Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II
Last Czech WW2 RAF fighter pilot, gen. Emil Boček passed away yesterday. He celebrated 100th birthday in February.
Video from 2016 when he flew Spitfire again at Biggin Hill:
Video from 2016 when he flew Spitfire again at Biggin Hill:
Blue skies, sir. May we never forget the sacrifice of the Czech and all other aircrew as the Few remaining take to the skies for the last time. Thank you for posting, Pali.
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Pali, war is a terrible thing but some things are worse than war, and war is often the only means of overcoming them. Thus it was with WWII which drew together from all over the world those who fought for freedom from tyranny. Such was Emil, to whom the world and this country in particular owes so much. In my time we still had many Czechs and Poles in the RAF. They had fought for us and alongside us in WWII, staying on to serve through the Cold War. The tragedy visited on their countries by Nazi and Communist regimes alike has been lifted, only to once again be threatened by yet another European war. The sufferings of the countries of eastern Europe remind us all of the high cost of freedom. It can never be taken for granted, requires constant vigilance and ensuring the means to fight for it again if necessary. For that reason alone we must never forget the likes of Emil Boček.
Thank you for your service.
RIP, Sir.
Thank you for your service.
RIP, Sir.
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Shackleton boys.
My Dad is Master Navigator John Lennard. Back in July I posted an item on my father’s service history including his navigator training between 1946 and 1948. Coodashooda asked if Dad could provide more information about his flying training.
During the war he was a teenager living in the Suffolk coastal village of Hollesley (not far from RAF Bawdsey and RAF Woodbridge). He was a member of the local ATC Squadron.On a regular basis he cycled the 13 miles over to RAF Martlesham Heath and scrounged flights in the Ansons based at the airfield. It was during these flights he noticed that the Navigators appeared to be busy all the time and he decided that is what he wanted to become when he joined the RAF.
In early 1946, aged 17, he attended the aircrew selection centre at RAF Hornchurch for two days of tests. Out of approximately 150 applicants, he and three others were the only ones to be selected for Pilot, Navigator and Bomb aimer training. He selected Navigator as his first choice. He accepted the King’s shilling and joined the RAF Volunteer Reserve. As an ATC Cadet he was able to wear a white flash in his forage cap indicating he had been seleted for aircrew training. In June 1946 he was called up for the “duration of the present emergency”. He was kitted out at RAF Padgate and did his square bashing at RAF Wilmslow.He was then posted to RAF Ibsley and RAF Sopley, prior to commencing his flying training. During his time at Sopley he was instructed on the use of Radar which was to prove useful later.
In April 1947, he was posted to No 1 Air Navigation School RAF Topcliffe to join the No 1 All Through Course, the first post war Navigators course to be held, at the time Navigators were still being trained using the one year wartime syllabus.The new course were to be nearly two years long, the training at Topcliffewas to be 18 months in length, 6 months ground school, 6 monthsbasic flying in Ansons followed by 6 months flying Wellingtons. The average length of a training flight in an Anson was about three hours with the maximum time being about 4 hours.The average length of a Wellington Flight was about 4 hours with the longest flight being over 6 hours.The flying phase totalled about 250 hours. The aircraft used were not training marks of the aircraft or even converted but war weary early marks. The Anson’s turret had been removed but the void was just covered in canvas.During take-off and landing in the Wellingtons the crew had to assume crash positions. My father’s position was braced behind the main spar. Nearly all the training flights were around the north and midlands of England although one trip was to Northern Ireland but without landing. His pay for an Aircrew cadet was 4 shillings a day rising to 6 shillings when he started flying. After successfully completing the course he was awarded his navigator brevet and given the rank of Nav IV. His pay rose to 10/6 a day.
In September 1948 he was posted to RAF Swinderby for the advanced Nav course, still on Wellingtons. This is where all the aircrew trades were to come together and form crews but the pilots and signallers all through courses had been postponed and had been replaced by wartime trainees. His pilot at Swinderby was a Polish Flight Sergeant called Jurczyczysn. They did a ground loop on their first take off from Swinderby. In January 1949 he was posted to the Coastal Command OCU at RAF Kinloss for a course on Lancaster ASR 3s. In April 1949 he was promoted in Nav 111.
On September 1st 1950 the aircrew ranks were abandoned and he was promoted to Sgt on 22/6 a day. Dad continued flying until 1970 and retired from the RAF in 1983.
