Wartime Memories (stories four and five)

STORY 4
YATESBURY AND S.H.Q. PAY ACCOUNTS SECTION
My spell in Blackpool came to an end about the middle of January when I had
completed my ‘square-bashing’ as we called the drilling exercises. It had been an
uneventful Christmas, with lots of seasonal cards and messages of ‘sympathy’ from
my girl-friend, my parents, my former colleagues in the Town Clerk’s Office in
Stirling, as well as others. It was the first time that I had been away from home at this
festive season and there was nothing that I could do about it — except look forward
to the next Station to which I would, in due course, be transferred.
When the posting came, it was to Yatesbury. I quickly found out that the
Station was in Wiltshire, a few miles from Calne, but within walking distance of that
community, and, in the opposite direction from Calne — also within walking distance
— were the famous stone circle at Avebury and the very attractive village of Laycock.
Bath was some miles distant and one required transport to visit that lovely town.
When I arrived at the camp, I saw that there was, immediately opposite the entrance,
a large horse carved out of the chalky hillside. All these places appealed to me as a
basis for exploration and I soon had my ‘hiking boots’ on and I began my touring
when free at weekends, including, of course, walking round the white horse on the
hillside and examining it much more closely. I at once loved the district and was
prepared to put up with any discomfort in my living conditions
The hut which was to be my home was not substantially unlike the one I
occupied at Padgate and the Headquarters Office of Pay Accounts was my workplace
during the day. I knew all about piling the biscuits etc. and keeping my bedspace
neat and tidy, so I did not meet up with any accommodation problems. Workwise,
I was soon joining a team to pay Airmen on pay parades, these being very
formal occasions. The Airmen were arranged in the same order as in the pay ledger
to ensure that when each person’s name was called, there was no confusion about
who was to come forward to the table and receive the money. In turn, each Airman,
when his name was called, stepped smartly up to our table, spoke loudly the last 3
digits of his number as a check, saluted , and was handed his remuneration.
Whether the pay was rounded somewhat or whether each was paid to the exact
penny, I cannot recall. What I do know is that I was put in charge ‘paper money’
and that I had a very large pile of £1 bank notes which I peeled off in accordance
with what the ledger clerk announced. There may have been a colleague of mine
sorting out the small change. The notes were always crisp new ones and it was so
necessary to be careful when dealing with them as, one knows, new notes were
difficult to separate. I speedily learned to exercise this high standard of care when
counting when, on an early occasion, I made a mistake of £1, being that much short
at the conclusion of the parade. I realised that this deficiency had to come out of my
own pocket as there was no way any other could be blamed. The pay calculating
work had to be done in these days without the aid of computers or pocket
calculators, thus there was a great deal of cross-checking.
Near our Headquarters Office, there was a well-stocked N.A.F.F.I. to and from
which I regularly walked for a coffee or a snack sometimes as an alternative to the
meal in the camp dining-room. As an example, when I tell you that we had bacon and
beans for breakfast every day for 3 months, one can understand the desire for a
change. Life was proceeding quite smoothly until there was a little upset. When I
went to the N.A.A.F.I. premises, I was normally joined by a group of young fellows.
We were all happy to chat together although we did not have a great deal in common
except that we were far from home and were all trying to adapt to our new life. On
the occasion about which I write, there must have been 8 or 9 of us engaged in
animated conversation, when we heard someone angrily say —‘you, you and you are
on a charge for failing to salute an Officer. I was one of the ‘you’s’ although I had
not seen the Officer passing by. He was a Pilot Officer and was probably anxious
that his new-found status should be properly recognised — he wanted from ‘rookies’
the respect which his new position in life demanded.
Very shortly after that incident, I was, cap-less in accordance with tradition,
marched in before a Flight-Lieutenant of the Station and, in reply to the charge, I told
him exactly what had happened and how I was sorry that I had not seen the Pilot
Officer, probably because I was on the other side of the group. The Presiding
Officer did not waste any time in reaching a decision to give me an ‘absolute
discharge’, ensuring that nothing would appear in my records to damage my future
progress. And so it came about that I was nearly branded as a ‘criminal’ soon after I
arrived in Yatesbury.
