大象传媒

The Title

During the latter part of my career, I had for my immediate boss one by the name of Bob Eaton, and when out on business together we would sometimes get talking about our respective war time experiences. He had flown as a pilot in Bomber Command, and one day he turned round and said: 鈥淵ou had a good war鈥�. So I thought that was just right when I was searching around for the title.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the mothers who wait
and worry at home in time of war.

Glossary

A.T.D.U. Aerial Torpedo Development Unit 鈥� Gosport

S.T.U. Special Torpedo Unit

N.A.F.F.I. Navy, Army & Air Force Institute

W.V.S. Women鈥檚 Voluntary Services

M.U. Maintenance Unit

H.Q. Headquarters

L.A.C. Leading Aircraft man

A.C.1 Aircraft man 1st Class

A.C.2 Aircraftman 2nd Class 鈥� lowest rank

Cpl. Corporal (below sergeant)

Sgt. Sergeant (non-commissioned officer)

W.O. Warrant Officer 鈥� ranking between
commissioned and non- commissioned
officer


C.O. Flt. Lt. Commanding Officer Flight Lieutenant

W.O.P./A.G. Wireless operator / Air gunner

O/C Officer Commanding

N.C.O. Non - Commissioned Officer e.g. Sergeants

R.T.O. Rail Travel Officer

M.P. Military Police

M.T. Motor Transport

W.A.A.F. Women鈥檚 Auxiliary Air Force

F.W.D. Four Wheel Drive

Q.L. Bedford Truck Quadruple

Dispersals aircraft dispersals 鈥� aeroplanes scattered around
airfield to avoid being destroyed by enemy fire.

P.O.W. Prisoner Of War

K.D.s khaki shorts

Sten gun Cheaper sub-machine gun

Bren gun Automatic rifle, heavier. Can change barrel when it
gets hot.

H.C.U. Heavy Conversion Unit, as at Aldergrove.
Twin 2 engined aeroplanes changed to 4 engined
American bombers

