大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Roger Marsh of the 鈥楢ction Desk 鈥� Sheffield鈥� Team on behalf of Edward Gordon and has been added to the site with the author鈥檚 permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

CHAPTER 15

ON REFLECTION

I never saw any of this crew again but did hear the bomb aimer was commissioned and three or four decorations were awarded to them, for indeed it was just rewards for a good crew and well deserved.

Not all the operational flights we did are mentioned here, just the ones, which you had to endure 鈥渨hen you want to be a flyer鈥�.

During these flights, we were subjected sometimes, to the instructions of the Pathfinder Force, its Master Bomber and its technique of laying markers to bomb on.

The first experience of this, when total silence was always the norm, came like a cry from the wilderness, 鈥淏omb on red markers鈥�, he cried. He did this various times, then total silence ensued and we knew what had happened. Another voice came, but by now we were clear of the target area. I once read that the only danger on bombing missions was the target area; this man must have been either a fool or a very lucky man who did not fly in winter months, for what I have written was not our experience.

Strange things happen whilst flying at night, but the strangest for me was the night I appeared to be covered by a white shroud, from start to finish of a flight. It was the quietest night I ever knew, but next day鈥檚 1 o鈥檆lock news revealed one of the heaviest losses incurred in that period. I have discussed this with priests, medical men of various branches of the profession, and never got a satisfactory answer, so I remain with my own thoughts that someone was watching over our crew and me, and we were grateful for his help.

Another night, four of us were sitting on a form after de-briefing. It was deathly still and not a sound could be heard. The Squadron doctor came out and told us to go to bed, as we would get cold. A roar of laughter went up as it had been 鈥�30掳C at 26,000 feet, but he was right as usual, so to bed we went, on our sit up and begs bikes.

My flying assessment as an Air Gunner on leaving reads as 鈥� 鈥淎G 鈥� above average鈥� 鈥� with remarks: 鈥淎 very capable gunner, who filled Flight Gunnery Leader very well鈥�. With these few words I felt that I had justified their confidence in recommending me for my commission.

The saddest thing of flying in this period, was the far too often empty beds you experienced when awakening in the morning, and one often reflected upon the original event when arriving at the OTU.

Friendships were never really established, for it was far too often, here one day, gone the next, for indeed records now show the losses were greatest in this period of time.

One mystery we never uncovered was who was 鈥渢he book provider鈥�? On many occasions books were discussed by a particular person, and all of a sudden, when you got in bed at night, it was there. We would have loved to know who provided them and make amends.

We have mentioned the ground crews, but not very often are the people of the 鈥淪ally Army鈥� remembered, for with undue regularity they always appeared with tea and wads, at the right time, in the right place, and thankful we were on cold winter days for the cup that cheers.

The one aspect, which stood out for me whilst I was here, was the leadership, which was very projected from Wing Commander Preston. He knew everyone by his Christian name, had time for a word and enquired about your home life. With the losses, which occurred, it must have been a difficult job, and only years later did I appreciate the job this man did with dignity and human understanding.

Conspicuous by their absence are my feelings for the opposite sex. To have had a meaningful relationship in this period would have been wrong, particularly after the four-coffin incident, and later on, I made the mistake of sending my parents a telegram to say that I was coming home on leave. Unknown to me at the time, a school friend鈥檚 parents also received a telegram, but this was to say he had been killed in a flying incident. I never did this again, for there was enough tragedy and turmoil around and yet in hindsight, a spirit, which was undefeateable.

Some would say this was a selfish attitude but to me, it seemed good common sense and one, which I pursued throughout the whole of this time.

After all, I could always go to the pub for a pint and there was invariably some female company around.

CHAPTER 16

1667 CONVERSION UNIT 鈥� SANDTOFT

AIRCRAFT LETTERS 2GG2

This new conversion unit was opened, after having been in the hands of the Polish Air Force, and it smelt like it, for everywhere there were smells of power and other femininities. To put it crudely it smelt like a brothel but never having been in one I guess this was a supposition.

The Halifaxes arrived and we were then in business. For me the post of Instructor, which I had turned down at Gunnery School, was now a reality and I felt comfortable with operation al experience behind me. To instruct however, left me with a feeling of apprehension, but once started, confidence returned and everything turned out right.

