I found service life a good life. Very interesting work, if sometimes in very dangerous and awkward situations, and I did the job to the best of my ability, obeyed orders and "kept my nose clean". I think perhaps it was the healthiest, fittest time of my entire life and I shared it all with some very good friends and comrades. An experience I would not have missed.

If I was a young man again and with all the technology of the present day I would find the R.A.F. to be irresistible.

And so, with my good friend Fred Fisher and two other friends, the Watson brothers, Les and Sonny, we all decided to volunteer for the Royal Air Force. As we worked in the jewellery trade the obvious choice in the R.A.F. was that of Instrument Repairer. I had no parents and was living with my Aunt Gert and my cousin Jack, who was already serving in the Army. So, I might just as well join up now as later - at least I would have a choice of the Service I would enter.

One day, after making our decision, we all went to the R.A.F. Recruiting Office in Dale End, Birmingham, the date being 3rd February 1941. We were asked some questions and given a general medical inspection, all passing Al. I remember I found a 3-stone engagement ring on the floor. I passed it over to the Sergeant in charge. We then received a travel warrant and told to report to R.A.F. Padgate, near Warrington, for attestation and an aptitude test.

Arriving at Padgate (this was Number 3 Recruiting Centre) we were allocated a hut. I will always remember the Corporal in Charge. He was rather a tubby chap and informed us in no uncertain terms that he was "the goose that lays the golden egg". I often wondered what became of him and I would have loved to have met him again on equal terms.

I remember that one question asked was to spell "bicycle". As I was a keen cyclist and read the weekly paper of that name it was easy for me.

We were then given our Service Number and became members of the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve. As we were not required immediately we had to return home to await our call-up, the date on the postponement forms being 15th February 1941. I found Padgate to be a dark, miserable place, so it was back to being jewellers again for us.

It was in the month of April that we returned to Padgate. This time we joined the R.A.F. properly.

We became Aircraft Hands at the enormous wage of 2/- (2 shillings - lOp) per day. We then collected all our kit and uniforms and were then despatched to an unknown destination for four weeks basic training or, as it was called, "square bashing". The "unknown destination" turned out to be R.A.F. Bridgnorth in Shropshire. I knew the place very well from days out in the Cycling Club and it wasn't so very far from home. Unfortunately we were confined to camp for the whole four weeks of our stay. It was now the time that I lost my Christian name of Jack: as I had red hair, 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.

Halton was a very large camp, a pre-war establishment, the majority of the buildings were of brick construction. It was the home of the apprentices, or "boy entrants" as they were called, very young boys training to fill positions of the higher ranks. Halton Camp is on the slopes of the Chiltern Hills, the nearest large town being market town of Aylesbury.

I found Halton a fascinating place. Firstly, this Group I course was a new course for Halton. My entry was only the second one there. On my second day my old friend Fred Fisher arrived and we were very glad to see each other again. During our first few days there the Mess tables had white tablecloths on them but sorry to say the)! soon disappeared and reverted back to the bare wooden table tops.

I found Halton to be for us an easy going place. We got on with our work and no one interfered with us. Our billets were away from the main buildings and there was no "bull", not at all like the "boys"' environment.

One of the lads on the course was named Bell. He came from Sheffield and, of course, he became "Tinker Bell". He was a wizard on the piano so was always in great demand in the N.A.A.F.I. every evening. After the war was over and we all returned to Civvie Street he was on Hughie Green's "Opportunity Knocks". He really was a very good pianist. Time passed by very quickly because the course was very interesting. We were told that by the end of the course we would be qualified Electrical Engineers. There was one aircraft in a field so we were able to get some idea of what it was all about. It was an old Hampden bomber, a death trap if ever there was one.

Sometimes we got home on a weekend leave. It all depended on what time we could get away. If we got a train from Aylesbury to Bletchley, which was on the main line from Euston to "Brum ", or alternatively from Aylesbury on the L.N.E.R. line to Rugby and then across the town to the L.M.S line and then on to "Brum", nearly every time in Rugby there would be an air raid in progress.

Aylesbury was a nice town, a cinema there, much to our delight. One time we were home on leave my friend Fred got married and I was his best man. That was in December 1941.

