BY
Table of Contents
BY
Table of Contents
The 23rd April l938 may seem to be an
insignificant date for the Second World War but for me looking back it was
important. It was my eldest brother's wedding day, the wedding had been
arranged some months before, unfortunately his bride's mother died just before
the planned date but they decided that it would have been her wish for the
arrangements to continue.However, it was scaled down and the reception kept to
a minimum.It was a morning ceremony and the reception ended during the afternoon.When
I returned home there was a note waiting for me asking me to go into work on
the Sunday morning urgently.
I was the Electricity Clerk for the
Barnoldswick Urban District Council's Electricity Department.The staff
comprised the Electrical Engineer & Manager, a Showroom Manager an
apprentice and myself.British Celanese were negotiating to take over the
largest weaving shed in the town and in view of the unemployment situation in
the town everyone was anxious that no time be lost.They wanted the mill to be
changed from the steam engine power to electric power and were also keen to
employ local contractors for the conversion.Unfortunately the local electrical
contractors were more used to house wiring and the estimates submitted were
unrealistic.The Council were asked if they would underwrite the contractor if
they accepted one of the estimates, naturally they refused but agreed that we
would prepare and submit a specification along with an estimate.The request for
us to do this was received on the Saturday of the wedding and some urgency was
indicated.
In those days if you were on salary
you were employed by the year - every day - and there was no such thing as
overtime pay, extra help was not even thought about, so we had to get on with
it.With our limited time, no way could it be done in normal working hours, so
it meant getting on with it out of normal hours.On the Saturday the Manager Mr.
Bailey, started the specification so that when I went in on the Sunday I could
start typing.The two of us eventually prepared the specification, priced it and
got it off to British Celanese.
Nothing further was received from
British Celanese but in 1940 - by which time I was in the R.A.F. - Coventry was
bombed.The next day Mr Bailey was telephoned, given a priority code and
instructed to implement the specification we had prepared, all the labour and
materials were top priority and within a week salvaged equipment from the Rover
Company was being installed in the shed [factory].Rumour has it that when
Rolls-Royce found out that Rover Company were developing the Jet Aero Engine
they convinced the company that they were better qualified in that sphere and
eventually took over the factory.The RB 211 engine was developed in the
Bankfield Shed - R for Rolls - B for Barnoldswick ! Unbeknown to us we had become involved in the Governments
preparation for war by their Shadow Factory scheme.Were British Celanese ever
interested in Bankfield Shed ?
As
staff of the B.U.D.C. - there were only about 20 of us, all male, running the
Gas Works, Electricity Dept, Water and Sewage, Refuse Collection, Roads and
Planning, Public Health but not Education or the Library - we were called upon
to carry out a survey of the town's residential properties and occupants as we
had been classed as a Reception Area for evacuees.
When the Prime Minister returned with
his "piece of paper" things began to move, preparation in
earnest.Parliament decided that all male twenty-one year olds be registered,
called-up for six months in one of the military services and designated as the
Militia, or join the Territorials.This included me, although not yet 21.I
believe that we registered in the February of 1939 at the local Labour
Exchange, we had to state which of the options and which branch of the services
we preferred.Having friends in both the Army and the Air Force I opted for the
R.A.F. and to do my six months and get it over with !
At this time I was playing rugby in
the Skipton Rugby Club first team, many of the members were already in the
Territorial Army, on the last game of the season the referee was a Recruiting
Sergeant for the Territorial Army who did his best to get me to change my mind
- no hope.
During the summer many of my friends
were being called up and I was keen to get it all over.I wrote to the
"powers that be" but heard no more and carried on waiting.The
Territorial Army was called up and War declared - still waiting, many of my
friends were out in France.Eventually on the 14th November 1939 I reported for
my medical for the R.A.F. in Blackburn.Passing Grade 1, I was interviewed to
select which section I desired, the first was Air Gunner [they were
alphabetical] I said yes, fortunately he carried on down the list and
eventually he suggested that probably Equipment Assistant might be best for
me.Anything to get things moving.Back home to more waiting with no hope of
settling down or concentrating on anything.The black-out, reading and listening
to the news, restrictive regulations.No point in taking up rugby, most of the
team were in France, many friends already with them, just wait.Christmas came
and went, still waiting.At last the letter arrived - Report to Padgate, near
Warrington, Lancs. on the 28th March 1940.Relief !I had waited over 12 months
for this.
Up at 6-30 for the early train, my
diary says the 7-20 train, but if I remember rightly the Manchester train was
at 8-20.However I reported at Padgate
by 10.15, a few minutes late !I was issued with a mug, knife fork & spoon
and a towel and spent most of the day in the Attestation Room hanging
around.Next day after "swearing in" I was given my service number and
trade - Equipment Assistant - and kitted out with uniform and gear, although we
were not allowed to wear the uniform until the tailor had inspected us the next
day.So it was Saturdaythe 30th March when I felt that I was at last in the
R.A.F.However we were not allowed out of the camp until the following Friday
when we were deemed smart enough !For the next four weeks "square bashing",
inoculations, vaccination, lectures, then the Passing Out parade in front of
the C.O. and the band playing on Thursday the 25th April.Whilst at Padgate we
were able to visit Warrington, Manchester and Liverpool on our day passes.
On Friday, the next day, a batch of
us - around 25 all equipment assistants, were posted to Duxford in Cambridgeshire [now the
R.A.F. museum].Apparently we were killing time for a week and spent most of the
time filling sandbags.As there were three squadrons of Spitfirespracticing night
flying it was our first induction to life on an airfield. However we were able
to get into Cambridge for a few hours on the Saturday.
On Friday, a week later [3rd May] we
were all posted to Cranwell in
Lincolnshire, the R.A.F. Officer Training College and where the schools for
most of the trades were taught.We were in barrack huts as were the school
classrooms, not the fine buildings of the main college.We became Course 170,
a,b & c, there were 20 in my course 170a, so there must have been around 60
of us all told.The course had been reduced from 12 weeks to 8, although we were
still to do drills and guard duty.It was here that we were first introduced to
the rifle range. Half-way through
the course came the evacuation of Dunkirk which was quickly followed by the
bombing of airfields.This created many air raid disturbances by spending
periods during the night in the shelters and on the 6th June l5 bombs were
dropped on the airfield.During our free time we were able to visit, Sleaford,
Grantham, Newark and Lincoln although we were still not granted any leave.On
the 20th June came the examination, 3 hours theory in the morning and 3 hours
practical in the afternoon.Some had found it beyond them and had been taken off
the course, there were complicated procedures and many different forms to
master.Clothing and Petrol in particular took some mastering.On Wednesday the
26th we were given our results, in our 20, 3 had high enough marks to become
L.A.C's - leading aircraftsmen, 4 failed and my marks were to promote me to
A.C.1.the majority of passes were still A.C.2 and we were told that although
some had not reached the required standard they had relaxed the position in
view of the amount of time we had lost through the air raids !On the 28th June
at 8 a.m. I left Cranwell with A.C.1 Morgan posted to No.7 Bombing &
Gunnery School Bridgend, S. Wales, via King's Cross, Paddington and Cardiff.
The airfield at Bridgend was called Stormy Downs, on the hills overlooking
the sea.Many of the airmen at the school were aircrew volunteers and if they
failed the course had to hand in their kit and uniforms as they were going back
to"civy street".Yes I had been put into the clothing store under Cpl
Kemp - a regular.When on guard duty you were required to attend the ceremony of
lowering the flag, an impressive affair as there was a contingent of Polish
airmen stationed there who also paraded in their national service dress, no
band but the bugler did his bit !
Our trips out were to Porthcawl the
nearby seaside resort.We often had air raid warnings, usually due to raids on
Swansea and Port Talbot 10 miles away.On the 2nd August I was granted my first
7 days leave, during which time I visited the Bankfield Shed and saw all the
work still in progress for the Rover Co.
Back from leave to what seemed like
endless "clothing parades", weekly laundry and boot repair sessions
until the 21st August at 11.50 a.m. when I looked out of the window and saw
three bombers flying low towards me.Our normal aircraft were target towing Miles
Masters so hearing the more powerful engines made me look out, but not for
long, the bombs began to fall !Two airmen [one the post cpl] and two from the
army were killed, they were probably delivering the post.I was to find out
later that 60 miles or so away -as the crow flies- but at 18.00 hrs Colerne was
bombed killing 2 airmen in the NAAFI on the same day.
Cpl Kemp went on leave to Dover on
the 15th August so he missed this raid, unfortunately he met his end in a
bombing of Dover.
Friday 30th August - why has it
always to be Friday ?I was posted to 39 M.UColerne, I thought it was in Ireland
! no just outside Bath.Ileft at ll.50 a.m. to travel the sixty-odd miles [as
the crow flies!] to Colerne, wartime travel, bad connections and no bus service
to the camp were to keep me on the move until 21.30 hrs. over nine and a half
hours, cook-house closed, nobody interested until I found the cook who found me
a bed in his barrack room [hut].Where on earth had I arrived ?
