AS I REMEMBER
VE DAY +50 REMINISCENCES
J. O. Millar.
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The Human brain is a very remarkable mechanism the way it associates a musical tune with recollection of a past event. Whenever I hear "Lilli Marlene" it reminds me of that day, 4th October 1944, as the refrain came over the public address system, when I first became conscious enough to work out that I was lying in a bed, with hands and face bandaged, my left arm propped up on a pillow. I could not lift it when I tried. There were other beds in the room, some occupied, and at the far end the wall had two wide doors with "LABOUR WARD" printed above them. About that time, two nursing sisters came to my bed and wheeled it through those doors, then proceeded to dress the wounds on my face an my hands. They told me that I was in the Burns Ward of R.A.F. Hospital Wroughton, near Swindon, in Wiltshire. I had been flown back from France since the hospital acted as a Casualty Clearing Station for the second front in Europe. Little did I realize then that I was to occupy that bed for the next two months. The day I first came to my senses, "mentally alert" was the medical term, was notable because I could not get the word "Australia" out of my mind. This remained an unsolved mystery for forty years until I obtained a photocopy of the page of 467 Squadron Flying log detailing flights on 24th September 1944. The target was Calais and "Just before the aircraft reached their target a recall to base was issued.". The code word for that day's recall had been "Australia". I vaguely remember being visited by Bill, our rear gunner, who told me the others were okay, that we had come down near a cornfield near Calais and had been picked up by Canadians. I remember him saying that his intercom had gone haywire and he didn't know what had happened until his turret broke off on impact. His only injuries were bruises. I remembered nothing of the flight from the time before take-off when we were visited by the Squadron Commanding Officer, in dispersal bay. I do remember Lindsay, our W/T operator being very unhappy about flying that afternoon. It certainly was not an ideal flying day. The Squadron Flying Log recorded:
The Bomber Command War Dairies gives a wider view:
All of this remained unknown to me for the ensuing forty odd years until the Australian Freedom of Information Act gave me access to my R.A.A.F. medical records. It seems most likely that at the moment of impact of Lancaster LM-636 I was ejected from my bench, smashed my way through the perspex conservatory to land some distance from the main body of the aircraft. This was not an uncommon fate for a Lancaster navigator when his plane crash-landed. This also happened to Noel, an English navigator from 9 Squadron, who with his crew had been with us at O.T.U. and he was the only one injured when they crash-landed on returning home. His Bracchial Plexus injury was like mine, but on the other side. We made a good pair when we met up at 2 M.R.U. Hoylake, getting around each with one arm up in the air.. The first report from the 5th Canadian Field Dressing Station tends to confirm this:
Before being transferred from C.C.S. to Wroughton Hospital strength, I had a surprise visit from the group Captain Hospital Commanding Officer, an Australian Harley Street E.N.T. specialist. He had received a telephone call from Dr McIndoe, inquiring whether I was burnt badly enough to come under his wing for reconstructive care. Such was not the case, but I remained mystified by the enquiry until after my return home to Dubbo. Then I found out that Dad had spoken with a lady, who had in turn mentioned my name to her son George, who was high on the priority list with Dr McIndoe. Many years later when I called to thank him, George told me that we had been in the same class at Dubbo Infants and Primary Schools until our family moved to Moree in 1930. It was on my first outing from Wroughton that I realised my left knee was not in 100% working order. After I had become a walking patient and was going to physiotherapy for galvanic and faradic stimulation of the muscles in my left arm, the missing front teeth from my top partial plate were replaced. However the jagged edges of the front bottom teeth were not touched for quite a time. Pat, my dentist at The Entrance, decided he had the ability and equipment to improve my smile, which he successfully did. On 21st November I was transferred by ambulance to the Peripheral Nerve Centre at R.A.F. Hospital Church Village near Pontypridd. Here I was introduced to the conspicuous walking out uniform of hospital blue coat and trousers with white shirt and red tie. My first sick leave in December saw me at Budleigh Saltarton again. Not knowing my condition, Aunt Margaret had put me in a nursery with my old mate Harold whom I had not seen since my early