In the 1950s I was an apprentice boat-builder. When it was my turn to do National Service, it was deferred until I'd finished my apprenticeship. This gave me time to join the Air Training Corps, and to get qualified, so I could get into the Royal Air Force when the time came.
Because I was older than most boys in the Norwich branch, I soon gained promotion and was a corporal by the time we went on my first week's annual camp. We went to RAF Upwood in the Fens by train. As we boarded the train at Thorpe station in Norwich I was put in charge of our compartment! Most of our boys were young and for many this was going to be their first night away from home. It was all very exciting, as we chuffed slowly out of the station. The smell of the smoke, steam and hot oil was intoxicating. It was a very hot day so we opened the big windows of the door of the carriage by releasing a big leather strap. At first the cadets took turns to stand at the open window, and remarked on how nice it was to feel the spray in the slipstream from the engine. I became suspicious when I realised how many carriages there were between us and the engine. When I had a look, I found that it was the boys in the next carriage who were spitting out of their window! None of our boys wanted to put their hands out of the window after that.
We all got off the train at the nearest station to Upwood and were ushered into the station yard, where there was a line of RAF lorries. We were directed to the lorries at the head of the line because ours was not the only train they were waiting for. A driver with two stripes on his arms got out of his cab and marched up to our Commanding Officer, he slammed to a halt in his hobnailed boots and saluted and was saluted back. The he said "Good afternoon sir, may I address your lads?" Our CO agreed so the driver did a smart half turn to face us then he shouted "Listen to me you lot, you are going to ride in the back of my lorry, so here are some rules:- You will remain seated while the vehicle is in motion. You will not lean back on the canvas sides as we go through two narrow bridges. Only two weeks ago my mate was driving when one of the boys stuck his head through the canvas join just as he went through a very narrow bridge, and it chopped the boys head right off! I do not want this to happen to you, do you understand?" One of the cadets said "Yes sir." The driver snapped back, "Incorrect, your officer here is a sir; these stripes on my arms mean I'm to be addressed as corporal." He showed us boys how to use the thick knotted rope to climb into the back of the lorry. When he couldn't squeeze any more onto the two long plank seats, he slammed the tailgate shut and locked it there with two drop-down pins. He turned to face our CO, saluted and said "This lorry is ready to leave sir, would you like to ride in the cab?" Our CO accepted and we were soon off, down the very straight roads that criss-crossed the Fenland scene. After the drivers warning, no-one in the back leaned back on the canvas sides. We rumbled along in sombre silence, all of us thinking about the unfortunate cadet who had his head knocked off. Soon we stopped and the engine was turned off. The corporal driver got out and shouted "Keep seated in the back, I've just got to sign in at the guardroom, and then I'll take you to your tents."
When we saw our tents, I was amazed at how big they were, and so many of them! In each tent there were 4 beds, one in each corner and between them, 4 wardrobes and 4 bedside lockers, which gave each of us a little privacy. Down the middle of the tent you could actually stand upright! Once it was established who would sleep where, we soon tidied our few belongings away and were marched off to have an early tea, this was to free up the Mess for the many who were yet to arrive. After tea each of the Norwich cadets were given a list of things we were going to do for the whole week and who would be taking each session. An RAF officer arrived looking for cadet NCOs. He saw my stripes and asked my name; he then informed me that I was flying tomorrow night. I was to collect my flying equipment from the stores after dinner and to be ready to be picked up from my tent after tea. I said "I'm sorry sir, but I'm on this list for something else after dinner." He had a look and said "Get your flying equipment first and go into your lecture late." On an airfield we all knew that flying takes precedence over everything else.
I collected my flying equipment the next day, and after tea stood anxiously waiting beside my tent. Another cadet NCO saw me and came to wait with me. We felt over-dressed in our thick greatcoats but we had been warned that it gets very cold above 15,000 feet in the dark. Eventually a Bedford 15cwt truck pulled up. The driver already had two cadet NCOs in the back. We climbed in and were driven out to the dispersal point where 4 big black Avro 'Lincoln' bombers were parked. As we climbed out, I asked the driver which aircraft we were going to fly in. I was shocked when he replied "One of you in each aircraft." The aircrews were standing in groups in front of each aircraft. The ground crews were finishing off their checks on their aircraft. It was not yet dark so we could see one of the pilots pull out a slip of paper, look closely at it, then call out the name of one of our cadet NCOS. He carried his flying equipment on his left arm so that when he had struggled over to his aircraft, he could salute his pilot with his free right hand. Another of our names was called out and he did the same, but didn't get a salute back as the pilot was a rare 'sergeant pilot'. He did get a lecture about not saluting an NCO. I was soon left on my own, then the truck drove off. I picked up my flying equipment and marched over to the aircraft that hadn't got a cadet NCO. I placed my equipment on the tarmac then marched unhindered up to the pilot and gave a smart salute which was returned. I said "Good evening sir, I take it that I'm flying with you tonight?" He replied "Don't get too excited, we were just saying that this evenings' flying may be cancelled by fog. A little tip, because you salute your cap badge, if you put your flying helmet on you won't have to salute anyone. Also, you'll be ready to plug in and hear what's going on, on your earphones as soon as we get onboard." I found my flying equipment, put my flying helmet on and stuffed my beret into my greatcoat pocket. Then I returned to the group where one of the older crew members pointed to the hedgerows in the river valley where you could see the mist starting to form. He said, "This is ridiculous, with no wind, even if we do go you can bet there'll be a recall." Another crew member joined in with "Yea, they aren't interested in our bombing accuracy. All this here night flying is to run off the flying hours left on these old crates so they can scrap them." I asked "Why would they want to do that?" "Well it's like this, they've got all these shiny new V-bombers coming into service and they'll need to get crews from somewhere." I said "Oh you'll like that, won't you, flying in new aircraft?" They shook their heads and patiently explained "The V-bombers only have a pilot, navigator and flight engineer. They don't have co-pilots, gunners, bomb-aimers, and radio operators. So it will split the old crews up. The likes of us will probably be down-graded to ground crew, if we're lucky!"
