William Roy Peter Perry DFC - Memoir

William Roy Peter Perry DFC - Memoir

Pete Perry's memoir

The memoir starts with early life and education in Tunbridge Wells before moving to Cornwall. He describes how he volunteered for aircrew in Plymouth shortly after his 18^th birthday, his early induction and training in the RAF. He travelled to Canada to continue his pilot training. On return to the UK he undertook advance flying training at RAF Ossington, and operational training and other activities at RAF North Luffenham. He was posted to 106 Squadron at RAF Syerston and the memoir describes activities and operations while on the squadron, including a long description of an operation to Turin. He was awarded DFC at end of his first tour. He records his activities as an instructor at 5 Lancaster Finishing School, before going to 227 Squadron at RAF Balderton as an instructor. He eventually returned to 106 Squadron for a second tour in March 1945 where he carried out a further three operations before the end of the war. The memoir also covers Tiger Force, Cook's tour and bringing troops back from Italy. It concludes with life in transport command after the war and his life after demob.

Thirty-two page printed document

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[underlined] Me – W.R.P.P. [/underlined]

Mr & Mrs P Perry

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[underlined] Me – William Roy Peter Perry, DFC. [/underlined]

I was born at 57 Hill View Rd, Rusthall, Tunbridge Wells, Kent on March 25th 1923, My father, Walter William was born in Maidenhead, Berkshire & his father worked at Aylesford Paper Mills. Dad was Manager of w.H.Smith's bookstall on Tunbridge Wells West railway station. My mother (Dinks) Hetty Emily nee Mercer was born at Ditchling, Sussex the youngest of 12 children. Her father was Foreman Stockman on a farm: When old enough she went in to ‘Service’ in London & also worked as a childrens Nanny. She & Dad married in November 1914.

I attended Rusthall Infants School followed by St. Pauls Rusthall boys School. The latter situated beside St. Paul's Parish Church, both being about 1/2 mile outside the village across Rusthall Common. A lovely walk in [underlined] fine [/underlined] weather!

We had so much freedom in those days. I spent a very happy childhood playing cricket, soccer & exploring the Common. I belonged to the Cubs & then the Scouts. When I was 10 I joined the
choir at St. Paul's.

St. Paul's day is 25th January. This is etched in my memory because the School marched the 100 yds to the Church for a Service & then we had the rest of the day off! I know too that the weather in Kent was seasonal – good hot summers & hard winters. Quite a bit of snow & freezing. On the half day holiday the ritual was to go skating or sliding on the disused marlpit as the Common. (The ice was very thick!)

On summer days my mother would take me to the escarpment overlooking Happy Valley towards Crowborough Beacon, site of one of the old beacon warning systems. Some Sunday mornings I would walk through Shadwell Woods with my father to the 'George & Dragon' at Speldurst where he would buy me a ginger beer whilst he supped his pint.

Our summer holiday was usually spent with some cousins

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(honorary 'Uncle’ John & 'Aunt' Sally, they being so much [inserted] older [/inserted] than I.) at Crowhurst, Sussex. The nearby farm had two boys, one of them my age & I spent many happy hours with them – & 'Brock' the tame badger they'd raised from a cub.

I'd walk with my parents through the fields (where Dinks was terrified when a herd of heifers followed too closely to look at our little dog who was on her lead!) & through Hollington Wood to Hastings. It was about 4mls & there was the day on the beach to look forward to. On the way home Dad would buy a quart of winkles which he & Uncle John would enjoy back at Crowhurst. If there were any left over they'd be put in a basin & that put in the well bucket lowered down to the waters edge to keep fresh. No 'fridge – no electricity!

If the wind 'blew over Nichols' closet’ (the earth & bucket WC at the bottom of their garden next door) it meant rain. You couldn't mistake the forecast!

Then there were the 'outings'. The choir outing, Sunday School, Cubs. These varied between Hastings, Brighton – wonderful Aquarium, Eastbourne, Whipsnade Zoo, all exciting.

Seasonal activities included whips & tops; hoops – boys had iron ones which you controlled with a 'skid' whilst girls had wooden ones with a stick; 'cops & robbers'; conkers & always the Common which led to Toad Rock at Denny Bottom; the High Rocks in Happy Valley; Langton Estate – private but we knew how to get in & never got caught!

Following the world-wide financial crisis in the early thirties W.H. Smith closed a number of their shops & agencies & Dad lost his job.

He did a variety of things. Literally 'got on his bike' & went 'repping' for various newspapers, magazines & periodicals. It was whist working for the 'Farmer & Stockbreeder' in Cornwall he

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At St. Paul's school, Rusthall we, along with all the other schools in Tunbridge Wells, used to celebtate [sic] 'Empire Day', May 24th. The natural amphitheatre of Calverly Park in the middle of town was the venue & all schools used to march in in the morning & sing ptriotic [sic] & traditional songs from all the Empire. A proper orchestra accompanied us & thousands of proud parents would sit around on the slopes & enjoy the concert. I cannot recall it not being a fine, warm sunny day. (We also had the rest of the day off!)

A cousin in Sussex brought me a newly hatched magpie chick kept in a cotton-wool nest in our scullery. It was fed every three hours with a mixture of maggots, meal & milk – using a slate pencil! Christened Percy he thrived. (Despite [underlined] nearly [/underlined] swallowing the lead pencil on one occasion!) Dad made a cage & when Percy was old enough he was moved outside & work was commenced on an aviary.

He was a lovely bird & soon developed his adult plumage. He was let out when we were around & he'd walk around the garden & we'd lift stones to reveal woodlice a favourite [sic] delicacy of his. If we stood too long or sat down he would undo our shoe-laces by pulling on the metal tags.

When we moved to Cornwall he was put in his travelling cage & his aviary dismantled. He broke his tail feathers en-route but soon recovered them once he'd settled down.

His aviary was rebuilt against the side wall of the 'linney' – a stone outbuilding used for storing coal, paraffin, potatoes, garden tools etc. One morning, a couple of years on, he was excitedly calling us & displayed his trophies – three dead baby rats that had wandered in to his aviary! He was very pleased with himself!

The following morning we found him dead, half pulled through a tiny hole in the wall at the back. The parent rats had got him during the night. Dad put down some rat poison & we later found one dead rat. We missed Percy who'd been part of the family for seven years.

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saw this small, run down village shop for sale in Tideford, nr Saltash, Cornwall. He was fed up with travelling around, wanted to get settled again & saw this as a chance to get back in to business again & also possibly build something up for me to take over in due course.

It was about this time that my Headmaster at St Pauls' wanted to enter me for a Scholarship to Judd's School, Tonbridge. This was now out of the question with our move to Cornwall.

This took place in December ‘35. We of course were 'vurriners' from other side of the water (River Tamar!) & Dinks was very unhappy at first. Running the shop helped to make contacts & she soon made friends, some of them very strong.

I went to St German's School – a daily walk of 2 1/2 miles each way. I used to take a 'Cornish Pasty' for my lunch – no such thing as school. meals.

In the summer of '37 I left school & worked for my father – in the shop & I also took over the newspaper delivery round. (They'd not had this service in the village before Dad started it!) He also introduced greengroceries & a variety of fresh fruit. At Xmas we had a Xmas Bazaar complete with fairy lights & decorations! The villagers loved it! (No I was not Father Xmas neither was Dad!). Previously they'd had to go to Saltash or Plymouth – on the three buses a day service but never on a Sunday!

