My War - Chapter 11 - 298 Squadron

CHAPTER 11. 298 Squadron

So we had finally arrived at a squadron but we also found ourselves on a jungle airfield called Digri. The huts were the standard wooden buildings with about twenty beds fitted with the usual mosquito nets. Plenty of room for the four of us. The beds were a frame of wood with rope woven in a diamond pattern covered with a piece of canvas. We had sheets and a pillow and when we went on a trip we rolled the canvas, with the pillow and sheets, inside and took it with us. Each morning the derzi walla (barber) came round to shave us. We would wake up in the mornings to find a cut throat razor being drawn up our throats.

There were lizards about six inches long on the interior walls, of the buildings, which were tolerated, as they were good at catching flys etc. Also we saw a lot of dragon flys with wing spans of about six inches and bodies about six inches and as thick as cigars. One day a lizard grabbed the wing tip of a dragon fly and quickly nibbled its way to the body but the dragon fly, using the remaining three wings flew away carrying the lizard with it. I never saw what finally happened but I suppose the lizard won.

There was nowhere much to explore around the airfield but one day we found a footpath. It led us to a river, but we had to beat a hasty retreat as the jungle women were bathing in the river. They let their clothes float around them to protect their modesty but we felt that we had best make ourselves scarce. Another time the men from the jungle village came marching across the field armed with bows and arrows so we followed them and found that they were chasing a wild cat. The cat took refuge in a hole about six feet diameter but only four feet deep so the jungle wallas slipped a bowstring off and lassoed a hind leg of the cat and held it there while we took photographs. I did not wait to see what happened to the cat.

The Sergeants Mess had the squadron’s colours on the wall and all the squadrons main engagements including Arnham were listed.

Our first job was to Dum Dum the Calcutta public airfield to collect supplies. We found that if we arrived at lunch time we were provided with a three course meal served in the way the British RAJ must have expected i.e. plates were served to the left and the empties taken from the right. We were seated well spaced out at a large round table and the food was excellent even more so since the food in the mess was largely made from K rations, which were packs of dried compressed food normally issued to troops out on manoeuvres or in battle. The packs also included a packet of three cigarettes.

One day as we were returning to our quarters after breakfast there was a terrific explosion in the direction of the airfield and a black column of smoke rising skywards. We later found out that the navigator had just tossed his bag on board. The crew were just waiting for a fitter “who was on a ladder making a few final adjustments to an engine” when the explosion occurred, he jumped clear. On the following day we set off on a trip to Raipur and about an hour into the trip we received a call to return to base as they had found the cause of the explosion to be that a bottle of oxygen instead of compressed air had been used to top up the hydraulics . Oxygen and oil make an explosive mix. They might have used the same bottle on our plane. I immediately thought to myself I was looking forward to a better lunch and a change of scenery so I called up” bomb aimer to pilot I think we have passed the halfway point so it would be quicker to carry on”. Jimmy the navigator was consulted and as he agreed. Flight control was called up and also had to agree. So we arrived safely at Raipur. After lunch we returned to Digri.

Our next trip was carrying freight to an airfield in Burma. It was called Meiktila and we arrived in time for lunch. After lunch we found a number of oil barrels full of water so we stripped off and using the ladles provided had great fun throwing water over each other. At the time we did not realise that that water was all that was available for everybody. After dinner we settled in the bar and found that beer was limited to one per person I chose to drink rum. Next morning I was too late for breakfast and I was dying of thirst and my mouth was like a sewerage works and nothing to drink. I was desperate for a drink when a native came to the door selling eggs. Two eggs in my mug quickly solved my problem and I expect it cost me a couple of cigarettes.

After lunch we were briefed to carry a cargo of rice to Myitkyina in the pannier and, on route, to drop the fifty or so bags of rice loaded in the fuselage through the door in the floor. When we arrived at the aircraft we saw that they were using japonese prisoners of war under heavy guard to hump the bags of rice about and load up the aircraft. After the usual warming up of the engines we set off to the dropping zone which turned out to be a single footpath through the jungle along the side of the valley. I had to give the green light to signal the start of the dropping run and the red light to end the run. It took about six runs to finish the drop. After that we delivered the rice to Myitkina and returned to Meiktila and that was the end of our share of the promised supply of rice to replace that which had been destroyed to prevent it being available to the advancing Japanase during the war( the scorched earth policy). As we returned to Digri we had to cross a mountain range which runs the length of Burma and because the plane had an oil leak we had been instructed to shut down one engine to conserve the oil. We could just use four engines to reach the necessary height to clear the mountains.

After that we returned to Digri and settled down to doing transport jobs. A frequent trip was to Madras which is south from Digri and because of the curvature of the coast line most of the route was over the sea which meant that my job of map reading was not possible so I used to go for a stroll. From my position in the nose I had to climb up into the cockpit to pass the skipper but he saw his chance every time to leave his seat and I had to take over the controls until we approached the land.

On one trip we were waiting in the mess for the word to go when Jordy the flight engineer wandered in with a worried expression on his face and scribbling away on a bit of paper. Asked what the problem was he said that we were overloaded. The cargo was several Spitfire engines and two hundred tyres so having re weighed the tyres, and still overloaded, it was found that the long - range petrol tanks had been filled by mistake with seven and a half tons of petrol. After some discussion it was agreed that we could use the longest runway and if necessary use the overshoot area at the end of the runway So we prepared for take off in the usual way. My seat during take off was beside the pilot and I would hold the throttles open until we became air borne in case of kick back. In this case I was very nearly bending the levers trying to encourage the speed to pick up but we were halfway down the runway and still on the ground then three quarters and she finally lifted off with only an eighth of runway left. The supplies were for an airfield in the north of the country so by flying at 250 mph instead of our normal cruising speed of 180 mph we were able to burn off enough fuel to be able to land. Our usual fuel consumption was 0.85 of a gallon per mile.

