大象传媒

Editor please note: I wrote this and included several black and white photos pertinent to the story and they are in my Word document. But they vanish when I cut and paste my story below. Can they please be included. Thank you Henry Russ.

My Service in the R.A.F.

1940-1946.

I was in a reserved occupation, but as I had just got married on the 14th.,October 1939, I decided to await my call up, and at least have a few weeks of married life.
I decided that I wanted to get into the R.A.F. and accordingly when I got my call up papers I went to Romford Drill Hall for my Medical, and passed A.1. I was asked what service I wanted to go into and when I told the board that I wanted to fly with the R.A.F. they told me that as I had no Matriculation Certificate, (I had left school before I was 14 years old.) that I could only go as ground crew , as an instrument repairer which was the nearest trade to being a typewriter mechanic!
The war was going on in France but no bombing on London up to that time.
In January 1940 I got my marching orders to report to R.A.F. Uxbridge, with a rail ticket from Bromley by Bow. My Wife, Violet and I, got a 108 bus to the station and after a tearful farewell I went on my way feeling very sad and unhappy not knowing what the future held. We were both very grateful for the few months of happiness that we鈥檇 had in our short married life but being parted so soon was a big blow to suffer.
On arrival at Uxbridge, I was met by a couple of Military Police, who soon bundled me and a few other poor recruits into a large R.A.F. lorry which off loaded us at the Barracks. We were told to line up and answer our names with a 鈥淗ere Sergeant鈥�, who then informed us that we were no longer civilians but were now in His Majesty鈥檚 Service. Without further ado we were marched to one of the large buildings where we were measured for our uniforms and then given a large kitbag into which we placed all our kit.
The uniforms were a bit of a giggle at first but with tailor鈥檚 chalk marked here and there for any alterations to be made, all sizes and shapes were fitted out until we all looked fairly good. I was lucky as my uniform fitted O.K. I did not like the boots one little bit but we were told to put all our civvies into our cases and it was goodbye to soft shoes. Billets were soon allocated and we were given fifteen minutes to get organised and report outside on the square. We were shown to the dining rooms but were lined up outside in the freezing cold to receive a bowl of cold soup which had large lumps of cold fat floating on it. The dry bread did not help it down and most of it finished up in the slops bucket. We sadly made our way to the NAAFI where we managed to buy a cup of cha (tea ) and a wad.(Cake) What a start to our service career! Two o鈥檆lock on Parade, where we were given a lecture on our future behaviour. Cookhouse duties were soon given out and a hut inspection was notified for nine o鈥檆lock in the next morning. It was all very strange and we all felt very much down in the mouth. We were dismissed to our billets, and then in came a Sergeant who shouted at us, and told us to stand to attention at the side of our beds. He walked around looking at us as though we had just walked out from a lump of mouldy cheese. He then gave a demonstration of how to make our beds. They were called MacDonalds because they had no give in them. They were made out of iron in two parts; the front part slid under the back part in order to make more room in the narrow billet. There were several steel straps criss crossing the main frames, with three small square thin mattresses to sleep on. The knack was to somehow wrap a blanket round them to save them opening up in between or you would finish up on the cold steel beneath. Three blankets were the standard issue. No sheets and a round stuffed straw sausage shaped bag for a pillow. We were then shown how to make up the beds for the C.O.鈥檚 inspection.
Boots had to be spit and polished, including underneath the instep. Even Gum Boots had to be polished. Buttons and the Cap Badge were to be polished using the button stick.
The billet floor had to be polished with paraffin and wax, and afterwards no one was allowed to walk on the floor, but if anyone had to go back to their bed, then a small piece of old blanket was placed near the door and you had to use this to shuffle along the floor.
If anything was not 100% perfect when the C.O.came round, 鈥淭hen place this man on a charge Sergeant鈥�, was the command.
We all wondered how all this was going to help to win the war.

After an apology for breakfast the next morning we were ordered outside on to the barrack square for P.T. just in singlets and shorts, formed into squads, and with a nice Corporal calling us all the names under the sun, especially when anyone turned the wrong way, Are you cold? 鈥淵es鈥�, 鈥淭hen double on the spot until I tell you to stop.鈥�
One day when a particularly unpleasant Corporal was taking the
Squad for P.T. and we were all marching in a line, he was walking backwards, geeing us up, calling us all nancy boys etc. He hadn鈥檛 noticed that behind him was a Rifle Box on which the N.C.O鈥檚 some times stood . We all kept marching forwards, when this Corporal fell 鈥渁rsole over tip鈥� over this box. We all kept marching and some of the erks trod on him as he lay on the ground. We had not been ordered to halt.
The air was blue, and this Corporal singled out one of the lads to give him a real B.........g threatening him with jankers and calling him names that inferred that he did not have a father. This lad took umbrage at that and challenged this Corporal to a fight in the gym. Everything was arranged and we all trouped into the gym, Gloves were laced on, and a P.T.Instructor acted as a referee.
It only took three rounds, this lad gave the Corporal such a pasting that the referee stopped the fight. We never saw that P.T. Corporal again. Luckily there were only four days at Uxbridge and we were soon posted to different camps for the next square bashing and training.
I was posted to R.A.F. Catfoss in Yorkshire, a small Bomber Command station where it was bleak and very cold. The grub turned out to be very good and I set about my duties with a better heart than I did at Uxbridge. I was only there for two weeks and was then posted to St.Athan in South Wales to begin my training as an Instrument repairer. My wife Violet had to go back to work at Joe Lyon鈥檚 Teashops and as I had a railway ticket to travel to St.Athan via London I was able to pop into the tea shop in St.Paul鈥檚 Churchyard where my wife was working and spend a little while with her before carrying on to Paddington Station.
I arrived at Cardiff quite late in the evening and was picked up with several others in a R.A.F.Lorry. I was billeted in a large wooden hut with twenty other trainees who turned out to be all Scotsmen. They were a grand lot of chaps, full of life and very generous. Any birthdays when they had cakes or sweets sent to them, these were always placed on the table in the middle of the billet for anyone to help themselves. On the half day that we were given off we went to Barry Island fairground where we could really let off steam, shouting and enjoying ourselves. In the evenings in the billet we organised wrestling bouts which were always keenly contested. A few of uswere called to S.H.Q. and told that there was a shortage of Flight Mechanics and asked us to volunteer to change our training courses. We were given a short examination on engines which I passed O.K. to be trained as Flight Mechanics. The course should have been sixteen weeks but the War was not going very well and things had to be speeded up. We all had a crash course in which we all had to work very hard in order to pass our exams. Half way through the course we were given a two day pass and I high tailed it to London to see my wife and she managed to get the day off and we both enjoyed this small break. I collected my old racing bike and rode it to Paddington Station and put it in the goods van for taking it to St.Athan. It proved a great boon and I was able to ride it around the countryside when I had a few hours off. After doing Fire duty one night I had the next day off and decided to try and ride to see my young sister Iris who had been evacuated to Bridgwater in Somerset. I soon found out where she was living and she was very surprised and pleased to see me. She was very lonely and missed being away from home. I never saw Iris again until six years later when she was quite grown up.

During my training I was taken into the workshops and shown how to dismantle an engine and then re-assemble it. This was then wheeled outside on an engine stand and we then installed this engine in an old Bristol Bulldog fighter plane. Everything was checked by the Sergeant instructor and orders were given to Contact! The engine fired, clouds of smoke, and it was given a test run with four erks leaning on the tail plane to hold it down. This was the most interesting part of the course.
The retreat from Dunkirk came and they had several of the Free French pilots land with their aircraft to stop them being captured by the Nazis. We all helped to push these aircraft into the hangars. It was curious to see these Frenchmen in their bright blue uniforms and to listen to them speaking to each other. In view of the war situation all personell were given extra training in Rifle drill, hand grenade throwing, unarmed combat, and bayonet practice. All leave was cancelled and we were all confined to the station. In the evening we all gathered aound to listen to old Churchill giving his spiel of how we would fight them in the fields and the streets etc. One day when we were out on the square doing P.T. in shorts and vests the Air raid warning went and almost immediately an aircraft flew low over the station firing its guns and dropping a string of bombs all over the place. We all stood in amazement as we saw several billets blown up into the air. The Sergeant shouted orders above the noise to get to the trenches and we all scattered. After a while the all clear went. Apparently the aircraft was a Bristol BlenIim that had been captured in France and it still had its R.A.F. markings on it. We were all ordered back to our billets for a roll call to be taken. On the way back we passed the huts that had been blown up and we heard a plaintive call coming from one of the clothes lockers that had been blown into a bomb hole, 鈥淗ELP, GET ME OUT鈥�, we heard and when we found the locker and released the door there was an airman tightly squeezed into it. HE had hidden in this locker in order to get out of P.T ! There was also a couple of blokes who had taken their bedding biscuits up on to the roof and they soon came down when they saw the huts being blown up. They were lucky. Nobody was really hurt. Later we heard that Cardiff and Swansea had been bombed and several oil bombs had been scattered around. These were the first bombing raids on England even before London was blitzed.

