Chapter 11

First impressions of Deniliquin were unfavourable, as it was dry, dusty, cold and barren. However we had to get used to it as we were to be there for 4 months at least. Again we had one month of tarmac duties to perform before going on course. We learned to refuel aircraft, start the motors and have the cockpit drill off by heart.
One job that fell to us was spotting on the bombing range, just out from town. Here trainees flew to a certain point then went into a dive and at an aiming point released a practice bomb that burst on impact with a puff of smoke. Two observation points that formed a triangle with the target had telescopes with a scale and pointer. When a bomb landed, each post watcher aimed his telescope at the puff and read off the angle on the scale, thus giving a pinpoint of how close the bomb was to the target. All this week we went to the range, but Tuesday 18th March was memorable. There had been a long drought in this area and strong northerly winds had built up on this day and brought with them some dust. As time went on vision became poorer and the bombing was scrubbed for the day. We, that is John Jenkins and I, were picked up by the tender to be transported back to the drome. The dust by now was swirling all around, and we crouched in the back of the tender with a blanket over us. When we had a look out of the cover, we were astonished, and not a little fearful. Only just above our heads were heavy black clouds of such intensity that we could not see more than a few feet. It was an awe-inspiring sight that neither of us has forgotten.

Tarmac duty went on and on, and was bad for our morale. However by May 9 we had begun our course. On May 11 I flew a Wirraway for the first time. At this time we did several hours of dual. Then two days later I soloed after a little over 5 hours up on this type. Following this introduction there was daily flying especially doing aerobatics and forced landings.
As soon as we started flying at Deniliquin we realised how great it was to graduate from the very old and very slow Tiger Moths to the substantial, all metal aircraft the Wirraway, with its big rotary engine, higher speed and ceiling. It had only recently been Australia's front line fighter aircraft but sadly that was only because it was being compared with aircraft of years ago rather than those of other Air Forces. As a service trainer it was ideal, being responsive and fully aerobatic. There was a tendency for high speed stalls to occur in tight turns, and on landing to suddenly drop a wing. These faults turned out to be correctable if caught in time. When not caught in time it could be disastrous as Norm Dennis discovered when landing one day. The aircraft dropped a wing close to touch down and Norm ended up landing upside down. In aerobatics, the Tiger Moth was smooth but slow, without idiosyncrasies. However the Wirraway gave a greater thrill with its greater speed and behaviour a little closer to that of the front line fighters. We landed on the whole drome at Deniliquin rather than on a strip. This meant that we could land into wind always, rather than cross wind which is harder. The smooth three point landing of the Tiger Moth that gave such pleasure when properly executed was much harder in a Wirraway. In fact we were told to deliberately do a "wheel" landing, which was easier but less rewarding. Another feature that the new aircraft had was "under the hood" instruction. We learned to take off and do turns and even go on cross country flights while flying blind. Today even the small general aircraft have superb navigation facilities but all we had was a gyro, a compass and an airspeed indicator and a track to fly. When we were released from under the hood at the supposed ETA, we did not know whether we would look down at a featureless plain or the town we were supposed to be over. Believe me it was a great thrill if we found we were over the target town. In retrospect it was indeed a worthy achievement considering the paucity of navigational aids.
One cross country to Swan Hill has us flying over Lake Boga where we saw some Martin Mariners possibly from the USAAF. My instructor at this time was a Flight Sergeant Brackenridge.
Had a letter from a school pal, Len Vann, in which he wroite of two other TSS boys, George Ricketts and Rob Young who were trainee pilots in Canada.
On June1 we had a solo cross-country to Albury and Wagga, landing at Forest Hill to refuel. I really enjoyed this long trip. It was obviously intended to give us the feeling of responsibility of making a proper trip involving landing at another airport, refuelling for ourselves and taking off under a different set of conditions and returning to base. The same night we had night flying at which I went solo for the first time in a Wirraway. On the 5th of June I flew a solo cross-country to Shepparton and Wangaratta. As I write this the thought occurs to me that these trips familiarised me with the towns and countryside of Victoria and New South Wales, and may be the reason that I have always enjoyed our car trips through these places.

