大象传媒

罢奥贰贰顿础尝贰鈥橲
WAR

鈥淢an is born to trouble
as the sparks fly upwards鈥�

Harry Tweedale

Perhaps my connection with HM Forces may be said to have started in 1928 at the tender age of 15.

Along with some of my school friends, I was persuaded to join the O.T.C. attached to my school 鈥� Bury Grammar School.

Most public schools (and Bury was a very minor Public School) had their Officer Training Corps. For a few hours each week we dressed up in uniform as soldiers, learned about basic military matters (1914 鈥� 18 style) and practised elementary drill. After a few months of this we were expected to be 鈥榦fficer material鈥� and to gain what was known as Certificate A. This entitled you automatically to a Commission in the Infantry or certain other branches of the Army if war broke out 鈥� or in the Territorials if you cared to join in peace time.

I therefore found myself able to form 4鈥檚 (with the help of at least 3 other people) to clean badges, buttons and boots (not always to the highest standard), to put on putters and even (as a very occasional treat) to fire a few rounds from a Lee Enfield rifle at a target.

Whether I came out of it fit to be a leader of men is another matter.

These were times of severe hardship, recession and unemployment. No welfare state. Only Public Assistance and the Workhouse. So about 2 months before my 16th birthday I asked for and got a job as Junior Clerk at the Rochdale Corporation Tramways (Manager, George Webster).

Even though it was only a short time before I should have sat my matriculation exam, there was no possibility of letting an opportunity like this pass. So I quickly terminated my academic and army career and started work. (This was something of a relief as I would never have passed the exams in French, and a language was compulsory. Now, a few years of troubled peace鈥�

In the outbreak of war in 1939 I was working in the Borough Treasurer鈥檚 (1) Office in Rochdale (Percy Sutcliffe 鈥� Borough Treasurer). I found myself in a 鈥榬eserved occupation鈥�.

A control room had been equipped in the Town Hall basement. All activities in the event of air raids or any other action by the enemy were co-ordinated here. It was manned all the time, day and night. Together with most other local government officers, I was on one of the watches. This meant being on duty frequently at night and weekends. During the day we were easily on call (being in the building) even if our watch was not on duty.

To its credit the 鈥榗ontrol鈥� organisation in Rochdale dealt efficiently with such events as needed their attention. A few bombs fell on the town, particularly in the Manchester Road Area, but all in all we had a fairly easy life on Control.

To the very end, civilians who spent the war away from the big cities and the seaports had a pretty easy time of it. Sitting in an Anderson Shelter whilst Manchester was blitzed was the nearest most Rochdalians got to personal risk. Of course, this doesn鈥檛 prevent many tales still being told about the dangers and tribulations that people allege they suffered.

Being no hero and having a strong wish to survive I would have been delighted to spend the entire war in the unglamorous but safe occupations of Local Government Officer and Control Room Operative. However, the country obviously needed more men for the services and could no longer afford the luxury of men in their 20s and 30s living comfortably at home if they were medically fit. The Reserved Occupations list was therefore amended and as I was under 30, I became liable for active service.

The call came quickly, and I was summoned to appear for medical examination on the 5th October 1940 at Manchester. I was passed Grade 1. I had then to decide which of the services I wished to join 鈥� Navy, Army or RAF. Of course, there was no guarantee you would be accepted by your chosen service. As a man who never failed to be sick even on the calmest sea, and who couldn鈥檛 swim, I thought it prudent to discount the Navy. I didn鈥檛 fancy a minor commission in the Army, with its picture of me leading my men over the top, cane in hand, to almost certain disaster. I decided, therefore, that the RAF should have first choice of my valuable talents. They accepted me and I was chosen to train as a wireless operator.

Not feeling that a future as a Rear Gunner or Wireless Operator gave me a serious chance of survival, I specified a preference for ground duties. As one of the interviewers (a Flight Sergeant) said sympathetically 鈥淥nly birds and silly buggers want to fly鈥�

Things were moving fairly fast now and I received notification to report to No. 3 Recruit Centre Padgate on Friday November 8th 1940. Enclosed was a travel warrant and a Postal Order for 4 shillings (20p) 鈥� two days pay. I managed to get away the same day (thus presumably defrauding the RAF of 2 shillings).

1941
In January 1941 I went to Blackpool to start my RAF training. From the RAF point of view Blackpool was ideal 鈥� plenty of boarding houses (for the erks) and plenty of hotels (for the officers ) solved the billeting problem.

My first billet was a dreadful place (101 Hornby Rd), four of us sharing a small bedroom. Fortunately after kitting out and all the other palaver that attends the start of a services career, which only took a few days, I was moved to 27 Topping Street (an excellent billet) to start my training. Of course, Blackpool in January and in wartime is not most people鈥檚 idea of a holiday resort and one enduring memory is early roll call by the light of a hurricane lamp, in deep snow on North Promenade in darkness and a bitter gale force wind.

