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NO.5 LANCASTER FINISHING SCHOOL, SYERSTON, NOTTINGHAMSHIRE

A month or so completed this course, and we crews went to No.5 Lancaster Finishing School at Syerston, Nottinghamshire. Here we did circuits and bumps, cross country, bombing and gunnery exercises. Not a lot stands (Jut in my memory here, but I have happy recollections of self and co-gunner Jim Moore going for runs in place of P .T. around the lanes off the airfield. We generally went to a farm some four miles away where the kindly farmer sold us a glass of milk. Some 14 hours flying the Lancs saw the course end. We left to go to the world of real bombing, joining No 57 squadron at East Kirkby, some 15 miles inland from Skegness.

Our living quarters were the other side of the road to the airfield, and we occasionally followed or met a herd of cows on our way to the airfield via the guard room. The hut to which we were allocated contained some 10 to 15 members of various crews who were already on ops.

A day or so after our arrival, the mid upper gunner, Sgt Lees, of one crews in the hut was killed when over the target. The Lancaster, in a banking turn after bombing, was blown on to its back. The upside down Lanc resulted in the gunner's unsupported weight breaking his neck on contact with the turret's roof. The Squadron Check pilot flew with us to Dunsfold to drop a WAAF officer going on leave. This gained his approval and we went on the Squadron strength.

We were all NCOs. The skipper, Jim Clarke was informed that all pilots in No.5. Bomber Group (ours) had to be officers, and he was offered a commission. He turned it down as he wanted to remain one of the lads. This led to a dusty Do, with the threat that the crew would would have to leave Bomber Command and assume a minor role. ,As a result the skipper took the commlsslon reluctantly, which dId not Increase his popularity with the upper crust, including a certain Sqdn Ldr Ward.

Jim went for his officer's uniform which gave us a day off to go to Nottingham for the night. Four of us were picked up by RAF police and charged with wearing non-issue clothing - socks, gloves, scarves etc These charges, passed back to 57 Sqdn resulted in Jim being given another rocketing, for failing to keep an orderly crew. 'I can't trust you for 10 bloody minutes', he laughingly said. Nothing came of these trivial charges.

Jim moved out to the officers' quarters, leaving his NCO clothes with us. When we were going out he would come to our hut, put on his NCO clothes and we would go off to some local pub together. It did not last long as some fellow officer reported him. Poor old Jim had another bout of being sorted out, much to Sqdn Ldr Ward's satisfaction!

NIGHTS OUT ON THE TOWN & BREKKER IN SKEGNESS

The Red Lion, the village pub, had one small room. Shortly after our arrival on 57 Sqdn, there was a stand down night. We went for a drink, only to find that there were some hundred plus RAF In the pub and on the street. It took half an hour to get a half pint paid for and passed out to us in the street. Due to a shortage of glasses we had to drink out of jam jars! We didn't go there again.

None of us had any enthusiasm for heavy drinking in the Sgts Mess, preferring a few glasses in a pub away from camp. So we made contact with the civilian airfield maintenance chaps who arrived at 7.30 a.m. by truck from Skegness. They kindly gave us a lift and an address in Skegness where we could spend the night. This was a pre-war boarding house owned by an old lady who would give us a bed and wake us at 6 a.m. with a mug of cocoa, before we joined the truck for a lift back to camp in time for brekker at 7.30. Wonderful.

Jim Moore, rear gunner, and I did the initial run, soon to be joined by other crew members. it was a dodgy business as we had to assess the likelihood of a raid coming up in our absence! The marsh fogs were helpful! 'Gran' as we soon called the old lady, was a good soul to us, and we enjoyed having a laugh with her for a half hour before bed. After the war skipper Jim lived in Lincolnshire and visited her three or four times a year until she died.

The risk of going to Gran's caught three of us out on one occasion. We had 'squeezed' the European weather outlook from the Nav., who were given this at 10 am daily, but were not supposed to pass it on. It wasn't Ops weather and so rear gunner Jim, Ralph our engineer and I booked in at Gran's. We came out of a fish and chip shop, on to the pavement as an RAF Cpl. (Police) pulled up on his bike and said, 'You fellows from East Kirkby?' 'Yes' we said.

'I am from the railway station and have had a message to tell you to get back', he said. Off he went, leaving us in a sweat as to how to get back. It was now 6 pm and transport was almost non-existent. The bulk of it was bomb and petrol deliveries whose drivers were forbidden to give lifts. No buses, no trains; agricultural lorries had finished for the day. We went to the railway station to see if they could help.

