Open Writing

Bari had an important port as well as a useful airfield. Apparently, an allied ship had entered the port loaded with mustard gas. The Germans became aware of this and mounted a continuous raid one night.

We on the airfield did not know about the mustard gas and thought our airfield would be the real target. So some of us left the airfield and walked through the countryside. One of us managed to fall down a well without serious injury. It took us a long time to get him out, by which time the raid was over, and we made our way back to the airfield.

The next morning, early, a signal came through to us that we had to move every aircraft off the airfield as quickly as possible since the wind was blowing vapour from Bari in the direction of the airfield and there was danger from poison gas.

This was the only time I became aware that we were prepared to use poison gas. I am certain that the German knowledge that we had it and were prepared to use it prevented them from trying it out on us. Amazing how quickly we cleared the airfield.

New Year’s Eve ‘43/‘44 saw one of our Yugoslav pilots become rather drunk and saddened by the realisation that he was so near to home but so far from it. Thus in the very early hours of the morning he went down to the airfield and took off in an Anson. We never learned if he made it to a safe landing in Yugoslavia, although my belief was that he crashed in the sea or Yugoslav mountains.

Resulting from my post war friendship with Konti, the Yugoslav navigator with whom I had several flights, he told me of the war background as far as Yugoslavia was concerned. On the 6th April 1941 the Luftwaffe attacked Belgrade without a war declaration.
Thus Yugoslavia entered the war, and on 17 April their army surrendered.

However, there were many individuals who continued the battle. Some escaped via Greece and made their way to Cyprus or Egypt. Others like Konti made it across the Adriatic to Italy. They even managed to take two planes from Belgrade to Egypt, and these were used for naval protection around Alexandria. Their king escaped by air to Montenegro and thence to Greece. Finally he reached Egypt and was transferred to UK.

The real activity came from Tito and from General Mihaelovitch, the Serbian general who organised Serbian Nationalists and whom the British helped. The Nazis also succeeded in infiltrating the General, and finally Britain realised that Tito was the one to help.

The Balkans had always been a confusing area for the British to understand. By the end of the war half a million were working with/for Tito, and he became the first post-war ruler of the country.

However, in October 1943, Churchill met General Mihaelovitch and made an agreement to help form a partisan air force. Two squadrons were created in Italy, one Spitfire and one Hurricane. Many Yugoslav pilots had escaped from their country, so there was no shortage of experienced flyers.

In 1944 Tito controlled sufficient Yugoslav territory. The two squadrons were moved to Yugoslavia, which acted as an enormous stimulus to the Yugoslav population, to realise that they had their own air force operating again from their own country. Tactically they were able to support the partisans. I took two new aircraft to these squadrons, which were received with real pleasure.

I have visited Konti twice. If we think life has been difficult - he managed to spend two long spells in prison in solitary confinement. Once by the Germans and once by the Tito regime, who considered him a possible British spy for having served in the RAF.

A Commission

Since the only step up from the rank of Warrant Officer was a commission (and I was still alive), my CO kindly recommended me. I was sent to Tripoli for my interview in the palace that is now Gaddafi’s home. I also spent the night there. Interesting to have been sleeping there before him.

The need for pilots varied and the territory over which I flew also varied. Into Yugoslavia, up the route from Takoradi a couple of times as a second pilot on Marauders. There were also a few trips bringing Spitfires up to the Middle East.

On one of them I felt dreadful before reaching Khartoum, but continued the journey until the final destination in the Cairo area. Next morning I reported sick and was put into the RAF Hospital Heliopolis again. This time the problem was malaria. I have never felt more ill and was weak for a while after discharge. Fortunately there has never been any reoccurrence.

North Africa from Morocco to Egypt was like my back garden. Then as the European war ended, I was flying out a wide variety of fighters to India, Ceylon and over the Hump into China.

I was stuck in Bahrain one evening when they had a political debate prior to the first British election since before the war. It was obvious that Labour would win. ALL the airmen were Labour voters, and the only person who would speak for the Conservatives was the Padre.

On one of my periodic visits to Cairo I bumped into Ronnie Milsom, a friend from training days who had ended up flying with BOAC. One of his passengers from Cape Town to Cairo was Margaret Anderson. He became friendly with her and her husband and always stayed in their Cairo apartment when he was there.

He introduced me to them, and I too stayed with them when in Cairo. When Valerie came to Cairo I introduced her to them also. After the war we continued our close friendship until both Margaret and Johnnie died. At that time he was a senior executive with Shell, and she did secret work in connection with British Forces.

I remember one night staying with them. I needed the toilet but could not get in because it was connected to Johnnie and Margaret’s bedroom and they had locked the toilet door. There was nothing for it but to go down to the ground floor and use the street. I always used to tease them that their guests had to piddle in the streets of Cairo.