In 1940 the airfield and buildings
were in the early stages of construction.Massive bulldozers moving the earth
for the runways, builders erecting barrack blocks and all the paraphernalia
needed on an airfield.The M.U. Stores and N.A.A.F.I., guardroom and
administration block and two large hangers were completed but accommodation
blocks still not ready. Three barrack huts were in use but by the time that I
arrived they were fully occupied and I was put into a tent.When the bad weather
arrived some of us were given bicycles and billeted out to Marshfield, a small
village on the other side of the airfield but as there was no exit from the
camp we had to circumvent the site, two to three miles, we had all our meals on
camp.My billet was a small cottage,two bedrooms, no bathroom and outside w.c.
with just an elderly lady in occupation.My bedroom had a jug and bowl for
washing and candles for lighting.After a month or two we were moved into the
stables of Lucknam Manor, some occupying the stable-lads quarters above but I
occupied half of one of the horse "boxes" with a cobbled floor and
drain down the centre !The Manor was about two miles away, no bicycle now, we
had to walk, but we skirted the village on the way so invariably called in at
the Fox & Hounds for a beer, cheese and bread and a pickled onion.The
occupants of Lucknam Manor at the time were the Bowes-Lyons, relatives of the
Queen, the lady of the house did her stint on the mobile canteenwhich visited
the camp regularly.After many months we were eventually moved into barrack blocks
on the camp.
For transport we had to rely on
"liberty trucks" 3-ton lorries without seats which would take us to
Bath in the evening and return at 9-30, a bit early so quite often we would
catch a bus which went part way then walk the five miles or so up the hill.The
"regular" bus from Colerne village was on Tuesday and Friday, one
journey each way !a desolate area on top of the hills, bleak and windy.This was
where I had arrived !
When I arrived the main R.A.F.
Station was not open, just the M.U., we were classed as an Aircraft Storage
Unit [ ASU ].Our "stock" being aeroplanes, mainly coming direct from
the factories by ferry pilots.They were to be checked and fitted out for
particular squadrons or for special duties i.e. camouflage, photographic
reconnaissance or whatever.Our stocks in the main were Spitfires, Blenheims,
Lysanders, Lancasters and later Horsa Gliders.During the time that I was there
we were involved in converting two Lancasters for the bombing of the German dams,
fitting special petrol tanks to 50 Spitfires for the defence of Malta and many
special variations of Spitfires.I arrived during the Battle of Britain so you
can imagine the urgency in the turn around of Spitfires in particular.More
later.In the main store I began doing stints in the various sections and as we
were expanding all the time there was a shortage of N.C.O's.Three of us were
considered but as we were not yet L.A.C's they decided to give us an
examination, again a three hour written paper in the morning then a different
type of practical in the afternoon.Two of us passed as L.A.C's and shortly
afterwards became corporals.By now I was in charge of the Stock Control Section
in the Main Store, with about ten staff - mainly WAAF's.I was also responsible
for getting all the spares required to get the aircraft up to operational
standard.As an ASU we were given special priorities, specific items were
ordered by signal [telegram] marked AOG - aircraft on ground - or ASU Urgent.I
had to order these myself, monitor their progress and chase them daily, as they
were special items I spent much time chasing by 'phone, factories, special RAF
units and various sections of the Ministry of Aircraft Productions.In those
days when you asked for a telephone number you had to wait and they would let
you know when they had connected you !When I got to the stores in the morning I
used to book all the calls that I knew I wanted that day.Five o'clock every day
I had to send a signal to HQ 41 Group, listing the Aircraft grounded.The whole
position became more complicated and specialised.
When
I came back from leave in early November 1941, I caught the 7-50 a.m. train
from Barnoldswick and arrived at the guardroom at 9 a.m. next day, travel by
rail was an experience during the war but there was an R.T.O. - Railway
Transport Officer - on most of the large railway stations who would endorse
your pass to cover your delay.I was greeted by congratulations, your third
[sergeant] came through on orders on the 1st November.I went straight to the
stores, on my desk were 3 sets of stripes and an income tax form !At lunchtime
as SERGEANT PRESTON I was escorted
to the Sergeants Mess to have my meal served up to me and not having to provide
my own "irons" !
By now the airfield was developing
rapidly, a new large Sergeants Mess, Officers Mess, barrack blocks and another
large hanger for the RAF Station with a Group Captain as C.O., he was G.Capt.
Beamish an ex Irish rugby international.The squadrons did not appear to be
operational but "resting" or maybe re-grouping.We had enough on our
plate without mixing with them.In any event we were now only an attachment to
the main station.When the threat of invasion loomed the Grp. Capt. had us all
together and given a pep talk, told that we had very few rifles and were to be
issued with pikes, made in the workshops, long broom handles with a metal
bayonet type head attached and told there was no point in backing off if we
were attacked !He also tried to get a rugby team for the camp but that came to nothing,
by the end of the match I realised how unfit we really were.
Under normal circumstances we were
allowed 7 days leave every three months, during the other two months one could
apply for [2] 48 hour passes.For the 7 day pass one also was granted a railway
warrant [free travel] to your home town, not for a 48 hour pass.When you went
away you usually carried your side pack but more often
your
back pack, always with your towel and soap and travel rations from the
cookhouse [sandwiches].
For
your 7 day leave you were also issued with a ration card to cover the
period.Leave was always subject to the exigency of the service, quite often
there were periods when all leave was cancelled.In the services we were well
fed but eating out or for civilians it was a different proposition things were
tight with little variation in diet.We often had bacon & egg, outside they
had to settle with egg powder !
During
this period on my 48 hrs I visited Chichester staying in the YMCA, Mac, my
friend was in the Royal Engineers on Goodwood Race Course at the time.I also
stayed with his sister in Epsom and with a friend, the Gas Manager in Swindon.
Because of travel delays it was so much quicker to hitch-hike and drivers were
always pleased to help out.I was also able to visit Orchestral Concerts in Bath
and Bristol, Dame Myra Hess and the up and coming Moura Lympany !Brother Allan,
at that time in the Northants Yeomanry had a short spell in nearby Trowbridge
and I was able meet him there.
When I went on leave home, to
Barnoldswick, I usually arrived at Leeds station late at night so had to wait
for the first train next morning.This meant a wait of 5 or 6 hours, sleeping
was not easy, just dozing off for short spells, so I often enjoyed a hot bath
for about an hour in the toilets down below, arriving home quite fresh. With the completion of the Sergeants Mess and
a few postings it was not long before I was found a shared room in the mess,
almost like living in an hotel.However, things were to change - for ever ! In
late March or early April 1942 a WAAF Sergeant came into the stores to learn my
job ! 885,826 SERGEANT McLUCKIE J A
- it did not worry me as all the postings for me had been quashed by 41 Group
HQ, but it seemed that RAF Headquarters had other ideas now.I felt that there could
not be many medical grade 1 sergeants left in this country and the time must
come, particularly the way that the war was developing.
The morning Jean arrived in the
stores she was shown to my desk and was to sit with me for many weeks.At
lunchtime we went to the mess together and in the evening I took her down to
Bath.We got on well although she was quick to tell me that she was engaged
[actually she was about to become engaged].After 2 or 3 weeks she went on leave
for her 21st birthday, the 25th April 1942.At a party in Frascaties she became
engaged to Arthur Woodward, an airman she met at Abingdon who was about to get
his Commission.
Back in the stores life was not easy
for her, a sergeant equipment assistant who had not been on any course and had
only worked in a clothing store and expected to take on a very specialised
position.At the same time she was required to look after a bunch of WAAFs.Yes,
there was sexual discrimination, she was not allowed to sleep in the sergeant's
mess although she had her meals with us and was able to use the facilities.She
was billeted in a wooden barrack block in a desolate area near Thickwood a few
miles away and given a cycle for transport ! a load of WAAFs no hot water a
bleak outlook.
After about three months I was moved
out of the stores and Jean was thrown in at the deep end.It did not work out so
she was transferred to the Aircraft Section - a large hanger on the airfield
where new aeroplanes came before being made operational, and I returned to my
desk.
During all this time we continued to
be together whenever possible - for meals, in the evening and at week-ends.By
Christmas Jean had broken off her engagement, I had spoken to her father and we
were engaged.We started to make preliminary arrangements for a wedding in
September 1943.On our week--end passes we usually stayed in Bath Jean sleeping
in a girls club whilst I stayed in the YMCA.
In April Jean went on leave for her
birthday, her posting to 216 M.U. Sutton Coldfield came through and she was
re-called.Her father got in touch with a friend he knew in the Air Ministry and
got the re-call rescinded !However when her leave ended and she returned she
was off.I was devastated, all interest in 39 M.U. vanished.
About two weeks later my posting
arrived - 984,136 Sergeant Preston O posted to RAF West Kirby, must be Grade 1
medical, repeat Grade 1 medical.West Kirby was a reception area for overseas
postings - near to Liverpool Docks.They were on to 41 Group to try to cancel
but I couldn't wait to get away, they were still waiting for an answer when I
left Colerne. In April 1941 the staff
of the Equipment Section comprised a Flight Lieutenant, Flying Officer Warrant
Officer and 31 other ranks, a total of 34.By April 1943 the 31 other ranks had
increased to 4 sergeants 8 corporals 18 airmen and 17 WAAF's a total of 50.By
the time I left I had been with the unit 2 years and 8 months.During this
period, although we did guard duties, odd parades and the like, no military
exercises, no gymnasium, in fact rather a sedentary existance.No, I was not
"fighting fit" when I caught the train for West Kirby !
When I arrived at No 2 Wing R.A.F.
