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Another time a squadron of Hudsons came in to be refuelled. They were all bombed up and on take-off one crashed. Luckily there was no fire or explosion. On 12th June 1943 I was again on a detachment that left Idku for another airfield in Palestine. It was a place called St Jeans, just north of Haifa, close by the old crusader port of Acre. It was a joy to be in Palestine, a much better temperature and so much greener than Egypt and a lot less flies. I remember we had to cross the Sinai desert in a day. We left El Qantara on the Suez Canal early in the morning and after all day on the move we arrived at 8eersheba. Here I remember seeing melons growing on the sand. That night we slept by our trucks at Ramleh and in the morning I heard the Faithful being called to prayer from a minaret. As we passed through the countryside we were able to pick oranges from overhanging trees. St Jeans was a good station. We were in wooden billets with verandas, bungalows you could say, real beds too. The airfield had proper concrete runways and perimeter roads. When on these 29 detachments we always hoped that a certain cook would be with us, he always made our meals so appetising. It wasn't just dished up; he always seemed to be able to give us just that little bit extra. When not on duty in the afternoons we would go swimming at a seaside village called Nanaryya. We had a little terrier dog who went everywhere with us. He was white with a black spot. "Spot", that's what he was and he loved to ride on a truck. He was there waiting to be lifted up onto the truck when we went swimming but we could not get him to go in the sea. As soon as he was off the truck he would hide some place and only come out again when it was time to go back to the camp. When not on duty at night, sometimes we would go to Nanaryya for a drink. I wasn't very keen on beer so I had a brandy: a few of those put me to sleep and my mates got me back to the camp and put me to bed. I was never any trouble. We were able to visit Haifa, a pleasant city on the slopes of Mount Carmel. On the corners of some streets a man with drinking glasses and a large pile of oranges would cut oranges in half and squeeze out the juice whenever someone wanted to buy a drink. So you always got a nice fresh drink. I bought a wristwatch in Herzel Street and I still have it to this day. I also had some photographs taken to send back home. Although we were not very busy at night as we were up the desert, we were still getting a few scrambles, mostly Italian planes. Now whenever I was on night duty, being a Corporal, I had to take my turn at being N.C.O. in charge and as that meant I had to sign the Service Book too for all the work carried out, I thought it about time I tried to learn a bit about other trades. I got to known quite a lot of the workings of the Hercules engine but there was one trade it was impossible to penetrate. That was radar. That really was a closed shop. Of course, we all had some idea how it worked. When an engine had an oil change the old oil was filtered and if any white metal was found then that engine was U/S and a new engine had to be fitted. This was quite a big job. We had instruments that worked off an engine, as did the Electricians, so we had to remove those parts and then the Engine Fitters got to work. I think it took a whole day working flat out to complete the change. Our Fitters worked very hard, then the engine was tested and we had to see if our instruments were working. One morning on the way to work our truck had just got onto the airfield when a Hurricane came in the land. It slid off the runway into muddy grass and flipped over on its back. The pilot was upside down but not hurt. We piled off the truck and we a]] got under the plane and lifted it up enough for the pilot to get out. Another crash at St Jeans was a Maryland. It was just a pile of twisted metal. How the crew survived I do not know. There was an Australian bomber unit on the station and the first time I saw them rolling bombs off the back of a truck I had a fit. Of course, they were not primed - but I didn't know that. On 16th August 1943 we left St Jeans to return to Idku. Back to sand and flies. Zig-a-Zag in Egypt was the worst place for flies. We had been in Palestine for just over two months. During the last few months of 1943 the squadron was on operations around the Dodecanese Islands in the Aegean Sea, mostly around the island of Cos, trying to stop the German invasion of those islands. But I'm afraid that our squadron had many sad losses. We lost our C.O. Wing Commander Reid and a very well liked pilot, Squadron Leader (Bill) Cudder. It was during these operations that Pilot Officer Ledwidge won the D.F.C. and Flight Sergeant Jackson the D.F.M. On 16th November 1943 I was again on a detachment but this was a detachment with a difference. We had no planes this time. We were issued with sten-guns and two magazines of ammo and told that we were going on an invasion of the island