I enjoyed the lectures and the training especially when I visited the aircraft on the aerodrome and was taught the starting procedures and safety measures that I had to learn before being posted to a squadron. The instructors were very helpful and gave very interesting talks on life in the R.A.F. before the war. The examination day came and then everybody waited for the results to be posted up on the notice board. When I saw my name and that I had passed with 85% I was highly delighted. My posting was to 206 squadron on Coastal Command at Bircham Newton in Norfolk, and I was now officially an AC1 Flight Mechanic. My, was a single posting and after making my farewells to my newly made friends I made my way to London again on my way to Norfolk. I couldn鈥檛 take my bike with me but I took a chance and tied a label on it and paid for it to be sent to Docking Railway Station for later collection, and hoped for the best. Again I managed to get to see my wife at her teashop before I went on to Liverpool Street Station. I had to change at Kings Lynn on to a pre-historic train that seemed to have square wheels, on a single track line to Docking. It pushed one way and pulled the other. I had to telephone the R.A.F.Station in order to get transport and duly booked into the guardroom. Bircham Newton was a pre war permanent aerodrome with proper brick built accommodation and S.H.Q. I soon settled in to my billet and was looking forward to working on real aircraft.

206 SQUADRON COASTAL COMMAND

The Squadron comprised of four flights of eight aircraft each of Lockheed Hudsons, which were twin engined planes formerly American civil aircraft that had been converted for Coastal command use. They did not have a really heavy bomb load but carried three, two hundred and fifty pound anti submarine bombs and various depth charges in the bomb bays. They had a Boulton and Paul Gun turret fitted amidships with just two machine guns. Originally they were bought in 1938 and two hundred of them were ordered to replace the Avro Anson鈥檚.
One night when I had gone out to my aircraft to start and warm up the engines prior to the pilot taking over, my rigger was in the side gangway in order to prime the engines for me to start them. The Starboard engine started all right but the Port engine refused to start. Sitting in the cockpit I had to turn round and shout at the rigger to give the primer another few pumps. The rigger did not stop pumping when I told him to do so and when the engine fired, it suddenly burst into flames and burning petrol was pouring down on to the landing gear and tyre. I switched off the Starboard engine and pressed the fire extinguishers on the dashboard and shouted to the rigger to get the fire extinguisher from the dispersal.. I clambered quickly from the cockpit and out of the side door and then saw the rigger high tailing it across the aerodrome leaving me to it. I ran to the edge of the dispersal and picked up the fire extinguisher and aimed it at the engine which was blazing away. Thankfully the fire gradually went out and by this time the fire engines had arrived. The Pilot and Navigator also had arrived and congratulated me on my prompt action. The armourers were called and shifted the bombs and depth charges on to the spare aircraft which the pilot started when I primed the engines for him and away they went on their mission. The Engineer Officer came and took me back to his office where I had to make a report. I had to go to the C.O鈥檚 office the next morning where he congratulated me. Two days later my aircraft on returning from a mission overshot the runway and crashed into a block of buildings on the S.H.Q. and blew up into a mass of flames. Both of the crew were killed and I was very upset. My tour of duty was then finished as I had no aircraft to look after.
I had been hearing various reports of heavy bombing in London and I was worried about my Wife, so it was about three o鈥檆lock in the morning when I decided to try my luck at getting to London. I asked one of my mates to try and cover for me, if the Sergeant enquired as to my whereabouts. I then made my way to the fence surrounding the aerodrome where we had made a hole in it when we wanted to get out of the station without a pass. I was dead lucky as when I got to the main road I picked up a lift in an American Jeep that stopped for me. The driver was a coloured American Sergeant who was on his way to London. I thought how lucky I was. We were well on our way speeding along the main London Road when we came up to a large lorry that had stopped on the side of the road. As my driver overtook this lorry there was another vehicle coming towards us, thus blocking the road. My driver braked as hard as he could and swerved to the left, crossing the grass verge and smashing through a fence into a ditch. The jeep came to a sudden stop, with the Sergeant smashing his head on the windscreen. I managed to put my hands on to the dash and stopped myself from going through the windscreen. I looked at the driver who had blood coming from the side of his head but he was conscious. I told him that I had to go as I did not have a pass. The Sergeant said that he would be all right and I clambered back on to the road and walked away from the jeep in case any S.P.s turned up. I managed to get another lift on a fruit lorry going to the Borough Market and I was dropped at Bow Bridge where French鈥檚 Flour Mills was burning merrily and fire engines were all over the place with hoses strung all across the road. I had to walk from there to St.Leonards Road feeling like death warmed up. When I arrived at my house the door was swinging on its hinges and there was nobody around. A lot of my furniture was gone, my tandem was missing and it looked as if the whole house had been abandoned. I asked around at different neighbours鈥� houses and they told me that my Wife had gone home to her Mother鈥檚 place at Charlton. I made my way slowly up to the Blackwall Tunnel to try and get a bus, but the entrance to the tunnel had been bombed and there weren鈥檛 any buses running. A chap told me that if I walked down the steps to the riverside I might get a lift on a boat across the river. This I did and sat on a rowing boat that took me across. I spoke to this chap sitting next to me and found out that it was Violet鈥檚 Father! He told me that Violet was all right. When we finally got to Prince Henty鈥檚 Road, I was just about all in. I had a drink and a bite and went to bed for a couple of hours telling Violet to pack her things as I was taking her back with me. We set off, much to Violet鈥檚 Mum鈥檚 disgust but I was determined that my Wife was not stopping in London. As Blackwall Tunnel was out of action we managed to get a lift to Rotherhithe Tunnel through Deptford but there was another air raid warning going and a Policeman advised us to get into a surface shelter. There was an almighty bang just outside and the shelter shook with the blast. We huddled together and when the all clear came, we went outside where we saw that the Policeman who had been standing outside had been killed. We were lucky but he wasn鈥檛. We didn鈥檛 hang around and managed to get another lift to Liverpool Street Station. My uniform helped me a lot in getting lifts, people were very kind. We were thankful when the train pulled out of the station and we got on our way. We were very grateful to my Mum and Dad,as incendiary bombs had rained down on our flat and through the roof and my Dad had climbed up and put them out, which had saved the rest of our furniture being burned and destroyed. My Dad鈥檚 factory had been destroyed and he was out of a job. My sister Nance got him a job in Chatham Dockyard and they arranged to have the rest of our furniture stored, some in one of Nance鈥檚 Neighbours鈥� spare room at Rainham and the bedroom furniture in a spare room in the house that my Mum managed to rent in Featherby Road. All my cycling gear and the tandem had been stolen after that air raid so we were lucky to have anything left at all.
Vi told me that there had been one night when there was a very bad raid and she had been having a wash, Jim and Nance were staying at 204 and Jim called upstairs to tell Violet to hurry up and get down to the shelter. Vi panicked and tried to get her night-dress over her head without untying the cord around her waist. She asked Jim to help her and he sure got an eyeful. The raid lasted all night and Violet wanted to go to the toilet, and she said that she was going out of the shelter to the loo. My Dad said 鈥淣o way鈥�, and that she would have to go into the bucket the same as everyone else had done. Violet said 鈥淭hen you will all hear me鈥�. 鈥� Alright鈥� my Dad said 鈥淭hen we will all whistle鈥�! My sister Lilian had been staying in Scotland with her husband Frank at Rossythe and when she went home to her Mother at Featherby Road , Gillingham, she used the spare bedroom and our furniture that was in it.
We arrived at Docking in Norfolk feeling very shattered and worried if I had been booked as AWOL, but thankful to be alive. I saw my Wife safely settled in the digs that I had managed to get and cycled back into the station to my billet. My mates had covered for me and I had not been missed. The fact that I had no aircraft to look after had been a help and my Flight Sergeant was a very decent bloke and had not made a fuss when I had not reported into the Flight office all that day. A replacement aircraft arrived the next day and I was kept busy working on it getting it into shape and doing all the modifications that had to be done, before it was put into service. I then applied at S.H.Q. for a sleeping out pass and when I was off duty we enjoyed our leisure time spent together. Vi had to register at the Labour exchange for a job but there was not much doing in that respect. The lady of the house where we were staying was a semi invalid and Vi fell in for most of the cooking and the housework. We often had Norfolk Dumplings for our dinner which were very filling and after that we did not want much else to eat. The Husband was a bit of a tyrant. He would sit down after dinner and say to his daughter. 鈥淓dna get me my slippers鈥�. 鈥淓dna get me the paper鈥�. Edna this Edna that, she could have wished him further. The garden was a very large and long one. There was no proper sanitation in the village and we all had to use an Elsan W.C. When this was full, it was taken down to the bottom of the garden where it was poured into a trench. When this trench was full, then the earth was shovelled into it making the next trench ready for the next load. Over the years progressively the whole garden would get dug up and the contents of the Elsan would be well covered. This helped to grow terrific vegetables! Anyway Vi and I were very grateful that we had been taken in and our stay was quite bearable.
I used my trusty bike to go to and from the aerodrome each day, and one night when I had finisId my tour of duty on night flying, about three o鈥檆lock, I was cycling back to my digs and it was very dark. The lamp on my bike by law, was half covered in to save any glare to be seen from above, and suddenly I went wallop, sailing over the handlebars to land in a heap on the road. There was a loud Moo cry from a Cow that had been lying in the middle of the road that I had cannoned into. I straightened my bike and went on my weary way. Another time, again early in the morning, cycling back from the aerodrome a bloke landed right on top of me. He had dropped from a branch hanging over the road and thought that I was a German Paratrooper. Three blokes grabbed me but when I shouted out that I was an English airman they let me go. I said 鈥淲hat the Bloody hell do you think you are up to?鈥� They were the local Home Guard who had been alerted that there were some Germans landing in the area by parachute. After those happenings I decided in future to wait until daybreak before cycling back to my digs.