West Kirby I expected to be granted embarkation leave fairly quickly - that was
the norm.I telephoned Jean and we decided to get married during the leave and
not in September as we intended.There appeared to be snags as Jean had not been
resident in Sutton Coldfield the required three weeks.The bigger snag was that
we were told that we were confined to barracks and leave was not going to be
granted.I spoke to my officer - Flt.Lt. Foster, more later, and then to the
Padre.The Padre was very helpful he said that if the ban on leave continued he
could arrange for the wedding to be arranged within the camp - maybe even in
the local church.He was also empowered to give me a certificate allowing me to
get married anywhere.You can imagine the conversations Jean and I had on the
telephone every night !Jean in touch with her mother trying to make
arrangements with no date or venue in view.It was on Thursday the 3rd June that
we were told that we had been granted 14 days leave from Friday.I rang Jean,
went home on the Friday and mother, dad, brother Bill, sister Dorothy and I
caught the 7-50 train on Saturday the 5th June for Sutton Coldfield.The wedding
had been arranged for 3.o'clock, we didn't know where but when we got off the
bus Jean's mother was there to meet us.Bill had already made the wedding cake
ready for September, two tiers instead of the usual three, icing sugar was not available
during the war so it was decorated with marzipan, as he had been carrying it he
was pleased to dash off to the boarding house and off-load it before going to
the church.We had arrived in Sutton Coldfield at about 2-30 so had to go direct
to the Congregational Church off the High Street.Jean's mother, father and
sister came up from London, her mother came up on the Friday bringing a wedding
dress and veil etc. and whatever rations and tinned food she could muster for
the "reception".It was a hectic two days for her !
It was the normal wedding ceremony
but there were only two other people in the congregation, from Jean's camp -
remember she had only recently arrived there and the wedding was at very short
notice.Jean's father thought he had two films left in the camera but there was
only one and he took two pictures on it, so there was no record for posterity
!We returned to the "lodgings" where Jeans mother and the landlady
had prepared the "wedding breakfast". By now ladies had become
masters at making a feast out of meagre rations and we had our fill.Time was
getting on, my family had a long journey to Yorkshire and Jean's to London so
instead of them seeing us off on our honeymoon we went with them to see them
off on the bus to Birmingham ! We then went to the "pictures" before
returning to the lodgings where we had just had the reception.
As Jean had recently had leave and
was new on the camp she was only able to get a week-end pass but was also able
to get a sleeping-out pass for the next week.Some honeymoon, getting up early
in the mornings and dashing off to camp !Towards the end of my leave I returned
to Barnoldswick for a couple of days before returning to West Kirby.Remember I
was expecting this to be my last home leave for a long time to come.
Now to West Kirby and the start of
an entirely new experience, both for us and for them.The usual postings were
for a few weeks at the most, embarkation leave, then kitting out for the
destination they were bound for then on to the boat nearby.For us it was
different, one morning we were out on parade when a Squadron Leader along with
a number of Flight Lieutenants stood before us and we were told that we were in
fact No.104 Beach Flight of No.2 Beach Squadron -eventually to become part of
No.8 Beach Group.We were being formed to overcome a difficulty which had
occured during the invasion of North Africa when RAF Stores, particularly
ammunition and petrol were often being taken by the army instead of reaching
the RAF.
The Sqdn/Ldr now our C.O., then nominated
Flt/Lt's with Sgt's to specific roles within the unit.There were 6 Flt/Lt's and
6 Sgt's, a further Sgt M.P. [military police], an admin cpl., a cpl cook, two
cpl.M.P's and about 10 airmen. A total complement of around 28.I was introduced
to Flt/Lt. Foster D E and informed that we were petrol specialists, an airman
[sort of batman] made up the trio.We were also told that we would be going on a
combined operations course but because so many sent on previous courses had
failed because of fitness, we were to be trained here first.It was around this
time that the North African campaign was concluding and talk of an Italian
invasion was in the air.Was that to be our destination ?
When we returned from leave we were
introduced to an army R.S.M. seconded to the unit to train us up to a
reasonable standard of fitness - all of us.Now it was for real, a lot of
drilling on the square, route marches, map reading, unarmed combat and an
assault course, although that was really an introduction of what was to come.The
officers and sergeants were alright, when we went for our meals we could always
have "seconds" but it was different for the lads.They were having
meals with all the others who were spending most of their time laying on their
beds waiting to move out, seconds were out for them - but not for long, after
causing an eruption with the duty officer, their complaint went to higher
authority and the cooks were instructed to "up their rations" and
satisfy the lads' requests.This regime went on for about six weeks for all of
us so we were beginning to feel like a unit with the C.O. and officers doing
the same training with us - and an army Regimental Sergeant Major in control
!During this training whilst doing normal marching my left knee began to give
way although "at the double" march it was o.k., I reported sick, the
M.O. could find nothing wrong so that was it - it still happens 50 years on !
We were now allowed out of camp for some Saturday or Sundays with the odd
excursion into Liverpool, and before we moved out were granted 48 hour passes.
This meant that within two months I was back in Sutton Coldfield, the first of
many such unexpected trips.
It was on my return from this leave
that I got into the train at Snow Hill Station, selecting an end compartment
which had only one row of seats instead of the usual two, there was luggage
reserving a seat but that left me plenty of room.As the train moved out the
passenger took his seat, I looked at him and after a short time I said "I
have just married your cousin, aren't you Ian McLuckie?"It was, we had
never met but I recognised him from his photograph on the piano at Rushton
Lodge.He was going home to Liverpool where he was in charge of the Seamans
Mission.That night I slept on the marble mantlepiece in the waiting room at the
station until the first train for West Kirby.Railway stations were usually
packed overnight by such as me.I was able to visit Ian and his family before we
moved from West Kirby.
It was early in August when we
arrived in Troon, a small coastal village in Ayrshire on the south west coast
of Scotland, it was raining, what an introduction to Scotland.Straight into
action, this was the Combined Operations centre with it's massive Assault
Course as the climax.Before that we were to engage in beach landings from
Irvine via L.C.T's [landing craft tanks], on each occasion they landed us up to
our necks in the water and we had to wade in, wearing full pack it was tricky
until your feet were firmly on the bottom, you tended to fall backwards, Sgt Harris
was barely five ft. tall and found it very rough, we overcame his problem by
making sure that there was always someone behind him to hold him up until his
feet made contact with the sea bed.This happened on numerous landings, although
theyexplained that the beaches we would attack would be gentler so little
chance of getting quite so wet !We would then advance inland, usually on to
Troon Golf course before returning to our barracks.Within the first two days we
were destined to wear wet clothing as we had only one change of clothing, wet
landings and steady rain lasted for most of the course.We regularly did smaller
assault courses crawling in the mud under barbwire and other obstacles then
finished up in the shower before taking our clothes off.The final Dundonald
Assault Course was a cracker which included a very high rope ladder up to the
top of scaffolding with a scrambling nethanging down as though on a ship, when
you got to the bottom you had to jump on to a platform which was swinging
sideways - a daunting experience.Another of the obstacles was dropping down 16
feet into a pit of soft sand - best not to look, just jump !No wonder that some
of the earlier airmen did not make it.Throughout the course we had to wear
full-pack and weapons, officers and sergeants had pistols - hand guns - the
lads had sten guns.Fortunately one of our sergeants had been taken off the
course before we went to Troon, he had been excused boots as his ankle had been
reinforced with a metal bar.He was furious but we soon realised that he would
never have made it.I don't remember a "passing out parade" or in fact
a parade ground as such, I think that we completed the course then just moved
down the road to Prestwick for a week or so before the move to Bournemouth.As we
were now an entity with no home base, pay became a problem, the C.O. had his
work cut out getting the money and it became far from regular.On the 4th
September I opened a Post Office Savings account in Kilmarnock with £5, must
have at last been paid, too much money to have around in those circumstances.
After the long train
journey from Scotland we arrived at Bournemouth to join a number of other units
and become part of theNo 8 BEACH GROUP.We were based in requisitioned private
houses in Westbourne with our H.Q. in The Avenue.It was a well-to-do area all
detached houses and some quite large, ideal as various Company H.Q's.The
largest unit was the 5th Royal Berkshire Regiment whose job was to defend the
beach group area.There was a good sized company of Army Military Police and the
Royal Army Service Corps. and no doubt others we had little contact with.As
sergeants we shared the Sgts Mess with the 5th Royal Berks, although we had our
own house to live in and didn't really fraternise or meet socially. One end of
The Avenue led to the seafront, the other end to Westbourne shops and buses to
Poole and Bournemouth.We were given special arm badges to wear as members of
the beach group, a blue circle about an inch and a quarter in diameter with an
anchor in the centre.That was later withdrawn and we were issued with the
combined operations badges.It was probably at this time that we were given
another kit bag along with khaki uniforms and greatcoat but with Airforce blue
stripes etc., in effect we now had two sets of uniforms but were required to
wear the khaki on most occasions.They also gave us new blue uniforms which had
been "anti-louse" impregnated, this treatment made the blue more of a
grayish blue, a bit too near the colour of the German gray uniform for me.It
was for this reason that I ignored the order for us to embark for D-day in blue
!
I
was also issued with a Navigators Wrist-watch and a dagger - about 10"
long, with it's sheath.I was soon put in touch with Jean's Uncle George and
Aunt Ethel [Ian's parents], he being a retired Congregational Minister
following a stroke, now living in Westbourne and within easy walking distance.I
visited them regularly on Saturday evenings for a bath - no hot water in our
billet - then a game of three handed bridge.On some Sundays I would go with
Aunt Ethel [George was almost chairbound] to the Richmond Hill Congregational
Church morning service.I was also able to visit the Pavilion and listen to a
few Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra concerts.
