大象传媒

After seeing a dozen aeroplanes up close at an Alan Cobham air display in a field outside our village in Surrey in 1934, flying had made very deep inroads into my brain. I was only 7 years old but the noisy and speedy antics of racy little biplanes that had perhaps been RAF fighters, was a sight to behold - and no mistake. Even a solo parachutist drew great gasps of excitement from the crowd, and, as the 'hero' of the day came oscillating back to earth, hundreds of people went running and rushing through a hedge and into another field to greet and touch the celebrity 'dare devil'. I was 'hooked' for not only did the planes then start racing around an allotted course of solid oak trees, but the oil fried air of those roaring radial engines really got up my nose.

Next air show to visit was at Kenley. Once a year was Open Day - Empire Air Day - and here were silver painted fighter planes by the dozen,. Squadrons of lovely biplanes with red white and blue tails and loads of fuselage decorations. All those lucky chaps enjoying their lives in a manner that equalled the birds; perhaps better than the birds for they could loop the loop and do barrel rolls, drop flour bag bombs and blaze away with a bunch of machine guns. I know birds can be noisy, but I've yet to see a cuckoo do a barrel roll.
There was also a large barrage balloon for me to go inside. It was a monster!! All grey/silver fabric with three whacking great ears. Built for defence against low flying aircraft, they could also lift things, and tower to great heights.

Next the Croydon commercial airliners. These could be seen daily flying over our nearby fields as they made for Paris and other exotic places. Again some were huge silver monsters called Handley Page 42s. They were thrilling to watch, while the purring four Bristol engines turned propellers big enough to call windmills. It was all too good to be true, and I longed for the day to have my share.
By the age of 12 years, modern fighters were being seen - the Hurricanes and Spitfires - and a War sat on the horizon of Europe. Then next year it was all GO, and the skies howled and banged to the sound of the Battle of Britain.
I was seeing more planes now than anyone could imagine today. Then when the allies were getting the upper hand, American aeroplanes joined in the 'big show'. Some days it's honest to say I saw a thousand aeroplanes - bombers with four engines at full power. 500 Flying Fortresses!! = 2,000 1,250 horse power engines shaking the house bricks and tiles of houses of southern England. Nine men to each plane = ? = work it out for yourself.

But now I was a teenager dying to enter the sky. So at 171/2 years I went off to join the army - The Parachute Regiment. It was January 1945; there was still time to get in the air at the Government's expence.

Into July and time to begin parachuting at Ringway, Manchester. Here was the Para Training School, and waiting to satisfy my eternal wish were thirty or forthy lovely Dakota troop transports - my favourite aeroplane. I could barely believe my luck!! All my hard training had paid off. But first I had to make two parachute jumps from the barrage balloons waiting at Tatten park. Here were three of the flimsy great jumbos last touched at Kenley air display.
But here we didn't go inside them, but climbed into a box cage swung beneath them, in which we drifted to 700 feet. It was terrifying!! I had never been higher than a tree before !! 'What - jump out!!' ( a nod from the Sergeant). 'GO!!!' and believe it or not I did. Flying in the sky at last. It was fantastic!! Then another balloon drop before climbing aboard Dakotas. At last my day had come. At 18 years and 2 months my 'dreams' were coming true.
Thank goodness for War. Three weeks later the WAR was over - would you believe it. But I didn't want to be killed, nor kill anyone. I didn't join to fight. They might have thought so, but I didn't. I just wanted to fly.

Up in a balloon boy, then a dear old DAK.

end? - never....

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