大象传媒

Having finished my 'square bashing' at No. 2 Wing, Blackpool in 1941, and having passed my basic MBC ( Motor Boat Crew) course at Calshot, my first operational station was the flying boat base at Oban, on the west coast of Scotland.
Oban is a beautiful place at any time of the year, and I was thrilled to find that part of my duties consisted of ferrying aircrew and various tradesmen to and from the flying boats at their moorings. There I met, for the first time, the graceful Catalina flying boats and the giant Sunderland aircraft known as 'flying porcupines' because of their formidable five gun stations. I must leave the story of wartime Oban to others, since before I could become established there, I was posted again - this time to Castle Archdale, Lough Erne, Northern ireland, which, like Oban, was a flying boat base - but there the similarity ended.
The camp itself was anchored in deep mud, caused by the incessant rainfall, although the lough was very picturesque, dotted with small islands. Our meals were prepared and cooked in field kitchens, and we ate them in large marquees erected for that purpose. At that time the meals were sometimes strange and unappertizing, since food supplies were short. One of the lads -'Digger' Moore from Australia (hence the nickname) was sentenced to 28 days at Carrick Fergus Detention Barracks for complaining a little too forcibly about some high-smelling haddock served up one day!
The C.O. Group Captain Bates, was a strict disciplinarian, and we performed our duties under difficult conditions. For instance, we were not allowed to use our R.T.'s ( Radio Telephones) because we were only a few miles from the Irish border - which I found hard to understand, since my dear Mother was of Irish descent ! In addition, some kind person or persons had poisoned our fresh water supply, and all our drinking water had to be brought by tanker from Enniskillen, some 12 miles away. The nearest town was Irvinestown, where, if finances allowed, we could occasionally get a cooked meal from the local cafe, run by (if my memory serves correctly) a Mrs Schmidt.....
The flying boats were the Sunderlands, and although there was little night flying, we had a flarepath prepared should it be required, consisting of a control seaplane tender and three 'pram' dinghies which had no engine and had to be towed into position. They each carried a line of 'fairy' lights which were switched on when needed and immediately extinguished once the aircraft had landed.
I have a vivid memory of Christmas Day 1941 at Lough Erne. When the long awaited post arrived, it was delivered by a laconic Staff Sergeant, who simply skated the letters over the heads of the anxious airmen after shouting the name of the recipient - who then had to scramble for his precious letter. In my case, my dear wife had saved up her meagre rations to bake me a cake, which had suffered badly in the post - but the crumbs were eagerly snapped up by myself and a few favoured friends ! Then we were called out to re-float a seaplane tender which had run aground on one of the islands. By the time we had finished (successfully) we were to tired to do anything but fall into our camp beds in our alloted nissen huts

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