So that the bulk of our "readership" should not become too bored with the specialist minutiae of aerial wires on VVs, here's another slice of the main narrative to be going on with.
Our errant Columbus was well liked and soon forgiven. Pilots smirked inwardly at having their private opinion of navigators confirmed, and resolved to place their faith in themselves and their maps in future. What my nav Robbie thought of his colleague, he kept to himself. Besides, this chap had been the source of much innocent merriment more than once already, for his was a trusting nature.
About this time there had arisen a rumour to the effect that the RAF was about to introduce a double-wing insignia for Navigators (then still called "Observers"). This was not wholly improbable. Their American counterparts, after all,
did wear a double wing like pilots.
And not only in the RAF did this rumour gain credence. The stallholders dealing in such wares in the Calcutta bazaars picked it up, and sensed a business opportunity. If there is a potential demand, why not create a supply ? It became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Someone had to be first; our hero came back from Calcutta wearing a magnificent double "O" wing. I can't swear to it, but it might even have been in gold lace - all flying badges are in "drab silk" (with the exception of mess kit miniatures). (This is not entirely true - who remembers the weird No. 1 SD jacket brought in in the early '50s ? - I do, I bought one of the bloody things!)
The C.O. told him smartly to take it down. The rumour was baseless and soon died out. But this poor chap seemed fated to be "taken for a ride" in the bazaars, for he fell prey to the con-men there again. He was coming up on time promotion (six months) for his F/O, and needed a new pair of rank cuffs for his shoulder straps. Brand new P/Os got free hand downs from new F/Os, but as it took two years warime service to reach Flight Lieutenant, and not many people had got that far since commissioning, second-hand F/O cuffs were much harder to find.
Now a F/O's rank braid is 5/16 in wide. An Indian braid weaver somewhere made a mistake, and set up his loom for 7/16. They ran off a hundred yards or so before the error was discovered. No use good stuff going to waste. Put it on the market, don't suppose it will make much difference to the customer.
They were right ! Our friend appeared with a pair of these massive stripes on his shoulders. He was mockingly congratulated on his promotion to Air Commodore. His cuffs soon joined the pretty wings in the bin, to general amusement. Luckily he was a resilient character, and endured the ribbing with good grace.
At Chittagong there was an accommodation problem. Our few officers could be fitted in the Mess on the station. But there was no room for the influx of aircrew NCOs. We were dumped in a transit camp in the town. As the Squadron came to readiness at dawn, we had to up at first light and out to the airfield, long before breakfast in the transit camp.
A bunch of hungry and resentful sergeants faced the prospect of flying the Squadron's first operation without even a mug of tea. Our M.O. (Dr "Pete" Latcham - I'm glad he survived the war) was rightly indignant. He got hold of an empty and cleanish four-gallon can, borrowed a blowlamp from the engineers, scrounged the makings of a brew from somewhere, and made the best mug of tea we'd had for a long time. He couldn't get much in the food line for us except emergency rations: "Ship's biscuits" and a tin of jam (plum, I think). Not much but better than nothing. Well done, that man! I'll always remember that "breakfast". As it happened, we didn't fly that day. But the fur flew, and from next morning there was early breakfast for us in the Transit Camp.
Looking back, I cannot see the sense of waiting so late in the season and then sending us forward. As I've said, we flew up to the Arakan on 12th May; I flew my first three "ops" on the 15th, 16th and 17th of the month, then - nothing! Clearly, the monsoon had broken and by 5th June we'd flown back to Bengal.
Our kind of dive bombing is not feasible in hilly country with a base down to 500ft and torrential rain. The onset of the monsoon (in those pre-climate-change days) was predictable almost to the day. IMHO the Squadron was as well trained as it would ever be when I got back to them in April. Why hadn't they used us then? Don't know - never will know, like so many other things in war.
Although our time out there that first year was so short, it was not without incident. We saw our first Mosquito aircraft there, and gathered awestruck round the famed "wooden wonder". Probably a
PR version, it had taken a bit of flak over Rangoon, and had come up from there "at 200 mph on
one engine", as we told each other in hushed amazement.
We wouldn't have been so impressed had we known of the nasty trick the Mossie had up its sleeve - namely to self-destruct in mid-air without warning, when the glue which was supposed to hold it together - didn't! But this disconcerting problem did not arise until the following year, and was eventually resolved by the development of tropic-proof glues.
As the first VV Squadron to go into operation (that week at Dohazari in March), we were graced by a visit from the AOC 221 Group - the same AVM who had rubber-stamped my recommendation in February. If his gaze had chanced on me (which I doubt), then he had forgotten me. He was a charming elderly gentlemen of the old school.
Too old a school! Casting an eye over a back cockpit, his gaze fell on the twin machine guns poking up. "Ah", said he, "you have Vickers G.O.s, I see". We were shocked. These would have been the guns he'd had in the back of the Wapitis and Hawker Harts he'd flown in his young days up on the NW Frontier. They look nothing like Brownings, as I knew all too well after the hours I'd spent at Newquay, pulling the Vickers to bits and trying to put it together again! It didn't inspire confidence.
He asked the usual question: was there anything we wanted that he could try to get for us? "More bombs, Sir", growled a grizzly old F/Sgt Armourer - we'd been dropping them faster than we could be re-supplied. (Possibly that was why we stopped so suddenly after only three days). Slightly taken aback, the great man consulted his Staff and promised to look into it; then they all piled into their Anson and flew back to Calcutta.
Rather a lot tonight, but (like Topsy), "it just growed"!
Cheers, all,
Danny42C
Soldier on!