大象传媒

Enlisted June 14th, 1940
Served at Little Rissington, until March 1942
Radar Course at No1. Radio School, Cranwell.
Radar sites at Ringstead, Westcliff (Portland)
Cricklade GCI. Malta, Corsica, Italy then Walton on the Naze CHL
!950 Four years with 3700 RRU R/AUX.A.F.
25 years with Marconi Radar.

Have written a book entitled "A Lighter Shade of Pale Blue" ISBN 0 873203 45 4

A Lighter Shade of Pale Blue" Intoduction:
By Reg ONeil MBE

People in story: Memoirs of a RAF Radar Operator
Location of story: UK and Middle East
Unit name: 6SFTS and 16004 AMES
Background to story: Royal Air Force

Much has been written about World War 2. The histories of the campaigns, personal accounts of 'Deeds of Daring' and stories of incarceration in prisoner of war camps have been published and have also been the subject matter for many films.
This document contains little reference to those subjects but is intended to tell of the everyday trials and tribulations of the average 'Erk', as the RAF 'other ranks' were commonly called. To keep a personal diary was not encouraged and would certainly have contravened the Official Secrets Act, which most of us had to observe. The events told in this account have been recovered mostly from memory and a few notes, written in a notebook long after the event.
The memory has a remarkable way of filtering out the bad from the good and in consequence, one tends to remember events that one regards with pleasure or amusement but disclaims most of the less pleasant. My memory has retained quite a number of the favourable events and it is with this in mind that I have given the title to this epistle. I have endeavoured to recall and place on record what I found to be the amusing side of my service life. I have deliberately refrained from using names of people in this account but have used the first names of my two compatriots who made up the 'Works & Bricks' team. A few events are recorded that were not amusing, but even they had their funny side. It must be admitted that the title was chosen before the first page was written, It was inspired by the title of the song: 'The Whiter Shade of Pale', Just a small juggle with words gave me the title: 'The Lighter Shade of Pale Blue'.
My introduction to the Royal Air Force was of a rather startling manner. It was in the early thirties when I was about 11 years of age. I, and a friend were 'running an errand' for my step brother who at that time was managing a wireless shop in Lewisham, South London. I had a Saturday job of delivering accumulators to his customers and on one dreary afternoon in November, I was sent to deliver a message to a customer who resided close to Southend village near Bromley in Kent. We were walking up a country lane, Whitefoot Lane, which ran alongside the 'Forster Memorial Park' when we heard the sounds of an aircraft obviously in difficulty. After a short while it emerged from the low cloud, it's engine spitting and spluttering and headed towards the open space of the park on our left. It made a rapid descent on the far side and turned heading in our direction only a few feet from the ground. As it approached we ran up the hill to keep clear of it's path but it turned to make a diagonal approach.
To our immediate left was a line of hawthorn trees beyond which were the railings of the park. The aircraft glided down, it's undercarriage touching the grass and then bounced up with the undercarriage fouling the railings resulting in the aircraft burying it's nose in the foot of the tree right beside us. The branches scratching my face.
We immediately clambered through the undergrowth and climbed on to the aircraft to help the pilot out. He had injured his face and of course was quite shaken. Once on the ground he said that he had to go back in to recover his maps etc. He would not allow us to do this as he explained it would likely catch fire. A crowd suddenly congregated including the wife of the park keeper who appeared carrying a frying pan complete with half cooked sausages. The pilot thanked us for our assistance and we continued on our errand. On our return there was even a larger crowd milling around including a policeman, who spotting a large piece of the prop which I had claimed as a souvenir, insisted I put it back from where I had picked it up. The pilot, who was now awaiting transport from his base at Kenley, heard this order given by the constable and insisted that I should keep it as my reward as I had helped him out of the plane.
This souvenir I treasured for many years until in 1945 my home was demolished by a flying bomb and my introduction to the RAF was lost. The incident must have sparked off the bug that was to keep me involved with the RAF in one way or another for most of my life.

Chapter 1. "Joining up"
To follow.