Open Writing

Hawarden in the winter of 1941 was not an ideal place to be. The sleeping quarters were cold and bleak with draughty windows, even though we had the traditional coal/coke heater in one corner of the hut. Showering was very bleak, with several windows missing from the shower hut and water that came out either as steam or icy cold.

This was no way to bathe, and I developed a habit of going in to Chester on a Saturday night, having a bath in the public wash house and then taking my shirt and underwear to a Chinese laundry nearby before going on to a dance at Quaintways. There one night I met a nice girl, and we maintained contact for many years.

The flying side of life went ahead well. By now I had got used to the poor visibility and undertook all the exercises that were considered proper for a pilot being trained to go on to a Spitfire squadron. We practised air gunnery with our eight machine guns in the wings by firing on a type of windsock or drogue, which was towed behind another Spitfire. We all had to take turns in towing this drogue.

This was a job I loathed because there was always the fear that the attacking aircraft would continue firing for too long until he was right behind the drogue and end up by hitting the towing aircraft. I used to lower my seat behind the armour-plating shield and sit there, hoping that the attacker would not prove too enthusiastic.

None of us managed to obtain very good scores when firing at the drogue, and one or two hits on it was usually all we achieved. Deflection shooting while turning is not easy. This is why practically all successes in air-to-air combat were obtained by one aircraft being directly behind the other and very close to it.

We also attacked ground targets. This was more successful because they did not move. We carried out navigational exercises and formation flying and gradually became very accustomed to the Spitfire.

We had Mark I’s and II’s. Thus began my long love affair with the Spitfire that to this day I regard as a sensitive woman with beautiful lines and very responsive to the touch. With its Rolls Royce Merlin engine, it was a delight. Without a fuel injection system, it meant that when you had the aircraft upside down, as in aerobatics, the engine cut out.

My first experience of airsickness came from a very bumpy day. To be sick when you are flying alone in a small aircraft is an uncomfortable experience. One tries to sideslip or skid the aircraft with the cockpit open, but I was not able to get it all out of the aircraft. Thus after coming in to land, I was soon shown that a pilot who is sick in his own cockpit has to clean up the mess.

We flew down into Wales for various navigational and low-flying exercises. To this day the mid-Wales Valleys still provide exercise ground for the latest RAF fighter squadrons based in Anglesey. At that time there were quite a number of pranged aircraft lying around the hillsides - Wellingtons mainly.

Finally we were passed out as “fit for squadron service” and went home again to await posting. My parents were very proud of the Sgt. Pilot son who was now ready for combat service.

Peter failed to be accepted for the Royal Navy owing to unsuspected colour blindness. He was busy studying with the hope, later realised, of being accepted for a commission in the Royal Marines. Victor was still at school.