S.C. days Servicing Commando Days

R.S.U.s Repair and Salvage Unit

V.E. day Victory in Europe

V.J. day Victory in Japan

Demob. Demobilization 鈥� leaving the services

M.O. Medical Officer

G.D. Sgt. General Duty Sergeant

L.C.T. Tank Landing Craft

Listening to the incessant chirping of the crickets in the olive trees, under which I was sheltering from the heat of the midday sun in the month of July, near the Gulf of Augusta in Sicily; I began reflecting on the chain of events that had brought me there from my home near Dunbar, in Scotland.
It was in August 1941, that my cousin, Eric, a fitter in the regular Royal Air Force was paying us a visit whilst on leave. He had served in Malta during some of its tribulations at the hands of the Luftwaffe.
So at my own inspiration and with a bit of encouragement from Eric: and against the advice of my boss, when I asked for a day off work to go and join up, as he had served in the First World War: I travelled up to Edinburgh with my cousin, John, who also wanted to find out what our prospects were of becoming members of the R.A.F. This was our preference, and in my case I would be nineteen in November, so I hoped to pre-empt the call up and join the service of my choice.
I like most boys had been fascinated by aeroplanes, having made some models at various times. There was also the time when back in 1934 a twin engined Vicker鈥檚 Vimny bi-plane bomber crashed near the Barns Ness lighthouse at the entrance to the Firth of Forth. It had shed its undercarriage on a stone wall and ended up on its nose, as the pilot attempted to reach the safety of a grass field. No one was seriously injured. It was with some excitement that my school friends and I visited the scene and had a close look at a real aeroplane on the ground, and on succeeding days looked on as it was dismantled by an R.A.F. salvage crew.
So arriving at the recruiting office mid-week to offer our services, we were given an interview, a written test and a medical straight away. The following Saturday I received a letter telling me to report back on Monday morning with an empty suitcase.
Having said goodbye to my girl-friend and chums on Saturday night; my Mum and Dad on Monday morning, I duly reported back.
Lined up with other recruits we were asked to take the oath of allegiance to the King, and I now became 1560398 A.C.2. Henderson J. Direct Entry Fitter. As I had been an apprentice motor mechanic my expectations had only been of the humbler trade of flight mechanic, so one can imagine I was quite pleased with myself.
Along with the other recruits, volunteers and people called up, I was on my way to Arbroath on the east coast of Scotland that afternoon, where a drill sergeant met us at the station. He formed us into three ranks, before marching us off after a fashion, through the cobbled streets to a drill hall, there, to leave our suitcases by a bed which we were allocated.
Tea time and we were marched once more about half a mile to an old mill, which served as a cook-house and airmen鈥檚 mess. The first meal in which the tea itself was poured from buckets, I thought more like feeding horses in stables. On seeing some airmen in boiler-suits I naively thought we would soon be working on aircraft, but alas I discovered they were only a fatigue squad doing their bit in the cook-house.
In the evening back at the drill hall we were given a short 鈥榖ack and sides鈥� haircut by the barber.
The next day was devoted to kit and uniform issue. Also learning such things as the art of rolling up and tying one鈥檚 gas cape in such a fashion that when it was fixed on top of the backpack and the string was pulled, it rolled down enveloping one鈥檚 body. Next our kit had all to be marked with our R.A.F. number which started the process of indelibly printing the number on our minds.
Our suitcases now had to be packed with our civilian clothes, labelled and sent off home. Next we had injections, vaccinations and teeth put to rights with not so much as by your leave.
The next few weeks were spent learning the rudiments of drill known universally as 鈥榮quare bashing鈥�. The different flights were grouped around the swimming pool for this purpose. There was the usual awkward airman on whom the Cpl. instructor would pick on as the butt of his jokes. We now progressed from the drill hall accommodation to the Baltic Mill, I believe it had been used for jute working and sail making in former times, the different floors being supported by rough wooden posts. We were eventually billeted out with the town鈥檚 people, I shared a room with an airman called John Reid and across the landing was one by the name of Bob Armstrong, this was in Dishlandtown Street.
There were lots of new experiences, such as visiting the N.A.F.F.I., the Salvation Army鈥檚 canteen and cook-house fatigues. During the latter I thought I would have a nice big helping of custard from a large basin but alas it turned out to be pretty horrible made mostly with water: not a bit like my mother used to make.
The time passed quickly; what with firing on the rifle range, sport and exercises; and also an evacuation exercise which entailed a long march into the countryside. Eventually we came to our passing out parade, a Naval Officer from the nearby fleet air arm station H.M.S Condor taking the salute, whilst a pipe band played 鈥楾he Skye Boat Song鈥� in slow time; it was a very moving ceremony.
The readings of the postings followed shortly afterwards, and I along with Ted Ingram, Andy Moffat, John Reid and Bob Armstrong were posted to No.6 School of Technical Training at Hednesford in Staffordshire. We were seen off by our landladies at Arbroath station in the morning and arrived at Rugely, Staffordshire at about 7 p.m. We were very hungry after our journey and so we found a canteen and fairly enjoyed a meal of sausages and mash. Then we went on to a small railway station which served the R.A.F. camp; it was dark and raining heavily as we struggled up 鈥楰itbag Hill鈥�, as the hill on the road up to the Main Gate had been dubbed. We reported to the Guard Room only to be told that we would not be going in the main camp at this stage and were directed to some newly constructed huts about a mile up the road, these proved to have no lights nor heating but plenty of mud. We spent a couple of weeks there until our course started; ours would be known as No.115 Entry. We had a fair share of cook-house fatigues and some games before being moved into huts with polished lino on the floor, in the main camp, inside the wire fence. The course was to be of six months duration.
It was at this time I was to meet up with John Bowles from Blaydon on Tyne, he had a rich 鈥楪eordie鈥� accent and we became pals for the rest of the course. The two of us were detailed for guard duty on a sick airman in the sick quarters. Diphtheria had also broken out. The guard lasted a week, with everyone gargling excepting us; for some strange reason we had been overlooked.