After the rain and cold in Scotland
it was a treat to march a few miles to Canford Cliffs in late September and
October, go through the barbwire "defences" on to the beach and go
swimming, coffee in the local cafe, then march back, anything to keep us
occupied !
Westbourne
was to be our base for the next eight months although we were to spend more
time elsewhere.It was imperative that we remained fit, being informed that on
landing it would be unlikely that we would get any sleep for at least 48 hours
and that we would be living rough for up to 90 days.
We now embarked on a two pronged
series of training sessions.The main one as a Beach Group going on exercises,
the second in our own specialised sphere in between exercises and keeping
fit.There were so many of these sessions that it is unlikely that I have got
them in the right order.The first Group exercise took us back to Scotland, a
whole train load of us left Bournemouth station - a 24 hour trip to a small
station not far from GULLANE
GOLF
COURSE on the Firth of Forth coast.We were actually on the golf course with
nothing going on, just sorting out an area to stock jerricans and somewhere to
sleep.As it was a seaside links there was little shelter - on no account were
we to use buildings on exercises - somehow I managed to get hold of a load of
blankets so I wrapped myself in them and slept under the fire-tender - until it
was called out !I don't remember seeing much of Don, [F/Lt Foster] or LAC Hunt,
they were probably nearer the beach whilst I was out on the golf
course.Although it was cold and windy we did not have much rain, the exercise
included coasters bringing stores from Leith to the beach and off-loading -
none for us.Two weeks later we were back on the train.When we arrived at
Gullane for the exercise two of our airmen went missing, one was attached to
our H.Q., he apparently knew the drill as both of them turned up at the station
for the return journey.I was orderly sergeant so had to bring him before the
C.O. before we got on the train, the C.O. decided to defer action 24 hours.We
left Gullane at about 7-30 a.m., arriving at Bournemouth stationaround 5
o'clock next morning.You can imagine the nearby residents being disturbed by
the sound as a whole train load of us marched by with our studded boots pounding
the tar-mac in time !When we arrived in The Avenue I had to bring the lads in
front of the C.O. again as the 24 hours were nearly up.They got away with it
leniently, no way were they going to get off the unit !
The next exercise was a landing in BRACKLESHAM BAY, near East Wittering,
West Sussex.Another fourteen days from start to finish.Embarking from
Portsmouth Hards in L.C.T's, a wet landing but not as deep as in Scotland.All
we had for shelter was our ground sheet on all the exercises and had to keep a
24 hour guard.As we had to sort out our own site for jerrican storage we were
always a good distance away from the others in the unit so the three of us
always seemed isolated.On the landings the three of us were never on the same
landing craft, I would be on one and Don and the airman on another, hopefully
we would both meet up at our given site.We did three landings on this site over
the months but it was not until D-day or there-abouts that we realised why.
We went on a different type of
exercise to STUDLAND BAY north of
Swanage in Dorset.This time the army had gone in before us and devastated the
area leaving a real battleground for us.The weather was atrocious, strong wind
and pouring down with heavy rain, so much so that by the end of the day the
Army C.O. ordered a rum ration for everyone.I haven't mentioned this before but
being so isolated I had become friendly with Yorkie, the corporal cook with the
R.A.S.C. contingent, when we were out on exercises.He was given the rum to hand
out to the troops, he came back saying that many had refused their ration and
he had a lot left over, I emptied my water bottle and re-filled it with his
rum, it was to last me for many weeks as a night-cap.I believe that this
exercise was cut short due to the weather conditions, it was different to the
others as we were located in a wooded area and quite hilly, not the type of
terrain we were to occupy !
In between these exercises we had to
be kept busy and fit, I have mentioned marching to Canford Cliffs for a swim,
we also went on other route marches and schemes.One outing was for map reading,
we were taken out in a closed 3-tonner [with the flap down] and after about an
hours journey were given ordnance survey maps, split into small groups, dropped
off in different areas and told the map ref. we were to meet.Not only was it a
good outing but we finished up in the lovely village of Milton Abbas on a fine
sunny afternoon.We were also given more unarmed combat training and I was given
motor-cycle training and the use of a Royal Enfield bike !
One of the few occasions when we
went off together as a unit was our trip to RAF CARDINGTON the headquarters of
the recently formed RAF Regiment.They had an assault course they were proud of
and a training schedule to match.So we were sent there to kill time, it was a
bit like being back at West Kirby with our C.O.on parade with us again.No
trouble to us now - until one of the lads let off his sten gun in the barrack
block - caused a bit of administerial panic, no way would he be allowed off the
unit at this late stage.We completed their course and tackled their Assault
Course with ease,when we finished two of the lads had lost their bayonets so
the C.O. [annoyed by the officer i/c attitude] took us round the course a
second time to look for them.Next morning we were scheduled for a Passing Out
parade at 11.00 hrs. but by 9 o'clock we were on the train for Bournemouth.By
now we had grown used to our own special kind of independance, from the C.O.
downwards, we were specialists in our own right, no-one could or would touch
us.
When we moved around from our base
on exercises we wore full pack and our two kit-bags followed us.When we went on
smaller schemes we had to take our two kit-bags with us as our house was far
from secure.A few of us were sent to RAF
SAWBRIDGEWORTH for a week or so, maybe Don had instructions but we didn't
seem to do anything positive.Another trip was to an old burnt out ruin, COPPED HALL in Essex nobody else was
there so after a couple of days or so we went to nearby RAF NORTH WEALD, there were no more than half a dozen of us - with
nothing to do but look after ourselves.On these trips Don and I would now and
then go to the local pub for a quiet chat as evening entertainment was
lacking.I was on leave in Muswell Hill when I received a telegram to report to RAF HESTON in West London, I went on
the tube and met Don at about 10.00 hrs we went out of camp to a cafe for a
chat.Again there was nothing to do, he was there with my kit waiting for
further instructions so he said that I might as well go back to Muswell Hill
and return next morning at the same time !I did this trip for about a week, reporting each day.As I had been recalled from leave
these extra days did not count, but they did for Jean !When we went to GROOMBRIDGE in Kent it was with the
Ammunition Section, we were billited in Groombridge Hall, we were told that it
was an annex to one of the London Hotels but now requisitioned and void of
furniture.Ammunition was stacked in the orchard and surrounding area, this did
seem to have a purpose for a visit although most days we marched into Tonbridge
Wells to one of the cafes then march back.On these trips we probably had
week-end passes and I would be off to Sutton Coldfield.
Just before we went on one exercise
they arranged a football match for us against the Military Police - they were
about 40 strong- and a bit bigger than us.I played centre foward and finished
up with a couple of cracked ribs.The M.O. strapped me up with four inch
elastoplast all around my body, would not excuse me from duty and next day we
went off on a 14 day exercise.I forgot all about it until we returned and I got
into the bath and tried to get the tape off - I certainly remember that ! No,
we didn't undress when out on an exercise, remember we only had our groundsheet
for protection at night-time.
About April 44 we went on another
landing to BRACKLESHAM BAY, before
the exercise we were shown photographs of the coastline pointing out where we
would land and the direction we would have to take to get to our allotted site
[Petrol dump], or POL site [petrol, oils and lubricants].The exercise was
beginning to get more organised with more troops involved and the preliminary
movements more concise. We were now taking things seriously, making sure that
we had everything with us and reading carefully all the instructions handed
out.Remember I was going in virtually on my own !The only airman on the
boat.This time we were on a LSI [landing ship infantry], we boarded late
afternoon and sailed in the evening, I was not too keen to sleep in the holds,
too crowded, so found myself a space on deck in between some small crates and
the boat outside rail.We carried our emergency 24 hour ration pack, dried food
, biscuits, tea, boiled sweats and chocolate, and always kept our water bottles
full. About this time the whole Beach
Group was marched out to some field where we were addressed by some high
ranking official, this is rather vague in my mind, could it be that it was
really something I had seen on television ?I don't think so - but.Yes things
were moving, I was given a spade instead of a trenching tool, it was the
pointed style, so I sharpened it and made the handle shorter so that I could
carry it easier.
All the exercises were given code
names, one I remember was Gold Braid but now I come to the one called OVERLORD which I will describe in a bit
more detail.We were taken to a building with views of the coast taken from the
sea all around the walls of a large room.We were shown the sector where we
would land, it was identical to the seashore we had landed in Bracklesham Bay -
the Church Spire and Water Tower seemed the same.We were given disembarkation
tags with number, rank and name and a Unit Serial number, in my case 1543
J32/LST.We moved out of Bournemouth as a unit to a transit camp, a large
temporary tented area just outside Southampton.We were told that we were on the
first tide landing, after a couple of days or so, it was a Saturday, we were
told we could have a 36 hour pass but we had to be back by first thing Monday
morning as the camp would be sealed from then on.It gave us just enough time to
catch the London train from Southampton - about mid-day.Jean was on a course in
Redcar way up north, I didn't get there until next morning but managed to meet
her before catching a train back in the afternoon !
