car in a complete daze. I looked at the surroundings through a mist.
At a set of traffic lights, he noticed someone waving a stick and shouting insults in German. ‘Madam, it’s one of ours – it’s a Polish pilot,’ the driver explained. The old lady’s face fell. She reached into her purse and produced a florin. ‘There was no time to resist, so I returned to base with a gleaming florin.’
Another airman penetrated a less aristocratic, but no less exclusive world, as Richard Cobb relates:
My sister’s father-in-law’s tennis club was a respectable institution, that is to say, members were admitted to it not according to the quality of their tennis, but of their speech. The first essential was that the aspiring member should ‘speak nicely’; if he did, one would assume he was a gentleman and a fit person to play ball with. My sister’s father-in-law always played a ‘foursome’ with the unmarried sister of a vicar, ‘a gentleman who kept dogs’, and his wife. The ‘foursome’ was of about fifteen years’ standing, not the sort of thing in fact that Adolf Hitler could interrupt.
On this particular Saturday, the doggy gentleman and his wife and my sister’s father-in-law were all on the court punctually at 3 pm, but there’ was no sign of the vicar’s sister. At 3.30 they were still standing on the court; it was most annoying, such a thing had never happened in fifteen years. Up above, all sorts of things were happening, and now and then aeroplanes fell out of the sky like dead flies. But the three were much too angry to pay attention to the weekend visitors from across the water. How were they going to have their game? How was my sister’s father-in-law going to get through till Wednesday without his exercise? The doggy man swore and swore, and his wife started getting irritable. ‘It’s too bad, Archibald,’ she said, ‘it really is too bad, war or no war.’ There was a war. A parachute was coming down, with someone swinging from it. The wife was the first to notice it. ‘Archibald, look, look, one of those Germans is coming down, surely he won’t land here, it’s private property!’ But he did, parachute and all, in a tree by the ladies’ dressing-room, where he remained hanging. The three would-be tennis players were puzzled what to do. My sister’s father-in-law, a resourceful man, eventually decided. ‘Look here, we’ll go to the foot of the tree and ask him who he is. If he’s a German we’ll leave him up there and phone Police Constable Snodgrass. If he’s one of ours we’ll cut him down and give him tea.’ So they moved over to the tree and shouted up, ‘Hello there! Who are you? Sind sie Allemanisch, or whatever it is? You know – sie wissen was I mean? Understanden sie?’ ‘Ask him if he is a Nazi,’ said the wife triumphantly. ‘Sind sie Nazi’? ‘Bloody fools Nazis,’ came distinctly from the branches. ‘Me, Polish man’. ‘’Oh, good chap, bloody good chap!’ said the doggy man. ‘Let him down.’ Then my sister’s father-in-law had an idea and the three whispered together. ‘But he’s not a member,’ objected the wife. ‘To hell with that,’ said her husband vigorously. So they cut him down. ‘Do you play tennis?’ he asked, and the airman replied, ‘Pardon, yes, thank you, I am quite all right.’ So they lent him some white flannels and took him to the gentlemen’s dressing-room. When the RAF car came for him, the remaining three staggered to deck-chairs. They’d never had such a game. The wife gasped: ‘Such a nice man, so strong, and how polite!’ My sister’s father-in-law murmured: ‘What a game! I don’t think I’ll play next Wednesday.’ In the club minutes you can read: ‘August 2nd, Polish officer, introduced by Mr and Mrs ——.’ That’s how a Pole came to this little town and entered the English Holy of Holies, a lawn tennis club which was strictly closed to all but ‘nice people'.
Lower down the social scale, the experience could still prove interesting. One pilot came down in a south London back garden and fell at the feet of a girl, whom he married two months later.

Molemot
14th Oct 2015, 11:24
The knowledge that there were Poles up in the sky over London touched a chord in the population, and the fame of 303 began to spread. The press related tales of the bravery and skill of the ‘cavaliers from a conquered land’. Fan mail poured in from all over the country. A school in Ruislip had a whip-round and sent 450 cigarettes ‘for the brave Polish fighters’. A girls’ school in Glasgow sent them ten shillings. The Borough of Willesden, which had collected money to fund a Spitfire, stipulated that it should be flown by a Pole. The Daily Telegraph printed poems sent in by enthusiastic literati. ‘Gallants, who here patrol the sky, And strew the land with wrack of raiders,’ one bard began.
‘We had a fantastic time,’ remarks one pilot. ‘We were continually mobbed, and we were also very much in demand among English women.’ For a girl at this time, to be seen on the arm of a fighter pilot was a triumph. ‘I just cannot begin to describe the effect that “wings” had on a girl then,’ confirms Joan Wyndham, a WAAF stationed at Stanmore. Besides wearing two sets of ‘wings’, the regulation British ones and the Polish pilot’s eagle, the Poles enjoyed an additional glamour based on novelty value and the romantic aura with which people endowed their nation.
One day 303 returned to base after an operation, but without Flight Lieutenant Antoni Wczelik. Next day, his crashed plane and a Messerschmitt he had evidently shot down were located. The German pilot was apprehended, but there was no sign of Wczelik. Two days later he was officially posted missing and his gear was packed up to make room for a new pilot. But that evening he gaily marched into the Northolt mess. He had parachuted on to a golf course, to the consternation of some elderly gentlemen in the middle of a game. He was dragged off to the club house and plied with drinks. By the evening he was so drunk that he was taken home by a lady whose husband happened to be on active service overseas, and who refused to let him go for two days.
The only ones who had mixed feelings about the successes of 303 were the pilots of 302, who had been patrolling the east for the past two weeks without sighting a single enemy plane. Their frustration built up into frequent rows between their commander Mieczystaw Mummler and his British counterpart, Squadron Leader Jack Satchell. Satchell was a regular officer, and although he was thirty years old, he was young in spirit, more so than Mummler, who belonged to the old school and could not catch the spirit of 1940. Satchell’s flight lieutenants were younger and less experienced than their Polish pilots, and one of them, Nigel Farmer, was by common consent a poor and therefore dangerous pilot. The only thing that made up for this was that 302 was stationed with 242 Canadian Squadron, commanded by the legless Douglas Bader. Poles and Canadians vied with each other in horseplay, and having no legs did not prevent Bader from leading his men when the evening’s entertainment consisted of building a barricade of furniture down the centre of the room and then fighting a battle over it.
302 Squadron’s chance to prove themselves came on 15 September, arguably the most crucial day of the Battle of Britain, when massed German attacks on London succeeded one another and virtually swamped the fighter squadrons sent up to meet them. As if sensing the importance of that Sunday, Winston Churchill had gone to the headquarters of 11 Fighter Group at Uxbridge, and spent the whole day in the operations room following the course of the battle.
303 Squadron was scrambled in mid morning and again at about 2 pm, when, along with one other RAF squadron, it had to head-off a raid by some 400 German planes. The fact that only twenty-four Hurricanes could be sent up to meet such a force is eloquent testimony to the shortage of fighters on the British side. To bolster the thinning defences of the capital an extra fighter wing, consisting of 302, a Czech, a Canadian and two RAF squadrons, was seconded from 12 Group to help. This wing was led by Douglas Bader, who was already immensely popular with the Polish pilots, and as it took off from Duxford to go into action, Bader shouted ‘You’ll be in Warsaw soon!’ over the radio. The pilots of 302 were determined to show their colleagues what they could do, and shot down ten German planes, with another five probables, at the cost of two planes and one of their own pilots killed.
‘The terrified mug of the Kraut flashed by, and a split second later he crashed into the ground, throwing up a cloud of smoke and clods of earth. I pulled up higher and circled over the burning remnants of the machine before turning away and taking a course for my base.’
But on 15 September, when he tried to repeat the procedure with a German bomber over the Thames estuary, he ended up ramming it and had to bale out of his disintegrating Hurricane. Another pilot of 303 also rammed a German, but he was less lucky and died on the way to hospital. ‘I got him, though,’ were his last words.
‘After every such victory one cannot help the thought going through one’s head that if we’d had such machines in Poland, things would have been so wonderful and so different,’
Churchill declared that the German squadrons had been ‘cut to rags and tatters’ on that day as he left the Uxbridge operations room. But it was not just a question of numbers of aircraft shot down. As one British pilot pointed out, the Poles, and particularly the pilots of 303, were particularly effective at breaking up and driving back enemy bomber formations, which was, after all, the object of the exercise. Thus, on 11 September, the twelve Hurricanes of 303 had intercepted a force of 150 German bombers crossing the south coast bound for London and forced them to jettison their bombs over Sussex and turn back for France.
They achieved such successes in a number of ways, but the principle was always the same – to force the Germans to break formation. Standard RAF training dictated that a pilot should open fire at a distance of not less than 150 yards, when all eight of the machine guns in a Hurricane’s wings (which converged slightly) would hit the enemy plane at the same spot, producing maximum impact and minimizing the risk. The Poles would have none of this. With centuries of cavalry tactics in their blood, they believed in the psychological effect of a charge aimed at the centre of an enemy formation. They also swore by holding their fire until they were very close, with the whole side of the enemy plane before them. ‘When they go tearing into the enemy bombers and fighters they go so close you would think they were going to collide,’ wrote Forbes. At this point they would fire a raking broadside which even it it did not hit something vital, certainly unnerved every single member of the enemy bomber’s crew.
When flying together in formation German bombers could defend themselves with their combined firepower, but once scattered they were far more vulnerable, so if their formation was broken up, individual planes would tend to cut and run. ‘The great number of German fighters and bombers they brought down by this method shows that they knew how to make it pay,’ comments Wing-Commander W B Austin. But the Poles did not stick rigidly to any one tactic, and the pilots of 303 con- tinually worked out new variants, with Kellett, in response to what was a completely novel form of fighting and a novel situation. Any tactic required ‘complete trust and perfect timing’, and in this respect the Poles responded well to him. ‘It was just common sense, really,’ adds Kellett. ‘And besides, once you’d gone in to attack there was no time to worry about what anyone else was doing.’ A few seconds’ pause or hesitation could cost a pilot his life.
Although Sunday, 15 September 1940 is now regarded by many as the turning-point in the Battle of Britain, this was by no means obvious to the participants. Huge formations of German planes continued to raid London in a desperate attempt to smash Britain into submission. By mid September Poles represented well over 10 per cent of all the fighter pilots defending the south-east, as British casualties mounted and Poles took their places. It was nevertheless 303 that continued to steal the lime-light.
On 17 September General Sikorski came down to Northolt to visit the squadron and decorate some of the pilots with gallantry awards. Churchill also dropped in unannounced several times on his way back to London. On 26 September King George VI paid 303 a visit. He inspected the base and talked with the pilots, who were on readiness in the dispersal hut. Suddenly the tele- phone rang, scrambling the squadron. The pilots dashed for the door, brushing aside the king with little ceremony, and ran to their machines. The king watched them take off and wished them ‘happy hunting’ over the radio before leaving the base. He also asked to be informed of the results. The squadron engaged and turned back an invading party over Portsmouth and returned to base safely. The telegram they sent to Buckingham Palace that evening read:
‘Eleven shot down for certain, one probably destroyed. Own losses nil.’
On the next day, 27 September, with an RAF squadron, 303 destroyed thirty-one German planes in 30 minutes over the Isle of Wight, and notched up its hundredth confirmed kill in Britain. It lost two pilots, including Ludwik Paszkiewicz, who had scored its first kill exactly four weeks earlier. Such losses could not mar the joy of the 303 pilots, and even Group Captain Vincent was dragged into the celebrations, noting that he had never found himself propelled so high into the air without wings before.
Life changed after that. On 28 September the Germans adopted a new tactic. Instead of massive raids against London, they now used their bombers by night, or in very high-level flights. Their fighters swept the skies in smaller groups, engaging and tying down British defending fighters, or carried out low level strafing raids. This meant more work for the defending squadrons, which were scrambled several times a day but often could not make contact with the smaller raiding parties. There were thus fewer engagements, and consequently fewer kills. It was altogether more tiring and less fun for the pilots. It was also dangerous. The RAF’s losses continued to mount, causing it to draw on the pool of waiting Polish airmen, with the result that by the beginning of October 1940 there were times when one in five of the British fighters defending London was manned by a Pole. 303 Squadron had clocked up another twenty-six kills by 11 October, when it was withdrawn from the front line and sent to Leconfield for a period of rest. It had set two new records for the highest number of enemy planes shot down in a month (more than double the tally of the next highest-scoring squadron), and for the lowest ratio of own losses to successful kills. The squadron’s place at Northolt was taken by 302, whose pilots welcomed the opportunity to boost their reckoning. But their expectations were dashed. They were frequently scrambled but rarely made contact with the enemy, and when they did come across a large formation of Messerschmitts on 15 October, they lost two of their own pilots. Three days later they again lost two pilots in battle, while two more killed themselves landing in bad weather.
The Battle of Britain is officially deemed to have ended on 31 October. Of the 2,927 pilots who manned a fighter at any point between June and November, 146 (just under 5 per cent) were Poles. Of the 2,692 German planes deemed by the RAF ‘destroyed for certain’ (including those brought down by anti-aircraft fire and balloons), 203 (over 7.5 per cent) had been credited to Poles. 303 Squadron had downed three times the average RAF score, and incurred one-third of the average casualties. Excluding the sixteen planes shot down by Kellett, Kent and Forbes, 303 accounted for 110 certain kills, nine probables and six damaged, at the cost of eight of their own pilots. The figures for 302, excluding the five aircraft shot down by its British pilots, were sixteen definites, ten probables and one damaged, at the cost of six own losses. The eighty-nine Polish pilots serving in various RAF squadrons accounted for seventy-seven definites, sixteen probables and twenty-nine damaged, and seventeen of them lost their lives.
Although these figures proclaim a glorious performance, one must be very cautious before extrapolating any conclusions from them. The Polish individual top score of seventeen enemy planes shot down was about half the personal scores of some British ‘aces’. On the other hand, statistics show that in the RAF as a whole, 4.9 kills cost one own death, while the Polish squadrons notched up 10.5 enemy planes destroyed for every own pilot killed – a staggering discrepancy. Apart from demonstrating that Poles together work better than Poles apart, these figures would seem to bear out the Polish claim to superior tactics and better teamwork – the last thing the RAF top brass had expected of them.
‘The readiness to help a stricken comrade was a feature among the Poles that I was to witness on several occasions,’
‘One felt safe with them,’ adds Thomson; ‘they knew their business.’ Kellett himself is almost embarrassed by the way the three Poles of his section looked after him in the air, with an almost almost ‘feudal’ sense of loyalty.
Figures and statistics are by nature unfair, and in the case of the Battle of Britain, one is not comparing like with like. The RAF had many seasoned pilots of great skill, but it also contained many chivalrous boys, barely out of school, with great reserves of courage but little training and no fighting experience. The average age of all fighter pilots who took part was twenty, while the average age of the Polish pilots involved was twenty-four – a significant difference. All the Poles had hundreds of hours of flying time on a variety of planes behind them, and most had some fighting experience. The British squadrons had more time in the front line than the Polish ones, which entered the battle at a later stage or, like 302, were largely outside it. This meant that the British aces could clock up more kills, but it also meant that many more inexperienced young pilots were killed, particularly in the first weeks. The fact remains that the Poles did achieve above-average results, and there are several good reasons for this. Their very strong motivation and their hatred for the Germans meant that they were psychologically steadier and more determined than their British colleagues. They were on the whole older and more experienced, and they employed superior tactics. They had been trained to fly on inferior planes with little in the way of support systems, and as a result ‘their understanding and handling of aircraft was quite exceptional’, were the words of one British flight instructor. This meant that they were better equipped to get themselves and a damaged plane back to base, or to make a safe forced landing in difficult terrain. They had also had to face a vastly superior enemy in their primitive machines. They were thus able to make the most of their equipment, and while 303 was flying Hurricanes, which were inferior to the Messerschmitt 109, they could nevertheless achieve better results than Bntish squadrons equipped with the far more advanced Spitfire. ‘We would have done better if we’d had Spitfires, like the English,’ commented one. The Poles had, it has to be remembered, downed Messerschmitts with their P-11s, which had less than half of the speed and one-fifth of the firepower of a Hurricane. But perhaps their greatest asset was their eyes.
British airmen were trained with a wealth of sophisticated equipment, including radar and constant radio contact with the ground and other planes. They therefore naturally relied on these to tell them where they were and where the enemy was. ‘You’d get these chaps who’d go up, lose half their bloody squadron, and they never saw a thing,’ as one British squadron leader puts it. The Polish airmen had been through rigorous medicals before being accepted into the air force, including stringent eyesight tests. Moreover, until they reached England they had never enjoyed the luxury of radio or radar, so they relied for their own safety on keeping an eye out on all sides at all times. The Poles always seemed to see everything first,’ remarked Squadron Leader Crook, who had two of them in his squadron, and he was not alone in noticing this. ‘The Poles seem to have an uncanny gift in this respect,’ another British pilot told a Daily Telegraph reporter. ‘They have “spotted” Germans in the distance long before I have been able to see them.’ Another, talking to an Evening News reporter, explained that,
‘whereas the British pilots were trained to rely on their radios, and to go exactly where they are told, Polish pilots are always turning and twisting their heads in an effort to spot a distant enemy’.
Given the speed with which an enemy fighter could dive out of the sun and attack from behind, this was a tremendous asset.
Another element in the fine showing of the Polish squadrons, intangible yet undoubtedly very important, was the superiority of their ground crews. These were the pick of the pre-war ground personnel, supplemented by LOT engineers and technicians from aircraft factories in Poland. ‘I don’t believe any squadron had better NCOs or better aircraft maintenance than 303,’ wrote Kellett. These men faced a challenge quite different from that faced by the pilots. One of the mechanics wrote,
For the pilots, a Hurricane or a Spitfire was not actually such a novelty. A machine like any other, a little practice and you’re off. But for the mechanics it was a difficult, a very hard nut to crack. While the engine itself and the body did not present any great problem, the instructions, the names of tools and parts caused major headaches to even the most resourceful among us. At first, we would get new machines in exchange for damaged ones, but as the number of sorties grew, the supply system began to falter and one had to begin to fly ‘on one’s own industry’, just as it had been in 1920 and 1939 in Poland, and in 1940 in France. And it was here that the Polish mechanic showed what he could do. With strange use of language and particularly hands, they managed to explain to the stores personnel what the problem was in order to obtain the necessary part. And if the part they needed was not there, they would make it up themselves, because, after all, the pilots had to fly on something.
What helped was the quality of the machines they were put to work on. ‘Nothing flashy,’ commented the chief engineer of 303, ‘but there are no nasty surprises or construction faults either. It’s all good sound workman- ship.’
‘The mechanics like to have their own planes to work on, and here you can see our Polish traditions and habits coming out,’ writes the engineer. ‘It was always the tradition that every plane had its own fitter and his assistant – it did not like or want others. To begin with, when we blindly subordinated ourselves to British ways and abandoned our own, it often happened that numerous doctor-mechanics would endlessly debate how to repair a sick plane.’
As soon as they joined their own squadrons, they reverted to the Polish system. ‘The return to Polish ways has meant that the planes now have their permanent guardians, tender and sensitive to every minute ailment of their own machine.’ These ‘guardians’ were to be found hanging around their Hurricane at all hours, endlessly cleaning and re-checking odd pieces of equipment. ‘There was no caste difference between pilots and mechanics,’ writes Krol. These are not empty words. He was the son of an illiterate peasant, while many of the fitters were middle-class men with degrees. Yet several British officers have made the point that the Polish officers treated their men ‘like dirt’, and professed themselves disgusted by it. Kellett recalls having to sort out a mutiny by three ground staff who refused to obey one of the officers of 303. Andrzej Nahlik, a pilot who spent as much time in British as in Polish units, tells a different story. ‘The British treated their ground crew with far greater hauteur, even with scorn,’ he states, adding that there was far more rigid stratification in the RAF between aircrew officers, aircrew NCOs and ground crew. The very idea that an officer was awarded a DFC and an NCO a DFM for the same action struck the Poles as monstrous. Polish ground crew themselves believe they enjoyed a completely different standing from those of the RAF.
The very proportion of ground to air crew must have made a difference: in the RAF it was more than 100 to 1, in the Luftwaffe it was about 80 to 1, and in the Polish Air Force it was only 30 to 1. ‘Brothers have never been closer than we were,’ confirms Skalski’s fitter. He recalls a reception where Skalski, the Battle of Britain ace and by then a wing-commander, walked up to him and kissed his hands. The British officers present were astonished and a little shocked at the sight of a wing-commander kissing a fitter’s hands. ‘Were it not for these hands I would never have shot down so many planes – I’d be dead,’ Skalski declared. ‘The whole squadron was one family, sharing the joy of victories and successful flights, and sharing in the sorrow of losses. The mechanics would be in a frenzy of excitement as the planes came back from an operation, waiting to see whether they would buzz the airfield or make a victory roll, signifying success. They could see from the torn masking of the machine guns if the plane had been firing and would run up to their planes, hang on to the wings while they were still taxiing and shout: “How many?” The pilots would show them on their fingers. According to the pilots, the ground crew took more pride in the squadron’s score than did pilots themselves. “Mine’s been firing,” hollers one of them, as though it were all down to him. Such is the unwritten but immutable law, that the machine belongs not to God, nor to the king, nor to the government, but to him, and only to him, an oil-smeared scarecrow in blue overalls.’
The ground staff were just as eager as the pilots to get the machines airborne again. ‘Just take a look at what happens when a plane returns from a flight – like a honey sandwich it is instantly covered in busy bees, and you can almost hear the hum of a hive,’ writes 303’s engineer. Their dedication was so great that during its whole participation in the Battle of Britain, 303 only went up four times with less than its full complement of twelve planes.
When the squadron returned to Northolt after the fighting of 15 September, the ten planes (two had been shot down) were declared write-offs by Kellett. But the mechanics refused to see the squadron reduced to its four spare machines, and after a night of frenzied clanging and banging, twelve planes stood ready for take-off on the runway.
Such hard work meant that the squadron remained at full strength in virtually all operations, which obviously increased its effectiveness and its collective safety. The meticulous attention to detail also minimized the possibility of snapping cables, jamming machine guns or instrument failure, all of which could easily cost a pilot his life. Above all, the devotion of the mechanics meant that the pilots were utterly confident that their planes were in prime condition and fine-tuned, and such confidence counted for a great deal in battle.
However one reads the statistics, one can see what made Flight Lieutenant Kent call 303 ‘the finest squadron in the whole world’ – to which he added ‘profound thanks for keeping me alive and teaching me to fight’. With only about 400 fighters defending the south-east at any one time, the Polish contribution of between 50 and 100 in action throughout September and October was vital. On 11 September, the Poles accounted for 18 per cent of the enemy aircraft destroyed, on 15 September they accounted for 14 per cent, on 19 September 25 per cent, on 26 September a staggering 48 per cent.
‘Our shortage of trained pilots would have made it impossible to man the squadrons which were required to defeat the German air force and so win the Battle of Britain, if the gallant airmen of Poland had not leapt into the breach.’ Sir Archibald Sinclair, the Secretary of State for the Air Force.
‘What we could have done without the Polish fighter pilots in the Battle of Britain is difficult to contemplate.’ Air Marshal Sir Michael Beetham.
More telling still is the statement by the far from effusive Dowding, who declared:
‘Had it not been for the magnificent material contributed by the Polish squadrons and their unsurpassed gallantry I hesitate to say that the outcome of battle would have been the same’.

Danny42C
14th Oct 2015, 23:59
Warmtoast (your #7505 yesterday),

A truly vivid and evocative account of the vital part the Polish fighter pilots played in the Battle of Britain. Many of the survivors of the war (both Polish and Czech) chose to remain in the RAF in Britain after it, believing (quite rightly) that their new (Communist) governments would, far from welcoming their return, mistreat them as enemies of the State for having being "corrupted" by their association with the west. They married and settled down in Britain; many of their sons followed them into the RAF as pilots and that association continues to this day.

When their flying days were over, many gravitated into the ATC Branch and I was privileged to know some of them, fine men all. Some of the names appearing in the text 'ring a bell' with me, for example:

"......‘Machine gun fire from the south-east corner of the aerodrome!’ barked the tannoy in the operations room, to the consternation of the station commander, Group Captain S F Vincent....."

Later, as AVM Vincent, he would be our AOC at 221 Group in Burma '44.

"......back to the Far East and command of No. 221 Group (South East Asia Air Forces, Burma [later Myanmar]) where he provided aerial support for the 14th Army...."
"On 15 September 2010, a replica Hawker Hurricane gate guardian in the colours of Vincent's aircraft was unveiled at RAF Northolt.[1]" (Wiki).
......

"....Satchell’s flight lieutenants were younger and less experienced than their Polish pilots, and one of them, Nigel Farmer....

Could he be the Wing Commander Farmer, CFI at 57 OTU in '42, who taught us a most valuable lesson (page 123 #2458 on this Thread) ?
......

‘What we could have done without the Polish fighter pilots in the Battle of Britain is difficult to contemplate.’ Air Marshal Sir Michael Beetham".

Now the senior Marshal of the Royal Air Force.[1] (Wiki). Starting at much the same time as I, I think he was in Class 42A of the Arnold Scheme in the US. Probably the only Marshal of the RAF not to have passed through the hallowed gates of Cranwell (?)

Thank you Molemot, for the glance back into those momentous days.

Danny.

Geordie_Expat
15th Oct 2015, 10:45
I've been hovering around PPRune for a few years so thought it was about time I actually started contributing.

I have nothing to contribute to this fantastic thread but I thought where else could I post my first effort.

I have been enthralled since the first post and it is so refreshing to read a thread with such a wealth of stunning experiences and recollections by fantastic gentlemen without any bitchiness that seems to afflict so many threads.

So, thank you all and I'll shut up for now until I can contribute something worthwhile somewhere.

Danny42C
15th Oct 2015, 18:42
Geordie Expat,

Let me, as the Oldest Inhabitant (?) be the first to welcome you into the good fellowship of this our Crewroom in Cyberspace where, as you rightly say: "Never is heard/A discouraging word.." - (we "play the ball, not the man").

"....nothing to contribute...", forsooth ! How about asking questions about items which may puzzle you ? It's all grist that comes to this mill ! Or having a go at CapCom ?

Danny.

MPN11
15th Oct 2015, 18:50
Now that Danny42C has greeted you, I will add my greetings too. :ok:

I trust Geordie_Expat isn't a steward on a cruise ship, or a taxi-driver in some foreign hell-hole?

Gizza clue, eh?

Geordie_Expat
15th Oct 2015, 19:28
|Danny: Thanks for the welcome. As always, a gentleman.