From Docking there were only two buses that ran each week to Hunstanton, and sometimes when I had a half day off or had finished my night flying duties early, and had the rest of the day off, we would catch the bus and have a trip to go to the movies. All the beaches and promenades were barricaded and barbed wire protected. Often when the second feature film was a long one we could not stay to see the end of it but had to hurry to the bus stop to make sure of getting back otherwise we would have been stuck in Hunstanton for the night. If we had time we would buy twopennyworth of chips and sit in the back of the bus eating them out of a sheet of newspaper.
One day when I was just finishing doing my D.I. a Pilot came into the cockpit and asked me if the kite was serviceable. I said that it would be, as soon as I had signed the Form 700. This I did and took the 700 to the pilot who checked it and then asked me if I would prime the engines for him to start them up. He then asked me if I would like to go with him as he was going over to another aerodrome to collect some gear. I asked Chiefy for permission to go and I was soon in the seat next to the pilot taxying down the runway. It was great and I thoroughly enjoyed my first flight, which was to be the first of many such flights in many varied and different aircraft over the years of my service.
Night flying duties in addition to the usual ones in which the kites had to be seen off on their missions also included flare path duty. The station did not have a concrete runway and the flare path was marked out according to the wind direction, which was shown by a very large wind sock on the edge of the aerodrome. Money flares which were like large watering cans filled with paraffin had a wick stuffed in the spout which had to be lit when placed in a line to mark the runway. There was also a searchlight at the beginning of the runway to help the kites to land. After they had landed if there was an air raid on, then these flares had to be extinguisId by running down the length of the runway and dousing the flares. All very exciting and very tiring. One such night when I had just lit several of these flares for a kite that was coming in I heard a rat a tat rat a tat from a machine gun and saw a plane diving towards me. There had been no warning. I dived under the Searchlight which had a steel plate surround and held my steel helmet tight on my head. That was the nearest I came to being shot. This enemy plane had followed the Hudsons back from their mission. The next morning as soon as soon as it was light all the duty staff were detailed to form up in a line and walk across the aerodrome searching for any plate bombs that had been dropped. We had little flags on a stick that we had to stick in the ground if we saw anything looking like a tin plate for the Army Bomb disposal squad to come and defuse it. Whilst doing this, I collected quite a lot of Mushrooms that I stowed in my forage cap, but did not see any tin plates thank goodness. The Mushrooms tasted good when fried for my breakfast. Things jogged along fairly quietly for a while until a rumour that the squadron was being sent overseas became a reality. Later it transpired that the squdron finished up in Rhodesia. Vi and I were very sad about this happening as we did not quite know what to do about it. I did not want Vi to go back to London and Mr.Ballard our landlord wanted Vi to stay with him. He had got used to Vi doing quite a lot of the housework and cooking. Whilst we were thinking about all this I got a call to go to S.H.Q. and received the news that I would not be going with the Squadron but had been posted to go on a fitter鈥檚 course at Cosford. This was great news, not only was it a promotion but it meant that I would be staying in Great Britain for at least a while longer. The high marks that I had got on my Flight Mechanics course had recommended me to become a fitter 11E.
We packed our few things into a suitcase and my kitbag and made our farewells. It was always a bit of a bind whenever there was a change of stations as it became harder to get digs.
When we arrived at Cosford we enquired at the local Post Office for any accommodation that might be available and touched lucky at the first address that was given. This was a Mr.& Mrs.Broadmeadow who lived in a very nice old house and they seemed very pleased to let me and Vi have a room and to board with them. They were a charming old couple who made us very welcome. Our bedroom had a very large double bed with frills and valances all round it and all the furniture was and looked very expensive. Old Ben Broadmeadow was a very good wine maker and in his shed He stored many varieties of vegetable, and fruit wines Two drops of his parsnip wine and that was it!. Mrs. Broadmeadow used to scold him when they had been in the garden and partaken of a few samples. There were some very good and kind people in those days. After several weeks of hard study the course came to an end and I waited patiently for the results of the exams. I came third on the course and was passed out as an A.C.1. Fitter 11E.
We had enjoyed our stay and were very sad to leave such a lovely old couple, promising to keep in touch.
I had then moved into the highest pay group in the
R.A.F. and this increase came in very useful.
I looked for the postings at S.H.Q. and found that I had been posted to 48 M.U. at Hawarden. Where the heck was that! We had to travel across country making several changes until we reached Chester, and from there on a side line to Hawarden, (pronounced Arden.) We found out that it had been the home of Gladstone, and his family still lived in the area. Before I had to report to the Aerodrome I had to find new digs, but this proved to be very difficult. Apparently the Aerodrome did not have any sleeping quarters at all and all the personnel were billeted out in the surrounding villages. I started at one end of the village and enquired at every house without success. No one wanted a married couple, they all had one or two airmen billeted on them and did not have any spare rooms to let. I began to despair of ever finding anywhere to go and did not know what to do and it was getting dark. In desperation I knocked at the door of a little terraced house at the side of a railway bridge and a little woman came to the door wiping her hands on her apron. She was not very helpful at first, explaining that she only had enough bedrooms for her own family. I explained to her that I was getting desperate to find somewhere for my Wife to sleep for that night which would enable me to try again the next morning. The ladies name was Mrs.Ivy Booth, and she invited us in for a cup of tea, and explained that if we could manage for the night and sleep on a single four foot bed, she would make arrangements for her small son to sleep on a couch. I thanked her and told her how grateful we were. Vi helped her to change the linen on the bed and we soon went to sleep, both feeling very tired after all their travelling. In the morning Mrs.Booth鈥檚 husband arrived from work. His name was Tom and he was a baker at the local Co-op. He stuttered a lot and was very difficult to understand at first, but they turned out to be the two most kind people in Hawarden. There was only a cooking stove and oven in the fireplace and there was always a large kettle on the boil all the time. All the meals had to be cooked on this stove. The next day I tried all around the villages to get digs, without any result and began to despair of finding anywhere for us to stay. I could get a compulsory billet for myself but no place for my Wife. When I went back to Ivy and Tom and explained the situation they kindly offered to let us stay with them if we could manage until we could find somewIre else. It was very cramped and hard for Vi to get used to, but Ivy was so kind that we all managed to have a laugh about it, and the great thing was that we were together. Tom liked a drink and as the pubs were shut on a Sunday in Wales he took me into the Conservative club and enrolled me as a member. Tom had a fine singing voice and as everyone knew him and were very friendly we had some lovely nights listening to all the singing. There were always plenty of R.A.F. blokes in the club and I made many friends. I soon got settled in the maintenance unit and worked hard. I got on very well with the Flight Sergeant who was in charge and soon got promoted to L.A.C. Vi and I started to save two shillings and sixpence each week at the Post Office in a savings book, hopefully to try and buy a house when the war was over! I cycled from the digs to the aerodrome each morning booking in at the guardroom and I had to leave my bike there before walking to the flight. There was a consignment of brand new American Liberator aircraft arriving on which we had to do all the mods before they were assigned to the squadrons.
I was very surprised when I had brought one of these aircraft into a dispersal and on opening the hatch and placing the ladder in position for the pilot to climb down, to see a very small young lady descend who was indeed the ferry pilot. This extremely large four engined aircraft flown in by such a diminutive person! These American kites were an eye opener. They each had a complete tool kit the like of which had never been seen before. In a very large metal toolcase there were ratchet and box spanners, screwdrivers and tools to cover every adjustment needed. They were all chrome plated and Chiefy made sure that these were all locked up in his office to be sent with the aircraft when it left. We had to make do with our old bent tommy bars and rusty box spanners. One day when one of these Liberators had been completed with all its mods and the new Boulton and Paul Gun Turrets fitted, a Canadian Pilot came into the office to take it up for its air test. He asked if someone could give him the lowdown on the controls etc. as he had never flown a Liberator bomber before. He was an ex Spitfire pilot who had completed his tour of ops and during his rest period it had been suggested that he might like to do some air tests on larger aircraft. Chiefy said that as I had been working on that aircraft then I should go up with the kite on air test. I was delighted. Everything went O.K. and when I had shown the Pilot how to start the engines and the various controls, off we taxied and were soon airborne. I showed the Pilot how to feather the props and stop each engine in turn and we started to enjoy the flight. Suddenly the sky went dark and it started to snow very heavily. We soon lost sight of the ground and also lost our bearings. The weather had taken a turn for the worst and the Pilot said that we had better make for home, but that he hadn鈥檛 a clue as to where we were, and we had no radio contact at all. He decided to fly lower in order to try and find some landmark that we could recognise. Suddenly there loomed up out of the darkness the tall chimneys of the John Summer鈥檚 Iron works and we then knew where we were. Down went the undercarriage and we made our approach to the aerodrome. The Pilot being strange to the aircraft, hadn鈥檛 given enough flaps to slow us down sufficiently and we were going too fast for the short runway. We hit the runway with a resounding crash. The front nose wheel collapsed, then the Pilot raised the undercarriage and the aircraft belly landed with a horrible scraping sound. He switched off all the engines, pressed the fire extinguishers and then we high tailed it out of the cockpit, sliding down the wing on to terra firmer and ran away from the aircraft as fast as we could. The fire engines had arrived by then and we got a lift back to the flight office where the Squadron Engineer Officer was not too pleased with the Pilot. The Pilot had to make out his report and we never saw him again. All that work that had been done was wasted and the aircraft was lifted and towed into one of the hangars where new engines, props and undercarriage had to be ordered from America which put that aircraft out of service for a long time. I gave flying a miss for a few weeks after that.


