AGRAND WARTIME TOUR and SPITFIRE EXPERIENCE

By Ian S. Lowman

“It is easy to take liberty for granted when you have never had it taken from you”.
Dick Cheney

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

In the main, my story is the product of my memory supplemented by reference to my log book, but I wish to acknowledge two books:

“Dieppe at Dawn” by R.W. Thompson

“Over to Tunis” by Howard Marshall

PROEM

The god damn son of a bitch has gone into a tunnel and won't come out. That comment heard over the R.T. will remain with me for as long as I have a memory.

I was a member of a section of six Spitfires operating out of a base near Bastia on the north east coast of the island of Corsica. On that day, winging off in a northerly direction into a bright blue sky, we flew north into Italy, skirting the mountain side port of Genoa, across the Appennine Range to Alessandria on the edge of the broad Po Valley. On the approach massive snow clad alps spread out across the horizon before us. Also on the approach we passed over a train on the line to Genoa, and agreed among ourselves in radio chatter that we would “get it” on the way back.

Our orders were to attack rolling stock at the rail junction of Alessandria. On arrival we found there was a concentration of locomotives, both steam and electrical. One by one we peeled off, picked a target and fired our guns, returning aloft again, and repeating the manoeuvre until the leader called us to stations for the return flight.

Our Spitfires were lightly armed each with two 20mm, cannon and four, 303 machine guns, but in our few minutes over the target we should, at least temporarily, have reduced the efficiency of the railway service in the area. Returning above the Genoa line, the train previously seen appeared to have disappeared until it was seen at a small tunnel, that smoke was escaping from both ends, the engine driver had saved his train from damage, but I would not envy him his discomfort in getting it moving again,

A thread of destiny

Now at an age of heightened retrospection. I look back along the thread of my destiny. In ancient Grecian terms Atrapos with Clotho and her sister were kindly towards me. Guided into the air force in earlier days during the Second World War I became a fighter pilot, but in fact was more a pilot of fighter aircraft, not having to fight the enemy in aerial combat.

Fortune also favoured me in that my destiny had me flying in operations, and otherwise, in that much heralded Spitfire which still today catches the imagination of multitudes. Comparatively few enjoyed that privilege.

Arriving for service in the war zones somewhat later, when the tide of war had changed, duties had me engaged largely on patrolling and protecting important installations in the war effort. At times it was difficult to decide which flying could be classified as operational or otherwise. One unfortunate incident at a vital stage resulted in a black mark for my record, but ensured that I travelled more widely than may otherwise have been the case thereby I found myself on the periphery of actions and events of great significance in the strategy of the war. In such situations I was again privileged.

I was not one to be keen to tangle with the enemy, being by nature not very competitive by inclination, and as a boy on a farm, rather squeamish when it was considered necessary to kill animals. But with the obligation imposed on me by my society I complied in doing a young man's duty within the limitations of my experience and abilities.

My decision in joining up with an armed force was made after due consideration and soul searching. The army did not appeal because of the prospect of fighting at close quarters. Arising from several crossings of Cook Strait by ferry steamer, a call of the sea was non-existent.

As one of the young of that day. I had followed with avid interest the published stories of pioneer aviators blazing new air routes. Really only one course of action seriously figured in my mind.

At first in this war the armed services sought their manpower from those who were prepared to volunteer. After a time compulsory service was introduced, but those so directed went only to the army. A position in Government administration in Wellington involved me in the preparation of lists of young men eligible for call up. Having thus a calculated idea of my turn to draw a marble. I made application to join Air Force aircrew. With my qualifications and personal qualities, a role as an observer seemed to me to be most likely, but recruiting officers adjudged differently. Gaps will appear in my narrative. For whatever reason I have blank periods in my memory. Such significant loss occurred several times in transit, but also I have difficulty remembering the order of certain events involved in when travelling quite widely in Great Britain.

Credentials for Service

I was a back country lad. My father was a pioneer having taken up a virgin bush property at the foot hills of a North Island West Coast range about fifty kilometres seawards from Te Kūiti. The farm was in a truly beautiful position with rugged bush clad hills of solid limestone almost surrounding our homestead. I have been ever grateful for having been brought up in such glorious surroundings.