During the war he was a teenager living in the Suffolk coastal village of Hollesley (not far from RAF Bawdsey and RAF Woodbridge). He was a member of the local ATC Squadron.On a regular basis he cycled the 13 miles over to RAF Martlesham Heath and scrounged flights in the Ansons based at the airfield. It was during these flights he noticed that the Navigators appeared to be busy all the time and he decided that is what he wanted to become when he joined the RAF.
In early 1946, aged 17, he attended the aircrew selection centre at RAF Hornchurch for two days of tests. Out of approximately 150 applicants, he and three others were the only ones to be selected for Pilot, Navigator and Bomb aimer training. He selected Navigator as his first choice. He accepted the King’s shilling and joined the RAF Volunteer Reserve. As an ATC Cadet he was able to wear a white flash in his forage cap indicating he had been seleted for aircrew training. In June 1946 he was called up for the “duration of the present emergency”. He was kitted out at RAF Padgate and did his square bashing at RAF Wilmslow.He was then posted to RAF Ibsley and RAF Sopley, prior to commencing his flying training. During his time at Sopley he was instructed on the use of Radar which was to prove useful later.
In April 1947, he was posted to No 1 Air Navigation School RAF Topcliffe to join the No 1 All Through Course, the first post war Navigators course to be held, at the time Navigators were still being trained using the one year wartime syllabus.The new course were to be nearly two years long, the training at Topcliffewas to be 18 months in length, 6 months ground school, 6 monthsbasic flying in Ansons followed by 6 months flying Wellingtons. The average length of a training flight in an Anson was about three hours with the maximum time being about 4 hours.The average length of a Wellington Flight was about 4 hours with the longest flight being over 6 hours.The flying phase totalled about 250 hours. The aircraft used were not training marks of the aircraft or even converted but war weary early marks. The Anson’s turret had been removed but the void was just covered in canvas.During take-off and landing in the Wellingtons the crew had to assume crash positions. My father’s position was braced behind the main spar. Nearly all the training flights were around the north and midlands of England although one trip was to Northern Ireland but without landing. His pay for an Aircrew cadet was 4 shillings a day rising to 6 shillings when he started flying. After successfully completing the course he was awarded his navigator brevet and given the rank of Nav IV. His pay rose to 10/6 a day.
In September 1948 he was posted to RAF Swinderby for the advanced Nav course, still on Wellingtons. This is where all the aircrew trades were to come together and form crews but the pilots and signallers all through courses had been postponed and had been replaced by wartime trainees. His pilot at Swinderby was a Polish Flight Sergeant called Jurczyczysn. They did a ground loop on their first take off from Swinderby. In January 1949 he was posted to the Coastal Command OCU at RAF Kinloss for a course on Lancaster ASR 3s. In April 1949 he was promoted in Nav 111.
On September 1st 1950 the aircrew ranks were abandoned and he was promoted to Sgt on 22/6 a day. Dad continued flying until 1970 and retired from the RAF in 1983.
Better late than never.....?
Now look, some pictures have been found, I know that it is very late in the day, but I hope that it is appropriate to post them on this "sticky" which I regard as a 'journal of record' for future readers.
I told the story of my late father gaining his R.A.F. Pilot’s Brevet
in WW2 (at No.5 B.F.T.S. Clewiston Florida USA) in this wondrous
thread, between pages 291 - 298, and my late mother, who was one of
the first female Fleet Air Arm Aircraft Engine Mechanics was also
remembered in various of my other posts back in 2014.
The two photos from my father’s career show him :
With one of his Expediters at Palam, Delhi when with 229 Group Comm
Flight 1944. Dad on right of shot.
If I was quite a bit younger, I would be tempted to say “My dad’s Twin
Beech is shinier than your Dad’s, so there!
—————————————
The Comm Flight Group Photo at Palam 1945.
Now, as my Dad was the only pilot in the Flight who had trained in the
USA, do you think that he might be the bloke with the Ray Bans?
My sincere thanks to Mr. Andrew Gemmell for this (to me) priceless photograph.
----------------------------------------
Mother in service WW2 :
Just turned 18 years old my W.R.N.S. mum was trained on the second
ever course for female Air Mechs (Engines) at HMS Fledgling, Mill
Meece Staffs. 1943.
Mother (head in front of Starboard air intake of a Barracuda) with her
motley crew of fettlers and menders of 747 Squadron R.N.A.S. 1944/45.
Photo is either at HMS OWL, Fearn, Highland, Scotland, or at HMS
URLEY. (now Ronaldsway Airport Isle of Man)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
PS.
