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Then, on February 14th, came the great day. My objective was to navigate to Oudtshoorn and my partner had to navigate back. Duration was 4 hours and 55 minutes, the longest airborne yet. We made it. The next week was to be our last long exercise and we had to navigate, similarly, to George. We did not have much time to admire the beauty of the country over which we were flying. Today people spend thousand of pounds to go to these areas. We were being paid to do it!
During this time, whilst we were in Queenstown, news began to filter through that there was something called Radar which aided navigation Many months were to pass before we saw any evidence of this, and, in fact, because of the work I eventually found myself doing, I never did have much in the way of radar navigational assistance.
At last the time had come; we had passed our practical and theoretical exams and all that now remained was to go to a bombing and gunnery course at Port Alfred near Grahamstown. Again we went by train. The usual second class coaches had six berths to a coupe and we enjoyed the journey as we now went through towns which we had used as our navigation landmarks. Briefly we stopped at Grahamstown, a most beautiful place and the countryside around gave us some idea of the lovely landscape to be expected as we continued on our way.
We duly arrived at Port Alfred, at the mouth of the Cowey River, where there was a new Air Gunnery School. We flew in Airspeed Oxfords, in the development of which, the writer Neville Shute, was involved. They were small twin engined craft and the Vickers automatic machine gun was in the foot operated gun turret. This meant that, when you tried to turn the turret into position when firing, you had to contend with the slipstream . We fired at drogues being towed by single engined Harvards. I'm not sure whether or not the pilots of these aircraft got extra danger money but there we were, with no previous experience, firing at the drogue which they were towing several yards behind them. To my knowledge none of them were ever hit! Mind you, from the number of bullets we fired and the small number of recorded hits on the drogue I don't think we presented much danger to anyone! The bullets had been soaked in paint and, in theory, when they hit the drogue the paint melted and stained the holes through which they went. It was exciting but I am not convinced that we learned much. After landing you inspected the drogue and counted how many holes in it were coloured with the colour of your bullets! My recollection is that there were remarkably few!

We also did bomb aiming, with small white smoke bombs, on targets along the sand dunes by the sea. To see the bombs drop surprised you at first. As you pressed the tit the bomb appeared to go backwards and then suddenly it would shoot forwards and you would see it explode somewhere near the target, (you hoped!). Monitors were on the ground, in dugouts taking note of how near your bombs were to the target. We used a standard visual bombsight, onto which you had to enter the wind velocity to make allowance for the airflow effect on the trajectory of the bomb.
Whilst off duty we found a superb little Toc H rest-house. It was immaculate and the local church folk manned it providing very cheap and good meals with lots and lots of exotic fruit. Nearby was a small theatre and local performers put on shows twice a week. On two occasions visiting groups came from Capetown; rather like the ENSA groups from the UK. In one of these groups was a rather gorgeous ''fan dancer''. It was all very well produced, such as might have been seen at the Windmill Theatre in London, although here, unlike London, there was a very limited element of nudity with just a very fast passing glimpse of a mere nipple! One of our fellows was fortunate to get involved with this girl and before we left Port Alfred they were married. I believe that, in due course, she was able to make her way to join him in England.
At last came the day, shortly after my 20th birthday, in late March 1942, when we had passed all our academic and practical tests and we were passed out as qualified Aircrew Navigators. Most of us were immediately promoted to the rank of Sergeant whilst a few were commissioned as Pilot Officers. The Observer’s brevet was pinned to our tunics by the visiting Air Commodore and we were ready to be on our way home to the UK.
We set off on a most scenic journey by train; first to Grahamstown, where we stayed overnight, using the train as our base. Then, in order to join up with others who had qualified from other Air Schools, we were taken to East London where we visited the Cadbury/Fry chocolate factory. Seven of us were adopted, en bloc, by a family whose father was a Commander of one of the Union Castle liners. They had a fabulous house, about half a mile from the coast. Still being young and naïve we were astonished when the local girls and fellows just undressed and changed into their swim costumes in the dunes. I was at a disadvantage as I could not swim. This was probably because in the years past, there were no swimming pools at the schools I had attended and, to my recollection, there had been only one occasion in six years, when we had been taken to the public swimming baths at Glossop Road in Sheffield, quite a long walk from the school. This was hardly conducive to the making of enthusiastic swimmers.After a glorious few days we were back on the train, now full of qualified aircrew eager to get back to the UK and ready to sort out the Germans and the Japs. You hardly gave a thought to the Italians as enemies! We made our way through the Garden Route along the Indian Ocean Coastline and stopped again for two or three nights, (can't remember just how long), at Port Elizabeth. Once again we were most royally feted during the day but had to return to the train for the night. Then on the way again through places well known today for the South African wines, Worcester and Stellenbosch and, at last, to Capetown. We were taken to a reception centre at Retreat near Wynberg, east of Capetown and on the railway link between Capetown and Simons Town where there was at that time, a very large Royal Navy base. We stayed for a few weeks at this camp whilst waiting for transport back to the UK.
Many trips were made into Capetown. On one occasion when walking down Adelaide Street; just as we were about to cross a road, I was stopped by a newly commissioned South African Army Officer for not saluting him. The next morning I was marched in to the Adjutant and told that I was on a charge for not saluting this officer. I explained that if I had saluted him I would probably have been knocked down by the heavy traffic then passing as I tried to cross the road. The Adjutant responded that this waste of his and a Sergeant’s time by a ''brown job'' was not appreciated and the charge was dismissed.
One evening when on parade, the order was given, ''Be ready to move sometime tomorrow''. We packed our bags; kitbags were full of tins of jams, fruit, sugar as well as new clothing for ourselves and silk stockings to take for the folk at home. We all had at least one large and also a medium sized suitcase. I had bought mine, at minimal cost, from Mr Day in Queenstown. All in all we were somewhat overladen as we prepared to go home. We were hopeful that on arrival in the UK we would be sent on early disembarkation leave and so able to unload all these gifts on our friends and relations. Early Thursday morning, after we had helped load a truck with all our baggage, we were taken to the local railway station. The train took us straight on to the Capetown docks where we boarded the old P and O vessel SS Narkunda. This ship had been in Singapore docks ready to be taken to the breaker’s yard in Japan when Pearl Harbour had been attacked in December. She was put back into commission and the sailors on board told the story of how a large 4 inch gun had been put on the rear deck. They said that as she sailed out of Singapore, as the Japs were arriving, the gun had been fired. They swore that the ship had never gone so fast as she shot forward as a result of the recoil!
In cages on the upper deck were several hundred Italian prisoners of war who had been captured in Abysinia. They looked so forlorn and we felt very sorry for them. With the rapid departure from Singapore the vessel had not been fitted out as a troopship so we travelled in a fair degree of luxury in two berth cabins. The ship was manned by a scratch crew of any sailors available in Singapore as they quickly left. There were some Lascars in the engine room and helping in other ways. Resources also were such as had been on board as they hurriedly sailed. The bedding was a bit hit and miss but there was plenty of it because not all the cabins were occupied.
As we waited in Table Bay, before sailing, the Queen Mary arrived and then departed. Some four weeks later when we arrived at Gourock on the Clyde, she was there and we heard that whilst we had sailed up the Atlantic, she had sailed over to the USA twice! The U-Boat threat caused almost unbearable tension; we had no escorts and we knew that most of the equipment on the ship was well past its’ ''sell by date''! We just prayed that we would not be attacked. For one thing we didn't want to lose all the tins of jams, sugar and so many other gifts stuffed into our kitbags for those at home! One morning as we were beginning to sail eastwards, we plotted that we were just north of Ireland and heading towards Scotland, we saw the most pleasant sight for weeks. A Royal Air Force Sunderland flew over. We immediately thought ''This is it, no more problems as there is air cover''. It was at that time I remember thinking that an opportunity to serve on flying boats with Coastal Command would now be my ambition. Pure, unassisted navigation would be needed, and I felt confident that I could do it.