removal from 8 (O) A.F.U. Mona, on Anglesey. Harold and I had first become acquainted at 2 I.T.S Bradfield Park, Lindfield when I was an early entry into a predominantly Victorian and West Australian intake. We were in the same group at 2 A.C.S. Mount Gambier, 3 B.A.G.S. West Sale, 2 A.N.S. Nhill and 2 E.O. Bradfield Park before embarking from Brisbane on our voyage to San Francisco. Our group of Sergeant Navigators landed the lookout duty on the gun platforms, 2 hours on and 10 off. So it was that I saw in the New Year, leaning against an Oerlikon shield, looking at the sea. A 1944 Christmas Day group photo I had taken at Watch Hill turned up in some papers in 1990, so I sent it with another snap of Harold on our trans America train to him at his Melbourne residence. Great was the shock when I received a letter from his wife, Susie, saying he had died a few months previously. She did appreciate the photographs of him as she first met him and sent me a more recent one. This immediately brought back to my memory the day, when returning home from holidays, at one lookout on the Kurrajong Road, I had noticed a man with reddish hair and vaguely familiar face alongside a Victorian car with his wife and two little girls. Our two boys being a bit restless I drove on, and some miles on towards out Wellington home, it hit me. Was it Kevin, one of our mob at Mt Gambier, where we used to have Sunday night dinner at the same hotel? Church Village. January 1945. We were really snowed in. We patients were not being allowed for our usual walks. After a trip to the Nuffield Centre at Oxford, the report was a negative to the suggested exploratory operation, recommending a change of scenery to 2 A.C.O. Hoylake. Interviewed by the Commanding Officer on arrival together with ken, a future Rugby League International who had broken his leg on the Rugby Union field, we learnt that the C.O. did not approve of his unit being used to treat sports injuries. I did not hear what he said to Harold when he arrived after hospitalisation on account of breaking a leg after slipping on a frozen pathway at 1661 C.U. Winthorpe. Harold and I resumed our meanderings at weekends, Chester one weekend and a Liverpool Symphony Orchestra recital one Sunday evening. On leave in New York we had been Sunday lunch guests with a family before going to Radio City Music Hall for the Annual Benefit Concert featuring prominent performers. Jimmy Durante stole the show that night. We had also been to the Met. - The Marriage of Figaro featuring Ezio Pinza. One day in a record shop, our blue uniforms attracted an ex-serviceman, pure New Yorker, who had enjoyed his leaves in Australia. He procured tickets for a studio performance by George Wearing, and after the show introduced us to the Maestro. Our group of RAAF aircrew did astonish the Americans by passing all medical examinations without a single blemish. We, in turn, were astonished by the number of female doctors doing that job. Church Village. More medical tests. Return to what is now 2 M.R.U. Hoylake. This time I was able to spend more time on the adjoining golf links and our cricket team irritated our CO by losing to the Ministry of pensions Hospital at Liverpool, but their staff included some County players. It was about this time that I heard from Australia about my Pharmacy mate Laurie, now a Liberator Flight Engineer, being killed in Air Operations in the South West Pacific Area. It was not until many years after the war in the Pacific had finished that his family found out that had been attached to the very hush hush 200 flight. On a supply-dropping mission over Borneo his Liberator had crashed on its final run with total loss of life. Then one day I had to report to the Orderly Room and was greeted by a familiar figure in Australian Army uniform. It was my cousin Alec, who, as a prisoner of the Germans so aggravated them that he finished the War in the confines of Colditz, until released by the Allies. We spent the rest of the day together, mainly at West Kirby, until he had to return to London that evening. An unsettling period followed after learning that I would be returning to Australia on the hospital ship "ORANJE". From 10th July, life onboard the hospital ship was very relaxing and after the daily treatment a lot of free time was available for reflection. I had completed a four year apprenticeship in Pharmacy and the two year Sydney University course required before being allowed to take the Pharmacy Board final examinations. No longer in a reserved occupation, Laurie, who worked in North Sydney and lived in Waitara, and I, working and boarding at Lane Cove, thought we should play a more active part in the defence of our country. The Army Medical Service offered us positions as hospital nursing orderlies. Laurie told his family he did not want to spend the rest of the war cleaning bedpans. My