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One sunny morning, Jock and his fellow Ground Crews had cause to bless the 'reflex action?' A peculiar drone, strange to their attuned ears, was picked up by the more alert. No returning Hudson this? Doesn't sound like a Heinkel's twin 'Jumos?' Once again, a cluster of Lewis guns from all round the drome swung in unison towards the North Sea.
Jock was reckoned to be pretty good at aircraft recognition, therefore, a quick response was expected - and Jock didn't let his oppos down! "Bugger me, it's an 'Arado', the Spits will take him out in five minutes flat!"

An 'Arado' was a single-engined, medium sized, low winged seaplane. Surely even Gerry couldn't be as dumb as to approach hostile shores in this thing! No! Gerry wasn't that dumb, and No! The Spits wouldn't take him out. Why?

Although she was covered in swastikas in true bombastic Nazi fashion, he also had a gigantic Norwegian National Flag sticking out of the rear cockpit!!
All eyes - and Lewis Guns - followed her slow glide down towards the River Eden and a near perfect landing. Jock and his mates dashed up to give the crew a hand out of the water, only to be forestalled by some wild looking Home Guard led by a Black Watch Sergeant, looking extremely capable and well informed of the situation.
The two young Norwegians had 'nicked' the 'Arado' and made a successful dash for freedom. Command Headquarters had been tipped off - hence no hostile defensive action. Anyway, to Jock's mind, it was touch and go. The Ground Gunners didn't seem to be 'in on it' and they had a hard time controlling their itchy fingers!
"Hey, Jock, isn't it time 'C-Charlie' was back?" The questioner was Jock's oppo and engine fitter. 'C-Charlie' was their kite and had taken off in the early morning for a 'Parallel Track' search over the North Sea. This was 'Classified Information' and too secret for ground crew erks!
How those lowly R.A.F. types came into possession of such secret 'gen' was one of the most closely guarded secrets of the War. Anyway, 'C-Charlie' was longer overdue than her fuel capacity would permit. "Get on the blower to Chiefy, Jock, maybe she's 'bought it'".
"Shut -up, Jimmy, give them a bloody chance!" But Jock's snarled reply failed to conceal his shared anxiety. 'Chiefy's' words of comfort took the form of "Get off the bloody phone!" There was nothing else for it but to wait - and wait!

A 'Parallel Track' search involved the aircraft leaving Leuchars and heading for a Norwegian landfall, proceeding up that coast for a few miles, returning to the U.K. and proceeding up the coast for a few miles, then back again to Norway. The routine was repeated until the whole operational area was covered, from Leuchars to as far north as the Shetlands.

During this normally monotonous patrol, all the crew were on constant lookout for enemy activity - German naval movements. 'U-Boats' rendezvousing for convoy attacks, Luftwaffe capers etc. Of course, the aircrews were especially sensitive to enemy fighter activity!

Jock's special intelligence agent - Corporal Cooke - proved invaluable that day! Just at the point of 'failing light' (and hope) 'Cookie' came wheeling round the perimeter track like Adolf Galland with Stanford Tuck on his tail! "They're O.K. Emergency Landing up at Wick!" He then banked away to starboard to carry the good news, oblivious as to whether the Squadron bike would stand the strain!