My father logged 1,170 hours as an R.A.F. pilot (in service Nov. 1942
- Dec. 1947). His seemingly uneventful wartime service was in India
(March 1944 - Nov. 1945), mostly with 229 Group Comm Flight. He also
ferried a/c for 21 F.C. Mauripur and finished his Indian service with
232 Squadron. Post-War he served with 16 F.U. and later 1 F.U. mainly
flying surplus R.A.F. aircraft to other air forces. Ferrying gave him
the opportunity to fly diverse a/c. He flew 13 types as 1st Pilot and
a further 4 types as 2nd Pilot.
*Or 5 types as 2nd Pilot if you count the ghastly C-87 as sufficiently different from the B-24 that it was spawned from.
Ian BB. Quick Reply
I told the story of my late father gaining his R.A.F. Pilot’s Brevet
in WW2 (at No.5 B.F.T.S. Clewiston Florida USA) in this wondrous
thread, between pages 291 - 298, and my late mother, who was one of
the first female Fleet Air Arm Aircraft Engine Mechanics was also
remembered in various of my other posts back in 2014.
The two photos from my father’s career show him :
With one of his Expediters at Palam, Delhi when with 229 Group Comm
Flight 1944. Dad on right of shot.
If I was quite a bit younger, I would be tempted to say “My dad’s Twin
Beech is shinier than your Dad’s, so there!
—————————————
The Comm Flight Group Photo at Palam 1945.
Now, as my Dad was the only pilot in the Flight who had trained in the
USA, do you think that he might be the bloke with the Ray Bans?
My sincere thanks to Mr. Andrew Gemmell for this (to me) priceless photograph.
----------------------------------------
Mother in service WW2 :
Just turned 18 years old my W.R.N.S. mum was trained on the second
ever course for female Air Mechs (Engines) at HMS Fledgling, Mill
Meece Staffs. 1943.
Mother (head in front of Starboard air intake of a Barracuda) with her
motley crew of fettlers and menders of 747 Squadron R.N.A.S. 1944/45.
Photo is either at HMS OWL, Fearn, Highland, Scotland, or at HMS
URLEY. (now Ronaldsway Airport Isle of Man)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
PS.
My father logged 1,170 hours as an R.A.F. pilot (in service Nov. 1942
- Dec. 1947). His seemingly uneventful wartime service was in India
(March 1944 - Nov. 1945), mostly with 229 Group Comm Flight. He also
ferried a/c for 21 F.C. Mauripur and finished his Indian service with
232 Squadron. Post-War he served with 16 F.U. and later 1 F.U. mainly
flying surplus R.A.F. aircraft to other air forces. Ferrying gave him
the opportunity to fly diverse a/c. He flew 13 types as 1st Pilot and
a further 4 types as 2nd Pilot.
*Or 5 types as 2nd Pilot if you count the ghastly C-87 as sufficiently different from the B-24 that it was spawned from.
Ian BB. Quick Reply
Last edited by Ian Burgess-Barber; 4th Nov 2023 at 13:08. Reason: To add last line.
Well done, I B-B - great photographs of interesting aircraft and a fine-looking body of men and women. Danny would have been delighted by both, and your post is very timely since it would have been Danny's 102nd birthday a week today!
Jack
Jack
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Thank you Jack, I must confess that Danny's assessment, (such was his influence) was indeed in my thoughts while I considered if it was worth resparking the thread after so much time has passed. I am heartened by your opinion and I will see if any more of my recently discovered cache of pictures are of interest to this readership.
IanBB
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Thanks IB-B … and Danny’s birthday is still in my diary with an annual reminder.
Interesting to note at least 2 former Pathfinders on that 1948 Staff photo. I guess they knew the job better than most!
Interesting to note at least 2 former Pathfinders on that 1948 Staff photo. I guess they knew the job better than most!
Thank you MPN11, good to see that you are still on frequency, and I hope that your Jersey abode did not suffer too much in storm Ciaran (sorry can't find the 'fada' symbol to put over the second letter 'a').
Disclaimer: The 1948 Topcliffe Staff photo is not one of mine. Pace Tim00.
Ian BB
Disclaimer: The 1948 Topcliffe Staff photo is not one of mine. Pace Tim00.
Ian BB
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Gone but certainly not forgotten
Thank you MPN11, good to see that you are still on frequency, and I hope that your Jersey abode did not suffer too much in storm Ciaran (sorry can't find the 'fada' symbol to put over the second letter 'a').
