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henceforth I was "Ginger". The name remained with me until after I attained the rank of Corporal and then it was of course "Corporal Ginger". The weather was very cold during our stay there, but once on the square and all that drill we soon warmed up. The Corporal in charge of the hut was also our Instructor, each hut's complement being one platoon. I think the Instructors were just as new to the job as we were. They seemed a decent lot and had plenty of patience with us "rookies". All this square-bashing came very easy to me as from the ages of 11 to 16 I had been a member of Number 10A Company Boys Brigade and parade ground drill was all part of the training. The only part that was awkward was rifle drill. A rifle is a cumbersome object on first handling. Sometimes the Instructor would show us how it was done and then he would throw the rifle back at you and cold hands didn't always grasp that flying object. Many a rifle clattered to the ground with calls of "idiot". I remember that day on the rifle range and I first fired a rifle. It was a very cold day and the sandbags I rested my left hand on seemed frozen solid. After I had fired off five rounds the knuckles on my hand were red raw. And then, of course, there was how to use the bayonet. . . . . . . . It wasn't all drilling. There was personal appearance - polishing of boots, buttons etc, calls of "Get your hair cut!" and "You haven't shaved this morning". The hut had to be swept and cleaned and all kit had to be placed out on your bed, every morning, each piece in its allotted place, including your "housewife", this being a very important item. It was a pouch containing needles, cottons, buttons, pins etc. No-one did your repairs in this outfit, every serviceman had a "housewife", you soon had to learn how to sew a button and darn your socks. I even got to the stage where I could turn a shirt collar. Eventually the day of passing out parade arrived, the CO taking the salute. All seemed to go alright, the Instructors being just as pleased as we were that it was all over, but for them it would start all over again when the next lot of recruits arrived. Bridgnorth Camp was in a very nice situation. It was on the top of a hill on the opposite side of the River Severn to the town. It is now a large housing estate. I have passed by it many times since my stay there. We had now come to the end of our basic training and were about to start a very interesting period at a school of technical training to become Instrument Repairers. This was to be a Group II course of some three months at R.A.F. Melksham in Wiltshire. Our instruction included how instruments worked, how they were fitted and worked in aircraft and also how they were calibrated. Also included were bombsights, gunsights, compasses, cameras, automatic pilots and oxygen systems. This was quite a lot to digest in the time allotted. The first aircraft I came close to and entered was an old twin-engined Avro Anson. Melksham was a nice village in lovely countryside. The towns of Chippenham, Devizes and Trowbridge, real old market towns, were not very far away and Bath was not so very far away either. Sometimes the local coach owner would provide a vehicle to take us to Birmingham for a weekend leave. As long as we got back to camp by 2359 hours on Sunday everything was alright. My time at Melksham was very interesting and enjoyable. At the end of the course we had to undergo a test and the marks attained determined what rank you became. There were three levels: Aircraftsman Second Class (AC/ll), First Class (AC/I) and top grade Leading Aircraftsman (LAC) and, of course, the higher the grade you attained the more money in your pay. I think the majority of us passed out as AC/II. This was now the time my friends and I parted for we were all posted to different units. I was posted to No 90 Squadron at R.A.F. Polebrook near to Peterborough. The nearest railway station was Oundle where I duly arrived and then made by way to Polebrook. I had no idea just what aircraft No 90 Squadron was equipped with but as I entered the camp I was astounded to see on the tarmac a number of B 17 Flying Fortresses. Me being a rookie, never yet worked on an aircraft, and I get the largest planes of al1. However, I found the "Fort" a very nice plane to work on, plenty of room and things seemed easy to get at without cutting my hands and fingers. Not a bit like most British aircraft. All American planes seemed to me to be made to be easily serviced. The week before I joined No 90 Squadron the aircraft has been on "ops" over Cherbourg and quite a number of them had been shot up, so when I did join the Squadron I think there were only about two planes serviceable. I am afraid I was not given much time to sample life on a bomber squadron or to learn more about the B17. After about a week there I was told to report to the Orderly Room at HQ and I was told I was posted on to a Group I course at R.A.F. Halton in Buckinghamshire. It was in later life that I learned that No 90 Squadron was the only British squadron to be equipped with Flying Fortresses. I would have liked to have stayed there a little longer. |
