Some Memories of My Wartime Experiences
-Doug Parry
This Memoir was written in June 2010 at the age of 85
After Wesley College asked the Odd Bods UK Association to have some of its members talk to the students about their experiences in the RAAF, it got me thinking about my wartime experiences. I decided to jot down some of my memories before they disappear along with what happened yesterday!
A few years before the war started, it had become obvious that it was highly likely. When the Nazis started persecuting the Jews, the “Crystal Night” when Jewish shop windows were labelled and smashed and Germany’s invasion of the Sudeten, Austria and Czechoslovakia all pointed to probable war. Hitler was an obvious megalomaniac, and bent on conquest.
When Germany invaded Poland and war was declared on September 1939, Britain (and probably France) was in a terrible position so far as its defence forces were concerned. Britain realised how serious a situation the RAF was in, so in October 1939 the UK and the Dominions met in Canada to discuss ways of rectifying this situation.
After three weeks of negotiation a proposal based on relative population size was agreed. Under this agreement, Australia undertook to supply 26,000 trainees by March 1943 of whom 6,000 would be trained in Canada. This was the Empire Air Training Scheme and Canada was to be the major training centre.
When fully operational, Australia would be training 432 pilots, 236 Observers and 392 Wireless Air Gunners every 4 weeks. We would also send 40 Pilots, 226 Observers and 72 Wireless Air Gunners for training every 4 weeks to Canada. A total of 1204 every 4 weeks or over 15,000 per annum. Ref. (Last Call of Empire).
As all aircrew were volunteers and had to meet high physical and mental standards, this was a very substantial commitment, as the population was only 6 – 7 million and the other services would have substantial requirements.
In fact, by March 1945, a total of 27,387 aircrew had completed training in Australia with a wastage of just over 30%. So, whilst the target for March 1943 of 26,000 wasn’t reached, with the addition of those trained in Canada, more than the equivalent of two full Army Divisions were trained as aircrew by Australia. According to Air Vice Marshal Peter Scully (Patron of the Odd Bods Association) by the end of hostilities Australia produced 27,899 aircrew for service in the European theatre and 9188 for service in the Pacific. When you consider the RAAF pre-war had just 310 officers, 3200 airmen and 246 obsolete aircraft this was a remarkable achievement.
Due partly to the severe economic depression of the 1930’s when unemployment was up to 30% and a general lack of higher education, only 16% of men between the ages of 18 and 28 had an intermediate certificate or higher. To overcome this problem, in April 1941 the RAAF introduced Aptitude testing so that suitable people without the education levels could be selected. The physical examination and aptitude testing took all day and most of us had never had such an examination before or for that matter since.
A few months before I turned 18, I joined the Air Training Corp. This was for recruits who were waiting to turn 18 or awaiting a call after acceptance by the RAAF. This introduced recruits to drill, navigation, morse, RAAF law, etc.
Just a week before my 18th Birthday, I was called in for my medical examination and aptitude testing, etc. About 6 weeks later on the 6th November 1942 I was called up into the Russell Street Recruiting Office, sworn in and taken to Spencer Street Station (now Southern Cross Station). Then off to Victor Harbour in South Australia to No.4 ITS (Initial Training School).
The ITS was 8 weeks for Wireless Air Gunners and 12 weeks for Pilots and Observers. The course covered Maths, General Science, mainly on magnetism and electrical, navigation, morse, armaments, aircraft recognition, Drill, P.T. Hygiene, RAAF Law, etc
I was told that something about my eyes prevented me from being a Pilot, although I had 20/20 vision. I suspect they only wanted so many pilots, but wanted more trainee wireless operators/air gunners. Whilst many of the trainees were most upset at not being selected as trainee pilots, it didn’t worry me as I was quite happy to be a WAG.
After ITS, I was posted to No.1 WAGS School at Ballarat. There we had 24 weeks to learn to send and receive Morse at 20 words per minute, Aldis, Radio Receivers and Transmitters, Aircraft Recognition and of course Drill. From here we occasionally had leave and a train to Melbourne used to come onto the line near the station to pick up most of the trainees. I started on 34 Course, but sickness put me back to 35 Course.
In the last month at Ballarat we had about a dozen flights in Wackett Trainer aircraft, transmitting to and receiving Morse from the ground station. This was a bit nerve wracking to start with as I was scared (along with most) that we may not make contact. The confined space, glycol fumes and some rough flight conditions and I was sick half a dozen times. Some of my fellow trainees suggested I should see the Doctor. This I wasn’t game to do as I thought he might scrub me from aircrew and flying.
After qualifying as a wireless operator in July 43, I was posted to No.3 BAGS (Bombing & Gunnery School) where we flew in Oxfords and Fairey Battles. In the latter we stood up in the open attached by a lanyard to the aircraft to fire the Vickers Gas Operated Machine Gun at the drogue (the target pulled by an aircraft and attached by a long line). One of the trainees was standing up having emptied most of his rounds when the pilot dived and he went out hanging on by the gun and the lanyard with his upper body hanging outside the aircraft. With great difficulty the other trainee and he got himself back in the aircraft. As the outcome was good everyone thought it a great joke at his expense.
The ammunition was in round containers which were clipped into their storage. When you were pulling hard to get them out whilst the aircraft was climbing and you were held down by the increased gravity, all of a sudden, the pilot would dive and the ammo. container would suddenly become easy to extract and many a skinned knuckle eventuated. I still had some air-sickness with the aircraft banking and twisting and still remember lying on the main spar of the Fairey Battle thinking, if he says abandon the aircraft, I don’t think I could – I would have of course, but that’s what it felt like. We all seemed to pass, though our hits on the drogue were abysmal.
At this point the posting clerk I think started a long line of postings which had a big influence on saving my life. Perhaps because I was still not 19, I was posted to No.1 AOS (Air Observers School) as a staff WAG on Ansons for 2 months. I assume we were there to get the aircraft back to base with our Direction Finding equipment, if the trainee observers (navigators) got lost. However, the pilots had flown the area so often they knew it backwards and my help was never required. This period however increased one’s confidence in handling the equipment and made me feel much more at home in the air.
As a staff sergeant I had a tiny room to myself, the only time in my RAAF career that I had a room to myself. If it was as big as our bathroom, which is pretty small, I doubt, but it felt real luxury.
From No.1 AOS at Cootamundra, I was posted to No.1 ED (Embarkation Depot) at the Melbourne Cricket Ground in the then Southern Stand, which has since been replaced. We had the alternative of sleeping on slatted wooden seats or the concrete. Luckily, we were allowed to sleep out most nights and so I spent them at home until the last night when we had to sleep in the MCG. I now think of what my parents must have felt when they knew this would be my last night at home.
