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rmventuri
13th Sep 2010, 23:00
Would be interested to hear how the stream formed up before heading towards the enemy coast. Would it be reasonable to assume that two heavies (halifax MkII’s in this case) taking off one after the other within a few minutes remain in relative close proximity while forming up and remain so during the out bound leg? Or did the forming up technique basically maneuver aircraft around so there is no relationship to take off order? I understand that once formed up separation was maintained so during most of the route you were not in visual proximity to the nearest aircraft in the stream - at least until converging on the target. The details of this particular case is Dec 3/4 1943 from Snaith. The two aircraft took off in good weather around midnight - three minutes apart - with little or no moonlight (Leipzig raid). According to the ORB weather was “clear across the North Sea to East side of Zuider Zee and then cloudy becoming 9/10ths thin cloud in the target area – tops 8-10,000 ft. Wind light variable becoming N.E. 5-10 mph.”

Note; with the contribution and aid of pbeach have now identified the entire crew in the photo I posted #769 pg. 39 - I went back and corrected the post in case any other family members find this site. Turns out Doug was not in this photo.

cliffnemo
14th Sep 2010, 16:29
KIRHAM 2
What a big change. From being a team not only pulling together but with the same object in mind ,nearly all of us were only waiting for the day we could go home. No one was interested in becoming an L.A.C equipment assistant, so when classes finished exercise books were closed until the following day . However the information gained did help me later in ‘civvy street’ for I was later to set up a stores system for an Inernational Harvester agency of which I was a director. Although I.H.C was an American company their stores system was very similar to the R.A.F system. This is not surprising, as the R.A.F system was based on the Woolworths stores system, or so we were told. (Yawn)
The system only used in the U.K was virtually fiddle proof, and , I think, was known as ‘system A’ . Amongst other things, all stock sheets had to be registered in a central registry, kept under lock and key, numbered, and signed by a senior officer, replacements could only be made on the damaged or worn out item being handed in i.e for a replacement light bulb at least the brass bayonet fitting had to handed in. System B was for use over seas under war conditions , it was far simpler and was wide open to abuse . In fact I might eventually write about a certain W/O who must remain nameless and who had to do a lot of fiddling to save a certain officer I/C stores from court marshal. ( You never know that bloke from the Judge Advocates Generals Dept might still be around) . Instructors were not as dedicated as they might have been, I suppose they were also waiting for the day when they receive their ‘Trilby ‘ hat, over coat, and train warrant. Consequently we occasionally had to organise our own classes, which didn’t have much relevance to store keeping, good fun though. After all every one was either ‘Dollaly Tap’ or ‘Flak Happy’. We did learn some very useful things such as not to issue Hangars , air craft as Hangers , coat, as this could cause the officer I/c stores to panic.

For entertainment we were only a short distance from the pubs in the centre of Kirkham and the R.A.F Astra cinema was just up the road at Warton. Wizzo, we could see the Thirty Nine Steps again. However Saturday night was the night we looked forward to most..
The railway station was only a short distance from the camp entrance with frequent trains to the centre of Blackpool. Consequently nearly every one took the train on a Saturday night to Blackpool , visiting such pubs as Yates’s Wine Lodge , Uncle Toms cabin etc. Uncle Tom’s had a piano and excellent pianist who knew all the usual popular R.A.F songs which we sang with great gusto. One song being the most popular at that time was ‘When this blinking war is over’ which ended with ‘We will tell the Squadron Leader to stick his Spitfire up his jumper’

The last train back to camp was at ten thirty, so was absolutely packed, but no one cared, we just sang our heads off all the way back. However one Saturday night something silly happed (Well, as a refined old fogey that’s how I would describe these juvenile antics).
As we were all approaching the ticket collector we noticed a stack of fifty six pound test weights, about two and a half tons of them , and a quantity of red , paraffin lamps. Some wag suggested it would cause a laugh at the station if the S.P s were to find them in the morning outside the guard room. We each put our tickets between our teeth and picked up two items, and approached the ticket collector, who took the tickets, and didn’t even bat an eyelid.(such was life then).
On disembarking we staggered down towards the main gates. Unfortunately the local ‘Bobby’ happened to be approaching from the opposite direction and he looked a bit surprised to see a solid phalanx ? Of airman each carrying two fifty six pound test weights. He was a nice man , and politely requested that we return them to the Kirhahm station , fortunately he didn’t know they really came from Blackpool Station, so I suppose in our twisted minds we had the last laugh.
BAH THE YOUTH OF YESTERDAY.

P.S If you don’t know how heavy a fifty six pound weight is, then , two of them make a hundredweight.

Spartacan
21st Sep 2010, 05:44
Another hilarious anecdote. Please keep them coming!

fredjhh
22nd Sep 2010, 07:47
There was no "forming up" on night operations with Bomber Command.
Even immediately after take-off it was rare to see any other aircraft until near the target. On a clear night in mid summer one might see another aircraft just before sunset. Only once did I see a Lancaster near enough to read his letters, PH-N. fredjhh

pbeach
22nd Sep 2010, 16:10
I am no expert - still researching - but based on reading, a bomber stream formed because a, they all had the same flight plans, landfall etc, and b, they all took off at an appropriate time. In Martin Middlebrook's book "The Battle of Hamburg" nine Lancaster's of 57 Squadron were allocated late take off and bombing times by mistake - they arrived over Hamburg 20m after the Main Force and took on the night fighters and flak on their own... every body else had been and gone. On the other hand the American bombers did attempt to form up before going on a daylight raid.

tilleydog1
23rd Sep 2010, 09:07
I was chatting to my departmental administrator one day and the conversation drifted to this thread, she told me that she had recently begun typing out her fathers memories of his time in the RAF during WW2.
She has kindly given me permission to post the following:

Thomas Henry Ransley, born 19 March 1919, was conscripted into the Royal Air Force in June 1939 as a Militia man. This was a reserve corps whereby they spend 6 months training and 6 years on standby. In actual fact he spent 6 months on reserve and 6 years fighting due to the fact that the Second World War started at the end of 1939.

One of his memories is:

On 1 June 1943 he was ordered to fly out from Hendon Air base in a Dakota bound for Algiers in North Africa via Lisbon, Portugal to fit anti radar equipment to fighter aircraft based at various airfields in North Africa. Also on this flight were seven fellow electrical technicians and numerous senior ranking officers who were in charge of the North African campaign.

The Dakota took off from Hendon at 12.00 noon but during the flight the crew received a message that the German intelligence had information regarding a Dakota flight between London and Lisbon which was carrying very senior members of the allied forces. The flight therefore was diverted to Cornwall where they were held until midnight to confuse the Germans. In the meantime a civilian Pan Am flight had arrived in Lisbon from America, the passengers had transferred in Lisbon to a Dakota bound for London. On this flight was Leslie Howard the actor. This flight took off from Lisbon during the mid afternoon and was shot down by the Germans over the Bay of Biscay in mistake for the military Dakota aircraft, there were no survivors.

At midnight the Dakota with Dad on board took off from Cornwall bound for Lisbon, they flew over France, which was occupied by the German forces. However once they arrived over Portugal which was neutral territory they were fired upon by Portuguese anti aircraft guns, they had to take evasive action by climbing higher with no cabin pressure.

After Lisbon they flew to Gibraltar on the next stage of their journey. They landed at Gibraltar with no assistance from the airfield and were confronted with a mutiny of the British forces as Gibraltar had just been declared a Home Base as opposed to an Overseas Base, which meant that the regular three year leave had been cancelled. Due to the unsettled state of the base all members of the Dakota passengers and crew were housed in the Sergeant' s quarters for one week until the dispute was settled. During this time they managed to find some civilian clothing and travel by boat for a day trip to Algeciras in Spain which was neutral territory but did not allow German or English military personnel to enter Spain. The dispute was settled by the threat of the British Authorities threatening to send the army to shoot all staff for desertion.

Once the dispute was settled they took off for Algiers, North Africa in an American Dakota, however, during the week in Gibraltar the British Navy had sunk the French Vichy fleet at Oran Harbour in North Africa and the French and the North Africans had become very anti British so much so that the French had started shooting anyone in British uniform. The Dakota flew over Oran to show the senior staff on board the sunken French fleet. On arrival in Algiers all members of the flight were kitted out with American uniforms as a precaution due to the anti British feeling.

On arrival in Algiers they were billeted in a transit camp near the Kasbah which was bombed on the first night. After a couple of months Dad caught dysentery and had had to be transported to hospital in Constantine. As there were no ambulances available Dad was taken in General Spaatz' own staff car, which due to the state of the uneven roads and uneven state of Dad's stomach was in a pretty bad state when they arrived at the hospital. He was in hospital for 2 weeks but during his convalescence he was warned not to venture into Constantine as if he was caught by the French he would be thrown off the bridge.

After Constantine he travelled to El Kairouan, which was a holy city surrounded by squadrons and burial grounds as the muslims only bury their dead approx. 2ft. below the surface the smell at night was horrendous. Whilst in El Kairouan the nearest point on the coast was Souse he took the radio van down to the coast and went in swimming and saw a partly eaten dead body, tried to swim to a small island with his colleagues, but got into trouble and ended going under twice but one of his colleagues saw him and came to his rescue by swimming with him on his stomach to the island. They then pumped him out at the island and after recuperation took him back to the shore. A few days later he suffered very badly from appendicitis.

After fitting the equipment to the aircraft around Kairouan and Castel Beneto they had to wait until a further consignment of equipment arrived at Tripoli from England. This was coming by sea but after waiting a few days they were told that the ship had been torpedoed off the island of Pantellario. As the Sicilian invasion was pending a further consignment had to be sent out by air. They flew from Tripoli across the Gulf of Sirte to Benino (Benghazi). There they fitted the equipment to an RAF squadron just in time for the invasion of Sicily.

On the way to Tripoli they were put up by Free French army engineers at Kasserine pass in a mosquito infested area where they had to plaster repellent all over their exposed areas at night.

The British captured Kastel Benito airfield from the Italians and used it to fit the anti radar equipment. Dad stayed in North Africa for 6 months fitting the anti radar equipment to approximately 12 bomber squadrons. Travelled back to Tunis via Tripoli where they travelled by cattle truck train from Tunis to Algiers. During this time the invasion of Italy took place from Tripoli and Dad travelled back to England on the first convoy of ships out of Africa with Italian fleet as escorts. During this voyage they were shadowed by U-boats and German fighter aircraft which were all destroyed by the captured Italian naval escorts.

The only way to keep under air cover they had to go under cover of the Azores and then to Londonderry and arrived at Liverpool.


I notice that there are several references to anti radar equipment for the aircraft, does anyone have an idea of what this might have been?

If you find this of interest I'm sure I could persuade her to find out more about her fathers life.

Tilleydog

Union Jack
23rd Sep 2010, 10:10
If you find this of interest I'm sure I could persuade her to find out more about her father's life

Yes please, and VMT "Miss Ransley"!:ok:

What a marvellous input from a completely different perspective, touching as it does on several very contentious aspects of WWII. The Leslie Howard "mystery" and the amazing fightback by the RAAF Sunderland of 461 Squadron attacked by eight JU88s when sent to look for survivors have already been covered in some detail in this very thread.

Jack

green granite
23rd Sep 2010, 10:38
If you find this of interest I'm sure I could persuade her to find out more about her father's life

Indeed, it would be a valuable contribution to this thread, the war from other perspectives is always interesting..

cliffnemo
23rd Sep 2010, 10:51
If you find this of interest

Tilley of interest ? It is VERY interesting. More please.
There are not only sons and daughters of wartime airmen reading this thread , but historians and museum staff . They want to know about all R.A.F wartime personnel before it is too late.Keep it up.

Thanks Tilley.
FROM TODAY'S FACE BOOK.
Paula K. DensonNumber 1 British Flying Training School - No. 1 BFTS: My husband and I thought the entire fly-in weekend was wonderful. It was so nice to meet so many people sharing the same interest. I, too, took a similar photo of the beautifully tended graves. Paula Denson, author of The Royal Air Force in Oklahoma.
7 hours ago · Comment · Like

ExAscoteer
23rd Sep 2010, 15:23
Cliff,

Would you have an ISBN for Mrs Denson's book? I'd be very interested in acquiring a copy.

My late Father trained at 3BFTS Miami Oklahoma (Spartan School of Flying).

cliffnemo
23rd Sep 2010, 16:16
.Exascoteer.
Could ask my Grandson for I.S.B.N number , I bought him the book. Before I do, could you E.M Paula at [email protected]

Think I ordered my copy direct from Paula

I am sure she will have all the info immediately to hand, and will be very pleased to hear from you. Any problems just P.M me again.

Have you any anecdotes pictures etc you could post on here, we would be very pleased to have more contributions.

ExAscoteer
23rd Sep 2010, 19:18
Many Thanks Cliff.

I shall Email her directly.

I've been looking through my father's stuff - plenty of photo's of 3BFTS, some photo's of the Rhine Crossing and a 12 page manuscript of his exploits.

If anyone is interested I will type the manuscript out and upload it.

kookabat
23rd Sep 2010, 23:39
If anyone is interested I will type the manuscript out and upload it.


Yes please!! Let's keep this thread going...

ExAscoteer
24th Sep 2010, 00:59
OK then, these are my Father's memoirs (apologies it will take me a while to type them up):



I grew up until age 12 in Burnley, Lancashire, following which my family moved to Ely, Cambridgeshire, where my parents took over the running of a Pub. Whilst in Lancashire I had read with interest books about the First World War Fighter Aces to the extent that RAF Boy Entrant Service was of some interest. However, having been awarded a scholarship to Soham Grammar School, plus an additional County Scholarship, the thoughts of Boy Entrant Service receded.

When war broke out I was 15 years of age and, like most lads, when the opportunity arose, I joined an ATC Squadron. Cadet service took me to two Bomber Stations, Mildenhall and Waterbeach. At both Stations I saw aircraft crash; at Mildenhall a Wellington, and at Waterbeach 2 Stirlings went in. Despite this I had, and enjoyed, my first flight in a Stirling.

Aside from school and cadet work I built a 12ft kayak and also swam and roller-skated a lot. After leaving school I was employed by the River Great Ouse Catchment Board and commenced studies to become a surveyor. I didn’t realise that I had entered a ‘Reserved Occupation’!

Upon reaching my 18th birthday (17 Aug 1942), as with others, I had to register. By keeping quiet about my ‘Reserved Occupation’, and by volunteering for aircrew in the RAF I followed the usual route via the Aircrew Reception Centre St John's Wood London, finally to RAF Cardington. The some 300 volunteers at this time being examined and checked over a 3 day period, 2 of us were called for immediate service under the then 'PNB' scheme (Pilot, Navigator, Bomb Aimer). The 2 of us were given one week unpaid leave and then required to join the Aircrew Reception Centre in London. I met my colleague after the war – he had failed Flying Training.

Service training took me through the usual route: ITW, Grading School,

(My note based on my Father’s logbook – this was a single trip in a DH82 Tiger Moth with a Sgt Johnson at 13 EFTS, Perth, August [no date specified] 1943)

to No 3 BFTS Miami Oklahoma. There I flew PT19 Cornells and AT-6 Harvards.

(My note: My Father was (according to his Logbook) at 3 BFTS, Miami Oklahoma, from Dec 10 1943 to 10 Jun 1944. He received his 'Wings' on 18 Jun 1944)

As with 95% of successful candidates I graduated as a Sgt Pilot. My flying recommendations were: Fighter Low-Level, Fighter Medium-Level and Fighter High-Level as priorities 1,2 and 3. I had enjoyed my flying training and looked forward to Fighters!

It was at the NCO Pilots' pool at Harrogate when events put me on a different course. We were called to assembly where several high ranking Army Officers endeavored to recruit volunteers to transfer to the Army to become Glider Pilots!

(My note: Operation MARKET GARDEN in Sep 1944 had so denuded the Glider Pilot Regiment of pilots they were desperate to replace them.)

Needless to say the Army Officers were booed off the stage, though a few lads did volunteer. Some 10 days afterwards we were called to assembly again, whereupon we were told: “You either accept secondment to the Glider Pilot Regiment, or you will be transferred to the army as Privates and sent to the Far East as Infantry!”

cliffnemo
24th Sep 2010, 10:03
ExAscoteer

I predict there will be a lot of ppruners saying yes PLEASE

If anyone is interested Any one ? it will be EVERY ONE
[/QUOTE]

Molemot
24th Sep 2010, 10:14
As Privates? To the Far East?? As Infantry???! Bit of a Hobson's Choice there...what a switch, from fighter pilot to gliders.....

cliffnemo
24th Sep 2010, 15:54
Needless to say the Army Officers were booed off the stage, I think the Army Officers ' got in a flat spin' and that was their parting shot as they fled from the rostrum. I think I have said it before, we were OFFERED , glider pilot, P.F.E, Fleet Arm pilot, or train stoker. I refused all offers , and spent time at pre-AFUs, and on various courses. I never heard of any one actually remustering to 'squadie

ExAscoteer
24th Sep 2010, 18:53
I don't think the threat was actually carried out. I remember my Father telling me that he volunteered for the FAA but was 'on the wrong half of the list'. Apparently those that did transfer were lost at sea, how true this might have been I cannot say.

I was talking to my Uncle this pm who had trained at Pensacola with the USN on PBYs, and who was at Harrogate a month or so before my Father. He told me that he knew of at least one chap who was itching to get on 'Ops', volunteered based on a notice in the Majestic Hotel and found he'd volunteered for the GPR and couldn't retract.

The gentleman involved was P/O Cy Henson and was part of the original organising team for the Op Varsity Remembrance Parade at Earls Colne (the first being in 1991 IIRC).

ExAscoteer
24th Sep 2010, 21:17
A Glider Pilot's Tale, Part 2


So, battle training, first by the RAF Regt and then the Army followed by glider training in Hadrians (WACOs) and Horsas. All this and then a posting to ‘B’ Sqn The Glider Pilot Regt at RAF Earls Colne. Prior to this, and in company with some 100+ RAF pilots we were stationed at Fargo Camp on Salisbury Plain undergoing infantry training. Just before Christmas (1944) we were paraded and told that there would be no Christmas Leave since the civilians would require all available civil transport. That evening there was a tremendous kerfuffle! It subsequently transpired that a number of pilots had acquired a load of explosives and set off to blow up Stonehenge, which was some 2 or 3 miles away, to mark their displeasure. Fortunately for Stonehenge the party was intercepted half way along their journey! Nothing was said and no action taken. The next morning Christmas leave passes were issued and we left Fargo for good!

At B Sqn we flew Horsas and continued battle training. Glider crews tended to be all Army or all RAF. In the latter case an RAF Officer would be First Pilot with and RAF Sgt as Second Pilot – my First Pilot was F/O Ted Barton who was an experienced pilot who’d just done a tour as an instructor prior to joining the GPR. Co-operation between the Army and RAF crews on the Sqn was very good.

The day came when we were confined to camp. It was obvious that we were in business when we commenced loading our Horsa MkII gliders. Our glider, loaded to an unusual plan, carried a Jeep, trailer, 17pdr gun and 6 troops. The troops were planned to sit at the rear of the glider – a position to which they objected since they would be slower to de-plane after landing.

(My note: The Horsa MkII had 2 doors, one either side of the rear fuselage which lifted and swung in an overhead arc to open and which were known to jam if there was any fuselage distortion as would be the case in a heavy combat landing.)

Consequently we did a quick recalculation of the loading plan, and with extra work by the troops, the load was re-positioned so that the troops sat as far forward as possible.

It was a great sight, the gliders marshaling, taking off, and joining the stream. We flew north towards the Wash behind a Halifax tug, before turning South-East on our way towards the Rhine. As far as the eye could see there were aircraft towing gliders, whilst overhead Fighter Sqns weaved providing top cover. Some 5 minutes before the Rhine, which we could easily see, my skipper F/O Ted Barton called me to look to the left. The combination to our immediate left was a Halifax towing a Hamilcar. I was just in time to see a tank, probably a Honey, had broken out of the rear of the Hamilcar and fallen to earth.

(My note: the tank was, in fact, probably a Locust.)

I saw the tank bounce some 50 – 100 ft in the air before losing sight of it. The Hamilcar was, by now, causing too much drag for the Halifax and so the Halifax jettisoned his tow rope causing the Hamilcar to crash. Our opinion was that the tank driver had left the vehicle in gear and that when he started his engine, it fired first time and thereby caused the ensuing calamity. It was the practice for tank drivers to start up 5 mins before the LZ. The idea was that, in an emergency, the tank could be driven through the closed nose doors ready for immediate action.

(My note: There is a letter in my late Father's notes from one Peter Davies, a Sgt glider pilot from C Sqn GPR, who also witnessed the tragedy while on board his Hamilcar. The tank commander involved was Sgt Dawson. The other 7 tank carrying gliders all arrived safely.)

As we crossed the Rhine at approximately 1500 ft we could see that the whole of the landing area was totally obscured by dense smoke, through which the flashes of anti-aircraft gunfire could be seen. On a position call from our tug aircraft we released, turned right, steadied our glider, and descended with full flap into the smoke. Up until this time Ted had always flown the landings, on this approach he handed it over to me with the words: “Maybe you better do this one.” The descent was so steep that, being only 5 ft 6 ins I was nearly out of my seat standing on the rudder pedals!

The smoke was so thick that we saw no other glider during our descent, and only saw the ground when below 100 ft. The landing went well, although we ploughed through 2 or 3 wire fences. We came to a stop about 15 ft from a ditch from which several American Paratroops were firing at the enemy.

kookabat
25th Sep 2010, 01:59
Looks like you were taking lessons from the sadly missed Regle.

Talk about leaving us hanging off a cliff!!:eek:

ExAscoteer
25th Sep 2010, 03:15
A Glider Pilot's Tale, Part 3


With some difficulty we managed to open the glider’s nose and get our load out and away to their RV. As we were doing this another Horsa landed nearby, its nose broke off and rolled into another drainage ditch. Shortly afterwards 2 very irate glider pilots managed to extricate themselves with much swearing!

(My note: The Horsa MkII had a hinging nose section – the entire cockpit hinged away from the fuselage, on the stbd side, thus expediting unloading. The earlier Horsa MkI had a fixed nose, the load was loaded through a large side door forward on the port side. For unloading the entire tail section was removed via the undoing of 4 bolts. In a heavy combat landing, distortion to the fuselage could mean that the tail was impossible to remove.)

Ted and I then picked up our gear and weapons and set off across the fields to find our RV. Ted was about 3 yds in front of me as we trotted past the side of a farm outbuilding. As we turned the corner a British Para drew our attention to a spray of machine-gun bullet strikes that had hit the brick wall only feet behind us – without us hearing a thing!

Around the corner of the farm building a number of British Paras had congregated – there were probably about 40 of them. It was then that we saw a German soldier face down on the ground protesting noisily. Sitting astride the German was a Para Medic using his fighting knife to dig a bullet out of the German’s backside. It was so incongruous that we literally fell about laughing.

Having established our whereabouts, Ted and I made our way to the RV. It was planned that some 45 Glider Pilots should meet up at this RV with some of the Royal Ulsters and then proceed to attack and capture a nearby bridge. Since less than half that number turned up, 8 of us were tasked to hold a farmhouse some 500 yds distant. Before we moved off a very young German soldier, probably Hitler Youth, came down the earthen road. He was wearing only boots and trousers and had his hands in the air. One of the glider pilots yelled: “Effing Gerry!” and then shot him. A photograph of the dead German appeared in the 'London Illustrated News' a week later with the headline: “German soldier killed in action near Hamilkeln.”

Having walked to the farmhouse we inspected the premises which were occupied solely by an elderly housewife and her young daughter. Going into the ground floor cattle pens, which were timber enclosures with walls and doors full height to the ceiling, one glider pilot with a Bren gun heard a noise. He kicked open the pen door and opened fire. Result, one very dead cow!

Shortly afterwards a prisoner, a Lt Col of the SS, was put in an empty pen with a young L/Cpl Para as guard. It greatly amused us that his Officer didn’t fully trust this young Para since every 4 or 5 minutes he checked on him. Each time this happened we heard the young Para say: “Please sir, let me take him outside and shoot him – I don’t care if I do get Court Martialed when we get back.”

The Lt Col SS was highly delighted to be moved to a POW compound with an intact skin.

Looking back towards our RV we could see Paras around the T Junction of 2 earthen roads. There was a roar as a German fighter appeared and began to strafe. Lots of brown backsides disappeared into ditches either side of the road. The German fighter (an Me 109) did not escape as 6 Typhoons and 3 Tempests joined in. They circled the 109 and, as one aircraft tried to line up a firing opportunity, 2 more would cut him out. This went on for about 10 minutes. The German pilot, realising escape was hopeless, turned his aircraft upside down and bailed out.

The Paras shot him on the way down.

It being fairly quiet by then, Ted and I walked over to a gun battery which had set up near our old RV. We thought we recognised the gun crew and were correct – it was the crew we had flown in. By the time we met up they had hot tea and sweets awaiting us. However we were prevented from socialising because shortly afterwards a shoot was called in. We retreated to our farmhouse.

cliffnemo
25th Sep 2010, 10:13
Many thanks ExAscoteer from all of us, I know it is very time consuming but please try and keep going. It reminds me, amongst other things, of my oppo Tubby Baker, previously mentioned, with the large wound in his back.

ExAscoteer
25th Sep 2010, 15:59
A Glider Pilot's Tale, Part 4


Then came an air resupply drop; lots of loads with many different coloured parachutes. There was one bright red ‘chute. I thought to myself: “Comforts for the General, I’ll have that!”

I walked out into the open, 200 or 300 yds, and with my army knife tried to open the container. The task took me about 20 minutes and all the time I was being sniped. The fire was obviously close because I could hear the ‘crack’ as the shot went by. Still I managed to get my container open. Imagine my thoughts when I discovered the load to be 6 x 25lb shells! Back to our farmhouse and not at all pleased!

I was then tasked as sole glider pilot to join a Para Officer with his 6 jeeps and 12 Paras. The task was to visit a crash landed Hamilcar and retrieve its load of some 650 x 25lb shells which were urgently needed. We arrived at the glider safely. As a glider pilot I was expected to advise the Paras on how to go about unloading the glider, even though I’d never been close to a Hamilcar before.

Well, we opened a side hatch to find a stack of large wicker-work containers securely roped together and to tie-downs. Being the only one with a jack-knife I got to work rope cutting. As each container became loose the Paras pulled it out and conveyed it to, and loaded it on, one of our jeeps. Having worked for quite a while, and having reclaimed 80 – 90% of the containers, my hands being sore and my knife very blunt, I handed my knife to a Para and took a breather.

The Para Officer and I were standing under the port wing of the Hamilcar, just about where the port strut connects with the underside of the wing. Suddenly a burst of tracer from the nearby woods shot over the port wing. A second burst shot along the ground between the port side of the glider and us. The Para Officer and I looked at each other, and without a single word, made a dignified, if hurried, retreat to our jeeps. We hastily climbed aboard and moved out; for me back to our farmhouse.

At the farmhouse I discovered my colleagues had several German prisoners. Whilst I had been away retrieving the 25lb shells a large party of German infantry, some 80 strong, had advanced towards the farmhouse. An RAF Officer glider pilot had opened fire with a Bren when the Germans were in easy range. A cluster of 6 or 7 Germans were killed and, by pure chance, these transpired to be the Officers and SNCOs of the Company. It was enough, the rest of the Germans downed weapons and immediately surrendered.

Most were soon moved to a POW compound, however a few were left behind to labour for us. I was allocated 2 prisoners to dig slit trenches. One was a middle-aged Sgt and the other a young, cocky, Private. I marched my prisoners along a concrete path at the side of the farmhouse intending them to dig the trenches in the allocated area. Previously I had ‘liberated’ a number of eggs which I had placed at the edge of the path next to the farmhouse wall. As we walked along the path, the Sgt leading followed by the Private and then me, the Private obviously saw the eggs and altered his line of march. I could see he intended to stamp on the eggs. He had his foot raised ready to stamp when slapped the bolt of my rifle. Very carefully and slowly he brought his foot back before lowering it and we marched on. Would I have shot him? At the time, very probably. I took his Sgt to task and said that the War was nearly over and that, if the Private misbehaved I would ensure that he did not see the War out. The Sgt tore into the Private; he also ensured the Private did the lion’s share of the digging.

Dusk was now upon us. I had scrounged 3 American parachutes with which I proceeded to line my chosen slit trench, anticipating a good night’s sleep in the midst of all that silk. However I was given another task.

I was tasked to go and act as personal bodyguard to a British Lt Col Para driving his jeep. The Lt Col was a fairly tall man. Me at 5 ft 6 ins sitting down next to him with a rifle and bayonet fixed, the latter taller than me, must have looked quite a sight. Anyway the Lt Col provided me with much to think about. His technique was to drive, lights out of course, to his various outposts. He would ignore the challenges of the posted sentries and swiftly drive up to his various posts. He then got out of the jeep and raved at each guard for not shooting!

This time I was very happy and pleased to get back to our farmhouse safely!

A good meal of farmhouse eggs and potatoes supplemented by food from American ration packs. This was followed by an excellent night’s sleep in my slit trench. I brought a white American parachute home with me. This furnished underwear for my Mother and Sister, but that’s another story!

Hagbard the Amateur
25th Sep 2010, 17:05
I nominate this thread to become a Sticky - does anyone else agree?

green granite
25th Sep 2010, 17:15
Yes, very definitely a sticky

ExAscoteer
25th Sep 2010, 18:32
A Glider Pilot's Tale, Part 5


The next morning it was nice and quiet. During the afternoon I was tasked with several others to seek and find a Horsa, which had landed out of the area in an approximately known position, and retrieve its load of a jeep and trailer. I had acquired a Beretta Machine Pistol – something like a very superior Sten. It had 2 triggers, one for single shot and a grooved trigger for rapid fire. A very well made weapon with only one fault – the magazine hung vertically down. This would make crawling and shooting difficult. The model had been acquired following a sweep after the prisoners of yesterday.

(My note: The weapon in question was a Beretta MAB 38A {Moschetto Automatico Beretta Modello 1938A}, a 9mm automatic carbine much favoured by the Waffen SS.)

We set off on our patrol, crossed open land, and entered the woods. Therein we met a Fighting patrol of British Paras. Great interest was shown in my Beretta. In response I thought to demonstrate the weapon. I released the magazine, dropping it perhaps half an inch, but not taking it out of the weapon. Pointing the gun at the ground in front of my feet, I pressed the single shot trigger. Unfortunately I did not know that the sear had been lost off the bolt. The gun fired off nearly half a magazine (some 20 rounds) before I could pull the magazine out. Fortunately no damage was done and nobody shot. The only response was from one Para who turned to me and said: “I suppose you think that’s effing funny Sergeant!”

As we moved on through the woods we came across a stick of Paras, all Brits, hanging in their shrouds in the trees. Obviously they had sustained injuries dropping through the branches. The anger we felt was that they had been bayoneted as they hung injured. Typical German treatment of injured soldiers.

(My note: Whilst not ‘PC’ in this day and age, the last sentence is how my Father felt. In many respects, and as with others who had fought, he remained prejudiced right up until his death.)

We moved on and left the woods for a ditch on the far side of an earthen roadway. We could see the crashed Horsa in the distance near to a farmhouse. Being cautious, 2 glider pilots made their way to the Horsa, whilst we remaining were ready to give covering fire if needed. Our 2 colleagues came back with the news the jeep was not in the glider as expected.

Just then 6 British tanks came up the lane. These had swum across the Rhine as evidenced by a pair of bronze propellers at the rear of each.

(My note: the tanks were ‘Duplex Drive’ Shermans.)

Immediately to our right was a single-track railway embankment. The tanks drove over the embankment in 2 groups, each of 3 tanks. As they did so we heard a German 88mm open up. Three shots and 3 tanks brewed up. We did not go to look!

At this moment a jeep came up the lane. It sported the Airborne ‘Pegasus’ Insignia, but was being driven by a Sgt of the 50th Lowland Div. It was our jeep but the Sgt would not hand it over. He explained that he and his squad had taken the jeep from some German troops. Being short of transport he planned to keep it. He offered to drive us back to Glider Pilot HQ, an offer which was quickly accepted. The jeep was rapidly filled such that the only place for me was lying across the bonnet! We backtracked and turned onto a lane that led to our HQ.

“Hold on,” said the Scottish Sgt as we drove over the 8 or 9 bodies of Germans killed by the Sgt’s squad earlier that day. It was an experience, which still lives in my mind! Again back to our farmhouse. This time to be told to move to another farmhouse some 500 yds away. It transpired that this was the residence of the Mayor of Hamilkeln. We arrived at the house to hear a wounded horse screaming and were asked to put it out of its misery. An RAF NCO glider pilot obliged – and then shot all the other horses and cattle just to make sure!

None of us worried in the slightest.

ExAscoteer
25th Sep 2010, 20:28
A Glider Pilot's Tale, Part 6


Ted and I entered the house and made our way to the dining room on the first floor. There stood the Mayor in Tails and wearing a top hat! Ted stuffed his beret down his smock, took the top hat from the Mayor and put it on his own head. The Mayor was deflated. Ted wore the top hat on our later march out of the LZ.

(My note: My Father told me that the glider pilots were notorious for eschewing tin helmets and wearing berets instead. Unfortunately for the RAF glider pilots, their blue berets {the Army glider pilots wore the maroon beret} made them look like German tank crews at a distance. Probably not a good idea!)

I was not popular with the Mayor either. Feeling hungry, I set up my ‘Tommy cooker’ on the Mayor’s large and beautiful dining table, and cooked my meal. The solid fuel made a large burn in the tabletop. Did I care? No way!

We were then told that we were to march out of the area, be picked up by truck, and transported back across the Rhine, all of which occurred. Marching through the woods we remained alert due to the presence of active German troops therein. Happily we had no trouble. You can imagine the bawdy (and worse!) remarks addressed at Ted, for sporting a top hat on our march, by the incoming reinforcements!

And so across the Rhine Bailey Bridge, first to Nijmegen and thence to Eindhoven and a flight home. Our CSM had found 2 motorcycles, one of which was booby trapped. Fortunately he picked up the safe one. This he put on the Dakota flying home. I still wonder if he still owns it.

On landing at home we were marched to Customs! Customs wanted to know where we had been and on whose authority, and had we anything to declare! There we were, some wounded; in Army parlance: ‘in **** order’. The glider pilots started to get extremely annoyed. We all had weapons and plenty of ammunition. One little spark and there could have been a dreadful incident. Fortunately common sense took over and we were cleared quickly. I and my American white parachute got safely on our way home.

(My note: many of the American ‘chutes were in a green DPM type camouflage.)

Do I have any regrets? Not as far as the Army and RAF glider pilots I flew and fought with. My only regret is that I did not fly fighters in combat. I was fortunate to fly Spitfires as well as Meteor and Vampire jet fighters whilst on the active reserve list to the RAF in later years – but again, that’s another story.

I was subsequently sent to RAF Shobdon to fly Hotspurs by both day and night as a preliminary to becoming a First Pilot for duty in the Far East. Fortunately that did not happen, losses on the Rhine and anticipated losses landing on Japan left little chance of survival.

(My notes: Operation VARSITY {The Rhine Crossing} was the single most successful Allied Airborne Operation of WWII. What isn’t generally realised {and what has shamefully been ignored by the Media} is that 2/3 of the glider pilots involved were RAF. These figures are reflected in the losses: Of the 102 pilots killed, 64 were RAF. Of those wounded, 60% were RAF.

With regards to the possible Airborne Assault on Japan, the Official {conservative} Estimate on casualties was 80% minimum on the first wave!

I can safely say that, had Truman not dropped the ‘bomb’, I would not be here today.

A sobering thought.)

ExAscoteer
25th Sep 2010, 20:36
A few photo's from my Father's Log Book:

http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/resized_d63e20bc-5a86-4ff8-ae1d-072638ae459c.jpg (http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/resized_d63e20bc-5a86-4ff8-ae1d-072638ae459c.jpg)

My Father is in the front row, 5th from the right:

http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/resized_29e9e4a7-1e9d-4ff4-8224-dcbc38056057.jpg (http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/resized_29e9e4a7-1e9d-4ff4-8224-dcbc38056057.jpg)

My Father is far right, front row:

http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/resized_92724fdf-834e-4e97-8aa6-85adbc0730c2.jpg (http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/resized_92724fdf-834e-4e97-8aa6-85adbc0730c2.jpg)

A view of a Halifax tug from the Horsa cockpit:

http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/resized_f8041433-8775-459a-afe6-8f52ee3aae49.jpg (http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/resized_f8041433-8775-459a-afe6-8f52ee3aae49.jpg)

His Log Book entry says it all:

http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/50469627-142b-4374-bc6d-590d3fcb2903.jpg (http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/50469627-142b-4374-bc6d-590d3fcb2903.jpg)

ExAscoteer
25th Sep 2010, 23:58
For those of us that think the 'Goolie Chit' is a new idea, here is the 1945 version offered to the Germans;

http://village.photos/images/user/dd094521-d044-404b-9162-34486c3b94d7/resized_d9977608-01cc-424c-8590-f2897e5248c6.jpg

goofer3
26th Sep 2010, 19:36
ExAscoteer

Brilliant reading and many thanks for taking the time to post the stories:D

unclejacky
27th Sep 2010, 03:40
I have also been researching Royston William Purcell (known as Jacky to his family) who was shot down over Lille France in 1944. I visited his gravesite in 2004 with my husband,son and one of my daughters. It was very moving. I had heard about (Uncle Jacky) all my life from my dad. Dad was Jacky's nephew. My nana was Jacky's sister, Rosina (older of course). I have copies of the telegrams from the War Commission sent to his eldest brother (his parents pre-deceased him). I also have a copy of the list of his personal belongings from his locker. I do not have a photo and would love to see one. He also had the nickname Rinso because of his surname being similar to a washing powder at the time, called Pursill. Cheers Donna.

kookabat
27th Sep 2010, 04:55
G'day Donna,

I'm completely blown away to see this post from you. You're now the third person who's contacted me through this forum to talk about my great uncle. The power of PPRuNe!

I've sent you an email through your profile - looking forward to hearing more from you!

Regards,
Adam

Union Jack
27th Sep 2010, 10:05
He also had the nickname Rinso because of his surname being similar to a washing powder at the time, called Pursill.

Brilliant! Just for the record, the washing powder in question was, and still very much is, actually "Persil", which curiously enough is also the French word for parsley.

Good hunting in respect of "Rinso"!:ok:

Jack
(former resident of NSW)

BEagle
27th Sep 2010, 11:38
The German pilot, realising escape was hopeless, turned his aircraft upside down and bailed out.

The Paras shot him on the way down.

I was not popular with the Mayor either. Feeling hungry, I set up my ‘Tommy cooker’ on the Mayor’s large and beautiful dining table, and cooked my meal. The solid fuel made a large burn in the tabletop. Did I care? No way!

We arrived at the house to hear a wounded horse screaming and were asked to put it out of its misery. An RAF NCO glider pilot obliged – and then shot all the other horses and cattle just to make sure!

None of us worried in the slightest.

Before we moved off a very young German soldier, probably Hitler Youth, came down the earthen road. He was wearing only boots and trousers and had his hands in the air. One of the glider pilots yelled: “Effing Gerry!” and then shot him.

How many of these despicable incidents were ever investigated?

