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A GENTLE WAR
February 1st — 15th 1943

During his RAF posting at Predannack Airfield in Cornwall my father, Kenneth Crapp, kept a diary. The diary runs from October 27th 1942 — June 7th 1944 and the first 4 month extract is included below. It shows an unexpectedly tranquil aspect of war — quiet background work on a somewhat isolated airfield, where an interest in birds and nature was undoubtedly ‘a saving grace’.

Monday, February 1st
I spent the evening in the hut after exchanging my library books. I heard the news that the Russians have wiped out the German forces trapped at Stalingrad; von Paulus, the Commandants and 16 generals captured; 330,000 men wiped out or taken prisoner. Back in the hut we enjoyed ourselves singing old songs, and adding our own accompaniment on the comb. A weird, ear-splitting noise it was!

Tuesday, February 2nd
When I’m in the hut I usually light the fire and get the wood and keep it going. None of the others will bother — or dirty their hands.

Wednesday, February 3rd
Cleaning accumulators is a dirty job — I find it impossible to get my hands really clean after it. And I’m chary of working with the highly caustic soda electrolytes in Nife cells — it removes dirt and skin too quickly. As duty mechanic I had a free night and a piece of Fry’s milk chocolate, brought from the YMCA by the chap on duty with me.

Thursday, February 4th
A day off and a lovely day of bright sun and cool breeze. I went with two chaps from the hut across Goonhilly, past the Whitely that made a forced landing there some time ago and took the road to St Keverne. We saw primroses out in the hedge in a few spots, a peacock butterfly sunning itself in a wall and a bullfinch that flitted across the road. Two WAAFS openly bearing cameras passed us.

Back at dusk, I went to the camp film show with Fred B, one of my comrades of the afternoon. A tiny screen high up, a thick haze of smoke, a tight fit in a seat, sweets passed by Fred and film called ‘Broadway’ — a story of bootlegging days and night clubs.

Friday, February 5th
After pay parade I found I’d got £9: so I can send £7 home.

Sten gun and bicycle cleaned at dinner time: it took quite a long time, but I managed to write a letter as well.

A late job with 50 gallons of petrol as the villains of the piece.

Saturday, February 6th
Heavy rain began at 6.30, so I didn’t like the idea of cycling to breakfast. It eased and I went.

At 9 I joined up with the dumper driver of the Works Flight and with the aid of brothers we got a barrel of Diesel oil in the vehicle. Then to SHG for the petrol, which had to be rolled to the loading place in the stores yard and so put on. Then away at a steady 10mph to the Outer Marker Beacon, with the F/Sgt to show the way. We were lucky with the weather and I kept warm by sitting on the radiator. We had to remove a mudguard to get through a gateway in a hedge running right across the dams. The ‘beacon’ was a hollow quite close to the source of the Poltesco river. We had a good cup of tea there and a chat about Palestine and Syria from Flight and the man on the beacon.

It took us less time to get back and to dump the Diesel at the bottom of the road to the Receivers. Postmaster at Ruan says primroses in January are not at all unusual here.

On duty, I put the concentrator in the ‘searchlight’ room at the control tower sight, by connecting up the batteries, and walked to the DF Homer following the line of little white flags that led across desolate moors to it. I had supper there, found I couldn’t correct the fault in the receiver and walked back. Vivid lightning.

Sunday, February 7th
A lovely day and a pleasant morning spent on the gun line that trails over hedges and across the moors, lying in many pools.

In the afternoon another line needed similar treatment; all that is necessary is to lift it out of the water.

Duty mechanic again because I want Tuesday evening free.

On duty I went to the Reading Room and wrote out a rough draft of a letter to go to the NUT about my salary not being made up.

The Sunday newspapers told how the Russians were approaching Rostov, so trapping the remains of the German armies in the Caucasus. In Tunis, a big air offensive is being waged against axis transports across the Sicilian straits and on the ports of Bizata, Tunis and those of Southern Italy.

At 3am the runner came to drag me out. For 15 minutes the exchange had been trying to get me on the ‘phone but the bell didn’t ring. So I set out once more in the duck for the DF Homer, with but a vague idea of what was wrong. There seemed little wrong, yet they couldn’t get any sense in their ‘phones. It puzzled me and all the others who investigated next day. I had some tea out there. I’d had no supper and was really hungry. At 6 I got back and had a little under 2 hours in bed.