Doug & Mabel - Final Leave
About 100 of us left on a grey Melbourne day on the 17th November 1943, on the SS Lurline, a ship of over 20,000 tons. We watched the city disappear and I remember wondering briefly whether I would ever see it again.
However, being young and very adaptive, we went below to our bunks in a cabin. We had no sooner laid on the bunks than someone said look at those things crawling up the wall and then someone said something bit me. It was our first experience of bed bugs.
We complained to the O/C of our group who got us shifted into some different cabins. It appeared that the ship had just delivered some Italian POWs to Australia and the poor devils were lousy.
We were to confirm this by the food we had, largely spaghetti, which you could eat with sauce for main course, or with tinned evaporated milk and sugar for sweet. On one occasion one of the lads was pouring out the milk from an opened tin when out came a dead (drowned) cockroach, which rather put him off. These cockroaches were not like the flat ones we call cockroaches, but rather more like a cricket.
The Flight Lieutenant in charge had us on two parades a day and after some days we decided to miss the second parade. We finished up as a result, cleaning the kitchen area. This was certainly not the cleanest with the odd cockroach hanging about and greasy walls whilst on the Captain’s inspection they inspected under our bunks with a torch. Rather a double standard.
On the ship also were some permanent Army personnel from the UK. They had joined up in the Depression and spent nearly 6 years in India and in their last year of the 7 years of service, they were brought back to Egypt to serve out their time. Then the war broke out and they were left to fight in the Middle East. They had escorted the Italian POWs to Australia.
We took 17 days to reach San Francisco, and a few days before arriving, whilst eating lunch the ship lurched over to one side and everything slid off the tables. A returning US army private had jumped overboard and the captain turned the ship around and pulled up. He had been telling us for days that if any one went over-board they would be left as the ship would not stop. He must have decided it was less risky and sent a lifeboat to pick up the suicider who had promptly changed his mind when he hit the water. With all personnel on the Port side to watch proceedings, the ship had such a lean they kept telling us by the loudspeaker system they would have to clear the decks if we didn’t move. Anyway, they picked him up, although the way the Bosun kept shaking his watch I suspect the salt water would have ruined it.
The trip had some interesting moments, watching the Albatrosses using the hot air from the funnels to follow the ship with effortless gliding, seeing flying fish shoot out of the water as the ship cut its way through the deep blue water of the Pacific.
One night about midnight when we were on watch checking for submarines or anything unusual, a bright white light lit up the sky on the Port side and the ship promptly swung hard to starboard. I never did find out what it was.
We sailed under the Golden Gate bridge, much to the delight of the few Americans on board and were then taken to Fort Worth barracks on an island somewhere there. The mess must have sat 2000 troops and when they had all left, 100 Australians were still eating to try and make up for the short rations on the “Lurline”. The food was so good and a case of help yourself to a large degree. Breakfast was unbelievable, with toasters and quart bottles of milk on the tables, all sorts of breakfast foods, eggs and bacon, spam, etc. After the RAAF food it was incredible.
We had the weekend on leave, when the ferry on which we travelled called into Alcatraz Prison, itself on an island. Some guards got off the ferry and the look of the prison gate and the sound of the metal barred gates as they clanged shut was enough to convince everyone aboard honesty is the best policy.
In San Francisco we were introduced to Coca Cola, which I didn’t much like even then, and some tall Skyscrapers. We also met some very drunk Film Stars at a big hotel we poked our nose into which was conducting a dance for US troops. I can’t remember where we slept that night now, but it must have been in a Services Canteen or at Fort Worth, because we couldn’t have afforded the Hotels. We were intrigued with the cable cars which still run in San Francisco today, due to the steep hills. Then it was off to the East Coast of America to New York and Fort Slocum some miles out of New York.
The trip took six full days, through the desert then up through the Rockies where when we were very high, the train pulled up to let off some US soldiers at a camp where they were training on skis. At this level all the trees were covered with icicles, and it looked freezing but very beautiful.
We got out of our carriage only once during the trip at a station which had snow on the ground. As this was our first experience of snow, we engaged in a snow-fight which was a relief from the monotony of being in the one train carriage for several days with delays everywhere. We disembarked at 3 am in the morning, in mid winter. It was freezing cold and we were glad to get to camp. This was a magnificent army camp at Fort Slocum. I suspect both it and Fort Worth were permanent barracks. Here we were fed extremely well and woken with loudspeakers playing reveille at 6 am. We were granted 17 days leave in New York as presumably our convoy was not ready to sail.
We had a great time in New York, we could buy things which were hard to get in Australia and the store had a staff member to accompany servicemen around. When you had finished, all your purchases were delivered to a section of the store where you paid and collected the goods. My memory is vague on this, but I think I only had to put the address on the packages and they posted them for you. I had parcels for my parents and for Mabel.
I stayed in the Air Force Club for 50 cents a night, 2/6d. in our money, which was good and cheap and had quite good meals. We could get free or very cheap tickets to various places and theatres. Obviously, the Empire State Building and the Rockefeller Centre were early on the list, the latter was resplendent with people skating on the ice rink which is in front of it in Winter. The Museum and also the Museum of Modern Art, where we were guided by a big Southerner who managed to talk in a slow drawl, whilst almost galloping around. We visited the Radio City Music Hall, which as well as the picture show, had the Rockettes, whose precision would have made a drill sergeant major green with envy. Also, the Zeigfield Follies, which had a comedian Milton Berle who I thought was better than Bob Hope.
We also eat at the Automat, where everything was behind glass opening windows from which you took your selection – I can’t remember whether you put coins in the slot, but I think you did.
The wealth of some New Yorkers staggered us. One night a middle-aged woman had 6 or 7 servicemen to her luxurious home and then took us out to dinner at a cost which boggled the imagination. Two of the boys were billeted with a family that had adjacent 3 storey homes. In one of these the family lived and the other was for guests. Each morning they were woken by the butler, then asked which of the choices they would like for breakfast. Rather better than the Air Force Club, but what a let down on the next ship!
Servicemen and women were really well looked after in New York, with free or cheap tickets to shows, buildings etc. I had my photograph (arms crossed over the back of a chair) taken at a free or very cheap meal place run by the “Mothers of American Service Men & Women”, they took my home address and sent it home to my parents. They did this for all the service people who ate there.
For Xmas another WAG, a 28 year-old married man and I were put up for 4 days with a Mr & Mrs Sheldon & Mildred Ward in New Jersey. At that time, whilst there were very many industries there, it was largely rural. As the temperatures were below freezing one of the nearby neighbours had a deer carcass hanging up in a tree, too big for the freezer but still well frozen outside. The Wards were great people and I revisited them a number of times after the war when I was on business visits to New York in 1964 and up to 1970 and each time I stayed with them for the weekend.