MPN11: Thanks also to you. Much more exotic background; 12yrs RAF attaining dizzy heights of Cpl (for a Tel in those days this was an exalted rank) then 25yrs with Shell, initially in comms then IT. Cruise ships, seedy taxidriver?? Pah !! Small beer.

Chugalug2
16th Oct 2015, 17:23
Hello Geordie, welcome indeed to this the best of all PPRuNe threads. Now that you've broken the ice, let's hear a lot more from you. Dizzying heights of Corporal indeed, for the Royal Air Force relied (and no doubt still does) on that exalted rank for its very day to day existence. Certainly the Flight Planning Rooms and Route Hotels of my time could, and often did, cease proper functioning in their absence until they mercifully returned to bring things again to good order. I've no doubt the same was the case in Tels, and I've no doubt you have many tales to tell of how if it could go wrong then it did go wrong, so let's hear them all!

Molemot, thank you for your two part piece on the Poles in the BoB. They were indeed a remarkable breed. Remarkable in surviving the German onslaught of the German blitzkrieg on their homeland, remarkable in making their escape from there, and often their subsequent escape from France, remarkable in their fighting spirit and success in the BoB when finally invited to join the fray.

As Danny recalls, so many of them stayed on in the RAF as no safe return to Poland was possible under the Communists, thus they gave their lives to the Service. The RAF was the beneficiary of their enforced exile, for they were the creme de la creme, everyone a professional aviator, and everyone larger than life. We are the poorer now that they are gone...

MPN11
16th Oct 2015, 19:18
We are the poorer now that they are gone...
I would like to think that some of those fine old gentlemen still make their annual visit to the Polish memorial by the A40 at Northolt.

My wife had the pleasure of escorting them some years back [she was OC Admin] and was festooned with bunches of flowers from the guys.

Anybody know if it still happens? There must be a few left, surely?

Ian Burgess-Barber
16th Oct 2015, 20:07
Many thanks to Molemot for that extensive contribution to the thread. I have never been able to dig up anything on the gent. who taught my late father in his crucial, formative flying hours, up to solo (June 11 - 21 1942) at No. 3 E.F.T.S. Shellingford (Oxon or Berks.whatever? The county bounds have changed since WW2). The instructor (Polish?) was a F/O Meretinsky in D.H. 82A T6564 ( which I believe still exists in New Zealand). After 12 hours 10 mins here he was sent to Florida and No. 5 B.F.T.S. to gain his Pilots Brevet.
It must have been great to to have had the one instructor up to solo - I flew with four different instructors up to solo in the civvy world of flight instruction in 1971 in the UK - not sure still if the differences I was exposed to made me better, or worse, on the memorable solo day.

Ian BB

Chugalug2
16th Oct 2015, 21:48
MPN11:-
I would like to think that some of those fine old gentlemen still make their annual visit to the Polish memorial by the A40 at Northolt.Indeed, and I too! Let me be clear (as I obviously failed to be first time round) in saying that we are the poorer, I meant because they are now gone from the Royal Air Force (although I may even be wrong there!), not from the world!

The highest rank they obtained, at least as far as I am aware, was Wing Commander. If I am right that was yet another injustice piled upon all the others that they so philosophically bore, given the excellence of some of their leaders . The reason of course was that of security, as it was reasoned that pressure could be brought to bear on them by threatening loved ones still living in Poland under communist rule. No doubt that was true, but it was yet another example of how the Poles had to suffer under occupation, be it from the East or the West (or both, simultaneously).

Danny42C
16th Oct 2015, 21:55
Sadly true, Chugalug, but in many cases their names have lingered on with their sons and daughters in the RAF (as any read of the Air Force List will confirm). And I would not be surprised if the next generation is starting to come along any time now.

Who can forget seeing Sqn Ldr Zurakowski and his "Cartwheel" with a Meteor ?

There is a lot about it on:

Aviation History and Nostalgia - Zurakowski Cartwheel - (Post: henry crun #1 19 July 2006)

Danny.

Union Jack
16th Oct 2015, 22:24
The highest rank they obtained, at least as far as I am aware, was Wing Commander. - Chugalug

That is rather sad for many reasons in view of their outstanding war service, and provides an interesting, and perhaps equally sad, contrast with the post war career of Rear Admiral Józef Bartosik CB DSC, as will readily be seen by reading between the lines in both

Rear-Admiral Joe Bartosik - Telegraph (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/1575688/Rear-Admiral-Joe-Bartosik.html)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J%C3%B3zef_Bartosik

The reference in the latter to Commander (later Captain) Mike Henry in which the then Captain Bartosik is quoted as saying 'that he considered Henry unsuitable for an important submarine appointment "understood to be impending"' is of special interest since the appointment concerned was as Commanding Officer of HMS RESOLUTION (Port Crew), the first Royal Navy Polaris submarine, and subsequently as Captain of the 10th Submarine Squadron, consisting of the four SSBNs.:ok:

Jack

Chugalug2
17th Oct 2015, 09:25
Thanks for those interesting links, UJ. It seems that Bartosik was very much the exception, both for good and for bad! I guess that generalisations about the Poles, or any other group of people for that matter, are best avoided as every one is an individual. There is no doubt though that as a group they very much enhanced the Royal Air Force, both in their finest hour and thereafter.

Danny good point about sons and daughters, and their sons and daughters in turn. The RAF especially should be proud of its Polish constituents and hopefully will always contain them in that way.

Pom Pax
17th Oct 2015, 17:20
Just to join a couple things together after the cessation of all hostilities and the withdrawal of operational R.A.F. units. The accommodation units on the site became homes for displaced persons mainly Polish and Czech.

MPN11
17th Oct 2015, 18:32
Good call, Pom Pax ... a small corner of the post WW2 scenario that is easily forgotten [until you reminded me!]

oxenos
17th Oct 2015, 19:00
Stanislaw Wandzilak was C.F.I. of 5 F.T.S. at Oakington when I was there in 64. Subsequently a Group Captain.

Chugalug2
17th Oct 2015, 22:18
It was he indeed that was the highest ranking Polish RAF Senior Officer that I was aware of, Oxenos. Like you I knew him at Oakington. Unlike you I did not know that he then rose to Group Captain. Thanks for the info. Please disregard my previous claim then.

Same again
18th Oct 2015, 17:05
I am posting in the hope that someone can point me in the right direction for research into RAF WW2 history. I have recently discovered some family photographs and documents am trying to find out where/when they were taken.

I have spent some time on internet searches and have a photo of what I now know to be a Martin Baltimore bomber registration AG714 with the crew of 4 standing next to the wing. I can make out a letter 'X' next to the roundel but that is all.

Another photo shows a Baltimore in flight taken from another aircraft and on the back is the date 30/06/42 and the words 'Near Cairo'.

A postcard from 1941 seems to indicate that the pilot attended RAF Hooton Park in that year.

Thank you.

Danny42C
18th Oct 2015, 21:08
Same again,

Wiki lists the following RAF Sqdns as using the "Baltimore" in WWII:

"Royal Air Force

1st Middle East TRoyal Air Force
1st Middle East Training Squadron

No. 13 Squadron RAF (Baltimore IV – V) (Italy: 1944)
No. 52 Squadron RAF (Baltimore IIIa – V) (Tunisia, Italy: February 1942 – February 1943)
No. 55 Squadron RAF (Baltimore I – V) (Libya, Tunisia, Italy: 1942–1944)
No. 69 Squadron RAF (Baltimore I – IV) (Mediterranean: 1942–1944)
No. 162 Squadron RAF (Baltimore III) (Libya: 1943–1944)
No. 203 Squadron RAF (Baltimore I, II, IIIa, V) (North Africa: 1942–1943)
No. 223 Squadron RAF (Baltimore I - V) (North Africa, Italy: April 1941 – 12 August 1944)
No. 249 Squadron RAF (Baltimore IV - V) (South-East Europe: October 1945 - April 1946)
No. 500 Squadron RAF (Baltimore IV - V) (Italy: 1944–1945)
No. 680 Squadron RAF (Baltimore III, V) (Italy: 1944)raining Squadron
No. 13 Squadron RAF (Baltimore IV – V) (Italy: 1944)
No. 52 Squadron RAF (Baltimore IIIa – V) (Tunisia, Italy: February 1942 – February 1943)
No. 55 Squadron RAF (Baltimore I – V) (Libya, Tunisia, Italy: 1942–1944)
No. 69 Squadron RAF (Baltimore I – IV) (Mediterranean: 1942–1944)
No. 162 Squadron RAF (Baltimore III) (Libya: 1943–1944)
No. 203 Squadron RAF (Baltimore I, II, IIIa, V) (North Africa: 1942–1943)
No. 223 Squadron RAF (Baltimore I - V) (North Africa, Italy: April 1941 – 12 August 1944)
No. 249 Squadron RAF (Baltimore IV - V) (South-East Europe: October 1945 - April 1946)
No. 500 Squadron RAF (Baltimore IV - V) (Italy: 1944–1945)
No. 680 Squadron RAF (Baltimore III, V) (Italy: 1944)"

Your best chance is that someone who served in N. Africa on one of these is among our vast readership and will come in to help.

Alternatively, the RAF Historical Branch may be able to connect the airframe no. to a unit.

Danny42C.

EDIT[: The only connection with Hooton Park seems to be that aircraft built in the US and Canada (inc Bostons and therefore probably Baltimores), and then shipped CKD to Liverpool, were assembled there in WWII.

"....the pilot attended RAF Hooton Park....." (to collect an aircraft for his unit ?)
D.

Same again
19th Oct 2015, 08:42
Thank you very much Danny42C.

I had seen that list on Wiki and have tried to identify which Squadron that the Baltimore was flying with. The only feature seems to be the letter X to the left of the roundel when viewed from the starboard side of the aircraft. I understand that each Squadron had it's own identification letters?

If I am able to identify the Squadron it would make the process of indentifying the crew easier.

I appreciate your help and will try to attach the photo.

Chugalug2
19th Oct 2015, 12:11
Same again, here is wiki's list of RAF Squadron Codes (as distinct from individual aircraft ones that completed the three letter code, usually painted either side of the roundel):-

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_RAF_squadron_codes

X on its own doesn't seem to figure for any of the squadrons in Danny's list, being mainly allocated to FTS's or AFTS's (could it be one of the latter?).

However if it were followed by another letter, cropped out of your picture, then the field is wide open and you may take your pick. Unfortunately none of them seem to then relate to a Squadron in Danny's list in 1942. If the picture's date is different to that, and there might be a second letter after the X, then it is a matter of matching a code to Danny's list.

If the X is clearly on its own, my guess is that it was aircraft X-Ray of a yet unidentified squadron...

MPN11
19th Oct 2015, 19:28
The impression I have is that a fair number of sqns in the Med region didn't bother with sqn codes ... perhaps they shared aircraft, or attrition and/or lack of paint made it too difficult?

Certainly "X" would suggest one of a large number of aircraft shared, rather than a 24 a/c sqn.

Danny42C
20th Oct 2015, 02:37
HEADS UP.

For those interested, Channel 19 ("Yesterday") is repeating "Into the Wind" 0130-0300 BST on 21.10.15.

And on casually re-reading some of the old Posts on this Thread, came across p.150 #2981 (Reader 123) and clicked on:

<http://www.rquirk.com/176Sqdn/Sircar...0Hurricane.pdf>

which amplifies my tale of Old Calcutta in '42 - '43. I would go along with it. There is also a lot of detail about the early days of AI radar to interest the specialist.

Danny42C

Warmtoast
21st Oct 2015, 17:01
Polish Pilots in the RAF

Further to Ian BB's (and others) comments. Reminds me of this story passed on to me by a friend.


A BBC TV journalist is interviewing an elderly former Polish fighter pilot.

Interviewer: So Mr Stanczewski, I understand that in 1943 you shot down five German aircraft in a single engagement. Could you tell us what happened?

Polish Fighter Pilot: Well we were flying at 20,000 feet when we spotted five Fokkers flying along below us. So we dived down and I aimed at one of the Fokkers and fired a burst from my machine guns right into him and he exploded. Then I saw that one of the Fokkers was on my tail, so I pulled round in a loop and got behind him, and fired and he went down on fire. I looked around and saw two Fokkers attacking my squadron leader, so slipped in behind them, and fired, and that was another Fokker going down in flames. The other Fokker tried to get away from me, but I got right up behind him, and blasted him with my machine guns and turned over and exploded. There was only one of the Fokkers left now, and he was trying to get away, but I flew up behind him, and shot — bang, bang, bang — and he blew up too!

BBC Interviewer: I should point out for the benefit of the viewers at home, that the Fokker was a type of German aircraft used in the war.

Polish Fighter Pilot: No, no, no - these fokkers were Messerschmitts!

Danny42C
21st Oct 2015, 19:02
Warmtoast,

Another old story: chap brings a F-27 into LHR and bangs it down rather heavily.

Anonymous voice on R/T: "That was a bit of a fokker !"

(F-27): Yes, it was nearly the End of a Beautiful Friendship !"

D.

Ian Burgess-Barber
22nd Oct 2015, 10:33
Re. posts 7477, 7478, 7480, 7482, pages 374/375

PBS America channel tonight 21.00 - 22.50

"Legacy Of War. How London was rebuilt".

Ian BB

MPN11
22nd Oct 2015, 11:13
Hmmm ... my on-line Sky guide (Channel 534, PBS America) says "The story of the creation of the United Nations, the World Bank and the Marshall Plan, all of which led to the making of modern Europe following the end of World War II."

Perhaps it's embedded in there somewhere? That's what comes up when I use your search term, anyway!

Ian Burgess-Barber
22nd Oct 2015, 11:54
Sorry Mr MPN11 - I foolishly took The Sunday Times Culture Mag. TV schedules as my source for tonight's show - like you I see that the on-line Sky guide says otherwise. I have been misled - my apologies to all.

Ian BB

Fionn101
22nd Oct 2015, 12:49
Ian BB, many thanks for the heads up.

A brief Google for the program contents brings up a different description for me. See Below :

Published on Sep 22, 2015
Premieres 9pm, Thursday 22 October on Sky 534 & Virgin Media 276

The aftermath of World War II saw European cities scarred by bombs and people who endured the onslaught struggling to cope in the ruins. Veteran journalist Walter Cronkite examines America’s grand Marshall Plan to reconstruct the infrastructure and help create a new post-War world.

As early as 1941, during the height of the Blitz, plans were drawn up for re-building London as “a new and modern metropolis”, but in the event the reconstruction took far longer than imagined and many of the more progressive ideas were scrapped. The original plans survive, however, offering a fascinating insight into how London might have looked. Cronkite traces the close bond forged between the US and Britain and how it changed, not always for the better, in the Cold War era as America expanded as a trading nation and Britain, weakened by war, struggled to found a new society its ally often felt was dangerously ‘socialist’. There are more personal alliances, too, with GIs returning home with ‘war brides’, and Cronkite recalls his own involvement, sitting within feet of the Nazi leaders at the Nuremberg trials: “I wanted to spit on them”. In a more reflective moment, Cronkite visits memorials to the war dead. Moved by a wall engraved with the names of thousands of missing soldiers, Cronkite muses that there must be a better way to settle our differences than by killing each other.

And here is a link to a preview https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D99Wl508KkI

Hope this helps,
Regards,
Fionn

Ian Burgess-Barber
22nd Oct 2015, 17:17
Many thanks F-101 for the link to the trailer. Perhaps The Sunday Times previewer saw this and presumed that the whole prog. was about the rebuilding of London? So - just one aspect of the show - Heh Ho!

Ian BB

Danny42C
22nd Oct 2015, 18:17
Fionn101 (your #7541),

"Moved by a wall engraved with the names of thousands of missing soldiers" (Walter Cronkike)...makes me think of another wall tablet which touched me. Some years ago, I went into a little old church in Falaise (Normandy).

It was completely deserted, but on one wall there was a small commemorative plaque recording the names of 300 townfolk: men, women and children, civilians who had died in the crossfire of the '44 Liberation.

This pales in comparison with the thousands of non-combatants also killed in France at that time. I believe the logical French bear us no grudge. C'était la guerre - it was inevitable.

Danny.

MPN11
22nd Oct 2015, 18:56
Having clarified the Sky programme issue [no apologies needed, you can't trust any Media info these days] I now have to choose/persuade between that and the delectable Lucy Worsley on BBC4 [Sky 116].

As the OH will prefer the latter, and in any case knows I fanthy Luthy thumthing wicked, I suspect I will be watching BBC4.

Ho-hum, some you win;)

octavian
22nd Oct 2015, 18:56
Just going back to Ian B-B's post 7521 on p377 for a moment; my father went through grading school at Shellingford in March-April 1944. He also had just one instructor, Sgt Porter, and went solo on 6 April in Tiger Moth T5842. Incidentally, when I did my PPL in 2003 I also had just one instructor. Thanks Alan.

Dad then followed a similar path to 5BFTS at Riddle Field near Clewiston in Florida, where he joined 25 Course in April 1945. Well through his training by August 1945, the dropping of the atomic bombs and subsequent surrender by the Japanese curtailed the course, and his last flight in AT6-D "AS", a one hour solo trip, took place on 6 September.

Some sources state that the training schemes in the US stopped immediately after VJ Day (15 August 1945), but my Dad's log book shows otherwise.

I hope this is of interest; I have followed this thread for some time and find it truly enthralling.

Ian Burgess-Barber
22nd Oct 2015, 21:03
Octavian,

Peter Brannan was another on Course 25 at Clewiston, he fell ill and was put onto Course 26, they of course, never qualified, but, certainly training continued after VJ day. The 201 cadets of courses 25 and 26 were all denied their wings by the cessation of hostilities. As I have reported here before, I have a quote from one of the R.A.F. Officers in charge at the time, "My, my," he said, "now you are redundant. What in the world will we do with you?"
I am sure all here can imagine their devastation.

Ian BB

Danny42C
23rd Oct 2015, 00:54
Ian BB,

There was bound to be a huge overrun when the Japanese war ended so suddenly: we were all "caught on the hop", and it was months before some sort of equilibrium could be restored. Meanwhile most units carried on more or less by a process of inertia, and of course the flying training schools were no exception.

I can well imagine the disappointment of the trainees part way through their courses in the BFTS and in Canada (the Arnold Scheme in the US had ended in '43), but if the Bomb had not dropped when it did, they would have come out to join us in the Far East (for there would have been no sense in our being repatriated, even though we'd ended our "tours") and taken part in the land, sea and air battles which would precede the final combined services invasion of Japan.

As to that project, at the time it was generally accepted out there that the Allied casualty list would be about a million dead (the majority American). See:

That's Life: It's Sexually Transmitted and Terminal
<https://books.google.co.uk/books?isbn=143575436>
Barry Friedman - 2008

"...Okinawa, an archipelago whose northernmost islands are about 350 miles south of the Japanese mainland .." (Barry Friedman, quoted by Google)

That shows the scope of the enterprise. The 201 Cadets of Courses 25 and 26 were better out of it ! and should count themselves lucky (as did I).

Danny.

Danny42C
23rd Oct 2015, 02:30
I have a little thing still niggling me that I have mentioned in Posts some time ago, when we were engrossed in the subject of Vultee Vengeance pilot's instrument panels. This was the unanswered question of Two Balls (needle 'n ball kind) on one Panel. (Groans of boredom all round !)

This (supposed A-35 [VV Mk.IV to us] arrangement was certainly also in the Curtis P-40), and others of that family, so it must have been a factory fit. BUT WHY WOULD YOU WANT TWO AT ALL ?

My curiosity was reawakened when I came across a Thread called "What Cockpit" (Multi-page Thread 1 2 3 4 5 6 ...18 Last Page). This lives in "Aviation History and Nostalgia" and the latest Post is currently on Page 2 of that. Obviously there would be a rich field of panels to explore here and I set about it to find more double ball examples.

But in all I have seen, there is only one case (p.3. #52) "confirmed", (and even then it might be argued that both are on the centre panel and so might reasonably be regarded as being shared out between the two pilots). This was the Lockheed L-14 Super Electra, which brought Premier Chamberlain back from Munich in '38, with his infamous piece of paper from Hitler promising "Peace in Our Time" (we were at war the next year !)

So I throw it open to all pilots (and anyone else with an opinion): can anybody give me a credible reason why a second 'slip' ball (which must have had a cost) on the panel would be an advantage to one pilot ? :confused:

Danny42C.

Chugalug2
23rd Oct 2015, 06:55
Danny, other than as half the turn and slip indicator itself, was the other "ball" simply an added part to another instrument? It occurs that for whatever reason the US Govt might have required required that a "ball" be attached to a particular instrument (artificial horizon, directional giro?) to aid the scan and ensure an in trim aircraft. It was the most basic of devices and would add mere cents to the cost, especially in the prodigious numbers being dealt with. Just a thought...

Danny42C
23rd Oct 2015, 11:09
http://i203.photobucket.com/albums/aa154/Kitweston/wcp%2016mar.jpg
http://www.pprune.org/images/statusicon/user_offline.gif http://www.pprune.org/images/buttons/report.gif (http://www.pprune.org/report.php?p=8904204) http://www.pprune.org/images/buttons/reply_small.gif (http://www.pprune.org/newreply.php?do=newreply&p=8904204&noquote=1)
Chugalug,

Tried to copy 'n paste the picture to you but no joy. But if you Search for Which Cockpit ? (Show Threads), then take it from there (as in Paras 2 and 3 of my Post), you should arrive at the picture. Will try again tonight, don't think I can get a pic, but can get an URL reference, if that's any good ?

The ordinary needle/ball is higher on the central panel than the combined D.I./ball (lower and set slightly to the left - obviously for the benefit of the Captain).

For my part, if I ever felt the need to reset the D.I. in the air, I would clearly have to fly S&L for a while to let the compass settle down, while doing that I'd have all the time in the world to centre the ball, so it could be anywhere in the panel provided I could see it. Why would I need two then ?

I must be missing something !

Danny.

http://i203.photobucket.com/albums/aa154/Kitweston/wcp%2016mar.jpg
http://www.pprune.org/images/statusicon/user_offline.gif http://www.pprune.org/images/buttons/report.gif (http://www.pprune.org/report.php?p=8904204) http://www.pprune.org/images/buttons/reply_small.gif (http://www.pprune.org/newreply.php?do=newreply&p=8904204&noquote=1) http://i203.photobucket.com/albums/aa154/Kitweston/wcp%2016mar.jpg
http://www.pprune.org/images/statusicon/user_offline.gif http://www.pprune.org/images/buttons/report.gif (http://www.pprune.org/report.php?p=8904204) http://www.pprune.org/images/buttons/reply_small.gif (http://www.pprune.org/newreply.php?do=newreply&p=8904204&noquote=1)

OMG !!!

(Gremlin has taken over from me - Help !)

Danny.

Fareastdriver
23rd Oct 2015, 15:05
The lower instrument, adjacent, top/left of the No 1 throttle appears to be a compass rose or direction indicator. (the type you fly around instead of chasing a needle).

Would it be possible that the 'ball' is an ADF indicator of some type.

bingofuel
23rd Oct 2015, 15:39
Is the large rectangular group of instruments not the basic autopilot fitted to the DC3, so may have its own instrument for some reason? Just a thought.

topgas
23rd Oct 2015, 17:52
I came across this site http://robertalfredjay.********.co.uk/ (http://robertalfredjay.********.co.uk) (for some reason Pprune doesn't like "blog spot" without the space so you'll have to replace the *s) whilst looking for something completely different (actually yachts built to train Luftwaffe navigators in the 30's).
He chronicles his father's experiences training and flying as a Flight Engineer. His logbook, record of service, even his 1250 are included. He has also researched other crew members from 75(NZ) Sqn at Mepal, and the squadron operations while his father was with them. With the end of hostilities in Europe, the crews took part in Baedeker trips - low flights over some of the squadron's targets to view the extent of the damage.

A link from there led to a 75(NZ) Squadron blog which includes a wealth of material.
https://75nzsquadron.wordpress.com/

Apologies if this has been posted previously.

Chugalug2
23rd Oct 2015, 21:05
Danny, time for me to sign the pledge I think. I'm now seeing everything in threes ;-) Your pic(s) confirm that Mr Chamberlain's piece of paper arrived safely thanks to not one but two slip indicators. You just can't have too much of a good thing!

Perhaps we ex-RAF types should remind ourselves that the RAF Standard Instrument Flying Panel was just that, an RAF one. Other countries seemed to have a more varied idea of what should adorn their instrument panels. I see on the following page to the one you directed me to is a German example of the art, in the Ju 388. They seem to have the offending item attached to the Artificial Horizon (but where is the Turn Indicator?). Vorsprung Durch Technik!

http://www.ju388.de/Ju388/Ju388C01.jpg

BEagle
23rd Oct 2015, 22:21
Allow me:

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a341/nw969/24936_zpshqjiewof.jpg (http://s14.photobucket.com/user/nw969/media/24936_zpshqjiewof.jpg.html)

I suspect that the lower unit is part of a standard 'blind-flying panel' and the upper is a straightforward back-up.

Fareastdriver
24th Oct 2015, 18:26
Those objects scattered around the frames of the 388 remind me of the early Dragonfly helicopters. In Borneo we had an aged Flt Lt called Charley Verry who had flown these in Malaya during the Emergency.

The first S51s did not have hydraulic assistance with the controls. This made them very heavy to fly with no means to trim them out. As he said. "You could always tell a Dragonfly pilot by the way he dragged his knuckles along the floor." In flight it was much the same so as to make it bearable there were loops of bungee attached to various points around the glazed front end. Once in the cruise one selected a convenient loop and wrapped it around the cyclic to offset the forces.

If you don't believe me--------------http://www.sikorskyarchives.com/S-51.php


A 3 bladed fully articulated main rotor head was installed on the S-51 helicopter. The rotor diameter was 48 feet on helicopters and 49 feet on helicopters with all metal blades and controlled by a mechanical control system and a bungee trim system to reduce pilot fatigue. A rotor flapping restrainer was optional equipment which allowed rotor engagement in higher wind conditions.
A hydraulic servo system eliminated the bungee trim system in late production helicopters (H-5H) and was offered as a retrofit kit for earlier models. Hydraulic power for the servo was provided by a hydraulic pump belt driven by the tail rotor driveshaft.

They have no idea how easy thing are nowadays.

Danny42C
24th Oct 2015, 22:33
Chugalug (your #7549 and #7554), Fareastdriver (your #7551), bingofuel (your #7552), topgas (your #7553), and BEagle (your #7555),

Thank you all for your helpful suggestions and comments on this prize example of double-ball-itis. What has emerged is, I think, the right answer: the additional ball (below a Directional Instrument) formed part of a Sperry autopilot control sub-panel. Here I am at a disadvantage, having never seen (still less used) one and am indebted to Wiki for this pic of a modern one.

