大象传媒

Chapter 2
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No. 21 S F.T.S. was at Kumalo, much closer to Bulawayo, in fact right on
the edge of the town which did give us the opportunity to have a little social life,
such as being able to go the Bioscope as they called it. We call it the cinema, I can
only recall one film now and that was " Lady be Good ". The other big social
event was to be able to stand round a stall eating hot chicken legs, a luxury not to
be seen back in Essex during the war.
The training aeroplane was an Airspeed Oxford , a two engined monoplane
with a proper cockpit , but I don't recall any heating so we still looked rather like
Biggles with a parachute strapped to our rear end. The first few hours followed the
same pattern as Induna, learning how to cope with what could go wrong, but now
there was a new dimension, one engine failing but still having some power on the
other engine giving a change of emphasis on being able to trim and control the
aeroplane that wanted to go in a different direction. After a few hours with an
instructor and a solo check with a different instructor, the big day of "going solo".
At Induna I had a very nice instructor, patient and painstaking and very
controlled. At Kumalo at first I had a similar person, a South African, but he was
replaced by a bully, whose technique was to make you out to be an idiot, and there
was no carrot just the stick. For the first time in my life I hated, really hated, the
only time I got any praise from him was when I was flying in formation. I was his
wingman, and he said he had never seen a pupil flying so close, in fact all I wanted
to do was to push in his leering face with my wingtip. All the flying, with the
exception of one hour with the instructor at Induna who did the actual handling,
had been in daytime, now it was to be at night. It really is a very different
sensation, gone is your friendly horizon and in that part of the world without
moonlight it is very black indeed.
The second part of the training at S.F.T.S was more service orientated,
flying with other pupils practising instrument flying, map reading and other
navigation exercises. Plenty more formation flying , never as good again, bombing
and taking aerial photographs. The highlight for everybody was the low flying
exercise, it is the only time you fully realise the speed you are doing.
So on the 24th day of December 1941 I got my coveted wings, one of the
six out of ten, it was a wonderful feeling and I even forgave my I.T.S. instructor,
or at least I have now. I must have learnt something about navigation during this
course however because I now note from my logbook that under the heading "
Has he shown aptitude as, (1) Pilot Navigator ? Yes
(11) Observer Navigator ? Yes .
From Kumalo on the train again, firstly to Johannesburg and then down to
George in Cape Province. I remember that we had quite a long spell in the station
in Johannesburg and one of my course had a really great go at me, accusing me of
all sorts of things, from being a know-all to being dirty etc. etc. I had never
experienced anything like it before, so I was learning a bit about life as well as how
to fly an aeroplane. I hardly knew the chap, I certainly can't place his features at all
although I can remember him telling me he was a bell-ringer, I've got a block about
bell-ringers ever since and now I can remember why.
The course at No. 1. School of General Reconnaissance was a navigation
course and included most aspects of military reconnaissance such as aircraft and
ship recognition. It also included interceptions, square searches and radius of
action exercises. It took some fifty hours flying plus ground school. I note from the
log-book that I now rated an above the average navigator, so I must have
progressed during my time in Africa.
George is in the beautiful Wilderness district of Cape Province and is an
area of really outstanding natural beauty, but we had so little time to see anything
of it, although I do recollect a marvellous barbecue or I seem to recall it called a
braefleis, something like that anyway, on the banks of a river with a wonderful
bonfire, no doubt built by the natives, and singing many South African songs, many
of which became very popular later on in UK. such as " Picking a chicken with me"
and "Sugarbush" to name a couple and show how knowledgeable I was of the pop
music of the time.
This part of South Africa was a stronghold of the Oseverbrandvag "Sp" who
were mainly of Afrikaans stock. Boers who still lived at the turn of the century in
history, and who were against the war or particularly being on the British side of it.
It was only a small proportion of the Afrikaaners but as we still know it only takes
a few to be a great nuisance, and so it was deemed prudent for us to be pretty
restricted as to where we could go.
After the course, back on the train to Capetown to return back to wartime
Britain. The date was now the end of March 1942, but before we shipped out we
had a week or so around Capetown, including a visit to the top of Table Mountain
which is very well named.
So, back on the boat. I can't remember the name but it was one of the Union
Castle Liners. Just a word about troopships. They were not cruise ships, you slept
in hammocks, slung above the tables that you ate from, and the space between was
almost touching your neighbour, hundreds to a deck space. There were always the
chores to do such as " cleaning the heads" and for some reason, even now I can't
think why, maintaining guard all round the ship. Also, this time very
understandably, keeping watch out to sea and manning the anti -aircraft guns. On
the way home we didn't have the hammocks, there was so few of us. The South
African Army didn't serve out of Africa, so there was plenty of space. However we
still had the other duties, and as this time we were not in convoy, but all alone, we
took the look-outs very seriously.
So I arrived back in Liverpool and on the station waiting to catch the train
home, very splendid in my R.A.F. uniform with my glistening sergeant's stripes and
my wings, I was sneered at by a couple of local scouses, female, "You brillcreamed
ponce, why don't you do a proper mans job and go to sea"
I still think it was all worthwhile.

