This is the story of Tony Tubbenhauer who has been kind enough to write down his history, including his time training pilots at Tocumwal and also how he met his future wife there. Enjoy....
Born in 1921 at Yenda,son of an Anzac farming there,as far back as I can remember I always wanted to fly,saved what I could,took ten shilling joy flights when rarely a plane came to Yenda and landed on
the golf links.There usually was a wait.The crew headed for the pub shortly after landing.To steady their nerves they told us.In the 1940's I got to understand that.
A few days after war was declared I volunteered for the RAAF.A quiet country kid,how could I hope to become like Smithy and my other heroes of that time so I applied as a gunner.The RAAF then was in chaos I'm not sure it ever got out of.Hearing nothing,when I contacted it they said they'd lost mine and apply again.I did but as pilot.Probably saved my life.A small guy,I'd have been in the gun turret at the arse end of a big bomber and the first the German night fighters took out.I found I was a natural,should have soloed in a Tiger Moth at 4 1/2 hours,bounced the landing,went off at 6.It was on the airfield at Benghazi in 1943 with 500 hours up in single and twin engined planes that someone asked me to drive the truck across it to pick a guy up and I had to tell him 'can't.Never driven.' To which the answer was 'get into the effen
thing' and I had my first and only driving lesson.
I went in on 11.11.40,Armistice Day for The War To End All Wars to the calls of 'you'll be sorry' from 7 Course ahead of us at Bradfield,a Sydney suburb,RAAF number 402895. Then it was Initial Training,Tamworth on Tigers,Amberley on lumbering Ansons,back to Bradfield and on 3.9.41 off to the Middle east on the Queen Mary,now as a pilot officer and a qualified pilot.Revenge was sweet.The drill instructor,Sgt.Bully,yes that was his name,who had given me a hard time,told me I'd not make pilot,had to salute me.
The Bight turned on a huge storm for us.The Mary took waves over the bow,green.Upstairs about six of
us,appetites sharpened by the salt air,were served by many stewards.Below hundreds of Army guys were hoping to die.
On 23.9.41 we disembarked at Suez,were bussed to a transit camp near Cairo.A Brit Squadron across the road had been separated from its officers.Would I act as Commanding Officer until they caught up.A
junior pilot officer? Why not.Called a meeting of the NCO's who really ran the show and off we went until their officers showed up.
27.10.41,in Cairo,boarded an Empire flying boat,two day flight to Kenya following and landing on the Nile,bussed to 70 OTU to convert to Blenheim light bombers.Much adventure there,then on 9.2.42 back to
Egypt.A septic throat had held me back one course,luck again.The course I had been on went to the Western Desert to fly Blenheims which had been proved inadequate over Europe and sent to the Middle East
because there was nothing else.
18.2.42,off to 244 Squadron based at Sharjah at the bottom end of the Persian Gulf by rail through
Palestine to Damascus in Syria,road to Habbaniya 50 miles west of Baghdad where we were to pick up Blenheims and take them to 244.They weren't ready,Communications Flight was short of pilots,they put us to work flying their antiquated machines,all they could get,a wonderful experience for me.
On 8.4.42 I led the first three Blenheims to Sharjah.Much adventure so far.There we'd take off,climb over the mountains at 7000 feet,drop down to 1000 over the Arabian Sea hunting enemy submarines or escorting convoys bringing American Lend Lease war matereal to Basra to be sent on to Southern Russia.The Blenheims had been thrashed over Europe before we got them and were wornout.Twice I flew several pilots to Wadi Shariah in Palestine to pick up replacement Bisleys which after the war a writer described as 'a truly
dreadful aeroplane.' After we left 244 there were 32 Bisley crashes in two years.
