Chapter 10

I arrived in Adelaide late in January, 1943, having left school behind. I wanted to get a job until I was old enough to join the RAAF. Dad must have made some enquiries about the possibilities from friends at his workplace as some medico that he contacted recommended that I try F.H.Faulding a wholesale pharmaceutical supply house. They did employ me, at the lowest rung of the ladder as a messenger boy in the surgical department. It was fortunate that I had my sights set on joining the Air Force because the job was not one that you could have been excited by for very long. At that level of work you were a nobody, something that pushes a broom or runs messages at the call of a "Hey you". Certainly one soon learned the streets of Adelaide and the addresses of most of the Doctors and Chemists. Looking back now, this association, together with the close proximity to the University in North Terrace may have had some influence in my eventual selection of a career. I made some deliveries by bicycle, others on foot, and there were many, so much so that my feet hurt most days. I rather think that it was where I first felt a problem with my right metatarsal arch, but did not have the wit to do anything constructive to alleviate the problem. In today's world I probably would have had it examined, reported it to the union (I don't think there was one) and sought correction and compensation.
Behind the scenes in a business of that sort I learned what went on unseen by the general public. This included avoidance of work, petty pilfering taking place, as well as the stealing of quick cuddles and kisses in the bulk store with the pretty girls. Speaking of girls, I was friendly with most, although shy. Later, when I was on leave from the RAAF I went out with one or two. The troubles and dilemmas of boys and girls around the 17-18 age group became part of the daily conversation. There was no canteen, and many of the lads, clad in ghastly grey work coats, would take their sandwich lunch outside the door in a side street. There they would squat or sit on the pavement, and discuss all manner of things including the appearance of passers-by.
When I turned 18 I applied to join the RAAF almost straight away. At that time the Government kept a pretty close watch on people of military age, and to move from job to job one had to seek permission from the "Manpower" Department. The Manager of Fauldings personally walked me around the streets to that Department where he pushed for me to be released to the Air Force. You should realise that a chemical company was regarded as a "Reserved Occupation" being a necessary supplier of goods for the war effort. Mind you I had had a falling out with this fellow so he may not have been totally altruistic in his help. Anyway on the 11th September I received word to attend the Recruit Centre. I was put through the medical tests without any problems and classed A1, with 20-20 vision and no colour blindness. The distinction of having the longest legs to be measured at that Recruiting Centre fell to me.
We were trucked off to Victor Harbour (No.4 Initial Training School) where we were issued with clothing, eating "irons" (implements) and told to get a palliasse. This semed to mean a "friendly donkey" but was a hessian envelope into which straw was stuffed and then the whole was laid on the floor as a mattress. All the details of service life were then drilled into us, metaphorically. Keeping all one's kit tidy, making up the bed, having dress inspections and so on became part of the daily life. We were indoctrinated into the mysteries of the Air Force Manual that contained the laws governing every activity of Air Force Personnel. I should have mentioned that I had been accepted into training for Air Crew. We started learning about engines, meteorology, weapons, morse code, and other subjects and at the same time had much physical training.
Amongst the staff were some old timers from the first World War, who had been co-opted back into service because of their experience. One such was Wing Commander Hewitt, who proudly wore on his uniform the medals of his service including the pilot's badge, a pair of wings on the left chest. In a hangar near the training area was an old aircraft, I believe a Duisenberger. It is alleged that after a particularly merry occasion in the Officer's mess Hewitt climbed into the cockpit and started the engine. Fortunately he was restrained at this point before he could attempt the take off.
Soon after arrival we had leave to go into the local town of Victor Harbour. Walking back in the dark with another chap we missed a turn and walked unknowingly into the compound occupied by the girls of the WAAAF. We only woke up to this mistake when we stumbled into the shower area that was rather occupied at the time. With screams turning into threats we beat a hasty retreat and fortunately no further action occurred. Those who have heard me tell this story before seem to have trouble believing that it was an innocent error. I suspect they were envious.
We did quite a lot of physical training some of which took the form of long runs. One of these led to a nearby beach where the instructor ordered us into the water. September air temperatures were low in this region and water temperature was straight out Arctic. I lasted a few minutes before deciding discretion was the better part of valour, but I remember one fellow who came out literally blue- I had never seen this before as I had always lived in warm climates. What is more no one in his right mind would have a swim in that water for enjoyment.
After about 8 weeks there was a meeting of the Category Selection Board that each trainee (or Aircraftsman 2 ) had to attend to have his category as Pilot, Observer/Navigator or Wireless Air Gunner determined. You can understand the anxiety that this barrier provoked. Around 90% of candidates wanted to be pilots, but of course there was a need for greater numbers of air gunners and almost as many navigators as pilots. The grave faces of the Officers comprising the Selection Board were immediately off-putting. However, one with a rather kindly face started asking me questions about Southport, fishing and schooling. There was little else he could ask except what did I really want to be. (after all one had not exactly had a great number of experiences at this age). I left him in no doubt what I wanted and the answers I gave must have been acceptable The great news for me was that the board classified me as pilot, a situation that I had dreamed of for years. As a consequence my posting from 4ITS was to Parafield 1EFTS (Elementary Flying Training School) outside Adelaide. This took effect on the 9th December, 1943. As Dad and Mum were living in Adelaide at St Peters I was able to spend my leaves with them.