My parents never had it easy in breaking in that property. With a wet climate a light soil had leached, and quickly various ferns flourished where the bush had previously grown tall. A hilly property it was not until the advent of aerial top dressing that it became truly a viable economic proposition. Our family always had adequate shelter, food and clothing but little was to spare.

A single teacher school was located only about a kilometre away and within easy walking distance from our homestead, so primary schooling presented no problem. Attending a secondary school was not possible having regards for the family income. Being small boned it was not advisable for me to gravitate into a farming life, and with my parents' blessing I resorted to tuition through the Government Correspondence School. With the onset of the economic depression of the nineteen thirties a small dairy herd was introduced to our sheep farm, so I milked cows’ night and morning and did other suitable tasks as required. In due course I managed to matriculate and was granted a Higher Leaving Certificate.

My father was more than usually handy with hand tools and their maintenance. As fallen logs and tree stumps were removed from several paddocks near to the homestead, horse drawn implements were used, in the provision of supplementary winter feed for the stock. Towards the end of the twenties a Model T Ford car was purchased and was maintained by my father, including on one occasion the grinding in of valves. A maturing boy in such circumstances had the opportunity to gain a rudimentary knowledge and experience of things mechanical. After being accepted for air force aircrew, I was sent an instruction manual which included basic theory of mechanics, flight and meteorology.

In 1937, on completion of my secondary school studies, I proceeded to Wellington to take up a Government cadetship there. This provided me with an Opportunity to proceed to university to further enhance my academic qualifications.

Those four years in Wellington enlarged my store of experiences in a most satisfactory way. The onset of the war intruded and was not appreciated at that stage.

Early in May 1941 I received instructions to report to the Initial Training Wing at Levin. My elder brother had proceeded overseas with the First Echelon Army and left me his car if I paid off final time payment instalments, so I left Wellington, not to see it again for four years, and drove to my boyhood home. After a short break there, I joined the Main Trunk train and travelled back most of the way again to Levin.

Orientation New Zealand

A group of young men alighted from the train at the Levin Railway Station. We were joined together and were transported the several kilometres to our camp in a district known as Waharoa. In times past the property had housed delinquent children.

Passing through a portal adjacent to a guard station at the camp, and signing various documents, our civic status was set aside and we became subject to service hierarchy and discipline. Ushered around a corner to a storeroom, amid chaff and exclamations hiding feelings of strangeness and uncertainty, regulation blues along with other accoutre were fitted and recorded against the name of each budding airman. The attire each arrived in, not now being required in this new situation, was suitably disposed of.

A focal part of this training establishment was a clear level area used as a parade ground. Fringing the parade ground were, the administration block, dining facilities and class room, a separate building for ablutions, and a line of two man tents all down one side.

The parade ground drill was the Service way of creating discipline among a body of men. Otherwise it was not very relevant in the Air Force which was concerned mainly for warfare of a technical nature. Other forms of drill were also taught, such as each making up his bed in an approved fashion, this to be checked out by an inspection. None of the forms of drill employed was very onerous. I later became aware of the need to follow drill procedures to reduce the possibility of error, and as a means of providing safety within a group.

We were troop of raw recruits, but generally enthusiastic and rimming over with expectation, if perhaps tempered with some measure of trepidation. Some exuded confidence and were outgoing. Others were of quieter disposition, and I would have deserved the latter classification.

Apart from the practise of steps, and other movements and manoeuvres on the parade ground occupying periods of our time and energy, classes had to be attended to acquire knowledge of Air Force lore, and also become versed in the use of aircraft and conditions to be met and resolved when flying them.

Towards the end of six weeks of this initial instruction, tests were applied to ensure suitability in respect of further training. The course had been suitably intensive but periods of relaxation had been allowed. Evening passes were provided for visitation to the country town of Levin. The game of Rugby was staged and others ran cross country over one of the neighbouring farms.