of Cos. We boarded a train at Alex, not coaches but covered trucks with large central sliding doors like the ones in American films. This train took us through Palestine and into the Lebanon. We passed Beirut, which looked a lovely city, all white buildings on a lovely bay. The locomotive was a diesel driven by Australians. I think they had built most of the track, too. When we got to Tripoli a steam engine took over and our journey ended at Aleppo in Syria, close to the border with Turkey. We were in Aleppo for four days when we were told the operation was cancelled. Fortunately (or unfortunately, whichever way you look at it) the Germans had already occupied Cos so it was back on our way to Idku. We stopped at a transit camp in Haifa for a night and it was here I became friendly with one of our chaps. He was a wireless mechanic. I had started to read some cycling magazines that had been sent out to me by a very kind gentleman by the name of Mr Scott who lived in Balham, London. I was so very grateful to him for sending me those books. As I was reading this chap came to me and asked if he could have a look. He was a cyclist too. His name was Gill Taylor. He was a member of the Rhos-on-Sea Cycling Club. He was a very good racing cyclist. I passed those books to him when I had read them. We arrived back at Idku on 25th November 1943. During the Christmas period we were able to get to see Geraldo and his band and also Harry Roy and his band. Chapter 8
On 4th January 1944 we once again left Idku on another detachment back to St Jeans in Palestine. After a little while there we moved again on 6th March 1944 to another airfield at Ramat David, east of Haifa. We were here for about a month and what a disastrous month it was. We had two planes crash on landing and another plane was missing for some time. It was eventually found burned out. One day our C.O. gave me a truck with a driver and told me to go around the country to try to find an oxygen charging plant and although we travelled all day around Palestine I could not find any help at all. So every time we required oxygen bottles a plane had to fly back to Idku for them. We left Ramat David and returned to St Jeans on 9th May 1944. It was during our stay here that I was informed that I was to give my two instrument chaps a field examination to see if they were eligible for any promotion. They were both AC/11 Group II, their names being Thompson and Ferguson. I set out an exam paper for them and asked a few questions and I was able to pass them both to the rank of AC/I, for which they were very pleased: it meant more pay for them. On 6th June 1944 we heard of the invasion of Europe. I do not seem to recall any rejoicing. Our C.O. on the detachment was Squadron Leader Hilary St George. One day he told me that I had to keep all clocks in aircraft at the correct time or I would be in trouble. So clocks became top priority. It was on 2Oth July 1944 that I was given four days leave to be spent at a Jewish Kibbutz at Ramat David. I was with two other lads, George Cook and Frank White. It was a complete rest. We just lazed about all day long, eating grapes and sleeping. Leave over, we returned to camp and on 4th October 1944 we left St Jeans and returned to Idku. This time we had been in Palestine for over nine months. On 6th November 1944 we were told the sad news that the squadron was disbanding, some returning to England but most of us ground crews who still had overseas time to complete were posted to different units. I really thought that this was a disastrous step. I felt at the time (and still do all these years after) that with all the experience the aircrews and ground crews had on Beaus, the Squadron could have done noble service if we had given our support to the advancing 8th Army all the way through Italy. It was a great loss to be split up from so many good chaps and friends. So, on 10th November 1944 I left Idku for the last time and travelled to R.A.F. Ismailya by the Suez Canal and the bitter lakes. Ismailya was a large pre-war station with large brick built barracks blocks and verandas. This was also the first station I had been on with W.A.A.F. personnel. Ismailya was an F.T.S. (Flying Training School). There were large hangars and there I reported to the main instrument section. The Sergeant in charge was due to go home so he was very pleased to see me. One of the first lads in the section I saw was "Tinker" Bell, whom I had been with at Halton on a Group I course in 1941. I was pleased that I was once again on the flights. Here there were Spitfires, Hurricanes, Harvards and a very nice plane, the Mustang. All this was so very different to squadron life. Here we didn't get to know the pilots very well. You started work and finished at set times, no night duty, meals at set times, not like on an operational squadron where people came in the cookhouse at any time. There were lots of Italian P.O.Ws on the camp. I suppose they really were not prisoners any more now that Italy was now on our side. There