Our pilot returned from a chat with the other pilots and said "There's been no stand-down ordered so we can only assume that they intend to let us take-off at half past." He looked at his watch and said "If you chaps want to christen the tail wheel, I want a word with our cadet. Then we'll put our parachutes on and board, so we can get the checks done before we taxi out." Most of the air-crew wandered off to wee on the tail wheel. The pilot turned to me and said, "Did you want to go?" I replied "No sir, with all the excitement I've been going all afternoon and I'm now empty, and anyway doesn't the Lincoln have a loo on board?" He chuckled and said "It does indeed have a loo on board, but it's only an Elson and the eight of us could easily fill it now, when you see what my crew drink at the bar. It's best to keep it for emergencies and if anyone gets desperate later in the flight. Tonight the mission is to do formation high altitude bombing from a radar beam. I've got some good news and some disappointing news for you. The bad news first we've had some very disruptive cadets this last couple of weeks, so I'm putting you next to Jock the radio operator, in the hope that we can improve our bombing accuracy. I'm sorry you won't see anything, but at least you'll be able to tell your friends that you've been on a real bombing exercise. The good news is you won't be cold. The only heater in the aircraft blows hot air from one of the engines out under the main spar and you'll be sitting on that!" The crew returned and helped each other put their parachutes on; I tried to put mine on but had to accept some help. Say parachute and most people think of it neatly folded into a canvas holder and worn across the chest or back. However, for a Lincoln bomber crew you wore it across your bottom, and it formed a seat when you sat down. But to walk was very uncomfortable indeed; you had to take very small steps, like a geisha at a tea ceremony.
The entry door into the aircraft was on the starboard side, well to the rear of the fuselage. As we made our way to the door Jock came up to me and introduced himself, and said "Because of the massive bomb-bay there is not much room to pass each other wearing these awkward parachutes, so we have to board in the correct order. The green-house lads from up front go in first then the pilots followed by the flight engineer. We go in last, bring in the ladder and closing the door behind us." I said, "What about the tail gunner?" Jock replied "He can go in at any time, as unlike everyone else he turns left and won't get in anyone's way." Jock was indeed the last one to board. He knelt down and unhooked the short ladder turning it on its side as he brought it onboard. Between us we hung the ladder on its storage hooks, and then Jock reached outside to unhook the door and closed it behind us. We made our way forward through the fuselage; for such a large aircraft it was surprisingly difficult to get round, under and over all the obstructions. Finally we arrived at the wing, for strength it went intact straight through the fuselage. We climbed onto the wing, sat down and slid off the leading edge. Jock helped me put on my oxygen mask and connect it to the oxygen pipeline. Then he found the jack plugs and connected the earphones and microphone. Instantly I could hear all the chit-chat between the crew. He quickly plugged himself in and knelt in front of me. He said in a voice that sounded to be coming from a great distance "Can you hear what I'm saying?" I held up my thumb and nodded my head. He clicked a switch down on the front of my oxygen mask and asked "Does your mike work?" I was still thinking what to say when he switched it off again and said "I thought not. The cadets last week blocked the airways so they've disconnected your mikes. Don't worry, there's a pad on my worktop, just write down anything you want to say." The skipper called us in turn to check everyone was in their position and ready. When he called me, Jock replied that I could hear but was dumb. The skipper said "After last week, I'm not surprised at all." Someone in the crew said "Skipper, after last night's little session, I don't feel too good." The reply was "Understood. 'Flight' will you put the oxygen on, it will keep us all on top line for take-off, and I dare say our new lad will feel the benefit too. It's a high-level job tonight so we'll soon need it for real anyway. Oh, and Jock keep an eye on our cadet, don't let his oxygen get unplugged as we don't want any more unnecessary returns to base. It's time to start up, are the ground crew clear of the port inner?" There was a couple of "Port inner, all clear to start skipper." First there was a whirring sound then a couple of bangs as the engine burst into life. The whole aircraft shook. Anything you touched was vibrating. I thought "Whatever is it going to be like when all four engines are running." To my inexperienced ears the engine seemed to be left running too fast for far too long, but eventually they were satisfied and slowed it down. Then an engine was started on the starboard side. Soon all