A certain amount of time was spent on drill and lectures, but most of it was spent learning the Morse code and sending and receiving messages and learning a little about the equipment used.

Those who could 鈥榩ass out鈥� when the course ended by achieving a certain speed at the sending and receiving of Morse together with a full knowledge of the equipment and how it works, would go on for further training. Those who failed to pass out would find themselves posted away on 鈥榞eneral duties鈥� with the possibility of being accepted for other courses.

It seems unfortunate, but a great deal of the non-officer class seemed to spend their time fighting authority rather than the enemy. They soon rebel against rules and regulations that are meaningless and stupid but apparently enforced with gleeful enthusiasm by moronic officers and NCOs. Blackpool isn鈥檛 far from Rochdale and the Yelloway bus service was cheap and excellent in addition to the railway. As Saturday afternoons and Sundays were usually free, it seemed daft to be prohibited from seeing family and loved ones at home occasionally. But this was the Services 鈥� no leave or weekend passes until the end the end of the course; 5 or 6 months away. RAF police were out in force at all railway stations and on the roads from St Annes and Blackpool to Preston. Buses and coaches were stopped, and anyone caught without a pass was returned to Blackpool to face the music. Having been made aware of this I had to work out a strategy. When we were issued with our uniforms we were told to return our civilian clothing to a centre where a receipt would be given and the clothing posted to the home address at the RAF鈥檚 expense.

I decided not to bother and kept my civilian clothing in my billet. I could therefore when I wished put on my suit, bowler hat and mackintosh and just take the bus to Rochdale. The RAF police never failed to stop the bus and kicked off anyone in uniform without a pass, but no one ever troubled me. I spent the majority of my Sundays in Blackpool, however, and soon found myself, when available, playing for two services as organist at a local Baptist Church.

I made some good friends amongst my colleagues at Blackpool, two of them being billeted at the same address as I 鈥� Sandy (Sanderson) who was a teacher and Welsh, and Jack Mullins who came from Oldham. At the end of the course Sandy and I passed out to go for further training, but unfortunately Jack didn鈥檛 make the grade and had to give up his ambition to be a wireless operator / gunner. This was June 1941 and the next time I saw Jack Mullins was in February 1988 when we met (and exchanged news) at Hollinwood Crematorium for the cremation of Alan Mills, one time Deputy Borough Treasurer in Rochdale and school friend of Jack

So to Compton Bassett in June, via Bristol (Temple Meads) to Chippenham. Then on the single-track railway to Colne (now no more) and finally a 10-minute drive to RAF Compton Bassett. A lot of hard work to get through during a hot fine summer in Wiltshire. Betty was in the Land Army near Shrewsbury, but we managed to spend several short weekends together, in Chippenham (The Angel & The Bear) and in Hereford (The New Harp).

The Angel was a fine old inn in the market place with uneven floors. In recent years a motel extension has been built 鈥� more鈥檚 the pity. The prices (as you can see opposite) were 7/6-(36 p) and 8/6 (41p) per night.

I duly passed out as a fully-fledged wireless operator in October 1941. I was posted to Hawarden, near to Chester. My short time here was a bit frustrating as I had no opportunity to use Morse or any of the things I had been trained for. I was put on D/F (direction finding) which was a primitive method of trying to pin point the position of aircraft in the air and of course, with the coming of radar it was quickly abandoned.

I got to know Chester pretty well 鈥� particularly the Salvation Army canteen, but in about a month another posting came through and I was sent to West Kirby.

This was the news that most people dreaded, as it was a centre for kitting out and medical jabs for overseas service. Overseas service meant not only a real risk to life and limb, but also a complete severing of all personal contact with friends, family and loved ones for a minimum of three years and probably till the war was over 鈥� in an alien environment.

When I arrived at West Kirby it seemed as though I was already cut off from home. I arrived in the dark and it seemed like a bleak island in the middle of nowhere. A letter I sent to Betty gives my 鈥榦n the spot鈥� impressions:

鈥淚 don鈥檛 know much about this camp yet as it was dark when we arrived. It was about 9 o鈥檆lock last night when I started to write.

I had written about three lines when the sirens started to go. Runners came round at once to tell us to put all lights out as a convoy had arrived at Liverpool. The only thing to do was to go to bed. Therefore we were treated to a magnificent display of fireworks by the Merseyside Ack Ack defences. Our own camp guns joined in. I have never heard such a racket in my life 鈥� sleep was impossible.

We鈥檝e no idea where we are going. We are not allowed to telephone or send telegrams from West Kirby.鈥�

My main interest was to see what sort of kit I would get. This might at least give some sort of clue to my ultimate destination. It turned out to be a tropical kit. So far I had never set foot outside England in the whole of my 28 years.

