大象传媒

We were taken to Hassani airfield and shown where we would have to sleep. It was in an ancient canvas hanger. There were a few beds made of wicker like fishing traps. Most of the personnel were away and I recall that we were a bit of a nuisance at breakfast time the next day. There was a tent wherein a man was cooking some bacon and beans. He cooked some for us and wasn鈥檛 all that nice about it. I then learnt that he wasn鈥檛 a cook, he was an ex-apprentice airframe fitter of long service.
Now we fully expected to be employed, as there was a strange selection of aircraft on the airfield.
Hassani airfield was hard barren soil 鈥� brown and sandy. Blenhiems, Hurricanes and a few Greek Air Force craft 鈥� old Dorniers and other 鈥渇unny airplanes鈥� stood around. We could
not be allotted duties that day but we were split up to work with the small parties or repair teams of 53 R.S.U.
I went with a fatigue party to collect our tools from the docks. An air raid occurred whilst on this task so there was no lingering ~bout. During the few days before I left Hassani there was an air raid of some sort every few hours of daylight.
I went to Athens to see the sights. Oft times I have wished I had paid more attention and learnt more of the places and buildings. I was aware that these mountain tracks called 鈥淩oads鈥� had been trodden by the Gods of myth like Hercules and Diana. However, I did see the country before motorways replaced the old roads of Ancient Greece. Whilst visiting Pireaus one evening, there was a very severe air raid. The retsina wine 鈥� a cidery sour green liquid 鈥� we had been drinking had made me a bit forgetful. I鈥檓 told I was in the dock area when a Greek soldier dragged me into a shelter. He gave me a red blanket to keep warm and let me keep it. I kept it as long as I could. I gave it away later on, to an officer on Kythira island who slept near me in the olive grove. He had no blanket or cover.
I remember another occasion when we all went to the bistro or 鈥減ub鈥�. The next day I had a terrible headache. There was an air raid that morning but my head was so bad that I did not get off my 鈥渂ed鈥� to run away. I watched a Messerschmitt 110 make a strafing attack and I just hoped he wouldn鈥檛 pick the hanger I was sleeping in. From my bed just inside the door I watched him turn to attack but he squirted his cannons in some other direction then went away.
I don鈥檛 think I ever drank any more of that retsina stuff or the other poison called 鈥渙uzo鈥� that went white with water added. The Greek soldiers pay was so low 鈥� about two drachma a day. We were 鈥渕illionaires鈥� even though we only received about two pounds a week. One pound was about one hundred drachma. A hundred 鈥渄rachs鈥� bought the whole house drinks all round with change. The wine came in a tin mug, about half a pint, but one drank out of a glass. I think at one stage we drank straight out of the tin mug and were frowned upon.
Some days pass doing odd jobs and at last I was given a real job. This was to join the party of one Sgt. Wallis who was going
to an airfield to the north. It turned out to be the deserted airfield of Lamia. We were to repair or recover a Hurricane damaged by ACK ACK splinters.
I secretly thought it good to get away from Hassani which was beginning to get too well known to the German Air Force
I was the only member of the detachment from 54 R.S.U. in this party which consisted of Sgt. Wallis, a driver (who was a Palestinian in the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve as far as I remember), L.A.C. Pay and about three or four others. Their names I cannot remember. They were members of 53 R.S.U. and I did not have time to learn their names.
Aircraft that could not be repaired where they had landed were sometimes taken to an established base of an R.S.U. The established base was also of a very temporary nature. Tents served as workshops etc.
The ride up the mountain road north of Athens was, to me, a thrilling ride. The roads in those days were very narrow and rough, not much more than tracks through the hills. The scenery was breathtakingly magnificent.
Before reaching the airfield at Lamia we were stopped in a Greek village and told of an aircraft that had been shot down the day before. We found the burnt out remains of the crashed Hurricane and the body of one Pilot Officer Still. The only identification to be found was his name on the inside of his oxygen mask. He had many wounds that had not bled. I had picked up and handled dead bodies before and many since but I have never forgotten that day. P/O Still (Ginger) belonged to 33 Sqdn. but was flying with 80 Sqdn.
A Greek farmer was standing nearby; he had brought a spade with which he dug a shallow grave. We left the scene promising to stop on the way back.
We pressed on to Lamia airfield to find it deserted. Whatever British squadron had been there had left days before. A few Greek aircraft (old Dorniers etc.) stood about and we found the Hurricane we had come to repair or collect. It stood alone near some olive trees. It had severe 鈥渇lak鈥� damage to the fuselage but could be repaired at Hassani and rendered airworthy again.
That was the decision made by Sgt. Wallis. We set about
removing the main planes propeller to load on the flat topped articulator, we did this as quickly as possible to be off back to Hassani. The air stank of trouble and many ME 109s buzzed about.
As we worked two Messerschmitt 109s arrived. They circled and 鈥渟crutinised鈥� from the air. We tried to look as if we were not there by getting under the olive trees and staying still. They circled once then made several strafing runs at the other side of the airfield. We waited for our turn but they buzzed off.
There鈥檚 nothing like hostile 109s to speed up a job on an airfield. We worked like mad to get away. Before we had finished loading the fuselage of the Hurricane we had another visit by the Luftwaffe. This time four ME 109s. It seemed as though they had come especially to shoot us up. They did. Calmly circling the airfield they then came back line astern, out of the sun.
A Greek Blenhiem, an old Dornier and what looked like an old Avro Tutor were strafed and set alight.
We cringed under the olive trees waiting our turn. One hears the bullets smacking the ground or the target about a second or two before one hears the cannon.
鈥淒on鈥檛 move鈥� was the rule. The olive tree trunk is about 9, thick so one breathes out to feel thinner. The Luftwaffe knew very well that we hid in the olive trees. They strafed at random.
One wishes to look and see where the aircraft are, usually the attacking aircraft will come out of the sun. Even if one can see it coming it鈥檚 impossible to tell what he鈥檚 aiming to strafe. All one can do is cringe and hope. They made several attacks with very short bursts to preserve ammunition. Everything except our Hurricane was on fire or ruined by machine gun bullets.
Two Greeks in a gun pit kept banging away with a heavy cannon; it was something like an early anti-tank cannon. Unfortunately they had been seen and received the attention of one of the 109s. We could not believe that we had not been seen. Although we must have been visible those four pilots did not strafe our position. Perhaps they had not learnt by that time that our hiding place was under the few olive trees nearby.
Eventually they ran out of ammunition. Needless to say we finished loading our vehicles and got moving as fast as possible.
The airfield was littered with wrecked and still burning aircraft. Nothing could be done about it.
We stopped again at the site of the grave of P/O Still on our return journey. It was getting dark and we were hungry and worried. We made a makeshift cross and placed it at the head of
the grave. We stood each side of the grave; Sgt. Wallis ordered us to attention and said, 鈥淲e salute a very gallant gentleman鈥�. Then we walked back to our vehicles. We were told by a local Greek that P/O Still had taken on four ME 190s and had shot down one before he himself had died.
It was not until the war was over that I told Group Capt. Jones, who was then at Old Sarum, how we had buried P/O Still. I was later told that Group Capt. Jones was the only surviving commissioned pilot left on 80 Sqdn. when in Greece. He was at that time F/O Jones.

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