Keeping the thread going
Yes we need more folks to come forward with their stories.
This is the end of Ch 9 of Peter Brett's original 13 chapters, so there is a fair bit of his stuff still to come.
Here is some more
Next day saw my first landing in France. We flew to ALG (Advanced Landing Ground) B8 near Bayeux. The main impression was of dust. It had been hot and dry for over two weeks and the flat Normandy land had dried out to a fine powder. Landing caused billows of dust to float away from under the wings, but take-offs were a nightmare for everybody except the first pair to get airborne. We were briefed to attack some AFV's south west of Caen. Taxiing out from the dispersal area was tricky enough with everybody having to swing violently from side to side in order to peer through the drifting dust blown up by the preceding aircraft. I was leading the second four so two pairs had taken off when it became my turn to get onto the runway. As I taxied across the runway to get into take-off position I realised that I couldn't see more than about twenty feet. I lined up as best I could, glanced across at my number two who gave me a thumbs-up to indicate that he was ready, and opened up. It only took a few seconds to see that the dust was getting thicker as I got further along the runway. I couldn't see anything ahead and not much to the side. I did the only thing possible and took off entirely on instruments. Mainly keeping as straight as possible with the gyro compass until I felt the aircraft start to lift. I just had to trust to luck that I was not running off the side of the tracking. My number two was having a slightly easier time since he was just formating on me and assuming that I knew where I was! Once we were airborne things improved greatly and at about 200 feet I came out of the dust to see the previous two just ahead of me in perfect position. However all this dangerous effort was to no avail since the target area was once again inaccessible due to cloud cover and we returned to England.
We flew over to France again on the 12th July to ALG B8. All the ALG's were given numbers A for American and B for British. Our first target briefing was to attack, once again, the Radar station on Cap d'Antifer. This was to be a four aircraft attack. The C.O., S/Ldr Felix Scarlett was leading and I was number three. After the briefing, which was very nominal since the wing had attacked this target several times before, we walked out to the aircraft. As we walked the C.O. said that he wanted to try something different. I was to lead the R/P attack in a 60 degree dive and he would go in solo at zero feet to try to hit the base of the antenna. I would climb up to 8000 feet and start a gentle turn just inland of the target. When he was in position for the run-in he would call me and I would commence the dive. The idea was that we would coordinate our attacks and, hopefully, the gunners would be so busy with the three of us diving that he would be able to get a clear run at the target. The timing worked out very well. Unfortunately for some unknown reason all the flak concentrated on Felix as he made his run-in. I was well into the dive and waiting for the flak to commence when I spotted him coming in from the south parallel to, and just inland of, the coast. Just as I saw him, the flak started up and almost immediately his aircraft burst into flame.
His aircraft carried on straight into the base of the aerial where there was an enormous explosion. By this time I was well into my dive and lined up on the target ready to fire my rockets. I had about two seconds to make up my mind whether to fire or not since the C.O. had crashed exactly at the base of the aerial which was the aiming point. Since his aircraft was on fire and travelling at some 350 mph when he hit the ground and the impact was followed by the explosion, it was obvious that he could not have survived. There were no ejection seats of course in those days and it would have been impossible for him to have baled out from that height and I therefore fired. My eight rockets as well as those of the other two all landed within the target area. We will never know what exactly happened in those last few moments. Whether Felix was killed by the flak and the aircraft just continued on the same course, or whether he realised that, with the aircraft on fire, there was no way he could get away and deliberately crashed into the target, will always remain an unanswered question. It was not until sometime later that somebody gave me a cutting from the 'Daily Sketch' which told me that he was The Honourable Felix Scarlett, the younger brother of Lord Abinger. He had never hinted that he was anything but plain Felix Scarlett and had been a most popular leader of the squadron.
We stayed overnight at B8 and next morning attacked the Le Havre Ferry once again, returning to Hurn in the afternoon. This proved to be my last operation of my first tour although I did not know it at the time.
Next day, 14th July, the squadron was posted to Eastchurch on the Isle of Sheppey in the Thames estuary to attend an R/P practice course. I did ten practice trips during the next ten days and found out that I seemed to have a natural aptitude for judging the flight of the rockets as well as being a very good shot at stationary targets where deflection shooting was not required!
Eastchurch was a quite small grass airfield with a not very good surface and two of our aircraft lost their tailwheels on landing and badly damaged their rudders. At this time the station was also a posting for pilots who for some reason had 'cracked up' and had been classified as LMF. This latter stood for 'Lack of Moral Fibre' and seemed to be indiscriminately applied to anyone who could not cope with the stress for whatever reason. Psychiatry was still looked on as somewhat of an odd science and there seemed to be little being done in the way of treatment. Consequently the officers’ mess had a somewhat weird atmosphere. The members, apart from our more 'normal' squadron pilots, were either those who kept strictly to themselves and sat brooding in corners, or those who were 'overstrung' and lived on a permanent binge. I did not realise at the time how near I was to becoming a 'case' myself since I had been living with the stress for nearly a year.
At the end of the course the squadron was posted back to France to ALG B7 at Martragny just west of Bayeux but I did not accompany them as I was posted on 'rest' to 84 Group GSU (Group Support Unit) at Thruxton near Andover. On the last night at Eastchurch the squadron threw a mess party for me and all the pilots signed my log book.
