We were posted to 624 Squadron from 102 Squadron 4Group in Autumn 1943, much to the delight of our skipper and bomb aimer,who, as Australians hated our weather. They were accused by the rest of us as having “wangled” it. Later it was thought that the posting was due to the well known “DR” and Astro skill of our navigator.
We positioned at 301 Ferry Transit Unit Lyneham in November 43, with no idea of what the job was to be. We met a crew ex 148 Squadron who were on a shuttle from the Middle East to the UK. They told us nothing except that hurricane lamps & primus stove were a must. My father sent both to us at Lyneham.
We ferried several modified Halifax’s from an airfield west of St Athan to Lyneham, JN960, JN912, & JN958. There was no mid-upper turret and our mid-upper gunner was distraught. But the hole in the floor spoke volumes.
After a local form flying and a fuel consumption flight, we left Lyneham on 31st December in JN958 for Hurn, where we were briefed for the flight to Rabat via the Bay of Biscay, arriving on New Years Day 1944. The noise from landing on a PSP runway caused consternation, but the sunshine, oranges & chicken sandwiches from the Malcolm Club were well received as were the tinned turkey flying rations.
From there we went on to Maison Blanche, where we were introduced to bedbugs and then on to El Aovina. On descending there I suffered a dreadful ear/head pains. I went to the M.I. Room and was sent to an Army Major who stuck tubes in my nose and ear with blessed relief. I was grounded for 7 days – inhalations twice a day. This meant that the crew and aircraft were non-operational. After 4 days we had all had enough, so we just did a pre-flight check and left for Brindisi, I didn’t dare report to the M.O.
My ops started on the 11th & 12th January 44 with Flt/Sgt Ferguson RCAF who did not appear to have an established crew, both times we failed to find the Drop-Zone in Yugoslavia.
Our first op as a crew was to drop 4 Italians somewhere north of the Po Valley in Italy, but we lost an engine in icing conditions near Capri, restarting an engine after failure was not permitted and to go down and drop at low level in a mountainous DZ and climb out on 3 was not on. Our dispatcher attempted to explain in sign language, but I often wonder what they made of it all.
Our next two ops on 18th & 19th Jan to Yugoslavia in JN962 were successful, during the latter we saw what we realised to be a whole village on fire. On de-brief the Intelligence Officer told us that it was due to open warfare between Makovlouich And Tito’s partisans. After two more “S” ops to Yugoslavia, we made a 5 hour ‘S’ trip to Bulgaria on 25th Jan.
Ops to Yugoslavia were short, 3-4.30 hours but the terrain was mountainous and we never seemed to get any help from the moon. Getting in and out of the Drop-Zones in the valleys was taxing to say the least. On one occasion our rear-gunner shouted out “ I can see the trees level with us on the port side”, not helpful when we were already on an adrenalin rush during a run-in.
Brindisi town seemed to be a poor run-down place. It was reached by crossing the only runway and taking a ferry across the river. The airfield was knocked about – one ash-felt runway ending in the sea and which always seemed to have a crosswind. Once we swung on landing, ending up on the grass where one undercarriage sank into a deep hole believed to be an old well. No damage but it was a problem to recover the aircraft.
One particular event comes to mind. The Killing Of the Pig. We were alerted to this by gunshots to see two men on top of the pen. Apparently Neilly, an RCAF pilot, jumped down with a knife to bleed the dead pig, but it moved and the knife went through his hand, severing a ligament. After treatment he ended up with two fingers strapped together, but returned to operational flying.
The toilets were in a shack, with buckets and wooden seats. One night our bomb-aimer returned from there with a story – he said from the CO that we would be moving out tomorrow. We retorted – typical s**t house gem, but it turned out to be correct. Good to get away from rat infested huts & poor rations.
The move to Blida was complete by early February. Our crew were billeted in a small wooden bungalow and off duty was relatively comfortable, we even had a shower, though the water supply was spasmodic.
The town was close by, in a Middle East way. Presumably it was a French Military garrison town. There were two café’s and a small hotel. There was also a communal washhouse where you could get a hot bath. There was a brothel too, which (I was told) sold beer to clients, charges for beer or services were unknown to me.