CHAPTER 3
Looking back over fifty years some things stand out more strongly than others,
and this time around my nineteenth birthday, May 1st 1942, I remember trains rather
than planes. My Operational Training Unit (O.T.U.) was No. 7 (C) at Limavady in
Northern Ireland. This involved a train to London then to Stranraer on the west coast
of Scotland. An overnight train packed to the eyebrows so you were lucky to get a
standing place in the corridor. This was the era of steam engines, and you had to have
windows open to be able to breathe in the packed conditions, arriving at Stranraer in
the early hours of the morning, I seem to recollect about three o'clock, dirty and very
smelly. Perhaps this explains why I am not a steam engine buff and couldn't wait for
the diesel This writing is a good idea it explains a lot of the whereof or prejudices that
one has. The ferry left about seven and there was about three hours to get very cold
and disconsolate before you were allowed to board the boat. I sometimes wonder if the
services today are still run the same way? Larne in Ireland was the ferry terminal and
then another puffing billy to arrive at Limavady.
No 7 (C) O,T,U. was a Wellington training unit and consisted of a flight to
learn how to fly, and know the various systems of, the aeroplane. A second flight to
cover the operational requirements of a coastal command unit. My duty was to be the
second pilot and I was crewed up with an all Canadian crew, although the Captain was
an American. The crew consisted of two pilots, one navigator and three wireless
operators/ air gunners. The reason for so many wireless operators was that we were
going to be the first course to fly an aeroplane with search radar aboard the aircraft.
The aeroplane was quite distinctive. It had a series of large pole shaped aerials along
the top of the fuselage going back to the tail, and obviously was known as the
Stickleback. So we needed a wireless operator for the ordinary wireless equipment and
one for the radar screen and a reserve to cover for either, and if not needed then he
became the rear gunner.
The aeroplanes were Wellington 1 c with the old Pegasus engine whose great
drawback was not to be able to feather the propeller, that is to stop it from rotating
which in itself causes a lot of drag and made it virtually impossible to fly for long on
one engine. The Wellington was designed by the fore-runner of the doubled glazed
aluminized window designer. It was a series of look alike metal frames forming the
fuselage and the skin was canvas stretched tight with glue and dope, not to be
confused with the present definition, but a particularly nasty smelling paint. So if we
had a knock we called in the seamstress, come to think of it perhaps we might
resuscitate a new British car industry. It was a two engined monoplane and had a
remarkable record in so many fields of wartime service. Much later I was on the same
airfield as the American Air Force and they called it "The Limey Ragship" a very good
description.
The operational side of the training entailed a great deal of cross country
exercises to sharpen us up on our navigation abilities. It culminated in an exercise
across the sea to find a place called Rockall, which is aptly named as a chunk of rock
sticking out of endless sea, to all fans of the extended weather forecast on the radio the
name will be familiar, and I am very pleased to say that we were amongst the few to
find it.
In the middle of July we were posted over to Abbotsinch in Scotland to learn how
to carry out torpedo attacks. The aerodrome is now the present Glasgow civil airport,
but in those days it was just a big field. It was also the home of the Navy or at least the
aviation side of torpedo training for the Navy. They were the experts and it was their
job to lick us into shape. Torpedoes are long and thin and easily broken, not a good
idea when there's a load of explosive being carried and it breaks up just below you, and
thus the flying technique is crucial. The parameters were height above the water 100
feet and the speed of the aeroplane about 100 Knots (nautical miles per hour). The first
requirement is extremely difficult indeed as it is an endless plain over the sea especially
if it is calm. That problem was solved by giving us a radio altimeter, so what with radar
and this we were the high tech. lads of 1942.
Navigation over the sea in those days, especially in wartime where radio silence
was essential, consisted of updating our course (dead reckoning) with an almost
constant drift taking, being over the sea helped a lot as almost any wind gave some
form of line (wind vane) or white-caps to see through the drift meter. Otherwise it was
coastlines, lighthouses and in our case we had the use of our limited range radar. As
our task was to be a night attack system, as well as reconnaissance we had long flights
to do, and so we needed the sextant and the stars as well
So most of our time was now spent doing low slow runs around the Clyde using
cameras, although I see from my log-book that on the 25th of July we did an exercise
formation attack on H.M.S. Furious, and a few days later on H.M.S. Nigeria.
Having described the high tech. I must now come to the British ingenuity. The problem
was the torpedo required about a thousand yard run to stabilise and track true and as it
travelled about forty five knots it took a certain length of time to reach the target, so if
it was pointed directly at a moving ship by the time the torpedo arrived the ship had
passed on. This gave two problems, first to judge the speed of the target and second to
offset the direction of the torpedo to hit the target. The first one was mainly
guess-work, the speed was between nothing and a maximum of twenty five knots and
the zero had no bow wave and twenty five a considerable one. In fact most convoys
seemed to be about ten knots especially the cargo ships which were to be our principle
targets, used in supplying Rommel's army in the desert. The solution was to find a
sighting device that could be used for the various speeds and so it was a common and
garden (spare the pun) rake with its six prongs. It had to be positioned on the nose of
the aircraft in front of the operating pilot and it turned out to be very effective.
On the twenty first of August we went to Moreton-on-the-Marsh to collect our
own aeroplane to test and deliver to the Middle East. Ten days later we flew to
Portreath in Cornwall with our Wellington HX604. On the sixth of September to
Gibraltar where we stayed over for a day. It was very blacked out in Gibraltar but just
a mile or so away the lights in neutral Spain were burning. The next night we flew to
Malta to have another night stop or so we thought before proceeding to the Canal
zone in Egypt. I note it took us seven hours forty minutes to fly this leg.

CHAPTER 4
On the 7th September 1942 we were posted to No. 69 Squadron, Special Duties
Flight, based at Luqa in Malta. So our night stop became our new home. Our
accommodation was a barrack room with about a dozen beds, and in a previous use
had housed a leper colony. The beds had mosquito nets and on the first morning
woke to find I was sharing my bed, and netting, with a vast number of bed bugs so
I started my operational career pretty well blooded, literally.