Then just as the business was was [sic] beginning to show a profit Dad died of heart failure. He was 52. Our close friends there were farmers & Herman Bond rang Dad this Saturday lunch-time to say that thunderstorms were on the way & he was anxious to 'save the corn’ & needed as many men as he could get. My father got his bike out & rode to Heskyn Farm a mile away. He died that evening pitching a 'stook' of corn up on to the wagon. He'd not had a days illness in 20 years.

Aunts & Uncles from both sides came for the funeral. Those we couldn't put up stayed with friends. The villagers were very

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supportive both then & afterwards.

Being then 15 1/2 I was able to take my share of the work but of course my mother had all the responsibility.

Xmas that year we went up to Dartford to spend it with family. We didn’t ‘do’ Sunday papers so we caught the Saturday night express Plymouth to Paddington. Xmas Day & Boxing Day (no papers then) gave us the three day break. (The first one Dinks had in four years.)

The business continued to do well, Dad had laid a good foundation. I lengthened the paper round to 12 miles & delivered groceries or whatever en-route – carried in pannier bags.

It was a hot summer in ’39 & in Cornwall the gathering war-clouds had little effect until early August when as shop-keepers we received first details of rationing. Customers had to ‘register’ with their chosen supplier & were given books of ‘tokens’ which had to be surrended [sic] for each purchase. The shopkeeper had to return these tokens to the local food office in order to obtain fresh supplies! They had to be sent in their own groups; butter, sugar, lard, tea etc. The form filling was a time-consuming task & very fiddling with all the tiny coupons!

It was a good cricket season – we won most of our matches. Socially we were quite active. Some of us used to cycle to neighbouring [sic] villages for their dances – Polbathic (3mls), St. Germans (2 1/2mls), Landrake (1 1/2mls). Home around 0200 & up again at 0630 to cycle to St Germans to collect the papers!

“. . . we have not received any reply & therefore a state of war exists between ourselves & Germany”. Prime Minister Chamberlains words broadcast at 1100 on Sunday 2rd September 1939.

The next eight months became known as ‘the phony war’ for not a lot happened. Rationing was introduced & some shortages became apparent. Candles were very scarce – people started hording in case of electricity cuts & fresh fruit from abroad was not available.

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Then came the German blitzkrieg. Breaking through the 'impregnable' Maginot Line the the [sic] Panzers quickly overran the Allied defences [sic] & 'defensive action’ (retreat!) was the order of the day. This culminated in the evacuation at Dunkirk & less publicised [sic] at Cherbourg & St Nazarre).

The son of a friend of ours was involved at Dunkirk & came on leave with his wife to see his mother in the village. we let them have our spare bedroom for five days. Frank looked terrible but made a full recovery. He was later killed – N Africa I think.

Invasion imminent the Local Defence [sic] Volunteers were formed. (The 'Look Duck & Vanish' !!). Age limit 16 to 65. I joined our local platoon & we started off with pitchforks, staves [underlined] & [/underlined] 3 shotguns! Some months later we were issued with rifles – obsolete American – 300 from World War One! We had 10 rounds of ammunition each but couldn't practice as there was no more & we [underlined] might [/underlined] need it!!

The ‘Battle of Britain’ then took place & we were victorious – just. We did not see any of that down in South West England.

Our war was to patrol each night looking for enemy parachutists. The only excitement we got was when Plymouth was bombed one night & a stick of incendiaries & a couple of stray bombs landed in the woods & fields around Tideford.

I had my 18th birthday on March 25th '41 & on the 26th (my half day off!!) I went in to Plymouth & volunteered for Aircrew. Paperwork completed I retuned [sic] home to await developments.

Dinks was obviously not keen on my action but we had talked it over & knowing how determined I was to fly, she did not try to stop me.

Mid April '41 & I was required to attend the RAF recruiting office in Plymouth for further instructions. Report in the afternoon with overnight kit.

Arriving there I & six others were given rail passes & told to catch the 0800 train the next morning & go to Oxford for apptitude [sic]

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tests, medical & attestation. Since five of us lived in Cornwall we could not get to the station in time so we were given 'chits' for accommodation at 'The Royal Sailor's Rest' (otherwise known as ‘Aggie Weston's') in Devonport two miles away.

The previous night Plymouth had. been 'blitzed' so city transport was virtually nil & all the phones were down.

We started walking, nice sunny afternoon, when halfway along Union St a delayed action bomb went off nearby & blew one of our members through a shop window. He picked himself up – unhurt not a scratch – & we carried on walking. A while later he put his hand in his hip pocket for some money & found that the glass window had cut his trouser pocket & all the coins had fallen out!!

We checked in at 'Aggies' &, the phones still being 'out', I wrote home & posted [inserted] it [/inserted] it in the piller [sic] box just outside the hostel. After a meal I turned in for an early night. After about an hour the air-raid sirens sounded so we all went down to the shelter in the basement. About an hour later we received a direct hit so "everybody out" & we were directed to the nearest street shelter. This was against a high wall which had the dockyard on the other side. Fairly soon a bomb landed nearby & the blast took the roof off our shelter. We all moved on to to [sic] the first available shelter (all hell still breaking loose around us!). This refuge proved a bit crowded & since an anti-aircraft gun was just the other side of [underlined] that [/underlined] wall also somewhat noisy.

By 0430 the 'all clear' had sounded & we made our way on 'Shank's Pony’ to Millbay Station, three miles away. The streets were awash with water, strewn with with [sic] rubble, glass, burning wood – buildings on fire & a horrible stench all around. Obviously many hundreds had been killed or wounded. It was as if we had descended in to Dante's Inferno.

We got to Millbay station around 0700 & surprisingly that had not been damaged. I tried again to phone home but of course to no

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avail. We cleaned ourselves up & lo & behold the train arrived on time! All aboard for Oxford – change at Slough.

I remember the bteakfast [sic] I had on the train. Porridge, grilled calves liver with onions, toast, marmalade & tea. It was delicious.

Arrived at Oxford, reported & was given first interview & aptitude tests then an address to night stop.

Next morning the aircrew medical (including the blowing up the mercury!) followed by more aptitude, maths & English tests & the final in-depth interview. (Why don't you want to join the Tank Corps? How about the Submarine Service? You had to convince them of your single-mindedness for the RAF & flying.)

Finally the coveted chit – medically 'Fit all Aircrew', suitable P, N, B. (Pilot, Navigator, Bomb-aimer). I tried to ring home again but the Phones were still out!

Next morning back to Tideford to the sheer relief of my mother who had received my letter from Plymouth but in a charred state – singed & scorched in the letter box outside 'Aggie Westons'. She had no way of knowing whether I was alive or dead.

Back to normal. Work, newspapers, cricket, Home Guard – we had a new title, no longer the LDV. [inserted] 7a [/inserted]

Then August. Report to ACRC (Aircrew Receiving Centre) at Lord’s cricket ground. Check in; another medical (including FFI in the Long Room (!) & then march off to Bentinck House, a requesitioned [sic] block of luxury flats in St John's Wood. (Except that we were packed in like sardines!).