The subjects I was allocated were Aircraft Recognition for the Gunners, Night Vision and Bomber Tactics for full crews; however, before lecturing, the proverbial courses had to be taken and completed satisfactorily. The Aircraft Recognition course for me was easy; for it was just a refresher on some of the planes I had always known from being a lad. 1/100th of a second, the hardest part, but I got an 鈥淎 Certification鈥�. The Night Vision course was really an eye opener, to quote a pun, but something which we took for granted and we did not realise how vital this aspect of flying was until we had finished.

For air gunners, these two subjects were a co-ordinated factor.

Bomber Tactics to me was the most fascinating of the three. In essence, it was how to get there and back, with the minimal loss of aircraft and crews and get the best results from the operation.

For this purpose we conducted a mock operational flight, details of the main force, diversionary force, the route to be taken, in essence, the details that were given at a briefing on an operational squadron. We got the Aussies, some Canadians but mostly English fliers and on one occasion a rarity, a former pilot of the famous 鈥淓agle Squadron鈥� flying as an air gunner 鈥� another American.

We tried the best we could to forearm them of what to expect in a relatively quiet and friendly manner, and hope to God that it had sunk in.

Teaching our air gunner colleagues, we took a stronger approach. Tell any man he cannot see looking straight forward at night, even with 20/20 vision, the aircrew standard and you get some rude words. Prove him wrong, as we did and then they sat up and took notice, and this is just what we did.

We undertook test with air gunners that we had done at the Night Vision School. The variation between pupils鈥� eyes was quite considerable, but as they chose the pupils the results gained increased impetus.

With a new and proven method of vision at night, we painted models of MSE109F, ME110, FW190, red, where the heat showed up on these aircraft and tried to make sure they all understood these tell tale signs and could recognise these aircraft in particular, for these indeed were your greatest threats apart from flak.

鈥淭HE TEN COMMANDMENTS OF NIGHT VISION鈥�

1. Do not attempt night duties until dark adapted 鈥� avoid short cuts.

2. Maintain maximum dark adaptation by avoiding all possible light 鈥� practice blindfold drills 鈥� until you know your surroundings by touch.

3. For instrument lighting, use dim red light and do not stare at lighted instruments.

4. Keep windshields and goggles spotless and unscratched.

5. Practice use of the corners of the eyes, night targets are better seen not looking at them.

6. Practice systematic scanning, move the eyes frequently and be alert for moving objects.

7. Know the value of low light contrast at night.

8. Use binoculars where possible 鈥� not practical AGs.

9. Observe technical orders in use of oxygen, be over-conscientious at night, not over confident.

10. Do not break training 鈥� the stakes are too high.

One must lay these constantly, if one is to live constantly.

鈥淵OU HAVE BEEN WARNED鈥�

The pupils who were ex ATC were the best at Aircraft Recognition and thus this organisation had proved its worth.

Things we did not do however, were to teach aspects which would lower morale. No takes like some newspapers put out of dead gunners being dragged out of turrets and then cleaned to wash away the blood. Another was the roundel on the side of Lancasters was the aiming point for German fighters, just below the mid upper turret. They had enough problems without this stuff.

By day and by night, the ceaseless throb of the Halifax engines could be Heard. Most of these aircraft came from the Bomber Squadrons; some were old and tired and just scraped the hedge of hawthorn at the end of the main runway but got airborne just the same.

These were the informative days, with fighter affiliation exercises where the gunners took control, corkscrews, to defeat the fighters鈥� deflection angle, with the use of cine guns in the turrets. The fighter pilots always shook up bomber crews by attacking from below, for this was the blind spot on all the heavies and once you experienced this, you never forgot it.

With this exercise, many a crew, with too much beer the previous night had uncomfortable experiences.

Odd missions came up, like the day six aircraft were despatched on a sea search for a downed crew in the North Sea. Our six never found them but we hoped another group did, for this sea can be a most inhospitable place even on a good day.

Occasionally, accidents happened and the only one I can recollect involved a Canadian navigator who had the next bed to mine. I had occasion to write to his parents, passing on my condolences, and to my surprise, received a gift parcel which contained all the goodies I had not seen for years; a kindly and most generous gesture under difficult circumstances.

The time spent lecturing seemed endless and ever full of noise, for here it was the Nissen hut, which was your home.

Much nearer to the action than we had experienced before, the greatest asset however was that we got a day off every week, and so I was able to get home weekly, being not so far from Doncaster.

The villages of Belton and Crowle were in easy reach by the old 鈥榮it up and beg鈥� bicycle, so this was where you want to get away from it all. The roads to these places had canals each side and under the influence, playing fighter and bombers, many a flier finished in here, only to emerge soaked to the skin.

This was just a way of letting off steam, harmless good fun.