At the end of the course we had to take a test again and I was very pleased to pass out as AC/l, Group I. That meant that I had now gone up five ranks with, of course, another increase in pay. Once again we were all posted to different units, once again it was goodbye to my friend Fred. I was posted to No 68 Squadron at High Ercall in Shropshire. The nearest town was Wellington, now part of Telford. It was not so very far from home either. I eventually arrived at Crudgington, this the nearest railway station to the airfield. I made my way to the guard room and then reported to the Orderly Room at HQ and was told where my billet was, and the cook house and the N.A.A.F.I. This was a very widely dispersed station. The Mess was quite a way down the lane from the main gate and the hut I was to be in was down the lane from the Mess and then across two fields. This was winter time, cold and wet, so tramping across muddy fields was not so very brilliant. The way to get to work in the mornings was by coach from the Mess. If you missed that it was a walk to the section and a late arrival, which was frowned on. Most of this to-ing and fro-ing was done in the dark.

No 68 Squadron was a night fighter unit. It was equipped with a twin engined aircraft, the Bristol Beaufighter. About every fourth night you did night duty crew and, of course, hoped the nights would be quiet ones. But, of course, "Jerry" was over Brum or Liverpool so there was plenty of activity. The Squadron Commander was Max Aitkin, the son of Lord Beaverbrook, and a very experienced and competent pilot.

The Beaufighter was a very rugged, strongly built aircraft. It was of all-metal construction with two very powerful engines, namely Bristol Hercules, sleeve valve air-cooled radial engines. It was also the most heavily armed fighter of the war. Four cannons in the nose and six machine guns in the wings and when used as a day fighter it also had a machine gun in the observer's blister. It certainly looked what it was, a destroyer. It had a crew of two, the pilot and an observer/navigator. Later in the war it also carried bombs and a torpedo and later still it was fitted w1th rockets. It was a very formidable machine. I remember when the engines were run up in the darkness the cylinders would glow red.

I will now try. to explain how the day's work was carried out. First the Squadron was made up of different units. There were the flights, from where the flying took place, and then there was the maintenance section where all the major inspections were carried out or any really large major servicing was required.

Every aircraft had a sort of log book where everything that was done to that plane was recorded. The first thing to be done after our arrival at the section was to go to every plane and give it a daily inspection. This was done by all trades. The book was then signed by the airman of each trade and finally by the N.C.O. in charge of each section. So you see, if anything was wrong with that plane, it could be traced back to who had done the job. The aircrews then came to give the planes an air test, on completion of which any faults would be reported to the Flight Sergeant in charge of the flight.
Then any faults would be rectified. Once the aircraft was fully serviceable it was then put on readiness for the night's ops, if there were any. I think there were always about four planes on readiness and others on standby.

The first job I had to do on night duty was to change an oil temperature gauge. To do this in daylight was quite a big job but doing it in the dark, with the light of torches, was quite something. This instrument consisted of the gauge itself attached to a long flexible capillary tube on the end of which was a brass bulb of some 4" in length. This was filled with ethyl ether. As the oil got warmer so the ether expanded in the bulb and tube, moving the pointer on the gauge. The capillary had to be threaded from the instrument panel in the cockpit, through the wings and then the brass bulb was screwed into a copper pipe that contained oil at the rear of the engine. One man had to remove the old bulb with another man standing by with the new bulb ready to insert it quickly into the copper pipe. But no matter how quick you were, oil would gush out and run down your arm before you had got the nuts screwed up. Invariably the oil was hot. A very messy job. The nut was then locked with copper wire. All nuts on aircraft, if not the self-locking type, had to be locked to stop them coming undone.

One morning I went to work without making up my bed. Of course, it would have to be the day the CO made his inspection, so for me that meant trouble. I had to go before "Max" and he gave me four days' "jankers": that meant confinement to camp and every evening after work I had to report to the guard room carrying full back pack. That entailed a long walk there and back again, all in darkness. That was the only time in my service career that I was in any trouble.

Some time in January 1942 I was told that one of us from the section was to go overseas. It was a toss-up between myself and another chap. Needless to say, I lost the toss. So off home I went on two weeks embarkation leave. Reporting back to High Ercall I found there were about six of us to go overseas. There was Corporal Tommy Shambrook, Bert Payne and Taff Griffiths, all Engine Fitters. We were put on a train to a transit camp at West Kirby on the Wirral. Here we were kitted out with tropical kit, khaki-drill shorts, shirts, trousers, tunic etc. and one of those stupid British topees. This meant another kit bag had to be carried. Looking back, I sometimes wonder how on earth we carried all that kit, but carry it we had to.