Arriving at Gourock we disembarked and entrained for Bournemouth; this was a pretty long haul; I do not remember how long the journey took but I do recall the surprise on some of our colleagues faces as we travelled south on this May day. One New Zealander was enthralled that everywhere was so beautifully green. He could hardly believe that virtually all the roads we saw were tarmacked, even the minor country ones. At last we arrived at Bournemouth, collected all our baggage and I was billeted in the Hotel Royale. The next day we were all sent on the long awaited disembarkation leave. So to the trains again. To London and then, from St Pancras, to Sheffield. There was no time to write to say that we were on our way and, of course, very few people had telephones so there was no way of letting anyone know when to expect us.
I arrived in Sheffield in the late evening and splashed out on a taxi. Moffatt Road, where Mum, Dad and Gwen now lived, had not been made up and was very rough. The taxi driver was not too keen on going up it but as he had a ''flyer'' as his passenger I don't think he dare refuse!
After 4 weeks leave it was time to return to Bournemouth on a very hot Sunday. On arrival at our hotel during the afternoon we were hot, sticky and very thirsty. There was no water on tap, and at the bar we were told that there had been a bombing raid and water supplies were off. My usual drink, as a good Methodist, was orange squash or similar. As there was no water there could be no orange squash so, for the first time in my life I had a beer; it was like nectar. However for many further years I continued to avoid alcohol like the plague! Posting to an Operational Training Unit was the next item on the agenda. At this stage we had no idea as to which Command we might be posted. Possibilities were Bomber Command, (where we understood that there were new radar navigational aids), Coastal Command, (where you had little or no help and it was entirely up to your navigational abilities as to whether or not you got lost!), Transport Command (in which, again, for the most part, you would be on your own) or Flying Training Command. The choice available would depend on the urgency of replacement of navigators on any one day. Every morning we paraded on the seafront at Bournemouth where volunteers were called for, generally for Bomber Command. Although we did not, at that time know why, volunteers were being called to be bomb aimers as a specific duty. We later found that this was due to the arrival on the scene of the new four engined bombers, Stirlings, Halifaxes and Lancasters. If no volunteers were forthcoming the front ranks were selected and allocated for further training at Bomber Command O T U’s, (Operational Training Units). No calls had been made for Coastal Command for several days so a few of us, who were attracted to that Command, taking a risk that a suitable posting might be possible, positioned ourselves on the front rank. Lo and behold that very morning ten Navigators were needed for Coastal. Like shots out of a gun we volunteered and were accepted. The posting was to an O.T.U at Silloth on the Solway Firth.. We did hope that it might have been on Sunderlands or Catalinas, (Flying Boats), but no, it was to be on Lockheed Hudsons. These were twin engined aircraft, much bigger than any we had flown before, but they were the mainstays of Coastal Command for many years for Convoy escort and anti submarine patrols.

The next part of this story can be found at: a5389437

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