After Alamein in Egypt the Army was chasing the Germans west before giving them the Big A out of North Africa.Would we not take the six months break instructing in between Squadrons they asked. Dad had advised me never to volunteer,but then I'd not always taken his advice.Four days after we left Sharjah I was flying Baltimores with 203 Squadron in Egypt.We followed the 8th Army to Benghazi and began roaming the Mediterranean,the southern Adriatic and the Aegean amongst the German-held Greek islands at 150 feet and 250 mph. One plane so the flak from a hundred or so guns enemy was all ours,with Bill or Bob in the top turret banging back with our twin .5's,a bit like farting at thunder.Exciting times. All good things come to an end.On 24.9.42 ,on a trip into the Aegean past eight Greek islands where we had the heaviest flak we'd experienced,after a 6 1/2 hour flight,called to the CO's office he told us we were off ops,that we'd done far more than our share.We didn't argue.By staying alive I was now a Flight Lieutenant.I ferried aircraft for a while then on 28.11.43 moved to 70 OTU in Egypt to cart trainee gunners around.One nearly shot the rudder off,just another brush with death,one of many.
We had to read any notices pinned up in the flight tent.The dust I stirred after reading one would be still settling.It required any pilot wanting to do a flying instructrors course to put his name
down.It,I discovered,was in now Zimababwe.
On 12.1.44 in a Short Empire flying boat I left Cairo on a four day trip to Durban,followed by a three day train one to Norton to 33 F.I.S. More different planes to fly,the course big on aerobtics.Back in Cairo
and the gunners on 29.3 44. Then in August,what I'd been waiting for.YOU'RE GOING HOME. 4.8.44 embarked on an slow old Dutch ship and on 10.9.44 got off in Sydney.How wonderful that was.Leave,had a spell in hospital,on 1.12.44 off to 7 OTU at Tocumwal to use my flying instructors course to teach others to fly Liberators.
My first Lib flight,two hours, was on December 15 with instructor F/Lt Gibbons doing circuits and bumps. The Baltimores,twin engined,much smaller than a Lib had 3600 horsepower.The much bigger four engined Libs had only 5000 and consequently were much less nippy than the Balts.Heavier on the controls too.However,on longer trips we did later,the Libs were more comfortable.The Balts had a suitcase-shaped fuselage and a fighter-sized cockpit.Once strapped in I was there for up to nearly seven hours on some flights.Only way I could relieve the bum numbness was,if high enough,trim the plane to fly straight and level,let go of the controls,grasp the hatch above my head and lift off the seat.In the Libs there was room to walk around.The Libs had an auto pilot and a radio direction-finder I could lock onto a known radio station and sit back and listen to whatever music was playing,letting the Lib fly itself.Even have a cuppa. The Libs were a well built airplane,sluggish but pleasant to fly and the motors reliable.
After five hours instruction I was back in charge again.Then began flying as an
instructor by day.Night was to come.
Toc was a big station.So we could get around easier we were issued with bikes. When I rode mine to the flight office for my first flight I noticed several men with their heads in the door of the bus that was to take me and my flight gear to my Lib.Getting on it I found out why.The WAAF driver was blonde with a lovely face and figure to match."WHO IS SHE" I asked someone.To be told "don't waste your time there,you won't do any good." Hmmmm.Always liked a challenge.When we had landed she had tocome to pick us up. Some time later I'd landed,taxied in,shut down and was waiting for the bus.In the distance beside the hangers it
stood with the usual cluster at its door.We waited and finally decided to walk in lumping our gear.As I passed the bus I gave her a big glare. Parachute returned,I jumped on my bike and headed for my room.The bus followed me,she got out to apologise,hadn't seen me come in.There would be no better time,I asked her out and began a love affair that lasted until her death 61 years later.
On a hot summer night the Libs seemed to take forever to reach takeoff speed. Sitting in the righthand seat,after the four throttles were fully opened on takeoff I'd be keeping an eye on everything including the
pupil for I had no idea how good or bad he was.I'd hold the four throttles open and call the airspeed to him.It seemed to stick at 80 knots,the end of the strip was coming up fast,we were below takeoff speed,I can still see the red light on a building near the strip's end getting bigger and bigger.Somehow we always made it.
