I am very fortunate in that over the last 2 years I have been introduced to a number of WWII RAAF Pilots an aircrew. The area where I live is a part of the Country where many had retired to and by word of mouth i've been introduced to one from another.
From my point of view i'm just been honoured to meet them and share some time and listen, and they for the most part have been very happy to sit and talk with someone half their age (much younger than their own kids but older than their grandkids). As an WWII era aviation junkie i've read a lot and collected a lot but these opportunities are giving me the chance to hear their stories first hand. Some of these stories are new to me and although I have been aware of the operations of the Beaufighters of Coastal Command or those of the Sunderland Squadrons ranging the Bay of Biscay I now have an added personal appreciation of what these guys actually did. Every time I see these guys i'm reminded that time's not on their side. I have another one to visit soon, very different from the others as well, he was an air gunner in Liberators and lost two from under him.
Today I had the immense pleasure of meeting one of our last members of the Desert Air Force, a former Kittyhawk Pilot of 3 Sqn RAAF. He's going to be 90 in a couple of weeks and is as sharp as a tack and fit and agile as a guy 20 years younger. I sat talking and listening to him compact about 5 years of history into two hours.
I couldn't help feeling priveleged and I must admit a little unworthy as he rattled off the names of his personal friends and Commanders and others he'd met in captivity (Clive Caldwell and Bobby Gibbes, Paul Brickhill and others) relating personal stories about them from first hand experience. The only words to descibe his relating his personal aerial combats was surreal- he must have relived them many times over but he remembered the dialogue and call signs and the feelings when he downed his ME and especially when he was downed himself 2 weeks later (Maj J Muncheberg). Reading accounts of these events is one thing, but it's simply amazing to watch someone describe first hand the events leading up to being rounded up by 4 109's realizing the inevitable and finally hit with cannon fire below his seat and physically decribe the process of being ripped from his stricken burning Kittyhawk and cracking his knees on the way out. Each section of the discussion was like reading a chapter in a book. After capture by the Italians, straffed by Allies and what he felt would be inevitable release (or being left behind with the withdrawl along the Nth African coast) he was quickly shipped to Europe to wind up in Luft StalagIII for the rest of the War.
As this was '43 he witnessed the real Great Escape (reckons the first bit of the film was ok but most was a load of Hollywood rubbish- if you want to know what it was really like read Geoff Taylors "Piece of Cake"), and survived the final forced march of the entire Camp to northern Germany which he believes was an attempt by Hitler to use them for bargaining- in the end they were all to be shot but fortunately the War ended, not before many occasions again being strafed this time by Typhoons (they couldn't recognize who they were attacking from that distance or speed) and Bomber Command attacks by night. He and a couple of mates finally made it to France first by stolen Merc staff car and other means and finally landed in England on board a Lanc. He said these were being used to ferry home troops and some guys actually flew back in AC from their own squadrons- some even wanted to pilot themselves back- well you would wouldn't you, but being rusty at the controls aparently accounted for one ship being lost in the Channel- so close to home and after all they'd been through.
As I see it hese guys have lived two lives in one, and are living legends. I did the usual thing and took some show and tell- An RAAF service peaked cap, an RAF type B, type D o2 mask and goggles, and one of my Irvins. He slipped on the cap like it was yesterday, instantly at "a rackish angle' and the jacket with a huge smile on his face. He last saw his Irvin (worn only on the ground to fight off the cold desert) the last time he took off to fly. I'm going to see him next week as well and go over his old shots. after the war he used to wear his own officers peacked cap driving his tractor on the farm, and the 1936 pattern boots which he wore from his flying days, and protected him through the stalags winters and march were burnt with most of his posessions (not his pictures) when his farm was burnt in a bushfire.
If you can, visit a Vet today, they are amazing!!!
Below is some of the work by Robert Taylor depicting the work of the relevant Squadrons.
Anyone else have any encounters to relate?
From my point of view i'm just been honoured to meet them and share some time and listen, and they for the most part have been very happy to sit and talk with someone half their age (much younger than their own kids but older than their grandkids). As an WWII era aviation junkie i've read a lot and collected a lot but these opportunities are giving me the chance to hear their stories first hand. Some of these stories are new to me and although I have been aware of the operations of the Beaufighters of Coastal Command or those of the Sunderland Squadrons ranging the Bay of Biscay I now have an added personal appreciation of what these guys actually did. Every time I see these guys i'm reminded that time's not on their side. I have another one to visit soon, very different from the others as well, he was an air gunner in Liberators and lost two from under him.
Today I had the immense pleasure of meeting one of our last members of the Desert Air Force, a former Kittyhawk Pilot of 3 Sqn RAAF. He's going to be 90 in a couple of weeks and is as sharp as a tack and fit and agile as a guy 20 years younger. I sat talking and listening to him compact about 5 years of history into two hours.
I couldn't help feeling priveleged and I must admit a little unworthy as he rattled off the names of his personal friends and Commanders and others he'd met in captivity (Clive Caldwell and Bobby Gibbes, Paul Brickhill and others) relating personal stories about them from first hand experience. The only words to descibe his relating his personal aerial combats was surreal- he must have relived them many times over but he remembered the dialogue and call signs and the feelings when he downed his ME and especially when he was downed himself 2 weeks later (Maj J Muncheberg). Reading accounts of these events is one thing, but it's simply amazing to watch someone describe first hand the events leading up to being rounded up by 4 109's realizing the inevitable and finally hit with cannon fire below his seat and physically decribe the process of being ripped from his stricken burning Kittyhawk and cracking his knees on the way out. Each section of the discussion was like reading a chapter in a book. After capture by the Italians, straffed by Allies and what he felt would be inevitable release (or being left behind with the withdrawl along the Nth African coast) he was quickly shipped to Europe to wind up in Luft StalagIII for the rest of the War.
As this was '43 he witnessed the real Great Escape (reckons the first bit of the film was ok but most was a load of Hollywood rubbish- if you want to know what it was really like read Geoff Taylors "Piece of Cake"), and survived the final forced march of the entire Camp to northern Germany which he believes was an attempt by Hitler to use them for bargaining- in the end they were all to be shot but fortunately the War ended, not before many occasions again being strafed this time by Typhoons (they couldn't recognize who they were attacking from that distance or speed) and Bomber Command attacks by night. He and a couple of mates finally made it to France first by stolen Merc staff car and other means and finally landed in England on board a Lanc. He said these were being used to ferry home troops and some guys actually flew back in AC from their own squadrons- some even wanted to pilot themselves back- well you would wouldn't you, but being rusty at the controls aparently accounted for one ship being lost in the Channel- so close to home and after all they'd been through.
As I see it hese guys have lived two lives in one, and are living legends. I did the usual thing and took some show and tell- An RAAF service peaked cap, an RAF type B, type D o2 mask and goggles, and one of my Irvins. He slipped on the cap like it was yesterday, instantly at "a rackish angle' and the jacket with a huge smile on his face. He last saw his Irvin (worn only on the ground to fight off the cold desert) the last time he took off to fly. I'm going to see him next week as well and go over his old shots. after the war he used to wear his own officers peacked cap driving his tractor on the farm, and the 1936 pattern boots which he wore from his flying days, and protected him through the stalags winters and march were burnt with most of his posessions (not his pictures) when his farm was burnt in a bushfire.
If you can, visit a Vet today, they are amazing!!!
Below is some of the work by Robert Taylor depicting the work of the relevant Squadrons.
Anyone else have any encounters to relate?