were two of them in the instrument section and they did their work very well. Their names were Tony and Mario. The Italians were very good at making cigarette lighters out of bits of metal. I was now in a Nissen hut with the rest of the "bashers" and each hut had a young Arab boy to look after the billet, keep it clean, take and return our laundry - just a general "dogsbody". I suppose they were glad to earn a few piastas. When I had any spare moments when I was up in the desert I was carving bits of wood into a Wellington bomber, wingspan of about 8". I made it so that it all pegged together so it was easily dismantled for packing away. One day our boy saw this model plane and he was so entranced could he have it "please", so I gave it to him but on the way out of camp in the evening all Arabs were searched. Of course, the plane was found, the SPs brought him back to me to verify his story', which of course I did. Poor lad was frightened to death. On my first day parade at Ismailya we were all lined up, the Sergeants being paid first. A name was called, Sergeant Gibbs, and as he went for his pay I thought, "I know that chap". He was an instrument repairer too and when I met him in the section one day we recognised each other. We had been at School of Art together at the ages of 12-15! He never did any work in the section, all his time was spent organising and rehearsing for a camp concert called "Spring Parade", a good show, too. One day a new Corporal arrived in the section straight out from England. His name was Arthur Wilkins and his hometown was West Bromwich. He also had a girl friend who lived close to my home. We became good friends. We bought a camera between us and when I left Ismailya I let Arthur have it as he was posted to the Far East. There was a very large Army camp adjoining the RAF station. It was called Moascar and it was there that I saw some very good football games with some real professional players. There were Ainsley and Mullet of Leeds United, Hughie McLarren from Derby County, a chap from Southampton and one from Arsenal. I too, was now playing for our section team. Some Sunday mornings early, around six o'clock, I would go out of camp by the back gate. The SPs must have thought I was mad. I would walk along the road by the Suez Canal to the next R.A.F. station at El Firdan. There I would enjoy some cycle racing, my friend from 46 Squadron would be racing. Gill Taylor was now a member of the Buckshee Wheelers and it gave us a chance to talk too. The 8th May 1945 was V.E. Day. I do not remember any rejoicing, Chapter 9 On 30th May 1945 I was posted to 216 Group at Almaza, Cairo. I left Ismailya on 2Oth June 1945 and arrived at H.Q. Almaza. The next day I was taken out of Cairo along the road past the Pyramids onto the desert road again to No 10 Staging Post at Cairo West. I now joined Transport Command. I was only there for a short time for, on 2nd July 1945, I was posted again, this time to No 12 staging post at El Adem near Tobruk. I was told to go and wait in my tent and would be called when a flight to El Adem became available. I could not leave the camp in case I was called. I waited in that tent for over eight weeks. VJ Day passed whilst I waited there. On 24th May 1945 I boarded a DC3 Dakota and we left Cairo just after midnight, arriving at El Adem in the early morning. I was taken to the terminal building, given a meal and then I reported to HQ, was given a billet and I then reported to the instrument section where the Corporal in charge had been awaiting my arrival so he could now go back to England. So I now took charge of the section. El Adem was an old airfield, well used by both sides of the warring air forces. I think the Italians originally built it. Plenty of brick or stone buildings and real tarmac runways and perimeter roadways. Our billets were Nissen huts but the trade sections were in brick buildings. I had to do night duty crew again and it came round to me every third night. Also I was again N.C.O. in charge. There were planes coming in at all times of the day and night for refuelling and for servicmg. I found it very interesting, as the planes were all sorts - bombers, fighters, transports, English and American, Yorks, Lancs, Skymasters, Marylands, Baltimores, Spits, Dakotas. I think the ugliest plane I ever saw was the Stirling~ it was such a large plane if you slipped off that you knew it! One night on night duty (it was about 2.30am on the early morning of 26th October 1945) control tower informed me that a Dakota from Cairo was about to land. It was brought to our dispersal. The engines stopped and the door opened. The first person to appear in the doorway was "Our Gracie" and the first words she uttered were: "How long have I to stay in this dump?” Any admiration or respect I had for Gracie Fields from that moment completely disappeared. She and her husband Monty Banks were taken by car to the terminal building for a meal, a drink and a nice rest. After the plane was refuelled they were then brought back