The Wareroa camp, was pleasingly situated in a pastoral setting with, a backdrop of the Tarawera Range. Although it was truly a camp with open walkways, it was not uncomfortable. The experience gained there was challenging in the midst of a bright group of young men with diverse backgrounds.

The preliminaries in training, having been surmounted the progression was son to trials determining aptitudes for flying duties. The locale of the flying practice was to be under the commanding presence of the colossus Taranaki, then known to us as the Anglo named Mount Egmont. The aerodrome was a grass field, normally the airport for the provincial centre of New Plymouth, and more precisely known as Bell Block, this being the name given to the immediate district.

At Bell Block more permanent style accommodation was apportioned to us. Instruction comprised more lectures as well as the flying. As overseas postings were envisaged, talks included matters concerning conduct in the wider spheres. A few hours were devoted to the simulation of flying procedures in varying circumstances in a link trainer, a safe way to practice flying in certain circumstances and conditions.

The basic trainer for flying was a D.H.82, otherwise known as a Tiger Moth. It was certainly basic by more recent standards, with the engine having to be started by hand swinging the propeller. It was a light bi plane with two open cock pits. A comment was heard that its performance represented true flight. Certainly it embodied an interesting compromise between the pull of gravity and forward speed creating a vacuum for lift as air flowed over shaped wing surfaces. It had great manoeuvrability which enabled an experienced pilot to slip off height and then set the aircraft down within a very confined space.

Consistent with its speed and weight the Tiger Moth was a rugged little aircraft, and it served New Zealand well in its day, not only as a medium for training, but also after the War, as a work horse for aerial top dressing when adapted by the inclusion of a hopper for holding and dispensing fertilizer. Our hill country took on a new green sheen and harboured more stock units.

Our immediate purpose being to learn to fly the aircraft, we had to become acquainted with it, its instrumentation and its controls. As the cock pits were open to the elements, we needed flying suit and boots, and also gauntlets and goggles. As it was a single engined aircraft, a parachute was required, and we were schooled in the operation and maintenance of this safety gear.

It was at the end of the first week in July that I climbed into a cockpit for flying. The instructor went through the cock pit drill with me and then took us into the air for my experience. I was accustomed to being on heights, but in an aircraft it was another dimension of experience. We cruised for nearly fifteen minutes and then dived steeply ending in a pull out before landing. All was well. I did not freeze on the controls or do anything else unusual.

In air the control of an aircraft is very simple. Little the more is required than co ordination through two controls, the joy stick and the rudders to effect various manoeuvres, and usually there is plenty of space in which to move. One has only to ensure that no other body would occupy the same space. However the would-be pilot has to practice to get used to the unusual elements of moving through the air, and operating the controls for particular purposes. In the air force high standards are insisted upon, and training is exacting.

For the next six weeks we were very fully occupied with flying training, usually taking to the air several times each day. This indicates that, the weather must generally have been favourable despite that mostly it was winter.

Initially training under instruction involved practice in take off, turning and landing. I was at first bemused that turning was, accomplished by turning a wing down which was known as banking. Before too long we had to be given experience in stalling and spinning and the methods of recovery. While at first flying took place at Bell Block, shortly it was transferred to the small aerodrome at Hāwera, and the personnel went there each day either in the required aircraft or by road transport. Opportunity was thus provided for map reading and navigation. It was from Hāwera, that after eight days instruction I flew solo, an event of some significance, and some tremulous feelings in landing, knowing that I was on my own, and sole master of my destiny.

My log book shows that I participated in eighty six flights from the aerodromes at Bell Block and Hāwera, with flying time totalling about fifty hours. Not surprising much of this sort of flying was flippantly spoken of as circuits and bumps among the personnel. My bumps were at no time sufficiently heavy to cause damage to an aircraft, so I was able to be rated as a reasonable, or average, pilot, and so fit for further training. Another minor goal had been achieved.

One of my flights stands out in my memory. I was instructed go fly and navigate a course from Bell Block around Mount Egmont at the place of departure, with the mass of a mountain on my starboard side and uncomplicated road systems visible, navigation was straightforward, but the mountain has a ridge on its western side and I decided to climb to cross it. The aircraft laboured for a considerable distance before gaining enough height for the transit. I became aware of the limitations of a low powered, aircraft.