After a few days at West Kirby one evening we boarded the train and the next morning when daylight came we were approaching Glasgow. This being winter time, the mountains of Scotland were covered in snow. The train ran onto the dockside and lined up there were numerous large troopships. The one we were to board was the "S.S. Ormonde", it was a two funnel ship, all dark grey in colour , but what struck me most was how very tall the funnels seemed. I thought "if this ship rolls over too far it would never come upright again". I think it had been a troopship in the First World War. Once on board we found our Mess, which was at the stern of the ship, one deck down.

The Mess Deck was where we ate, slept and it was to be our home for some time. Each man had a hammock to sleep in. There were stowed in a wooden cage. In the evening the hammocks were strung from hooks in the roof I found I could not sleep in mine for as the ship rolled I had the feeling the roof was coming down to meet me. So, after all had put up their hammocks, I got down in the empty cage and I slept very well.

Late in the afternoon the ship started to move off and proceeded down the river, with waves and cheers from people on the river side. We then anchored off Greenock and this was where the convoy was formed up. The date was 15th February 1942, just one year since I joined the R.A.F. We went to sleep that first night aboard and when we woke in the morning we were out in the Atlantic Ocean, with quite a swell on, too. When we went up on deck I could see that this was a very large convoy. Quite a large number of merchant and troopships. It was escorted by two aircraft carriers, the "Illustrious" and "Eagle", and one large cruiser. Surrounding the convoy numerous destroyers were dashing about. The thing I feared most was enemy submarines., especially at night time.

Sometimes in the evening darkness we went up on deck for a breath of fresh air. No lights of any kind could be seen. No smoking either. But when daylight came again, every ship was in its place.

1 felt sorry for our friend Bert Payne. As soon as the ship put to sea he became very ill. I have never seen anyone to be so seasick. He sat at the end of the Mess table very ill and I don't think he moved or had anything to eat for about a week. But slowly, very slowly, he did eventually get well again.

On board with us in the R.A.F. were some regiments from Scotland., namely the "Black Watch" and the "Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders". They played "Crown and Anchor" most of the day. Lots of money changed hands.

After about a week at sea the two carriers left the convoy and went into the "Med". The "Eagle" was later sunk by enemy action. Whilst they were with us, some days we would watch the aircraft take off and fly round the convoy. The planes were Fairey Swordfish and Grumman Marlets. On trying to land on the carriers' decks I saw planes miss and drop into the sea.

Some of the local young boys came out to the ships in their boats with all sorts of things to sell but mostly they were shouting to us to throw them a "Glasgow tanner", this being the old silver 3d coin.

After staying there for about a day the convoy set sail again and another two weeks of inactivity on our part was spent. When those weeks had passed land was again on the horizon. This time it was Durban, South Africa. It was a lovely sight to see all the white buildings along the seashore - it looked grand. As our ship came into harbour I saw the largest liner I had ever seen, it was the French ship the "Louis Pasteur".

That evening we were allowed to go ashore and as we walked into to\\-1} the sight made our eyes pop out. Cadbury's chocolate filled the shop windows and there was fruit of all descriptions. We went into one restaurant and gorged ourselves on bacon and eggs. As we walked do\'v1} West Street we could see that the pubs had little swing doors, just like in the old western movies.

The next day we disembarked and was I so very glad to get off that ship. We were taken to a racecourse just outside Durban: it was called Clairwood. Here we stayed for two weeks. Every day we could go into Durban if we wished, which of course we certainly did. It was here that I met once again my friend Les Watson. He was on his way to India. It was great to see him again.

Durban was a very nice city, with a wonderful waterfront. If you did not want to walk about you just took a rickshaw there were hundreds of them, just like taxis, their owners all done up in their finery. The people of Durban were very generous; lots of the troops were taken into their homes.

South Africa - what I saw of it - was a lovely country. There was just one thing that took some getting used to. Just as it started to get dark so the crickets started up and they certainly make quite a racket.

After the two weeks at Clairwood, kit was packed again and we were taken back to the docks, this time to embark on another large troopship. It was a Dutch ship, the "New Amsterdam". We were the last draft to board as no one seemed to know anything about our draft. I think it was Number 3802. It seemed there was no room for us below decks so we had to get down on the open deck.

Unfortunately, after we had sailed from Durban, it poured with rain so we didn't get much rest that night, although the rest of the time aboard was fine. This was a very nice ship, luxury compared to the "Ormonde". It even baked its own bread, lovely small loaves and plenty of them, too.

