大象传媒

This story was told to me by Ron Storey.

I Want To Fly.

As a child I used to watch target-towing aircraft fly down the channel past the gunnery range at Doniford, Somerset. Later, the Queen Bee radio controlled aircraft took over. It was then that I developed the yearning to fly. Even more so, when the Air Circuses came to the twenty acre field near Dunster Beach. Especially Sir Alan Cobham鈥檚 air show.
Years passed by, war came, and at that time I was working for a Doctor and his wife at Porlock in Somerset who were absolutely marvellous to me. The time came to enlist (first 19 call up) so I went to Exeter for the RAF medical. I was accepted and later sent to Keeble College for Aircrew selection where I was rejected, (I won鈥檛 mention the interview) and came away, furious!
I arrived back in Porlock, still in the same mood, more so when the Dr said, 鈥渢ry and make the best of it in the Army鈥�. He went to talk to his wife and came out later saying, "they had talked and that he would write to Dick for me". I was truly thankful.
The Dr and his wife were guardians for six orphans. The youngest had married a Captain Dick Barry who was working for the Air Ministry. (Later he was one of the staff, S.O.E.) finishing the war as Brigadier General. A few days later I had papers to enlist in the Somerset L.I. at Taunton. The Dr took me to Taunton, saw the recruiting Sergeant who called me over and told me to ignore my papers for a week (perhaps they were lost), but I would have to come if more arrived.
During the next week I had notice to attend ACRC at Euston. I passed medical and intelligence etc., and then went into the interview room where one of the Officers was holding a piece of Paper. He said 鈥淚 see you have been pulling a few strings, there鈥檚 no point in refusing you, you鈥檙e in and good luck鈥� I was a happy fellow that day all right! I enlisted in November 1941 and went to Padgate, Blackpool, Yatesbury, here I passed out as W/Op and got attached to the Army in Auterarder Scotland, in so called, signals work. A lot of my time was spent on farms as volunteers were called for (a really super time).
Back to Bridgnorth and Bobbington, then to Gunnery Course at Stormy down where I gained my wing. While on leave from Stormy down, I recognised a pilot whom I knew from ATC days. He was on leave after gaining his wings in the USA and Canada. We went back from leave on the same train, and arrived at Sieghford together. In those days the pilots were allowed seven days to choose a crew. And so began a very exciting time for both of us. After training on Wellingtons, we moved to Sandtoft HCU on Halifaxes. Here we had a very narrow escape, landing on two engines; we bisected another Halifax parked just in front of the control tower. Enough of Halifaxes, we were posted to Hemswell LFS. From there, on to 166 Sqdn Kirmington. I well remember our initiation after meeting the CO who wished us well and told us to get bikes from the store, as our billets were a long way from station HQ. On going to the store we were told none were available, but later that night someone wouldn鈥檛 return, them and we could have theirs, we got them the next day. So began a very hectic and exciting time in our lives, taking part in 29 ops over Europe, including the 鈥楧鈥� Day period.