Then there was the night,it was closed camp,nobody allowed out, that a pupil came in too low,took his brakelines off on a treetop,landed on a strip pointing right into the centre of the camp,no brakes,the only thing that saved mass deaths was a gully that stopped the Lib short of the huts.
We never knew the quality of the pilots we were instructing.Put yourself in my Lib,standing behind me,watching.White-knuckled.We are doing night circuits and bumps with a new pilot.It's a black night.Below us the camp,trying to sleep over our noise,is lit,looks good.My lovely Kath is down there somewhere.I'm in the righthand seat keeping an eye on the pupil.He's already made several good landings.We're sliding down the slope on final.The flare path is dead ahead,our landing lights are on.The nose wheel on this machine is slow to come down and lock.As usual the flight engineer nips down a set of
steps beside me to where he can see that it is locked.He'll bob up and give me thumbs up when it is.I'm waiting.Something makes me look up and out.Brightly lit, not far ahead and higher than we are is a dead
tree.We're almost on the ground but still far off the end of the strip.I grab the four throttles,slam them forward,back-stick,we barely clear the topmost branches as the tree flashes past under us.Somehow the motors had responded and we'd been above stall speed.Just.Not the kind of thing to do in a big airplane.I slam the Lib down,brake to a stop.Sit shaking.The pupil's face is white."WHY" I ask. "Don't know,just froze" he replies.Smoking was allowed on the ground.Can I,he asks.Yes.He pulls out a pack,lights one,takes two puffs,out of the window with it .By the time we were ready for another takeoff he's got rid of most of the pack.Instructing could be as dangerous as operations.Another night a flyingboat pilot tried to land us on the
Murray instead of the strip.An exciting life while it lasted.
There'd been a Peeping Tom around the WAAF huts.At night men were forbidden to be on that side of the road which presented a problem if you wanted to talk to your lady.It was alright for the girls to cross
the road.The solution? Someone,I suspect the girls because the pile never got smaller,had stacked empty tins under a big tree across from their hut.You wanted to talk to your lady you selected a good throwing-tin,skied it across the road so that it rattled down the tin roof.A head popped out of a window yelling 'who do you want.' With hundreds of men and few girls the competition was keen. One night the
answer out of the night,ANYONE.
The bright lights of Tocumwal were not all that bright.I remember the dances,very popular.Dancing,I'd always had two left feet but because I was in full court at that time I took Kath.I remember the night we had dinner in a cafe,nine of us,ordering nine steaks and fiftyfour eggs.And after a party in the mess,several of us guys riding around in the dark on the parade ground,starkers.Probably have been shot at dawn if the
CO had come past.
Kath,being a transport driver,liable to be called out at any hour,had access to the kitchen.Popular with the cooks,she was given slabs of steak for us to cook on the fires we lit at night on the beach which was only a short walk away from the camp. One night,out of the dark there came some impassioned and a bit rude
words.Another voice piped up 'go easy mate,I've got a lady here.' The reply set us laughing.'What the hell do you think I have here,a bloody seagull.'
The war was now going in our favour but there was still much to do in Europe and the Japs to finish off.We kept busy by night and day.My log book shows I was teaching pilots from Flight Sergeant to Wing Commander the mysteries of the Liberator,even did a special flight for Fox Movietone including mock attacks by a Kittihawk fighter group.Sometimes we landed at Ballarat,overnighted,even at Laverton On March 23 off we went to Sydney on a V Loan Flyover,massed Liberators,me sitting back listening to the music of a Sydney radio station,the radio direction finder tuned to it,the auto pilot flying the machine.Wow,what a way to fight a war.
