After VE Day

The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

I was home on leave when the war in Europe ended on 7th May and for two days there were celebrations, bonfires, dancing in the streets and later on a Victory tea and sports for the children at which I did a bit of clowning.

There were all sorts of crashes, some fatal, and one of my pals who was a long distance walker and had taken part in the London to Brighton race, was the only survivor from a crash because of his small stature. He was trapped in the rear turret but hacked his way out, through one of the Perspex panels, but was very severely burned.

We were soon on the move again, back to Tilstock for a day and then on to Saltby near Melton Mowbray when I made a diversion to see Stella (my cousin) in Birmingham and then to Needham. We were flying in Halifaxes now and after a few weeks doing glider towing and container dropping, as well as continental trips, formation and low flying we were sent to Matching Green, near Dunmow in Essex. Soon after arrival, we the crew were sent to London

Halifax Bomber

for Yellow Fever jabs, and as these were due on the Friday and we were not flying again until the Monday we decided to make a weekend of it. Bob, who was on the Chelsea books, Ken and Val were all Londoners so went home. But Norman, Bill and myself had a night at the Russell Hotel and went to see the test match at Lords on Saturday.

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The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

In July I met Doff in London and we had a busy two days in London visiting an aircraft exhibition, a housing exhibition, Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey and a service at St. Pauls, Hyde Park and St. James Park and Private Lives at the Prince of Wales theatre.

After some lengthy trips and one diversion to Crosby-on-Eden where we spent the night we were posted to 190 Squadron at Great Dunmow. On my last trip home I returned to camp in my car, a Ford 10 silver bullet, and kept it on the base where it was very useful for trips out and the occasional quick nip home. Shortly after we arrived here we were briefed to go to Hamburg but due to bad weather we had to land and spend the night at Stoney Cross in Hampshire. We returned to base to learn that the Germany trip had been scrubbed and instead we were to go to Oslo the next day. We landed at Gard and were shown our quarters which were some cavalry barracks near the aerodrome. After a meal Norman, Bill and myself scrounged a lift into Oslo and spent a very pleasant evening in the company of some young Norwegian students. I had the chance to have a good look round the next morning and was impressed by the number of good German cars, Mercedes among them, which had been abandoned. We were briefed for the return journey and had a passenger in the shape of the M.T. officer who was going home for a spot of leave. This was all unofficial and as a sort of reward he scrounged a bottle of wine for each of us, and as bonus for me being the only one with a car, a Gerry can full of petrol, very precious stuff, with strict instructions to keep it well hidden! The weather was bad, as too was the forecast, but after some delay we obtained permission to take off, but as soon as we got over the sea we wished we hadn’t as the weather deteriorated badly and we were soon enveloped by thick fog. Norman decided to cross the North Sea at zero feet practically skimming the wave tops. After a few minutes of flying at this level there was an almighty bang, the aircraft bucked like a bronco

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The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

and from the rear turret I saw a flash of orange-coloured something go past, Norman and Bill were fighting hard to control the aircraft and I can remember Norman shouting over the inter-com “What was it Russ?” and my reply “It looks as if you have taken the sails off a trawler.” Despite the danger I can remember very clearly thinking ‘surely I’m not going to lose that wine and very precious petrol’. The mind of man works in a very strange way. By this time all the crew except Norman and myself were looking round to see what damage was causing the old Hali to cut such capers when somebody spotted a huge hole in the port wing. By this time we had sent out a Mayday signal and Norman was managing to keep us in the air. We eventually crossed the coast at Felixstowe and made a very rough landing at base where we were met by a full reception committee of fire engines and ambulances. We were soon off to interrogation where we learned that air-sea rescue and all East coast aerodromes, coastguards etc. had been alerted in case we crashed into the sea or on the coast. The cause of it all was the thick fog. Inside the port wing of a Halifax was a deflated dinghy large enough to take all the crew in the event of ditching i.e. crashing into the sea. This was inflated by an immersion switch which came into operation as soon as an aircraft touched the water. In turn the dinghy was inflated and in so doing burst it’s way out of the fabric of the wing. This is all supposed to happen when you are in the water and not in mid-air but in our case the moisture from the very heavy fog was sufficient to trigger the whole thing off. Seven worthy members of His Majesty’s R.A.F nearly went to Davy Jones locker and it was only by Norman’s skill that we didn’t for remember that if we had crashed our dinghy was in shreds miles behind us. As soon as the Air Ministry found out the cause of our trouble an immediate order went out that all immersion switches were to be moved but before this had been implemented the same thing happened to another crew and they were all lost.