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/fb/A340_FCU.jpg/300px-A340_FCU.jpg (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:A340_FCU.jpg)

The modern flight control unit of an Airbus A340

But in earlier times (can't find a pic) the auto control panel seems to have been found a place in the pilots' main panel (as in this 1938 Lockheed Super Electra), and I would suppose the wartime DC-3s and Dakotas would have a similar fit (we have wartime Dak operators on frequency - come in, please).

Clearly you would need to be able to fly the aircraft with or without the autopilot fitted, so you would also have the normal instrumentation. Indeed the Electra has another AH on the Captain's panel and surely another DI (blanked off by him), as well as the needle&ball up in the middle (odd place to put it ?)

So problem solved ? Well, no, not quite, In training in the US, I flew PT-17, BT-13 and AT-6A. Back home I flew Master, Hurricane, Spitfire, Vultee Vengeance, Thunderbolt, Harvard again, Spitfires again, Meteor, Vampire and a Balliol. None had more than one ball or slip needle.

So tell me why the P.40 had two (no autopilot). Were any other US s/e types so fitted ?.

There were some interesting sidelines:

The Captain had to make do with two stripes, the F/O only one (Imperial Airways ?)

Chugalug: I'm sorry I gave you triple vision, but, honest Guv, it wasn't me ! I managed to copy the picture all right, tried to paste it on PPRuNe-pad three ways, no joy on two of them and the third just gave me an 'url' (whatever that is) reference. Gave up, just put text in, "Preview Post" showed just text, tapped "Submit" - and all three chickens came home to roost ! Sighed and went to bed.

Yes, some instrument layouts were compared with "Pawnbroker's Shop Windows". Ju388 is new on me, had to look it up on Wiki. Good performance. Vertical scan might be easier than horizontal ? Turn indicator might be that little clock at the bottom, but how would it work ?

Fareastdriver, "...Would it be possible that the 'ball' is an ADF indicator of some type..." Don't think so. Will hand that over to those far more knowledgeable than I.

bingofuel: "Is the large rectangular group of instruments not the basic autopilot fitted to the ,...." Spot on !

topgas: "...even his 1250 are included..." How on Earth did he manage to get away with that ? 'Fraid I dont know Mepal or 75 (NZ) Sqdn, but met many Kiwis in my time. Always thought that, of all the Wild Colonial Boys, they resembled us the most closely.

BEagle: Thank you for a much better picture ! - but: "...and the other is a straightforward back-up..." I would have thought that, of all things, a 'ball' slip indicator was the least likely to fail. "Gravity never lets up", said one of my instructors in the US.

Once again salutations and my thanks to you all,

Danny.

esa-aardvark
25th Oct 2015, 00:02
Mention of solo caused me to look for my fathers logbook, instead I found that
of my uncle Alastair who went solo on 16/12/1948 after 6 hours 45 mins training.
14 flights in a Tiger moth. 12 Flights with a Mr R Whitehead and 2 with a Mr Forster.
I think the experience of my father was similar.

esa-aardvark
25th Oct 2015, 03:47
http://i721.photobucket.com/albums/ww218/john_thomson_nz/vengeance2.jpg

Danny42C
25th Oct 2015, 07:40
esa-aardvark,

It's a Vengeance all right (or, more likely, the US A-31 or A-35, as the vehicle is RHD [which in my generation meant "drive on the RH side of the road"], and it looks like a US Army truck).

Don't think it's being towed by the truck, though. The accepted way was to tow backwards with a dolly on the tailwheel. Never seen one towed from the front, although you could easily do it with tow ropes on the wheel struts.

It would be an awkward business, the man in the cockpit,having to steer with wheel brakes (and unable to see forward over the nose, or zig-zag along as we had to do with all s/e taildraggers). Perhaps the chap on the prop boss was shouting instructions to him.

Any provenance to the pic ?

Danny.

Chugalug2
25th Oct 2015, 08:05
Danny, your request for an early DC-3 cockpit photo produces a wealth of ones to pick from on Google. I chose this one as it has the feel of an early one, with little apparent wear on the control wheels, however the rudder pedals have been well booted so obviously in service for a number of years. It does indeed seem to have the same centre (Sperry?) panel instruments as the Electra:-

http://learningfromdogs.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/dc3-panel.jpg?w=700

Danny42C
25th Oct 2015, 08:35
Chugalug,

Many thanks - just what the doctor ordered !

But now all they've got is a single needle 'n ball on the autopilot control panel. At least I can't see any more, can you ? I suppose they didn't fly it unless the autopilot was fitted.

Perhaps some Regulation required (or the Pilot's Union demanded) this.

Btw, what did you have in your Hastings ?

Cheers, Danny.

esa-aardvark
25th Oct 2015, 09:13
Hello Danny,
found it while looking for fathers logbook. I suppose
that he took it, but not sure. He did work in India assembling
the Vengeance. According to his F54? he went to Canada 34SFTS
and then India - Karachi, 301MU, 320MU, 82 SQDN, but I'm
not sure of the accuracy of the form. In one of his stories he mentions
that "we had to improvise in Burma". He mentions changing a Wright Cyclone(Vengeance)
utilising a block & tackle and a large tree. I do know he was a member of the
31 SQDN association (I had to inform them when he died), and held the Burma Star.
Was Imphal considered to be in Burma at the time ?
.

Chugalug2
25th Oct 2015, 10:50
Danny:-
Btw, what did you have in your Hastings ?My Pilots Notes tell me that it was a Mk9 Autopilot (made by Smiths I think). The Flight Deck presence was in the form of two controllers mounted below the two DV panels, with separate L/R (rotary) and up/down switches. Below the Captain's one was the master switch panel with the three R,A,E, motor switches, the engage button, disengage button, pitch trim indicator. Additionally there were cutout switches on the control wheels. I seem to recall that one's hands were forever ready to tweak the controllers, especially the L/R as it was prone to wander off heading.

The main Gyros were inverter driven and housed in a box behind the captain's seat by the port wall.There were no "auto pilot instruments" on the main instrument panels. I suspect that in the Sperry instrument panels that we have noted, the Artificial Horizon and Directional Gyro doubled as both indicators and gyro platforms for the Sperry Autopilot. Perhaps our learned engineers might comment?

I suppose they didn't fly it unless the autopilot was fitted. Perhaps some Regulation required (or the Pilot's Union demanded) this.
If so both Regulation and Union were conspicuous by their absence when we took delivery of our £1M ($1.5M?) apiece Hercules Mk1's. They were jam packed (hence the bargain basement $ price) with UK electronic nav and radio gear including a Smith's A/P. The latter took one look at the US wiring loom impedances and went into severe sulk mode. The result was that the c/b's were collared off and we hand flew them (for a year?) on the 13/14 hour legs on the Changi Slip. When I say we, once over the Indian Ocean all were welcome to try their hand provided they could keep the a/c reasonably straight and level.

Danny42C
25th Oct 2015, 11:46
Chugalug,

They seemed to have used all the available nooks and crannies in your cockpit to stow away the component parts of your Smiths autopilot ! (any room for a couple of truck brake drums ?)

But, apart from that unit, did you still have the standard RAF individual pilot's six-instrument "Sperry Panel" on each side ?

It looks as if, in these early two-pilot layouts, that the co-pilot was not really regarded as such, the Captain would do all the flying, he was there just as a dogsbody to do as he was told.

It recalls the tale I was told one night by my American "roomie" in the Calcutta Grand, that as a 25-hour washout from the Air Corps, he'd been recruited by CNAC (that distant forerunner of Cathay Pacific) in that very capacity - and was coining it in at three times my pay - and I was doing all the grafting myself ! There's no Justice (for Willing Horses) !

Danny.

Danny42C
25th Oct 2015, 12:12
esa-aardvark,

Not sure whether, in your Dad's (and my) day, Imphal was in Burma or part of the North-East Province of British India. Not that it mattered, either way it was ruled from London.

Anything East of Calcutta was "Burma" as far as we were concerned. Yes, engine changes were frequent in the early months of our Vengeance experience. The sympton was a rapid rise in oil consumtion: anything in excess of 4 galls/hr condemned the engine.

"Facilities" for a change might just be a tree (and you had to make sure the branch you were using would carry a ton) and block 'n tackle. And it might be pouring with rain while you were doing it. And there might be poisonous snakes and God knows what lurking about in the grass.

Later when more VVs were available, the whole aircraft was simply struck-off and you drew another one from stores.

Danny.

Chugalug2
25th Oct 2015, 14:07
Danny, herewith the glorious, the superb, everyone's favourite aircraft (well nearly, well some, well mine! ;-) The Handley Page Hastings Flight Deck in all its majesty:-

http://spitfirespares.co.uk/Website%20Products%20393/hastings%20cockpit.jpg

The blue buckets are obviously a mod introduced since my time. The purpose of the left hand one would seem to be to drain off the alcohol from the P10 compass, no doubt for when the sun passed over the yard arm. The right hand one presumably replaced the left hand one when it was full.

Not only was the Hastings fully operative from the RHS, but co-pilots were trained as P1's at the OCU. I think I have mentioned before how co-pilot solo (with an oppo in the LHS to pull up the gear and set flap etc) drew wary crowds to watch the proceedings from a safe distance of such arrivals.

Sir will notice the full leather seating in a distinguished green colouring. The apparent wear merely adds to its character, don't you think?

Geordie_Expat
25th Oct 2015, 15:07
Later when more VVs were available, the whole aircraft was simply struck-off and you drew another one from stores.

Danny.

That is priceless :D:D:D

Geordie_Expat
25th Oct 2015, 15:59
Slight thread drift, but any mention of Hastings brings bile to the throat of anyone who worked on Flight Watch (sorry guys but we loathed IRS flights).

We had four channels in Muharraq, one of which was never used, changed frequency at 0200hrs and changed back at 0600hrs if memory serves. Needless to say it was rarely done but if IRS was around you could guarantee that there would be a call on the dot of 0600hrs reporting no contact for 4 hours.

Yeah, we LOVED them !!

Probably the only aircraft at that time that could stay around long enough to be a pest (this was 1967-68).

The main frequency in use enabled us (if needed) to work flights from UK to Gan and sometimes beyond so who gave a toss about an unused channel (IRS that's who !!).

No criticism intended of those that actually flew them.

harrym
25th Oct 2015, 18:28
Chugalug – ref your #7564, the Sperry autopilot's AH and DG provided attitude and heading input to the control servos, as was proved to me one day when I unthinkingly caged its AH while in use in an attempt to correct what I thought was an erroneous indication. The horizon bar customarily waved about a bit before finally locking into a straight & level attitude, and so ensued a rather wild sequence of strange manoeuvres (and associated passenger discomfort) before I managed a hasty disengagement – another lesson learned the hard way!

The picture of a Hastings panel on your #7567 is somewhat intriguing, and also slightly mystifying. On the captain's side the turn & slip, altimeter and VSI all appear to have changed places as compared to what I recall , while on the extreme right the co-pilot seems to have acquired a needle & ball additional to his other instruments. As for Hastings autopilots, in my view they were markedly inferior to the Sperry, especially the WW2 surplus junk fitted to the Mk1.

As for the presence of a slip indicator on the Sperry, I have no recollection of that and this is backed up by a picture of the BBMF Dak on pages 80/81 of the DC3 Haynes Manual – perhaps it was fitted only on the early marks, and disappeared later?

Danny42C
26th Oct 2015, 01:37
Chugalug (your #7567),

There's Posh for you ! Nice layout, presume the gubbins top centre to be autopilot control boxes. Breathtakingly luxurious seats: wear shows clearly the division of labour en route: Captain goes back into first-class for hours on end to chat-up all the birds and sample the vintage champagne and entire cordon bleu menu top to bottom.

Can-lad is strapped in his seat (company regs) and keeps an eye on "George".

Captain comes back, aircraft runs into extreme turbulence, Captain throws up entire cordon blue menu into blue bucket thoughtfully provided by Company for the purpose (as in Ancient Rome, no orgy complete without a vomitorium).

Can-lad is strapped in his seat (company regs) and keeps an eye on "George".

Turbulence subsides, Captain recovers, peckish again now, so goes back to First-Class, samples pudding trolley top to bottom, has black coffee, comes back, more turbulence, same again. (second bucket thoughtfully provided...)

Can-lad is strapped in his seat (company regs) and keeps an eye on "George".

Captain recovers, time for descent now, graciously takes control. Can-lad permitted to rummage for packet of crisps and pork scratchings (not provided by Company). "George" flies ILS, "Autoland" rounds it off. (Applause from First-Class for the "greaser").

Parked, Air Bridge made fast, Exeunt Omnes.

Captain works out new wheeze to dodge tax on his £100+K salary, while Can-Lad tasked with emptying buckets, dreams of Captaincy in 15 years (if lucky).

It's a hard life !

(Should I copy this to "Terms and Endearments" ?)

Danny.

Chugalug2
26th Oct 2015, 09:47
harrym, you are absolutely correct, Sir! Not only have the Turn & Slips and the Altimeters switched places but the former are not of the needle and ball type that I remember. Why that should be I have no idea, but remember reading somewhere that the Standard Flying Panel was revised sometime post-war. Could this be the original layout, with a trial fitting of the new fangled needle and ball type (to try out on the boy of course ;-). Doesn't explain how this Hastings avoided the later mods. Perhaps some restoration changes are the explanation. Never mind, give the man a cigar!

Edited to add; thanks for your explanation of the Sperry Autopilot functioning and how it was superior (as I can well believe) with ours as fitted in the Hastings.

Danny, your picture of bucolic and tyrannical captaincy was alas no longer the order of the day by my time. We were all very touchy-feely, concerned with the finer feelings of the lower classes (ie the co-pilots!). As often as not he outranked me anyway, me being a mere Flying Officer. Certainly being unmarried I was often the lowest paid member of the crew, with SNCO and Warrant Officer ones pulling in more than many of the commissioned officers. I seem to remember the Form 6663, that the Co-pilot (as sub-imprest holder) kept updated for each member of the crew en-route, said all about one's financial status.

Nonetheless the pic of the DC-3 recalls Ernest K Gann's "Fate is the Hunter", and his description of attempting a let down by night while his captain kept lighting matches in front of his face (simulating lightning?). Though on reflection it was probably in a DC-2. The Oscar Brand song "Oh, I'm the Co-Pilot, I sit on the right" is a lament of harsh injustice (no doubt still to be found on YouTube).

That row of switches along the coaming were nothing as sophisticated as auto-pilot ones, but merely operated the various external lights, such as nav and taxy. Many were of an arcane nature that we never used and had no real understanding of their application, such as resin and downward identification lights (the latter having a morse key unit and colour selection switch). It is only on this forum that some explanation has been forthcoming. Finally there was a glider tug light, which my pilots notes helpfully explains "is no longer in use"!

GE, your post leaves me mystified though feeling vaguely guilty at having kept you awake at night when you were on Flight Watch. Firstly, what is/was IRS (other than an American Tax-Man)? Why did you advertise in the En-Route book a channel that
was never used,Admittedly all communication with the outside world (including telegrams) was via the desk of the signaller whose black arts could produce the New York actuals but not those of the Pacific a/f that you were inbound to. It had its advantages though, as any delay encountered could present opportunities to inform Ops that you intended to bypass some unfavoured nightstop and catch up the itinerary by proceeding onward to a favoured one, unless otherwise ordered (knowing full well that sun-spots, diurnal variation, and the many other varied obstacles to HF comms could well prevent being thus otherwise ordered).

Geordie_Expat
26th Oct 2015, 11:48
Chug, IRS (commonly referred to as Iris) was Inspectorate of Radio Services.

As regards black arts, it certainly seemed that way at times. For example, one night I heard someone calling Uxbridge without success so I called him to offer to relay his message (we had a teleprinter link to Uxbridge). Turned out to be a British Eagle Brit over the English channel who needless to say had never heard of Muharraq. He declined my kind offer !

FantomZorbin
26th Oct 2015, 12:08
Aah! ... IRIS. The Inspectorate of Radio Installations and Services.
It was IRIS's job to tour the country listening in to all sorts of transmissions and butting in when they heard a 'no-no' in the phraseology being used and then sending a nasty letter to the offending unit. If things were quiet they would call up an ATC unit (ATSU) and ask a question which would then send the operator scurrying into the Flight Planning Doc or the UK Air Pilot.


One memorable occasion was when IRIS called an ATSU and posed a question ... alas, they then stayed on permanent transmit!! Over the airwaves came "This'll sort the b*****s out, they'll take an age ....". Eventually there was a sharp "click" immediately followed by the ATSU, "Say again all after b****r!" IRIS pushed off immediately!

flap15
26th Oct 2015, 15:43
First up a big thanks for a very interesting thread and feel a little out of my depth amongst such company. I am a chopped RAF pilot having gone through EFTS at Swinderby and FTS at Linton before doing a runner and getting my civil wings. This lead to 10 years of General Aviation before getting on with a real job, less fun more money.

I have been researching a local accident that occurred on the 19 Feb 45 involving an Air Speed Oxford from 1533 BAT Flight, based at RAF Church Lawford outside Rugby. The instructor, WO Frank Needham and his student Sgt Eric Kershaw died when their aircraft, HN311, struck trees near Thurlaston Grange. The weather was poor with a low cloud base and poor visability and the accident site was on the extended center line, the aircraft had struck one of the numerous Elm trees Warwickshire was famous for.

I would be most grateful for an insite into how a beam approach procedure would have been flown. Also what was involved in the advanced flying course that the multi engine guys would have gone through.

I must add that one of the nicest afternoons I had in the airforce was after taking a group of veterans around Linton, before retiring with them to the mess for happy hour, was to find I was sharing a pint with a WWI Sopwith Camel pilot

harrym
26th Oct 2015, 18:15
Chugalug – I had no further experience of the Hastings post-1960, so think any mods to its instrument layout took place after that. Your pic shows the G4b compass beneath the horizon, which as you know was standard on the Mk2 while the Mk1 in my time had a DG on both panels – were the Mk1s updated later to the G4?

Flap15 – re your #7574, you will find a fairly full description on use of the SBA some way back in this thread, in the account of my WW2 training. This was posted in instalments at irregular intervals, and if you search for it I think the bit to look for was put up about a year ago; it covers the summer of 1944, when I was at 21 AFU Taten Hill and detached to 1534 (?) BAT Flight at Shawbury.

Fareastdriver
26th Oct 2015, 19:51
I have found Cliff Nemo's handwritten SBA procedure in *187 of this thread in 2008.

lasernigel
26th Oct 2015, 21:37
Just a note about those brave Polish flyers. I was in the ATC in Blackpool, the school Sqn was 2454, though the band was 2354 based in a building in the roughest council estate in Blackpool, Grange Park.
The OC was a ex Polish RAF guy called Wing Commander Tuarek(sp). He flew Hurricanes and Spitfires during the war and Meteors and Javelin post war. His son wanted to be a fighter pilot like him, but unfortunately at 6ft 7in had to settle for Transports. What was the height limit on jet fighters with a bone dome?
Sorry if I am off thread.

Warmtoast
26th Oct 2015, 23:11
When I was at RAF Thornhill in 1952 and we heard on the grapevine that the annual visit from the UK of the RAF Watton-based IRIS (Inspectorate of Radio Services) Hastings carrying the Group Captain CO of IRIS and his team in their specially adapted aircraft was due, the purpose being to check whether signals standards and Air Traffic Control procedures at R.A.F. Thornhill were up to standard. We were told that we were to adhere religiously to radio procedures as laid down by Air Council Publications (ACPs) when contacted by IRIS on the R/T.

Rumours abounded about the impending visit and for signals and ATC personnel who’d not come into contact with IRIS before, their visit instilled a sense of fear and foreboding. IRIS’ visit was to check whether signals standards and Air Traffic Control procedures were up to standard. If they weren’t then woe betides the miscreant! Allegedly an adverse report could have a severe effect on promotion prospects. In the event nothing untoward happened. We (the VHF/DF operators), ATC staff and signals staff who maintained the ground-based signals aids all received a clean bill of health and later a signal from IRIS confirmed, much to our relief, that R.A.F. Thornhill ATC and Signal Sections complied with the agreed standards and procedures as laid down by the Air Ministry, which was a relief.

Later back in the UK operating ground-based radio aids, IRIS was in the habit of sneaking around UK airspace and making R/T calls and asking to use radio navigation aids without warning or prior notice.

ISTR there was an awful upset when an airfield on the South Coast (Tangmere?) didn't match what IRIS and the Air Ministry considered best practice, from wrong responses to radio calls, to Nav-aids not working properly etc. This would have been around 1954-1955.

Flight Global has an article about Signals Command with a bit about the rôle and functions of IRIS here:
1959 | 2988 | Flight Archive (http://www.flightglobal.com/pdfarchive/view/1959/1959%20-%202988.html)


My photo below is of a very smart and shiny IRIS II (Hastings TG560) taken at RAF Thornhill in 1952. The only distinguishing feature that shows it may have a signals-related rôle is the second ADF aerial on the fuselage.


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Thornhill/Thornhill-IRISHastings.jpg

Danny42C
27th Oct 2015, 03:30
Chugalug (your #7572),

"......with SNCO and Warrant Officer ones pulling in more than many of the commissioned officers....."

When I got my wings, I got 13/6 a day as a Sgt. and paid 6d a day Mess Bill.
At that time, I think an Acting Pilot Officer (whatever that was) got 11/10 a day and would be lucky to get away with a monthly Mess Bill of £10.

Of course, I couldn't resist your bait - here it is in all its glory !

Danny.

Oscar Brand!!!

Oh I’m the co-pilot I sit on the right;
I’m quick, I’m courageous, I’m wonderfully bright;
My job is remembering what the captain forgets
and I never talk back so I have no regrets;
I’m a lousy co-pilot and a long way from home.

I make out his mail forms; I hire his whores;
I fly this old crate to the tune of his snores;
And once in awhile when his landings are rusty;
I come thru w/ “Yessirree, Captain, its gusty!”
I’m a lousy co-pilot and a long way from home!

All in all I’m commissioned to General Scrooge;
I sit on the right of this high flying stooge;
One day I’ll make captain and then I’ll be blessed;
I’ll give my poor tongue one long hell of a rest!
I’m a lousy co-pilot and a long way from home!

M

This came from an album of military time party songs w/
I assume Oscar Brand on the cover dressed in Army Air Corps
dress riding down on a parachute whilst holding a gravity bomb.

Is there another kind ? ....D.

Danny42C
27th Oct 2015, 03:48
lasernigel (your #7578),

I reckon that in 1952, at the ripe old age of 12, you'd be at school in Blackpool. Had St. Joseph's College ("Holy Joe's" - my alma mater) closed down by then ?

"The OC was a ex Polish RAF guy called Wing Commander Tuarek" The name suggests "Toorak" (Oz). Any connection (many Poles went out there after the war) ?

Danny.

Danny42C
27th Oct 2015, 04:09
Warmtoast (your #7579 Re mentions of IRIS),

I'm ashamed to admit that I was in ATC '55 to '72, and have never heard of IRIS until now ! - although of course we had a Calibration Flight round from time to time to check up on our Aids, and an ATC Examining Board occasionally came round from Shawbury to ensure that we were all up to speed.

"...This would have been around 1954-1955...!"

Extract from my Post p.188/#3753:

"....Now 608 had come back on the frequency, so it was a public confession. Guffaws and catcalls filled the air (I'm afraid R/T discipline was rather poor in those days !)...."

Must have been IRIS's off day !

Danny.

lasernigel
27th Oct 2015, 14:02
I reckon that in 1952, at the ripe old age of 12, you'd be at school in Blackpool. Had St. Joseph's College ("Holy Joe's" - my alma mater) closed down by then ?

I wasn't born until '53 Danny. But Holy Joe's was still open into the 1960's until the nonsense of comprehensives came in.
Wing Commander Tuarek was still OC of the ATC sqn into the '70's in Blackpool.:ok:

Geriaviator
27th Oct 2015, 15:11
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/Broken%20Hart_zpsks3hruzq.jpg

I don't know what went wrong, Danny, but would this fill the bill? Hopefully save a lot of searching.
For everyone else, it's a 142 Sqn Hind, Aldergrove armaments camp, 1938. The Irish bogland flipped over three aircraft, while old-timers will know that cows find doped fabric is delicious even though the consequences are disastrous for bovine and machine alike :uhoh:

flap15
27th Oct 2015, 16:12
Harrym and Fareastdriver. Thanks for the pointer, rereading the post a little slower, I think the boss would have called it a man look!

Flap15

Stanwell
27th Oct 2015, 16:41
Danny,
Re Wing Commander Taurek and a possible connection with the (pretentious) Melbourne suburb of Toorak...
It's most unlikely that there's any Polish influence on the name.
The locality took its name from Toorak House, built by James Jackson in 1849.
Apparently, he named the house after the Aboriginal word for its particular location on the River Yarra.. (place of reeds).


Still the best thread on PPRuNe. :ok:

Fareastdriver
27th Oct 2015, 16:57
Aldergrove armaments camp, 1938. The Irish bogland flipped over three aircraft

Spitfire 22s were still doing it at Aldergrove in 1949.

Danny42C
27th Oct 2015, 19:33
lasernigel,

Oh dear ! - and Pure Maths was one of my Principal Subjects in my H.S.C. ('38). Senior Moment, I'm afraid - they're becoming more numerous lately !

Old Holy Joe's a long time gone - an "Executive Housing Development" covers Layton Mount now. Right in the middle of it is a "St.Joseph's Close" - the last trace in memory of the school. And I think the old stone gateposts were there for some time after. I was a boarder there from '29 to '38.

Danny.

lasernigel
27th Oct 2015, 20:06
Old Holy Joe's a long time gone - an "Executive Housing Development" covers Layton Mount now. Right in the middle of it is a "St.Joseph's Close" - the last trace in memory of the school. And I think the old stone gateposts were there for some time after. I was a boarder there from '29 to '38.

It went in the '80's and the boys went up to Layton Hill convent school, which is now called St.Mary's Catholic Academy.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Mary%27s_Catholic_Academy

St Joseph's College. Blackpool (http://www.stjosephsblackpool.com/)

:ok:

Danny42C
27th Oct 2015, 20:14
Geriaviator,

That's the one ! Thanks ! Will squirrel it away until occasion arises (which might be some time, as my scintillating wit [what does it do after eight ?] does not always receive the recognition which I feel is its due).

This has saved me from a lot of tedious searching - many thanks again, and

Cheers, Danny. :ok:

Danny42C
28th Oct 2015, 00:37
lasernigel

There is a wealth of the history of old St. Joseph's, and pictures, available on its website, from which these have been lifted.

I can add little to this, except to add that, when the Christian Brothers were invited by the Bishop to take over, the Girl's School had to hive off to Layton Hill Convent, as the statutes of the Brothers forbade them from teaching young ladies.