BEagle
27th Sep 2010, 12:57
We arrived at the house to hear a wounded horse screaming and were asked to put it out of its misery. An RAF NCO glider pilot obliged – and then shot all the other horses and cattle just to make sure!

None of us worried in the slightest

When the Luftwaffe occupied bases in France, its personnel were told that any pillaging or plundering of civilian property would be punishable by death:

NICHT PLÜNDERN

PLÜNDERN WIRD MIT DEM TODE BESTRAFT.

In May 1940, two privates were caught stealing some shoes and furs and had been summarily court-martialled and shot within hours.

Another example of German behaviour was the treatment of cattle which the French had abandoned. The cattle were in some pain due to not having been milked. But rather than shooting them out of hand as that 'brave' RAF NCO glider pilot did in 1944, they flew in a 'Milking Kompanie' from Germany who were able to save the French cows......

Fareastdriver
27th Sep 2010, 20:36
This is a brilliant, informative thread where ex WW II aircrew have passed on their memories from when they started flying until the end.

Let's keep it that way.

herkman
27th Sep 2010, 22:24
These posting are so valuable that I really hope that there is a method of say saving them to disc. In a few years most contributors will cease to be with us and what a treasure of memories and experiences will then be left behind. If we go back several hundred years, first hand posting like these do not exist.

We have a duty to preserve these records and to encourage others to do likewise.

Amongst my interests I do pension assistance to veterans and amazed at how well they can go back in time and recal things that will be so personal and interesting.

Recently I assisted the son of an Australian Halifax pilot lost over Germany in 1943.

He knew nothing about his Dad's death and we were able to get the full history.

As I handed him his complete file. he asked how much he owed for my expenses.

I thought for a moment, and I thought of all the others before him and said " You owe me nothing, the bill was paid long ago in 43".

With part of the mainplane missing, the pilot badly wounded in both legs, stayed at the controls so some of the crew could get out.

Tried to get him the DFC but some rule stops it because so much time has gone by.

Regards

Col

Union Jack
27th Sep 2010, 23:11
This is a brilliant, informative thread where ex WW II aircrew have passed on their memories from when they started flying until the end.

Let's keep it that way.

Well said FED!:ok:

Jack

angels
28th Sep 2010, 08:19
You're quite right folks.

My Dad is on here as well. Deleting my 'rising to the bait' posts.

Yamagata ken
28th Sep 2010, 10:02
This is a wonderfull thread. Thank you all. BEagle: well said. Bastardry is not the sole preserve of the enemy.

cliffnemo
28th Sep 2010, 10:44
Hi Herkman.

I purchased a two gig memory stick and saved this thread on the memory stick. You can buy them on Ebay for about eight £. Some have a lot more space than on a C.D or D.V.D.
Saving this way the stick can be transferred to any computer's U.S.B port and the contents read.Also if you scrap your computer, you will still have a record of this thread.

Think you should use show a pritable version in TOOLS above

Look for
Show Printable Version Show Printable Version

Ask the children , they know more about computers then we do .

Spartacan
28th Sep 2010, 11:48
The conduct of our own forces during World War is a really touchy subject. On the one hand we have a duty to respect the memories of people who can no longer speak for themselves. On the other hand we have a duty not to be soft on the issue. Not least because we need to send out the right message to our own troops in combat.

My late Uncle served as a Captain in the Suffolk Regiment and saw action against the Nazis in continental Europe. One day he chanced upon a British Army Sergeant and Corporal who were about to lynch a captured Gestapo Officer. My Uncle intervened and ordered the men to stop. He was told in no uncertain terms that if he tried to stop the atrocity he would shot along with the Nazi. I asked my Uncle what he did next and he replied that he left them to it because he had absolutely no doubt that the men, who he described as very frightened and very angry, fully meant to carry out their threat.

In later life he was still angry about the atrocity - despite having had a simply foul time himself. His final comment to me was that it was the worst act of cowardice he every saw.

I know these are strong comments but I would not want Pprune to be seen as a forum which condones war crimes or other misdeeds.

My father, and all my other relatives who were caught up in the War, were in reality quite subdued about their experiences and generally talked little of them. One tended to hear things second or third hand. This was back in the 1970's when memories were still to raw. The difficult bit was how their friends died. The value of this thread is that, with the passage of time people are more frank about what happened to them and we can learn from that.

I say let the dead bury the dead with as much dignity as possible.

airborne_artist
30th Sep 2010, 15:37
OK, it's about a USN WWII pilot, not RAF, but try reading this without a bit of "dust" in the eyes .... ;)

The Paper (http://thecommunitypaper.com/archive/2010/09_09/index.php)

Spartacan
30th Sep 2010, 19:01
What a moving story! Ta very much.

phil9560
30th Sep 2010, 19:50
Quote:
The German pilot, realising escape was hopeless, turned his aircraft upside down and bailed out.

The Paras shot him on the way down.
Quote:
I was not popular with the Mayor either. Feeling hungry, I set up my ‘Tommy cooker’ on the Mayor’s large and beautiful dining table, and cooked my meal. The solid fuel made a large burn in the tabletop. Did I care? No way!
Quote:
We arrived at the house to hear a wounded horse screaming and were asked to put it out of its misery. An RAF NCO glider pilot obliged – and then shot all the other horses and cattle just to make sure!

None of us worried in the slightest.
Quote:
Before we moved off a very young German soldier, probably Hitler Youth, came down the earthen road. He was wearing only boots and trousers and had his hands in the air. One of the glider pilots yelled: “Effing Gerry!” and then shot him.
How many of these despicable incidents were ever investigated?

Desperate times and desperate measures.... or victors justice and it was ever thus....


Two ways of looking at it and never to detract from the fine deeds it brought out in many people.

Hipper
1st Oct 2010, 08:19
As an antidote to the more depressing reality of war, here is a story the late regle posted (page 41 post #818):

snopes.com: Charlie Brown (http://www.snopes.com/military/charliebrown.asp)

tow1709
2nd Oct 2010, 08:48
In this extract, Peter has finished his tour with 183 Sqn, and has been posted to No 3 Tactical Experience Unit


No.3 Tactical Experience Unit was a conversion school for pilots arriving from OTU, having flown Hurricanes, to be converted to Typhoons and given some experience of dive bombing and rocket firing. It is coincidental that this unit was originally 55 OTU where I had done my original training on Hurricanes. It was re-equipped with Typhoons and finally arrived at Aston Down on 14th July 1944

Apart from occasionally leading a formation of four, doing practice target dives, my main flying was air tests and flying an Auster to and from the Oldbury R/P range. This range was a floating target in the Severn Estuary with a range hut for plotting the strikes on a promontory on the south bank of the river.

The floating target was in the centre of the estuary exactly where the new Severn Bridge now stands, and the range hut was where the Motorway services restaurant is now situated.

Two or three days per week I had to go out to the range and act as instructor to the new pilots; talking to them on the R/T, criticizing their performance and making suggestions. At first I used to drive a motorcycle the 45 or so miles to the range. Since I had never before driven anything except an aeroplane, I had to undergo a sort of driving test for the motorcycle. I practiced riding the 250 cc BSA around the perimeter track and thoroughly enjoyed it.

When I felt confident, I went along to the M.T. (Motor Transport) section and asked for a test. The M.T. Sergeant watched me ride around the yard changing gear and stopping and starting and then issued me with a full licence which entitled me to drive cars, motor cycles and lorries up to 10 tons!

Needless to say I took full advantage of this and subsequently practiced driving anything I could lay my hands on. The most frequent, and also the most unnerving, was driving the petrol bowser since the large tank had very few baffles and, after turning a corner you tended to weave from side to side as the petrol sloshed about in the tank. Although this license gave me an added dimension to my life I soon found that the journey from Stroud to the Oldbury range was a bit tedious.

After talking to the Wing Commander Flying I was allowed to use the station Auster for these trips, landing on the foreshore below the range hut. I would then be picked up by an airman driving a motorcycle and sidecar and taken up to the range hut. This worked out quite well except that it meant that one of the airmen from the range hut staff had to stand guard over the Auster whilst I was there to fend off the keen young local boys who wanted to climb all over it. I also had to fend off these same lads who wanted to get a flight.

I found flying the Auster a lot of fun. One thing I found out quite early was that the pitch trim had to be handled with care. The trim was effected by a lever moving in a quadrant down the left hand side of the pilot’s seat. This lever worked an absolutely flat piece of metal which acted as a sort of auxiliary tail plane. As you moved the lever towards the top it tilted the plate up at the rear and thus pushed the tail down and gave a 'nose up' trim effect. However, if you moved the lever too far, the flat plate would suddenly stall (depending on the airspeed at the time) and the trim would then equally suddenly reverse to 'nose down'. This had to be watched, especially on landing since lowering the flaps with another but larger lever on the right of the seat, caused a 'nose down' change of trim.

If you overcorrected on the trim lever, the resulting sudden extra 'nose down' trim occurred just at the wrong time and airspeed and resulted in a somewhat spectacular landing. Watching from outside it appeared that the pilot had suddenly decided he was too high, dived towards the ground, then realized he was too low and hauled back on the stick. If he was in luck, he managed a rather heavy three point landing. More likely, he hit wheels first and 'ballooned' violently into the air again, finishing up either going round again or thumping down on about the third bounce! Luckily I had found out about this peculiarity at a safe height in straight and level flight and therefore never had the embarrassment of performing this type of Auster landing!

On a couple of these trips I took F/Lts Cliff and Khin over to the range. Both these officers were Burmese and, after the war became the Commander and Second-in Command respectively of the Burmese Air force. At this time however they were just two more pilots 'on rest' and both enjoyed playing with the Auster.


More soon ==TOW

tow1709
2nd Oct 2010, 13:48
A few times I flew the station Hurricane out to the range and carried out my critical duties from this aircraft whilst cruising up and down the southern bank of the Severn. I usually stayed around for about 1½ hours and finished the time by doing a 'beat-up' of the range hut. I found a very effective manoeuvre was to dive down along the foreshore very low and the pull up violently at the bottom of the cliff where the range hut was situated. This resulted, depending on my angle of approach, in the range hut personnel being presented with either a side view or a plan view of a Hurricane shooting vertically into view about sixty feet in front of their windows!

On one occasion, from my log book it was on 23rd November 1944, I was asked to fly a Typhoon out to the range to see if the weather was good enough for practice bombing. The cloud base was about 1200 feet when I left Aston Down and gradually deteriorated as I approached the Severn where it was down to about 600 feet. I knew from the local meteorological reports that the cloud was much more broken further west, and since I did not fancy climbing up through the cloud until I was sure I was clear of any high ground I decided to follow the southern bank of the river westwards until I found broken cloud through which I would be able to climb without worry. With hindsight I realize that what I should have done was to head West down the middle of the Bristol Channel and climbed up over the water. However I followed the Southern bank of the river, flying very low, about 150 feet. Since I was watching the bank out of the port side and not my actual heading I was somewhat confused when more land started appearing to my starboard. A glance at the compass showed me my error. I was flying almost due South! I had been so busy concentrating on following the bank that I had turned up the mouth of the Avon river and was busy flying up the Avon gorge! A decision to climb up out of it was quickly discounted as I remembered that the Clifton suspension bridge was around somewhere. The cloud base was now below 200 feet and I was flying up what was virtually a tunnel formed by the cloud, the river, and the two sides of the gorge. I slowed down as much as possible but was still doing about 120 mph with 15 degrees of flap and in fine pitch. The Avon gorge is unfortunately not dead straight and it was quite nerve wracking trying to keep in the middle of the river and at the same time praying that the cloud base would not get any lower. After what seemed an eternity I saw ahead of me docks and buildings and realized that I had reached Bristol. Without more ado I slammed open to full throttle, upped the flaps and went into a steep climb on instruments.

Coming out of cloud at about 4000 feet I headed for Aston Down and very shortly found that the cloud was broken enough to descend safely and map read my way home. As soon as I arrived I went to the Wingco Flying and told him what had happened. After having a good laugh he told me not to worry and that, if he had any complaints, he would tell them that it was a special survey flight! I heard no more so I assumed that nobody had reported me. I have always been surprised at this since the Typhoon was quite a noisy aeroplane and to have one flying at less than 100 feet across a highly populated area like Bristol without anybody even bothering to complain was somewhat unusual.

Since all the instructors at Aston Down were 'on rest' there was a very relaxed atmosphere and any flying we did was fun. Most of us did 'beat up' approaches when returning to land at the airfield. (After having asked permission from flying control) which was seldom refused. I think the ground staff enjoyed the fun as much as the pilots and several times I was asked by ground staff members to 'beat up' specific places around the airfield so that they could tell their girlfriends, relatives etc. that they had arranged the surprise!

Whilst I was there, one of the pilots got married at Stroud parish church, and the rest of the instructors arranged a fly-past, low level of course, which was carefully timed with the aid of the mobile R/T van, to occur as they emerged from the church. The result was most spectacular and ear-shattering and also resulted in a cracked window in the church. The Vicar was somewhat upset but was mollified after being invited to lunch at the airfield where he was plied with beer and presented with a cheque for the church restoration fund. All twelve of us who took part in the fly-past contributed a fiver each and also 'took the hat round' to the rest of the station personnel. The final result was for well over 100 pounds which was no mean amount in those days and greatly exceeded the cost of replacing the cracked window.

Aston Down was also a base for the ATA (Air Transport Auxiliary) which was a semi-civilian organization which ferried aircraft around so that operational personnel were freed for combat duties. Most of the pilots were elderly, to us, being in their forties and fifties. However there were some younger ones who were female!

When any of us were going on leave we would always make a point of going to the ATA Flight Office to check if there were any flights scheduled which could help us on the way home. I was lucky in that I lived not too far from Northolt which was an Operational and Ferry station. I well remember on one occasion I was fortunate enough find an aircraft which was being ferried to Northolt on the morning that my leave was due to start.

I was told to report to the office at 0800 hours, where I was directed to climb into the Avro Lancaster 4-engined bomber which was parked outside. "Get into the navigators position and strap in, the pilot is just being briefed and will be along in a minute", the Ground Controller said. I dutifully did as I was told, after having had to find out from the ground crew how to get aboard and where the navigator's position was!

After waiting about five minutes I heard somebody clambering in and coming up the fuselage towards me. Turning round I found myself looking at a very attractive, petite brunette lady of about thirty. She was wearing ATA pilot's wings and carrying two things – a map and a set of Pilots Notes for the Lancaster. She gave me a dazzling smile, handed me the map and said, in a very attractive accent which I later found out was Polish, "You may as well have this. I don't think we will get lost as I am going to follow the railway all the way. By the way this is the first time I've flown a Lanc. so it will take me few minutes to get used to the cockpit layout"!! She then climbed up into the pilot’s seat and began a cockpit check referring now and then to the pilot's notes. I think the latter was partly for my benefit as, after starting the engines, she turned to look back at me, crossed her fingers and winked before commencing to taxi out.

The flight was quite uneventful, we did not get lost, and the landing at Northolt was as smooth as silk. I thanked her and congratulated her on the landing before leaving, and she rewarded me with another smile.

I cannot now remember her name but I was told later that she was a Polish Countess who had been flying aeroplanes since she was fifteen and probably had at least ten times as many flying hours as I did!

One other thing comes to mind regarding my stay at Aston Down. One day I was walking around the airfield, somewhat at a loose end for some reason, when I thought I would have a look at a hangar which I had not previously entered. It was deserted apart from one aircraft parked right at the back. I walked over to have a look at it. It had obviously been parked there for some long time since it was covered in dust and bird lime and no attempt had been made to keep it clean. It was a large single engined, single seater low wing monoplane which looked somehow familiar. It had a fixed undercarriage faired in by 'Spats' and a very thick wing section. It was enormous, even bigger than a Typhoon, and then it suddenly struck me that I seen it before.

I had previously seen it in 1939 or 1940 at Northolt when I was an Air Cadet! It had been parked then in a guarded hanger where we cadets were allowed a brief glimpse. It had then been newly gleaming and pristine. It was the prototype MB2 made by the Martin-Baker Aircraft Company in response to Ministry Specification 5/34. How it finally found its way to Aston Down and what happened to it afterwards I don't know, but it was certainly sad to see its neglected look after all those years.

During December the unit name was changed from 3 T.E.U. back to 55 O.T.U. for some reason. It must have been just at the end of December since I note that I had to alter 3 T.E.U. to 55 O.T.U. in my log book for the end of month totals.

At the end of December 1944 I had a couple of weeks leave, including Christmas, and was then posted back to 183 squadron for my second tour of operations.

cliffnemo
6th Oct 2010, 15:22
The day before the equipment assistant exams took place none of us was apprehensive. The evening was not spent ‘mugging up’ No questioning each other as we did when before I.T.W or wings exams, when we would ask such questions as what is the max speed , and wing span of the M.E 109, height of cumulus nimbus clouds, or what is an orographic cloud. In fact no one was concerned, for what did it matter if we failed. Came the great day when results were announced, and yours truly became an A.C 1 equipment assistant.
There were very few who achieved L.A.C qualifications, which was not surprising, in fact I felt it was quite an achievement to move up a grade without trying. I should point out that L.A.C is not a rank but a trade classification, and was the highest trade classification obtainable in the R.A.F.

As Kirkham was only about 120 miles from my home in Anlaby, some weekends I would leave after classes at about 4 P.M Friday and return early Monday. No one missed me, or seemed to care, and I was never stopped by the S.Ps. It was a very quick journey as I taxed a 500cc ex T.T Rudge I had laid up at home, which was very fast. The only problem was obtaining petrol , as there was no supply of 100 octane at Kirkham, but one good friend at home seemed to have a surplus of petrol ration coupons , and kept me supplied. I would like to tell you about the A.T.S N.C.Os at Fulwood barracks Preston, but think I had better observe that wartime maxim ’Be like dad , keep mum’.

About this time my warrant came through, which entitled me to wear an officers barathea uniform, which I managed to purchase from a Hurricane pilot’s widow for a fiver (there was no uniform allowance for a W/O.)

Shortly after the exams we were informed where our new posting would take us to. In my case, with a few others, we were posted to R.A.F Diedelsdorf Germany. Travel warrants were issued to take us to King George dock Hull , where we were to embark on a trooper to Hamburg . In my case I was lucky that we were sailing from Hull , which enabled me to get the Rudge to Anlaby , where a relative took me the short distance to King George dock. As usual ’oppos’ took my kit bag on the train. On arrival at King George dock I was surprised to find the trooper was not moored in the dock but outside the dock wall in the Humber, and to do this they had towed into place some Mulberry harbour sections. I would imagine these had been built in Hull but not used for the D Day landings, and would possibly speed up the turn round of the ship, which was constantly crossing the North Sea fully loaded both ways. Again it was very rough, and again I vowed, come the end of the war I would never set foot on a ship again.



With regard to Johnfair’s statement that he did not rendezvous for a raid , I wonder if things changed during the last raids of the war as I clearly remember a summer evening, just before dark, we crossed the coast near Skegness. Vis was perfect, with hundreds of aircraft either side as far as I could see, and thought it was almost possible to jump from wing tip to wing tip as far South as the Wash. However I can’t remember rendezvousing

THE MULBERRY HARBOUR UNIT IN THE HUMBER OUTSIDE kING GEORGE DOCK.
http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/sc0002.jpg

Some time ago an airline pilot who is the son of a Stirling pilot sent me a boklet of very interesting poems. The poems were written just before he was K.I.A.. I have just re-read it and found this one, which I thought might amused you.

http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/POEM2IMG.jpg

cliffnemo
8th Oct 2010, 10:47
In my search for other R.A.F trades I have made contact with a Lancaster air gunner at last, I am hoping he might contribute direct . I have sent him an U.R.L that should connect him directly to this page. If he does contribute, I am sure you will welcome him in the usual style. He is denonline and contributes to Lancaster Archive. If any one has any questions on Air to air, air to ground, or sea and post them on this thread, I am quite happy to chat with Den and publish his replies.

I have also contacted one 'erich' , a Luftwaffe historian who has replied as follows.Cliff

send me a link to the forum/thread. I know of one pilot that may want to respond, real problem is that many of the German vets do not have computers or any English skills.

Erich ~ My lost cause ?
Den wrote to me as follows, and gave me premission to publish (imprimatur ?)
did my AGS at No 11 AGS Andreas Isle of Man, Our air to air firing was at drogues towed by Masters & Martinets.
We flew in Ansons fitted with a Bristol 175 turret. there were 3 pupils per exercise. 900 rounds were loaded, 300 for each of us.The tips had been dipped in red, yellow or green. The same procedure for air to ground firing.

At OTU with Wellingtons, we towed our own drogue that we deployed, where the drogue was badly damaged & whipping around, we carried a pair of shears to cut the cable as a precaution against the drogue cable jamming the tail controls, there had been previous accidents.

I cannot recall ever doing drogue shooting on the Lanc.squadrons. I am not aware of the official position but we practised our deflection shooting at sea with seagulls as our targets. Dennis

Mikey66
9th Oct 2010, 03:25
I wish to complain about this thread, came across it 2 nights ago and kept me up until 6am both times and only up to page 60 (and still wanted to carry on reading!), my partner is wondering why I spending so much time on the computer (did explain to her, just hope she believes me this time!). It is fasinating stuff and very real (love the 'nuts and bolts' about evreyday life). Just hope my mind is as sharp as cliff and reg when I'm thier age (come to think of it, my mind isn't as sharp at my current age, oh well).

cliffnemo
9th Oct 2010, 15:44
I hope you will excuse me Mr Moderator but we do need a laugh now and again, and it is abour flight engineers (of an earlier kind)

YouTube - Gladys Ingle of the 13 BLACK CATS changes planes in mid-air (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oAzdbd0J2A)

cliffnemo
13th Oct 2010, 14:06
This is a copy of Air Gunner 'denoline' S reply to me on another frorum, who I think prefers me to do the typing. He has given me his permission to copy.
---------------------------------------------------------------
FROM DENONLINE

Hi Cliff, you underestimate your records, "ONLY" 3 ops, the riskiest part of your first tour, not forgetting those hairy moments at HCU, especially if you did it with Stirlings, apparently a pilots favourite to fly except for the problems of having to take off & land :). that ruddy undercarriage & oscilating twin tail wheels.

I can confirm that we used 100 octane in our a/c. Your norton must have enjoyed a higher speed, the penalty being the exhaust valve burn out causing much regrinding of them. I understand that the merlins had special valves I seem to recall them being refered to as sodium treated :!:

I hope that sufficient time has passed to avoid you getting your "collar felt" by the SP's :). We had a "Hush hush" method of petrol supplies.
The AEC refuelling bowsers had petrol engines with two 50 gallon tanks. The bowsers appeared to like 10 octane :!: . Somehow or another a visit to the fuel dump with a "Jerry can" & calling back later, it mysteriously filled itself. Not that aircrew would ever get involved, "Oh yeah".

Some forum members may not be aware that aircrew & submariners were permitted to use their own transport. We were also given a suply of petrol coupons sufficient to cover our return mileage plus 100 miles for pleasure.
In addition,the Nuffield Foundation underwrote our vehicle insurance & road tax.We displayed a standard size tax disc. that just read "The Nuffield Foundation" Tax & insurance licence, bearing our name and a serial number.They had no expiry date.
The council kept a register of our details.

Subject to operational needs, we had 7 days leave every 6 weeks, for which a leave pass was issued. A visit to the council on these occasions, resulted in a £5 cash payment from Nuffield. I was very surprised some time later to learn how many aircrew were unaware of this. I learned of it at OTU.

During the war, all private motoring was banned, the exception being those engaged on "essential" war work necessitating extensive travel. When on leave if I used my transport wearing civvies it was about a 50-50 chance of being stopped.
I often had to explain that mysterious tax disc to a traffic cop.
-----------------------------------------------------------
FROM DENONLINE
FROM OTU as a crew of 6, WE WERE POSTED TO 1654 HCU where our F/eng joined the crew & experienced his first flight.
--------------------------------------------------------------
FROM DENONLINE.
From OTU flying Wimpeys we had, a crew of 6 our F/eng. joined us at 1654 HCU. Stirlings where he experienced his first flight.
------------------------------------------------------------------
I will Google the name denonline next to see if I can obtain any more 'gen'

cliffnemo
13th Oct 2010, 15:46
I have just done a scan of preflight check ( Lancaster)for some one who P.Md me. As I thought there may be others who are interested, I have also copied on here.
Control + increases the size on my computer.

http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/PREFLIGHTCHK6.jpg

angels
14th Oct 2010, 09:51
cliff - you're a bloody star mate! :ok:

Spartacan
16th Oct 2010, 20:13
I love those scribbled notes. There's something really personal about them. It really does evoke thoughts of a young guy learning the ropes on a new type. If you have any more of those then please do post them.

By the way, just how did the checklist in the Lancaster work? Was it challenge and response or did the whole crew work from memory?

cliffnemo
20th Oct 2010, 16:23
SPARTACAN
By the way, just how did the checklist in the Lancaster work? Was it challenge and response or did the whole crew work from memory?
We didn’t have a printed check list, unless the form 700 could be regarded as a check list, but this had few items on it. As I remember it, we only memorised it, not sure , and there are no copies of a check list amongst my memorabilia only appearing in my exercise books.
The scans below , scanned for the gentleman previously mentioned ,may be of interest., all of which were committed to memory. (Sorry will post tomorow have problem with photobucket)

http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/FORM700225.jpg


Deidelsdorf.

Before we set off for Deidelsdorf , the old hands advised us not to take any money with us, and to open a post office account, and have our pay credited to this account by the R.A.F paymaster. We did not know how this would work, but did accept the advice .As my pay was then one pound per day, I looked forward to the day I was to be ‘demobbed’ when I could cash in . I also decided to take my Smith & Wesson .38 and ammunition with me as I fully expected opposition from the local citizens, and possible resistance groups. How wrong I was, we were all treated the same as tourists are treated to day, and the opinion of the ordinary folk was that they were sorry we had not joined them to fight the Russians, with the statement ‘Ruski nicht goot’ being frequently repeated. My opinion of the average German began to improve, and that there seemed to be very little difference between them and us. However I felt no remorse, as memories of my demolished home, etc were still fresh in my mind. As the man said “don’t worry about it, we are only doing to them what they have done to us”.

After arrival at Hamburg, we disembarked and took the train to Hanover, then three ton trucks to Diedelsdorf.. Diedelsdorf was a small airfield surrounded by Pine ? Trees and invisible from the roads around. The mess was superb with uncovered varnished pine roof trusses, and various poems written on the wall in a form of Gothic script. I can still remember parts of one Der Deutche infanterie, Spate und fruh, immer fertig etc. The first day , after lunch we went to the mess ( with no money) when the barman asked us what we wanted to drink we replied, nothing thanks we have no money. His reply amazed us for he said you don’t need any, just order what you want. We ordered, and he turned round and with a piece of chalk deducted the cost from a very large number on a blackboard, then took some Marks from a dustbin and put them in the till. Evidently airmen returning for demob threw all their surplus marks in the bin, which were then used for paying for drinks etc. Although these Marks were almost valueless in town they could be used for purchasing , soap, cigarettes, and whisky, in the mess, which then evidently were used as currency on the ‘black market’.
Many binoculars, watches, cameras, were bought using this method.
Another fiddle was to ‘buy’ a bar of soap each day in the mess , visit
Hanover in the evening, sell the soap to some one in the street for sufficient Marks to pay for an evening in the Hanover W/Os and Sergeants club. We then had enough money to have an excellent dinner accompanied by whatever drinks we wanted , and three wandering musicians playing the music of our choice. After this we still had enough Marks to purchase a bottle of whisky and visit a local pub, where we were very popular. The reason for this was that the German beer sold had no alcoholic content, this we fortified by the addition of whisky, and at the same time topped up the locals beer.

Hipper
21st Oct 2010, 08:25
Interesting that you say that official checklists were not generally used for pre flight checks and the like.

Would you say that pilots - aircrew generally perhaps - that learnt their trade during the war tended to not use official checklists when they were introduced - when was that anyway?

fredjhh
21st Oct 2010, 15:24
I cannot remember any printed checklists on Whitleys or Halifaxes. I usually started by the door and worked clockwise round the aircraft back to the door. Inside, we started with the tail plane and rudder locks being removed and stowed, then forward to the cockpit. On Halifaxes the engineer accompanied me, but I don't remember him having a check sheet. The rest of the crew called in when they were happy with their positions and had checked oxygen and intercom, etc. When airborne, I called for a crew check every fifteen minutes. No reply from the bomb-aimer, on one occasion, undoubtably saved his life, for his oxygen mask had frozen solid at 17,000 feet.
fredjhh

Fareastdriver
21st Oct 2010, 19:19
I can remember my father and other squadron pilots laughing about the American system of having checklists; that was in 1949. I cannot remember anything like checklists when I went with him and one has to remember in those days there was a Pilot's Notes for the aircraft and another for the engines. Useful if your squadron had a mix of Merlin or Hercules engined Halifaxes.

cliffnemo
22nd Oct 2010, 15:12
I have received a P.M from a gentleman by the name of Motorola. I have sent e mails by varying methods, and all have been returned. One marked by PPRuNE as ‘ this person has asked that no P.Ms be sent’

His father is an ex Hurricane pilot who wishes to communicate with me.. So please MOTOROLA ‘Get weaving’ and try again. Also could you post a message on here. In the meantime I will see if I can locate my secondary email address and publish it here. I don't think it would matter if it results in many offers of extensions, viagra, etc. to that address. If this is inadvisable will some one let me know. Thanks.

I have asked my 'virtual friend' Dennis the Lancaster rear gunner if he could help with pre flight check info.I append below his reply. Dennis , is extremely knowledgeable about all things Lancaster
Hello Cliff, (From Dennis)
On our squadron, the pilot & F/eng carried out a joint pre-flight check. Included in the pilots list was a check with the other crew members that all was OK.

In my case as rear gunner, I confirmed that guns were set to safe & did a rotation check whilst counting out numbers. This check required the turret to be rotated from port to stbd. a couple of times to confirm continuity of intercom connection & checking the call light button. This light would have been used ib the event of a comms. failure to pass info to the pilot, for example- corkscrew port, series of dashes.
---------------------------------------------
FROM DENNIS
I believe that they each had a small bluish book, that may well have been the standad pilots & F/engs. note books, Iam not sure
---------------------------------------------------------
FROM CLIFF.
Thanks Dennis, but I can't remember a blue book. Also , although I have still got all my old paperwork there is no blue book . Do have a blue 'Pilots Notes' .
. I believe we carried out our pre flight checks, methodically, but from memory. But , I’m suffering from Pre cognitive impairment (L.O.L)
Regards Cliff.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Herewith the scans I promised recently before I got in 'a flat spin' This all the info I can find at the moment. See items on the Engineers log -CHECK BEFORE FLIGHT-
http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/LOGPAGE1PHOTOS150.jpg
http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/EXTCHK4IMG_0001.jpg

http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/EXTCHK4IMG_0002.jpg

fredjhh
22nd Oct 2010, 17:45
Cliffnemo.
I still have my copies of
Pilot's Notes General, A fairly thick blue book, 180mm x 125mm x10mm Pilot's Notes Whitley V Orange Book 200mm x 150mm x 5mm
Pilot's Notes Halifax Blue Book 190mm x 125mm x 5mm
Pilot's Notes Wellington Blue 111, X X1, X11, X111, X1V (As above)
With Two Hercules engines X1, V1, XV1, XV11 (Post War)
I also have the notes for Chipmunk T10 Same size as Wellington & Halifax.
Somewhere I have the Pilot's Notes for The Airspeed Oxford, but I cannot find it at the moment. I cannot recall that I was ever requested to hand over these copies on posting.
I wonder if there was a book for the DH82 (The Tiger Moth) ?
I have not got around to the mysteries of Photo Bucket but, if there is anything you are interested in, I will gladly send photo copies. All my photos are in Picasa 3.
Did your gunners ever hit a sea-gull? One of my gunners sprayed hundreds of rounds at sea-gulls. He was a very good gunner but the birds always flew away! fredjhh

Tow 1709 The Bombing and Gunnery targets on the Severn were named as Stert Flats on our maps.
I remember seeing the beautiful Polish girl of the ATA, picking up Spitfires from Lyneham in '41. She had a habit of taking off from the Peri Track if the field was wet. No runways at Lyneham then. fredjhh

kookabat
29th Oct 2010, 06:34
The Blue Book (Pilot's Notes) for the Tiger Moth certainly did exist, at least in the RAAF. I have a reproduction I bought in the UK earlier this year of a 1944 version.

To all - great to see this thread is still going strong. Cliff your notes are superlative as usual - and also happy to see your correspondence with Dennis. From 'that other forum' I'm building up a collection of 'Things Dennis Said' in a database - there's some gems in there!

Adam

Boggie
9th Nov 2010, 12:30
Just joined so new to this. Reference rmventuri jotting about Ernie Herralds crew photo. My wife is (was) Stan Gibbons daughter and I spoke to Stan on many occasions before his death about 15 years ago. Also have been in contact with Bruce Herrald, Ernies son. I thing the photo you refer to maybe the one that I placed on a board in the Kings Head at Pollington 15 years ago. Stan was in 'C' flight that reformed as 578 sqn for his last 3 flights of his tour over Berlin. All he could tell me at the time was that his pilot was "the CO". This of course was after Ernie had moved on. I would be pleased for any info as there are many gaps in my research into Stans time as WOP not least inactivity on my part in resuming research, so I was delighted to find this website and may be able to continue gathering info. Unfortunately All of Stans paperwork and logbook were destroyed after the war. Look forwad to any help forthcoming.

Boggie
9th Nov 2010, 12:33
Just joined so new to this. Reference rmventuri jotting about Ernie Herralds crew photo. My wife is (was) Stan Gibbons daughter and I spoke to Stan on many occasions before his death about 15 years ago. Also have been in contact with Bruce Herrald, Ernies son. I thing the photo you refer to maybe the one that I placed on a board in the Kings Head at Pollington 15 years ago. Stan was in 'C' flight that reformed as 578 sqn for his last 3 flights of his tour over Berlin. All he could tell me at the time was that his pilot was "the CO". This of course was after Ernie had moved on. I would be pleased for any info as there are many gaps in my research into Stans time as WOP not least inactivity on my part in resuming research, so I was delighted to find this website and may be able to continue gathering info. Unfortunately All of Stans paperwork and logbook were destroyed after the war. Look forwad to any help forthcoming.

thegypsy
9th Nov 2010, 13:39
Boggie

Welcome. We can tell you are new here as you have duplicated your post.:D

pbeach
9th Nov 2010, 15:24
Boggie,

Its nice to see your post, I have replied to you privately, so please contact me.
As you may have read, my Grandfather was part of this crew, so I was able to give rmventuri the relevant information re. the crew.
The photo that is posted on this forum is not one that was placed on the board at Pollington (I think I have a copy), but was sourced from elsewhere, and up until recently was a mystery. It takes some explaining.
Without checking I thought that the last flight of the tour (Not for Ernie Herrald, and Jack O'Dowda) was a trip to Berlin as 578 Squadron with Wing Cdr D.S.S. Wilkerson on 30.1.44.
In terms of help in your research, I think I may have most of the information you need, and if there is any more needed I can help.

Paul

cliffnemo
10th Nov 2010, 15:38
NOW IS THE TIME FOR ALL GOOD MEN AND TRUE TO COME TO THE AID OF THE PARTY.
(A typing exercise when I was learning touch typing, but apt)

The number of contributions is reducing daily, so could I ask the following for info, pics or whatever,
FROM. --
Old Hairy,
Padhist.
Ormside,
Farell.
Air1,
Ollie.
and any other bods who may have interesting information and facts , before it is too late.
A few questions also help to keep this thread extant. I am sure the other vets on this thread are happy to answer any questions and help keep it going.
Whilst on the subject , I have not heard from Motorola , the son of a hurricane pilot who tried to E.M me, ,so here is a secondary email address of mine which he may use [email protected] .
Fredjhh is posting me his Halifax pilots notes, from which I hope to obtain some interesting scans,

My stay at Diedeldsdorf was quite pleasant but short and was followed by posting to Wunstorf, to take charge of a section of the large stores.
My first surprise was the friendliness of the civilian staff , when my original impression of the Germans was completely changed. In fact, every morning at eight A.M when they disembarked from the R.A.F ‘three tonners’ men , women, and youngsters congregated, and shook hands with every one present.
This was followed by a search for ‘tab ends’ where each person had his or her own patch.There were no arguments or squabling. And each tab end placed carefully in a tin box, and later sold on the black market. I must admit I had expected , resistance groups, opposition, and extreme danger. Hence the fully loaded Smith and Wesson in my inside pocket. How mistaken I was, in fact I formed the opinion that the ordinary ’Man in the street’ was more like the British than any other nationality. In my stores they worked hard and were completely reliable. The only thing they were sorry about was that we had not joined them to fight the Russians.

I intended to next tell the story about a certain warrant officer, who possibly prevented the officer I/c stores from court martial, but Mrs Nemo has other ideas, so will try again tomorrow.

exgroundcrew
10th Nov 2010, 17:56
Perhaps some of you can enlighten me on how fighter pilots, especially night fighter ones, found their way back to base after combat and if you had any navigation and landing aids as I assume for security reasons there were no approach or runway lights. I know bombers had quite a few navigation aids and a navigator well versed in the black art of celestial navigation, but the fighter pilot was on his own and would have needed to carry out lots of violent manoeuvres during combat and must have ended up some considerable distance from where he first engaged the enemy, I assume handling a sextant was out of the question in a spitfire!

7x7
10th Nov 2010, 21:05
Most (I know, not all) British night fighters were multi crew and multi engine, (although that's not really pertinent to your question). I think you'll find that most were under radar direction until they got to within sight of their station's coded light. In poor weather, they'd probably have recovered via a VDF, (a ground-directed homing, which could get them down to a couple of hundred feet).

cliffnemo
11th Nov 2010, 11:05
EXGROUNDCREW Possibly this might help, a scan of my Beam approach notes (circa 1943) Previously pasted. Also you can refer to a previous post re 'Darky procedure'

http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/REPLACEBEAMAPPROACH271.jpg

Although I did not become a fighter pilot, the training I received covered all aircrew positions, astro navigation included. The reason being that until wings exam, it was not known for which trade we would be selected. Therefore , we were taught to navigate by 'dead reckoning' using maps, a computer strapped to our leg, (In effect a circular slide rule which added , subtacted, divided , logarithmetically) the use of the Standard beam approach, etc. Air fields were always illuminated for landing even if only by flares and a christmass tree (Glide path indicator). Later the Drem system was used. The nearest airfield could be indicated by search light.
Perhaps one of our fighter pilot contributors could enlarge or correct this, and confirm that we could ask for a QDM This was a bearing to steer to reach the airfield. This was obtained by two seperate stations obtaining bearings which would give them our position.

Blacksheep
11th Nov 2010, 12:53
Perhaps some of you can enlighten me on how fighter pilots, especially night fighter ones, found their way back to base after combat Geoffrey Wellum can enlighten you if you purchase a copy of his book "First Light". ;)

rmventuri
11th Nov 2010, 18:07
Welcome to the forum. The photo's I posted are all from originals in my brother's possession (on the back there is a stamp of the photo company). My, now 92 year old, uncle told me my grandmother understandably had a tough time dealing with the loss of Doug - kept what little possessions and memorabilia locked away in a drawer for many years. Eventually they were given to my father (twin brothers) and then to my oldest brother - Doug’s namesake. I can only assume that Doug had this crew photo because he was friends with Jack O’Dowda. They would have met while training at Mossbank, Saskatchewan Canada. Jack was from Winnipeg – Doug from Saskatoon. I have contact info for one of Jack’s nephews (I can PM if pbeach has not already done so). They lost most/all of Jack’s photos to a flood years ago. Unfortunately Doug did not have any pictures of his own crew – if by chance since crews may have hung out you ever discover more photos in your research would much appreciate a copy.