Next morning, fall in outside & march through Regent's Park to the zoo where [underlined] all [/underlined] feeding would take place. (No comments, please!).

Back to the Stores block for kitting out, more documentation – I am now an AC2 (Aircraftsman second class the lowest form of animal life in the RAF.). March off for lunch & then in the pm the medical Centre for a variety of 'jabs' & vaccinations. No one wanted to eat in the evening – just bed. (bed? three biscuits square hard mattresses,

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Out walking one day with a girl friend by the River Tiddy we heard cries & saw a little five year old girl being swept away. we jumped over the low wall & into the river. I couldn't swim (!) but I could wade & it only came up to my knees. Gwen ran down on the bank & dived in where it was deeper & held the child until I arrived. The youngster had suffered no harm apart from a wetting so we took her home. Her mother was very grateful! We went to our respective homes to dry out & get changed for it was late autumn & a bit chilly!

During the London `blitz' the daily papers were often late & if they were going to be hours late I would cycle back to Tideford & return when they’d arrived. One day it was mid afternoon when I set off for St. German's station in the rain. The approach to the village was down a fairly steep hill with a sharp bend at the bottom. I was in a hurry & knew the road (!). Of course in the wet my brakes didn't function well & I came into violent contact with a stone wall. When I came around I was on a sofa in the District Nurse's house & being ministered to by said Nurse – she lived there! No serious damage – just my four front teeth & a cut on my chin. The papers weren't delayed much longer.

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Three blankets & a pillow.

Two weeks of drill, Zoo, PT, lectures on the RAF, the pitfalls of life – especially 'loose women', night vision tests & early to bed & early to rise for more drill & PT!

Occasionally a visit to the Odeon cinema at Swiss Cottage if there was a decent film.

Then off to ITW (Initial Training Wing) – number 10 at the Grand Hotel, Scarborough. Les Ames the Kent & England cricketer was the CO & the PT instructors were generally sportsmen of some sort.

Documentation, draw your bedding – three more 'biscuits', blankets, sheets(!), pillow slips(!!) & a pillow. This time there was a bed! (It had been the floor at ACRC).

Training consisted of drill, PT, first steps in navigation, radio – including morse code both 'buzzer' & Aldis lamp, armaments – Lewis & Browning guns – stripping them down & then re-assemble against the clock (the rear seer retainer keeper – a never to be forgotten piece of equipment!), bombs – types & fuses, meteorology, Airmanship, theory of flight. Fire watch duties in the round turrets of the hotel once a week, plus guard duties also once a week. We had a pretty full six weeks there.

They passed quickly, then final exams, promotion to LAC (Leading Aircraftman) & pay up to four shillings a day (20p).

Next stop No 9 EFTS (9 Elementary Flying Training School) at Ansty, nr Coventry. Pay now increased by a further three shillings & sixpence a day flying pay! Rich – nearly beyond the dreams of avarice!

I was put in the section scheduled to train in this country. The other half were on 'Grading' (to test their aptitude for flying as a pilot) before going overseas to train. (Canada, America, South Africa, Rhodesia) They had priority in flying – they had a boat to catch!

I got Xmas leave (4 days) which I spent with Dinks. Reporting back on the 28th l found that the panic button had been pressed. [underlined] All [/underlined]

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of my course were to go overseas, Hand in all flying kit, etc, get more 'jabs' & then on the train in 48 hours to Heaton Park, Manchester, (A holding Unit). BilIeted out; report each morning to see if we were on our way, then ‘get lost' until next morning! Six days of this – & it rained on five of them!

Finally on the train again to Avonmouth, Bristol. Marched on to the troopship the SS Volendam, a Dutch liner that had been converted to a troopship. We were on the the [sic] very bottom deck complete with hammocks. The FAA (Fleet Air Arm) cadets were above us on a slatted deck & all sorts used to drop through!

Kit stashed & back up on deck to see the land going by-adieu to England. Then a firm hand on my shoulder & a stentorian voice saying "you, airman – galley". I had been 'Volunteered’ by the Flight Sergeant for cookhouse duties.

I don't know how many spuds, carrots & turnips I peeled on the first two days before we hit our first storm. I do know that from thereon I was not capable of peeling any more! Worse was to come – we broke down & wallowed for for [sic] 24 hours in one damn storm after another!

(I should have said that when we left dock we had another troopship the SS Montcalm & two destroyer escorts with us. One destroyer broke down & limped off on day one. When [underlined] we [/underlined] broke down the Montcalm carried on & the remaining destroyer did its best bustling between the two troopships as long as feasable [sic], but then gave up & (sensibly) left us to our fate. By now I had reached the stage whereby if a U-boat had sunk us I'd have been happy. l felt proper poorly!!)

Repairs were effected & we made our way to Halifax on our tod! Only took us thirteen days!

Straight on to the troop train – sleeping cars & all. Off we go – Nova Scotia, Quebec, Ontario, the Great Lakes.

On the second evening out we were were [sic] approaching Winnipeg & the Flight Sergeant orders everyone to smarten up boots & buttons polished, shave if necessary etc. At the station we disembark, 'get felled in’ & are marched through the passenger tunnels to the Concourse

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where a band is playing, buffet food & drinks (soft) laid on & lots of girls (with their chaperones) waiting to dance & talk to us.! [underlined] What [/underlined] a lovely surprise. The party, organised [sic] by the RFC (Royal Flying Corps) veterans lasted less than an hour & then we were back on the train. The RFC Vets used to meet every troop train arriving or going through Winnipeg to welcome the lads from the old country to Canada. A lovely gesture & typically Canadian.

Another two nights & a day & we arrive in Calgary, Alberta at 0700hrs. On to coaches & off to No 31 EFTS De Winton, some 30 miles away just in time for breakfast. Lashings of orange juice, bacon, eggs, hash browns, tomatoes, beans – & maple syrup!

Training alternated between flying & ground studies. The latter as before but more advanced & also introduced Flying Control (as it was in those days!). We flew Canadian Tiger Moths with perspex canopies – very necessary in that cold weather (40 below?!!). The airfield snow was rolled flat & firm & off we went. I caught conjunctivitis halfway through the course, was grounded & subsequently put on the next course when I was fit.

Finishing EFTS in May four of us went to Banff in the Rockies for a week & had a wonderful time. (Not so good for one of them – he broke a leg skiing & was put back I don't know how many courses. Back to De Winton to find that Calgary SFTS (Service Flying Training School) was not ready for us – & De Winton had no space as the next course had arrived! Another weeks leave – but short on cash. Having a cuppa in the 'Willow Tea Room' in Calgary A Canadian introduced himself & during our conversation elicited the fact that I was at a loose end. He asked where I would like to go if I had the opportunity. I replied Drumheller & the Red Deer valley. Whereupon he asked the waitress for some notepaper, told me to be at a street rendezvous at 0900 next morning when I would be picked up by some friends of his who were going through Drumheller. Arriving I was to present myself & his note to a Solicitor friend.