four engines were running. Once the flight engineer was satisfied that all his dials were pointing to what they should be, the signal was given to disconnect the trolley-accumulator (a set of big batteries on wheels to plug in from the outside of the aircraft to give extra electric power to start the big engines). Jock was asked to get permission to taxi and I heard him call the tower and give our call-sign. We were given permission to taxi and the magnetic heading of the runway we were going to use for take-off. The skipper could hear like me, and gave the order for the chocks to be removed. One of the crew said "Wheel chocks gone, ground crew all clear, thumbs up all ready to move." The engines revved up and we began to move. As we rolled out onto the perimeter track a wheel brake squealed and there was a juddering as we turned to go down the track. From my position sitting on the wing I couldn't tell which way we were going. We rumbled on round the perimeter track with the occasional squeal of the wheel brakes and a burst of extra revs from the engine on the outside of the bend. When we squealed to a halt, I had to assume we were on the runway. Then the skipper revved each engine in turn while the flight engineer turned off first one magneto then the other, to make sure the drop in revs was not too great. When they were satisfied that all eight magnetos were working satisfactorily, Jock was asked to tell the tower that we were ready for take-off. We were told to stand by for a green. I could hear the other aircraft revving up to test their magnetos, then one of the crew shouted "There's a green, I repeat, they have given us a green skipper." All four engines revved to full speed, the aircraft shook and rattled and a little voice inside me said "Too much power!" The engines were Rolls-Royce Merlins, the same as in the Spitfire. You know how one Spitfire can make a crowd duck at an air-show, then you can imagine what 16 sounded like! The skipper said "Stand by for formation take-off" then he let the wheel brakes off. We started to move, all so slowly at first. The noise was unbelievable. You could tell we were accelerating now because of the increasing number of little bumps from the tyres. I could see the back of the flight engineer standing between the pilots and knew he would be holding all the throttle levers hard against their stops to give us maximum power for take-off. This also allowed the pilot to have both hands on the yoke for take-off. The little voice inside me said "What if all this stress and strain was too much for this ageing aircraft? If one of the propeller blades were to come off it would slice through the skin of the fuselage like a hot knife through butter." We were still bowling along the runway. How I would have liked to look out and see how near the end of the runway was. We must have gained more speed because after a couple of little bumps the pilot managed to get the tail-wheel off the runway. We were now surging along with just two big undercarriage wheels touching the tarmac. The intercom was silent, which I took as a good sign. Without the drag of the tail-wheel and the big wing now presenting the designed angle of attack you could feel the ever-increasing acceleration. Soon you could feel the weight coming off the big wheels and I knew the pilot was holding her down until our speed had risen well above the stalling speed. You could tell our aircraft was ready to fly and soon the pilot must have been happy with the airspeed we had reached as he stopped holding her down and we were airborne. Soon we were high enough for the skipper to stop the wheels that were still rotating; it was then safe for him to retract the undercarriage. Then he brought in the wing flaps. Soon the throttles were eased to cruising speed. The flight engineer went back to his seat and continued scanning his big panel of dials. The pilot reached down with his right hand and adjusted the trim wheel to keep the big plane climbing with minimum pressure on the yoke. The navigator gave our skipper the course to steer for the first leg of our journey. The engines toiled away, dragging us ever higher as we flew towards the setting sun. The navigator gave the skipper a new compass course to steer for the second leg. The sun had dropped below the horizon and I found it very difficult to detect the change in direction. The skipper said "We are nearly at 10,000 feet, will you please all check your oxygen masks are plugged in and working." I looked at my wrist watch and found it was now too dark to see what time it was. One of the crew asked another where the lights were. The answer was "There's Coventry but the other side is Birmingham and they sort of blend together." I thought if Coventry and Birmingham are in line we could be flying north up the spine of the country. We could be going to Scotland. They do have bombing ranges up there because they have started making some RAF range launches at Herbert Woods boatyard where I worked, and they are said to be for the north of Scotland. We droned on into the night, the engines dragging us ever higher.
