A warm Squadron welcome for the new boy
Post no. 13 from the memoirs of Tempest pilot Flt Lt Jack Stafford, DFC, RNZAF
ALL FLYING had been cancelled because of the weather, which had clagged right down. We entered the dispersal to find it packed tight with pilots, for another Typhoon squadron was paying us a visit. All heads turned towards us as we entered, for all knew it was my first “op”. Frank Murphy was standing at the door to greet us and he shook my hand enthusiastically. “How did it go?” “Good”, said Woe. “Piece of cake”. The intelligence officer stepped up and the noise in the room died down. “What did you see, Woe?” “Several ships in the port at Le Treport, one leaving the roadstead. Bit of movement around Boulogne, but most of the shipping was at Dieppe”. “Did you get much flak?” “Yes, quite a bit”, said Woe. “Dieppe was the heaviest, but they hosed us down quite a bit from all the other ports. Even got a bit on the coast”.
I stood there locked in amazement, my mouth open. Flak? What bloody flak? The CO of the visiting squadron must have noticed my obvious confusion and asked:”Did you see the flak, Staff?” My mouth had gone dry and almost inaudibly I answered no. He was smiling at me and at my answer he began to laugh, gales of good-humoured laughter rocked the room.
The goodwill towards me and my ready acceptance by all was infectious. Murph was killing himself laughing, he put a hand on my shoulder and said “Staff, you're a bloody beaut!” Without knowing what they were laughing about I joined in. Woe laughed, the intelligence officer laughed, everybody was in fits. Woe said: “He was watching my arse and he was doing it very well”. This produced more screams of laughter. It was just hilarious.