We were probably given the
disemarkation tags once the camp was sealed and before we split up as a unit
!From this camp we were moved on in accordance with our serial numbers, so I
was once more on my own, I went to at least two more similar camps, all the
others were army units, taking a week or so until we were ready to embark.Since
early in the year the south coast area and for miles inland the roads were full
of army troops, vehicles, tanks and warfare gear.Camps such as these were all
over the place.It could have been Friday the 2nd June when hundreds of us
marched through Southampton to the docks, bystanders cheering us as we went
by.J32 was a troopship, instead of lifeboats LCT's were slung up.The
"passengers" included some of the 3rd Canadian Division, the 51st
Highland Division I believe and to my relief later I spotted some of the RASC
lads of the Beach Group.We sailed out into the Solent with the Isle of Wight to
out right and Portsmouth on our left, during the next 48 hours there were so
many and varied types of ships in the Solent that you felt that you could walk
to either place without getting wet !If this wasn't it, it was going to be some
exercise and by now we were all wanting it to be so, let's get on with it,
we've played around long enough.On Monday the 5th June, our first wedding
anniversary, at around 21.00 hrs the ship set sail. We were called on deck and
told that we were on our way to invade Europe next morning, we were given a
pamphlet from General Dwight Eisenhower the Supreme Allied Commander wishing us
well, I was also given a map of the sector showing where the site was in
relation to Nan sector of JUNO beach where we would land.As we sailed out of
the Solent - eastward, passing the other ships they were hooting and cheering
us on our way.There was little thought of sleep, plenty was going on to keep us
occupied, now and then laying on the bunk - I have told this many times
"On my first wedding night anniversary I went to bed with my hob-nail
boots on !"
It would be around 4 o'clock when we
were invited to partake in a naval tradition of a rum ration, this time though
a double ration - I declined the offer, no way was I going in half cut.
During the night we could hear the
bombers on their way over the Channel and the engines of the other ships.As
dawn broke we saw the large fleet of ships, a wide variety of vessels and as we
drew nearer the coast picked out cruisers, rocket ships, LCT's and all manner
of shapes, even a two manned submarine !No, we were not alone.I heard the 8
o'clock news on the ships inter-com, they hinted that there was some activity
going on in the Channel, I noticed an LSI drawing alongside, serial numbers
were called out and told to join the ship, mine was not among them but I
noticed some of the RASC lads from the Beach Group were jumping in. Without
much further thought I followed them, jumping 8 or 10 feet down on to the deck,
they were going to the same location so I might as well have some company most
of the way.The landing ship had gangways about two feet wide on either side
running alongside down to the sea.As we approached the beach there was plenty
going on and we pulled alongside another LSI which was on fire and beached.The
order came to disembark and I remember clearly thinking as I stepped on to the
gangway, this is it now get moving.It was not a very wet landing but with the
sound of guns of all sizes and the activity on the beach I didn't waste any
time getting away from the sand.It was the west end of the sea front of St.
Aubin, the next village east of our site a couple of miles or so away.As we got
off the beach I joined up with the RASC lads, it was noisy, a strong smell of
cordite and burning.I had landed on the beach around 9.20 in the morning [the
offical war diary gives me as landing around 11.00 hrs - when my official
serial number would have landed]I didn't hand in my disembarkation tag, I still
have it.We moved up to the first lateral [the first road running along the
coast] aiming for Berniere-sur-Mer, as we semi-crawled along the side of the
road we soon found that we were actually moving in front of the 16 pounders
firing at enemy positions inland.As we reached Bernieres the railway station
was smashed to pieces and the village in a mess, packed with soldiers, vehicles
and tanks.Our site was to the right of the village road leading from the church
inland, the field on the left was a minefield both on the map and actually
signposted, so there was no short cut from the village.For a while we were held
up, but being so near our destination we edged through the village on to the
road.We were then stopped from entering the field by the army, it was still in
enemy hands so we sheltered by the hedge waiting.
The site was on a slight incline,
about a mile inland there was a German defence gun-post, I later went along to
see it, trench all around it, a concrete pill-box with ancillary buildings,
near the gun was a map showing the position and distances of the various points
around.Clearly shown was the Church and the entrance to the site.As the tanks
came up through the village on to the site they allowed the first one in, by
the time it had advanced about 50 yards they hit it, the second one not so far
and by the time we had arrived there were five tanks on the site out of
action.Then came basic army tactics, a section of the infantry drawing fire
while others advanced and finally captured the gun-post.It was turned 2 o'clock
before we were allowed in, as we moved from the village road I looked for the
shovel I had put down - it had gone, just when I was to have found it useful !
We moved on to the site, we had been
alloted an area at the top of the incline, probably about a mile from the beach
and with a good view of the sea and all the ships.I joined Don and we sorted
out where and how we would stack our jerricans and where we would establish our
living quarters.The top part, away from the dump, was a cornfield, the corn
three to four feet high and a section cut out about 20 yards wide.I decided on
the side nearest the dump, Don on the other side both just inside the corn for
cover.Having dug a trench to sleep in - only about a foot deep - it was hard
going, and another trench near our dump it was getting dark.We went down to the
Army Site H.Q., set up where the tanks had entered.For an office they had dug a
trench about three feet deep, four feet away another trench, the four feet was
their desk and they stood up in the trench to work, over the top was a tarpaulin
with just enough room to get under and work.As it grew dark our air cover went
back and fairly soon enemy aircraft began to fly over us, our troops had not
advanced as far as we had hoped.Someone claimed that paratroops had dropped in
the area, Don and I, F/Lt Woollacott [ammo.] and another walked up through the
site to no avail.The wind had got up during the day with the result that only
the first tide contingent had landed, the second tide were not to land until
next day.I don't remember much rain but it was squally weather, our main
concern was the burning and gunfire along with the shells overhead being fired
by the Navy.There was also constant air activity during the day.As dawn broke
we returned to our area doing more digging both for the dump and for our own
"home" area.I had again joined the RASC cpl cook, Yorkie, we dug our
trench about 3 feet deep and about 12 ft long so that we could sleep feet to
feet.Two or three days later we borrowed a jeep to pick up an iron sledge used
to tow extra ammunition behind tanks and placed it over our trench, the front
part resting on empty crates from the cookhouse which acted as open cupboards
for our belongings.On D+1 we were still kept busy when the Second-tide section
came in, F/Lt Cleary and Sgt Hunt, remember Don's batman was also LAC Hunt !We
hadn't met before, I believe they were 103 Flight, our cover if we hadn't made
it.Don had a jeep for the section but there was no motorbike for me.By the end
of the day, it was actually just before midnight, when we had our first
delivery of petrol, 1606 galls of 100 oct. petrol and 112 galls of oil.I nearly
went to sleep counting off the cans, I hadn't had my boots off for over three
days.
Looking at the site we were very
suspicious of the set-up, although not marked up as a minefield it had every
appearance of one.Within the first three days a loaded DUKW was backing on to
one of the RASC sections when it blew up.The Royal Engineers were called in,
located 12" shells buried at intervals all over the site, left them but
stuck 6 ft. canes in to mark where they were.During the second day, because of
this general feeling, the RASC had arranged for a flail tank to go along the
cart-track to check it out, but that was clear.
The advance was held up, we were
warned that if there was an enemy attack by tanks, not to worry they would be
allowed in then cut-off !I found Cpl"Yorkie's" army advice very
constructive at this time, and as we began to use his routdoor cooking a very
welcome friend and companion.The front line was only a few miles up the road
but we knew there were plenty of our troops in front of us and it was a
comforting sight looking out to sea and seeing so many ships in view.I think
the only man in the squadron to open fire was AC Heywood, an airman who had been
attached to our section only a few months before.He went down to the village
where an authorised water point had been established, as he was getting water a
bullet hit the nearby wall - there was still a sniper in the Church spire -
Heywood let rip with his sten gun.
After about a week I had an
unexpected visitor, brother Alan who I had not seen since 1941, arrived on the
site on a motorbike.Last I had heard he was in North Africa in the 8th Army.He
was now in the 22nd Dragoons a corporal in a flail tank and had landed at St.
Aubin at 07.30 hrs, half-an-hour before H.hour and two hours before me.He knew
I was in a beach group and was able to do a diversion to find me, they were
pinned down this side of Caen. Very
little of our stock was being issued so Don and I went out in the Jeep looking
for one of the landing strips.After a short run we found ourselves in amongst
the army and tanks, we had got in front of them and in no-mans land, they
warned us off and soon showed us where to go !We didn't try again.By now the
two officers had acquired a tent used as an office and to sleep in, with the
jeep alongside.From the start we had a field telephone to keep in touch with
our H.Q. and to give them a progress report of our stocks every evening around
6 o'clock.In turn our H.Q. would contact the Beach Commander asking for
supplies from the various ships laying off-shore.As far as I know we only had
one casualty, a corporal on our H.Q. staff who fell in one of the boats and
broke his leg or something like that.When the RAF Commando & Construction
Wing airmen called to collect fuel for the landing strips they were organising
they were a bit surprised to find that we were in before them !
Within a week we had our dump fully organised
with enough airmen to look after all aspects.Don was the senior officer and I
was the senior NCO with around 10 men which tended to change as men came and
went.By D+24, the end of June, we had man-handled 4,282 tons of fuel, in other
words 995,059 gallons, or as pure brute energyr 218,382 jerricans weighing 44
lbs each either off or on to the high 3 ton lorries.That kept us fit.We were
"in the field" in other words no buildings or laid on services,
latrines were pits dug nearby with a pole to sit on, a shovel and a hessian
partition for privacy.For washing and shaving and even the very occasional
wash-down, it was an empty 4 gallon oil can cleaned out, in our case in the
shelter of the cornfield.
