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A GENTLE WAR
January 1st — 15th 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’.

1943
Friday, January 1st
Russians claim 312,000 killed or captured by them, over 500 planes and over 2000 tanks captured. They still advance SE towards Caucasus.

All set to go on leave. Brian comes up to relieve me and the ‘phone goes. Mr Adams tells me Frank is posted overseas, so no leave for me.

I leave Brian on watch and straightway seek out Mrs Bray. The children are having a New Year’s tea and a friend is there. I tell her my tale of woe. She just can’t manage it this time. I get some tea and two pieces of sweet cake and a reference to the lady at Melvin House. She doesn’t take boarders, but refers me to a Mrs Hall, in a bungalow not far off. This lady is out — only a dog barks within; no lights show through the chinks.

I seek out my old acquaintance Mrs Exleby. She is ill in bed. I express my sorry and her husband gives me three names. I try the first, a Miss Gilbert opposite the school. She is full, but I am further referred to Mrs Trezise at Campden House. It’s on the road to Poldhu and after some trouble I find it, a big rambling house and I can get no answer. I return to the village and try Mr Exleby’s brother’s house. There the lady is fat and has bad legs, so cannot take boarders. I seek out another Mrs Bray, mentioned by Mrs E. I cannot find this house, so I return to Campden. and get admittance from an elderly man who is slightly deaf.

Luck at last — she can take me - tomorrow, if Betty can come, at £5 a week (two). Cost is no consideration now. She seems very pleasant. I promise to return after I’ve phoned.

At the kiosk at 8.20 and I book a call to be had at 10.25. No return to Mrs T tonight!
I go back to Brian and find him rather pale and upset. He’s posted too — to report on 6th — and gets to work on some telegrams. Frank arrives — he doesn’t know about it. What a shock we have for him!

Off they go, Brian to telephone and Frank to visit Corporal Davies. I chatter to Syd Gould at DF station — tell him all, just for some sympathy.

Brian goes instead to Davies’ with Frank and ‘phones from there. They have supper there.

I leave at 10.15 and get to the kiosk just in time. I ring up — but no call so far. At last it comes — Betty was caught just before going to bed. She’ll come tomorrow and with food card if she can. I’ll try to meet her if I can and hope that no more shocks await us.

Awful lonely here with the lads gone and no leave to come. No hope of it now, unless some mechanics are sent here. I may go myself at any moment. How I wish I hadn’t held up my leave!

Saturday, January 2nd
I should have been going on leave. Davis comes down to take over Frank’s watch. At the hut, I learn Brian is going right off and going to his draft camp from home; Frank’s going on leave and returning here on Thursday to get cleared.

I left my bike at Mrs Trezise’s and had a snack there, then caught the bus at the door. Brian was on it so we have over an hour together. The train was late, but Betty arrived and I introduced her to Brian in the dark — then we had to get on the bus and leave him alone.

Sunday, January 3rd
[at Campden House] Up long before the lark and down to a big breakfast of porridge, bacon and sausage and toast and marmalade with tea that tastes like tea — and then to work.

Davis in bed; he leaves here about 10 and ‘phones 40 minutes later to tell me he’s posted overseas too — report on 7th — my hopes recede.

A lovely day of warm sun, a cool breeze and great drifting cloud pageantry. Betty and I have a short walk to Poldhu and Polurrian. Still Lord Beaverbrook does not appear to be in residence. Letters to Dad and Falmouth.

Monday, January 4th
I spent a while watching a web of a small spider hung between gorse prickles; in it were 12 or 13 tiny flies — a good haul for a January day.

Tuesday, January 5th
Unpleasant news before nine — wireless mechanic to be posted — it can only mean me. I wait the whole morning in anxious suspense, but no one tells me anything. My relief arrives at 12.30 and says that Mr A says that I’m leaving. I leave pondering on the unusual lack of information.

At 5 I return and as soon as I can get in touch with the Signals Officer. It may be me, but they’ve requested cancellation of the posting. There is still hope.

