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A GENTLE WAR
January 16th — 31st 1943

During his RAF posting at Predannack Airfield in Cornwall my father, Kenneth Crapp, kept a diary. The diary runs from October 27th 1942 — June 7th 1944 and the first 4 month extract is included below. It shows an unexpectedly tranquil aspect of war — quiet background work on a somewhat isolated airfield, where an interest in birds and nature was undoubtedly ‘a saving grace’.

Saturday, January 16th
Unsatisfactory morning, endeavouring to dismantle jointed aerial poles that refused to be dismantled. Finished early, went to cycle inspection, helped to clean out the hut for the weekly inspection — then to Ruan Minor to post the parcel and get a p/o for another chap.

On the way back I fell in with a man who spoke to me. I asked him why everyone seemed to be going his way at the time and he said that the hunt was meeting up by the chapel. ‘There might be 4 or 5 horses’, he said, ‘and the hounds from Bochyn’.

Then round the corner came three gentleman in bowlers and black jackets, very lordly on their hunters, and a pack of hounds, noses questing busily. My companion stopped when one of the riders spoke with him ‘Where are these foxes you have for us?’ he asked. And the man pointed to the moor beyond the fields.

On duty at the transmitting station this afternoon, I gathered some dry gorse wood and packed it in a box for our hut fires. Gorse is excellent wood for fire-lighting when it’s dead.

To my surprise, I found myself lighting the fire in the hut — although I had washed, and shouldn’t be sleeping there that evening. At Mrs Trezise’s this evening I was welcomed and although we were a little shy at first, the piano soon broke down our reserve. I found that long absence from the piano made my fingers stiff and this, with the unaccustomed audience, made me play badly. Fred played a Mendelssohn Duetto much better than I played some Schubert’s pieces that I know.

Sunday, January 17th
The man I relieved yesterday has gone sick, so I had to take over his watch. I as glad that I didn’t have to ride back to the camp in driving rain. At 1230 the rain stopped. On the way back at 10 to 5 I heard and saw a blackbird singing on a bush top.

I spent the evening reading ‘Ariel’, [a biography of Shelley by Andre Maurois], and in doing crossword puzzles. We fried sausages for supper, then spent a long time telling each other yarns and listening to others from those at the DF station.

Monday, January 18th
Clothing parade resulted in two new vests, new pants, new socks, and a new shirt. We bombed Berlin Saturday night and last night London was bombed. I know no details yet. A very mild day, cloudy at first, but sunny later in the afternoon, so that I wanted to sit out in the sun and I did.

In the Reading Room this morning I found the padre playing over some of the records I missed at the Circle last night. A bit of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto — the one from which the Warsaw Concerto was pinched, he says.

The Reading Room is to be closed every evening from 7 to 9.30, so that the RAF Regiment may have education drama. I don’t begrudge them their classes, but it’s most unfair that we should be denied the use of this room during the hours when we most often wish to use it. I hope it won’t last long.

The siege of Leningrad raised, Millerovo captured — such are the latest Russian successes. With Fred Behagg I went to Ruan Minor Institute to see Deanna Durbin in ‘Mad About Music’. Hard chairs, small screen, poor loudspeaker, yet Deana triumphed again: I wished she sang more than she did.

I rode down to the transmitters in a night of soft moonlight and air like that of a June night.

Tuesday, January 19th
I am to stay on here for a while and be in a 3 watch system with the other 2. Better still — we can work a day off each, so I’ve wangled tomorrow.

Blackbirds sing frequently at dawn and dusk.

Wednesday, January 20th
With Fred Behagg caught the milk lorry to St Erth. Rode with St Ives men from Helston to St Erth — 3 of us in front with the driver. Matt Cocking said he’s related by marriage to Mrs Jacobs.

At Hayle there was a boat on the bar; there she’d stay until the next big tide; the cargo was being taken off.

Haircut at a shop; the owner’s name was Trezise; he thought Friday a foolish day for early closing, but efforts to alter it have failed.

‘Gone with the Wind’ at the Ritz, but Fred had seen it, so I went with him to see ‘My Gal Sal’ — a musical tale of the Naughty Nineties with the tuneful music of Paul Dresser.

At the YM we had roast lamb for dinner with two veg and apple tart — no coffee or bread and butter served now: not with midday meal. For tea — cottage pie.

Along the prom waves were dashing across the front: we had to run to escape.

At Helston, supper at the YM of sausage and chips and beans and a chat with Fred — a real Londoner. In a daylight raid in London, a school was hit and many children are dead and missing.

Kamersk captured by Russians; I think the myth of German invincibility is slowly dying: sometimes it renews itself for a short while.

Thursday, January 21st
T1190 gives trouble. I am told to look at the relays, but they are all right. At last Mr A turns up and is also puzzled. Seagulls calling at 10pm.

Friday, January 22nd
Bicycle cleaned and I went to inspection. Flight took my word that it had been cleaned. Spent the evening, first in a shower, and then changing and packing up my laundry. It took 2.5 hours — much chatter.