A few days later, together with other signals personnel, I was on my way to Ouston, about 15 miles out of Newcastle to join 232 Squadron (a Hurricane fighter squadron). One final irony. About an hour after leaving Liverpool our train slowly pulled up in a station 鈥� Rochdale.

Even after arriving at Ouston information about our destination was completely shrouded in mystery. What we did hear wasn鈥檛 encouraging. The squadron had undergone special training as an invasion squadron and had been at sea on manoeuvres with the army and navy 鈥� but returned to its station. We were all issued with rifles, which suggested that our destination wasn鈥檛 exactly a quiet, peaceful place.

The old Signals section had been posted away from the squadron in its entirety as the pilots had made persistent complaints about ineffectual communications. This was apparently the reason why we signals blokes had been sent to join the squadron. In view of the lack of practical experience of many of us, I鈥檓 not really sure that we were necessarily a good swap.

To many of we innocents the personnel of 232 squadron seemed a pretty wild lot. It had a large proportion of regulars. The goings on the night before we left really shook us. The NAAFI ran out of beer early in the evening as most of the squadron got roaring drunk. They decided to throw all the empty bottles at the walls and the roof until the place was almost submerged by them. Someone then had the bright idea of attacking the electric lights and soon bottles were flying through the air in all directions in an attempt to break the light bulbs. All attempts to eject them failed as everything in the canteen and behind the bar was taken and then used as a missile when the contents had been drunk. A few armed with syphons of soda water tried to squirt it up the skirts of the few WAAFS who had been daft enough to stay around.

The chaos eventually ended when the squadron W/O arrived with a powerful hosepipe and proceeded to wash everything out, including airmen and WAAFS. Let me say that the Warrant Officer was universally admired in the squadron and was our real leader, particularly when things got rough. The Commissioned Officers were a pretty nondescript lot who carried very little 鈥榗lout鈥� and were mostly content to keep out of the way.

The final night鈥檚 behaviour at Ouston wasn鈥檛 typical of everyday life in 232 Squadron of course, and there were many fine chaps in it. The situation was that these men were on the eve of leaving loved ones and home and they faced a very uncertain future far away. They felt resentful of 鈥榓uthority鈥� which put them in this situation without choice, without explanation and without facing the same disadvantages and risks. I was aware of 鈥渢hem v. us鈥� becoming a real issue perhaps for the first time in my life. Nothing could be done to discipline the squadron who had chosen their time well. Most of them would have been delighted to be put 鈥榦n a charge鈥� and given 鈥渏ankers鈥漟or it would have meant them missing the draft.

The following day we entrained for our port of embarkation and eventually found ourselves on the quayside at Liverpool. I was put on a baggage party but I didn鈥檛 feel in the mood for it and used my growing experience of service life to dodge it.

So on November 11 鈥� Armistice Day, with poppies being sold on shore, I boarded the 鈥淢onarch of Bermuda鈥�. It was a fine ship which had been converted for troop carrying. A large, three funnelled pleasure cruiser spending much of its peacetime between New York and Bermuda, it had been much altered to accommodate large numbers of servicemen. For instance, we slept in double decker bunks that had been fitted into what had been the ballroom.

It was well ventilated, and as we had pillows and sprung mattresses we were quite comfortable once we were allowed to undress.

The 鈥楳onarch鈥� was one of the two biggest ships in the convoy, which was assembled mostly in the Mersey and the Clyde. It was a large convoy of about 40 ships and we were escorted by six destroyers and the battleship 鈥楻oyal Sovereign鈥�. It was obviously a very important convoy and we derived what satisfaction we could from the fact that we and the 鈥楥ape Town Castle鈥� just ahead of us were almost dead centre of it.

It was just about the worst time of the war to sail. What Churchill called 鈥楾he Battle of the Atlantic鈥� was at its height. With the Battle of Britain won by the RAF and the miracle of Dunkirk behind us the Germans were now concentrating on destroying our shipping and thus starving us of food and armaments, and freedom to move troops. This was being done by submarine, mines, cruisers such as the 鈥楽cheer鈥�, 鈥楪raf Spee鈥� and 鈥楬ipper鈥�, and in the air by long-range 鈥楥ondors鈥� (Focker-Wolf 200s). From April 1940 to December 6th 1941 we lost over 3,000,000 gross tons of shipping in the Atlantic. This is about 300 ships. To make matters worse the Germans were finding it profitable to have a pack of subs in the Freetown area which was our first port of call. Of course, we weren鈥檛 given this information at the time, but it is now available from many sources including Churchill鈥檚 鈥淭he Grave Alliance鈥�.

As we left Liverpool on the evening of November 11th we were told that we must only take off our tunics and must sleep with our boots on for a few nights at least. This information was a real confidence booster.

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