The airfield itself was reasonable, one runway & peri track. 624 Squadron aircraft were well dispersed. It was obviously ex-French air-force – there was one antiquated twin-engined bomber and of all things a French “Flying Flea” which someone flew and it crashed damaging a parked aircraft. I remember one, if not two, large tall steel hangers, and various permanent buildings spread over the camp area.
I made my first op from Blida with Flt/Sgt Ferguson on 9th February 1944, after about one hour I was told we were returning to base, I do not know the reason why.
As a crew we started ops to the South of France on 5th March in JN 962. We got a good pin-point on the coast and did a dummy run to the drop-zone. The three torches were there with a single torch giving a Morse code flash and also being at the end of the row, giving the direction to run. We had been told not to go round again, or do a second run, but to get everything away first time. We managed this – just. The gunner/dispatcher helped by the wireless operator ( who always moved back to help get the internal load out) both did a good job, though the internal load was small this trip.
With the long leg across the med, all ops to Southern France took between 7hrs and 8hrs 40mins so this meant over 3 hours over the sea. We very soon realised that there was a lighthouse on the Spanish island of Mallorca and this became a most valuable pin point. We also crossed the Spanish coast into France more than once. We were told that it was forbidden to fly over neutral territory, but never knew if this was said tongue in cheek.
It must be remembered that we only had estimated barometric pressures for the drop-zone therefore the altimeter readings were not dependable and visual references were vital. It sounds like a line shoot, but one night during a dummy run, low level to the drop zone, I saw a rectangular lit window, 45 degrees down on starboard side and two arms reached up to presumably draw the curtains.
There was a procedure for loading the parachutists. They would wait in a tilly well clear of the aircraft and after we had completed pre flight checks including engine mag drops we would flash navigation lights – they would then be led to the aircraft by an army officer, climb on board, and be strapped in by the dispatcher. We never saw them until that time. The procedures for dropping them, (possibly well known) – Red light – Green light – out. Evidently, it was important that they sat on the edge of the “well” and lifted themselves off and out vertically – rolling forward would mean hitting their head on the opposite side.
Normally one aircraft was detailed to drop on one target and sometimes we were told not to search for a drop-zone if it was not found first time, but to divert to a secondary drop-zone, presumably to avoid alerting the enemy that might be in that area.
On one op to Yugoslavia we were instructed to bring the load back if there was no reception. We often wondered why. The drop was S.
An exception to one aircraft per drop-zone was when all available aircraft were detailed to drop on a drop-zone on a high plateau in an area I believe was to the west of Chamonix. We all had arrival times though this did not appear to be accurately followed. We found three large fires marking the drop-zone. On our first run in, we only got half the load out and had to go round again because we saw another aircraft some 150’ below us, all very hairy indeed – and with other aircraft around on the circuit we had to put our navigation lights on.
We were airborne on an op on “D” day, but had no idea of what was going on in Northern France. Our wireless operator did comment that there was a lot radio traffic – but that was all. Though I do not recall any increase in anti-aircraft or searchlight activity.
It will be known that the 624 SD operation was classified and that all we were permitted to enter in our log books, read & signed by the Flight Commander every month, was ops- Yugoslavia or France etc not even where it was. How I wish I had kept a secret diary, but being young (only 19) I followed the letter of the law. I also knew that, should I be captured, the less I knew the better. Intelligence letters at 102 Squadron had warned of the consequences of divulging information. I treasure the escape compass, maps & civilian photographs (mine is shown above), we were issued with whilst there. Evidently if on the run, the biggest problem for the escape organisations to get a personal photograph to add to false documents. Whilst the photo section had several civilian jackets and ties, we all had to wear our own shirts.
I haven’t gone into close detail of operational flights, (some much more hairy than others) however, once, being diverted to La Servia, left us so short of fuel, we knew we could not overshoot if this became necessary. Refuelling there from 4 gallon flemsys wasn’t easy either. I do not remember why we were all diverted.