sentiments, too. So we applied to join the RAAF. When called up for medical examination 27th July 1942, Blepharitis foiled me but Laurie went in as a trainee fitter 2E. My later medical failed on account of acne, but eventually it was acceptable, and so was I as a trainee pilot or navigator on 17th January 1943. During this period we had successfully passed our final examinations, Laurie doing a deferred paper when home on leave from Melbourne. When I was eventually sworn in on 25th February, 1943, the chap ahead of me in the queue, Bill, had a variation of one letter in his surname to mine, so I was given the number eleven after his to avoid any possible mistakes. ITS at Bradfield Park was uneventful but my height of six foot four inches singled me out as a right marker for the parade ground. One of the officers instructing had been my mathematics teacher at Moree Intermediate High ten years earlier. Towards the end of the course, like all teachers and bank clerks, Harold, who was a lawyer and an associate to a judge in bankruptcy at his enlistment, and myself, were catagorized as potential navigators. In pool at ITS I learnt that emptying the pig drums gave the most time off. Night guard duty at the Lane Cove River boatshed was the most relaxing and peeling parsnips etcetera was to be avoided as much as possible. Eventually we were sent to Mt Gambier where we did the old Air Observer course, but we were finally classified as LAC O.R. Navigators. I did not hear what reprimand one Flying Officer received from the CO, who, in all our Flying Logbooks had to initial the alteration from Air Observer to O.R. Navigator. Bombing and gunnery schools followed at West Sale in Fairey Battle and Oxford aircraft, quite a change from the Avro Anson at A.O.S. The trainees flew usually in pairs and after an early finish to our exercise the pilot of our oxford decided he would practise some manoeuvres. During the first wingover, a hunk of the front perspex broke away and whizzed between the two of us sitting behind the pilot. A short distance either way or there would have been one more fatality during training. This was the last manoeuvre for that day!! Astro navigation at Nhill followed and then we were packed off to 2 ED Bradfield Park. More inoculations followed which did suggest that America was our next stop and so it proved when we eventually saw the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The rail journey to New York was a bit boring but when we finally embarked on the "Queen Elizabeth" we knew we were getting somewhere at last. A rough trip followed and I grew to dislike baked beans, especially the American way. Arrival at Gourock we had never seen so many naval vessels, which sorely tested our recognition skills. Eventual arrival at Brighton made us long for our sandy beaches with the sunshine reflecting from the blue waters. The first night I heard the air raid sirens, I came down to investigate and later did my duty as an ARP warden on RAF property in the main street one night. We NCO's were sent to Mona on Anglesey where we were to get used to the weather vagaries in the Avro Anson once more. During one flight over the Irish Sea one engine failed and we were diverted to the Isle of Man for an overnight stay. I was just beginning to settle in, when with two others (three Australian navigators were required) was sent to 17 OUT Silverstone, Northampton the nearest railhead. As we came through the main gate we passed a Lancaster which had crash-landed there the night before, a grim reminder that there was a war going on. As the time drew near for crewing up I was approached by two English gunners who said they would like to fly with me. So when Geoff, a RAAF pilot, did likewise I introduced Norman as mid upper and Bill as rear gunner. David, an Australian who had done the same training as I, but in Canada, joined us as bomb aimer. Our first wireless operator was Brian, but he unfortunately contracted measles, and by the time I had rejoined the others at the satellite station Turweston, he had been replaced by Lindsay, also RAAF. David and I procured second hand bicycles and explored what we could of the surrounding countryside. One prominent memory of that period was when on day leave in London, I met up with Arthur, one of our Mt Gambier mob, at Australia House. We decided to visit Madame Tussauds and while there joined with three American Red Cross girls, with whom we proceeded to the Tower of London. At their suggestion we then went to the Empire Youth Service at Westminster Abbey. An attendant must have been impressed by the five uniforms and showed us to front row seats, about twelve feet from the Royal Pew occupied by Queen Elizabeth and the two Princesses, much to our companions' delight. One other day David and I visited Hampton Court Palace. Two things are particularly memorable, one being