They Spread Their Wings (10 page)

Douglas Turbinlite Boston III (Havoc), Z2184, was flown by Jack Cheney during 1942. (J. Cheney Collection)

What with the weather being u/s as well as the aircraft we are doing an awful lot of Link trainer time these days. On the 4th visibility rose to all of 2 yards so how appropriate it was that we were assembled for a lecture on new blind flying techniques. By mid-day visibility had risen to 10 yards but it is so cold here now that Jimmy Green had to put his feet into my hot bath to get them warm!

Life at the dispersal gets very boring with no aeroplanes to fly, even if the weather is so duff. Fortunately I managed to wangle some leave again and while I was away things livened up again with a few incidents. One afternoon the whole of ‘A’ flight – with the sole exception of Sgt Gunnill – and most of ‘B’ flight took off on NFTs. While they were airborne, the weather clamped in and our aircraft were scattered to the four corners of 12 Group. Some got down at Church Fenton, some at Coleby Grange and a few at Wittering and they just had to stay put overnight. Poor old Joe Gunnill was left holding the fort at Hibaldstow with just one aircraft and the AOC was tearing his hair out.

On the 7th Sgt Carter wrote off Hurricane BE581 when he crash-landed on a Q-site a mile west of Mablethorpe. It burst into flames and he was damned lucky to get out alive and only with cuts and bruises. The very next day one of our sister 538 Squadron Havocs taxied very prettily into Church Fenton’s telephone exchange. I have never seen a taxiing accident look so much like the result of spiralling in from 20,000 feet in my life. Both mainplanes had at least fifty degrees of dihedral and the rest of the machine is a complete write-off. Sgt Lowndes, the unfortunate pilot, was injured in the prang, which was attributed to the windscreen completely misting up and poor lighting on the peri-track.

I managed to get airborne for the first time this month for an NFT on the 13th but it was only for ten minutes before the inevitable bad weather closed in. Hibaldstow is a helluva place for lousy weather! It was another week before I put in more night hours and even then I had to turn back early with a spot of engine trouble. I managed to squeeze in another sortie at 04.00 and it was wizard to have that peace and quiet of the last patrol of the night. Except for the odd NFT, flying was washed out for the rest of the month and the monotony was only relieved by the bind of the group captain’s inspection of dispersals and being invited to attend a colossal binge at Wittering’s annual dance. On 1 December the squadron’s official photographs were taken and the rain just held off until they were completed. The weather is marginally better now, allowing all NFTs to be got in and a session of night flying until about midnight but it is exceedingly cold up there now and there is not much sign of the Hun.

As December wore on it was back to foul weather again and I had to wait until the 10th before getting airborne again. At long last the Hun decided to liven things up a bit and twelve enemy aircraft came over on a mine laying sortie. Just our luck that they were too far north for us to co-operate successfully against them. It was the 20th before the enemy sent another foray but 532 was not on readiness that night so 538 scrambled a couple of aircraft with bags of flap all round but no result.

For once no one moaned when the weather went delightfully non-op for four whole days from Christmas Eve. From teatime on the 24th until the early hours of the 28th everyone, almost without exception, was gloriously tight. There were dances in the various messes and the WAAFs were on top line all the time. What a smashing party and it lasted four whole days! There were many sore heads and lively stomachs when flying resumed on the 29th, although the first snow of the winter soon put paid to that. It was my 21st birthday on the 31st and I went home on a week’s pass. January 1943 and back at Hibaldstow we passed the time snow clearing mostly but I did manage to put in some night flying on the 9th. Between then and the 18th little flying of any sort took place and the only event of note was that my promotion to flying officer came through.

Well, it looks like the writing is on the wall for the squadron because No 12 Group declared us non-operational on 18 January 1943 with big changes rumoured. A hint of what was in the wind came when the CO went over to Wittering to test the new Mosquito night-fighter.

Back at Hibaldstow, the news was out that 532 and all the other Turbinlite units are disbanded with effect from 25th January and all personnel are to be posted. Most of us in ‘A’ flight, including Mike and I, will go to No 25 Squadron to fly Mosquitoes at RAF Church Fenton. ‘B’ flight is being split up among various single-engine fighter squadrons, with a few of the boys choosing to go to OTU to convert to twins. The Turbinlite scheme is finished and I can’t say I’m very sorry about it but the pity is that the squadron has to break up as a result.

It was lunchtime of 29 January 1943, when I set out by train for RAF Church Fenton to embark on this next phase of my flying career. I was delighted to find a familiar face upon my arrival, for none other than my former CO, John Willie Blair, is now the senior controller at the station. Fg Off Jimmy Wootton, who was with me at 54 OTU, was another welcome sight together with several old pals who should make the squadron quite lively.

At a meeting next morning all the new arrivals at Church Fenton were introduced to the Squadron Commander, Wg Cdr E.G. Watkins AFC, who spelled out why we were here and what was expected of us. He explained that, back in 1942, moves were made to use Mossies on Intruder operations, as a more effective replacement for the Douglas Bostons then in service. Supply of Mosquitoes for this purpose was, however, slow and only a handful were made available for intruding by the close of that year. First priority was given to the night-fighter defence force but in the light of a decline in the enemy’s night-time forays, in December 1942 the role of the Mosquito night-fighting force was revised and it was decided to allocate more aircraft for offensive work.

