Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II
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Fareastdriver,
Another give away was to look at the headgear. If a Cap SD was clean and respectable (or, even worse, if the owner was still wearing a "Bombay Bowler"), then he was marked down as easy prey. On the other hand, if the Cap was faded, battered and more green than blue (the consequence of many cleanings in 100 Octane), or an Aussie "Bush Hat" worn in lieu, then the vendor could confidently expect to be knocked down to a price not much more than twice what the item was worth.
Danny.
Another give away was to look at the headgear. If a Cap SD was clean and respectable (or, even worse, if the owner was still wearing a "Bombay Bowler"), then he was marked down as easy prey. On the other hand, if the Cap was faded, battered and more green than blue (the consequence of many cleanings in 100 Octane), or an Aussie "Bush Hat" worn in lieu, then the vendor could confidently expect to be knocked down to a price not much more than twice what the item was worth.
Danny.
Danny . . for some strange reason that reminds me of a revolver exchange effected by the late Chris Braund (No 3 RAAF Western Desert) . Chris when posted to SW Pacific managed to do a swap with an American P-38 pilot . . . Chris's Smith & Wesson for the other's Colt 45. Chris kept that gat for many years. He carried it sometimes in his overnight bag as he undertook many different civilian flying jobs throughout Australia and the Islands. . . . usually accompanied too by a bottle of Inner Circle OP rum . . . usually supplied only to shareholders of CSR (Colonial Sugar Refinery). Chris, incidentally, was also notable for his engaging stammer. Many are the anecdotes relating to this supposed impediment. ("Morning Chris . " says some anonymous voice on the area frequency . .. "M . .. morning t.t.t.to you. H.h. how come you always kn.kn.know m.m.me?" . . . . . One classic was when Sydney Tower told him to " continue approach . . there are two dogs crossing the runway" . . .The phonetic alphabet had just been changed. . . Chris came straight back with. . . ."D.d.don't you mean t.t.two deltas?")
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Fantome,
If your friend Chris had a .38 Smith & Wesson, then he did very well out of the swap !
Telephone conversation: "Signal"......"Say again !"......"Signal"....."Spell it!" ...."Sierra....." ..... "Say again" ...."Sierra !" ......."Spell it !"......"Sugar - Item - Easy - Roger - Roger - Able...."......
Danny.
If your friend Chris had a .38 Smith & Wesson, then he did very well out of the swap !
...The phonetic alphabet had just been changed...
Danny.
I don't remember complaining about my khaki gear. I do recall a funny incident when we were in Sicily after its capture in July/August 1943. There was an Italian owner in the vineyard where we were billeted, always offering help. I handed him a pair of Khaki shorts and told him to ask his wife to take in the waist to 32 (inches). He came back next morning holding the shorts, saying loudly "trente-due, trente-due" and indicating that his wife pointed out she couldn't reduce them to 32 centimetres! Incidentally, I still possess a once-smart khaki desert jacket with a distinctive Desert appearance.
Dad can tell more of the story, no doubt.
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Old Comrades
I lived in a four-man tent with Bob Pritchard, my Observer/Navigator, and the pair of great friends I have mentioned, Reub Giles and Len Coulstock, who formed another crew. We made our desert home as comfortable as possible.
Time off! Relaxing on the beach at Misurata in Libya
To give ourselves head room, and to protect the tent from the regular gales that produced the sand storms, we dug down into the sand a depth of about two or three feet. An island bench was formed in the centre, by wiring together a number of oblong petrol cans with the tops cut off, making a kind of open chest of drawers, into which we placed all our underwear, changes of clothes, personal possessions and spare kit.
Each of us had a folding camp bed, blankets and a pillow. For a long time, we suffered bites from the numerous fleas in the blankets, and we spent many leisure hours hunting the little devils, either crunching them between our thumb nails, or burning them quickly with a cigarette tip before they could hop out of sight.
Eventually, we found the remedy – bed sheets! A rare luxury in our circumstances, they were acquired when Reub and Len were sent back to the Nile delta to collect some urgent official material. They spent a couple of days in Alexandria, and returned with the aircraft quite severely overloaded with all sorts of useful gear, including a hundredweight of sugar for trading! Anyway, we each had a pair of single sheets, and slept comfortably without fleabites, for the first time in months.
Other forms of insect life that were irritating included scorpions, of which we were always very wary, huge "piss-beetles" that colonised the inside tops of our kitbags and of various hidden parts of the tent, (so-called because if they crawled onto one's skin, they left a trail of watery blisters) the inevitable mosquitoes, giant stinging centipedes, and worst of all, myriad flies. Flies, flies, flies. In the eyes, in the ears, in the nostrils, in the food, into everything! Much worse than anything I have encountered in Australia.
Apart from these annoying trifles, squadron life was always interesting. There was plenty of work for us to do, and we quickly built up lots of operational flying hours. The German Army was finally pinched between the Americans and the British Allies, in Tunisia, and Germany was driven out of North Africa.
Time off! Relaxing on the beach at Misurata in Libya
To give ourselves head room, and to protect the tent from the regular gales that produced the sand storms, we dug down into the sand a depth of about two or three feet. An island bench was formed in the centre, by wiring together a number of oblong petrol cans with the tops cut off, making a kind of open chest of drawers, into which we placed all our underwear, changes of clothes, personal possessions and spare kit.
Each of us had a folding camp bed, blankets and a pillow. For a long time, we suffered bites from the numerous fleas in the blankets, and we spent many leisure hours hunting the little devils, either crunching them between our thumb nails, or burning them quickly with a cigarette tip before they could hop out of sight.