One of the crew said "Wow did you see that?" The skipper replied "Yea I sure did, it's spectacular isn't it? I think our cadet should see this. If you stand up on the wing you'll find the astrodome above you, it's a Perspex dome. Stick your head in there and I'll lower the left wing so you can see over it. Keep looking, there it goes again, hope you saw that, what we are watching is a thunderstorm, the lightning is jumping between the clouds at different heights and we are looking down onto the top cloud." The lightning lit the cloud up like a Chinese lantern, I had never seen anything like it, I could have stood on tip-toe watching that storm for hours but all too soon the skipper said "Show over, we'd better get back to work." He raised the port wing and made a small adjustment to our heading. Now the wing blotted out the storm. I was about to turn and see if I could see the other aircraft, when I received a couple of tugs on the seam of my trousers and Jock's voice from miles away said "Sit, I've got to make sure you don't pass out." We droned on and eventually our skipper said "We have attained intended altitude, I'm levelling off. We'll start our bombing run in about 25 minutes, so now's the time to have your flask of coffee." We began the bombing run by flying along a radar beam. They had told me before the flight that when they received another signal they could drop the bombs, without even having seen the ground! They could even bomb through the cloud. As we got nearer the bomb release point, the order was given to open the bomb-bay doors. You could feel the thud as the doors locked open, and sense the extra drag in the slipstream.
One of the crew started to say "Left a bit, steady, right a bit, steady, right a bit, bombs gone." Someone closed the bomb-bay doors, and our skipper said "Charlie, keep your eyes peeled and let me know when the last in the formation flashes us a green, and we'll go round again for a second bomb run." "Roger skipper, will do. Oh there it is, we have been flashed a green." "Thank you Charlie, standby everyone, turning to port, let's go round and do it all again." It seemed to take a long while before we were once again heading in on the second bomb run. The same voice started "Steady, steady, right a bit, steady." Then another voice cried out in panic "For Christ's sake don't drop. I REPEAT, DO NOT DROP THE BOMBS. THERE IS A VILLAGE DOWN THERE." The skipper said "Understood, do not release the bombs. Jock, break the radio silence and abort this run." Once all four aircraft had shut their bomb-bay doors our skipper led the formation off to the left. He said "We'll go round and do it all again, only this time we'll latch onto the correct radar beam!" Before we had a chance to settle in on the bomb run yet again, the radio crackled and said our four call signs adding "General recall, fog forming, acknowledge." Four radio operators took it in turns to give their call signs and that we were all returning to base. While this was going on our skipper asked for a course to steer and was starting a turn. Once we were heading in the right direction we began a gradual descent. It seemed to be a whole lot easier than the effort of climbing to that great height. Someone in the crew laughed and said "Well skipper, it looks as if you'll get your game of cards tonight after all." They all had a laugh and the tension there had been, seemed to have gone. After a while the skipper said "We are now well below oxygen height perhaps you'd do us the honours Flight, and turn it off." "Wilco skipper" came the reply. It wasn't long before they were identifying RAF Upwood then the wing flaps were extended and the main undercarriage was lowered. I could feel our gradual descent and was expecting us to touch down at any moment when the radio burst into life saying "DO NOT LAND, DO NOT LAND, ALL AIRCRAFT APPROACHING UPWOOD, DO NOT LAND. Climb to 2000 feet and await orders." Even while the message was still coming through our engines had gone to full power and you could feel we were climbing, the undercarriage was retracted and so were the wing flaps. We levelled out and the engines were slowed to cruising speed. Jock was asked to tell the other aircraft to follow us as we circled Upwood at 2000 feet. One of the crew was asked to look at Upwood tower and to keep pointing to it. We flew on round and round in great big circles. Then the radio burst into life again, this time they named our four call signs and said "DO NOT LAND HERE. There is a Canberra crash landed on the runway. Divert to WITTERING. I repeat, divert to WITTERING. They are expecting you. Good luck and see you tomorrow." The navigator was asked for a course to steer. While that was being worked out Jock was asked to retune the radio to Wittering's wavelength and call them to say we're on our way. As soon as he'd finished talking our navigator said "Skipper, steer 310 degrees and if you maintain this speed we'll be there in only 5 minutes!" Wittering tower called us back to say time was critical, as the fog was thickening fast. If we could see the landing lights just get down while we still could. One of the crew said "Just out to starboard there's quite a lot of lights." The navigator said "That's good, it'll be Peterborough." Someone up front said "Skipper, I can see landing lights straight ahead but you'll need to jink to port to get lined up with the runway." The reply came back "Well spotted I can see them now. Jock, call the other aircraft, tell them we are jinking to port then going straight down for a formation landing." The wing flaps were extended then the undercarriage was lowered. The engines slowed to tick-over and you could tell we were going down. The actual touchdown was very gentle but I was surprised when we speeded up, I thought at first we were going to take off again, then I thought he's making a bigger area for the other aircraft to land in. Someone said "Oh look at that. 