The intervening distance would need a bike to cover in the little free "extramural" time we were allowed - and the boarders were not allowed bikes (nor were they at Layton Hill !)

They thought of everything !

Danny.

http://www.stjosephsblackpool.com/Index_files/b1_small.jpg

The New Building in my time.

http://www.stjosephsblackpool.com/Index_files/b2_small.jpg

The gates to the Old House.

http://www.stjosephsblackpool.com/Index_files/destruction1_small.jpg

The Old House (onto which the New Building backed - in process of demolition ?).

"Boarder's fee note from the Fifties. Charges were £42 per term plus extras! Was it worth it? At that time, the fees at Eton were £600 per term".

From 1938 to 1955 the Inflation factor was 2.56. In 1938 the Boarding Fees were £30 per term plus extras, which makes the Fifties Fees a bit of a bargain !

Danny42C
28th Oct 2015, 07:08
Recommend:

TV heads-up tonight 21:00: Quest TV, Mighty Planes - T-38 Talon (http://www.pprune.org/military-aviation/569731-tv-heads-up-tonight-21-00-quest-tv-mighty-planes-t-38-talon.html)
Rhino power

You can still get it on Quest on Demand.

D.

jeffb
29th Oct 2015, 13:52
Further to the obstacles the Polish pilots encountered ( and this applies to any pilot where English is not their first language, such as Czechs, Free French etc) was being shot down.
Dad mentioned that it was reemphasized many times at Bomber Command lectures that if their bomber was hit over the target, to make the utmost effort to put at least 25 miles between them and the target before baling out. The rationale was that the local populace might be a bit more forgiving; however that is not always the case as his experiences pointed out.
He did mention it was similar in the UK, that downed airmen were not always greeted with civility. In a few instances he was aware of the locals figured anyone shot down had to be the enemy, and if you couldn't speak fluent English, well that just confirmed it. It turned out they were RAF, but only after the fact was that discovered.

Danny42C
30th Oct 2015, 19:01
jeffb,

(Your: "that downed airmen were not always greeted with civility"). I was told a story in ATC once, by an old pilot and former POW, that when they had to bale out over the outskirts of a German city they had just bombed, they landed well apart.

He dumped his parachute and made his way through the dark, empty streets, looking for someone in uniform to surrender to. On his way he passed a street lamp. Hanging from it was his Navigator :eek:. Luckily he found a polizist before the next vigilantes found him !

Understandable in the circumstances, I suppose.

Danny.

MPN11
30th Oct 2015, 19:22
Ouch. :mad:

Understandable, I guess, but NOT a nice experience.

ICM
30th Oct 2015, 21:10
Danny: Entirely understandable, I'm sure. During the raids on Berlin in early 1944, there was a 10 Sqn crew shot down who considered themselves fortunate to have parachuted onto Tempelhof, where they were securely but safely arrested and sent down the interrogation/POW track. There are also plenty of stories of men en-route to POW camps being protected on trains etc by their German military escorts from very angry German civilians. And in the mid-1980s, I had dealings with a German 3-Star General who, after a couple of glasses, could become very bitter about the "RAF Terror Fliegers."

Chugalug2
31st Oct 2015, 12:56
Such bitterness could manifest itself on either side. Gus Walker was senior RAF officer at a Cranwell Guest Night and sat alongside the guest of honour, a serving Luftwaffe General who had been of high rank in the Third Reich. Anyone who had the honour to encounter ACM Sir Augustus Walker GCB CBE DSO DSC AFC would attest to his affability and good manners. Those sitting close by reported that he scarcely said a word to the General throughout dinner...

Geriaviator
31st Oct 2015, 15:57
Those who feel, as I do, that Bomber Command's sacrifice and achievements have been repeatedly downplayed by our craven politicians will be interested in this petition originated by Mr Theo Eaves, who flew 35 sorties as a wireless operator with 142 Squadron when the squadron was based in Italy in 1944. He wishes to bring the following to your attention:

In 2013 the Government awarded the Bomber Command Clasp to aircrew in recognition of their bravery and service. But the airmen who took part in bombing raids over Italy and North Africa are not eligible for the award, which has been reserved for those who flew over Western Europe. Mr Eaves has now launched an online petition on the UK Government and Parliament website to gain recognition for RAF bomber crews who flew in the Mediterranean based squadrons of No.205 Group. 142 Squadron operated from North Africa and Italy between December 1942 and October 1944.

If you wish to support Mr. Eaves' campaign, the petition can be found here: https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/107432

Danny42C
1st Nov 2015, 18:51
Geriaviator,

"...which has been reserved for those who flew over Western Europe...."

Not exactly (I think), but for those who served in Bomber Command (which only held sway in the UK). After "D" day, I think bomber ops from the UK would be under the aegis of the Second TAF, ops from North Africa under First TAF.

(Wiki):

"Australian First Tactical Air Force
Desert Air Force (later known as the First Tactical Air Force) - North Africa and later Italy
RAF Second Tactical Air Force - Northern Europe
RAF Third Tactical Air Force - South Asia"

If the definition was so based, then our Liberators from Ratmalana (Ceylon), Third TAF, should also get a look-in. A bit pettifogging, I agree, but that's how the official mind works.

Not around in Europe at the time, so my opinion is of little value ! Don't think Mr. Eaves will have any success with his Petition as the putative recipients will have all died out now, and I don't think campaign medals are awarded posthumously. Worth a try though (so long as 3TAF is included !)

Danny.

jeffb
4th Nov 2015, 04:34
As prisoners of war, Dad recalled instances where the Germans terrified them, but also instances where they severely humiliated the Germans in their cat and mouse game . The Gestapo would conduct random searches for a variety of reason, but normally included a snap role call. As mentioned before, the POW,s were experts at fouling the count up, but sometimes they crossed the line. In one instance, after 3 hours, the Gestapo officer's patience ran out, and he threatened to shoot prisoners as a reprisal. You have to remember that this took place scant weeks after the massacre of 50 escapees from Luft 3 ( The Great Escape)so it was certainly taken seriously.
In the camp, there was a man called the Person of Confidence-essentially the CO. As the senior rank was WO, and there were several hundred of them in the camp, the position was filled by election! ( I will bet many wish they could have elected their CO,s!) Again, as has come up time and again, The Right Man, Right Time, Right Place was in the form of Sgt Dixie Deans, RAF, who earned the respect of both the POW,s and the Germans. At a later date, he was instrumental in saving the lives of many POw,s by sourcing and arranging for the delivery of Red Cross food parcels to the men( who were, by this time literally starving). After the friendly fire incident at Griesse, he persuaded the German CO to let him cross into Allied lines to inform them of the POW,s whereabouts, before returning to German captivity.
In this instance, Deans ordered the prisoners to form up, the count tallied correct, and the situation was defused.
In the second incident, some prisoners were paraded. I am not sure if they were from the general population, or the RCAF was singled out, as a Gestapo officer came in, surrounded the prisoners with fully armed troops, and proceeded to threaten to shoot the prisoners. This was in retaliation for a perceived wrongdoing to German POW,s incarcerated in Canada. For 12 hours Dad and others has to face this officers bizarre rants, and the troops threatening gestures before the Germans grew tired and felt they had made a point, so they left as abruptly as they arrived.
Later I will relate 2 instances where the POW,s embarrassed the German; in one case by a single prisoner, the other where Dad participated.

Danny42C
4th Nov 2015, 05:34
jeffb,

There were many cases of this kind reported after the war, and in almost every instance the Gestapo were involved. Some time back I've told of a story (believed to be true), where the officers of a Jagdgeschwader in southern Germany, hearing that a group of RAF prisoners passing nearby were destined to be handed over for imprisonment to a Gestapo unit, intervened and forced the Gestapo officer in charge, at pistol point, to release the prisoners to them.

They then took them back to their squadron, gave them a decent meal, and made sure they went on to a proper POW Camp. It pays dividends: more flies are caught by honey than by vinegar (as every interrogator knows). And as Kipling put it a century ago:

"Where is the sense of 'ating those
'Oom you are paid to kill ?"

Danny.

jeffb
6th Nov 2015, 02:52
While the Gestapo flexed their muscles( they were put in charge of all prisoners after the Great Escape, however they never took full control, but for the most part left the Luftwaffe to continue to be responsible for their charges, only intervening on occasion), the POW,s managed to let their captors know they were not going to quietly sit and accept their orders without a fight. In fact, the Germans considered the airmen to be many times more troublesome than army pow,s, and segregated them whenever possible
Two instances of the humiliation imparted by the prisoners come to mind; one perpetrated by a single prisoner, one in which Dad participated in a group.
In the first instance, an opportunistic pow actually managed to steal the trousers of the Gestapo officer conducting a search! Apparently, the officer got his trousers wet, and took them off to dry. They were pinched, and the Germans went crazy and tore the camp apart searching for them, unsuccessfully as it turn out .This episode was chronicled in sketches made by a pow, in a book called 'Handle With Care', about 60 or 70 pages of sketches of camp life in Hydekrug, Thorn Poland, and Fallingbostle. Amazingly, these sketches were carried by the artist throughout the forced evacuation of these camps. I would have liked to have included this sketch in this post; however I did some home renovations several years ago and put my copy in a safe place-too safe it appears as now I cannot locate it. Perhaps another reader might oblige and post it-it show a trouserless officer addressing a German soldier, who is trying unsuccessfully to hide a snicker behind his hand, saying 'Well, what are you staring at' as a single figure is running in the distance, pant flapping in the breeze.
In the second case, again the Gestapo called a snap search of the camp. The prisoners were confined to their barracks; in Dad's case it was to the large tent holding about 150 men. A guard was posted at the window flap, facing out to the camp. The pow,s started a game to see who could sneak up behind him and touch the rifle without the guard noticing. It soon escalated to dropping debris down the rifle: wadded paper, sand, even a lit cigarette. The final topping was a dandelion placed in the muzzle of the rifle.
This was ok until the search was over, and an officer came to collect the men. He noticed the flower, snatched it out of the rifle, and practically shoved it up the guards nose, screaming at him. Then he noticed the cigarette smoke wafting out of the rifle, and lost it. I,m not sure if the officer snatched the rifle from the guard, or ordered him point the gun down; in any case with each shake more and more debris fell out. Both the prisoners and guard feared he was going to be shot on the spot, but after a whole lot of screaming, the officer sent him off to a fate unknown.

MPN11
9th Nov 2015, 18:45
Ladies and Gentlemen, may I crave your indulgence for a moment for a bit of Thread Drift?

I have been advised, via 'certain sources', that tomorrow [10 Nov] is the birthday of a certain major contributor to this Forum. Accordingly I post ....

Happy Birthday
to
Danny42C


from the RAF ATC “Old and Bold” Fraternity



Ah, Danny42C … raconteur, wit, living history, incisive mind ... a man who has been where few have been before: from Arnold Scheme, Vultee Vengeance, Spitfire and other historic aircraft types to CATCS Instructor and even ATC Leeming … and an insomniac to boot! [we have seen the timestamps on your posts!]

We wish you a very happy day, Danny42C, and we hope that the wider PPRuNe community might spare a moment to raise a glass to you tomorrow ;)

Madbob
9th Nov 2015, 19:20
MPN11


Seconded! Happy birthday Danny, from a fellow former GD/P and ATCO (Mil).


MB

Ormeside28
9th Nov 2015, 19:39
And a happy birthday Danny from your North Wales Branch. Ormeside.

1in1
9th Nov 2015, 20:00
A very happy birthday Danny and many thanks for all the wisdom and pleasure you dispense.....long may it continue young man !

Taphappy
9th Nov 2015, 20:04
Danny.

May I add my voice to the rest of your fan club in wishing you a Happy Birthday. Shall raise a glass of finest malt in your honour;
Onwards and upwards'

John

Fareastdriver
9th Nov 2015, 20:30
Danny. Happy birthday and many more.

Remember, mess bill.

FantomZorbin
9th Nov 2015, 20:38
May I second all the above!! :D It has been a real pleasure and an education to read all your contributions, truly fascinating. Thank you Sir.


FZ
"Old & Bold" East Anglia branch
(Sometime member of S.O.D.C.A.T.)

Danny42C
9th Nov 2015, 21:19
To all my fellow-PPRuNers who have, or who may, associate themselves with the generous sentiments so ably expressed by MPN11 andyou all on the occasion of my 94th birthday, may I say a heartfelt thank you !

It has been my pleasure to try to keep you amused and interested in the story of one who was a a small part of a war which is now slipping into the history books.

I think my resident Mess Committee may remit my Mess Bill this month, which will leave me in funds to cover the purchase of a four-pack of "Guinness" (or even two).

So, Cheers ! to you all, :ok:

Danny.

smujsmith
9th Nov 2015, 21:33
Many Happy returns Danny,

Just got near my iPad. Hope you've had a great day, if not do it again tomorrow until you get it right Sir :ouch:

Smudge :ok:

Chugalug2
9th Nov 2015, 21:35
Happy Birthday, Danny!

You have energised this thread throughout, with every subject imaginable and unimaginable. We have been taken from wartime Britain to Canada, the USA, India, Burma, back to the UK, thence to Germany and Austria. We have explored the minutiae of equipment, issued and invented alike. We have discussed aircraft, cars, radars, portable beds, and married quarters alike. What awaits us in the second half I have no idea, but I am certain it will be equally as informative and entertaining as in the first half.

Just one small cavil though. Any chance of getting barrack stores to revamp the furnishings of our virtual crewroom? There's a spring poking out of the seat of my armchair! Not complaining, you understand, but it does rather distract one from your entertaining bon mots. Just a thought...

Have a great day!

Chug

Union Jack
9th Nov 2015, 21:58
A very happy birthday to a Very Senior Pilot from the Senior Service!:ok::ok:

Jack

Danny42C
10th Nov 2015, 02:47
Chugalug,

Thanks for the birthday greetings !

I'm afraid our beloved Crewroom in Cyberspace is beyond human aid. It exists in a sort of time-vacuum (like Doctor Who), in which nothing ever changes (the ashtrays are never emptied, and £sd is the currency) and those priviliged to enter therein miraculously regain the age of the happy years of their service. Age does not wither us, nor......

Needless to say, the Barrack Warden would not touch us with a bargepole, for everything therein was scrap or knocked-off. Even a blown light bulb was exchanged with reluctance, and then only provided the dud was identified as service issue. I'm sorry about your loose prong, but a couple of old magazines and a parachute seat cushion (these used to be available in abundance from scrapped 'chutes) should fill the bill. Better yet, nick someone else's armchair in true Service fashion.

Our Nissen hut has the faculty of disappearing altogether at inconvenient times (AOC's visit, say), so it does not offend the sensibilities of over-zealous Wingco (A)s or SWOs. In short it was a sort of Shangri-La, or an Everyman's Garden Shed.

Danny.

Ian Burgess-Barber
10th Nov 2015, 10:51
Danny, Sir,

Birthday salutations to yourself from this reader in "The Auld Sod" - a glass of Uisce Beatha will be raised in your honour (only after the hangar door is closed of course).

Ian BB

Geordie_Expat
10th Nov 2015, 10:52
Danny,

Nothing to add to the previous good wishes. All the very best to you.

Ripline
10th Nov 2015, 16:01
Happy Birthday, Danny, SIR!

It obviously gives you great satisfaction to entertain us youngsters with your fascinating tales of yesteryear. I'm certain that you are well aware of the appreciation and respect that comes back to you via this best of threads and virtual crew room which so many of us quietly inhabit and return to daily. You are also part of a hugely interested audience for these subjects and also a significant contributor to the same. Our store of contemporary History would be the poorer without your thoughtful and lucid writings.

I stand in awe.....and thank you again.

Hope that you and Mrs. Danny42C (not forgetting Daughter) had a lovely day!

Ripline

Once a King always a King,
but once a Knight is enough....

Wander00
10th Nov 2015, 16:52
As usual with birthdays, so Mrs W says "day late and a dollar short". However, apologies for being late but Very Happy Birthday, Danny

Brian 48nav
10th Nov 2015, 17:03
A belated Happy Birthday!

I only hope I can be half as switched-on as you should I reach 94.

harrym
10th Nov 2015, 17:07
Danny, I can only concur most heartily with all the above sentiments - all the very best!

Harry

goudie
10th Nov 2015, 17:50
Danny, Happy Birthday Sir. You certainly are a wizard with words and your posts are a pleasure to read. Enjoy your day and many many more to come.:ok:

MPN11
10th Nov 2015, 18:57
Nobody is late ... today's the day [for another 4 hours, anyway].

My glass of Calvados is empty, Danny42C ... give me a moment ...

...

...

Cheers, Sir :D

Thanks again for your wonderful writing. :ok:

Danny42C
11th Nov 2015, 01:11
That's it for (hopefully) another 12 months. 94 ! Never thought I'd get so far - my card must've dropped down the back of some celestial filing cabinet !

My renewed, sincere thanks to all of you well-wishers who have helped to make my day, and who have been so complimentary about my scribblings over these last three years.

I raise my night-cap glass to you in salutation,

Danny.

John Eacott
11th Nov 2015, 08:49
Bloody good show, Danny :ok:

If I could mention a personal 'special' associated with the 10th November, it was that day in 1943 that Dad last flew a Beaufighter. He came off second best to a pack of 109s and finished up in the Aegean Sea, after which he was interred in Stalag Luft IVb. A couple of escapes later he got to the US Army who promptly locked him up again!

Anyway, the Australian National Aviation Museum at Moorabbin Airport have a very open policy with their exhibits and we arranged for him to clamber into their Beaufighter; it was only when we were both in the cockpit chatting to someone outside that we realised it was the 72nd anniversary of his last time there! His memory of what was where was great, and it was quite touching to be there with him. Like Danny he has managed a great life in his 93 years :cool:

https://fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xpa1/v/t1.0-9/11148730_10207737413143572_5546311612897320408_n.jpg?oh=604f d0789430af93f2e8d603d7453312&oe=56B69496&__gda__=1454671232_2fdde56287a14071ccd7605d64eeb296

https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xaf1/v/t1.0-9/12191019_10207737412383553_1039179303231551309_n.jpg?oh=7167 151750f6b40b3c525d9fcfb31675&oe=56F3BA7E&__gda__=1454809802_5a5871c884c46a191216ba63b2635e79

ancientaviator62
11th Nov 2015, 09:58
John,
thank you for sharing that wonderful memory with us. Huge respect nd best wishes to you father on this Remembrance Day.

smujsmith
12th Nov 2015, 20:08
John, I second AA62s felicitations to your dad, I'm sure that all followers of the thread would welcome any exploits of his that can be shared with us. He must have many memories,must as Danny does.

Smudge :ok:

Danny42C
12th Nov 2015, 20:11
John,

Thank you for the kind words and the wonderful pictures of your Dad. What a tough old beast the Beau must have been ! - the "Whispering Death" certainly looks the part (it got its name from the quiet sleeve-valve Hercules engines, one such is in the foreground). And I like the stable-mate they've chosen (a Link Trainer ! - "Dignity and Impudence ?")

I had little to do with them, but on 20 Sqdn in Valley ('50/'51) we had a TT version. I am sorry to say I never even climbed aboard to have a look, being content with our Spitfires and Vampires. Which is a pity because then I would not have to trouble your Dad with a question arising from a tale told in one of my earlier Posts.

A Beau from a nearby strip in Burma got shot-up: the pilot dead or incapacitated, but the aircraft still straight and level. The Nav managed to wriggle forward into the front cockpit, and, lying on top of his unconscious pilot, managed to fly it back home. Tried to belly-land it, unsuccessfully, both killed.

Question: is that really possible (the crawling forward, that is ?)

Now to business: your "....interred in Stalag Luft IVb. A couple of escapes later...." What a story is here from that throwaway remark ! Please get your Dad talking, and get it down here while there is yet time. Remember Fred (RIP), who "spent six weeks dodging the Gestapo", but who left us with the story untold.

My kind regards to your father, and Cheers to you both,

Danny.

John Eacott
13th Nov 2015, 01:06
Danny,

Dad is registered here, but whether I can induce him to post is yet another story ;)

Briefly, he and his observer (Bob Pritchard) were picked up after bobbing around for 24 hours and greeted with the stock saying: "For you, the war is over".

Taken by train through Italy to Mulhberg where he joined the other RAF prisoners in Stalag Luft IVb. He wanted to escape and changed places with a fusilier in order to get out on work parties, which gave him the opportunity. He was recaptured the first time, then a later escape saw him and many others walk through Germany to the American front line troops. They were far too busy to look after dodgy escapees such as Dad who had a soldier's ID!

After many years as a Met copper (Inspector) he took a chance and joined the RAAF, starting on the same day that I joined the RN at BRNC.

Re your query about crawling forward, yes. There is plenty of room to move forward from the observer's area and stand behind the pilot's seat, but access to the front is very limited as you must climb over the back of the pilot's seat to get into the cockpit. Whilst we managed to get Dad up to the front hatch, it was beyond him to actually get into the seat. As he mentioned at the time the Beau was much larger than he remembered, and at 20 years old it was so much easier to leap up the first step than using a step ladder last Tuesday!

Danny42C
13th Nov 2015, 03:02
John,

No sweat ! Dad just talks (we old-timers are quite good at that), you have a recorder and do all the heavy work. I had a room mate at Spitfire OTU in '42 who had been a constable in the Met; a Reserved Occupation if ever there was; the only way they would let him out was if he volunteered as aircrew.

Seems the Burma Beau story fits the facts: the nav would have had to climb over the back of his pilot's seat and the pilot to get at the yoke.

No, we're not a nimble on our pins as we were then, but it looks as if you've shoehorned your Dad into some sort of cockpit: what was it ? And how did you get him in and out (block 'n tackle ?)

Happy days, Danny.

John Eacott
13th Nov 2015, 03:54
Shoehorned? Well, I did find a deadlift of ToM up the steps was...challenging. The rear hatch is in the on the right of this photo, you can see the one and only kick-in step that the youthful crew would nonchalantly leap into on their way into the machine: we used the step ladder, and still had a 2-3 foot 'next step' into the cabin!

http://www.eacott.com.au/gallery/d/7340-2/Dad+_amp_+rear+access+Beaufighter.jpg

Inside we spent a while getting Dad past the observer's seat, a very basic metal seat on a 360 swivel. But the floor is quite unergonomic for traversing, plus the radios aft of the hatch and odd wiring tended to create an obstacle course. Dad took a breather before making it over the spar to the forward hatch where we stood and surveyed ToM's old workplace:

http://www.eacott.com.au/gallery/d/7343-2/Dad+in+Beau+fuselage.jpg

http://www.eacott.com.au/gallery/d/7346-2/Beau+cockpit+01.jpg

Dad's resting his hand on the fixed back of the pilot's seat; you can see how agile they were to get into the cockpit!

http://www.eacott.com.au/gallery/d/7349-2/Dad+in+cockpit+01.jpg

About now we realised the significance of the date, when talking to some visitors out of the window :ok:

http://www.eacott.com.au/gallery/d/7352-2/Dad+in+cockpit+02.jpg

Really, really proud to have stood in Dad's old kite with him :cool:

http://www.eacott.com.au/gallery/d/7358-2/Dad+_amp_+John+in+Beau.jpg

kookabat
13th Nov 2015, 08:46
Lovely set of photos, John, and a wonderful story to go with them.

If it's that hard to get *in* to a Beau, imagine trying to get *out* in a hurry! :ooh:

John Eacott
13th Nov 2015, 09:20
If it's that hard to get *in* to a Beau, imagine trying to get *out* in a hurry! :ooh:

Interestingly enough, Dad had no problem finding the release handle for the overhead escape hatch in the cockpit, much as happened 72 years ago.

Only back then, after releasing the hatch, he thought he was a goner as he went down with the rapidly sinking Beau. Until he remembered to undo his seat belt, after which he popped to the surface like a cork out of a bottle ;)

To flesh out some more of the episode, Dad had downed two Arados but suffered a nicked aileron cable in a 'head to head' encounter the day before (9th November). This put his beloved Z-Zombie out of action and he took a new Beau fresh from a delivery flight. When the patrol was bounced by a flock of Me109s the SOP was to outrun them but Dad was unable to keep up in the new machine and became the target for a shooting gallery.

The 109s took turns to line up for potshots and eventually the starboard engine caught fire. The extinguisher took care of it temporarily but it lit up again and Dad had no option but to ditch.

When he surfaced the (only) fortuitous result of it being a new aircraft was that there was an automatic dinghy release in the port engine nacelle and their doughnut was waiting for them. Unfortunately it was only partially inflated so Bob, being a better swimmer, puffed into the oral inflation tube enough to get some shape into the thing. Then they had to turn it the right way up, but that took ages as it kept folding in half being only partially inflated. Dad gave Bob a boost into the dinghy once it was the right way up, only to be confronted by a yellow face as Bob went into the marker dye in the bottom of the dinghy!




Then there was his earlier life ostensibly as a night fighter pilot, and flying the IIf with Merlins which he thought was much better. Not least because he could see out to each side instead of two socking great Hercules radials filling his vision!

John Eacott
13th Nov 2015, 19:39
Which Beau squadron during the Aegean interlude?

603 (City of Edinburgh) out of North Africa.

Danny42C
14th Nov 2015, 00:25
John, yours is exactly the kind of Post that has made this (IMHO) the best and most popular Thread in the Forum. Now that we have to face the fact that we can expect no more from the wartime generation, it falls to their children and grandchildren to fill the gaps from the tales told, and the logbooks, diaries and notebooks left to them. I would hope that this entire Thread (and others like it) might be archived one day and find a home in the I.W.M.

If it is not too much to ask, could you coax from your Dad the whole story from the day he signed on the dotted line, took the Oath (and got two bob to seal the deal !) and embarked on what was probably to be (as it was for so many of us) the greatest adventure of his life ?

I am sure that I speak for many besides myself in making this plea.

Danny.

ion_berkley
14th Nov 2015, 05:39
Interesting article in the Guardian this week concerning now departed thread poster Regle (aka Reginald Levy):
Four hijackers and three Israeli PMs: the incredible story of Sabena flight 571 | World news | The Guardian (http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/nov/11/sabena-flight-571-hijack-plane-black-september-film)

Union Jack
14th Nov 2015, 09:45
Excellent spot, interesting read, outstanding pilot.:ok:

Jack

pulse1
14th Nov 2015, 11:07
I am using this thread to try and motivate my neighbour to tell us his story. He is very reluctant.

He was a Beaufighter observer and was shot down in the Med. He was captured and taken to an Italian prison camp where he remained until Italy surrendered. Although they were ordered to stay in the camp he escaped and tried to make his way to Switzerland but was captured by the Germans and taken to POW camp in East Germany. When the Russians "liberated" them he witnessed some awful sights as soldiers raped women who had come into the camp seeking protection. It was this that made him realise that this was "real war" and made him reluctant to talk about it.