During this period of the war the enemy occupied the whole of the Southern
Mediterranean to El Alemain in Egypt. Malta was the only fly in the ointment as far
as they were concerned, so we were a constant target and attacked day and night
by enemy aircraft. The main weapons used were anti- personnel bombs which
jumped about like fire-crackers and were just as noisy. It never failed to amaze me
why the Maltese should like its firework equivalent so much for their festivals after
the war. The aeroplanes were protected in built up pens made of large cut blocks
suitably camouflaged from overhead. The pens being quite a distance from the
airfield itself.
The Island was besieged and everything was severely rationed. Food for the
Maltese people was supplied on an each meal basis at a soup kitchen. The service
people probably did better, but it was emergency rations and hard tack biscuits for
all, you certainly got very hungry and everybody got ulcers ,so called desert sores,
over the body, the result of malnutrition.
Because of the shortage of fuel every aeroplane had to earn its keep. On the
Island there were only a few fighters to keep the bombers away, and some
reconnaissance, all 69 Squadron which consisted of special Spitfires, unarmed to
get altitude, Marylands and Baltimores to attack in the day and the Wellingtons at
night with their A.S.V. radar, as well as keep an eye on supply convoys to Africa
and the Italian main battle fleet which seemed to spend most of the war in Taranto
Harbour in Southern Italy, fortunately. The Navy also had a presence with some
destroyers and submarines and it was these ships which kept us topped up with fuel.
Our first operation in HX565 or " W" William was on the night of 19th
September1942 an attack on a convoy of three merchant ships with an escort of
six destroyers, no results observed but a lot of indiscriminate anti-aircraft ( Flak)
which showed they had no idea where we coming from or the height we were at. So
we knew that we had the element of surprise. The operation was off Crete and the
time airborne seven hours twenty five minutes. Perhaps the worst periods were the
hanging around on "stand by" waiting for the reconnaissance aircraft to come up
with a sighting, never let it be said now but thank goodness for "fags".
The next mission was off the Albanian and Corfu coastline but no contact
made. The same result on the next flight off the Greek coast, very bad weather
including electrical storms. It was the fourteenth of October that we had our first
success ,again in William. The convoy was one merchant ship with three naval
escorts. Again the flak was very inaccurate and we passed right over the
merchantman and the tail gunner reported a direct hit. On the nineteenth of
October, I note, we had a double header.The convoy was off Lampedusa Island and
had two merchant ships and six escorts, we dropped but couldn't confirm a hit. We
reloaded back at base and returned to find the convoy scattered but couldn't make a
second drop because of poor visibility. We needed to be able to see the target to
line up the" rake" or should I say the sight. The technique was to use moonlight if
available, the target between you and the moon for the run in, and if no moon then
flares were used instead.
On the twenty second and again on the twenty seventh no contact again on the
Crete and Greek coasts, but on the latter we were pursued by fighters. We always
had an advantage in being able to fly low, with our radio altimeter, and slow. Again
on the twenty ninth off Corfu a tussle with fighters. On the third of November we
made contact with a convoy approaching Benghazi in Libya, dropped a torpedo and
hit a Tanker. On the fifth and sixth we were on armed reconnaissance for the Italian
Fleet who were active in the bay of Taranto, but no contact though we had night
fighter problems. Ninth of November two aircraft, we were one, attacked a convoy
in the Straits of Messina, however they were coast crawling and we lost them in
low cloud and coastline so broke off. I am afraid the other aircraft never returned, it
was our first casualty out of thesix of us. On the following night, again in the Straits
of Messina we lost the second of our group. We made no contact ourselves.
For the rest of November we had seven missions mainly armed reconnaissance
stretching from Sardinia to Bizerta and Sicily to Naples and the impression was that
the surprise element was beginning to wane and the resistance getting far more
accurate. The "Fag" rate was increasing.
On the first of December we had an eleven and quarter hour marathon when we
intercepted a huge convoy on its way to North Africa and by using our I.F.F. a
radio identification system, for a Navy task force of destroyers and submarines to
home on to us. We had a ringside seat for a naval battle. Our contribution was to
put down flares when required. On the fourth we thought we were in for a repeat
but it was not to be, and it was just another eight hour flight .
Our aeroplanes were getting very little maintenance and now the Eighth Army
was pounding up the desert ,and the Americans and Allies were in Algeria, it was
time to do something about it. So on the tenth of December we were on our way to
the maintenance unit in Egypt. The old aeroplane was left and one brought back
that had been through its overhaul. However there were a couple of days to enjoy
the fleshpots of Cairo but bearing in mind the hunger pains of some months it was
round the table that it was assuaged intemperately and we were all sick to prove
that. In Malta it had been a very difficult time for the Maltese people, they lacked
not only food but all other essentials for living and without doubt were the most
heavily bombed of all the combatants on either side. So it was not surprising that
anything lying around disappeared, and that went for uniforms as well. In my case I
had no hat and there were no replacements in the company stores as you can
imagine. No hats were pretty common and of the four of us in Cairo that day, only
one had a cap and that was in his lapel, when we were stopped by the Military
Police. They refused to listen to our explanation and arrested the three of us
without, but fortunately, let the one with the hat go.
I had never been to jail before or since and it was a horrendous experience.We
were locked up in a cell with a high ceiling and a tiny window well above the point
of being able to look out. After a couple of hours we were made to go into a
cramped yard, they said, for exercise. Several soldiers were there some looking very
battered, and one, a black lad from Mauritius claimed he had been beaten up by the
Military Police themselves, I must say they were such unpleasant characters that I
could believe him . We were never interviewed or charged and eventually just
allowed to go, but I now place Military Policeman with bell-ringers! So that was
another experience of life, and back to Malta.