the carved wooden ceiling of the Royal Chapel, (a close view from the balcony), and the nameplate on one door, LADY BADEN POWELL, reminded us of the grace and favour apartments. Our last cross-country exercise was the night before D-Day. I had to prepare three flight plans before one was finally acceptable to Bomber Command and the Supreme High Command. Out over the Irish Sea the high altitude winds were much stronger (100%) than those forecast by the Met. After leave at the conclusion of our OTU course, our next stop was 51 Base, Scampton. Here I saw my first Lancaster with one radial engine, apparently testing it out for the York. This made me recall the first Lancaster I had seen, at Mt Gambier, G for George, on its way to its final resting place in the Australian War Museum in Canberra. Eventually we were sent to 1661 Conversion Unit Winthorpe. Here Roy joined us as flight engineer. In the Stirling I had much more space to work in comfort and the Air Position Indicator and H2s were welcome additions to the GEE which had previously been the main navigational aid. The weekend Geoff was away being commissioned, our crew was detailed for Church Parade at Winthorpe, at which service the banes for Lindsay's approaching wedding were announced from the pulpit. 25th August saw us back in Scampton again, when Geoff's hospitalisation for fourteen days delayed our transfer to 5 LFS until 8th Sept. Then on 18th September 1944, we moved to Waddington to join 467 Squadron RAAF. On 6th August 1945 the "Cranje" berthed at Melbourne, and our now small group spent the night at 6 RAAF Hospital Heidelberg, before we were entrained for Sydney, this time by sleeper being "A" class invalids. I was surprised to be met by my parents on Platform One of Sydney Central but just as delighted as they were. Twelve days leave from 3 RAAF Hospital Concord followed so I accompanied my parents back to Dubbo. It was at that time that I read the Personal Acknowledgement telegrams they had received that I first came to actually realize just how much worry the folks at home had endured. The following summary is very much a matter of concern for the recipient on the day of receipt.
They had twenty days of concentrated worry to add to the fact that the elder son, a Staff Sergeant in an 8th Division AGH had been a POW since Singapore fell. Leave completed, I was back in 3 RAAF Hospital for a week as inpatient until 21st August inaugurated a period of daily treatment as outpatient with a medical check every second Thursday. After seven days sick leave in October, the ongoing daily treatment required a check every month. Final Medical Board was held 29th April 1946, followed by discharge as Permanently Medical Unfit on 7th June 1946. In the following days I flew to Melbourne and spent an afternoon with David’s wife Mavis and their two little girls. I could not contact Lindsay's parents at the address given by RAAF GHQ in Melbourne. At Launceston, Geoff's parents would not hear of me staying at the hotel where I'd earlier booked a room when planning the trip, so I was their guest for the next few days until the time came for my earlier booked flight back to Sydney. I think that both families did appreciate my visit, and I was relieved that I had made the effort, although I had been unable to tell them at that time much more than the already knew. In England I had written to Lindsay's wife, Norman's wife and Roy's mother. She had visited me in Church Village Hospital as she stayed with friends at Pontypridd. The names of five members of my crew are listed with nearly 12.000 others in the 5 Group Bomber Command Book of Remembrance stored in the Airmen's Chapel of St Michael in Lincoln Cathedral, together with the 1 Group Bomber Command Roll of Honour with over 9,000 names. Sir Arthur Harris has said that approximately 125,000 aircrew served in the squadrons, operational training and conversion units of Bomber Command during the War, of which nearly 60% became casualties, 55,500 being fatal. Approximately 85% of these casualties were suffered in operations, and 15% in training and other accidents. By 1940, the minimum rank for aircrew was that of Sergeant. Promotion in the RAAF was automatic on his survival, the crown of Flight Sergeant was added after six months and after the next twelve months he achieved Warrant Officer Status. From a random survey of Bomber Command names in the registers of nine war cemeteries in Germany, the approximate proportion of dead aircrew according to rank was:
Captains of Aircraft had to have commissions by August 1944. The first names of our two sons are a constant reminder of those mates, who, together with many other RAAF aircrew, gave their all for their country. Now their bones have been interred in the foreign soil of far distant countries. © J O Millar 1995
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