大象传媒

Early in March all the squadron aircraft were to be fitted with ASV, (Air to Surface Vessel) radar and we were given a quick course on how to use this equipment. The radio operator took charge of guidance to the pilot if he located on the radar screen what might be a U-boat or any other vessel to investigate. This was to be our first initiation into the realms of mid twentieth century radar navigation. Results came very quickly. Eyes, assisted only by binoculars had, until now, been the order of the day. After some hours trying to scan the sea visually, eyes became very strained and, no doubt, the feather streak of many submarine periscopes were often missed.
In order to better cover the South Atlantic around the Canary Islands the decision was made for a flight of five aircraft to be stationed at Agadir in French Morocco, south of Casablanca, and all these aircraft went there on March 11th. We each took two ground crew members as passengers and the rest of the ground crew and stores were loaded to follow by sea bt their ship was torpedoed and sunk so for the rest of the month and well into April we were on our own. No sooner had we started operations from Agadir than we sighted U-boats. The first was on 12th March. We started an attack but it dived before we had time to get down to 500 feet. One depth charge was dropped but there was no sign of any damage.
The Free French provided us with a vehicle and, between our five crews, we took it in turns to drive along pretty awful roads up to Casablanca to collect food, fuel and ammunition supplies. At that time I could not drive but Roy, as a Canadian, had been driving for a few years and he gave me my first driving lesson as I drove a gasbag powered truck down the runway at night as we lit the gooseneck flares to light the flarepath. All this time we endeavoured to give continuous air cover over the Canaries and especially when a convoy was making its way south or north. At times there would be at least three of the five aircraft in the air at any one time; one on the way out, one on the convoy and one on the way back. There was little time for sleep or relaxation and we were all completely and utterly 鈥渟hattered鈥�. Life became easier after we got a Catalina which had a longer endurance.
In mid March the Free French had arrived with a squadron of Maryland aircraft. We were all camping in large marquees which the French had found. With no cooks we had to take it in turns to arrange the cooking. A lot of the American food was tinned, spam, dried eggs, dried potatoes, dried carrots and so on; but we had little water and we were short of utensils. Somehow we managed. I particularly remember when I endeavoured to make a large amount of scrambled eggs. I had hardly ever had to do any cooking of any kind although I could boil a kettle of water without burning it, and that was about my achievement at that time. The local farmers supplied eggs in very large crates. The trouble was, as we soon discovered, that they waited until the crate was full before bringing it. This meant some of the eggs were beyond their 鈥渟ell by鈥� date by the time we received them! I carried on cracking eggs in to this large billycan until, suddenly, there was the most awful stench. A truly green one had gone in. I had to abandon the lot. Ever since then, if ever I have to crack eggs, I always crack them individually in to a cup first!
The Free French were quite ready to help but they said they could not do any night patrols as they did not have any night navigation experience so, from 17th March, we did the night operations whilst they did the day patrols.
During one of our night operations, on 22nd March, we located, by radar, what appeared to be a sub or other vessel. It probably was a sub as there was a surface water disturbance by the time we got down to low level but it had obviously seen us against the moon and it had dived.
On the night of March 23rd, whilst on an anti-submarine sweep, we experienced a very severe electrical storm. I think that was the time when I was most frightened. The taking of any drift angle was
impossible and navigation was sheer dead reckoning. Fortunately a radar beacon had been established
at our base airfield and we were able to home in on it. As we flew through the storm the starboard propeller, just two feet or so to my right, lit up with St Elmo鈥檚 Fire like a catherine wheel. We were fearful that the aircraft might release the build up of static electricity as we landed and catch fire. The magnetic compass had gone haywire, no stars were visible and the radar beacon was our only hope; our relief at a safe landing was tremendous.
Night had fallen on 24th March and as we were on the way back to base one of our engines spluttered and died. How we prayed that the other would hold out. It did.
There was not much in the way of maps or charts for our operating area so, on the 1st of April, we did a reconnaissance trip over the western Sahara to establish if there was a possible alternate landing ground in case of trouble. I shall never forget as we flew over the desert through a sandy murk when,
suddenly we saw looming ahead of us, a range of hills; without having to think there was an immediate involuntary push forward of the throttles and pull back on the stick to climb up and over the hills. It was a bit hairy but afterwards you realised how instinctive had been the reaction for self preservation.
We flew back to Gibraltar on the 2nd of April to report our findings in respect of any alternative landing areas and to collect supplies, returning to Agadir the next day.
On the 7th April we had a late afternoon flight and, in the gloom and, with the help of the ASV, we located a U-boat and were successful in making an attack. How effective it was we never knew. On the 9th we sighted a sub and again on the next day. This time, after making contact by Radar, we were able to lose height and turn to the east to get the evening gloom behind us so that the observers on the sub would not see us, and we were able to make a successful attack by dropping two depth charges alongside; a few days later we heard, via the grapevine, that the sub had been badly damaged and that all the crew were landed on the Canaries.