Then it was off from Fort Slocum and by ferry down the Hudson to the port of New York where we boarded the UK liner “Samaria”, a 22,000 ton old passenger liner. The American Red Cross gave every one a hot coffee and a doughnut , which after many hours on the freezing ferry was great. It was amusing to us as there was a great band on the wharf belting out tunes including “Over There”, that could be heard many blocks away. After the way we left Melbourne, quietly with great secrecy, any German agent within cooee would have known a convoy was close to leaving.
We were allocated to Deck D or E, I think it was E, but whatever deck it was down in the bowels of the ship which had 600 more troops than there were bunks or hammocks for. Some were sleeping in the passage ways and some on the landings in the staircases. I was in a 3 high bunk about 3 feet from the ceiling. The cooking for our group was done in an area at the end of the bunks. Whilst it was bitterly cold on deck, I could lie in the bunk with the ventilator blowing on me clad only in trousers. (Not very good survival mode really in an Atlantic winter.)
The OC (Officer Commanding) troops on the second day called a Lifeboat Drill and notwithstanding his instructions and bellowing, it took us over an hour to get on deck. Having got off his ire he called another one on the next day, and in spite of his yelling it took an hour and ten minutes. I, probably like most of the others, decided it would be quicker to try and unscrew the porthole covers and go out the porthole. Though I don’t think a couple of hundred fellows would have got through half a dozen portholes. There never was another boat-drill – they must have decided it was bad for morale.
Rumour had it that we were the largest convoy to ever cross the Atlantic to that time. It was probably true, as we had a battle cruiser as the controller and there were ships to the horizon in every direction it seemed. We had had a few sessions on ship recognition so we could distinguish between different Navy vessels. A battle cruiser was a really important vessel.
Once when on deck a couple of us could read the Aldis message the cruiser was sending to an old Greek ship who was sending up a plume of black smoke that could have been seen 50 – 100 miles away. It was “You are smoking too much” and a while later, it was ”You are still smoking too much”, and some time later it was, “You must stop smoking”. We could just imagine the Greek captain telling his stokers to speed up so he could keep up with the convoy and to heck with the smoke. We suspected the convoy speed was probably his top speed – perhaps he had overstated it to be in this convoy. Who knows, only the Greek captain, but the smoke was not the best thing to have in a convoy.
With cloudy weather and large seas it was a pretty ordinary 6½ days. On the 4th day and my 5th without a shower I decided to try out the salt water soap in a salt water shower. It wasn’t what I’d call successful. A few hundred miles from the United Kingdom a Sunderland flying boat joined the convoy on an anti U-boat patrol. We were pleased to see it as it meant the UK must be close.
We landed at Liverpool and having been brought up to think of Britain as the home country, we were really thrilled to finally be there. By train to Brighton in mid January and billets in what was the Metropole Hotel – stripped of carpets and any hotel furniture, etc. and 4 or 5 to a room. Here we heard a couple of air raids and a British Fighter chasing a Bomber out to sea in the pitch black. With no outside lighting and black-out curtains, it took a little while to get used to finding your way around at night. Brighton was a holding unit until we could be posted to another training unit prior to operations.
There was morning parade in the nearby side street and often small groups of us would be marched around town. As we hadn’t really come all this way to fill in our time marching, most times when we turned a corner the back 2 or 3 rows would peel off and take themselves for a drink of cocoa or go to the pictures, which were open from about 10 or 10.30. The drill corporal had got used to finishing up with fewer personnel than he started with. We had time at weekends to take buses to the nearby towns which were very close and I saw a reasonable amount of the country around Brighton and plenty of pictures (movies) not being able to dance and not drinking.
I think this was the first time I had a few days in London. It was a truly wonderful city during the war. Everyone was friendly and morale was magnificent. I went to all the tourist places of which we knew and now had the pleasure of seeing. Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace (outside only!), Westminster Abbey, St. Pauls which had survived an unexploded bomb, Piccadilly Circus, the Museum and the Boomerang Club in the Strand. The bomb damage was severe, but at that time there didn’t appear to be any real German raids on the city.
At some time after Hooton Park we had a few days leave in London and two of us, “Hec” Floyd and I got the last available room in the Strand Hotel right on the roof. About 2 am we were woken with a huge explosion. Hec said “God that was close?” and after agreeing with him we went back to sleep. Next morning, we saw the damage it caused in the next street – quite close to the hotel.
I think my next visit to London was when we were on leave from the Squadron and I was staying at the Australian Comfort Fund hostel in Harrington Gardens where bed & breakfast cost 4/- (4 shillings, 50 cents) lunch 1/6d, 15 cents, dinner 1/9d, 17.5 cents. This was the time of the buzz bombs – the V1. I wanted to see one and towards dusk one day I went to the roof balcony to watch. I saw one and heard it and then it started to go pop, pop, pop, like a 2-stroke motor bike and I started to tell it to “Go down, you sod”, which it did quite a way from the hostel and the explosion lit up the sky.
One morning, the early morning wake-up girl shouted did you hear the buzz bombs last night and I said yes I heard 3. She said 3, there were 47 - the advantage of being young, with no one to worry about, and the ability to sleep.
You couldn’t help feeling for the families, who with elderly folk and young children would take up half the platforms at every Underground Railway Station to try and sleep through the night notwithstanding all the pedestrians and train traffic. I gather most of them thought the V1s and V2s were worse than the earlier bombing raids, although the damage was less. I suspect the resumption of bombing after the relative peace and the many long years of the war contributed to this outlook. Also, with the V2’s you didn’t hear anything until they blew up.
In February we were posted to Whitley Bay on the East Coast close to Newcastle. This was largely a fill in to keep us occupied whilst waiting a posting. It was called an Escape Course in case you were shot down in enemy territory. It was like a Commando Course, but not as tough. It involved going over high obstacles, under barbed wire, climbing the cliff on the shore on ropes, throwing live hand grenades (rather a nervous exercise the first time) , shooting at targets with machine guns and pistols, drill and route marches. Then they took us out into the country and in small groups we had to find our way back home. This some of us did as expected, however the clever boys found a bus and caught it back home! What with all the marching, including a fast seven miler in very quick time, and a 21mile route march, I think I was the fittest I had ever been, and this was probably one of the aims.
There was snow on the ground and we were billeted in homes which had been taken over. After a few days I decided I must have a decent wash, so I filled the bath (no showers) with cold water. I think it was the coldest wash I have ever had. I washed most of me out of the bath.