again. They boarded the plane and off it \vent without even a "Thank You". I am afraid Gracie went right down in my estimation. Some afternoons we would go swimming in the harbour of Tobruk and one day we went on a boat trip around the harbour to look at all the wrecked ships. The most spectacular was the Italian cruiser "San Georgio" and there was a large Italian liner, I think it was the "Rex". The harbour was full of half sunken ships of all sizes. The instrument section also had an adjoining photographic section so we were able to do our own developing and printing. I had some very good lads working for me, one was very good at repairing watches and one day a new chap arrived from No 10 Staging Post Cairo West, his name was Sankey. His home was Nelson in Lancashire. He was a bit of a lad but I got on well with him and he was a very good worker. I now had to read DROs (Daily Routine Orders) very carefully every day to see if my name was there for repatriation. One day everyone was called to the duty crew room and there I saw three officers sitting at a table. We each in turn went to them and they asked us questions as to where we were on different dates. They were trying to find out what medals we were eligible for. It turned out that I was entitled to wear the clasp to my Africa Star for my work with 46 Squadron at Benghazi in 1942. On 26th November 1945 my name was on the DROs for trooping in December and on 27th November I received news from home that my cousin Jack had arrived safely home from his service with the 14th Army in Burma. In the evening of 10th December 1945 I was taken by truck with a few other lads to the railhead near Tobruk for a train journey to a camp in the Canal Zone. I must say that I enjoyed my time at El Adem. Although all hostilities had now come to an end there were plenty of aircraft passing through and it was very interesting working on the different types. I arrived at Kasfreet 21PTC on 12th December. Every day there we would parade on the square waiting for our names to be called and to get a ticket for a berth on a boat back to England. Eventually I did get a ticket and on 20th December 1945 I was taken by road to Port Said and there I boarded the "S.S. Ascania", a single red funnelled ship of the Cunard line, I think. On 2lst December we sailed away from Egypt on the way home. I had been abroad for three years and ten months. The ship reached Malta on 24th December and anchored in Grand Harbour, Valetta. In the evening we left Malta on the way to Toulon in the South of France, but the Med now got very rough so Christmas Day wasn't a very pleasant one. Eventually we docked at Toulon and were then taken to a transit camp on the racecourse. We were billeted in old bell tents, there were duckboards everywhere, and it was so muddy and cold. On the evening of 28th December we were taken to the railway station and got on a train, which was to take us to Dieppe. The only lighting on the train was by hurricane lamps in each compartment and they gave us an extra blanket to try to keep warm. On the journey the train would stop at a station so that we could have a meal. Field kitchens were by the tracks with French civilians serving us. We also had a wash and shave - all very primitive. Whenever we stopped lots of the local people would gather round. They looked so miserable and half starved. They were so grateful to us for anything we could give to them, especially blankets or items of clothing. We arrived at Dieppe and were taken to a transit camp for the night and here we had a Christmas dinner. Next morning at 0600 hours we boarded a ship, the "Isle of Thanet", and set sail for Newhaven. On the way we each had a telegram form to fill in to let our folks at home know that we had arrived back in England. The ship arrived at Newhaven at about 10 o'clock and England was just as white as when I left it. There had been a very sharp frost. It was so cold. A train was waiting there for us and on every seat was a morning newspaper. The train departed from Newhaven and late in the afternoon we arrived at R.A.F. Hornchurch. That evening we had another real Christmas dinner. The next day we handed in unwanted kit and collected what pay was due to us (I think I picked up about £60 and I had £250 in Savings Certificates), given a travel warrant and were then sent home on six weeks leave, to be informed later as to just where posted. I remember I was with a chap from Dudley so we both got on the train for "Brurn" at Euston. When the train was on its way an Inspector came through the train and on seeing us said: "You can't sit here" - evidently we were in First Class. All this after nearly four years abroad. I arrived back home at about 10 o'clock at night so I could not see until next morning all the flags out for my homecoming. I was so glad to see my cousin Jack had come back safely. Chapter 10
