Wartime Memories (story 6 part 3)

continued...

My social life at Alness was quite varied. This was important when one had
to have regard to the long dark days through the winter months. The best dances
were those run for the benefit of the Airmen and W.A.A.F.s. Officers were not
permitted to attend unless by a manoeuvre such as the one I adopted to circumvent
the problem. In my position of new-found authority, I appointed myself to a new
position of Officer in charge of Airmen’s Dances and many an enjoyable evening I
spent with the young ones in the guise of being in charge of them. I naturally
participated in the dancing and only my uniform indicated that I was somehow
different. Those present treated me as one of their own although my presence may
have served some beneficial supervisory purpose which I never got round to
analysing.
Following conversations with some of the Dance Band musicians who were at
the Station, I encouraged them to establish a good Dance Orchestra which we could
make available to other R.A.F. and Naval Stations in the vicinity. The leader was
Corporal Eddie Warin, who was an expert musician and I recall that ‘Lofty’ played
the Double-Bass, having, in civilian life crossed and re-crossed the Atlantic Ocean
on the ‘Queen Mary’ playing that instrument as a member of the liner’s Dance
Orchestra.
With so much talent around, I also encouraged the setting up of an
Entertainments Group which in due course supplemented the official E.N.S.A.
Groups which toured the various Units, these including Ralph Reader and his Gang
Show and featuring other well-known personalities in the entertainment world. One
such entertainer whose name seemed to remain in my mind, was Cardew ‘the Cad’
Robinson, complete with his long scarf, who appeared on television for many years
after I left the Air Force. Our own entertainers provided regular concerts. Corporal
Bain, from Macduff, a Telephonist, could always be depended upon to sing ‘Delia’
to great applause, and high-lights would include a series of ‘black-and-white’
sketches, with a ‘punch line’ at the end of each one. The Group was also given
permission to give performances to entertain the troops in surrounding Stations. On
one occasion, while in course of giving a performance at the Naval Base on the
Dornoch Firth, I allowed myself to be coaxed into participating in one of the
sketches. The sketch went something like this. When the stage curtain opened, I
was sitting at the front of the stage, with an attractive W.A.A.F. on my knee. I was
saying some words of endearment to her in a Polish accent — the Poles were
extremely popular with the lasses in these days. After my sentences in Polish, as
best as I was able to speak it, she said to me — And what part of Poland do you come
from? — To which I replied — ‘I really come from Glasgow, but this is the only way I
can get a girl-friend!’ At this point, the curtain was quickly drawn. The considerable
amount of applause in the crowded Station Theatre surprised me.
There was another different type of occasion on which I visited the Naval
Station when it was necessary to call on their Hospital Unit. One of our W.A.A.F.s
had been complaining of stomach pains and she was hurriedly moved to the Naval
Hospital. She gave birth to a baby, much to the surprise of her friends, and, as I
understand it, to the Hospital Staff as well, There had apparently been no indication
what the cause of her trouble really was and it was alleged that she had not
understood what was happening to her. I went along to the Hospital to see the girl
and to thank the Staff for what they had done. Thinking that I had the air of a
medical man, they asked me whether I wanted to examine the girl. I declined their
offer with an appropriate explanation. I was told that this was the first baby to be
born in that Naval Hospital. The young girl was the daughter of a railway worker
and his wife, the man looking after a railway crossing just outside Inverness on the
way to Nairn. I felt it was my duty to visit them and break the news about their
daughter. They appreciated my visit but were completely shocked, not having any
idea about their daughter’s condition.
We normally had quite a lot of snow during the winter months and there were
a couple of memorable occasions on which the snow played a big part. While it was
not unusual for senior personnel at Alness, including the Commanding Officer, to
pay liaison visits to adjacent R.A.F. and Naval Stations, the Group Captain was not
present on the occasion about which I am about to write. A number of us had been
invited to receive hospitality at a mansion-house of a lady of some standing in
Strathpeffer, which was situated some 12 miles or so from our base. We enjoyed a
very happy evening, taking full advantage of the festive fare which she had so
generously provided and the warm surroundings of her lovely home, completely
unaware that, shortly after our arrival, the snow began to fall — and it fell — and it fell.
