British Voices (8 page)

On a number of occasions we had as our guests to dinner in the mess a few of the senior Black and Tan officers, one of whom lived with his wife in a small cottage near the aerodrome. This particular officer returned to the cottage about midnight one night after dining with us, and at 1.00 a.m. there was a knock at his door and when he opened it he was shot with a revolver and died almost immediately. His wife reported the incident to us but did not know the identity of her husband's assailant. Such was the intense dislike of the Black and Tans by the Sinn Féin movement. We were all greatly shocked by this incident.

Following on this, our CO decided to stage a demonstration in the village square at Tallaght, which had a population of approximately 500. We had an excellent brass band and about fifty of us, all officers, marched to the accompaniment of patriotic airs along the half mile of road leading to the centre of the village, where we formed up in a circle with the band in the centre. The band began such well known tunes as ‘Rule Britannia', ‘There'll always be an England' and similar songs for about half an hour. Naturally a large crowd gathered, not looking terribly happy though. We rounded of the little demonstration with the band playing the National Anthem, during which, of course, all officers stood at the salute. Civilians usually taking off their hats for same, not so the villagers. To put it mildly, this greatly displeased our CO. One has to remember at this juncture that we were all under quite an emotional strain because of the murder of a loyal man who was doing his duty. Those who had not removed their hats soon had them removed by the CO who pulled them off and stood on them. This action was naturally resented, by the ‘locals'. We then formed up and marched back to our quarters. This incident brought a severe reprimand from headquaters, and rightly so, I suppose, but there had been some provocation.

In Dublin itself many minor incidents were taking place, culminating in an organised march of some 20-30,000 rebellious Irishmen, who had assembled in Phoenix Park before marching along one side of the Park to O'Connell Street, which is the main street, over the Liffey River. When they reached the Post Office, which had been completely destroyed in the 1916 rebellion and was in the process of being re-built, they tore down the scaffolding breaking it into small pieces, thus arming themselves with a weapon, which could be easily carried and used. Stones and iron bars were also carried, in fact anything they could lay their hands on which could be used as a weapon. We had been advised of this intended march and were asked to assist the Dublin Metropolitan Police. We were each issued with a revolver with orders to use them only if our lives or those of the police were endangered. We arrived at the O'Connell Bridge to find a solid line of police standing shoulder to shoulder across the Bridge. They were armed with batons only. I reported to the police officer in charge, who appreciated the assistance offered, but he asked us not to take part unless it was absolutely necessary. The Dublin Metropolitan Police were an imposing body of men, none under six feet high. They waited there in line whilst the rebels came forward in a solid body, shouting most uncomplimentary remarks against the police, who, though Irishmen themselves were daring to oppose them in order to preserve some peace and order. The officers in charge remained perfectly still, until sticks and stones began to fly, when the pre-arranged signal of one blast of the ‘chief 's' whistle was given and one command ‘forward'. The police moved forward in the solid line using their batons with great effect. I do not remember ever seeing before or since a more disciplined movement than this one. So effective was it that in a matter of minutes the on-coming crowd turned and ran, leaving their weapons strewn along the street. I know that many Irish families we got to know very well deplored this kind of demonstration as it did the cause no good whatsoever and only tended to intensify the feeling that existed between those who felt that the presence of the English in Southern Ireland was justified, and those who would go to any lengths to get rid of them.

Frequently we gave demonstrations of close formation flying, usually over Dublin itself, sometimes with one flight and occasionally with the whole squadron. Our CO, who was such an excellent pilot, with two or more experienced pilots, often took off in tight formation with wing tips overlapping and flew very low over the streets of the city.

I think it was Empire Day or the King's birthday that we decided to use the whole squadron for a close formation flight in a ‘special' display. I had not done very much close formation flying or not as close as our CO desired. We took off from Tallaght with the CO's flight leading, and kept in this close order as we flew over the city, finally turning to fly at almost roof top level, up O'Connell Street over the Liffey. Just what these displays were intended to prove, I know not, but we enjoyed flying our Bristol Fighters and we had a lot of fun. On one occasion I had to fly to Curragh an old established army camp, situated about 40 miles west of Dublin. Apparently the troops' pay had gone astray and some arrangements were made with a bank in Dublin to transfer money to the Curragh bank, and because of the time factor, this had to be taken by air. With my observer Lieut. Harry Boniface (Bonny), we took off in rather adverse weather conditions, but landed safely at Curragh, handed over the money to the Army Adjutant and took off for our return flight. A fairly strong north wind had risen and dense fog covered the route back to Tallaght. Both Bonny and I had received invitations to play tennis in the afternoon with some of our Irish friends and naturally we were anxious to get back as soon as possible. We could see neither the sky nor the ground and had to proceed entirely by compass. I had no accurate means of determining my ‘drift' which I felt was taking me too far southward. After flying for some time and not knowing my exact position I turned due north and a few minutes later found myself in this thick fog facing one of the highest peaks in the Wicklow mountains. Knowing that the maximum height was not above 4,000 feet I made a sharp turn full throttle and quickly ascended to 4,500 feet, only to find that as far as I could see north, south, east or west, there was a complete ground cover of heavy fog. We were in the bright sunshine above but not even a small gap appeared which would enable us to see the ground below. I continued to fly north, both Bonny and I closely watching for a break in the cloud cover. After flying for about twenty minutes we saw immediately below us the centre circle of our aerodrome at Tallaght. With full throttle I dived through this gap in the clouds closely watching my altimetre for I had no means of knowing how high the clouds were above the ground level of our airfield.