The Vickers Wellington Factory was just across the aerodrome and each day another new Wimpy taxied across, for hem to complete the R.A.F. Mods to it and for the Armourers to fit the twin guns to each turret, fit bomb racks to the bomb bays and for the radio equipment to be installed. It was nice to see everything new before they were flown away to the various squadrons. They worked six and a half days each week with a rosta for the half day and time passed very quickly and interestingly. They often had some very strange aircraft land for different mods to be done to them. I had specialised on Rolls Royce Merlin engines and always got any Hurricanes or Spitfires to work on when any arrived. They seemed like toys after the Liberators, and Wimpy鈥檚. One day after I had signed the Form 700 for the kite that I had completed my D.I. on, there was the Squadron Engineer Officer in the office who asked me to try on a glove that was on the table. This I did and I was then asked to try the other one on, then the Officer lifted a crash helmet from the floor and said 鈥淭ry this on for size鈥�. Then 鈥淭ake this parcel down to the village and post it for me鈥�. 鈥淭here is a Triumph motorcycle outside, use it and be careful.鈥� I did as I was told and carefully drove this motorbike and completed the errand, experimenting with the gears as I became more familiar with the bike, which was the first time that I had ever driven one. When I arrived back at the flight office and reported to the Officer that it was all O.K. This Officer then said 鈥淎ll right Rusz now you can go to S.H.Q. and get yourself a license, you will come in handy!鈥� That is how I got my first license and I never had any instruction or passed any driving test and later when I was demobbed I got a civvy license without any trouble. After getting my license I drove tractors, motor bikes with sidecars, motor cars, vans, lorries, petrol bowsers, fire engines, cranes and even went on a course to taxi aircraft from dispersals. One of the worst jobs was when they asked me to drive a Fordson Crane that was a conversion from one of the Barrage Balloon set ups, in order to install a new engine in a kite. The controls were not very accurate and to lift or lower an engine an inch or two to enable the fitter to get the engine between the bearers and place the bolts in position was very tricky. One day the M.T.yard phoned up to enquire if I was available to deliver an old Thorneycroft open truck. It had a hand gear and hand clutch arrangement but I managed to get it delivered in one piece.
Sometimes on my half day, Vi and I would go to into Chester on the bus and do a bit of shopping and have a nice walk around this quaint walled town. Hawarden was a very quiet village but it had some lovely walks around the countryside. Tom the landlord who was the Co-op baker often brought home bags of sugar, flour, cooking fats and butter which helped their rations very much. On some half days I went for a cycle ride to the outlying villages and look in the windows of the local sweetshops for adverts which were on cards, for motorbikes for sale. The first one that I saw was for a Velocette for 拢5. I went to the address to see it and found that the frame down tube was split. When I pointed this out to the woman who was selling it, and she saw that I was in the R.A.F. services, she said that if it was any good, then I could have it. She just wanted to get rid of it. I made arrangements to collect it on my next half day off, and went into the M.T.Yard and enquired of the Sergeant if he wanted any vehicles road tested. There was a Fordson truck the Sergeant said, that had had new brakes fitted and I took this truck, road tested it and collected the Velocette on my way back. One good turn deserved another! I dismantled this bike and took the frame to the workshops where for a drink I got the downtube welded together. I overhauled the engine and soon had the Velocette running as sweet as a nut. I taxed and insured it and got a petrol ration book, and started to use it to go down to the Aerodrome, where I had to book into the guardroom and leave the bike in the compound alongside.
A few weeks later, on a similar jaunt I bought a very nice Triumph 250 for another 拢5. which I renovated with the idea of selling it at a profit. I tried it out one morning driving down to the aerodrome and after parking it in the compound I was stopped by a civvy who asked me if I could let him have a fag. I opened my haversack where I had put my week鈥檚 chocolate and cigarette rations, and handed this civvy the pack of cigs. He took one out of the pack and went to hand it back to me. I told this civvy that I did not smoke and that he was welcome to the pack. He thanked me and then went on to work. When I came to the guardroom to sign out that evening I noticed that the petrol tank was all wet. I wiped my finger on it and smelt it, and it was petrol alright. I thought that someone had siphoned my petrol, but when I unscrewed the cap, the tank was brimming full ! I high tailed it back to my digs, and I had kept a couple of old cellulose cans that I had cleaned out and into which I saved any drops of petrol that I could scrounge. I siphoned out from the tank as much petrol as I wanted, leaving sufficient for my trips to the aerodrome. When I went on duty the next morning I saw this same civvy leaning on the fence and bid him good morning. This Civvy replied 鈥淲as the Bike alright then?鈥� I twigged what was on, and when this Civvy told me that he was in charge of the civvy works transport used on the station, I then gave him the rest of my cigarette rations and promised him that he would have the same each week. I was never short of petrol after that. When I told him that I had another motor bike which I wanted to sell, this civvy said that he would probably be able to sell it for me. We fixed a price of twenty five pounds and he sold this Velocette for me. This showed me a gross profit of twenty pounds. Not bad. I was lucky enough to do this exercise on three other old bikes that I managed to buy and renovate.
One motor bike that I had bought had a big end gone but when I stripped the engine down I managed to grind off the two shoulders of the con rod until it was tight on the crankshaft and then with a little bit of grinding paste and a bit of elbow grease I soon had it nice and tight but free. Ivy and Tom were very good about my messing about with these bikes when sometimes I had two or three on the go.
With the various types of aircraft that flew into the M.U. I did a lot of flying when they were air tested. We never took parachutes but only a small rubber cushion which fitted into the metal bucket seats. Whilst at that M.U. over a period of time I flew in a Tiger Moth, a Westland Lysander, where you sat facing the tail of the plane, Liberators, a Handley Page Hampden which was a queer looking plane which had a very narrow body and was nicknamed the Flying Suitcase, many Vickers Wellingtons named Wimpy鈥檚, and once in a Short Stirling four engined bomber which when on the ground looked as if it was on stilts, it had a very high undercarriage. One day a Supermarine Walrus and a Fairey Albacore landed but they stayed only a short while for refuelling and all I managed to do was to start up the engines for the Pilot. Then there were the brand new Blackburn Botha medium range bombers, which were a high wing monoplane. These came in for modifications and then we flew with them to the Isle of Man and Anglesey where they were not put into service, but just mothballed and put into storage for the time being. Later on during the one thousand bomber raids on Berlin, a squadron had been formed of Czech airmen and they had been given all these Botha鈥檚 to take part in those raids. Not very many came back, the Botha鈥檚 ceiling was very low and they were a good target for the enemy ack ack.
The flight Fitter 11E Sergeant was posted away and I was recommended for promotion to Sergeant to take his place. This was posted up in D.R.O鈥檚 and I got my sets of three stripes for Vi to sew on to my Uniform jackets. My pay was increased for which I was duly thankful. Accordingly my Flight Sergeant organised a night out at the Conservative Club to celebrate my promotion. Vi and I were a bit late getting to the club, and when we arrived the blokes had already ordered and placed on a big table a large number of pint bottles of Mackesons Milk Stout. The old Joanner (piano) was soon in action and we all had a right merry evening. When time was called we all trouped out of the club and my fellow Fitter 11A Sergeant had an old Austin seven which into and onto we all tried to get. Some were even hanging on the side but these were soon dropped off as they arrived at their billets. Tom was singing at the top of his voice as we went back to our house and Ivy said that they should have plenty of black coffee. Tom wanted to carry on drinking but Ivy packed him off to bed and Vi helped me to get undressed and also into bed where I was soon sound asleep. BUT....I woke up at about two o鈥檆lock and felt that I was dying. Feeling very sick I staggered down to the outside loo which was at the bottom of the garden at the side of the railway line. There I stayed until it was nearly daybreak. 鈥淣ever again鈥� I said. I had a very poor attempt at shaving and put my uniform on, no breakfast and off to duty I went. When I arrived at the flight office, Chiefy took one look at me and said 鈥淵ou look like death warmed up, you had better make yourself scarce, you certainly are not fit to be around aircraft.鈥� I remembered that in one of the hangars there were stowed a quantity of bundles of camouflage netting and off I went and climbed on top of the pile of these bundles and laid down and fell asleep. When I awoke it was all dark and I couldn鈥檛 make out where I was. I then realised what had happened and I slid down off the bundles and tried to get out of the hangar. But everything had been locked up for the night and I began to panic. Finally I managed to get a toilet window open and climbed up on to the sink and got out. I made my way to the guardroom to book out and the S.P.鈥檚 looked at me rather strangely but accepted my statement that I had to finish a particular job in the office, and as I was a senior N.C.O. they did not pass any comment. Vi had been worried about me as she knew that the aerodrome did not work at nights and she was very pleased to see me wjen I walked in. I said that I never wanted to see a bottle of Mackeson鈥檚 milk stout again. As a Senior N.C.O. life became slightly easier, I had more supervision to carry out and did not get my hands so dirty. I had some leave due and we decided to go back to London and see our parents. I was running a Triumph 350 motor bike at the time and had made a couple of pannier bags out of some rexine in which I could carry two cans of my wangled petrol, and some paraffin which was not rationed. I filled the carburettor with neat petrol in order to get the engine started and nice and hot and then switched over to the paraffin and petrol mixture which gave out clouds of smoke. It was a wonder I wasn鈥檛 pinched for polluting the atmosphere! All went well with our trip until we got to Dunstable when the back tyre got a puncture. At the side of the road I had to take the wheel out of the forks and repair the puncture, and I got myself nicely mucked up with grease from the chain. As soon as they had restarted there was an air raid warning, and a Policeman stopped us and we had to go into a shelter. I was worried about my cans of petrol and paraffin but the Copper didn鈥檛 take any notice, perhaps because I was in Uniform. We got home to Charlton O.K. but that night there was a terrific air raid and we all went down to the shelter. I couldn鈥檛 stand it in the shelter and I asked Vi to go back to bed with me. Just as we turned a corner the was an almighty crash and a flash and we nearly jumped out of our skins. It was a mobile ack ack gun going around the streets firing as it went.
The next day we travelled to Gillingham to see my Mum and Dad. We had a good journey back and were thankful to get back to the peace and quiet of Hawarden. When we looked back it was quite an adventure to go all that way on an old motor bike and a mixture of Petrol and paraffin as fuel. I thought that Vi had been very brave to go with me and sit all that way on the pillion. I had to decoke the engine after that jaunt.
On another half day we went for a ride over the Denbigh Moors and lost our way. Obviously there weren鈥檛 any sign posts in those days and I only had an old paper map. I stopped at an old cottage and enquired if they could direct me back to Hawarden, or Chester. They could not understand me, and when I asked if we were near to Cerrig-y-Drudion they laughed at my pronunciation and showed me on my old map where we were.
During October 1941, Vi announced that she was pregnant, and we had to start making plans as to what to do for the best. It was obvious that we could not stay with Tom and Ivy. There was just not enough room and certainly not enough room on the four foot bed for a pregnant Vi and me! Ivy also was having another baby. It must have been the Welsh air. After much searching around the villages I managed to get rooms at a village called Mancot and Vi decided to have our baby in the Mancot Hospital. That was where our first baby was born in Wales, a Taffy. She was a lovely bouncing girl and we named her Yvonne. Unfortunately Vi developed an abcess in her breast and she did not want to stop in Chester Hospital, so she decided to go home to her Mother鈥檚 at Charlton. She had an operation in the Woolwich 鈥榃ar Memorial鈥� hospital and had treatment there for over three months. She had an awful journey when she went home from Hawarden. I could not get any leave to go with her. She had to stand in the corridor with Yvonne in her arms all the way from Chester, until a coloured gentleman came out from a carriage and offered her his seat. Vi鈥檚 mother met her at Paddington Station, to take her home to Charlton.
During my half day, I cycled out to a neighbouring farm to enquire if the farmer could spare a few eggs, if I did some work for him. He agreed and I drove his tractor helping him with the farmwork. When it was time for me to pack up, the farmer offered me half a dozen eggs and paid me for the work that I had done, and said that I could help him out any time that I could get off. I wrapped up these eggs very carefully in lots of newspaper and put them in a box and posted them off to Vi. She wrote to me and said that they had arrived quite safely. I spent quite a lot of any spare time that I had, working for this farmer and repeated the egg posting operation. One day when I had finished work on the farm the farmer told me to go up to the barn and he myself to any eggs that I could find there. I noticed a tyre poking out of a bale of straw, which when it was moved, it exposed a motor bike underneath all the straw. When I went back to my farmer friend and told him what I had found, he farmer said that it was an old bike that he used to drive around many years before the war but that it had not been used for the last six or seven years. He asked me if it was any good to me and when I asked him how much he wanted for it he said that I could have it, and perhaps do a few afternoons work for it. He let me keep it in the barn whilst I worked on it and I soon had it polished and cleaned and after cleaning the carburettor and the plug I began to turn the engine over, when it kicked back at him and it was soon roaring away with bags of smoke everywhere which soon cleared and was purring away like a good 鈥榰n. It turned out to be a 1929 New Hudson, and being under the straw it had been well preserved and the chrome and the enamel was in excellent condition. I
soon sold my Triumph bike to my civvy friend for twenty five pounds and kept the New Hudson for my own use each day.
I managed to buy and repair several push bikes as well as motor bikes and sold them to some of the Officers on the station and got quite a good name for repairing their cars as well. One Officer in particular who owned a Flying Standard 12 that I tuned up for him, asked me if I could get him some spare petrol as he was going up to Smoke (London) for a few days leave. I said that I could probably get him some petrol, and if he would speak to my C.O. and wangle me a couple of days pass, could I go with him? This was arranged and my spare cans of petrol came in very useful as we hid the Standard behind the dispersal and filled up the tank and also put a spare can in the boot for the return journey. This officer dropped me at Wembley Underground and I soon made my way to Charlton and saw my Wife and my new Baby daughter. Whilst I was there I made arrangements for Vi and our daughter Yvonne, to go back to Mancot to stay with me. I had arranged with my landlady to rent the front room and a bedroom. I had bought a secondhand cot and pram and patiently waited for my wife to get well enough to travel. I saved up my leave until that time came about. I went by train down to London and brought them back to Mancot where we spent many happy days together. But one day I was called to S.H.Q. and received the dreaded news that I was up for an immediate posting abroad. Things had not been working out too well in our digs. Whilst Yvonne our baby, had been in her cot close to the wall she had been busy picking the wallpaper, which did look a mess when she had finished with it. Also Vi had put the fireside chair too close to the electric fire and burnt the side of it. The landlady was not too pleased with me and it was obvious that we had outstayed our welcome. I managed to get some rexine and recovered the fireside chair, but the wallpaper was beyond repair. This posting decided our next move. We had had an offer from my sister Nance, for Vi and Yvonne to go and live with her at her Bungalow in Rainham in Kent, and this we decided thought was the best thing to do. I had two motor bikes in the throes of reconditioning which I hurriedly put back together and once again my civvy friend at the aerodrome came to my rescue and we did a deal and he got rid of the last of my motor bikes. I then chased around to get my clearance certificate completed and had to go to the sick bay to have my innoculations and vaccinations, and hopefully thought that I would get a couple of days leave to go with Vi and my daughter to Rainham. This was not to be, it was an immediate posting abroad and from the amount of innoculations that I received I guessed that it was for the Far East. I went to bed that night completely exhausted and fed up to the teeth at the thought of not seeing my wife and baby again for a considerable time. I woke up at about five o鈥檆lock the next morning, and as I went to get out of bed the room spun round and I went out like a light. Vi got the landlady to phone the aerodrome guardroom to organise an ambulance for me and I was carted off to Mancot Hospital where I was out cold for nearly twenty four hours. They diagnosed that I had Vaccine Fever, but after a few days in hospital with treatment I soon was up and about. Vi got my uniform and things and I went back to report to S.H.Q. There I found out that I had been taken off that posting and placed on P.W.R. for the next posting that came up. I managed to get two days sick leave and helped Vi to pack up our few belongings and with the cot, pram and a couple of suitcases we travelled to my sister鈥檚 home in Rainham.