Monday, February 8th
I had most of the morning off, and I spent it in cleaning out the hut. All the beds were moved and the walls cleaned and the place looked respectable at the end. Fred came in and gave a hand as I was about half-way through.

Heavy cold showers from the west made the afternoon trek to the DF Homer rather adventurous. We managed it. We went on to the roof to sew up the canvas casings over the joints and I gave my head such a crack on a beam that I thought I’d broken my neck.

I’ve been put back on the transmitter for awhile, so I had to turn out in the gale and ride down in it at 10pm. Fortunately a back wind blew me down and I didn’t get very wet.

Tuesday, February 9th
At 1.40 this morning the power failed, so we turned out to get the standby going. We were lucky, it started almost at once. However, after some 50 minutes the voltage began to creep up and we had to switch off and adjust the idler (throttle) and tie tape around it to prevent it from slipping. Soon after we felt it could be left, the mains came back on and we settled to sleep once more.

I was busy cleaning up this morning and this afternoon we had a drill parade, a fairly good one.

Wednesday, February 10th
Home, and a glimpse of the newspapers: Kursk captured by the Russians on Sunday: Bielgorod fell yesterday and Rostov is immediately threatened.

Bus to Helston, a lift in a lorry to Trebuswell, then in a powerful car to Newquay. Memories of the past as I passed the County School in Edgcumbe Avenue and of Blackpool when I saw airmen in squads standing in the front along Trenarren. I walked almost to Porth turning and then took the St Columb Minor bus — 2d. I walked down the hill into the Rialton valley and at the top of Skayes hill, got a lift into St Columb. We met Dad at West Park, so I got out.

I had dinner at Auntie Lucy’s — of roast pork and another at home of cold beef and bubble and squeak.

Things are happening at Mawgan Cross — which exists no longer — a huge new aerodrome is being made there.

Thursday, February 11th
I left at 8.45 and got a lift in a lorry taking some of the St Eval Works Flight to the station. Then a lorry to Truro. The driver told me more of the new ‘drome. He said that two barges a day come into Truro from St Keverne, that his firm had 25 lorries taking 700 tons daily to make up the runways which had to be completed by April 10th. They planned to make a huge drome from Newquay to St Merryn he thought. Perhaps for Kaiser’s troop-carriers — then for after the war traffic across the Atlantic.

Mr Churchill, he said, landed at Portreath.

A pleasant evening at Campden House. A late evening chat with Ted Marks, my workmate, reveals that he has taken a course in medicine but couldn’t keep up the fees.

Friday, February 12th
The gas exercise means carrying gas cape rolled at readiness position, respirator and wearing eyeshields. It is a wearisome business.

Saturday, February 13th
Up at 6 to catch the early ‘bus for my trip to Falmouth. From Helston, a service lift to Treluswell, then to Penryn and big bus to Falmouth. As ‘bus conductress charges me nothing, she has to be rewarded with a special smile when I get off.

In Boots I got for Uncle and Auntie ‘Me — in Wartime’- by Naomi Jacob and ‘Random Harvest’ by James Hilton. For Fred Trezise I bought a piano selection of music from the ‘Great Waltz’.

Sunday, February 14th
The Sunday Pictorial suggests that the motion set down to ‘welcome’ the Beveridge report is a clever conspiracy engineered by the Tories to do nothing about it. A small band of liberals and some Tories are to press this week for action now.

The Catering Bill arouses a storm in midweek. It tries to regulate and to some extent control the employment of labour in the catering trade. A powerful opposition opposes Bevin’s bill, which has the backing of the Cabinet. There is no opposition to proposals to improve the pay of nurses. Reason — because here there is no great vested interest. One member opposing the Catering Bill is the new member for Salisbury — J G Morrison. Elected under a party truce, he now opposes a Bill approved of by the Government.

Supper of spam and brawn and chicken and pickled onions. Coffee is the drink. Mrs T slips up again and calls me ‘Mr Brawn’. I also take supper away with me — chicken sandwiches.

Rostov and Voroshilovgrad fall to the Russians.

Monday, February 15th
At the workshop, I put new plugs on a piece of coaxial cable — and to find out how to do it as I went.

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