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This all worked out as planned. At Drumheller I introduced myself to Mr Sanderson who immediately asked how long I could stay & then rang his wife & told her she had a guest! I was made [underlined] most [/underlined] welcome. Taken around – the Red Deer Valley (Mr Sanderson was an amatuer [sic] geologist & gave me those pieces of petrified wood); two parties where I met Sarah Burpington Jones (true!) a spritely girl of some seventy-odd summers who said that she got her middle name because of her fantastic ‘burps' as a baby!

Eventually back to De Winton & then off to 37 SFTS at Calagary [sic] Airport where I was introduced to Oxfords – twin engined trainers. We were left under [underlined] no [/underlined] illusions as to our fate if we interfered with any scheduled or civilian private planes!

(I forgot to mention my practical 'hangar flying' at EFTS. Doing cross wind take-offs & landings with my Instructor when he spotted another Tiger Moth drifting over on top of us! He took over & as he opened the throttle to full power a gust of wind caught us & turned us toward a line of parked aircraft & the hangar. We avoided the aircraft & [underlined] nearly [/underlined] got over the hanger but ended up in the window as the photo shows! We were lucky the 'kite' did not catch fire as we were trapped in the cockpit & had to be cut free!)

Back to Calgary. Hard but satisfying work, 'ground school' alternating with flying. I enjoyed flying 'twins' & hoped to go on to 'multis' (four engines) at the end of my training. We did formation flying; cross country flights for navigation training (a doddle really because if you were ‘unsure of your position’ – lost in other words – you flew along a railway line until you came to the station & there in large letters on the grain elevator was the name of the town!), a lot of night flying – again easy as there was no blackout there!

By July we were the Senior Course at Calgary & the Calgary Stampede was due. The RAF had been given the honour [sic] of leading the Parade through the town to the Show Ground – bands playing, flags flying, cowboys & Indians in full regalia, chuckwagons, majorettes, broncos – a real North

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American Barnum & Baily show. (Still goes on).

Being the Senior Course it fell to us to take the pole position – & it meant free entry to the Stampede Arena! Trouble was our SWO (Station Warrant Officer) considered that we were an ungainly shower not fit to be let loose at anytime & especially not fit to lead a Parade! However he would alter that & make us the perfect example of RAF smartness & efficiency. Brigade of Guards – eat your heart out!

This would not come easy, so we were taken off flying & lectures for four days of intensive drilling. This did not appeal to us for we knew that we could 'put on the bull' with the best of them when the time came.

In retrospect I feel sorry for that SWO. He had us on the parade ground at Calgary – he shouted, he roared, he jumped up & down, went purple in the face – damn near had an apoplexy but still couldn't smarten us up to his standard. Talk about 'dumb insolence’ & 'idle on Parade'!! In the end the CO, Group Captain Irons, was called in to restore some semblance of order & sanity. He said very little. In a quiet, modified voice he said "Gentlemen I promise you that each & everyone of you who fails to respond to drill orders will be removed immediately from his Course & remustered in some menial ground capacity. Good day".

Two days later we proudly led the Stampede Parade through Calgary receiving the plaudits of the crowds lining the streets – & we [underlined] were [/underlined] smart! The Stampede was quite a spectacle & we enjoyed the rest of the day. (I did not know then how the broncos & steers were 'cinched' to make them buck.)

All previous courses had received two weeks leave after their Wings Parade & I had made arrangements to visit relatives in Minneapolis. Mamie Goodrick – she who had compiled the Mercer 'Family Tree in 1934 – had sent me 70 dollars for my fare & I was to 'visit with my kin'.

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Came graduation & the 'Wings, ceremony. We ‘turned on the bull’ again – no one better than us! Dinks told me later that she sat up in bed at 2200hrs (1500hrs Calgary time) & toasted Sgt Pilot Perry in Ribena.

We were then told to be ready the next evening to board the train for Halifax & we might get a 48hr pass in Montreal – If we were lucky! So much for USA and my kinfolk. I wrote to Mamie & sent the money back. Ce la guerre.

After two days leave in Montreal we had a week at the RCAF holding unit at Moncton then on to Halifax to board the SS Awatea, a New Zealand boat with a reputation for 'rolling'. We joined an enormous convoy – ships as far as the eye could see. The weather was perfect & we landed at Greenock eight days later. What a contrast to our outbound journey.

On the train again – straight to Bournemouth where we had three weeks of not much to do before we moved on to No 14 AFU (Advanced Flying Unit) at Ossington, Lincs, to renew aquaintance [sic] with Oxfords.

Flying in England was [underlined] very [/underlined] different from aviating in Canada. Weather, black-out, weather, crowded skies, weather, intruders, weather, no straight railway lines with place names on their buildings & of course weather!! At least the aircraft was familiar. We soon adapted.

Then came the move to No 29 OTU (Operational Training Unit) at North Luffenham. This was more like it. We would 'crew up' with the other aircrew categories, become a special team & fly [underlined] real [/underlined] aeroplanes. In our case Wellingtons that had seen their better days on ops but still performed a very useful function in training.

'Crewing Up' was a sample task.

On the second day at North Luffenham all categories of aircrew were assembled in one of the hangers, doors closed – & left to get on with it!! You knew nobody outside your own category

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so eye contact, bearing, stature – charisma (didn't call it that then) was all you had to go on. About 90% were NCO's & the remainder Officers – the brainy ones Commissioned 'off [sic] course'!

I spotted a tall gangly Sgt Navigator, had a word & we seemed to strike a chord. He was a Scot & my first crew member. A quiet pleasant Wop/AG hove in to view. Another word or two (another Scot) & Doug Cunnison was with me. A quietly spoken F/O wearing an Observer brevet wandered over. "My name is Dick Toogood, do you fancy me as your Bomb-aimer?" "Yes" I replied. (An Observer was trained as a Navigator & Bomb-aimer. The RAF by this time was training navigators ('N' brevet') & bomb-aimers ('BA' brevet) s[inserted]e[/inserted]perately. Observers had been told that they were now Bomb-aimers but they could keep their 'O' brevet. I should think so too!!). Dick said a long, long time later that he thought "what am I doing entrusting my life to this boy?". He was the ‘old man of the crew – 24 – & I was still 19! All l needed now was a rear-gunner. (Wimpys had a crew of five). Amongst the gunners group I noticed a smallish, pugnacious looking lad, contacted him & in no time 'Shorty' Groombridge was destined for my rear turret.

We went for a drink that night in Colley Weston to cement our team. Only a few days later we lost our Navigator due to a severe bronchial problem. In his place we had Johnny Boaden who was back from Heavy Conversion Unit for re-crewing, his pilot having failed.

Most of our flying was done from Woolfox Lodge, a satellite to North Luffenham. Still some ground studies but mostly flying, day & night. Fighter affiliation exercises, lots of practice bombing at Wainfleet & Donna Nook, air/sea firing, navigation exercises day & night. The latter included 'Bullseyes' – simulated ops whereby we 'attacked' various of our cities whose defences [sic] responded with searchlights & night fighters. (They had to be trained as well!), We were also 'attacked' en route to let us practice the various defensive action to be taken. Occasionally, we got the code that German intruders were around – that smartened us up a bit!

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Finally a 'Nickel' raid on Limoges. No bombs but thousands of leaflets encouraging sabotage. Ration coupons for petrol, clothes. Counterfeit money (very good forgeries) – all designed to create havoc with the economy & thus upset the Germans.

