大象传媒

In 1941, I can't remember the exact date, the works department dealing with airfield building began work on the Rougham airfield, "Station 468." This airfield was about 2 miles from our cottage, and wasn't even completed when a group of twin engine bombers, in fact Douglas Bostons, arrived. They did a lot of very low flying which was quite spectacular. I can't remember exactly how long they stayed; it wasn't very long before another group arrived. This time it involved the B-26 medium bombers, these the Yanks called their "Hot Ships" in view of their handling qualities. They used to land at a very high speed, which took exceptional pilotage. We saw many accidents involving these aircraft. The tail broke off of one aircraft which crashed right at the corner of one of the Hangars, which still exists today, and whilst doing so burnt out an RAF visiting Westland Lysander which was a liaison aircraft. Another crashed right alongside the local railway line near the airfield. Another B-26 eventually caught the attention of us kids who were in the playground of our school. This aircraft flew around and around until it made us look up. A short time later just one parachute was seen to open. This was the navigator, but the pilot dived with his aircraft into a field, again close to the airfield. Of course, we bloodthirsty kids were on the scene as soon as able, but never got right amongst the carnage because the American military police were always there to stop us. I shall never forget the strange smell of metal, fuel, and perspex, more so the perspex when it melted. Our school was on fairly high ground so we had a bird's eye view things. Whilst talking about schools, ours was a Church of England school and was roughly 4 miles from our home. It was certainly a fair old trudge to and from everyday, of course there were no such things as buses driving country lanes and as far as I am aware there is still no such thing. During the winter, we used to get soaking wet and when it snowed it was pretty bad. People today have no idea what life used to be like. Very soon after we had settled in my father got a job as a Stoker in the Greene Kings' brewery in Bury St Edmunds. He couldn't go into the armed services as he only had one lung due to Tuberculosis. He somehow persevered with this terrible hard work for over a year, but once the airfield was established applied to the Air Ministry for a job as a stoker with a handy sized boiler producing hot water for the Americans' ablutions and for the cookhouse.
In 1942 the B-26 bombers moved away into Essex alongside other medium bomber groups and their place was taken by the B-17 flying fortresses of the 94th heavy bomber group. Once established, this group stayed from '42 until '45 at Rougham airfield. I left school and began work in the winter of '44. I was employed as an engineer's joiner's apprentice in Bury St Edmunds building wooden farm machinery. I earned the noble sum of 10 shillings a week, equivalent to 50p in 2003. Mum needed most of this, the remainder went on spare tyres and inner tubes for my old banger of a bike which conveyed me to and from work 5 miles away in Bury St. Edmunds. On occasion I would cycle over to the airfield in the evening to keep Dad Company. He made many friends, especially amongst aircrew. Mum used to do their washing, for them; it was a personal touch and when they sometimes came to dinner they always raided the cookhouse on the base for fruit juice, perhaps a chicken, cookies, anything to supplement our meagre rations. I'm afraid that that was the beginning of my life of smoking "Lucky Strike," "Camels," "Chesterfields," "Philip Morris," all American cigarettes and all free of charge. Those were the days. The headlamp on my old bikes was the discarded landing lamp from a crashed B-17 and the taillight was the red wingtip light of a B-17. My boots and gloves had once belonged to a fortress gunner and were very warm considering they were made to be used at 60 below freezing. We made many friends during those terrible years and are still in touch with them after all these years.
My wife Molly and I have made many visits to these precious friends in the U.S. over the years; they are great people let no one forget.
My war years had their ups and downs; sometimes very sad, at other times fairly happy, but they don't seem to have done me much harm. I have many memories and could go on writing for weeks but I'll just stop here for now.

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