On breaking through I found that I had about 300 feet clearance which was sufficient for me to locate my position and ultimately make a safe landing – very thankful to be on
Terra Firma
. Bonny and I, although a little late, were able to keep our tennis appointment. By today's standard, with up-to-date sophisticated instruments, this would not have been regarded as a hazardous flight, but all we had was an altimetre, compass, rev-counter and speedometre, no turn and bank indicator or other helpful instruments, such as those in modern aircraft. This incident firmed the close friendship that I had with Bonny and we had many happy times together in our off duty hours.

After the War he elected to stay in the RAF, became a pilot and spent some years in India. In the Second World War he was Adjutant at Hucknall, Notts. and figured prominently in the book,
The One That Got Away
by Kendall Burt and James Lessor, which related to a German pilot Franz von Werra, forced down in Notts, who eventually escaped to the USA and then Canada. My wife and I (especially my wife!) carried out regular correspondence with Bonny and his wife Ann, who later lived at Over Wallop in Hants. In later years when on a visit to England in 1947 and again with my wife in 1952, we spent many happy hours talking of our shared experiences in 141 squadron in Ireland.

Another firm friendship formed amongst the officers of 141 squadron was with Wireless Officer Lieut. F.S. Mockford (Stan), an outstanding authority on radio. He began his long and varied career in wireless and radio in 1915 whilst serving in the RFC and afterwards as an Air Ministry Official from 1919-1930. He made a great contribution in wireless and radio in Civil Aviation and was first examiner of candidates for an Air Operator's Licence. He devised the first phonetic alphabet and introduced the distress call MAYDAY. In 1930 he joined the Marconi Company and in 1935 became Manager of the company's aircraft department. He was also interested in the possibilities of radio as a means of air to ground communication and vice-versa, and was responsible for the technique and introduction of this system to civil Aviation and the RAF. Those who fly today realise the value of this method of communication without which flying would be a far more hazardous occupation. Our friendship with the Mockford family who lived at Chelmsford, Essex, was a lasting one and on our various visits to England we enjoyed their hospitality, myself on a business trip in 1947, my wife in 1949, and together in 1952 and 1960. Stan and his wife Win intended visiting us in Australia in 1961 when he retired and when we said our ‘goodbyes' at Tilbury where they had driven us and had lunch with us on the ship, little we thought that we would not meet again. A serious illness overtook Stan and after surgery he died the following year in April. Many other friendships were made amongst the officers of 141 squadron, but these two, Bonny and Stan, were the best.

A large unit such as ours, consisting of pilots, administrative officers, WRAFS and aircraftsmen, now more or less on a peace-time basis needed some form of organised activities to sustain their interest. The pilots were not in this category, as we had our Bristol Fighters and an unlimited supply of gasoline. This enabled us to visit various parts of Ireland without any transport difficulties. For those who were interested in sport we arranged a special sports meeting, tennis tournaments and special flights for our WRAF (Womens' Royal Air Force) staff. With very few exceptions all WRAF staff took advantage of this offer of a ‘sightseeing flight' and considered it a real highlight.