The village pubs here saw many fliers and mine hosts often said it was good to see other nationalities, for there seemed to be no great love for the previous Poles.

My stroke of luck here was to meet the 鈥淧idds of Crowle鈥�, an old farming family and owners of the local butcher鈥檚 shop. Mrs. Pidd was like a mother to me, for the night before I went on my day off, she always gave me a parcel to take home. I always paid for what she gave me and it was usually more than I expected, but for mum and dad at home, it was always a treat and we were thankful for that, for rations were meagre.

Crowle has changed little over the years; Pidd鈥檚 Butchers shop has gone, The old cinema in the square is now a restaurant but all the other pubs still remain virtually the same; a haven of rest in the farm fields of Lincolnshire.

Life throws up unexpected coincidences, for in 1988 I went to Majorca, to a golf tournament and a German guest in the same hotel came over for a chat, and lo and behold, he was a prisoner of war employed on a farm in Crowle village. He remembered his incarceration with the same affection as I do for the time I spent there.

With the war in the air still grinding on its relentless way, the boys of the Air Training Corps in the Doncaster area needed help and were allocated to us at Sandtoft, in just the same way as years earlier I had been allocated to Finningley. To me fell the job as ATC Liaison Officer for the Station. Group Captain Nelson, our Station Commander, gave me a free hand to ensure these cadets were treated like everybody else, subject to the same disciplines and instructions. They were given their own quarter and their NCO鈥檚 the same authority as station personnel. B being cadets from a mainly agricultural area, but with links with Lindholme and Finningley, the officers here were mainly schoolteachers and headmasters of Grammar Schools and one was a press photographer of some repute in Yorkshire.

One of the best decisions I made here was to abolish square bashing and the cadets gave their customary approval.

Many of my colleagues, bomb aimers, navigators, wireless operators and flight engineers, gave their assistance willingly and found it refreshing to lecture to these cadets, who hung on every word, so eager to learn and appreciative of the time given.

The favourite lesson was the Link Trainer; this was the nearest they would ever get to flying an aircraft. We tried to get all the cadets into the air and more often than not we succeeded, even if it was only doing circuits and bumps.

Sport was always on the agenda and one cadet we had was the Middleweight Boxing Champion of the ATC.

During this period, in all sincerity, we never had any trouble with he cadets, this due in no short measure to the standard of offices who looked after them.

The cadets seemed to have enjoyed their summer camp with this station, and afterwards I received a letter from Mr. Clark, Headmaster of Mexborough Technical College, confirming this.

In retrospect, I now felt that I had paid my debt to the people who had originally helped me, years before and was thankful that I had been afforded the opportunity by Group Captain Nelson D.F.C. the Station Commander.

This situation occurred later after I had finished flying, at RAF Valley in North Wales, so I was well prepared. The only difference was that we were provided with the DH98 Rapide aircraft, a most suitable aircraft to get the cadets airborne, and they loved it, for indeed this station was the ideal place for Summer camps; an aerodrome with a beach, not a hundred yards from the perimeter track.

With 364 flying days a year, it was not surprising that it was home for the now famous Red Arrows display team for a period of time, and today is home for the Mountain Rescue Team and an advanced Flying Training Unit.

CHAPTER 17

POST FLYING

RAF VALLEY NORTH WALES

GROUP CAPTAIN GROVES 鈥� COMMANDING OFFICER

With operational flying finished and your stint as an instructor completed, to make way for your colleagues to take your place, to keep their new pupils up to date with the every changing scene in Bomber Operations, you were put out to grass, and Valley became my new home.

RAF Valley, located on the Isle of Anglesey, North Wales, was a delightful place for peace and quiet.

When I arrived, it was a joint command RAF and American Air Force, our opposite numbers, were easy to get on with. The happiest times occurred on occasions when you tried to get a Texan to speak with a Yorkshire dialect or a Californian with a Lancashire dialect. The results are indescribable.

The perimeter tract virtually reached the beach; in Summer time it was idyllic, with a warm gulf stream lapping the shores. In winter, it was the opposite, cold and often windy and sometimes seeming remote.

Rhosneigr had a Country Club and a nine-hole golf course, so this provided some relief, if you could manage to find some balls.

From a flier鈥檚 point of view, it was always a toss up between Valley and Prestwick in Scotland who had the most flying days per year. In the end it was resolved for both recorded 364 days with no aerodromes reaching these figures.

Today RAF Valley is still a major force in the military plan and Prestwick likewise in the field of civil aviation.

Pr-BR

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.