The 'Gen' was, 'C-Charlie' had spotted a Dornier 'WAL' Flying Boat and closed in to attack. The Dornier opened fire first and the 'Hudson' pilot returned fire with his single for'rd fixed gun then banked away to give his Rear Gunner a 'go'. How successful the Rear Gunner was could only be guessed at, but Gerry stuck his nose down and made for sea level - smoke pouring from his port engine. 'Unconfirmed', therefore, only a 'possible'.
Due to the excitement of the engagement, the 'Hudson' crew hadn't realised the 'Dornier' had also scored a hit? Some three or four rounds had entered the starboard side of the fuselage and exited via the port side taking several rivet heads off the top of the port mainplane, aft of the engine. Although this was only superficial damage a more serious state of affairs existed among the aircrew! It slowly dawned on L.A.C. Wireless/Op. Jackie Fisher that his Morse Key hand was not obeying his instructions and there was a hell of a lot of blood lying around his 'G.P. Set'. Only when the co-pilot examined Jackie's right arm did the pain make itself felt. Jackie's right elbow had been blown open by a stray bullet!
The reluctant hero proceeded to operate his Morse Key using his left hand, eventually receiving instructions for his pilot to land at Wick, where Jackie was rushed to hospital.
Hence, 'C' Charlie' returned to base twenty four hours late - minus L.A.C. Fisher.
By now, April 1940, the war was beginning to look really serious. One of 233's 'Hudson's' failed to return. Some days later Guardbridge Paper Mills suffered two 'near misses'. That same day, Ground Gunner Elliot nearly went to meet his Maker - but for the timely advice from Jock to get his 'F------ tin hat on!" Within minutes of complying with this reminder, a piece of bomb splinter ricocheted off said tin hat! Jock had been more worried about the possible appearance of the Omnipotent Warrant Officer Purdie, than the solid teak skull of G.G. Elliot!

W.O. Purdie was the Station Warrant Officer, a rotund, strutting little terror of a man who ruled with a rod of iron. He was the only S.W.O. Jock had ever seen who took the early morning 'Colour Hoisting Parade' - on horseback! A greatly respected R.A.F. character who merits a book of his own (and probably has by this time).

Years later, Jock was to bump into ex-Ground Gunner Elliot in Dundee. He had secured a 'plum' job as Conductor on the Corporation Buses. In response to Jock's query, "How's the bump on yir heid?" the rapier-like reply came back, "F--- Off!" accompanied by a sheepish grin. No need for further comment, the situation was well remembered - and appreciated.
During such early 'Active Service' a lot had been happening in Jock's drastically curtailed private life. On December 29th, 1939 Jock and Gracie were married in the Wishart Memorial Church Manse in Mains Loan, Dundee. All of the civvy friends were there and the Wedding Supper (loose description!) took place at Ma Campbell's 'but and ben' at 57 Crescent Lane - now long gone.
Honeymoon was delayed on account of enemy activity but, eventually, took the shape of a cycling tour of the Western Highlands. A healthy outdoor holiday within the means of the family purse - just!
The happy couple were greeted on return with lots of excitement of, "Whar hae ye been? The Red Caps huv been looking' fur ye and ye've tae report tae Leuchars' Guardroom immediately!" The upshot was, Jock had been posted - in his absence - to R.A.F. Weeton for training as a Fitter Airframe, (Group 11 and another sixpence per day!) Normally A.W.O.L. meant disciplinary action on arrival at the new Station, but Jock's luck held out. The Station Warrant Officer at Weeton was also a 'Jock' so a good 'bollocking' was dished out and honour was satisfied.

Six weeks later, Jock, now a fully qualified Airframe Fitter, returned to Leuchars, but not to his old Squadron. This time 233 Squadron were to be the lucky unit (224's sister Squadron). Most of the ground crews in both Squadrons knew each other so there was no great problem. Except, within two months 233 would be posted, lock, stock and barrel to Northern Ireland and - Gracie would be pregnant!

Leuchars was regarded by most R.A.F. types as one of the classiest stations in the U.K. so Jock was not alone in having mixed feelings about the Squadron's departure from Scotland. Apart from leaving those things most dear to him, Gracie with their first born on the way, Ma Campbell (in her deprived circumstances, but cheery outlook) and a few remaining civvy buddies, Jock felt he was leaving his first glimpse of Active Service behind him.

233 Squadron had had its full share of 'incidents' whilst operating out of Leuchars, although, Jock and his oppos saw only the 'iceberg tip' of the many actions in which the aircrews were involved. Most of the aircrews were extremely tight-lipped about their experiences, but a good ground crew soon learned the reactions of the returning aircrews.