Wg Cdr Watkins went on to outline how the crews of No 25 Squadron were to intensify their training with the objective of undertaking freelance sorties known as ‘Rangers’. No 12 Group, into which RAF Church Fenton fell, was allocated northern Germany as its ‘patch’ and the intruder sorties would be operated from forward aerodromes at RAF Coltishall in Norfolk and RAF Castle Camps in Suffolk.

Night Rangers were sorties against transport targets, mounted during the moon periods when it was possible to see the ground more clearly. Intruder sorties, on the other hand, were those made in the dark periods, involving patrols in the vicinity of one or more enemy airfields and setting off at predetermined times. At set times other aircraft would take over from those despatched earlier, so that a constant patrol could be maintained in order to restrict enemy aircraft movements. The whole idea was to keep the Hun on his toes all the time, to disrupt his communications and destroy aircraft and other transport in the process. One Flight would fly Rangers on moonlight nights while the other would still be required to put up the usual defensive patrols.

It all sounded terrific stuff and was aces up on the monotonous bind we had endured with the Turbinlite patrols on our previous squadron. Mike and I were allocated to ‘A’ flight and during the afternoon we new boys were given the gen on the Mosquito by the flight commander Sqn Ldr Bill Carnaby. I finished off that busy day by swotting up Pilot’s Notes on the Mossie during the evening and again the next morning.

Early on February 1st there were the first of many lectures on navigation to a level essential for swanning about over northern Europe and about mid-morning Vic Hester did a spot of flying in a Mosquito, the first of my crowd to get his hands on one. This milestone raised our hopes for some real flying but these were soon dashed when no one else was briefed to go. It looks as if it’s going to take us a long time to become operational with such a shortage of spare aircraft and some bad serviceability just now. Rather than let us get idle, the CO decided that exercise was the answer and I had my first dose of PT in a long time, under the eagle eye of Sgt Finch, the PTI from Hibaldstow.

At long last my opportunity to fly came on the 5th. The deputy ‘A’ flight commander, Flt Lt Joe Singleton, took me up in DZ688 to give me my first taste of the Mosquito – and it was absolutely wizard! Nothing to touch it so far, it is light on the controls, has an excellent stall and is good on one engine. Somehow during the thirty minute flight Joe and I contrived to change seats while airborne and so I was at last able to get my hand in. Unfortunately the aircraft went u/s later so I could not go up on my own. Gally [Flt Lt Gallagher] went off solo in DD733 in the afternoon and caused quite a commotion when he developed a bad swing on landing, resulting in a jolly good prang. The poor fellow wrote off the undercart and damaged a wing tip, the props and the undercarriage doors. It might have been something to smile about except that it just happened to be the CO’s machine – and he was not best pleased about it.

It was back to PT again on the 6th, then everyone rushed down to dispersal to see what chance there was of flying. Sqn Ldr Carnaby dropped the bombshell that the CO had decided that, in view of Gally’s fearful efforts, we must all have more dual before being sent off solo. Cries of ‘shame!’ and poor old Gally is none too popular now. I was, however, promised a quick whip round tomorrow and as I had already had one trip, I would then be allowed to go off on my own.

This promise was soon short-lived, though, when Joe Singleton apologised and said he really could not send me off as the CO had put his foot down very firmly about us having to have more dual. Bill Mallett managed to get a short trip with Joe but we are still dogged by un-serviceability. Vic Hester was asked to fly down to Wittering today, presumably to test the Turbinlite version of the Mosquito, as he was the only bloke with time on both types. There was one good piece of news, though, for today Mike’s commission came through at last and we were able to be together, now he is a shiny new Pilot Officer in the officer’s mess.

Fg Off Jack Cheney, pilot with No 25 Squadron, at Church Fenton, 1943. (J. Cheney Collection)

Flt Sgt James Kenneth ‘Mike’ Mycock, navigator/radar operator. (J. Cheney Collection)

Next few days were duff as far as flying was concerned, since the dual-control Mosquito is still u/s and there were yet more lectures. Why the hell must we have all this dual? I’m getting browned off just sitting on the ground. The boredom is only relieved by PT, sunray lamp sessions and time in the Link [pilot] and Hunt [gunnery] trainers.

The dual Mosquito was declared serviceable at last on the 11th and Johnny Limbert went up first. Our luck ran out though when the wind rose to gale force and all Mosquitoes were called back, so he was unable to go solo. Everyone is pretty well browned off by now. Boredom turned into mischief that evening and a mild drinking session turned into a small riot. Joe Gunnill, just back from leave, Bill Mallet, Mike and I started a game of table tennis, liberally interspersed with beer. The table, always a little shaky on its legs, ended up as a pile of twisted debris on the hall floor as the result of bodily contact with several players hurtling to get at the ball. We four collapsed into a heap on top, laughing like drains. There was another wild do a couple of days later to celebrate Joe Gunnill’s departure for RAF Charterhall [a night-fighter training unit]. Tables and chairs were stacked up so that he could write his name on the ceiling but in the process two inkwells were knocked over, spilling their contents all over the anteroom carpet. Black number two! This orgy of bedlam came to an end with me cannoning into a wall and splitting my head open. I awoke next morning with trip hammers going full blast in my head, my hair matted and the pillow covered in blood. The Squadron Leader (Admin), a strict disciplinarian of First World War vintage, dished out numerous severe wiggings and the Doc cut off practically half my hair and covered my head with plaster. To cap it all the dual Mosquito, HJ862, pranged into a dispersal bay and was once more u/s, so everyone put in for a 48-hour pass.