In the meantime the other airmen of our entry had already started training. On our release from guard duty, we joined in on the basics, this included filing, fitting, drilling, riveting and marking out etc.
I should mention here that our entry was divided into airframe and engine fitters and I was placed in the former group. We graduated through all the aspects of an aeroplane鈥檚 airframe: that is, learning about angles of incidence and dihedral, lateral and longitudinal axis, flying and landing wires (that which cross-brace the wings of bi-planes), stagger, decalage, flying control wires, turnbuckles, splicing, hydraulics, hulls and floats, engineering drawing and theory of flight.
We 鈥榳orked鈥� a five and a half day week whilst training, reveille at six a.m., wash and shave, breakfast about seven, fold up and place one鈥檚 blankets on the three 鈥榖iscuits鈥� which made the mattress; completing the pile with towel, knife, fork and spoon on top, then sweeping our bed space, before parading outside on the road in 鈥榯hrees鈥� in front of the Wing Headquarters. Our Warrant Officer was reputed to have worked on barges and was therefore nicknamed the 鈥楤argee鈥�. One of his masterpieces was when asking one late arriving airman his name on pay parade and being told: 鈥楶hillips鈥�, he said: 鈥淩ight then, get fell in with the 鈥楩鈥檚.鈥�. Anyway, he would give the order to form 鈥榮ixes鈥� and send us marching off to work in the dark winter mornings with our wing brass band leading the way; often through the snow. We always had the band morning noon and night. It was composed of trainees and they held practice sessions of an evening in the band hut.
Having settled down pretty well at Hednesford, our little group from Arbroath, now including John Bowles, began to explore the entertainment potential in the nearby towns and would take the bus from the Main Gate that ran to Rugely or mainly to Walsall on a Saturday afternoon; where after a meal at the W.V.S. or similar canteen, we would adjourn to the local pubs in the evenings. We younger ones strived to keep up with the older experienced drinkers on beers, and whiskies when available. Then later off to the Town Hall dances. During the dancing when a Tango was announced Bob Armstrong would say: 鈥淪tep aside, Jock, this is a dancer鈥檚 dance鈥� as he gracefully took the floor.
Then it would soon be time to catch the train back to camp, with too much beer, often a few would be sick on the way home. As the tyre instructor said on the course: 鈥淭he spew line denotes the correct fitment of an aeroplane tyre on its wheel, not the line made on the side of the train by sick airmen on a Saturday night out!鈥�
John Bowles and I were meeting two girls from Bloxwich in Walsall at this time.
Trainees had to be back in camp earlier than the permanent staff and had to show a pass in a hut, with blacked out entrances, near the Main Gate. Coming back late one night I managed to get past the R.A.F. policeman with the torch, by passing behind the hut and then returning to my billet. Then, I removed my tie and shoes, ruffled my hair, and put on my plimsolls before handing in my pass at the Wing Orderly Room. There I told the sergeant that I had forgotten to hand it in earlier, and so I avoided being put on a charge with the use of a little white lie. I was beginning to learn how to survive in the air force, I thought.
One of the highlights of this time was the long weekend leave. This required some organising, because we trained alongside the Fleet Air Arm personnel, their leave included a railway warrant, so the long distance airmen negotiated with the short distance navy, the end result being a bit of profit for the navy and a cheap fare home for the airmen to such places as Scotland, as in my case.
Our course hired a double-decker bus to take us to Stafford station on the Friday morning, my group to catch the train to Glasgow and Edinburgh, and so home to Dunbar for my first 鈥楩orty-eight hour leave鈥�. It passed swiftly what with the showing of my uniform to my relations etc. and Saturday night at the pictures with my girl-friend. By Sunday afternoon it was time to start the return journey from the Calais station in Edinburgh, thence to meet up with the Glasgow 鈥� Euston train at Carstairs Junction. I have memories there of lovely bacon rolls courtesy of the W.V.S. whilst waiting for the connection from Glasgow.
Arriving back in Stafford, in the early hours of the morning, it was necessary to get enough 鈥� bodies鈥� together to hire a taxi back to camp before our leave expired at 08.00 hrs. On the course the next morning it was a real effort to try and stay awake, writing up my notes in my Gen. book they would trail away to nothing as I fell asleep.
Eventually, came the day of reckoning when we had to face a Trade Test Board, those of us who passed out were sent off on seven days leave, with the necessary paperwork to report back to Skegness on the Wash for a Ground Defence course. This consisted of more drilling, rifle shooting, hand grenade lectures and armed combat. I had poor eyesight in my right eye and therefore had to shoot with the butt of the rifle against my left shoulder; it looked awkward and the instructor tried to convert me but as I could produce a reasonable score on the target and had been using this method since my days in the Home Guard, he had to let me get on with it.
John Bowles and I did some boating on Billy Butlin鈥檚 lake and went out with some local girls. After one drinking session he made to put his boots on in the morning and as he did so a liquid poured forth, he looked up to the ceiling for an explanation but it was whole! Although strangely enough some of the ceiling did fall down some nights later.
We were billeted in private houses along the seafront, at that time, which must have been requisitioned. The hit tune for that period was 鈥楢ma Pola, My Pretty Little Poppy鈥�.
In answer to a notice displayed, some of the braver elements volunteered to become Flight Engineers on the four engined bombers, which were now in service. This also meant taking a conversion course.
A fairly enjoyable two or three weeks were spent there before our postings were read out; the parting of the ways for most of us. Along with Bob Armstrong, I was posted to No. 30 M.U. (Maintenance Unit) R.A.F. Sealand near Chester, and this entailed a rail journey via Sheffield and Manchester. The next day after doing the rounds of the different departments, and being taken on the strength, we were assigned to one of the hangars carrying out major servicing on Wellington twin engined bombers.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.