On Christmas day I note we had two attempts before finally getting airborne to
a long reconnaissance from the bay of Naples to Sardinia and Palermo. Two more
marathon flights took us up to the turn of the year. Then on the sixth of January we
were back delivering an aeroplane to Egypt when we had a complete engine
failure, in fact a cylinder block came right through the cowling. Fortunately we
were over the desert at the time and as we were descending, we couldn't feather the
propeller, we found an airfield and landed safely. Thank goodness it wasn't the
Messina Straits or it might have been a prison cell, at the best, for a long time and I,
as you know, am quite allergic to that. In fact we never got to Egypt our
replacement aeroplane was brought up to L.G.224 as it was called and we took it to
Malta.
That in fact turned out to be the end of our tour and on the seventh of February
we flew out of Malta on an American Air Force C47 "Dakota" to Tripoli and Algiers.

Chapter 5

During the war, operational service was split into active service that is on a
squadron, or other duties, usually training. This was to give a rest, or at least a
respite, and to benefit new crews with your experience. Therefore it would be in
the same command which in my case was coastal.
I was posted to Squires Gate at Lytham St. Anns, Blackpool to fly Anson
aircraft as a staff pilot at No 3 School of General Reconnaissance. The Anson was
a two engined monoplane and very good for the particular role of training pilot
navigators. It had a cabin that resembled a greenhouse and therefore good vision.
Its other great claim to fame was its undercarriage- that must have been designed
by a bicycle loving masochist- and had to be wound up and down with a handle
which in turn operated chains. I can't remember how many turns of the handle it
took but more to get the wheels up" weight and dynamics" than down.
I spent March to the end of June stooging around the Irish sea. The
programme was similar to South Africa without the barbecues and the singing but
I do remember Dixon playing the organ in the Tower.
At the end of June I was given a Commission and became a Pilot Officer.
The consequence was a posting to Limavady, back to the puffing billies and the
ferries. I ought to have had my head examined losing the sinecure of Blackpool. I
put it all down to "The Magnet" and Frank Wharton, my mother was quite right to
doubt my sanity.
I was put on the conversion flight doing mainly circuits and bumps and so it
was now my turn to wait for the first solo to land and return to the flight office.
The aeroplanes had improved as well or at least some were Mark 10 with the
Hercules engine, more powerful and a full feathering propeller. It meant actually
practising single engined landings.
In October I went on a flying instructor's course at Lulsgate Bottom,
Bristol. I think of all the courses I have taken, military and civil, this was the best.
My Co pupil was a chief flying instructor and our mentor a flight commander. The
standard was superb, and their experience extremely valuable to me. Fifty hours on
Oxfords and to think I was paid to do it.
Back to Limavady and instructing, however times were changing and it was
decided to amalgamate the three coastal command operational training units into
one which was to be in Palestine (now Israel). So in January 1944 back to the
Middle East, a new country and a new airfield at Ein Shemer around the Haifa
area.
It was the usual shambles at first, staffed by the Middle East Command and
Coastal Command. There were too many instructors and too few pupils. We had
time on our hands and unlike the U.K. with its establishment of motor transport
drivers, we were expected to drive our own flight vehicles. After about a thousand
hours flying I learnt to drive on a Chevrolet truck. We were expected to
outperform the normal drivers as the Warrant Officer in charge of motor transport
did the final check.
Even though it was wartime and Germany was the common enemy, there
was a Jewish organisation in Palestine that regarded the British as the enemy and
carried out attacks on service personnel. We had to be careful where we went.
They were helped by some Palestinian Arabs. I think it is rather ironic in hindsight
that we are blamed by the Arabs for the State of Israel. The revelations of the
Holocaust by the Germans would have made them strange bed fellows for the
Stern gang as it was known.
The first of May was my twenty first birthday, the age of majority then, and
I was surprised in the mess at tea time with a convoy of kitchen staff, mostly
Italian prisoners of war carrying the biggest cake I had ever seen, beautifully
decorated. It had been organised by my colleagues and I was very touched.
However by the middle of the month via a transit camp in Cairo I had my first ride
on a civilian aeroplane as a passenger. I note that my logbook records the
aeroplane type as a Hudson although I now know that it was my first trip on a
Lodestar. Aden and a famine relief flight was to be my home for the next two
months.
It is quite a surprise to realise that during a World War involving every sea
and continent that resources could still be made available to carry out humane
responsibilities, and this was such a case. Aden Province stretches from the port of
Aden along the southern coast of Arabia for some five, and inland for about two,
hundred kilometres. It is barren but about one hundred kilometres inland from the
small port of Mukalla, itself half way along the coast, and is the home of the
Hadramauti people. To support their home land and way of life required the people
to seek resources away. In their case it was the Malaysian peninsular. There was a
regular traffic of dhows and people to and from Mukalla. With their wealth it
supported an extensive camel caravan route, bringing in from the Far East their
quite fabulous belongings, overland to their towns in the Wadi Hadramaut . But of
course the occupation by the Japanese of Malaya and the war generally had closed
all that down. It meant that the camels could not be fed, and in turn, the people.