It took about twelve days sailing to reach the Port of Suez, Egypt. This was where we had to disembark. However, the ship did not tie up at the dockside but it anchored out in the harbour and we were taken off by tender. I remember seeing, as I was on the tender, our kitbags in large nets being lowered down into small boats alongside but some of the kitbags fell off into the water. When we got on land and came to sort out our kit I could not find one of my kitbags. It contained my best blue, too, a blanket and other pieces of equipment, with not much chance of getting anything replaced.

Once on land we were taken by road to R.A.F. Helwan just outside Cairo. Here we got our first mail for months. This was some time in the month of April. It was here at Helwan that I first saw an aeroplane crash and that was a very harrowing experience. It was a Blenheim taking off but on another runway was a truck full of airmen moving along it and just where the runways crossed, so the plane and truck arrived. At that point the pilot had managed to get the plane airborne but one of the wheels caught the top of the truck and the undercarriage was ripped off. This caused that engine to burst into flames. The pilot managed to fly the plane over the P.O. W. camp before it crashed into flames. It really was a most distressing incident.

Whilst at Helwan we were allowed to go into Cairo. I'm afraid I didn't like the place at all, it was very noisy, dirty, smelly and hundreds of "shoeshine boys" and lots of "baksheesh, George" and one thing that took a lot of getting used to - flies, millions of them.

We stayed at Helwan for just over a week whilst other airmen arrived. We were also kitted out with khaki battledress, although we were now wearing shorts during daylight hours and long slacks at night. Also we now had mosquito nets to sleep under. Mosquitoes in the Middle East were a malaria carrying species.

One morning we all clambered onto a truck with all our kit and we left Helwan. Going through Cairo we took the road past the pyramids of Giza and then by the Mena House Hotel where Mr Churchill stayed. We then took the desert road to Alexandria. On this road we overtook lots of tank transporters, each one carrying a Valentine tank all going up to the front line. The majority of these tanks were destroyed in Rommel's next advance. They were no match for his Tiger tanks and his 88s.

We reached Alex in the late afternoon, then on along the coast road through Abukia, finally arriving at Idku. This was where we joined our squadron, namely 46 Squadron. This was not a new squadron; it was the re-forming of the squadron after its terrible losses in the Norway campaign at Narvik. It was the first squadron ever to land Hurricanes on a carrier. Unfortunately it was sunk by enemy action and pilots and planes were lost. The squadron was now equipped with Beaufighters. It was to be a night fighter unit in the defence of Alexandria and the Canal Zone.

We were in ridge tents, six men to a tent. I was still with Bert Payne and Taff Griffiths in the same tent. Our bedding was laid out on the sand and nets tied to the tent roof. It wasn't ideal but we soon got used to it - asps, lizards and all.

I was again on the flights, for which I was very thankful. I didn't want to be on the maintenance section. About every fourth night you did night duty crew, this meant being in the flight tent all night until the day crews came on in the morning. Although a night fighter unit meant working a 24-hour day there was plenty of action at night with "Jerry" over Alex and the squadron had a number of kills.

Also at Idku were another two Beaufighter squadrons, Numbers 272 and 252. These were day fighter units, they were naval co-operation units and they worked very hard indeed. They did convoy escort duties and attacking enemy shipping as well as ground staffing. They were really very hard working squadrons. When on ops we would watch them take off and then in the afternoon they would return with quite a number of them shot up, mostly hydraulics, which meant they could not lower their wheels. This meant a belly-landing but the Beau, being a very strong aircraft and being put down on hard sand, it really did not suffer too much damage. Of course, bent props but it would slide along the sand and come to rest all right. As there was only the one landing strip, when one of the planes had landed the others would have to fly around until the strip was clear again. Their ground screws had a very efficient system. About three quarters of the way down the runway they had a mobile crane on each side and as soon as a crippled plane put down and came to rest so a sling was put under each main plane (wing) and then the cranes hoisted it up until the Fitters could get underneath and pull the wheels down and locked. It was then towed off the runway and all was ready for the next plane. It all worked wonderfully well; sometimes I wished they had asked us to help. All we could do was look on. If a plane had one wheel down landing could be dangerous. It was much safer to put it down with both wheels up. During all my time in the R.A.F. I saw many crashes but there was always something inside saying "Oh, God - no".

I had in my wallet quite a considerable sum of money in English notes that I had carried \\rith me from England and I was wondering what I should do about them. So I went to see the Squadron Adjutant. When I told him how much I had got (£25) he blew his top -"didn't I know it was an offence to bring money out of the country". It was eventually decided that I would buy Savings Certificates with the money. I didn't draw much pay when I was up the desert (nothing to spend it on) so whenever I had a considerable sum in credit I would buy more certificates. When I left the R.A.F. I had accumulated the (then) vast sum of £250.

