大象传媒

JOHN BARTLETT
Life in the Services, 1939 鈥� 1946

Chapter 1
鈥淥h to be a Flyer 鈥� Bitter Disappointment鈥�

Looking back it is astonishing to me how small incidents change your life.

It is hard to imagine today how difficult it was for a youngster leaving school before the war (World War II). There were no job centres or real career masters at school. The only way into a university was if you had wealthy parents, or if you were exceptionally bright and could win a scholarship.

I went to Whitgift School in Croydon, a minor day Public School. Although I was quite good at rugby and cricket, I never played in the school teams.

The less said about my school career the better! I didn't even get G.C.E. (School Certificate) after the second try!

My father asked me if I wanted to join him in the Alliance Insurance Company. I quickly said, "No". This meant I was on my own. I had vague ideas about farming abroad but I had no idea how to get into it.

I answered an advert in a newspaper for a job with a timber company importing timber from Burma. I went for an interview and after an arithmetic test they offered me a job at thirty shillings (old money) per week. I promptly turned it down, as I couldn't bear to think of working out capacities of timber all day in a dreary office in Dockland! My mother was not pleased at my turning down such a good offer!

On the way home I found I had a long wait for the train from Charing Cross Station so I wandered across the road and peered into the window of East Africa House. Although a shy nervous little boy, I felt a need to take drastic steps and so I approached the Commissionaire and asked him if I could speak to the Commissioner (how I knew there was such a person is still a mystery). I was told I should write for an appointment and explain what I wanted. Although shy, I was very insistent and eventually the poor man, in desperation, went to get the Commissioner's secretary. She was probably quite young but to me she seemed a very imposing, mature woman. Blushing madly, I told her how I wanted to go to East Africa farming and I must see the Commissioner. She went to ask him and he said he would see me in half an hour.

I was ushered into a very large imposing office and this tall ex-colonel type with monocle in one eye said, "What do you want?" He was very good and spent a lot of time talking about the possibilities and the life in East Africa, but said, "You need to become more mature - why not join the forces?"

About a week later I met up with a school friend, Bobby, who was in RAF uniform with newly acquired wings on his chest. During conversation I said, "Maybe I should join the RAF as a pilot." Bobby said, "John, you haven't got the brains to be a pilot!"

Burning with indignation (but secretly thinking - maybe he was right) I went off to the recruiting office a few days later.

After the usual filling in of forms and writing letters I was informed I should go to the Air Ministry for a medical, tests and interview. I found myself with fourteen others - all, in my eyes, grown men. I was 17 but looked about 14! At the end of the day seven came out without acceptance including a Canadian who had worked his passage over and a Lord - somebody who flew his own plane. Seven had been accepted and so at last, after all this waiting, I didn't think I had much hope - but an old RAF Sergeant gripped my arm very firmly and said, "You will be alright sonny," and directed me through the door.

I was seated in front of an Air Commodore and two senior officers who asked me many questions and seemed particularly interested in my activities in the Scouts. You can imagine my astonishment when I was handed the precious pink slip and told I had been accepted. I walked down the road with my feet hardly touching the ground!

Later, I was bitterly disappointed when I received a letter from the Air Ministry to say the Doctor was a bit unhappy about my heartbeat. Many weeks later I went for a further test and was accepted.

Eventually I started, about mid July 1939, as a 'Pupil Pilot Officer' at Gatwick Aerodrome. This had just been acquired from the Ministry of Transport by the Ministry of Air.

Except for one other, all the forty pupils on the course were older - many much older. We were lucky because we had new Miles Magisters to fly. They were low wing monoplanes with brakes and flaps - new features on training aircraft.

I started with a Sergeant who was not blessed with much patience and swore at me most of the time. Fortunately, I was later given an old instructor who sat in the cockpit in front with hands on the side of the aircraft to prove to me that he wasn't flying the plane.

Others on the course carried out their solo in nine, ten or eleven hours, but it was thirteen hours before my instructor said "he couldn't bear to fly with me any longer" and I had better go up on my own - which I did, not once but twice.

War was being talked about by everybody and the instructors were pushing us to put in as many hours flying as possible.

The day war broke out (3rd September 1939) we were assembled for a talk from the C.O., who seemed an old man to me - he was probably in his early thirties. He said, "Now look here you young chaps, you have probably about a fortnight to live". An hour later the sirens went out for the first time and we all ran towards the ditches on the edge of the airfield. A German Aircraft flew over about fifty feet up, and we could distinctly see the pilot and his observer. Fortunately for us they were heading for London and had no intention of bombing us.

The next day we were suddenly outnumbered by men in uniform with stripes on their arms, and some with medals - men who we had only seen before looking scruffy in their leisure wear at weekends.

Within a few days we were flown in Avro Ansons to an aerodrome called Fair Oaks, near Cobham in Surrey. This had been a small airfield for private flying, a miserable stretch of grass with a hump in the middle. To make matters worse, we were given Tiger Moths to fly. I found these most unsuitable for me as they came into land with their nose sloping upwards and, because I was so small, I couldn't see over the side.

The time came when the C.O. took me up for a test and told me to put it into a spin, which I did - but without looking down first to make sure there were no other aircraft below. To my horror, I was told I had failed and therefore was no longer required. Hard to take, especially as the war had just started! I had to console myself with the fact that they had such a big influx of pilots who had done their training at the weekends that they didn't really need young 'pink-cheeked' 17 year old schoolboys.

To avoid sitting at home getting depressed, I became an ambulance driver with A.R.P. (Air Raid Precaution) and then I joined the local A.R.P. service with the control centre. It was not long before I found myself deeply involved in an affair with a girl/woman ten years older than myself. I brought this to an abrupt end when I joined the Fleet Air Arm. This was due to my mother, who begged me to make the break.

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