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Chapter III. Flying Training Command.

This time it was the Grand Hotel in Harrogate overlooking the famous Valley Gardens.
The RAF had taken over both the Grand and Majestic Hotels. Sadly the Grand has now gone. I recall our CO at the Grand was Squadron Leader LEG Ames the England cricketer. Time at Harrogate awaiting posting was filled by swimming, drill, the usual time filling lectures, etc. We did, of course, get what was known as disembarkation leave . I went home and whilst there my granddad, with whom I had always had a very close relationship, took ill and died at the age of 85 and I was very grateful that I had been able to talk to him and to attend the funeral. Christmas was spent at Harrogate, there being a ban on service travel during the Christmas period. On, I believe, Boxing Day, Maxie Booth and myself were in Harrogate, fed up and far from home, when we were approached by a chap who asked if we were doing anything that night, to which we replied"No". He then said he was having a small party at home that night and had two Air Ministry girls billeted with his family and would we like to join them. We readily accepted and when we arrived at the party we found that one of the girls was Maxie's cousin. Small world! Still at Harrogate on my birthday 2 February, now at the ripe old age of 20. My room mates contrived to get me very drunk. I will spare you the details. After a short time we were posted to Kirkham, Lanes to yet another holding unit, for a couple of weeks and then onward to Penrhos, North Wales, 9(O) Advanced Flying Unit for bombing practice. We were using Ansons and lOlb practice bombs. In Canada the Ansons had hydraulic undercarriages but at Penrhos they were Mkl Ansons and it was the Bomb-aimers job to wind up the undercarriage by hand.

A hell of a lot of turns on the handle - not much fun.

Next move was to Llandwrog, Nr. Caernarvon for the Navigation part of the Course. Same aircraft flying on exercises mainly over the Irish Sea, N.Ireland, Isle of Man, etc. Llandwrog is now Caernarvon airport with an interesting small museum. Llandwrog was unusual in that the airfield and our living site were below sea level, a dyke between us and the Irish Sea. Because of this there was no piped water or drainage on our site and it was necessary to carry a 'small pack' and do our ablutions at the main domestic site which was above sea level. I, and a pal or two went into Caernarvon for a weekend in the Prince of Wales Hotel to get a bit of a civilised existence for a change. However our stay at Llandwrog was quite brief.
The 1st. March 1944 was very significant in that it marked the move from Flying Training Command to Bomber Command. 83 Operational Training Unit at Peplow in Shropshire. Never heard of Peplow? Neither had I, it is a few miles North of Wellington. We arrived by train at Peplow, in the dark, station 'lit' by semi blacked out gas lamps. Arriving at Peplow were Pilots, Navigators, Bomb-aimers, Wireless Operators and Gunners from different training establishments. Somehow, the next day, we sorted ourselves out into crews of six, Pilot, Nav, Bomb-aimer, W/Op and two gunners and were ready to start the business of Operational flying as a bomber crew.. We had never met each other before but were to spend the next few months living together, flying together and relying on each other, and developing a unique comradeship..
Peplow was notable for several things. From our living site, the nearest Pub was five miles in any direction. Having twice walked in different directions to prove the mileage, we quickly acquired pushbikes.
At that time there were no sign posts. One night doing 'circuits and bumps' in a Wellington we were in the 'funnel' on the approach to the runway, skipper put the flaps down and the aircraft started to make a turn to port which he could not control. He ordered me to pull up the flaps and he then regained control. We then climbed to a respectable height and skip asked me to lower the flaps. The same thing happened again, an uncontrollable turn to port and quickly losing height. Flaps pulled up and normal service resumed. Skip then got permission from Air Traffic to make a flapless landing which he managed without running out of runway. We taxied back to dispersal and on inspection found that when the flaps were lowered only the port side flaps came down. Apparently a tie rod between port and starboard must have come apart. Could have been nasty!

On a lighter note, when cycling back to camp from Wellington one night I had a problem with the lights on my bike and was stopped by P.C Plod and booked for riding a bike without lights. Fined 10 shillings.

Another incident clearly imprinted on my mind was one day in class we were being given a lecture on the dinghy radio. I had heard all about the dinghy radio so many times I could almost recite it. I was sitting on the back row in class and I put my head back against the wall and must have dropped off. Suddenly a piece of chalk hit the wall at the side of my head. I awoke with a start and the guy giving the lecture (A Flying Officer) said, "I suppose Sergeant, you know all about the dinghy radio". To which I foolishly replied "Yes Sir". He then said "In that case you can come out and continue the lecture". Even more foolishly I did.
When finished I was asked to stay behind to receive an almighty bollocking for being a smartarse. Finally whilst at Peplow a young lady I met in Wellington gave me a red scarf for luck and alter that my crew would never let me tly without it. We were now getting down to the serious business of preparing for actual operations and on the 24.5.44 we were despatched on an actual operation which was known as a 'nickel' raid, leaflet dropping over France, a place called 'CrieF. 4hours 35 minutes airborne in a Wellington bomber.

'This story was submitted to the People's War site by Rod Aldwinckle of the CSV Action Desk on behalf of John Derek Bailey and has been added to the site with his / permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions

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