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SECOND WORLD WAR 1942-end 1943

BALLOON COMMAND.

I was privileged to work as a Balloon Operator one of the toughest jobs in the Royal Air Force - so my interviewing officer told me - and she wasn’t wrong.

I trained at RAF Titchfield Hampshire for eight weeks learning the technical details of the work involved. Then transferred to a training site in Shirley Southampton for three weeks. To pass the examination there were eight subjects to take; Balloon Drill. Balloon Maintenance. Winch Driving. Winch Maintenance. Rope Splicing. Wire Splicing. Balloon Technical and Balloon Theory.

Having passed as a qualified Balloon operator I was sent to Sheffield to help defend the City of Steel. The site however was a derelict bomb site where houses once stood. There was a crew of twelve which included a sergeant and a corporal.

Two crew members had to take their turn at cooking for a week, whether they could cook or not! Part of our duties was guard duty several times a week, with two hours on, and four off, and that didn’t entitle us to a day off the following day, but more often than not we would be hauled out of our warm beds to either fly the balloon or pull her into wind because of a wind change.

There was often no time to wash or clean up, hence we often looked unkempt. But our job took priority. The shining silver things that flew over most major towns and cities were not all they seemed. But monsters to control as three quarters of them were filled with hydrogen and a small pocket underneath the belly held air. So with this about of hydrogen she was always attempting to get away.

When an operation was in progress we each were allocated our jobs. Someone would drive the winch, another shout the balloon drill down a megaphone. If the balloon was bedded down each member of the crew would be allocated to work on either the port or starboard side of Big Bertha to help ease her from her bed in readiness to fly. On the other side of the coin when we had to bed her down, we used forty pound sand bags and ballast blocks, and guy lines were pegged into steel rings situated around the balloon bed. During calm weather Big Bertha - as she was affectionately known- would behave at what was called interim height about three to four feet from the ground. But during a gale this became a nightmare, for her nose had to be constantly into wind. We in the crew would be called out several times a night, in the pitch dark - because of the black out - and have move her inch by painful inch. This was dangerous because the sandbags and ballast blocks would swing like dinky toys as Big Bertha bounced from one side of the bed to the other. Her job was to fly at eighteen thousand feet during air raids in an attempt to stop dive bombing.

There were many incidents during my days as a balloon operator, I experienced a corporal hanging on to a tail guy during a gale and was subsequently flung over the roof of the living hut and landed on her back, breaking it. I was shown a huge red scar around the neck of one of my crew, who had been caught up in the cable, and these are but a few of the accidents that occurred. My experience was hanging mid-air in my winch when my balloon wrapped itself around the chimney of a steel factory!

LACW Joan Vass 2020942.©

SECOND WORLD WAR 1943-1945

BOMBER COMMAND 4 GROUP YORK. 78 SQUADRON BREIGHTON

At the point on reaching the offensive instead of the defensive I was forced to remuster from Balloon Command. I chose to train as a Teleprinter Operator - which was the early version of Telex and now Computers - My training took place at RAF Cranwell in Lincolnshire. It was an intensive three month course. Having passed I was send to Bomber Command 4 Group York and subsequently taken to 78 Squadron Breighton, one of the Groups many active Halifax Bomber Squadrons.

My office was situated next to the Flight Control room on the edge of the runway. My section consisted of a telephonist switchboard room and my own. When on duty I was in charge of three teleprinter machines. One was used for incoming messages only, one set aside for me to send out messages and the third a classified machine used only for incoming Form B’s. This was classified information telling the Briefing Officer his target for that night, how many bombers had to go. The bomb load. The rendezvous over the coast, and finally the weather conditions.
When a Form B was going to be transmitted the operator at headquarters would type out Form B. Form B for several minutes, This alerted us to what was coming in.

We then had to remove everyone from the office including the duty officer if necessary. This was because we were about to receive detailed information about the next bombing raid.
Large cards of NO ADDMITTANCE was placed on the door and the serving hatch and both had to be locked. If anyone urgently needed us during these transmissions they had to knock on the hatch and we attended them from there. When the transmission was complete I had to seal it in a envelope and take it personally to Flying Control and hand it to the duty officer.

I became friendly with a colleague who worked the telephone switchboard, and because we were alike and both from London we were known as the Breighton Twins! We auditioned for the camp concert and was offered a sketch. This was two cockney women having a yarn over the garden wall - it was hilarious.

Needless to say we weren’t exactly top of the pops with our boss, and he tried to stop us entering this concert, but was over-ridden by the producer/ pilot. Unfortunately as we got well into rehearsals all the crew including the producer didn’t return from a raid and they were posted missing believed killed.

But by far the worst experience I had during that period was when a young navigator broke all the rules and entered my office just before take off. He plunged a piece of paper in my hand and told me to send this telegram the moment they touched down, telling me this was his last second tour, which mean he had done sixty ops.

He was due to meet his wife at Kings Cross the following day and they were to have their belated honeymoon. He advised me he was in C for Charley and begged me to send the telegram the moment the wheels touched the tarmac.

What a good job I didn’t. Because as I watched them all return, C for Charley came in last, his wheels touched the tarmac and suddenly he went up again ……. He had overshot the runway……………. Suddenly there was an enormous explosion………C for Charlie blew up mid air as she was flying the circuit!
So instead of sending the telegram asking his wife to meet him at Kings Cross, she received one of the dreaded ones……. Your husband has been killed in action.
I will never forget that incident.

Some six months after losing our producer/pilot he appeared in my office. I lost all my colour when I turned round and faced the voice that greeted me, for I thought I was seeing a ghost. He explained that with the help of the French resistance he got through. As a result he managed to find other talent and we did the camp concert after all.

My most recent encounter was when recently visiting a dying friend, a man and his wife came also to visit, strangers to me. We got talking and found that he too was aircrew at RAF Breighton exactly the same time as myself, and has since sent me photographs and memorabilia of that exciting time in my life.

LACW Joan Vass 2020942.

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