We'd managed leave together,gone to Melbourne,I'd met Kath's parents,we'd become engaged.Which,at Toc,brought up a problem.Bad for discipline Old Boy to have a WAAF and a Flight Lieut walk out of the gate arm in arm.Behind a building,screened by shrubbery,there was a big hole in the fence everybody used.We could have used that too but I said 'bugger it.Not my style' and went to the CO and got a chit to say it was ok for us to walk out together.He did have rather a sloppy grin on his dial as he signed it. How disappointing,we were never challenged at the guardpost. I have always wondered,was this the reason for what followed or was the CO being compassionate.
Late April,called to the office,I was told I was being detached to 1APU,the test pilots unit,at Laverton to do a special job.Kath had been released from the WAAF and we were to be married in July.She with her mother in Melbourne. The job? The war was racing to it's end.Of course we didn't know then that two big bangs in Japan would finish it off in style and suddenly.I suspect someone had over-ordered bombs,that there was a surplus that I was to cart down to Bass Strait and from assorted
altitudes,using radar to aim,unload them on a poor defenceless rock,of course photographing the strikes to see how accurate radar bombing was. Hmmm.How often do you get 10,000 feet clear visibility in Bass Strait in mid winter? We'd married,had found a small flat which thanks to Kath's brother we'd nearly been booted out of.He was a policeman.Walking back to the flat, a police car suddenly screeched to a stop beside us,two cops jumped out,laughing their damned heads off,grabbed us,away we went to the flat with the siren going.That took some explaining to the landlady.The lovely RAAF allowed me to live out,collected me in the morning,brought me home. I'd be taken to my Lib,fire it up,trundle down to the rock,find the area socked in with cloud,unable to photo the strikes,be back in the flat for lunch and cuddles. What a way to fight a war.
All shipping had been warned to keep clear of the rock.Approaching it we'd be ready for the first drop.One morning,a couple of miles away,a fishing boat was heading towards it.Will we drop the bomb aimer asked.He'd consistently lobbed them close so I replied yes,we'll give them a fright.It was a beautiful day,no wind,sea like glass.The boat showed little wake.No doubt the crew were enjoying the unusual conditions,relaxed.The Lib had a catwalk to the rear gunner's position through the bomb bay.With the bomb doors open all you had below you was lots of space.There were rails.No way was I going to miss what was coming.Leaving the second pilot in charge I went and stood on the catwalk.Holding firmly onto the rails. A 250 pounder dropped past my shoulder,seeming to fall slowly,then speeding up as it neared the sea.It hit near the rock throwing up a huge spray.I could hear the explosion.Down there it must have been deafening.The boat? For moments,no action.Suddenly the wake boiled,it swung 180 degrees and fled for the horizon.Although it wasn't a planing hull I'm sure it was up on the plane.
All good things must come to an end.I had to leave Kath,go back to Toc. There was a batch of Libs to be picked up in America and flown back.I was told I was going.Then the Shiny Arses who'd been in Oz all the war kicked up a fuss and they were sent.The Yanks let off their big crackers,ending the war and those who went were the only Oz contingent to march down Broadway in the end of war celebration.Back to Bradfield where it had all begun and out of the gate for the last time on 7.1.46.It was over. 18 different airplanes
flown,singles,twins,fours,flying instructor on twins and fours.Since,six more ,ultralight ,amphibian, floatplane,glider.78 ops flights on two squadrons without taking the break in between.Left footprints in 18 different countries,flew over many where I didn't want to.Came out relatively undamaged.Anyone in 1943 when the flak was flying around me had told me I'd see 2011 I'd have told them they were effen mad.
