Danny and "The Camel Drivers Recruiting Establishment"
(Apocryphal story: supposed to have been the address on a letter sent to the C.D.R.E. from a job applicant - someone had been pulling his leg - it should have been: "The Chemical Defence Research Establishment" ! - although, strangely enough, a camel does appear later in the story).
The signal * came in March: "Posted to No. 1340 (Special Duty) Flight, Cannanore, with immediate effect, to command with acting rank of Flight Lieutenant". The acting rank wouldn't make much difference, I was due for my War Substantive (time) promotion in a few weeks anyway, but the rest sounded nice. I had to look up Cannanore on the map; no one had ever heard of the place, or had any idea of what 1340 Flight did. One of (now) my Vengeances flew in to pick me up and fly me over to take up my first (and last !) Command in the RAF.
Note *: The greater part of our inter-unit communication was by c/w radio, in cipher if deemed necessary. Every unit would have its own Signals section. British India had a very comprehensive telegraph network, but of course if you were "out in the bundoo", you wouldn't have any connection. In all the larger towns, there would be "local" telephones, but I don't know how much of a "trunk" service was available. Precious little, would be my guess. Post was slow, but the stuff mostly got through in the end. Personal mail from and to home was mostly by "Airletter" (embossed As4 stamp, about 4d in old money).
We would fly right across South India from the Coromandel to the Malabar coasts (how these old colonial names tug at the memory). I said farewell to Freddie and the Wing Commander. One day I would meet the Wingco again, years later and thousands of miles away, but that is a story for another time.
We landed on what was in effect the private airstrip of "The Chemical Defence Research Establishment", which was an offshoot of that Government research facility of the same name which still operates at Porton Down.
This wartime susidiary had been set up at Cannanore, on the Malabar coast of India, about 200 miles south of Goa and midway between Mangalore and Calicut. Its purpose was to develop, under tropical conditions, defences against poison gases. These might well be used against our troops in Burma if the Japanese armies were facing defeat. After all, they were known to have used gas in China (phosgene, I think).
I am still not entirely clear about the "organisational tree" of the C.D.R.E. in India in my time. Today I believe it is an agency of the MOD, but during the war I seem to remember that the Ministry of Supply had a hand in it.
Operational control was vested in the Royal Engineers, in the person of a fatherly old (from our youthful standpoint) Colonel Philips as the C.O. He had a most impressive handle to his name - you don't see "DSO, MC, Ph.D, B.Sc." every day ! (of course, his gallantry awards dated from WW1: the academic distinctions from the inter-war years). He was a research scientist and the Cannanore Mess was full of them, Dr. this and Dr. that, as well as a number of medical and veterinary officers who looked after our human and animal guinea-pigs.
After the war, I ran across one of these back-room boys, a leather chemist, in London. His name escapes me, but he did me a very good turn. He'd tried ice skating, didn't like it much, (and I must admit that the early days are apt to be rather bruising and humiliating !). He offered to sell me his (as new) boots and skates dirt cheap, we were the same shoe size, I decided to "give it a whirl", and so started on an ideal winter pastime which kept me fit for years after the war.
The Colonel had a RAF Liaison Officer, Wing Commander Edmondes, in his late thirties, a pre-war regular pilot and Armaments Specialist.* He co-ordinated the details of their trials with us. He was directly responsible to AHQ Delhi, and outside the control of 225 Group, so in no way my Commanding Officer, but very useful to us. He (and the CDRE generally) seemed to enjoy a very high priority in Delhi, and they were able to get anything they wanted for the asking.
Note *: Pre-war, many specialist tasks in the RAF (Armaments, Photography, Engineering, etc) were performed by regular Pilots on tours of ground duty - (hence "General Duties" Branch ?) Some were seconded to University to get the essential qualifications. (A Frank Whittle read Engineering at Cambridge; the World got the jet engine).
As the war is so long ago, perhaps I should explain that poison gases are used not only as vapours, which caused such terrible injuries in WW1 (who can forget that famous painting of the "crocodile" of blinded Tommies ?), but also in heavy liquid form. Droplets on the skin are highly caustic, sprayed on the ground they are persistent and can deny access to an area (for a time) almost as well as land mines.
Against vapours, respirators of some sort are the only defence (in UK in the early days of the war everyone had to carry round their own "gas-mask" in its little square cardboard box; troops - and Civil Defence - had a superior job in a much bulkier canvas satchel, which could also accommodate a packet of sandwiches and a small Thermos flask).
But for liquids, "Anti-Gas Capes" were Service issue kit. For those without them who might have been sprayed, RAF Stations had "Decontamination Centres", where you could strip to the buff, have a good shower to wash the stuff off ASAP (your contaminated clothing would have to be destroyed - hopefully there was plenty more in Stores !) Civilians were on their own, official advice was to wash the stuff off with copious quantities of water
Never used, to my knowledge, these Centres lasted long into the sixties, for I was Officer in Charge of one of them then. You might think that this would be a cushy Subsidiary Duty - far from it ! Mine was completely disused except for a large store of steel helmets and camouflage netting. Rarely could I get a cleaning party from the SWO to dust the place out, but for some reason the Station Commander almost always included it on his weekly rounds.
It was always in scruff order, but I could never be sure of the reception I might get. One week I might be complimented on it, the next get a rocket for it, the place would be in exactly the same condition each time. Luckily, I was an old soldier by then, or I might have been psychologically harmed by this Pavlovian treatment. (Station Commanders come, and Station Commanders go, but the money comes into the Bank every month just the same).
And now back to Cannanore !
Goodnight once again,
Danny42C.
Another day, another dollar.
Last edited by Danny42C; 12th Jan 2015 at 18:48.
Reason: Spelling !