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Although Little Rissington was a flying training school, we were not exempt from the attentions of the Luftwaffe and during the Battle of Britain the enemy were to be heard passing over quite frequently. One bright sunny afternoon the air raid warning was sounded, but nothing seemed to happen beneath our air space, however a neighbouring airfield, Brize Norton was heavily attacked creating much damage. The smoke from the attack could be seen quite clearly over the Cotswolds. From the air this airfield looked much the same as ours as it was built at the same time in 1936 to a similar design. The following day at almost the same time, the warnings were sounded again and it was thought by everyone that this would be our turn. Fortunately, it appeared that the enemy mistook Brize Norton for our airfield and in consequence, they received another hammering. Again the smoke could clearly be seen from where we were.
Shortly after these attacks, the Germans switched to the night bombing of cities and we seemed to be on the path of the bombers attacking the industrial Midlands. We could hear them drone overhead throughout the night. Very strict blackout regulations were observed on the camp. A few miles away in the wilds of the hills a decoy flare path would be lit to distract the enemy aircraft, this was kept a secret known only to the airmen who serviced the site. A few miles to the south at Windrush, a satellite airstrip was installed for night flying training, it was considered too risky to fly from the main airfield during air raids so, to cause the least disruption, and most night flying was carried out from Windrush. One night,’ Jerry' was passing overhead and several of us were standing at the door of the billet watching to see if there was any evidence of London being bombed, as we could usually observe a glow in the sky from that direction when a raid was in progress. On this particular night we were startled to hear the sound of machine guns to the south, followed by a bright burst in the sky with the following sound of an explosion. It was, as we discovered later, a Heinkel III, seeing one of our training aircraft coming in to land at Windrush had made an attack with machine guns. The flying instructor, Sgt. Pilot Hancock was hit in the stomach. Being an unarmed training aircraft, the Sergeant had no alternative but to pull back the stick and try to ram the Heinkel, which he did as we saw for ourselves. Both aircraft, locked together crashed in flames to the runway. There were no survivors. This incident was recorded in an Air Ministry booklet published in 1941 telling the story of the Battle of Britain. In September 1990, a plaque commemorating this gallant airman was installed and dedicated and can be seen set in the wall of the churchyard in the village of Windrush.
It was about this time that a few Nissan huts were erected to house new intakes to the station strength. One of these was situated just behind our barrack block, which we would pass on our way to the NAAFI. One evening the warnings had been sounded and 'Jerry' could be heard droning overhead. As we passed the Nissan hut we could hear the occupants settling in and sorting out their kit etc. One of the lads picked up a house-brick that the builders had left behind and tossed it into the air. With a resounding bang the brick landed on top of the roof, followed by a massed exodus of the inmates who thought that it was the bomb with their names on it!
As the sounding of air raid warnings became more frequent, it was decided to allocate various jobs and responsibilities to most airmen, to be put into force in the event of an attack. It fell to my lot to play the part of air raid warden to the married quarters, as at that time there were still a few families in residence. I received strict instructions from the Station Warrant Officer that I must personally ensure that his wife and daughter took refuge in their shelter. This was not such an easy task to accomplish, as they had no intention of resorting to the shelter. Instead, as I finished my rounds, I was received by the two ladies and entertained to tea and cake or biscuits. It was by mutual agreement that we all reported that shelter had been taken.