The AOC (Air Officer Commanding) 5 Group, Air Vice Marshal the Hon. Sir Ralph Cochrane, KCB, (etc) known as 'Old Cocky', decided that his aircrew were unfit (?) & needed toughening up. Before we could proceed to the Heavy Conversion Unit we were to undergo a week on a 'Commando Assault Course'! It is debatable if we [underlined] were [/underlined] unfit before that course – It is a fact that we [underlined] were [/underlined] unfit after it!! Sprains, bruises, aching muscles – one bloke broke his ankle & had to leave his crew. Eventually commonsense prevailed & after three months the idea was dropped.

We eventually arrived at 1654 HCU Wigsley where Manchesters & Lancasters awaited us. Disembarking from the gharry at our billet we saw a Manchester making its approach with its port engine on fire! I had to restrain the crew from climbing back in to the gharry to go somewhere else – anywhere!

The Manchester was a delight to fly – empty. I’m glad I didn't have to operate on them. I only know of one crew that completed a full tour on them! They were underpowered and had a terrible habit of engines catching fire. However from that disaster A.V. Roe stretched the wings, stuck two more engines on & gave us the 'Queen of the Skies'.

We progressed to the Lancaster & immediately felt at home. Handled a treat & the four ‘mighty Merlins’ gave gave [sic] fantastic power & reliability. I collected Les Blood as my Flight Engineer & 'Taff' Davies as mid-upper gunner. In next to no time we were back on the gharry en route to Syerston & 106 Sqdn.

On this way we stopped in Newark – glorious sunshine, market day – we bought punnets of strawberries & ate them strolling around the stalls. War? What war?

Back on the bus & a five mile trip to RAF Syerston a permanent, peacetime Station 15 miles from Nottingham & sited above the

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'oxbow' of the River Trent. It was at that time the home of 61 & 106 Sqdns.

We reported to the 106 adjutant given our joining 'chits' to be completed & took our kit to our respective Messes.

After lunch we took our 'chits' to the various sections, got them filled in & presented ourselves back to the 'Adj'. We were invited in to the CO's W/C Ronnie Baxter's office where he welcomed us to the Squadron & said that we were to be in 'B' Flight. The other 'sprog' crew that arrived with us was in 'A' Flt. (They were lost on their first trip,) My crew went to their appropiate [sic] sections & I reported to 'B' office to be greeted by F/Lt 'Ginger' Crowe DFC, DFM – a second tour pilot & acting Flt Commander. (The S/Ldr had been shot down the night before. I then met the few pilots in the office, had a chat & that was it for the day.

The next morning we did an hours local flying to familiarise [sic] ourselves with the terrain & then practice some three engined overshoots & landings.

That night I did my first op as 2nd pilot with F/O Gene Rosner (an American in the RAF). Krefeld in the Ruhr was the target.

Two nights later I took my crew to Wuppertal, also in the Ruhr, & after bombing had my windscreen smashed by flak. The chunk of shrapnel passed between Les Blood's head & my own & exited through the upper canopy! The cockpit became very cold (we were at 19500ft) & I used my goggles for the one & only time whilst flying.

Next night Gelsenkirchen (Ruhr again) followed by two trips to Cologne (still the Ruhr!) the second carrying an 8000lb 'cookie'. (The normal Cookie was a 4000lb & carried in conjunction with an assortment of 1000lb, 500lb high explosives plus a variety of incendiary bombs.

Following that session my Commission came through & I got 48hrs leavre [sic] to get kitted out. Dinks was well pleased to see me.

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Back to Syerston where a very different trip awaited us. Turin. As it was mid-summer we couldn't get there & back in darkness & Northern France was not a healthy place to be in daylight. So the experts devised 'a plan'! After bombing head due West across Southern Central France, daylight across there was safe, coast out over the Bay of Biscay 'twixt La Rochelle & St, Nazarre then due north to Plymouth & then home. Ther [inserted] e [/inserted]’ s something about 'the affairs of mice & men gang oft aglee'. All went well until we approached the Alps. 'Met' had forecast a cold front North of the Alps but then clear over the target (the Fiat works). I've never seen such appalling weather. The cold front was so active & vigorous – the 'cu-nims’ (cumulo-nimbus) tossed us all over the place. We couldn't go up – no more power, & we daren't go down – the Alps not all that far below us! We iced up -it was being flung off the propellers & rattled all down the fuselage. St. Elmo's Fire was dancing around the props & wireless ariels [sic]. The controls got sluggish – ice acretion [sic]. Not nice at all.

We eventually got through it & the target appeared – beautifully clear, identified, an easy bombing run – the defences [sic] were typically Italian – not enthusiastic(!) 'flak' sporadic; we saw a biplane fighter but he was not interested.

Setting off to the West we were halfway across France when dawn came up behind. There was 10/10 cloud (full cover) at 7000ft & 'gin clear' above us. I descended to just above the cloud – easy to drop in to if we were attacked by fighters but we weren't. Oxygen masks off & enjoy a cup of coffee from our flasks.

This cloud was a mixed blessing for we could not see the the [sic] ground to maps read & we were out of range of our home based navigation aids & the sun was too low for an astro shot. So press on & in due course Johnny said "5 minutes to the coast Skipper". The words were hardly out of his mouth when all hell broke loose – we were slap bang over La Rochelle & had the undivided attention

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of all the German flak guns! I twisted & turned to avoid predicted flak, opened throttles to full power to get out of the barrage flak quickly & we eventually crossed the coast with our port engine on fire & some damage to the wing & fuselage.

We extinguished the fire & feathered the engine which left us with three – no real problem [underlined] except [/underlined] that we now had no rear turret as that was driven by the port outer.

By now, all cloud gone, I descended to 200ft for the 'Bay' was not a healthy place in daylight due to the FW Condors & JU 88s that used to patrol out there. Flying low would prevent a fighter coming up beneath us. After about twenty minutes a 'plane appeared way behind us & gradually caught us up. It was another Lanc &, seeing our predicament, it slowed down & formated on us until we were clear of the Bay. Nice gesture.

We eventually made it back to base – with very little petrol in the tanks. The trip had taken 11hrs 20mins, the longest I ever did.

The next three months saw us doing a variety of trips. Milan & Nuremburg twice each. on one of the latter ones 'Shorty' shot down a JU 88 that attacked us as we were on our bombing run. Berlin, Hanover (where we got well & truly 'coned' by searchlights), Leipzig where we lost both the inner engines en route to the target (had a Group Captain just back from the Middle East as a 2nd dickie that night – He wanted to get the 'feel' of operating over Germany!!).

Back to the Ruhr & then it was November & our move to Metheringham.

(You can read all about that in the article I wrote for The 'Friends of Metheringham' news-letter '106 Sqdn – Happy days & others!)

[inserted] 18 on [/inserted]

I finished my first tour on 16th February with my seventh trip to Berlin the night before. My DFC had come through four days earlier.