Not sure why Jack would have stayed with 51 squadron when flight group 'C' moved on to form 578?

tow1709
11th Nov 2010, 19:30
Peter has just been posted back for his second tour to 183 squadron, now based in Holland in January 1945. His story continues...

In September 1998 I revisited the area of Holland where I was operating in 1945 following a kind offer from a Dutch friend of our family Mr Arthur Jansen-Rouschop living in Horst. I was received very warmly by all the Dutch people that I met, and given great help in tracing the places and events of 1945. I would especially like to thank Mr.Walter.J.van den Hout of the Gilze-Rijen research team and Sergeant 1st class L.M.F. Klerks the custodian of the 'Tradition Chamber' of the Gilze-Rijen Air Base of the Royal Netherlands Air Force.

On 5th January 1945 I was taken in an Avro Anson, a rather ancient twin engine communications aircraft, to Gilze-Rijen in Holland to rejoin 183 squadron. Gilze-Rijen is about half way between Breda and Tilburg and was, I have since found out, one of the first airfields in Holland. I believe it had two runways at the time and several buildings, mostly badly damaged, and therefore the accommodation for aircraft was somewhat limited. The dispersal areas were situated on both sides of a minor road. This meant that quite often one had to wait to taxi from dispersal to the runway whilst the traffic on the road was halted to allow us to proceed.

On my arrival however the airfield was almost deserted except for a skeleton maintenance staff and 183 squadron adjutant. The officers’ mess was in what had been the local German headquarters and was a clean modern building. Unfortunately there was only a single mess sergeant in occupation who had the combined duties of cook, barman, batman and general staff.

The reason for this was that the complete wing had been hastily transferred to Chievre in order to assist in combating the German Ardennes counterattack. Everything had been shunted off to Chievre including most of the bar stocks and consequently the adj and I spent the evening imbibing the only alcohol available which was neat gin. As a result of this we became quite maudlin and finished the evening bemoaning our solitary lot as if we were the only survivors of the wing!

However, next morning, with a gin hangover, I was given a hair-raising drive in a jeep down to Chievre. On arrival I found that the squadrons were virtually grounded by the awful weather, snow, rain and high winds, which had proved too bad to enable targets to be identified, apart from the hazards of flying anyway in such bad conditions.

As a result of these bad conditions we tragically lost our Wing Leader. Wing Commander Wally Dring DSO, DFC, 'Stringer' to all of us, had been my Squadron Commander before being promoted to Wing Commander of 123 Wing. He had been up on a weather recce and, on return, had landed on the runway which had been snowbound and then cleared. The foul conditions meant that the freezing rain had left patches of ice on the runway.

He did a good landing but then started to apply the brakes. One wheel must have been on ice for the aircraft swung violently, shot off the runway into the snow piled up along each side, and flipped over on to its back. At this point it must still have been travelling at over 80 mph. When the crash crew arrived at the scene they found 'Stringer' dead. The crash had broken his neck. This must have been very shortly before we returned to Gilze on January 19th because he was buried at Tilburg with full military honours and I was one of the pallbearers.

With the help of the curator of the Netherlands Air Force museum at Gilze-Rijen, the station now being a regular Netherlands Air Force station, I tried to trace his grave. However, although the curator had a complete list of local war graves, his was not among them. I can only conclude that his family had had the body removed and reburied, back in the UK.

I flew a Typhoon back from Chievre to Gilze and, after the funeral, the wing restarted operations. On the morning of 23rd January I carried out my first operation of my second tour. This was a rocket attack and cannon strafe of billets at Doornenburg. The target was an isolated set of buildings set in a completely snow-covered landscape.( I have now established that this was Doornenburg Castle)

I was leading the second four and we dived steeply on the target. As I opened up with my cannon I actually, for the first and only time, saw the bullets! Against the white snow background they suddenly appeared for a fleeting moment as a swarm of black dots converging on the target. There was very little flak and we all hit the target on the second dive with rockets.. Another operation in the afternoon saw us going for the docks and warehouses at Millingen. It seems that our rockets were inaccurate but the cannon strafe was O.K.

Next day I was No.3 on a four plane armed recce but had to return after 20 minutes due to engine trouble. The weather then clamped right down and we were unable to fly again until the 3rd February when I led a four as fighter cover to an eight led by an Australian Alan Cocks. Alan's eight attacked a train but my four had nothing to do since no enemy fighters appeared. It is worthy of note here that never in all my operational flying up to then had I been attacked by enemy aircraft! In fact I had only ever seen one piloted enemy aircraft flying and that was the Focke-Wolfe Condor which was taking off as we attacked the airfield at Brest on Christmas Eve 1943.

Three days off and then an armed reconnaissance around Emden and Oldenburg. Evidently the four of us attacked some transport and a bridge but I have no particular memories of this. February the 9th saw me acting as 'spare bod' on an attack against Arnhem Telephone exchange, which just meant 15 minutes extra flying time. This was in the morning, and in the afternoon four of us took off for a 'Cab rank' sortie. This was where we patrolled a preset baseline and were called up by a forward observation point to take out specified targets.

It was rather hazy which made it difficult for the leader to spot the ground features which the controller specified. This time however the target given to us was a long straight road near Kessel. We were asked to strafe this road, probably to keep the German troops busy whilst our infantry advanced. Once again I was flying with Alan Cocks, this time as his number two. Although I was by now considered an experienced combat pilot it was purely a question of chance and availability which determined your position in any operation and although I had led formations several times it so happened that I was flying in number two position this time, fortunately for Alan!

We did two dives along the road firing our cannons only. As we pulled out of the second run I noticed a fine stream of white vapour coming from Alan's radiator cowling. I called up 'Blue leader, Blue two, you have been hit. Gain height". He pulled up and I followed just behind and below him. At about 5000 feet I suddenly saw flames beginning to appear from the underside of the cowling. I pulled to one side and called " Blue Leader, you are on fire. Bail out. Bail out". Alan jettisoned his hood and then the aircraft dived violently and Alan shot out of the cockpit. He was immediately blown back behind me and I told 'Blue Three' to keep an eye on him whilst I watched for where the aircraft would crash.
Blue Three later reported that Alan had landed safely, as far as he could tell, but very much the wrong side of the lines. The aircraft crashed well to our side but was of course a total write-off.

It was to be over forty years before I heard the full story from Alan himself. In 1987 I attended a reunion in Normandy of members of the 'Typhoon and Tempest Association' and Alan had come over on holiday from Australia especially to attend the reunion. We were indulging in some beer and nostalgia in the bar of the hotel when Alan described his bail-out. He said "As we pulled up the guy behind me said I had been hit" He was somewhat astonished when I said "Yes, that was me!”

He then continued: "At about 5000 feet the engine temperature gauge was 'off the clock' and so I started to prepare to bail out. I had released my harness and oxygen line and was just about to pull the radio plug when I heard the call for me to bale out. I pulled the radio plug, jettisoned the hood, and kicked forward on the control column. The next thing I knew I was sitting out in the fresh air and starting to fall. I forgot all the lessons about counting five etcetera and yanked at the ripcord. Luckily everything worked O.K. and I began floating gently down.

It seemed to take for ever before it registered that the ground was approaching and by this time it was obvious that the wind was not in my favour and I was going to land well inside the enemy lines. It seemed that I was headed for a very level green field so I did not attempt to guide myself at all. Unfortunately the 'level green field' proved to be an area of boggy ground and I finished up being dragged by my chute through some very black and smelly mud. I managed to get rid of the harness and stand up, almost knee deep in mud. Before I could decide what to do I found myself surrounded, at a respectful distance, by German troops who had the sense to remain on dry ground and signal me to come out. I squelched my way out of the bog and they marched me off to what I found out was the local Police Station which had been taken over as the local army headquarters.

Here I was confronted by a German Major, who was immaculate in a superbly tailored uniform with riding breeches and gleaming jackboots. He looked at me askance and said in only slightly accented English 'You are very dirty, we must arrange for you to be washed' and then handed me a pristine white handkerchief. I wiped my face and hands which effectively ruined his handkerchief, and then I was taken down the corridor and put in a cell."

Alan then told us of his further adventures. He did finally get a bath and was moved several times but never made it to P.O.W. camp because of the rapid advances of the Allied troops. He was eventually liberated by the Americans but due to the administrative chaos reigning at the time he never rejoined the squadron and was shipped off back to Aussie, not to meet any of us again for forty two years.

fredjhh
11th Nov 2010, 19:45
Cliffnemo
The Halifax Pilot's notes are in the post.
Exgroundcrew
When I mentioned Spitfire Navigation to a pal he pointed out that they learned their local area just as we did, but they had the advantage of VHF. I first met VHF when flying Oxfords in 1946, and it was wonderful to be able to get a bearing to base by holding the transmit switch on your mike for a few seconds.
Once over base the landing drill was the same for all aircraft, day or night.
"First Light" gives a first class example of Navigation without Radio and in thick overcast.

fredjhh

Fareastdriver
12th Nov 2010, 08:11
On 5th January 1945 I was taken in an Avro Anson, a rather ancient twin engine communications aircraft

I was still doing that in 1965.

Beagle-eye
12th Nov 2010, 10:13
Welcome back, tow1709 :ok:

tow1709
12th Nov 2010, 18:46
Thank you Beagle-Eye, I have been a bit busy recently, so haven't had time to do any posting. Here is some more from Peter...

On the 10th Feb 1945 I noted an RP attack on a stores dump. The only note in my log book for this op was "Large explosion!". Another couple of days off, probably due to foul weather, then three operations in one day. The first two of these were armed recce. Both were in the Wesel/Bocholt area and both abortive. The first was due to weather and we were recalled from the second. In the afternoon however, four of us did an RP attack which I noted in my logbook was 'Winkle'. This, as far as I can recall, was a code name for attacking dug-in troops. On returning from this I found that my engine temperature was climbing slowly but I managed to get back to Gilze-Rijen before it got too dangerous. A check by the fitters revealed a damaged oil cooler.

Feb.14th and St.Valentines day. The morning operation was an attack on, firstly, a rail target at Hurl followed by an attack on some motor transport in woods north of Lubeck. There was no flak at all from the first target and only a small amount from the second. All the operations at this time were FCP, which stood for Forward Control Point. This meant that we were patrolling a fixed area and were called up from a forward position by the army to deal with any trouble spots such as gun positions, mortar batteries, observation posts etc.

In the afternoon the four of us, I was no.3 on this op., were to attack a moated castle east of Goch. (During my 1998 visit I managed to identify this castle. From maps I worked out it was either Kalbeck or Wissen. I visited both and at first thought that Wissel had been the target and that I had made a mistake as to its location. The reason for this was that Kalbeck has no moat whereas Wissen is a beautiful medieval castle with an extensive moat. However, in talking to the owner of Wissen he assured me that it was never attacked during the war since it was a hospital with a large red cross on the roof. Going back to Kalbeck we could not find anybody but did find evidence of bullet damage and also evidence of an old moat. One tends to forget that things change a lot in over fifty years! Since returning from Holland my friend in Horst has been contacted by the owner of Kalbeck Castle who confirmed that there was a moat in those days and that the castle was attacked during February 1945. He said he would like to meet me!!)

Another day off, the weather was terrible, and then another FCP attack on the 16th against mortar positions west of the Forest of Cleve. We made an RP attack followed by three strafing runs but there was no flak. There followed a period of five days when there was no activity at all because of bad weather and then on 21st February I flew an Auster to airstrip B86 with a Fl/Lt Galbraith as passenger and returned.

Back to operations the next day, with an FCP attack on field guns east of Goch. On this operation there were four of us with myself flying number three. The number two, Anton, (I cannot recall his surname) was hit during the dive, burst into flames, and crashed near the target. We were attacking well spaced apart as the leader had ordered us to fire the rockets in pairs as a ripple. This meant that the gunners could concentrate on each individual aircraft. We were all hit, but Anton was the unfortunate one. I did not realize that I had been hit myself until on the way back, when my windscreen suddenly became covered in oil.

A quick check of the engine instruments showed nothing amiss and then I realized that the oil was too clean to have come from the engine. However I was not taking any chances and immediately throttled back. Luckily, since our targets were now nearly always at the front line, we were invariably back over friendly territory very quickly. I spotted a new-looking airstrip and made for it, landing 'straight in' as there was no flying activity taking place at that moment. This airstrip turned out to be B89 at Mill. The numbers were allocated in order of construction, B for British and A for American.

This particular airfield was occupied by a Mustang wing at the time. I was taken back to B77 (Gilze-Rijen) by road whilst the aircraft was examined. It turned out that the reduction gear casing behind the propeller had been hit and had burst. Had I kept going much longer it would have seized up and either exploded or caught fire. Lucky me again!

My aircraft was repaired during the next day and on the morning of the 24th I tried to fly back to B89 with P/O Jack Bridges to collect it. However the weather again put paid to this trip and we had to return. I never did get back to collect the aircraft, as I was on another operation that afternoon and only managed one more op. before being posted.

Much later, the 183 squadron Adjutant told me that I should have been charged the cost of a new parachute which I had left in the aircraft at B89. However he was a decent type who arranged for the chute to be written off "Due to Enemy Action".

On the 24th February, in the afternoon, I led a four on an armed recce. in the Isselburg area. There was a lot of cloud and I suddenly spotted a bridge and some barges. I called "Target, Target, nine o'clock below" and peeled off in a 180 degree roll. The other three followed me closely and we shot down through a small hole in the cloud to fire our 32 rockets in four eight's very quickly. They were all good shots and we learned later that we had severely damaged the bridge and sunk six barges. We were in and out so quickly that there was no flak at all, or at least we didn't see any tracers.

Next day saw me leading 'Green' section of four on a Headquarters building near Weeze. This target was by contrast very well defended and we faced a hail of 20mm tracer. Again we were all hit but nobody was shot down or badly damaged. In my case, it was a couple of holes in the tailplane.

This proved to be my last operation with 183 Squadron as next day I received a posting to the Fighter Leaders School at the Central Fighter Establishment at Tangmere on the south coast near Chichester.

Although I have not previously mentioned it, we were at this time on a direct line between the German 'Buzz-Bomb' sites and Antwerp, which the Germans were attacking constantly with both V1 and V2 weapons, since it was the main supply port for the Dutch campaign.

We were constantly seeing these 'Flying bombs' passing over the airfield and occasionally gave chase to them when returning from operations. We were not allowed however to chase them past the Western edge of the airfield since there was a 'Flying Forbidden' area starting just west of Gilze-Rijen where the American Army had set up a radar operated belt of AA guns which were busy shooting down these weapons. We were told that we entered this area at our own risk since the guns attacked ANY moving targets in that area.

A few of us, during a lull in flying when the weather was too bad, visited one of the gun sights. We were made welcome by the American gunners and given a demonstration of firing. It was noteworthy that the site was alongside a tree-lined road. All the trees were somewhat shorter than originally, since the guns had taken the tops off them!

I recall two particular 'Buzz-bomb' incidents. The first was when we were standing at a dispersal point on the airfield when we saw a one approaching at very low level with its motor misfiring intermittently. It flew past us about 50 metres away and 20 metres up and getting lower. We all stood watching it until all of us, at the same moment, realized that it was about to hit the ground. It was, after all, a large bomb not an aircraft! We all 'hit the deck' at the same moment, a couple of seconds before it exploded some half way across the airfield.

The other, less amusing, incident was when a buzz-bomb landed in the village of Gilze destroying several houses, killing eight people, and damaging the local tannery. At the time this happened, it was around noon I was standing with several others outside the building we were using as an Adjutant's office. We just caught a glimpse of the bomb as it passed a gap between the houses but did not have any time to react other than flinch as it exploded about 300 metres away. In both these cases the engines of the bombs were still operating when they struck so they were not targeted on Gilze but were malfunctions of the autopilot mechanisms.
(From the excerpts from a diary kept at the time and supplied to me by Mr van den Hout, I can fix the dates of these incidents as Sunday 28th January and Monday 26th February respectively - the latter being the day that I received my posting back to U.K. I now have a photograph of myself and Mr. van den Hout standing at the exact spot where I was at the time of the second incident.)

More soon ==TOW

cliffnemo
13th Nov 2010, 10:33
Wizzo Tow .Keep it going.

cliffnemo
13th Nov 2010, 10:38
Wizzo Tow .Keep it going.
Excellent.
For the ' Newbies, there are pictures of Reg, me, and other contributors on
<Sticky , Pictures of every body (enter in search box)>

cliffnemo
13th Nov 2010, 11:22
Fredjhh's book has just arrived by post, which I will read, and scan any interesting items. In the meantime if any one has a specific question, about check lists, beam approach, flying limits etc, just ask, I am quite happy to scan any page.
http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/FREDSBOOK.jpg

MUCH APPRECIATED FRED.

Icare9
13th Nov 2010, 20:01
tow1709
Sorry chaps, been away in our pad in Spain and only just back in UK.
If it helps at all, Wally Dring is buried in Bergen op Zoom
Name: DRING, WALTER
Rank: Wing Commander (Pilot)
Regiment/Service: Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve
Age: 28. Date of Death: 13/01/1945. Service No: 104424
Awards: D S O, D F C
Additional information: Son of Walter and Ethel Dring, of Weston, Lincolnshire; husband of Sheila Mary Patricia Dring, of Worsley, Lancashire.
Grave/Memorial Reference: 13. B. 6. Cemetery: BERGEN-OP-ZOOM WAR CEMETERY
Will probably also be able to identify your Polish ATA lady, just need a tad more time to get over the 3 day drive from Mojacar!

AG25
13th Nov 2010, 20:31
I have some photos my father left me which I think were taken in India or possibly the USA. However, I have no idea who anybody is, or what group of people are in the photos. Anybody recognise anybody?

http://www.teslock.btinternet.co.uk/allanmgent/1943-45_crowd0002.jpg

http://www.teslock.btinternet.co.uk/allanmgent/1943-45_crowd0003.jpg

http://www.teslock.btinternet.co.uk/allanmgent/1943-45_crowd0004.jpg

http://www.teslock.btinternet.co.uk/allanmgent/1943-45_crowd0006.jpg

http://www.teslock.btinternet.co.uk/allanmgent/1943-45_crowd0008.jpg

herkman
13th Nov 2010, 21:01
Whilst there is a small chance that I am wrong, I have doubts about the photos were taken in USA.

The reason is that there is a Blitz truck in the background and I doubt if they ever served in the USA

Regards

Col

tow1709
14th Nov 2010, 10:30
This is the complete 12th chapter of Peter Brett's memoirs.

On 27th February 1945 I was flown, once again in a trusty old Anson, back home to the UK. I was taken to Tangmere first where I dumped my kit and then on to Northolt for a few days leave. During this leave I took part, with Wg Cdr Bill Brown and my foster brother Eric in a large ATC parade where a new Squadron flag was presented to 101 ATC squadron. This was quite an impressive public display and was reported, with photographs, in our local newspaper the Harrow Observer. After an enjoyable leave, I returned to Tangmere in time to start the Fighter Leaders course on 4th March 1945.

The course lasted seven weeks and consisted of all the usual ingredients such as air-to-air firing, dive bombing, rocket firing, and a large number of exercises. All these exercises had names ranging from 'Buster and 'Bluebeard' to 'Whatsit' and 'Winkle'. Mostly they were navigational and map-reading exercises but there were two that I remember near the end of the course called 'Roundabout' and 'Interdiction'.

‘Roundabout’ was a sort of treasure hunt. We were each given a set of eight sealed envelopes and sent off at five minute intervals. We had to open the first envelope whilst orbiting base at 2000 feet. The first one said something like "Fly a true course of 048 degrees for three minutes at 380 True airspeed and look for a large country house in a park near a lake". The next envelope read "Count the windows on the South and East sides of the house and multiply by seven to give you the true track to fly for eight minutes at 290 mph groundspeed"

These sort of clues continued for the next six envelopes when the last instruction was to read the large white letters displayed on the ground. Of the twenty or so pilots on the course only two managed to come up with the right answer. I was not one of them. I evidently made an error on the last but one clue and finished up heading for the centre of London which was obviously wrong since on that particular leg the instructions had told me to fly BELOW 500 feet!!

Still, I did better than some of the others, one of whom ran out of land when he headed off on a reciprocal course, which took him out over Lands End! The actual final destination should have been Gatwick airfield, as it was then, with the letters GW on the flying control area.

I was much more successful with exercise 'Interdiction' where we again were sent off individually to try to attack Corfe Castle without being 'bounced' by several sections of Spitfires which were patrolling the area. We were given 'carte blanche' as to how we did it. Most of the chaps tried coming in from the sea at very low level and dodging round the Isle of Wight. I studied the contour maps very carefully and came in from the North West.

Down on the deck, probably about fifty feet above the ground I followed a little river (the Piddle!) which I picked up at Puddletown. Following it past Burleston, Tolpuddle, Affpuddle and Briantspuddle (yes, they are real places) then past Lane End, I arrived behind Trigon Hill and continued to follow the river to Wareham. At Wareham I picked up the main Swanage road and still keeping as low as I could, I approached Corfe Castle below the hilltop and eased up to take camera gun pictures as I climbed up towards the castle. As I pulled up over the castle and banked hard left I found myself right behind a section of four Spitfires who were patrolling West to East just South of the castle. Pure chance of course, but I took more camera-gun shots and subsequently claimed to have 'shot' at least one down. Not only was I one of the only four aircraft to attack the castle without being intercepted, but I was the only one to claim having 'shot down' one of the defenders!

The 'instructors' were all veteran fighter pilots, most of whom had fought in the 'Battle of Britain'. The Station Commander was Air Commodore Atcherley, known to all as 'Batchy Atchy'. How he ever reached the exalted rank of Air Commodore was a puzzle to all of us. Even if half the tales told about him were true they would surely have meant that he would have been the oldest Pilot Officer in the air force!

One tale that was probably true, is that he once flew a Spitfire through a hangar, having previously arranged for both end sets of doors to be opened. It was also rumoured that he had once done a 'touch and go' landing in a Magister trainer on an aircraft carrier anchored in the Solent.

One of my fellow students on the course was the only other amputee pilot in the RAF. This was Colin 'Hoppy' Hodgkinson. He had one leg amputated above the knee and one below. He was flying Spitfires and I had a few drinks with him. One evening he and I went out to a local dance in his car, either a Morgan or an MG, I'm not now sure which, that he drove fast and expertly. About a year ago, [from the original time of writing], I spoke to him by phone. He had married a French girl and was living in the Dordogne in southern France.

During the course we all had an opportunity to fly the various other aircraft types on the station. Thus I flew a Tempest V a few times and also had a half hour trip flying a Spitfire IX. Having done so many hours on the Typhoon, some 350 at that time, I found the Spitfire rather odd. The main thing I noticed was the relative lack of vibration. It felt, and sounded, like a quiet sewing-machine after the rant and bellow of the Tiffie. However I was not so happy with the controls. The Typhoon was very light on the ailerons and fairly heavy on the elevators. The Spitfire was the complete opposite and required some getting used to. It was obvious that pulling a high G turn was easy but I was disappointed with the rate of roll and the effort required to get on 'full stick' in the roll. No doubt those Spitfire pilots who flew the Typhoon felt as if they were driving a tank. It was all a question of familiarity.

There was one aircraft on the station, a Tempest V, which had been stripped of all external bomb and rocket racks, The paint had been removed and the metal skin polished. It was known as the 'Silver Bullet' and was reckoned to be the fastest prop driven aircraft in the world at the time. Everybody had at least one flight in it and I did an exercise called 'Tracker' so I got to fly it for about 1½ hours!

At the end of the course a party was held in Chichester and my leave acquaintance Wg Cdr Bill Brown came down to attend it. The next day one of the instructors asked me where I had met him and how long I had known him. I explained that I had met him a couple of years ago and had seen him a few times while on leave. I said that he had told me that he was doing some sort of 'Special Ops' secret work so I had never asked any questions. More of him later!

On 1st May I reported to Lasham airfield and was flown once more by Anson to B103 at Plantlünne where I took up my new post as Flight Commander of 'B' Flight 164 Squadron. Still with many of the same blokes I had been with before, since 164 was also in the same 123 Wing as 183 Squadron.

More soon ==TOW

pbeach
14th Nov 2010, 10:57
rmventuri,

<<Not sure why Jack would have stayed with 51 squadron when flight group 'C' moved on to form 578?>>

I have requested his records - so hopefully that will cast some light on the matter.

Paul

Neptunus Rex
14th Nov 2010, 15:14
tow 1709

Peter Brett's memoirs, like so many others on this thread, are simply priceless. The feeling of "being there" is unique.

Thank you, Sir.

cliffnemo
16th Nov 2010, 10:24
I have received a P.M from a Bossmofo in Canada which I append below (with his permission).He says he will share some interesting information, with us shortly.

Probationary PPRuNer

Join Date: Nov 2010
Location: Canada
Age: 34
Posts: 1

Thank you.
Hello and thank you for the speedy reply. I am as I said before excited to be talking with you and it is much appreciated. My Grandads name was John Bradburn Walker. He was born in Scotland, but was in Canada when he signed up to serve with the R.A.F. He and his crew were shot down over Germany on a cold winter night and he was to spend the remainder of the war in a P.O.W. camp (4B). His Pilot was Frank McCutcheon, Johnnie Walker (grandpa) was the Bomb aimer, George Leverington was the Wireless operator, Knocker Walsh the Navigator, Paddy Pottinger the Upper gunner, Dave Wells the Flight engineer, and last but not least was Ron Jeffcoat the Rear gunner. My dad had a painting commisioned of a Halifax and there are some smaller letters and numbers showing just in front of the tail on the side.(unsure as to wether or not these are the actual factual letters and numbers). They are JD 118. The large letters on the side are W(R.A.F symbol)MH. My dad has alot of information about Grandad but is in Mexico at the moment, as soon as he comes home I will have more to share. (a week or so). My interest is deeply rooted in things like this. Grandads dad Andy Walker served in the Great war in the Calvary if you can believe that! Grandads wife was a war bride and came over in something like '46 or '47. She instilled in me a great respect and pride for the sacrifices made by people of your generation. Her father Great Grandpa Kitson served four years in the trenches in France. My great Uncle Pete Bogard served with the Winnipeg Grenadiers in the Pacific theater. He was captured and spent the remainder of the war in a Japanese P.O.W. camp. When Grandad was liberated the Germans who began to flee had started to burn the building that held all the files on the camps P.O.W.s. He waited until they took off and ran into the burning building and took all the files they had on him. So that is some of the interesting stuff I will be able to share. I will talk to you soon. We will be going to our Rememberance Day Ceremonies and have lunch with some our Veterans, hope you are able to do the same. Take care, Ken

We look forward to hearing from you Ken

Enclosed in Fredjhh's pilots note book were two excellent colour photos ,of a Halifax 'cockpit' and instrument panel which I will post tomorrow.

allan125
16th Nov 2010, 13:27
I have enjoyed Peter Brett's story - thanks tow - but find this piece a bit too incredible

"The 'instructors' were all veteran fighter pilots, most of them had fought in the 'Battle of Britain' and there were some famous names: among them 'Johnnie' Johnson and Douglas Bader"

On a 7 week course that Peter Brett started on 4 March '45 we find JEJ at B.90 Petit Brogel/Belgium as WingCo Flying of 127 RCAF Wing, moving by the end of the month to a Group Captain post as CO of 125 Wing, and Douglas Bader banged up in Colditz until it was liberated by the americans on 16 April.

At the end of the course JEJ was at B.118 Celle in Germany, and nowhere near to Tangmere to be able to speak to Peter the day following the party.

You don't have to take my written word for it as both facts are well documented in Wing Leader and Reach for the Sky.

"The feeling of "being there" is unique" - but were JEJ and DB there at the same time as Peter, I don't think so!

Do I now stand back and await the flak at querying something in an otherwise excellent account!?

Allan

SteveCox
16th Nov 2010, 13:34
Been lurking for a long time, only joined Pprune so I could read this wonderful thread, I mourned the loss of Regle with the rest of you. I was also interested to see mention of 578 squadron as that was the number of my old ATC squadron, not much of a link I know.

Anyway to business, I thought I'd have a look on the web and see if I could find the aircraft that Bossmofo refers to in his message that Cliffnemo reproduced above. In doing so I came across a website that some of you doing research may find useful.

The site address is: Lost Bombers - World War II Lost Bombers (http://www.lostbombers.co.uk/) I hope I'm allowed to post links on my first message ?

The aircraft he refers to JD118 was flown by 78 squadron and was damaged in a raid to Leverkusen on 19th November 1943 but crash landed in Yorkshire, so his grandfather may have flown in it at sometime but not on that instance. However according to the website on the same raid HR950 MH-S was shot down over Germany and Bossmofo's grandfather and the other crew members are listed as being the crew. MH appears to be the code for 51 squadron.

Hope the above is of use to you.

Icare9
16th Nov 2010, 17:30
cliff, please pass on the following info, if not already known)
JD118 was obviously photo'd with that crew whilst still with 51 Sqdn, but lost subsequently after transfer to 78 Sqdn:

78 Squadron Halifax Serial Number JD118 Coded EY-U Operation: Leverkusen 19th / 20th November 1943. Delivered by English Electric Co. (Salmesbury & Preston) between 22 Apr 43 and 7 May 43. JD118 was one of two 78 Sqdn Halifaxes lost on this operation. (See also: LW223). JD118 was initially issued to No.51 Sqdn. Airborne 1616 19 Nov 43 from Breighton. Seriously damaged by flak over the target and on return, crashed at North Cave, 10 miles SW of Beverly, Yorkshire. Sgt Valley is buried in Harrogate (Stonefall) Cemetery.
F/S W. Hrynkiw RCAF
Sgt S. Littler
Sgt W.A. Valley RCAF (KIA)
F/S L.G. Preece RCAF
Sgt W. Jones
Sgt G. Creer (Injured)
Sgt T. Stump

MH was the Squadron Code for 51 Squadron and obviously JD118 had the individual code letter "W" whilst crewed by Frank McCutcheon et al.

The very same night that JD118 was lost, the McCutcheon crew were also shot down whilst flying HR950...............

51 Squadron Halifax Mk II Serial Number HR950. Coded: MH-S. Operation: Leverkusen 19th / 20th November 1943
Delivered by Handley Page (Cricklewood & Radlett) between 16 Jun 43 and 31 Jul 43. Airborne 1642 19 Nov 43 from Snaith. Hit by flak which killed Sgt Ward and injured Sgt Hall. Despite his injuries he was able to abandon the stricken Halifax and landed safely. Sgt Jefcoat states he made his exit at 15,000 feet and was soon arrested. He was taken to a local police station where the others who had survived were present.
The two airmen killed are buried in Rheinberg War Cemetery.
F/S F.T. McCutcheon RCAF KIA
Sgt D.S. Ward KIA
Sgt N. Hall PoW
Sgt J.B. Walker RCAF PoW
Sgt G.W. Leverington PoW
Sgt J. Pottinger PoW
Sgt R. Jefcoat PoW
Sgt N. Hall was interned in Camp 4B, PoW No.263477 with Sgt R. Jefcoat, PoW No.263489 and Sgt J.B. Walker, PoW No.263517.
Sgt G.W. Leverington in Camps 4B/L3, PoW No.263488 with Sgt J. Pottinger, PoW No.26350

As there are RCAF crew, it may be possible to obtain Service Records and also Debriefing Notes after the War ended, which might detail more precisely where the Halifax crashed.

Hope that may fill in a gap or two.

fredjhh
16th Nov 2010, 18:26
Halifax JD 118 was a Mk 2 Series 1a............. Built between Apl - July 1943.
Halifax HR 930 was a Mk 2 Series 1 Built between Mar -July 1943. HR 930 had the blanked-of nose turret and no front gun. JD had a perspex nose-cone with a single Vickers K gun.
F/Sgt McKutceon (Pilot) RCAF and Sgt D S Ward (F/E) were both killed and are buried in the Rheinberg War Cemetery. The aircraft was hit by flak which killed Sgt. Ward and wounded Sgt. Hall (Nav). Sgt Jeffcoat (R/G) said he jumped at 15,000 feet, was quickly arrested and taken to the local Police Station with the rest of the crew.
N. Hall, Service No.1503810 POW No:263517 in Stalag IVb
J. B. Walker, RAF Service No. R139840 POW No:263517 In Stalag IVb
G . W. Leverington, Service No.1442279 POW NO:263488 in Stalag IVb
J. Pottinger, Service No: 1145191 POW No:263505 in Staleg IVb
R. Jeffcoat, Service No: 1476531 POW No: 263689 in Stalag IVb.
Halifax JD 118 Marked LK-K was transferred from 51 Squadron to 78 Squadron. fredjhh
SORRY. I was interrupted when writing my notes and had not checked before sending it and then seeing a much more detailed account.

tow1709
16th Nov 2010, 19:14
Allan125, I have to agree you are right.

DB was not liberated until 16th April (assuming Wiki has got it right) and PB's course would have ended the day before if it was exactly 7 weeks long.

JEJ also was not an instructor there, although DB did later become the CO of this school.

Knowing PB as I do, he would not name-drop just for effect. I can only suggest that maybe he was mistaken about the start date and exact duration of the course, and/or whom he met there - remember he originally wrote these notes up in the early nineties, nearly fifty years after the event, although his memory seems to be excellent about most other stuff. I will ask next time I see him - probably just after Christmas.

PB did meet DB at some point though, because I asked him what sort of a chap he (DB) was. All PB would say was that DB was a pleasant enough bloke but who obviously knew he was someone who was a bit special.

As we shall see in one of the three or four extracts still to come, it would not have been the only time PB was mistaken about the identity of someone.

I have edited PB's original words to make them more generic!
Glad you are enjoying the story. ==TOW

fredjhh
16th Nov 2010, 19:31
May I correct the story of the liberating of Stalag IVb?
The Germans left on the 22nd April 1945. The only incident was by a group who began to tear down the Polish hut, as the Poles chose to go with the Germans. "Snowshoes: Jack Meyers, RCAF, the Man of Confidence, managed to persuade them to stop. At 07-00 on the 23rd April the Russians entered the camp to liberate us. All Russian POWs were ordered to leave by 10-00 hrs and my friend, the Russian doctor, came to see me and say "goodbye." He was convinced they were heading for Siberia, "as they had been contaminated by associating by the west." As soon as they had left, our Medical Orderlies checked through the Russian huts to make sure that the Typhus victims were really dead. The Russians carried newly dead on parade to get their rations for a day or two. The guards stood well back and would not go into the huts for fear of Typhus. The huts were then burned. The Kommandatur was not burnt and it was easy to get one's German documents. I have mine still intact. fredjhh

Angus Mansfield
17th Nov 2010, 07:17
Message for John Fairr

John you were good enough to allow me to use quotes from your fathers diary in a book I have just had published about another former Spitfire Pilot who knew your father - Rodney Srase Spitfire Saga.I would like to send you a copy as a small thank you so could you contact me off board and let me have your details.

I would also like to talk about the possibility of maybe writing your fathers story.

Regards

Angus Mansfield
[email protected]

cliffnemo
17th Nov 2010, 13:42
Herewith Fred's photos of the Halifax.Presumably this is the Elvington Halifax inside the 'Canadian Hanger' Some readers will be surprised to know this was originally a scrap fuselage used as a chicken coop in Scotland. What a tribute to all the directors and staff who were involved in its rebuilding, with most of them volunteers. Perhaps Fred will confirm that this is the Halifax at The Yorkshire air museum.

http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/HALIFAXPANEL1.jpg
Fred , is this a picture of the engineer panel, looking aft.
http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/HALIFAXPANEL2-1.jpg

fredjhh
17th Nov 2010, 18:49
Cliff.
The two photos I must have left in the Pilot's Notes. I did not know they were there. The second one is a rather cramped shot of the Engineer's panel, looking back from below the step down to the escape hatch. The basket held a portable oxygen bottle and the two yellow bars aft are the back of the mid-upper gunner's seat.
The restoration is a wonderful piece of work and I was privileged to be invited on board some years ago, and twice in recent years. I can certainly recommend a visit. I said to the project engineer, the only thing missing was the smell of oil, Elsan fluid, sweat and cordite. He said he would work on that!
When I look at the distance from the pilot's seat to the bomb-aimer's pad, I wonder again how I survived being thrown that distance, but I expect I was already unconscious after hitting the starboard side of the cock pit.
fredjhh

kookabat
18th Nov 2010, 08:54
Steve Cox - a word of warning concerning Lost Bombers. That website is sometimes very, very wrong - the man who built it essentially plagiarised clear out of WR Chorley's Bomber Command Losses - and there are many transcription and other errors that have come across to the website as a result.
As I understand it the owner of Lost Bombers passed away some years ago and the site is no longer updated. Perhaps useful for initial research, but make sure you check anything that you pull off it in other, more reputable sources.

Adam

Hipper
18th Nov 2010, 10:28
A question if I may? What are the inner handles on the pilot's control?

fredjhh
18th Nov 2010, 12:45
The inner handles, inside the control column of the Halifax, are the brake levers. The rudder pedals control the differential of the brake power.
fredjhh

Fareastdriver
18th Nov 2010, 14:48
As were most British aircraft of the era. Toe brakes were an American thing.

pbeach
18th Nov 2010, 15:17
Boggie has sent me some notes (not worth publishing here I am afraid) that Ernie Herrald made re. his training and Operational Tour. I have had a read through and one particular comment struck me as interesting and possibly humourous. (If my memory serves me correctly Reg, was also on this raid.)
The comment he made for the Milan trip was as follows:
"“Spectacular trip over Mont Blanc. Full moonlight. Searchlights were electric storm! Chased Biplane fighter, very long stooge. 9hrs 10 mins.”
The bit that interests me is "Chased Biplane fighter", some googling does seem to show that the Italians did indeed use biplane fighters... has anyone else heard of a Halifax bomber trying to chase and shoot down an Italian Biplane fighter?
Paul

F Neil Sim
19th Nov 2010, 00:41
Hello My name is Neil Sim and I went to Churchill Public School in Saskatoon, Sheldon-Williams Col. in Regina and the College of Science at Regina Campus, University of Saskatchewan with man now known as Dr Doug Milliken, M.D. I live at Holland Landing, Ont 905-830-9701. Can you help me reach him. PS My Dad was in the RCAF and was a Bomb Aimer on a RAF Sqn 166 at Kirmington. His last flight was to Leipzig on 19-20 Feb 1944. Doug's dad worked at Chrysler when my dad was at Ford both in Saskatoon and in Regina. If you are interested, I have the Intelligence Report about that flight, my dad's log book, pictures of his medals and a chapter of a book called Lancasters At War Book 2 written by two Brits that is full of stories about Lancasters. Ask doug to phone me. My email is [email protected] Neil

rmventuri
19th Nov 2010, 06:51
Neil,
My brother is Dr Doug Milliken and our father did work at Chrysler for a time. I will have Doug contact you.

