Arrogant Group Captain, Horrific Vampire Crash

de Havilland Vampire

Another installment of my Uncle Dick's memoirs.

Feb / March 1952

In 1952 we were told that once again the Squadron was on the move, this time to RAF Benson. during the month or so before the actual move, squadron working parties were to and fro to Benson erecting aluminium huts to accept the Squadron. We were also given an old black hangar to house our VIP Valettas.

A few days after we had completed the move the whole squadron was told to assemble so that the Station Commander of RAF Benson could speak to us. We thought that we were going to be welcomed to Benson.

The Group Captain arrived, stood on a box, looked at us and said, “You are a Transport Command Squadron on a Bomber Command Station. I will feed you, pay you and clothe you. Other than that, I want nothing at all to do with you. And keep away from the Queen's Flight next door.” He then left.

We just looked at each other. What a greeting.

The following day a Benson Equipment Officer arrived to ask us our operating requirements i.e. fuel, de-icing fluids, oils, greases. We told him, to which he said, “Rubbish.” For example the Valetta carried 62 gallons (282l) of main-plane de-icer fluid, often coming back from Germany with very little left. Weekly requirements were perhaps 400-500 gallons (1818-2273l).

It only took about 2 weeks before the station ran dry of de-icer fluid. Friday evenings we were checking aircraft returning from route, draining 20 gallons (91l) here, nothing there, 30 (136l) here, to ensure Monday's aircraft route was full. Transport was sent back to Abingdon for as much as they could spare, with our own trips to to the MU. We even waited for night-flying to finish to drain aircraft for route flying. We learnt to look after ourselves and forget the Station.

Operating Valettas meant many role changes, paratroop, freight, stretchers for casualty evacuation and passenger role. Our aircraft were parked on the grass and when role changes were carried out 17 seats meant 51 seat pins. Originally attached to to the seats the retaining cords had long since gone. Batches of pins were lost in the grass, to the detriment of the grass cutters. Sets of pins were left overseas when the role was changed. They became in short supply.

Doing my checks one day I noticed that a seat was fitted to the floor with only 2 pins instead of 3. We threatened all airframe tradesmen that if there were insufficient pins they were to use 1/4” high tensile bolts with lock nuts. It was a good job we did: our vigilance proved rewarding a few days later.

A Valetta left us with F/Sgt Jock Campbell, Captain, to fly to Boscombe Down to demonstrate to Senior Commonwealth Army officers the versatility of the Valetta. A Jeep was loaded forward of the spar on ramps and a dozen or so Army officers were seated aft of the spar. For those that do not know the Valetta, the main spar runs across the fuselage about 15” wide and about 15” high. It certainly interfered with easy loading.

The aircraft took off on its demonstration run and as it was climbing away a Vampire flown by a Squadron Leader shot across the 'drome about 50' high and hit the Valetta in the tail. The Valetta came down, partly controlled by the pilot, but belly-landed heavily outside the boundary of the 'drome. The Jeep, though chained, broke away, came forward through the bulk head and the Air Quartermaster, who was sitting in the W. Ops Seat had one of his legs severed, the navigator in the co-pilot's seat a broken hip. The pilot had concussion and double vision for months, but the rearward facing passengers escaped completely except for one with a sprained ankle.

We gradually settled in at Benson and the Squadron were happy. I had taken over my first old type married quarter, 37 Spitfire Square, a black stove in the kitchen heat supplied by the lounge fire ducted through the wall by a series of dampers. A fire was required to cook even in the heat of summer. Correct operation of these dampers was essential. My wife had a rice pudding in the oven for 2 days before it even moved.

One day, I think February / March of '52 I was on leave having breakfast when the Squadron Engineering Warrant Officer Jim Berry walked up the garden path.

“Buck, your leave is cancelled. 11 O'clock you are off to Zurich, with your shift, to turn around aircraft who are back loading sandbags.”

With the gale force east winds and high tides the sea was breaking through the East Coast. Transport Command were sending aircraft all over Europe to collect sandbags.

“Take enough for 2 weeks.”

Turning up at the Squadron at 10 o'clock a Valetta was seen taxiing away with my 'shift' waving through the window. My opposite number had taken Zurich and I was now due for Manston.

We arrived at RAF Manston, deplaned at the Staging Post Flight only to be met by a small Squadron Leader who said to me “Who the hell are you people?”

I duly explained to which he replied with “I am the CO of the Staging Post and we do not want you here. I can look after all aircraft staging through here. Take all your men to the NAAFI and catch the first aircraft back to your unit.”

I quietly informed him that very shortly, in a few hours in fact, quite a few Transport Command Valettas and Hastings would be calling in to offload sandbags. I was once again informed that he was the CO of the Staging Post and that I'd better do as I'd been told. A lorry arrived; the disappointed lads ,who had witnessed the conversation, left for the NAAFI. I was then told that as I had experience of the expected aircraft to go to the Sergeant's mess, get my head down, and return at 6pm to do the night shift. Incidentally this is what I did for 10 nights, being relieved at about 7am. I never really saw the light of day the whole time.

The weather, gale force winds and pouring rain, continued.

Later that day the Land Rover arrived to take me to the Flight Hut and although it was a foul night, pitch dark, I could just see the silhouettes of about 8 aircraft, Valettas and Hastings lined up. Walking the last few yards against the wind at 45 degrees, I opened the door of the Flight Hut and was confronted by about 50 irate aircrew. Obviously, quite a number of them I knew and the question was asked by 1 SNCO, “What the hell is going on?”

I quickly told him what had happened.

From nowhere an old Warrant Officer appeared belonging to the Station. The Staging Post had left about 4 people, 1 an armourer and radar mechanic, the remainder on weekend pass. Quickly we forgot about the Squadron Leader, sent a wagon to the NAAFI, collected the lads, and I informed the aircrew to hang on for 15 minutes.

On their arrival at the flight the lads were told that they were staying and that we would work on through the night until all aircraft were away.

“Who's first?” a Hastings Captain replied.

“Me, I only want 200 each in 2s and 5s.”

And so, over the next 4 or 5 hours we managed to get them all away with one wheel change.

We then split the lads into 2 parties, tossed up who would stay on, and sent the others off to bed. And so we worked for about 10 days. Though my folks lived at Deal, 15 miles away, I never even saw them.

Funny thing: we never saw the Squadron leader again. The old Warrant spent a lot of time with us and thanked us when we boarded our own Valetta back to Benson.

In some cases the sand bags that were being flown in by the Hastings were in large cubes with rounded edges, compressed by steel bands. Only 3 or 4 were carried at 1 time so you could imagine their weights. You could not get enough bods around the cube to lift it. The 4 to 5 feet cubes had to be unchained by the movements people and slowly rolled down the fuselage a flat at a time with 4 or 5 chaps in front of them to prevent them breaking away. The inevitable did happen 1 day. A load broke away when being rolled down the fuselage and smashed the bulkhead and toilet. The cubes were finally lifted out of the fuselage with a big forklift and deposited in the back of British Road Services trucks.

One impatient driver who was in a hurry and would not wait 5 minutes for the fork lift insisted that the cube should be rolled out of the door straight onto his lorry. Though warned of its weight, he knew different. The sand bag cube went straight through the floorboards of the lorry resting partly on the ground and bent a prop shaft. A crane had to be organised to get it out. What a mess.

On arrival back at Benson we found that a number of the Squadron had gone to the East Coast to help with heater trolleys drying out the houses of the unfortunate victims of the flooding by the sea.