Some weeks after I had settled down in my new employment, I was offered the
opportunity of becoming involved in a series of interesting outings. One of the
Senior Officers at the Station seemed to have a connection with the well-known dograce-
track in Bristol, or he had been approached to help out with a staffing difficulty
on Saturday evenings. The problem seemed to have arisen with regard to the
operation of the ‘tote’. He co-operated by gathering together a number of the Pay
Accounts Airmen and we were conveyed in a bus to Bristol each Saturday. On the
first day at the track, we were allocated to various jobs and the modus operandi for
each was explained. Some of the lads were given positions at the ‘tote’ windows
and sold tickets to the ‘punters’, enabling them to meet the public. I was given an
interesting job, in the central control office, of calculating the pay-out dividends
based upon the overall revenue for each race less a percentage for overheads. There
was always a very big attendance and substantial betting and large sums of money
were involved, and that on top of the betting with the independent bookmakers. It
was an unusual diversion from our duties as conscripts, but one we eagerly looked
forward to for the relaxation it provided. We were rewarded with a small payment for
our efforts. This pleasurable work came to an end after some time. I don’t know
whether the track closed down because of war-related concerns or whether it was
due to difficulty in getting petrol for the little bus.
Yatesbury Royal Air Force Station was for ever a happy memory for me
because of the attractiveness of its surroundings and its potential for enjoying such
a place as Avebury which I visited on many occasions. I also did not allow the
opportunity of seeing Bath pass when there was available transport. Trowbridge
was still another town which I made a point of visiting and I am glad that I did so. I
had noticed that cars in the area around Trowbridge displayed the registration mark
AM, the letters forming my initials. While I did not have a car, I hoped that the day
would come in the post-war era when I would possess one. Ultimately, years later,
my ambition was realised and, knowing that there was such a thing as a personalised
number, I confidently telephoned the Motor Taxation Office in Trowbridge and
asked whether they had any small ‘AM’ numbers on offer for transfer to another
vehicle. I was told that I could have AM22 or AM33 at a cost of £5 for the transfer.
I selected AM33 and displayed that number on the various cars which I purchased
over many years — until it had increased in value by many times the cost of my
original outlay.
At the beginning of April, 1941, I made up my mind to apply for a Commission,
this decision being not a little inspired by a certain amount of encouragement from
superiors. I gathered together a number of written recommendations or testimonials
from influential friends who were anxious to help me. These included the Town Clerk
of Stirling, the Provost of Stirling, the Depute Town Clerk of Edinburgh, my old
master the recently retired Town Clerk of Stirling, and Joseph Westwood [Member of
Parliament]. The Solicitor to the Air Ministry in Scotland was also a good friend. On
30th June, 1941, the following confidential memorandum was sent under the
reference AMOA 366/1941, by the Officer Commanding, No. 2 Signals School, Royal
Air Force, Yatesbury, to the Senior Accountant Officer at the Station —
‘Commissioning of Airmen — It is noted for information that recommendations as
under have been forwarded to the Air Ministry - - -
LEGAL OR ADMINISTRATIVE BRANCH — 1119565 AC2 McIntosh, A. SHQ RAF
Stn. Yatesbury’. I assume that this memo had finally gone through all the
investigations and procedures at Yatesbury and that the document had finally been
dispatched to Air Ministry on 30th June. Some time after that date, quite a bit later, I
was given the opportunity of being interviewed by a Selection Group in Adastral
House, London, which, apart from one careless observation by a civilian member of
the Group, proceeded without a hitch. The strange remark made by this member was
to the effect that ‘it was generally well-known that Scotsmen do not make good
Officers’. It was probably said to provoke a reaction from me which would be
carefully analysed. I naturally responded and did my best to demonstrate the
inaccuracy of the comment.
Some months later, after an enjoyable summer in and around the Yatesbury
area during which time I visited and revisited all the attractive areas about which I
wrote earlier and which developed a growing appeal for me, and attending
productions in the Station Theatre as they arose, the most memorable being a show
called ‘Tons of Money’, produced by Davy Burnaby; also participating in
occasional sports activities, I was notified that I had been awarded a Commission in
the Administrative Branch, with the initial rank, as usual, of Pilot Officer. Before
reaching that milestone event, I had gone through a period during which I held the
rank of Aircraftman 1st Class [AC1], being, I think, a fairly routine promotion, and
then, by examination, a Leading Aircraftman [LAC].