It was about this time that they decided to close the Digri airfield so we made a number of trips to Baroda moving the equipment from Digri. Baroda is a small independent state ruled by the Mararajah of Baroda. It was to be our base for some time.

One trip started with us taking the Squadron Leader and his crew to Delhi, so that he could attend a conference, and as a matter of course he piloted the plane. Between us and Delhi was a range of mountains and along the top was a line of thunder storms making a seemingly impenetrable barrier but the C.O. was not going to be beaten. He said “I will find a way through” and with that the aircraft went into a series of violent turns which from my seat in the nose all I could see was a blur. Finally he straightened up and immediately called “pilot to bomb aimer what is the name of the village below?” I fortunatly had found it on the map and was able to reply Alnwa. He immediately said “that’s not Alnwa.” Next he asked me for the height of the mountains on either side of the valley so I asked how I could answer that if I don’t know where we are. At that point someone confirmed that I was correct, so I answered the question. I must have been right as we safely arrived at Palam the airfield near Delhi.
The next day we had to take the COs crew to an airfield in the far south. Shortly after take off, just as we were setting course, flight control ordered us to land again to pick up something. After that we were on our way. In due course we landed at our destination and the other crew went off to lunch and pick up the plane they had come for while we sat in the shade of the wings to eat the sandwiches the mess had provided for us. After we had a smoke we got back in to the plane and after the usual warm up took off. Just as we were setting course again we were ordered to return. It seemed the plane was not ready and the crew didn’t want to be stranded on a practically deserted landing strip.
The return journey was progressing nicely I saw Alahabad half a mile to our right and the dried up river bed, which was alongside our track. The river bed drifted slowly away to our right. After that there were no recognisable features as the ground was arid, no roads, no villages in fact nothing to relate to the maps. It was about one hour after we had left Allahabad that Jordy the flight engineer announced that the petrol gauges had been reading zero for some time but not to worry as according to his calculations we had plenty of fuel left. Since each take off costs 75 gallons and we had made two extra that meant that at 0.85 gallons per mile we had lost about 200 hundred miles, and also it was possible that we could have a fuel leek. I was consulted about our whereabouts and all I could offer was that we could be fifty miles south of track. The navigator was consulted and he thought we might be fifty miles north of track. That was a circle of uncertainty of a hundred miles and we had about half-an-hour to go. At that moment luckily a railway line appeared running north easterly so I suggested to the pilot the that we could follow the railway to Dheli. So we arrived back at Palam.

A week later we took the CO and his crew to Peshawar on the North West frontier and the next day we all returned to Mauripur. It was then that we found out what all these meetings were about, it seemed that the tribesmen in one of the villages had got hold of a 25 pounder gun and were expected to be looking for trouble. The usual way of dealing with this sort of situation was apparently to send Spitfires to drop leaflets telling them that the village would be flattened by the
250 pound bombs, that the Spitfires could carry, on a certain day and time. They then provided the means for the village to be rebuilt. That kept them busy for quiet a while. This time it was
felt that the problem was a bit more serious so it had been decided to send in the heavy stuff and blast them with some 4000 pounders so that was where we came in.

We started practice bombing exercises in preparation for the proposed air raids but the 11 1/2 pound practice bombs were too light to effectively operate the release mechanism normally used with 250 pounders or more, in which case the practice bombs would hang up and fail to drop. Often after a practice, when the armourers opened the bomb doors one or two bombs would fall out, the landing must have jolted them free.

Luckily falling 6 feet wasn’t enough to turn them so that the detonators in the nose could hit the ground causing a nasty explosion.

The squadron, 12 Halifax bombers, moved to Risalpur on detachment.

We also did a cross-country exercise to have a look at the village we were supposed to be going to drop the 4000 pound bombs on. I wasn’t too happy because from 10,000 ft I couldn’t see it never mind identify it. We went on a bombing exercise on the Peshawa bombing range but one of my practice bombs hung up and then landed just in the edge of a paddy field. Immediately we were ordered to return to base it seemed that some tribesmen were hiding behind the ridge of earth, used to retain the water when it rained, watching the staff on the range.They must have thought we had spotted them from the air. I think that it triggered off an attack on staff who manned the range.

One day Jimmy the navigator and I decided to go for a walk to the nearby village. There was not much to see but we found a small café so we decided to have a cup of tea. As we were sitting drinking our tea there was a constant stream of tribesmen with rifles slung over their shoulders going through into a room at the back of the café. They did not seem to take
any notice of us.

At the weekend two lorries were laid on for anyone who wanted a trip up the Kiber Pass so Jimmy and I put our names down and on Sunday morning off we went. The pass was a road with on the south side a steep slope down to the usual dry river bed and on the north side a sheer cliff about 200 feet high. The road zigzaged as it followed the bends in the cliff and at each vantage point along the route we could see either the tip of a rifle barrel or the tip of a turban. In short we knew that we were being watched all the time. When we arrived at the end of the pass we were stopped and told that they were sorry but we couldn’t go any further as a car in a convoy of cars had been shot at. It seemed that the bullet had been intended for Pandit Nerew but he had been in a different car. So we had to start the return journey. All the way back down the pass we kept stopping to let the convoy go by then they would stop to let us pass. This was presumably to confuse the enemy. Luckily there were no further incidents. As the convoy went by we could see the hole where the bullet hit the windscreen and all that half of the windscreen was shattered.

Fortunately the sight of the heavy bombers must have helped the tribesmen to decide and they surrendered the gun.

After that there was some talk of dropping the 4000 pounders in the mountains, before we left the area, to show the tribesmen what we could do but I don’t think it came to pass.

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