Apologies for the delay in posting, fellow nostalgics. Frozen shoulder, facial surgery and one or two other minor health problems that bother nonagenarians have held me up for some days. Now I’m back in shape, so here goes.
Christmas 1942 passed, and eventually we received orders to go to Idku, an aerodrome about 30 miles east of Alexandria, in the delta of the Nile. Here we were inducted into 272 Squadron, Royal Air Force, at the beginning of January 1943. Training began in earnest, and we were quickly transformed into day Beaufighter crews. Our Radar Observers had to work hard to convert themselves into Navigators, in the true sense of the word. Flying was done by dead reckoning and map reading. No more assistance and "vectoring" from ground station radar.
The pilots had to familiarise themselves with desert warfare and with convoy escort procedures, because our prime role would be escorting large and small convoys up and down the Mediterranean, to besieged Malta, past Gibraltar, and back to Alexandria. Meanwhile, 603 (City of Edinburgh) Squadron arrived at Idku, from Malta, where it had been working hard to defend the island from the savage attacks of German and Italian Air Forces. The Squadron was converted from Spitfires to Beaufighters, and we were the new air crews. Soon, we flew off into the Desert, in close support of the Eighth Army now victoriously chasing Rommel westwards as hard as possible.
Jim, Walter and Len in Egypt
Not a crew - just pals
After operating from various “forward” bases on the fast chase westwards, we established ourselves at Misurata Marina, in Libya, about 100 miles east of Tripoli. Our Squadron's “tent city” sprang up on the eastern end of the airfield, which was little more than a flattened portion of desert, south of the Italian-built town of Misurata, on the Mediterranean coast, and birth-place in 1942 of Muanmar Gaddafi, later to become dictator of Libya. . Here we were to remain for the remainder of 1943 as a Coastal Command Squadron.
We were now in 201 Group of Coastal Command of the Royal Air Force. In the tradition built up from the inauguration of the Empire Air Training Scheme in April 1940, we had a wonderful mix of men from Britain, Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Rhodesia etc, all seconded to the RAF for the duration, working together perfectly in the mutual desire to defeat the enemy axis. Our Commanding Officer, Hugh Chater, even came from South Africa!
We were kept very busy on convoy escorts, mainly to and from the besieged island of Malta. Troop ships and supply ships sailed backwards and forwards along the Mediterranean Sea, and were liable to air attack at any time from the German forward bases before they were finally driven from North Africa, and from German and Italian air forces in Italy, Sicily, and the outlying bases such as on Corsica and Sardinia.
Our escort duties were quite arduous, involving many hours flying low over the sea, to and from the convoys which had to be "pinpointed" and found quickly by skilful navigation over thousands of square miles of ocean. Once in position, we flew round and round, round and round, continually scanning the skies for attacking enemy aircraft, and keeping at a respectful distance from our seaborne charges.
Getting too close, in the estimation of the Royal Navy, even when we had been circling for several hours, was sure to invite a sharp barrage from the anti-aircraft guns of one or more escort ships. Mind you, we could always understand why the Navy gunners were so trigger-happy. Losses of shipping, from submarines and from air attacks on the Malta run totalled hundreds of thousands of tons in dozens of sunken ships.
Occasionally, we had a respite from the convoy duties, flying at wave-top height across the Mediterranean to keep below the enemy radar defences, and attacking shipping, airfields and supply dumps in Greece, Crete and the Dodecanese Islands.
These trips were also very arduous. It took about two-and-a-half hours to fly across the "Med" to the target. Attack usually took no more than about 3 or 4 minutes, then there was the return journey to be accomplished. One of the hazards was the fact that spray from the waves created a salt coating under the wings and fuselage, and aircraft had to be regularly cleaned to get rid of the corrosive substance. Another was the fact that it was very difficult to judge one's height over the sea. Two hundred feet and 20 feet looked very much alike in the featureless seascape.
It was necessary to set the altimeter meticulously before takeoff, and descending very, very carefully to the top of the waves, usually about 20 feet above the sea. At this height, flying the Beaufighter was still hard work, from the habit of the aircraft "hunting", that is, behaving like a ridden horse in rising up and down continuously, necessitating constant opposing pressure by the pilot on the control column to counteract the movements. This effect was called "longitudinal instability", and was partly cured by fitting dihedral tail planes to the aircraft. It was not unknown for pilots to strike the wave-tops - in fact we lost two in our Squadron from these dreadful accidents. The aircraft were gone in the blink of an eye!
Walter on his first camel ride the Sphinx.
The wallet was held to encourage the use of the camel!