Another clearer memory from my time at Bell Block remains. The media of the period had carried articles that hearing damage may ensue if one flew when affected by a cold virus. I had picked up a light infection, and meeting the Station Medical Officer in the grounds asked him if I should fly in these circumstances. Emphatically he assured me that it was all right, and so it turned out. I suffered no noticeable after effects. Perhaps it was that the Tiger Moth did not fly high, and changes in elevation did not take place such as I was to experience later.

Little spare time was allowed what with our duties of study and flying, but several evening passes were granted which allowed me to visit nearby New Plymouth and taste its pleasures and sights. One weekend pass enabled me, in company with another budding pilot, to hire a car and show off our uniforms before near kin. That was fine, but on the return journey, and as we drove through the Awakino Gorge a deluge descended upon us. My companion was at the wheel when a stray sheep suddenly appeared in the lights of the car and could not be avoided. This was not an unusual incident to happen on New Zealand country roads of that time.

Our Bell Block assignment ended in due time. Our log books were ruled off and official assessments appended. Our group was split Cup. We were given a choice either to go to Canada under the Commonwealth Training Scheme, or remain in New Zealand for intermediate training. A decision of this sort could have implications concerning one’s eventual fate. I elected to go to Canada, mainly I think, for additional overseas experience.

Those of us choosing Canada were sent on embarkation leave carrying necessary warrants.

Canadian interlude

My period of embarkation leave exhausted. I proceeded accompanied by my family, to Auckland the port of departure, and reported to air force embarkation quarters. Formalities there included a medical examination, which I passed despite having a slight unrevealed sore throat.

The mode of conveyance to Canada was a fine modern ship, the Capetown Castle, a sister ship of the Dominion Monarch then familiar to many New Zealanders. We were fortunate in being allotted to such a ship, as it had a nice turn of speed, and was not so vulnerable to the attentions of German raiding vessels then operating in the South Pacific.

Arriving on board. I was directed to a cabin but did not occupy it for very long. At the time New Zealand was in the grips of an epidemic of mumps. It soon became evident that I was suffering from more than the initial stages of a common cold. Reporting sick, the ship's doctor diagnosed the deadly mumps and arranged for a transfer into isolation. My new quarters were a state room which I occupied until reaching Halifax where our party disembarked.

The luxurious accommodation had its drawbacks. I was confined to that one room with its attached facilities. Available to me only was the room and a view of the sea outside of the port hole. Also South African periodicals were available in the suite from when the vessel normally plied to the Cape. I missed the greater freedom of movement normally available in the ship, and the camaraderie of my fellow airmen. My only human contacts came from occasional visits from the doctor and servicing duties by a broad Glaswegian who I had difficulty conversing with anyway.

For my part, the passage to Halifax was uneventful generally. An exception was the transit through the Panama Canal. I had a view of the locks, west and east working, the canal leading to a very scenic and elevated lake with tropical vegetation, and the descent for exit to the Caribbean Sea in a new ocean complex.

Berthing at Halifax, Nova Scotia. I was transferred to a local hospital, likely for an alternative medical opinion. I was confined to hospital but not to bed. The rest of my unit proceeded on their designated way.

I liked what I saw of that eastern Canadian city as was visible from the hospital. Canada has a most attractive environment in the Fall when the leaves of native grown trees change colour and later drop to the ground. The weather was generally splendidly clear and bright in that season.

After a day or two, a pair of Canadian airmen, with transport, conducted me to the railway station. A train was about to pull out, so I was quickly thrust aboard and handed travel warrants. Proceeding to a vacant seat, my fellow passengers very obviously observed me with intere St. no doubt the more so because my nationality was clearly indicated on my uniform. For my part, the other passengers took my interest. It soon became evident that two languages were being spoken around about me, that implying a duality of racial extraction. The French connection could not be denied. In New Zealand, at the time, the population was. To me, more noticeably of Anglo Saxon lineage, so being in such a mixed group was a new experience.