'Valiants'. Aren't they big, but I must admit they look sleek." Jock slid out of his seat and climbed up on the wing, putting his head into the astrodome. Our skipper said "Jock, call the tower and ask them where they would like us to go." Jock got down to use the radio, so I got up on the wing and had a look myself. I was surprised at just how thick the fog was, I could see a row of yellow lights that marked the edge of the runway and the other side of them were avenues of pretty blue lights that marked the taxi-ways. They melted into the fog. Then I looked up and saw my first Valiant. It was big and facing the other way, so the tail fin towered above us. The bright white lights lit up the silver aircraft and made it sparkle like new, as it probably was. Jock called the tower and we were told to form the aircraft into a line and wait to be led to a dispersal area. We were not to worry about blocking the runway as no one else was flying tonight. Jock was asked to tell the other aircraft to slowly follow the centre line, and stop at a safe distance from the aircraft in front, keep the engines running and be ready to taxi. We continued to move slowly along the runway centre line and I saw two more Valiants, then we slowly came to a halt. Charlie was asked if he could see the Lincoln behind us. He couldn't but he said he'd call as soon as he could. I turned in my dome and looked behind us, our propellers were still turning and churning up the fog. Charlie called to say he could see a Lincoln and it was slowly getting closer, then he said "It's stopped, skipper, but I won't be able to see the one behind that." The other Lincolns called in on the radio to say they were in position and waiting to taxi. Someone in the crew said "Skipper, there's a little truck in front of us; it's turning onto the runway centre line. Oh, he's lit up a sign on the tail board, it says FOLLOW ME." Our skipper said "Jock call the others and tell them we are taxiing they can follow if they think it's safe." He revved the engines and we followed the truck. We were only going at walking speed and it seemed a very long journey. When we changed direction, I noticed that we were now travelling between two rows of blue lights, so it was nice to know we were no longer on the runway. We seemed to have travelled for miles when the taxiway suddenly got so wide that when we were led along the left-hand edge, we couldn't see the other side in the swirling fog. On and on we went and then I could see another row of blue lights across our path, the truck went through the lights and then it stopped. An airman got out of the passenger side with a pair of bats. He stood at the front of our aircraft and the bats lit up; then the FOLLOW ME lights were switched off. One bat was pointed to our starboard mainwheel, the other beckoned the port wing forward. When he had turned us 90 degrees he held both bats up to say stop. Then he drew a bat across his throat. When our skipper put the brakes on and stopped the engines the airman switched his bats off, and left to do the same thing with the next Lincoln. Our skipper may have stopped our engines but I was surprised to find they were still running in my head. The airman who had been driving the truck arrived with a pair of chocks for the port main wheel. He disappeared into the fog and returned with another pair for the other wheel. He waved to the skipper, pointed to the wheels and held his thumb up, which enabled the skipper to take his feet off the brakes. The driver took his truck past us to put the chocks on the next Lincoln. One of the crew said "Skipper, there's a bus just pulled up in front of us." Our skipper said "Oh good, I was just thinking it was going to be a long walk to get anywhere on this base. OK chaps, you can take off your parachutes, flying suits, helmet and oxygen mask. Leave them on your seat so you don't get mixed up in the morning. Put your berets on and try and look smart, we want to leave a good impression. Last one out shut the door; we don't want all that damp fog in here. Oh yes Jock, you'd better call the other aircraft and tell them the bus is here." When we got out of the aircraft you could see the fog was even thicker, from the back of the Lincoln you couldn't see the bus at the front! I said to Jock "It's a good job you let the others know about the bus as they wouldn't have been able to see it." It was lovely to be able to walk freely again without the restrictions of the parachute and the thigh straps. As we got in the bus, the driver said "You'd better go right down the back, we are going to be full by the time you're all on board." I was going to sit next to the aisle in the hope that I could possibly talk to one of the other cadets, but Jock said "Move over then I can stretch my legs down the aisle." The other crews eventually squeezed on board, and the door was shut, but the bus did not move. A few voices said "what are we waiting for?" Someone down the front said "There's a staff car blocking the way1" The bus door slid open and someone near me said "Christ, look at all that scrambled egg!" I suddenly realised that I was hungry, so I raised myself and said "Where's the scrambled egg?" Jock whispered "Shush, he'll hear you. The scrambled egg is what we call the coiled gold braid on the peak of his cap. The higher your rank the more you have, and he's got a lot. I know who he is, he's not only base commander here, he's also in charge of several airfields nearby including Upwood. He's a Group Captain. They don't get much higher than that." The Group Captain climbed the steps into the coach and cleared his throat, you could have heard a pin drop! He laughed and said "I saw most of you at the Upwood annual parade. I said at the time that I expected I would be seeing you again, but I didn't think it would be so soon." Most of the crewmen laughed. Then he continued in absolute silence, "You all did very well to get down when you did. This airfield is now closed so any delay and I don't know where we would have sent you to find somewhere fog free. Well you've set us quite a problem, with 7 airmen in a crew and there's 4 aircraft that's 28 airmen plus 4 Air Cadets that's 32 of you! By the way where are the cadets?" Jock elbowed me in the ribs. So I said "I'm here sir." The Group Captain said "Where?" Jock whispered "Stand up and for Christ's sake salute." I tried to stand upright between the seats, but the seats were so close I couldn't do a proper long way up short way down salute. It was short way up and down. It was probably the worst salute I'd ever made, but the one I got in return wasn't much better!" I said "I'm sorry sir I'm here." He