Some evenings when not on duty we could go into Alex on the "liberty garry". It was all right going; it was the return journey that was not so good. We would leave Alex about midnight, no seats; it was standing all the way. The driver was always in a hurry to get to his bed so the trip was a mad dash in the dark. It was a case of "hang on tight". To all those a bit on the merry side it was hilarious but to anyone sober it was terrifying. I expected the truck to turn over many times. It was always policy to keep away from Alex whenever the Australians were there having a rest from the front line. They really took the town apart. Alex was quite a pleasant city, a lovely sea front on a nice bay. Plenty" of clubs and cinemas. The "Navy Club" was open to all Service personnel. Tombola (bingo) was played there whilst you enjoyed a drink and the top prize was very high. I was told that if you ever won they would not give you all the money at once; you would have been mugged as soon as you got outside. I never had the pleasure of winning. I remember going to the Rialto cinema to see the film "Holiday Inn" where the song "White Christmas" was sung for the first time (fancy hearing someone singing about a white Christmas with the outside temperature about 120° in the shade:). The cinema had a sliding roof; this was closed when the film was about to start.

The "Beau", being a11-metal construction, after it had been standing in the sun for hours it got very hot indeed - you could fry an egg on the wings. When I had to work in the cockpit it was like an oven. Sweat would pour off me. Some of the lads worked stripped to the waist, they got very brown but me, being ginger -haired, I could not take my shirt off for more than a few minutes, my skin burned very quickly. My forehead was continually peeling until I acquired an "Africa Corps" cap that gave me some relief My arms and legs were alright, I got freckles on my arms which eventually all joined up so my arms looked brown.

When on night duty you were supposed to be in the flight tent all night. If it was a quiet night you could get some sleep. One night I was on duty. I decided to stay in my own tent. I thought I would hear if any planes took off if there was a scramble. But a plane did go off and I didn't hear it. I did, however, see it returning in the light of the chance-light. I started off across the desert towards the flight tent. Suddenly I was flat on my face in the sand. I had fallen down an empty gun pit. That cured me of shirking my duties.

Whenever you were on duty it always seemed to be with the same lads of all different trades. There were Corporals Shambrook and Jeff Gander, Alan Catlow, Jock White, all engine fitters. Then Willie Nichols, George Cook and Frank White, airframe fitters, Corporal Readman, electrics; "Trapper" Green and Bill Soar, wireless; smiling "Nobby" Clark, armourer. I was with two other lads in the instrument section, Thompson and Ferguson. We all seemed to get on well together. The Flight Sergeant in charge was Flight Sergeant Stewart, assisted by Sergeant Barker. There was one chap I recall but can't remember his name. His nickname was "Shafto", with a G.C (good conduct) stripe on his arm; I believe he was a "Brummie", too. There was a Corporal Goss who came from Newfoundland, he had a lovely slim gold pocket watch and as I was very interested in clocks and watches (I had done a bit of repairing before joining the R.A.F.) I said to him that if ever he wanted to sell it, please come to me and one day he did, he said he was short of cash so I gave him £5 for the watch. The lads were always bringing watches to me to see if I could repair them, mostly they wanted cleaning and a drop of Tetrachloride soon fixed them. Spares were difficult to obtain but I did what I could for the lads.

Sometimes we were entertained by an E.N.S.A. party putting on a show. There was one lady who always put on a good show; she was a French lady by the name of Alice Delysir. She was always up the front line entertaining the troops. I think she was honoured with a medal. And then there was Mrs? and her "Berka Bints", they always went down with the lads. Some evenings in the N.A.A.F.I., when Jeff Gander had a few drinks, he would recite to us "The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God" - it was his speciality.

For quite some time things up the desert had not been going very well for the 8th Army. Rommel's Africa Corps had been pushing on towards Alex at an alarming pace. Our Intelligence Officer kept us informed with maps etc of what was going on. Things were getting really serious and as there was only the one road, the desert road, from Alex to Cairo that we could take if things got very bad it was decided that the whole squadron would move out and to go Abu Seuir in the Canal Zone.

Everything was loaded on to trucks and all but two planes were flown out. Then on the day the convoy of trucks was all lined up and ready to go, with all of us ground staff sitting on the trucks, I could see the Adjutant with a piece of paper in his hand walking down the line calling out names, of which I was one of them, with instructions to get off with our kit. We were to stay here as a skeleton crew with just the two planes. I am afraid I wasn't too pleased but stay I had to. The convoy moved off down the road and we watched then go with utter dismay. If the worst happened we had instructions that if the planes could not be flown off they were to be burned.