Whilst based in Agadir we made friends with several of the French farmers living in the area. They had not had a very pleasant time whilst the Germans had been occupying France. Their produce had been taken to France with very little payment but they had, it would appear, without exception, given
considerable aid to the Free French Resistance who had done quite a bit of sabotage to the
German/French operations whenever they could. We were very welcome into their company. If we made any effort to speak to them in our limited schoolboy French they would refuse to try to talk to you in English and made every endeavour to assist you in your French vocabulary. It is a pity we were not there longer to become fluent in French. There were very few opportunities, however, to relax as we were constantly flying. The arrival of the French Marylands did help and I remember, on one occasion, several of us went into Agadir and had a meal at the Terminus Hotel. There was no water to drink, only wine. It was local red wine, straight from the vineyard; supplied in a large tumbler and rather coarse and dry. It certainly did not persuade me to become a wine drinker. It was this Terminus Hotel which was completely destroyed some years later in a disastrous earthquake in the 1960鈥檚.

With limited facilities, in all respects, food, hygiene and very stressful operational conditions, it was not surprising that, without exception, every member of our, and other crews, went down with dysentery. BUT we just had to keep on flying. There was no respite and no drugs or hospital help. There was a continuous trek back to the Elsan toilet beneath the gun turret. Poor old C.O Simpson; he just had to grin and bear the stench! He kept his vent on full blast. At last we were well passed our accepted stint of operations of 50 sorties so, on April 18th, having completed 63 operational trips, we returned to Gibraltar and, after loading up the aircraft with many items to be returned to Gosport, and also with several hands of bananas which we had collected from Agadir, we took off, with an extra fuel tank in the body of the aircraft because of the anticipated long haul, on 20th for the UK.
As we landed at Portreath after a nine and a half hour flight a Customs jeep chased after us to meet us as we opened the door to check what we had brought with us! Then on to Gosport, arriving in the late evening.
The crew now split up as we prepared to go our own ways for a period of two week鈥檚 leave and two days later we all set off; Roy, Jack and CO went up to London. CO was able to have a beer again, and I went to Sheffield, complete with a small suitcase and a large hand of bananas. This caused much amusement on the train and inevitably was an opener for conversation. By this time we could talk fairly freely about the North African operations as the war was going well in that sphere, and we were beginning to get on top of the submarine menace. Little did we know, at that time, that so much of the information we had been receiving about U-boat movements was not just guess work but, as we now know, was the result of the work being carried on at Bletchley Park Intelligence Centre.
The bananas were green so I remember that we put them under the bed until they started to ripen.

On May 13th we were together again and set off for Gibraltar. Jack Reid, our Wireless Operator was notorious for his 鈥渓aid back鈥� approach to life. He was never in a hurry and, in consequence, we were a little late in take-off. Several other aircraft had already left together with an escort of two Beaufighter aircraft as it was believed that the Germans were trying to intercept aircraft flying south across the Bay of Biscay.
- Because we were late we did not have the advantage of this escort and, as we headed out over the Bay we were attacked by two German JU 88 fighter aircraft. Fortunately the damage we received was minor but we had a hydraulic leak so we had to return and, because we could not lock our undercarriage down, we had to crash-land at Perranporth in Cornwall. We were all very badly shaken up but still, more or less, mobile. Perranporth was, at that time, a fighter base. They provided us with overnight accommodation and, having salvaged all we could, (it seemed to be everything except the kitchen sink), we were sent on our way by train via Chacewater, Redruth, Truro, Exeter, Fareham and to Gosport, changing and transferring all our baggage at all these stations; we were absolutely shattered by the time we got back to base.
That night I think we all slept the sleep of the righteous but the next morning, a Thursday I believe, I was wringing wet with perspiration and I could scarcely move or get my breath. Jack Reid reported to sick quarters for me but was told that I MUST go there myself. How I made it I just do not know. Suffice to say that the sergeant staff nurse was extremely concerned when the newly qualified Medical Officer on duty just insisted that it was a bad dose of flu and exhaustion. If I lay flat on my back I just could not breathe. The sergeant was in constant attendance and obviously extremely concerned. At Sunday lunchtime the senior M O arrived back from leave. Within 20 minutes of him seeing me I was
rushed, by ambulance, into the Royal Naval Hospital at Haslar, Gosport. Subsequently I was told that
the ward into which I was sent usually discharged its patients in wooden boxes! Later I was told that my heart beat had virtually stopped, with a small and very fast rate which should have meant departing this world. I was later told that this was a very severe case of acute pericarditis. I have not the slightest doubt that my subsequent reprieve from that ward was the result of the prayers said at the Gosport Methodist, and the Broadfield Road Mission Chapel, Sheffield. After 2 weeks in Haslar, and as soon as it was safe to move me, I was transferred to a naval convalescent home at Rowlands Castle, near Horndean, just north of Portsmouth. All the other patients, other than a Chief Petty Office, were Royal Naval ratings. Most of them had either appendicitis or P.D.U鈥檚, (perforated duodenal ulcers!). The CPO and I, being the only senior N.C.O.s, were placed in a very large bay window.

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