said "I see you now. Well young man have you enjoyed your adventure tonight?" I spoke up so the whole bus could hear and said "Thank you sir, it's been most memorable, I shall think about tonight when I'm an old man. Thank you for taking the trouble to come out and greet us in person. As there is so many of us would it be helpful if we cadets got a taxi back to your camp?" He laughed and said "Oh no, that won't be necessary, we've been able to fix up for each of you to have a camp bed. We have phoned Upwood and they are going to tell your CO tonight, so just enjoy it all as an adventure. We've put you all in the base of the control tower, there are toilets and wash basins with hot water, glasses for drinking water and we even found a new tube of toothpaste but no toothbrushes, so you'll have to do with what we did when kids. Squeeze the toothpaste out onto your finger and rub it round your teeth and gums. I'm sorry the cooks are all fast asleep, but we can do you a nice cooked breakfast at 0800 in the morning. So if your runway has been cleared we can send you back to Upwood in the late morning. The Met Office say the wind will increase and the fog will lift. My advice to you all is to do what I'm going to do. Get to bed and get some sleep. Any questions?" Much to my surprise I heard myself saying "Yes sir, if there is any delay in the morning, can we have a look at a Valiant?" Everyone laughed. The Group Captain said, "We'll see in the morning." He left the bus, sliding the door shut and hitting it twice with the flat of his hand, our driver pulled out and overtook the staff car. We followed the blue lights and eventually pulled up at the control tower. As we got out someone asked the driver how to find the Mess in the morning. He said, "Don't worry, at 0800 in the morning just follow anyone they'll all be going to breakfast." The beds had been set out in two rooms. Our skipper said "You cadets had better sleep in this room. We are going to play cards in the other room." I said "Oh, I can play Newmarket." He said "We are going to play poker, and before you say anything they wouldn't play with anyone so young, you get some sleep." I sat on my bed and took my shoes off when one of the crewmen from our plane suddenly swore and said to his friend, "This is the first time I've landed away from base and do you know what I've forgotten to do?" His friend said "No, what?" "Our ground crew always make the bombs safe when we land and I should have done that tonight!" His friend laughed hysterically and said "Our plane is standing somewhere out there in the fog with the bomb-bay doors that will be sagged open by now, with nearly a full load of live practice bombs, ready to drop onto the concrete, if an untrained ground crewman were to press the wrong button in the morning! Just one would destroy our plane and probably start a chain reaction that would spread to the others and may even take out a Valiant as well. It's no good, we'll have to go and make them safe now!" I put my shoes back on and said "Can I come along as well?" They both said "NO" then explained that the RAF regiment looked after the safety of the airfield and if they caught sight of my unfamiliar uniform they may shoot first and ask questions afterwards. I went to the door with them and asked if it was very difficult to disarm bombs. I was told "No, there is a little disc on a chain, it just has to be slid in, in the right place, a bit like putting a pin back in a hand grenade. It will take about 10 minutes to do the lot; the hard bit is going to be finding out where the plane is." I watched from the door as they disappeared into the swirling fog, one of them said "Now if we follow this row of blue lights and..." I shut the door and returned into the first room. The other cadets and two of our aircrew had already climbed into their beds. I took off my shoes again. This time I took off my jacket and trousers and rolled them up in my greatcoat and put them under my pillow. One of the airmen said "Be a sport and put the light out before you get into bed. You can leave the hall light on for the two who've gone out. You can leave our door ajar and it will give us light without keeping us awake." When I climbed into my bed I thought I'll shut my eyes and keep awake so when they return from seeing to the bombs I can hear how they got on. When I next opened my eyes to see if they were back it was a shock to see it was broad daylight. The door swung open and an airman came in with a towel around his neck. He said to me "It's nearly 8 o'clock, you had better wake the others. There's no-one at the washbasins if you want to freshen up." I woke the other cadets and we soon got dressed and washed. When I collected my jacket, I was amazed to see there were beds that hadn't been slept in! I asked one of the airmen why and he said "They are still playing cards in the other room! It's a bit stupid if you ask me. I just had a look in there; they've upped the stakes, now they are betting next months' pay!" When we went out to find the Mess it was amazing to see the change in the weather. The wind had indeed cleared the fog and lifted it to form low cloud. We could see many more Valiants scattered among the trees. We had a lovely cooked breakfast. I even had my scrambled eggs! One of the airmen sitting near us said to me "Congratulations on talking to the big chief last night. Did you realise that none of us dared do it? It was great you asking to have a look in a Valiant. But don't be disappointed, the Valiant is still on the official secret list and it's more than the chief's job is worth to let you inside one. But good of you for trying." When we got back to the control tower the bus was waiting outside. The driver grinned and said "Nice to see the fog is gone." We cadets collected our greatcoats and sat in the back of the bus swapping tales of our different experiences of the night flight. Eventually the bus filled up, someone did a head count, then off we drove back to the Lincolns. When they came into view I thought how smart they looked all black and shiny, lined up side by side. As we approached our aircraft I saw our flight engineer and said "Flight, I don't see a trolley-acc, will we be able to start up?" He said "Oh yes, I should think so, the oil is still warm from