I was asked to arrange all details for a sports meeting and this proved very successful for we had many good athletes amongst members of the squadron. Special events were included for the WRAF staff who entered these competitions with much enthusiasm. Having had some success in high jumping I entered myself for this event and had little difficulty in winning it at (I think) 5 feet 7 inches. The enthusiasm and interest shown by our CO, Major Baker, in this sports meeting and indeed all phases of athletics helped considerably to make this meeting an unqualified success. In so far as I was personally concerned, he suggested that I should enter for the high jump event in a combined RAF (all Ireland) sports meeting in Dublin. This I did and was again successful. Two other important meetings were in the offing. One combined RAF squadrons to be held at Stamford Bridge, London, and two inter-services championships later at the same venue, both of which I was urged by our CO to nominate for. In the meantime, however, an official communication was received from the Australian authorities in London, requesting that I should place myself at their disposal for repatriation back to Australia. This did not please the CO as he wished me to remain with 141 squadron at least until the two forthcoming athletic meetings were over. The honour of an athletic win for 141 squadron was important to him. So he, in his forthright manner, wrote to the Australian authorities stating in no uncertain terms that Flight Lieut. F.C. Penny was doing important work with the squadron and was therefore indispensable! This explanation was apparently accepted, at least for the time being, and so I was nominated for the high jump events. In the meantime arrangements were in hand to hold an aerial derby open to RAF squadrons from Collinstown, Baldonnell, Oranmore, and of course our own squadron at Tallaght, which was to be the starting and finishing point for the race. Bonny and I worked on our own Bristol Fighter and my aircraftsman reduced the wing incidence and retuned the engine, which enabled me to reach a top speed of 127 mph.The event attracted a large number of entries and included various types of aircraft. Our own squadron at Tallaght contributed eight entries, all Bristol Fighters. With Bonny as my navigator, we were flagged off from the starting point in the early afternoon and made good progress to the first check point. The engine was performing well and the navigation accurate. On the second leg we passed several other competitors and on checking our watches and maps considered that we had a good chance of winning this event, if our speed and accuracy could be maintained.

We reached our final turning point on good time and proceeded on our direct course back to Tallaght. The Bristol Fighter had two gasoline tanks, one gravity fed and located in the centre section of the upper wing, and the other on which the pilot sat, using a hand pressure pump to force the fuel to the gravity tank above. Noticing that the gravity tank gauge showed ‘low' I started to pump in order to transfer gasoline from the pressure tank to gravity tank, but with no effect. By this time the gauge was showing ‘empty' and I began to search for a suitable place to make a ‘forced landing'. I had one small field in view, the surface of which seemed reasonable, but it was the smallest on which I had ever attempted to land a Bristol Fighter. Flying at only 500 feet I had no option but to attempt a landing and using an almost vertical side slip decreased my forward speed which was sufficient to allow me to get over the nearest hedge. I used all the well-known methods of reducing forward speed such as ‘swish-tailing', finally landing at the lowest possible speed with my propeller (which was now stopped) pushing itself into a box-thorn hedge. Fortunately no damage was done but I had no means of rectifying the trouble, so leaving Bonny in charge I walked to the nearest road and persuaded an Irish farmer to lend me his bicycle so that I could get to a telephone to call for mechanical help from the nearest RAF station, which happened to be Oranmore. Although the Irish farmer had mentioned telephone I found that there was only a small country post office with no telephone so I had to send a telegram. In due course a lorry with mechanics arrived and rectified the trouble, which was a blocked feed pipe. By this time it was getting late and I still had to get out of this small field and knowing the distance I still had to fly to reach Tallaght I knew that it would be dark before reaching the squadron. I requested the Oranmore staff to telephone Tallaght giving our approximate ETA and asked for flares to be laid out. The Bristol Fighter was a very stable aircraft with few or no vices. Its landing speed, however, was about 80 mph and at night time with limited lighting facilities, it was not always an easy machine to land. We landed safely, glad to be back, especially as a heavy fog was beginning to drift across the aerodrome, which would have made more difficulties for landing. While I was away competing in this little aerial derby, word had been received from the RAF athletic sports committee in London requesting me to report at Stamford Athletic Ground, London west. It would have taken too long to have reached London by boat and train, so I used my Bristol Fighter, flying up to Larne in the North and crossing over to Stranraer in Scotland. This was the shortest water crossing. I landed at an airfield just outside London where I was accommodated by the unit stationed there. Next day I reported to Stamford Bridge where I was given a programme of events and a number 6! I went to the dressing room to change and then had a run around the course to loosen up, then had a few jumps over the stick and that was all until next day, the day of the event. There were, if I remember rightly, twelve competitors for this event, amongst them an RAF Sgt Major who had won this event on four previous occasions. There was considerable betting on this event. Unfortunately I did not have anything on myself and the Sgt Major was ‘odds on' favourite to win. We started the jumps about 2.00 p.m. and by the time the horizontal bar had been raised to 5 feet 8 inches quite a number of the competitors had fallen out, in fact, now I remember only the Sgt/Major and myself were left in the competition when 5 feet 9 was reached. By today's standards this height is not high, but it must be remembered that we were all amateurs and had not had any previous experience, or training. If I remember rightly again, the Sgt/Major and I tied for this even at 5 feet 9 and a half inches. I was quite happy with the result, having tied with the reigning champion of the RAF. As the reward was a gold medal for first and a silver one for second place, we tossed – and I lost, and the medals had to be returned to the maker, first to tie, and second to tie. I knew that my CO would be happy to know the result so I sent him a telegram. After spending a few days in London I returned to Tallaght where I received congratulations all around, another honour for 141!