On June 16 I got word that my brother Dick was killed on June 9. The short message stated that the Lancaster aircraft in which he was the Navigator returned safely from a bombing operation over Europe, but was unable to land at base because of bad weather. The aircraft was diverted to another base at Catfoss, where upon a landing attempt the plane hit a tree and several of the crew jncluding Dick were killed. Dick was buried in a special War Cemetery at Harrogate, Yorkshire. Photographs of the funeral and of the headstone were sent to my parents at the time and the graves were tended by volunteers from nearby. Nowadays I would think it is cared for by arrangement wih our War Graves Commision. I have visited Dick's grave twice, once with Marcia. His pal in the crew died at the same time and is interred in a neighbouring grave. He was Syd Merrin and hailed from Toowoomba. Mum kept in touch with Mrs Merrin for years, when we were in Melbourne, but I do not have any papers about this. There may be some in the folders of Mum's papers that I have yet to go through. Although such tragedies occurred daily in every war zone during World War 2, at a personal level these occurrences hit home very hard. A son or daughter is understandably very special to parents. When I first went home on leave after this period, it was noticeable to me how much this loss had affected Dad and Mum. Looking back I realise to some extent I was buffered against grief. The Air Force program went on regardless and I did not have much time to ponder on the fragility of life. It was when I returned from the War, and lived again for a while with Mum and Dad that I more fully realised what a gap had been created by the loss of Dick. Of course another factor was the fact that we too were being prepared for the danger ahead in action, and cast fears aside by jocular treatment of most calamities. Deaths of fellow trainees in aircraft crashes occurred during training. In the squadrons on active service of course more fatalities occurred.

Still dealing with Deniliquin in June, my instructor changed to a Flying Officer Collins. Nothing ever suited him. My flying deteriorated because of the stress he induced. However in the long run it did not matter, as I qualified with my wings and topped the course in the ground subjects. I must say after suffering the taunts of Collins, I was delighted to find later that I was the only one from the course to be selected to go to Operational Training on Spitfires at Parkes, but more of that later.
On the instrument panel of a Wirraway there was one gauge On the instrument panel there was one gauge containing a couple of needles that indicated slip or skid and the direction of turn. There was an arc of sealed glass tubing containing a black marble or ball floating in fluid. If one made a turn that was so well done that the centrifugal force was well balanced with the rate of turn and orientation of the aircraft the black ball stayed in the centre of the arc. This represented good flying technique. With students, the black ball was often all over the place during turns indicating one or more of the controls was being applied incorrectly. It was the goal of every student to do his turns and manoevres smoothly and the black ball in the centre was the criterion of this ability. One day I went up dual with a Sergeant Pilot instructor who, in the latter part of the exercise, took over the controls and proceeded to do many manoeuvres, tight turns, climbs, stall turns and so on and I watched the black ball to check him out. It stayed as if glued to the middle of the arc and the feeling in the aircraft was smooth, without the irritation of slip or skid. It was a magnificent demonstration of smooth almost perfect flying.
Normally each aircraft was not equipped with RT (Radio Transmission). There was a ground station with call sign "Pedage", staffed by several delightful Waafs, and at least once in every course we has some exercises involving RT. For this we carried a fellow student in the back seat who managed the radio as if he were a wireless operator. I recall Bill Conn being the operator in one Wirraway when I was in another. As our two aircraft taxied out together he sang into the microphone a very raunchy version of "Poor little Angeline" which would have been heard by all the delightful and apparently innocent young Pedage girls. Bill later became Police Commissioner for Victoria.
In the flight rooms there were several WAAFs to look after the various clerical duties-rosters in particular, and other paper work concerning the files on each student pilot. They were usually very helpful and friendly and they did a great job organising the trainees and even placating their outrages against some of the instructors. One especially attractive girl was called Elaine and she stole most hearts. John J. was particularly attracted but she was spoken for to a former student pilot on an earlier course who by now was in operations in England, or so the story went. Years later at an anniversary get together at Deniliquin when JJ was also present who should be there but the beautiful Elaine and husband- some 40 years older. It was very much like old times. Elaine distinguished herself by a long running and well publicised campaign to have the RSL admit her and other WAAAFs into that association.
Night flying had its hazards. On one occasion a student pilot attempted to land or even did land between two parallel rows of lights believing it to be the Deniliquin airport when it was actually the main street of Cowra (or Corowa).