But it wasn't finished,not by a long shot.With dive masks bought at the Pyramids Kath and I pioneered at first spearfishing,then when it arrived,scuba and underwater photoing in some exotic locations,retiring after spending four years on Heron Island on the Barrier Reef running the diving operation there and then living in Fiji,Tonga and NZ after we left there,diving their reefs.She died five years ago,I've gone out and found myself another equally good quality lady.IT HAS BEEN A BALL.. Tony.05.03.11
Born in 1921 at Yenda,son of an Anzac farming there,as far back as I can remember I always wanted to fly,saved what I could,took ten shilling joy flights when rarely a plane came to Yenda and landed on
the golf links.There usually was a wait.The crew headed for the pub shortly after landing.To steady their nerves they told us.In the 1940's I got to understand that.
A few days after war was declared I volunteered for the RAAF.A quiet country kid,how could I hope to become like Smithy and my other heroes of that time so I applied as a gunner.The RAAF then was in chaos I'm not sure it ever got out of.Hearing nothing,when I contacted it they said they'd lost mine and apply again.I did but as pilot.Probably saved my life.A small guy,I'd have been in the gun turret at the arse end of a big bomber and the first the German night fighters took out.I found I was a natural,should have soloed in a Tiger Moth at 4 1/2 hours,bounced the landing,went off at 6.It was on the airfield at Benghazi in 1943 with 500 hours up in single and twin engined planes that someone asked me to drive the truck across it to pick a guy up and I had to tell him 'can't.Never driven.' To which the answer was 'get into the effen
thing' and I had my first and only driving lesson.
I went in on 11.11.40,Armistice Day for The War To End All Wars to the calls of 'you'll be sorry' from 7 Course ahead of us at Bradfield,a Sydney suburb,RAAF number 402895. Then it was Initial Training,Tamworth on Tigers,Amberley on lumbering Ansons,back to Bradfield and on 3.9.41 off to the Middle east on the Queen Mary,now as a pilot officer and a qualified pilot.Revenge was sweet.The drill instructor,Sgt.Bully,yes that was his name,who had given me a hard time,told me I'd not make pilot,had to salute me.
The Bight turned on a huge storm for us.The Mary took waves over the bow,green.Upstairs about six of
us,appetites sharpened by the salt air,were served by many stewards.Below hundreds of Army guys were hoping to die.
On 23.9.41 we disembarked at Suez,were bussed to a transit camp near Cairo.A Brit Squadron across the road had been separated from its officers.Would I act as Commanding Officer until they caught up.A
junior pilot officer? Why not.Called a meeting of the NCO's who really ran the show and off we went until their officers showed up.
27.10.41,in Cairo,boarded an Empire flying boat,two day flight to Kenya following and landing on the Nile,bussed to 70 OTU to convert to Blenheim light bombers.Much adventure there,then on 9.2.42 back to
Egypt.A septic throat had held me back one course,luck again.The course I had been on went to the Western Desert to fly Blenheims which had been proved inadequate over Europe and sent to the Middle East
because there was nothing else.
18.2.42,off to 244 Squadron based at Sharjah at the bottom end of the Persian Gulf by rail through
Palestine to Damascus in Syria,road to Habbaniya 50 miles west of Baghdad where we were to pick up Blenheims and take them to 244.They weren't ready,Communications Flight was short of pilots,they put us to work flying their antiquated machines,all they could get,a wonderful experience for me.
On 8.4.42 I led the first three Blenheims to Sharjah.Much adventure so far.There we'd take off,climb over the mountains at 7000 feet,drop down to 1000 over the Arabian Sea hunting enemy submarines or escorting convoys bringing American Lend Lease war matereal to Basra to be sent on to Southern Russia.The Blenheims had been thrashed over Europe before we got them and were wornout.Twice I flew several pilots to Wadi Shariah in Palestine to pick up replacement Bisleys which after the war a writer described as 'a truly
dreadful aeroplane.' After we left 244 there were 32 Bisley crashes in two years.
