Cold War... Hot Coffee

Warsaw, 1949

The next installment of my Uncle Dick's RAF Memoirs.

Now onto 1949, when the Squadron in July, following the end of the Berlin Airlift, returned and reformed at RAF Oakington. Under the command of Squadron Leader R. Reece. This time I was posted to the Squadron, in 1^st Line, the start of my 6 years actually with the Squadron during which time I saw 6 commanding officers come and go.

The Squadron resumed normal operations to Europe and the Near East. One of the weekly schedules undertaken was the UWD, the United Kingdom, Warsaw, Dakota. Each week, without fail, an aircraft left us at 11am Monday morning to position at RAF Northholt. On Tuesday it left with the Queen's Messenger, night stopping again at Gatow, returning to Northholt on the Thursday and arriving back at base on Friday. This schedule went on week in, week out, month by month and it was imperative that it went regularly, without fail. Remember that the aircraft was flying down 2 corridors, 1 to Berlin and 1 to Warsaw. In fact it was only the military aircraft at the time allowed behind the Iron Curtain. Obviously the crews were briefed on their return. It had to go, it was still 1949, and the Cold War at its height. Crews often reported that they had been buzzed by Russian Aircraft.

If an aircraft suffered an unserviceability en route, which could not be immediately rectified, a reserve aircraft was on its way within a few hours. The crews names had also to be notified in advance to the Russian / Polish authorities. They did all they could to ensure the schedule did not go. It was said that once it failed to go then the Queen's messenger an Diplomatic Mail could go weekly by civilian aircraft. The Spying aspect of the aircraft would have been lost.

A rather humorous incident occurred on one of the schedules to Warsaw. The moment the aircraft landed it was placed under armed guard. The Crew were marched to the Control Tower and locked in a room. A little later they were thoroughly searched; even the loose change in their pockets was examined. Their packed lunches were manhandled and then the sadistic Customs officer rolled up his sleeve and thrust his hand into the bottom of the gallon lukewarm coffee flask. Of course, the coffee was ruined.

They accused the crew of crossing the border at the wrong place, outside of the corridor. The crew denied it vehemently. Maps were brought out. The Polish Customs brought out their map, stating that 1 of their agents on the border had phoned though with a map reference which, after a long argument, realised was incorrect, that his 0s were in the wrong place.

The map the Customs were using was so old that in the bottom corner it had Neptune and his Trident in full flow coming out of the sea.

Finally, hours later, they were released and took off for Berlin.

M'Sig Jock Hodginson, who told me the story, got his own back a few weeks later by instructing the cook house at Gatow to absolutely ensure that the coffee was boiling hot, even to the extent of heating the whole vacuum flask in the oven before being filled. He protected it from the cold by keeping it warm in the aircraft with blankets during the flight to Warsaw.

The same Customs Officer tried it again later, but only the once.

With the Squadron commitments it always seemed to happen that 5 or 6 aircraft returned to base on a Friday afternoon and had to be 'desnagged,' wheel changes, recrystallisations, role changes and prepared again for Monday morning. The Squadron ground crew had to be split into 2 and 1 shift work right through the weekend. If we worked hard we could perhaps manage to get the Sunday afternoon off.

And then it happened. One Sunday afternoon at RAF Oakington. We were all ready for the Monday programme and I was relaxing on my bed with the Sunday papers, about 2 in the afternoon, when there was a knock at the door.

I said, “Come in.”

The door opened and in came the Squadron Commander, Squadron leader R Reece. I jumped up, to which he told me to relax and sat on the other bed. I would add that though he was my Squadron commander, I was a lot closer to him, though only a Sergeant Airframe Fitter, than perhaps one would expect 2 such people to be. I admired him as a CO, and above all he was a hockey player, as myself.

Flight Sergeant Jack Pearson and myself, both played or Transport Command and ran RAF Oakington's hockey. Squadron Leader Reece, when not picked for the Station first 11, would be there on the line, even in pouring rain, cheering us on. We thought a lot of him, and even after he had long retired, both of us, with our wives, journeyed up to North Wales to spend a few hours with him and his wife Toni.

Now the real reason for his visit: he informed me that the Poles were now insisting that we notify them, not only of the crew's names on the UWD but now also the serial number of the aircraft that would be undertaking the schedule. Anyone knows that any aircraft can suffer major unserviceability, i.e. metal in filter, engine change, taxiing accident...

The Squadron Leader's next remarks amazed me. He suddenly said, “How long will it take you to paint 3 Dakotas with the same number? Pick the easiest number you like.”

I nearly fell out of bed. What a task for a small half shift of First Line various tasks to undertake.

After collecting my thoughts, we then both decided that the best number would be treble 1 (KN111) the easiest and quickest. And it had to be done right away. He told me to get the shift out of the barrack block and I gave him a list.

As many 2” brushes as you can get

Black dope

Aluminium dope rolls of 2”

Mashing tape (masking tape?)

He moved off to raise the Duty Equipment Officer from the Mess.

On the way to the barrack block I was worried how many of the chaps would still be around. Cambridge was only about 8 miles away. There were only 8 or so still in the block and whilst explaining what had to be done, other airmen who had gathered around such SHQ accounts, storeman, etc. offered to help. About 15 of us moved off to the Squadron.

So we set to, masking out the rather large numbers, such as 656, on the undersurfaces of the mainplanes and by about 7pm the job was done. 3 Dakotas, KN111.

The small numbers on the rear fuselage were covered by a removable tear-off fabric patch doped over them, also with KN 111 stencilled on it. This had to be done so that on return to base with the patch torn off we knew which aircraft we were working on.

A week later I was asked by Squadron Leader Reece to contact all the airmen of Admin Wing who had volunteered that Sunday afternoon to assist in the 'paint job' to come to the Squadron and they were treated to an hour's flight in a Dakota around the Cambridge area. An experience that quite a number had never had before and really enjoyed.

Once again we had thwarted the Poles and the Russians.