Back to Syerston, an Instructors Course & I'm [inserted] now [/inserted] imparting my knowledge & experience to others. I've still a month to go for my '21st'

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[inserted] 18a [/inserted]

Over Berlin one night we had bombed, got our photograph & had just turned for home when we were hit by flak & the starboard inner engine set on fire. Les & I were taking the appropiate [sic] action when he felt a push in his back – Johnny our navigator, parachute strapped on, was tring [sic] to get to the front escape hatch! "Where do you think you're going?” roared Les. "Out" says Johnny, pointing to the flaming engine. "Oh no you're not " shouts Les, picking Johnny up & putting him back in his seat & re-connecting his oxygen tube & intercom. I'd finished my emergency procedutes [sic] by now, the fire was out, propellor feathered, aircraft re-trimmed. I checked the crew for casualties – none – so set course for home on three. Johnny could not remember his actions, & still can't to this day. I think that his oxygen tube had become disconnected & he was suffering from oxygen shortage – it didn't take long at those altitudes.

Another night the target was Bochum, in the Ruhr. I had a 'second dickie' with me for his experience 'op'. It was gin clear & the approach to the target was lit up with searchlight beams & the sky full of bursting flak. Brock's benefit night. (Brock being famous firework manufacturers before the war). Joe Latham beside me took his mask off & shouted "Are we going through that?” "Yes" I replied. "How?" he asked. "With luck" I shouted! A moment later a Halifax bomber just ahead & below me was coned by searchlights & of [inserted] course [/inserted] got the full force of flak. It was only moments before it was hit & went into a dive before it exploded. We flew past unscathed that time.

In December we won the 5 Group monthly bombing competition. On the Wainfleet bombing range we dropped eight practice bombs from 20000 ft & had an average error of 19 yards!! Nice work Dick.
(American 'pickle barrel’ bombsight – eat your heart out!)

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The Lancasters of 5 LFS were older ones that had seen cosiderable [sic] operational service & were no longer quite up to tip-top standards. Perfectly adequate for training though. They were modified by being fitted with dual controls & the Instructors flew from the right-hand side. That felt a bit peculiar at first but one soon became 'ambidextrous'.

Came [sic] early March & we had quite a snowstorm that lasted all night. As soon as it stopped it was [underlined] all [/underlined] hands to the pumps or rather brooms & shovels clearing one runway & the perimeter track. By [underlined] all [/underlined] hands I mean all – every ablebodied man & women of all ranks on that airfield! Kept us warm though. At least we had the comfort of a peacetime Mess to return to. It took two days before the Station Commander said it was "safe enough – land & taxi with care”!

I was on a night flying detail with a young (sez he being still 20) New Zealand pilot as my pupil. We'd been doing circuits & bumps for an hour & a half & conditions were worsening so whilst on circuit I'd decided to dall [sic] it a day (or night!). A bit of a cross-wind was developing & as we levelled out (flared out in modern jargon) & the wheels about to touch an extra puff of wind caught us & turned us into the two feet high snow banks lining the runway. I couldn't correct soon enough & the port wheel hit the snow bank & we spun around sheering the port undercarriage, bending the port outer prop, damaging the port wing tip. Nobody hurt though. We were the last aircraft working – the other instructors had already packed it in for the night!

I had an ‘interview’ with the Station Commander next day & after a sound telling off the matter was finished.

I enjoyed my new duties & soon realised [sic] that whilst teaching others I was learning more & more about the 'Queen of the Skies' which which [sic] was of some considerable benefit to me.

The crews coming through were all qualified in their own crew categories. Our job was to convert them on to Lancs; how to handle

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them in various situations, especially the 5 Group 'corkscrew' – very effective against fighters & improve their crew co-operation.

My star pupil was F/Lt Peter Lines. He had been an Instructor at SFTS for two years & had amassed a fair bit of experience – & it showed. He took to the Lanc like a duck takes to water & I showed him a number of manoeuvres [sic] that normally weren't demonstrated at that stage of their experience. He was posted to 106 Sqdn & soon aquired [sic] my old MUG Sgt Mo Singh who was nearing the end of his tour. The Sqdron [sic] was on a daylight to a French target when they were re-called due to the target being obscured by bad weather & sent on a cross-country around England to burn up fuel & reduce their landing weight to a safe level. F/lt Lines a/c crashed at Salford with its full load of bombs. There was no apparent reason or emergency radio call. The F/E had relatives living at Salford; the cloud base was very low – & the rest is history.

Another day I returned to my Flight Office after instructing & my Flight Commander broke the news to me that I was Officer i/c a fineral [sic] party that afternoon. (A pupil pilot had crashed the week before – all killed). The Pilots parents wanted their son buried in the village churchyard. I had to meet them & escort them through the ceremony. Apart from never having done anything like that before (& no briefing – commonsense prevailed) the worst moment was when the lad's Mother asked if she could see her son for the last time. I knew what was in the casket & & [sic] no way was l going to let her see inside. I told her to remember him during his life with them & on his last leave.

Rostered for night flying details or, the third of June '44. Just finished dinner in the Mess when the Tannoy goes "All night flying is cancelled". Puzzlement – the weather is good; the aircraft serviceable – what’s up? No information forthcoming so - - - let's have a party! (Impromptu ones are always the best!). Early next morning report to Flights. Instructors to select one of their trainee crews & stand-by

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for ops – the invasion has started! We hung around until mid afternoon when Group decided that our services were not needed. Back to normal.

Another day, circuits & bumps – an unusual aircraft landing ahead of me. It has four Merlins & a Lancaster wing but it has a box fuselage & three fins!! Ah a York. What's it doing here? only 511 Sqdn have Yorks – are th [inserted] e [/inserted] y looking for new pilots? I sent my pupil off solo in double quick time (he was ready anyway) & whipped around to the Flight Office. Too late, the York was taxying out for take-off. A quick word with the Adjutant (a friend of mine) revealed that the CO of 511 had called on the CI (Chief Instructor) at 5 LFS to see if any of his experienced Lancaster pilots would like to join 511!!

Our CI (a new replacement only two weeks earlier) had replied that none of his pilots would be interested, (The lying so-and-so!!) "Good-day". (It took me another seventeen months to get on to Yorks; but that comes later.

The new CI was not well liked nor respected so the ‘screens’ (instructors) started seeking ways to escape. No one wanted to transfer on to other 'heavies' (Stirlings) or go to an OTU (Wellingtons). A glimmer of hope appeared. If a pilot & flight engineer did a short stint as Squadron Instructors (a new post just created) then you could get back on ops on completion. Les Blood & I volunteered (as did Steve Stephens & his F/E. We were not alone.) There were three Squadrons available & Steve & I got two of them!

I went to 227 Sqdn Raf Balderton just outside Newark. The CO, W/Cdr Millington, Stood as the Commonwealth Candidate for Parliament & got in!

Having set up a training & checking schedule my new duties got under way & were progressing well when I was smitten by Shingles on my fore-head. Packed off to RAF Hospital Rauceby for a seven day treatment of medicated shampoos & liver injections! During that week there had been quite a bit of snow & on return to Balderton I was 'accused' of arranging to have a week off in comfort whilst the rest of

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the Station had been snow clearing!