Rodger

Icare9
19th Nov 2010, 09:43
Hello Neil, and Welcome!!
If Q Queenie was their regular aircraft, then they were a very experienced crew and perhaps we can ask you to add your Dad's memoirs to this thread?
By the sound of your statement that the Leipzig raid was his last flight he must have been badly injured not to fly again. At least they made it back to Manston

166 Squadron Lancaster Mk III. Serial Number: LM382. Coded: AS-Q. Operation: Leipzig. 19th /20th February 1944. LM382 was delivered to 166 Sqdn 2nd Nov 1943. LM382 took part in the following Key Operations: Berlin 22/23 Nov 1943; Berlin 23/24 Nov 1943; Berlin 26/27 Nov 1943; Berlin 2/3 Dec 1943; Berlin 16/17 Dec 1943; Berlin 23/24 Dec 1943; Berlin 1/2Jan 1944; Brunswick 14/15 Jan 1944; Berlin 27/28 Jan 1944; Berlin 30/31 Jan 1944; Berlin 15/16 Feb 1944; Leipzig 19/20 Feb 1944 aborted, crash-landed at Manston. When SOC this aircraft had a total of 184 hours. LM382 was one of four 166 Sqdn Lancasters lost on this operation. (See: ME627; ME637; DV220)
Airborne 2340 19th Feb 1944 from Kirmington. Outbound, intercepted and very badly shot up by night-fighters and Sgt Wright and Sgt Powers were badly wounded. The bomb load was jettisoned and course was set for Manston, Kent, where the Lancaster crash landed at 0605 20th Feb 1944, being wrecked in the process.
P/O J.H. Catlin, Injured; Sgt H.C. Wright, Wounded; P/O A.W. Pragnell, Injured; P/O F.C. Sim RCAF, Injured; Sgt T.P.F. Hall, Injured; Sgt T. Powers, Wounded; Sgt W. Birch, Injured.
(Source: Bomber Command Leipzig Raid (http://www.bomber-command.info/LeipzigNewDoc.htm) )

I hope that at least the pilot got an award for bringing his crew back, and a very valiant effort to save the aircraft too. They must have been attacked near the target before attempting to make it home, as it was over 6 hours in a crippled aircraft! A very seasoned (and lucky) crew!
Please provide more details if you have them...

tow1709
19th Nov 2010, 17:59
The war ends...

Arriving at Plantlünne I found that there was very little operational flying going on. I did a couple of flights on 2nd May: a sector recco and practice formation leading.

Next day, the squadron flew over to B150 where we took off for an armed shipping recce over Neustadt Bay. On arrival we found that we had been beaten to it by 198 Squadron who had attacked the SS Bremen (?) and left it on fire. We managed to find a small coastal vessel which we attacked without any spectacular results and then returned to B150 and later flew back to Plantlünne.

On arrival there in the late afternoon we were told that the Germans in northern Germany and Holland had surrendered! As far as I remember everybody had a drunken evening and I notice that nobody flew the next day. However on the 5th May I led some local formation flying and then on 7th we were sent off in two groups of four to fly low over Emden for an hour or so to 'show the flag' and confirm to the inhabitants that we had freedom of the sky without being fired at!

Next day, May 8th, saw the official surrender of Germany and 'Larry' (I can't remember his surname but he was the 'A' flight commander and one of the two South Africans on the squadron), and I celebrated by doing a one hour low level cross-country flight up to the North coast and back.

No flying the next day but then on the 10th we started three days of Wing formation practice. This meant getting 48 aircraft up into a formation of four sets of twelve. Each set of twelve consisted of three fours, with each four in line astern. The three fours formed a 'V' and the four 'V's formed up one behind each other.

The Wing Commander led the whole lot and started off by flying a very wide circle round the airfield at about 4000 feet. Each squadron then took off and formed up in their 'V' when the leader of the squadron had to judge distances, rate of climb and steepness of turn to join up with the existing formation as quickly as possible without asking his following aircraft to do impossible turns or accelerations! For some reason I had to lead 164 squadron and, as soon as we had formed up I started a gradual climbing turn trying to aim to join up in the right place as I reached the right height.

Luckily everything worked out well and, although we were the 'tail end' squadron, I managed to slot us into position without any violent manoeuvres. In fact the Wingco commented on the smooth join-up. We repeated this practice five times in the next two days and then on 15th and 16th May we took part in Group fly-pasts. First round Holland and next day round North Germany. It was quite an impressive sight since there were well over 200 aircraft in the formation consisting of Spitfires and Mustangs and Tempests as well as Typhoons.

May 18th saw me doing an air test and then on the 19th two more Group fly-pasts. It was during the second of these when conditions were a bit bumpy that I suddenly felt an odd vibration through my rudder pedals. It stopped almost immediately and I dismissed it from my mind. However, on landing, Flight Sergeant Mackintosh came up and told me that he had 'touched' my rudder with his propeller when in close line astern. An examination of the tail plane of my aircraft revealed a narrow 'V' shaped slice out of the rudder about 9 inches deep! A few inches further forward and it would have sliced through the lower rudder hinge with somewhat unpredictable results! Fortunately this was the last close formation flying that we did and my next two flights, an air test and a weather check went off without incident.

On the 27th I did a cross-country to Wünsdorf and return, obviously to find out where it was because next day the wing moved there. This was the first time we had been in purpose built accommodation in Germany. The station had been an Officer training school and was very well equipped. The airfield had two runways and the Mess was a modern building. The entrance hall was most impressive having a mosaic tiled floor in the form of a German Eagle. Unfortunately the effect was ruined by a very amateurish and most unpleasant anti-Jewish mural which took up the whole of the wall facing the entrance. The first thing the Station Commander did was to have this mural painted out and replaced with a much more professional picture of a Typhoon.

Other than the unpleasant mural, the building was very well appointed. It had three bowling Alleys in the basement and a very modern bar. There was one item of equipment in the toilets which caused us some puzzlement at first. I was a large circular trough surrounded on the inner face with various chromium taps, handles, and levers. Its purpose was not obvious until, one evening, one of the lads who had imbibed not wisely but too well, tottered into the toilet feeling very sick. Without thinking he leant forward over the circular trough to find that his hands automatically found purchase on a couple of handles. His head went forward and his forehead made contact with a flat lever which caused water to flush into the trough.

Having rid himself of the unwanted booze he felt very much better and lost no time in informing the rest of us of his discovery. It would seem that the German idea was to drink until you were sick, repair to the toilet, offload the excess and the return to the fray. The one or two people who had to make use of this facility were full of praise for the system which more or less obviated a bad hangover!

Our arrival at Wünsdorf was not auspicious since two aircraft crashed on landing, fortunately both without injury. Flt/Lt Chase ran off the end of the runway and flipped over, and Jack Lee-Warner had to pull up his undercarriage to stop shooting off the end of the runway. I now think that, knowing that the war was over, and that it was now unlikely that one would be killed tomorrow, a relaxing attitude had taken over, with the result that flying became extremely sloppy.

On the 31st May, I was doing some local flying when one of the other wing aircraft, call sign Baltic 15, reported that his airspeed indicator was not functioning and he was orbiting base wondering how to get down! I called him up and then asked him to formate on me and I would lead him in reading off the airspeeds as we went. I told him I would call each manoeuvre (Wheels Down , Flaps Down etc.) twice and asked him to carry out the operation after the second command on the instruction NOW. Everything worked out fine. On the downwind leg I called 'Airspeed 180, Wheels Down, Wheels Down, NOW' and put my wheels down a fraction of a second or so late to ensure that he would start to slow down before I did. The same thing with flaps down, fully fine pitch, etc. As we crossed the runway threshold I called 'Close throttle, Close throttle, NOW' and we did a perfect formation landing.

It appeared that some small insect had decided to build a nest in his pitot tube which effectively blocked it and stopped his ASI from registering! In common with many single engine pilots he did not consult the ASI until after liftoff and then only to check the airspeed for raising the takeoff flap displacement. He was somewhat disconcerted to find that he was climbing away from the airfield with zero airspeed!

We were at Wünsdorf for almost a month but did very little flying. The war was over and it wasn't worth wasting petrol doing useless things. We all spent a lot of time firing off captured weapons, anything from small automatics through Lugers to Schmeisser sub-machine guns. Looking back, it was highly dangerous since there was very little range discipline. Luckily nobody was hurt, although several chaps had near misses with stray rounds.

My log book tells me that I only flew once more from Wünsdorf and that was a twenty minute local air test .Then on 21st June we were flown back to U.K., without our aircraft, to Turnhouse just outside Edinburgh, where we were re-equipped with Spitfire IX's.

More soon... TOW

BossMofo
22nd Nov 2010, 22:39
Thanks for your correction. Grandad passed away when I was three and now Grandma has followed. I dont have much to go on except stories that I was told when I was very young from Grandma. You have made me realize how much bigger Grandads experience actually was and that their were alot of men who have been through the same. You've put it in perspective so to speak.
I am learning on my own and with the help of people like you and Cliff, it is much appreciated. We have here in Ontario, Canada a museum that has restored a Halifax. My dad and Grandmother went to the unvailing. Dad took with him some of the files that Grandad had brought home with him after the war. The curator was interested in them and asked if he would donate them. Dad said no because they are to be left to me. I want to show my sons this stuff when they are older so they can also touch the past. Thanks again. Ken

BossMofo
22nd Nov 2010, 22:56
Thanks so much fellas for all the information. I can tell you that all I learn is passed on to my family, and is much appreciated. Take care . Ken

cliffnemo
23rd Nov 2010, 10:14
BOSSMOFO.
. Dad took with him some of the files that Grandad had brought home with him after the war.
Would that be anything which you could reproduce here ?
If you do not have the facilities , then perhaps the museum would scan and post , using their copies ?.
If not we could possibly help.
---------------------------
F Neil Sim.

. If you are interested, I have the Intelligence Report about that flight, my dad's log book, pictures of his medals.
' all is grist that comes to this mill' So yes please . we are very interested. Cliff.

BossMofo
23rd Nov 2010, 14:40
Dads back in country but has gone to work. He sounds eager and says he has some questions. I told him your sources of info and first hand knowledge is fantastic. So probably on the 27th we could let you fellas know what dad will be able to share. Reading your replies I feel like a kid at Christmas. Thanks again fellas. Ken.

BossMofo
23rd Nov 2010, 15:15
I just remembered that I have a leather bound edition of Mien Kampf that was brought home from Grandad its all in old German, just a souvenier. I was also told that he had a German officers cap, and some piece of braided leather off a German uniform that he took apart and made a bridal for one of dads horses.

pbeach
24th Nov 2010, 09:21
In reply to my question re. the Milan Op. 12th August 1943, Boggie found a reference to a Gorge Dove a mid-upper gunner who was with 101 Sqdn. flying Lancasters also on a raid to Milan. His plane was attacked by a Fiat biplane, which set fire to the hung up incendiaries, which then set fire to the Lancaster. George shot down the fighter and then went to rescue the rear gunner and help put out the flames. The plane did make it back after a major struggle. The story is on P.22 of Snaith Knights.

fredjhh
24th Nov 2010, 12:00
The Milan Raid referred to was on 14th/15th February, 1943. My great friend throughout training, Sgt Ivan Hazard, was the Pilot. One crew member baled out. The Navigator was awarded the DSO, (NOT the DFC in the Snaith Knight's extract.) Three members of the crew were awarded the CGM.
Ivan Hazard and George Dove DFM, were recommended for Victoria Crosses but instead received Immediate CGMs. Really outstanding awards for so many members of one crew. Ivan was killed in a flying accident in March 1943 and he is buried in Wolvercote Cemetery, Oxford.
fredhh.

tow1709
30th Nov 2010, 22:09
Earlier in these memoirs I mentioned how easy the use of the undercarriage control was on the Typhoon. My familiarity with this now led to my undoing.

On 30th June 1945 I took up one of our new Spitfire IX's for 'experience on type'. As on the last occasion that I had flown a Spitfire, I was impressed by the lack of vibration. After 20 minutes I returned to base and commenced my circuit. Everything was going well; I slowed down on the downwind leg and selected wheels-down. On base, I throttled back and selected flaps down and fine pitch. I floated gently over the threshold of the runway and eased back on the stick. I felt the tail wheel touch and a few seconds later the nose dropped and I was looking at a bent propeller blade whilst the aircraft slid along the runway somewhat noisily on its belly. NO WHEELS!

Looking back it was obvious what had happened. Being so used to the Typhoon, I had just flipped the undercarriage lever down, expecting it to lock, not remembering that on the Spitfire you had to physically moved the lever down AND sideways to engage the bottom lock position. I learnt later that I was doubly unlucky in that the ACP (Airfield Control Pilot) had been watching a Miles Master which landed before me and by the time he saw that I had not got any wheels down, he was too late to do anything about it. An eye witness said that he had leapt into the ACP van as soon as he saw me, grabbed the Verey pistol and came out again, firing the pistol practically horizontally as he shot through the door, but the red Verey light passed just behind me. I had checked the u/c warning lights as I came downwind but the sun was directly behind me and I must have taken the reflection as the green lights. Needless to say, I felt a right Charlie sitting in the middle of the airfield whilst I waited for the jeep to arrive to take me back to Flying Control.

Of course, an inquiry was held and as a result my log book was scheduled to be endorsed 'Gross carelessness'. I was also grounded from then on whilst awaiting posting. In fact I did not fly again until Sept. 25th. After being grounded until the end of August I was sent down to Fighter Command Headquarters at Stanmore in Middlesex to receive my posting. I expected to be sent off to a target-towing job which was considered the lowest of the low posting. However, when I arrived it was very obvious that nobody knew that I was due for a naughty-boy posting since I was treated quite normally and the chap in the posting office even asked me if I had any preferences. Incidentally my logbook endorsement also never caught up with me!

I deemed it expedient to try to get out of the country again and I asked if there were any non run-of-the-mill postings available, preferably abroad. He thought a minute and then said "I know, we'll post you to 130 squadron in Norway. They are equipped with Spitfire IX's but don't fly them much as they have other duties". He refused to say more but said "I think you might enjoy it". I reported to Northolt and was flown by Dakota to Norway, landing at Oslo. I remember the trip mainly because the pilot set 'George' the autopilot and then he and the navigator came back into the cargo area and we sat around a packing case playing cards, with the pilot or navigator occasionally going up into the cockpit to check things during the 2 and a bit hours it took us to make the journey.

At Oslo airport I was directed to the RTO (Rail Transport Officer) and issued with a ticket to Kristiansand. Also at the RTO's office I met another pilot being posted to the same destination. He was Swedish and had volunteered early in the war, and was one of the very few Swedish members of the RAF. We travelled together for the two hour journey, he spoke faultless English and of course we talked in English as we travelled.

It was very amusing that, sitting opposite us were two attractive Norwegian girls who spent quite a lot of the time apparently talking about the two of us. As we left, my companion said something to them in Norwegian and my last view was of them blushing furiously. It seems that he had said that we had enjoyed their remarks, not mentioning that I of course was completely ignorant of the language. Swedish and Norwegian are sufficiently similar that my companion was quite able to converse with them. I never did find out his name and when we arrived at Kristiansand he was met by a different vehicle and whisked off somewhere else. I was met by a corporal who drove me the thirty five odd miles to the airfield which was only some two miles away as the crow flies on the other side of the fjord, but by road we had to go all the way round!

The thirty five miles was up the western side of the fjiord, across a bridge and down the Eastern side to the airfield. On all my future visits to the town I travelled by the ferry which plied regularly across the fjord ever hour.

I then officially joined No.130 squadron. After all the usual round of reporting to the various admin sections I had my interview with the C.O. (No mention of the Spitfire prang!) and met the rest of the pilots in the mess. Almost immediately one of the chaps showed me a copy of the “Daily Sketch”, a few days old, and lo and behold, there I was pictured with my foster brother Eric and Wg Cdr Bill Brown, accepting the flag at the ATC Parade in Harrow during my last leave! The headline however gave me a jolt, it said something like “Impostor receives dedicated flag”. It turned out that my acquaintance “Wg Cdr Bill Brown, DSO, DFC & bar, AFC” had never been in the RAF at all!!! He had been turned down on medical grounds and had commenced his deception almost immediately. He had been very circumspect in giving himself promotions and medals in sequence over the years and had even fooled his mother, with whom he was living. She was not too well educated and accepted his stories of being based near London which allowed him to live at home. He even went so far as to leave home in uniform and take with him his holdall containing his set of civilian clothes into which he changed, probably in a public toilet somewhere, before proceeding to his job as a bank clerk!

What had finally led to his unmasking was when he overreached himself by attending the end of course party at Tangmere Fighter Leader’s School where he was thrown in contact with some genuine Battle of Britain pilots. Some of them got suspicious and started enquiries which culminated in his unmasking just after I had left England. The newspaper merely reported his arrest. I never heard any more, I was not called as a witness and I don’t even know if he was brought to trial or what happened after that. I only know that he must have immersed himself completely in his assumed role because he fooled a lot of people, including me! He should have realized that every genuine Battle of Britain pilot was at least aware of some of the names of the others!


[This story made the national newspapers in October 1945 - see link below... tow]

Alan Allport's website: Saturday, 6th October, 1945 (http://www.alanallport.net/main/2009/10/saturday-6th-october-1945.html)

ancientaviator62
1st Dec 2010, 08:34
Tow 1709,
Christmas card sent as requested, many thanks to yourself and Peter for the rivetting tale.

kookabat
2nd Dec 2010, 06:32
...and one from me as well. There's some fantastic history on this thread!

tow1709
2nd Dec 2010, 18:19
Having endured the ribbing I received for my unwitting part in the deception played by the so-called Wg Cdr Brown, I was accepted into the squadron and actually flew again on 25th September 1945. I did 35 minutes in a Spitfire IX for ‘Refresher Local Flying’. The next day I spent 1hr 25mins on an Air-Sea rescue search. I continued one trip per day, doing formation flying, aerobatics, and cross-country trips, until October the 5th when I started doing what the main job of 130 Squadron seemed to be, and that was ferrying German aircraft around.

Here I should explain that Kristiansand Airfield was staffed almost entirely by the original Luftwaffe occupants. Only the "Political" officers had been removed. Although there was a ‘’no-fraternisation’’ rule, it was virtually ignored and as soon as I found out which of the German pilots spoke English, I made a point of striking up conversations. It soon appeared that most of the pilots were more interested in flying than in politics and were quite happy that the Political Officer had been removed. We had many discussions about the relative merits of various aircraft. I was interested to learn that they thought that the Typhoon was a dangerous opponent in air-to-air combat whereas I thought that it performed very badly as a fighter!

On October 5th 1945 I was given dual instruction in a Fiesler Storch aircraft, a 40 minute trip to Lister, and I flew the aircraft back to base. The next day, I had a further familiarization flight in the Storch, this time 45 minutes solo. From then on, I only flew a Spitfire twice and during November 1945 managed to fly other German aircraft - notably a Messerschmitt Bf 109 and a Focke Wulf 190!

It was a long time ago, but I can clearly recall some of the impressions that these German aircraft left with me. The Fiesler Storch was truly an amazing aircraft. It was slow, ugly and noisy BUT it could keep airborne at the incredibly slow air speed of about 20 mph. I recall that on my first take-off I taxied into wind, put down 15° of flap, opened the throttle and after rolling forward what seemed to be a just few feet I was airborne. Landing it was a dream since the undercarriage, which was fixed, drooped down in flight like stork’s legs (hence the name) and there was a good metre or more of slack to take up before the weight of the aircraft was fully taken up by the wheels. Thus you could more or less fly the aircraft slowly down towards the ground and only close the throttle and ‘flare out’ after the wheels had touched the ground. I recall that on one flight when there was a fairly strong wind, I managed to slow down enough to actually fly backwards across the airfield. This was a thing that I also managed to do later with a Tiger Moth, but that is for a later chapter.

The Bf 109 and the F-W 190 trips were regrettably only of about 30 - 40 minutes duration each. The Bf 109 reminded me somewhat of a Hurricane to handle, whereas the F-W 190 was again a new experience. The noise and vibration were reminiscent of the Typhoon but there the similarity ended. The most noticeable thing was the incredible lightness of the aileron controls. It seemed that you had only to think of banking for a turn, then you were doing it!

Even on the short flight I had, I could not resist trying a roll with the result that I did two rotations before I managed to level off. I have often thought since that, having flown both the Spitfire and the F-W 190 that it should have been fairly easy for a German pilot to escape from a following Spitfire by rolling violently into an opposite turn. Although the Spitfire could turn inside the F-W 190 the rate of roll on the Spitfire was a good bit slower and the German pilot could be away before the Spitfire could line up again. This rate of roll would not be any great advantage in attacking and in those circumstances the superior rate of turn of the Spitfire would be an advantage.

The squadron did very little flying otherwise, since there was a shortage of tyres, and the rough concrete surface of the runway was very hard on the smooth tyres of the Spitfires. We worked more or less office hours and did nothing at weekends. Consequently I spent some time in Kristiansand socialising.

More soon... TOW

Brian Abraham
3rd Dec 2010, 04:40
Australian Flying: Mosquito Pilot - Col Griffin (http://www.australianflying.com.au/news/mosquito-pilot-col-griffin)

Mosquito Pilot - Col Griffin

15 Apr 2010

Flightpath Volume 21 Number 3

WWII RAAF Mosquito pilot Col Griffin - still flying today - shares some of his memories with Kathy Mexted and tells how a wartime recruitment poster set his life on a dramatic and exciting new course.

An Adelaide railway station poster headlined: I’m going to join the RAAF. Are you coming? caught the eye of a 21 year old Col Griffin. Quickly sold on the idea, Col says it took him a while to “make up the academic stage”, but once enlisted he commenced initial training locally at Victor Harbour. “I walked through that, and then went to learn flying at Parafield, soloing in 8 hours 25 minutes. There were some bright arses that went solo in 6:20, but often that was because they had good weather. Others had worse weather and never soloed at all. The system couldn’t wait for them.

“We got through, and while most of the blokes went off to Canada, half a dozen of us went over to Geraldton in WA to fly Avro Ansons. I loved Geraldton, it was such a beautiful place. I was commissioned off course as a ‘Pilot Officer’ (he says, waving his arms in self mockery). “I came from Strathalbyn in South Australia, where I was nothing but a lad in a dusty country town. Within twelve months I was a ‘Pilot Officer’ and I had a uniform, and I had a cap, and boy - was I up myself!” says Col, laughing at the memory of his transformation.

“Within 12 weeks, I was aboard TSS Ceramic bound for England with about 105 flying hours under my belt. We crossed the Pacific, through the Panama Canal, Newport News, New York City and then Halifax where we waited for a convoy before sailing off across the Atlantic. Boy, was I glad to get to England. The U Boats were sinking ships everywhere, and by the time we got there I thought to myself, ‘I’m never going to survive this bloody war.’ (On December 6, 1942, the liner was sunk by U 515 en route to Australia from Britain. She was carrying 656 people as well as a cargo which, because it was war-time, included bombs and ammunition. Only one passenger survived.)

“We were entrained at Liverpool then sat around for five weeks at Bournemouth until they could decide what to do with us. We were interviewed as to what role we wanted to play in the war. They said to me ‘you’re too tall to be a gunner, and you’re not smart enough to be a navigator, how would you like to be a pilot?’ and I said ‘well that’s what I joined for.’ Well everybody wanted to be a ‘Fighter Pilot’ and nobody wanted to be a bomber pilot because the rumour was that it was a pretty dangerous job.

“I was keen to fly the Beaufighter but they told me ‘We don’t know if we can do that, but we’ve got lots of vacancies on Lancasters,’ and I said ‘well if that’s the case then, OK. I don’t mind.’ - So Lancasters it was.”

The next move was to Spitalgate in Grantham where Col learnt to fly Airspeed Oxfords before moving on to Charter Hall in Scotland to fly the Blenheim Mk.I, Mk.IV and the Mk.V or Bisley, and he recalls: “God it was cold in Scotland. I reckon the Bisley was one of the few aeroplanes that would get bird strike from behind. Then they introduced me to the Beaufighters. They were built with radial engines but there was a shortage of these, so they put Merlin engines in them and it became a dog. Once you got it flying, it was nice plane, but it was a dog on the ground. I lost it one day on landing. Went across the middle of the airfield and came out the other side. I went clean through all the vege gardens, and it took me all day to wash the mud off. I was so glad to get out of there.”

Col’s next posting was to 456 RAAF Squadron at Valley on Isle of Anglesey, Wales, where there were Beaufighters. There was also two Mosquitos being re-equipped and Col recalls: “…so I got an endorsement on the Mosquito. It was fast and smooth - the latest and popular. I was one of the lucky few. Here we were posted to Middle Wallop, based between Salisbury and Andover in Hampshire for three or four months, then back to Colerne in Somerset, Fairwood Common, Wales, then RAF Ford.

“By then the allies were grooming themselves for the Second Front, the Americans were flying over Germany, and the Lancaster force was becoming immense. This is when the Germans realised they had been foolish in not developing a heavy bomber force. Compared to Lancasters the Mosquito was like an eagle to fly. Lancasters were being built in the hundreds and the US were flying massive B-17 daylight raids. Being an intruder Squadron it wasn’t just night fighting, as Germans were getting a bit sparse with heavy bombing on Canterbury and destroying cities and people, it was all coming to an end.

Col recalls; “The Germans were building up a night fighter force and they had thousands of night fighters based in Western Europe to oppose British bombers. My Squadron was involved in intruder work. Our duty was to fly over their fields and make a nuisance of ourselves. Drop flares and bombs or shoot up planes on the ground. Our mere presence didn’t terrorise them, but it did scare them. They knew we had hundreds of Mosquitoes and we could put them out any time.”

“It was dangerous, because you never knew how high above the ground you were. We’d fly over at about 10,000 ft and come down to around 1,000 ft. The German airfields were defended with multiple guns. Some of the intruders would bomb runways as well. This continued until the end of the war. By that time I was based at Bradwell Bay near Chelmsford.

“I have nothing but praise for the Mosquito. It had two engines, which made a single engine landing tricky, because it was so streamlined. With one operational engine, when the undercarriage was lowered, you needed a lot of power. Recovery took 1,000 ft, so if you were below that, then you were committed to the landing.

“I only had one single engine landing and it was due to a radiator coolant failure. Coolant leaked out, the temp went up and I shut the engine down. It was in daylight and a piece of cake, because at the time I had experience and been trained for such an event, so I knew exactly what to do.

“I flew 650 hours in the Mosquito. That included Squadron work and training other pilots. About 250 were combat hours. The first time I departed for combat I was frightened as hell. The thought of it was a bit worrying because you had to make a flight plan, and navigational instruments were rudimentary, also we relied heavily on dead reckoning. My navigator, HP ‘Hoppy’ Williams, would plan it on the table. It would always be a black night, and I’d fly the flight plan that he gave me, and he’d map read as much as possible. He was very good, and once we got going, all fear was gone.”

Col then adds “Between 1939 and 1945, fully trained and operational aircrew deaths totalled approximately 75,000. Sixty percent were bomber command personnel. One’s demise came rather cleanly and relatively in the final sense, permanently. No horror, no drama, in most cases they simply did not return from operations to their billets.

“On one occasion I was shot at, the aircraft was damaged, and the radar operator wounded by flak in his buttocks. It came up through the bottom of the aeroplane and through the parachute on which he was sitting.

“We were based at Arundel, in Sussex, at RAF Station Ford. It was right on the coast where many shot-up aircraft landed with wounded on board, often including the poor rear airgunner shot dead and frozen stiff with the winter wind whistling through his busted turret. What a hell of a job getting his body out for identification and recording by our Squadron Doctor! The Americans suffered no less on their daily forays before the Mustang fighter could accompany them and mix with the enemy defenders.

“While I was stationed at Ford, I witnessed an incredible event. A damaged B-17 crash landed there one afternoon. Coming in at speed with one gear leg dangling, the pilot pushed his machine onto the ground, creating a spectacular cartwheel, followed by a thump and instant fire. The ground rescue services were on the spot in an instant, rescuing crew. Some were limping, some were OK, but one bloke who was on fire ran back into his blazing aircraft and died. Why? Who knows who could give a reason? For days, I wished that I’d not witnessed that moment. It was one of the most upsetting, inexplicable, graphic scenes I’ve ever witnessed. No wonder the horrors of W.W.I affected our Diggers well into the thirties. Poor buggers.”

As if war doesn’t provide enough drama and danger, Col managed to have one of his most memorable events occur on a day off. One morning he was approached by a young RAF flying officer who wanted to go to Liverpool to meet his girlfriend and Col recounts the event; “‘Will you fly me up?’ the young bloke asked. I said, ‘If they’ve got an aeroplane I will.’ As it was about a two-hour flight each way, we went over to the flying school and I said, ‘Can I have a Mosquito to fly this bloke to see his girlfriend? I’d love to have a bit of a fly alone on the return trip.’

“The WAAF said; ‘All the Mosquitos are occupied but we’ve got a Beaufort over there in the grass. We’ll drag it out and you can take it for a run.’ So we hauled it out of the long grass and got the old thing going. When we got to altitude, there was one hell of a crash from the starboard engine and all the cowling flew off, the prop went into fine pitch and the engine caught alight, so I shut it down to put the fire out. It shed three cylinders and I thought I’d die in the backside.

“I thought to myself ‘What am I doing here? Flying a bloke up to Liverpool and all he wants to do is meet his girlfriend and have a bit of a cuddle, and now we’re in fine pitch and losing altitude rapidly. Someone is either going to get hurt, or die, and that could be me!’ That’s when you wonder, ‘what is my mother going to think?’ and not panic. There was a cleared patch in the trees, so I put it down there but forgot to put the landing gear down. We came to rest in a field of sugar beet and, me with an engine cylinder in my lap. It had come through the side of the aircraft.

“We were out of that plane in a nano-second because the engine was red hot, and I thought it was going to go ‘whoosh’, and I’d have been onions. Anyway, we survived that and the beet farmer came and found us. My mate had a cut forehead and the farmers wife was a nurse. She only had a needle and cotton, so she dipped it in Dettol and stitched him up and washed the blood off his tunic before announcing to the ambulance ‘send him on his way to see his girlfriend’.”

We asked if the mate got to see the girl? Col replied with a great laugh: “Oh did he what! Wounded and all! Somebody from Cranfield came and retrieved me. I had the shimmy shakes.”

D Day
Recalling D Day, Col says “I was over the beach head at Omaha on the night of 5 June, 1944 – in preparation for the landings. We knew the allies were about to attempt to fight their way onto French shores. We had noticed a build up of forces - there was scarcely a leafy lane that didn’t have an article of war ready in it. We had also noticed the huge floating concrete caissons that were going to be towed to the invasion point and then scuttled to make a wharf.

“We found out about the invasion the night before, after the ships had already left. They were so thick; you could have stepped from one ship to another. It was a vast armada and the night flying squadrons were flying out over the channel looking for German bombers, but there were none. That was an anti-climax.

“Around that time it was fairly humdrum, except when we received the shot-up planes in desperate to land, including American Mitchells, Marauders and B-17s. A Mosquito landed short one night. He was using the rudimentary flying beam and got too low, hit the ground and the plane exploded. The wheel came off, jumped the roadway and killed an engineer. It was pretty wild.

After the War
“I flew over Germany about 3 weeks after the war ended and there wasn’t a factory or city that hadn’t been raped by air power. I came home with a total of 1,007 hours as a man who had willingly served his country right to the end.

“Our replacement Commanding Officer (after the preceding one was killed in a flying accident) Bob Cowper is still alive and living in Adelaide. There are very few of our squadron left. I think there is only about six aircrew.

“The journey home was very unpleasant. The ship was crowded with POW’s and only a few women. I landed back in Sydney and caught the train to Melbourne, then the beautiful Adelaide Express home to see mum and dad. That boat trip had knocked a lot out of me. I lost a lot of weight and learnt to smoke. I went through about a three-month period of depression, as I knew I would. After all that excitement, it’s one hell of a let down when you are demobbed. All that excitement, and all of a sudden ‘plonk’, back to Civvy Street – but you pick up the pieces. I loved England and its people. I think all servicemen probably suffered the same problems.”

Following his retirement from the RAAF in 1945, Col worked for Australian National Airlines (ANA), later Ansett ANA, and upon retirement spent ten years at a flying school in Melton. He says he found his old service flying jacket in an army disposal store in Adelaide once, but: “it was oil stained and dirty and held no appeal for me at the time. It was a time when everybody was fed up with the war, and the jacket didn’t seem to have any value, even sentimental value. I realise now I should have just told them I’d lost it and never handed it back.” His service boots have been worn out and long gone, and the only part of his kit to survive are his log books and tunic.

Col still flies upwards of 50 hours per year in his amateur-built high performance RV6, based at Kyneton in Central Victoria. He is an active member of the Kyneton Aero Club, and flies away for lunch on average every second weekend. Having lost touch with his sweetheart Doreen, during the war, they were only reunited in 1997 and have been married for ten years. Walking away from the hangar after doing some air-to-air photography in his RV6, Col was in high spirits and confided with a big smile, “I’m having the time of my life”. On 1 September, 2009 Col celebrated his 90th birthday by flying himself and his wife to Adelaide in their RV6.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I helped another chap, our company E & I engineer, Ed Groot, build the RV-6 and did the test flying on the aircraft. Ed subsequently sold it to Col.

pbeach
8th Dec 2010, 14:50
Boggie sent me the following photo (split into two parts by his scanner) which was with Stan Gibbon's stuff. We assume it meant something to him, and is probably related to before he joined 51 Sqdn... other than that we "know nothing", so if anybody would like to add any pertinent information it would be appreciated.

http://i1134.photobucket.com/albums/m610/pabeach/A.jpg

pbeach
8th Dec 2010, 14:52
http://i1134.photobucket.com/albums/m610/pabeach/B.jpg

cliffnemo
8th Dec 2010, 15:57
I have scanned and append below pages from the Haifax pilot’s notes which Fredjhh was kind enough to post to me. The first two pages are part of the list of contents to give you an idea of subjects covered. If any would like to see any of the pages, or ask any questions, I am quite happy to scan and post them. I also include a scan of the Beam approach page as we have been previously asked questions on this subject.

John Hunt (Elvington Halifax) informs me of a book just published entitled ‘Home is the Halifax’ I think he said the author is Ian Robinson, and describes the full history of the build.

Just found this in Google.
Home Is The Halifax is published by Grub Street and costs £20. Ian Robinson will launch the book at Sherburn airfield on August 12 and it can be pre-ordered through Amazon. http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/Hpilotsnotes1C.jpg
I am having trouble copying the other two scans from Photobucket, wil post tomorrow.

ATTENTION, ATTENTION. KILLFROST PASTE ON ALL LEADING EDGES FOR TONIGHT.

Hipper
9th Dec 2010, 08:11
Pilot's Notes can be obtained for many aircraft here:

Flight Manuals: Aircraft and Helicopter Flight Manuals on CD (http://www.flight-manuals-on-cd.com/)

In the left column click 'Alphabetical Listing...' and then select the aircraft. They have listed 'Handley Page Halifax'.

I've bought CDs of the Vickers Valiant from them and I got exactly what they said.

Union Jack
9th Dec 2010, 11:03
VMT to Tow1709 and Brian Abraham for facilitating the wonderful input from Peter Brett and Col Griffin. Absolutely spellbinding stuff and, like so many others of us, I am most grateful to them for sharing their incredible experiences to add so vividly to the stirring contributions from Cliff, and Reg of blessed memory.

Thank you most warmly gentlemen all for that you have done - both "then" and now, and my best wishes to those who are fortunately still with us.

Jack

cliffnemo
9th Dec 2010, 15:53
Scans of Fred's Halifax pilots notes.
http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/Hpilotsnotes1C.jpg
http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/Hpilotsnotes2C.jpg
Hold down CTRL and + increases size on my Windows Vista, and have just found out, hold down CTRL and rotate mouse wheel will increase and decrease size of characters.
http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/HpilotsnotesIF.jpg

tow1709
15th Dec 2010, 19:46
It was in Kristiansand that I met up with a couple of Royal Navy types, a Lieutenant-Commander and a Lieutenant, the latter being equivalent to my rank of Flight-Lieutenant. They were stationed at Kristiansand with an MTB (Motor Torpedo Boat).

On a few weekends, I spent Saturday afternoons with them “patrolling” the Skaggerak. This consisted of getting out of the fjord and then opening up flat-out. Since this craft was driven by two Rolls-Royce Merlin engines and was capable of some fifty knots it was quite an experience. We would burble out of the harbour and cruise gently down out into the open sea, when the skipper would say something like “Here we go lads, hang on” and open up both throttles fully. The change was dramatic. Suddenly the exhausts bellowed, the stern settled and, unless you were ready for it, you were pushed violently backwards to the aft of the bridge. Within seconds the boat was “up on the step” and thumping across any swell there was. After returning from the trip, and when safely moored to the quay again, we repaired to the tiny “wardroom” where we disposed of some navy gin and tonics.

On other weekends I went to Olso where there was a very good Officers’ club. This had been run by the German army and had just carried on under new management when we arrived. However the staff were so used to dealing with German officers that they still referred to us by the equivalent German ranks. I remember being called over the Tannoy as “Leutnant Brett - bitte”. We all found various things about Norway that were interesting and somewhat strange to us. One instance was that it was, at that time anyway, impossible to buy a deck of playing cards. It was evidently illegal to sell them. You could buy all sorts of other games but no ordinary playing cards.

I had two amusing experiences in Oslo. The first was when I was strolling along the main street up towards the Royal Palace, when I noticed that all the military personnel were turning to face the road and saluting. This phenomenon proceeded down the road towards me. Before it reached me I realised that everybody was saluting a cyclist who was riding down the road. It was King Haakon who evidently often bicycled down into town from the palace!

On another occasion, I was walking along a fairly narrow pavement (sidewalk to you Americans!) two German NCO’s were walking towards me deep in conversation. People were stepping off the kerb to let them pass and I nearly did so myself. It suddenly occurred to me that that (a) we had just won the war and (b) I outranked them anyway. I did not stop until they were practically touching me. Obviously they were used to people stepping aside for them, and they both looked up with scowls. I was at least six inches taller than either of them and put on what I hoped was a quizzical expression complete with raised eyebrow - Roger Moore style! The change in their expressions as they took in the uniform and officer's rank badges was a sight to behold. They both sprang to attention and, after some confusion when they nearly gave me a Nazi salute, gave a very creditable normal salute (which I returned) and they then did a smart left turn to step off the kerb into the gutter to go around me. I then noticed all the local Norwegians in the vicinity had been watching this little scene and were now grinning broadly and making appreciative gestures. I waved and smiled back and walked on, feeling I had done my bit to preserve the dignity of the RAF.

The times that I went over to Kristiansand, I travelled via the cross fjord ferry. This was a craft of I think about 300 tonnes driven by a diesel engine. The odd thing about this engine was that, in order to go from forward to astern and vice versa the engine had actually to stop and restart in the opposite direction. This would not normally of be of any consequence but the skipper, who had obviously done this journey several times a day for many years, had developed a rapport with the engineer and knew exactly how long it took to go from full astern to full ahead. On leaving Kristiansand the ferry had to back away from the quay on a curve towards the other side of the basin, then, as the stern approached the far quay it would go full ahead on the opposite tack to finish up pointing out of the harbour mouth. The harrowing part was, when having gone full astern to back away from the quay the engine would slow down and stop whilst we were still travelling backwards at a fair old speed towards the opposite stone quay. The engine would then start to thump and slowly increase revs in the ‘ahead’ mode. In the several times I travelled this way, the ship always stopped and then commenced going ahead when the stern was what seemed to be about three feet from the solid stone quay!