This was brought to the attention of the British by an European "Arab romantic", a
description given to a small band of Europeans that had adopted an Arab way of
life, probably the most notable was T E Lawrence ( of Arabia ). We were based in
Riyan with a detachment of soldiers from the R.A.S.C. to load the aeroplanes with
bags of grain, dates and tins of condensed milk to take up to an emergency field,
carved out of the dried up Wadi between the two principle towns of Shibam and
Say`un. As well as our crew we had two or three squaddies at the back to offload.
The Wellington was not really the best aeroplane for this sort of work, its
normal load was concentrated and carried in the bomb bay which had no access
from inside. We were now loading, wherever there was space with no regard of
weight Because there were no refuelling facilities there had to be sufficient fuel
on board for the round trip, again more weight. The inevitable happened and an
undercarriage on one of our aircraft collapsed out at the desert strip. In a second
incident my own undercarriage collapsed back at Riyan. Its a nasty moment when
it happens, a sudden deceleration, a lot of things breaking, sand and muck like a
storm, and a fear of fire. Fortunately in the Wellington the emergency exit is just
above your head and as there was no fire we had no further problems.
As I was the Commanding Officer( fortunately not in the setting up of the
unit) I had a lot of paperwork to do on both the accidents. There were lots of red
faces all over the Aden command as well as ourselves as we realised we hadn't
done our homework about weight and distribution very well. The upshot seemed
to be left there. We continued the relief flights but instead of landing in the Wadi
we flew as slow and low as we could and the load was thrown out by the
unfortunate squaddies. It meant they were rather isolated at the rear, but it was the
best we could do. Amazingly the operation was very successful and breakage and
pilferage minimal.

Chapter 6

I was sent from Aden to a transit camp in Heliopolis near Cairo to await
the next assignment. As an officer you get all sorts of odd jobs to keep you
occupied. Part of the camp contained a holding centre for people awaiting courts
martial and whenever an officer had permission to leave the centre it was a
requirement to have another of similar rank as an escort. I had several of these
duties and it was very poignant to realise that life and its difficulties went on
outside the service. One such officer was waiting, with whom I had been with at
I.T.W. in Torquay in 1940. I don't know why, or for what offence but I can
remember now feeling very sad.
On the third of September 1944 I arrived in Naples in Italy, as a passenger
on a United States Air Force Dakota. Yet another transit camp, but for the first
time in a country that had been conquered. For the people this was a degradation
coupled with poverty. The administration was carried out by the occupying forces
so even the familiar was lost. The currency was changed and basic services limited,
they had to survive and make do. Here begins the seeds of hate which we know
can last for centuries. A good example is the celebrations or remembrances,
depending on which side, of events that only the history book recalls. On these
grounds I rest my case for the federation of Europe. It is not the uselessness of war
itself but also the aftermath In my opinion this applies to all violent actions.
I joined 37 Squadron 205 Group based in Tortorella, Foggia on the eighth
of September. I was still on Wellingtons, now all mark tens with the Hercules
engines. At Tortorella we shared with 70 Squadron R.A.F. and also Squadrons of
U.S.A.F who flew Fortresses. The USAF ran the airfield and mostly operated their
aeroplanes during the day and the RAF at night. We didn't socialise much because
of our hours of work but we did complement in many fields which I'm sure were
not approved by the Pentagon or the Air Ministry. In the RAF we had a ration of
spirits, and I seem to remember a couple of bottles of scotch were worth a daily
delivery of freshly baked jam filled doughnuts to all messes for a month. A jeep to
go on leave had a price in bottles, with extra for a paint job to RAF roundels.
Many years later my favourite television programme of Sgt, Bilko brought back
memories.
I had also changed to Bombers, not Bomber Command as we were all
under Mediterranean Allied Air Force in this theatre of the war. 205 Group was in
fact the R.A.F bomber contingent of M.A.A.F. and comprised Wellingtons and
Liberators. The Liberators were American B24's, 4 engines and that wonderful
modern invention for those days of a nose wheel, and its improved steering on the
ground. The Fortresses were tail draggers like the Wimpeys, but still better known
than the 24s. but more about the Liberators later
The strategy of our bombing was to concentrate the attack over a short
period using marker flares laid by path-finder force. By this time air attacks by the
enemy on aerodromes were rare, and to ensure a concentrated arrival aeroplanes
were marshalled at the end of the take off runway to make a continuous take off
and climb en route. This cut back on aircraft circling overhead with its danger of
collision. So with the aircraft in position the crews would go for briefing and back
to board, start the engines at a specific time for a predetermined take off. Adequate
times were built in for the checks to be made which included contacting the
various crew members in their operating positions. On one occasion I was the
flight duty officer when a young sergeant pilot on his first flight as captain reported
that his tail gunner was not answering and we found his turret turned to the side.
The doors open and no sign of an occupant. It looked as if we would have to pull
the aeroplane off the operation when the Group Captain who commanded the
combined squadrons climbed into the turret to take his place. Whether it was the
culmination of events or the illustrious company caused it, the poor pilot swung on
take off and damaged the aircraft. Fortunately no injuries but I have never seen
such a cross Groupie before or since.
Subsequently I was under instruction on the board of a Court-Martial and
the defendant was the unfortunate air-gunner. A board comprises a serving Officer
assisted by a member of the Judge Advocate's department who is of course a legal
beagle. Also sitting is an officer under instruction. The prosecutor was from the
legal department, but the defence was presented by an officer selected by the
defendant usually from his unit. There are so many tragedies in war that seem to be
not part of a general record of history. Politicians and generals write of events as a
whole and can even justify defeats as not being their blame. Here to me was such a
tragedy, a person who really should not have been in the circumstance of being an
aircrew member. However within the law he was guilty of desertion and
cowardice, which was a capital offence and in law carried the death penalty. I had
no authority but was asked my opinion which concurred with the view of the
court. It had to be left to higher authority to confirm the sentence which was ten
years in gaol. I have often wondered over the years what happened to that very
young man, you see I was already an old man of twenty-one.