My posting arrived whilst I was on leave. I was to report to R.A.F. Valley. I had no idea just where Valley was so I went to see the R. T.O. on New Street railway station. He informed me that it was on the Isle of Anglesey near to Holyhead. Leave over, I arrived at Valley railway station, the date was 24th January 1946 and would you know it, it was raining as I walked to the camp. I left my kit at the guardroom and picked it up later. I reported to the Orderly Room at HQ. I was told where my billet was and first to go to the Stores and get a cycle. You certainly needed one to get around the camp. I was in a wooden hut with cast iron stoves at each end. Each hut had a ration of coal so fires were going only at night. The stoves were filled up before we retired and I remember when I woke up during the night both stoves would be glowing red-hot. Now that hostilities had finished there really wasn't much to do at Valley. In our section were another Corporal and two W.A.A.Fs. This was the first time I had worked with women. Over the far side of the airfield were about eight white Liberators waiting to be flown back to the States. These planes had to have a daily inspection and sometimes an Aer Lingus Dakota would come in for refuelling. That was about all the activity. Although Valley was a diversion 'drome it was always open when other airfields were closed to aircraft. I had to read DROs very carefully every day because I was to do something that I had never had to do in all my service before - that was Orderly Corporal for a day. This duty started by waiting outside the cookhouse at breakfast time to take the names of all reporting sick and then take the list to the M.O. (Medical Officer). I then went to my section until lunchtime, then I would go to see the N.A.A.F.I. was clear of personnel after lunch. Then back go the section for the afternoon. Just before it got dusk I would go to the control tower and take down the standard (flag) and take it to the main guardroom for safekeeping. Then back to the N.A.A.F.I. again to see it was all locked up for the night. I then returned to the main guardroom to sleep. I was awakened about 0530 hours. I would proceed to the cookhouse to collect a dixie of tea and take it to the SPs in the guardroom up the end of the lane to the camp. Back now to collect the standard and hoist it again near the control tower. My duty as Orderly Corporal was then over. I certainly did a bit of cycling on that duty. Whenever we went over the airfield to service the Liberators we would have to cross the end of the runway but before we crossed we would always wait for a green light from the control tower. In the summer months or if it became warm we would walk over the fields to Rhosneigr and buy an ice cream or cold drink. One day another chap arrived in the section. His name was Al Stone, he lived at Burton-on-Trent. As we were both Midlanders we became friends. Whenever we got a long weekend leave pass, the day before we would go to a farm owned by a Mrs Jones, her husband was away in the Merchant Navy. She would let us have some eggs to take home. Al would also go out on the airfield and pick mushrooms and I know that they still grow there to this day. In the evenings we would sometimes walk along the lane to the village of Bodedem to a little pub there. I remember inside the pub was rather dark; the only illumination was by oil lamps. Or perhaps go for fish and chips at a shop in Caergiliog. Saturday evening we would either go to Bangor or Colwyn Bay, there would maybe be a dance on, or perhaps have a meal and a drink, then get a train back to Rhosneigr, then walk along the tracks back to the camp. Al was due to be demobbed about three weeks before I was but he deferred it so that we could go together. On 15th August 1946 we left Valley and arrived at the home of "Bull", R.A.F. Uxbridge. We only spent the night there and next day were taken to Wembley Stadium. There we chose some civilian clothes. I chose a grey pin-stripe suit and a green trilby hat. I don't remember having a topcoat. We then picked up any pay due to us, a travel warrant and our Service Release Book (which I still have). We came out of Wembley Stadium carrying a cardboard box tied up with string – anyone could tell you had just been demobbed by the cardboard box. We then got a train to "Brum" and there I said goodbye to my friend Al Stone. I must say that I enjoyed my stay at Valley. It was a nicely situated station, although at the time it wasn't really appreciated. I had 13 weeks leave with pay and I took and enjoyed every one of them before starting back at my pre-War occupation of manufacturing jewellery. So ended my R.A.F. service of about five and a half years. POSTSCRIPT
On 22nd September 1994, my 73rd birthday, thanks to my niece Sheila, I was invited back to R.A.F Valley and escorted round the station by C.R.O. John Phillips. A truly memorable day. I have attended two 46 Squadron reunions and met a few old comrades. I have also seen the colours of 46 Squadron hanging in Chichester Cathedral. I have also visited the site of the airfield at High Ercall in Shropshire.
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