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Leaving for Canada to join Empire Training Scheme

The feeding arrangements were very uncomfortable. We had to queue on deck where there were ropes to hang onto in rough weather. In the canteen, when we finally got there, we ate standing at circular tables, which were fixed to the floor. As we were the first British troops they had carried, the Americans made tea for us. The trouble was that they made it in coffee urns, which, after many years of use, were impregnated with coffee. This resulted in a most unpalatable mixture. We did not like to complain after their kind gesture, so either forced it down or feigned seasickness. Because I did not like the gooey sauce- laden meals, I volunteered to work in the ship’s galley where I was put to work on the potato-peeling machine. I was sometimes able to make myself a toasted T-bone steak sandwich, which I preferred to the normal diet. One day the cold store opened and I saw the body of a black sailor on a trolley. I particularly noticed that the soles of his feet were quite white. I never did discover the man’s story and thought it seemed rather strange to keep him so near food. After this episode, my gourmet sandwiches seemed to lose their flavour! The lavatories were communal and set in long rows with no privacy whatsoever. The seats were fixed over a trough, which was periodically flushed by a great inrush of seawater. This caused each man sitting to jump up in order to prevent his bottom from getting wet. These conditions plus many patches of vomit and large numbers of users made these visits extremely unpleasant

After about six days, we were met by ships of the American Navy who took over from the Royal Navy. One of the US ships has a single float sea-plane, which was catapaulted off each day for submarine spotting. It then landed on the sea, near the ship, and was winched aboard by crane. After a couple of days, we were told over the tannoy that instead of landing at Halifax, Nova Scotia, because of increased submarine activity to the north we were being diverted to New York. After a total of 12 days, we passed the Statue of Liberty, saw the Staten Island Ferry and landed in New York. We were very frustrated to be told that we would have to stay on board over night. It was galling to see the bright lights of the city after a blackout at home and not be able to enjoy it. Many wild schemes were hatched to ‘jump ship’ for the night but nothing came of it and in the morning we marched to a railway siding and entrained for Montreal.

When we arrived at Montreal, we were taken to a holding unit outside the city, RAF Lachine. My main memory of Lachine was fried egg sandwiches. At home, eggs were very strictly rationed and we were not used to having unlimited access to them. So every night for a bout a week, we ate two or three fried egg sandwiches. Naturally, we ended up with stomach cramps and awful constipation. The M.O. said that our stomachs must be like glue pots and had little sympathy for our plight.

From Lachine we were posted to Windsor Mills Airport, a civilian aerodrome which was being used by the RCAF. As a consequence we were treated like paying customers even having waiter service at mealtimes and enjoyed first class civilian amenities. Our instructors wore civilian clothes although they were members of the RCAF. We were flying Fleet Finches which like the Tiger Moth were biplanes but with radial engines. These engines were useful for lining up the horizon. Another feature was that, as it was winter, skis were fitted on the wheels. This made landings much easier because as you touched down your aircraft slid and you did not have to worry about keeping wheels straight. Because of this when we went back to wheels there were many ground loops as students landed with drift on. After about seven hours dual instruction, my instructor, a French Canadian, got out and tied red ribbons to the struts on either side. This was to remind other aircraft that this was a first solo. I taxied out and was so happy I remember singing, ‘I’ve got a sixpence, jolly, jolly sixpence’ all the way round the circuit. I made a reasonable landing and immediately felt that I was a hotshot pilot and destined to lead a squadron of Spitfires in the near future. Then began many ‘circuits and bumps’ cross-country flights and night flying. One day I ‘put up a black’ by landing at another aerodrome against a warning smoke signal. A red flash from an Aldis Lamp and red Verey flare alerted me to my mistake and great annoyance on the part of the local commander. However, I did graduate from EFTS qualified to fly light aircraft and joined our great celebration to mark this event. This party to end all parties, concluded with a visit to a nightclub, my first, and having been drinking beer all evening, the nightclub only served rum and coke, which was lethal. To hurry over an unhappy story, my friend and I were walking along the rod singing at about 2 am when we met a French Canadian policeman. Not really aware of the great enmity that existed and still exists between the French and English in Canada I asked, politely I’m sure, to get us a taxi. Instead, we found ourselves in a police car and then in an evil smelling cell. They took all our effects and put them in large brown envelopes, together with our braces, belts and shoelaces. Thus I spent one of the most demeaning and unpleasant nights of my life until much wiser and poorer we were released in the early morning minus a $10 fine.