The operations covered North Italy, Greece, Hungary, Austria and
Yugoslavia. It was totally different to my previous tour of operations, we were one
of many and possibly the biggest hazard was collision. The four engined aeroplanes
flew higher and faster but we all arrived over the target at approximately the same
time. It was important to maintain height and direction not only for the
bomb-aimer to use his bomb-sight correctly but to avoid collision, not easy if you
were in a searchlight cone and brightly coloured shells were arching up to you. I
suspect that many an aircraft was hit by a bomb from above. Fortunately there
were no fighters over the target area but there was a lot of jinking and diving to
get out of the lights when you had passed over the target. Only once was I hit by
shrapnel. The usual routine was that all the crew members were to call and report.
Nothing from the tail gunner caused quite a bit of anxiety till a voice reassured that
all was well. Apparently the hit was close to the tail and he jumped so much he
knocked off the mask with the mike. On the longer missions to Austria and
Hungary we had some night fighter activity. They would track the stream and lay
flares above us. Our main targets were rail marshalling yards as the emphasis was
on a siege and preparing the destruction of defences for invading Germany itself. It
wasn't all easy and sometimes there were no markers and it would be very difficult
to find the target, I felt very sympathetic to the early UK. bomber crews unless
they had an easy target to map read.
One of our aircraft returned one day with a four thousand pound bomb
hung up- couldn't be released- and had carried out the normal emergency attempts
over the sea to shake it off. Unfortunately the landing was disastrous and the
aeroplane blew up. It became my duty to fill out the accident report and a witness
was the controller, an American on the daylight shift, who admitted he had left the
tower and taken to his slit trench when he had known that it was a hung-up
landing. I should point out that the name tower was a bit of a misnomer. It was a
wooden scaffolding structure with a hut on top and a ladder to get up and down.
However I eventually found my witness, an American fireman whose description
faithfully copied by me and signed went " the plane came in and landed and went
up and then down, up and down and didn't come up any more." The controller was
more succinct. He it was who gave me the description " Ragship" for the Wimpey
and how much they admired us for flying them. In turn we were full of admiration
for the Fortress pilots, there was more holes than aeroplane landing at times.
Over Yugoslavia our work was mainly supplying Tito in his ground war
against the Germans. I note on the fifth of November that we dropped supplies at
Tuzla, again in the news. Will we ever learn? On another occasion when running in
to the dropping zone through a valley we came upon a vast convoy of lorries and
tanks on the mountain road. They were as surprised as we were and it was the only
time we fired our guns in anger. It was easier for us as mountain roads are not the
most mobile of territory.
At the end of the year our squadron was to be re-equipped with Liberators
and as I had almost completed my tour of operations I was posted to M.A.A.F.
headquarters in the Accident investigation section.

Chapter 7

New Years Day 1945 and for the first time in my RAF career I was on a ground
appointment. As a Flight Lieutenant I was assigned to Accidents Investigation Section
at Headquarters Mediterranean Allied Air Force in Caserta, Italy. The building itself
had been a Royal Palace and had the steps, columns, porticos and corridors that
befitted such an establishment. By this time in the war the top brass were American,
and without being unkind, perhaps it was psychologically pleasing for them to play
"king of the castle" in such a place. The RAF contingent consisted mainly of people
from the City- stockbrokers, bankers, accountants and lawyers- and had all-sorts of
titles from S/L A to G/C Z. I never found out the significance of these initials and
presumably nor did the enemy. They were all nice chaps and had a terrific camaraderie.
Jokes would sweep round the building in a trice. In hindsight they were probably the
best to organise all the necessary nuts and bolts in the right place, especially the whisky
with its importance as squadron currency.
As a Flight Lieutenant, which was as low as you could get in H.Q. the
accommodation was the antithesis of a palace- a tent, one in a row of ten other rows.
Caserta is about twenty kilometres from Naples and in the hills and had the rain
appropriate for that location and time of year. On the other hand it was rather grand to
go to the morning briefing and listen to all those important people point to those
impressive maps on the walls. Not that much was happening in Italy as we were
bogged down with the weather. All the action was in Northern Europe. 205 Group
was re-equipping with Liberators and so had reduced operations. Fighter and fighter
bombers were supporting the Army which was also bogged down in the Po valley.
The Accident Investigation Section consisted of a Group Captain, the boss,
aided by an administrative Squadron Leader, two Squadron Leaders as investigators in
the field, and two Flight Lieutenants to analyse the accident reports and show trends
and make recommendations for action. This was a new department for MAAF. We had
a team from the Air Ministry to show us how it should be done. In hindsight it was a
wonderful opportunity to settle down and get some skills in analysis and application
and build up contacts for the future. Unfortunately I didn't see it that way at the time.
At twenty-one I was an old man on a squadron, but too young and immature at
Command H.Q.
It came as a shock to realise how many accidents there were, far in excess of
operational aeroplane casualties. So this was a worthwhile department. However the
tendency was to close the case if the pilot could be blamed, ignoring other factors
which might be appropriate For every accident a form had to be completed.
Depending on the severity various opinions and actions at squadron level would be
recorded. The form then came to us and approval was given if the action was agreed.