The defence of the station at that time was, to the best of my knowledge, a couple of 'Bofors' gun sites manned by the army on either side of the airfield. The RAF Regiment had yet to be formed, although volunteers for 'ground gunners' were called for with the promise of rapid promotion. The fact that they were to be given a badge to wear on the arm with the initials 'G.G', was not proven as an incentive. The initials it seemed would not be popular, being the initials of the Girl Guides Ass'n. Until the trade became known as the RAF Regiment there were few volunteers. In the meantime, the powers that be called upon the Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry' to provide instructors to teach us airmen the skills of field craft. A young officer and an experienced Sergeant were allocated the task and we were to get two weeks training in small groups of twenty. This made a change from the normal run of the day tasks and most enjoyed playing at soldiers! I well remember one session of bayonet practice when we were to charge, screaming our heads off, down a grassy bank and then up a steep incline on the other side of a lane. All went well on the downward run but on the ascent, several tripped over, including my pal Tony who was charging behind me, he tripped and let go his rifle and bayonet, which continued in flight until I felt the point of the bayonet in my rear end! The screaming of the mob drowned my protestations. No damage was done except to Tony who received a grazed knee from the incident. On another morning we were being instructed in the art of camouflage. The officer told us to face in one direction whilst he invited a pair to go behind with him and hide. He had previously instructed us to take careful note of details of the landscape, in order to pick out any change in the scenery, which may hide the enemy. After one or two had attempted, unsuccessfully to locate them, Tony and I volunteered the fact that we had noticed that a clump of poppies had moved their location and now seemed to conceal the officer. I think that he was a little disappointed that we had found him so, telling us we were clever ****'s he invited us to attempt to disappear. It was a few minutes after mid-day and we were all due for dinner at 12.15 so, while the whole class were looking towards the east, we moved rapidly in a westerly direction to the cookhouse. If the two instructors twigged at how we disappeared they never let on, only complimented us on our attempt to vanish in thin air. A case of less 'seen' the better!
One afternoon, we were instructed that we would be attempting to break into the camp after the hours of darkness. We were to survey the area during the afternoon to plan our course of action. We were shown how to use the point of a bayonet to release a few rounds of the barbed wire that surrounded the camp and to leave a 'tunnel' to crawl through later that night. Plans were made of the route we should take across a ploughed field close to a thicket where we would negotiate the barbed wire. At 22.00 hrs. We assembled outside the perimeter of the camp dressed in overalls, faces blackened and cap comforters pulled over our heads. We safely manoeuvred through the first barbed wire fence and were creeping very quietly across the ploughed field when the Sergeant reminded us again that it was extremely important to remain silent as we progressed towards our target. We were half way over the field when there was an enormous clanging noise as the Sergeant trod on a sheet of corrugated iron, which shot up, into his face. This caused, what seemed to be the whole population of birds from the area to take flight from their roost in the copse. When all had quietened down the Sergeant turned to us and whispered, "See what I mean"!
Once inside the camp, the officer led us past the many aircraft picketed down for the night and produced a stick of chalk with which he marked a cross on every aircraft that appeared not to be guarded. He reported to the Camp Commandant next morning that all aircraft with a chalk cross should be considered sabotaged! This did not go down well with the aircraft pickets on duty that night that were probably asleep in these aircraft!
In actual fact, we were to experience more of the Blitz when on leave or weekend pass in our hometowns. Tony and I frequently headed for London for our off duty periods. We were at home on a 48hr. pass in South London on the night of the big fire blitz on the city. It was Sunday 29th. December 1940. As we left home early evening to make our way to Paddington, the sirens began to wail as we left the local railway station and by the time we arrived at Victoria the raid was in full swing. We stood on the steps of what was the New Victoria cinema awaiting the arrival of a No.36 bus to take us to Paddington. Only that afternoon, we had been warned by the parents, who were air raid wardens, that the enemy were using incendiary bombs that were 'anti-personnel' and were designed to explode a few minutes after igniting. As we stood waiting at the bus stop there was suddenly a great rushing noise, a whole batch of incendiaries descended on the area and burst into flames. The whole area became as light as day, the Victoria Palace theatre was well illuminated. One bomb had landed between the tram tracks and was blazing fiercely as a bus pulled up alongside and the driver descended to take a look at the flames and then drove off at speed. On the edge of the pavement was a large bin containing gravel intended for icy road conditions. Tony and I grabbed our 'tin helmets' and filled them with gravel in an effort to put out the flames but with no success. Then we heard the rush of an H.E. bomb coming down followed by a roar as it exploded. One moment I was standing on the pavement and the next I was at the top of the stairs at the entrance to the cinema, beneath a huge canopy of glass, which somehow withstood the effects of the blast. I turned to look for Tony and there he was, head inside the top flap of the sand bin with his rear end exposed to the elements, I must admit that I saw the funny side of this scene. Minutes later Tony took off his greatcoat and was trying to smother the flames of the incendiary bomb with it, only for the coat to start blazing. What struck us as most odd was that a few moments before there were a dozen or so people waiting for the bus, now we were the only ones! When the incendiary exploded we decided that it was high time to take alternative transport via the underground.
