1940's RAF Coffee Smuggling Racket Exposed

 The next installment of my Uncle Dick's memoirs.

The 4 Squadrons out on the line were routing to Germany, Malta, Egypt and the Near East until the Berlin Airlift started in July 1948. Obviously, First Line personnel went immediately with their Squadrons to RAF Lubeck and because it was thought that the 'Blockade' would be over within a few weeks it resulted in 2 Flight Sargent's wives, after 3 weeks of their husbands being away, marching into the Station Commander's office demanding to know when their husbands were coming home. A Corporal Policeman escorted them back to their married quarters promptly.

Finally, in February '49, though in 2^nd Line, it was my turn to go. Arriving at RAF Lubeck I was posted into Technical Control. 3 8-hour shifts, 3 SNCOs a shift, 8-5pm, 5-midnight, Midnight-8, day in, day out. In front of us was the Serviceability Board covering the whole wall with all the data of 52 Dakotas. Each week 3 or 4 aircraft returned to the UK for inspections with replacements coming out with another batch of 'hours to go.'

They also brought back dozens of completely made-up wheels at reduced pressure, a source of smuggling coffee which was so lucrative to those working the black market, between the inner tubes and the outer cover.

We liaised with Operations next door in the number of beacon times available every hour and informed the Line flights of their aircraft, already declared serviceable, that were on the next wave. We never had more than 5 aircraft and always at the end of the hour. The big aircraft were obviously being used first with their greater load-carrying capacity. Still, we did our bit.

We also had our own small telephone exchange which had direct access to the four flights A, B, C and D, Bowsers, Deicer Trolleys, Tyre Bay, Stores, Movements etc., (for priority such as acid). There was also a Daily Engineering Officer who had a sleeping duty at night in the room next door.

Whilst I was there an Operation order was issued to change the resident Berlin Garrison. The replacement unit was the Royal Welsh Fusiliers.

During the morning, prior to my commencing my shift at midday, I wandered over to the Flights to watch the Welsh Guards emplane for Gatow. 4 aircraft were ready, starboard engines running, entrance doors open awaiting the passengers.

Crew coaches arrived and the passengers lined up: troops, families and the Regimental Mascot, the Goat. The Air Movements Officer read out the passenger manifest.

“Regimental Sergeant Major and Mrs Taff? Get aboard Quickly please.”

The Sergeant Major responded with “Come on dear, quickly does it.”

She moved towards the small Dakota steps and stopped with one foot on the bottom step. The fuselage was vibrating with the starboard engine running so close to her, and she was obviously scared. Exhaust all around. “I can't, I can't.”

“Come on dear, quickly.”

“I can't, I can't.”

“Corporal, Corporal, put her in.”

2 big corporals with hands on her broad backside pushed her with some force up the steps into the aircraft. They had to overcome her strong arms braced against the fuselage, either side of the aircraft door. And she was certainly a big strong woman. Finally, she was in, together with the goat and the embarrassed Sergeant Major plus others.

The 4 aircraft taxied away. The whole operation covered quite a number of days moving the Regiment and families.

Another day I enquired of the loaders what they had on board.

“Condoms.”

The whole aircraft was filled with condoms. What a state some of the aircraft were in underneath the actual floor, though carrying coal.

One night shift, about 2 in the morning, suddenly our small telephone exchange direct to the flights went 'dead.' Rushing into Ops next door I found that they were also 'out.' Main phones too. I quickly awoke the Eng. Officer next door and we both jumped into one of the very first VW and charged off through the trees to the telephone exchange a few hundred yards away. It was not far from the Russian border, and partly semi-underground. We walked quickly and quietly around the building which was in darkness except for the room which contained the switchboard. Through the window we saw the young operator asleep in front of the board, which now looked like Blackpool illuminations. He was asleep in a lovely big armchair. Traversing the building we found a window open in another room and the Eng. Off. Pushed it open and jumped down into the darkness. He landed on the stomach of the Duty German Technician who jumped up out of bed shouting, “Kamarad Kamarad” hands in the air. (Could mean 'friend' or 'comrade' in Czech and 'fellow combatant' in German.) He was signalled to be quiet and we crept quietly around the corridor to enter the exchange. The Eng. Officer picked up a broom handle and smashed it down on the table top 4 or 5 times in the same number of seconds. What a din!

The lad woke up in a fright.

“You are asleep, you're asleep.”

“No I'm not, sir, no I'm not!” said the airman, his hands moving like lightning across the board, pulling plugs, pushing plugs, until things were back to normal.

He was charged, but from then on I understand the exchange was manned by 2 operators an the big armchair removed. This sort of incident could have resulted in a very serious incident. Even Air Traffic was temporarily out.

Whilst at Lubeck a young WAAF was awoken one night by someone trying to get into her bed. A young German chap. She screamed and he was arrested. When the whole story was known it turned out that the WAAF, who previously owned the bed and was having an affair with the young German, on reporting sick she was found to be pregnant and within a day or so was on her way home. She hadn't got time to tell her lover. He turned up, the usual way, through the roof and ceiling trap door, but had a shock to find a different girl.