We were not greatly thrilled with the drill, which for aircrew we thought was a waste of time and once we were giving the drill corporal a hard time when a flight lieutenant shouted, “That squad halt”, and then proceeded to knock us into order with various commands one after the other. Then he shouted, “Squad at the double, quick march” – a fatal mistake, as one of the lads whispered, “When he says, “About Turn”, pretend you don’t hear him, “pass it on”. This went through the squad and when he shouted, “Squad About Turn”, thump, thump, thump, continued on in the same direction in spite of all his shouting. Ultimately, about a mile up the road we stopped at some shops and went and had a drink of cocoa of sorts.
We never heard anything of this, although the story was to have been, why didn’t he ever say about turn. It was a thoroughly appreciated venture by a group of youngsters only still in their late teens or early twenties.
We returned to Brighton and then to Yatesbury (on the Salisbury Plains), No. 2 Radio School, where we were introduced to the British Radio Receivers and Transmitters, more Aldis and I don’t remember what else except PT (Physical Training) and Drill.
At the weekend I visited Bath, which impressed me both with the ancient Roman Baths and as a lovely city.
We were given various tests and on one of these Aldis tests I failed. Afterwards we discovered that 25 of us had failed from the one sender, who it turned out, had had a heavy night of drinking and was no doubt suffering from a heavy hangover. Four others failed when receiving from other senders. The failures were posted to Coastal Command, where Aldis was highly likely to be required and those who passed were posted to Bomber Command, where no one was ever likely to use Aldis. It is not only the Almighty who works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. The RAF also could work the same way.
No doubt the station had been told 30 aircrew were wanted for training at Hooton Park and the 29 failures were about the right number. I remember requesting the Squadron Leader to change my posting so I would go to Bomber Command and he refused. His refusal and this posting may have saved my life, as even then Bomber Command was probably still losing more than one in every two men.
On looking back on a long and very happy life with a wonderful wife, children and grandchildren, I am not sorry my request was refused and thus started a series of postings which meant I didn’t get to a Squadron until early February 1945.
From Yatesbury we were posted to Hooton Park in Chestershire, where we were introduced to ASV – Air to Surface Vessel radar. Here because of the secrecy, we were not allowed to take notes, so all the lectures were repeated and as I had an excellent. memory then, (long since gone) I did very well. In fact, the oral examiner kept his questions going much longer than usual until I made a simple mistake, at which time he grinned and stopped the questions.
As the UK boys were given a final leave before being posted, we were given leave and this is when I caught up with my pen friend’s family, - Tom Swanney, his 12 year-old sister Betty and Mrs Swanney. They put me up in their home which was on the 3rd level of a large block of homes. It was wonderful to be with a family again, to just sit by a fire of an evening and enjoy the soft lilt of the Scotish brogue. We all went to a circus on the stage of a theatre with a famous Scots comedian, whose name I have forgotten. They even had a lion on the stage – in enclosures of course! I had a great time touring Edinburgh, Princes Street, The Castle, The Royal Mile and the Firth of Forth and it came to an end only too soon. They owned a small pub which they had a man running as Mr. Swanney had died years earlier. All the RAAF boys thought it a terrible waste for a teetotaller to be staying with a publican and were green with envy. Their eldest boy, Jim was in the Army and Tom, who was unfit for military service was doing his articles with a law firm.
They were subject to severe rationing of food, but were prepared to share what little they had. We were given some ration coupons when we went on leave which I could give them, but I think it was doubtful they covered my consumption. This was where I first started to drink tea and I was glad of it when we were in the Middle East.
We were then posted to Blackpool, awaiting embarkation to the Middle East. We were billeted in what in peacetime were holiday boarding houses and the old landlord who still owned and ran it, (probably 10 years younger than I am now) was always complaining about how cold her legs were in bed. This was a chance to unload the oiled wool long stockings given to us by the RSL when we left Australia. The RSL also gave us a lambswool vest and the Australian Soldiers pocket book, (This was useful and I still have it). Apparently, these stockings, which would have been warm in Russia I am certain, did the trick.
Blackpool was the seaside resort for Lancashire in pre-war days. It had a wide sandy beach of a dirty grey colour, but it was sandy. I had a few trips on the Big Dipper at the “Luna Park”? of Blackpool, a swim in cold water and don’t remember much about Blackpool except we received injections, including one which hurt like blazes for about 30 minutes – the then injection against Yellow Fever. I hope they have improved it since!
We left I think from Greenoch, Scotland, but whether that was the port I am now not certain. The ship was the “Capetown Castle”, where for the first time we were in hammocks which were above the long eating tables. Quite comfortable, but when someone rolled over, the swing went down the whole line.
I had woken up to troopship travel, so I volunteered for watch in the Gun turrets. Each Gun turret had a Royal Navy seaman responsible for it, and in any action he would be in charge and I just a helper. It was great to be able sometimes to take your blankets up into the Gun turret and sleep in the fresh air rather than in the overcrowded troop deck, which with the portholes closed at night got pretty foul. The gun turret was hard, but on a couple of occasions the Navy man came on duty in the late night and brought up a mug of cocoa for me, which was very acceptable.
We had a couple of destroyers as escort and went through the Straits of Gibraltar at night so we didn’t see any land for the 14 days at sea until we hit Port Said . Here we 29 Australians were selected as a baggage party to carry out the kit of the WAAF’s aboard the ship and some of the Officer’s kits. On leaving the ship with our own gear we were assigned as guards for the gear which was left on the wharf for several days. We discovered the officer’s outdoor kits which showed how unreal some of the British ideas for the war and officers still were. They had a folding stretcher, sheets, pillows and pillow-cases and more sensibly a sleeping bag and blankets. I doubt if they even needed any of them except the blankets. So we set ourselves up with the stretchers, sheets and pillows, and spent a very comfortable few days on the wharf. We organized ourselves into rosters guarding the gear and the rest went into Port Said for a meal and look around. We had a couple of swims in their main swimming beach which was quite good.
On our first morning in town, four of us were sitting at a table on the pavement having an ice cream. It was pretty obvious we were new to the Middle East from our pale skins and gear. In the time we were there, we had a chap try to sell us a newspaper, a shoeshine boy want to shine our shoes, a man who wanted to sell us a watch or failing that, to buy ours, and a chap who wanted to do conjuring tricks. He placed an egg on the table, put an aluminium tumbler over it and when he lifted the tumbler a tiny yellow chick ran around the table. We hung onto our wallets and got rid of him pretty quickly – he was far too clever. There was a chap selling wallets with the pyramids and sphinx embossed on them for 12/6d. I had heard about the bargaining, so I thought I was quite smart to get one for 7/6d. after much bargaining.