Being the beginning of winter, it was very cold and there was usually a biting wind blowing up the fjord. Consequently, the first passengers aboard made a bee-line for the funnel and crowded round it as it was the only source of heat on the vessel.

More soon ...TOW

cliffnemo
23rd Dec 2010, 11:07
A Merry Christmas and Prosperous New Year to all.

whitebait1
23rd Dec 2010, 15:30
Cheers Cliff! Same to you! Thanks again for your contributions to this thread, it's by far the best thing on pprune!

Merry Christmas and happy new year, everyone!

Viola
24th Dec 2010, 08:55
To Cliff and all the other contributors and their families: a very happy Christmas and a good New Year.

Thank you for such an interesting thread, and thank you for starting it, Cliff.

It has everything, history, personal stories, technological stuff. Brilliant!

green granite
24th Dec 2010, 10:38
Indeed MERRY CHRISTMAS TO CLIFF AND EVERYONE ELSE ON THIS THREAD.

tow1709
24th Dec 2010, 14:05
... from Peter Brett to all those who have sent him greetings cards. He was really delighted to receive them, and they are much appreciated.

There is just one more installment of his memoirs to come, and I will try and post it during the next few days.

A very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all the contributors and readers on this thread.

TOW

JOE-FBS
26th Dec 2010, 20:37
Thank you to all the veterans for their posts. I have just come to the (current) last page after a fascinating and moving three months working through the thread.

Stone69
27th Dec 2010, 15:56
I recently had the opportunity to sit in the cockpit of the rebuilt Halifax at the RCAF Museum in Trenton, Ontario. They've done an outstanding job on this aircraft that was submerged in a Norwegian fjiord since the war. Now I've been flying aircraft for fifty years now, and I must say I was shocked to see how poor the visibility was from the pilot's seat. With close to 23,000 hrs in my various logbooks, I am somewhat in awe of the pilots --- most quite low time-- being able to land and take-off with so little forward visibility. I have known pilots who flew these aircraft during the war and I was always very impressed with their very quiet low key manner when I got them to talk about their war time experiences, but they never spoke of this lack of visibility. Unfortunately, they're gone now and I can't talk to them about what I saw or more correctly, couldn't see.....

fredjhh
28th Dec 2010, 19:48
I don’t remember having viewed the outlook from the pilot’s seat as being restricted.
After flying the Whitley for over a year, the height difference was the most noticeable aspect. I seem to remember that just before touch-down, as the nose moved up, I looked out the left to judge the height from the ground.
I have in the past year, sat in the re-constructed Halifax 111 at the RAF museum in Elvington, and every thing came back as if yesterday.
My first flight was one hour with a screened pilot who demonstrated the flying characteristics, including stalling, flying on three engines, then on two port engines, and a three engine landing. Then I had two hours circuits and bumps with a couple of three engine landings, before being sent off solo. The next lesson was one hour of night landings, then to Dusseldorf as second pilot.
The Halifax 1 & 11 had terrible rudder problems, and the torque from the Merlins accented this. With both ports stopped it was an awful strain, but could just be kept flying, - provided there was no other damage. fredjhh

cliffnemo
29th Dec 2010, 10:06
I am hoping we may soon have another contributor al as follows.( Search for ' 91 Year Old Spitfire Pilot Needs Your Help (Multi-page thread 1 2 3 4)
VIProds #67 (permalink) VIProds )

QUOTE.
Cliff, Alec is not my Father. He is a friend & we both belong to the North Lincs Branch of the Aircrew Association. I have started filming speakers (with their permission) that we have at the monthly Branch meetings so that the Branch can archive the DVD's for posterity. Once Alec's story is completed, I will be sending three DVD's to the ACA archives at Elvington.

I have just started to read your thread for the first time, so can see many entertaining hours ahead of me. I will be going over to Alec's later in the week & will see if he is happy with me transcribing his story for "Gaining a pilot's brevet in WWII".

P.S. My father was actually an RSM in the Cameron Highlanders, I am sure his kilt flew on occasions, but he certainly didn't. END QUOTE.
Fingers crossed.

cliffnemo
29th Dec 2010, 10:09
Sorry a duplicate. I hope I have just deleted it.

Spartacan
2nd Jan 2011, 07:57
Desert Island Discs - Tony Iveson

Sunday 2 January 1115

BBC - BBC Radio 4 Programmes - Desert Island Discs, Tony Iveson (http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00x31sq)

>>Kirsty Young's castaway is the veteran RAF pilot Tony Iveson.

Aged 21, he survived being shot down in his Spitfire over the North Sea during his first taste of combat in the Battle of Britain. Unusually for a fighter pilot, he then went on to join Bomber Command and the famous Dambusters squadron, sinking the German battleship The Tirpitz and winning a Distinguished Flying Cross.

Aged 89 he returned to the skies, becoming the oldest man to fly a Lancaster bomber: "Well, I got out of that aeroplane and looked at it and it and thought how did we do it?" he says. "I know it was a long time ago and I was young and fit and a professional flier. But I thought about some of my friends who had been lost and it was an emotional experience."<<

langleybaston
3rd Jan 2011, 14:00
A marvellous thread.

Would there be any interest in the ramblings of a Metman spanning 41 years of almost continuous service with [ie on airfields] the RAF? An outsider's privileged close-up?

If so, would start a new thread.

You name it, I closed it: Nicosia, Topcliffe, Leeming [failed], Guetersloh, Finningley, JHQ as senior forecaster, Bawtry, JHQ as CMetO, Brize [failed] and a million dets.

aw ditor
3rd Jan 2011, 14:52
Yes please, and could you also give a "refresher" on the Tephigram?

AD

TommyOv
3rd Jan 2011, 20:42
Yes please! The more experiences that are shared the richer we all are.:ok:

green granite
3rd Jan 2011, 21:10
langleybaston yes please. :ok:

angels
4th Jan 2011, 08:21
langley - very interested -- and keep it on this thread.

My dad's memoirs are on this thread and he was an erk. This thread has turned into a tribute to all who served in the RAF. Weathermen had their part to play, remember that D-Day at one point hinged on what the met man had to say!

PS - What's the weather going to be like in Canary Wharf over the next few days? :ok:

angels
4th Jan 2011, 10:28
Other than cold?

Ah, the vagueness of your reply proves you are a weatherman!!

My maths master was an RAF met-man during WW2. He once explained to us why vectoring was important by recounting the story of when he was at an aerodrome near Bristol and an He-111 landed. The crew bundled out and were surprised to be looking down the barrels of various bits of weaponry. They thought they were in Brittany.

"The nav got his wind reading wrong!" :eek:

Looking forward to your tales. :ok:

cliffnemo
4th Jan 2011, 10:45
langley - very interested -- and keep it on this thread.

LANGLEYBASTON.
You are more than welcome on this thread. Of course you may start your own thread if you wish, but think you will initially obtain a larger following starting here. Give it a try, and then decide. You will certainly be apprecitated by a friendly 'mob of bods'
CLIFF.

TommyOv
4th Jan 2011, 13:34
This thread should come with a health warning. I forsee another period of weeks where I will be tied to my PC, following the stories. I'm supposed to be working at the moment...

green granite
4th Jan 2011, 15:03
It definitely pleases us langley :ok:

rmventuri
13th Jan 2011, 21:54
I got an email on this topic recently. Frankly I find it rather hard to believe. You would think the risk of German discovery would compromise the whole undeground effort. Any comments?

Monopoly's Hidden Maps Help World War II POWs Escape - ABC News (http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/monopolys-hidden-maps-wwii-pows-escape/story?id=8605905)

Escape Maps of World War II (http://www.mapforum.com/04/escape.htm)

konstantin
14th Jan 2011, 09:07
Yeah, I received an email on the subject of escape maps a while back...if sites like truthorfiction and snopes are to be believed - mostly true.

There is some reference to the Red Cross NOT being involved (knowingly anyway?) and a suggestion that no way would safe houses have been indicated on "hard copy", for obvious reasons.

Would be appropriate to hear about this from a "horses mouth" for a definitive answer of course...

fredjhh
14th Jan 2011, 14:19
During the 18 months I was a prisoner of war I saw no Monoply Boards, but I do know that there were various ways in which we received escape material.
The Red Cross parcels were NEVER used. An organisation, called The Licenced Victualers Sports Association, sent games and cigarettes to Prison Camps, with maps and other escape equipment hidden inside, so Monopoly would have been one of games. Shove ha'penny boards, pencils, other board games, playing cards, and even gramophone records were used.
Cigarettes came inside Red Cross parcels, but relatives could send separate parcels directly through one of the tobacco agents, such as Rothmans. Some of these were in round cans containing 50 cigarettes, sealed in with tin foil. A neat cutter in the lid was used to open the foil. All parcels and came through the camp Post Office, who issued collection chits sent to an individual via his hut chief. In addition to the German postal staff were prisoners who knew the code marks for the tins with the contraband, which they had to conceal and smuggle out. The Germans were distracted by gifts of cigarettes or simply bribed. I believe some cricket bats sent to one camp aroused suspicion, so the Germans removed all the handles!
Many years ago there was an Exhibition of these materials in the RAF Museum at Hendon. A recent show at the War Museum North, in Manchester, I unfortunately missed.
fredjhh

TommyOv
14th Jan 2011, 16:15
Anyone know where langley's posts have gone? Or am I missing something?

Fareastdriver
14th Jan 2011, 16:20
He got lost in unexpected fog.

rmventuri
16th Jan 2011, 17:51
As always thanks Fred

rmventuri
16th Jan 2011, 18:04
Fred, interested in what Halifax variants were at Snaith in '43. From Reg's prior input and information from my uncle's log book looks like by early July '43 and possibly sooner it was the Mk II Series 1A (with factory installed D rudders). Then in early Jan '44 Snaith upgraded to the Mk III. I would be interested when you arrived at Snaith and which variants you flew as I believe in the past you mentioned you always flew with the triangular rudders?

fredjhh
16th Jan 2011, 22:13
Rmventuri
I only ever saw Halifaxes with Triangular fins. I had one of the first
Halifax 2a series 1 with the perspex nose cone, but still with old fins and rudders, delivered in June 1943. Most of the other aircraft had front turrets or blocked in noses, series 2. I don't know when the modified rudders began to arrive on the Squadron, but I think the Squadron aircraft had some modified rudders fitted on the airfield after July.
Fredjhh.

JOE-FBS
20th Jan 2011, 09:26
Any world war 2 aircrew veterans reading this, registration is now open for project propellor 2011. Note that the organisers are being very specific that the event is for WWII aircrew only but from any organisation (including ATA) and either side of the conflict.

Project Propeller (http://www.projectpropeller.co.uk/)

langleybaston
20th Jan 2011, 14:24
"Anyone know where langley's posts have gone? Or am I missing something?"

Deleted by author.

Smilin_Ed
24th Jan 2011, 23:37
My wife was a child in Albany, Georgia where RAF cadets and officers trained at Darr Aerotech and Turner field in the early 1940s. She remembers them visiting families in Albany and visiting the town. A friend who still lives in Albany went to the cemetery where seven RAF Cadets who died in training accidents are buried. Our friend has sent me pictures of the large monument, flagpole, and individual headstones. Specifically, I have pictures of the headstones of RAF Cadets E. S. Headington, E. N. G. Furze, H. D. Wilson, R. S. Wilson, J. Hartley, D. Hope, and T. Moseley.

I would be glad to post some, or all, of these pictures if someone would kindly give me instructions as I have failed to find those instructions on the site.

Additionally, I would also be glad to e-mail you any or all of the pictures if you will send me a private message.

henry crun
25th Jan 2011, 02:53
Smilin_Ed: Instructions for posting pics.
There is a sticky thread in DG&P General Aviation & Questions, and another link in the Computer forum in the Frequently Asked Questions and Useful Information.

Smilin_Ed
25th Jan 2011, 22:32
Image hosting, free photo sharing & video sharing at Photobucket (http://s1196.photobucket.com/home/Smilin_Ed/index)

The pictures are at this site. I hope that those interested can view them.

Thanks Henry for the advice on posting pictures. It seems that the link (if it works) is probably the best way to go and thanks to Tommy who took the pictures.

Ed

cliffnemo
26th Jan 2011, 10:06
Got it Ed, but can't remember how I did it !
http://i1196.photobucket.com/albums/aa410/Smilin_Ed/011.jpg
What a marvelous memorial. I hope you will all join me in thanking the good folks of Albany, Walter .H, --- and the American Legion, for erecting and maintaining this tribute to our B.F.T.S comrades.

With many thanks to Ed. (Retired U.S. Navy Pilot, Graduate Navy Test Pilot School)

Dundiggin'
26th Jan 2011, 10:36
I was very touched by the memorial raised by the good citizens of Albany and area as a tribute to those killed in flying training in the area. Fantastic generosity and such a fitting tribute to those left behind.
Thank you folks! :D

Icare9
26th Jan 2011, 20:21
The American Legion branch (#30) in Albany, Georgia is named after a Walter H Burt.
Walter H. Burt Post 30, 2916, Gillionville Rd. Albany, GA 31721
Tel: 229-435-5450; Email: [email protected]

and it is a marvellous tribute to all those who aspired to gain their wings, (physical and metaphysical in many cases).

JDCAVE
22nd Feb 2011, 22:22
Hi: I am new to this forum, and am glad to see my colleague Cliffnemo from the lancasterforum on board here. Also interested to see "Fred" who may have been at Fairoaks at the same time as my father. F/Lt. HHM Cave was an instructor at Fairoaks (Rank of P/O and then F/O), 1942-1943. Dad later became a pilot on Lancasters with 419 Squadron, completing a tour, September 1944-March 1945.

Dad and colleagues at Fairoaks.

http://i714.photobucket.com/albums/ww142/JDCAVE/FairOaksAFlight.jpg

Jim

pbeach
3rd Mar 2011, 13:28
Within my Grandfathers record with the RAF, I have as one of his "movements"
a posting to HM The Kings Flight in 1948. I know what the Kings Flight is, but
can anyone explain to me how such a posting would come about, and whether it
was considered to be an honour, or not.

Regards
Paul

fredjhh
3rd Mar 2011, 21:38
pbeach
The King's Flight was formed before WW2 for King Edward VIII and was kept on by George VI. I don't know if it was continued during the war but it was later The Queen's Flight. I believe the Queen had to authorise every use of the aircraft, which included helicopters, and was also used by Cabinet Ministers. It would have been an honour to be appointed to the Flight, and the Ground Crew usually stayed until they retired from the RAF.
The Air Commodore, who was the Captain of the Queen's Flight, said the Ground Crew willingly worked all hours to make sure aircraft were in tip-top condition. If an aircraft, or helicopter, landed one man was always waiting with a paint pot and brush to touch up any spots.
For long flights the Queen usually used rented civil aircraft, or VC10s from 101 Squadron. The VC10 conversion to Royal furnishings could be carried out within 24 hours.
I had a conducted tour of the Flight at RAF Benson, just before it was moved from the RAF to civil contractors ( I believe Belgians! ) at RAF Northolt.
Fred

Fareastdriver
4th Mar 2011, 09:24
IIRC the Queens Flight de Havilland Herons had to withdrawn from service because they were so heavily polished that the fuselage skins became unacceptably thin. After that they were all painted all over.

debsholl
18th Mar 2011, 18:31
hi i am married to martin hollis who is ralph hollis nephew my son came across your post it seems you may have a picture of ralph and pam and any stories would be nice to hear my email is [email protected]

tarantonight
18th Mar 2011, 20:04
Have to agree with Post 2144 above. Before you know it, time has whizzed by. Just shows our interest and gratitude for this period in history.

TN.:D

rmventuri
27th Mar 2011, 20:34
Fred, do you remember any of the following pilots (instructors?) from Rufforth; F/O Clack (DFM), Sgt James, F/O Raymond, Sgt Stimson? I wonder if any are still alive.

I believe Clack was KIA in the Nuremberg raid 30/31 March '44 - his 2nd tour - must have been instructing between tours.

Wig Wag
25th Apr 2011, 18:35
I have already posted this on the Military Forum

http://www.pprune.org/military-aircrew/449569-flare-path-theatre-royal-haymarket.html

but this play is excellent because it appeals to any Military aircrew. There were plenty of RAF types in the audience and it's a terrific salute to Bomber Command pilots.

saraholton
16th May 2011, 14:33
Horsham St Faith 1942. I have been trying to find something of my mothers life during the war. I have a photograph of her which says "RAF HSF 19.3.1942 "Taken during practice gas attack. " Now against all real hope I have been trying to track anyone else that may have be stationed there at the same time. My mum was born in 1923 so would have been around 19 - although she told us she worked with the man that developed radar - so I am not sure if she may have been transferred. perhaps when the USAAF arrived at Horsham St Faith. If you would not mind I would very much like to send you a photograph to see if you can remember her - you never know! you can contact me on [email protected]

Viola
3rd Jun 2011, 11:43
I've been absolutely fascinated by the recollections on this thread.

It's a pity it slipped back several pages.

Fareastdriver
3rd Jun 2011, 15:28
The reason the momentum slackened on this thread was because of Posts 2022/23

Molemot
4th Jun 2011, 16:06
Looking back (as I had forgotten the subject matter of the posts you referenced) it seems that that particular subject was dealt with in the next few posts...there follows 6 pages of further fascinating reminiscences. I can see no apparent link between these two posts and the reduction of activity on this thread; it seems to me that all it needs is a few more qualified contributors....

Union Jack
4th Jun 2011, 16:34
I believe that a more realistic reason for the reduction of activity on this fascinating thread is Post 1892, which posted the sad news of the wonderful Regle's departure to a higher flight level. It would therefore be great to hear more from Cliff, who started the thread as well as other distinguished contributors such as Fred.

Yours in hopeful anticipation

Jack

Fareastdriver
5th Jun 2011, 09:16
People who fight in wars in any capacity know that their, and the actions of their colleagues, may not be squeaky clean in the heat of battle. If any of them write down their experiences as truthfully as they can remember they are not going to bother if their actions or those of the colleagues are immediatley slagged off or criticised because they are not technically legal.

The Germans may have looked after the cows in occupied countries; pity about the people.

kookabat
7th Jun 2011, 05:58
On a slightly happier note, the weekend just gone was rather significant in Canberra, Australia. It was the now-annual Bomber Command Commemoration Day. A meet & greet function in the shadow of G for George, a 460 Sqn Lancaster at the Australian War Memorial, kicked things off on Saturday night, then there was a ceremony on the Sunday morning and a lunch afterwards. Perhaps 250 people were at the lunch, 40 or so were veterans. Wandering around the tables talking to so many fascinating people was an experience, I can tell you.

Following the service on the Sunday morning, all Bomber Command veterans present assembled for a remarkable group photograph. I count 50 in this photo:
http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee27/kookabat/Bomber%20Command/Commemoration%20Day%20Canberra%20JUN11/11Jun-BomberCommandCanberra045s.jpg

Events like this help ensure that the heroes of Bomber Command are remembered.

Adam

canuck98k
24th Jun 2011, 04:33
Another clue is that my own mid-upper Gunner, Roy Burch, was also a Canadian and in the R.C.A.F. and would certainly know your Uncle as a fellow member of the Sgt's Mess. Once again, unfortunately, he was the only member of my crew to volunteer to stay on after I had finished my tour and was shot down and killed in March of 1944. The mid upper gunner was slightly wounded by the initial burst of fire. He was very lucky because he had, like a lot of the gunners were wont to do, taken out the armour plating that was placed just before his face in order to have better visibility, and I had noticed this in my preflight and told him to replace it. The German's first burst of fire had hit squarely on the plating and Roy, the Canadian mid upper, had received a splinter in his shoulder but it was a very slight wound.

Amazing thread.

Roy Burch was my great uncle. If anyone has any more information about this topic, I would greatly appreciate hearing from you.

Thank You.

November4
29th Jun 2011, 18:41
Slightly off topic as it relates to the First War....

Just had the latest newsletter from the RAF Museum - in that, it says that some private collections of photos from the First war have been posted on flickr. Amongst the images is an album showing RFC pilots being trained in America (http://www.flickr.com/photos/royalairforcemuseum/sets/72157626834014663/with/5831983130/) during the First war. Must admit that this was news to me.

A group from 80 CTS, Texas 9th March 1918 (http://www.flickr.com/photos/royalairforcemuseum/5831983130/in/set-72157626834014663/)

Union Jack
31st Jul 2011, 23:26
Remembering with the greatest admiration Captain Reg Levy DFC who, having contributed so enormously to this outstanding thread, took off on his last flight on 1 August 2010.

Jack

Madbob
1st Aug 2011, 08:10
Seconded, Jack. I never had the chance to meet Reg but we PM'd each other and felt I got to know him a bit. He must have been a great pilot to fly with. So self-effacing and modest about all of his achievements and always ready to listen to others.

Gone but not forgotten.

RIP Reg.

MB

Icare9
1st Aug 2011, 19:59
RIP Reg
A life well lived and a family to be proud of, and a family proud of you.
You enriched the lives of many.
A pebble in a pool, to remember you by...

glad rag
1st Aug 2011, 20:14
A year already.

RIP Reg.

gr.

kevmusic
16th Aug 2011, 00:04
Any more memories out there to keep this wonderful thread going?

A small, tenuous story, in the mean time. My father was in the army as a sergeant in WW2, and saw active service in France and Germany. Our family learned very little of his wartime experiences, though my elder brother and I developed a (seemingly unrelated) keen interest in flying and aircraft models - he, with balsa and tissue, me, being a decade later, with Airfix and Revell.

25 or-so years ago I became a 'C' Cat instructor with the ATC (photos documented in another, very long-running thread :O) at Manston, and as the parents were visiting the south to see me and my new, young family, I took Dad down to Manston and wangled him a flip with me in a Mk3. In the pub later on, he told me more about his WW2 service. He'd been a glider pilot. He told me about reading the advert in a Toc H club, going for interview, the selection, and his pride in being picked for training.

I couldn't believe it. I remember the moment, in 1986, like it was yesterday. He told me he'd been sent in on D-Day+1, with a Stirling as tug, and had crashed on landing, injuring his ribs and jaw.

As a family, we were in some kind of shock. He'd kept schtum all those years and the coincidence of me taking him aloft in a glider with RAF roundels was too much for him to keep to himself, I suppose. He died 12 years ago, and I still couldn't get too much out of him. But it seemed like my brother and I acquired a genetic love of flight!

Let's get out there & cajole some more of these heroes to get their memories down here!!

skua
16th Aug 2011, 08:26
Kev,

Lovely story. At risk of slight thread creep, you might enjoy a book I am just finishing: Joe's War by Anna Kubacka - all about her attempt to get her pa to unwind and reveal his upbringing and war experiences.
Skua

TommyOv
16th Aug 2011, 11:13
Kev, what a really nice story. Agreed that we need to get these stories written down while we still can.

Where are you Cliff?

Union Jack
16th Aug 2011, 13:38
An unashamed bump ...

.... or, in my case, an unashamed lump in the throat in the spirit of Kev's moving story.

Quite coincidentally, I paid my third visit to Pegasus bridge only yesterday afternoon, driving back via the Normandy Beaches after a few days in Provence.

As I stood there recounting to my wife, who had never been there before, what had happened in the early hours of 6 June 1944, and looked once again at the incredibly small area in which the Horsas had to land, and did, so close to the original bridge, I felt just as I did on the previous occasions, and couldn't speak for a while, enormously moved by the incredible courage and dedication of men such as Kev's Father and the brave men they flew.

Thank you so much Kev for sharing such a personal memory.

Jack

cliffnemo
21st Aug 2011, 10:09
Kev, what a really nice story. Agreed that we need to get these stories written down while we still can.

Where are you Cliff?


http://i274.photobucket.com/albums/jj248/cliffordleach/CESSNACLIFF.jpg

Hi Kev. Still 'pottering' . Things like flying to R.A.F Wickenby , courtesy Project Propeleller. Piloted by a director of Air-Ads ,Blackpool. in a Cessna 182.After take off on the return journey , at 300' he told me to take over and if I wanted to then climb to 2000' and fly to Hemswell. Smashing day . perfect 'vis' Our other passenger was ex W/OP \Lancaster. On landing at Blackpool he said he would like sometime to fly us to another airfield for lunch, which he did. He flew us to Elvington, bought lunch , wouldn't accept a penny.Another lovely day. Also had a few days camping and dinghy sailing on Coniston lake. ( Will post pic to thread, pictures of every one), Followed by Youth Hosteling at Welsh Bickton Ross-on-Wye. Just returned from Youth Hosteling, with my grandson, at the Friary Beverley. Had a smashing steak pie lunch at a pub near you ( Millington, The Gait Inn ) . Took grandson to R.A.F Woodvale show in the beach buggy, where the Battle of Britain flight made four passes.

kookabat
22nd Aug 2011, 05:59
Well then, you have indeed been busy Cliff... I was going to send you an email but bugger it, I'll post the question on here.

A Lancaster pilot's logbook that I have a copy of has an interesting comment and I was wondering if your Lanc systems knowledge might be able to supply an answer. He was on the infamous Nuremburg raid of March 1944, and his logbook entry for that flight reads as follows:

Operations - NURNBERG. Moon very bright and defences very active. Losses high. Bombed Wanganuis because of cloud. No troubles from defences. Had to use "M" blower. Petrol 1900.

The question: What's an 'M' blower? I spoke to a 115 Sqn pilot yesterday and he had no idea so I thought a flight engineer might be able to figure it out!

Best wishes,
Adam

Blacksheep
22nd Aug 2011, 06:51
Cliff; Youth Hostelling. :ok:

zhishengji751
22nd Aug 2011, 07:43
The question: What's an 'M' blower?

Hi,

Presumably that is referring to the 2 stage supercharger, and for what ever reason, he couldn't use the S or fully supercharged ratio. The two ratios are M and S.

regards,
Greg

angels
22nd Aug 2011, 08:20
blacksheep - Cliff; Youth Hostelling.

My thoughts entirely!

Cliff - blimey mate, you're looking well chipper! What's the secret? :ok:

UnionJack - no doubt you'll recognise this then.

http://i686.photobucket.com/albums/vv223/harlickbalham/CIMG1698.jpg

And remember that British glider pilots, once they're done their incredibly tricky and dangerous job, had to pick up a weapon and join in the fighting wheareas the American pilots were able to scarper back to the beaches and get a boat home! Lucky them!

cliffnemo
22nd Aug 2011, 10:35
The question: What's an 'M' blower?

Adam I never heard the expression 'm blower' However the Merlins were supercharged,and not normally aspirated. The super chargers did have an 'M' gear and an 'S' gear, which in ' S' gear ran faster to compensate for the drop in air density with altitude. So at low altitudes 'M' gear was selected. Should electrics, hydraulics, pneumatics fail then most items returned to a fail safe position, ready for landing. To clarify 'M' gear was always selected for landing. (I think, but memory ?)

Think 1900 would refer to amount of fuel loaded as 2154 gals = all tanks full.Or time >

With regard to photos of everyone, think it has been removed, and replaced with Sticky Photos of everyone sequel. It is difficult to access, does any one know an easy way.

cliffnemo
22nd Aug 2011, 10:41
QOUTE < cliff - blimey mate, you're looking well chipper! What's the secret? >QOUTE.

Simple. Just choose the right parents.

cliffnemo
22nd Aug 2011, 10:51
The only way I can load photos of everyone is to cut and paste ''http://www.pprune.org/jet-blast/448735-photos-everyone-sequel-3.html

in the address bar. Any better way ?

Prangster
22nd Aug 2011, 17:00
I'm still trying to figuer out how my old man managed after 60 odd bomber ops and already a Flt Lt Squadron Signals Leader with the DFC managed the short hop into the skippers seat. He always said that Don Bennett shuffled him into pilot training as a way to 'Stop me flying any more ops. The idea being the war would be over before I got back from Canada'. He was 156 Squadron's signals leader at the time

However, he would keep bumping into old mates now in training slots who kept him moving along nicely. He was at Hemswell's Lancaster finishing school in less time than it took to blink. How many other retreads went through the system? Was he one of many?

He managed 8 more ops before unbelievably he was invalided out when after all the flak and fighters he's dodged he was operated on at King Edward the 7th Hospital for Officers when he was diagnosed with bowel cancer. I remember that his old irvine jacket had flak holes in it

kookabat
23rd Aug 2011, 06:27
The super chargers did have an 'M' gear and an 'S' gear, which in ' S' gear ran faster to compensate for the drop in air density with altitude. So at low altitudes 'M' gear was selected. Should electrics, hydraulics, pneumatics fail then most items returned to a fail safe position, ready for landing. To clarify 'M' gear was always selected for landing.
Bingo, I reckon that answers the question. Many thanks Cliff, you're a font of knowledge as usual. :ok:

Adam

tow1709
20th Nov 2011, 13:06
It's been almost a year since I posted the penultimate instalment of Peter's memoirs, and the reason for the delay is that the last instalment had not actually been written down by Peter.

Instead Mrs TOW sat down with him while he talked through it, and she took handwritten notes, and later typed them up. I have made a few attempts at corrections where the original did not quite make sense. In fact I am still not sure what is meant by "...a forced powered approach and landing", so perhaps someone will be kind enough to explain.

Peter is still well and living in France with his wife Ann. He will be 89 years old next June. His town's Mayor visited him recently to tell him that he was now his commune's oldest resident! I think Peter saw that as a rather dubious honour - as if he was being lined up to be the next one to go!

Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed reading these memoirs over the last two or three years, and I hope that now this thread is back at the top again, others will be encouraged to continue in a similar vein.
TOW.



Due to the flying restrictions we were spending a lot of time away from base - either in Kristiansand or in Oslo at the weekends. When we were on base we spent most of our time sitting in German aircraft learning the cockpit layout because we still assumed that at sometime we would be officially required to fly these aircraft to Germany or somewhere else. However up until the time I left Norway nothing had happened, and everybody was getting rather frustrated. I found that what was going on was that the German aircraft were being serviced by the German aircrew and then they were given a short test flight by German pilots. I was able by making arrangements with an English speaking German pilot I knew to swap places with him and make a short flight in the two aircraft [Bf 109 and FW-190] already mentioned.

While still in Norway I had applied to remain in the RAF under a short service commission and I was waiting for results. Because of the “undercarriage incident” I had assumed this has not been granted, but I was suddenly posted onto a Flying Instructor Course. Doubtless they had read my reports and noted that I had been recommended to become an instructor by SFTS in Canada. However, before I went to the FIC I had to go to Yatesbury in Wiltshire which had been the Bristol Flying Club before the war and there I had to convert from high-speed aircraft to fly Tiger Moths!


It may seem strange to have to convert from high-speed fighters to a slow aircraft like the Tiger Moth but it was necessary because the technique of flying the Tiger Moth was so markedly different. Perhaps the best way of illustrating this is to describe two manoeuvres: a normal turn and a slow roll. In a normal turn in a high speed fighter all you did was to put on some aileron, ease back very slightly on the control column to keep the nose up and the aircraft would slide into a perfect turn. If you did the same thing in a Tiger Moth, all that happened was that the aircraft tilted in the direct you had moved the control column and in a few seconds began to slide into a banked attitude.

So in a Tiger Moth you had, at the same time as applying bank, to apply the correct amount of rudder to keep the turn and bank indicator needle on zero. This originally caused me quite a bit of difficulty but as time went on I found that I could do this quite well. The other thing about the roll that was so different was that in a high speed fighter all you did was to increase speed slightly either by a slight dive or opening the throttle and then whacking on full aileron and the aircraft would do a rapid rotation about the longitudinal axis. This rotation was fast enough keep you in the seat.

In the Tiger Moth you had to increase speed by first diving, then bringing up the nose. As you applied full aileron the aircraft would rotate. As the roll got to 90 degrees you had to apply top rudder to keep the nose up. As the roll continued to the inverted attitude, you closed the throttle because the Tiger Moth engine would not run this way up and at the same time you centralised the rudder and eased the stick forward to keep the nose up. Continuing the rotation on the downward side (through 270 degrees) you again applied top rudder to keep the nose up and brought the control column back again to the central position on the right or left-hand side. As you approached normal flying attitude you had to centralise all the controls and open the throttle again. Needless to say this required a great deal of practice and it was some time before I could do a smooth slow roll in a Tiger Moth. Of course in the Tiger Moth, the rotation speed was much slower and consequently on the inverted part of the roll you would be actually hanging on the straps because the rotation speed was insufficient to keep you in your seat

It is perhaps worth noting here that there are two other methods of rolling a Tiger Moth: the barrel roll and the flick roll. In the barrel roll you flew the aircraft in a spiral around an imaginary fore and aft line and there was a sort of a stretched out loop because you had to get up to a really high speed and fly the spiral part, all the time keeping the control column back as one would in a loop but at the same time going round this imaginary horizontal line. The rotation speed here was not very fast but because you were at all times pulling out as in a loop, you remained in the seat. Therefore it was in effect a stretched out loop.
The other method of rolling – the flick roll – was much more violent. You slowed down to about 5 or 10 miles an hour above stalling speed and then whacked on full rudder and stick fully back and the aircraft would flip into a rotation, go into auto-rotation and you then straightened out as soon as you were round the 360 degrees. In effect what you were doing was putting the aircraft into a spin in the horizontal plane and with a Tiger Moth this was quite easy. It was hard to get it into a spin in the first place but if you let go of everything it immediately recovered.

This was one of the troubles of a Tiger Moth. It was so easy to recover from a spin or a stall by letting go of everything that it was considered too safe to be an instructing machine and later on they changed to a Jet Provost as the primary aircraft.

I stayed in Yatesbury for about three or four weeks and the only thing I remember about it was that next door to the airfield was a major radar school and by Yatesbury railway station was the Harris Sausage Factory. The food was superb - they had a really good chef. The mess was staffed by civilians with a RAF warrant officer as manager and because it was civilian staff it didn’t have a waiter so we had to queue up and get the meal from a buffet. They used to open the doors to the dining room as soon as things were ready, so we queued up in the corridor outside and quite a lot of horseplay went on here. The WO, who obviously couldn’t say ‘come on you lads stop it and be sensible’, had a few words he would say in a loud voice: “Decorum, gentlemen – DECORUM! This usually sorted things out.

On the flying side, they once brought in a Handley-Page Halifax aircraft for use by the radar school in a trial. They stopped all flying while the aircraft approached the short grass airfield. The pilot made three approaches. On the first two he went around, but the third time he came in with quite high throttle settings and almost at a stall. He cut the throttles as he crossed the boundary and thumped onto the ground, rolled rapidly across the airfield and just before he hit the fence the other side, he put it into a controlled ground loop. Luckily the undercarriage withstood the sideways pressures. He managed to stop and taxi over to the parking place.

After Yatesbury I was posted to Booker at Reading which was where the Miles Aircraft Company was situated, and I undertook the Flying Instructors Course. This consisted of all the standard manoeuvres in a Tiger Moth but mainly you had to learn the official patter for each manoeuvre and to be able to coordinate the speech with what the aircraft was doing. This required varying speed at which you said things depending on the manoeuvre. I seemed to do all right on this and I remember on the final test with the Chief Flying Instructor, everything went well and then, on the approach he said I was to do a forced powered approach and landing and I remember that the patter finished up by saying ‘…that now with the aircraft in the landing position, one gently closes the throttle and the aircraft will sink onto the ground’. And as I said “ground” I felt the wheels touch. It was really quite a good feeling! I got my Instructor’s licence and it was marked in the front of my logbook. We had a couple of weeks leave and came back to our first course.

Initially we were given a course of chaps who had already got their wings who were being shunted around until they were being demobbed. We used to take them up as dual and let them fly for their allotted time. The favourite thing of one of my pupils was to fly upside down but I found this remarkably boring to sit there with the engine just rotating and gliding upside down so I used to allow him 10 minutes before telling him that I had control, flick roll it upright and start doing other more interesting things.

Then there was an odd occurrence which I can never explain. I can remember flying a Miles Magister which appears in my logbook but then I have a complete blank until I woke up in the RAFHospital in Swindon feeling absolutely terrible, and with a high temperature. I was told that they thought I had glandular fever plus carbon monoxide poisoning from the ride in the ambulance! In the medical tests that followed, they found that I was actually suffering from tuberculosis. I was immediately invalided out and my RAF career was ended.

The treatment for TB was to collapse the lung partially by air pressure and I couldn’t fly even as a passenger for some time. The next time I flew as a passenger was in 1956 when I went to Jersey with my wife for a holiday. Later, I flew several times as a passenger within Europe when working for Teddington Controls.

I never handled an aircraft controls again until after I retired and moved to France. A French neighbour, Guy, who was flying from the local club took me up several times in a DR400 Robin. On the second trip he indicated that he wanted me to take over. I hadn’t handled aircraft controls for nearly 45 years and yet I did so naturally with no problems. I didn’t do a landing because I found that my eyesight was not good enough to flip between outside and the instruments and I could no longer read the instruments clearly anyway. However, I enjoyed it immensely and it showed that once you have learned to fly, you don’t ever completely forget!

Capt Niff Naff
20th Nov 2011, 19:14
Do you think he meant 'fixed power approach'? ie none of that throttle pumping stuff!!
CNN

ExAscoteer
20th Nov 2011, 21:07
Possibly typos or errors in the transcription but Booker is in High Wycombe and was the home of 21 EFTS during the war (it's now Wycombe Air Park).


The Miles Aircraft Company was at Woodley which, of course, is just outside Reading.

NutherA2
20th Nov 2011, 21:50
In the mid 1950s the RAF basic flying syllabus on the Provost contained two sorts of forced landing, FL with or without power IIRC they were listed as ex 17a&b. 17a was also known as the "Precautionary Landing", the procedure was intended to achieve a safe off-airfield landing if one was caught out by bad weather or lack of fuel/daylight or whatever. It included finding a suitable field, flying a low-level circuit and approach to inspect the surface followed by another low level circuit and short-field landing.

In the 1980s at Scone the CAA basic syllabus featured the same exercise, perhaps it still does?

JOE-FBS
21st Nov 2011, 06:44
Precautionary landing is indeed still part of the PPL syllabus.

tow1709
21st Nov 2011, 07:59
...Booker is in High Wycombe...

ExAscoteer - thanks, I should have spotted this myself. Perhaps Peter meant Woodley, I will ask him about this and the so-called "forced power approach" next time I speak to him.

I am sure many of you know of this site or an equivalent already, but if you go here Content-Delivery - UK Aviation Content Provision (http://www.content-delivery.co.uk) and click on the first bullet, you can get an aerial view of lots of present and ancient UK airfields.