The tickets indicated a destination of Dunnville. My schoolboy geography lessons had not included mention of such a place, so evidently I was all alone without knowing where I was going. However, darkness turned to light when a middle aged Canadian airman, also in the carriage, out of friendliness introduced himself to me. He knew of the air force station with Dunnville almost on a shore of Lake Erie, and quite adjacent to the Niagara Falls. Two changes of train would be required to be made to get there. He was proceeding to Toronto, so I would have his company for much of the way. The present train would take us to Montreal. It was a long journey, even to Montreal, and the time involved enabled casual friendships to develop with counter discussions about Canada and New Zealand taking place. A community of interest through membership in the British Commonwealth was evident, at least with some of the passengers.

Eastern Canada has few very striking natural features, apart of course from the world significant St. Lawrence River and its Niagara Falls. As one travelled along in the train the view was of rather uninteresting flattish terrain. With an aspect of some incongruity, I thought, villages seen comprised very ordinary houses with, in their midst, apparently elaborate churches with tall steeples. For the local people, doubtless, the homes were adequate and the churches provided them with highly esteemed social and spiritual values.

Quebec was passed in the daylight and on the other side of the St. Lawrence River. Visible were the Heights of Abraham, scaled by General Wolfe's forces while taking the city from the French in the year 1759.

Nights were spent on trains and I did not have the comfort of a sleeping bunk. During the first night I slept not at all, but weariness ensured that this requirement of nature was discharged on the second night.

The large river port of Montreal was reached during morning. The connecting train was not due to leave for several hours. A group of us, travelling companions, detrained together, and several of us hired a horse drawn carriage to see this sights. Later, in a restaurant for lunch, I noticed with surprise that another diner, at an adjacent table appeared to be wearing a side arm: a bigger country, different ways and needs.

Returning to the railway station for the next train several air force special police pounced upon me. They had been detailed to meet me on arrival, but missed me as I departed in a group. They were easily satisfied that I now knew my destination and how to get there.

Passing through Toronto and Hamilton, both substantial cities on the shores of Lake Ontario, a branch line took me to Dunnville which turned out to be a small town in flat farmland, but also with the air force station nearby. Being conducted to the administration block my mind was still in a whirl. It had been a long journey, but probably I had more varied experiences than others, of my unit who travelled together and separately from me.

Quarters were in a long hut with double tier beds. The hut had a central stove and windows were double glazed signs of weather to come, but not necessary in the autumn. The camp was surrounded by about a six foot netting fence I hoped, to keep strangers out. Food in the mess tended to be strange to me and this applied particularly to the sausages. A sealed surface open space was out front, and several times we were called on to attend parades. Study classes were, conducted and for the first time aircraft identification was scheduled for our unit.

Dunnville Air Force Station was the home of No, 6 Service Flying Training School. It was the temporary home, not only of our New Zealand contingent, but also of Canadian trainees. Among the Canadians was an American from Texas who I became friendly with. He had a very nice car which he had driven from his home State. He filled me in on driving conditions in the U.S.A. and we went for a drive or two.

The flight arrangements were expansive, with several great hangers and long sealed runways. The aircraft were single engined monoplanes. Harvard’s and Yale’s, indicating in a general way the types of service we were destined for. We were now converting to modern aircraft, steel construction, more powerful, with canopied cockpit and retractable undercarriage. The fewer Yale’s, although appearing generally similar, were lighter, less powerful and had fixed undercarriages.

As trainees and still raw, much care was taken over the teaching for familiarization of the larger and more complex aircraft. An instructor spent, much time in the other cockpit. Before flying solo the aspirant pilot signed a certificate that he understood the fuel, oil, ignition systems and the ancillary controls of the Harvard aircraft.

In still weather, which was common at the time, the atmosphere was hazy due to areas of heavy industry being thereabouts, and particularly on the American side of the border, Nevertheless flying conditions were pleasant.

Initially, particularly, much attention was given in training to the more critical elements of man engineered flight, namely taking off, turning and landing again. Basics satisfied, other manoeuvres of operational and combat significance were taught and practised. Many of the manoeuvres culminated in aerobatics which figured quite largely towards the end, padding to thrill and enjoyment.

