大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a volunteer from Lincolnshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Mr Raymond Smith and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Smith fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

After my first home leave in 1943 the Squadron moved to the pre war airfield of Shoreham-by-Sea in Sussex. For some unknown reason the driver of the lorry misjudged the corner of a road. We were in convoy and over went the lorry on to its side. That was a time in my life when I can honestly say I saw stars, coloured ones a that. The lorry behind us stopped and we were all dragged out. No one was seriously hurt, an odd cut or two and bruises. I found I could not stand up, but was helped on to another lorry and we all eventually made it to Shoreham. The accident did affect me however for some time and if anyone else was driving, my stomach turned over each time the vehicle tilted on bends.

The Squadron was billeted in some empty private houses near Lancing, quite close to the college. Having a 3 ton lorry to drive and look after changed my attitude somewhat to service life which up to then had all been drill, polish, guard and gun post duty. During my tour of duty at Shoreham airfield I did get detailed for gun post duty once or twice. On one occasion the gun post I and several colleagues were manning was situated near a narrow stream. This stream I noticed had a tidal effect being connected to Shoreham harbour. Walking alongside it I noticed sizeable fish (dabs) swimming and hiding on the muddy bottom. This gave me an idea which was going to give us all a feed of a different nature later in the evening. We were always hungry and I| knew this would be appreciated. Finding a long stout cane, I lashed a nail bayonet on the end and proceeded to catch some fish by making a downward thrust into the mud where I had seen a dab settle. This operation went ok having got several on the bank side. During the process of making a thrust, I suddenly found myself under the water in the stream due to the cane sinking in the mud instead of stopping on the bard bed of the stream. A comrade who had been watching, helped me struggle out soaked to the skin and was laughing his head off, likewise my mate the Corporal in charge. Being wet through I didn鈥檛 think much of going on gun post duty. I decided to go back to the billet which was some three quarters of a mile away to put on a set of dry clothes. Bannister and his four minute mile was nothing compared to Gunner LAC Smith. I was actually deserting my post, and would have been court martialled if caught. Lucky for me I was not.

Standing opposite a chap in the billet who was cleaning his rifle nearly had serous consequences. I happened to be watching him as he drew the bolt back. A live round of ammunition was at the top of the magazine. Shouting 鈥淪top鈥� which he did, I pointed to the round which he had not seen. Having just come off guard duty, it was obvious the guard commander had not done his duty properly. Another incident which could have had more serious consequences happened one day. Several American Flying Fortress four engine bombers were returning to their airfield from a raid on Schweinfurt in Germany, and one apparently running out of fuel, requested permission to land. This was refused because Shoreham was only a small field; the refusal was ignored because the plane could not continue flying. Circling the field once, it landed, which was expertly done but it could not stop, the field not being long enough, and it finally did so hitting the corner of the guardroom. Serious damage was done to the plane. The crew were ok and nobody was hurt in the guardroom.

Together when off duty with Joe Higham from Hull, who was also a mate of mine, we regularly paid visits to Brighton and Worthing visiting the cinema and Canadian Legion canteens. From Shoreham I was sent to Weeton, Lancs, on a heavy goods vehicle driving course which I passed, taking my test in Blackpool. The fourth year of the war drew to a close, the first six months of 1944 taking me to more places. Merston near Chichester, where I saw a Mustang fighter plane belly land when returning from operations. Detling, Maidstone, where I had a short spell driving the airfield blood wagon (ambulance), and Stoney Cross, near Lyndhurst in the New Forest, miles from anywhere. Then Minster on the Isle of Sheppey, a short stay here, daily on the road to different supply depots fetching Squadron food supplies and mail.

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