One day a new Lancaster required an 'acceptance test' – a flight of some three hour during which [underlined] everything [/underlined] was tested at varying altitudes from 1500ft to 20000ft. I took a new crew with me to check them out too. On the way back to base at about 5000ft a B17 'Flying Fortress' came alongside & formated on me. Now the Yanks really formate – far better than us. After a few minutes the pilot waved to me & invited me to formate on him. I had a go but could not match him. I pulled away, feathered my port outer & invited him back in formation. He took up the challenge & we did some three engined turns left & right. I then feathered my port inner – & he copied me but in the first turn to port he 'fell away' – couldn't maintain his position. I then feathered my starboard outer & waved to him. He waved a rude sign back & declined the challenge! A Lanc, empty, would fly on 'one' & maintain height around 3500 – 4000ft. Truly the 'Queen of the Skies'.

The Mess speciality at Balderton was 'Liar Dice' – a game with Poker Dice that involved outrageous 'calls' & the ability to bluff convincingly. Most enjoyable of an evening after dinner!!

It was here that I met F/O Dixie Dean, Nav; & F/O 'Sandy’ Sanford, MUG. Both DFCs & One tour behind them.

By this time I was itching to get back on ops. Les Blood said that he'd come along as did Doug Cunnison & 'Shorty' Groombridge, W/OP & RG respectively so that made three of my first tour crew coming back. I asked 'Dixie' Dean & 'Sandy' Sanford if they fancied a second tour with me – they too were keen. All i needed was an experienced Bomb-aimer. A phone call to 5LFS down the road & F/O Pete Lynch, DFM was recruited.

I then contacted the current CO of 106 & asked him if he [inserted] would [/inserted] like an all commissioned all second tour crew on his Squadron & if so would he pull some strings at his end? He would. He did & we all reported back to Metheringham & 106 at the end of March '45.

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'Twas a different world. The sun shone & the ground was firm. We reported to the Squadron Adjutant & received our 'arrival chits' to be completed. (All the different sections we’d be using). Then an interview with the Station Commander, G/Cpt Heath. He got a bit of a shock when F/Lt Perry & Crew entered his office – all commissioned, all second tour & in view of our experience all in line to be in charge of the various Sections. Les was F/E Leader; Doug Signals Leader; Dixie deputy Nav Leader; Sandy deputy Gunnery Leader & myself deputy Flight Commander & earmarked for promotion to S/Ldr when my Flight Commander finished his tour – he only had three to do.

This wealth of talent in one crew was frowned upon 'cos if you were shot down the Squadron suffered a heck of a loss!

The G/Cpt said "I'm sorry but we can't all you experts in one crew there will have to be adjustments". Whereupon my crew all said "Sir, we volunteered to came back with F/Lt Perry & we wish to fly with him & not get split up" After a bit of to-ing & fro-ing the Boss said that we could continue for the time being, BUT - - -! Our Squadron Commander was overjoyed – & kept his thoughtts [sic] to himself!

We only managed three ops (including our one & only 'daylight') before the war finished whereupon I applied for Transport Command & Yorks. My Sqdn CO gave me a very good write-up & then consternation – 106 was to be one of the twelve Squadrons selected to make 'Tiger Force' – Bomber Commands contribution to the Far East war. The Sqdn was re-organised with a mixture of experienced & sprog crews. No prizes for who was one of the experienced!! We lost our Flight Engineers & were given P/FEs – Pilots who were surplus to requirements were given F/E courses, sent to ‘Tiger Force' Sqdns to be trained up as second pilots by their own Captains. They were very young & inexperienced. (Me, an old man of 22!). We would also fly without mid-upper turrets so one gunner would suffice. Shorty left us for a ground job & Sandy went in to the rear turret.

Training commenced – umpteen lectures on the hazards of the Orient (& that's before we started ops against the Japs!); 'radio range' flying – the Yanks had them everywhere but they were new to us! Low level sorties – very enjoyable – & even some attempts at formation flying. (Not our speciality [sic], really, that was USAF style!

As a change we did the odd 'Cooks Tour' of the Ruhr taking various ground personel [sic] with us as passengers to let them see (& us) what we'd done. [underlined] Very [/underlined] impressive. The desolation was grim. Then I remembered Plymouth, Coventry, London, Liverpool etc. At least Cologne Catherdral [sic] was still standing!

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We also did a few runs to Southern Italy bringing troops back home for demob or urgent leave. 20 'Brown Jobs' squeezed into a Lanc fuselage & a 7 1/2/8 hour flight – better than days in a train struggling across Europe! (We used to take a variety of 'trade goods' down with us – soap, chocolate, cycle tyres & inner tubes – flog 'em on the black market & buy 'hooch' from the Yugoslav Liquor Store in Bari & in turn sell that to a couple of publicans we knew!)

Then in August came VJ. Quite a relief.

Another go for Transport Command & this time lucky. A new Navigator Freddy Jeggo came with me & our first destination 242 Sqdn at RAF Stoneycross in the New Forest – they flew Stirlings!! They were awaiting delivery of Avro Yorks so to pass an hour or two I got myself an hours 'dual' on the long legged monsters & then put in a little [inserted] time [/inserted] looking at Southern England from the air. Thank goodness I never had to fly these damn things on ops!

Next to RAF Merryfield in Somerset to convert to Yorks. Not only a new aircraft but a new concect [sic] of flying for we were to carry passengers on Scheduled Services & violent manoeuvres [sic] were
greatly discouraged. Climb & descent at no more than 500 feet per minute (no pressurization!), no 'split arse' turns – everything not more than rate one & vey [sic] smooth & gentle.

Fully crewed-up – F/O Norman Duck, 2nd Pilot; F/O Freddy Jeggo Nav; F/Lt 'Taff' Baynham, W/Op; W/O Johnny Lohan, F/E; Sgt 'Trader' Horn, Airquartermaster.

We did one trooping run to Karachi to 'get the feel' of the route then on to Scheduled Services UK – Malta (Luqa) – (or Castel Benito, Tripoli); Almaza Airport Cairo; :RAF Shaibah, Iraq; Mauripur Airport, Karachi; Palam Airport, New Delhi; Dum Dum Airport, Calcutta; Changi Airport, Singapore. Return flight via Negombo, Ceylon, instead of Calcutta.

Excellent carpets were available in Karachi – order on the way out & collect when homeward bound. They always found good homes in England! It wasn'nt [sic] worth the candle to try & smuggle anything in. One chap stuffed the inspection chambers in his mainplane with nylons – he was caught & court martialed.

We flew through the Monsoon but although unpleasant & requiring a bit of skill & knowledge it wasn't as bad as the Turin trip two years earlier.

Cambridge Airport (Teversham) a very small grass field in those days, asked for a York to display on the first Battle of Britain celebration. My Flight Commander detailed me & added that it would be even better if a York landed there & people could walk through it!

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We rang the Airport. They offered us lunch so we drove over. I 'sussed' the airfield – bit small but no high obstructions so a few days later a sparkling, spotless Avro York made its appearance at Teversham. The authotities [sic] had cut the grass & of course it clung to footware [sic]. By the time hundreds of people had looked around the York half of the airfield remained inside!

We departed in the late afternoon & I cleared with Flying Control (as it was then!) to give a demonstration of what a York could do – without passengers of course! Three, two & single engined low level 'passes' showed the merits of Rolls Royce 'Merlin' engines when attached to a very good aircraft!