Disclaimer: The 1948 Topcliffe Staff photo is not one of mine. Pace Tim00.
Ian BB
Disclaimer: The 1948 Topcliffe Staff photo is not one of mine. Pace Tim00.
Ian BB
This time of the year is always a sombre, emotive occasion for the millions of us who remember our departed veterans. It is also, in terms of this great thread, the anniversary of Danny 42C, who would have been 102 years old yesterday were he still with us. Over the years many contributors to this unique record of WW2 military aviation matters have listed the qualities that he regularly gifted to all us readers. I concur with all the eulogies, but I also remember his great (sometimes wicked) sense of humour.
With this in mind I hope that he would have been amused by this photo.
His Vultee Vengeance was very similar in size to the Fairey Barracuda Dive Bomber of the Fleet Air Arm, (or 'The Air Branch' as the Sea Lords would have it). Both were 39ft. 9ins. long, VV had 48ft. span, the Barra. a little more, at 49ft 2ins.
So, if he had ever wondered (as you do) how many Matelots would it take to dress either aircraft for a group picture, then the answer is here. By my count, 44 A.B.Sailors are required. (Starboard wing has one more chap than the port wing, hence slight tilt of the aircraft.
Photo taken June 1945 Ronaldsway I.O.M. is of 747 Squadron R.N.A.S. with one of their Barracudas providing support.
My late WRNS mother is 2nd female from left, front row
Ian BB
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Bless them all, the long and the short and the tall … and bless Danny too. Hope he had a great birthday up there.
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A NIGHT TO REMEMBER: to Germany aboard a 101 Squadron Lancaster, August 1944
THIS old crewroom is cold and damp, its Crittal metal windows are corroding, the single-skin brickwork has more damp patches than dry, alas many of its occupants have made their final takeoffs. But to celebrate the New Year, let’s stoke up the old stove until its cast-iron chimney goes red, pull up the old chairs, and gather round for a tale which surely deserves an honoured place in this immortal ‘Brevet’ thread.
When my father was posted from India to Binbrook in 1948 the young Australians of 460 Sqn were still fondly remembered by the villagers. The young men who survived had flown their Lancasters home to rebuild their own air force, and were replaced by the Lincolns of 9, 12, 101 and 617 Sqns. While the gallant deeds of these squadrons were well known, even as a youngster I noticed that people in the closely-knit RAF community spoke of 101 Sqn almost in hushed tones.
The squadron had been based 1943-45 at Ludford Magna only four miles away and had, we were told, flown the most sorties and had the highest casualty rate in Bomber Command. Nobody could explain why, and some put it down to inexperience, some to bad luck, some to finger trouble. It was long after the war until the nation learned about the top secret electronic battles that raged high in the night skies over Germany.
The 40-plus Lancaster aircraft of 101 Sqn carried eight men instead of seven, the eighth being a Special Operator whose task was to block and disrupt enemy radio communications with powerful transmitters to broadcast a variety of jamming tones and even give false instructions to German night fighters. The Special spoke fluent German and nobody mentioned his role in the aircraft, even the pilot, and he did not appear in crew photographs. Many served under a changed identity, especially if they had Jewish-sounding names.
B for Baker of 101 Sqn releases a 4000lb cookie blast bomb and hundreds of incendiaries over Duisberg, 1944. Note the jammer transmitter aerials between cockpit and mid-upper turret.
Each aircraft carried six tons of bombs as well as half a ton of extra equipment, plus three long transmitter aerials to create extra drag. The squadron proved so effective that they flew on most major raids after 1943. Each aircraft was spaced along the bomber stream for maximum disruption, and obviously their high-powered transmitters turned every 101 Sqn Lancaster into an electronic lighthouse for the German pilots, who soon learned to pick them off. Until recently I had read very little from the crews until I encountered a totally gripping account written 80 years ago by Pilot Officer Ronald Homes.
He describes the banalities of daily life one moment, then the formal exchanges of his sortie, course changes, fuel states and so on, mixed with moments of sheer terror:
“What a strange noise… WE’VE BEEN HIT! A brilliant yellow-orange light fills the cockpit. “Starboard outer’s on fire skipper” shouts the engineer, “There’s a bloody great flame going past the tailplane” shouts the mid upper. “OK chaps, settle down. Pilot to engineer, feather the starboard outer and push the fire extinguisher”. “OK skip ... Fire’s still burning skip” ... “****! ... What the hell is happening engineer? “Starboard inner’s feathered skipper!” “So has the bloody port inner, I’ve only one engine left!”