Once our crew got under way at Blida on 5th March ’44 we really gained confidence and on two occasions during March and May, flew three nights consecutively.
In short, during my time with 624 Squadron from 1st January ’44 to 13th July ’44 I carried out 42 ops (38 with the same crew). All this before I was 20 years old.
Talking to other Aircrew, some said 23 aircraft were either destroyed or damaged. It was said that the Hudson’s starboard wheel had gone off the taxiway, the undercarriage collapsed and went up through a wing fuel tank, resulting in a fire, and the huge explosion was caused by depth charges on board.
There were quite a few Italian PoW’s on the camp. I never saw any barbed wire, only white-washed stones around their area. I believe they carried out various jobs around the camp and perhaps even on fire-duties.
I remember possibly four B17’s being on site, and for some reason, Pilots Lt Matlick and Lt Lyons stick in my mind, (possibly from crew rota-boards). The Americans had separate mess and quarters, in fact, we had little or no contact with them other than seeing a notice outside their mess-hall “DONUTS Tonite”. The only time I can remember our crew getting together with them was to see a horrific “Anti-VD” film, during which, several had to go outside.
It was said that the reason for the removal of the armour plate and mid-upper turret from our Halifax’s when they were modified for Special Duties, was so that we could carry the same “bomb load” (was it 7000lb?) in the higher Middle East temperatures. The story went on to say that the B17’s, retained all theirs, together with a 9/10 man crew including waist gunners, and they could only carry 5000lb.
Seeing a picture of a Warick in an aircraft magazine featuring an under-slung rescue boat, I remembered one of the boats being brought to Blida, where we were given a brief course on how to man it should we have to ditch and it was dropped to us. I never saw a Warick in the Middle East. It was a long haul across the Med to us then, - perhaps this was a moral booster.
I believe it was at Lyneham that we were issued with tropical kit and KD (kahki drill) battle dress. The story was that RAF blue, could be mistaken for German Uniforms. We were also issued with side-arms and ammunition and had one visit a week to the pistol range – serious, but great fun.
One night on taxiing out to the end of the runway to wait for a “Take-off Green, I saw a figure running out to the aircraft. The skipper told me to let him in, so I did and found it was F/Sgt Ferguson, complete with chute harness and Mae West. I got on the intercom and told skipper, he just said, “let him in , close the door and get back up here for take-off”. After we had settled in the climb and crossed the coast, Ferguson came forward and sat in the jump seat for the whole of the successful trip, except for the DZ run in & out, and landing. The skipper & I had a very tight personal procedure for critical flight periods. No explanation was given by either of them. However, after the briefing next night, WinCo finished by saying, “ Clark, I take any passengers that need to be taken”. To my knowledge, F/Sgt Ferguson did not fly as crew again, & I believe he manned the ACP box at the end of the runway.
After leaving as tour ex, we had 4 months with 284 Wing attached to 216 Squadron ferrying Halifax’s from Maison Blanche to Brindisi (see log book copies for aircraft serial numbers and dates). We were told that some Halifax’s were to have bomb bay doors modified so that three Merlins could be carried from the MU in Cairo to where they were required. To my knowledge, this project was not brought to fruition.
The crew then broke up, with the colonials being returned home. I was ( quite out of the blue), posted to UK Transport Command.
Sadly, I lost touch with the crew, except our navigator (W/O Frank Walker) who sadly died recently. I had a telephone conversation with rear-gunner Al Liea whilst I was at Fort Churchill in 1959, but lost touch again. Our dispatcher/gunner Bob Terry was killed whilst we were at Blida. After we broke up, I never heard of our W/Op W/O Jack Evans, (a very private man), again it has been the same with our skipper W/O Ron Clark RAAF, from Adelaide, I believe, or our Bomb aimer, W/O George Gibson RAAF from Townville. I visit family in Western Australia each year & will again approach the RSL and the RAAF/A at Bull Creek this year. They were both several years older than I, perhaps they have not survived.
I remember sandstorms at Blida when we closed all doors and windows we were stifled but opening a door was like opening an oven door. There was a locust swarm scare when we could not air-test, in case they blocked our radiators on take-off or landing.