There was an RAF truck there with a Flt Lt and a Cpl. 'Where are you from?' the Flt Lt asked. 'East Kirkby', we replied. 'Ah! good', he said. 'I'm the Armaments Officer from there. I brought a truck load of some 25 lads for their first night out for a month, and I'm enlisting you three to help us find them and get them back to camp, as there's an emergency'. The lads were from the bomb store, a rough, hard job, hauling and arming large lumps of cold metal in all weathers. Off we went, the Cpl driving, searching pubs, cafes, dance halls; putting notices on Cinema screens. Getting them out of the pubs was the worst as some, already on board jumped off and went back into the pubs whilst we were trying to get the others out. At about 9 p.m., after a 6.30 start, the Flt Lt decided that any further 'recruits' would be a hazard at the bomb store following their alcoholic intake.

Arriving gratefully at camp at about 10.30, we went to the officers' quarters to see the skipper, as we were certain that he had sent the message to the railway police at Skegness. 'Where the Hell have you been? the Nav and I toured Skeggy looking for you'. We told him our story. 'Get to bed. We are on call at 2.30 a.m.' He was entitled to be testy. We had caused him a good deal of anxiety.

After a 2.30 am call the Op was cancelled at the 3.30 briefing. It was our unofficial crew rule not to go out or to drink for 24 hours before a raid. I should add that Jim and the Nav had come looking for us in Skegness, in the skipper's newly acquired car. This he had bought from what we called 'the graveyard', which was a locked, wired compound, which contained the bikes, motor bikes and cars of missing airmen. They were kept there pending instructions from the next of kin as to whether they wanted them returned or sold. Aircrew on Ops had a small petrol ration, usually topped up with a drop from the aircraft! Jim had no driving licence and had never driven a car, but he could take a four-engined bomber to Germany! He got goIng with the £20 car. The crew piled in and stood on the running board to visit the local pub.

Returning one evening we ended up half over a ditch. I was on the ditch side of the car and straddled it in an attempt to support the car whilst those on the road side pulled it clear. Gerry the Nav came to help me. 'Is it deep?' he asked in the near darkness. I replied that I didn't think so. He stepped in water, up to his groins, (being jockey sized)! 'You stupid sod', he said to me. The fact that the skipper would not allow him back into the car due to his wet condition, made matters worse. He stood on the running board, dripping wet and cold. He refused to speak to me for some 3 or 4 days.

‘ARE YOU IN CLARK’S CREW?’

After bombing a German target we were homeward bound, flying over occupied countries at about 11.30 pm when the skipper asked over the intercom if we had any objections to staying over Germany until midnight, so he could say that he started his 21st birthday over Germany? The question of his parentage was the politest part of the response from a startled and alarmed crew ‘All Right, All Right, I’m only joking’ he said. Most of the crew thought he would have done it, putting us in grave danger through isolation from the main force and leaving us an easy target for radar, searchlights and fighters.

The final blow for Jim came on our return from a daylight attack on Wilhelmshaven. We called for landing instructions. No reply! Round again to call up point. No reply. We could see other crews joining the circuit and going in to land. Our language amongst ourselves was the bluest of blue. Stupid air traffic controllers for certain had no parents. When the others were all down we got a green aldis lamp and flare, signalling us to land. A van at dispersal took Jim off as he set foot on the ground. 'I will see you at debrief when I find out what this is all about', he said. Later he told us that the aircraft press to speak button had jammed on transmit, thus we could not receive. All our remarks and bad language had been heard by returning crews and the control tower, where the C.O. ordered the WAAF out. Jim looked pale after the mighty rollocking he got. This made us a 3 day wonder on the station. The WAAF giving each other nudges when they saw us. 'That's Clark's crew', is my guess at their comment.