A satellite aerodrome. Welland, was used from time to time, particularly for night flying and for practise in landings within a confined distance. The Welland aerodrome was situated alongside the Welland Canal, later to be upgraded for sea worthy vessels to ply between the lakes Ontatio and Erie. On one occasion, returning to Dunnville by road from night flying our party decided to have a late supper at the Dunnville drug store which remained open all night. This occasion was especially notable in that I ordered coffee and then found that the sugar bowl had been filled with salt.

Apart from actual flying experience. I spent twenty hours on simulated flying in the Link Trainer. This would have taught, directly or indirectly, awareness and practice of procedures needed in coping with particular flying situations.

The course at Dunneville was reasonably exacting, but a deal of time was made available for us to become acquainted with the immediate part of Ontario and its people. Toronto, a large and attractive city, had special appeal, and I spent two weekends there. In the first week end I booked into the Royal York Hotel to sample the luxury of the place. The people were hospitable and invitations to homes came readily. One day, sightseeing by tram I made the acquaintance of a French Canadian girl. She was attractive, and we later went to a show together. I would have liked to get to know her better, but my future had much doubt and involvement in any form appeared to be inappropriate.

At the time I, exhibited religious inclinations, although not strongly tempered by any orthodoxy. Most of my extra Station activities would have been accordingly determined. On one occasion, with friends I attended a service of the United Church of Canada. While I was not aware of the histories of traditional Christian denominations in Canada, it seemed that processes of Union may have been more advanced in Canada at that time. On another Sunday several went to a country church not far distant from Dunnville. This was pentecostal in character, with certain words and phrases repeated from the congregation. It was all strange to me, and I thought the country side looked rather poor by New Zealand standards.

I enjoyed two further week ends on pass. Conveniently I had an invitation to join with a young people’s group at Niagara, and so an opportunity was available to view the Falls with its great, mass of water tumbling over the brink and coursing away down a I narrow gorge. On the other occasion, three, of us were hosted, in St. Catharines by a family, the father figure of which owned and operated a well-known hand tool manufacturing enterprise. They were a fine family with a superior home, and in the autumn. St. Catharines showed itself off as a truly lovely city.

The American reaction to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour was intriguing, . Their rapid spoken radio broadcasts were clearly heard where we were, and indicated incomprehension and almost disbelief. The almost sleeping giant was prodded into action, fully entered into hostilities, and was to have a critical influence in the outcome.

Christmas was almost upon us and for the festivities on the day I shared an invitation to the home in Hamilton of one of the Station Officers. Winter had set in and the road to Hamilton was icy and slushy another experience for me. A traditional Canadian meal comprised turkey and cranberry sauce followed by blueberry pie and cream. Later our party went to an ice hockey stadium, some of us to attempt skating.

The course was essentially ended. For all of us an immediate goal had been reached for the instructors who had brought each one of us through to an acceptable standard of proficiency, and for us who had achieved just that. A dinner in celebration was held at a hotel in Hamilton, and that was followed by a boisterous party. Finally the whole troop was mustered into a large hangar where graduating airmen received rewards as earned. I was one of a larger group promoted to sergeant pilot. A proportion were commissioned as pilots. I was content with my promotion which was as expected. When my log book was returned it was there confirmed that I was rated as average as a pilot and in navigation. Strangely to me I was considered above average in instrument flying. I had now completed nearly 150 hours flying time.

The duties assigned to us for Canada were completed. Passes were made available for the period until we had to come together to join a ship to Britain. Three of us, newly decorated with wings and stripes, made out way to Montreal where we booked into one of the, better hotels, others had taken the opportunity to have a brief look at New York.

In Montreal at that early January time the air was bitterly cold. The hotel was warm, but we were not prepared for the outdoor conditions. To gain a tourist perspective on a clear, calm day, two of us went for a walk on a central elevated park known as Mt. Royal. Presently my companion's face showed signs of freezing so we hurried back to the more clement conditions within the Hotel. However our stay was made pleasurable when we became acquainted with an English speaking family, including two attractive girls, who provided hospitality. Visiting shops with them took on special interest when, as a group, we evoked the attention of a volatile French Canadian.