The New Year came in while I was on leave. I went with Bill Holland to a theatre showing the "The Road to Morocco" a Bing Crosby and Bob Hope comedy film. We were not actually on course at this stage, but doing "tarmac duty" which consisted of helping to push aircraft out of hangars, start the engines, and help pilots to turn the Tiger Moths in the wind. There were lectures and various tasks such as guard duty.
In January on leave I ate lots of ripe stone fruits including apricots, figs and peaches in Dad's garden. Stone fruits grew well in this climate unlike the sub-tropics of Brisbane. Bush fires, a not infrequent summer occurrence in South Australia were quite close to the city in early January, and some of us were called in to help put them out. It was an exhausting, dirty task and at times, dangerous.
On Friday, 14th January we started our flying course with an air experience flight. My instructor was P/O Clark. After the very enjoyable flight, we had some leave which I shared with Mal Shannon, going to the place of a fellow trainee, Keith Hendry. Soon we were flying most days, usually starting early in the morning to avoid the bumpiness in the air that came as the ground heated up. Details of the flights are in my diary of 1944. On January 27 I made my first solo flight with 8 hours and 20 minutes experience behind me. From diary notes it seems that we went on leave for 1 day each week from Parafield, and during the working week there was a new release film available on most nights.
On one of my leaves at home (11/2/44), our friendly neighbours, the Ferrys, asked us over to meet Pat and Judy Goyder, who lived nearby. Pat became a friend with whom I shared many experiences while single, and this continued over many years after Marcia and I married. Pat married Alan Chenu, who was a trainee pilot at Mallala, and they enjoyed a very happy life together, but sadly she died in the late '80s. She was blessed with a great sense of fun and told excellent stories.
At this time four of us at Parafield decided to share the cost of buying an old Ford T car, which provided much fun, but constantly broke down or got punctures.
As for the course, we started night flying and had many hours of aerobatics and formation flying plus "under the hood' or instrument flying practice. We also went on a number of cross country flights. Marks for ground subjects came through about this time and although not all were recorded it seems that for Theory of Flight my mark was 91%. Some of the course are having their training cut short, to be continued in Canada. From my diary, a note added later says that they were still waiting to fly when we had gained our wings. With all that time to spare no wonder some were married to Canadian girls.
On St.Patricks day we had a spot landing competition during which one went up with an instructor who at a certain height cut the engine. The trainee then had to circle, glide and land with power off, finishing the landing run as close as possible to a cross marked on the ground near the centre of the airfield. Poor old Bill H. did everything right until approaching the aerodrome fence. He undershot and even with the use of power as a last desperate and "illegal" act, failed to gain enough height and finished ignominiously in a ditch just feet short of the fence. The engine was forced back on to the instructor but neither had lasting injuries. There had been bets on who would win, in the style of a raffle. As it happened I finished very close to the marker and won the competition. However some trainees were scheduled to fly in the afternoon but that did not eventuate. Some street-smart guys who knew that they had not won took the chance to demand that all contributions be refunded. For some reason this opinion outweighed our protests, so yours truly did not get the prize of the money collected.
In March we had the chance to play cricket against a team from a Dakota squadron based at Parafield. One pilot was Bill Brown from Queensland, an Australian Test player. He played with us and in fact I opened the batting with him. Unfortunately after I had made only 2 or 3 he ran me out. Later he apologised for running me out and took time to praise some of my strokes. Naturally I was pleased to have had the experience and appreciated having had some praise. I had last played about 2 years earlier in the First Eleven for TSS during my last year there.
At this time (March) we were not flying much but were doing fitness courses, playing sport and so on. We also went to do some shooting on a rifle range. Now I had had no previous experience of this activity except for firing away at a little tin flag on the putting green at Bauer St in the Southport house. On the 200 yard range I scored 32/45 and on the 600 yard 35/45 including 3 bulls which was enough to win the event. The victory was sweeter for its unexpectedness. Some fellows had settled down for their turn with the air of experienced shooters. They made a great show of checking the wind and sun, dug holes in the ground, lined the body up crosswise and used the strap to steady themselves and so on, and then lost to me, an amateur.
Upon graduating from the EFTS course Mal Shannon, John Jenkins and self (and possibly others I am uncertain about) were posted (5/4/44) to Deniliquin (7SFTS) to fly Wirraways. Of the remainder at Parafield most were sent onto twins (Ansons) including my friend Bill.