In the case of serious accidents, especially with casualties, one of our own
investigators would take the case. The most common accident at this time of wet
weather with its mud and water was a Spitfire coming off the P.S.P.( pierced steel
planking runway laid on the ground) and tipping on to its nose writing off its propeller.
I know my sympathies were often with the pilot and clashed with the hardened
practical assessment of Squadron and Wing Commanding Officers who recommended
log-book endorsements, also approved by my Group Captain. I remember one
particular CO.. who had, always recommended an endorsement suffered the same fate
one day and tipped on to his nose and the childish delight I had in getting my Groupie
to endorse his log-book.
Some of the airfields especially near the front were in very poor condition and
the laid PSP runways, even on more established airfields had poor interlocking which
played havoc on tyres. As we were mainly an operational theatre we didn't have too
many training accidents, although a certain amount of conversion on to types of
aeroplane had to be done on squadrons.
. A first for me while at Caserta was a visit to the Opera House in Naples to see
"Carmen". In the scene when Carmen joins the bandits in the mountains it looked like
real mountains and they were certainly real donkeys. The other great moment was a
visit to Rome with an old squadron chum in his "pre-Avis" RAF roundels jeep. On a
visit to the Vatican we joined a lot of people in an audience with the, then, Pope.
At the beginning of May, I applied to go back to operational service and a vacancy for
a Flight commander on 178 Squadron came up and I think with mutual relief I was
allowed to go. The timing was right as the war in Italy ceased on the First, and on the
Seventh May Germany surrendered.
178 Squadron was based at Amendola in the Foggia basin area, part of 205
Group and operated Liberators. A four, 1200hp Pratt & Whitney Twin Wasps, engined
aeroplane originally designed and built by Consolidated Aircraft of the United States
was quite an upgrade for me. The aircraft we had were built by the Ford Motor
Company at Willow Run near Detroit and demonstrated the difference between aircraft
and car manufacturers.Our aeroplanes weighed nearly two thousand kilograms more
than the originals. "Thicker armour plating," we were told but I suspect everything was
a bit thicker. My conversion took place on the Squadron and the aeroplane was a
delight to fly. The main difficulty was locking the controls after the nose-wheel had
touched down. The locking handle was kept in place with a piece of rope which had to
be pulled on to it. A very practical design and reminded me of the garden rake proof
that aircraft designers on both sides of the Atlantic were human after all.
With the war over, operations had changed significantly. Our aeroplanes were
being converted into passenger aircraft, not exactly airline standard but our passengers
were returning Prisoners of War who were very anxious to get home. The Lib bomb
bay, unlike the Wimpey, was inside the fuselage and had a walk way through it. In fact
the Wireless operator had to walk back and forth to change his radio sets with their
selected frequencies, none of the highly coloured tuners of the Marconi set with its
desperate operator. The bomb bay doors were sealed and a sort of planking was placed
either side of the walk way. There were no windows and the only form of relaxation
was to watch the control wires going backwards and forwards. To prevent any
claustrophobia tendencies one of the air gunners travelled in the "cabin". Ex prisoners
were collected from Northern Italy, Austria and Greece and processed at various
places for repatriation. Foggia Main was one such place and it was interesting to see
different ways and means employed by " Other Nationals". The French way was to
pack their Dakota till they couldn't close the door and then take off the last passenger
to get it closed and then off. The Belgians had people fussing around and people were
constantly getting on and off the aeroplane which would then usually night stop. The
common thing was concern for their own people and it was nice to see. Perhaps that
was my first favourable impression of the European community.
The Brits were mainly processed around the Naples area and we would pick
them up at Pomigliano and fly them to Homesly South in Hampshire, a six and a half
hour flight. We had no problems regarding our passengers and as always things
improved with time. However, in my case, time was limited. In the middle of June a
notice came round from the Air Ministry asking for the names of people interested in
being seconded to BOAC to apply for a posting to Cairo. This was a new departure for
the Ministry who normally posted the number requested.
I had two problems, first my Commanding Officer was pretty cheesed off
about losing a flight commander, though in fact I had not actually started. We had a
long chat and he pointed out the advantages of a service career such as variety of jobs
and not a complete dependence on being medically fit for continuation of employment.
The requirement in Cairo was for twenty six pilots and about two hundred and twenty
six had applied so the second problem was selection. BOAC were quite taken aback at
this vast arrival of bodies and hastily set up an appointment board. Before the actual
interviews we were all assembled and addressed by a senior manager who played down
the expectations of a civil career and emphasised the disadvantages to our service
entitlements. This involved loss of acting rank, effecting a great number, and this
caused quite an exodus. I resisted although I would have been promoted as I was on a
Squadron Leader appointment. The civil ranking would be as a First Officer, second
pilot, and this did not go down well and suddenly the numbers looked more
manageable. Lastly all who expected to be going home on a time away basis would
lose that right. By now it was within reach for a Board to interview, and I was lucky
enough to be selected. On the twenty third of June 1945 I was seconded to number 5
Line, Cairo.

Chapter 8

Number 5 Line B.O.A.C. was based at Almaza Airport, Heliopolis, a suburb of
Cairo. It was a new experience for me, for the first time I had to look after myself, to
be responsible for my own accommodation. Half of the new intake was posted on to a
"B" licence course, and the other half, including me to a second class Navigators
course. These were Civilian Licences and were required to operate passenger aircraft.
The basic navigation syllabus was similar to the G R course of RAF days but there
were new fields such as form of the earth, meteorology and much more theory. In fact
the course was more examination orientated. The licence system was run by the Civil
Service and it was many more years before the "need to know" became the normal.