I particularly want to record his story as a record of how ordinary people, a Durham miner in his case, trained and operated as aircrew, and then went on to totally different lives. In his case he became a schoolteacher in Dorset. It probably wont be long before we lose his story for good.

FantomZorbin
14th Nov 2015, 11:19
Originally posted by Danny42C
and got two bob to seal the deal !
Two bob!, two bob! ... 'cor I was done!! I only got one bob and that was palmed-off into a 'squadron fund'!!!

Chugalug2
14th Nov 2015, 13:24
pulse1:-
I particularly want to record his story as a record of how ordinary people...trained and operated as aircrewWith respect they were not ordinary people, they were and are very special people (sorry, Danny, I know that you will disagree with me) from an extraordinary generation. The tenacity and grit to confront a monstrous tyranny, as theirs was faced with, cannot be taken for granted. Others have been so challenged and crumbled before the onslaught. We all of us wonder how we would have conducted ourselves under such ever present mortal danger.

Reg Levy's awesome hijack story as linked by ion_berkley links in turn to his obituary:-

Reginald Levy obituary | World news | The Guardian (http://www.theguardian.com/world/2010/aug/23/reginald-levy-obituary)

the word humbling comes to mind...

John Eacott, thank you for the lovely pics of you sharing your dad's reuniting with his old steed. What a shame he couldn't take his rightful place in it, but like all such equipment it was designed for the job in hand, and not for 21C accessibility requirements. Well done though for getting him inside! As Danny says, now is the time for his generation to speak out, not on their own behalf but on behalf of the entire generation. For it is not only their own story that is important, but the very culture that drove it, of duty and obligation. We rubbish such concepts at our peril, for they are the difference between resistance and capitulation. They have much to teach us and there is much that we need to learn from them.

Danny42C
15th Nov 2015, 05:17
ion berkley (your #7637),

The news of the Israeli film of Reg Levy and the Lod hijack is interesting indeed: one would hope that an English language version might appear in due course (or has one appeared already ?) I've got the Kindle version of his book: "Night Flak to High-Jack", a very good read, but of course those of us who'd followed this Thread at the time knew the whole story well. I hope that the book has been a commercial success.

Now wouldn't it be a good idea if some of our PMs had a background in the SAS ?


pulse1,

Your #7639: ".... He is very reluctant...". This is a very common experience: there has to be an underlying reason and it might be worth while to explore it. Perhaps your neighbour is not 'on line' (few of us nonagarians are), have you tried to tempt him by reading him some of our 'back numbers' ? (that's the way they got me in). And many more than I must have been struck by the coincidences with John Eacott's father's story. He couldn't possibly be a "Bob", by any chance ?

Your: "....a Durham miner....how ordinary people" (pace: Chugalug !) " .... trained and operated as aircrew....and then went on to totally different lives....". It was so in my case. My five years of war, I like to think, took the place of the University to which I could then never have aspired, and pointed me to the career in the RAF which followed after I'd ditched the Civil Service which had seemed so desirable a future in the hungry Thirties.

As you say, the clock is ticking.


FantomZorbin (your #7640),

This puzzles me. It was certainly a "florin" I got on attestation in December, 1940, a day's pay then (roughly the equivalent value of the traditional "King's Shilling"). When did you enlist ? I believe it went up to 3/- later in the war, so you were well and truly "done" all right ! (I smell a rat).


Chugalug,

As ever, we remain in friendly disagreement over our supposedly "special" qualities. Probably we all have reserves of courage and detemination in us which are not called upon in normal civilised lives and so remain dormant and unsuspected. But when and if the call comes (and we must pray that it does not), I hope that the people of this country would respond in the way in which they have always done in the past.

Perhaps I expressed myself badly: but my point to John Eacott was that my generation has already "spoken out" as far as it can; it is now dying out and we must pass on whatever we leave behind in memory or in writing to the next to "take up the baton".

My regards to you all,

Danny.

Geriaviator
15th Nov 2015, 07:50
Pulse1
Please do try to coax/help your neighbour's story. I have a book by a former Beau observer and I would have been terrified to have been stuck under that dome halfway back, never mind the glasshouse effect under Med sun.
Re the story of the observer taking control, I think my old friend Maurice told me the seat back folded down. The pilot entered via the hatch, walked forward, then swung himself into his seat via the red handrails in the fine pictures on the previous page. Getting out in a hurry ... never thought about it, said Maurice. "We loved the Beau, once used to it we felt pretty safe as it was built like a brick s--thouse and it carried a mighty punch".
I'm away on yet another hol :\ and have been unable to log in from abroad, so may I belatedly congratulate you, Danny, on your recent milestone :D

pulse1
15th Nov 2015, 08:33
have you tried to tempt him by reading him some of our 'back numbers' ? (that's the way they got me in)

I do have an accomplice who is much closer to him than I am and we are making sure that he at least reads the posts from John Eacott.

John Eacott
15th Nov 2015, 09:24
Pulse1
Please do try to coax/help your neighbour's story. I have a book by a former Beau observer and I would have been terrified to have been stuck under that dome halfway back, never mind the glasshouse effect under Med sun.
Re the story of the observer taking control, I think my old friend Maurice told me the seat back folded down. The pilot entered via the hatch, walked forward, then swung himself into his seat via the red handrails in the fine pictures on the previous page. Getting out in a hurry ... never thought about it, said Maurice.

The pilot had his own hatch, just aft of his seat. We were standing on it when looking at the office, but didn't use it because a) it would have been more difficult for Dad, and b) we couldn't find the key for the padlock!

Dad also commented that he had never used the rear (observer's) hatch before ;)

Geriaviator
19th Nov 2015, 16:21
Danny wrote: My generation has already "spoken out" as far as it can; it is now dying out and we must pass on whatever we leave behind in memory or in writing to the next to "take up the baton".

Following Danny's comment, I would be honoured to relay the story of Tempest pilot Flt Lt Jack Stafford, DFC, RNZAF, who died in Auckland this year at the age of 92. I have retyped it from a printout given to me some years back; its source may be an early Flight Simulator game for which Mr Stafford was a consultant. I can find no record of copyright, so if it exists my sincere apologies and I shall withdraw this post. For me, these memoirs put Mr Stafford among the top flying authors and I am sure they will be greatly enjoyed by readers of this thread. If no objection, I shall post them as a serial for all to enjoy over the next month or so in tribute to Mr Stafford and so many of his fellow Kiwis who hesitated not in this country's hour of greatest need.

The Memoirs of Flt Lt Jack Stafford, DFC, RNZAF, 1923-2015


I was 19 years old, I was flying a Harvard, and I was flying it well. Just imagine a 19-year-old boy given a machine that cost the equivalent of several top racing cars, with a performance that would leave those cars in its dust. The boy is taught to fly and, when he is capable, he is told to take this beautiful thing up into the air and have fun. Built only for war, it was just a magnificent, expensive, uneconomic, performance-inspired, young man's dream. So I was up into that unlimited space, with no restrictive roads, just the bright blue sky.

“Go and practise some aerobatics”, said my instructor. “I'll catch you later”. No music could have been sweeter to my ear, it was like when I was a child and my mother said I could go out and play.

I hung high in that crystal-clear Marlborough sky. I could see the magnificent and impassive Southern Alps shining white, standing like fangs in some prehistoric skull. I watched the vast and restless Pacific as it rolled in, crashing and curling against the coastal headlands. I saw the Canterbury Plains stretching south, it seemed to infinity, while to the north the dark shadow that was New Zealand, my homeland, stretched to the horizon. My contentment was total; I loved every minute in the air and I was totally confident in my ability to handle this elegant and sophisticated craft.

I played with the controls. I pulled the nose up, I pushed the nose down, I rolled each way and I skidded each way, I stood her on her tail, held her up until she stalled, then recovered quickly as she dropped. I dived a short distance, pulled the nose up again and rolled onto her back. A little pressure on the stick and down we went towards the earth beneath. As she fell through the sky and the speed increased, she quickly reached vertical.

I maintained back pressure and she moved into the transition to reach the circular arch at the bottom of that sweet curve and the G-force took over, brutally crushing me down onto my seat. The controls gently overcame the G and the machine rose, soaring towards the sun like a demented rocket. Oh God, it was just so good! I rolled vertically upwards, a victory roll, yelling with joy, exhilarated beyond belief. The speed lessened and I hung upside down in a sloppy half roll during which I lost 100 feet, putting me in almost the same position from which I had started.

I was so filled with joy, so excited that I sang, I yelled, I even tried to yodel, I was so inspired. Like a lark rising high in this cloudless heaven I chirped my pleasure to the world. Overcome by the happiness I was experiencing, I prayed: “Please God, let me spend my life playing in this heaven, let this last and last forever”.

Danny42C
20th Nov 2015, 03:33
Geriaviator,

What can I say - what can anyone say after that ? Jack Stafford lives in prose as John Gillespie Magee in verse (Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth.....). It expresses beautifully the feelings that every pilot, powered or not, must have felt at some point in his career - if he has a soul in his body. I wish I could write like that !

Now I have to thank you for rescuing this prince of Threads from the doldrums once again, but as you might say: "Old soldiers never die, never die, never die/Old soldiers never die - they only fade away". And this will be its fate unless the next generation picks up the "torch" that "from failing hands we throw".

There must be many gems like this hidden away in drawers and bookcases. I call on all here present to find them if you can, and share them with us and for posterity.

In a word: "Good Show !" Danny.

EDIT: And we're all waiting for the next Instalment !

Walter603
20th Nov 2015, 09:54
Thanks Danny for your kind comments. I still have a vivid recollection of my final Beaufighter op on 10/11/43, especially the swift dive under the Aegean Sea after when my successful ditching run stopped. I popped out of the opened hatch as soon as I remembered to pull out the safety pin on my seat belt, and moved upwards swiftly from darkness into light.

Danny42C
20th Nov 2015, 13:20
Walter603,

So now we have the 'gen' straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak ! Welcome aboard this best of all Threads in the best of all Forums (Fora ?), where naught but good fellowship prevails and all are welcome, even more so if they have something to add to the feast.

I opened my bowling with: "Let's start at the very beginning - a very good place to start". Respectfully, could I urge you to start there, and we can all settle down for a good read ?

And now your good son is "off the hook" ! My regards and grateful thanks to him for firing you up (he's a good lad !).

Cheers, Danny.

smujsmith
20th Nov 2015, 19:29
Walter 603,

As Danny says, welcome indeed sir, pull up a chair and tell us how it was for you, from the beginning if you please. If this thread is to maintain its status as "the finest" contributers must do their best to extend their experiences to the likes of myself, who have much to learn of the impressions people who were there have of their experiences. I'm damn sure there will come a day when my minor input to GW1 will fit in to the timeline, meanwhile, your own is of absolute interest to those of us who follow such reminiscence. Its important Walter, and the lads all await your story, I'm sure.

Smudge :ok:

MPN11
20th Nov 2015, 20:11
I can't agree with smujsmith more ... this Thread deserves to be lodged with the RAF Museum. This IS what was, and will be lost forever unless people who 'were there' say their piece, however trivial it might seem.

And, yes, we will get round to the rest of the bloody wars eventually. :cool:

Geriaviator
20th Nov 2015, 21:24
I still have a vivid recollection of my final Beaufighter op on 10/11/43, especially the swift dive under the Aegean Sea after when my successful ditching run stopped. I popped out of the opened hatch as soon as I remembered to pull out the safety pin on my seat belt, and moved upwards swiftly from darkness into light.
Your first post, and already we're hooked! Welcome Walter, we look forward to hearing about your service from your training onwards. Did you really go from dainty Airspeed Oxford to monster Beaufighter? Over to you, sir.

Walter603
21st Nov 2015, 05:25
Hallo Danny, Back again to answer part of your questions. It would have been quite impossible for a Navigator to reach pilot's cockpit and sit on or over the pilot. One glance at an occupied cockpit would show you why. He sat up straight in his armour-plated seat, head near the escape hatch. No way past him or over him from behind, no space to get around him. Another point I would clarify; the Beau never would fly straight and level. 2-hour flights from the N.African desert over the Med on Rover patrols, and 2 hours return, flying close to the waves (less than 50 feet to keep below enemy RDF), were very tiring because of the a/c tendency to "hunt", with constant correction on the control column. Dihedral tail planes on Marks 6 and 10 cured much of the fault, but it was always present.
Son John made a small mistake when describing my Stalag IVB (4VB in English). "Luft" indicated a purely Air Force prison camp, as in Luft 3. A Stalag accommodated all sorts of military prisoners and many foreign civilians, e.g. Russian peasants. 4B contained somewhere around 10,000 to 15,000 total.
I was determined to get out of the place, and about May 1944 I and a befriended Bomber Command Noavigator (George Lloyd) swapped identities with 2 soldiers due to be sent out on a working party. So we exchanged ID bracelets dpuring the day, occupied their beds for one night, and formed up the next day to march off out of camp. Fortunately the Goons (Germans) didn't check our photos that were available in the camp HQ. So began several months of working on the German railways as maintenance gangs.
I became Fusilier James Leslie of the Irish Fusiliers and George became Gunner Sydney Oliver.
This is quite a long story, contained in 52 pages of PoW memoirs, so I won't test the PPrune system any further. Pester me if you want to hear more!
Walter.

Union Jack
21st Nov 2015, 07:47
This is quite a long story, contained in 52 pages of PoW memoirs, so I won't test the PPRuNe system any further. Pester me if you want to hear more! - Walter603

"D'you hear there! PPRuNe Pesterers, muster on the Flight Deck immediately!":ok:

Presumably 603, as in my native city's squadron, which did operate from at least one aircraft carrier, albeit American!

Jack

Jobza Guddun
21st Nov 2015, 09:07
Yes please Walter, from the beginning if you would sir!:ok:

Molemot
21st Nov 2015, 09:43
Walter, we are all agog with anticipation!!! Just what this thread has been needing...another worthy contributor.

ancientaviator62
21st Nov 2015, 09:55
Walter603,
no pestering but a very humble request, cap in hand for your story from the very beginning.

Geriaviator
21st Nov 2015, 11:58
From school to the RNZAF boot camp
Post no. 2 from the memoirs of Tempest pilot Flt Lt Jack Stafford, DFC, RNZAF


I had spent the vital days during the Battle of Britain in 1940 at school in Auckland. Old boys, who only a year or two before had stood where I was now standing, died daily in the ferocious conflict being played out in the indifferent European sky. To experience this period in history filled me with a determination and forged in me a resolve to get into the air and into combat. With hundreds of other hopeful youngsters I volunteered to fly with the Royal New Zealand Air Force. I was certain that I would be chosen and certain that I would eventually become a fighter pilot. I would, I must, wear those wings.

I entered the RNZAF in 1941 but did not start my training until March 1942 when with some 150 other bewildered boys I stoically suffered the wrath of numerous NCOs who marched, ran and bullied us for hours every day. The object of their performance was to “make men out of us”, they said. One particularly brutal Flt Sgt marched and ran us, on one occasion, to almost total exhaustion. He was built like a gorilla, with short black bristles atop his flat skull. With his neanderthal brows, his half hidden cold blue eyes, and his murderous mouth, he presented a formidable sight. He marched us, he taunted us and then dressed us down, telling us what we were and what our mothers probably were. He gave a short character description of the fathers that we obviously would never have known, then he called us to attention, yelling at us to stand like men.

“Look proud!” he screamed.”Don't look at me you idiots! Look above me, look at the sky. That's where you are going. Don't look at the ground, that's where I'm staying”. His last words were quieter, a softness came into his voice, almost compassionate. I looked at him with interest. Had he at one time dreamed of being a pilot? Had he wished for a life in the air? How many boys had he marched, frightened and bullied? Did he read the casualty lists daily, and recognise with sorrow many of the names? Did he perhaps weep? For an instant he looked almost human but the moment was short-lived. He barked, obviously embarrassed at the humanity he had shown, and quickly returned to his revolting disposition, returning us to the barracks at a fast trot.

The days passed. We continued to run, march and study for hours each day. It was two or three days before we finished the physical part of our ground training course when 'Neanderthal' marched us round the town and into the Government Gardens, where he halted us and adopted his most truculent position. I suddenly realised that we were halted in front of the Ward Baths, between the baths and a large ornamental pool. I felt uneasy.

“Now”, said this unpleasant man, “word has reached me that someone among you has decided to throw me into this pool. Would that person please step forward and throw me into the water?” There were a few mumblings and shuffling of feet but nobody took up the invitation. The sergeant removed his shirt, displaying a gross and hairy body that made him look like his cave-dwelling ancestors. “No sergeant's stripes, no rank difference, we are all the same. Now's your chance”, he bellowed. Still nobody moved. “Right! Any two of you?” he screamed, reaching a killing frenzy. Still we stood in silence. “Right!” he screeched, almost apoplectic. “Attention! Right turn! Quick march, double march, left right left right, move it!”

It was a subdued group that was dismissed at the billets. I felt that he hid his pleasure in this little victory rather well, but I noticed creases of amusement round his eyes. What a pitiful man! Give him a gun and his opponent a gun and see who was the tougher then. Make it even, take away all physical advantage. Doing him over had been considered, but it would have been at time and place of our choosing. He bluffed us, he had total control, and that made him feel good. But it didn't make him popular.

Chugalug2
21st Nov 2015, 16:34
Geriaviator,
Thank you for the tantalising tasters from Flight Lieutenant John Stafford DFC. Lots about him on the web, but many may wish to let him tell his own story through you before looking elsewhere. So I'll resist jumping the gun and merely say that we are once again to be treated to the story of a remarkable man from a remarkable generation (and country, come to that!).

Walter603,
I join all those who have already enjoined you to do as Danny has suggested. Let us indeed start at the very beginning, for it is the mundane, the inconsequential, the "by the way...", that sets the scene and takes us all back to those bleak years when no-one could say for sure what was going to happen to the world, one's country, oneself. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but what is more wonderful is when those that are not blessed with it make it happen for others. You, and the millions like you, did just that. Thank you, Sir!

smujsmith
21st Nov 2015, 18:45
What a great thread this is, and how lucky we all are to be favoured with the recollections and first hand experiences of those who we all revere. Geriaviator and Walter 603 offer us yet another insight into a time when it was "all hands to the pump" and I for one look forward to this forthcoming Christmas treat. Meanwhile, I see Danny looking for a corner to lurk in, no chance our Dan, if nothing else your opinion and wry wit help us all enjoy such posts. I am seriously looking forward to the next few weeks and months, I doubt I can contribute, but may, if acceptable have a question or two to pose. Post away gentlemen, we are all ears. Finally, thank goodness I hear you say. I'm just reading a book called "Fighter Boys: Saving Britain 1940" by Patrick Bishop. I would recommend it to anyone who follows this thread, it has all the attributes of a serialised post on this most venerable of platforms.

Smudge :ok:

Danny42C
21st Nov 2015, 23:32
pulse1 (your #7644),

Best of luck with your attempts to lure your old-timer out of his lair, perhaps he could be encouraged by the wealth of new contributors which has just cropped-up !

------------

MPN11 (your #7651),

<And, yes, we will get round to the rest of the bloody wars eventually.>
As with Smudge, no time like the present ! (any one of us could stumble under a bus at any time).

-----------

Geriaviator (your #7652),

< Did you really go from dainty Airspeed Oxford to monster Beaufighter? >
In 1954 they were still going from Oxfords straight onto the Meteor (the Typhoon of its time). Most survived.

(On the PM front, things have gone haywire, will leave it a day two to settle down, D.)

Now your #7658,

The first paragraph of Jack Stafford's memoir tells it exactly as it was in Britain (and all over the Empire, I would think) at the victorious end of the Battle of Britain. Just about every red-blooded fit young man in the land with School Cert and in the age limits (17½ to 23) rushed to volunteer for RAF aircrew.

After that he seems to have had a very hard time. Surely the training given in NZ would have been on the same lines as in the UK: a fortnight in a Reception Centre, where admittedly we were kicked around from pillar to post, and then onto an ITW for six weeks of what I remember as the best-run Course of any of the many I went through in later years. I remember nothing like the brutal treatment they got from that sadistic Flt.Sgt. (what were the officers doing ? Were they blind ?)

There is a possible partial explanation: I would suppose that their training organisation was swamped by the numbers of volunteers as was ours; we smoothed the intakes out by sending home on (unpaid) "Deferred Service" all who wished, recalling them only when the Reception Centres were ready for them. But there were others with no home to go to (eg those from overseas who had paid for their own passages to the UK to volunteer): these had to be taken in at once and were worked to death as dogsbodies until a Reception Centre vacancy cropped up. Perhaps the same was true in NZ, and he was one of the unfortunates. But nothing can justify the experiences he described.

----------

Walter (your #7653),

Here you couldn't have a better example of one of the most useful purposes of this Thread - the correction of errors (all put in in good faith). So the Burma Beaufighter story given to us by our Beaufighter neighbours was an impossibility ? Both the crew were killed in the failed landing attempt, so the only way the story could have any basis was on radio messages from the Nav after his pilot was hit somewhere round Rangoon.

If he then went forward to give what help he could, he would've been out out of R/T contact, maybe his pilot regained sufficient consciousness to get the thing home, but not enough to get it down. We shall never know.

Then someone put in the heroic navigator bit, first as a wild guess, but you know how these stories gain momentum. The worst instance of these I remember was the Death that never Was in Burma. A 110 Sqdn VV landed at Khumbirgram with a hang-up on the wing, it fell off and exploded (both killed, of course). The story, which was widely disseminated, named F/Sgt Duncan (RCAF), whom I knew well from my time on the Sqdn, as the pilot when we got to hear of it in W.Bengal.

Even Peter c. Scott, in his "Vengeance !" (which is pretty well the bible for the VV) carried a reported version naming Duncan as the pilot. Turns out all were wrong, it was another name, Reg Duncan lived to a ripe old age in Canada.

Now to business. Pester us all you like, young fella ! That's what we're here for. Clearly your plan was to disappear from the rail gang, and we're all on tenterhooks to hear how you proposed to set about it.

----------

Jack (your #7654),

"Aye, aye, Sir " (on the double !)

603 (City of Edinburgh) were an Auxiliary Fighter Squadron before and after WWII.

Now, Jack and Walter: "If you have tears, prepare to shed them now":

<The MOD announced that 603 Sqn would re-role to become a reserve RAF Police unit from 1 April 2013.> [Wiki]. :{

Cheers to all, Danny.

Walter603
22nd Nov 2015, 08:27
The Burma Beaufighter story as described in your original post is clearly quite impossible, Danny. A second person of any sort would find it so. No way into the pilot's position or around him to operate the controls. I stand firmly by my assessment.

Walter603
22nd Nov 2015, 08:47
OK then Danny, to business it is. I have a 52-page memoir of my final days in 603 Squadron, after a year of flying in the N.African desert, and going on to PoW existence in Stalag 4B in Germany. Prepared for my children, grandchildren & co, it has gone the rounds of friends. So I'll post sections on this forum until you plead for mercy!

MPN11
22nd Nov 2015, 09:45
Huzzah for Walter603 :ok:

... from the Department of Bated Breath ;)

FantomZorbin
22nd Nov 2015, 11:17
Danny 42C

Apologies for the delay. Re: your #7642. It was indeed a 'Bob' that I barely saw a glimpse of! It was in the early '60s. I intended to write to my MP but he wasn't even born then (DOB probably yesterday!!)

smujsmith
22nd Nov 2015, 19:41
Walter693,

" I'll post sections on this forum until you plead for mercy! " - With respect sir, I doubt you will ever hear a plea for mercy from the followers of this most glorious of threads, more likely pleas for more. I, like many, await the first instalment.

Smudge :ok:

Walter603
22nd Nov 2015, 21:26
To set the scene I should really start before the war, when I first became interested in aircraft. I'll start with leaving school at 16:


After three years of this "drudgery", I was nearly 16 and busting to get out of school and to a job. In June 1938 I applied for a job as Junior Clerk with the London Armoury Company, 10 Ryder Street, St. James, London. I was interviewed together with one of my classmates, and I remember the interviewer saying suddenly to the other lad, “Twelve cabbages at 20 shillings each. How much?” My rival struggled mentally. After quite a long pause he replied, “Eight pounds”. (There were 20 shillings in one pound sterling. It was a trick question of course, designed to catch out a youngster). The interviewer shot out the same question to me. Just like the other lad, I was temporarily flummoxed. “Twelve what?” I asked him. “Cabbages”, he said, “or apples, or newspapers. Anything!” My small amount of native cunning ( I thought) had given me sufficient time to work out – the long way – 20 shillings multiplied by 12 makes 240 divided by 20 makes 12 pounds! Stupid child. But I got the job.

Not far from Piccadilly, this unusual firm imported sporting arms and ammunition from the USA, notably the Winchester and Colt series, and was a wholesale supplier for most of the sporting arms dealers around the British Isles. My wage was the princely sum of ten shillings ($1.20) for five and a half days work each week, that was from 9a.m. to 5p.m. Monday to Friday, and 9a.m. to 12 noon on Saturday. I had a bus journey of one hour and ten minutes each way, from Chingford to Piccadilly Circus, which cost ten pence return (about 10 cents).

About this time I became very interested in aircraft, and together with my new “mate” Tom Wills, we made model aircraft, both flying and solid models, read avidly all the books we could find on flying and the Air Force, and in November 1938, we joined the Air Defence Cadet Corps. (It is now called the Air Training Corps).

Started by the Air League of the British Empire, the ADCC was formed earlier in 1938 to train lads between 14 and 18 years old, to make them aware of the danger facing Britain from Germany’s great build up of its land, sea and air forces under Hitler, and to get them thoroughly air-minded. I became Cadet No. 28 in 27 (Founder) Squadron, meeting at a hall in Pretoria Road, North Chingford, and I thoroughly enjoyed my first experience in blue-grey uniform.

Walter603
22nd Nov 2015, 22:59
The most memorable part of my training as a Cadet occurred in June 1939, only a few weeks before the start of the War. I was chosen as one of the group sent to a Gliding School at Dunstable Downs, Bedfordshire (west of Luton). For a glorious week, we ran up and down the flying field, just below the Downs, two teams of four boys pulling on catapult-shaped launching ropes made of strong elastic, called "bunji", and causing elementary heavier-than-air machines to hop into the air for varying distances, never more than 100 yards and never higher than about 100 feet.