last night's flight. It's not as if it had been parked in a cold wind for a month. So long as the batteries for the port inner are not flat, because if you can get one engine started it helps start the others. Oh by the way, I've got a question for you. Do you know the worst job in the RAF?" I had no idea so he said "Changing the tyre on a tail wheel of a bomber!" It was only going to be a few minutes flight that morning so no-one bothered to visit our tail wheel as we climbed on board. It was much more difficult to put our parachutes on than taking them off last night! Eventually we were all plugged in and switched on. Our skipper called everyone in turn. Then they started the engines. Flight was quite right they all fired up with no problems. Someone up front said "Skipper, the little truck is dropping off four ground crew." Skipper said "I expect they are going to remove the wheel chocks. Jock, call the tower and ask for permission to taxi." I stood on the wing and looked out of the astrodome. The little truck was going down the row of Lincolns. It turned so the tail-board was visible to the pilot of the Lincoln at the far end of the row. The FOLLOW ME sign lit up and they led the aircraft out onto the taxi-way. The next Lincoln started to follow the first, then the third one followed them. We were the last to move forward and turn onto the taxi-way. It was so much easier to follow the little truck and so much quicker than when we did it in the fog last night. We were led out onto the centre line of the runway. The truck stopped, the sign on the back went out and the truck then turned and went back to the taxi-way. All the aircraft revved their engines to test their magnetos. Then we heard on the radio the first aircraft calling the tower for permission for a formation take-off, and thanking them for our overnight stay. The reply from the tower was "There's a note in the day book from the Group Captain. It says 'Tell the Lincoln boys sorry about not seeing the Valiant' I hope it makes sense to someone. You have permission to take off. There is an airliner crossing your route. Stay below 2000 feet. Enjoy your flight." A green was flashed from the tower. All the Lincolns' engines went to full power and the one in front began to move, then the next. Soon it was our turn. It was frightening how far down the runway we were before the skipper had got enough airspeed to get the tail wheel off the runway. From then on we seemed to accelerate more rapidly which was good because the end of the runway was now in sight. I never knew how much we cleared it by, because Jock said "Sit." It had been a great pleasure looking out of the astrodome. It was very boring sitting on the wing again, but I suppose Jock felt I would be safer sitting down if anything did go wrong. There was no chit-chat on our short flight back to RAF Upwood. Jock was asked to radio the tower for permission to land, which we got. The undercarriage was lowered, and then the wing flaps were extended. The engines slowed a little, and down we went. It was another smooth landing, if a little noisy. Soon we had slowed enough to turn off the runway and I stood up and looked out of the astrodome again. We were going round the perimeter track and not far from our tented camp. I looked intently but couldn't see anyone; I suppose all the lads were at their different lectures. Then we were following the perimeter track away from the airfield buildings. After a couple of turns we arrived at our dispersal point. Our ground crew were waiting and waved us into the exact spot we had left from. It was a relief to remove my parachute and take it outside into the fresh air. A tractor towing three grass-cutting cylinders chugged past sending up a shower of little green flecks and leaving a lovely smell of freshly mown grass. The peace and quiet was shattered again as the other three Lincolns came thundering down the perimeter track. Their ground crews waved them in to line up the four aircraft, wing tip to wing tip. Our crew were standing in front of our aircraft waiting for the bus, when one of the other pilots stormed over with a bright red face. He swore profanely at our skipper and added "What do you want to do? Kill some * * * * * * * * personnel. I've a * * * * * * * good mind to report you!" Then he strode off back to his own aircraft. I whispered to one of our crew "Whatever did he do?" He whispered back "Well we were the last aircraft to take off but we were the first aircraft to land! We were flying in cloud. I'll leave it to you to work it out." Nothing was happening so I walked over to the ground crew and asked about the Canberra that had crash-landed last night, but they didn't know anything about it. I returned to our aircrew who were sitting in the sun in front of our aircraft. I turned my greatcoat inside out and sat on it. My watch told me we'd been sitting there for nearly an hour! Since our skipper got sworn at no-one had said anything. Another half hour ticked by. The ground crew had finished the post flight work on our Lincoln and drove off in their little truck to sign the Form 700. Another half hour passed and I said to our skipper "We could walk back." He snapped back "Oh no we can't. The MT Section know we are waiting, if we walk back this time we can expect to have to walk back after every flight." After a while I couldn't bear it any longer so I went and had a chat with the other cadets. They were all in favour of walking back, so while they were saying farewell to their crews I walked back to our skipper and said "We cadets have decided to walk back to our camp. Will it be all right if we go straight across the grass?" He had calmed down and said "If you all stay close together you should be OK, but if a light aircraft should come in to land lay flat before it hits you. Don't forget to hand your flying equipment back into the stores this afternoon." I replied "We will sir. Thank you very much for everything." I gave him a smart salute which he did not return because he was not wearing his cap. I picked up my equipment, said my thanks to Jock, waved to the rest of the crew, joined the other three cadets and we marched off across the freshly mown grass. We must have looked like seasoned aviators with our parachutes carried casually over one shoulder.
