大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War website by Doreen Bennett on behalf of John Morris, the author and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

It was the middle of 1943. I was as Airframe Fitter with 114 squadron of Bisleys, a mocked up version of the Blenheim. Four squadrons went out in November 1942 and the casualties were heavy and by February 1943 not many of our aircraft were left. On one occasion a dozen aircraft went to bomb the docks at Tunis, only one came back.

In those early days refuelling was a laborious and time consuming job. Petrol was shipped from England in two gallon tin cans, two of these cans in a waxed cardboard container. A lorry would be loaded up with these containers and backed up to the wing of the aircraft. Then the tins could be handed to the Flight Mechanic who would pour the contents down a funnel which was sticking out of the petrol tank on the aircraft. Large heaps of these tins were left empty around the airfield. Sometimes you thought that a heap would move as the local Arabs would tie a number together and getting in the middle they would slowly move a few feet at a time.

For sometime now some of the squadron had camped at a village called Canrobert, our tents were pitched in a small plantation of fir trees, eight to a tent and lying directly on the ground. When the sun shone we liked to give our blankets a good airing and on time I went to bet mine as it was getting dark and I could not find them. I asked if anybody had moved them only to realise that they had been stolen by a wandering Arab and that cost me a few pounds to replace them.

It was about this time that the powers that be decided to re-equip our squadron with Boston aircraft. What air crews were left were flown back to England for re-training.

About this time the 8th Army joined up with the 1st Army and the squeeze was being put on Rommel鈥檚 Afrika Corp. Suddenly the order was given to up tents and move on. Everything was packed up in a few hours, lorries were loaded and in the darkness we moved towards Tunisia. As it got light the convoy spaced itself out in case we were attacked from the air. We made camp at a little village called Souk el Khamis, this was a large plain with acres and acres of green corn about 18 inches high. Earth movers had cut swathes through these for runways and dispersal points. Half of us put up the tent; the other half dug a trench for our protection against the Luftwaffe.

It was here that the Padre gave us a visit; he came round on a motorbike with a sidecar and always had plenty of cigarettes to hand around. He gave us talks on what was going on back home and on this occasion he was going to talk about the Beveridge Scheme that the Government were getting ready for us when we won the war and got back home. We were going to have houses fit for heroes to live in, a health scheme with free medical care and so on and so on! It all sounded so good as we sat on our boxes with our helmets on.

We were interrupted by two ME 109鈥檞 chasing Lockheed Lightning P R planes getting ready to jump into the nearest trench should the ME 109鈥檚 come looking for us on their return flight.

Meanwhile the German Army were retreating into Cape Bon, everything we had we were throwing at them, from the air and from the ground. Somewhere about 12 May they surrendered. I have never seen such a dejected shall shocked crowd. Hundreds and hundreds of them walking behind army trucks with a soldier sitting on the roof of the trucks, as they walked into the POW camps, it was endless. Soon after this I was posted to 155 Maintenance Unit at Setif which was about 320 miles westwards of Algiers.

Gathering up our kit and given two days rations we were put on a goods train which was going that way, the train was driven by an Army driver and a fireman and off we went, the engine belching smoke and cinders at a steady speed of 10 to 15 miles an hour with the driver stopping every so often so that we could make a brew of tea using the boiling water from the engine.

Arriving two and a half days later at Setif station, feeling rather grubby, transport took us to a large building in which we were billeted, how lovely to live in a building and not in a tent. Each transport took us to the aerodrome which was about 5 miles from Setif, it was the French Air force and had one or two hangars in which to work on the aircraft. Aircraft were brought to the unit when they had flown a large number of hours, which was called a major inspection. They would be jacked up on large metal jacks in what was known as rigging or flying position, the engines were removed, petrol tanks dropped, hydraulics checked, metal replaced with rivets between the engine nacelle and the fuselage where heavy boots walked over the wing when re-fuelling, the metal got stretched. When all of this had been done, the aircraft was re-sprayed, placed in a pool ready for the next squadron that required a replacement aircraft. It was mainly Bristol Beaufighters that were worked on. A twin-engine, two crewed night fighter, fitted with radar, later used for anti-shipping. It was also converted to carry a torpedo or eight 60 lb. rockets.

One repair job I shall always remember was a Beaufighter that had been built with countersinking too large and the rivets sunk below the level of the outside skin. Two of us replaced a thousand oversize rivets making the fuselage smooth. Later it was mentioned that this aircraft had gone out with other planes from the squadron and pumped 55 rockets into the Rex, a 55,000 ton Italian liner just below the water line and sinking the ship just off Trieste.

It was not long after that I joined the unit as it moved out of Setif town to a site a quarter of a mile from the aerodrome. It was a tented site, 6 to a tent; electricity was put into each tent. Hot water was available for a shower or washing. A large Romney hut had been built for use as a dining room with a Nissen hut alongside for preparing and cooking food. A Wing Commander was in charge of this site and he would on occasions visit the dining room asking us how the food was. He would stop at a table asking how the food was and if you did not get up when he spoke to you he would say 鈥淕et up man when I speak to you鈥�, the next man when spoken to would jump up ready to reply, only to be told 鈥淪it down lad don鈥檛 spoil your dinner鈥�.

A 15cwt. Truck had been fitted up as a mobile film unit; this would tour around the camp sites showing the latest films.

Often it would get hot and we did not work between midday and 2 o鈥檆lock. In the winter it got fairly cold and on one occasion it snowed unbelievable as it seems. Some 6-7 inches lay on the ground and on the tents. It was just after New Year 1945. All our food came into Setif by rail which was about 5 miles away, big 7 foot snowdrifts formed and we were getting short of food and we were rationed as to as to how much we could have. It was decided to break through so wheel chains were dropped from the air but they were the wrong size for a heavy Diamond T breakdown truck. The blacksmith spent all night making them fit and a large scoop was welded on the front of it and off we all went. It took about two hours to reach the town. The local people thinking we were starving went indoors and bolted the doors. Still heading for the railway station and the goods yard we found our wagons had been left on a side line making it difficult to get to the lorries to load, so we had to hump the lot on our backs as the French would not use an engine to bring the wagons nearer. Finishing the loading we all had a good hot drink before returning to camp. It was very cold a dry cold not like the cold we have in England.

At times even the petrol froze and where drainage tanks had a leak, a green-like frosty substance hung down. Paraffin stoves were given to us to keep us warm in the tents and great long icicles hung down from the Nissen hut.

The aerodrome was surrounded by barbed wire and trip wires went through the middle and if disturbed would fire off a very light. The guards would be turned out and proceed in the direction of the flare looking for intruders, only to find that the Orderly officer had tripped the wire himself to test the guard.

Later that year I was posted to Blida but that is another story.

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