It was not until early July that the
postion eased in the area, up until then there were many skirmishes, naval
shelling and air raids by both bombers and straffing fighters.Then came the
real bombing of Caen, it seemed like thousands of bombers involved, we watched
one Flying Fortress losing height, the crew bail out, the 'plane continue
towards the coast then do a complete loop-the-loop and go into a second but did
not make it, losing power for the second climb - you wouldn't see that at
Farnborough Air Show.By the 9th July they had got into Caen and the area began
to open up.By now we had realised why there was such a large contingent of
military police in the Beach Group, they were needed to organise all the new
tracks in the area for the transport, signposting and policing the traffic.The
more important roads were covered with Sommerfield Track to avoid bogging down,
the earth soon became chewed up and in the rain treacherous, in dry weather
clouds of dust everywhere, it also became clear why army vehicles were designed
with high wheel bases.
After a few weeks we were allowed
into the villages in the evenings, with many restrictions, but as there was no
entertainment there and little to see I rarely bothered.Don took me into Bayeux
in the jeep for a quick look round fairly early on, interesting but again
nothing in the way of entertainment, so generally I spent most of my spare time
writing letters and improving our trench and living "plot".
Another trip with Don was along the
coast road and beaches to see Arromanches where the port had been created but
in view of the activity in the area we didn't hang around - it was like viewing
a battle front as we moved along.
Towards the end of July, the advance
out of Normandy was in full swing and by the end we were replaced by another
complete RAF unit - I don't remember who they were.The officers were sent back
home but we were to remain.Don asked if I had any preference for a job and all
I said was "anything but petrol".It didn't work that way.Instead of
the maximum 90 days on the beaches we had completed just under 60, living in
our trenches.
Yes, D-Day was an experience,
exciting, exhilarating, at times fearsome and nauseating and our training had
stood us well.
Whilst in the Beach Squadron we were
within the 2nd T.A.F. [Tactical Air Force], at some stage I became part of the
British Air Force Overseas although at present we were the B.L.A. [British
Liberation Army].When I left the Beach Group I was probably posted to No.89
E.U., actually I was directed to an army unit to check to see if they had any
RAF fuel.I made a visual check of their stocks and after a couple of days or so
received orders to move to Port-en-Bessin.This
small village fishing port had been captured on D.day but because of its size
had very limited use, however it was being used now and they had asked for more
manpower, by the time I arrived there were already three other ex Beach Sqdn
sgts there.They had already sorted things out, we occupied an empty bungalow on
the hillside overlooking the port which had previously housed the occupying
Germans.It was early August and warm weather, the adjacent outside toilet was
smelling and one of the sergeants [not a petrol specialist] poured some petrol
down, lit it and nearly blew himself up.Whilst in the village a 12 year old lad
made friends with me, we conversed in a mixture of French and Latin and on one occasion
I went home with him, had we stayed longer I'm sure it would have been good for
my French. However, about the 10th August we four sergeants were sent to a
tented area in an orchard near Meuvaines, a small village not far from the
Mulberry [Arromanche] Port, as a detachment of 89 E.U.A lot of 'attractable'
equipment was not arriving at its destination and it was felt that transport
and the docks were to blame.To overcome this we were formed as No 1 E.T.C.
[Equipment Transit Centre], the stores would be flown over to a nearby landing
strip and brought to us, also all RAF transport was ferried via Mulberry to us,
the drivers went back and the units collected their vehicles from us.The unit
O.C. was F/Lt The Hon. Francis DeMoleyns with F/Lt Morris as 2 i.c., there were
4 Sgts, all 6 of us were ex Beach Squadron, a cpl cook and about half a dozen
airmen.When we needed labour we were sent P.O.W's, they were mainly Mongolians
and hard working.I was in charge of Air Freight and shared a tent on site with
the sgt i.c. transport.I enjoyed this as the vehicles came in, usually in
convoys of a dozen or so, we took the log books and sent the drivers back, then
we would park the vehicles in the field.I didn't have a drivers licence but
enjoyed manoeuvring the vehicles into position - anything from Jeeps to Queen
Marys, Bowsers to Airfield Beacons.Most of my airfreight was clothing, although
there were lots of other items urgently required which came through.In the
early days I had a large barrel of white distemper delivered, it was just
thrown off the 3-tonner and the lid flew off, naturally a lot of it was lost
but worst of all it obliterated the label.A few days later there was a panic
call from RAF HQ enquiring what had happened to it, it was urgently needed to
tidy up a building to be opened soon as a social club in Creully for airmen by
Lady ? who had lost 2 or 3 of her sons during the war.
Our living quarters in the orchard
soon became sociable, the officers and sergeants each had a ridge tent large
enough for a camp bed, folding chair and a small table.I also had an officers
camp kit which included a folding washhand-basin, a tilly lamp and a paraffin
stove.I also acquired a mattress from a caravan.Remember we were all equipment
officers and handling large quantities of stores and used to looking after
ourselves.We only needed to look at a package to know what should be inside.We
decided to have our own Sgts Mess so acquired 2 small marquees, one for our
meals the other attached, set at an angle with a bar built at the other end.We
took our turn as orderly sergeant and in doing so used to start the day by
taking everyone a morning mug of tea.Our admin sergeant in peace-time worked
for Blackpool Council, which could have had a bearing on our social life
!Remember our forces were still confined to Normandy, getting consolidated but
rather cramped.We were getting acquainted with the RASC ration suppliers and
getting our fair share.We heard that one of the RAF Gang Shows had come over so
invited them to our camp, however before they came we erected a marquee over a
stage made from crates, dug an orchestral pit in front of it and arranged for
their home comforts.It was to be a night to remembered, we invited
representatives from the local forces [not forgetting the RASC!] including
WRENS from Mulberry Harbour.At the same time a senior Equipment Officer from
2TAF was over inspecting units, he was invited to the concert and he requested
a number of the senior officers of the units to attend.The only name in the
concert party I remember was "Cardew" Robinson who became well known
after the war.After the concert we entertained these officers in our Sergeant's
Mess, being the largest reception area on camp.Towards the end the Wing Cdr -
Grp/Cpt or whoever he was, from 2nd TAF, gave these senior Equipt
Officers a real dressing down and adding that ours was the only unit he had
visited which came up to standard.Our C.O. replied saying that it had nothing
to do with him but his sergeants !The members of the Gang Show were a bit
tattie so we arranged a sort of clothing parade for them.A little later we
arranged another "do", the apples in the orchard were tempting so the
cook decided to make a blackberry and apple pie.It finished up as a meal in the
mess with about 20 guests eating Goose and trimmings followed by the blackberry
& apple pie and our monthly ration of spirits, it was an expensive night
for us.
Once the breakout of Normandy
started and the advance east and south began our C.O. [in the wine trade] had a
pit dug with a ridge tent over it.The fall of Paris was reported - a bit
premature - but he was off with a 3-tonner.When he returned about a fortnight
later with a load of champagne it was put in the pit - it was next to his tent
!He sold it to us at 200 francs [£1] a bottle, now and again he would invite us
to his tent when we drank it out of pint glasses. £1 a bottle was a bit steep
when our monthly ration of 1 bottle of spirits was either 8/6d whisky or 7/6d
gin, depending upon your luck.
By September units were leaving
Normandy and our role changed, we were still receiving stores but as the units
were getting further away they did not collect them.In their speed of advance
they shed their camouflage nets which were brought to us, ostensibly for return
to England.We laid them out in one of our fields to stop them rotting, almost
like haymaking, fortunately we were still getting our P.O.W's.After a while we
were told to burn them so we made great mounds of them and set fire to them,
the fires lasted for days and the colours of the flames were fascinating.We
also had another site a couple of miles away where old aircraft parts from
crashed aircraft were dumped, again rows of "trash", although an army
officer from the RASC who had his wings was able to salvage enough to make
himself an Auster aeroplane from the dump - we got a large electricity
generator in exchange !
As time went on we became more
isolated, we were the only RAF unit left in Normandy, yet still with lots of
equipment.In November it was decided to clear the area and we were given a
goods train once a week which would take 700 tons [I believe] each time.We had
24 hours to load the train but it took us a lot longer to arrange the transport
and organise how to fill the waggons to capacity.
We had now been in Normandy six
months, the last four under canvas and the weather was deteriorating so we were
pleased to prepare for our departure.There had been no towns to visit, cinemas,
public transport, the odd radio, no record player, everything basic.We filled
in our spare time writing letters, the odd game of cards or chatting among
ourselves. For the past three months or so I had made myself a walking stick
and usually wore a full length light brown cotton warehouse coat instead of my
tunic, as it got colder, over my tunic. In
early December we cleared the site and moved off.Our convoy comprised a jeep
with the two officers, a Coles Crane and two 3-tonners loaded with all our
personal gear - we still had our two kit-bags but by now we had far more than
these would satisfy.Apart from my officers camp kit I had a large metal
ammunition box [like a trunk] and my mattress !