There is no longer any obvious trace of a runway at Woodley, but those that know exactly where to look might spot more clues than me.

kenparry
21st Nov 2011, 10:30
There is no longer any obvious trace of a runway at Woodley
That's right, the airfield site was built over some decades ago. The remaining traces are in some of the street names, of Miles aircraft. Woodley NBD still exists, on or close to where the airfield was.

fredjhh
1st Dec 2011, 18:23
It is very good to read a further instalment of Peter's memoirs.
Gliding and powered forced landings were in the 1941 EFTS syllabus at Fairoaks in 1941, (Section 17)
A very good description of the slow roll. I can still recite it by heart.
In my CFI test by S/Ldr Howard, I mouthed it silently, and I remember my sigh of relief as the CFI said, "Well done."
In later years, when flying as passenger in a Tiger Moth, I have always been told it was impossible to slow roll, and only the barrel roll was demonstrated. This happened also when flying as a passenger in Chipmunks of the ATC Experience Flights.
Best wishes to 'young' Peter. May he continue to be the oldest member of the commune.
fredjhh

boguing
1st Dec 2011, 20:09
I don't know if he is either mentioned on here, or perhaps a member of pprune, but I have met a family member who tells me that he was a Lancaster pilot who has been interviewed by the BBC.

If he hasn't appeared here, I will make every effort to meet and transcribe.

Padhist
2nd Dec 2011, 14:12
Hello Cliff, I have posted on this site in the past but have refrained lately because my early history was so close to your's, even our ages are the same.
Anyway i have once again been scanning this site and think that maybe I might have something to offer from my memoires. Starting with Chapter 4 My entry to Lords

Mrs. little boy goes to war.
I had completed the induction ceremony for entry into the R.A.F. some six months earlier. I had my little badge on my lapel at all times, indicating my selection for aircrew, that is, when it was not pinned to my chest when taking a bath. Perish the thought that someone might not realise that I was a pilot!
A pilot...When I had started this little adventure, my sights had been set on becoming an air gunner, but when presenting myself for selection among many others and much against my Father’s will. The gaffer in charge (a Flight Lieutenant), told us to enter our preferences as- Pilot, Navigator, Wop-A.G, Air-Gunner... “But Sir” I said, “I want to be an air gunner”! “Do what your told” he said! And feeling like Oliver Twist I said. “But Sir”...His look stopped further conversation so the preference was entered. I thought, never mind, when they realise I failed my Ph.D at St.Saviours elementary School I’ll be in the rear turret of a ‘LANCASTER’ before they could say Tally-Ho. That is if I don’t get thrown out on my own Tally-Ho anyway.
However, on the last day of the two day selection process and at the final interview, this very senior and obviously very intelligent officer. Chairman of the board of three, staggered me with the statement that I had been selected for Pilot training! Well! You could have knocked me down with a fender! I was five feet something tall on going into this two day selection program but I was seven foot coming out.
Following this selection and on the advice of the Air Force ‘medic’ I paid a visit to a dentist for some small fillings to be dealt with. During the manhandling by this butcher I felt a bit faint. He said “What branch of the air force did you say you were entering”? I had already told him! I told everyone... I couldn’t keep it to myself... I used to get mad at stupid people in the bus who obviously didn’t know what the badge on my lapel was for! Anyway I told him again. “A PILOT”!! “What” he said with a great guffaw of laughter, “You’ll never make a pilot, my brother in law went in for that and he was a great big strapping chap. He never made it.” I didn’t even enjoy the fillings.
Today was the big day and I was OFF TO WAR. Now, at this time I lived about thirty minutes walk from Lords cricket grounds and since there was no bus route and a taxi was out of the question, it did mean walking. I had packed, unpacked, and packed again for months! Just waiting for this moment, I could already see the headlines in the papers. ‘Group Captain ------ does it again’ as it spelled out my prowess in the air! Bidding goodbye to my tearful Mother, I flexed my muscles, picked up my very large suitcase and strode manly on my way without a backward glance. Except to see if she noticed that I had to drop the case a couple of times because it was so blooming heavy!
Until now I had not given much thought to the fact that I had been called forward to Lords. I had of course been to Lords on numerous occasions to see cricket. Now, it was to discuss the tactics of air warfare! With whom, I thought? How is this going to work out exactly? Who is going to be there to meet me? I imagined some senior officer fretting at the gate hoping that I would not fail to arrive...Wait a minute! There are umpteen gates at Lords and there was no indication of which one to report to on my papers! Anyway, now I come to think about it, why Lords? A reasonably sized office anywhere in London would have been good enough for me. They didn’t have to go to all this trouble!!
Anyway, these were just small administrative hangups and would clearly sort themselves out in due course. I must think how I am going to deal with the very senior officer who was sure to be at the gate, impatiently waiting for me. I could imagine it! He may just have taken a glance outside on the offchance of seeing me approaching. Ah! Mr ------. Sir. I’m so pleased you’ve managed to get here, everything is laid on. As soon as you have had your coffee and biscuits we will get you to the airfield!!!
I am now on the last lap. Gasping for breath after the three hundredth change of hands on the suitcase. The gates of Lords are coming into view. But what’s going on? It can’t be a match they don’t play now the war’s on. And every one of the blighters seems to be carrying a suitcase! I wonder where they are all going.
All day! All day! I stood with that milling motley mob waiting for something positive to happen. It eventually did so, in the shape of a dumpy Corporal who had spent his day wandering round the grounds searching for his squad! I was now an embryo squaddie. Then, like the Pied Piper he trailed us around until he had gathered his ‘Quota’ and formed it into ‘THREES’. Not forgetting of course the suitcases! I think it must have been at this moment when I realized why I didn’t dance much! Not only did my step appear to have a will of its own when it came to timing, but it also changed length without my knowledge! I suppose I was born to amble rather than March.
Eventually we were marched to our ‘billets’ which turned out to be one of the many rather plush private apartment blocks close to Lords and facing Regents Park. My hotel was in St. James Close. Often as a boy, I had seen expensive cars with chauffeurs outside these places so I thought; at least the accommodation was going to be nice! On entry it looked rather strange to see R.A.F. Corporals behind the reception desk. I had been used to luscious fillies and subservient flunkies...Well... in the films that is. However, after some time I was allocated a room on the fifth floor. I still hadn’t got the message though had I? Lift out of action, five flights of stairs to climb and where was the maid? Why did I need five poky iron beds in my bedroom? Why, the bed wasn’t even made? Where had the carpet gone? I think the light was dawning... There was going to be no tea in bed either.
I had told my Mother not to expect to see me until the war was over as I was going to be rather busy... This first day had been very long and I was completely whacked. The beds with their three biscuits didn’t look very inviting. These other four guys looked big and rough, they had obviously been booked into my room in error. I’ll have a word with the Corporal, but he does not appear to be very sympathetic though and won’t let me go home tonight. He said my first out would be at the weekend and that, only if I was very very lucky.

TommyOv
2nd Dec 2011, 19:06
Welcome to the site, Padhist!

Very much looking forward to reading more of your memoirs!

kookabat
3rd Dec 2011, 08:30
Now THAT, Padhist, is a cracker of an opening post on this thread. More, please!!

Adam

airborne_artist
3rd Dec 2011, 08:39
I can recommend a search for Padhist's previous posts. Some superb reading in there. His aircraft types flown list is to die for, and sadly many did, so it's even better having a true veteran to recount the tales.

Padhist
3rd Dec 2011, 09:13
(From the thoughts of Chairborne PAD)
Mrs Carlisle gets to see the sights
I was at this time a flying Instructor at RAF SYERSTON and although not part of the plot myself I was in on the detail. It was like this...Mrs Carlisle had expressed a desire to see the station and the married quarter site by night. So, her husband also a flying instructor hatched a plan. It was normal to plan night flying in the winter when darkness was early. So inevitably it was cold, and because the sessions were long, there were times when one would need a comfort break. In this event the instructor would stop the aircraft at the end of one particular runway and either he or his student would nip out and perform against an old war time shelter near bye.
The plan was that Mrs Carlisle, dressed in full flying kit, including head gear, would wait beside this shelter until her husband sent his student over, she would then take his place in the aircraft to fly over the station. Well! The best laid plans...In the event, another aircraft stopped with the same intention and when this student arrived at the shelter he was surprised to find another already there. However he was bursting so proceeded with the intricate task of finding, and releasing, a very cold willy through layers of flying clothing and describing the process in the vernacular of the crew room. Needless to say Mrs Carlisle did not say a word.....]But she did get to see the sights!.[/I]

Padhist
3rd Dec 2011, 09:20
Chapter 5

Early Days in the RAF

The early days spent at St.Johns Wood, were in fact quite hectic. I had chummed up with Chas Blythe, a Londoner from the East End who was in every way the opposite in character to me. He smoked, he drank and he womanized and in those days none of those attributes could have been recognized in me. (So there). Apart from getting kitted out with our uniforms, we were having medical and dental examinations, together with masses of inoculations. We were also doing some class work in various subjects. Let us start with the kitting out. The process was quite simple; we were marched to a large warehouse not too far away, in our squads of about forty to fifty strong. It must be understood there were many squads so the time spent queuing was long. We queued until we reached a long counter where we were given various items of clothing to make up a complete uniform. No attempt was made to see if the items fitted, and all was stuffed into a kitbag also supplied. We were then marched back to our billets where we tried things on. If it fitted we kept it, if it did not fit we applied to go on an exchange parade. This process continued until we looked like airmen. You can imagine what we looked like in the middle of the process, half equipped, part uniform, part civvies.

The Medicals en-masse was my first experience of seeing crowds of chaps all starkers with their undercarriages down. That took a little getting used to. Also surprising to me may I say, was the proximity of the Doctor when he said cough. This always seemed a very matey way to discover whether or not one had a cold!

We used to queue for hours outside Abbey Lodge, another of the ex apartment blocks. A building which was used for the mass inoculations, in fact whilst we passed in queue’s slowly along the walls of the building, we used to read the poems etched into the walls by the chaps who had passed before us. Very good some of it was too. When we did eventually get to the medical area we had Doctors and medical orderlies each side of us tackling each arm with their needles and vaccination knifes it was like a sausage machine. Needless to say, like the heroes we were, we gritted our teeth and kept our undercarriages up and locked.

Our Dining Hall was the original restaurant of the London Zoo. This was about ten to fifteen minutes march from our billets. Of course there were some but not many animals at this time and certainly none of the original dangerous ones, these had been moved or put down due to the current emergency. The problem was, that there were so many of us queuing that quite often by the time it came our turn to eat, it would be time to go. Of course the Corporals had gone to the head of the queue and had plenty of time to eat. During the marches to and fro it was not difficult to see which squad had been jabbed, all marching with one arm stationary at their sides. Lo and behold any wag who even pretended to make a pass at the sore arm in those days.

I recall one occasion when we had returned to our billets and the Corporal dismissed us for the morning. My Pal Chas promptly turned round and jumped on a bus. He went home! In the morning on parade the Corporal asked why he had disappeared he replied. “Well Corp, you said dismiss I thought that was it for the day so I went”! Well you can imagine that did not go down too well. But that was my mate Chas.

As far as I can remember we spent about two or three weeks at St Johns Wood and then the Postings came in. The bright sparks, went off to Initial Training Wing and the rest of us were posted to Brighton where we were to undergo courses in maths and signals among many other subjects.

Padhist
4th Dec 2011, 08:26
This is somewhat out of sequence but I thought you might like something with a bit more meat in it. This was almost my last flight in the RAf.


The night London Airport was mine

I was coming to the end of my 3 year tour with the Blind Landing Experimental Unit (BLEU) at RAE Bedford, where I had been posted to carry out the automatic landing trials on the Vulcan. These trials had been initiated after it was realised that in the event of a nuclear attack upon the British Isles, there would be a need to disperse the Vulcan (V.Force) to designated airfields around the country. Since this would have to be carried out regardless of the prevailing weather conditions there was clearly a requirement for an ‘All weather landing system ‘. Automatic landing was the obvious choice.
The main test aircraft at BLEU were Varsity’s. These sturdy twin engine aircraft were used in all manner of tests apart from Automatic Landing. They were pleasant to fly and could carry an immense amount of test equipment and ‘Boffins ‘. In addition to the Varsity, Auto Land was installed very successfully in, Vulcan, Comet 4, Canberra and the American Airliner the DC 7. When flying the latter we always had the aircraft’s American captain on board and oddly enough we had to obtain a Private Pilots Licence, validated for that aircraft.
We flew in all weather conditions as a matter of course, and indeed, sought out airfields we knew were closed due to bad weather to assess the available approach lighting facilities. Occasionally Mr Calvert the grand master of Visual Aid Studies flew with us and it was he who declared. The Varsity was the perfect vehicle in which to carry out these tests in relative safety. Many of these airfields were American and I often wondered what their aircrews thought when they heard a solitary aircraft doing circuits and bumps in thick fog when they could hardly see to drive their cars.
The validity of these tests is self evident. There can be few pilots who enjoy the prospect of a long instrument approach, the transition from instruments to visual, through an uncertain cloud base and variable ground conditions such as, rain, snow, mist or fog. The inputs imposed upon a pilot at the latter stages of an instrument approach are enormous. I recall a senior line pilot saying during a lecture on this subject.....”At 100Ft when you have yet to see the runway, following an instrument descent, you reach the threshold of PAIN.” He was so right.
All our automatic landing tests were carried out using a single channel system. That is to say one of each piece of equipment, Autopilot, Radio Altimeter, ILS (Instrument Landing System) receiver.etc.The proposed civilian versions (Trident) would have three of everything as a safety, belt and braces measure. The whole process, apart from some switch pulling, was automatically controlled....Height and heading....ILS and glide path acquisition ...And one of my favourite items ‘Automatic throttle control...‘ Dial your speed’...What more could one ask for. It meant that the pilot could literally sit ‘ Hands off ‘with confidence until the point of touchdown. In the event of any crosswind, the drift angle was automatically kicked off just before this point. Naturally in fog one does not anticipate strong wind.
We had a long standing contingency plan that if London Airport was ever closed because of fog we would go in and carry out circuits and landings to demonstrate the system. On the 4th December 1962 my colleague ‘Pinky Stark’ went there to do just that but unfortunately his aircraft lacked a vital piece of test equipment which was to have given him directional guidance after the automatic pilot had been disengaged on landing. He was thus restricted to do touch and go landings. Had the fog been less dense and he could have seen at least two centre line lights he would of course have carried out full stop landings.

On the 5th December 1962. Having flown the Comet in the morning I was told to be ready to take a Varsity to London Airport that night to complete the demonstrations. On this occasion I would have the aircraft equipped with the new ‘Runway Guidance Indicator’. This was in ‘Breadboard state ‘. Not yet built into the instrument panel. It consisted of a tube passing over my right shoulder, projecting a Sperry Zero Reader ILS signal onto a ‘Head Up Display’, on a glass prism, mounted on the instrument panel coaming. This piece of equipment was essential in the exceptional conditions which prevailed. The actual ( RVR ) Runway Visual Range on this night was 45 Feet. To put that into perspective, runway centre line lights are spaced at 100Feet, thus only one centre line light could be seen at any one time. Another interesting observation would be...That an observer standing at the edge of the runway, would be unable to see a fully lit Vulcan, stationary on the centre line! I had never before experienced fog as dense as this. The London Airport runway is 300ft wide and the Vulcan a 110ft wingspan.
We took off from Bedford at dusk and carried out two circuits and full stop landings to test the new ‘Runway Guidance’ equipment. It was working efficiently so we left Bedford and was soon circuiting London Airport. The conditions were most unusual; above 300 feet the sky was clear but in the London basin lay this dense ‘ Pea soup’. There were no signs of lights beneath.... London was at a standstill... No buses, no trains... We were to learn that none of the VIP’s scheduled to join us for the demonstration could get to the airport.
However, we were there and plunging into the ‘soup’ on ‘Auto’s using the standard ILS, for azimuth and glide path indication... Soon after we entered the fog we heard the clatter of ice being thrown off the prop’s onto the fuselage....De-icers on...We were already ‘locked’ on the glide path and quite soon the Inner marker beeped, there was no sign of approach lights although we knew they were on....Touch-down still no lights, but we were on the centre line as I could feel from the centre line light pods touching our nose wheel.....Throttles and Auto-land were switched off and I kept straight manually using our new toy...runway guidance.....very gingerly on the brakes lest they cause a swing and so to a full stop. Now, not being able to see any lights at all, how was I going to turn around and return to the take off point? LAP Airfield Radar came to our aid and was able to navigate us through 180 degrees and direct us back to the take off position for a further circuit.
We were supposed to gather up a number of VIP’s at this point but as I have said the fog was such that they were unable to get to LAP. We did however manage to pick up Captain Poole the BEA training pilot. He was brought out in a van navigated by the splendid Ground Radar...I’m sure they could see a Ferret cross the runway.
We carried out four circuits and landings and returned to Bedford....I have often wondered what the authorities would have said had they known that my Instrument Rating had expired some days before!!!!!

Flt.Lt.C. Grogan AFC

TommyOv
5th Dec 2011, 11:25
Bump.Excellent stuff padhist. There can't be too many people with a DC7 rating on a PPL!

glojo
5th Dec 2011, 18:01
Wowww
I have just spent the last four days reading this whole thread and I must confess I had a HUGE lump in my throat when I read the news about Reg, someone I had never met, heard of, but yes I confess to feeling emotional when I read of his passing.

After reading over two thousands messages I guess my main thought is how we are now treating these folks: how our generation is looking after these heroes which includes their wives or in modern speak partners. I find it terrible that these brave 'average' people were willing to sacrifice their lives all in the name of freedom and yet are now sometimes treated by our health service in a manner that is considered unacceptable for those people that we incarcerate behind bars... Every year we salute these brave men and yet we now tell them to sell their house if they want long term medical support!! Shame on us all and shame on our Members of Parliament for allowing this :O:O

Apologies if that rant is political, but it is NOT aimed at any specific party it is aimed at this country but enough of my moans and the way we are treating a generation that allowed us the freedoms we are now able to enjoy.

CliffNemo I have a few questions and wonder if you are still able to answer them.

Firstly you volunteered for active service and wanted to be a pilot. You successfully completed the training course but were 'volunteered' to change skills. I accept that the Flight Engineer had an important role but if it were me, I would be devastated if I was a qualified pilot and ended up as the flight engineer. Did you ever try to revert back to being a pilot or did you just accept this as a fait accompli.

I believe some posts vaguely mention radar controlled searchlights and the 'blue beam'. Could you or anyone else explain this in more detail please? Does the ground radar give height, course, and speed, or does it do more and link the guns to a type of controlled fire?

I read how it took fully laden bombers a considerable distance and time to climb to their operational bombing height, but then I read how aircraft would regularly 'corkscrew' all the way to the target. I am just thinking how easy was it to regain the height and by how much this would extend the flight time?

I believe a tour was defined as thirty night mission that had to be completed and had to be of a certain distance? Reading through these messages it appears that this can take anything between 12 - 24 months to achieve. Is that correct and how long would they be rested for? I did read how folks would move into non operational posts but there were also those that went back onto a front line posting.

Lack of Moral fibre
This phrase sends a shiver down my spine. On this thread we see pictures of men in their early twenties whose hair is already going grey. Stress is something EVERY human being can suffer from and we all will deal with this in our own way. I guess I compare it to a boiler.... Light the fire and the steam builds up and without a safety valve or a way of controlling that flame then the boiler will go bang.

With stress if we do not control that flame or release that safety valve then our body\mind will without a shadow of a doubt......... Go bang. Is this term lack of moral fibre used when folks turn round and say enough, or is it someone that refuses to fight without ever making any type of effort?

I had better stop my ramblings as there will be others with FAR, far more interesting things to say, but THANK YOU for starting this thread.

I have tried getting the dhoby wallah to sort out that damaged picture but he tells me it should be the job of the photo wallah. I do not have the proper skills but hopefully someone here will volunteer to do a better job than my efforts.

https://dl-web.dropbox.com/get/HARDY.jpg?w=4af37311

https://dl-web.dropbox.com/get/HARDY1.jpg?w=d4420d19


Yours very sincerely
John

Padhist
6th Dec 2011, 11:57
Chapter 6


Brighton

The aim of this course was to improve our knowledge of Math’s. I have always thought it strange that so much emphasize was placed on this subject and yet I can recall of no situation where such knowledge for a pilot was necessary. The most interesting book I ever had, written by Air Commodore Kermode, was. Flight without formulae. It required no mathematical knowledge...This for flying instructors was almost a bible. It was rather like the myth of timekeeping when related to aircrew. So many people think that to fly an aeroplane, particularly in the Air Force, one requires split second timing. I never found this to be so and certainly I never did manage to synchronise my watch within seconds with everyone else and I rather doubt if anyone ever did manage it. We have all seen the American films where scores of aircrew are assembled and the Boss man say's... Right synchronise you watches. And about two seconds elapse and everyone is happily synchronised. You try it, with just about three people.....Usually so long as you have the day right you are OK. Oh yes! And all take off in the same direction.

I spent six weeks at Brighton and a good portion of the time was spent doing P.T and drill on the seafront. We had a Corporal P.T. instructor, who must have done a Charles Atlas course, because he was built like the film star version of a Tarzan and was bronzed as only you see on the films. Of course there was nothing he liked more than to Lord it over us in front of the civilian onlookers. You can imagine we looked a pretty sorry lot of wimps against him. I think he slept under a sunlamp! But he was good looking and we all did envy him.

At the end of our six weeks we were beginning to look and feel like airmen we were certainly fit and felt very proud of ourselves as we marched around the town. Brighton was a nice place to be, the weather was glorious, and we were the Brylcream boys, getting two and six pence a day, what more could we want? Yes, we wanted to get on with our training and get into an aeroplane. However before that we had the hurdle of Initial Training Wing (ITW) and little did we know the Powers That Be' had a surprise up their sleeves for us. Contrary to our expectations, before going to ITW we were posted to LUDLOW on the Welsh border for, as they said, a toughening up course.

Padhist
6th Dec 2011, 12:00
Chapter 7


LUDLOW

From Brighton as I have said, we should normally have gone straight to I.T.W. (Initial Training Wing) but for reasons we shall never know we were posted to LUDLOW. What a strange posting that was! I recall a very long march from Ludlow Station to the Camp, which was exactly that. A tented camp in wide open country. Fortunately the weather was not too bad but the nights were cold. This posting has always been shrouded in mystery. It would appear that the land was owned by a very rich landowner, a Major Critchley. We called ourselves Critchley's Army. Our best blue was put away in our tents on arrival and we never used it again until we were posted out. This caused me a great problem which I will explain later.

On our first parade clad in tatty denims, we were asked if there were any construction specialists among us. There were some, but Chas and I thought it prudent to keep quiet, that proved to be an error, because we immediately became labourers working for the specialists. In fact we became manual concrete mixers. The plan seemed to be to set up a large camp having roads and concrete walled buildings with tented roofs. I say seemed to be, because we never saw a plan and because of the lack of supervision nothing seemed orderly. There was a mass of material, sand, cement, concrete bricks, pipes for drainage and for water, tools, etc, etc.

The following day when specialists were called for, Chas and I stepped smartly out and claimed to be 'Steel Constructors' that seemed a nice safe bet, but low and behold we were welcomed with open arms. There was a very large Nissan Hut to be erected and we were the first ‘Experts’ in this business. Of course we couldn't back out having volunteered our expertise. I must say we had a lot of fun building this monster. We had no plans so it really was the blind leading the blind. We did succeed in erecting most of it before we left. Not though without having had some nasty incidents due to our own inexperience.

As I said the nights were cold and there were quite a few chaps going down with Dysentery due to the poor water supply. One such was a chap named Duck I recall one morning early, he said to all in the tent “I’m very sorry chaps I had an accident in the night and when I tried to get out of the tent in a hurry the door had iced up I lost control...but I will clean it up"

Ah yes my big error!! When we arrived I wrote my letters to Mum and the girl friend and being a nice sort of chap I went round to everyone asking if they had letters to post I would take them. Of course what did I do? I put my letters in my best blue jacket pocket and forgot them but posted all the others. Naturally, I got no replies to my letters because the family did not know my new address. But I was cussed enough not to send any more letters until they had replied to mine. This went on until I was posted to Paignton and changed into best Blue, when I found the letters in my pocket. Well... I had to explain that I had been on a secret mission didn't I!!!!

glojo
6th Dec 2011, 20:15
Is there anyone here that keeps in touch with the instigator of this excellent thread? The cold nights are starting to set in and I guess I miss reading his excellent posts :O :)

Regards,
John

Padhist
8th Dec 2011, 13:17
Chapter 8


Initial Training Wing PAIGNTON

This was going to be the big test for us because it would determine if we were to go on to any form of aircrew category. It was a three month course and covered such subjects as, Navigation, Theory of Flight, Armaments, Signals, Meteorology, and of course plenty of Drill, and Physical Training.

I was allocated to the Ramleigh Hotel which was a small pre-war Guest House having about 15-20 rooms. We 'Guests' were about four or five to a room, each with the usual iron bed and three biscuits. It must be understood this was a classic system in the services. Your bed and its surround was your bed space. It also included a cupboard/wardrobe. Each day you were required to clean your bed space and make up your bed. Your three biscuits were piled neatly one upon the other and your four blankets were folded to form a neat cube on top. We were lucky also to have sheets which were placed neatly between the blankets. Every day there was a room inspection whilst we were out and punishments abounded if we were caught with anything out of place or the area not clean and tidy.

Paignton was a typical south coast holiday resort and a very nice quite little town, one of the many which most wartime aircrew will have passed through at this point of their training. Of course the beaches were all defended with barbed wire and anti landing craft barriers. So there was no lying about sunbathing after a swim.

The routine was quite strict and we were obliged to work at our studies and our drills. We had a course Sergeant who was our ‘Mentor’ and our ‘tormentor’ depending upon the occasion and how he felt.

Because our places of study, eating and living were dispersed over some distance it was necessary for us to move around very quickly and so we were obliged to march at a faster pace than usual, this took some getting used to and was pretty tough at first. Our dining hall was about two to three hundred yards up the road so that was not bad, but our main area of study was a lovely old country house about twenty minutes fast march away. If the day's schedule was worked out well, we went to the house just once. However, on occasions it meant two journeys and that made for a hard day and sometimes short meal breaks.

One of the very colourful characters we had was a Warrant Officer P.T.I ( Physical Training Instructor) who called himself CHANG we were the 'Sons of CHANG' and by golly he used to make us hop. He was housed in the Rotunda of the country house. It was there also that apart from study we did our physical training. Chang's lair was known as the Temple and we did not dare go in there. I suppose he was the chief torturer. When we started we were taken on runs of three-five miles in gym kit and plimsolls but, as the course progressed we were putting on more and more gear until, and I will never forget, the final run which was in full kit with gas capes, masks and rifles. I'm glad I didn't join the Army.

Once we got into the routine we had a lot of fun. I formed one of a group of chums Chas Blyth, Jimmy Connors and Pat Downey we spent all of our spare time together and of course got into all sorts of mischief, most of it very innocent, but some I prefer to forget. Unfortunately Jimmy and Pat never made it as Pilots and became Navigators. They were both later killed in action. It was Jimmy who, whenever we sat at a table in a cafe would greet the waitress with "Tickle your arse with a feather" and when the waitress hesitantly replied.” I...I beg your pardon”...He would reply "Particularly nasty weather" Leaving the poor girl to wonder if she had heard what she thought she had. All four of us were in the football team and although it nearly killed us each time we played, we enjoyed it. Our toughest match was against the Durham Light Infantry who were in accommodation quite close to us.

On one occasion the Durham's were preparing for a General's inspection and we used to hear the progress reports leading up to this. They had dummy inspections every few days for weeks and many of them were placed on charges for minor infractions. However, the night before their big day we asked if all was going to be OK. They replied “of course”, because their bed spaces had by now been passed OK and they had no intention of sleeping or disturbing them again until after the inspection!!! What an organisation.

As one might imagine life was not without its incidents and we were a group of very fit young lads leading a somewhat monastic life. This did not suit everyone. Two such were in the next room to us and we were often puzzled why they were always sending parcels home, usually it was the other way round. One day it was made clear. The Police came and arrested them for Burglary. They had been systematically robbing shops at night. Needless to say they were thrown off the course and I believe out of the Air Force.

Well the end of the course eventually came and the tradition was that we were sent on a two weeks leave and on our return, the train arriving around midnight, we were to see the results of our endeavours posted on the notice board. If we had passed, and all four of us had, we gained our first promotion to L.A.C. Leading Aircraftsman. This meant a rise in pay from two shillings and six pence a day to, (I think) seven and six pence. This new found wealth had strange consequences because, having for the first time, 'folding money' we decided to celebrate with a restaurant lunch, that was great after all the service cooking we had endured over the last few months. However it ruined us because when we saw our food in the mess hall the following day, we decided we couldn't face it and went to the restaurant again, so instead of benefiting from our rise in pay we found it hard to live on it. Up to that time we had never really thought about money. So much for riches!!

TommyOv
8th Dec 2011, 22:05
How fantastic to have another regular contributor to this thread.

The basic training of airmen is a part of history that is insufficiently covered, given the thousands that went through it. Great to hear it from the horse's mouth.

Padhist - I'd be interested to know the demographic of the potential aircrew intake in your basic training courses. The stereotypical image of aircrew - particularly pilots - is is of course the public school type. Surely this must be a myth? I would have thought that all who were capable would be selected?

Keep the memoirs coming!

kookabat
9th Dec 2011, 07:14
Paddy,
Agree fully with Tommy there - it's really good to hear about an airman's basic training. Something that every airman went through but it gets a bit lost in all the talk of operations and Lancasters and Halifaxes and... - but still a vital part of the overall story. Really pleased you've decided to share them with us!

Glojo,
I've sent Cliff an email... will advise what comes of it.

Adam

glojo
9th Dec 2011, 07:34
:)

Thank you very much, I did send both a pm and an e-mail via the forum option but hopefully you will have more success.

We have folks that might be able to restore some of his excellent photographs, which I feel is the very least we can do to thank this gentleman for this invaluable piece of historic nostalgia.:ok:

Regards
John

cliffnemo
9th Dec 2011, 11:59
Hi Josh and Kookabat et al . It was very nice of you to P.M me re my health.I have just returned from hospital and the news is not good. Although I look and feel O.K I have had some bad news (to be confirmed next week.) I do not want to say to much, but I asked the M.O, as I had stopped smoking my pipe and my nightly two pints,was there any point in abstaining, and surprisingly he replied light your pipe and enjoy yourself (nuff said). Josh all the staff at Fazakerley Hospital were perfect , wards clinically clean, and food good. with all the staff very responsive, and the dealt with any request immediately.

Just busy at the moment enjoying a cigar, (brandy later) will try to write at greater length when I have dealt with my emails and facebook. I'm C.f Leach on facebook ,if any one would like to investigate.

CLIFF.
Although the copy reads FACEBOOK after submitting it reads FACE PPRUNE ?

Second attempt at editing F A C E B O O K
Third attempt AND LAST
F
A
C
E
B
O
O
K

fredjhh
9th Dec 2011, 17:06
GoJoa
Tours were generally 30 operations and usually completed in 6 months, - if you lasted that long. There was a time after D-Day when the number was increased because of the shorter distances, and I knew one man who completed his tour in nine weeks. A rest between tours was usually six months.
The Blue Beam seemed like a more powerful light and the master beam of a clutch - probably coupled to the radar. After the war, a Major in the Ack Ack told me his radar lost contact with an aircraft if it dived more than 400 feet because, "The gyros toppled." Perhaps German radar was better than ours!
I am probably the only corespondent to this thread who knew Reg, so I would never question his claim to have "Corkscrewed all the way to Berlin." I only heard of Corkscrew after I had been shot down, but I tried it out when flying Wellingtons after the war. You would have needed a blacksmith's arms to continue it long in a Halifax, - and a very tolerant Navigator. Normal evasion was altering course and height by small amounts and without a pattern, otherwise the Navigator would have something to say! On my last op we were told only to use height evasion, nothing lateral, until the final bombing run.
TommyOv
In a barrack room of 32 at SFTS there were 21 U/T pilots who were teachers. bank clerks or insurance clerks. One man was a university lecturer and two were from minor public schools. Three had been ground staff. All graduated as Sergeants as, on transfer to a new airfield the staff, the CGI (a former public school master), refused to commission the 13 men selected for commissioning, "because they did not know us."
At the next unit, after two weeks leave, the two public schoolboys appeared as officers. One was the son of a very well known Amateur Golfer!
Fredjhh.
CLIFF.
Glad to see you back, but very sorry to hear of your health problems. Fred.

glojo
9th Dec 2011, 17:38
Hi Fred,
THANK YOU very much for the most informative answers. I do hope my post did not appear to doubt the 'corkscrew' comments as nothing could be further from the truth. I was addicted to this thread as it managed to put me into the aircraft and having read how long it took a fully laden aircraft to reach its designated height, I was just wondering how long it would take to get back up to its correct height, and then would this add extra time carrying out these manoeuvres.


as I type this a voice in my head is asking how the aircraft would keep within formation but I guess the answer was these brave aircrew never really flew in what I term a formation? (question)

I wonder how many folks in subsequent generations fully appreciate what our parents\grandparents actually had to endure. My father NEVER really talked about his experiences, he served on what was called DEMS and just for TankeTrashNav to stop him from asking Mr Google, that is Defensively Equipped Merchant Ships. Okay click here (http://yourarchives.nationalarchives.gov.uk/index.php?title=Defensively_Equipped_Merchant_Ships_%28D.E.M .S%29). Research has told me that Russian convoys would last ten days each way and the crew would be lucky to get four hours sleep per day... ten days out, ten days back and conditions that most of us could not begin to imagine. was that any more or any less dangerous??

Respect to you VERY brave men and respect to all those that were prepared to put there lives on the line and THANK YOU VERY MUCH for taking the time to answer my queries..

Padhist
11th Dec 2011, 07:50
TommyOv
You are right. The popular idea that a pilot must have had a university training, be 7 feet tall,3 feet wide, with a big handlebar moustache was rubbish. As I said in my earlier memoirs...I failed my P.hd at St Saviors Elementry School. Also I did not 'Solo' within the 10 hours, but still managed to qualify as an A1 Instructor and in Singapore had the privilege to certify civilian instructors.
Myths blown!

Padhist
11th Dec 2011, 07:56
Chapter 9

High Wycombe... First flying.

I was posted to High Wycombe and happily Chas was still with me. The course was 12 hours flying on Tiger Moths. We were expected to go solo at about 8 hours. This course would decide whether we would be selected for Pilot, Navigator, or, I hate to think what. The weather at this time had clamped down and I remember waiting day after day for the cloud base to lift sufficiently for us to be taken on our first air experience trips. One day! This was it, my Instructor said get ready and there we were, airborne, climbing through the drizzle, it seemed for ages when suddenly we broke cloud and I saw the most wonderful sight I had ever seen before. As far as the eye could see was the pure white rolling cloud tops, capped by the clear blue sky above. It was very cold of course because in a Tiger Moth your head is outside and there is no heating system. At one moment my Instructor pointed out to me a lovely picture. It was the shadow of our aircraft on the cloud with a rainbow surrounding it. That day, that view, is for ever in my memory.

The weather cleared and we got down to the task of learning to fly. It was quite exciting. I remember one day when I had been learning Stalling, my Instructor said I must be more positive in pushing the stick forward to recover from the stall. So I was! I pushed the stick forward so hard we finished up in a vertical dive. I was terrified. I thought it was the end.....A quiet voice said “Well that was positive" as he pulled us out of the ensuing dive.

As we progressed there were all the stories of our achievements or failures at the end of the day in our billets. Of course there were the line shooters, the born pilots who were having no trouble at all, and would have soloed that day, if only.. If only. Then there were the miserable ones like me who couldn't land the blessed aircraft. I either thumped the ground with such a bang we bounced back up to circuit height. Or I held off so high I scared the Instructor silly. Of course the inevitable happened Chas came in and said "Soloed yet” knowing of course that I hadn't but he had. "Never mind, he said, you might be lucky enough to be my Navigator".

At eight hours there was a Flight Commanders Check. By this time I had realised that my upper air work must be O.K or I would have been out on my ear by now as some already had been. My problem was landing. However we came in for the landing on my Check Flight and bingo! It greased in on all three perfectly. The Flight Commander was quite impressed. I had passed. My Instructor came storming into the crew room saying “Right... Grogan lets see one of these greasers of yours”. Well up we went but I was back at my old tricks again and still couldn't land. This state of affairs continued until my final Check with the Squadron Commander. Of course most of us were scared of failing these checks because there was no second chance. Once again I pulled off a greaser. I can only, on reflection, think that I was so scared on landing that I sat petrified on the stick and the airspeed decayed naturally to produce a normal landing. With hindsight I do think that a better Instructor should have understood my problems and reached a solution. Anyway I hadn't Soloed and Chas had. It looked as though I was going to have to learn Navigation.

I cannot leave High Wycombe without a mention of the Flight Sergeant I seem to remember his name as Flood. What a terror he was. He used to stand outside his hut near the main gate and the slightest fault would alert him. I'm sure he had eyes in his back. If you were caught out, no mercy, it was not at all difficult to lose your weekend off and that was serious stuff because by this time I had my first girlfriend. Thelma........Nuff said.

Padhist
11th Dec 2011, 08:06
Chapter 10

Heaton Park Manchester

This was where we were to learn our fate as to what aircrew category we were to become, also where, in the world we would carry out our training. A few would stay in the U.K. but the majority would be sent overseas under the Empire Training Scheme Plan, to South Africa, Rhodesia, Canada or America. During my stay at Heaton Park I was billeted out with a family living in a small semi detached house on the outskirts of Manchester. Mr and Mrs. …….. and their son. On my arrival I was read the house rules. That's Faithers chair so you don't sit in that, you can sit there! Now in the morning you have a choice, Faither, as it was pronounced, uses the bathroom between ten to eight and eight o-clock he will bring you up a cup of tea at seven thirty, you must use the bathroom either before or after him.!!! Well it all sounded a bit funny but it worked very well, we never got in each others way and everyone knew the system. Faither was a very nice man, completely henpecked and Moother ran the house with a rod of iron all five foot nothing of her. When she was in a temper Faither and Son used to hide in the shed at the end of the garden and I used to make myself scarce until the steam stopped coming from the roof!!

We used to go into camp each day and hope that our turn had come for news and it was common knowledge that the landladies would know the details of ones posting long before it was announced to us. We would regularly be taken to a cinema which we filled and have to listen to a whole batch of names being read out L.A.C. Bloggs selected for Pilot training and posted to Rhodesia or wherever, eventually our turn came. We were quite sure that Chas would become a Pilot having soloed at Grading School and that my chances were slim. However, surprise surprise Grogan for Pilot training in the United States and C. Blythe for Navigator training in Canada. Well what a nasty temper he showed that day and I felt very smug as I told him I was confident all along and knew he didn't have what it takes to be a Pilot, but with a bit of luck and if he worked hard he might get to be my Navigator.
In fact, I met up with Chas again at Moncton and learned that although he had been posted to Medicine Hat in Canada for his navigator training, for some unknown reason has training was changed to that of pilot and to prove it he had his wings. We had a good party together but I never saw him again after Monkton.