That night I got my first taste of Buzz bombs. I was standing out in the garden when there was an awful racket and just overhead missing the chimney stack by a couple of feet flew what looked like a small aeroplane with flames belching out the back of it and the noise was terrific. It went on its way to London. It was very frightening and I had not heard anything like it before. I began to worry that I had not done the wisest thing in bringing my family to buzz bomb alley, but there had been no alternative. I made my way back to the R.A.F.Station wondering what was in store for me on the next posting.
A few days later I was summoned to S.H.Q. and got the news that I had been posted to 82.O.T.U. which was an Officer鈥檚 Training unit near Nottingham on Armstrong Whitworth Whitley Bombers. There it was nearly all night flying duty, but that was not too bad as when flying finished usually early in the morning, after a kip, nearly all the next day was free, until reporting for duty in the late afternoon to check the kites for serviceability. It was there that I met Flt.Sergeant Denman with whom I shared a billet, and he owned a Leather retail shop in Leicester before he came into the R.A.F. He showed me how to make handbags and purses from Skivers that he had sent to him from his shop. At first I helped him to fulfil his orders and then he suggested that I might like to make some and sell them myself. The first one that I made, with a purse to match I sent to Vi, which pleased her very much. There was never any shortage of orders from the Officers and we sold these bags for Fifty bob a time. There was good profit in this venture and we both enjoyed the work, which passed the time away. We had to make sure that everything was cleared and hidden away in the billet, when the C.O.鈥檚 inspection time arrived. One day a Flight Leiutenant asked me to make him a handbag in an imitation crocodile skin as a wedding present for his fiance. He was very pleased with it when I gave it to him and off he went on leave on his honeymoon. When he returned after his leave, I asked him, 鈥� How was the old bag then Sir?鈥� There was a deathly silence in the office at my terrific 鈥榝aux pas鈥�, but everyone saw the funny side of it and they all laughed as I explained my cockney expression.
One night when I was driving a tractor around the dispersals to see if all the kites were ready for take off, in my rather dim headlights I picked out a Pilot officer who had all his flying kit on, having a right good time with a Waaf who was spreadeagled on the tailplane of the Whitley. Talk about a quicky before flying! Good luck thought I.
From time to time there were chances to go away on training courses for repairing different components, and finding out any new developments on engines, and I always volunteered for any of these courses that came up. It was always an opportunity to get away from the station for a spell and helped to get another commendation on my record sheet. I went on a Hydromatic airscrew course at De Havillands in Edgware and also managed to get down to see Vi and Yvonne, the day after the course finished which was a bonus. Another course that I managed to wangle was a four day course on the engine turbo鈥檚 of Flying Fortresses, at Burtonwood. I was surprised at the general set up of this American Air Base, and even more so at the amount and quality of the grub that was served up in the canteens. The Americans were such a friendly lot and I was hard pushed to keep up with them on the drinking stakes as they all wanted to buy me a drink. As the bombing raids were stepped up, my squadron were asked to supply crews that were nearing the end of their training to take part in proper bombing raids and the old Whitleys were placed under a full bombing schedule. This increased our working hours as up till then we had been having it fairly cushy, but we felt that we were now part of the Bomber Command, and helping the war effort by bombing the enemy. It was good to see the armourers loading up the bombs in the bomb bays and getting the guns ready in the turrets. They were also closely involved when some of the aircraft did not return and we lost some of the crews who had become friends. The Whitleys were not the fastest of aircraft and they were gradually being replaced by the Short Stirling Bomber. It was whilst flying in a raid over Berlin that Vi鈥檚 brother Len was shot down whilst flying as a navigator in a Stirling Bomber and is buried in a cemetery near Berlin.

