Edwin Darlaston
Prior to the war, my interest was 605 Auxiliary Squadron at Castle Bromwich. I used to spend a lot of time down there just watching them flying. The day war broke out it was a bit of a shock. When you realise that we had about 800 pilots with 700 aircraft to start a war, and Germany was equipped with about 3,500, it wanted some building up. The picture we got was about 4 or 5 years sort of style, we couldn't start like this because we're not ready for it, but it did start like that.
So, on 3 September 1939, war having been declared, I had the chance to do something I'd wished for quite some time, fly with the RAF. I must admit I didn't realise just how difficult it was going to be to get into flying! Firstly I was in the wrong trade, electrical engineering, and making ammunition hoists for the Royal Navy! The recruiting NCO gave me a right flea in my ear when he sent me off, but at the same time suggested that I tried again under some other occupation. Three of us joined up as radio salesmen!
Eventually they called for me on 20 March to go for the initial training. We went through all the ground training, then it was a case of selection for trades. They took into account that my previous experience was of service to them and I was eventually signed up as a flight mechanic. I came out as an AC1. We were expecting to be called up for flight training. I kept on applying for transfer for flying duties but instead of taking me on the posted me elsewhere, to keep me quiet as it were. Training Command was virtually a unit of its own and they kept hold of you. I went to torpedo bomber servicing and ended up at 32 Air Maintenance at St Athens, and we were servicing bombers equipped with radar. As ground staff we did extra long hours, terrific hours at times, but it was a case of servicing aircraft because they were required. It was a bit heartbreaking at times when you realised how many went out and how many came back.
In between times they posted me to group 1 trade for further training. I came out of that as an LAC (Leading Aircraftsman). I got very friendly with the Squadron Leader Sergeant, he was very keen to get me through and he used to take me every opportunity he could on trips. Eventually I got through to a further board for transfer. They said people on the ground looking after aircraft were more valuable than a bloke coming off the street and training to be a pilot, but somebody must have smiled at me because the posting eventually came through!
The ACR centre is where all the entrants to air crew training were measured up to standard and initial schooling is given. Then on to elementary flying. A period of some 8 hours usually resulted in the instructor climbing out of his cockpit and with a casual "Bring it back in one piece", sending the cadet off for his first solo. Bliss! A total of about 12 hours of flying and then came the crunch. They either thought you could make it as a pilot after training or not. They hadn't a lot of time to spare and the decision was made.
In a short time we were bound for the USA. The Empire Training School, Mesa, Arizona, sunshine and oranges" The first thing that sticks in my mind is the breakfasts. There were jugs of orange juice! We hadn't seen oranges in 3 or 4 years. You'd line up to have your plate filled with slabs of bacon and 2 or 3 eggs. There were stacks of pancakes with butter in between, and they'd pour over hot syrup. They'd say "A fella like you can eat more than that!" That was the first thing that hit us, the amount of food. Mind you we were working from 6 in the morning til 8 at night.
The Americans were very kind to us. They only had to see a serviceman on the roadside and they would automatically stop and take him wherever he wanted. They couldn't do enough for us, families would have their houses open and say "Come on you're in the family", they were marvellous. It was a wonderful experience in America, I completed my training and we were sent back here with our wings.
July 1944 saw us back here qualified as pilots. The war in Europe was beginning to wind down and the need for pilots was reaching its climax; opposed to the start of the war with too few pilots for the number of aircraft, there were now too many pilots for the jobs! Then someone had a brilliant idea! How about converting some of the winged bods to gliders! Sections of our crowd now found themselves very active ferrying troops into France to designated landing zones in touch with enemy troops. A good system evolved to such a degree that it became obvious that it could be used elsewhere.
Some 500 RAF and Army glider pilots were rushed out to India to form a new wing of 3 squadrons. The target being the Japanese. Almost before we landed in India, plans had been altered and due to these changes we were without a job. News of the capitulation of Japan was received with a sigh of relief and celebrations in consequence!
I think the RAF gave you a different viewpoint in life. You met so many different people, that somewhere down the line you had to say to yourself "he might be right" and this is a big thing to say to yourself. When you appreciate that someone else's viewpoint is to be considered, you begin to expand. On top of that, the service life teaches you a discipline that you don't get normally. Spring 1946 saw me saying goodbye to the service, having been with them some 6 years. In that time I was fortunate to meet some grand blokes. I can but hope that they enjoyed my company half as much as I theirs!