TO FULBECK TO JOIN A NEW SQUADRON

The American Airforce vacated a ‘drome at Fulbeck, on the edge of our No.5 Bomber Group, which consisted of 12 or so ‘dromes. To man this ‘drome a new Sqdn, no 189, was formed by taking crews from the existing ones. No prize is offered as to why Jim Ciark's crew, with a shove from Sqdn Ldr Ward was sent there! We left East Kirkby in mid November, having completed some 12 of the required 30 Ops before a break from them.
It was a tough job, starting from scratch, with winter fogs now on the menu. I think we were briefed for an Op after arriving at 11 am. The billets were the type with a room at the door and a broom cupboard opposite. There were 10 beds down each side of the hut. NCOs from 5 or 6 crews occupied the beds. The officers had their own quarters. Heat was provided by two round coke stoves. The ration for them was used up in two nights. For warmth in the evening we stayed in the Sgts. Mess until bed time visited the camp cinema or went to Newark by bus leaving camp at 6 pm and returning at 10 o'clock.

SURVIVING THE WINTER OF 1944-45

Off we went at 4.30 pm in the dark and sleet to Balderton, dumped the bikes, caught the bus to Newark and from there a bus to camp and in to bed, at 9 pm, somewhat weary. The winter of 1944-45 was a hard one damp and cold living conditions, little fuel, freezing marsh fog: The main water tower froze, 20ft icicles coating it. There was no water for ablutions or toilets on the living sites. The toilets were, obviously used, and with no flush the full and overflowing pans froze, which at least deadened the smell. This lasted a week before the thaw set in.

For night warmth we put newspaper sheets between the blankets and the greatcoat on top. We washed and shaved in the Sgts’ Mess, where there was hot water, and where the toilets worked. The red stoves in the Mess at brekker were a welcome sight, and use was made of them. We placed a slice of bread on the hot side, [It clung) count ten, peel it off, stick the other side on. Instant toast! Great with marg. And so to the airfield, almost aglow. There was often at lunch time a churn or half churn of milk labelled 'one cup, aircrew only'. It was great, despite having to break the top ice now and again, leaving it to thaw in the cup. We appreciated the kindness of the farmer.

FLYING CONDITIONS FOR AIR AND GROUND CREWS

Flying went on, but fog at base and European weather placed limits on it. To get a laden aircraft off the ground in frost was a risky business, as ice building on the wings could make control difficult. Too much ice and it would not get airborne. De-icing fluid was sprayed on the wings to start up time, in the hope of keeping ice free until reaching a height of 2 to 3,000 feet, at which point we should be .clear of the freezing level. All extra work for the hard pressed ground crews.

Once or twice they had been unable to complete tasks when we arrived from briefing and we helped out with spraying. The same problem with bombing up - not enough staff at times. We gave only limited aid here, as skipper Jim didn't want any crew member injured mauling the bombs into place before take off.

The ground staff were great people. They looked a rag-tag lot, dressed in all sorts of clothing to combat the weather outside, and the cold metal inside the aircraft. Their airfield headquarters was a small hut, run by a F/Sgt. This set up covered a dozen aircraft and left no room for any comfort. Splendid lads, on their bikes in all conditions

On the aircrew side, in comparison, we were cosseted. For example, nine days leave every six weeks was the Bomber Command ruling. Our Sqdn, beginning from scratch, adopted and got away with the 'Ladder' style, meaning new crews went to the bottom of the leave roster.

The more missing crews the quicker leave came round! Twice I was home in 4 weeks for nine days leave. People seeing me asked if I knew that there was a war on! It must have irked them to see me so often if they had Service relatives in the Middle East or India.

There were other ‘perks’ for aircrew. Lord Nuffield of ‘Morris’ car fame had made a grant of 5 shillings per day to operational aircrew on leave. It was great to have it added to my Sgt's pay of 8 shillings a day. Aircrew also had sheets on their beds, which were taken weekly to be changed at stores. Some of the ground staff had them, unofficially, which we changed for them.

CLEARING UP AFTER THE ‘MISSING’

Two hours after the Sqdn landed from a raid, the Service Police went to the huts to collect the belongings of those who had failed to return. I was usually asleep when they came to our hut, second bed in, and I was the one they apologetically woke to enquire the whereabouts of some Sgt's kit. If I knew, I put them right.

Missing crews and frequent replacements meant that I often didn't know names. Crews stuck together, and although we said 'Hullo', we didn't really mix. I would turn over, hoping that the missing crew were POWs, and was soon asleep. One morning, on waking after a raid, we were the only crew in the hut, plus Leo and Taffy in the end room. It looked sad and bare. One crew came back two days later, having landed away.

This story was entered by Jenni Waugh, ´óÏó´«Ã½ People's War Outreach Officer, on behalf of Bernard Lazenby, who accepts the site's terms and conditions.

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