Memoirs of a WW-II Typhoon pilot - part 11
In this instalment, Peter Brett writes of crossing back to the UK on the SS Bayano. I believe this ship was known as the "Lucky Bayano" and held some sort of record for the number of safe convoy crossings over the north Atlantic. I have a picture of Peter at the recent 11 November memorial service in the local village in France where he now lives - I will try and post it soon.
Our voyage back to U.K. was not quite so uncomfortable as the voyage out although the weather was not much better. We came back on the SS Bayano, an Elders and Fyffes banana boat which had been pressed into service as a small troopship. There were only about forty of us on board and the ship was run as an Officers' Mess. We were only two to a cabin and there was a fair sized lounge with a bar. It was a slow convoy, and it again took us thirteen days to cross the Atlantic. Also, being a smallish vessel, it rolled a lot. The maximum roll clocked on that voyage was 34 degrees which felt more like 90!
The accommodation was in cabins each side of a very narrow gangway. As you walked along you had to time the roll as you were alternately jammed first against one bulkhead and then the other. In the lounge it was an experience to see the stewards, yes we even had stewards, carrying loaded trays of drinks without spilling a drop. We drew lots to see who would be the Orderly Officers on each day and I was unlucky enough to be drawn. This meant that I was at the beck and call of the more senior officers, of which there were two Flight Lieutenants and a Squadron Leader, (All the rest of us were lowly Pilot Officers), and also had to carry out a deck patrol four times during my 24 hours tour of duty. By doing the first patrol at dawn it meant that only one of the tours, the last one was in total darkness. A somewhat unnerving experience since it was during what the sailors would probably have called a mild blow but which seemed to me to be a full scale hurricane which was determined to blow me overboard! However I survived the day and could then claim to have fulfilled my first obligation as a holder of His Majesty's Commission.
Other than this the trip was fortunately uneventful and we arrived back in Liverpool on the 18th November. We spent one day here at No.1 P.R.C.(Personnel Reception Centre) and were then sent by train to No.7 P.R.C. at Harrogate. I think we all felt the change in atmosphere within the first day or so. We were back in the war! The blackout was of course the most noticeable thing from our point of view. Rationing was very severe but this did not affect us so much since we were catered for 'en-masse' and so did not feel the full effects. Other shortages were more sharply felt, noticeably beer, cigarettes and spirits.
At Harrogate we spent about three weeks square bashing and being lectured. Since we were all Officers the drill sessions were somewhat amusing in that, although we were drilled and shouted at by a very fierce Warrant Officer, he prefaced every order with "Gen'lmen". Thus he would shout "Gen'lmen Hatenn-SHUN". Even more amusing was when we were not performing to his expectations when he might be heard to bellow "Gen'lmen you're an 'orrible shower!". I think he really enjoyed his work being able to get away with shouting at and abusing a whole squad of officers. However it all seemed to be in good part and at least kept us busy until we were due to be moved on. We were granted a fortnight's leave which was over the Christmas period before reporting to our next posting.
I have fond memories of this first leave. Later on, when I started operational flying, we were granted 7 days leave every six weeks and, to a lot of my home town folk it seemed that I was constantly on leave! This first leave however was special. I remember walking up 'Worple Way' in Rayners Lane where I lived with my parents. Our dog, a sort of cross between a collie sheepdog and a Labrador, was sitting on our front porch. I called to him: "Bob", and, although he had not seen me for over nine months he reacted immediately by leaping straight off the porch, over the gate, and performed a sort of rotating dance around me practically wagging his tail off. After greeting him I went up the path and knocked at the front door.
My mother's reaction when she opened the door and saw me was a little disconcerting. She burst into tears! Thinking back it was obviously a sort of shock reaction since, firstly, she had no idea that I was back in England. And secondly, her last sight of me was in a rather ill-fitting heavy RAF Blue serge uniform with clodhopper boots, a lone propellor badge on the sleeve, and carrying a kit bag.. Now here I was in a very smart officers uniform with gold wings over the pocket, wearing shoes and carrying a holdall! My Sister, who was working in London, was there as was my father. My brother who was a staff sergeant in the REME managed to get home for a 48 hour pass during that leave so the family was all together for part of the time.
The only sad thing was that my maternal grandmother, who had lived with us, had died whilst I was on the way back from Canada. I remember her as a very active old lady who helped my mother run the house. Evidently she had been helping my mother in the kitchen one morning and suddenly said. "I feel rather tired dear, I think I will go back to bed.", a thing she had never done before. She went back to bed and within half an hour had died quite peacefully. I remember thinking that, if I ever live as long as she did, she was 97 when she died, I only hope that my end will be as quick and peaceful. Because of her age and the fact that she had led such a full and active life was not such a severe blow as it might have been and my mother quickly hid her grief and carried on with looking after us all.
I spent that first leave looking up the few acquaintances who were not away in the forces and generally 'putting on the dog' in my new glamorous uniform!
After returning from leave to Harrogate our next posting was to No.7(P) A.F.U. ((PILOTS) Advanced Flying Unit) at Peterborough in Cambridgeshire. This was in the nature of a refresher course since none of us had sat in an aeroplane for nearly three months. The aircraft were Miles 'Masters' both Mk.1 and Mk.2. The former had a Rolls Royce 'Kestrel' engine and the latter a Bristol 'Mercury'. These were low wing monoplanes of approximately the same stage of development as the 'Harvard' although there were some very marked differences. Their rate of roll was much inferior to the Harvard and a slow roll was a very complex maneuver similar to that in a Tiger Moth or a Fleet Finch. I remember one occasion when I performed an absolutely perfect slow roll in a Master Mk.1, and was congratulated by the instructor, as it was such a rare occurrence! The Master Mk.2 was much more powerful than the Mk.1 and, at the time had the ability to make steepest angle of climb from take off of any contemporary aircraft. By shoving the throttle 'through the gate' on take off it was possible to climb away at an angle of almost 45 degrees, a really impressive sight. However the power of the Bristol 'Mercury' engine gave a very marked swing on takeoff and I remember that I silently thanked Sergeant Farrell for his early instruction on keeping straight on takeoff!
Last edited by tow1709; 30th Jan 2010 at 20:42.
Reason: correct typos