Padhist
11th Dec 2011, 08:19
Chapter


Off to the States by Queen Mary

What excitement!! A posting to Miami U.S.A. All those sun drenched beeches, lovely American dolly birds and the cream of Britons youth!! What a cocktail? And we were ready to mix it. Little did we know at this time that the Miami was in Oklahoma the dust bowl of America, and not Florida as we thought .No matter, we were on our way and after some embarkation leave we boarded a train for Gourock in Scotland. It was quite a long train journey and of course it must be remembered it was war time. The train was packed with all sorts of armed forces and train times were plucked from a hat. Of course no restaurant car. (Even if we had the cash)

Following our arrival at the Port we were obliged to board a lighter to take us to our boat which we then learned was the Queen Mary. What a ship? I recall as we approached her she was getting larger and larger until we were alongside and then she was immense. We, of course, had quite a lot of equipment to carry such as kitbags and the usual full kit strapped to us over our greatcoats. This had to be manhandled off the lighter and up a gangway to enter a large door in the side of the Queen. We were led through a maze of passageways and decks to a reception area where we were allocated our sleeping quarters. I was lucky, though at the time I thought I was cheated because I was allotted a cabin in which there were three bunks when it was designed for two. I had a quick look round the local area and found a magnificent bathroom with hot water. I couldn't believe my luck. Gold plated Dolphins for taps! Hot water. I nipped back for towel and soap and prepared myself for some wartime luxury. I wallowed in the tub for some time then decided it was time to get moving so started to soap myself... nothing happened... it wouldn't lather! It was salt water and needed special soap. I felt grubbier coming out than going in. Not even a bell to summon the Captain?

Most of the large and magnificent stairways were boarded up to prevent damage and of course this luxury liner was now geared for use as a troopship. It is interesting to note that because of her speed she traveled the Atlantic on most of her runs unescorted as it was considered she was too fast for a U Boat to attack her and indeed she completed the war intact. We spent four days waiting to sail I think most of that time was spent returning part of the boat to its original splendor for our special guests because we were to learn in due course that aboard the ship, as well as umpteen thousand of we minions, we had the whole War Cabinet including Churchill, also, a whole group of German Prisoners of War. Ex.U-boat crews. I don't think the latter bothered us much except they were fed before us, but they certainly didn't please the crew of the Queen, many of whom had been torpedoed when on other vessels. I recall one occasion when one of the RAF was on guard duty ( we did have duties on board) over these prisoners he was approached one night by a sailor who had a candle on the end of a long pole and he only wanted to ‘Torch the beard of a U-boat Captain’ whilst he was asleep!!!.

We did not see much of the War Cabinet but they were a very democratic group. They had one half of the boat and we had the other half!! I'm surprised we didn't sail with a forty five degree list to Port.

On one occasion I was in a crowded lift and Air Chief Marshall Sinclair stood in front of me. My nose came about to the level of his medal ribbons and I didn't know whether to salute, shake hands, or point out that I was in the Air Force too!!

We had one near miss as we approached New York. I was down below when suddenly the ship keeled over at an angle I wouldn't have thought possible in such a big vessel. I dashed up top to learn that an American destroyer having underestimated our speed had cut across our bows. This had happened on a previous occasion and the Queen had almost cut the boat in half.

As we approached New York harbour we had a taste of the America we had been used to on the movies. We heard a siren and saw a very fast Naval speedcraft draw up alongside and a very smart American naval officer cry out through a loud-hailer to the Commodore. "We were not to proceed further, but were to anchor in the roads" A voice came from the bridge above "On whose authority” Some authority was quoted and our voice cried out. "That is not sufficient for me" whereupon smarty pants turned and hot footed it back to tell his Dad! Some time later the siren sounded again and this time it was a very senior looking officer (his Dad) covered in gold braid who again informed our driver. "He was not authorized to proceed further". Our voice responded with the statement that. "It was too late for him to change his plans and he would therefore continue". What we didn't know was that there was a Dockers strike and thus no tugs to pull us in. Anyway we continued and as I understand it, it was the first time the Queen had docked without tug assistance. I have no doubt with hindsight that the backing of Churchill helped in making up the Commodore’s mind.
Lying on her side looking very sad was the Normandy in the next dock to us. She had I believe been sabotaged. This I learned much later not to be true. It was a fault in re-fueling which had the result of destabilizing the vessel so that she capsized.

Of course as you may imagine debarking was quite a lengthy business although I cannot remember just when we cleared ship. Our next destination was supposed to be Moncton in Canada but due to some epidemic there we were shipped to a big Army camp at Boston where we stayed for about a week or two. Eventually we made it to Moncton. This was not the nicest place on earth it was cold and overcrowded with potential RAF aircrew but it was the centre for all of us entering and leaving the States.

When we left Moncton we had a four day train journey ahead of us. I recall it was cold to start with but as we progressed further and further south the temperature became very oppressive. The trains were cooled by simply placing ice in troughs in the roof but of course this soon melted and there was a long journey before it was replenished. Although the carriages were sleepers there were no mattresses or bed linen so we had to sleep on the bare boards, which on a moving train were not at all comfortable. What a whinger I am!! It was better than trenches!!!!

We rode through days of Pine forests and open countryside with hardly any sign of habitation. It is a vast Continent. I very much regret now that I did not appreciate my luck to be traveling at His Majesties expense through such beautiful countryside.

On our arrival in Chicago we had almost a full day to wait and we were advised to go to the USO (United Services Organization). This was an eye-opener for us. Remember we had just left a war torn country with its blackouts and food rationing and shortages of everything, so almost everything in America amazed us. These USO's were organized on a voluntary basis to provide comforts for the troops but of course there were not so many troops in the States so the attention we were given was out of this world. On our arrival we were first directed to the restaurant where we had a superb lunch and all sorts of goodies. All free. Following that we went to the reception desk to find out what was on offer by way of entertainment. Because we had only a short time in the city we had to be content with things like a cinema show, places of local interest etc. Had we been there for a number of days we were offered all sorts of possibilities. , families to stay with, shows to go to, hotels, restaurants-Etc-Etc. All for free. The games rooms in the USO's were magnificent. I seem to remember the place taking up two whole floors of a skyscraper.

Well our rail journey continued and at last we arrived in Miami Oklahoma to see the whole of the town’s girls, who had just seen off the last course to pass out and were waiting for us to arrive!!! Of course I only had thoughts of flying and what time was church parade!!!!!

glojo
11th Dec 2011, 09:12
When I read these posts I find myself back in the 1940's fighting the good fight but thanks to Youtube reality can rapidly set in.

Look at this footage and then reflect...... Those are not small Messerschmitt cannon shells, they are 21" torpedoes!! :uhoh::bored:

How on earth can anyone survive these types of attack? Yes that poor rear gunner is awfully exposed but sadly those shells will pass right through that aircraft without slowing down and woe betide anyone or anything that got in the path of their destructive power. I accept the attacked aircraft are American but they were the ones flying day missions which I assume is easier for the gun camera to record events.

RESPECT, respect to all service personnel no matter what the colour of their uniform and thank god this type of footage never saw the light of day during those very dark days and if this footage is too distressing then PLEASE send me a pm and it will be gone.

kookabat
11th Dec 2011, 10:46
Paddy,
Fantastic stuff. I have copies of several letters written by an Australian rear gunner while he was in transit across the States on his way to the UK. He completed his training in Australia so was only there for a matter of weeks, but his impressions - of bars open every day until midnight (gasp!) and of the scenery and the never-ending piles of food mirror what you've written here. So impressed was he that he was considering settling there after the war. Sadly, he never lived long enough to see the end, failing to return from Lille 10MAY44.

Cliff - sorry to hear of your health problems, but glad to ehar from you again. Enjoy those pints!

Adam

Fareastdriver
11th Dec 2011, 12:51
glojo.

Shouldn't worry. The shot of the B17 being disassembled was shown during scenes of the film 'Memphis Belle'.

Icare9
11th Dec 2011, 21:04
padhist: Thanks for the memoirs, glad to have them in print for future PPRuners to marvel at.
For what it may be worth, hopefully your recollections of Jimmy Connors and Pat Downey may be "misremembered" as I cannot find any matching CWGC entries for a J Connors or P Downey. In fact, few Connors or Downeys, so they may have "gone into the bag" rather than "for a Burton" (unless you have changed the names)......
Similarly, although you may not have met Chas again, it looks as if he also survived the War.

Cliff, your inimitable fortitude shows through yet again. May 2012 see you complete all you wish for. My thoughts are with you and your family.

kookabat: FWIW, If the letters are from Gilbert Pate, his pilot was the only survivor of the 12 bombers lost on the Lille Operation. Bomber Command lost 83 dead with only S/L Smith surviving after being blown clear when the Lanc exploded. If there can be any comfort in it, Gilbert and the rest of his crew are tended by the local people at Lezennes.
If they are from F/Sgt Allen, then his remains were not specifically identified and he is commemorated at Runnymede.
If from George Dann, he is in Foret sur Marque with 5 of his crew. Theirs was an all RAAF crew.
I'm sure you already have far more info, but for other followers of the thread, it may bring it into sharper focus. In fact Bomber Command lost 26 aircraft that night, not just the 11 or 12 lost at Lille.
Yet the survivors (and replacements) continued to take to the skies, night after night knowing that they were the principle way of slowing the German war machine.

Padhist
12th Dec 2011, 08:05
Icare,
Many thanks. I am still amazed at the information you chaps can unearth. Makes me realise what a 'Sprog' I am with computers. Also I remain amazed at how few of my old aircrew mates are on the web.

Padhist
12th Dec 2011, 08:25
Chapter 12


Miami Oklahoma
The Spartan School of Aeronautics.

This was it!! What we had all been waiting for...Flying. But of course there was the dreaded drill and the Physical Training and the Ground School. But first of all the School itself. This was a civilian flying training establishment, offering training at a certain cost to the RAF with the agreement of the American Government. It was known as No. 3 BFTS. (British Flying Training School). We had a Wing Commander C.O. and some RAF Officers and one Corporal PTI. The Flying instruction was carried out by American pilots.

The accommodation was excellent, far better than we had been used to in the UK. The main surprise though was the layout of the toilets for the junior courses. If you can visualise the arrangement. A large room with two rows of about eight wash basins back to back in the centre of the room. Then behind each of these rows was a line of toilets (Sit downers with no partitions) each backing on to the wall, again about eight to a row. Got the picture? Whilst you are sitting you look at the back of the chap who is washing in front of you and the other side of the room is a mirror image...Eight squatting and eight washing each side of the room!! And of course the queue waiting. Well I was always rather shy and you can imagine my horror at the thought of performing in front of an audience. But like all things, one got used to it and it became the norm to wait one's turn for a squat with the daily paper after breakfast or sometimes just chatting with one's neighbor on either side. Of course sometimes the conversation became a little strained. It is odd how you become accustomed to situations though; I remember on my first leave, when in the Hotel Loo for the first time, I couldn't perform because I felt too lonely.

The course was divided up into Flights each Flight having a Cadet in charge. One half of the course would be carrying out flying instruction whilst the other half was doing ground school work. The flying began on Fairchild PT19's. Small low wing monoplanes with open cockpits, mostly the instructor was in the rear. After Primary Instruction we went on to Advance flying in Harvard’s. Again low wing monoplanes but having retractable undercarriages and closing hoods. The difference between the two aircraft seemed enormous to me at the time...I recall looking into the cockpit of the Harvard for the first time and thinking it looked so complicated I would never master it.

There is little point in going too deeply into the ground school side of the course, to most it would just be a bore. The same applies to the PT and drill. Suffice to say that we had a lot of it and at times it was pretty exacting. There were periodic tests and these had to be passed or you were up for the CHOP. You can imagine how humiliating that would have been.

The interesting part for us was the flying. That always made the adrenaline flow, sometimes a bit too fast, but it was always exciting. My first Instructor on Primary was a Mr. Koepnick. He was a bit older than most of the instructors and said he had been an Airline Pilot at one time. I remember only too well my first trip with him. He inverted the plane and said "Are you holding on tight" Well, I was holding so tight I thought the sides of the plane would cave in. Then he said "Put your left hand up in the air" My left hand shot up and back down again to its handhold so fast I hardly lost my grip. He made me do the same with my right hand. Then he said “Right now put both hands up and keep them there" It took all my courage to hang there on the straps, but hang I did. And that's how he made me trust in the straps. It was a good lesson.

I had my old problem with landings and it took me a long time to go solo I'm sure I must have been considered for the CHOP during this period but the God's were kind to me and eventually the day came when he climbed out of the plane and said "Right off you go, one circuit and back to me here." Talk about being scared silly I couldn't believe it. You can imagine my feelings on the final approach I could see polished oak and flowers all the way down. But it worked; she planted herself on the grass like a real lady. I'm sure some other hand was on the Pushenpullenschtik it certainly could not have been Der Dumpkoff Mit Der Pushenpullenschtic.

As we progressed the training intensified with solo Aerobatics - Spinning- Formation Flying among many other exercises and then on to Night Flying. Unlike car driving when you start night flying it is like starting all over from the beginning. You must have attained a high standard of Instrument flying and nothing seems the same at night as in the day. It requires a lot of practice to become comfortable. One night, during the early part of night flying training, I had just left the plane having done my stint; Koepnic had installed my co-student Hill aboard for his turn. Now, we were using the secondary airfield which was just a large square of grass having a single line of Paraffin Flares down the middle to light up a landing path and about three flares at right angles to give a lead in. Well, Hill, after settling in, opened up the throttle and trundled off into the distance. I thought his direction was a little odd so I hesitantly pointed this out to Keopnic who promptly blew his top and yelled for the 'Bloodwagon'. They chased off after Hill who had tried to take off at 90 degrees to the correct take off path. When they got to him he was stationary, very close to the field boundary. He said very calmly “I ran out of lights and thought something was wrong so I stopped” That was Hill.

Eventually we passed out from Primary training and became Senior Cadets ready to begin our Advanced Training on Harvard’s. These were considered to be 'Hot Rods' compared to the Primary Trainers. There were many occasions when I frightened myself on these aircraft. But I suppose the worst time was when I set off on my first solo night flying cross country. The Met report had been good with no mention of cloud. The course was a simple triangle around the local area. After take off I climbed to my planned height and found myself in cloud. I decided that it couldn't be extensive and that I would continue on instruments. I was still in cloud when I reached my first turning point where I carried out the usual standard turn onto my next course still on instruments. This continued round the course until I decided I had to descend to identify my position. I was lost...I could recognise nothing. I searched around for lights which would mean something to me when I came across a grass airfield with just boundary lights. There was no control tower. I decided to make an emergency landing. I could see that the field was very short so I came in with nose up and plenty of power. As I approached I saw in my landing light some power cables this frightened me silly. At the same time my landing gear horn blasted me, indicating I had left my wheels up!! Go round again. All I wanted was to get on to Terra Firmer. I had to make three approaches before I got it right. I landed and came to a halt close to the far side boundary. I taxied to where I saw an office lit up. Shut the engine down and went in to introduce myself. Inside was a very lovely looking young lady who turned out to be the Meteorologist. The airfield I had chosen was a Met Centre having an emergency landing field attached, anyway after asking her to phone my base to report my location I just lay on the floor and flaked out. (Always my answer to crisis). After a short nap I was talking to her and she told me that an aircraft had nosed dived into a road somewhere close. We looked at the map and I realised that it must be one of our chaps. I learned later it was Walter Elliot one of our flight. He must have become disorientated in cloud and spun in. I always think I owed my survival to old Koepnic who insisted on a high degree of instrument flying. My efforts could not have been too bad because I did not get a wigging and I detected that the instructors who came to get me thought I did a good job of getting into that field at night. There were fifteen students killed during the total period of the school's war time training.

I did break one Harvard on landing. A classic ground loop. This I think was due, apart from my stupidity and inexperience, to the difficulty of controlling the rudders with such short legs... Stop laughing. Many of us had handicaps. I remember Graham an ex Special Branch Policeman, he was sick every time he flew and had to take a bag up with him, frequently having to clean out the cockpit. Short hairy legs were plentiful, it was the smooth feminine one’s in short supply.

The flying area around the base was quite unique. The land was completely flat save for the man made hills from the debris of the Zinc Mines at Pitcher, a small mining town close by. This part of America had been 'donated' to the Indians by the generosity of the American People. That was before they realised there was OIL. Then they could hardly take it back so they had to pay the Indians Royalties from the Oil revenues. The land was almost desert so they brought in engineers to create roads running true North and South, East and West, dividing the land up into one mile square sections. These were sold off at give away prices to Homesteaders in order to get the area inhabited. How this little bit of history affected us was that it created a grid of roads over which we could navigate almost without the use of a compass. This navigational benefit was splendid until we came to carry out cross country flying away from our area, then we were forced to rely on normal compass Navigation. The most exciting moment for us was when at the end of the course we went on our final, long cross country. Unfortunately for us we missed out on the Texas one and we went to De Moines via Wichita. At the time this seemed an enormous trek taking about eight hours flying in all, but it was a good test of our flying and navigation ability. At this time we all had about 180Hrs flying experience.

I had my final handling check with the Deputy Chief flying Instructor on 27. November.1943. and was duly presented with my wings, at a parade soon after, by an American General......... .I WAS A PILOT

thegypsy
12th Dec 2011, 15:29
Does this ring a bell?


Night Take Off

Beneath our wheels the flares and glim-lamps race
Each gooseneck stretching taut, then only space
Descends as now the leading-lights are past
And three-dimensioned darkness holds us fast.
We are of night and night hugs close her own,
The long black caverns of her sleeves are thrown
Around us and she bids the circling clouds
Encompass us with vapour as with shrouds.

by Ariel Poems of a Flight Lieutenant 1942

kookabat
13th Dec 2011, 07:35
Ahh Icare9, you're just being clever now!! Indeed the letters are from Gilbert Pate - my great uncle was his navigator and also rests in Lezennes. I visited the graves in 2009 on the anniversary of the raid from which they failed to return - the locals put on a small ceremony at the gravesite, attended by the Mayor and a small media contingent. Quite overwhelming, really.
Phil Smith - the only survivor, as you say, of the 84 men lost that night - only passed away in 2003. My family and I discovered he was still alive in 1996 and we became quite good friends until his death - I remain in touch with his widow. Phil never knew exactly what happened to the aircraft. All he remembered was everything going hot and dry and red, and then he was falling. He evaded capture, being sheltered by a French family about 50km south of Lille, until the invasion forces passed in September 1944. Quite a remarkable man!
I traced Gilbert Pate's family last year, which is where the letters come from.

Adam

Padhist
16th Jan 2012, 07:50
Tommyov
What has happened to this Thread it seems to have come to a grinding halt. Of course it could be something to do with me!!
Please give me a buzz
[email protected]

glojo
16th Jan 2012, 08:18
What has happened to this Thread it seems to have come to a grinding halt. Of course it could be something to do with me!!

No doubt but could it be we are all waiting with baited breath to hear all about your exploits once you return to Great Britain?

This is by far and away the best thread on this forum and that is down to the likes of your very good self. :ok::ok:

Padhist
16th Jan 2012, 08:57
Thank you glojo.
However I live in Brittany. Now you have given me the courage to continue my Chapter 13


Harrogate

Having passed out of No 3 BFTS we again travelled back to Moncton to be boarded on our ship for the return journey to the UK. We had about two weeks wait in the freezing temperatures of Nova Scotia. I met Chas Blyth again he having completed his pilot training at Medicine Hat in Canada.

I recall leaving our barracks at about 2am one morning for our embarkation at Halifax. I put on all the clothing I possibly could, to combat the cold, but as I exited the main door the freezing wind just cut through me as though I was naked. I was pleased to get away from that Godforsaken place.

We embarked on the Mauritania and I was again mistaken in thinking that as I was going back a Sergeant having come out as an IRK I would get some special treatment. I did, but not the sort I had in mind I didn't get a cabin this time I got a Hammock! and I thought I would be clever I tied it between two posts and having another post close by with a light my thought was that I would be able to read until I was tired enough to sleep then all would be OK. It was, while the ship was at anchor but I hadn't given a thought to the fact, that when we were under way the blooming thing would sway. Well, the first night, instead of sleeping, each time we swayed to the right I was banged up against the post with the light. I changed my location to what I thought looked a quiet unused passageway only to find that every five minutes one of the crew would pass under my hammock and not duck sufficiently, so giving me a header up the backside and that each five minutes can get to be a bore.

We ate in a rather shabby mess hall and one day I was the last to leave the table. I had some leavings on my plate and I was scraping these into a large basin at the end of the table which I thought was for slops when the food orderly said " What are you doing, that was the food for another three people" I said " They will never know"

There were many hundreds of American soldiers on board and we were very surprised one morning about two days out from UK to find that they were all rigged out in full battle kit. When we asked what it was for they replied we were now in the War Zone!!
Of course we were old hands at war and they had yet to see one!
(My Father once told me. The only war I saw was when I came home on leave)

Following our disembarkation we were posted to Harrowgate after of course, a period of leave. Naturally I was very proud to show off my wings at home and I was very surprised to find that there was a different relationship between my Father and me. I think I had proved myself to him; I had succeeded in what I set out to do and not cried out for help. My Mother on the other hand never really understood what it was all about. I remember when she read my log book and asked me what SOLO FLYING meant. When I explained that that was when I flew by myself, she said " Oh just you and the instructor" I replied “No, just me" Well I could see she could not adjust to that idea and she never asked me a thing about flying from that day on.

Harrowgate was a pain. Not in the sense that it was uncomfortable but if you can imagine thousands of newly qualified aircrew all housed in the big hotels of this old fashioned Spa town, all with unbounding energy and nowhere to unleash it. We were to be tied to this place for about a year during which we were sent off on various courses mainly I'm sure to keep us quiet and out of mischief. I did two Pre- AFU's (Advanced Flying Unit) for three months each. Flying Tiger Moths. Plus a number of other small courses and detachments. One of the latter was to RAF Wickenby a bomber station which was very active at that time. We felt even more frustrated there because we were the only aircrew on the station without an active role to play.

The reason for this hold up in our progress was that the casualties in aircrew had slowed down and therefore the operational stations had no immediate need of us. I am sure many people would be shocked to learn how some aircrews were used during this period. For instance as Farm Hands, Firemen on railway engines etc. It used to be a joke when we passed a train crew on a station to say "Aircrew Mate?"

I was on a course I forget where, when an AMO (Air Ministry Order) came in advising us that the Fleet Air Arm wanted trained pilots from the RAF to transfer for Naval Flight Training for the Japanese offensive. Well Cliff, Fin and me, discussed this and came to the conclusion that it was the only way we would see any war at all so we agreed we would opt for it. Well, we did. But the next day we thought it was not such a good idea and decided against it. However, life is full of little surprises and unknown to us some weeks later there was a parade in which the list of names for transfer were read out. We naturally were not on it. One of the chaps who was in on the original discussion was on the parade and explained that we had been keen to volunteer. So, our names were added without our knowledge.

You can imagine our feelings when some time later we found ourselves posted to Tealing (Scotland) on a Harvard 'Selection course' Selection for what?? It was not until we arrived there that we found it was selection for the Fleet Air Arm. Of course it's no problem passing tests you don't particularly wish to succeed in, so, we all passed, and found ourselves on our way to Lee on Solent to join the Navy. Were there three more unlikely looking sailors than us I doubt it.

Padhist
16th Jan 2012, 09:10
Chapter 17

Fleet Air Arm. Lee on Solent. Ireland. Isle of Man. Jan 45-May 46
The arrangements laid down in the Air Ministry Order for our transfer to the FAA were such that Sergeants would transfer in the rank of Acting Petty Officer and would be upgraded after one year to Petty Officer. Flight Sergeants would be transferred in the rank of Chief Petty Officer. This does not sound too bad, but one had to understand the Navy and at this time we certainly did not! We were all due for our Flight Sergeant promotion but it had not yet been promulgated. This meant we were destined to Navy 'Square Rig' until we could show evidence of our promotion! Square Rig is a sailor’s suit, bell bottom trousers and a sea scout’s hat!
Anyway, the damage was done and we had to make the best of it. We duly arrived at Lee on Solent Naval Barracks to be kitted out and formally entered to the FAA. This was to be the beginning of one of the most hilarious episodes of my service life, apart from the flying, which was quite a different matter. We were directed to a massive great barrack block, built I imagine in the days of Nelson. We were greeted at reception by an old Petty Officer, who must have known Nelson. He could not understand what we were doing there, a group of NCO Pilots from the RAF what the hell did we want. Eventually he was persuaded that he had to accommodate us. "OK" he said “what are you G, T, or UA". One of us replied that Cliff was Catholic and the rest were C of E. We were serious but he did not see the funny side at all. He said "Are you Grog, Tee Total, or under-age". We then learned what it all meant. G meant we wished to have our rum allocation, T indicated temperance thus renouncing one's rum ration, and UA meant under age and not entitled. We decided that we could hardly accept a rum ration whilst flying so opted for the extra sixpence a day on our pay in lieu of rum.
While all this had been going on, Fin had been to have a look inside the barracks sleeping quarters. He came out saying " J… C…. they are hanging from the rafters in there!" Well, we all went in to have a look and sure enough he was not exaggerating, there were hammocks hanging everywhere and double bunks covering almost every bit of floor space, to the extent that in many cases one would have to clamber through someone's bunk to arrive at one's own. There were massive great wooden 'pens' already full of naval kit just thrown in to get them out of the way until they were required. We decided that this was not for us and we would look for 'digs' in town. This we did and found lodgings with some old lady.
We eventually got all our new kit and gave up our RAF uniforms. Looking like three sea scouts we turned up for our first parade in the Navy. We were chatting together on the crowded parade ground when a whistle blew, and as if by magic the whole Navy was lined up smartly in their respective positions EXCEPT you know who! We stood like three Nanas albeit at attention. "What are you three doing' a voice bellowed.” We don't know where to go Sir" "What! What watch are you" “We don't know Sir" "What! You don't know! What division are you"? "We don’t know Sir". "You don't know! Get off my parade ground!

At least this little incident had the effect of getting us noticed and we then made contact with the first person who knew all about us, he was to be our Divisional Officer.
Of course we were none too pleased to be wandering around the town looking like sea cadets but we did have a lot of funny moments. I recall one day sitting to lunch in the mess hall, on a bench, next to a massive great Acting Petty Officer who looked at me in surprise and said, "Wot are you". "A pilot" I replied. He let out a great guffaw of laughter, gave me a gentle shove which almost sent me off the end of the bench and said, "You, a little squirt like you--- A pilot - Ger Off". He, by the way had a funny little badge which 1 thought was a whip but I learned was an ancient badge for sail menders. A needle and thread!
Anyway we eventually got our orders to move on and our first flying posting was to 758 Squadron. Naval Air Instrument Flying School, Hinstock. This was only a six-day course during which I did over eight hour’s instrument flying on Oxfords.
We then went to R.N.A.S. Crimond for conversion training to Barracuda's with 717 Squadron. We did about thirty five hours flying by day and by night and generally learned how to handle the beast. A beast it was. It was generally understood to be the result of an Admiralty committee who wanted an aircraft capable of landing on a deck, having a three man crew of pilot, navigator and air gunner and able to carry bombs, torpedoes flares etc. All this with one engine. Fortunately, the Rolls Royce Merlin and later the Griffen. I must say having flown with these engines throughout my Navy flying and for many years following, I never had one let me down
Our next posting was to Easthaven, on the East coast of Scotland in April 1945. This was quite an intensive course which although was less than thirty hours flying in one month, involved me in forty sorties, one hundred and twenty nine landings, high dive bombing by day and by night and eight landings on the aircraft carrier HMS SMITER. Although scared silly by this high dive bombing stuff, I seemed to have got the hang of it because I had an above average assessment.
The carrier landings were naturally the high light of the course and we had waited impatiently for a couple of days for low cloud to clear so at least we could see the ship. At last we were off. I was leading the second flight of three aircraft in vic formation under a cloud base of about one thousand feet. The ship was just off the Firth of Forth and I must say I was glad my first sight of her was from a low altitude. She already looked tiny from our height. However, we pressed on and it became my turn to enter the circuit having already instructed my wing men to take up their circuit positions, remember three aircraft were ahead of me and were already being struck down forward of the crash barriers. There was a twenty five knot wind over the deck, which was very helpful. Soon after turning in on my final approach I caught sight of the Batsman and was committed to his commands. It is a serious offence to ignore the batsman once you are under his control. ...Left a bit, left wing down, steady... steady, too fast … steady... Crikey doesn't it look small and the whole deck appears to be cluttered. I have aircraft in front of me albeit on the far side of the crash barrier and the control island rushing up on my right and the Batsman flapping like a mad thing at me, he indicates CUT... I chop the throttles… There is a deathly pause as I hang in the air then...Thump... bang... wallop I am down. Have I got a wire? ..Yeees I'm dragged to a sudden halt and I haven't hit the barrier... You can if you catch the last wire, known as the Jesus Christ wire. Little men like gnomes urge me forward over the barriers now lying flat, to park close behind the three-parked aircraft. There is already another aircraft being batted-in behind me and I am conscience of the need to hurry…. I'm too close.... My prop is chewing a lump out of the wing of the lead aircraft! I stop the engine and hear a voice over the Loud Hailer... "Send that pilot up to the bridge” I crawl out, slink down the oleo leg, slide across the deck and slither up the stairs, sorry I mean gangway, passed the Commander Flying who is busy controlling the flying and ushered into the presence. The six foot something Naval boat driver is looking straight ahead ignoring me for some minutes, then says "Why" How do you answer that, the urge was to say I only did it for a joke, but he did not look the humorous type. I was sent below to complete a crash report and by the time I had completed mine I was giving instruction to the queue behind me, when I went back up on deck I realised my little effort was as nothing compared to some of the others.
All carrier landings in those days were dicey; the number of accidents incredible, we had no angled deck, the length of the ship was 492 feet only two thirds of that landing area. The aircraft were underpowered and the Batsmen - well what would you be like if you were a pilot on punishment duty? Taking off was equally hazardous if you were in the first aircraft off, a large part of the deck was taken up by the rest of the aircraft, thus leaving you less take off run and that with an under powered aircraft was no fun.
However, we had passed the course! Once again we asked to go on Captains Requestmen to have our rank made up to Chief Petty Officer. This always caused a stir. Captains could not understand how we could expect to be promoted from Acting Petty Officers to Chief Petty Officers. Of course, without the necessary Fleet Orders we had no chance anyway.
An overseas posting!! Well almost. The Isle of Man: Ronaldsway on the southern tip of the island. 713 Squadron. This is where we get crewed up and is the final course before our draft to do battle with the Japs. We were introduced to a Lt Cdr who was to be our leader from now on. The theory was that following this course we continue our squadron work-up on route to the Far East by carrier. We were expected to be operational on arrival. This was the first time I had had a crew of my own to fly with and I was looking forward to it. But what a drip of a navigator I was landed with. His work was OK but his attitude abysmal. Maybe it was not really his fault, more that of the Navy. You see he was an Officer and I was a Rating. It must be understood that the Air Arm was not geared to accommodate non-officer pilots. To give just one example of this, on one occasion the night flying orders were displayed in the Officers Mess only. We were unaware of them so did not arrive for flying. After that they tried without success to invite us to tea in their mess so that we could receive Night flying briefing Navy style.
The course was very intensive and after one solo trip to suss out the area I was flying with my crew on anti submarine bombing practice. I think on this course I carried out the most dangerous flying I have ever done. We carried out night high dive-bombing exercises when we used to climb to ten thousand feet, find the target by radar, drop a 4.5” white flare to light the target then wing over in an almost vertical dive… Of course this caused the gyro's to topple... so after releasing the bomb and pulling out of the dive we were on primary instruments and no night vision, having looked at the reflected light from the flare. Another dicey little exercise was low level night formation flying over the oggin. With no navigation lights just little blue fairy lights on the wingtips and tail.
Life was not all hell though; we used to take the Pash Wagon (Train) to Douglas every Saturday afternoon. The Pubs were open all day so there was no need to rush. So why did we. We would eat, drink and be generally stupid until it was time to return on the last train home. The first class compartments were locked to keep the riff-raff out. They had a habit of-crawling along the outside of the train searching for accommodating WRENS. On one occasion, Cliff and I returned sober. We swore we would never make that mistake again, it was sheer hell.
We had a brainwave once. We decided to opt for our rum ration because our drinking was becoming too expensive. We thought that if we had a good tot of rum before setting out for the city, we would not have to buy so much grog in town. What a mistake that was, we were tippled from start to finish, spent more than usual and got up to all sorts of mischief.
One morning our Divisional Officer called us to report for Captains Requestmen. The long awaited Admiralty Fleet Order had at last caught up with us and we were duly promoted to Chief Petty Officers. Not though, without some doubts from the Captain who had never before witnessed Acting Petty Officers move up to Chiefs and certainly not at our young ages… Anyway, Chiefs we were and typical of the service we had to move into the Chiefs Quarters right away. We had had our new uniforms ready for this moment since Lee on Solent. I must say the transition to the Chefs mess was an unforgettable experience. To start with there are very few Chiefs on a ship and they are what their title says they are: they run the ship. Of course our case was different, we had the title because we were pilots and not because of our experience in running things. But this group of' Oldies' really had the Navy sewn up; I have never been as comfortable and as well looked after since, even in Officers messes.
At the end of the course there was to be a course party and some commissions were to be announced. Cliff; Fin and I were pretty confident that we would be among these because we had all done well at all stages of the course and the Divisional Officer had hinted as much. In the event however, I was not selected and a chap by the name of J.......... was. This chap had put up a really poor showing on the course and we had all been surprised that he got through it at all. The Squadron Commander called me to one side very embarrassed and told me there had been a mistake and Jefferies name had been made in error, it should have been mine. I was not to worry, on return from our embarkation leave the matter would be put right. ... During our embarkation leave the Bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, so we did not embark! !
Now we were in a real pickle. ..No more war. ..No more service. ..What do you do with a drunken sailor!!
We decided to go to Admiralty House and face them with the problem! What a laugh that was. I don't think it had ever happened before. There we were three Chiefs - Pilots, asking them what they had in mind for us and whatever it was it had to be flying. I think they had the last laugh. We were posted to Eglinton. Northern lreland. ..Target towing on Martinet's - 194 Squadron.
This was a six-month holiday camp with flying thrown in. I flew about eighty hours and apart from that we were 1eft entirely to ourselves. Of course we got up to a lot of mischief, we had access to a lot of ammunition. 303 rounds and point 5 cannon shells, we used to open these up and make rockets using aluminium tubing, and at times slipping a 303 into the crew room stove and making ourselves scarce before it exploded scattering hot coal dust everywhere.

Union Jack
16th Jan 2012, 10:38
Wonderful stuff, Paddy (if I may), although your latest marvellous post seems to suggest that the time has come to expand the thread title from Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW11!:ok:

Out of interest, at what point were you awarded FAA wings?

With best wishes and looking forward to more .....
Jack

glojo
16th Jan 2012, 12:04
Excellent stuff and no doubt the post by Union Jack was tongue in cheek as you quite clearly earned your RAF 'wings' in the Second World War...

Never upset the 'Sailmaker' the man with that sewing needle badge, he is the geezer that makes sure you are 'tucked up' for that final journey to the ocean deep.

Hammocks... glad you got to experience how the other half lived as that type of luxurious bedding was still being used on warships up to the early 1970's. Imagine just how 'comfortable' they were for someone who is 6' 7" tall!

I for one am looking forward to the next chapter and cannot wait to hear if you remained in the Senior Service and got that much deserved commission.

Thanks very much,

John

Padhist
16th Jan 2012, 14:24
Chapter 15

Demob...Return to WORK...Marriage.

One day we were at a loss as to what mischief we could get up to when it struck one of us that perhaps we had been forgotten in Ireland! Our Divisional Officer, who was one of us happened to be sitting there and was involved in the conversation. Someone said, you’re our Divisional Officer, why don't you get off your bum and find out when we are going to be demobbed? Well, what an error that was, he came back and told us that he should have brought this up sooner and gave us a date to report to a demob centre in Belfast, we were shattered! We had only said it for a joke. Now what a fine mess we had got ourselves into.
I recall that Cliff and I were posted first and for some reason Fin followed a few days later. I always regret that Cliff and I didn't follow up a prank that we had in mind at the time, which was to meet Fin at the station having swapped our demob Civvy suits. Cliff being about six inches taller than me! What a laugh we would have had. It had already been a hoot at the demob centre. We had about a dozen different outfits to choose from like... A suit, sports jacket and flannels, raincoat or overcoat, shoes, and various types of hats. Of course you could spot a demob from twenty miles away. However, there we were, three little civvies, paid off, railway warrants to home, and not so much as a thank you for winning the war!
Of course, whenever there was a crisis among us we used to head for the nearest Pub and stay there until it went away.

It was quite a trauma for us all and for some months we did nothing really serious except meet up and commiserate with each other. Eventually I plucked up the courage to go to my old firm and get my job back. I was very surprised at the reception. A great lack of enthusiasm and pay scales as though I was a complete beginner. I managed to stick it out for about a year but I was very unhappy and could not see myself staying. I made a lot of complaints about my pay but was always put off with the excuse that I had to catch up on the greater experience and expertise of those who had remained throughout the war.
Life was not all bad though and I used to get out a lot with some mates who hadn't forgotten I existed. Finally I was given a job that a number of the old hands had had a go at and failed. When I finished it OK I used that as a reason for me now getting the full rate for the job. This was accepted and as soon as it was agreed I gave notice to quit.

I took the Commercial Pilots Licence Examinations and got the Licence but at this time there were no jobs around. Cliff had done the same and found a job flying some smugglers in and out of Switzerland. They were caught, and he had a worrying time for a while. All turned out OK in the end and he had managed to increase his flying hours which was important. He went on to take the Airline Pilots Examination and got a job as Second Pilot with BEA.
Soon after our demob Cliff and I had bought motor bikes. He had a war surplus Lee Enfield and I had new one. I remember when I went to collect my bike (I had never driven a motor bike before) I couldn't wait to get going but I stalled it about three times in front of the shop. The owner said "You have ridden before" Of course I have, it's the clutch. It's a bit fierce. Anyway I got started and took off in a cloud of dust. That'll teach him to doubt my capabilities! Change gear. What's happening, the gear change is in reverse to that which I swotted up on all last night!! I am now in top gear but can't figure out how to change down. Right de-clutch. Stop. Put it in neutral and start again. I had to continue like this until I got home when I got it all figured out...... I'm glad the shop owner didn't see me.

I was out of work and studying for my further Licences but I was not happy with the situation and I told my Father that I would have to get a job in order to contribute to the home. He said not to worry. But I did. So he suggested that I should try using the old lorry he had. He had bought this so that he had petrol coupons during the war. But it was not used much.

I used the lorry to transport conduit tubing. This was an interesting story and typical of the situation just after the war. A couple of chaps had a pre-war business making single, cot type beds, out of conduit tubing and springs. After the war when the factories went back to normal peace time production they were granted purchasing rights based on a percentage of their earlier, pre-war orders. Every commodity was in such short supply that they soon found they could make more money selling on the tubing without bothering to work on it.
For me it was really hard work but I made money. The lorry had no self starter so it was a hand crank job. I used to park it at the top of a small rise in the mews opposite our house. Each morning I let it run down the hill and prayed that it would start when I let in the clutch at the bottom. If it didn't I had to turn it over by hand and I only had the strength to do this a few times, before taking a rest, particularly in the winter.
Eventually I got fed up with this and thinking I was going to be stuck in this environment I found a job with a small family firm making machines associated with the printing industry. It was high precision work and I quite enjoyed it for a while.
During this period. July 1947. Madeleine had come to England to join her Mother who, with Mr. Taylor, her second husband, had accommodation in our house. After many months, we met and used to go out together. It was soon clear that neither of us was happy with our present circumstances and we began to discuss the possibility of changing things.
At one time we even thought of going to West Australia. And had a morning at Australia House. However they didn't want a new Prime Minister so we let it drop.
At some time I had made two applications for employment. One was for an Oil Operative in Kuwait. And the other was to rejoin the RAF who suddenly found themselves short of Pilots.
When I attended the interview for the job of Oil Operative, in the Cumberland Hotel. The very smooth interviewer asked me if I knew what the job was. When I replied. NO. He said well lets talk about your background. When he learned I had been a Pilot he was full of enthusiasm and we talked of little else. At the end of the interview he said I am sure you could manage. If it is agreed, you will receive a further telegram to discuss contracts.
Well at this time I was having some very severe troubles with Tonsillitis and as per Murphys Law I received both his telegram and the Air Force acceptance at almost the same time. I chose the latter because I didn't want to get too much sand in my throat.
Having returned to the Air Force I was sent on an OCTU at Spitalgate and flunked it. So that was twice I had missed out on a commission.
I was posted to a flying refresher course at Finningly. This was about a month flying Harvard’s together with a few hours on Spitfires. On this course I had expressed my preference to go on Fighters. However, we then went on to a non flying post at Wolverhampton and during this period I had a chat to a friend of mine who had been commissioned at Spitalgate and was going on the CFS instructor’s course. I decided to change my mind and opt for the Instructor role.

