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This story was submitted to the People's War site by the Dunstable At War Team on behalf of Mr C L Hughes and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

1940 — Volunteered for RAF Aircrew.
1941 — Called up and posted for initial training to Torquay. After weeks of sunshine and exercise and frantic rushing around, we had become extremely smart and a credit to our uniforms. We all had a somewhat haunted look however, due to the reported presence in Torquay or Air Commander B, (I swear he was 7’ tall), Head of RAF Training Command. Anyone who failed to spot his car and did not salute was destined for some dreadful punishment. We finally met him in an air-raid shelter in the cliffs where we had to wear our issued flying kit. Unfortunately this was old assorted stock and we looked a poor bunch.

Then a rushed posting came through and we travelled by train to the Manchester area at night, in the rain. A military police sergeant with a torch took us to a field of tents and after allocating 8 men to a tent, left us in total darkness to sort our kit and ourselves out. We slept in our wet uniforms and next morning all the glamour had gone and we looked like POWs.

We spent two weeks on a troopship off Glasgow, which sailed and immediately broke down, so we were given leave until another ship was found. This next ship was filled with 750 of us, hundreds of Scottish troops bound for Singapore and merchant navy seamen going to the USA to collect liberty ships. There were eight troopships altogether in convoy with eleven assorted escorts. We had a calm and peaceful voyage until a warship appeared, identified by many as German but was in fact the Prince of Wales.

Years later I found out that this was Mr Churchill returning from a conference with Roosevelt, apparently he wanted to see a convoy and ours was chosen.

Nearing Canada, we woke to find ourselves alone until a Canadian warship arrived to escort us to Halifax. While travelling by train to Toronto, we were met at every stop by local ladies who had set up stalls in order to give us supplies of apples and chocolate. For a short time we lived in the Toronto Exhibition buildings with just hundreds of beds and washing facilities for the first time since Torquay.

Since our draft was to train in America, we had to disguise ourselves in a civilian suits to avoid breaking neutrality. But what a disguise; 750 airmen in double breasted grey suits, either dark grey, nearly black; pale grey, nearly while or medium grey chalk stripe. Shirts, black ties and normal RAF shoes. On camp in Georgia, we wore coveralls and nothing else.

We now had US Army officers to control us and civilian instructors to teach us to fly. My group had a German instructor who appeared to hate us immediately. My exam results were good so I was moved from the barracks into a bungalow by myself. However, my flying was not as good and after a report by our German, I was checked by the Chief Instructor then by a US army officer, who said that sadly I should return to Canada for the winter.

Canada — Prince Edward Island in the Gulf of St Lawrence — The pilots based here on Avro Ansons were members of the London Transport flying club at Broxbourne, Herts before the war. The Anson was an outdated aircraft, which had an opening at the top so you could stick your head out to take sextant shots and a hole underneath in order that you could see a target to bomb. Another even worse feature was the undercarriage, which you had to raise or lower with a handle underneath the pilot; something like 60 turns, I think was necessary.

Navigation was truly annoying as whatever course you gave the pilot, he would then tell you what he thought he would fly instead. Especially at night when all towns were fully lit up. In the end we worked our flight plan out after we had landed and the experience was useless. In any case, these pilots refused to let us move about in the aircraft after they had trimmed it. However, we graduated even if our standards were poor and of little practical use.

May 1942 - We sailed for home on the Empress of Scotland, originally Empress of Japan but hurriedly renamed. With thousands of French Canadian troops on board, we had to line the staircases, as they tended to kick the panelling if they didn’t like the food!

More training, this time in the North of Scotland on Wellingtons. The first time I climbed into one, I found the smell awful - dope was used to tighten the canvas covering, the Elsan toilet, which never seemed to be emptied and of course the smell of oil and petrol. Apart from this it was a good aircraft and we came to appreciate it, although at 20,000 feet it was bitterly cold. With a geodetic body covered in canvas, it was never designed for flier’s comfort. At this time crews were formed, a pilot and navigator together would chose a bomb-aimer, wireless operator and a rear gunner from those thought suitable.

November 1942 — New Canadian squadron forming near Darlington.
Due to the heavy losses of new crews on operation, this was made up of 50% Canadian airmen with the rest originating from the RAF, RAAF (Royal Australian Air Force) and New Zealand aircrews. Called the Lion Squadron, we were adopted by the MGM Film Company and given some special privileges such as free entry to MGM cinemas anywhere in the world. Our gradual reputation as a ‘safe’ crew meant that many new pilots did their first ‘op’ with us.

One memorable incident happened when some ‘boffin’ at HQ thought it would be a good idea for 3 aircraft from our squadron to bomb Kiel in daylight. We realised this was a death and or glory chance of suicide. The idea was for the aircraft to cross the North Sea in cloud, drop down over Kiel, bomb the German fleet, pop back into the cloud and fly home. The CO chose himself, a Flight Commander and our crew to carry this out. As we staggered out from briefing, a message came though to alter the operatio to one aircraft. The CO said he would go but would take me as navigator to the horror of the rest of my crew. Luckily someone on high came to their senses and it was finally cancelled.

In the end, we were one of the few crews who completed a 30-operation tour and were then dispersed as instructors. Some months afterwards my pilot and I were decorated by the King with the DFC at Holyrood Palace. After courses at Staff Navigation College and then at RAF College Cranwell, I finished the war as a Chief Instructor with the rank of Flight Lieutenant.

Aircraft flown in the 5 years were Ansons, Wellingtons and Halifaxes.

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