For days I had visions of Rommel's tanks appearing along the road and me becoming a P.O. W. Fortunately the 8th Army held the line at El Alamein.

After the stalemate of Alamein things settled down again and the whole squadron returned. There was plenty of action over Alex at night, a very' heavy ack-ack barrage was put up whenever "Jerry)" came over and we were kept busy with many "scrambles".

Most days a German reconnaissance aircraft came over flying at a very great height, leaving vapour trails, and he was unmolested, as we didn't have any aircraft in Egypt that was capable of reaching that height until at Abukir there were two Spitfires which were stripped down of as much equipment as possible, just leaving one "Spit" with one gun, the idea being that the unarmed plane would get above "Jerry” and force it down to the lower level of the other “Spit”, which would try to shoot it down. And it worked, too - no more planes after that.

One day an open staff car drove onto the camp carrying some very high-ranking officers. We were all told to gather round and one of the officers stood up in the car and gave up a “pep-talk”. That officer was “the father of the R.A.F” Lord Trenchard.

On the evening of 23rd October 1942 something took place that I have never forgotten. At just about 2100 hours (9 o'clock) the whole night sky was lit up by the flashes of artillery and the sound of guns reached us. This continued for about two hours with no let-up. It was the start of the Battle of Alamein. When this battle was won and the 8th Army began to advance we were kept informed of progress by our Intelligence Officer.

The 8th Army had now been making rapid advance up the desert for some time and one day our black night “Beaus” were flown away to be replaced by new light blue planes. These were day fighters complete with gun in the observer's turret. And so we became a day operational squadron. This must have been quite a challenge to our aircrews - one day night-fighter, the next day expected to be day intruders. But I'm pleased to say they all coped admirably.

We were then informed that a detachment of a few planes was to go forward up to near the front line. This was now well past Benghazi. I was again picked to be one of our section to go with the ground crews. Things that we needed to keep the planes flying were all packed on to trucks with our kit. The convoy then set off along the coast road for our five-day trek across the Western Desert.

When we reached where the Battle of Alamein had taken place I had never seen anything like it in all my life. The desert all round as far as I could see was covered with what is termed “the debris of war”. The sand was covered with everything - smashed trucks, burned out tanks, guns, crashed aircraft, a boot, a rifle, steel helmets, socks, shirts, a bayonet, petrol tins, boxes of ammunition, a jumper, abandoned Italian tanks in perfect condition. There was everything imaginable for miles and miles. White flags and notices saying, “Mines - beware”. It was policy not to go far from the road and the cemetery at Alamein was just rows of plain wooden crosses. The Military Police had a gruesome task: they had to collect and bury the dead.

That night we stopped in the desert just before reaching Sidi Barrani. When I awoke the next morning there was a strong smell of paraffin. It seemed a tin of the stuff on the truck was leaking all night and I was sleeping in a pool of it. This caused the rubberised finish on my groundsheet to peel off, making the sheet useless. It just wasn't waterproof any more.

On our third day trek we passed through Sidi Barrani. This place was just a pile of rubble, not a building remained intact. We then came to another N.A.A.F.I. at Buq-Buq, this was called "The Two Bears". I have often wondered about these N.A.A.F.I’s with all the retreating and advancing of the warring armies over the years. Did they clear the places of all stock or did they just leave it, and did the Germans run the places as their equivalent of the N.A.A.F.I.? They must have had such things. I know that each side used each other's trucks and tanks, so perhaps they did the same with these places, too. It was then on the long climb up Sollum Pass: from the top was a grand view of the Bay of Sollum. We then passed Fort Capuzzo, a real Beau Geste fort, and lots of white flags here. We by-passed Bardia and stopped for the night somewhere near Gambut, a large airfield there. Whenever the convoy made a stop in the desert it seemed there was not a living soul for miles around but after about ten minutes an Arab would appear carrying a basket of eggs, asking if we wanted to buy. We would barter our ration of cigarettes for his eggs. These cigarettes were called "Vs" and they were awful.