And more besides, it’s like being aboard the Lancaster listening to the intercom. P/Off Homes’s superbly told story has appeared elsewhere, but I can’t find any trace of his post-war career among the broken links and unanswered emails. So I acknowledge all sources for his account which I propose to post over the next couple of weeks.
May it form a fitting tribute to the 1,176 airmen of 101 Sqn who never returned to base.
When my father was posted from India to Binbrook in 1948 the young Australians of 460 Sqn were still fondly remembered by the villagers. The young men who survived had flown their Lancasters home to rebuild their own air force, and were replaced by the Lincolns of 9, 12, 101 and 617 Sqns. While the gallant deeds of these squadrons were well known, even as a youngster I noticed that people in the closely-knit RAF community spoke of 101 Sqn almost in hushed tones.
The squadron had been based 1943-45 at Ludford Magna only four miles away and had, we were told, flown the most sorties and had the highest casualty rate in Bomber Command. Nobody could explain why, and some put it down to inexperience, some to bad luck, some to finger trouble. It was long after the war until the nation learned about the top secret electronic battles that raged high in the night skies over Germany.
The 40-plus Lancaster aircraft of 101 Sqn carried eight men instead of seven, the eighth being a Special Operator whose task was to block and disrupt enemy radio communications with powerful transmitters to broadcast a variety of jamming tones and even give false instructions to German night fighters. The Special spoke fluent German and nobody mentioned his role in the aircraft, even the pilot, and he did not appear in crew photographs. Many served under a changed identity, especially if they had Jewish-sounding names.
B for Baker of 101 Sqn releases a 4000lb cookie blast bomb and hundreds of incendiaries over Duisberg, 1944. Note the jammer transmitter aerials between cockpit and mid-upper turret.
Each aircraft carried six tons of bombs as well as half a ton of extra equipment, plus three long transmitter aerials to create extra drag. The squadron proved so effective that they flew on most major raids after 1943. Each aircraft was spaced along the bomber stream for maximum disruption, and obviously their high-powered transmitters turned every 101 Sqn Lancaster into an electronic lighthouse for the German pilots, who soon learned to pick them off. Until recently I had read very little from the crews until I encountered a totally gripping account written 80 years ago by Pilot Officer Ronald Homes.
He describes the banalities of daily life one moment, then the formal exchanges of his sortie, course changes, fuel states and so on, mixed with moments of sheer terror:
“What a strange noise… WE’VE BEEN HIT! A brilliant yellow-orange light fills the cockpit. “Starboard outer’s on fire skipper” shouts the engineer, “There’s a bloody great flame going past the tailplane” shouts the mid upper. “OK chaps, settle down. Pilot to engineer, feather the starboard outer and push the fire extinguisher”. “OK skip ... Fire’s still burning skip” ... “****! ... What the hell is happening engineer? “Starboard inner’s feathered skipper!” “So has the bloody port inner, I’ve only one engine left!”
And more besides, it’s like being aboard the Lancaster listening to the intercom. P/Off Homes’s superbly told story has appeared elsewhere, but I can’t find any trace of his post-war career among the broken links and unanswered emails. So I acknowledge all sources for his account which I propose to post over the next couple of weeks.
May it form a fitting tribute to the 1,176 airmen of 101 Sqn who never returned to base.
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Excellent post Geriaviator! I sense Danny trying to say so too, but once again the PPRuNe dog is chewing up his post as he attempts to churn it out of his trusty but ancient laptop.
I look forward to your following contributions and the discussion they encourage. An inspiration! Well done, Sir!
I look forward to your following contributions and the discussion they encourage. An inspiration! Well done, Sir!
Last edited by Chugalug2; 1st Jan 2024 at 15:12. Reason: Cramping Geriaviator's style
Pilot Officer Ronald Homes served as a pilot from October 1940 to August 1946. His operational flying included Lancasters on 101 Squadron in Europe and Dakotas on 238 Squadron in India and Burma, then in Australia and the South Pacific, and finally 1315 Flight in Iwakuni, Japan. Chocks away, then, as he invites us to join the crew of his Lancaster SR-N2 on a lovely Lincolnshire morning which will lead to ...