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The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

Now to my petrol which I managed to conceal under my Mae West when I left the aircraft and hid it in my crew locker at dispersal. We were given a couple of days off after our adventure and I was very quick to smuggle my precious liquid into the car and get it to Needham. I have still got the Gerry can concerned which I kept as a souvenir. Shortly afterwards I found out what would have happened to me if I had been caught, stripped of my rank and back to A.C. plonk, OR, dishonourably discharged. This is what happened to a member of another crew on the squadron who had by some means won a gallon, not four as in my case, had been found out and after a court of inquiry in this country the crew had been posted to Germany and a Halifax full of witnesses were flown out there for the final court and sentence. A few hundreds of gallons of petrol plus time to put that matter right but the man concerned was a sergeant so he didn’t have quite so far to fall. Ah well, all part of life’s many experiences, some give a thrill, some a great deal of joy but many give you butterflies to think about them.

We did a continental cross-country the day after we arrived back and were then issued with tropical kit and briefed for a flight to Athens, calling at Brussels to pick up some ex-prisoners of war, male and female. They had been in one of the Gerry horror camps and bore the dreaded stamp in their wrists. I shall never forget how on arrival at Athens they got out of the aircraft, fell on their knees and kissed the ground. I reckon they never expected to see Greece again. After landing in Brussels we were given a stark tea and the most horrible grubby billets for the night you could imagine. We went out on the town that night and didn’t spend long in the ‘luxury apartment’ for at 04.14 next day we were off, dropping in at Fay in Italy for an hour or so to pick up some troops and then on to Hassani (Athens). We had a meal and then went on to a camp near the sea for the night and as always I was soon having a swim, this time in the Aegean Sea. We got a lift into Athens on a truck, had a meal of goat

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The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

and the most delicious ice cream on the roof of a café to the accompaniment of traditional music played by a Greek orchestra. The next day, while the other lads stayed in camp, I went into the city on my own, getting a lift in a open truck, and as we travelled along the country road the smell from the trees in the orchards by the roadside was superb. I had a jolly good look round, visited the Acropolis etc. and had a good fill of their luscious ice cream. On returning to camp I had two more swims in the sea before retiring to bed. We were off at 04.25 next morning calling at Foggia again to pick up troops to take home to St. Mawgan in Cornwall where we spent the night, arriving back at base at 15.15 the next day.

The next trip was to Lubeck in Germany calling at Tarrant Rushton in Dorset where we spent the night and had a whale of a time at their mess party. At this time Bill Burt our bomb aimer was on a course and he was replaced by ‘Chick’ Kerr a Canadian who in Civvy Street was a professional ice hockey player with Toronto Maple Leafs. He was a grand chap, generous to a fault, and he stuttered, and for a bomb aimer this was a bit of a drawback because part of the job was, when required, to do map reading from the bomb bay in the nose of the aircraft, and if we had waited for ‘Chick’ to tell us where we were we would have been about 100 miles beyond that point when he eventually got the name out. But of course Chick knew all this, and instead of trying to tell us he would write the information down on a piece of paper and pass it up. By the time we reached journey’s end we all reckoned that the cockpit looked like the outside of a church after a wedding – covered in confetti. To go back to the mess party, after it was all over we went back to a little tin hut that we had been given for the night but without Chick who had disappeared. However he turned up for breakfast looking very rough after spending the night, or what was left of it, sleeping on a bread rack in an abandoned baker’s shop. He said to me “R.r..r..r..russ my p.p..p..poor old b.b..b..back looks like a

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The Diaries of Russell James Sparrow 1908 to 1991

b.bb…….dy sheet of c.c..c..cor..corrugated iron”. That morning we picked up a load of troops, flew them to Lubeck where we had a meal in the Malcolm Club and then returned to base.

After some mass glider towing and parachute dropping we took an aircraft up to Holme-on-Spalding moor in Yorkshire, spent two nights there because of bad weather and then brought another aircraft back. In the meantime we had some more ‘jabs’ and then we were detailed for a trip to Cairo, but after a delayed start we had to return with engine trouble. We were given another aircraft loaded with aero-engines and spare parts and this time our destination was Palestine – first stop Malta where we spent the night. This has been described as the island of bells and goats and how right that description was. After dinner I took a stroll on my own into the villages and although it was dark and I couldn’t see much I could hear the church bells tolling and the continuous tinkling of the goats bells as they moved about.

We left at 0600 hrs next day and landed at El Quastina at 12.45. This was in the middle of nowhere and the only sign of life, other than on the airstrip, were a few locals in their ‘nightshirts’ riding on donkeys and camels. I had heard that the ‘wogs’ could carry a piano on their backs and here I saw this demonstrated. Four R.A.F. lads just managed between them to ‘walk’ a heavy crate up the aircraft to the door and to our amazement the thinnest and most scraggy ‘nightshirted’ individual imaginable bent over near the door, they just managed to tip the crate on to his back and off he walked!

We spent the evening and that night in quarters at Lydda between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Before we left early the next morning I managed to get a basketful of bananas, etc. to take home. Again we dropped in at Luqua and as we arrived much earlier we were able to go into Valetta and have a good look round in daylight. Poor old Malta had taken a bashing. Even in the town goats were much in

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