In the meantime, one of the four said he had no money except half an English crown (2/6d.) and the seller kept trying to get him to buy, but he insisted he only had the half crown. We decided to go and as we got up the seller said, “You give me half crown, I give you wallet”, and the sale was made. It was a humorous lesson in haggling with the locals and I don’t think I could ever win against their lifetime of experience. The wallets were very poor quality and didn’t last long as well.
Also we had a chap as ‘Black as the Ace of Spades’, who said his name was ‘McTavish’ and he came from ‘Aberdeen’, and when he found out we were Australians not Scots, he said, ‘Me dinky die Aussie from Woolamaloo’, he had both accents off pat and was quite amusing, but I have forgotten what he was trying to sell.
We then had a night or two in tents somewhere and then were taken by truck to Jerusalem. We stopped for a break and lunch at Ismailiya at an army camp on the Suez Canal. I decided I would swim across the Suez Canal or drown in the attempt. In fact I was surprised how small the actual channel for the ship was with some sloping edges to it. I think they have since widened it. We slept the night in the Sinai desert esconced in the officers’ sleeping bags as the desert was really cold at night.
The next day some of the boys tried to hit some water melons with shots from the .38 pistols we were issued with in Blackpool – guns which were taken off us as soon as we arrived in Jerusalem. We were billeted in the old pre-war (perhaps 1st war) German hospital in what was really another holding unit until we were posted to OTU (Operational Training Unit) in Einshemer.
Whilst in Jerusalem, we visited the Old City which was quite fascinating with its narrow streets probably about 10 feet wide, with open shops with shutters when closed. With flies everywhere, when the customer wanted a cut of meat and the butcher grabbed the carcass, its colour changed from black to red as the flies flew off.
One baker was making something with raisins or sultanas in the mix, and in went a fly, not very conducive to purchasing. We visited Bethlehem and the Church of the Nativity, which was I think Greek Orthodox and not very appealing.
We had a couple of weekends in Tel Aviv where we spent the day at the beach – even had lunch at a café on the beach and I spent the night at the pictures. Here we stayed in an apartment run by a Jewish chap either studying to become a doctor or more likely an eye specialist from his literature. On the way back to Jerusalem one night the bus headlights caught a group of jackals out hunting. We were happy to be in the bus.
Whilst we were in Palestine there were two groups of Jews blowing up the British Police quarters. One of these was the Stern gang, a member of whom, Shamir later became an Israeli prime minister, who had the hide to complain about the Palestinians blowing up Jewish places. I could never understand how those Jews were attacking the British who were fighting the Nazis who had been persecuting the Jews. Zealots are almost always a terrible problem. If the Nazis had won the war, those Jewish gangs would have all been killed.
Then it was off to Einshemer OTU, where one of the first things to do was to form up in crews. I already knew two other Australian WAGS with whom I would be happy to crew up with. We also found an English navigator and second pilot and heard about a pilot who had flown Wellingtons so we asked if we could join him. The RAF strangely left this critical decision up to the aircrew themselves and somehow it seemed to work out.
So now we had a crew Ian Graham pilot, a Scot (Jock), Raymond Brown – 2nd pilot (Brownie), Alan Harris Navigator (Happy), Alan Gillespie WAG (Gill), Alec Tall WAG and myself a WAG. As it was getting close to the serious bit, every bit of training was absorbed with enthusiasm: Here we first met the Browning .303 Machine gun and learnt how to strip and assemble it. This fired 20 bullets per second 1200 per minute and the four guns in the turret meant 4800 per minute, so there was only about 2 minutes firing before the chains supplying them would be empty. Unfortunately it was outranged by the 20 millimetre cannon the German fighters had. This was only a problem if you ever met one in daylight.
L-R Doug, Gill, Jock, Brownie, Alec, Happy
We had a camera in the rear turret in one aircraft and with a mock fighter attack we had the camera which recorded our attempts to shoot it down. I managed to get above average, I think mainly because the fighter made a very limited attack when I was in the turret.
On one of our night flights, I think Jock overshot, i.e. landed the Wellington a bit down the runway and the brakes failed and the next thing we knew was the aircraft was off the runway and bouncing across the scrub. The jolting gave us a warning and we took up crash positions. As I was on the Radar, I had a rubber funnel over this old version of radar and this protected my face. There was a thumping crash, probably at 80-100 kilometres per hour followed by deathly silence. I looked up to the front of the aircraft and saw this red glow. I thought we were on fire, but then realised the wireless operators red night light had swung around and lit up the front of the aircraft. Quite a relief!
There were four people trying to get out the Astrodome, which was our escape route (the two pilots exited above the cockpit). The Astrodome had two rope loops hanging from it into which the Navigator put his elbows whilst taking a shot of the sun or stars. When Alec released the catches and pushed the Astrodome down one of the bolts on the Dome caught in the loop and all the pushing on it by the other three chaps only kept it anchored in the loop. Luckily although it must have been about 10 o’clock there was enough moonlight for me behind the astrodome to see what was happening. I remember pushing against them and finally after shoving and yelling lifted the astrodome and released the bolt.
The first out, Alec, didn’t have to haul himself out, he was shot out like a rocket, he rolled on to the wing and then the ground. As the wing was on the ground he wasn’t hurt. I was last out and only a second or two behind Alec. It is amazing, how quickly you can react after the right training and with the right incentive. By this time the crash wagon and fire truck were racing across the scrub and Alec, whose shoe had come off was seen in the headlights running across the scrub and every so often his bare foot would hit something sharp and he would jump, but kept on running. I couldn’t help laughing no matter how serious it was. Gill had blood running down his face and I thought he was in real trouble until I brushed it away and saw it was only a small cut on his forehead.
We were all carted off to the MO (Medical Officer) who examined us and then were off to a general quizzing on the event. We got back to the hut about 6.30 am and a born-again Christian said, “Now you see how thin the veil between life and death - You must believe”. I remember distinctly being quite short with him. Next day we had a chance in the daylight to see what had happened. The aircraft had run into a dry creek bed. The undercart had gone down and the nose and engines hit the opposite creek wall and the engines were pushed back into the wings which were on the ground. There was petrol everywhere and why it didn’t go up in flames I will never know,
The plane was a complete write off, there was no attempt to salvage it. I admit I was a bit nervous about our next flight and landing, but we soon relaxed again.
Whilst we were at OTU, one aircraft hit a hill just outside the drome and we saw it burn and all were killed. We heard that two other aircraft were lost at sea, although we didn’t know whether this was true or not.
Whilst we were at Einshemer we had a few days leave in Cairo. We visited the Pyramids and the Sphinx and climbed up the narrow tunnel to what was supposed to be the burial chamber. We all had candles as torches would have allowed us to see the burial chamber, which was only lit up for the shortest time with a magnesium strip flare. A further payment was required for a second flare.