By RONALD HOMES, pilot, 101 Sqn
THE village of Ludford Magna is completely surrounded by the RAF station with the living quarters on one side of the main road which runs through the centre of the little village and the massive aerodrome on the other, the base of 101 Squadron, 1 Group, Bomber Command. Ours is a Special Duties squadron with 42 Lancaster aircraft fitted with “Airborne Cigar,” a highly secret radio countermeasure for disrupting the enemy night fighter radio controllers’ transmissions. Our eighth crew member is the ‘Special’ who operates the sets.
We RAF types feel completely integrated with this rural community, with the slow steady pace of the countryside infusing us with a sense of security. On this morning of August 12, 1944, the sun is shining, the weather looks fine and the morning air is heavy with the scent of new-mown hay and life seems very sweet.
With a jolt we awake to reality. Our names are on the operations board for tonight! Aircraft N2 (Nan squared), pilot P/O Homes, navigator F/O Kabbash, flight engineer Sgt Waind, bombaimer Sgt Wade, wireless operator Sgt Davidson, Special Operator Sgt Holway, midupper gunner Sgt Reynolds, rear gunner Sgt Smith.
Oh hell! That means that our own Lancaster L-Love is still unserviceable. We've done our last two ops in N2 and we don't really like her. You develop a fondness for your own aircraft, it just feels right and although on the face of it all the aircraft appear identical they do feel different and you get the "feel" of your own. Perhaps it's the confident relationship one builds up with your own ground staff, for you know that they are totally conscientious in their work and they are truly a part of your team.
The change of aircraft does nothing to settle that nasty empty sinking feeling in the stomach, and the thoughts of whether you will see this sunshine tomorrow have to be quickly dismissed. Don't think like that! Think of something else! Anything, but don’t show your fear. Right! Let's get the crew together and cycle out to the aircraft and give it a flight check.
All the crew must check over their equipment to make sure that it's fully operational for tonight, and the aircraft may have to be flown to make sure she is completely airworthy before she is loaded up with fuel, bombs and ammunition for the trip. The butterflies in the stomach seem to be settling down a bit, now that we have a job to do to take one's mind off the coming night.
Our proficiency in our respective jobs and the camaraderie between us helps to build up our confidence. The jokes are a little too loud and a rather forced, but they will get worse as the day goes on as the anxiety gnaws at our insides and we strive to put a brave face on it. The aircraft is OK but we still have the rest of the long day to get through before briefing at 19.30hrs. So let's go and have some lunch, but somehow I don't really feel like eating.
By RONALD HOMES, pilot, 101 Sqn
THE village of Ludford Magna is completely surrounded by the RAF station with the living quarters on one side of the main road which runs through the centre of the little village and the massive aerodrome on the other, the base of 101 Squadron, 1 Group, Bomber Command. Ours is a Special Duties squadron with 42 Lancaster aircraft fitted with “Airborne Cigar,” a highly secret radio countermeasure for disrupting the enemy night fighter radio controllers’ transmissions. Our eighth crew member is the ‘Special’ who operates the sets.
We RAF types feel completely integrated with this rural community, with the slow steady pace of the countryside infusing us with a sense of security. On this morning of August 12, 1944, the sun is shining, the weather looks fine and the morning air is heavy with the scent of new-mown hay and life seems very sweet.
With a jolt we awake to reality. Our names are on the operations board for tonight! Aircraft N2 (Nan squared), pilot P/O Homes, navigator F/O Kabbash, flight engineer Sgt Waind, bombaimer Sgt Wade, wireless operator Sgt Davidson, Special Operator Sgt Holway, midupper gunner Sgt Reynolds, rear gunner Sgt Smith.
Oh hell! That means that our own Lancaster L-Love is still unserviceable. We've done our last two ops in N2 and we don't really like her. You develop a fondness for your own aircraft, it just feels right and although on the face of it all the aircraft appear identical they do feel different and you get the "feel" of your own. Perhaps it's the confident relationship one builds up with your own ground staff, for you know that they are totally conscientious in their work and they are truly a part of your team.
The change of aircraft does nothing to settle that nasty empty sinking feeling in the stomach, and the thoughts of whether you will see this sunshine tomorrow have to be quickly dismissed. Don't think like that! Think of something else! Anything, but don’t show your fear. Right! Let's get the crew together and cycle out to the aircraft and give it a flight check.
All the crew must check over their equipment to make sure that it's fully operational for tonight, and the aircraft may have to be flown to make sure she is completely airworthy before she is loaded up with fuel, bombs and ammunition for the trip. The butterflies in the stomach seem to be settling down a bit, now that we have a job to do to take one's mind off the coming night.