Each of us had our own turns at "flying" these machines, and we all graduated from the school by being launched off the top of the Downs, probably 600 feet above the field, from where we glided down to a safe landing on the flat. An amazing experience in retrospect, for we 15 and 16-year olds were sitting solo, on the front of a timber and metal keel, surmounted by a single wing of taut, doped fabric, and manipulating the whole with a control column (the "stick") and the rudder. There were no instruments, no fuselage, nothing between us and the ground except the seat. We were instructed to listen for the sound of the wind in the rigging wires, keep the "stick" slightly forward to maintain airspeed, and if the wind's humming stopped, we were stalling!

I saw one lad get into a stall, about 70 feet above the ground, and in a split second the nose plunged down, arms and legs of the boy were waving frantically, and he sped straight into the earth below - fortunately with no damage to himself, which said a lot for the construction of the craft.

http://www.eacott.com.au/gallery/d/7365-1/London+gling+club.jpg

For the next few weeks, I could think of little else except flying. I had already applied to join the Royal Air Force as a Boy Entrant, and had been accepted for training. I thought I should probably be an armourer. The Air Force had sent me a letter telling me to expect my enrolment for training in the third week of September 1939, when I would assemble with a batch of 15 and 16 year olds at the Training School (can't remember now where that was - could have been RAF Halton).

Danny42C
22nd Nov 2015, 23:06
Walter603 (#7662)

The Burma Beaufighter story as described in your original post is clearly quite impossible, Danny. A second person of any sort would find it so. No way into the pilot's position or around him to operate the controls. I stand firmly by my assessment.

We all gladly accept your decision without argument. You are now our resident Beaufighter Guru, and we'll readily defer to you on all matters concerning that noble aircraft. In the same way, I am, faute de mieux, our Vultee Vengeance man (but only on Mks. I-III, as I have never even seen a Mk.IV). The VV is a much rarer bird than yours: only one museum example of the type now exists in the world, and that is in the Camden Museum at Narellan, NSW.

Wih that inborn streak of cussedness characteristic of the Antipodes, that Museum, after luckily acquiring a beat-up Mk.I carcase, carefully dressed it up as a Mk.IV with a 0.50 Browning and matching perspex (the hall-mark of a IV) in the back, and a "bitsa" pilot's instrument panel (which was like nothing on earth, but certainly not a Mk.I panel) in front. Complete with a Mk.I airframe number, a couple of years ago this chimera led Chugalug, others and me on a merry dance, trying to identify the thing for what it was.

You (and others) must surely have noticed the extraordinary points of resemblence between FantomZorbin's "Bob"'s (#7665) story and your own ?

OK then Danny, to business it is. I have a 52-page memoir of my final days in 603 Squadron, after a year of flying in the N.African desert, and going on to PoW existence in Stalag 4B in Germany. Prepared for my children, grandchildren & co, it has gone the rounds of friends. So I'll post sections on this forum until you plead for mercy!
 
Almost a carbon copy of my own beginnings here - except that I'd got 108,000 words on floppy disks (remember them ?) for the same purpose. But I can't print them (as my word processor printer is u/s, I've never got round to sending it for repair, and the thing has no USB socket anyway, tho' it's on a MS DOS).

So I cut it up into bite-sized chunks and fed it in here (starting p.114). You'll never get a whimper out of us if you do the same (I promise you).

Cheers, Danny.

Danny42C
23rd Nov 2015, 00:00
Walter,

Whoa, there ! Give us time to breathe, not to say to read, learn and inwardly digest. Each line of your wonderful story will be avidly scanned by an average of 1,000 people a day plus me. They will badger you for explanations, make comments, maybe criticize and add plaudits.

Give us time to keep up with up with you, please. You're in this for a long haul, remember. Hope you'll take this advice from your "older brother" as gently as it is kindly given.

Now, Revenons a nos moutons:

My wage was the princely sum of ten shillings ($1.20) for five and a half days work each week, that was from 9a.m. to 5p.m. Monday to Friday, and 9a.m. to 12 noon on Saturday. I had a bus journey of one hour and ten minutes each way, from Chingford to Piccadilly Circus, which cost ten pence return (about 10 cents).

Blimey ! I thougth I was hard done by on thirty bob a week, but only eight miles to work, and could bike it most days anyway. But how I would have loved your job ! As a boy I had a morbid interest in rifles, and at the age of 12 or so could tell you that, in WW1, the UK had the SMLE, the Americans the Springfield, the French the Lebel, the Italians the Mannlicher-Carcano, the Germans the Mauser, and the Russians the 3-line Nagant. Not many 12 yr olds could tell you that (and there was no Wiki).

There were no instruments, no fuselage, nothing between us and the ground except the seat. We were instructed to listen for the sound of the wind in the rigging wires, keep the "stick" slightly forward to maintain airspeed, and if the wind's humming stopped, we were stalling!

Wot, no 'Elf 'n Pastry ? Exactly I was taught to fly the Stearman (ASI removed) in Florida in '41 ! (Nice pic, too).

Danny.

Geriaviator
23rd Nov 2015, 07:48
Walter,
I'm sure the hundreds of people who have already been hooked by your story will thank you for your enthralling tale. Your remarkable recollection after so many decades can be matched only by our revered friend Danny and we eagerly await your flying training, the gliders already terrify our Elf 'n' Safety hofficer!
My wage was the princely sum of ten shillings ($1.20) for five and a half days work each week,
For younger UK readers, back in 1971 Walter's ten shillings was transformed into 50 pence :ooh:

Fareastdriver
23rd Nov 2015, 09:42
Walter's ten shillings was transformed into 50 pence

.............and his bus fare, at 10pence return, six times a week, was 60 pence, or five shillings, half his wage.

Geriaviator
23rd Nov 2015, 14:28
Jack meets the Tiger Moth
Post no. 3 from the memoirs of Tempest pilot Flt Lt Jack Stafford, DFC, RNZAF


At last our Air Force induction was complete, we were examined and the marks were pinned upon the wall for all to see. Those who failed were posted to other positions within the Air Force. In a matter of weeks those who were successful began flying training, and I was posted to Bell Block in Taranaki.

We travelled first down to Wellington and then back up to New Plymouth. The trucks awaited us and took us to the Bell Block airfield. Now I felt I really was in the Air Force, this was it. All around the field stood Tiger Moth aircraft, while overhead they buzzed and droned.

In my imagination these pretty little biplanes became Sopwith Camels or SE5s from World War I, resting from or going in and out to battle. Perhaps the Red Baron awaited them with Spandaus loaded and his Triplane trembling with eagerness. We stood fascinated until a sergeant showed us to our comfortable billets, two beds to a room and each hut close to an ablution block. It was heaven, and after a few days' settling in we were all in the air.

My instructor was a tall, pleasant, fair-haired guy maybe a year or two older than myself. He gave me confidence and seemed pleased with my progress. I had flown dual for seven hours when he taxied back to the takeoff point, climbed out with the removed stick in his hand and said: “Off you go, Staff, you don't need me”. With joy in my heart I turned into wind and looked around for other aircraft; it was all clear, so I gave her the gun and I was in the air, oh happy day. I completed the circuit and landed, taxied back to my instructor who shook my hand and said “Good show, Staff”. I could have kissed him.

Most of my course had, or soon would, go solo. Some were grounded, some chucked it in, one or two were killed. The wing fabric from one of those crashes still covers my logbook.

My instructor seemed very successful, but they gave me some new instructors and he was given some difficult pupils. One of the new guys was a disaster. He was mean-faced, tall and gawky and had all the personality of a gumboot. He grunted, bleated and moaned about everything. His dislike of me was obvious and heartily reciprocated. My flying fell off and he seemed determined to get rid of me.

I was set down for a Chief Flying Instructor (CFI) test which would normally be the end of the course for a pilot, and I would be remustered as an air gunner or posted to ground duties, which to me would be a death sentence. As I left the room all the trainees called “Good luck, Staff” and I was buoyed by their support.

smujsmith
23rd Nov 2015, 18:14
Walter603,

Two great posts there Sir, and already bringing back some memories of my own. The glider you describe flying sounds very like the Primary glider I once had the pleasure to force around a circuit of an airfield, towed by a Land Rover. As you describe, driving using your ears was, and probably still is essential for good glider pilots. Second memory triggered was my own first job as a farmhand as I awaited entry to the RAF in 1968. I too was paid 10 bob a week, I was required to be calling the cows in around 0500 for milking and finishing around 1700 after the afternoon milking, every second weekend I got Saturday afternoon and the Sunday off, I was 15 years old. Finally, your entry to Halton, if you can remember what you were paid back then it would be interesting. I arrived at Halton as a "Trenchard brat" in January 1969, we were paid 28/- a week, and I though I was in heaven, 0800-1700 with a parade and drill on Saturday morning.

Take your posting rate from Danny would be my advice, not a delay long enough to do more than tease, great start as I said. I'm looking forward to this :ok:

In the run up to the Chritmas season, it looks like we are to be treated to even more history. Keep it going Geriaviator, bloomin marvellous.

Smudge :ok:

Warmtoast
23rd Nov 2015, 22:24
Walter603

I was a member of the RAF Thornhill (Rhodesia) gliding club back in 1952-53. We had a “Primary,” probably the most elementary form of flying machine then still flying; I’m sure the Wright Brothers would feel very much at home with it.

We did training “the hard way” the first stage being the “Primary” to start with on the ground with the speed kept too low for it to become airborne, the glider just “slid” across the airfield and one kept the wings level and followed the tow truck using the rudder, but as one became familiar with the controls speed was increased and soon one was flying across the airfield, in full control, first at only a few feet, then at greater heights as one gained experience, and learnt to control the glider in turns. If all went well promotion to Thornhill’s “Tutor” followed.

The Thornhill Gliding club had a joining fee of £1, a monthly subscription of 10/- (50p), and a further charge of 1/- (5p) for each launch.

This is me in my first keeping the wings level flight, 6ft above the ground.


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Thornhill/PrimaryGlider-Airborne_zps056a0359.jpg

Danny42C
24th Nov 2015, 00:05
(From) Geriaviator,

....For younger UK readers, back in 1971 Walter's ten shillings was transformed into 50 pence....

Which inflation in the intervening years had reduced to a purchasing value of 2/2 ('38) or 11 pence ('71). So I was a plutocrat and didn't know it ! Ah, well.

Jack meets the Tiger Moth

....In my imagination these pretty little biplanes became Sopwith Camels or SE5s from World War I, resting from or going in and out to battle. Perhaps the Red Baron awaited them with Spandaus loaded and his Triplane trembling with eagerness....

As I've mentioned awhile ago, I had exactly that same fantasy as I floated in an open-cockpit Stearman among the clouds over the Everglades. Perhaps all Primary/EFTS boys shared versions of this pipedream ?

....all the trainees called “Good luck, Staff”....

And so do we (although we know [or hope we know] the result !)

(On the PM front to Geriaviator: At last ! :ok::ok::ok: Thank you ! D.)


Smudge to Walter (#7674) and Geriaviator:

....first job as a farmhand as I awaited entry to the RAF in 1968. I too was paid 10 bob a week, I was required to be calling the cows in around 0500 for milking and finishing around 1700 after the afternoon milking, every second weekend I got Saturday afternoon and the Sunday off, I was 15 years old....

But it was a good life !

....Take your posting rate from Danny would be my advice, not a delay long enough to do more than tease....

As I in turn had modelled myself on the giants on whose shoulders I stood: Cliff, Reg, Padhist * et al. About 1,000 - 1,500 words per post, wait 2-3 days to let another Poster to come in, then give us another slice of the story. You can reckon on keeping on for 3 years at that rate !

Note * : Can anyone who has read it forget: "The night London Airport was mine ?" (he got an AFC for it, and quite right too).

Cheers to you all, Danny.

Danny42C
24th Nov 2015, 00:48
Warmtoast to Walter603,

Lovely pic of lovely old days !

I thought the Grunau Baby was quite enough exposed to the elements for my liking, but this is really for the birds. Reminds me of those kits consisting of pieces of ¼in balsa, tissue paper, banana oil, a prop and a laggy band, with which we taught ourselves the principles of flight in our tender years.

Oh, those long, halcyon summers just before the war ! (The BBC [for once] got it right with a programme title about them: "The Long Afternoon").

Danny.

smujsmith
24th Nov 2015, 12:02
The Primary Prank

http://i1292.photobucket.com/albums/b572/smujsmith/822a23b942fc122fc643e177d69e95e0_zpsyhvwbuts.jpg
Unable to find image origin

Regarding the Primary Glider, I believe all who have flown it would be well aware of its "flying brick" reputation. I heard a story, many moons ago of a challenge put out at the RAFGSA Centre, Bicester where they had a Primary Glider that was flyable. The challenge ? It was a very cold December day, sub zero at ground level and the Primary was dragged out. Fly, on tow behind a Chipmunk out and around Bicester town, returning to the overhead for release and landing, naked :eek: Not many were up for it, but the target of the jape bit, and was allocated launch two. The first went exactly as planned the glider landing with a very cold pilot. Our man is next, and duly abandons clothing, straps on (not in) and off they go. The tug pilot released the tow from his end at the far side of Bicester town, with no chance of a return to the airfield, but with some good fields in range. The poor bloke, his land away attracted several car loads of motorists, believing he was a crashed aircraft, imagine his embarrasment. Lucky for him the recovery team with his clothes turned up fairly quickly.

I'm not 100% sure of this stories veracity, but I believe that if it happened, the Primary would certainly perform as recounted.

Smudge :ok:

Geriaviator
24th Nov 2015, 15:53
The Luftwaffe was largely launched on the Primary just like Smudge's brilliant picture, as nobody objected to hundreds of youth gliding clubs across Germany as they would have done to powered instruction. I think gliding gives a superb introduction to flying basics and I'm sad to see the virtual disappearance of ATC gliding recorded in another thread.

MPN11
24th Nov 2015, 18:59
Glad I started in a proper Glider [?] ... nervously!

http://i319.photobucket.com/albums/mm468/atco5473/PPRuNe%20ATC/CroydonAirWing.jpg (http://s319.photobucket.com/user/atco5473/media/PPRuNe%20ATC/CroydonAirWing.jpg.html)

Danny42C
24th Nov 2015, 19:10
Smudge,

Nice pic, but it strikes me that "you're very close to the accident", stuck out in front there ! Words fail me on reading about your exhibitionist lunatic who went up au naturel on a freezing day.

Reminds me of those masochists who delight in going in to the North Sea on Boxing Day morning - no accounting for taste, I suppose.

Danny.

Danny42C
24th Nov 2015, 20:33
Geriaviator,

Yes, we missed a trick then; you would have thought our Intelligence could have seen what was coming. But then, "None so blind as those who will not see".


MPN11,

Now that's more like a glider in my opinion. But didn't the blindfolds make it a bit tricky ? :*

Danny.

octavian
24th Nov 2015, 20:59
MPN11: still recognisable to those who know:rolleyes:

Walter603
25th Nov 2015, 02:31
Thanks for your encouragement, Smudge. Next pst coming up!

Stanwell
25th Nov 2015, 03:01
Does anybody recall the typical glide ratio of a Primary Glider?

Walter603
25th Nov 2015, 03:37
That's the Primary Glider type I flew at 16, identical. Thanks for the image, warmtoast.

Walter603
25th Nov 2015, 04:00
Thanks for the encouragement MPN11, and from FantomZorbin.
Danny42C, I think we're definitely birds of a feather in more ways than one. I've been reading your early posts with great interest, and you are dquite right - our stories are nearly identical. I liked the kit information you listed. You mentioned something about boots; what I can say sounds silly, but I was issued with a pair of second-hand boots that quickly gave me trouble, and I had to get a doctor's authorisation to have them changed for a new pair.

Walter603
25th Nov 2015, 04:13
Next episode Wakey wakey up the back there!



Bang went all my hopes when war started on 3rd September 1939. All training for boys was cancelled for those not already in the Air Force. My hopes and aspirations for a Service life were put onto the shelf. In the circumstances of that time, what a small matter! There was considerable fear and trepidation among the population. Air raids were expected at any time - in fact, the air raid sirens were sounded in our neighbourhood (and throughout London) only 20 minutes after Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain broadcast the grim news of the declaration of war at 11am on the Sunday morning of 3rd September.

Our household was prepared, along with most others, and the blackout curtains were in position. The start of an air raid shelter had been dug in the back garden, and gas masks were at the ready. Mother, father and I had all tried on and practised with our gas masks, but sister Pam could not be persuaded, cajoled, threatened or bullied into putting on her mask. Eight years old, she flatly refused to have the object anywhere near her face.

Arrangements had been made for many thousands of schoolchildren to be evacuated from the London area to safe homes in the country, and once war was declared, the movements of trains, buses and trucks loaded with children went on feverishly for several days. My little sister, bless her, went away briefly to the village of Great Wakering, about 40 miles off, but stayed only five weeks before having to come back, very homesick, to be with her family.

I saw the opportunity to leave the office job I had in London, on the pretext that it was far too dangerous to travel on public transport for long distances when I might be subjected to air raids, and I got myself a job at a local factory, Brown Bros Ltd, helping to make petrol tanks for aircraft. I became a "rivet boy" and pushed in thousands of rivets along the seams of the tanks for the experienced operator to punch into position with a hydraulic machine.

I think I lasted three months at this job! Early in January 1940, I found another job much nearer home at the Flexo-Plywood Company, helping to manufacture plywood doors with zinc coverings, obviously a wartime requirement for some particular purpose.

During the first months of 1940, our armies overseas were in dire straits. Germany was invading and conquering countries all over Europe. France was at the end of its tether, and was treacherously "stabbed in the back" by its neighbour Italy, who declared war just at the time when France was succumbing to Germany. The British Army was retreating fast in northern France, having lost the support of its French allies, and at home, we were fearful of an invasion from Germany at any moment.

The British Government formed the "Local Defence Volunteers", later to become "The Home Guard". Old soldiers from World War I rushed to join, young men in reserved jobs saw their opportunity to do their bit, and for youths of my generation there was fantastic fun to be had, as back-ups for the Home Guard, Air Raid Wardens, Fire Watchers, and all the other organisations which became vitally necessary in support and defence of the country. Many of the Air Cadets became messengers for the Home Guard, Tom Wills and I included. We felt terribly important, dashing about on our bicycles, dressed in over-large khaki denim uniforms and equipped with Lee-Enfield .303 rifles.

The tense days from May to August passed. It was a glorious summer, and "Jerry" was over us nightly, pounding London and other cities with bombs galore. Much has been written about the Battle of Britain, and this was when it was all happening. The Germans were determined to destroy our airfields, and it seemed, the civilian population as well. The gallant fighter squadrons were equally determined to defend us to the last. Eventually, our skilled fighter pilots turned the tide, and by 15th September the Battle of Britain was won - by our side. There were many occasions on which I saw dogfights above the skies of London, many nights I spent in air raid shelters with my family and with others, while the bombs hurtled down.

As soon as I was 18 years old, on 28th August 1940, I went to the Air Force recruiting office at Romford to try to join. I was so anxious and nervous, I was unable to cope with the simple mathematical and general knowledge tests which were put to me (and which were well within my capabilities). The recruiting officer kindly told me to go home and polish up my school training, read the daily newspapers to improve my general knowledge, and come back in three months!

On 5th December, I presented myself to the Aircrew Selection Centre in London. Two days of rigorous medical checks, education tests, and interviews followed. To my absolute joy, I was selected for pilot training. I went home on Cloud Nine, having decided that I would like to enlist immediately rather than wait to be called up about six months later, when a flying course would be available. My RAF fate was sealed!

Danny42C
25th Nov 2015, 08:20
Walter, your Posts are absolutely captivating ! - such things are the lifeblood of this our wonderful Thread, and exactly what Cliff Leach (RIP) had in mind when he started it seven years ago. (I'll be putting a lot of blue boxes in my replies, as I've just been told how to do it, and it makes interjected comment so easy), So:

Danny42C, I think we're definitely birds of a feather in more ways than one.

Spot on ! You in London, I just outside Liverpool, we were running on parallel tracks in the December of 1940. And now, you've signed on the dotted line and your troubles have started. No matter.

Many of the Air Cadets became messengers for the Home Guard, Tom Wills and I included. We felt terribly important, dashing about on our bicycles, dressed inover-large khaki denim uniforms and equipped with Lee Enfield .303 rifles

You were lucky to have rifles ! (did you have any ammo ?) As late as June '41 at ITW, I was standing guard at night with a pick-helve.

On 5th December, I presented myself to the Aircrew Selection Centre in London.

Beat me to it by a fortnight (I was at Padgate)

I was selected for pilot training. I went home on Cloud Nine, having decided that I would like to enlist immediately rather than wait to be called up about six months later, when a flying course would be available.

This may have been a mistake. Although I enlisted two weeks after you, I took the "Deferred Service" option and was called in on May 24th (exactly five months). Could it be that you were so useful as sweated labour (AC2/GD) that they hung on to you for a few extra weeks ?

My RAF fate was sealed!

My clear recollection was that it was sealed with a florin - was that right ?

but I was issued with a pair of second-hand boots

That was a bit much ! They issued me with a s/h jacket (often wondered what happened to the original owner), but as it fitted, and obviously " had some in", I did not look like a sprog.

Keep up the Good Work,

Cheers, Danny.

Walter603
25th Nov 2015, 09:22
Danny, definitely no ammo with the rifle. This was a thoughtful plan and must have saved many innocent lives!

Quote: "This was a mistake......" Mate, I was desperate to be an airman, and couldn't wait more than a weekend to start. Strangely, I recall going to ITW at Newquay on or about 9 May 1941. Now I am really puzzled. Surely we must have met? There was only one No. 8 ITW. I was billeted in a commandeered hotel near the seafront in a room with 2 others, one Ross Beldin and the other a German refugee named Hans Hasenfus (more about him later). Ring any bells? The Navigation Instructor was a Flight Sergeant with a pronounced limp, probably war-damaged.

Walter603
25th Nov 2015, 09:28
Danny. Re "My clear recollection was that it was sealed with a florin - was that right ?"

I didn't get a florin. I had been paid as active AC2 since 9/12/1940. It was 14 bob a week, paid fortnightly - much better than the office boy pay.

Petet
25th Nov 2015, 09:55
Re: Next episode Wakey wakey up the back there!

..... Home Guard, Air Raid Wardens, Fire Watchers, and all the other organisations which became vitally necessary in support and defence of the country.

Your comment reminded me of the pamphlet I obtained a few years ago which was issued in January 1939 to encourage everyone to "do their bit".

https://rafww2butler.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/national-service-pamphlet3.jpg

A message in the pamphlet from the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain read:

“The desire of all of us is to live at peace with our neighbours, but to secure peace we must be strong. The country needs your service and you are anxious to play your part. This guide will point the way. I ask you to read it carefully and decide how you can best help”.

The pamphlet contained a whole range of suggested services, along with an application form.

Regards

Pete

Danny42C
25th Nov 2015, 10:00
Walter,

I recall going to ITW at Newquay on or about 9 May 1941. Now I am really puzzled. Surely we must have met?

My start date was 8.6.41. at No.8 ITW, Newquay. So you were exactly four weeks ahead of me. Now the course was exactly 54 days long (I left on 1.8.41), so we were there together from 9 May to 1 Aug. (I'll PM you my name).

We were billeted in the "Trebarwith Annexe" just outside the Trebarwith Hotel, which was the HQ, and had in it the Airmens' Mess and all the classrooms. I've few names in memory, but Cpl. Shepherd ("the Good Shepherd") was the Drill Instructor and one of my two room-mates was Ron Sweetlove (later sadly killed on Bomber Command).

Hail - well met ! :ok: Danny.

MPN11
25th Nov 2015, 10:05
Small World, eh, gentlemen? ;)

Walter603
25th Nov 2015, 10:33
Danny,
Stand by for a surprise and take a deep breath............
I remembered that I applied for my Air Force history some years ago, so went searching, found the record, and it says I was posted to No. 8 ITW Newquay on 24th May 1941:8 The previous fortnight I remember was at Babbacombe Receiving Centre, where one of my AC2 working mates, looking around our billet (another hotel) and anticipating varied mixed duties, said words to the effect that he didn't mind this, that and the other bit of bull, but he was ****** if he was going to spit and polish his boots.
So there it is, my friend; we were at ITW together75 years ago. The name of that hotel I mentioned I think was called "Eastleigh"or some such. The German bloke was so completely repulsive in his talk about the better way (of course) that they did things in Germany that Ross and I kicked him out and we found another mate. When we passed out of SFTS with our Wings on 23 December, Hasenfus was commissioned, and you will believe it because that's the way the idiot Service managers did things in those days.

Union Jack
25th Nov 2015, 10:42
I believe that we are all standing by for a surprise - a "meeting of the minds" indeed!:ok:

Jack

Danny42C
25th Nov 2015, 11:11
Walter,

but he was ****** if he was going to spit & polish his boots.

Just struck me, pity your 2/h ones didn't fit, for the first owner would've done the hard graft in bulling-them up from scratch to mirror-finish, saving you many hours labour !

So we were class-mates after all ! But "Eastleigh " rings no bells", I'm afraid.

Danny.

Geriaviator
25th Nov 2015, 12:09
http://s20.postimg.org/jmnn287ul/father1936.jpg

Recent talk of kit prompts this picture of the well-dressed airman in 1936: my late father at Manston Camp, June 1936, soon after joining up.

This thread continues to amaze us ... to be able to ask two nonagenarians about their fascinating stories is wonderful enough, but what must have been the odds of them serving together? Harry, you're a gem and we're hanging on every word. Please keep 'em coming!

Walter603
25th Nov 2015, 12:48
Danny. I was guessing at "Eastleigh" as a hotel name. It was sparsely furnished of course, but ncely placed near the sea. Do you remember the tea-shop in town where all we pupils used to go for a break during lessons? It was run by a motherly woman who took a great interest in our welfare. Do you remember the PTI Corporal Geoff ** who trotted us around the town and beach to the delight of the leering youths?

Geriaviator
25th Nov 2015, 16:41
Facing the chop: Jack encounters the dreaded CFI test
Post no. 4 from the memoirs of Tempest pilot Flt Lt Jack Stafford, DFC, RNZAF

The Tiger Moth sat out on the grass with its engine running, the squadron leader in the cockpit. I climbed into the other cockpit wordlessly and put on the helmet. The instruction came in a surprisingly friendly voice: “OK son, taxi her out”. In a minute we were in the air and gentle instructions followed: “Steep turn to port, steep turn to starboard. Let's climb to safe height, stall and recover. OK, climb up again, spin, and recover. Let's try a loop”. All seemed to go well, and my confidence grew.

We flew on straight and level, the squadron leader flying. Suddenly he cut the throttle and said: “Forced landing”. I looked below to a large uncluttered paddock, with no cattle and no obstructions, level and smooth. It must have been all of 20 acres and was the perfect landing site. I glided down towards this ideal target, but I had miscalculated and as I crossed the boundary fence I was still a couple of hundred feet in the air. “****, I've blown it” was my thought, and as I crossed the far boundary I was still way too high.