We visited the Mosque of Mohamet Ali which was impressive. We stayed at the Kiwi Club run by New Zealanders and every so often they would run a blow torch over the iron beds and there would be a snap, crackle, pop as it hit the bed bugs. Here I bought a silver thread filigreed evening bag for Mabel which was sold as a copy of the Mosque of Mohamet Ali. Only some years later did I see that the letters Taj Mahal had been unpicked and that it had been made in India. The Egyptian traders were too clever for me.
From Einshemer we went by train down to Port Said, where we embarked on the Capetown Castle again and this time were at sea for 4 or 5 days and landed at Taranto in the south of Italy. This trip was not very pleasant as the ship was full and apart from remembering that I had a sprained ankle from when I jumped from the train at one of its stops, I don’t remember much about it.
Italy was suffering from having largely lost the war. It came in when Mussolini thought Germany was going to win. It had had a war fought up from the south and in the aftermath was suffering. Food and clothing were scarce and the south always the poorest part of the country was particularly desperate.
There was a live theatre we went to one night which I don’t remember much of except for the Italian comedian with a farce about picking up cigarette butts from Allied soldiers. The only other thing I remember was the WO’s (Warrant Officers) and Sergeant’s Club. Here liquor was served in “Lady Blamey’s” (Beer bottles around which a heated wire was wrapped and which left the bottom half as a fairly safe drinking glass. – sometimes though the edges were rough.
Apparently one night a drunken sailor picked up a chair and hit a 51st Highlander over the head. A group of Australian airmen thought this was very poor and so they picked up the sailor and threw him out literally. This story spread amongst the 51st Highlanders and from then on, we were very welcome. In fact, the night we were there, when the club closed the Scots formed a big circle and we all sang “Auld Lang Syne” in the town centre. I am afraid the tram was held up for quite a few minutes.
The first 51st Highlanders were largely wiped out in the Dunkirk episode and this lot had fought through the desert and were still fighting in Italy. They were really tough soldiers and I must say I was glad they were on our side!
After a couple of days at Taranto we went by train to Naples or rather a camp in a small town of Portisi. We were warned to watch our bags being loaded on the train as the Italian porters had a knack of throwing the bags into the train but having the door on the other side open so they went right through to a receiver on that side who promptly took off with them. Why we had assistance with our kitbags I don’t remember, as to date, we had had to carry them ourselves. When we got in the train, we packed all the kit in one compartment and a couple slept on top of it to prevent it going walking. The train toilet was filthy and we found out why later.
The next morning before the train reached Naples, but within walking distance of the city station it pulled up and out poured dozens of Italians. They were carrying all sorts of food and live chooks, all to sell on the black market in Naples. The chooks were kept in the toilets, hence the mess which hadn’t been cleaned up since the last lot of chooks. No doubt they hadn’t paid fares, but probably gave the conductors and driver some of the produce. It was a really humorous side of the war this long line of producers on the way to the black market.
We were billeted in what had been a beautiful old villa and had the privilege of sleeping on mosaic tiles, attractive but really hard. The only thing of interest about Portici was the view of Vesuvious, which was I guess 10 – 15 miles away and gently smoking. Here the food was terrible, the worst we had ever had. Hard rations like at Port Said would have been a vast improvement. Outside the barbed wire surrounding the area of the camp site the young children would stand at meal times with large tins to beg for the scraps we threw away. I could only hope their collections were to feed the pigs and not themselves
As it was nearly Xmas 1944, a few of our crews were given Xmas leave in the Italian resort of Sorrento, where we were billeted in a prewar hotel in this lovely town opposite the Isle of Capri, which we saw but never visited. Here we were told there were a lot of counterfeit lira notes in circulation, but not to worry, everybody just passed them on. Sure enough we already had some. There were notes for 5 Lira., about 6 pence and upwards. Sorrento was a lovely town and the people fairly friendly, considering what they had gone through.
The locals had a speciality of inlaid wooden objects of which I bought a few to send home. We still have the Crib set I sent home to my Dad and a hold all trinket box (now somewhat the worse for wear) and an inlaid box sent to Mabel.
There was a large cross on the top of a mountain near the town and we decided to walk to the top to see what it was made of. After some considerable time, we arrived to find it was made of iron. The way up was largely through terraced mountainside. Some of the boys got separated and didn’t get back until much after us. They had asked a farmer for directions and after much sign language he invited them in and gave them plenty of his home-made wine. They said they bounced all the way down the mountain.
We had an excellent Xmas dinner, cooked by the Italian chef under the eye of an Air Force cook. They even did a reasonable job with the dehydrated potato, which in those days was pretty terrible. Whilst at the Hotel they put on a party, I think it might have been New Years Eve, to which the locals were invited. There was a dance and the Italian Mum’s had all accompanied their daughters to make sure that they were quite safe. As I didn’t dance then, I remember watching the Mums watching their daughters with great amusement. I think the real attraction for the Italian guests was the food. They went home fairly early and I helped put a couple of our fellows to bed. In a peacetime summer, Sorrento would be very attractive.
Our crew was then flown home to the UK in a USA Air Force B24 Liberator. We flew across Southern France and landed in Southern England. It was quite strange being in an aircraft with nothing to do and not being on the intercom, so you didn’t know what was going on. The Liberator was to us a huge aircraft, but when we landed in the UK it was parked alongside an even bigger aircraft – not either a US or British war plane.
Why we were posted to Italy we could only guess. My guess is that we were to operate in Italy, but about this time the Jerries had put the Snorkel on the U-Boats and were creating a bigger problem back in the Atlantic and so were posted back to a squadron in the UK.
The Australians in the crew were then taken to Brighton, the receiving depot for Australians arriving in the UK. Then early in February 1945 we arrived at Limavardy in Northern Ireland on 172 Squadron where we rejoined our other crew members Jock, Brownie and Happy. 172 Squadron was an anti-U Boat squadron with Leigh Light Mark XIV Wellingtons. The Leigh Light was a search light lowered in a belly turret with a 480,000 candle-power run by 12 heavy batteries. If you picked up a radar signal at night this would be lowered and when the radar operator had guided the aircraft to within 1-1/8 miles the light would be switched on and if it was a U Boat the navigator would keep the search light tracking the U Boat, and the second pilot man the front single Browning scatter gun. The pilot who was flying the aircraft at 50 feet would drop the Depth Charges and shout “Bombs Gone”. The radio operator who would have sent a signal which read, “I am about to attack a positive U Boat”, would then count one, two, three after the Bombs Gone and then fire a Very pistol with a “Daylight Charge”. In the meantime, the rear gunner was to move the rear camera to a new photographic place, depress the turret and start the camera and if necessary, the guns. The camera would show the U Boat and the straddle of Depth Charges and whether the attack was likely to be successful or not. It was a very integrated operation with every member of the crew involved and for this reason I enjoyed it more than any other training.