Our proficiency in our respective jobs and the camaraderie between us helps to build up our confidence. The jokes are a little too loud and a rather forced, but they will get worse as the day goes on as the anxiety gnaws at our insides and we strive to put a brave face on it. The aircraft is OK but we still have the rest of the long day to get through before briefing at 19.30hrs. So let's go and have some lunch, but somehow I don't really feel like eating.
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A night to remember: part 2
WE set off around the perimeter track on our bikes and already the bowsers, heavy with fuel, are approaching the aircraft to fill up their tanks with thousands of gallons of 100 octane fuel. Following them come the trains of bomb trolleys being towed by tractors. We try to find out what the fuel and bomb loads are, and from that, get some idea of what the target might be, but it's not very conclusive. We shall just have to wait until we get to briefing to find out.
Back at the mess the smell of food being cooked is a bit hard to take and I would rather go to the bar for a stiff drink but I need to keep off the booze in order to keep a clear head for tonight. Just take a deep breath and go into the dining room and try to do justice to the steak and kidney pie and mash and boiled cabbage, oh dear!
More banter and jokes around the table helps to renew the flagging appetite and the meal begins to seem quite appetising and with a full stomach I might be able to manage a little sleep this afternoon. I really should try, because it will probably be near dawn tomorrow before I have a chance to sleep again. Oh dear, I wonder what will happen between now and then? I wonder if there will be a "then"?
Back in our corrugated iron nissen hut all is surprisingly quiet, maybe everyone is trying to get some sleep. It's pleasantly warm with the sun shining on the corrugated iron roof, sometimes it can get unbearably hot, and sometimes damned cold. I can hear the birds singing outside and the low drone of Merlin engines being run up on the other side of the village. It has a comforting sound, powerful and warm and reliable as I drift off ...
The noises in the next room wake me, it's just before four o'clock and I've been asleep for an hour and a half and I'm feeling drowsy and comfortable and then I remember, that damned sinking feeling hits my stomach again. Briefing is at seven thirty, which leaves just two and a half hours before we get our pre-ops meal of egg and bacon.
It’s just a short walk down a gravel path to the Mess in the warm August afternoon sunshine and somewhere behind all the nissen huts further up on the hill a tractor is working in one of the fields and its muted engine noise joins in with the bird song and the warm air is full of the heavy smell of new mown grass. Life seems so good and you wouldn't think there was a bloody war on but for the increasing noise of activity from the airfield on the other side of the village. I wish I didn't have to fly tonight.
WE set off around the perimeter track on our bikes and already the bowsers, heavy with fuel, are approaching the aircraft to fill up their tanks with thousands of gallons of 100 octane fuel. Following them come the trains of bomb trolleys being towed by tractors. We try to find out what the fuel and bomb loads are, and from that, get some idea of what the target might be, but it's not very conclusive. We shall just have to wait until we get to briefing to find out.
Back at the mess the smell of food being cooked is a bit hard to take and I would rather go to the bar for a stiff drink but I need to keep off the booze in order to keep a clear head for tonight. Just take a deep breath and go into the dining room and try to do justice to the steak and kidney pie and mash and boiled cabbage, oh dear!
More banter and jokes around the table helps to renew the flagging appetite and the meal begins to seem quite appetising and with a full stomach I might be able to manage a little sleep this afternoon. I really should try, because it will probably be near dawn tomorrow before I have a chance to sleep again. Oh dear, I wonder what will happen between now and then? I wonder if there will be a "then"?
Back in our corrugated iron nissen hut all is surprisingly quiet, maybe everyone is trying to get some sleep. It's pleasantly warm with the sun shining on the corrugated iron roof, sometimes it can get unbearably hot, and sometimes damned cold. I can hear the birds singing outside and the low drone of Merlin engines being run up on the other side of the village. It has a comforting sound, powerful and warm and reliable as I drift off ...
The noises in the next room wake me, it's just before four o'clock and I've been asleep for an hour and a half and I'm feeling drowsy and comfortable and then I remember, that damned sinking feeling hits my stomach again. Briefing is at seven thirty, which leaves just two and a half hours before we get our pre-ops meal of egg and bacon.
It’s just a short walk down a gravel path to the Mess in the warm August afternoon sunshine and somewhere behind all the nissen huts further up on the hill a tractor is working in one of the fields and its muted engine noise joins in with the bird song and the warm air is full of the heavy smell of new mown grass. Life seems so good and you wouldn't think there was a bloody war on but for the increasing noise of activity from the airfield on the other side of the village. I wish I didn't have to fly tonight.