Ahead lay a miserable, small rough paddock with a large hedge on the near boundary and a tree near the middle. Desperately sideslipping, I cleared the hedge and guided the little Tiger away from the tree. I was right on the stall a few feet off the ground when the voice from the back said: “I've got her”. The throttle was opened wide and we rose swiftly over the far fence, climbing quickly and in silence – me with my unspeakable thoughts of this disaster and the squadron leader with a sense of amusement that I knew nothing about until months afterwards.

“Was that the paddock you chose for your forced landing?” said the voice. “Yes sir”. I lied like a flat fish. “Well, the landing was OK but you are the worst selector of landing sites that I have ever flown with”, said the CFI. Nothing further was said or done and we flew back with me again in control. We landed and climbed out, removing our helmets, walked to the dispersal side by side without speaking. Then smiling at me the squadron leader said “You'll be OK, son”. I silently lifted my eyes to heaven and thanked the Lord.

The annoyance of the repulsive squirt who was my instructor was obvious, but he said nothing. We flew together in a most unsatisfactory alliance. But within a week this instructor was changed for a more mature man, a pre-war pilot who was all I could wish for. My life was changed. This instructor arranged for me to be posted to Woodbourne to fly Harvard advanced trainers, and my dream had come true.

Many months later I was friendly with an instructor who had been at Bell Block. He told me how the laughing CFI had described in the officers' mess the lying young so-and-so who pulled up a very difficult stuffed-up forced landing while taking a CFI test. His instructor had recommended grounding but the CFI did not consider that an option.

John Eacott
25th Nov 2015, 18:54
Good to see the old codgers catching up but Danny, be aware that it's well past Dad's bedtime when he's exchanging posts with you at 01:00 :p

:ok:

Walter603
25th Nov 2015, 21:23
John, Cheeky brat still!

Chugalug2
25th Nov 2015, 21:51
This thread is forever a surprise, and a pleasant one at that. After what must have been both an ignition harness change and an injector flush it is now roaring away again at full power!

I rather think that we juniors may be left on the sidelines for a while as their seniors exchange dates, places, and units. Carry on gentlemen, for we hang on your every word.

Danny:-
Just struck me, pity your 2/h ones didn't fit, for the first owner would've done the hard graft in bulling-them up from scratch to mirror-finish, saving you many hours labour !Indeed! When anyone got the chop during initial training, his cere' boots were much sort after, especially by those whose boots had suffered some blemish. Of course the deal had to be preceded by a sympathetic word or two, but at least the donated pair were going to a good home to be replaced by the inferior ones for handing back to uniform stores.

Danny42C
25th Nov 2015, 23:03
Geriaviator,

A fine figure of a man, your Dad. He and I would be much the same age. Those button-up collars must have been awfully scratchy in summer !

(you speaking the words of Jack Stafford [RIP] ):

Then smiling at me the squadron leader said “You'll be OK, son”. I silently lifted my eyes to heaven and thanked the Lord.

So "with one bound, Jack was free !"

Proving once again that: "A Lie is an abomination unto the Lord, but a help in a time of trouble". Well do I remember those early days when our friends were being chopped right, left and centre and we all lived with that Sword of Damocles scratching our scalps. (My Primary Course in US lost 40% - he would go for flying training in NZ, and do we know what was his chop rate there ?)

----------

Walter,

It was sparsely furnished of course

You had furniture (what was the world coming to ? - we had bare boards in the Annexe, and get on with it !)

Yes, those little town Tea Rooms in Newquay were our lifelines, but tea would be 2d and (supposed) coffee 3d, and a bun likewise, so with two bob a day (less stoppages) you had to be careful. And the walk there and back (sorry, march !) was fraught with danger, for there would be prowling W.O.s and discip NCOs to pull you up for something (under Secn. 40, they could have you for just breathing !)

Can't remember the PTI's name, but he did a good job - I was never so fit (at the end) than ever before or since in my life. Do you remember those 100 stone steps from cliff top to beach ? At the start, we slowly puffed up, blowing like grampuses (grampi ?) and red in the face - but at the end we doubled-up like mountain goats, and could have yodelled while doing so had it been permitted.

What I can't remember is how many were there of us on the ITW Course - any idea ?

Danny.

PS: Hasenfus was commissioned

How on earth ? With his expressed German sympathies, and a name (literally "Harefoot", but with the connotation "coward" ?)

----------

John,

Not so much of the "old codgers", young sir, if you please ! When past the "four score years and ten", we are released from the conventions and can sip our Horlicks at any hour of the day or night we choose (subject always to the veto of Mrs D, I hasten to say !)

The Top o' the Mornin' to ye all,

Danny.


EDIT:

Chugalug (crept in under the wire),

As ever ready with a kind word of encouragement, thank you, Sir.

Yes, there is life in old dogs yet, and occasionally it comes to the surface !

Danny.

Geriaviator
26th Nov 2015, 07:33
Our seniors continue to amaze me, busy with their erudite posts long after this youngster is asleep :) Gentlemen, we salute you!
Stanwell in Oz asked about the Primary Glider ratio: between eight and 16 to one. The ATC machines were copies of the pre-war German glider which trained the Luftwaffe and were built by Elliotts of Newbury from 1947. Fascinating article in Wiki at
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elliotts_Primary_EoN

Stanwell
26th Nov 2015, 09:03
Geriaviator,
Thanks very much for that.
I've never actually seen a Primary Glider in the flesh but my guess would have been around the ten to twelve mark.

Thanks also to both you and Walter for taking the time and trouble to post those most valuable recollections. :ok:


p.s. It should go without saying, but thank you Danny for your co-ordination and inspiration.

Pom Pax
26th Nov 2015, 10:48
Danny if you wish to repeat your Summer vacation, there are double rooms with sea view available July 2016 for 150 pounds, room only per night.

Danny42C
26th Nov 2015, 16:03
Geriaviator and Stanwell,

8-16:1 seems on the low side for any glider. I've read somewhere that the old "rule of three" still applies, even with modern wide-bodied jets (three air miles run per 1,000 ft lost at flight idle). Even with statute miles that's almost 16:1, with nautical 18:1.

May well be that I don't know what I'm talking about - someone will put me right !


Pom Pax,

Thanks, but I don't think I'll bother !

Danny.

Stanwell
26th Nov 2015, 16:39
Danny,
I started off on a contraption with a ratio of 7:1.
It didn't matter. As long as one got one's arce off the ground, one was above everybody else, we thought.

MPN11
26th Nov 2015, 18:37
IIRC the Hunter 1:1 procedure was based on 1 mile per 1,000 ft [clean].

Much mental calculation for the ATCO, of course, especially when they were coming in at a tangent.

As I noted elsewhere previously, a Mirage IIIO on a flame-out passed abeam the Tower downwind at around 14,000 :D

Sandisondaughter
26th Nov 2015, 18:59
My Dad, now 95, ex-Lanc pilot, class 42A of Arnold Scheme along with Reg Levy, and full tour of ops from Woodhall Spa with 619 Squadron... would also agree that he is 'nothing special'. When I first learned, as a youngster, that he had the DFC I asked him what he had done to get it. His answer was 'I don't really know'! His entire crew was decorated which was apparently fairly unusual. He is the only surviving member now. He spent a year at University before joining up but one of the things he always says about his time in Bomber Command is that there was a complete mixture of people and everyone got along so well even though backgrounds were so diverse. He shared his first room with the Headboy of Eton and the Headboy of Harrow, but he himself was the son of a postmaster from the Shetland Isles and his operational crew consisted of Australians and a Canadian. I guess the culture was that there was nothing special about anyone!

Danny42C
26th Nov 2015, 19:33
MPN11,

Sorry to differ slightly, Sir, but.....(Google - Facebook):


Royal Naval Air Traffic Control published a note.
19 October 2010 at 06:52 ·

ATC History - The One-in-One Recovery


The One-in-One recovery was a flame-out procedure that suited the Hawker Hunter. if a pilot was unlucky enough to have an engine failure he would be given a vector and instructed to 'convert excess speed to height and pass height with all transmissions'.

When the pilot's range (or track distance to be more precise) in miles equalled his height in thousands of feet (i.e. 8nms at 8,000') the pilot was instructed to lower his undercarriage, which would then increase his rate of descent to 1000'/nm - or 'one-in-one'.


Perhaps a VV would manage one-in-one "clean" !

Danny.

Chugalug2
26th Nov 2015, 20:16
Following on from the safe outcome of the Speedbird 9 all 4 engines failure in 1982, having encountered volcanic ash, we were taught a similar no-engines visual circuit and landing per the Hunters in the BAC-111 simulator.

The overhead key was 8000' and 220 kts. If you could make that we were shown that you could continue downwind, reducing speed and height while running some flap until you were short finals. Then and only then you dropped the gear and flared for a "Shuttle" landing.

I never had to try it in anger, I'm glad to say, but given that the sim never really simulated the actual aircraft that well, it gave you a sense of confidence that if you could do it in the sim, you sure as hell could do it for real!

ElectroVlasic
26th Nov 2015, 21:52
Just dropping a note after a solid day's reading to thank one and all for the great contributions. It's amazing that after running so long our great thread is now being recharged with the great recollections from Walter and from Jack Stafford (RIP) along with the insightful remembrances, questions and answers that accompany them.

Wander00
26th Nov 2015, 22:12
ISTR Llanbedr could give us a 1:1 in the Gnat

Walter603
26th Nov 2015, 23:25
"Sparsely furnished" is certainly correct to describe a RAF iron-framed bed with springs, the standard timber locker and a small rug. You reminded me of the 4 Yorkshiremen story that was popular many years ago. "Floorboards in the annex? Aaaaah! i'd 'ave given me soul for them. An 'ole in the ground was what I 'ad for a bed" etc. etc. Next Yorkie, "Wot...'ole in the ground? I 'ad to sleep in a pond!" and so on.

As for the German refugee bloke Hasenfus who Ross and I shared for an excruciating couple of weeks before we dislodged him, well he was unbelievable. I still marvel at the memory of his boastful tales of how good things were in Berlin. He was also around at our SFTS on Oxfords, and to see him passing out on Wings Day 23 December 1941 as a Pilot Officer horrified me.

Walter603
26th Nov 2015, 23:41
Thanks for your comment. I'm just beginning to get used to it, after prompts, nudges and encouraging remarks from my wonderful son John. I see I've already posted 18 times:bored:. When I can't sleep I might as well get up and be entertained by the PPrune addicts with so much interesting knowledge.

Danny42C
26th Nov 2015, 23:51
Sandisondaughter,

First let me welcome you back, (after a five-year plus absence !), into the Good Fellowship of this Best of Threads in the Best of Forums in PPRuNe ! And now first of all, you've hit the nail square on the head with

I guess the culture was that there was nothing special about anyone!

That's what I've been saying here for a long time. Our generation were just ordinary folk who happened to find ourselves in the firing line in '39/'45. There was a job to be done, and nobody else in sight to do it, so we simply got on with it. Luckily, when endurance and heroism were called for, there was plenty of it on offer.

Now if you've been following this Thread recently, you'll have seen that, contrary to all expectations, there has been a sudden new crop of nonagenarians in town, some happily still with us and others speaking through their sons or others, either directly or by means of their logbooks, notes and diaries, etc. left to us. Can I urge you to persuade your Dad to join our happy band ?

We'd all welcome him (and I could relinquish the onerous burden of being the Oldest Inhabitant ?) and enjoy his many stories. For us, remember, the clock is ticking !

As you see from my callsign, I was in the third tranche of entrants into the Arnold Scheme, and so would just have missed 42A. First question, what did your Dad think of the 'Hazing ? And if he was at Carlstrom, what was the true story of the legendary 'Riot' there ?

Awaiting expectantly,

Danny42C.

Danny42C
27th Nov 2015, 01:09
There is a side story lurking about here which is in danger of sliding under the carpet. I will let (excerpts) of Posts speak for themselves:
-----------------------------

14th Nov 2015, 12:07

#7637
pulse1

I am using this thread to try and motivate my neighbour to tell us his story. He is very reluctant.

He was a Beaufighter observer and was shot down in the Med. He was captured and taken to an Italian prison camp where he remained until Italy surrendered. Although they were ordered to stay in the camp he escaped and tried to make his way to Switzerland but was captured by the Germans and taken to POW camp in East Germany. When the Russians "liberated" them he witnessed some awful sights as soldiers raped women who had come into the camp seeking protection. It was this that made him realise that this was "real war" and made him reluctant to talk about it.

I particularly want to record his story as a record of how ordinary people, a Durham miner in his case, trained and operated as aircrew, and then went on to totally different lives. In his case he became a schoolteacher in Dorset. It probably wont be long before we lose his story for good.
-----------------------------
15th Nov 2015, 06:17

#7640

Danny42C

pulse1,

Your #7639: ".... He is very reluctant...". This is a very common experience: there has to be an underlying reason and it might be worth while to explore it. Perhaps your neighbour is not 'on line' (few of us nonagarians are), have you tried to tempt him by reading him some of our 'back numbers' ? (that's the way they got me in). And many more than I must have been struck by the coincidences with John Eacott's father's story. He couldn't possibly be a "Bob", by any chance ?
-------------------------------
15th Nov 2015, 08:50

#7641

Geriaviator

Pulse1,

Please do try to coax/help your neighbour's story. I have a book by a former Beau observer and I would have been terrified to have been stuck under that dome halfway back, never mind the glasshouse effect under Med sun.......
-------------------------------------------------------
15th Nov 2015, 09:33

#7642
pulse1


have you tried to tempt him by reading him some of our 'back numbers' ? (that's the way they got me in)
I do have an accomplice who is much closer to him than I am and we are making sure that he at least reads the posts from John Eacott

----------------------------------------------------
22nd Nov 2015, 00:32

#7659

Danny42C

Matters arising from......

pulse1 (your #7644),

Best of luck with your attempts to lure your old-timer out of his lair, perhaps he could be encouraged by the wealth of new contributors which has just cropped-up !
---------------------------------------------------
22nd Nov 2015, 12:17

#7663

FantomZorbin

Danny 42C

Apologies for the delay. Re: your #7642. It was indeed a 'Bob' that I barely saw a glimpse of! It was in the early '60s. I intended to write to my MP but he wasn't even born then (DOB probably yesterday!!)
----------------------------------------------
23rd Nov 2015, 00:06

#7667

Danny42C

Walter603 (your #7662)


You (and others) must surely have noticed the extraordinary points of resemblence between FantomZorbin's "Bob"'s (#7665) story and your own ?
---------------------------------------------


Then the trail has gone cold. Walter, was your Navigator by any chance called "Bob" when you got your ducking in the Aegean ? (no, that's too much of a coincidence to ask for).

EDIT: Idiot ! - the answer's in p.382 #7632. It WAS a "Bob". But not your Bob ?

pulse1,

Any luck yet ? Anybody else add anything to this tantalising snippet of a story ?

Danny.

Walter603
27th Nov 2015, 04:23
On Monday 9th December 1940, I reported for duty at RAF Cardington, a receiving centre near the city of Bedford. I was sent to the airmen's mess for my tea on arrival. Some airmen already present asked me what I had joined for. When I told them I was going to be a pilot, they burst out laughing! 18 years old, then only five feet four inches tall and baby-faced, I had the last laugh!

A week of inoculations, form-filling, uniform issues, and a bit of "square-bashing", and we were off to the recruit training centre at Bridgenorth, Shropshire, where we were to spend the next five weeks becoming trained airmen. It was a time for learning discipline the hard way; not quite in the Guards tradition, but certainly a hardening, healthy way of life in which I revelled.

The weather itself was "hardening". Lots of snow and bitterly cold winds over the Christmas period of 1940 and into 1941, and there was a mild epidemic of influenza among the airmen, but it didn't stop the general enthusiasm of the younger men, especially those destined to go on to flying training in due course.

By mid-January we had completed our training. My special ‘buddies' were three men quite a lot older than me, and I think they had taken it upon themselves to act as my guardians, in view of my youthful appearance! Roy Whitney, Ray Kent and “Tommy” Tomkinson, all married.

Roy Whitney went to Canada for EFTS and stayed there as an Instructor. Ray Kent was serious, a loving man to his wife of only a few years. He was an architectural designer, and I don't think he had any children. As a pilot he was killed in action. "Tommy" Tomkinson was a very large man, almost fat, and a joy to have around. He had a wonderful sense of humour. He failed his early flying training, being unable to judge his height from the ground when coming in to land, and he was quickly "grounded" and sent to a suitable mustering for the duration of the war.

Walter603
27th Nov 2015, 04:58
Danny, we haven't yet finished with these strange coincidences. My Beau navigator was called Bob. :D However it was a nickname that he preferred to his real name, William Bernard Pritchard. (Ahhhh...sounds of deflation again).
Bob was a P/O (Pilot Officer, as in P/O Prune). I was a Flight Sergeant when shot down, but lucky bugger, I had been put up for a Commission and it was back-dated to 27 October 1943, and I didn't find out until I'd been a PoW 10 months later.

Danny42C
27th Nov 2015, 06:38
Walter,


and we were off to the recruit training centre at Bridgenorth, Shropshire, where we were to spend the next five weeks becoming trained airmen


Another reason why it might have been better to opt fot "Deferred Service". I dodged all that, did my two weeks at Reception Centre at Babbacombe and went straight to ITW at Newquay.

I was a Flight Sergeant when shot down, but lucky bugger, I had been put up for a Commission and it was back-dated to 27 October 1943, and I didn't find out until I'd been a PoW 10 months later.

And then you'd be credited with the arrears as a P/O (or did you go straight to F/O ?), and debited with your pay over the period as a Sgt and F/Sgt. Did you finish out of pocket ?

When I was commissioned in India, the Raj (not UK) paid officers' pay, so I got the whole lump in rupees (at almost double the UK pay rate) without any deduction.

It took the RAF nearly two years to claw its money back, but at date of Commission I was two weeks overdue for my 'crown', but it hadn't come through and I hadn't been paid for it. But accounts insisted that I had, and docked me accordingly. Ah, well.

There's no justice ! :(

Danny.

MPN11
27th Nov 2015, 08:20
Danny42C and all ATCOs and Hunter Drivers here present ... my apologies for getting the 1:1 wrong.

Indeed it was the mental arithmetic of working out the track miles/height before reaching the magical spot where the Hunter would drop the gear [and flaps?] and descend at 1:1

Did we [the ATCOs] then say "10 miles, ten thousand, wheels wheels go"? It's a faint memory, but rather unusual for ATC to tell the pilot what to do with his aircraft in such specific terms.

octavian
27th Nov 2015, 09:47
Like MPN11 it is a fair few years since I controlled a Hunter 1in1, and, like him, my recollection is that the gear call came from ATC. The only slight issue with the procedure was that it was based on a flamed out engine which was windmilling. At Honington we had several T-bird hunters for instrument training/renewals for the Buccaneer. On one occasion the engine had seized and the rate of descent with the gear up was pretty close to 1in1 and the pilot (JM as I recall) left the gear until very short final. Having flown a couple of sorties in the Hunter in which I was allowed to try it in "manual" including a training 1in1, I recall that it was blooming hard work, which made JM's feat even more impressive.

BEagle
27th Nov 2015, 11:22
The Hunter 1:1 was a reasonably straightforward technique. Having settled into the glide clean, you waited until height from touchdown was numerically the same as distance, then on the ATC call "Undercarriage, undercarriage...GO - Acknowledge" you dropped the gear (for real you would use the blow down plug) and matched height for range until the aerodrome was in sight.

If the engine was windmilling and you still had hydraulic power, things were reasonably relaxed. But a manual 1-in-1 was physically demanding, as was the subsequent flare. We practised manual 1-in-1s on occasion, by turning off the aileron and elevator hydroboosters - but used the normal landing gear system.

I can't remember whether we planned a flapless landing, or would use the flap blow down plug on final?

The trouble with the Gnat was that the emergency undercarriage lowering system could take up to 30 sec to lower the gear, making assessment of when to do so very difficult - so we didn't use that technique at Valley.

Of course when the Hawk with its RAT came along, the radar PFL was a much easier profile to fly.

And now, back to our regular programme.....

Geriaviator
27th Nov 2015, 14:24
Isn't it great to see this thread burst back into life again? I echo Danny's plea from earlier today, particularly to Sandisondaughter. This is a precious repository of stories from Everyman, and the time to record them is fast running out.

Walter's wonderful memories have certainly revitalised our Senior Officer, who not only posted today at 0051, 0209 and 0738 but also remembered his Latin for the last one. Only one response to this, Danny:

:D SALVE DENNIUS MAXIMUS :D

smujsmith
27th Nov 2015, 19:08
Sandisondaughter,

A personal plea. My wife's late father was Groundcrew on Lancasters at Woodhall Spa. I always understood he was on 617 Sqdn. Your last post makes me wonder if he might have been working on 619 Sqdn. It would be really good to hear your dads reminiscences of his days in the RAF. I'm sure that this thread is rapidly becoming a source of reference for those days, it would be great if he could expand our knowledge. From my point of view, my father in law, like all the others who served back then, was very modest about his service, despite my being a member of the RAF throughout our too brief acquaintance. My greatest achievement was to get him aboard PA474 for an hour when we were repairing it some years ago, he was like a youngster again, and obviously enjoyed reliving his knowledge of the aircraft. Let's hope that your dad can give us some insight in to his personal experiences from those days. Best wishes in anticipation.

Smudge :ok:

Danny42C
27th Nov 2015, 23:56
MPN11 (your #7721),

Oh, I don't know. 'Talkdown' in my day used to say "check three greens for landing"at the three-mile point. I suppose that was only a check, but it served as an instruction. Generally, IIRC, all ATC messages to pilots were advisory, except that, in the case of your Area Radar, and on a GCA talkdown, your navigation instructions were mandatory, up to the point when you said "Resume own Navigation" (and cast him adrift without a paddle).

The "One-in-One" idea was old as the hills. At Primary in '41 we learned the "90 Degree Left" and "270 Degree Left" drills for a dead-stick from overhead the field.

-------------

octavian (your #7722),

The only slight issue with the procedure was that it was based on a flamed out engine which was windmilling.

Makes the hair rise on the back of my neck. In the late '40s and early '50s the asymmetric phase of training on the Meteor was carried out with one flamed-out, to "render the training more realistic". It became all too "realistic", in those years we wrote-off 900 odd Meteors and 400+ pilots, mainly as a result of this training.

Then they found that the fatal accident rate from this source, per 10,000 hours, was greater than the Derwent failure rate, and commonsense returned. Future exercises were carried out with one at flight idle.

------------

BEagle (your #7723),

And now, back to our regular programme.....

This is our regular programme (it roams widely), and this is the beauty of the Thread !

------------

Geriaviator (your #7724), Gracias tibi !

Tiny nit-pick: I am DIONYSIUS in the tongue of the Caesars.


Selfie.


https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTf-Sfwd4kUeE6ii8Y1dsD6BN-xvzy50kIyXfuPUtRC1jjkEExhqxQdijs (http://www.google.co.uk/url?url=http://www.nsu.ru/classics/dionysius/dionys_syr.htm&rct=j&frm=1&q=&esrc=s&sa=U&ved=0ahUKEwjho9-T87HJAhWEbRQKHVf-BUMQ_B0IYzAN&usg=AFQjCNGKNkVMHV2_9TqFO-sEQ-iDfOFang)



------------

Smudge (your #7725),

And so say all of us !


And a very Good Night to all our readers, Danny.

Walter603
28th Nov 2015, 02:26
Walter,

And then you'd be credited with the arrears as a P/O (or did you go straight to F/O ?), and debited with your pay over the period as a Sgt and F/Sgt. Did you finish out of pocket ?

Danny.


Went the usual way, P/O until April '44, when I became F/O. When I arrived home I had a nice fat balance in my bank a/c.

Geriaviator
28th Nov 2015, 13:46
Happiness is a Harvard
Post no. 5 from the memoirs of Tempest pilot Flt Lt Jack Stafford, DFC, RNZAF

Woodbourne for me was just heaven. Perfect days followed perfect days, the sun always seemed to shine, and my contentment matched the weather as winter moved into spring and into summer. Gradually we mastered the Harvard advanced trainer with its retractable undercarriage, constant speed propellor and 600hp Pratt & Whitney radial engine. So passed those wonderful days as a pupil pilot in Blenheim.

I had been very fortunate in getting a Rotorua boy, George Bertram, as my instructor. He was full of fun and as far as I could tell he didn't take anything very seriously. When my flying reached the competent stage he would take me low flying on Lake Grassmere. I would fly and he would fire a revolver at the wildlife on the water. I don't think the wildlife ever realised that this was happening.

George knew a barmaid at Tophouse and on a couple of occasions during night flying we flew up there and he would take control. Then would follow the biggest thrill I had experienced during my short flying career, an aerobatic display with landing lights blazing. As we passed the chimney on one occasion he exclaimed “****, that was close!” Until you have seen George beat up Tophouse you've never seen a Harvard reach its limits. As for me, sublime confidence ruled as I never considered the possibility of George making a mistake. He really taught me to fly to the limit, for that was what the war was about. To me, 'Hort' as George was known was the greatest!

Another top instructor was Roy Mansill. He was from the same mould as George, and it was always great to fly with him. He had taken one or two other pupils under the telephone wires in the low flying area and I pestered him to take me. One day he flew down parallel to the wires and almost before I knew it he neatly slipped under them. He didn't offer to let me try it, however.

One episode startled me, and its effect stayed with me for a long time. We had on our course a young pilot called Charlie Rickey. He was a most pleasant, gentlemanly person and I considered him a friend. Slightly built and athletic, I always enjoyed his company. Charlie was killed in an accident. Several pilots were chasing each other around the valleys and peaks and there was a misjudgement that cost Charlie his life. I heard that his plane lost part of one wing and went in.

Some time later I was called to the flight commander's office. I marched in to find the commander sitting at his desk with his head down, and I stared with amazement at the chart on the wall behind him. Charlie's name was still there, with a red line through his progress and in large bold letters was the word WASTAGE.

I was incensed. How could anyone refer to Charlie's life as 'wastage'? He was one of us, we were brothers, comrades, ready to fight to the death for each other. The commander looked up and spoke to me, but I hardly heard him. He gently reprimanded me for something or other, but it paled into insignificance beside what that chart revealed to me. Our position in the scheme of things was clear: we were expendable.

I could not believe this callous disregard for a well-liked colleague. The flight commander was oblivious to my feelings. I didn't mention this incident to anyone, but it changed my attitude to Air Force life. It was one of many which finally made me what I became.