The radar was a Mark 3 with a rotating time base line and to become proficient with this the three WAGs had to go to Chivenor in Devon for about 10 days and then back to the squadron in Northern Ireland.
At the weekend we had a break and went into Ilfracombe and to the pictures. We stayed in an old home where a very elderly lady let rooms very cheaply. To our surprise, when we came back from the pictures, she produced a hot cocoa and something to eat. She apparently did this for any servicemen staying there. It was a very old building in a tiny alleyway and there was no bathroom, shower or bath. We were given an old-fashioned jug and basin for washing. To have a shower you would have to go to the City Baths. Anyway, her kindness was greatly appreciated. The British people were always so kind and generous to the servicemen and I presume servicewomen. The attitude of the wartime Brits was fantastic.
We continued training at the squadron for the next two months, and at this time they brought out “High Tea”, which was the code word for new Anti Sub equipment, for use where a submarine submerged before it could be bombed (depth charged). We would drop a buoy on a parachute, which, when it hit the water would release a sonar echo finder on a 30 foot line. This would pick any of the subs sounds, which would be transmitted up to the aircraft. Four more buoys would be dropped around the main buoy to pick up the direction of travel and when established two more would be dropped ahead of the sub’s track to keep it covered whilst the Navy was called up to attack it.
We thought this was quite an ingenious arrangement – following an underwater craft from the air. For this we had many hours listening to underwater sounds on the sonar, including the sounds which many fish made, which were quite loud. We had to learn to distinguish various propeller noises, etc.
We finally did our first operational flight just before VE Day and on VE Day we were briefed in the dark for early morning take off to look for surrendered U-Boats which would fly a black flag. Everyone was concerned that there might be a fanatical Nazi U-Boat commander wanting to go out in a “Blaze of glory”.
This never happened, they had had enough of deadly losses and were happy to be safe at last. German U-Boat losses lead to the highest fatality rates during the war for any branch of the services.
When we were later shown over one of the surrendered U-Boats, the conditions under which they operated were terrible. The space was claustrophobic and with a kitchen about 3ft. x 2ft. to prepare meals for 43 men. Every one who wanted to go from forward to aft passed through the tiny area the Captain, and 1st Lieutenant had for dining and sleeping. They were certainly very courageous men as I believe they were volunteers. We had a couple more operational trips after VE looking for U-Boats which were surrendering, we hoped, as a one-on-one activity on a surfaced U-Boat was about 50/50. We had been told that once in the Bay of Biscay there were some Wellingtons doing a square search 22 minutes apart. One sent out a signal which meant “about to attack a positive U-Boat”, and when the second aircraft arrived, it like the first was shot down. A further aircraft diverted to the area, could find nothing except some debris on the surface. The U-Boats had 88 mm Junkers guns as anti aircraft protection, the gunners were well trained and an aircraft at 130 knots (approx, 215 km per hour) and a 50 ft. approach is a reasonably good target. However, we were disappointed not to have seen one except in Port, after they had surrendered.
You can now no doubt understand why the people in the posting departments of the RAF helped save me from the risks on operations and only to have the risks of accidents. Our training was carried out on ex Operational aircraft, which were largely worn out. Aircraft were still fairly primitive, the maintenance crews were partly wartime trainees and we were ourselves learning our trade. Also the weather could be treacherous - all reasons for the high accident rate. For example, in Coastal Command 5863 were killed in operations and 2317 in accidents.
Between December 1941 and March 1944 of Australians attached to RAF, 4159 were killed in action and 2166 in accidents, i.e. over 1/3 of the deaths were from accidents. (Last Call of Empire) . This I can bear out from my own experience. Apart from the crash at Einshemer we had a few close shaves.
The Wellington had Nacelle (Engine) fuel tanks. Wing fuel tanks and an added centre fuel tank to increase the range. The procedure was to run on the nacelle tanks for a given number of minutes and then switch to the wing tanks. We were flying at 500 feet on a beautiful sunny day when I heard what I thought was a change in the Engine noise. I remember thinking to myself don’t be silly you’re only a WAG, the pilots would hear it first if anything was wrong. Then the noise did really change. The second pilot was flying at the time and the skipper was down in the nose. He had heard the change as soon as it happened and turned around to shout over the intercom and as he turned his intercom plug pulled out of the socket. He plugged it back in and shouted – and I still remember his exact words, “Happy for Christs’ sake, the port wing tank”.
Happy had an altimeter in front of his “desk” and had seen it dropping rapidly. I was on the Radar and saw Happy literally fly horizontally through the air and find the port wing tank valve which was buried amongst a maze of pipes on the floor of the aircraft. Normally a very awkward operation. I jumped up and looked out of the Astrodome and swear we were down to 15 feet when the engine cut back in and Brownie started to pull the aircraft slowly back up to 500 ft. The Astrodome was the worst place to be standing if we had hit the water, I should have taken up crash positions, but never even thought of it until later. I was too involved at the time and the adrenalin was really running.
If we had hit the deck, it would just have been an unexplained disappearance. Apparently, that engine was running a bit rough and was using fuel at such a rate that ran it out of fuel in the Nacelle tanks about 15 minutes early.
On another occasion I was in the rear turret watching the sea below when my stomach “hit the floor and then the sky”, and another Wimpy flashed past on an exactly reciprocal course and his tailplane not more than 10 – 15 feet directly below me. It was another aircraft from our squadron recalled to base from further south. Brownie who was again flying us saw it in the distance but above us. He like the other aircraft was looking for U-Boats and all the eyes were on the water. He then looked up and to his horror saw they had lost height and we were going to meet head on. He put his feet on the dash and pulled on the control column with all his strength as “George” the automatic pilot was on. We went up with a terrific jerk as he overcame “George” and then immediately “George” reacted and down we came. This was something you couldn’t do on today’s George, and even then was a very doubtful possibility. It is amazing what we can do when it is really vital.
I didn’t have time to even get nervous and had never seen anything disappear as fast, as we each would have been doing 120 knots so he disappeared at about 420 kms per hour still on the exact reciprocal course. If Brownie hadn’t overcame George the two aircraft would have crashed head on at a relative 420 kms per hour and we would have been another statistic.
On another occasion we were running up the engines just prior to take off when we noticed fumes coming from the Nacelle vents rather than from the exhaust outlets. This could have happened after take off with probably nasty consequences.