I was due for some leave, which coincided with my birthday and I had been looking forward to having this with my family. When I left the flight office in the Nissen hut on my last day of duty one of the Canadian aircrew gave me a small parcel and wished me a happy birthday. I put this in my haversack and got a lift to Crewe station where it turned out to be a very nasty night pouring with rain and quite cold.
I had to wait over an hour for my train so I opened my birthday parcel to find, a very nice pipe and a large tin of a Canadian brand of tobacco. This was a very nice and kind thought but I had never smoked in my life. However it was cold and miserable so I went to the station cafe and bought a box of matches and proceeded to try and light this pipe. I was not too successful in getting the pipe alight very well and after a time I felt quite sick and the station seemed to be going round and round. I sat down and thought that pipe smoking was not for me so I put it all back into my haversack and later on my brother who was a heavy smoker got the benefit of that present. I had a nice leave and enjoyed my stay with my family at Rainham, but was very sad when my leave was up.
I thought that I was nicely settled at Whitchurch but when I got back to the station, I had to report to S.H.Q. and received another posting which was to R.A.F. Whyton. This was a Mosquito bomber station in number 8 Pathfinder Force. The Commanding Officer was Air Vice Marshal Bennett and the Aerodrome was a permanent brick built station with proper living quarters. I had a room to myself and there was a soft mattress on the bed and real sheets and a pillow case on a proper pillow. Real luxury at last. The Sergeants Mess had a proper bar, and real tables and soft cushioned chairs in the dining room. I thought that I was going to like this posting ! I was assigned to 鈥楢鈥� flight and my new chiefy was an old regular who would not stand any nonsense but was a very fair and likeable man. He introduced me to my team of flight mechanics who seemed a good bunch of blokes. The aircraft were De Havilland Mosquito Bombers with two Merlin water cooled engines that carried one block buster bomb that filled theI oversized bomb bay. This bomb looked like an overgrown beer can and had a thin skin that concealed its deadly contents. The Mozzie was made completely of Balsa wood and many an aircraft returned from a sortie with so many bullet holes in the wings and fuselage that it looked like a colander. We soon had the holes plugged and the aircraft made serviceabe again. The Mozzie could take any amount of punishment and could fly back on one engine. All the crews loved the Mozzie which flew at 325 m.p.h. at 13,000 feet and had a ceiling of 33,000 feet. On their drome we also had a flight of Photo-reconnaissance Mozzies with special equipment and cameras fitted in the bomb bays. Our squadron was used as the Path Finders lighting up the way to the target with parachute flares and dropping their block busters to start the fires to show the way for the heavy Lancaster bombers to follow and complete the job. One evening when night flying had been cancelled and I was on late duty the phone rang and it was Air Vice Marshal Bennett. 鈥淕et 鈥楢鈥� for 鈥楢pple鈥� ready for a test flight Sergeant鈥� He told me 鈥淎nd bring it over to S.H.Q.鈥� I replied 鈥淚 am afraid that all the ground staff have finished their duty and and left the flight, and I have no one available Sir,鈥� wishing him further as all the kites had been covered up on the dispersals. 鈥淒o not argue with me Sergeant, get it done.鈥� Bennet said. So I had to do it myself. I had to ride over to the 鈥淎鈥� dispersal, get a tractor started up and hook on the tow bar and uncover the kite and tow it over to S.H.Q. where Bennett was waiting. I placed the chocks in place and climbed up into the cockpit and started the engines for his 鈥淟ordship鈥�. 鈥淲ell, you might as well come with me鈥� , Bennett said and so I pulled the chocks away and climbed up beside him and closed the hatch. Bennet accelerated away straight across the drome ignoring the runway. What you can do when you are the guvnor! We were soon up to ten thousand feet when Bennett asked me if I had ever flown upside down or done a barrel roll. 鈥淣o Sir鈥� I told him, and immediately the Mozzie started to turn and we were soon flying upside down. It was uncanny to look down through the bomb aimers panel and see the sky and clouds and to look up through the cockpit roof and see the ground swiftly moving past. Straight into a barrel roll and I could not move my legs or feet, I felt a terrific pressure holding me down on to my seat. What an experience. 鈥淵ou O.K.鈥� Bennett asked. I told him that it was great and he smiled. When we landed I expected him to at least taxi the kite into the dispersal, but No! Bennett taxied it to outside the S.H.Q. and after I climbed down and placed the ladder for Bennett to get out he said 鈥淕oodnight鈥� and walked away, leaving me to tow the kite back to dispersal and cover it up for the night. When I got to the mess the kitchen had closed and I had to go to the Naafi to get a cup of char and a wad.
Later that same night, flying control called me out again, a Lancaster in landing had gone off the runway. The crew had got out of the kite and left it. Again I had to get a tractor and tow bar and drive around until I found the Lanc, then climb up into the cockpit, release the brakes and tow it out the same way that they had bogged it. Luckily the Lanc towed across the grass O.K. and I started driving around the perimeter. The next thing that I remembered was waking up with a jolt to find that I was heading off the perimeter straight towards some trees behind the dispersal. I had fallen asleep behind the wheel of the tractor towing this dirty great Lanc! I was glad to get the Lanc on to a dispersal and chock it up and report back to Flying control that all was in order. That was a night that I would never forget. Another time when I was on night flying duty and I had been involved in the thirty six nights鈥� consecutive bombing of Berlin that I fell asleep whilst standing up against the flight office door jamb. We all used to consume pints of cocoa each night brought to us from the cookhouse by a duty WAAF. Another night when night flying had finished and all the aircraft had been accounted for and covered up and the Pilots鈥� had signed the Form 700鈥檚, I thankfully locked the flight office door and climbed into the duty lorry for the WAAF driver to take me back to S.H.Q. I was dozing off when the lorry stopped and the driver switched off the motor, I said 鈥淲hat鈥檚 up鈥�, and the W.A.A.F replied 鈥淲ell don鈥檛 you want a bit of the other!鈥� 鈥淣o thanks鈥� I replied 鈥� I am so tired that I don鈥檛 think that I could even undo my fly buttons鈥�. What a waste!
I found out later that she was called the duty bike as everybody rode her.
During this period of heavy bombing we hardly ever took our clothes off, we were always on call, all leave was cancelled and the toll on the crews and the kites was pretty heavy. One particular incident came to mind when the kite flown by Flt.Lieutenant Baker did not return and we surmised that he and his navigator had bought it.(he.e. shot down)
About ten weeks later though, he walked sprightly into the flight office as large as life and told of his experiences.