After Alamein in Egypt the Army was chasing the Germans west before giving them the Big A out of North Africa.Would we not take the six months break instructing in between Squadrons they asked. Dad had advised me never to volunteer,but then I'd not always taken his advice.Four days after we left Sharjah I was flying Baltimores with 203 Squadron in Egypt.We followed the 8th Army to Benghazi and began roaming the Mediterranean,the southern Adriatic and the Aegean amongst the German-held Greek islands at 150 feet and 250 mph. One plane so the flak from a hundred or so guns enemy was all ours,with Bill or Bob in the top turret banging back with our twin .5's,a bit like farting at thunder.Exciting times. All good things come to an end.On 24.9.42 ,on a trip into the Aegean past eight Greek islands where we had the heaviest flak we'd experienced,after a 6 1/2 hour flight,called to the CO's office he told us we were off ops,that we'd done far more than our share.We didn't argue.By staying alive I was now a Flight Lieutenant.I ferried aircraft for a while then on 28.11.43 moved to 70 OTU in Egypt to cart trainee gunners around.One nearly shot the rudder off,just another brush with death,one of many.
We had to read any notices pinned up in the flight tent.The dust I stirred after reading one would be still settling.It required any pilot wanting to do a flying instructrors course to put his name
down.It,I discovered,was in now Zimababwe.
On 12.1.44 in a Short Empire flying boat I left Cairo on a four day trip to Durban,followed by a three day train one to Norton to 33 F.I.S. More different planes to fly,the course big on aerobtics.Back in Cairo
and the gunners on 29.3 44. Then in August,what I'd been waiting for.YOU'RE GOING HOME. 4.8.44 embarked on an slow old Dutch ship and on 10.9.44 got off in Sydney.How wonderful that was.Leave,had a spell in hospital,on 1.12.44 off to 7 OTU at Tocumwal to use my flying instructors course to teach others to fly Liberators.
My first Lib flight,two hours, was on December 15 with instructor F/Lt Gibbons doing circuits and bumps. The Baltimores,twin engined,much smaller than a Lib had 3600 horsepower.The much bigger four engined Libs had only 5000 and consequently were much less nippy than the Balts.Heavier on the controls too.However,on longer trips we did later,the Libs were more comfortable.The Balts had a suitcase-shaped fuselage and a fighter-sized cockpit.Once strapped in I was there for up to nearly seven hours on some flights.Only way I could relieve the bum numbness was,if high enough,trim the plane to fly straight and level,let go of the controls,grasp the hatch above my head and lift off the seat.In the Libs there was room to walk around.The Libs had an auto pilot and a radio direction-finder I could lock onto a known radio station and sit back and listen to whatever music was playing,letting the Lib fly itself.Even have a cuppa. The Libs were a well built airplane,sluggish but pleasant to fly and the motors reliable.
After five hours instruction I was back in charge again.Then began flying as an
instructor by day.Night was to come.
Toc was a big station.So we could get around easier we were issued with bikes. When I rode mine to the flight office for my first flight I noticed several men with their heads in the door of the bus that was to take me and my flight gear to my Lib.Getting on it I found out why.The WAAF driver was blonde with a lovely face and figure to match."WHO IS SHE" I asked someone.To be told "don't waste your time there,you won't do any good." Hmmmm.Always liked a challenge.When we had landed she had tocome to pick us up. Some time later I'd landed,taxied in,shut down and was waiting for the bus.In the distance beside the hangers it
stood with the usual cluster at its door.We waited and finally decided to walk in lumping our gear.As I passed the bus I gave her a big glare. Parachute returned,I jumped on my bike and headed for my room.The bus followed me,she got out to apologise,hadn't seen me come in.There would be no better time,I asked her out and began a love affair that lasted until her death 61 years later.
On a hot summer night the Libs seemed to take forever to reach takeoff speed. Sitting in the righthand seat,after the four throttles were fully opened on takeoff I'd be keeping an eye on everything including the
pupil for I had no idea how good or bad he was.I'd hold the four throttles open and call the airspeed to him.It seemed to stick at 80 knots,the end of the strip was coming up fast,we were below takeoff speed,I can still see the red light on a building near the strip's end getting bigger and bigger.Somehow we always made it.