The next morning, as we approached Tobruk, I could see all the white buildings that were still intact and in the harbour were lots of sunken ships. There was a very large German cemetery here. After passing Tobruk we took the road inland instead of the coastal road through Derna. This road went across the Jebl Akbar. This was a more fertile region. It was here that Mussolini had tried to install Italian settlers. They had built small houses, each with a plot of land, all in straight lines across the country. We spent that night by our trucks out in the open and I remember it was very cold indeed. Some water had been left in a bowl and in the morning it was covered with a film of ice. December in the desert wasn't very brilliant.

The next day we had two passes to negotiate, Tocra and Barce. Two of the trucks in the convoy were very large Thomeycrofts and they had quite a job getting round the very tight bends. However, we all got through all right. At intervals along this road were notices saying "Keep your distance - low flying enemy aircraft" and every so often we came across little cemeteries at the side of the road, just a few graves and simple crosses. I wasn't very happy sitting up on top of the trucks expecting enemy aircraft to appear at any time and start shooting at us. I'm glad to say that did not happen.

We were now coming to Benghazi, quite a large city, some nice buildings and a very nice cathedral. On the side of some of the buildings were large pictures of Mussolini and the words "Il Duce". We passed through the side streets and out into the country on the coast road and eventually we reached the airstrip we were to operate from. It was by the side of the road, just hard sand and scrubs. The strip was marked out with empty four-gallon petrol tins and these being silver in colour shone clearly in the moonlight, so it could clearly be seen when enemy aircraft came over at night - and he came over every night. We were there except Christmas and Boxing Night. A very heavy ack-ack was put up over Benghazi with searchlights too. What a pity we were not in our usual role of night fighters. We had only just arrived that first evening and hadn't even settled in when he came over and we all dived under the nearest truck.

Already there were about three of our planes. These had been flown from Idku with a few ground crew as an advance party to erect tents and prepare for our arrival. We were again in ridge tents but this time didn’t sleep on the sand. Most of us had nailed pieces of wood together in an oblong fashion and had then stretched a piece of canvas over it all. This was supported on empty four-gallon petrol tins. At least it was a bed off the sand. Our Mess was a large EPIP tent, as was the flight tent. You had to be very careful just where you walked. I remember seeing the prongs of land mines protruding up through the sand, it was very dangerous. We had passed three more airstrips after leaving Benghazi but I never saw any sign of other aircraft anywhere. I think we must have been the only squadron so close to the front line. Our planes went out on ops, shooting up shipping in Tripoli and any1hing else they could find. It must have been so very different for the aircrews. Our Christmas dinner had to be flown up from Idku. It was brought to us in a "Beau", the pilot being Flight Sergeant Ledwidge. Later on in 1943 he was promoted to Pilot Officer and awarded the D.F.C. for ops in the Dodecanese Islands.

I remember that we were now getting a ration of rum. This is the only time I ever knew of any R.A.F. personnel to have a rum ration and sometimes we got a tin of 50 Players cigarettes as our ration. Much better than those "Vs" but I must say that life up there in the desert was very primitive. Toilets and washing facilities very makeshift, water scarce, clothes not washed very often and when washed it was in petrol. There was much more of that than water. One thing that was better was the flies were so much fewer.

On Boxing Night a very bad storm blew up and it rained very heavily all night. The next morning when we awoke someone said: "Put your gumboots on before getting out of bed". The floor of the tent was about 6" deep in water. You see, in the summer months the sun bakes the desert hard and when it does rain, it does not soak in straight away, it just lies on the hard surface and the desert becomes one huge lake. This storm made all operations by us and, in fact, all the warring armies to come to a complete standstill. Some of the lads had small one-man tents and had dug in about 18".
These were now full of water and all their kit was floating and soaked. The Mess tent and cookhouse were flat and useless so meals had to be when any food could be prepared. Every1hing was a real disaster. The coast road was flooded and nothing moved. After some time with everyone walking about it all became very muddy indeed. After a couple of days the water had soaked in and things got going again.

New Year's Eve was celebrated by every gun on Benghazi being fired at midnight. It was quite a display.

On 2nd January 1943 we had a real treat. We were all taken into Benghazi and we had a hot shower it was real luxury. It was quite some time before we got another.

We had only been back at Idku about three weeks when I was again picked to go on another detachment, this time it was back up the desert to a place called Bu-Ahmud, an airstrip just before reaching Tobruk. So off we went again across the desert. The date was 6th February 1943. This time, as night fighters, we had quite a success rate around Tobruk, mostly Italian aircraft that fell to the Beaus' guns.

On 15th February 1943 I had now been in the R.A.F. two years.

This time we were not the only unit on the station. There were various other units and we luckily had there mobile oxygen charging unit so every time we needed full replacement bottles we did not have to go any distance.

