Four Years In A Lifetime A Lifetime In Four Years Chapter 7

Chapter 7
My next posting was Ludford Magna near Market Raisin, strange station and area. There was a road running through the aerodrome, dangerous situation when planes were taking off which was every day. The R.A.F regiment were there guarding the aerodrome and closing the road etc, nice bunch actually and their dogs were great. Same mixture of aircrew as before mostly home grown, but we had the odd Free French, Canadian, Rhodesian, Australian, New Zealand. Same duties, driving crew buses, tractors with bomb trailers & bombs, petrol boswers, van’s cars, lorries, ambulances,, rescue wagons — they were strange they were manned by one radio operator plus his machine and one driver and lights on the back which said ‘ Stop and follow me ‘ usually they did and with the radio operator in contact we’d guide them to the designated dispersal area. This was really for planes who were not based with us but for one reason or another they would not reach their own base. The reasons could be anything, engine trouble, shot up one target or on the way back, injured crew members urgently needing medical treatment, a fog or a crash on their own base etc.
One that landed came at us a too fast a rate of knots, hydraulic pressure or something gone, we got a message to get out and I turned at right angles across the grass etc but one propeller ripped the canvas top and it’s support, the radio operator had already bailed out of the back. I hit the steering wheel with the impact; luckily the place was turning away from us and then stopped. I was not badly damaged, but my midriff was hurting like mad. People rushed to help and I was bundled off to sick bay. Because of the split by the road once we were on the other side we were expected to stay there until the aircraft returned, usually most of the night alone in the cab, a motor cycle or van would come around when the planes were due back, there were other crew transports but we were usually near different dispersal units. We did doze off, drink coffee and tea from a flask and smoke, we could also stretch our legs every so often. The R.A.F regiment lads would stop by every so often as they toured the perimeter with their dogs.
Bella was the one who always found me she would paw at the door and then join me in the cab, if it was very cold so would her handler and we would share a drink etc. I always had something for Bella to nibble. Occasionally we had leave bans and no one would be allowed to go on leave or pass or leave the aerodrome. On one of these I got the news that Dad was very ill in hospital. There were no phones to speak of in our village except the odd call box. However our local doctor did have one so I called him, and he confirmed that Dad’s illness was a perforated ulcer, so I asked him if he would see Mum and explain that I was stuck. Being my usual rebel self I stewed on this all day and crept out that night getting down the road ready to hitch hike home, it took a while but I made it Wakefield and the hospital about late afternoon. I’d walked miles between the lifts. Dad was ill but improving and I brushed off the ban with Mum saying that they had given me a short pass. By about 6 or 7pm I set off back on the train and I was back in my billet by breakfast time having slept in Lincoln station and got a lift back from a farmer. The day that I had been away was my day off anyway, so leave pass, but time off and nobody had really missed me, we were seldom all together and night duties always meant some empty beds. So I kept a low profile and got on with the job.

At this stage of writing I wish my memory would coordinate events, for instance what year was all this????
And why am I writing this?? I tell myself:-

A) it is good to put the memories in place
B) Is anybody moderately interested
C) Why do I want people to read it, it won’t change anything. I know better than most the bravery of the aircrew. Young men who never got to be middle aged or old, they truly were heroes. They were very stoic about their futures or lack of it, they did talk a little but their observations, thoughts and fears were valid and if they had tears they were very private moments
My excuse if I need one is we were there, we were important both as a back up team and someone to listen or give a hug.

With the above thoughts floating around I’ve come to a halt. I can’t find any enthusiasm to continue the saga and just don’t know if I will and them I come to “Does it matter” whether I do or do not……………

Insertion:

As Audrey’s daughter and the motivator or rather the nag behind this story coming into print, I would just like to add my thoughts. My mother is now in her 81st year of life and I know that recalling the events contained in this story have very been difficult. Not just the recollection but the pain of doing so. It has taken her great courage, and a great deal of time and heartache. Memories are not always as clear as we would like to think, and at the time of writing Audrey was very ill. I felt that it was very important that these events in her life were somehow chronicled so that others could read a first hand account of what life was like in the WAAF and in particular for this WAAF. Much has been written about our brave young men who fought for King and country in England’s darkest hour. Many brave young men have had these times in their lives emblazoned on the silver screen, but very little had been said about the women who supported them and who were as important as our Pilots, sailors and soldiers.
This was a tragic time when the youth of this generation was stolen from them, where the carefree days of youth, that all of us have be able to enjoy, was merely an aching longing that would never be. I am very proud of my mother and the part she played; I only hope that in writing her memories of this time, other generations will be able to understand more clearly what the war meant to ordinary people. I believe that these memories are so very precious and should be captured whilst they can. Too many of my parents generation seldomly spoke of these times and for many, these memories are now gone forever as they have passed.

So Yes Mum it does matter and Yes people do want to read this and no it will not change the events, only people’s understanding of them.

End of Insertion:

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.