July 25th dawned, a wonderful morning, but somehow I didn鈥檛 feel happy. I remember writing to Joan my girl friend, telling her not to worry; Jerry would have a job to catch me! Stuttgart was the target, except for some minor snags everything seemed OK until we were over France in the vicinity of Auxerre. I had just wound Mandrel (a radio jamming device against enemy night fighters). We were never told its exact use. I had just returned to my seat when there was a tremendous rattle from underneath the planes belly and a shudder from the aircraft. I looked out of my window and saw an engine on fire. The undercarriage had dropped down making the aircraft unstable and difficult to fly. I reached down for my parachute, quickly donning it and then, looking back through the fuselage I could see the photoflash burning in the chute. Small flames and smoke were coming from the bomb bay. The hydraulics had been damaged by gunfire and I was unable to open the bomb doors, even with the use of the hydraulics emergency hand pump. The night fighter came in again and raked us this time hitting the mid upper turret. The skipper gave the order to bale out. Syd the engineer didn鈥檛 have a parachute, but I had the spare chute on the rest bed ready for him. My mind flashed back to the beginning of the day. The sergeant in charge of the Parachute Section had no spare parachute packed. It was the W/Op responsibility to draw the spare chute and he didn鈥檛 want to pack one. I had to tell him 鈥渘o chute, no take off鈥� this soon changed his mind. The uneasy feeling was still with me.
I was third out and drifted down from about 12,000 ft. I watched the plane crash and burnout, then suddenly; I felt a cushion of warm air. Looking ahead I saw the tops of some trees and I just had time to relax myself before landing in a cornfield close to a self-binder. A hedge was close by, so I stuffed my chute and harness into it, covering them with corn sheaves. The silence was eerie, and it was a while before I realised that I was OK. After walking some way, I came to a farm and I decided to hide in the barn. Just as I got inside, a dog came to the door and barked. I decided then to go to the farmhouse door. Knowing that French people were willing to help, I knocked on the door and shouted RAF. The door opened and the farmer looked at me and smiled, turned and spoke to his wife and child and then disappeared into the darkness. I was given a drink and a few minutes later two Maquis arrived dressed in British Battle-dress, carrying rifles. They took me to a large house, which I presumed was the local vicarage. The tenant assured me that I was in a safe house, and that I was safe. He then led me to a room, all white including the bed linen. The walls were adorned with rifles, sten guns bayonets, etc. He told me to have a good sleep and that he would awaken me at 12 noon and take me to a safe camp. He duly arrived and he took great interest in my white wool sweater. I removed the sweater and handed it to him. This gave him enormous delight. We set off, called at a small homestead on the way, and a little while later we arrived at the Maquis Camp. In the camp I found John Cann the pilot, he was shoeless, Reg the rear gunner, and the mid upper gunner Hugh waiting for me. What a relief to meet again. Two days later Syd arrived to make it five out of seven. During the following week more Maquis arrived, driving a charcoal-burning Ford car and took us to view our plane crash site. The Germans had left the area that morning and we ended up at a farmhouse for lunch. White new baked bread and wine, this had been well hidden in an old hayloft. What a party!
On the Sunday night they returned and took us in the car to another Maquis Camp. It was a very exciting trip with stops to fill up with more charcoal; a rap on a door or gate and out would come a silent figure with the supply of fuel with hardly a word spoken. Nearby was an S.A.S unit operating. So the next day we went over the hill into the S.A.S Camp. It was amazing to be with our own forces, yet in occupied territory. A Major Fraser told us to make a list of names etc and he would get a message back to UK that we were all well. I helped to code and send the message back to Watford by a small generator powered transmitter with an aerial of only 30 yards in length, even though we were low down in a valley. The message arrived on the desk of General Dick Barry a short time later, and my parents knew within nine days that I was safe. The Air Ministry took a little longer to inform my family, three weeks! It was amazing to think that the General was responsible for me joining the RAF and being the first to know that I was safe. I still have the original message, How I obtained it is another story.
A few days later Bernie the bomb aimer, and Nick the navigator walked into the camp and we were a complete crew once again and almost unscathed. Another crew from our Squadron was shot down on the same night, very near to where we were caught. They were all killed and buried at Taingy. We were very, very, lucky.
Life in the S.A.S camp was quite exciting, and we finally had orders to assemble a convoy. Supplies would be dropped and we were to proceed to Orleans where the USAF would return us to England. On the way we passed through what was supposed to be German held territory in a red coloured Lagonda, with a number of other vehicles commandeered around the Corbingy area. What a ride, thankfully no Germans except two graves at a crossroad and a burned out German tank.
We came back to England standing up in the bomb bay of a Liberator. There were seventeen RAF crewmen and one German POW who was taken prisoner in a street battle by the S.A.S. He was an Austrian who didn鈥檛 like Hitler and was very happy to be going to England.
After five weeks leave I went to Brackla. There I was posted to Nutts Corner on Transport Command to fly in C87鈥檚 (converted Liberators). While John Cann my previous pilot was there to fly Sterling鈥檚. In due course I arrived at Palam Delhi, to spend approximately ten months doing flights over India, Ceylon, Burma, Australia, Singapore, Aden, Afghanistan, and one flight over the Hump to Kunming in China. Amazingly, although I was away from base very often, on the three occasions John came to Palam while I was stationed there we met each time. So I was able to organise a parcel of tea and towels etc for him to take home for me.
Six crews were posted back to Dishforth England in December, with the idea of going on to York鈥檚 for a North Atlantic run. But as our demob. groups were too high, we were asked to sign on for another three years. No one accepted, so we were sent to Holmsley South, to fly York鈥檚 to and from India. I did sign on for six months and really enjoyed the trips with a few days leave after each one.
However my time for demob. came, and I decided to say goodbye to a truly wonderful experience, and my brief summing of RAF life is that it is the quickest way to change a boy to a man, in many cases overnight. So long as one lived long enough.
John Cann has retired from BEA and BAA, and lived just a mile away. We often met for coffee and a chat. He was not well enough at the moment to travel to France as I was about to do. I was hoping to meet up with the people who helped us evade capture. The French people were holding a service in memory of the other crew of 166 Squadron who were also shot down on that event full night. Our little group attended the service and payed our respects to the seven young airmen lost on the night of July 25th 1944.
Ron Storey.

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