Then there was the night,it was closed camp,nobody allowed out, that a pupil came in too low,took his brakelines off on a treetop,landed on a strip pointing right into the centre of the camp,no brakes,the only thing that saved mass deaths was a gully that stopped the Lib short of the huts.
We never knew the quality of the pilots we were instructing.Put yourself in my Lib,standing behind me,watching.White-knuckled.We are doing night circuits and bumps with a new pilot.It's a black night.Below us the camp,trying to sleep over our noise,is lit,looks good.My lovely Kath is down there somewhere.I'm in the righthand seat keeping an eye on the pupil.He's already made several good landings.We're sliding down the slope on final.The flare path is dead ahead,our landing lights are on.The nose wheel on this machine is slow to come down and lock.As usual the flight engineer nips down a set of
steps beside me to where he can see that it is locked.He'll bob up and give me thumbs up when it is.I'm waiting.Something makes me look up and out.Brightly lit, not far ahead and higher than we are is a dead
tree.We're almost on the ground but still far off the end of the strip.I grab the four throttles,slam them forward,back-stick,we barely clear the topmost branches as the tree flashes past under us.Somehow the motors had responded and we'd been above stall speed.Just.Not the kind of thing to do in a big airplane.I slam the Lib down,brake to a stop.Sit shaking.The pupil's face is white."WHY" I ask. "Don't know,just froze" he replies.Smoking was allowed on the ground.Can I,he asks.Yes.He pulls out a pack,lights one,takes two puffs,out of the window with it .By the time we were ready for another takeoff he's got rid of most of the pack.Instructing could be as dangerous as operations.Another night a flyingboat pilot tried to land us on the
Murray instead of the strip.An exciting life while it lasted.
There'd been a Peeping Tom around the WAAF huts.At night men were forbidden to be on that side of the road which presented a problem if you wanted to talk to your lady.It was alright for the girls to cross
the road.The solution? Someone,I suspect the girls because the pile never got smaller,had stacked empty tins under a big tree across from their hut.You wanted to talk to your lady you selected a good throwing-tin,skied it across the road so that it rattled down the tin roof.A head popped out of a window yelling 'who do you want.' With hundreds of men and few girls the competition was keen. One night the
answer out of the night,ANYONE.
The bright lights of Tocumwal were not all that bright.I remember the dances,very popular.Dancing,I'd always had two left feet but because I was in full court at that time I took Kath.I remember the night we had dinner in a cafe,nine of us,ordering nine steaks and fiftyfour eggs.And after a party in the mess,several of us guys riding around in the dark on the parade ground,starkers.Probably have been shot at dawn if the
CO had come past.
Kath,being a transport driver,liable to be called out at any hour,had access to the kitchen.Popular with the cooks,she was given slabs of steak for us to cook on the fires we lit at night on the beach which was only a short walk away from the camp. One night,out of the dark there came some impassioned and a bit rude
words.Another voice piped up 'go easy mate,I've got a lady here.' The reply set us laughing.'What the hell do you think I have here,a bloody seagull.'
The war was now going in our favour but there was still much to do in Europe and the Japs to finish off.We kept busy by night and day.My log book shows I was teaching pilots from Flight Sergeant to Wing Commander the mysteries of the Liberator,even did a special flight for Fox Movietone including mock attacks by a Kittihawk fighter group.Sometimes we landed at Ballarat,overnighted,even at Laverton On March 23 off we went to Sydney on a V Loan Flyover,massed Liberators,me sitting back listening to the music of a Sydney radio station,the radio direction finder tuned to it,the auto pilot flying the machine.Wow,what a way to fight a war.