Eventually, we found the remedy – bed sheets! A rare luxury in our circumstances, they were acquired when Reub and Len were sent back to the Nile delta to collect some urgent official material. They spent a couple of days in Alexandria, and returned with the aircraft quite severely overloaded with all sorts of useful gear, including a hundredweight of sugar for trading! Anyway, we each had a pair of single sheets, and slept comfortably without fleabites, for the first time in months.
Other forms of insect life that were irritating included scorpions, of which we were always very wary, huge "piss-beetles" that colonised the inside tops of our kitbags and of various hidden parts of the tent, (so-called because if they crawled onto one's skin, they left a trail of watery blisters) the inevitable mosquitoes, giant stinging centipedes, and worst of all, myriad flies. Flies, flies, flies. In the eyes, in the ears, in the nostrils, in the food, into everything! Much worse than anything I have encountered in Australia.
Apart from these annoying trifles, squadron life was always interesting. There was plenty of work for us to do, and we quickly built up lots of operational flying hours. The German Army was finally pinched between the Americans and the British Allies, in Tunisia, and Germany was driven out of North Africa.
Last edited by Walter603; 28th Mar 2016 at 02:49. Reason: Geographical error
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A few more squeamish than others among us, did not like the look of the bare feet treading the grapes but I can assure you that the wine tasted most pleasant! More on Sicily in the next post.
Last edited by Walter603; 27th Mar 2016 at 06:29. Reason: Mis-spelling
We had a similar issue with the local brew in Bombay
One day I met Scobie Breasley, an Australian jockey who rode winners all over the world. I knew him from before because my father had horses in Bulawayo and Scobie used to ride there occasionally. He was now in Bombay riding for a few Indian owners.
We retired to the bar for a beer and Scobie produced a wad of drinking licences, courtesy of several owners and then he explained the trick of upending the bottle into a saucer of water.
I think that the Cobra beer you get in the UK has been washed already.
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Your glycerine comments above may explain the bloody awful headaches Tiger used to give me. Although it might just have been the quantity consumed 
I never had a problem with Tiger beer in Singapore or China. We helicopter pilots who used to camp out in the Malaya bush found that Tiger kept the mossies away. Those that drank Anchor were plagued by them all night.
Apparently Tiger beer had fourteen known poisons in it.
Apparently Tiger beer had fourteen known poisons in it.
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Curious, FED. I wasn't troubled by mossies that much, even in the jungly bits around Gemas, but switching to Anchor seemed to reduce the headache issue.
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The same applied to Kokkinelli, I believe.
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Do you people not appreciate how lucky you were to have any beer at all ? In Burma, as Kipling says:
Admittedly in the form of chai - and Carew's Gin did help. But how we longed for a bottle of Bass - or Guinness !
Danny.
"But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water.
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it "
You will do your work on water.
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it "
Admittedly in the form of chai - and Carew's Gin did help. But how we longed for a bottle of Bass - or Guinness !
Danny.
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Danny42C ... we happy, hard-drinking, post-WW2 guys have to thank your generation for preserving the Empire and preventing us having to drink sake or some German muck 
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MPN11,
Grateful thanks accepted - but we just happened to be the watch on deck when the trumpet sounded ! (and then gave it all away in the end).
Never tried sake, and would take issue with the "muck". We lapped up Moselle by the case when we were at Geilenkirchen (Dm2 - and four Pfennig back on the bottle). Even now we are partial to supermarket Niersteiner and Hock (there is little German red wine), but draw the line at "Liebfraumilch".
On the beer front, in the Mess the popular draught was "DAB" - Dortmunder Aktien Bier - the "Aktien" being the same as that produced by your glycerine. You ordered a "point 2" or a "point 5" (roughly a half-pint or a pint). Good stuff, and no hangover I noticed.
Danny.
... we happy, hard-drinking, post-WW2 guys have to thank your generation for preserving the Empire...
...and preventing us having to drink sake or some German muck...
On the beer front, in the Mess the popular draught was "DAB" - Dortmunder Aktien Bier - the "Aktien" being the same as that produced by your glycerine. You ordered a "point 2" or a "point 5" (roughly a half-pint or a pint). Good stuff, and no hangover I noticed.
Danny.
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Ansbach ... ah, been there! Nice.
German Beer ... I vaguely remember drinking a lot of Warsteiner, which made me fall over.
German Wine ... An acquired taste, usually by the other gender! Not a chap's drink, really, old bean
Kebabs ... never.
Makan Stalls in Orchard Road and Bugis Street ... often. Great blotting paper
"Mick" in Bugis Street once gave us the Tourist Menu by mistake, with the inflated prices. He was mortified by the accidental insult, and gave us all a bottle of Anchor [and the correct menu] to compensate. Yes, we had hairy brown knees
German Beer ... I vaguely remember drinking a lot of Warsteiner, which made me fall over.
German Wine ... An acquired taste, usually by the other gender! Not a chap's drink, really, old bean
Kebabs ... never.
Makan Stalls in Orchard Road and Bugis Street ... often. Great blotting paper
"Mick" in Bugis Street once gave us the Tourist Menu by mistake, with the inflated prices. He was mortified by the accidental insult, and gave us all a bottle of Anchor [and the correct menu] to compensate. Yes, we had hairy brown knees
I bet you the other boys didn't.
There was a German brauhause in Tianjin, east of Beijing. This was in the old pre-war German concession area and had been restored to it's original state. Behind large glass windows were the large brewing tanks and they served blonde or dark beer just like the old days.
Not very strong; you were expected to quaff many litre mugs to the sound of oompa music.
There was a German brauhause in Tianjin, east of Beijing. This was in the old pre-war German concession area and had been restored to it's original state. Behind large glass windows were the large brewing tanks and they served blonde or dark beer just like the old days.
Not very strong; you were expected to quaff many litre mugs to the sound of oompa music.