Early in the 50’s I motor cycled around Southern France, but with only the remotest idea where the DZ’s were, I could only postulate about this plateau or valley. Lete and Adje, coastal pin points were readily found. Much later, my work took me to Southern France when positioned at Aero-spatial Morignane. Whilst flying in helicopters in and around the area, I would look down thinking, was this the area was this our altitude. Pilots knew of my 624 Squadron background and would go out of their way (after the work in hand was finished), to give me a look around.
Several events come to mind. Whilst at dispersal we heard a commotion at one of the large hangers some distance away. Smoke was pouring out of the doors followed by much activity. Evidently an aircraft inside caught which resulted in the roof collapsing. I believe the aircraft was a Wellington MK10, there was talk of a petrol spill igniting.
One evening, whilst in the mess, the crash alarm sounded, we hot footed to the scene which was a Hudson on fire on a taxiway which lead through parked aircraft. Wimpys, Mossies and Marauders. As we reached the apron in front of the hanger there was an almighty explosion and flames and debris towered up over us. We ran for it. The fire spread and it was said that 23 aircraft were either written off or damaged. As the fireball burnt out, we went to the scene in an attempt to move aircraft at risk, but with no idea how to start the engines or even gain access to release brakes, all was to no avail.
Rations weren’t bad and we got flying rations – chocolate and juice. We had thermoses, strangely, they were issued with the aircraft. Flies were a real pest, but not as bad as in Egypt. I recall ration biscuits with a 1” wrapper with “From Breezy Blackpool” printed on it. Evidently, Burton’s made them there.
I managed to hitch a lift to Algiers several times. A beautiful very French city. I actually paid to go on a real “Cook’s Tour” of the Arab area.
One could always get something simple to eat at the Malcolm Club. I remember seeing the film Fantasia at the Opera House, put on by the Americans I believe.
Then there was Chorea in the mountains, in winter it was evidently a skiing resort, I spent a few days there – under canvas whilst recovering from food poisoning.
I joined the RAFVR as potential aircrew in 1942. With my father being ex RFC in World War One, and my elder brother already in the RAF, this was inevitable.
I passed as Halifax Flight Engineer September 1943 and was posted to 1652 HCU Marston Moor where I crewed up with then Flt/Sgt Ron Clark’s crew who were already together ex- OUT on Wellington's.
We completed HCU conversion in October after 42hrs and were posted to 102 Squadron Pocklington.
In December we were posted to 301 Ferry Transit Unit at Lyneham, then onto 624 Squadron at Brindisi & Blida. After completing 42 Ops on 13th July 1944 I was happy to leave before the squadron was re-equipped with Stirling's. I was posted to Maison Blanche and Cairo West to 242 Squadron Transport Command at Stoney Cross. They were equipped with – what else- Stirling Mk 5’s modified for trooping to the Far East. After crewing up with an all RAAF crew, Pilot F/O Lynch, Navigator & W/Op (only 4 in crew) & converting to Stirling's, we made trooping trips to the Middle East & India (Calcutta Dum Dum). I grew to like Stirling's though take-off's & landings required fortitude with performance down at high temperatures. The squadron was then re-equipped with York CI’s. We converted and made many trips to India, Ceylon and after VJ day to Singapore(Changi). During this time the squadron moved to Merryfield and finally Oakington.
I was demobilised in December 1946.
As war had interrupted my education, I was given a Ministry Of Education grant in early 1947 to study aeronautical engineering. I completed this in late 1949 after suspending my course to join the Berlin Airlift as a civilian Flight Engineer on Halton’s with Bond Air Services, completing 82 deliveries to Hamburg- Berlin which boosted my non-existant finances somewhat.
I will be forever grateful for the training and experience I received in the RAF and my post service education, all of which have stood me in good stead throughout my working life. It lead to my life’s work in aviation with Cierva, Saunders-Roe, Fairy Aviation and Westland from 1950 to my retirement from a senior position in December 1987.
Whilst I am aware that I have added little to 624 Squadrons history, I hope I have given an individuals memories.