We'd managed leave together,gone to Melbourne,I'd met Kath's parents,we'd become engaged.Which,at Toc,brought up a problem.Bad for discipline Old Boy to have a WAAF and a Flight Lieut walk out of the gate arm in arm.Behind a building,screened by shrubbery,there was a big hole in the fence everybody used.We could have used that too but I said 'bugger it.Not my style' and went to the CO and got a chit to say it was ok for us to walk out together.He did have rather a sloppy grin on his dial as he signed it. How disappointing,we were never challenged at the guardpost. I have always wondered,was this the reason for what followed or was the CO being compassionate.
Late April,called to the office,I was told I was being detached to 1APU,the test pilots unit,at Laverton to do a special job.Kath had been released from the WAAF and we were to be married in July.She with her mother in Melbourne. The job? The war was racing to it's end.Of course we didn't know then that two big bangs in Japan would finish it off in style and suddenly.I suspect someone had over-ordered bombs,that there was a surplus that I was to cart down to Bass Strait and from assorted
altitudes,using radar to aim,unload them on a poor defenceless rock,of course photographing the strikes to see how accurate radar bombing was. Hmmm.How often do you get 10,000 feet clear visibility in Bass Strait in mid winter? We'd married,had found a small flat which thanks to Kath's brother we'd nearly been booted out of.He was a policeman.Walking back to the flat, a police car suddenly screeched to a stop beside us,two cops jumped out,laughing their damned heads off,grabbed us,away we went to the flat with the siren going.That took some explaining to the landlady.The lovely RAAF allowed me to live out,collected me in the morning,brought me home. I'd be taken to my Lib,fire it up,trundle down to the rock,find the area socked in with cloud,unable to photo the strikes,be back in the flat for lunch and cuddles. What a way to fight a war.
All shipping had been warned to keep clear of the rock.Approaching it we'd be ready for the first drop.One morning,a couple of miles away,a fishing boat was heading towards it.Will we drop the bomb aimer asked.He'd consistently lobbed them close so I replied yes,we'll give them a fright.It was a beautiful day,no wind,sea like glass.The boat showed little wake.No doubt the crew were enjoying the unusual conditions,relaxed.The Lib had a catwalk to the rear gunner's position through the bomb bay.With the bomb doors open all you had below you was lots of space.There were rails.No way was I going to miss what was coming.Leaving the second pilot in charge I went and stood on the catwalk.Holding firmly onto the rails. A 250 pounder dropped past my shoulder,seeming to fall slowly,then speeding up as it neared the sea.It hit near the rock throwing up a huge spray.I could hear the explosion.Down there it must have been deafening.The boat? For moments,no action.Suddenly the wake boiled,it swung 180 degrees and fled for the horizon.Although it wasn't a planing hull I'm sure it was up on the plane.
All good things must come to an end.I had to leave Kath,go back to Toc. There was a batch of Libs to be picked up in America and flown back.I was told I was going.Then the Shiny Arses who'd been in Oz all the war kicked up a fuss and they were sent.The Yanks let off their big crackers,ending the war and those who went were the only Oz contingent to march down Broadway in the end of war celebration.Back to Bradfield where it had all begun and out of the gate for the last time on 7.1.46.It was over. 18 different airplanes
flown,singles,twins,fours,flying instructor on twins and fours.Since,six more ,ultralight ,amphibian, floatplane,glider.78 ops flights on two squadrons without taking the break in between.Left footprints in 18 different countries,flew over many where I didn't want to.Came out relatively undamaged.Anyone in 1943 when the flak was flying around me had told me I'd see 2011 I'd have told them they were effen mad.
But it wasn't finished,not by a long shot.With dive masks bought at the Pyramids Kath and I pioneered at first spearfishing,then when it arrived,scuba and underwater photoing in some exotic locations,retiring after spending four years on Heron Island on the Barrier Reef running the diving operation there and then living in Fiji,Tonga and NZ after we left there,diving their reefs.She died five years ago,I've gone out and found myself another equally good quality lady.IT HAS BEEN A BALL.. Tony.05.03.11
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