Having
the Coles Crane with us reduced our speed with the result that it took us three
days to get to Brussels.We stopped for our meals when the cook got out his
hydro-burner and knocked up meals on the roadside, we also slept in the
vehicles.The coastal road was uninteresting, long, straight and flat, although
going through the early part where the battles had been fought was a
revelation.We arrived at Brussels railway station which was the H.Q. for No. 89
E.U. at about 2-30 p.m. on the Saturday afternoon.There was no-one of
importance there, we were hungry so while one of the officers went to sort
things out for us our cook got his gear out and with his hydro-burner blasting
away he prepared a meal for us on the pavement.We were not a pretty sight.
At last we were to experience a bit
of luxury, by teatime we were installed in a small hotel nearby, although the
Sgt's Mess was a hall in another building.Sunday was spent getting our gear
together and a quick look around.For the next day or two we visited their
stores set up but there were no jobs for us.I met up with another of the old
Beach Sqdn sergeants who was in charge of their Stock Control and finding it
tricky so I explained to him the system I had organised at 39 M.U.
During the week two of us were sent
to No 5.B.M.T.D., in Zellick, a
suburb of Brussels.I fancy it was the Base Motor Transport Depot, in fact the
complete unit had come over from Blackpool - and the C.O. thought he was still
there.We were not amused, they didn't seem to know what to do with us.On the
mess notice board we noticed an advert of the Royal Opera Theatre, La Monnaie,
The Tales of Hoffmann, four of us decided to go and see it.When we arrived we
had the date wrong, it was Aida, the only seats were in the "gods",
we had four seats right at the back, 5 francs each [200 francs to the £1], the
sound was good but we nearly missed the last scene as they had built up the
stage !We went again next night for the Tales of
Hoffmann,
this time we had to split up into single seats, mine was the front row of the
stalls straight behind the orchestra [25 francs] this time too near and the
sound nowhere near as good.We were making the most of the high life of
Brussels, often staying out all night - as sgts we did not need S.O.P's as long
as we were in time for morning parade, which we were not interested in
anyway.One morning we had come through the guard into camp when the guard
called us back [two of us] the C.O. was there, we waited for him to come to us,
listened to him then put him straight on a few matters.Two days later we were
moved again.Apparently 139 WING
equipment section had got themselves in a mess [transfer from semi-peacetime
procedures to in-the-field accounting tended to make them 'slap-happy'], so a
Flt/Sgt and myself were sent along to sort them out.He was also ex Beach Sqdn,
had been on the beach within shelling range from Le Havre and had twice lost
his kit.We were now in GHENT, the
stores in a warehouse in the town and our Mess and living quarters a detached
house in the outskirts.As we were on the move we were told that leave was about
to commence so when we reported to the Orderly Office that was the first
question - when do we go on leave.We had decided that we would not start work
until our leave had been sorted out.Apparently 139 Wing had only one allocation
for leave - which we claimed, they were eventually agreeing to our claim, but
that left a second allocation which they did not have.We were now part of No.
85 Group who had their H.Q. not far away on the outskirts of Ghent.The F/Sgt.
suggested that they be contacted and asked to help out.As we were partly
satisfied, rather than both of us hanging about in the office I went down into
Ghent to the warehouse they had taken over for their stores section.When I
returned to the mess for the mid-day meal the F/Sgt spun a coin, I called and
won, fine, he said, you go on leave, they are still trying to work the second
one out but don't you worry about me.
Early January 45 I came home on 14
days leave, from where to where I don't remember, that was organised for
me.What time Jean was able to get off I don't recall or where I spent the leave
all that I can be sure of is that we would be together.
I returned from leave on the 20th
January only to find that the F/Sgt had been posted.I explained that I would
not have stayed had I not been granted leave but they told me that he had been
moved because he had come down to breakfast without his tie on, had words with
the Mess Senior Officer who reported him to the C.O. !The W.O. [Mess S.O.], and
the C.O. had been Boy Recruits together before the war !
Within days of returning from leave
they asked me to take a party on a week-end pass to Paris, all had been
organised but none of sergeants wanted to go - they had got themselves
organised with local talent.When I claimed shortage of cash their reply was
"You've got some cigarettes have'nt you !"So within a fortnight I was
in Paris with a gang of about 20 staying in the Ambassador Hotel, not knowing
any of them.I enjoyed the trip, taking in most of the tourist attractions
including the Folies Bergere but most of all I remember climbing the steps up to
Montmatre and into the Church of Sacre Coeur with all it's white marble.
Back at 139 Wing we had soon knocked
them into shape, I was in the way and was sent to another unit in Ghent, 75 M.T.L.R.U. this time a motor
transport light recovery unit.They had a number of vehicles which required
major repairs, rather than send them back to U.K., they decided to write them
off, cannibalise, bringing serviceable items back on charge.Another specialised
equipment procedure.Once again I found myself with a tent in a field full of
"old scrap".Fortunately I had a mechanic with me and in between times
he managed to make me a motor cycle from the spares around us.I didn't see much
of the rest of the unit and my memories are mainly of the dump, cold and muddy.By
the middle of April, roughly 10 weeks, I was again told that my detachment had
been cancelled, I was to return to my parent unit as I had been posted.I was
told that my parent unit was No 5 MTBD Zellick, and that I would have to return
there for clearance before posting to No 140 Wing at Brussels Airport.As it was
not far from Ghent to Brussels they put all my gear in a 15cwt van - I still
had most of mykit and they agreed to let me keep the van if I was able to go
straigth to the Airport.
5 MTBD still thought they were in
Blackpool, no, I would have to stay the night and go all through the posting
procedure, signatures from all the sections and the M.O.I had to off-load my
gear let the van go and settle in.
Next
day I did the rounds and got transport to take me to Brussels Airport.When I
arrived I was told that 140 Wing had moved and were now in Germany,
Osnabruck.They would arrange for me to join them. Next day I was taken to the
staging post at Lille back in France, still with all my gear, to join many
others going to Germany.Our first stop was Nijmegen, the bridge over the river
Rhine was now repaired.We were housed overnight in a warehouse I seem to
remember.Next day we all went on parade and were told to report to various
drivers who were to take us to our units.My trip was almost a days journey,
through Holland, Arnham and eventually stopping at a derelict village railway
station.Some transport came along and took the others with me, none came for me
so I slept in the station waiting room.Next day I was told that there was no
river crossing to the Osnabruck site so I took the next transport back to
Nijmegan.I had begun to off-load some of my gear as I had little help each time
I moved whilst "in transit". Another night or two in the transit camp
until there were enough of us to warrant another trip into Germany, so off we
went.I remember going through one village, in fact there was nothing there but
rubble, all the buildings were flat and the roadway cleared by bulldozers so
that we could get through.We arrived at the same railway station with the same
result, left alone with no-one to pick me up.The only consolation this time was
that it was the 8th May 1945 and I was told that the War in Europe was over but
there was no-one to celebrate it with and nowhere to go !back to
Nijmegan.Another couple of days and again on parade I was asked to join a
driver who was to take me back to Germany, this time there were two airmen
going to the same unit - 140 Wing.I asked to see the officer in charge,
explained the situation to him and told him that I would not go until he told
the driver, in my presence, to take us direct to 140 Wing and not to the
Transit Station.He eventually gave way and called in the driver.
My arrival at the airfield near OSNABRUCK and 140 Wing was a surprise
to them.They had asked for help with the petrol installation whilst in Brussels
because of the number of squadrons involved and the large quantity of fuel
involved.They were happy in Osnabruck without me !Once more, nobody wanted me,
no job.Whilst they sorted it out they asked me to organise a gang to build them
another outdoor toilet pit !I was to go back to Brussels Airport to take over
the petrol depot.The following Saturday a sergeant was going to Brussels in a
15cwt van and I was to travel with him.
It was probably the 19th May when I
reported to the orderly room of the H.Q. at Melsbroek.It had taken me 17 days
to travel from one side of Brussels to the other, both with tram stops at the
gates.Melsbroek was the Military Airport adjacent to Evere which was the
pre-war Brussels airport now not so advanced as the Military Airfield.I was in
charge of the BULK PETROL INSTALLATION
on B.58.Officially I was on detachment from 140 Wing. Once again my own boss
with no immediate officer over my shoulder. I was detached in the true sense of
the word,I was billeted in a Nisson Hut in the middle of the airfield.To get to
the hut you had to pass 6 underground tanks holding a capacity of 75,000 galls
of fuel.Alongside was a railway line spur for tankers, now obsolete. Parallel
to the line and about 40 to 50 yards away was the main runway.Always a
potentially hazardous situation from fire, explosions and aircraft crashes.My
staff in the main should have been at least 2 equipment assistants plus 3 or 4
aircraft- hands.I had to cover the M.T. petrol pumps near the main gate during
normal working hours but the aviation petrol supply needed 24 hour cover.One of
the A.C.H's was to act as cook.We lived and worked in the Nisson Hut, my part was
the office and my bunk partitioned off from the "kitchen" and the
lads.I also had two Belgian civilians who came in during the week to do
labouring work.Our toilet facilities were basic, a "thunder-box"
outside, no roof, just a hessian screen, no running water, white jerricans for
drinking water delivered daily.We did have electricity for lighting but a
paraffin heater for cooking.
I soon realised how much needed to
be done, records were none existant, no wonder that the officers kept away.As
squadrons came and went they were supposed to give me their petrol staff, now
and again they did, but often I didn't know which units were on the airfield -
I had no personal contact with the rest of the station, no sergeants mess,
NAAFI or anything.Our rations were delivered every day, we did very well but
basic, our cook - not really - managed to acquire supplies that he could cope
with, plenty of steak, liver, bacon, sausages and eggs.Pudding - not often,
unless tinned.We did manage to acquire a wireless.