I had with me in the instrument section a nice chap, Corporal Phil George. We got on very well together. I can't ever recall any nastiness between any of the ground crews of any of the trades. When on night duty we also had to man the fire tender so if there was a fire we became firemen too. I recall one night I was on duty we could see across the desert a tent on fire, so off we went on the tender. When we got there it was a generator on fire. Hoses were run out and I opened the valves at the rear of the tender but instead of water coming out of the hoses it all ran out of the bottom of the tank. What a fiasco!

As there were many units here it was just the right place for inter-unit football matches during our off-duty time. Our organiser was Willie Nichols, a real football-mad Scot. Coming from a footballing family, my father taught me to use both feet when playing. I always got in our squadron team as no one else wanted to, or could not, play on the left of the forward line. We had a very good team and won many games. The only trouble was our boots; we didn't have proper boots so we had to use our issue ones, not really the best of footwear for the game. At least I had the honour of playing for the squadron.

When not on night duty most of our evenings were spent having a fry-up. Nearly every tent had a primus stove and with a few potatoes from the cookhouse cut into chips, a slice of margarine and a few eggs bought off the Arabs, we were all set up for an evening meal. We had no trouble obtaining paraffin; we had found a dump of the stuff in four-gallon tins out in the desert. You could find nearly everything you wanted out in the blue. One day one of our Armourers, ever-smiling Nobby Clark, came back towing a small anti-tank gun. One day our Engineering Officer rode up on a motorcycle with sidecar: it had been captured from the Germans. He said, "Watch this" and putting it into gear he rode it backwards. We had never seen any1hing like it before. It was a wonderful piece of engineering. It also had a shaft drive instead of the usual chain drive.

One thing you had to look out for was Italian anti-personnel mines. They were quite small, red in colour so easily seen but very deadly. Some chaps lost a foot when they tried to use them as footballs.

When not on duty in the afternoons a truck would take us down to the sea for a swim. The sea around Tobruk was the clearest I have ever seen, it was aquamarine in colour. It was nice just to lie in the water and feel clean again.

Whilst there in the desert something happened to me that I never thought would - I became lousy. After a few days of itching I took off my underpants and there in the seams were lice. A good soaking in 100 octane petrol soon put things right. All our clothes were washed in petrol. Every day the water bowser would go to Bardia to get fresh water. It was a day's journey there and back, so water was never wasted.

One of the units on the station had a German plane, a 109 ME. They were trying to get it in flying trim again. After many days of working on this plane they at last got it ready to fly. A pilot was found to fly it. He taxied it to the strip and took off amid loud cheers. It was flown round a few times but unfortunately on landing the undercarriage gave way and it slithered on its belly and came to rest. So that put an end to any more work on it. Near Tobruk was a crashed German JU52, which we went to have a look at and I was surprised to see the name "Dunlop" on its tyres.

I must say that this time in the desert was not too bad. I was very fit; we were very busy at night but days when not on duty were very leisurely. Whilst we were there I didn't draw any pay - nothing to spend it on - so with the saved cash I again purchased Savings Certificates.

There was a certain something about the desert. At times it was so quiet, no rustle of the trees (no trees!), no bird song. hot by day, cold at night. A shimmering horizon all day long. A light breeze whipped up little spirals of sand (sand devils). No flowers, only those made by man (desert lilies). When the Khamseen wind blew it brought sand storms. You could see it coming like an advancing wall. All air intakes on the aircraft had to be covered and all engines too. All you could do was sit it out in your tent, maybe for hours or even days. Sand everywhere. I remember holding my hands out with fingers spread watching electricity jumping across my fingers. Eating and drinking was a bit of a problem. Everything just stopped until it passed.

The time on this detachment was over three months. We left again to return to Idku on 25 May 1943.

All the fighting in North Africa had now finished. I think there were about 150,000 prisoners of \var.

On 10 July 1943 the invasion of Sicily started.

One evening a Hurricane crashed into the lake on the other side of the road, it flipped over on its back so the pilot, still strapped in, was upside down in about three feet of water. The canopy was still closed and the pilot was wearing his mask and the oxygen was still on. It was quite a job to get him out. Some of the lads were in the water and eventually he \vas removed all right, if a bit wet.

We had quite a lot of different planes dropping in to be refuelled and serviced. I remember an 825 Mitchell bomber we serviced. I sat in the cockpit as the engines were run up and as I looked out I could see the wings flapping. 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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.