My next posting was back to Montreal, this time to RCAF St. Hubert where we were to fly North American Harvards, all metal, low wing monoplanes with 550 hp engines. This was a very busy aerodrome used by many aircraft, Avro Ansons, Fairy Battles and our own Harvards. After 2 — 3 hours, I soloed and began an intensive programme of ‘circuits and bumps’ cross-country, blind flying, night flying, formation and gunnery. Whilst at St. Hubert we were given leave and were able to claim a free travel warrant to anywhere in Canada and the US. My friends and I naturally plumped for New York. This was memorable because the States had not been in the war for very long so treated us like VIPs. At the USO, we could obtain free tickets for almost any kind of entertainment from Broadway shows to visits and outings with families. When we went into bars such as ‘Jack Dempsey’s there were always free drinks bought for us by friendly customers. We did all the usual touristy things like going to the top of the Empire State Building, visiting Coney Island and we saw a show at the Rockefeller Centre. I also met Danny Kaye at the Stage Door canteen where you were given free cigarettes and refreshments and were waited on by stars from the films or Broadway.

Back at St. Hubert, we continued our flying programme and by now were about three weeks from ‘Wings’ parade. One afternoon I was told to go formation flying with a little chap called ‘Lofty’. He was short and had to have cushions to raise him up. By now, we felt ourselves to be great pilots and raced each other out to take-off. We were supposed to rendezvous over Lake Memphramagog at 6,000 feet. I remember the instructions so well! But unfortunately in my haste to beat Lofty I skimped the cockpit check and did not push my tail-trimmer 2/3 forward for take-off. The trimmer is always kept fully back for taxiing to keep the tail heavy. I lined up on the runway, pushed the stick forward and opened the throttle expecting my tail to come up as it normally did. My speed increased to about 90 mph and I was still dragging my tail. There wasn’t much time so I pushed the throttle through the ‘gate’ which is an emergency procedure and the aircraft went up like a rocket. We had always been told not to push the throttle through the ‘gate’ as this ruins the engine. By now, I was at 300 400 feet almost vertical and shaking back on my tail. I knew that I was going to stall and spin into the ground. At this split-second moment, I remembered the trimmer and spun it forward rather violently. This caused my plane to dive steeply. By now, I was in a panic so put the aircraft into a steep turn, ignored all the machines, found myself in the ‘funnels’ and made a bouncy erratic landing. Once more Aldis signals and Verey flares, and a jeep containing the flight commander dashed out to me. He jumped onto the wing, banged my cockpit canopy and asked me, with many expletives, if I thought that I belonged to a so and so flying circus!

To cut another sad story short I had to go before the wing commander who reminded me that the reason for having an air force was to destroy the enemy and not each other. As I had already got a black mark for the EFTS incident with the smoke signal he suggested that I remuster to another aircrew trade. I think that the unhappiest day of my life was watching my classmates being presented with their ‘wings’ a short time later.

Whilst I was waiting for my next posting I was asked, with another failed pilot, if I would volunteer for some experiments that were taking place in Toronto. We were told that we would only be needed for an hour or two each day and the rest of the time would be our own. When we arrived at the experimental establishment, we understood that we would be taking part in the testing of the effects on pilots of centrifugal force, ‘G’ as it was called. Pilots were blacking out in air combat especially when they were attempting very steep turns. These scientists were trying to discover what was happening to the human body under these conditions. The main feature of this unit was a large circular pit with a central vertical column to which was attached a horizontal arm from which was suspended a bullet shaped single seat machine. This capsule had a simulated aircraft cockpit. Each morning we dressed in tight rubber suits with various wires attached, taken down a steep ladder to the capsule and strapped in. We were told to respond to different lights and buzzers by turning switches or pressing a button on the control column between our legs. From our responses, they would be able to tell what was happening to us. When the machine started up the speed gradually increased until the capsule swung out and hurtled around the sides of the pit, simulating a high-speed steep turn. At a certain speed we ‘greyed out’, at a higher speed we ‘blacked out’ and at the highest speed, we became unconscious. This informed them of the various ‘G’ pressures as each stage was reached. After each trip, we went up to our bunks to rest and sleep. The effects were so tiring and unpleasant that we only went out twice although we were in Toronto for four days.
When I returned to St. Hubert my posting was through for a remustering centre at Trenton, Ontario. I was only there for a few days before being posted to Air Navigation School at Port Albert, Lake Huron. Here we were flying Avro Ansons and Bolingbrokes (Canadian- built Blenheims). Before the course began, some of us were sent to stay at a log cabin near a lake. In the middle of the lake was a large triangular bombing target, which normally floated there. As it was winter, the lake was frozen over so with everything white with snow and ice, bomb-aimers were having difficulty finding the target. Our job was to cut down tall fir trees, drag them out, cut holes in the ice which was 2 — 3 feet thick, and plant the trees, which immediately froze in the ice around the target. On the first day a Canadian, who had been a lumberjack, gave me the honour of first chop at a Douglas Fir towering above us covered with snow. I spat on my hands, lifted the two-handed axe and gave it an almighty blow. I immediately disappeared, suffocating under the enormous slippage of snow from above. It caused great hilarity and I had discovered that before you out an axe to a large tree make sure that you shake the snow off it! We had with us a large white carthorse that did the dragging. Because we jumped the horse down onto the ice at the edge of the lake at the same spot each day, the ice cracked and he fell in. It was quite a performance getting him out and then debating whether he would die from the intense cold. We rubbed him vigorously with handfuls of snow and covered him with blankets and he soon recovered although we were exhausted with the effort.