One day we were on an exercise when we suddenly saw “ack ack” far too close for comfort. Then an aircraft pulling a drogue passed across our path at right angles and at the same height, whilst a ship down below was belting the drogue with ack-ack. The Navy had forgotten to advise the RAF that they were having target practice. We could have been the target.
On one of the trips when we arrived back at base there was low cloud and we had to request a QGH, (A descent through Cloud). We had practiced it but the real event was a bit different. In those days it worked as follows. After receiving the go ahead from base, the wireless operator would send our call sign and then hold the morse key down for 5 seconds. Two ground positions would take a bearing on the transmission. Where the bearings intersected was the aircraft position. Knowing the aircraft’s position, they sent back the course to fly and the angels, i.e. the height. The wireless operator (this was Gill at the time) would write this down and someone standing alongside him (this happened to be me) would read out the bearing and height to fly over the intercom to the skipper who would fly that course and height. Meantime Gill was sending out our call sign again and holding the key down again for 5 seconds whilst another 2 bearings were taken and the course and height would be sent back and the procedure repeated until you could theoretically land. With a large hill on one side and slightly smaller hill on the other and changing height and course it was a pretty dicey do. You were still flying at about 150 kms per hour, there was the possibility of error by a number of people over a period of time, and every 25 seconds or so you are travelling over 600 metres.
We were all relieved when the skipper shouted its OK, I can see the runway and Gill sent a message to that effect and everyone relaxed.
With the end of the war in Europe, the Australian Government told the UK that they wanted all the RAAF airmen returned to Australia, so in June the Australians on the squadron were posted back to Brighton to await transport home
With nothing to do but wait, we could get leave more or less regularly. So, I went to Edinburgh to say goodbye to the Swanneys. It was impossible to purchase much in those days, but I managed to get some crystal vases as a thankyou.
On my last night in Edinburgh, they said I couldn’t leave Scotland without a Scotch. They gave me double Scotch followed by a double Port and I remember going to bed with a very warm glow.
The beach of Brighton was cleaned of mines and we tried swimming a few times, but it was cold in the water and the beach was all quite large pebbles – not comfortable to lie on.
Then on August 15th, the war against Japan ended and we read about the Atom Bomb, but without any knowledge of its radiation impacts. We were all thrilled the war was over and we would be going home to peace and not to another war.
We embarked on the Stratheden in September for the trip home and for the first time there was no blackout in the ship. Lights at night was a new experience with no watch for submarines. It was a pleasant trip home perhaps partly because I had a commission. When the war ended in Europe, I thought as we will be going to the Pacific and having seen how much better you travelled if you had a commission I would put in for one, as did Gill (Alex was away at the time).. After facing all sorts of questions from the Squadron Leader, he apparently approved it and then passed it on to Australian Headquarters, who after further questioning approved it. As it turned out I didn’t need it with the war over, but some of the extra coupons you were given to get your uniform came in handy to also buy some civilian clothes.
I remember late one afternoon reading the DRO’s (Daily Routine Orders) on the Stratheden, when I noticed the date and realised it was m y 21st Birthday. When I went below Gill was tossing an orange in the air, I grabbed it and told him that would be my birthday present from him.
We arrived in Perth where we had a day and were amazed at the greengrocers with the tremendous range of fruit and vegetables. We hadn’t seen anything like it in two years.
When we arrived in Melbourne we were put into trucks and driven to the Melbourne Cricket Ground, on to the hallowed grass, and there to meet us were our families - my Dad and Mum, and Mabel and her Dad. This was an unforgettable moment and made me realise how much more worrying it had been for the folks than I had ever imagined. A feeling you understand even more when you have children of your own. Mabel’s Dad had brought his car bedecked with an Australian flag and I was driven home to meet the neighbours and friends and a wonderful meal.
Thus came to an end three years of RAAF service with just on 2 years overseas and the start of civilian life as I was discharged by the end of November. Looking back on these notes it seems a wonderful experience, which it was, although there were many times when you were lonely and homesick and hungry for letters and information from home, particularly as I was deeply in love with Mabel my future wife.
The experience turned you from a young lad to a much more mature person, the mere thought that you could perhaps be dead in twelve months or earlier has a fairly salutary and maturing effect. I was fortunate in the postings I received (though I was disappointed with one at the time) as some of the casualty rates were very high. The War Museum in Canberra records the RAAF “fatal battle casualties” at 6532s, or over 30% of the 20,000 who served operationally in the Middle East and European campaigns. I believe these do not include the accidental deaths, which according to the “Last Call of Empire”, by John McCarthy were almost half the operational deaths. In his book of RAAF members attached to the RAF, there were already over 6300 killed in action or accidents by March 1944, which indicates the 6532 excluded accidental deaths. There would have been at least another 3,000 killed in accidents. I set out some of the details from the same book which gives some background to the time.
A Bomber Command tour of operations was 30 for a first tour and 20 for the second, Pathfinders one tour of 45 operations, Coastal Command tour was 800 hours, except for twin engines aircraft, 500 hours. Fighter Squadrons were about 200 hours. Tactical Air Force, 200 hours and 80 sorties were expected in that time.
In the year to June 1944, the bomber loss rate was such that the chance of surviving a tour of 30 operations was 1 in 4, with the chance of surviving 2 tours 1 in 10.
In 1943 Coastal Command had a 40% chance of survival.
On Torpedo bombers only 4% would survive a tour of 300 hours and 10% when it was reduced to 200 hours. On Strike Beaufighters only 7% would survive a 300 hour tour and 15% when it was reduced to 200 hours. Whilst the loss rate towards the end of the war was less, it was still extremely high.
Only a country whose very basis of existence and freedom was at stake could accept such casualties, RAAF members served in all major RAF Commands. They were in the Bomber offensive against Germany and Italy including the raids on the Ruhr Dams, the Peenemande V Rocket centre, the Gestapo headquarters, in the Hague and Copenhagen, the Amiens Prison breakout and on the Battleship Tirpitz. They supplied the Resistance movement in Europe and took part in secret operations in Europe. They supported the Army in the Middle East, Italy and North West Europe and in the major airborne operations on D. Day and at Arnhem.
They served on Atlantic conveys and anti U-Boat searches from the Arctic Circle to the Cape of Good Hope and from the American mainland to the Bay of Biscay and in the Mediterranean. Wherever aircraft operated in these areas there was certain to have been a member of the RAAF.
Looking back from a long and very happy and satisfying life, I often think of the many very young men who I trained with and who have never had that opportunity. I feel very privileged to have served with such a group of men on such a vital task as the defeat of the terrible evil of the Nazis and fascist Japanese.
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