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15 October 2014
WW2 - People's War

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The Sailor That Never Went to Sea

by raf_type

Contributed by听
raf_type
People in story:听
Jordan Silver
Location of story:听
UK
Article ID:听
A2950427
Contributed on:听
27 August 2004

Jordan Silver [top left] 1945

Jordan Silver is now aged 92 and due to failing eyesight asked me to submit his wartime experiences. Jordan considers himself lucky to have survived this period of conflict to enjoy a full and happy life, unlike his father who was killed in the First World War.
David Bowen. August 2004.

--------------------------------------------

Born in Handsworth, Birmingham in the January of 1912. the outbreak of war saw me married with a young family living in Lichfield and working in the food manufacturing industry. As this was at the time a reserve occupation and due to my age, there seemed little likelihood of being called-up. To do my bit I joined the Home Guard and after a short period was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant.

Things took a different turn in the October of 1942, when the RAF requested the pleasure of my company first registering at Penarth, before being sent to Blackpool for the obligatory square-bashing. Six weeks on saw me bound for RAF St Athan for a 3-month intensive fitter training course, predominately on R.R. Merlin engines.

Posted to RAF Warboys in Cambridgeshire where they trained some of the 鈥楶athfinders鈥� I worked on Lancasters, also discovering that regular sleep in your own bed was somewhat of a luxury on this station. As the aircraft contained the latest in radar navigational aids we had to take a blanket and do turn about, sleeping onboard for security reasons. It was of little relief when posted to nearby Upwood, working on the Merlin powered D.H.Mosquito in addition to Lancs鈥�. At that time there was a period when intensive bombing was being carried out over Germany and we had little or no sleep, literally working round the clock. What sleep that could be had was in the hanger on whatever item that came to hand to make oneself comfortable. A further incident that comes to mind, while working in a hanger, was a massive explosion out on dispersal. It became apparent that a bomb had prematurely exploded damaging an aircraft and killing or injuring a number of personnel. Once the situation had been declared safe the NCO鈥檚 instructed us to link arms and sweep the area to collect any bits and pieces, not a pleasant task!

Suddenly it was V.E. Day and I was able to enjoy a wonderful and overdue 48-hour pass, with my immediate family and relations.

Now back at RAF Upwood it was suggested that some of us might like to volunteer for a spell in 鈥楬is Majesties Royal Navy鈥�. Well they say never volunteer, so I didn鈥檛; needless to say shortly after I was in naval uniform being inculcated in the ways of the senior service as a member of the Fleet Air Arm on HMS Gosling, a land based ship. This was a compete change of identity. Apart from losing our RAF blue we were issued with new service numbers, ranks and identity cards. To cap it all they made me shave off my moustache as I chose not to grow a full set. I wondered if my family would recognise me on my next leave!

I was now posted to Locking with about thirty others for training on aircraft carriers ultimately destined for the far-east. By some divine intervention on the day we were due to leave, VJ Day was announced. The powers that be, decided we should be kept on the station and then belatedly allowed us a pass at 21.30hrs to visit Weston-Super-Mare. The problem was there was no form of transport as everyone was out celebrating, so the only option was to walk.

The one thing the services excelled at was posting you. No sooner had you settled in than you were off on your travels; this time it was most of the unit off to Dale in South Wales, formally an RAF base now given over to the Navy; you鈥檝e guessed, miles from civilisation, another pre-requisite! This was rather a boring period so I actually did volunteer for something. This was working in the MT section, which gave one a reason to get up in the morning. Naturally we were all eager to get back into civvy-street and resume a normal life.

RAF Hereford saw us 鈥榢itted鈥� out in our 鈥榙emob鈥� suits, hats and shoes, then it was back to the family. What upset the 鈥榬af-types鈥� awaiting discharge was that we were given priority.

The world had changed and so had we! I was just glad to be going home realising I was far luckier than many of my contemporaries.

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