When it was time to go on our way, the roads were impassable and there was no
alternative to spending the night on her luxurious sofas. We managed to set out on
an adventurous journey back to Alness early next morning. The second snow-fall
provided a real boost for our Station. It was well publicised that the extremely
important Inspector-General of the Royal Air Force would be along on a certain day
to carry out a formal inspection. We were so concerned at the amount of mud which
was lying around, due to exceptional rainfall, that the whole place would be assessed
as uncared-for and generally untidy. On the day before his visit, there was a heavy
snow-fall and every part of the Station area became like a Christmas card setting.
Needless to say, the Inspector-General was charmed at how beautiful our Unit was
in its winter white coat, and as a result, he gave us a most glowing report. I think
that we had a stroke of good fortune on our side, or someone had been praying very
hard indeed.
I always enjoyed the Christmas meal at the Airmen’s and W.A.A.Fs’ dining
halls when the Officers maintained an established tradition of serving the ‘Christmas
meal’ to the ‘other ranks’. We all entered into the spirit of the festivities and a very
good time was had by everyone.
Some Officers were out on a limb, as it were, not forming part of the
administrative and training personnel. These were the Chaplains representing the
principal religions, who each held the honorary rank of Squadron Leader, and who
went about quietly attending to the spiritual needs of their flocks. I often went along
to see the Church of Scotland Padre, who was a Minister in Glasgow prior to his
entry into the Air Force. He was not particularly well supported in his religious
services. We decided to develop interest in his existence and availability by starting
a Social and Hobbies Club at which Airmen could practise some of their hobbies.
For example, I remember that building model aeroplanes and even wireless sets
became exceedingly popular and was adjudged a success, stimulating interest in the
Church Service as well.
On 25th January, 1944, an anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns, the
National Bard of Scotland, the Scottish Officers in the Mess decided to organise a
Burns’ Supper. Haggis was a strange dish to many of the English Officers as well as
to other colleagues from foreign lands then in residence with us. We borrowed the
kilts from the Pipe Band, as well as some rifles from the Armoury, and set out in the
darkness of the preceding evening to ‘shoot the haggis’ in the woods, at least in
sufficient quantities to provide ample fare for the Supper. Those who were in
Dalmore House heard sporadic firing coming from the direction of the adjacent
woodland, and it can be assumed that those who were ignorant of Scottish habits
accepted that a good job was being done. During the following evening, we had the
Burns’ Supper, using the kilts as far as they could go, to emphasize the Scottish
nature of the occasion. We had ample knowledge of the procedure for such an
important occasion by arranging for the haggis to be ceremoniously introduced and
‘addressed’ and so on. With the co-operation of the cooks, we had a memorable
meal, terminating the evening with some semblance of Scottish dancing, some of
which was demonstrated on top of the tables. It was agreed that it was a worthwhile
event, and the visitors from other Nations who had the good fortune to be
present would, I am sure, remember the evening for many years.
Towards the end of 1944, I had a very interesting conversation with the
Commanding Officer. Completely ‘out of the blue’ one day he decided to tell me that
he had been allocated a quota of awards for personnel on the Station. These were
apparently handed down from Group Headquarters and he was to be the judge as to
whom they should be given. He told me that he really wanted to give me an MBE,
there being one available, but that as there was a Squadron Leader Admin. at the
Station, who was senior to me, he ‘would need to give the award to him’, but that he
would give me a ‘Mention in Dispatches’. I accept that he did not need to tell me
anything. It made it clear to me, what I later learned in life, that the standard of one’s
award was normally determined by one’s position. In other words, there have
unquestionably been many cases where awards of a higher degree were deserved
but these were adjusted downwards to match the rank of the individual. We have
been told by numbers of ‘influential’ politicians that the position would be rectified
and that the ‘award by class’ arrangement would be brought to an end. Nothing
happens. It looks as if the system is too deeply embedded in the ‘seat of power’ to
be altered. When I got a ‘gong’ much later in life, it was on the basis of inclusion in
‘the Prime Minister’s list’. The Prime Minister seemed to be incapable of defeating
the system. We are told from an early age that we are all Jock Tamson’s bairns, but
Jock Tamson appears in many guises and his children are not equal in the eyes of
the award-makers.
