Keeping Guard - May 1940

[Dave Homewood]

Here's a great article from a member of a reconnaissance flying boat, from the Evening Post, Volume CXXIX, Issue 105, 4 May 1940, Page 10, via Papers past

KEEPING GUARD

WATCH FROM ABOVE

AIR FORGE DUTIES

GRAPHIC ACCOUNT

The following graphic description of a patrol over hundreds of miles of sea in search of a ship technically regarded as an "enemy" is from a letter written by a young New Zealand airman to his parents in Wellington. His adventures show how the Air Force keeps guard over vital points throughout the Empire, and how they could give warning of a real enemy attack by sea and also hamper the attackers in their advance.

"Yesterday, rising at 3.30 a.m., was in the air by 5 a.m. We had a job of work on locating a cruiser..... After sighting her we were to shadow her. Then when she was near (her objective) to fix a 'dead' position and set the torpedo bombers on her.

"At five it was still dark, and as I prepared my charts in the 'office' the engines were being run up as we taxied on to the flare path. Spitting orange flame, and banging away as the mixture and boost were adjusted, they raised the echoes in the silence. A green signal from the marker float, our Aldis flashing its acknowledgment, and away we stormed with 4400 horsepower sucking our thirty tons off the water.

"In the air could be seen the two other 'kites' which had preceded us, their navigation lights sweeping in wide circles as they made operational height. Below, it was a wonderful sight to see yet another boat leave the water. There was a great surge of phosphorescence as she opened out, and two parallel streaks of bluish green traced the path of her wing floats.

NAVIGATION DUTIES.
"I've got to get my navigation hatches open and mount my bearing compasses. Between now and zero hour — 5.30 — I have to find a wind on which to base my calculations. There's 'George,' the automatic pilot, to set; and there are several messages to code and get to the wireless operator. First thing, find that wind. Opening the tin containing a flame float, I cut my thumb!!! Out goes the 'pyro' and in about twenty seconds there's a blob of flame on the surface of the water. Squinting through the bearing compass sights I get my drift. Thumbs up to the pilot and he alters course 60 degrees. '0.K.,' he yells as we steady on the course. Out with another 'flaming onion.' Another drift. Scramble up, get the old C.S.C., a navigation instrument, working, and, lo, in two minutes I've got the wind at 0515 hours, height 6000 feet. More work as I apply it to the search 'plots' and then I can rest for a bit.

"It is that pitch darkness that precedes the dawn, and banks of cumulus nimbus do not improve things. A glance at the chronographs tells me it is half a minute to zero hour and I put the course chit in front of the pilot. He bends down, fixes the grid ring on his compass, asks me if 'George' is O.K., and, circling, makes his departure.

"SPADE WORK" FINISHED.
"Well, I've done the spade work now and all I have to do is to look out for the warship and code messages to base. The second pilot will take over navigation from now on, fixing hourly positions, smoking, and probably sleeping in the ward room on the lower deck. Sliding into his seat and adjusting it, I can see the 'hog wash' below through gaps in the clouds. The light is now gradually becoming brighter, although the sun is not up. Pilot roars in my ear, 'Take over while I light a battleship.' Hands on the control column, feet on the bars, eyes on the luminous instruments, and 'I've got her.' Bump! Left wing drops; over with the wheel to the right. Buzz! Climb indicator warns me that she is climbing. Bump! She's got her nose down now! Gently back and once more she's level. The pilot has his cigarette going by now but has put his hands in his pockets. 'Hey!' I shout. 'What you here for? I've got to find a ship.' Thumbs up from him as he shouts, '0.K., I've got her.'

TWO HUNDRED MILES OUT.
"One hour gone. A dirty-looking dawn; masses of clouds. Eyes straining a bit by now. We come down to 2000 and turn on to the second leg of the search. The second pilot wakes up, sends his message—position signal. We're two hundred miles out at sea by now. Grey sky, grey sea, nothing in sight.

"Two hours out. We've sighted the Islands, but still no ship. Stubbs of four cigarettes in the ash can. Wireless operator, working the other five, reports they haven't sighted anything. Port outer engine drops revs. The engineer comes forward and consults the pilot, twiddling of knobs, revs go up to normal. Still no ship but visibility better. One of the riggers brings up a cup of coffee from the galley.

"Three hours gone. We are now on the third leg. Eyes definitely tired. Second pilot takes over. We're running back into the dirty weather again. The horizon is purple-black and there are white horses on the sea. Hello! Something out there. I point. Pilot alters course towards that speck on the ocean. I grab the range-finder, bearing compass, and take sights. It's the cruiser all right. Frantic scribbling of messages, reference to the code book, and our first sighting report is handed to the wireless wallah. Up we go into the clouds; she mustn't see us, today she's an enemy.

"Base tells us to 'shadow' if possible. If not to fly round the storm. As we now know the course of our objective we can pick her up at any time in the next few hours by calculations from the sighting position. At last I can relax, and celebrate by going down to have a good breakfast of bacon, eggs, and tomato. Doesn't seem right in an aircraft, but it goes down well.

"Four hours later, after losing and finding our boat several times, we are relieved on patrol 'after seven hours' flying. Am I tired?"

[davidd]

Interesting article Dave, good to see something about operations of the salty side of the RAF for once! They would have to be operating Sunderlands going by what details are included here - Mk. Is had four Bristol Pegasus engines of about 1,080 HP each from memory (ALMOST but not quite 4,400 HP), and 30 tons would be about right for a Sunderland. Nothing else in Coastal Command's inventory would come close to this specification.
David D

[Dave Homewood]

Yes I was thinking Sunderlands too. Another clue was he mentions different levels, and the Sundy was two-storied inside.

Glad you enjoyed it as much as I did.

[davidd]

Dave H,
Thought it might be possible to identify this NZ-born observer as the number of observers trained in NZ early in WW2 was not too great. However on checking with the lists published in Errol Martyn's Volume 3 of the "For your Tomorrow" series, I quickly realized that he was almost certainly NOT one of the NZ-trained observers, given the date of the article. THe first batch of six NZ-trained observers (trained at Ohakea) did not depart New Zealand for the UK until 23rd March 1940 aboard the AKAROA, ex Lyttelton, arriving in UK on 9 May. The article is dated 4 May 1940, so our unknown friend may have made his own way to UK prewar and volunteered for RAF service, and subsequently qualified as an RAF observer. Or there could be another explanation entirely, but it seems as though he will be very difficult to identify. Definitely a great pity he was not named in the first instance.
David D

[Dave Homewood]

So many of these wartime articles from a first hand perspective had the author's names withheld for 'security reasons', which I think is a bit sad. I'm sure that if an aircrew member was captured the Germans were not going to go back through old magazines and newspapers to see if they'd written anything in their past about their jobs. And the censors would not have allowed anything to be published that they didn't want the enemy to know about ops anyway.