After our overnight stay at Wittering we four arrived back at our tented camp to find it deserted. We all made straight for the toilets, then we found our own tent to hang our unrequired greatcoats in our wardrobes. When I looked into my tent I couldn't believe my eyes. Someone had taken a great deal of trouble to take my bed out of the corner! The wardrobe and dressing table were pushed up into the corner instead. I was going to change them back but it was a bit daunting. I thought I'll wait until tonight and get whoever did it to put them back. We dashed off to return our flying equipment then we joined the queue for an early dinner. It was a job to keep my eyes open during the afternoon lecture. Then it was time to go back to camp and find out who had moved my bed. The other three boys were already in the tent when I walked in. They seemed very pleased to see me. Everyone was trying to talk at the same time! No-one had told them about my overnight stay at Wittering and they were most baffled when they woke up and found I was not in my bed. They hadn't heard about the Canberra that had crash-landed on the runway either. The boys had had an early night and were fast asleep when the cadets from another squadron returned from a night out at the local pub. Most of the boys were drunk. On the way home they found a brick, and when they arrived back at camp they 'found' a blanket. With one boy at each corner they all pulled together and sent the brick into space - well nearly - and when the brick landed on my tent the boys had run off. When the terrified boys in my tent had shone a torch they were horrified to find the brick had smashed its way through the tent and buried itself deep into my pillow. If I had been in bed I would have been killed! My boys told me they had moved my bed from under the hole, in case it rained. They had moved my wardrobe under the hole, put a sloping roof on top using a plywood sign board, and held it in position by the offending brick. They were so pleased to see me back again just in case there was more rowdiness during the week. After lights out I lay back in my repositioned bed and couldn't stop laughing. The boys were amazed that I should find the situation funny, and why was I laughing? I said "I was just thinking it's safer to fly in a bombing run in formation at very high altitude in the dark, above a thunder storm and in fog, then to go to bed in my own tent!"
My bungalow overlooks the Heigham Holmes Nature Reserve, it can be a desolate windswept area in the winter but comes to life in the summer with the return of the grazing cattle, the varied bird life and also the wide blue skies with distant white sails apparently sailing through the rich green marshes, it's a delightful spot.
In August they have introduced an annual open day, which usually brings in about 600 visitors! In this vast acreage the daily visit of the farmer and the warden is of little concern to the birds, so it's not surprising that the cranes are frequent visitors. You can often hear their distinctive call, and when you can identify it, it pays to look straight up overhead, as they often fly over here at about 2000 feet on their way to the Breydon Water area of Great Yarmouth for a feed.
There used to be seven cranes then it went up to nine. Now this year I've seen 12. In the latter part of the 1980s I was lucky and saw all seven doing their dance, they formed a circle, facing inwards to the centre, they half raised their wings and all jumped in the air at the same time, descending to the same spot. They did this about four times then when they were in the air they all moved round to land on their neighbours spot. After a few more jumps they all moved round the other way. They kept this going for about 20 minutes and not once did they bump into each other.
Back to this year, on 15 May 2008 I heard the cranes making a lot of noise so I took my field glasses into the sunroom of the bungalow. I was just in time to see a very large crane face into wind and then running forward he extended those massive 45-inch wings and with a couple of flaps he was airborne. Soon he was 100 feet up and I had to get outside quickly so I didn't lose sight of him as he gained altitude above the bungalow. He flew into a thermal and started to go round and round, just like I used to do when I flew gliders. There was no need to flap those impressive wings anymore, he just held them rigid and circled on a column of rising air. Before long he was at 1500 feet when I caught sight of a second bird about 1000 feet above him. Soon he had gained enough height to join his friend and they flew in formation, wing tip to wing tip, round and round they went still gaining height. They were now so high I dare not look away or I would not have found them again. I felt so sorry for them when at about 4000 feet their thermal petered out and they started gliding back to the north. They opened their formation so they were about 200 feet apart, I thought how clever to increase their chances of finding another thermal! Which they eventually did and disappeared into the base of a lower cloud. I stayed looking for a while but saw no more of them that day.
When I used to fly in gliders from RAF Swanton Morley, one of the boys used to live in a bungalow beside the perimeter track and he had a dove that would fly around and find thermals for us to gain height in! It gave a whole new meaning to the saying "watch the birdie."
We tend to forget just how high birds fly when they migrate, but I think the record must go to a pair of swans flying at 36,000 feet when they were seen by a surprised airline pilot and most of his amazed passengers! Not bad when you think we mere mortals have to breathe oxygen above 10,000 feet.