The platform of the station was crowded and with a sigh of relief we boarded the first train to come in which meant changing at South Kensington. There at last, we thought we would be well clear of the action. Our platform was crowded; the one opposite had no one on it as a train had just departed when, with a rush and a crash of glass, an incendiary landed on that empty platform! At that moment, our train came in and away we went to Paddington. It was a night to remember and as we slowly ran through west London on the train bound for Oxford, we could see what was happening behind us for many miles. It was with a feeling of great relief that we found that we were heading away from the disaster that was going on in the City of London, the night of the great fire blitz.
There was a sequel to this tale, as Tony was now the possessor of a badly burned greatcoat, he had to put in for an exchange. This was no simple matter, as for some reason or other; one could exchange any item of clothing within reason, but not a greatcoat. In order to make such an exchange one had to go before the Commanding Officer and convince him of the necessity for such an action. Tony was asked how his coat had received such treatment and when he had explained, the C.O. said that it was a stupid action to try to extinguish a bomb in such a way but complimented him on his courage! He did not have to pay for the replacement.
To exchange a greatcoat was quite a performance, one had to appear before the C.O. to give a good reason for wanting the exchange otherwise the full cost of a replacement had to be met by the owner. One character in our billet decided that his coat had become too dirty; he had spilled engine oil over the front. In an attempt to clean it he had soaked it in petrol to remove the oil then washed it with a detergent in the bath. After a rinse he hung it out to dry with the result that the garment shrank to almost the size of a large tunic. He displayed the results of his efforts to the C.O. saying that he could not understand why the coat had just shrunk! The C.O. was not accepting that excuse and demanded to know the truth. The airman was reprimanded for not turning the coat into stores for cleaning and was told to consider himself lucky that he did not have to pay for the replacement.
One thing that we quickly learned was not to conceal any action that might be considered suspicious, but to be quite open. For example, many billets were Nissan huts with slow burning solid fuel stoves. Fuel was rationed to a small sack a week, which did not last long. Bods would pass the coal storage yard on their way back from the flights and conceal a lump of coal in their overalls, which looked pretty obvious to any S.P. they passed, resulting in their being put on a charge. We were out of fuel in our hut so Tony said to me, "Put on some overalls and come with me". We both then went to the 'Works and Bricks' depot, which was situated next to the coal yard and asked to borrow a wheelbarrow. Then we went next door to the yard and filled the barrow with coal and returned to the hut to off load. Nobody attempted to enquire what we were up to; it was assumed that we were on fatigues! We were never short of fuel in our hut after that.
Although serving in the armed forces at this time, I was to see 'enemy action' when home on leave or pass. As my family were active A.R.P. members, Tony and I would either accompany them when on duty, or we would stand in for two other wardens to give them a break. It seemed as though we would return to the RAF for a rest from 'active service'!!
One amusing incident took place whilst we were acting as ARP Wardens. It was after dark one evening. The weather was none too good with a very high wind blowing. No siren had sounded but one of the Wardens was making his way down a tree-lined avenue to his post. He was very much surprised to see a cable scudding along the road towards him with a barrage balloon at the other end floating above the treetops. There was little that he could do, but a few minutes later, as he approached a road junction an RAF Corporal came flying round the corner on a 'shop' bicycle fitted with a hay box for distributing food to the balloon site crews. The Corporal stopped and enquired if the Warden had seen a balloon pass him? The reply was to the effect that it had 'gone that way'! And off pedalled the Corporal in chase! It was never discovered if he caught up with the balloon and if so, what would he have done with it?

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