Saturday, January 23rd
Another day off to my surprise and delight; so have we worked our rota. I do not thrust the fact and official notice, but take steps to get the ‘bus from Mullion unseen. I get on at Campden House, where Mrs T and Fred and another lady are waiting. She is Mrs Park, my officer’s wife. She is elegant indeed. I put her bag on the bus for her and get in after her. Mr A is there and all my precautions are in vain. I cannot guess his thoughts at what he sees.

Because of him I avoid the Falmouth ‘bus and hitch-hike, getting to Falmouth a good while before the ‘bus.

Peg and John with Michael are coming — I have chosen the right day. They arrive at 2.45 and we meet them.

News that Tripoli is ours!

Crowds through the streets in the town. I search in vain for a greetings or Xmas card with the RAF crest on — they seem unobtainable.

Walt Disney’s ‘Bambi’ next week — what I miss by being so far from home!

Joys of camp life — on their beds in the dark lie two drunken youths: one is in bed and not feeling good: the other worries over him and over the partner in another hut; later two more appear, also slightly canned. They take a long time to get to sleep and are noisy: one groans loudly ere he sleeps.

Sunday, January 24th
A lovely morning. Chicken for dinner at Mrs Trezise’s, followed by Xmas pudding wherein I find a sixpence. Mrs T serves the pudding following the course of the sun: wallpaper should also be done that way too.

Monday, January 25th
A great change to work back at the workshop — so much to do and so few to do it. Usually the day concludes with the duty run; normally this is just taking an accumulator to the HF/DF station: often it’s used for all sorts of odd jobs as well. Then tonight on duty as well with two calls out, one from 1030 — 1130 and later from -0140 until 0420 — both really unnecessary calls for me, but I had to turn out.

Tuesday, January 26th
Meals have improved again — breakfast is usually good; dinner better than it was and we now get cake and jam every day for tea.

We have to carry our sten guns around with us — but no ammunition! It’s crazy. Our gum boots are only to be worn in inclement weather — this does not mean normal rain. I never know when I shall find myself plodding across the boggy moors, where every mountain and hollow is full of water, so I disregard this order.

Not long ago, when we’re looking forward to better weather to come, a notice appears in D R O’s about bicycles ‘Bicycles must be properly oiled before the really inclement weather sets in!’

I got a good fire going in the hut tonight, then went to the Reading Room for a while. So to the NAAFI and back to the hut to enjoy the fire.

Wednesday, January 27th
A very interesting letter form Uncle Fred, full of interesting bird lore, his own observations. He says I’m very lucky to be stationed here on one of the migratory routes!

I struggle today to repair the poles carrying our telephone lines over a roadway; a new top to the pole, new stays and then the effort to put it up, with only one man to help me. The traffic held us up a lot and eventually I had to leave it to go on the duty run. When I returned, I had to connect up a lot of small accs for charging — a fiddling job that took a long time and I had to put off my proposed trip to see the Trezise’s.

Another good fire in the hut and I stayed there reading ‘Memory Hold the Door’ and the Arabian Nights.

A good tale of the camp. On the COs inspection last Saturday, he himself visited the ablutions. The corporal in charge gave him an elaborate salute, stalked ahead of him to the entrance of the showers, stood there and loudly called ‘Attention’!

Thursday, January 28th
I feel hungrier as a result of a more active life and I’ve a lot less time to spare. At dinnertime I read yesterday’s papers and so I read of the ‘Unconditional Surrender’ meeting between Churchill and Roosevelt at Casablanca. The papers have been hinting at big news to come for several days.

On Tuesday, as we lay in bed, we talked of piles and we listened especially to Stan Webster’s experiences. ‘If they are big’ he said ‘one sometimes pops out like a gremlin out of a rabbit hole’.

The news is now on — Russians recapture Maikop oil wells. 8th Army pushes on towards Tunisia: RAF stage a short, heavy attack on Düsseldorf.

Friday, January 29th
At Campden House this evening I played the piano while Fred played the mandolin. I missed an ENSA film show by this visit. The film was ‘Mrs Miniver’ — a film which is drawing huge crowds wherever it’s shown.

Saturday, January 30th
To celebrate the tenth anniversary of the Nazis advent to power, Mosquitoes raided Berlin in daylight this morning, sending Goering scurrying for shelter and delaying his speech to the German armed forces by more than one hour. Another raid was carried out later, just before Goebbels was to broadcast Hitler’s proclamation. It is significant that Hitler did not speak.

At Campden House this evening I was regaled with a hot pasty and tea. Supper too, later, with coffee. I played, badly I feel, some light pieces by Schubert, and Fred had a go as well. Rough winds and heavy showers prevalent now.

Sunday, January 31st
January got a real farewell this year, a rollicking, roistering gale early in the day that tore off our chimney top, drove rain into buildings everywhere and developed gusts of 80mph.

Two jobs to do on duty, before it got too dark ….. and then I hurried to the Music Circle where the chief item was Brahms’ 2nd Symphony.

Russians yesterday captured Tikhoretsk railway junction — thereby increasing the peril of the German forces in the Caucasus.

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