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A Happy New Year to all who are still frequenting this ancient Crew Room. Now that the stove is going full blast again (thanks, Geriaviator!) it is at last losing some of its less than endearing mustiness. Ronald Homes has got off to a cracking start, hasn't he? I can empathise with him to the extent that, as skipper, he was the lowest ranked commissioned officer in his crew. As a Hastings captain I too shared that fate, albeit as an F/O against his P/O. Both my co-pilot and navigator were Flt Lt's, the rest of the 6 man crew being of Sgt, Flt Sgt, or Master Aircrew (W/O equivalent) ranks. The real divider though was that most of them were also married men, therefore drawing Marriage Allowance! The Co-Pilot kept our Form 6663's (pay and allowances) up to date as we proceeded on our itinerary for days, sometimes weeks. Those in the know would scan these forms and have a fair idea of the extent of the monthly pay involved. As a single liver-in, I would in vain point out the glaring pay discrepancies and that subbing in for the beers, or even the food, when we were out and about as a crew should reflect the imbalance more. I was pooh-poohed! Ingrates all!
Crewing up in WWII Bomber Command was very arbitrary, but sadly until death did them part in too many instances. At an OTU (Operational Training Unit, such as Bicester) the various aircrew, already trained up elsewhere as pilots, navs, WOp's, A/Gs, would be driven to a hangar, on the floor of which they were instructed to sort themselves out into crews for training together (on Blenheims in this case), before going on to an HCU (Heavy Conversion Unit) for training on their operational type, ie Lanc, Halifax, Stirling, etc, where they would be joined by their F/E's (who had a longer technical course), thence joining their assigned squadrons as a fully operational crew. This concept of crewing up died off post war, in Transport Command at least, but Sqn Cdrs still had enough discretionary power to invoke it if they chose. One of my bosses did, so that I flew as Captain with the same crew, albeit with swaps and changes due leave, sickness, etc, for most of the time I was in his Squadron. By the time that the Hercules had succeeded the Hastings, that became a thing of the past (along with training co-pilots up to first pilot status due lack of a tiller on the RHS of the Hercules flight deck).
Well enough rambling, but I have rather indulged myself in the sincere hope that the tradition of meandering off into the leafy lanes of reminiscence, so encouraged by Danny, was still our standard operating procedure.
Crewing up in WWII Bomber Command was very arbitrary, but sadly until death did them part in too many instances. At an OTU (Operational Training Unit, such as Bicester) the various aircrew, already trained up elsewhere as pilots, navs, WOp's, A/Gs, would be driven to a hangar, on the floor of which they were instructed to sort themselves out into crews for training together (on Blenheims in this case), before going on to an HCU (Heavy Conversion Unit) for training on their operational type, ie Lanc, Halifax, Stirling, etc, where they would be joined by their F/E's (who had a longer technical course), thence joining their assigned squadrons as a fully operational crew. This concept of crewing up died off post war, in Transport Command at least, but Sqn Cdrs still had enough discretionary power to invoke it if they chose. One of my bosses did, so that I flew as Captain with the same crew, albeit with swaps and changes due leave, sickness, etc, for most of the time I was in his Squadron. By the time that the Hercules had succeeded the Hastings, that became a thing of the past (along with training co-pilots up to first pilot status due lack of a tiller on the RHS of the Hercules flight deck).
Well enough rambling, but I have rather indulged myself in the sincere hope that the tradition of meandering off into the leafy lanes of reminiscence, so encouraged by Danny, was still our standard operating procedure.
Last edited by Chugalug2; 1st Jan 2024 at 14:55.
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Oh yes, ramble away, Chug, there's ever fewer of us to do so! This much followed thread, still the most viewed on Prune at 4,708,674 views and now attracting 800 views per day since it re-activated, has flared up once again although most of us feared it wouldn't. And for those who remember our revered Danny 42C, regards and New Year good wishes from his daughter Mary, with whom I was in touch this morning. She is pleased to hear her dear Dad is still remembered with such affection. Happy New Year everyone, may we be still around to see the end of it!
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I often remember with amazement and gratitude another stalwart of this thread. For a long time cliffnemo informed, educated and entertained us. I strongly recommend that any newcomers to this thread look at his posts which cover a long, adventurous flying career as a bomber pilot and, after the war, as a commercial pilot right into the jet age.
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