大象传媒

This story was submitted by Philip Miles of Shevington, Wigan.

What did you do in the RAF dad?

Good question, it was 5 years after the war ended that there was any admittance that there were 'RAF Servicing Units'. Units is what we were, we worked alone, had no mates and we often had better billets than most. We had no uniform flashes, and no promotion so we remained ordinary 'ERK's鈥�. Our details were so well hidden that when I was due to come home from abroad it took 6 weeks before anyone could find out who I was, and where my records were!
It all started after my initial training at Melkesham in Wiltshire and then onto Blackpool and Weeton, Lancs. Someone wherever I went knew something (and not below the rank of Wing Commander.) I found myself back in Wiltshire, Hullington where odd things started to happen. I worked as a 'Carpenter Rigger' we did a full riggers course and to my surprise I saw myself listed as promoted to 'Corporal Group F.鈥� The CO of the station sent for me and said, "Miles you seem surprised, you will never make a good NCO will you? (I had to agree), "But I have been 'told' to promote you!鈥�
We were taught everything about aeroplanes - even how to fly one. We had to rebuild an old Tiger Moth that was in bits on the floor of a hanger. We had endless lectures and lessons; it was like going back to school. Most of us were fed up to the teeth and when we were asked to volunteer for the SAS almost everyone did! After a few weeks we were called to a meeting, "Most of you are qualified to transfer to the SAS, but NO carpenters will be allowed to go. That was the first clue that something was up. But the wooden wonder, the Mosquito was still on the secret list so we were no wiser!
I finally got posted to a flying training station which is now Bristol Airport. Some of us were in a wooden hut off the edge of the runway as far away from the guard room that no-one seemed to bother us. We just went where we liked and never clocked on or off as long as we were at work parade before breakfast no-one bothered!
We worked long hours on repairs to Miles 'Master', and Airspeed Oxfords. At the time, Bristol and Avonmouth were heavily bombed and once or twice a week a full squad of us, Riggers, Wireless Ops and Engine Fitters were carted off to a 'safe' area so that some of the skilled men would be left if the whole station was blown to bits overnight. We were dumped overnight in Badminton in Wiltshire, where the horse trials were held, (and still are). We slept in the stables which were spotlessly clean, tiled floors and walls, and in fact were better than our little hut in Lulsgate.
Then one day the odd things happened again. My mate and I (he was an ex-coffin maker) were hauled off to Wing Commander鈥檚 office, and were told that nothing that was said at this meeting was to go any further than outside this office, ever. "Yesterday you saw a spitfire skid off the runway and smash into a parked Miles Master, it is now in an isolated little "Blaister" hanger way out on the edge of the station, no-one ever went there. You two will be taken there tomorrow and I want that smashed plane brought back as good as new and no talking to anyone. The spitfire pilot is a Polish airman who has just shot down lots of German aircraft and is a National Hero; he has come back for a rest."
It was a bad start, but no-one wanted a black mark on his records so nothing was said and we were told that if we got the 'Master' back as new, nothing would ever be said. So as we did a good job on it, and I got more freedom than ever, I was off to Backwell village canteen most nights. There I met a young land army girl.
The next thing, a USAF Dakota landed, and off loaded a jeep, and we ended up back at the CO's office again. This time we were faced with two US airforce officers, "Well airmen, we have another job for you, same rules, no talking to anyone, and you must take orders from these officers, they have been 'told' that we have two carpenters who can keep their mouths shut."
So after our usual breakfast parade, a couple of jeeps rolled up and off we went, up into the Mendip hills beyond Bristol. We were taken through an armed guard (American) who were ringed around a Waco Glider, with 'invasion鈥� black and white markings. "Now then lads this one broke a towrope and fell into the valley, it has been manhandled here on top of the hill in the hope that we can snatch it. We need all the gliders we can get and most of all pilots. Can you lads repair it and how long will it take?鈥� Well it had a hole in one side you could walk through but we could see that it was just one whole panel and the frame was relatively undamaged. 鈥淵es.鈥� I said, 鈥淲e can fix that. Give us all the tools and the plywood from the station and we will fix it in 3 days.鈥�
The American officers sent two jeeps to take us back to Lulsgate to collect everything we needed ; our tool boxes, plywood, nails and screws, clamps and waterproof glue. We finished stripping the frame work clear, cleaned up and repaired the stringers and the frames, clamped and glued up all the bits and cut out the plywood to cover the gap. Next day we were taken up again and we fixed the new plywood and glued it all up. The following morning we stripped all the new work and covered it with 'dope' and Medapulin fabric. It looked like new. On the third day we gave it another coat of red 'dope' and said, "Tomorrow you can fly it." The Dakota flew over and dropped poles and ropes and a new hook and tow rope. Their own army engineers rigged it up ready for the "snatch off'. The two pilots inspected everything, checked the instrument panel and all the controls. They climbed out went over to us and said, 鈥淭omorrow we take off and fly to Exeter to put the US markings on and park it with all the others there waiting for the invasion.
Next day we watched the Dakota trailing its hook, snatching the loop of the new tow line and of course the glider. Now we could see why they had manhandled it to the top of the hill. As soon as the glider left the ground it rapidly overtook the towing plane and swooped down into the valley, narrowly missing the dry stone wall at the bottom of the hill and we were very glad we weren't on it. But it took to the air and the Dakota dropped its hook flew away and the glider circled the hill and the pilots waved to us and they were off! The jeeps collected us and all our gear and took us back to the station, the officers shook our hands and that was it the first but not the last time I was briefly is the US Airforce.
By this time I was part of the family at the Nailsea Council House where two land girls were staying. I spent most of my time there as I still had my freedom. Their billet was an open house to all the forces, Black, White, Brown. It didn't matter and I did a few repairs for them. My land girl and I would keep all sorts of hours and there were never any questions asked.

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