They were flying over France towards the Ruhr when heavy Flak hit their Aircraft. The next thing that he remembered was falling through the air still sitting in his bucket seat. He pulled the rip cord on his chute and floated down to earth. He never found his Navigator, and he set about burying his chute and any other gear that might be of use to the enemy. He decided to rest until it was light enough to get his bearings. He heard a commotion and three men appeared and challenged him. 鈥滱nglais?鈥� 鈥淥ui Oui R.A.F.鈥� He were taken to a farmhouse and looked after and later he was transported to the coast and with two other R.A.F. crews they were ferried across the channel. After being interrogated and having a medical he made his way back to our squadron. He later heard that his Navigator had been killed. Legend were many other stories that were told in the mess and discussed at length over a pint of wallop. One day after night flying was finished and one of the kites had over-run the runway, complete with a block buster in the bomb bay, a volunteer was asked to drive a Coles crane and tow the kite away from the flight path. I was the ordered volunteer. I completed the job O.K. and the kite was pulled away from the line of the flight path. The next job was for the riggers to lift the aircraft with air bags, and pump down the undercarriage. The bomb doors were then managed to be forced open and the armourers defused the bomb which luckily had not split or been damaged. The kite was then towed into a hangar and work commenced straight away to remove the props and engines and repair the damage to the bomb bays and belly of the aircraft. We got a new replacement aircraft the next day. The very structure of the 鈥楳ozzy鈥� being made of balsa wood enabled a tremendous amount of repair work to be done and when a kite returned with bullet or flak holes all over it, it was a fairly simple job to repair the damage. Minor repairs were carried out on the dispersal but in the winter it was a rotten cold job. When working out on the dispersals we were dressed up like 鈥楳ummies鈥�. Pullovers, overcoats. Ballaclavas, scarves and leather jerkings were the order of the day, and the Sally Army Tea wagon was always very welcome. I was very lucky being a senior N.C.O. as I had a nice warm billet to come back to, after my duties were finished.
I was in the S.H.Q Block, and the Naafi was not far away, also the dining room was in the same block. I liked flying in our Mozzies when any of them went up on air test and one day when we were flying over the North Sea the pilot said that there was a Heinkle in the distance on the starboard side. Our Mozzie bombers did not have any guns at all so we high tailed it back to base at nearly four hundred miles an hour soon leaving the enemy behind.
My mother wrote telling me that a house a few doors from where she lived in Gillingham, was up for sale at 拢850 freehold including all carpets, curtains and fittings and with vacant possession. My sister Nance had enquired at the Isle of Thanet Building Society who said that they would give meim a mortgage at two and a quarter per cent with a ten per cent deposit, which Nance said that she and Jim would loan to me and Vi. I had to go to my C.O. to get him to sign the forms and everything was completed very quickly. I got special compassionate leave and soon organised the removal of the bits and pieces of furniture that we had left, and it was a very happy time when we moved into our new home. I now felt that I had something to look forward to and went back to my squadron feeling much happier.
The war had been dragging on for nearly six years and I longed for the day when it would all be over and I could get back to civvy street.