STORY 5
POST-COMMISSIONING: R.A.F. SCHOOL OF ADMINISTRATION
AND R.A.F. STATION, WEST HARTLEPOOL
Before embarking on a more permanent spell with No. 4 Coastal Command’s
Operational Training Unit, I was to attend a Course for newly-commissioned Officers
at the Royal Air Force School of Administration, Stannington, where we were to
learn the entire scope of the administrative duties which we were likely be required to
undertake in the course of our future service. There were about 75 on the Course,
and it was indeed very intensive and comprehensive. At its conclusion, I was
awarded First Place, a result which naturally pleased me a great deal considering the
number against whom I had to compete and their undoubted spread of talent.
The other immediate post-commissioning experience was as a ‘supernumerary’
Officer at R.A.F. Station, West Hartlepool, where I spent several well-remembered
weeks for experiences which I had there. The Commanding Officer took advantage
of my legal training to instruct me to carry out 2 specialist tasks. Firstly, I was asked
to prepare a Summary of Evidence in regard to an accident involving one of the
Station’s Drivers, when a ‘Coles Crane’ was overturned on an ‘S’ bend in the
vicinity of the Station. It looked suspiciously as if the Driver had been driving the
crane too quickly resulting in the vehicle swinging one way and then the other as it
approached the second contrary section of the bend. It was not for me to prosecute
the driver, however, but merely to record exactly what happened. I do not know
whether the Driver was Court-martialled — I had left ‘for new pastures’ before a
decision was made.
The second case was intensely interesting. I was asked to defend a Canadian
Airman who was charged with ‘striking the sea while piloting an aircraft and causing
damage to it’. I think that that Pilot must have been the only one in the history of
the Royal Air Force who was charged with such an offence because I cannot believe
that any other Pilot hitting the sea would survive ‘to tell the tale or face the wrath of
his masters’. I did my best to suggest possible alternative explanations for the
damage to the aircraft but it was of no avail, except that one colleague Officer who
had been incorporated into the Court-martial panel told me later that he disagreed
with the ‘guilty’ verdict because the striking of the sea had not been proved to his
satisfaction. That information, coupled with the imposition of the moderate penalty
of a simple ‘reprimand’ lifted my spirits and made me feel that I had served the
Canadian reasonably well.
My days at West Hartlepool coincided to some extent with the night-time
bombing of the adjacent Hull area. Some of the enemy aircraft passed over our
Station and our defence personnel, in their well-sandbagged machine-gun posts
seemed to take every opportunity of opening fire on the planes as they approached
our unit. My concern was that we were advertising our position, particularly to very
low-flying craft as they were coming towards us, when every second bullet seemed
to be a tracer one which left a clear trajectory from its firing position on the ground
to the apex of its flight into the atmosphere. I felt it would have been safer to have
paused until the enemy aircraft had been nearer the overhead position. These
thoughts gave rise to one frightening experience which I had on an occasion I was
outside in the aerodrome one evening. I don’t know why I was walking about near
the airfield on this particular evening and I had no reason to believe that an air raid
was imminent. Suddenly, an extremely low-flying German bomber came towards me.
All the Station’s guns began firing, clearly, in my opinion as formulated from past
experience, indicating to the plane that it was coming over an important target. I was
scared, and sought refuge by flinging myself to the ground — it was the only thing I
could do as there was no other means of protection nearby — oblivious to the fact
that my new greatcoat might become seriously stained. It is said that your past life
races past in your thoughts in such circumstances of mortal danger. Well, I do not
think that I had time to dwell on my thoughts as I clung to the ground as if asking it
to create a cave to protect me. The confrontation was over in a minute. I was so
happy to find that I could ‘stand up and brush myself down’ and reflect on how
fortunate I had been. When I had fully recovered my composure, I tried to seek an
explanation for my escape. I concluded that the German Pilot and crew must have
seen, reasonably clearly, what was ahead of them as they approached the airfield,
notwithstanding the darkness, because our Gunners commenced firing just as the
bomber reached the perimeter of our territory and those tracer bullets or shells must
have provided a landmark track for them; if the aircraft had dropped its entire bombload
over the Hull area, I wondered why it did not use its own on-board guns to fire
back at our men. I also could not understand why the bomber was flying so low, and
the thought occurred to me that it might have been crippled at some stage, and,
while seeking a quiet way home by hoping to take advantage of the blackness of the
adjacent North Sea, it accidentally stumbled across out Station. I was so sure that
night that I would be at the receiving end of a bomb or a crashing aeroplane.

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