Students got themselves into all sorts of bother from time to time. Incidents such as the landing at Cowra, taxying with a flat tyre, taxying into an object on the ground, landing down wind and so on were punished by the receipt of the MHDOID or The Most Highly Derogatory Order of the Irremovable Digit, commonly called the Finger. This was a large wooden replica of a hand with extended finger and strap attached, It was intended that the offender should wear it around his neck for as long as was considered to be appropriate to the offense. The "decoration" had its origin in England from where much flying advice, combat advice and morale boosting propaganda issued. The Royal Air Force had by this time had 4 or 5 years of combat experience to hand on. Posters from them hung in our flight rooms exhorting us with cliches to remember all sorts of advice. Such items included "Beware of the Hun in the Sun", "TMPFF" which was the vital cockpit drill prior to take off--Trim, Mixture, Pitch, Fuel and Flaps, and prior to landing. Cartoons illustrated faults committed by P/O Prune a pilot who always did the wrong thing. Many were constant reminders for ones own safety.
While solo flying was exhilarating, with its sense of freedom and power, dual with an instructor was usually an exhausting experience, depending on the instructor. The one great fear shared by all students, was of failing to make the grade and graduate as a pilot. This depended on the marks or assessment by the instructor for each lesson, together with final flying tests with the Chief Flying Instructor. Although barely 2 or 3 years older than the trainees, instructors generally seem to have been chosen for their ability to unnerve students with their derisive and crushing comments on the ability of the trainee, or as it was generally called "putting the fear of God into them". Sadists all, we believed them to be, and as a consequence students often performed below their ability when flying dual. Even so, very few of our course failed to finish and graduate. Few of them actually got into operational flying in World War 2. In fact, apart from myself, I can only think of Johnny Joyce who went to Mildura on Kittyhawks and thence to ops with 80 squadron. Later on some went to Japan with the Occupational Forces after the war, some to Korea and several continued flying in civilian life. Mal Shannon became a QANTAS pilot, Ken Mc Kechnie became a well- known aerobatic pilot owning his own Pitts Special, and Ian Veall also soloed in a Pitts special and Laurie Middleton flew gliders. This is not an exhaustive list but just those that come to mind at the moment.

Airspeed Oxfords, twin- engine trainers for bomber pilots, were arriving at Deniliquin. After years of having only single engined aircraft it was obvious great changes were in the air. We learned that an Advanced Flying Unit was being set up, but it did not look as if it would affect us. At this stage we were just about finishing the course and on 20/8/44 I graduated as a Sergeant Pilot, getting those long-awaited and highly prized wings on my uniform. The very next day we were told that we had to stay another month, and we would be reduced in rank to LAC again. I suppose that we did not cost as much that way. We then did more flying and of a somewhat different nature. We were allowed more low level work, did formations of section fours, night cross-country flights and low level bombing. Then in October we were posted to a training or holding camp at Watsonia, a suburb of Melbourne.
While in Watsonia we had our first experience of Melbourne and its famous weather. It was well after winter (October) when we were there but we experienced the period of all the seasons rolled into one day. We would dress in our blue uniforms to keep warm and there would be a broadcast on the Tanoy-"greatcoats on parade". On would go our heavy blue serge overcoats and out on parade we would go. A shower might come over. Then the clouds would go and the sun would come out. Soon we would be baking in a mixture of humidity and heat. Like as not a further shower would come over before much longer. Weather was a common topic among people from a number of states.
On week-ends some of the good people in the community would have some entertainment for the lonely servicemen. This took the form of a refuge with a good book, a game of croquet or mini golf, or just chatting with the hostess or preferably the occasional beautiful young daughter. I must say that the efforts of numbers of good people made life very much better for those lucky enough to be in a position to benefit. This was the only time in my whole service career that I was able to benefit from such generosity, with the exception of very good times with relatives and friends in short stays in Sydney. Largely this was because we trained near small towns in the outback rather than near the cities. Then when we had leave, instead of heading for the high spots in the nearest city, we usually headed home to our parents.
A train to Melbourne from McLeod railway station was not far away across a paddock. We went to town a few times and even went to St Kilda, despite its reputation as a home of vice. One time JJ, MS and I decided to go ice-skating at the Palais at St Kilda. What a riot! First up it was nearly impossible to stand up on a board floor let alone on ice. A short venture onto the ice showed that it was no easier to stand up on the ice. Before we tried to skate we had sat down so much that our uniforms were getting very wet. After a few trials we made some progress, or so we thought. Our courage exceeded our common sense and soon the three of us were lying on the ice in a heap. I looked up to see a hand and arm outstretched in help. I took hold and found myself being rescued by a pleasant young girl. Her friends were helping the others to rise and resume skating- if you could give it that name. From here on their guidance helped us to have a thoroughly enjoyable evening. We walked them all home as they lived nearby. The lass who had accompanied me asked in the course of conversation where I hailed from. When Southport was mentioned she asked me if I knew Sos (Keith) Vickers, who was her boy-friend/fiance. The old small world syndrome was operating because Keith and brother Billy Vickers were both at the Southport State School when Dick and I were there and I remember that Billy was in Dick's grade. They were well known as they were both excellent surfers and their father managed the surf club kiosk. As I remember it she did not mention Billy. When we came to the Gold Coast in retirement, and learned from Margery Anderson (cousin) that she knew the Vickers, I told her the story. Oddly enough it turned out that Billy had married this girl Betty from Melbourne and she remembered the incident.