The next day I flew an Auster from Eastchurch to Thruxton with a stopovers at Shoreham and Lee-on-Solent where I dropped off F/O Pattison who was going on leave. Lee-on-Solent was a Fleet Air Arm Station where everything was navy fashion. Walls were bulkheads and floors were decks. Whilst I was in flying control, booking in and out again to go to Thruxton, F/O Pattison arranged to get a lift into Portsmouth and was offered a ride in the 'Captains Jolly Boat' which turned out to be a 15 cwt Bedford van! I bid him farewell and continued my flight to Thruxton. I reported in and was asked to see the station Adjutant next morning. I duly presented myself to his office next morning expecting to be posted somewhere in the U.K. for a few months quiet life only to be told that I was posted straight back to 123 Wing 2nd T.A.F. This time to 198 Squadron.
It was then that I found out how much stress I had been under without knowing it. I suppose I had started to relax as soon as I was posted away from 183 squadron and I my reaction to this news was as much a surprise to me as to anyone. I suddenly felt as if I wanted to cry and had difficulty in keeping my voice from breaking as I said something like "Very good sir but I would have preferred to go back to 183".
However I managed to salute and retire in good order.
Next day, July 26th, I was flown in an Anson to ALG B7 where I reported to the CO of 198 S/Ldr Paul Ezzanno. He seemed somewhat surprised to see me and took me to the Wing Commander, W/C Wally Dring, who had been my Squadron Leader earlier on 183 Squadron. His reaction was " Peter, what the hell are you doing here? I sent you on rest! Those idiots at A.D.G.B. don't know what they're doing. You are grounded until I can sort out what has gone wrong. Just make yourself useful in the ops room!"
It took a week before things were sorted out during which time I did odd jobs for the intelligence types such as marking up maps and setting up briefings for operations. It proved to be quite interesting but I was apprehensive that I would be grounded for a long time.
Eventually I was posted back to 84 Group GSU at Thruxton as a ferry pilot and was flown back in an Anson via ALG B3. I was immediately granted 14 days leave and had a good time celebrating my surviving my first tour.
My first job on returning from leave was an engine test after an engine change on aircraft JR141. Normally this would have been a short trip of 15 minutes or so just to check that all the engine instruments were registering the correct figures. However I was feeling relaxed and cheerful and decided to enjoy the flight. I took the aircraft up to 15000 ft to check the supercharger speed change-over and after this proved O.K. I started to have fun. I performed all the aerobatics in the book , except spinning of course!. The first thing was a vertical climbing roll for which I had to get up to about 450mph in the dive. This of course took me down to about 8000ft and from then on I carried on with rolls, loops, rolls off the top of loops, semi-stall turns and barrel rolls. I did not really notice where I was except to ensure that I kept above 2000ft. After about 30 minutes I felt I had had enough and decided to return to base. By now I was fairly adept at map reading and it did not take me long to realise that I had been aerobatting practically over the airfield. I called up for permission to join the circuit and do a 'combat' landing. This consisted of flying in low over the threshold of the runway and then executing a very steep climbing turn to port, at the same time cutting the throttle, going into fully fine pitch, opening the hood, selecting wheels down, then flaps down and coming out of the top of the climbing turn in full landing configuration at about 150 mph. The turn was continued to align with the runway on a very steep approach and the ideal situation was to carry out a three point landing as close to the start of the runway as possible.
Everything worked out fine and I greased onto the runway about 25 yards past the threshold. I taxied in and was guided to the dispersal point where the Sergeant fitter was waiting for my report. As I unstrapped he climbed up onto the wing and, before I could say anything, he said with a broad grin on his face. "I think we enjoyed that didn't we sir?". Apparently most of the work had stopped on the airfield to watch my display! I was expecting to get a 'rocket' for showing off, however the Wing commander flying did not send for me and at lunch time in the mess, when I apologised and explained that I was just enjoying the flying and not intending to show off, he said "Don't worry about it. You didn't violate any flying regulations and it provided a bit of light relief."
He then told me that I was to fly the same aircraft over to ALG B7 in France in the afternoon but I would have to wait until they had fitted some long range tanks. When I queried the fact that these were not necessary I was told that they were highly necessary since they would be filled with best bitter beer having been previously steam cleaned and had taps fitted at the rear! I was told that my very life depended on a smooth crossing and a safe landing at B7, since the airfield had been forewarned of my arrival and would be waiting for the beer!
I was briefed to climb up quickly to 10000ft and cross over at this height. I was then to let down quickly near the coast and land as soon as possible. This was to ensure that the beer arrived cold! It was a hot dusty day in Northern France and as I joined the circuit after being given permission to land I saw that queues were already forming at the dispersal point. I made a smooth landing and was waved into a dispersal bay. I cut the engine and, before I could unstrap and get out there was a sergeant rigger at each wing operating the semi-frozen taps and dispensing the “amber nectar”. It took a while to serve out the drink since I had brought over 90 gallons of best bitter, which at the rate of a pint per person would have served 720 !
I reported to the ops room and was told to expect an Anson to ferry me back during the afternoon. Unfortunately, when the Anson arrived, the pilot was taken ill. Either he was suffering from a very severe hangover or had acquired a 'continental tummy' in record time since he was completely incapacitated and spent most of his time in the toilets. Thus I was stranded at B7 for four days. During this time I again helped out in the ops room and also did a 20 minute air test after an engine repair for an oil leak.
Finally, on 21st August I was flown back to Thruxton and then posted on the No.3 Tactical Experience Unit at Aston Down in Gloucestershire and finally started my four months 'rest period' from operations.
Peter mentions his logbook in the text above. The original is in the RAF Museum at Hendon, and the excellent museum at Tangmere has a photocopy of it. I believe, if you put in a prior request you can inspect these and similar documents. If anyone knows the procedure, please let me know, because I would like to to do so myself.
I have since received a PM about this - all you have to do is ring up and ask a few days in advance. Thanks Michael.
Last edited by tow1709; 14th Aug 2010 at 17:27.