Sandisondaughter
28th Nov 2015, 13:56
In answer to Danny's question about hazing ... Dad was at Macon. They had an American senior class but had no problems with them as he says the yanks were afraid they would be beaten up by the Raf blokes! The American senior officer in charge of the cadets was a Westpointer and 'full of bull'

After gaining his wings on 3rd Jan 1942 Dad stayed on to train as a flying instructor - completed in Feb 1942. His instructor came from Chicago. Dad then went on to instruct at Darr Aerotech in Albany. His logbook lists all his trainees. I wonder how many survived the war.

Warmtoast
28th Nov 2015, 19:31
The euphoria of completing one's first solo was encapsulated very nicely in politician Tony Benn's diaries where he recorded this about his first solo in Rhodesia during WW2.
He joined the RAF in 1943 and was posted to Southern Rhodesia for pilot training and the entry below is for 14th June 1944, the day of his first solo in a Cornell PT-26 trainer at No. 26 EFTS Guinea Fowl not far from Gweru (Gwelo) in the middle of the colony.

Wednesday 14 June 1944
"At six this morning Crownshaw told me to get into 322 straightaway, a PT-26 Cornell trainer. I apologised to him for boobing the check yesterday and he remarked thet were really only nominal things and that they didn’t really matter.
We taxied on to the tarmac and I got out and walked back with Crownshaw. He said we’d just have a cigarette and then go up again. I was very surprised, but put it down to a desire on his part to finish me off ready for another check tomorrow. However, we took off, did a circuit or maybe two, and then as we taxied up to the take-off point, he said to me, ‘Well, how do you feel about your landings?’ I replied, ‘Well, that’s really for you to say, sir.’ He chuckled. ‘I think you can manage one solo,’ he said. ‘I’m going to get out now and I’ll wait here for you,’ he went on.
So this was it, I thought. The moment I had been waiting for came all of a sudden just like that. ‘OK, sir,’ I replied. ‘And don’t forget that you’ve got a throttle,’ he said. ‘Don’t be frightened to go round again -OK? And by the way,’ he added -he finished locking the rear harness and closing the hood, then came up to me, leant over and shouted in my ear, ‘you do know the new trimming for taking off?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ I replied, and he jumped off the wing and walked over to the boundary with his ‘chute.
I was not all that excited. I certainly wasn’t frightened and I hope I wasn’t over-confident but I just had to adjust my mirror so that I could really see that there was no one behind me.
Then I remembered my brother Mike’s words: ‘Whatever you do don’t get over-confident; it is that that kills most people and I only survived the initial stages through being excessively cautious.’ So I brought my mind back to the job, checked the instruments, looked all around and when we had reached 500 feet began a gentle climbing turn. It was very bumpy and the wind got under my starboard wing and tried to keel me over, but I checked it with my stick and straightened out when my gyro compass read 270 degrees. Then I climbed to 900, looked all round and turned again on to the down-wind leg. By the time I’d finished that turn we were at 1,000 feet, so I throttled back, re-trimmed, got dead on 180 and I felt pretty good about things.
I thought I was a little high as I crossed the boundary so I eased back to 800 rpm, and as I passed over, I distinctly saw Crownshaw standing watching where I had left him. Now we were coming in beautifully and I eased the stick and throttle back. A quick glance at the ground below showed me to be a little high, so I left the stick as it was, gave a tiny burst of engine and as we floated down I brought both back fully. We settled, juddered and settled again for a fair three-pointer.
I was as happy as could be. I taxied up, stopped and braked. Try as I did, I couldn’t restrain the broad grin which gripped me from ear to ear and Crownshaw, seeing it, leant over before he got in and said ironically with a smile, ‘Happy now?’
I was more than happy, I was deliriously carefree, and as he taxied her back I thought about it all and realised that the success of my first solo was entirety due to the fine instruction I had received; it was a tribute to the instruction that I never felt nervous once, and all the time had imagined what my instructor would be saying, so used had I got to doing everything with him behind me. We climbed out, and attempting to restrain my happiness I listened while he told me where and what to sign. Then I wandered back to my billet and one of the greatest experiences of my life was behind me. The lectures were pretty ordinary, and it being my free afternoon I had a bit of lemonade in the canteen and wrote this."

Danny42C
28th Nov 2015, 23:41
Sandisondaughter,

had no problems with them as he says the yanks were afraid they would be beaten up by the Raf blokes

Perhaps news of the Carlstrom Field "riot" had filtered across to them over in Georgia ? By all accounts, there the RAF "Lower Class" (in a body) set upon the "Upper Class", prevailed, then flung the lot into the camp swimming pool with all their belongings. "Hazing" ceased forthwith. Peace followed (I don't know about harmony !)

Or so the story went. Of course, only 42A was affected, as all subsequent entries would have RAF UpperClass men.

After gaining his wings on 3rd Jan 1942 Dad stayed on to train as a flying instructor - completed in Feb 1942. His instructor came from Chicago. Dad then went on to instruct at Darr Aerotech in Albany.

This tells us several valuable things: I got my wings (42C) on 3rd March). So the Courses were graduating at exactly monthly intervals.

Didn''t Cliffnemo go to Darr Aerotech ? Your Dad may have instructed him !

How long did they keep him out there instructing before he came home ?

"Hup-two-three-four !", Danny.

Danny42C
29th Nov 2015, 02:52
Walter,

Reason for my query on pay was this. I've hunted down WW2 RAF officer pay rates and found:

http://forum.keypublishing.com/showthread.php?112268-RAF-pay-in-WWII (http://forum.keypublishing.com/showthread.php?112268-RAF-pay-in-WWII)
"Thread:
RAF pay in WWII (http://forum.keypublishing.com/showthread.php?112268-RAF-pay-in-WWII)
"Thread: RAF pay in WWII 29th September 2011, 15:03 #1 Graham Adlam Graham Adlam
RAF pay in WWII"
(http://forum.keypublishing.com/showthread.php?112268-RAF-pay-in-WWII)

This shows a table of RAF Officers' Pay in WWII, gives P/O as £237 pa, or £0.65 (13/-) pd and F/O as £274 pa (15/-)pd. And I've heard somewhere of a 11/10 pd for an "Acting P/O on probation", whatever that was, but can't give a reference.

I know that I was paid 13/6 pd as a Sgt-pilot in '42, and I think a F/Sgt got 15/6. It follows that, for the time that you were a POW until your Commission caught up with you, your NCO pay would be more than that which you were due as an officer. So you'd lose out at the start, but, as you say, your pay rolled up after that into a nice little nest-egg.

A related query, did your change of status mean a transfer from a Stalag to an Oflag or anything like that ? Wasn't there an important difference in the fact that an OR can be compelled to work for his captors, but an officer cannot, under the Geneva Convention ?

Danny.

Danny42C
29th Nov 2015, 03:43
Geriaviator,

Tiny quibble:
...variable speed propellor...
Constant-speed prop, surely ? (I had a two-speed job in the Vultee BT-13)
...he would take me low flying on Lake Grassmere. I would fly and he would fire a revolver at the wildlife on the water..
For readers of a nervous disposition, perhaps I should stress that we are not in the UK now. Instructors were a law unto themselves in those days: in our Harvards (AT6As, actually) in the States, ours would play 'tigs' with the wingtips in dual formation while puffing fat "see-gars" in the back.
Studes were discouraged from doing this solo.
...in large bold letters was the word WASTAGE...
Tragic, but true of all wars. As I've said somewhere, you had to be callous to losses, or you'd "go round the bend". "Old so-and-so went for a burton last night, hard luck, fancy a beer ?"

Danny.

Sandisondaughter
29th Nov 2015, 09:45
Dad did his primary training at Darr Aero Tech, Albany from June to August 1941 training on Stearmans. He was then posted to Air Corps Basic Flying School at Cochran Field, Macon, training on Vultees from end of August to end of October 1941. Following this his advanced training was at Turner Field, Albany from early November 1941 to end of December 1941 flying North Americans.

He qualified as a pilot on 3rd January 1942 and then went on to Instructors School at Gunter Field, Montgomery, Alabama flying Vultees from 21.1.42 to 6.2.42.

Then there was a period of consolidation at Cochran Field again from Feb to April 1942. He then instructed at Turner Field from June 1942 to December 1942.

He was then posted to the UK arriving at No. 6 AFU Chipping Norton for a brief spell before going to No. 1523 BAT Flight at Little Rissington for a spell over Christmas and January, then back to Chipping Norton Jan/Feb. Then to No. 14 OTU Saltby, Leics at end of Feb to mid-March flying Wellington Ic, then to No. 14 OTU Cottesmore, Rutland from 20 March 1943 to 17 April 1942. Here he was assessed as a heavy bomber pilot 'above average'.

He was posted to No 1660 Conversion Unit, Swinderby in May, flying Manchester and then on 1st June 1943 his first flight in a Lancaster I. He was there until 15th June and then posted to Woodhall Spa for the formation of 619 Squadron which was to be his tour of operations.

His first operation was on 24 June 1943 in a Lanc III with his mainly Australian crew in an aircraft which they inevitably called 'Boomerang' and in which all the crew always came back in one piece. Sadly the aircraft was lost on its first op with a different crew immediately after Dad's tour with his own crew had finished.

Dad's first op was on 24th June 1943 to Gelsenkirchen, then as follows:

28 June Cologne
1 July Terschelling (mine laying)
3 July Cologne
8 July Cologne
25 July Essen
27 July Hamburg
29 July Hamburg
30 July Remschied
9 August Mannheim
15 August Milan
22 August Cologne (Leverkusen)
27 August Nuremburg
22 Sept Hanover
23 Sept Mannheim
29 Sept Bochum
2 Oct Munich
3 Nov Dusseldorf
10 Nov Modane (a trip lasting 8 hrs 50 minutes)
17 Nov Berlin
23 Nov Berlin
16 Dec Berlin
1st Jan 1944 Berlin
5 Jan Berlin
5 Jan Stettin (8 hrs 40 minutes)
20 Jan Berlin
27 Jan Berlin
30 Jan Berlin

The Squadron then moved from Woodhall Spa to Coningsby to make way for 617 to move in to Woodhall Spa. 619 Squadron were pretty upset about this as the Petwood was the best officers mess in the country, and 619 had sustained an arduous campaign with significant losses. Incidentally it is only fairly recently that 619 Squadron has had a plaque added to the entrance at the Petwood Hotel commemorating their presence (whereas of course 617 has memorabilia all over the hotel including the Dambusters bar). This is more to the regret of their descendants than the remaining members of 619 though (619 association has a reunion there every year).

From Coningsby Dad flew his final two ops


15 Feb Berlin
19 Feb Leipzig

His crew was then scattered and Dad was posted to No 5 LFS, Syerston as an instructor. He subsequently instructed at no 1654 Con Unit, Wigsley from March 1944 to March 1945 on Stirling III.

On 1st April 1945 he joined Bomber Command Film Unit at Bardney, Lincs flying Mosquitos and Lancasters. Then to BC FFU at Fulbeck for a week, followed by BCFFU at Syerston until end of July 1945.

His final stint was with No 49 Squadron, Syerston where he was OC. This period included a trip to Bari to collect 18 soldiers and bring them back to the UK (squashed together sitting on the floor of a Lanc) and a trip to Berlin (Gatow) to collect 22 German scientist PoWs who were en route to the USA. He remembers this being rather embarrassing on return to Syerston where the airfield staff had been told they were returning with prisoners, so all turned out to greet the aircraft expecting they would be British PoWs.

From October 45 to January 46, 49 Squadron were based at Mepal, Cambs and Dad's time there included another trip over Germany and to Gatow with groundcrew on a sightseeing tour.

From April 1946 to May 1946 he was at No 1384 HTCU Ossington instructing again.

After this he was seconded to BOAC, Hurn, Bournemouth and eventually demobilised on 2 January 1947. At Hurn he met my mother who was working there as a secretary and, as they say, the rest is history. The bulk of his career with BOAC was spent flying 707s.

Geriaviator
29th Nov 2015, 10:59
Sandisondaughter,

Thank you for your interesting post, it's wonderful to hear this info (particularly the incident of the German scientists) direct from the horse's mouth as the horses are sadly dwindling in number. I'm sure all pPruners will want to send their good wishes to your father, and make a plea: "More, please!"

Danny, ( at a quarter to five this morning)

The Master never sleeps and his eagle eye misses naught! Of course it was a constant speed prop :uhoh: I seem to recall that early Oxfords had fixed pitch wooden props, but had a pitch control knob which had to be moved into 'fine pitch' for takeoff and landing. The control didn't do anything except to embed 'pitch' as a vital item of cockpit drill.

Sandisondaughter
29th Nov 2015, 12:23
Some other stories Dad has told me over the years. Some of his crew had little rituals and others, like Dad, were entirely lacking in superstitions. One of the crew wore the same shirt, without washing it, for his whole tour of operations. Another hated having his moustache touched, so the crew would mercilessly pin him to the ground before each op and take turns to stroke it.

There was another occasion when the Padre arrived to wave off the crews on an op. This was greatly frowned upon and he was soon dispatched and ordered not to do it again.

While OC at Syerston (I think) Dad got wind that some of the crews were playing with ouija boards and scaring themselves silly about who might not return from a raid. Of course, this was banned straight away.

Union Jack
29th Nov 2015, 12:47
His final stint was with No 49 Squadron, Syerston where he was OC.

A fitting end to a wonderful Service record, and well done to a proud daughter for reproducing it so interestingly here.:ok:

Could it be that she might now feel able to fill in a gap in the list of 49 Squadron OCs at OCs 41 - 60 Sqns (http://www.rafweb.org/Squadrons/COs/OCs_041-60.htm) ?

Jack

26er
29th Nov 2015, 18:32
Danny,


Re your 7732 I understood that if an nco or w/o (master aircrew) was commissioned his pay, if greater than that of the commissioned rank he achieved, would remain frozen until his new rank pay caught up i.e. you couldn't be worse off pay wise. In 1954 one of my mates had been a f/sgt pilot, was commissioned as a fg off and earned more than me as a fg off who had been commissioned when I got my wings.

smujsmith
29th Nov 2015, 18:48
Sandisonsdaughter #7734,

Great post and clears up my anomaly with my Father in laws service at Woodhall Spa with 617 Sqdn. Your dad certainly did his duty for us all, I can only add my respect and appreciation for his service, as would all on this thread.

Smudge :ok:

Sandisondaughter
29th Nov 2015, 20:57
Thanks Union Jack - yes I could update the list of OCs for 49 Squadron with Dad's details.

However, when I click on the 'contact me' link on the home page of the website it requires me to set up Microsoft Outlook in order to get the email address, which I don't want to do. The other option 'Guest Book' link doesn't work. Any chance someone could click on the 'contact me' link who already has Outlook and let me know what the email address is?

Chugalug2
29th Nov 2015, 22:03
Sandisondaughter, thank you for that amazing post. As an index to the distinguished military career of your father, each entry could be a chapter full of detail. I hasten to add that I am not suggesting any such thing from you, but it would allow of some fleshing out on the armature that you have now provided us with.

Danny has embellished his story with anecdotes and seemingly mundane details, about troopships, train journeys, meeting the locals (in the USA and India), kit issued, then handed in, and then reissued...I can assure you that all here hung onto his every word (and still do, I hasten to add).

So there is no call for anything linear or prescribed. We flit here from hither and thither. Obviously there may be some things for you alone, there is no desire to be intrusive, but the internet has at last enabled this silent generation to speak out. They have a very receptive audience I promise!

Warmtoast, a heart warming description of Tony Benn's first solo, of the ups and downs of learning to fly, and of the joy of flight itself. Whatever one's opinion of his political beliefs, he was a man of principle, successfully seeing through the passing of the Peerage Act 1963 that allowed him to renounce his inherited title of Lord Stansgate in order to seek a seat in the House of Commons.

Interestingly he was granted an Emergency Commission in the RAF as a Pilot Officer on probation:-

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tony_Benn

AvroLincoln
29th Nov 2015, 22:16
feedback_new(a)rafweb.org
I think this is the one you requested.
My Dad was a Flight Sergeant in 61 Sqn post-war at Waddington.
Best regards
AvroLincoln

Danny42C
29th Nov 2015, 22:45
Sandisondaughter,

What a magnificent service record ! I have always been humbled by the thought of Bomber Command operations. To do just one such 'op' meant hand-flying a lumbering, heavy, four engined unheated aircraft (with no power assistance), non-stop (apart from the help your f/e could give), for seven or eight hours or more through a freezing night. You would be dodging searchlights and flak and all the time at risk of being raked by the fire of a night fighter who had sudddenly appeared out of the darkness.

Added to this was cloud, rain and ice, maybe fog when (if) you got back.You dare not fly straight and level for any length of time (apart from when you must, say, to allow your Nav to make a star sight), as that would make you an easy target. You knew the odds against you.

Having done all that, and got home to enjoy your breakfast egg, in my book it was worth a medal. But you knew that in two or three days, you'd be called on to do it all again. And again and again, thirty times, before a rest. You knew that your chances of surviving one tour were 42%, to survive two 17%, after that virtually nil.

It needs a special kind of man not to break under a strain like that, and I salute your Dad and all the brave men of the Command. My 'ops' in Burma were child's play in comparison, and I've often wondered how I would have behaved in his position. I hope I'd have been up to it - but you can never be sure.

There are a few questions and comments on your excellent Posts, but this is not the place for them. They can wait. Thank you for telling your Dad's story.

Cheers, Danny.

Walter603
30th Nov 2015, 03:17
Danny, I find it hard to understand that officer pay rate chart. I couldn't see a date stamp anywhere but it looks pre-war. Like you, I remember my Sgt and F/Sgt salaries gave me approx 5 pounds 18 a week as Sgt and 7 punds plus as a F/Sgt. (Sorry I don't have sterling abbreviations on my Aussie Mac). It isn't feasible that the commissioned ranks would take a pay cut on promotion.

Walter603
30th Nov 2015, 05:14
We four, being “aircrew types", were sent to RAF Station Abingdon, in Berkshire, to fill in time as airfield defenders, whilst awaiting our turn for flying training. I had no contact with the others during the day, except casually, as I was rostered to serve in a small squad for Ground Defence. On 24-hours shifts, we occupied dug-outs and tents on the perimeter of the aerodrome. The circular dug-out contained a Lewis machine gun, and three of us took two-hour turns at manning the gun, keeping a sharp lookout for enemy aircraft that might be raiding by day or night.

In between times, we filled sandbags, made new dug-outs and gun-pits, and occasionally spent time in the N.A.A.F.I. (“Naffy” was the Services canteen, run by the Navy Army and Air Force Institute) or visiting the local shops trying to buy elusive cigarettes.

After about eight weeks of this routine, I was sent to Stanton Harcourt, a village not far from Abingdon, where there was a satellite airfield. I met several new trainees, all potential aircrew, and together we started the huge task of putting up barbed wire around the miles-long perimeter of the airfield.

We were billetted in an unused dance hall next to a public house, by the side of a very pretty stretch of river about a mile and a half from the village. The publican’s name was Ecott but we were not related.
On 9th May 1941, I received the welcome news that I was posted for the beginning of my aircrew training to No. 8 I.T.W. (Initial Training Wing) at Newquay, Cornwall, but first to Air Crew Receiving Centre ("Arsy-Tarsy") for some more of that “bull” welcoming all recruits.

At Newquay on 24th May I was to spend another six fascinating weeks, being taught elementary navigation, meteorology, airmanship (as applied to flying) and other facets of pilot expertise. As well, we were brought up to an absolute peak of physical fitness by the constant attention of Corporal Jeff Allway, Physical Training Instructor. I remember him telling me that before the war he had had a small part as an actor in the early film "White Horse Inn", about smugglers in the west of England.

Walter603
30th Nov 2015, 07:00
Note that I found the name of the PTI; Cpl Jeff Allway. I spotted him somehwere in the UK before I went overseas. He had been accepted for aircrew training at last, he said, and was very happy about it.

Fareastdriver
30th Nov 2015, 07:39
Sorry I don't have sterling abbreviations on my Aussie Mac

I had the same problem with a Chinese laptop. I don't know what a Mac has but in Office you go to Insert-Symbol and you will find pages of everything in this world.

Fixed Cross
30th Nov 2015, 07:40
I cannot confirm the policy of pay changes during the war but I did experience the effect later. I was commissioned in 1964 after 6 years service as an NCO Radio Observer and subsequently Pilot. On appointment to Plt Off my basic Sgt pay (which was higher than a Plt Off) was retained until promotion to Fq Off. My flying pay immediately increased as did my marriage allowance on moving to the officer's mess.

The system was termed "marktime pay rates" and gave those who experienced the result a considerable increase in pay when compared to the normal rates earned by officers with Direct Commissions.

I suspect that other pruners of that period will have a similar story.

Petet
30th Nov 2015, 09:08
You dare not fly straight and level for any length of time

It is worth emphasising that crews were required to fly straight and level for approx. 30 seconds after the bombs had been released so that the target photograph could be taken .... that must have been the worst time to have to complete this manoeuvre.

Regards

Pete

Danny42C
30th Nov 2015, 22:06
Sandisondaughter (your #7709),

He shared his first room with the Headboy of Eton and the Headboy of Harrow, but he himself was the son of a postmaster from the Shetland Isles and his operational crew consisted of Australians and a Canadian

"Cook's son – Duke's son – son of a belted Earl,
Son of a Lambeth publican – it's all the same to-day!
Each of 'em doing his country's work" [Kipling]

We were all thrown into into the melting pot together and found we were "brothers under the skin" [sorry, Kipling !] In India, the two IAF Vengeance Squadrons were a mix of Indians, British and all the Dominions. The RAF ones the same less Indian. We were an ad-hoc lot.

(your #7729)

After gaining his wings on 3rd Jan 1942 Dad stayed on to train as a flying instructor - completed in Feb 1942. His instructor came from Chicago. Dad then went on to instruct at Darr Aerotech in Albany. His logbook lists all his trainees. I wonder how many survived the war.

In my logbook is a puzzle. On 27th January, 1942, I had as instructor at Craig Field,Selma, a P/O I.D.Macmillan. He could not have been an Arnold student (too early). So where had he come from (Canada ?). And how did he come to be instructing at an Arnold School ? (I thought the idea was that the creamed-off Arnold people were supposed to instruct only at the BFTS [eg Darr Aerotech] - the Air Corps would bristle at the idea of a RAF officer instructing at one of their Schools).

Didn't they have enough "creamies" of their own ? IIRC, the Arnold Schools graduated 4493 pilots and kept 526 (11.7%) out there for (we now know) 12 months before returning to UK. Of course, the Arnold Scheme ended in May (?) '43, as they wanted all their training capacity for themselves, but the six BFTS kept going to the end. The 500 odd creamed off Arnold graduates must have supplied almost all their instructors.

(your #7734)

...at Turner Field, Albany from early November 1941 to end of December 1941 flying North Americans.


The AT-6A, aka Harvard

He qualified as a pilot on 3rd January 1942 and then went on to Instructors School <at Gunter Field, Montgomery, Alabama flying Vultees from 21.1.42 to 6.2.42.
I was there as a stude from 4.11.41. to 4.1.42. I don't know what your Dad thought of the Vultee BT-13 "Valiant" (and you had to be valiant to fly it !), but in my book it was the worst handling thing I ever flew, the thing should never have been put into production. The Empire FTS and the BFTS did without a Basic stage (and the BT-13 !) altogether, and felt no pain.
Then there was a period of consolidation at Cochran Field again from Feb to April 1942. He then instructed at Turner Field from June 1942 to December 1942.
Same problem: wasn't Turner Field Army Air Corps ? (not one of the six BFTS).

He was posted to No 1660 Conversion Unit, Swinderby in May, flying Manchester and then on 1st June 1943 his first flight in a Lancaster I.

I bet he was glad to see the back of the Manchester ! Is there another man alive who flew them ? What were they really like ? (the Lancaster must have made him feel as if all his Birthdays had come at once !)

This is all questions, I admit, but that is what this Thread is all about. Please continue your Dad's wonderful story, we know the outline, now we want the juicy stuff in between. The Devil (and the interest) is in the detail.

Regards, Danny.

Danny42C
1st Dec 2015, 00:49
Walter603 (your #7714),

.....a RAF iron-framed bed with springs, the standard timber locker and a small rug.
Timber locker and a rug ! We had only our kitbags and the sprung bed. Had to buy our own mirror.
....You reminded me of the 4 Yorkshiremen story that was popular many years ago. "Floorboards in the annex? Aaaaah! i'd 'ave given me soul for them. An 'ole in the ground was what I 'ad for a bed" etc. etc. Next Yorkie, "Wot...'ole in the ground? I 'ad to sleep in a pond!" and so on.
At Babbacombe we were on bare boards with a straw palliasse ! (you were probably the same).

(your #7744)
Danny, I find it hard to understand that officer pay rate chart. I couldn't see a date stamp anywhere but it looks pre-war. Like you, I remember my Sgt and F/Sgt salaries gave me approx £5/18 a week as Sgt and £7 plus as a F/Sgt.
Our 13/6 a day as a Sgt-Pilot would be £4/14/6 in '42, and a F/Sgt-Pilot on 15/6 would get £5/8/6. Unless you got some extras, I'm afraid your past has picked up a rosy glow ! And £sd went out 43 years ago, so there is some excuse ! Yet, "all found" (except for 6d a day Sgts Mess Bill), it was good money. As one of my contemporaries put it: "it was the last time that you could have a good night out on a day's pay".
It isn't feasible that the commissioned ranks would take a pay cut on promotion.
No, and for that reason a Warrant Officer (and some F/Sgts ?) were commissioned as F/Os. But our problem here is the case where an NCO is commissioned, and there is a long delay in it coming through, in which time he has continued to be paid as an NCO. That pay has to be recouped, he may well have been promoted in the interval, in which case the amount to be repaid might exceed his arrears of pay as a P/O.

When I went back into the RAF in '49, it was as an F/O on 19/10 a day (nil seniority !). or about £355 pa. It was £50 less than I'd been getting as an Executive Officer in the Civil Service, but it was worth it to get back in. And of course, Marriage Allowance would have about doubled it, and you don't get that in the CS. Comparison with the rate chart shows a figure of £274 pre-war. Prices had about doubled in the interval, so my pay should have been £550 to keep in step. No such luck !

It woz an 'ard life ! :(

{your #7745),

"Old Comrades"

Ah, those first bewildering weeks at "arsy-tarcy" and then ITW ! As I've said, you "immediate service" chaps had this advantage over us "deferred service types, in that you'd learned all the survival skills necessary for an erk in the wartime RAF before you started training. For me, who'd already done nine years "hard" in boarding school, and for one or two ex public-schoolboys, it was bad enough, but for the majority who'd never been away from Mummy, it must've been the culture shock of their lives !

You seem to have done pretty well eveything bar painting the coal white.

Happy Days !

Danny.