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This story was submitted to the People's War Website by Elizabeth Perez of Stockport Libraries on behalf of Leslie Landells and has been added to the site with his permission. He fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was born in South Benwell, Newcastle-upon-Tyne on the 21st April 1921.

I remember, at the age of 4/6 playing in a local park in South Benwell. The park was more like a large field with meadow grass, buttercups, daisies, clover and other wild flowers. There were also many varieties of bees, butterflies and other insects flying around in the air and under foot. My friends and I were trying to catch the most common variety of butterflies, Cabbage Whites whilst in flight, by hand and occasionally succeeding. Then, on hearing the sound of an engine, I looked up and saw my first airplane, and I followed its flight in wonder until it was out of sight. At which time, a man walking by said to me "One day young lad, you will be up there in one of them." This was of course when the country was full of wonderful sounds and colour, and streams were alive with minnows, sticklebacks and many other species, and we recited the school poem: "The larks on the wing, the snails on the thorn. God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world."

I also recall about this time, seeing a large airship flying over the top of the hill overlooking where we lived. I often wonder if it could have been the R100 or R101, which were housed in Cardington (an R.A.F. station to which I reported during my pilot training).

Our parents died when my brother, Lawrence was about 7/8 years old, I myself was around 5/6 and our sister, Muriel must have been around 3 or 4 years of age. Lawrence was brought up by our mother’s sister and her husband, Sid Lakin, an ex-Naval Officer during WWI. Muriel and I were brought up by a cousin, whom we called Auntie Maggie and her husband, Tyson in Distington, Cumbria. We only met our brother 5 or 6 times thereafter.

I met him once when I had arranged to meet a Sergeant W.A.F., called Barbara Vaughan (whom I had become friendly with at R.A.F. South Cerney, Gloucestershire). Then I was posted to R.A.F. Cranage, Cheshire for blind flying training. She wrote and said she was passing through Manchester on leave to her home in Bradford, so we arranged to meet at a ballroom in Manchester. After a short while, a message came over the intercom for me. I thought it was from Cranage, but it turned out to be from my brother, Lawrence, who had heard where I was stationed and had planned a surprise reunion at Cranage. But by this time he was on his way back to his R.A.F. station via Manchester. (How anyone knew I would be at that dancehall I never found out). However, we all had a pleasant hour or so. Then he left for his train. All three of us were most tearful. I only saw my brother twice, once in about 1947/48 at his home in Eaglescliffe, Co. Durham and again, sometime in the 1960s. He died shortly afterwards. His wife died 4/5 years ago and I still correspond with their family.

After leaving school at 14 years of age, I worked as a grocer’s errand boy, then as an apprentice in a small garage and coach building firm. As an apprentice, I received 2 shillings and 6 pence per week in the first year, 5 shillings per week in the second year, and was due to receive 7 shillings and 6 pence in the third year.

My elder brother Lawrence was already an R.A.F. boy entrant at R.A.F. Halton. Although we didn’t see each other very often, we kept in touch and Lawrence had told us he was most content with service life. This influenced my decision to apply for the R.A.F. just before war was declared in 1939.

I duly applied to join the R.A.F., but it was early 1940 before I received a reply, due I was told, to the restructuring of the R.A.F. to meet wartime needs. Then in 1940 when my call-up papers were received, I was posted to Carlisle, Cumbria.

I travelled to Carlisle with my best friend, Freddie Boyd, he to join the Army and myself, the R.A.F. We went by rail early in the morning, intending to spend our last peacetime day together in Carlisle. Only to find on arrival in Carlisle that Army MPs were rounding up Army recruits and taking them straight to Carlisle Castle, which had been turned into Army Headquarters.

No one was waiting for R.A.F. volunteers, so Freddie and I embraced, shook hands and, with tears in our eyes, parted. (We never met again. Although I did receive one airmail letter from Burma once, thanking me for being kind to his wife and baby and telling me to “give the enemy hell”. He was a quiet and gentle person in peacetime, but the terrible sufferings of our boys in Burma had made him realise that we must not be defeated.) ‘Matty’ (nee Crone) his wife was my cousin. (She has since died but I still keep in touch with their son and grandchildren). So sadly, I spent the day alone, visiting the sights, including the cathedral. In the Armed Services Chapel, I said a prayer for Freddie and all servicemen (which I did on leave throughout the war and finally when I was demobbed).

I haven’t read fiction books for many, many years now. I have found real life stories so interesting and educational about all subjects. As to the war 1939-1945, the author of one summed up my own thoughts - "My best memories were ordinary men accepting their cause and duty and steeling themselves to war. Behaving without greed, lies or calculated ambition in near perfect comradeship. Extraordinary men."

As for Cumbrian servicemen and their true worth, one should read ‘Quartered Safe Out Here’ by George Macdonald Fraser, which is a recollection of the war in Burma. Many, many Cumbrian names were mentioned. G.M. Fraser served with the Border Regiment. He also wrote the brilliant Flashman novels later. (He was only 19 when he joined the Borderers). The reviews by innumerable researchers including Melvyn Bragg (ex-Wigton) are first class. The tales and dialect take me back to my childhood. If the local libraries haven’t copies, their local Historical Societies could well arrange for one. It would be of great interest to the families of servicemen who served in the Border regiments. As I said, the tales and dialect took me back to my childhood, time and time again.

Go to, "Memories of My Time as R.A.F. Ground Staff 1940 - 1941" by Leslie Landells

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