The staging post while awaiting embarkation was at Truro, some considerable distance short of Halifax. This centre may well have had considerable interest, being at the head of the arm of a Bay, in less hostile weather conditions. As it was the only inviting places were the barracks and mess, the buildings of which were amply heated, and windows were double glazed. A feature of the mess was the presence of coin operated juke boxes which ground out popular tunes.

In due time a train conveyed us to the wharves at Halifax.

Britain

Our sea transport to the island fortress of Great Britain was a Dutch ship, the Vollendam. For ordinary ranks accommodation was most basic, being hammocks slung in a hold. It gave the appearance of not being very clean. The sight of the conditions shocked our contingent. As a mark of protest, while the gang planks were still in place, many of us walked off and assembled on the wharf. Senior officers came along and addressed us seemingly giving an undertaking of improvements being instituted. Induced to re embark, the ship cast off apparently in some haste. Realistically, in the circumstances there was no practical remedy. But having recently had wings sewn onto tunics, aware of a public perception of glamour relating to aircrew, and conscious that former peers, without greater qualifications were travelling in superior circumstances did nothing to soothe feelings of discontent. A mild state of revolt persisted throughout the voyage.

The senior air force officers attempted placation one day by addressing an assembly in the ship’s lounge. The first speaker was howled down, especially when, in reference to meals, he claimed knowledge by reason of being associated with biscuit manufacture in private life. A second speaker commanded attention and respect by firstly ordering out several sergeants who were improperly dressed. If nothing else the meeting provided a lesson in disciplinary practice. It transpired that, comfort, in the crowded below decks was reasonable. The cold North Atlantic weather ensured acceptable temperature and atmosphere. Sleeping in a hammock was no real hardship. We were dispersed among British airmen returning from training under the Commonwealth Scheme, and as they had been away from their war beleaguered land for a comparatively short period, they were able to recount stories of bombings and other hardships. As affecting me particularly, when getting an overview of the ship I happened upon the galley and saw food being prepared. At this stage of my war experience. I must have been unnecessarily squeamish. I henceforth, for the duration of the voyage, obtained my nourishment from the ship's canteen, generally in the form of biscuits.

Time passed well enough on the comparatively short voyage. Apart from the company present there was an expanse of deck and also quite a commodious lounge available where casual, pianists enjoyed playing popular tunes, including particularly “Copenhagen”.

At that time the North Atlantic was an especially dangerous strip of water for allied shipping. We travelled in convoy with destroyer escorts. Individual ships frequently effected changes of course in defensive weaving. When underwater danger was identified a smoke screen could be laid to obscure visual sighting. It was always interesting to watch such manoeuvres.

One night when the bulk of us had retired below decks a loud explosion was heard. A general exodus to open spaces took place, but fortunately our ship was not involved. A story circulated that a destroyer had taken a torpedo, and embellishment decreed that the torpedo was intended for us. Taking to lifeboats in such cold conditions would not have been conducive to a pleasant continuation of life.

Fortune favouring us, we safely entered the Firth of Clyde with its tall hills on its port side. Disembarking at the port of Greenock we transferred to rail and proceeded to Bournemouth on the south coast of England.

In normal times. Bournemouth was a seaside resort, but not so greatly in demand when we were there. It had many attractions apparently with good beaches rendered unusable by barbed wire entanglements. For me our short stay there was mainly enhanced through being able to attend a concert featuring the renowned singer Vivienne Leigh. A garden party had us as guests, and I became more conscious of developments in the war when I spoke to a girl who expressed fears for the safety of her father who was in Singapore. During this period the authorities took the opportunity to teach us the rudiments of unarmed combat and skeet shooting. One day several of us took public transport to visit the satellite centre of Christchurch, but found little of interest there.

Our arrival in Bournemouth was in mid-February and my log book indicated that I flew again on 7 April. That left an intervening period of about six weeks, including the short stay in Bournemouth. Apart from my log book I have no means of prompting my memory, and so incidents and events recalled may not be in a strict chronological order covering my period in Britain on the first occasion.