When I got back to my flight there was great excitement. All leave was cancelled and rumours were flying around that 鈥楧鈥� Day had started.
Allied troops had landed in France, and the German Army was in retreat. There were rumours going around that an armistice was being talked about, the news about Hitler and his Reichstag were being broadcast but when the good news finally came, that the war was finally over it didn鈥檛 really sink in, and it all seemed to be a bit of an anti-climax.
All the aircrews were put on standby and many of them came over to the flight office and every one was really happy, laughing and joking. Our Flight Sergeant was very much down to earth however and said to the erks 鈥淎re all your D.I鈥檚 completed and signed up? If not, get out there and finish your jobs, there is still another war going on which has to be won.鈥� This was very true and it made us wonder if and when we would all be transferred to the Far East.
There was quite a celebration in the mess that night and many of the members went a bit over the top but it was all excused and it was back to work as usual the next morning.
The new Lincoln bomber had been developed from the old Avro Lancaster and these were to be used as transport for the personnel to the Far East. We were all given extra intensive weapon training for the capture and re-furbishment of the enemy held aerodromes. Everyone was put on standby and all leave was cancelled.
Days of waiting followed but then came the news that Hiroshima had been 鈥楬鈥� bombed with complete devastation and thousands of Japanese had been killed. It was terrible, but soon after came the news that we had all been waiting for. The Japanese had capitulated and the war was finally over. It had been a terrible decision to use the 鈥楬鈥� Bomb but in the end it was said that it saved many Allied lives, and was justified in view of the many atrocities that had been committed by the Japanese Forces..
Lord Louis Mountbatten arranged to go to Singapore Island to sign the necessary documents for the Capitulation on behalf of the Allied Forces Every one was pleased that it was all over but could not really wind down to the fact, it seemed to leave an empty feeling. As many as possible were given leave on a rota system, but general discipline had to be maintained, guard duties and parades were still kept up. D.I鈥檚 were still carried out and all kites had to be kept in a fully serviceable condition.
Someone had a bright idea, ground crews were to be given an opportunity to fly over Germany and see the extent of the damage caused by the Allied bombing raids. A sort of Cook鈥檚 tour! Accordingly a couple of Lancs were transferred to our flight and lists were put up for the various tradesmen who wanted to go on these trips. I was one of the first to go and it was very interesting to fly over the Rhine and the cities that had been bombed and to see the damage that we had done. Our C.O. Wing Commander Ivor Broom wanted to take a Mozzie on a similar flight and I asked if I could go with him. I laid down on the bomb aimer鈥檚 panel and had even a better view than my trip in the Lanc. Our trip along the Rhine showed all the bridges that had been destroyed and I remembered my cycle tour in 1938 when I cruised down the river on a pleasure steamer. I asked Wing Commander Broom, on the way back if he could fly over the Chatham Dockyard, (talk about 鈥楥heek鈥�) where my Father was working. Sure enough we flew low over the Chatham Dockyard and apparently my father said that he had seen their Mosquito and wondered if I was in it.
Unfortunately a few weeks later I received a letter from Vi telling me that my Father had died whilst having an operation in hospital. I applied for compassionate leave. I had been looking forward to getting my demob and having some time with my Dad but it was not to be. I took charge of all the arrangements, including claiming the insurances after obtaining copies of the Death Certs and went up to London. My Mother had several policies with various companies and it was quite an experience to go round the various insurance offices. Nearly everybody was so helpful and expressed their sympathy until I had to go to the Prudential, which was in High Holborn. The elderly clerk who saw me had kept me waiting quite a long time, then started to try and sell me another insurance with the money that was due. I told him in no uncertain manner that I was on leave to help my Mother, and all that I wanted was the money that was due. This clerk then returned and handed me a cheque. I was flabbergasted and tore up the cheque and asked him where he thought I had a bank account and that I wanted the cash not a cheque. Away this clerk went with a flea in his ear and finally came back with the cash.
The next thing that was on the agenda was demobilisation. Everybody waited for the lists to be put up and when my name appeared, I was demob group number 26. It was about this time that we were asked about our previous employment in civvy street, and volunteers were asked for teaching any various trades that might be of use after demob. I put down that I could teach typing, and low and behold I was allocated a classroom and ten Imperial typewriters appeared on the scene. I was to give six one hour lessons each day and the first students were ten W.A.A.F鈥檚. Lucky me. I explained the various functions of the typewriter and tried to demonstrate touch typing, this went down quite well until one of the W.A.A.F鈥檚 asked me to demonstrate on her machine. I was quite rusty in operating the keys, and my fingers did not operate very well. 鈥淥h鈥� she said 鈥淒o you mean like this and she typed away about fifty words a minute. Was my face red! 鈥淥h good鈥� I said 鈥淭hen you can take over the class when I am not here.鈥� At the same time I had put my name down to go to a Building and Construction class, as I thought that there would be plenty of building to be done to replace and rebuild all the houses etc. that had been bombed. I bought a book that gave many illustrations of bricklaying and the different technical details of building which was to come in very useful later. Unfortunately I was not to finish the course as I was then surprisingly posted to take over an M.T.unit at Beaulieu in Hampshire.
I was not very happy about this as all I wanted was to stay put and await for my demob and I was very nicely installed in my billet at Whyton. I was worried that this might put back my demob being moved to a new station, but I could do nothing about it.
Once again I took my bike down to the station and booked it to be sent to Beaulieu. I duly arrived at my new depot and after settling in my new billet I went to see the M.T. Officer in charge, who told me to check the Inventory and sign it. I said that I would like to do a visual check first and made my way over to the M.T. yard. This station had been experimenting with dropping various items of transport by parachute and there were several jeeps and a couple of Motor Bikes that I saw, which were very badly smashed up, lying outside the M.T.yard. I made my way into the office and met the Duty Corporal. He explained the
set up of the section. I explained that I was there to take charge and check over the inventory and that I would like him to give me the low-down as I was not experienced in the ways of running an M.T.unit. This Corporal was very helpful and told me that the previous Sergeant who had been in charge was now in the Glasshouse. He had been arrested for stealing Government property. He told me that this Sergeant had a S.O.P. and that his home was in the nearby town. Apparently he was driving his car outside the camp on his way home, when he saw an officer, walking along the road. He stopped and asked the officer if he wanted a lift into town? The officer replied that he was only out for a stroll. The Sergeant had a trailer behind his car, and this officer enquired as to what the Sergeant had in the trailer. The Sergeant replied that it was only some old wood shelving that was for scrap. 鈥淗ave you a clearance chit for it鈥� the Officer asked. 鈥淣o Sir鈥� the Sergeant replied, 鈥淭hen you had better take me back to the guardroom and sort this out.鈥� When the officer found out that the Sergeant was in charge of the M.T.depot and that he had a S.O.P. he requested the S,P.鈥檚 to go to the Sergeant鈥檚 home and search the place. When this was done they found loads of R.A.F. equipment, motor spares, tyres etc. Accordingly the Sergeant was placed under arrest, court martialled and sentenced to six months in the Glasshouse. He was also reduced to the ranks as an AC2., and his demob group number put in abeyance. What a tragedy. He was a regular in the R.A.F. and was nearly ready for demob. When I found out about this, I was not very interested in taking over the Inventory without a complete stock check.
I would have been liable for any shortcomings. I was ready to get my clearance certificate, and I didn鈥檛 want any slip-ups or delay in getting my demob. With this in mind I began a thorough stock check, counting every nut, bolt, and washer in the bins. Some of the crashed vehicles outside had been cannibalised and tyres and parts were missing. I gathered that the previous Sergeant had taken these, thinking that they would not be missed and that he would be away and starting his own business in Civvy Street. He鈥檇 had it all worked out and would have probably got away with it except for being kind and offering that officer a lift. Strange how fate works. Anyway I took my time over this inventory check and although the M.T. Officer badgered me to sign over the Inventory, I kept stalling with the answer that I had not finished checking and that there were several items still missing that could not be traced. I kept out of his way, and made sure that I was always out on a road test or had to check a vehicle, which held up my stock check. After several weeks of this stalling, my demob group number came up. HOORAY !!.
I couldn鈥檛 get my clearance certificate fast enough. and when I had finally completed the various departments and had to get the final clearance from the M.T. officer, I entered his office very gingerly, I still had not signed the Inventory, but he was O.K. and wished me well in Civvy Street.
I never found out the outcome of the shortcomings of the stock Inventory. I couldn鈥檛 wait to get to S.H.Q. and get my railway pass to get to Uxbridge where I was to be demobbed, and to get my Civvy Street suit etc. When I arrived it was raining but going into the station I received a little more respect than when I had first gone there as a raw recruit, six years ago.
It was all very well organised, the tailor came up and told me what size suit and coat I required. I then had a choice and I picked out what I thought was a very nice brown pin stripe suit. A couple of try ons and I got my right size. I then picked out a heavy pair of brogue brown shoes, a pair of brown socks, and a light fawn raincoat. With a brown trilby to match I was all ready to go. Into the dressing room and I divested myself of my uniform which I packed into my kitbag. Out of the gates and after six years I finally said goodbye to my service career.
I saw a bus coming which slowed up getting near to the traffic lights, I ran towards it and grabbed the handrail, my foot slipped on the running board and down I went. I felt the platform edge scrape my shins and very painful it was.
I managed to lift myself up on to the platform, and I sat down on the nearest seat and surveyed the damage. One of the trouser legs of the suit was torn right up to the knee and blood was oozing out from my shin. The other trouser leg was also torn. So much for my new civvy suit! A woman sitting opposite me said 鈥淥h you poor dear, lets see if I can find you a safety pin鈥�. She then pinned up as best she could the torn trouser leg after I dried the blood on my leg with a handkerchief. I felt a right Charlie. On the tube I felt that everyone was looking at me as though I was a tramp but I had my R.A.F. kitbag so perhaps it was out of sympathy that they were looking at me. I managed to get a carriage to myself at London Bridge, but on the bus from Gillingham Station it was the same. 鈥淗ave an accident mate?鈥�

said the Conductor, 鈥淣o thanks鈥� I said 鈥淚鈥檝e just had one.鈥�
Vi was pleased to see me when I got home and we both had a good laugh over my suit. I thought that I had picked out a nice brown suit but when we saw it in natural daylight, instead of the fluorescent lighting that was at the demob centre, it turned out to be a dark shade of purple with blue stripes. It was beyond repair and it finished up in the rag bag. It was a wonderful feeling being at home with no thought of going back again, and we began to talk about the future and what we were going to do.
We decided to at least have a few days to relax before doing anything rash.
I finally decided to go back to the Underwood Company and see if I could get my old job back as an outside service mechanic, but that鈥檚 another story, which I have told in my autobiography.

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