大象传媒

Dad enlisted with the RAF on the 10th May 1940 aged 19 years and 8 months, with his service commencing on the 12th June 1940, his intention was to join up as a Pilot, but not pass as A1 (flat feet? A working class teenager from Moss Side, Manchester, as opposed to an Oxbridge graduate, events would soon change this enrolment method) instead he chose Air Gunnery at 55 Operational Training Unit (O.T.U.) Usworth, Sunderland. Upon qualification as air gunner he was promoted to the rank of Sergeant, and assigned a Squadron, here follows an extract from a notebook Dad had compiled.

鈥淚 left Wilmslow (RAF Wilmslow issued airmen with additional uniform and equipment) for Glasgow, by train, to board the P. & O. liner 鈥淪trathmore鈥�, on August 14th 1941. We were about two days aboard ship before sailing, spending this time finding our way around the rather large ship. I was bunked down in the hold. Down below there was about a dozen tables, to hold up to about 20 men on each, Each table had a mess number, mine being 65, At night we slung hammocks over the table, what a terrible smell down there the first night, with nearly a mutiny arising from it, several of us decided to sleep on deck, but a Warrant Officer on deck refused us permission to use the deck for such a purpose, however, when we demanded to have the Medical Officer brought, he decided to see our point of view, it was rather a warm night, we were lucky.
During our wait, many lads tried to get mail ashore through the dockworkers, it was not worth the risk.
On Saturday, August 16th, about 5 o鈥檆lock in the evening, we eventually sailed from the Glasgow docks up the Clyde, we were rather relieved to be making tracks,
It was a lovely evening as we sailed the Clyde, with the sun just about going down, a memorable sight was the Scots women in the house and tenement windows hanging sheets, towels and anything white, waving like mad to us, we replied by waving our life jackets, I must say we enjoyed the sail up to Greenock, to meet the rest of the convoy, a lad next to me could see his home on the bank from the ship, so near yet so far.
Next morning August the 17th and Sunday, we woke up to find we were well out to sea, behind us we could just see some small isles, it was a lovely sunny morning but dear me, was it cold, my pal and I, Jack Atkinson from Newcastle, began to realise that we really were on the way to our unknown destination, where, nobody knew, to give just a few of the guesses, we had Russia, Canada, Egypt and the USA, it would probably be China or somewhere, several quacks said they had been watching the sun and stars and we were heading for the USA or Canada, another guess was that someone had seen fur coats being smuggled on board in Glasgow, dear, dear.
A funny incident happened whilst marching from the train to the docks in Glasgow, straight ahead of us was a large liner, and as we could see no other about, and us heading straight for this liner, we naturally thought it was for us, As we marched nearer, the name of the liner could be seen, 鈥淓mpress of Canada鈥� this gave a great cheer all round, so it was Canada, however, just about a hundred yards from 鈥渙ur liner鈥� we got the order to 鈥渞ight wheel鈥� straight through an open hanger and to 鈥渇all in鈥� facing the boat, the 鈥淪S Strathmore鈥�, leaving us all winded.
Here we were, sailing on the blue, and no clues to where, we passed the time on ship by reading, smoking, playing housey 鈥� housey, and of course, normal duties i.e., guards, galley, lifeboat drill and mess duties, several lads were detailed as batmen, some as ships runners, some even opened their own barbers shop, the latter being very useful. The ships canteen was opened when we were out to sea, and cigarettes and chocolate were at greatly reduced prices, we were always in the queue for cigs and tea.
We were sleeping down below now, it was bitter cold at night, and the sea very rough, a great many lads were under the weather, fortunately I was a good sailor and got away with a slightly queer feeling. My pal Jack and I were on mess orderly two days out, and Jack was boasting how good a sailor he was, we had fish for tea, and when we came to clean up after, we tossed the coin for cleaning the dishes or scraping out the tins, Jack won and chose the tins, all went well until Jack started to scrape the fish fat from the tins, then he really did change colour and he dashed out of the mess, this was about 5 o鈥檆lock, I never saw him again until about 8 o鈥檆lock the next morning.
After several days the weather gradually got warmer, obvious to us all that we were going into the tropics. The order to change from our standard uniforms into Khaki drill felt a great relief, although wearing those issue trousers was pretty grim, they began to choke me around the seat and ankles, I had unfortunately left my shorts in my kit bag locked away in the ships storage, however, so many of us had done the same, the powers that be allowed us to sort our bags out, what a relief to get into those shorts and slippers.
We unexpectedly saw land after about ten days sailing, and of course great excitement was high, where were we? As we got nearer to shore, we eventually got the information we had long sought, this was Africa and the port ahead was Freetown in Sierra Leone, and we would be calling there for stores.
What a hot misty atmosphere that hangs around this port, we cannot see the sun at all, just a clammy feeling, The locals from the town come out to see us in their small boats, which are loaded with fruit and nuts, which we are forbidden to buy, however, several lads chanced their luck and purchased a few coconuts, It was through a similar action that Jack and myself met three other RAF lads, who became our pals for the years abroad, Jack and I bought a nut and as a local lad was passing the basket with his goods up to us an army officer saw what was going on, and gave chase, we of course dashed off and these chaps helped steer us clear of the Officer鈥�

Dads annotations end here, however he had recorded that the 鈥淪trathmore鈥� sailed from Freetown and onto Cape Town up to Aden for the final destination of Suez, so the mystery 鈥渃ruise鈥� had reached its final destination, Egypt, this was December 1941 and Dad had been assigned to 117 Squadron, who by December 1941 would have been located at Bilbeis, between Cairo and Alexandria, Dad would have been assigned to either (or both) Vickers Wellesley or Bristol Bombay as turret gunner.
Dad stayed with 117 squadron for a relatively short period, and in February 1942 he joined 108 squadron in Fayid, Egypt, from February 1942 until November 1942, 108 squadron adopted a somewhat nomadic like existence, moving to no less than four Advance Landing Grounds (ALG), Fayid; Feb -May, El Daba (ALG 105); May 鈥� Jun, Kabrit; Jun 鈥� Aug, Giza (ALG 237) Aug 鈥� Nov 1942, operating with Mk1 Blenheim鈥檚, with Dad once again operating as the aircrafts turret gunner.
It was in the November of 1942, that 108 Squadron was disbanded, and all aircrews were posted to 37, 70 and 148 squadrons, Dad picked up 37 Squadron located at ALG 140, Baheire, near Gambut, Libya. He had been assigned to Vickers Wellington Mk Ic, marked: Q 鈥� LF or 鈥淨ueenie鈥� as her crew affectionately knew her, and he stayed with this aircraft from November 1942 to May 1943. Because of the Allies rapid advance, the squadron never established a permanent base instead moving in January 1943 to Barina and El Magrum, February, Gardabia West, and by May 1943, 37 squadron was in Kairouan, Tunisia, During this time the squadron supported the Allied invasion of Sicily and Italy, it was during a bombing raid on the island of Pantelleria on the 30th 1943 May, that Dads war took a turn for the worst. 鈥淨ueenie鈥� was badly damaged during this raid and crash lands in North Africa, four of the crew survive, Dad lost the sight in one of his eyes, and was hospitalised from May 1943 until September 1943, at No5 RAF General Hospital Cairo, during this time, as his eyes were bandaged, he had a fellow patient write his letters home, he did not want to worry his future wife (my Mam) or Family with his misfortune, instead his excuse was he had broken his wrists, and therefore couldn鈥檛 write his own letters.
Dad remained in Ramleh, Palestine until August 1945 with No 4 E.R.S., little did he know when he left Greenock that August night in 1941 that he would not see home until four years later.
Dad passed away on July 4th 2001, I endeavour to keep Dads wartime involvements alive in the minds of mine and my Brothers children, Lest we Forget.

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