Freddy got married during our time at Oakington & bought a surplus naval landing craft to convert into a house-boat & moor it on the Cam. Said boat was in Chatham. Freddy, his new bride Helene, Johnny our F/E & 'Trader' the AQM went to Chatham, paid for & took delivery of the vessel & set out for the Wash hugging the coast & then to go down the networks of rivers to Cambridge. Freddy said that his only worry was crossing the Thames estuary with so much traffic up & down it. That went well & they were nearly ready to go 'left hand down' in to the Wash when coast hugging at low tide the bottom of their craft was ripped out by the submerged wreck of a Halifax.

They waded ashore, found a holiday chalet to rent & rang me at Oakington. I with another pal made our way to Hunstanton. Freddy had hired lifting buoys so we 'boys' dived & swam around trying to lift the boat but in vain. It just joined the other wrecks littering the coastal waters.

Disconnected jottings from my 'York' time.

Serried ranks of cumulonimbus thunder clouds against blue skies as we flew from Malta to Cairo on summers evening.

Vipers around the Mess at Dum Dum.

Sitting on the balcony of my bedroom at the Heliopolis Palace Hotel, Cairo, watching "State Fair" at the open-air cinema across the road.

Barracuda activity outside the swimming stockade at Changi Beach. (We found out later that some of the fencing was missing below the tide line!)

The hot sun causing the rubber dinghy to inflate & burst out of the wing at Delhi Airport with an ensueing [sic] delay of three hours 'cos the metal was too hot for the mechanics to work on it.

[underlined] Large [/underlined] spiders being pushed out of our room at Negombo by ou [sic] bare-footed Bearer.

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Flying over the Bay of Benghazi & listening to the Derby – the race being won by 'Airborne', the horse I'd drawn in the Mess sweep.

Drinking 'Tiger' beer on the verandah at Changi whilst watching terrific thunderstorms over the mainland.

Eventually my service neared its end. Posted to Full Sutton, York, to await my de-mob. One day some of us were asked if we could collect some staff cars & small vans from Dunkerly in Devon & deliver to Shepton Mallet in Somerset. So by train to Devon (pouring rain) to discover that the cars & vans were in fact Queen Marys, travelling cranes & 10 tonners!! What a waste of time & money. Back to Full Sutton.

York, as you my Family know well, is a beautiful City with beautiful girls; & as you also know well – I married the prettiest of them!

The rest, as they say, is history.

With one eye a bit wonky my hopes of flying in civvy street were nil – too much competition from fully fit types with comparable experience.

Demobbed in January '47 I joined MCA (Ministry of Civil Aviation) as an Air Traffic Control Officer & reported to Liverpool (Speke) Airport. I'd been there ten days before I saw the other side of the Mersey – we had fog & smog in those days!

Next stop Belfast Nutt's Corner Airport where I was greeted by a snow storm. Next day [underlined] ALL [/underlined] hands to the pumps (or rather shovels & brushes, no snow clearance vehicles in those days). Three months later posted to Belfast Sydenham Airport & Sub-centre. I'm trying to court Audrey in York all this time & it wasn't easy. Night ferries & trains helped – no car then – but eventually I was posted back to Liverpool.

We got engaged during a holiday in Hastings in August '47 & then of course on July 17th '48 were married in Heslington Church, honeymooning in Newquay & returning to Liverpool to our first home 88 Mossville Rd.

The following year in October Stephen was born & the next year I was posted to the Northern Air Traffic Control Centre, Barton Hall, Preston, moving up there in October 51.

Having done Aerodrome, Approach & Approach Radar control at Liverpool I next had to do an Airways course for the Centre.

I spent fourteen years at Preston on my first tour there during which time my Mother came to live in the town to be near her family. She loved to spend Xmas & holidays with us & the children. (Helen had joined us by then in May '54).

Next an Area Radar Course, then to the Joint Air Traffic

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Control Radar Unit at RAF Lindholme where I was in charge of our civil unit.

Just prior to this however after countless chants of "We want a dog", Oscar a Heeler or Ormskirk Terrier joined our family at Xmas '63. A lovely, lively pup he, having gorged himself with turkey & trimmings on Xmas Day, decided that he was on to a 'good thing' & he would stay! The next Xmas he walked with us through 'Squaggs’ (Squire Anderton's Woods) on Boxing night after a snowfall. Full moon, gin clear, owls hooting – we all five enjoyed it.

Working at Lindholme we first of all lived in a furnished house in Edenthorpe whilst we house-hunted, eventually having one built at Hatfield. Dinks came to live with us at Edenthorpe but she died before the house in Hatfield was finished. Pity we did not give her more of our time.

Promoted & posted again back to Barton Hall where I was now a Supervisor. I commuted to & fro for a year while Stephen did his pre-Dip course prior to going to the West of England college of Art, Bristol. Then a quick move back to Preston (& another temporary furnished house in Barton) for Helen to get her 'O' & then 'A' levels at Penwotham Girls Grammar School.

We bought our house in Beech Dr in November '69 &, after many improvements, moved in in May '70.

In '72 Stephen joined the Hare Krishna movement & Helen went off to Loughborough University for her Teachers Training Course, taking her BE degree. in '76.

By now I was Deputy Centre Superintendent at Barton Hall & plans were already afoot & work progressing for the new Centre at Manchester Airport, complete with computors [sic], systems, new radars & displays all linked up to London & Scottish Centres.

January '75 & Barton Hall controlled it's last aircraft – an Aer Lingus from Dublin to Manchester. Farewell to a Unit that had had an eventful life starting with the RAF during the war. (At one time the house had belonged to Booths, the grocers). It saw many changes in its time. When I first went there in '49 most of our communication was by W/T (wireless telegraphy – Morse code) using the ‘Q’ code system of instructions, questions & answers. For instance - -. - .- . . . . (QAH What is your height?). We had wireless operators to send & receive these signals from their counterparts in the aircraft. Not many of them had R/T (radio telecommunication) then. The 'Q' code messages were written on duplicated 'chits' & hung from small hooks on the 'Control board' underneath the red 'chit' giving the aircraft details – call-sign, type, route, destination etc. As

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the flight progressed & more & more messages exchanged quite a few 'chits' would hang from the hooks & when the door opened at the same time as a window the `chits’ would fly around like confetti giving rise to same choice language! Fortunately nothing untoward happened.

To Manchester. Operational proceedures [sic] were already in place so my main task at the outlet [sic] was Pe[inserted] r [/inserted] sonel [sic] & Training. The move had brought about the merging of three Units – Manchester Aerodrome, Approach & Approach Radar; Preston Airways & Preston Radar. The target was to have all Controllers & Assistants qualified in two of the three functions – Aerodrome/Approach/Area, thus giving the Staff a variety of skills & Management flexibility in providing the Service. As all of these functions required a licence [sic] to operate, to make us one Unit a lot of cross-training had to be achieved with no loss of operational efficiency.

This achieved, Manchester became the only Unit in the country to house [underlined] all [/underlined] ATC sevices [sic] under one roof & management.

It made work very interesting & rewarding.

Commuting daily was made possible by the connecting of the Motorways so we decided to stay in Fulwood. By leaving promptly at 0730 I could make the 45 mile journey in 45 minutes – the dreaded Barton Bridge being only two lanes then & the time of arrival there was critical to catch the 'gap' in the traffic twixt ‘blue & white’ collar workers. (The lorries were always there!).