大象传媒

In early 1941 my friend Len and I decided that we could not remain civilians and should join one of the main three forces, and after some discussion decided on the Navy. At this time I was working at the Standard Telephone Co. at Southgate, on the inspection of completed telephone exchange equipment. This type of work was considered to be important to the war effort, and as such I was told that the only way of getting into one of the services was to volunteer for aircrew. Len was accepted for service in the Navy, and was called up after a short period. I filled in the appropriate documents to join the R.A.F. as aircrew and was accepted in May, but was not called up until September that year. At the Selection Board I had to explain why I wanted to enlist, and what role I wished to be trained for. Most interviewees wanted to be fighter pilots, but I stated a preference to be a navigator. Most navigators finished up in Coastal Command or Bomber Command.

When called up I was told to report to Lords Cricket Ground for medical checks and issue of uniform. I think I was here for about three weeks. We had to subject ourselves to various inoculations, do a bit of drill, and maths tests, before being posted to an Initial Training Wing (ITW). The ITW to which I was sent was at Scarborough, and I was billeted in the Grand Hotel, a palatial place on the top of the cliffs in the town centre. These three or four weeks were spent here consisting of mainly drill practice on the beach, guard duty, and other activities which seemed to be quite irrelevant to aircrew duties. The next stage of our training was flying and for this I was sent to an aerodrome in Scotland near Scone. One could not go on to the next stage unless one "soloed" in less than 10 hours. In fact no-one was allowed to "solo" in the strict sense of the word. Trainees had to fly with their instructor, and if you made a few manoeuvres and landed safely without the instructor assisting in anyway you passed on to the next stage. I successfully completed this part of the training and was informed that the next phase would be in the Southern part of the USA, which turned out to be an airfield called Turner Field near Albany, Georgia.

The journey across the Atlantic in February 1942 was made in the hold of an ancient French cargo ship which had been fitted out with bunks and hammocks. We went across in convoy, and the trip took about 10 days. We disembarked at St.John's Newfoundland and were sent to a camp at Moncton. I can remember little of this except it was extremely cold, and that the price of a haircut was $4 Canadian at that time, equivalent to 拢1. An astronomical sum, bearing in mind the cost in the UK was 6d (2 1/2p). After a few weeks a small group of us were sent off to Turner Field, on a long but comfortable train journey. It was not until this stage I realized I was on a pilot's course. I remember arriving at the camp which was a large site, in warm weather. We did not wear R.A.F. uniform but were issued with khaki American Army Aircorp uniforms. We were then subjected to two or three weeks of acclimatisation which comprised mainly sports and physical training. Archery was one of the sports available and this was the one I did best, and which seemed less energetic than most of the other activities.

The aircraft used for flying training was the Stearman, a more powerful and larger version of the Tiger Moth and the instructors were civilians. I don't think my heart was in this aspect of flying, I still felt I wanted to be navigator. However things worked out because I didn't successfully complete the course, although it was nothing to do with flying ability. It happened one evening, I went out with two or three others, I imagine we had quite a few beers, and I got separated from the others. I eventually found a taxi but did not arrive back at the camp until after permitted time. Knowing that this would be a disciplinary offence, and that I would in all probability be removed from the course, I decided to try and enter the camp by squeezing under the surrounding wire fence. During this operation I heard the sound of a rifle shot, lights were switched on, and I was caught. That was the end of my pilot training and I learnt that I would be sent to Canada on a navigator's course - so I was not particularly disappointed.

This story was entered onto The People's War website by Stuart Ross on behalf of Roy Smith, who fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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