大象传媒

In March 1942 I became a WAAF. After my initial training I spent nearly two years at
9 Group Headquarters Fighter Command, Barton Hall, near Preston, working in the Operations Room as assistant to the Flying Control Liaison Officer on duty, which I enjoyed immensely.

In the Spring of l944 I was posted to RAF Honiley, a Signals Station in the vicinity of Coventry, and spent my working hours in the Control Tower. Here, for the first time, I could see aircraft actually taking off and landing as against plots of raids in the shape of arrows on a giant map of the British Isles. Again I was very happy in my new post.

However, before I had time for any training or for getting acquainted with the equipment in the Tower, an incident occurred which, even after all these years, I remember vividly.

Night watch was 10pm to 8 am and when things quietened down and we knew there was to be no night flying, we were allowed to get a few hours sleep until first light the next morning. The airman of the watch would set up my camp bed immediately in front of the Control Desk looking out over the airfield; though through the dark hours thick curtains were drawn as blackouts. We did not, of course, undress.

The volume of the RT (radio telephone) was turned down because it 鈥榗rackled鈥� very noisily and, anyway, was unnecessary until flying re-commenced. I was alone in the room 鈥� the rest of the watch found other corners in the building to snatch a few hours rest.

I was fast asleep when I was alerted by an odd noise from the RT. I thought I must have been dreaming, but turned up the volume just in case and heard a voice with an unfamiliar accent say 鈥淭urn on your lights Honiley.鈥� I immediately ran on to the balcony to listen if there was an aircraft in the vicinity, waited awhile, thought I heard the faint noise of an engine and hurried back to the desk. It was the accent that worried me 鈥� I prayed to God it wasn鈥檛 German, but it certainly wasn鈥檛 English!

Almost immediately the voice screamed 鈥淔or God鈥檚 sake turn on your lights Honiley鈥� and that was enough for me, trained as I was to save life if I could. There was no time to alert the Flying Control Officer in charge of the watch 鈥� in any case I had no idea where he was 鈥� so I ran to the panel controlling the airfield lighting and turned absolutely everything on. I had never touched the panel before and had had no instruction. I went through the tortures of the damned during the next few minutes. What if it was an enemy aircraft, what was the state of the wind and should it be landing on the main runway which I had illuminated, what if I had woken up the entire airfield to no avail? But it was too late 鈥� an aircraft had landed.

Cool as a cucumber 鈥� the die was cast 鈥� I instructed the 鈥渁ircraft which has just landed on the main runway to taxi to the end of the runway, turn left towards the Control Tower and I will send assistance.鈥� Back came the reply 鈥淚 can鈥檛 even move another inch, let alone to the end of the runway 鈥� I鈥檓 completely out of fuel.鈥� 鈥淪tay in the aircraft then and I will send a jeep to collect you,鈥� I said.

Just then the Flying Control Officer, white-faced, appeared asking 鈥淐hrist, what is happening?鈥� I told him that all was well and left it to him to finish the job.

Seven very relieved airmen climbed the steps to the Control Room shortly afterwards to say 鈥榯hank you鈥� for saving their lives and their aircraft. They were, in fact, on a training mission from the Isle of Man and had completely lost their way. The man with the accent was Polish, so that was that little mystery solved. I only hope they arrived safely at their home base and are still alive to tell the tale.

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