An aircrew chattering animatedly amongst themselves usually meant they had been in action and had come out of it unscathed - and probably Gerry had been equally lucky! An excited aircrew - with a few potholes in the aircraft - a sure sign of a 'scrap'! A quiet aircrew, walking silently to their transport - some of their oppos had 'bought it'! A cursory nod, or "Hullo, Jock", indicated a routine, uneventful trip.
"Something big was up!" One of the 'C' Flight's aircraft had 'Failed to Return' and an 'A' Flight 'Hudson' was late beyond her endurance?

Jock and the remains of 'A' Flight ground crews were waiting at the far hangar when, suddenly, from over the hills at Balmullo, a lone 'Hudson' came clattering in. The allotted ground crews dashed towards the taxying point to welcome their kite and see it safely into dispersal. Then an extremely odd series of incidents started to unfold?
First, for some obscure reason, the pilot opened his bomb doors whilst still taxying up the runway (mistaking selection of the Bomb Door Lever instead of the Flap Lever was the expert opinion of the ground crews!) Anyway, a bomb fell out and hit the runway!

The scene was like something out of the 'Keystone Cops'! One second a bunch of happy airmen were scampering towards their kite and the next they were charging in the opposite direction! Apparently, the bomb had 'hung up' and the bumping from the rough landing had caused it to drop, still inside the bomb doors. Due to the 'erroneous' selection of the Bomb Door Lever, the bomb fell out! Luckily, it had not been 'fused' so there was no explosion!

The 'grapevine' had it that they had been in action off the coast of Norway, combining with the 'Royal Navy in the bombardment of Stavanger aerodrome. The 'Hudsons' had been 'jumped' by two JU88s and had to break off the action with the Royal Navy to engage the enemy fighter/bombers, hence the excessive fuel consumption and the late return to base (and possible incorrect Lever Selection?)
Two more indelible memories, roughly during the same period, sprang to mind. The happier one concerned an 'A' Flight 'Hudson' which Jock spotted as it approached from over Tentsmuir. It may have been an optical illusion, but both undercarriage legs seems to be out of line? "This bugger's undercart is not locked down!" Jock alerted his mates who confirmed his opinion, then all turned to watch the kite's progress - quietly praying for a successful 'belly-flop'.

Whether the illusion was fact or fancy was immaterial - the pilot nearly made a good landing but, at the last second, the aircraft dropped on to the runway from about forty feet, shot up into the air again in a cloud of dust then she decided she had had enough and executed her own 'belly-flop' into the muddy beds of the River Eden - in all probability saving the lives of all on board! The bedraggled crew were rescued by the Crash Tender party and bundled off to the Station Sick Quarters.

The more traumatic incident occurred when the day was nearly over. 'Last Light' was approaching rapidly and most aircraft had been 'tied down' until 'First Light'. All except one from 233 and one from 224. The maverick from 233 had been accounted for and reported safe so the 224 ground crews would have to hang around for a bit. As Jock and his oppos made their way from the far end of the drome the stray 'Hudson' began her approach. Suddenly, she banked away to port in the direction of Earlshall Castle and that was the last they saw of her! The usual cloud of black smoke and the sound of exploding ammunition orchestrated her requiem. There were no survivors.

Sequel to the above tragedy - some fifty years later, Jock would respond to a 'help column' letter in the 'Air Mail' R.A.F. journal from a lady living near Alice Springs, Australia, asking if anyone knew details of her father's death whilst he was serving with 224 Squadron. Her father had died before she was born. Jock was able to supply the following :
"L.A.C. Cyril Bates, Wireless Operator, was a member of a 'Hudson' crew that took off from R.A.F. Thornaby and crashed on the outskirts of Leuchars village. There were no survivors and the remains are interred in St. Michael's Cemetery just outside the village."
A photograph of the well-tended grave was forwarded to the lady who was very appreciative in her reply. Yes, R.A.F. Leuchars had been a 'Classy' Station.
Now Jock pondered what lay in store for them in Northern Ireland?

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