Betty spent the afternoon telling me all about the fuss at her school caused by the Committee’s decision that teachers shall not have dinner free at the school canteen even when they do dinner duty.

Betty’s amazed at the number of flowers still in bloom here — violets, fragrant butter-burr, hogweed, wild parsley, dandelion, daisy, ivy-leaved toadflax, ragwort, camomile, red campion, herb Robert, a small hawkweed, long rooted cat’s ear, an unknown cress on a walk near Beaverbrook’s bungalow; tamarisk, field madder, buttercup, corn woundwort, mouse-ear chickweed, red dead nettle, shepherd’s purse, gorse, scarlet pimpernel — all these can be seen if looked for.

At Gunwalloe inspection of the damage done to beach etc was being made. A waste of time and money to attempt to repair damage now — there may be more storms yet.

Betty was to come up at 7 to find out if I have further news. I saw her torch flickering along the stile-path and watched it go out at the gate. I whistled Annie Laurie and the refrain was taken up. She had brought the big black bag, not her small handbag, to carry away some of my books if necessary! She only dared to stay a short while: I said goodnight at the gate.

Wednesday, January 6th
No news came through today. I hope, but fear lest my hopes are in vain. Should things be unfavourable I may even miss my few days leave.

Our boarding house is most comfortable. We had egg and bacon for breakfast; pork? for dinner today and veal yesterday. The cakes for tea are delicious. Always a tasty supper too — of fishcakes this evening.

Mrs Trezise offered Betty the use of her bike this morning — an offer we may hope to accept if the weather should be fine.

The Russians are pushing the Germans out of the Caucasus — have captured Maydok Nalchik. Last weekend the big German base at Veliki Luki fell; and the Russian advance threatens Rostov itself. In Tunisia Allied air supremacy is still being built up and Rommel shows signs of digging in south of Misurata. Horabin, MP for North Cornwall, says ‘I welcome the assassination of Admiral Darlan’. Good to have someone who is not afraid to say what most people think.

Mrs Trezise told us a tale of Mullion — a mother lost a dear little girl. Years later, a sister of the deceased had a daughter and named it after her dead sister. The little girl is 8, and so dear and good, and so named, that granny says she’s to good to live and so bought a plot of ground for her in Mullion cemetery.

Thursday, January 7th
I looked at the gorse bush with the spider’s webs this morning. At 11, in a fresh web, still starred with tiny rain drops, there were no flies. On the bush there were more than 20 webs and in one a large mosquito was caught. At 12, one fly was trapped in my particular web and at 1230 the catch was 3 flies, while the mosquito web had much more than this.

Betty remarks that my interest in birds and nature generally has been a saving grace for me in this rather lonely spot. How true!

Friday, January 8th
A dull, wet, morning. We stayed in by a pleasant fire and later I had a bath. For dinner we had a big, hot, pasty each.

I spent most of the afternoon in soldering a pin fastener on to a little plane brooch I’ve made for Betty. I wore it in my lapel as I went homewards; when she met me she saw it at once and was thrilled with it.

Saturday, January 9th
Betty packed this morning, getting up early to do it. We had egg and bacon again for breakfast. The bus came unexpectedly early and off she went.

Frank was still up at our den when I arrived; they’d made a mistake in the time. I lent him my leggings to walk up in, but he left his gloves here. I met the 2.40 bus in Mullion to give them to him, but he must have gone straight through to Helston, for there was no airman of the name of Shepherd on the bus.

I got the pin back on my plane brooch this morning — having worked it off last night in my efforts to restore some springiness to the fastener.

Saturday, January 10th
With the competent skill of Humphries, I was able to have my tyre valve trouble put right. The annoying rubber valve with its moods and whims was cut out and the normal type valve cut from my old inner tube and stuck on.