When the course started, we were given a programme of navigation exercise, introduced to the Mark IX bombsight, bombing theory, practise bombing and air gunnery. At Port Albert we were flying Anson Mk 1’s which meant that we had to wind up the undercarriage manually. I soon discovered that dropping bombs accurately is an extremely difficult operation. One day the navigator who dropped the bombs in the film, ‘Target for Tonight’ talked to us about the making of the film and the discomfort of the heat in the studio whilst wearing full flying gear. He also told us about his tour of operations on Wellingtons. Towards the end of the course, all the aircraft took part in a simulated ‘raid’ and we were presented with our sergeant stripes and ‘observer’ brevets.

After embarkation leave, which included a couple of days in Detroit, we entrained for Monkton, New Brunswick. From Monkton to Halifax to board the ‘Louis Pasteur’, a large French luxury liner converted to troop-ship. Instead of joining a convoy, the plan was a fast solo trip zigzagging across the Atlantic to dodge submarines. The domestic arrangements were very different from the trip over. This time we slept in hammocks and drew food from the galley in large dixies and ate from our own billy-tins. After six days, we landed at Liverpool and entrained for Harrogate. This was March 1943. At Harrogate, we were billeted in various private establishments that had been taken over by the RAF. I found myself in what had been a boys’ boarding school. During our stay, we exchanged our observer brevets for either ‘navigator’ or ‘air bomber’ brevets now that the old observer’s function, which had included both skills, had become more specialised with the onset of larger aircraft.

From Harrogate, I was posted to Advanced Flying Unit (AFU) Wigtown, Scotland where we were to fly Avro Ansons and Blackburn Bothas. Most of the course was to acclimatise to blackout conditions with more bombing theory and practise, meteorology, signalling and air—gunnery. After about six weeks, we were deemed ready for transfer to Operational Training Units (OTU). As we paraded to hear our fate, I was told that I had been selected to be trained as an instructor. This meant I was to go to RAF Manby for an Air Bomber Instructors (ABI) course. This decision, although I was disappointed at the time, probably saved my life as a large number of my classmates lost their lives over Germany in the ensuing months. Manby was a permanent establishment with brick buildings and modern facilities. We were flying Blenheim Mk IV’s for gunnery and Handley Page Hampdens for bombing exercises. We were mostly using Mk III low-level bombsights and we practised along the Norfolk coast. Because of the danger of enemy intruders, we took turns at manning a single .303 Vickers Gas Operated (VGO) machine gun in the rear-upper turret. We always had a giggle when we changed places because the Hampden’s fuselage is about the width of a man’s shoulders so we had to climb over each other to get to the turret. In addition to flying, we had to learn how to instruct. This began by giving mini-lectures to our fellow students. As the course was combined with a Bombing Leaders course, there were many senior officers in the class, I found it all rather intimidating. However, I soon got into it and found myself giving lectures on the intricacies of complicated fuses and bombing devices as if I had been born to it and passed with high marks as a fully qualified Air Bomber Instructor (ABI).

End of Part Two

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