As I have already mentioned, the
place was in a mess, the airfield was bombed on New Years Day and there were
bits of aircraft still strewn around.There were hundreds of 40 gallon drums of
aviation fuel stacked around the airfield.A burnt out large flexible container
used to tip the contents of the drums into so that the bowsers could be filled
quicker was only yards from our hut.I soon got that shifted.The 40 gallon drums
had become my responsibility, I had the site surveyed, they suggested that I
should have 30,000 gallons in drums [750 drums], there were a lot, but no way
was I going to be responsible for them.Group was contacted, a Dutchman came
from Antwerp Refinery, he was a Wing Commander in the R.A.F., he knew the set
up and came direct to me. We checked over the situation and rather than ship it
all back to Antwerp he asked me to have the drums brought nearer to my tanks in
batches.He brought me a large metal pipette - about 1 yard long- and some glass
bottles.I was to check the contents of every drum, if the petrol was clear it
could be decanted into my tanks, if it was cloudy put on one side.He
appreciated that it would be a long job, it kept the two civilians busy taking
the bungs out whilst I checked the petrol and time would not allow us to do too
many at a time.The Wingco came regularly and we became quite friendly, by the
time that we cleared the batch he asked me if I would like to join him at H.Q.
as there were batches like this all over the place - it would mean promotion,
he hinted.At first I was tempted, but then I considered my position more
carefully, surely it would mean wandering all around the countryside and again
on my own.No I had my own little set up with no interference.I declined the
offer with thanks.I had reverted back to my E.T.C. routine of wearing my
warehouse coat and walking stick.Freedom.
As the war was over, work began to
take a more settled routine.Basically Saturday afternoon and Sunday off,
although we had to arrange a 24 hour cover.Each week-end I would go into
Brussels, usually on the Saturday afternoon, catch the tram at the gate and 20
or 30 minutes later be in the thick of it.English newspapers were now flown
over in the morning so I used to buy The Times for my week-end reading- no more
than 8 pages in those days.One of the large cinemas had been taken over for the
forces showing the latest films but having had a taste of opera I always made
for La Monnaie.
During one period I had a corporal
equipment assistant attached to the section.One of the few gamblers I met, he found
the dog racing track and the horse racing course.Eventually he persuaded me to
go with him, neither did anything for me and when in a three horse race the two
leaders hung back whilst the third caught up and won, that did it ! From then
on I was happy exploring the old buildings of Brussels, including the well
known statue of the lost prince !
A picture engrained in my mind
occurred just before Christmas 1945, I see myself sitting in my wooden armchair
about 10 yards outside the hut, a clear blue sky, a bit nippy, peaceful, and
the sound of Messiah in full blast from the wireless.Over the Christmas break
on two consecutive nights I visited La Monnaie, I don't remember which operas
they were but they provided the special atmosphere
They decided to hold a Victory
Parade in Brussels which, of course, included a fly-past, we were to host a
number of aircraft and the runway was busy all day, more often than not taking
off in pairs.I don't remember exactly when it was, only that it was a noisy day
for us, so near to the runway.
We were always kept busy, the large
stock of fuel meant a large turnover, tankers arriving almost daily.In those
days the largest tanker we off-loaded held 2,500 galls, much smaller than
present day tankers, our normal tanker would hold more like 1,000 or
1,500galls.The Engineering Officer felt that the bowser pumps were too slow so
he built a portable petrol engine pump which was kept by the tanks.We were not
keen, in the dark the pump glowed red, to us it was a fire hazard, he was far
enough away should anything happen, we treated it with contempt and sabotaged
it whenever we could.
One Saturday afternoon as I was
leaving the airfield I spotted a Meteor Jet Fighter landing, the new and only
jet powered plane in operation.When I returned in the evening I enquired if it
had been re-fuelled and if so what had we issued.When I checked I found that we
had supplied the wrong oil so I contacted the duty officer and asked him to
ground the plane until the Engineering Officer was satisfied with the fuel, he
rang back later and confirmed that the oil would be suitable.The re-fuelling
for jet engines was in it's infancy.The main fuel was kerosene, once this was
in the bowser a special type of oil should be added at the rate of 1%, in other
words a 4 gall can to 400 galls.The bowser was then to go around the perimeter
of the airfield to "stir the mixture".We were now into 1946 and in
Brussels they were adapting to civilian life, Sabina Aircraft were doing
regular flights and using our airfield.I was due for leave in February/March
but it had been decided to hand over the airfield to the Belgium Authorities
and I was required to be there at the time.Thus ended my 9 or 10 months stay on
Brussels Airport.
Although I had been involved with 140
Wing in Brussels I was sent to join 139 Wing who were now in a large complex at
WAHN,outside Cologne.It had been occupied by the Germans, large barrack blocks
with all the ancillary buildings a military establishment needed.An airfield
and a railway line nearby.At last a social life on camp with a large Sergeants
Mess.I always felt that I could go on to any RAF unit over there and I would
meet some acquaintance, here I came across an equipment sgt I first met in
Stormy Downs in 1940 along with others I had met more recently.Again I was
surplus to requirement and they had no specific job for me but as I was
expecting my demob in April I was
not
perturbed.
I had been on leave and been
promised a job with Croydon Corporation but when I was told that my release had
been put back a month - C.O's were given that authority - I was livid.The
Equipment Sgt was in the same release group and they allowed him to go but they
hung on to me.I asked for an interview with the C.O. - a Group Captain,
pointing out that I had a job waiting for me and they were expecting me to
start quickly.He agreed to let me have leave to arrange a new start date, 48
hours [from Cologne] "Sure you can spare me for so long" - "Get
out man !"I did.Fortunately at the week-ends there were always planes
flying back to blighty and one could only return when they did so my 48 hrs
turned out to be 4 days.
I only made one trip into Cologne,
walking around the Cathedral area and seeing the devastation caused by the
bombing was a revelation.Stack-pipes from basements coming through the
pavements showing where and how the inhabitants were living, there was nothing
in the way of entertainment for us !no encouragement for a second visit.
A
week before I was due to leave for demob the equipment officer asked me to
supervise the off-loading of a goods train of petrol and oil - they still
considered me a petrol specialist. I refused to go near, pointing out that
should anything happen it would jeopardize my release.I got away with it.
I used to say that in the 23 months
on the continent I had been involved with 17 units.Other than those I have
mentioned there were 34 A.S.P., 424 A.F.A.P. and another Army unit I recall but
I am not sure exactly where they fit in.
I arrived at No 102 P.D.C. CARDINGTON in early May, handed in my kit and was
fitted out with civilian clothes.A demob suit, a trilby hat and a suitcase.I
did come away with my navigators wrist-watch and dagger issued to me when in
the Beach Squadron along with my second kit bag and jerkin.
During my service I had been awarded
the 1939/45 Star, France & Germany Star, Defence Medal and the Victory
Medal
On the 6th May 1946 I was on my way
home with pay until the 24th July.I don't remember what my gratuity was - well
under £100, maybe £75.The nations gratitude for 6 years, 5 weeks and 5 days.
My
older brother FRANK was called up on
the 29th July 1940, being asthmatic, classed for "home duties", spent
most of his time on Anti-Aircraft units but arrived on the continent just
around V.E. Day.Was a corporal on demob.I didn't see him for 6 years, until
after the war.
My
younger brother ALAN was called up
on the 1st August 1940 a few days after Frank.He went into the Northants
Yeomanry, tanks.Did a stint in N.Africa in the 8th Army then back for the D-day
landings with the 22nd Dragoons.He was a sergeant on demob.I met him on two or
three occasions whilst away from home.
Imagine
our parents feelings, three of us called up in 4 months ! Was this the cause of
Dad's illness,Parkinsons Disease ?
611284
F/Sgt HUDSON Douglas, my old school
friend, the one who convinced me that the RAF was for me, was killed in the
Middle East when he was shot down [Wireless Operator / Air Gunner] and his
'chute didn't open.
F/Lt FOSTER Donald died from a heart attack on the
afternoon of Christmas Eve in 1949.We had kept in touch and visited each
other's homes after the war.
HARTLEY the captain of Skipton Rugby
Football team when I played, was called up with the Territorial Army in 1939.He
was killed at Dunkirk in 1940.
RIGBY the captain of the school team
when I played, was killed in the Normandy Landings.I met him in one of the
transit camps as we prepared to embark.
The
only flying I did during my service was from Brussels, on leave to Croydon and
back, also from Wahn landing in Manston and returning from Gatwick.Old Oxfords
and Ansons, also returning to Brussels under the feet of the navigator in a
Mosquito.
RAF
Station Colerne was taken over by the American Air Force shortly after I
left.It is now an Army Depot and also a Training Centre for young recruits.We
visited the Depot a few years ago for Paddy Price's Passing Out Parade and were
able to visit our Stores Section which had hardly altered.
Making
up your civilian pay at the start of the war was a talking point.Barnoldswick
U.D.C. decided against it - we were basically juniors anyway.However, I think
it was in 1943 in a test case in Bingley that it became law.By then of course,
getting sergeants pay, I was not concerned knowing that there would be no
"make up".Imagine my surprise when about two years later I received a
bill from the B.U.D.C. for my contribution towards my superannuation !