I rode out with Bassett as far as Penhale; despite the wind and the driving rain, he tore along and I was hard put to keep up with him. From the road to the Rest Room I had to get off and walk part of the way, such a stinging rain was driving into my eyes. My trousers were wet. I had hardly got them off when a barrage balloon, torn from a boat at sea no doubt, got its cable caught in the wires of the power supply, went up in flame and put the power off. So on went the damp trousers again and we fought across the field and struggled to get a damp engine going. It was a long, hard struggle. I went back once to see if the mains had come back on; the phone was ringing furiously and when I picked up the receiver, it was to hear the bland voice of the Signals Officer asking if everything was all right!

We got the thing going and came back. Hardly had we congratulated ourselves on the steadiness of the voltage, when the bulb overhead began to behave like H G Wells’ ‘Star’ and the voltmeter needles rose steadily up and up and up. we hurled ourselves at the transmitters and switched all off that we could find and Humphries hurried down again. This time we got it set more steadily. I went to bed about 1. About 3, H ‘phoned for more petrol. At 5 he came in again, to ask about petrol. It hadn’t been ordered so far as we could make it. I got up and let him get into bed. Hardly had I got down there, when the engine died away. The petrol came half-an-hour later and I soon got things going again.

Monday, January 11th
At 10 next morning the mains came alive again, to our relief.

I met Bassett and Behagg at Poltesco, and we enjoyed ourselves on the beach, climbing over the rocks, fording the stream commando-fashion along the beach barricades; my crossing was made lively by stones flung into the water to splash me. We rode back in quite heavy rain.

A gale rages tonight and I think it’s the worst we’ve had yet. Some of the gusts shake this hut and make me fear that the power will go again and drag me out of bed, just when I want a good night’s sleep.

Tuesday, January 12th
The earth was singing this morning — as the rain of the night seeped into the soil.

At Poltesco the brook raged over the rocks in its course and tore an uneasy channel through the pebbled shore, against which great breakers hurled themselves. On the beach I found a treacle tin with OPEN scratched raggedly on the lid. Inside was a half of a postcard with printing on it:-

‘If a German, or Italian, or a Jap find this we wish him all BAD LUCK. But if a British or an American or anyone favourable to the Allies finds it, we wish him all GOOD LUCK’

and on the other side was printed

‘with love or hate as the case may be
N & CC
Cornwall, England.

Probably some children having fun.

Fred B and I had a light snack at the NAAFI and then went again to the Education Hut to hear an officer lecture on the Argentine: it was quite interesting, though he was apologetic lest he had bored us.

For the second time I slept in the hut — there were only five there altogether and we were gossipy before we settled down for the night.

Wednesday, January 13th
A free morning, so I rode to Kennack and took my bike with me up the little valley and through the wood and so to the road to the quarry. From there I could ride up to Goonhilly Downs and so back.

A wet night. I spent the evening in the Reading Room, reading and writing and finally had a windy, wet ride out to the transmitters, where I settled down to let my things dry.

Thursday, January 14th
Spent the morning at Poltesco and in the wood there.

I went to the workshop in the afternoon and spent most of the time pottering about, doing nothing in particular.

I took the acc. out of the HF/DF and with the WAAF driver ploughed through a sea of mud at the gateway to the field. She had no gum boots on, only thin shoes, but she didn’t seem to mind.

As duty mechanic I spent the first part of the evening at the workshop working on a new Spitfire.

While I was at supper and washing, there came a call for me. A new acc wanted at Dasky, so I had to get up to SHQ to get one. The patrol on the perimeter stopped me, but I got by him with slight delay. I was in a hurry as they were expecting some planes in.

Friday, January 15th
The duty run this evening led us all around the perimeter and so out to the HF/DF station, where I had a ‘phone chat with Ron Curtis at the transmitting station — asking, of course, after Daisy the cow.

I lit the fire in the hut — after I’d washed — and then went to the reading room. Syd Gould, Ron Shaw and I then went to the NAAFI for some supper and heard a few bits from ITMA on the wireless. Then back to the hut to undo my parcel.

I had a fine bother sorting out u/s articles for clothing parade on Monday, packing my laundry and stuffing the things back into my kit bag.

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