Any how at this stage we diligently sat at our desks and learnt parrot fashion
meteorology by Sutcliffe although a lot of his theory had already been discounted as
aeroplanes flew higher. The exercise was to pass the exam which I did, before starting
on the "B" licence course.
On the accommodation side three of us found a villa in Heliopolis available for
three months while the family of an university professor, a Sheik no less, took his
summer vacation in Alexandria. He used to appear once a month to collect the rent.
The first time he came with a chap from across the road to act as an interpreter and
when asked if he would like a Scotch the neighbour admonished us saying "The Sheik
does not touch alcohol" The next two months the Sheik came on his own and we
found no language difficulties either!
The "B" licence course was mainly on the aircraft type both airframe and
engine, although we had other subjects such as Aviation Law, and various procedures,
again with an examination to be passed to obtain the Licence. The aeroplane was a
Lockheed Lodestar or L18, American built . Looking at my notes I see that it had a
span of 68 feet six inches and a length of 49 feet ten and half inches and a propeller
clearance to the fuselage of only two and half inches. All scintillating stuff! No wonder
the old brain is worn out . The engines were two Wright Cyclones with a take-off 1200
horse power, pistons of course. It was quite a small aeroplane carrying a crew of three,
two pilots and a wireless operator. The cabin had just ten seats, five a side. It also had
a loo, unheard of in military aircraft and in case you should ask "How?" there were
tubes which would make quite a sketch for "Alternative" comedians.
By the Eighth of October 1945 with licences in our hands we were flying the
aircraft completing with a company route check The next day was my first service as a
First Officer in BOAC uniform , bush jacket and shorts with a flat hat. It was quite a
change from service life although we were still in the RAF. This had its advantages as
our spirit ration from the NAAFI remained and rent day was no hassle. When we
complained about a little insect life in the villa, the next day a man arrived with a blow
lamp and did a first class job of eradication.
There had been quite a break between military and civil flying which in itself
was an advantage The emphasis was different but the discipline of the flight-deck was
the same. At this time there was only minimal air traffic control mainly around airports
and national boundaries. Look out and adherence to height and the quadrant (direction
flying) was essential. Most of the passengers were still "Officials" and service
personnel, but as time went on fare paying people returning home or visiting relatives
started to appear. We had no catering staff on board just boxes with sandwiches and
fruit and large vacuum flasks of tea and coffee, an original MacDonalds in fact. So why
didn't I have the idea then? It was the First Officer's duty to see that the passengers
were suitably victualed and comfortable and I remember with great pleasure an
occasion when a lady and gentleman returning to Kenya congratulated me on being the
best steward/ess they had had. I realised then that we were a service industry and the
grandeur of being saluted as an individual had gone forever. But not the practice itself
because as each aircraft left the departure bay the Station Manager, at the head of a
line comprising the traffic officer and the engineering staff, would solemnly give a
perfect salute.
The network from Cairo flew South as far as Nairobi and Addis Abeba, North
to Athens, East along the Gulf to Karachi and Calcutta, and Southeast to Aden and the
Southern Arabian coastline to Karachi. Mainly operated by Lodestars there were some
Dakotas and the remaining A.W. Ensigns from pre-war Imperial Airways which
operated the Calcutta service. These were remarkable aeroplanes originally powered
by four 850 HP Tiger engines, re-engined with the more powerful Wright Cyclones.
They continued in service, gradually being cannibalised, until the last one in a flyable
condition G-AFZU positioned back to the U.K. on the Ninth of May carrying a
number of us for our demobilisation from the RAF.
The First Officers flew on all three types but could only do landings on the
Lodestars for which they were properly Licensed. The longest away service nine days
in all was on the Ensign to Calcutta. The day would start soon after dawn and at
nightfall or as near as the stop would allow, everybody, passengers and crew would
adjourn to the Hotel and dine and sleep. Extremely civilised it was but would have
been better if air conditioning had been invented and single rooms for the crew had
been in the contract of service then.
A final thought on the aeroplanes, the flight decks reminded me of service
aircraft painted the same dark olive green, a colour guaranteed to look dirtier and more
depressing than any other. I always suspect that at the time of the big rearmament of
the late thirties this disgusting colour was in such huge supply that nobody else would
have considered it. On the other hand the cabins were a great improvement, especially
the Ensign. It was obviously based on a Pullman railway carriage. There were four
compartments sitting six people facing each other with a door to a corridor, rather
grandly known as the promenade deck. In memory the ceiling was very high so I
presume the baggage compartment was small.
In our spare time a number of us studied for a First class Navigators Licence.
This entailed taking a number of star shots and establishing an astro fix for a position.
The corporation laid on a training flight for that purpose. The Lodestar had no
astrodome so we all occupied the cabin windows with our bubble sextants and our
issue of astro chronometers to get accurate timing, not to mention our air almanacs for
the correct stars. Unfortunately nobody was actually navigating the aeroplane and we
got lost. At first light an aerodrome was spotted and the aircraft landed safely. There
were no buildings but when we stopped a fellaheen on the back of a donkey appeared
and shouted up to the cockpit window " I am the Shell Representative, how much fuel
do you want?" Having confirmed the necessary information he reappeared this time
with the donkey pulling a cart with two barrels of petrol and set about getting us on
our way with red faces all around
. Back in the U K I was demobilised from the R A F and on the Thirty-first of
May 1946 I signed a contract with British Overseas Airways Corporation. Having a
"B" and wartime First class Navigators Licences I entered on the top scale First
Officer's grade at a yearly salary of 拢550, Five Hundred and Fifty Pounds, it was
wonderful.

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