Especially in the winter-time, the assembly area was the spacious warm lounge
accommodation near the foot of the main staircase in the mess. It was there that you
were sure to find somebody who was prepared to have a good chat, or argument,
with you. It was such a cosy area that we were frequently joined by a couple of
robin ‘red-breasts’, escaping from the severe cold outside, or maybe, who knows, to
hear the chatter. It was in that area that I regularly talked to the Training Instuctors
and the flying boat pilots who had been posted to Alness for refresher courses or
for other reasons. I think that I am correct in saying that everyone who piloted a
flying boat had to spend some time at Alness, which meant that anyone who spent
a period of service there was almost sure to meet, in the course of his stay, all the
personalities who had seen service with these remarkable craft, and learn that these
pilots were of many nationalities, coming from as far away as Wagga-Wagga in
Australia.
It was how I came to meet Flying Officer Dennis Briggs, who was involved in
finding the German battleship Bismarck after it escaped from the pursuing British in
the Atlantic Ocean after H.M.S. Hood was sunk by it on 24th May, 1941. He had
long talks with me during which he told me exactly what happened on that fateful
morning 2 days after the Hood went to the bottom.
Before repeating my conversation with ‘Briggie’, I would prefer to recount a
portion of the Bismarck episode as it has been officially recorded. All the events
took place between 24th and 27th May, 1941. As stated above, the Hood was lost
in a sea battle on the 24th, after which the British ships maintained pressure on the
Bismarck until 0306 hours on the 25th when contact was lost as a result of a skilful
starboard manoeuvre followed by a northern loop, At 0401 hours, H.M.S. Suffolk
signalled ‘Enemy contact lost’. During the night of 25th/26th, the Bismarck
maintained her course to St. Naziare and there were no incidents on board. On the
morning of 26th, as the Bismarck was approaching the French coast, the crew were
ordered to re-paint the tops of the main and secondary turrets in yellow, and in the
afternoon, a dummy funnel was constructed to try and confuse the British. At 0300
hours that morning, 2 Catalinas took off from Lough Erne in Northern Ireland in a
reconnaissance mission in search of the Bismarck. At about 1010 hours, Catalina Z
of 209 Squadron, commanded by Dennis Briggs, sighted the German battleship and
the battleship answered with very accurate anti-aircraft fire. The Catalina jettisoned
the 4 depth charges on board and took evasive action after its hull was holed by
shrapnel. The contact had been broken for more than 31 hours. Flying Officer
Briggs contradicted that report when he told me that ‘We didn’t discover the
Bismarck — it discovered us — the first thing we knew was that we were being fired
at’. I have often wondered what would have happened if the Bismarck had not given
away its position by opening fire — and whether the Catalina would have flown past
the German ship, unaware that it was in the vicinity — and whether the Bismarck
would have reached the safety of friendly air cover near the French coast. Were the
Bismarck’s gunners too ‘trigger-happy?
My days in the Cromarty Firth area, as the reader will have gathered, had much
variety but I did really feel that I had contributed some worth-while services during
my spell at Alness. The ‘powers-that-be’ had a little unpleasant gift for me however
when, with V.E. day approaching, they posted me abroad — I think it was to be Egypt
— and I had to go to R.A.F. Station, Uxbridge, to get my instructions, after which I
would be granted the customary embarkation leave. This was a dreadful blow.

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