When on leave, New Zealand airmen often gravitated to London. The New Zealand Forces Club was there and satisfied feeling of nostalgia, as well as being a centre where one could meet with previous associates. In earlier times I booked into the Regent Palace Hotel on several occasions. It was a centrally placed, hostelry, comfortable and reasonably priced.

London itself was quite, a draw card, being the centre of Commonwealth with many famous buildings, places and shops, all much publicized in New Zealand. I visited most of the more important sights, which although being interesting, were disappointing in that the facades were drab compared with newer New Zealand, and what I was later to see in the Mediterranean region. I also had the same criticism of several great cathedrals seen in other parts of the country. The people also tended to have rosy countenances all being induced by shortage of sunshine.

Bombed areas were to be seen, but the surroundings had been quickly tidied. Although disrupted, life had to go on. Compulsory night time black out was about the only inconvenience that I suffered. People were very fortunate in having extensive underground services including efficient railway services for communication, and at times doubling for use as night shelters. Above ground, double deck busses and the singular style taxis operated quite freely, even in dark streets.

Essential public services had often gone underground. I was privileged to visit one such, being in a party invited into an underground studio of the British Broadcasting Corporation. As audience we listened to one of the well-known and popular bands of the day. The programme was to be broadcast short wave, and each of us servicemen was given an opportunity to speak and greet our folks back home. With the poorer communications of those days I was not able to alert my family to the occasion, and I was not later made aware of any of my acquaintances hearing the message. Theatre in the West End of London attracted the finest artists in the land and beyond. I took the opportunity to see a play with the lead role taken by one of the greatest, Michael Redgrave. The plot in the play is no longer remembered, but I was greatly impressed with the articulation of words.

Acquaintances in New Zealand had given me the address of people at an outpost of London. Dutifully I made my way to see them and was received politely, but without great enthusiasm. On the credit side, I saw an affluent suburb markedly different from the city centre.

With two compatriot airmen, I was invited to spend a few days at a fine country house near Godalming in Surrey. The situation was picturesque with surrounding copses and fields. Our hostess informed us that General Freyberg had a home nearby, and a local barber told me that the General would be the next Governor General of New Zealand even though he was still very much occupied in the Middle Eastern war. This experience of a part of Surrey was appealing, even although Spring was not yet very evident in the countryside.

I am a second, generation New Zealander with all of my grandparents originating in various parts of England. Apparently only my paternal grandfather had maintained touch with his English family. I had an address in his home county of Devon, and received an invitation to visit folk in Ilfracombe, a hilly coastal town overlooking a part of the Bristol Channel. On my way there I passed through the major city of Exeter. I was made very welcome, and also had a pleasant evening with other relatives in nearby Barnstaple. After several days I was passed on to a family at Taunton who introduced me to people and places nearer to grandfather’s birth place near Tiviton. The country district there was quaint by our standards. Some cottages had thatched roofs, and I saw one farm house with an earthen floor. At another farm I had to stand on the opposite side of the farm gate from the owners, not being allowed inside as their cattle were infected with foot and mouth disease. In any case this elderly couple had a very broad dialect, so further conversation may have been difficult.

Although communications in Britain had then been improving for about a hundred years, speech in many parts still had strong characteristics of dialect. As one instance of misunderstanding, two of us, one evening, went for a meal in a country restaurant where the waitress advised the menu by word of mouth. I ordered Welsh rabbit as it was described expecting a dish of genuine rabbit, but was surprised when I was delivered a cheese concoction.

With the arrival of April, I was directed to Watton, an air force station in the County of on the east coast. There it was Norfolk no great distance to Nowich, the principal city of the county, which I visited briefly and thought to be of no particular interest. The aerodrome, with the rest of the county, was in easy rolling country, and the general aspect was pleasant. The station itself had permanent buildings and was comfortable.

The unit, joined at Watton was No, 17 A.F.U. for advanced instruction. The aircraft used were Masters, more or less the British equivelant of the American Harvards we flew at Dunneville.