At this time the RAF was experimenting with some new titles for Aircrew. These were. Master Pilot, P1, P2, and P3. This equated with the earlier Warrant Officer, Flight Sergeant, and Sergeant. The P3 grade had no precedent and was if I recall correctly a trainee pilot. This was to be a big structural change separating the aircrew from the administration because however much they disliked it they had to pay the aircrew more than equivalent ground crew grades. The aircrew were even going to have their own separate mess. However in the event they failed to change the Officer grades, which led to big problems. The whole scheme was dropped soon after as an abysmal failure and a return was made to the old system.

I was scheduled to go to Brize Norton to do the Flying Instructors Course when Madeleine and I decided to get married, much to the annoyance of both our families it seemed. My Father had died in the November but he was in full agreement with our proposal and in fact left us a little cash to blow on our Honeymoon in Paris. We were married on the 24th. December, despite receiving no help from our families.
We flew out of Heathrow. First Class, in an Air France Languadoc. In those days you were named passengers and well looked after. Unfortunately, I had a massive hangover, the result of my Stag Party, the evening before. The flight was about one and a half hours, followed by a couple of hours in the stack, due to fog at ORLY. I recall a nice old lady sitting in front of me and seeing my discomfort said. "Don't worry young man. These airplanes are quite safe now"
Our few days of honeymoon were spent with Madeleine's Aunt and Uncle. It must have been the most unusual honeymoon. We sat to the table at about eight o'clock and we didn't leave it until about two o'clock. A traditional French ‘Reveillion ‘This didn't leave me much time, or improve my physical condition to enable me to carry out my matrimonial duties. I leave it to the reader to guess if I was Man or Mouse. Suffice to say I was tired in the morning!! And couldn’t have faced cheese!!
I said we only had a few days, because I had to depart without Madeleine to join a course of Flying Instructor training at Brize Norton, which was then the satellite of Little Rissington. The RAF's Central Flying School.

Padhist
16th Jan 2012, 14:26
Chapter 16
Flying Instructor...

Although not aware of it at the time I had often been at the wrong end of what I later considered to be poor instructor techniques. My inability to land properly in the early stages of flying was an example of this. So, I made a determination that I would never be guilty of letting down a student for this reason. I like to think that I was successful in this respect.

The Instructors course at CFS was in my view, first class. I had always thought that being trained in the States was to receive the best possible flying training. This was not so. Many of the American Instructors although excellent ‘seat of the pants' flyers were not thoroughly trained pilots let alone instructors, and with hindsight I am sure we had missed out on the professional RAF standard. Some examples of what I mean in this respect would be that, many of our instructors were not too comfortable when night flying. I only knew of one who would attempt even a Roll at night. Some had no idea of how to control an aircraft on a Air to Ground gunnery attack, they would fire off having the target in their sights but with massive amounts of Yaw on, this we knew from our ground school training was useless. There was little attempt at Pre-flight briefing and occasionally some really bad tempered interference with our instruction, I had been lucky in this respect, I had had mostly patient instructors. One must point out here that this school was not truly representative of the main American training establishments where, I am sure, the standards must have been excellent. This was a wartime expedient and as such worked well. Anyway, any problems I may have had were certainly put right at 'BRIZE', and Little Rissington. Always a well constructed Pre-flight briefing, certain knowledge of who had control of the aircraft at all times and a thorough Post-Flight Summary. The course was six months using a Harvard as the main trainer but I also flew a Prentice, Mosquito, Meteor, Athena, Spitfire and Lancaster for Type flying. At the end of the course I felt really well equipped to carry out my job of teaching flying. I passed the course with a B1. Category. Anyone getting the lower B.2 had to re-cat within three months to the higher category or leave instructing.

After a short stay at Ternhill where I commenced my Instructing I was posted to Syerston in Nottinghamshire. Although an RAF station, the students were mainly Naval Midshipmen, being trained for the Fleet Air Arm. In the latter period some RAF Navigators and Engineers retraining to Pilots, these were unkindly known as 'Retreads'.

We had our first married quarter which had just been built and was fully furnished with all new equipment; I recall the problems of unpacking all the new furniture and above all the many kitchen pots and pans all covered in protective grease. Madeleine's mother had come to assist us in settling in!! I found my work very rewarding. And I was fully engrossed in it. It was pure magic to see young chaps progress from never having been in an airplane to going solo, and eventually getting their wings.

Some months after I had started at Syerston, it was decided that there would be a 'Standardisation Flight' within the station to ensure the standards set at CFS were maintained. This was to be a two week course, run by a Flt.Lt. C.J…. and Flt.Lt. R…….. Both A.2. category instructors. Guess who was to be 'Joed' as one of its first guinea pigs? - Me! This was hardly logical since I had recently left CFS and was therefore up to date with its latest techniques, but the old timers, many of whom had been instructing for years, were very reluctant to have their professional standards tested. So I had been 'Volunteered'... At the end of the two week course we were invited to make comments. Mine were mostly criticisms. It was all very friendly but I thought I might have blotted my copy book. However I was due for leave which I duly took, so imagine my surprise on my return, to learn that I was seconded to Flt J…. as a 'Trapper'. I protested that I only held a B1 Cat. And lacked a lot of experience compared with those I would be about to fly with and more importantly judge. I was told not to worry on that account and that I was expected to Re-Cat to A2 within a few months. This I did and some months later managed to get an A.1.The problem with obtaining the latter is that you have to convince someone holding that category that you are as good as he is. That was not easy. However, having obtained my new category I found that I was very confident now about the job and began to enjoy it even more. I used to do a lot of the final handling tests of the Midshipmen and also of the 'Retreads'

One amusing incident I recall from the many of those days was...The night Sgt C……. put into action his plan to take his wife up in a Prentice to see the station by night. Now, at the end of the main runway there was an old wartime bunker and it was used frequently by students and instructors during long periods of circuits and landings, they used to nip out of the aircraft, having advised Air Traffic Control, that they were clear of the ‘Peri-track ‘ and have a leak!!...Well the plan was that Mrs. Carlisle would wait behind this bunker all kitted up in flying gear and at some stage Carlisle's student would nip out and she would take his place in the aircraft, do a couple of circuits and return to effect the exchange back.....Now the best laid plans----What in fact happened was that another aircraft stopped and it's student got out, came to the bunker and was happily having his leak when he realised he was not alone!!....However thinking the other GUY was another student he continued with his enjoyment and just entered into a conversation on how the cold affected his ability to find his willy beneath all his flying clothing....Needless to say Mrs. C……. never said a word. But she did eventually get her trip, and did enjoy the sights.

Towards the end of my stay I was recommended for a commission and my Boss, C…. J…., was to go ahead of me to see the Air Vice Marshall. J…. was seeking a Permanent Commission. When I went in, expecting all sorts of quizzing, I was surprised to hear the big man, who was a very scraggy individual with a hat that looked as though it had been his when he was a Warrant Officer, say, "I understand from Flt.Lt. J…. that you are responsible for the standardisation training of other Instructors, many of whom are Officers and also that your Instructor category is higher than theirs" "Yes Sir" ..."Can you think of any other organisation that would put you in that invidious position". "No Sir". "Nor can I. Go off and get your commission". And on this occasion I did.

Padhist
16th Jan 2012, 14:32
Commission

The subject of Commission has become a sore point with me, mainly since I have retired from the Forces. Of course when I got my wings I was so thrilled with that achievement the question of an associated commission did not concern me. Nor did it until I was married. One has to remember that the majority of aircrew in the RAF were non-commissioned. However, when one experiences the difference in treatment for the wives and families between the ranks, particularly overseas, it becomes very evident that a commission is all important.

The first opportunity I had to obtain a commission was in the states when I got my wings. But it was perfectly obvious that with my educational background this was impossible and the thought never really came into my head. As I have said I was happy with what I had. Nevertheless it must be noted that ALL of the American trainees were commissioned automatically and there were many of those who were behind many of us in the results tables. I am quite sure that if it were possible to carry out a survey of the results of the service histories of that entire course, there would be little difference between those who were commissioned and those who were not and in many instances I am equally sure some of those not commissioned will have gained greater distinction.

My next opportunity was in the Fleet Air Arm when, at the end of our training and just before embarking for the Far East War, we were considered once again, Now, I had done particularly well on this course as had Cliff and Fin and we had had nod's and winks from our Squadron Commander that all was well. However, I was not selected and this was explained to me to be the result of an error in identification, another chap had wrongly been selected in my place, all would be put right when we sailed. But we never did.

My first Officer Cadet Training Unit (OCTU) this took place soon after re-entering the RAF in Feb 1949. Once again it is difficult to determine what went wrong. But I flunked it on this vague business of Officer Qualities. I am quite sure there were no differences in my qualities then than now, but the staff of the OCTU’s was all powerful so that was that. This attitude was soon to change because about this time there was a very famous war time bomber pilot who had wished to remain a Master Pilot but allowed himself to be persuaded by the Air Officer Commanding to go for a commission. He failed it. When the A.O.C. later learned of this result he blew his top and demanded to know just who was responsible for determining who were to be commissioned. It certainly was not the staff of the OCTU. They were there to carry out a course of instruction. The decision to commission was his, on the advice of his local Commanders. This changed the whole attitude of the OCTU’S

At last RAF MILLOM in Cumberland. That was the place where I had been stationed for final selection into the Fleet Air Arm!! What a dump! Cold and miserable. Three months of winter purgatory dressed up like soldiers, running all over the countryside, charging sacks of straw with fixed bayonets yelling like Indians just to please a band of idiot RAF Regiment Officers and NCOs. I recall one occasion when a Regiment Flt.Sgt. had to give us a lecture on the use of a .38 Pistol but for some strange reason he had no pistol, so a group of us stood around in a circle out in the open, freezing, whilst he demonstrated his 'let's pretend gun' Happily no one got shot!!!

During this course I met ‘Davy’ He also had rejoined but he had lost a leg in a Mosquito prang in his previous service. He told me that he had been bored stiff with Civvy Street and having seen an advertisement for RAF Pilots he thought he would pull his wife's leg a bit. So returning from work he told her that he had rejoined the RAF as a pilot, thinking she would 'Blow her top'. But no, she said "Great I didn't think they would take you back now". Well he then had to go and do it. After the final interview with an AOC, whilst walking to the door the AOC said. "Davy, I still can't see which leg you were worried about" Davy told me he had never had it so good. He now had his full pay as a Pilot, 100% disability allowance and if he wanted a weekend in London all he had to do was request to go to Roehampton to have his tin leg repaired. Rate.1. and fare paid!!
On one occasion one of the very young cadets on the course (we were the old HAIRIES) said to Davy "You're the chap with the bad leg" Davy picked up a broom standing nearby and crashed it into his tin leg twice and said "Bad leg, Bad leg, there's nothing wrong with that" The poor cadet nearly fainted!!

Well at last I made it successfully out of an OCTU and certainly not because I had done any better than any other time. Now I could look forward to a life of elegant poverty. I remember an old instructor mate of mine, Bert Horsfield saying "Paddy, when some of these Officers touch you for the odd ten bob or so because they have no money. Do they really mean they have none? Or is it that they just haven't got it on them at the time" Well?????

Padhist
16th Jan 2012, 14:38
Union Jack
My wings had already been awarded in the RAF.
One point I must make, and that is,that these memoirs were intended for my family so I am sure from time to time I am guilty of slippiing off thread I hope you will forgive me if this is the case.

Padhist
16th Jan 2012, 14:49
Chapter 18

Malaya. Singapore.

I had just been commissioned and was in the RAF sick bay with a heavy dose of Flu when I learned that I was posted to Singapore. At first I was not too enthusiastic about this but then I heard that the extra cost of living allowances were the best in the service and that the Chinese girls wore Cheongsams, dresses with slits each side up to their thighs. Well we could do with a little more money, the OCTU had already depleted our meagre funds and I was prepared to suffer the sight of these beautiful Chinese maidens for the sake of our future!!

I already had my officers uniform because the system is such on OCTU's that during the first few weeks all the big service tailors attend to fit you out with your uniform needs. They accept that should you fail, then the work they had completed was their loss. However, having been posted to the Far East meant that I had a further allowance for full tropical kit. This, I obtained from Chappel's in Piccadilly. I must say it felt rather grand. Mrs.G…….little boy being waited on by some of the top professional tailors in the city. But I never let this class difference go to my head!!!!!

Now, at the end of my leave it was time to go. Regrettably I was to go alone by air. Madeleine was to follow as soon as possible afterwards. We both would have loved to journey together by boat. At this time we occupied a small flat in Oxford Square, London. The legal tenants of which were Mr. and Mrs. T…... They however had chosen to move to France and we, desperate at this time for accommodation between postings, were obliged to purchase their furniture and continue the tenancy somewhat illegally. Since the flat was on the 5th floor with no lift, one can only imagine the hardship this caused Madeleine. Every time she entered or left the house it meant two or three journeys up and down five flights of stairs with a child, shopping or coal, because the only heating was a meagre coal fire. The problem was twofold. Firstly the physical inconvenience of the flat with two small children. Secondly finance. I was not entitled to the full allowances until we were established in our home in Singapore. This meant we were virtually keeping two homes going on reduced pay. Madeleine managing Oxford Square and me living in mess with quite sizeable mess bills. However that was life at that time.

I left England on the 3rd April 1953 from Lynham. We flew in a Hastings and arrived at Changi on the 7th April having stopped overnight at Idris, Habbaniya, Mauripur, and Negumbo. I must say I admired the Transport Command crews. Each leg of the flight was between 7 and 8 hours, a total of thirty seven and a half hours flying and a 7 hour time difference. On arrival at each stop the passengers seemed to be clapped out but the crews spent the evenings in the bar grogging up and looking fresh as daisies each morning.

Singapore was a wonderful sight on arrival. Full sunshine and what looked like beautiful green grass inviting us to picnic. I was to learn later that one did not picnic as we do in England. The ants are almost capable of putting you between two slices of bread and having you for their picnic. Certainly they would not let you sit quietly eating.

We landed at Changi, the largest RAF base on the island, but were then transported to Seletar where I was to join FETS (Far East Training Squadron). The joining procedures were quite lengthy but I eventually settled down at Seletar in the officer’s mess, with a large room and a Chinese batman. One of the first things I 'won' on joining, was the Malayan Campaign Medal, awarded in Singapore if you were posted in for one day. This was interesting because the main communist activity was taking place upcountry in Malaya but the military there had to serve I think it was six months to qualify for this medal. The funny part was, that some junior ranks (it can't happen to officers) managed somehow to become infected with nasty things from the local girls and had to go to the hospital in Singapore. Yes, you guessed it; they were posted there, so they got the medal!

Apart from some type flying on Mosquito's etc on the CFS course, this was my first job instructing on multi-engine aircraft so, I had to go through a small conversion to become proficient on the twin seat Mosquito and the single seat Hornet. Our job at FETS was to convert young pilots trained on jets to the piston engine Hornet using the Mosquito as a trainer. The general handling of jet aircraft is much easier than for propeller aircraft, particularly the tail downers, or non tricycle undercarriage types.

Both aircraft were very nice to fly but the Mossy, due to the constraints of the Seletar runway, was a tricky so and so when landing on one engine. The runway had no undershoot, just a nasty sea wall and a very short overshoot ending in a wire fence beyond which was a Malay village. The runway was made of PSP (pierced steel planks) and it had a pronounced hump about one third of the way down. We only ever used one direction for landing and take off. It was 1600 yds long. The climate also played a major part in the flying. For instance once you had started the engines it was a race to get to the take off position, if you delayed too long the engines would overheat, the coolant would boil and the take off had to be aborted. Also, because of the heat we flew in just an aertex shirt stitched to a pair of light KD trousers, jungle boots, oxygen mask and helmet. We should have worn full jungle survival gear but I am sure we would not have survived at all if we had. The aircraft had no air conditioning thus flying below 6000feet was extremely hot and low flying over the jungle for any length of time almost unbearable.

I broke two Mosquito T4's during my stay. One was in daylight and due to the fact that a modification to the tail wheel had not been carried out thus allowing the tail wheel to fall off somewhere during flight. This resulted in an uncontrollable swing on landing when the tail section snatched on the PSP and a wrecked aircraft. I was alone at the time and not wishing to be toasted should it catch fire, I nipped out very smartly, unhurt. The second was at night when I had been given the task of trying to salvage the prospects of one young pilot who was not making the grade with night flying. On one landing he over applied brake causing a swing out of control and a wrecked aircraft. Whilst you can apply brake from either pilot position you cannot take it off! On this occasion one of the station Doctors was in the crew room waiting for a flight when he heard the crash. He immediately leapt out through the window and ran in the direction of the runway, forgetting that just beyond the window was a monsoon drain about seven foot deep. He plunged into this breaking his leg but still continued to the aircraft. When the 'Blood wagon' arrived it was pure comedy, the medics could not understand how it was that the only casualty was a Doctor, not a pilot, and he was not even in the aircraft!! That poor Doctor had to return to England because he developed ‘Prickly heat ‘under his plaster which was unbearable in the prevailing heat and humidity conditions.

One important aspect of flying in the RAF at this time must not be overlooked. That was the fact we could not afford to insure ourselves with Life insurance. The premiums for aircrew were far too high. It was whilst in Singapore the RAF decided to fund three quarters of the cost of life insurance and so alleviated, in part, this injustice.

A few months after starting I was informed by the Squadron Commander that the Island's Instrument Rating Examiner was leaving and that he wanted me to undertake this job. He advised me that the CFS examining team (known as the trappers) were due to arrive in October and that I should start intensive instrument flying practice and swotting!! He later advised me that the Command Instrument Rating Examiner was to be returned to the UK so I was to take up the position subject to passing the test!!! Now at this time although I held an A1 instructors category, this had been awarded on single engine aircraft and I certainly did not consider that I was A1 on Multi engine aircraft. My flight commander at this time was of the same opinion and appeared to have some sort of grudge against me, I think because he only held an A2 category. He was however an excellent Mosquito pilot. He decided that in addition to my taking the Command Instrument Rating Examinion I should also be ‘Re Rated ‘this in effect meant that my competance as an instructor would be tested. In the event, the Examiner decided that if I passed the Instrument rating test the Rating test would be included. I did pass this which gave me the authority to test and qualify other instrument rating examiners and confirmed my A1 Instructor Category on twin engine aircraft. I also received a letter from the Civil Aviation Authority advising me that I was approved to flight test and assess civil pilots for instructor rating. At this time I was an honorary member of the Singapore flying Club and unpaid instructor.


Eventually, for this was not easy, I found a suitable house which enabled me to apply for Madeleine's embarkation, we had hoped she would fly out but alas Elaine caught Chicken Pox and this caused some delay. They eventually embarked on the Asturias for a sea passage. It all seemed to take an age, but suddenly I had news that she was on route. A few weeks later I was lucky enough to get a flight on a Short Sunderland flying boat which flew up the west coast of Malaya and made contact with the ship just off Penang. It was all very exciting but of course we could not recognise the passengers even though we flew quite close. We returned to base and were home the same afternoon but it took the ship another two or three days before berthing in Singapore.

Our life now was completely changed from that which we knew in UK. Madeleine now had a young Chinese servant (amah). We lived in a plush, small, rather clinical two bedroom house. The amah having her own separate quarters. My working day was from 7am to 1pm. This I thought would lend itself to nice long afternoons exploring the country but I was usually so tired on my return home that all I wanted to do was rest. This was a situation common to all the married aircrew and did at times lead to strife in the home because the families had usually spent a very quite, sometimes boring, morning alone, and wanted to get out in the afternoons... The mess life was very enjoyable for me but Seletar was primarily a maintenance base of some importance so had a predominance of old senior officer equippers and engineers. They seemed to think the aircrews were superfluous to the RAF and very boisterous. We seemed to affect their blood pressure. I note that this attitude still prevails.

Within days of my arrival one of the chaps said "when are you going to buy your car"? I replied that without cash that event was along way off. "Rubbish you don't need cash here; I will show you the system". With less confidence than he had I went with him to a Chinese car show room. Lots of nice looking second hand cars. You must remember very few of us had cars in the UK in those days; also the laws for purchase in Singapore were the same as in the UK. That is to say, you had to put down a deposit of one third the purchase price! Bingo I thought that's me out. But no! The canny old Chinese millionaire car salesman had it organised, despite a customs officer sitting at a desk in the showroom. It worked like this. Say the car was £600 he put the price at £900 but gave you £300 which you gave him back as your deposit. You then paid the sum due monthly to cover the £600 as you mutually agreed. Thus the British system was satisfied and certainly the subsequent arrangement between the Singapore customs and the Seller would be equally satisfactory and another tarted up old banger would have been sold to a gullible Brit. But we all had cars.

Of course we had a lot of fun and in Jeff M….. I found a kindred soul. We had a similar sense of humour and we used this unmercifully on many in the mess. One of our pranks was to feed false information to the squadron pilots. It would work like this. One of us would join the other at the dining table and, completely unrehearsed, would start a conversation like."Glad I'm not on 45 Sqdn"...."Well I don't mind the cold myself"..."No but what a dump"..."Gives one a chance to save some money". This would have taken place knowing there was a 45 squadron ear in the offing and almost always the news would be flashed around that 45 was to be moved off to somewhere grim and cold.
On one occasion we went to the flying club and in the bar there was only one other member a civilian and I started up a conversation with Jeff saying "What will you drink Morton" in a tone that made him reply "Just a beer. Sir" I ordered and then continued "I hope you will not let this promotion get in the way of our friendship Morton! I would like to think that should you have any little problem you would continue to feel able to approach me. Of course on duty I expect the normal respect due to the difference in our rank". Well this went on for a while when suddenly the other chap at the bar exploded and said, "Don't you think you are being a little bumptious just because you've been promoted?” I said "But it’s not my promotion it's his" He was speechless and left the bar. ( Jeff had just been made up to Flt.Lt.)

It was decided to move the Far East Training squadron from Seletar to the north of Malaya. RAF Butterworth, across the straits from Penang. This move took place in September 1954. Madeleine and the children travelled up by train taking two days. I went up by car in convoy with Jeff M….. and Ray L…. It must be understood that at this time Malaya was designated with 'White' and 'Black' areas the white areas being fairly free of communist activity but the black areas dangerous. We travelled with loaded sten guns beside us. However I don't think we would have stood a chance had we run into a communist ambush. They were pretty efficient. Only a few months earlier they had written off a British General travelling the same route. The journey was roughly 600 miles and apart from a complete loss of hydraulics and therefore loss of brakes in my car, we had no problems.

Our first accommodation was in Penang where we shared a house with Ray L… and family. We had not seen this house before our arrival and were a bit hesitant about sharing; however, the house was huge. It had been used as a transit mess for Singapore Airways flight crews. It was in Residency Road, centred in a massive garden with an impressive drive up to a large covered car porch. Along one side of the garden was a line of Malay Attaps, housing some servants because we were obliged to take on the gardener and a Chinese cook and his wife. What hardship!! The accommodation split up quite well with us downstairs and the L….. upstairs. The cook cooked for both families but we ate separately and cook's wife cleaned around. Our bedroom had two en-suite shower rooms.

Our working day was now more normal and we travelled with our cars by ferry each morning and evening. But, the system for station duties was that one did a full week on Duty Officer and that was it for the tour. Madeleine certainly did not like this idea at all and the Cookies Misses brought all her things to our quarters and slept in with the children.

Butterworth was a very primitive airfield edging onto the sea. One had only to go for a short walk to find snakes, giant monitor lizards and all sorts of creepy crawlies. The jungle and the sea were its boundary. Jeff M….. started a Natural History Club; the guiding light was a Corporal E…… who was very knowledgeable. After Jeff was posted back to Singapore. I became its Officer i/c. There were of course a number of interesting situations arising out of the management of what was a small zoo. One such began when Jeff rang me to ask if I could let him have some snakes because he was starting up another club. Well, we had an Australian crew in with a Lancaster and they were flying on to Singapore so it was natural to ask them if they would take him a package. They were a little hesitant when they learned the content, but agreed anyway. Some time later I read in the Straits Times of an aircraft that called an emergency because a snake had been spotted moving behind the instrument panel whilst they were flying. Even though it was an Australian aircraft I failed to see the connection. It was only following a visit to Jeff when, during the conversation we spotted a discrepancy in the number of snakes I had sent. Clearly two of mine had slithered off. I wonder where number two was.

Now we were sharing the airfield with 33 and 45 Squadrons, these were of course the squadrons we had been converting pilots for, so it was logical we were all together. Our training programs went on normally until the end of February 1955 when it was discovered that the Mosquito's were suffering from woodworm attack and were all taken out of service. This of course was a massive problem and the AOC at the time acted very swiftly. FETS was disbanded and all its personnel transferred into what became 45/33 Squadron. Arrangements were made to obtain Vampire, Venoms and Meteors. Thus we then began a programme of re-converting pilots to jets.

As was customary we were to be allocated a married quarter for our last six months of the tour and as this time approached the Love's having been allocated their quarter and vacated Residency Rd. We were obliged to vacate also and moved to the Chusan Hotel where we stayed a few weeks prior to moving to our new house on the station at Butterworth. Whilst we nearly went mad in this hotel I think that the children enjoyed themselves. Elaine was spoiled by the Managers family who could not get over her blonde hair and Pierre we discovered was billing his drink requirements from the bar!! We had been trying to cut down his squash intake and were unaware he was doing his own thing!! Anyway at last we moved to a modern bungalow with the sea at the foot of our garden and a swimming pool about 100 yards away albeit not quite finished. Swimming in the sea was not to be advised because there were a lot of sea snakes and although due to their small mouths they are very rarely able to bite a human, their venom is extremely toxic.

My last flight was to asses a F/O Eccles for his instrument rating on a Vampire on the 28th October 1995. After which we were to return very reluctantly to the UK. Flying first to Changi, then by civil airlines Hermes to the UK via Bangkok, Calcutta, Karachi, Bahrain, Cypress and Rome.

Padhist
16th Jan 2012, 15:27
Return to the UK.

Our return to the UK was a shock in more ways than one. First of all, the temperature. We experienced real cold as we stepped out of the plane in Cyprus. For the first time in three years I was wearing full 'Blue' uniform and feeling distinctly chilly. We were taken to a very nice hotel in Nicosia but unfortunately there was no hot water and we were desperately in need of baths. The second big problem was housing. Since we had no service accommodation available and rented accommodation was not easy to find, we went in desperation, to my Mothers home. That was a pain from start to finish. I had thought that having been away so long she would be pleased to have us but the only thing that really occupied her attention was 'Television'. This had just started to enter homes at this time and she had one with a screen about six inches by nine inches in front of which there was a plastic screen filled with water to magnify the picture, rather like a magnifying glass. It was a fluttery picture and the programmes were awful. But, everyone was glued to their screens as soon as the programmes began. I recall our first night, we were tired out after our journey but were obliged to sit and watch this rubbish. At the end of programme viewing time my Mother turned round for the first time and said "What was Singapore like then?” Well..!......

I was scheduled to go to RAF Worksop for a refresher instrument flying course on Meteors. I felt rather indignant at the thought of having to be treated as a student again after all I had been the Command Instrument Rating Examiner in the Far East. How wrong can you be? I had completely forgotten what the weather conditions in UK in winter were like, I think had I not been flying dual on those first flights I would have killed myself. (Who said pity?).
This was January 1956 and I must say it was a hard winter. I recall one of the pilots had left his car in the open parking and the cylinder head was split due to ice.

Following Worksop I did a three day, three trip, bombing course at Lindholme it must have been quite impressive...I can't even remember it. Had this not been recorded in my log book it would certainly not appear in these pages. Perhaps the cold was addling my brain. Or maybe the Malayan heat had already achieved that.

May/June and we were house hunting at last. I had been posted to RAF Bassingbourne, in Cambridgeshire, on the Canberra Course. Houses were not easy to find and although we had located a house to rent this fell through at the last moment because the owner did not want children or pets!! We had Pierre and Elaine. However, in a panic, we eventually located a little cottage with a thatched roof, at Great Chisell. It was called Walnut Tree Cottage and was very quaint. When we saw the sanitary arrangements, a bucket in a shed outside, we rechristened it 'Thunderbox House'. I had always understood that thatched roofs were warm, this may of course be so, but this house had only a clapboard exterior and plaster scrim inside. It was freezing and the only heating was a small coal fire. Upstairs were two very small rooms and the floors were so much out of level that the wardrobe had to be wedged up to make it stay put. Our bedroom was not much bigger than the bed itself.
We had, as was customary in those days, brought our car back from Malaya and one night coming back from St Ives, I approached the Royston/Cambridge road which formed a T junction to the road I was on, too fast. I finished up having performed a barrel roll, behind the hedge of a farm house. This was not quite as funny as it sounds because a Police Trap had been laid further up the road and they had seen me perform my little solo act in which I had completely wrecked the car and was lucky not to have wrecked myself. Looking back on it it sounds funny. The police had seen me on the horizon driving, they said at speed. Then I disappeared from view, of course I had, after my roll I was behind a tall hedge that had sprung back up, clasping me in its bosom. It was funny to hear them; the car’s battery had been torn from its mountings so the lights had gone out. I could hear them saying “That’s odd he must be here. He can’t just disappear” Unfortunately they found me. I was later convicted of driving without due care and attention and fined £15. A lot of money in those days.
My first thought on loosing the car was to buy a new one with the insurance money as a deposit. Then I remembered the problems we had had with housing and decided that it would be far better to buy a house instead. At this time Madeleine's Mother and her second husband, Mr Taylor had a housing problem so we decided that we would buy the house in Harrow and they would live in it paying rent to offset the costs. It would be available to us as and when we needed it. In order to make this possible financially I was to leave Madeleine and the two children in the house and I lived in mess at RAF Upwood, 50 Squadron. Lincolnshire. This, with hindsight was a big error. I'm sure we would have managed the finances somehow, and without a car I was always in difficulty as to how to get to Harrow at weekends. From that point of view it was a miserable two years.

The Canberra course began in a strange way. I had met an old instructor friend who was now instructing on the course. He told me that all the instructors had letters lodged with their solicitors. It appeared that a number of Canberra's had gone in nose first writing off some very able old hand pilots. Of course the verdict of the enquiries was always Pilot Error. It was considered that this was too convenient an answer in view of the experience and abilities of those who were killed. Something else had to be the answer. However it transpired that a farmer contacted the RAF advising them that he had found the remains of two aircrew in one of his fields...After a very thorough investigation it was discovered that in the event of a runaway elevator trim at high speed, low level, the aircraft would nose down so fast (known as a bunt) and with so much force that it could not physically be controlled by the pilot. That is what obviously had happened in the case of the two aircrew. They had been literally thrown out of the aircraft which buried itself nose down with such force that no bodies were recoverable (Not unusual). The crew presumably were killed on impact some hundreds of yards forward of the aircraft. After extensive tests the Canberra's were modified and high speed low level flight was thereafter limited.

The course was about 70 hours flying which included 25 hours night flying. Most of this seemed to take me over the North Sea at around 40,000ft an environment I never learned to love. I had a strange experience on one of these flights. I had been flying north for some time with all my cabin lights turned off except for the fluorescent lights which permitted me to see only my instruments. My navigator was busy and had not said a word for some time. My sensations became quite odd. I had the feeling that I was sitting alone in space, just me and the instrument panel...No aeroplane. I think it was some form of hypnosis and as soon as I realised what was happening I turned up the cockpit lights and started up a conversation with the Nav. He must have wondered what I was on about because I was never given to idle chat when flying. On another occasion, by day for a change, I had another Canberra cross my bow from left to right, so close that I saw the 'Drivers' head down in the cockpit in one instant flash which I am sure could only be counted in milliseconds. We must have missed each other by feet if not inches!!! Are the Gods not good?

From Bassingbourne I was posted to RAF Upwood. 50 Squadron where I had my first flight with a Flt. Lt. Lagason who I now learn is Sir Philip Lagason. KCB DFC AFC (See what happens when you fly with me!!) I must say he seemed very much an ordinary Bod. He must have had some good connections. Or, perhaps he just used my name!!!

I crewed up with a Fg.Off Smith. Navigator and Fg.Off. Blackford Bomb Aimer This was the normal crew for a B2 Canberra. I liked Smithy but Blackford was a pain in the neck. He had the ability to make your blood run cold without any reason. For example we would be on a high level instrument bombing run, in cloud or over it, in the dark, at 35/40 thousand feet... At this height the controls were very sensitive. Blackford's instructions following the run up to the target would go something like....Right hold this heading.....Steady...Steady...Left Left...Right...Steady. Steady... Oh my God!” What’s happened “I would bellow...? “Oh it's OK. I dropped my pencil “he would reply. But me and the Nav would have our hair standing up on end like scalded cats.

It was during this period and immediately following a detachment to Malta that the twins were born. On the Friday, the day before the birth I had my last swim in the sea in the morning and in the afternoon flew a Canberra back to UK arriving around 4 PM at Upwood. I got home in Harrow that evening. On the Saturday whilst sitting at lunch, Madeleine exclaimed that the water had broken!! Elaine, in aloud voice cried out “ Who broke it, who broke the glass “ All I wanted to do was get Madeleine into bed and get the Doctor. Of course we had had no knowledge that there were twins tapping on our door. The Doctor had said it was a ‘long baby ‘. I was instructed to call the mid-wife...she answered that she was on day off and that I should contact the next on the list.....I did not take this too kindly...My wife was in urgent need of attention and she was taking a day off. Anyway I made contact with the ‘ Next on the list ‘ This time an ancient voice asked me “ What type of bed have you got “ I didn’t know there were different types! “ Is it a modern divan type “she asked, “If it is then you will have to put some blocks under the feet to raise it, my back can’t cope now “. How can you explain to a neighbour that you are cutting up pieces of four by two because your wife is having a baby???? Anyway right in the middle of 7 across in the Telegraph crossword puzzle I am instructed by the Mid-wife to call the Doctor because the next one might be a problem....What next one??...What problem???? Our family had doubled in one fell swoop.

The Canberra was the first of the important aircraft on which you were not allowed to fly unless you had completed the full conversion course. Before that life was a little more casual. I recall when the Jet Aircraft were first making their appearance and I was then among that band of NCO aircrew known as the 'Old hairies' We understood that to be a jet pilot you had to be six feet tall six feet wide and have a big moustache. And of course you had to be an officer. It was with some amusement then that we found ourselves flying these beasts and being NCOs were only supremely handsome. Oh yes and intelligent. Of course I had my commission by the time I went on Canberra'’. The same thing occurred when the V.Bombers came out; we were advised that the captains would not be less than Wing Commander rank. I must say however I know of no non-commissioned pilots on these beasts, but plenty of Flight Lieutenants.

At the end of my tour with 50 Squadron I was quite surprised to find myself posted to 231 OCU Waddington the Vulcan course and more surprised to learn that I, together with a Canadian, Squadron Leader Carlson, also on the course, were chosen to carry out the automatic landing trials on the Vulcan at RAE Bedford. This in my view was a plum posting. Also interesting was the fact that I had not done the Empire Test Pilots Course.

The Vulcan was certainly the most impressive aircraft I ever had the pleasure of flying and the course was a very comprehensive one. Apart from an intensive ground school there was 32 hours of Simulator to get through before getting our hands on the real thing...
As you can imagine with a multi million pound aircraft having a nuclear capability there was a lot of 'Hoo Ha' around every aspect of its flying. During the course, one of our numbers, a Squadron Leader Navigator had flown off to the States with his crew on a long range exercise and the Vulcan had plummeted into the ground from altitude, near Detroit. This was a major catastrophe and it took some time before its cause was established. Up to that time we were being lectured on the infallibility of the Vulcan Electric’s... It was an electrical fault. Despite all this the Vulcan was a fantastic aeroplane to fly. Up to that time it was certainly the largest aircraft I had flown, but that was not all, it was the most sophisticated. We had a crew of five The Captain the second pilot, two navigators, one to take us from A to B and one a specialist on our war bombing target. He was the one who would actually guide us via the autopilot to the final aiming point. And then the Air Electronics Officer. Those three crew members all sat facing aft and had NO EJECTOR SEATS This was the most glaring fault in the design of the Vulcan and one which was to cost the lives of some of those back seat air crew. I found it very impressive to fly in one sortie, all round the British Isles, usually at heights of 45-55 thousand feet. Of course as always in the RAF auto pilots seldom worked properly and so one had to fly the aircraft manually. I have often likened flying a Vulcan at those heights as ‘Like milking mice’ the controls were so delicate. One has to realise that to carry out a sortie which was to last say five and a half hours the crews had to work considerably longer than that. The usual arrangement was for the navigators to present themselves in the operations room allowing some two hours of planning and briefing. The second pilot would require about an hour and the Captain about half an hour to consolidate. The whole crew would then require some half an hour to dress into flying clothing and be taken out to the aircraft. The pre-flight checks would take up to forty minutes and then we were ready for take off. Of course with a full fuel load and supplies the aircraft was quite heavy on take off and required a lot of runway, but all of that had been calculated by the second pilot so there was no doubt that all would be well. The pilot had very little view from the cockpit and could not in fact see the wing tips, but it was a very easy aircraft to control with its steerable nose wheel. Take off was impressive and with its fighter like control column it felt as though you were taking off a fighter. For the pilots the crew space was quite limited and once you were strapped in it was not an easy job to move out of your seat. In fact I never did. For the essentials of life we were equipped with PEE TUBES but if you can imagine the problems of finding a frozen Willie tucked away in the depths of multi layers of flying clothing and two lots of escape seat harness!!! No...The answer is a strong bladder or wet pants! I never wet my pants.
I never ceased to be amazed on coming down the ladder at the end of a sortie to realise just how big the Vulcan was, of course I had just been flying the cockpit.

At the end of the course having packed and was ready to depart Waddington I was most pleased to get a call from an old mate Alfie Camp suggesting that he could come over and pick me up in a Varsity from Bedford. What a relief not to have to move all my gear by train and taxi, for I still had no car.

kookabat
17th Jan 2012, 10:20
Paddy,
This is absolutely fantastic stuff - quite the impressive list of types flown.
Thanks very much for sharing and please carry on. You're almost posting faster than I can read it!!

Adam

ricardian
17th Jan 2012, 18:43
Padhist, fantastic stories. Thank you SO much for sharing them