On Friday 17th November I was told I was posted to Parkes for OTU (Operational Training Unit.) This was just what I had always wanted- what I had worked, hoped and prayed for as it meant flying Spitfires or the alternative, Boomerangs. (I cannot remember whether I knew it would be Spitfires for sure, probably I did). The news lifted my spirits high and I would have been more exultant but I was the only one from the whole course to be posted to Parkes, and I was sorry to be parting from the good friends that I had made at Parafield and Deni. Some two or three of them were subsequently posted to Mildura on Kittyhawks but I lost track of them. One, Terry Fitzsummons, as I heard later, failed to pull out of a dive in a Kitty and was killed.
I did not have to leave immediately, and took the opportunity to accept an invitation to go with Mal and John to the home of Ken McKechnie at Kallista. On the Saturday we rode horses along the mountain trails for 4 hours in the morning and again in the afternoon. When Mal was shown to his horse I expected that being a country boy he would show us some horsemanship of quality. He lined up on the left side with one foot in the stirrup. With a tremendous swing of his muscular right leg he sailed up, up and over, descending with a thump on the ground on the other side. Poor old Mal ! We collapsed laughing on the ground. It was so unexpected and sudden that it was hilarious. Later on we tried some jumping over fairly low obstacles. As this was my first time on a horse unless you count being led at a snail's pace through and unfortunately in amongst a garden at a fete in Sutton Forest at age 11, you could say I was inexperienced. At my first jump we, that is horse and I, sailed over the obstacle. The horse landed but I kept going, describing a half roll, ending upside down with my arms around the neck of the horse, who was eyeing me with disdain. We did enjoy this week end at Kallista.

En route to Parkes I had to wait at Bradfield Park for a while and took the opportunity to see Thelma and Adrian Delamore and daughter Elisabeth, who was about 8 or 9 years old. Thelma was formerly Hadley, and a cousin of my Mum. They had lived in Kuala Lumpur. It was very pleasant at their home at Warrawee, and I enjoyed the time there and specially getting to know Elisabeth, a second cousin once removed. She was of an age group with which I had spent little time. Today over 50 years later, she is Elisabeth Maynard living on a property at Hay, New South Wales. While on old friends, I also saw the Nevitts, old friends from when we lived in Sydney. This was also a great time and I was attracted to Molly, one of their two daughters. We had an outing or two that I enjoyed very much especially when we got lost in the caves under Bradley's Head. I think Molly married a Canadian and went to Canada to live. After this short leave I went to Parkes by train. After a day or two there I met up with George Mitchell (ex TSS) who was on the staff as was Jean Marsden (ex Southport). Unfortunately I was unable to get on course straight away, so had to while away some time waiting to hear what was the score. Was entertained one day when 6 Mosquitoes came over in formation and were jumped by about 10 Spitfires above the base. They really put on a great show and made me feel even more the urge to get flying again.
After only a couple of weeks I was again posted to Bradfield Park to undergo a high altitude course. Before it started I was able to see Tom and Mildred again and go to the Nevitts, and to stay with Thelma. The course was interesting but in retrospect hardly necessary as most of our operational work turned out to be at low level. We did a night vision test at a simulated 16000 feet, then up to 25000 feet and ultimately to 32000 feet where we would last three seconds without oxygen. On another day we were put through a test that produced "bends". Only two of us of the ten lasted the whole 2 hours. Soon after the course was over I was sent on leave and so ended 1944. It was good to have some leave at home over the Festive season and to see Mum and Dad. Even so I seemed to go out quite a lot and always seemed to run into someone I knew in the RAAF. After the leave I was to report back to Parkes, but had a lot of trouble getting trains to Melbourne, Sydney and Parkes.