Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part V)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part V: Chatham, some personalities and graduation

These experiences are from extracts of letters that I wrote to my grandfather Mr. A. K. Alexander of 15 Oakley Avenue, Hamilton, when I did my aircrew training in Canada.

By mid term most boys on the course discovered how they were faring. The examinations gave them an indication of their ability or lack of it as far as being navigators was concerned.

Early on the course Charlie Frazer went home, supposedly air sick, but I think it was excessive home sickness. For a start his wife was not keen on him going overseas, and there was slight friction. To make it worse the first six weeks in Chatham he received no mail, it went elsewhere. Poor Charlie was thinking the worst with all the Yanks in New Zealand. After the war I met him in Papakura, he was one of the attendants at the Kingseat Hospital. The next to go home was Pip Stapleton, never keen on it at any stage, and then Harold Crampton, Tom Potts, Ted Thurston and the two Marshalls turned it in. The first two were grey wolves and the whole five remustered as bombardiers. They actually qualified for their wings before we finished our course and were on operations in England when we were in Halifax. Harold Crampton was killed when the bomb from another Stirling took the nose off their plane, and Harold went with it. The pilot bought the plane home with the greatest difficulty, a great feat. [JS Note. Friday 11 August 1944, 514 Squadron Lancaster II LL697/B2 took off at 14.13 hours captained by W/O W.D. Brickwood for a raid on Lens rail yards. Over the target the nose was struck by a falling bomb. Air bomber, Harold Crompton, was thrown out. LL697 returned to Woolbridge Suffolk at 17.30 hrs. LL697 never flew again and the surviving crew members flying Lancaster II LL731/U were shot down over Europe on the 12 September 1944. Source Martyn, E.W., For your tomorrow, Vol. II] Harold was one who performed amazing feats with the astro-graph, which no other navigator did. "Cooking" the astro-graph it was called, but it didn't teach you navigation. He also developed a 'plum' when he joined the RNZAF and it became part of him. A character, liked to be popular.

Tom Potts, a former school teachershould have passed his course but the green Canadian bottled beer was to great an attraction. Every night without fail he spent hours in the canteen, and by 10 O'clock would be on top of the piano, singing (or trying to) like a troubador. Often he would come back to the barracks and grab a mop and march up and down reciting the "The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven", until someone would drop from the top bunk and put him under the cold shower, then he would cry like a baby. He was killed in England after a few raids. [JS Note. 24 July 1944, 75 (NZ) Squadron Lancaster I HK575/O took off at 2155 hrs for raid on Stuttgart. Shot down by night-fighter and crashed near Chateau Voue killing the crew of seven including Air Bomber NZ421143 Thomas Potts, age 27, and Captain NZ415216 James McRae, age 27. Source Martyn, E.W., For your tomorrow, Vol. II]

Most course members lost trace of Ted Thurston, but he survived the war. someone saw him in Wellington arguing with the referee during a game of rugby football. He was always a thorn in my side because he did his best to prevent me from studying. A favourite jibe of his was, "You will do well Ernie if you work hard". A type of fifth columnist.

Of the two Jamiesons, Laurie was definitely killed, and no one ever heard of the other one. I fancy he went west somehow. [JS Note. 31 May 1944, 15 Squadron Lancaster I LM121/C took off from Mildenhall at 2357 hrs and was shot down by a night-fighter killing the crew of seven including Air Bomber NZ415636 Laurence Jamieson, age 26. Source Martyn, E.W., For your tomorrow, Vol. II]

Towards the end of our course two others dropped out, they lost confidence believing they could not cope with the job. On the other hand some of the older boys stuck it out. They had left school many years before the war and their attitude was, they can throw me out, but I will not go voluntarily. Typical of them was Jack McConachie and Mick Cassidy. Jack was an electrician and Mick a coalman. I can still remember Jack arguing for some vital marks in the subject Electricity and Magnetism. He knew his sparks but the instructor knew the book side of it. However Jack squeezed about three marks which he badly needed. Both eventually flew Catalinas and made good navigators.

The top three on the course were Ross Laurenson (died of Meningitis after the war [JS Note. 16 April 1945], Laurie Berg and Jim Lyon. All had just left university and swot was no trouble to them.

A spur to our course was a statement by an instructor that whoever came bottom, would be posted to British Columbia to train on the Torpedo-Bombers Hampdens. No one minded British Columbia, but Hampdens were suicide. The average expectancy of life was about two raids. Fortunately for us, the only Canadian who joined the course, Len Saffron, volunteered. We never heard if he survived. [JS Note. Len Saffron went on to fly in RCAF 422 Squadron and survived the war.]

Graduation day was a wonderful occasion, a culmination of weeks of hard work and for all who passed a great achievement. When it is considered to get into the air force you were required to pass a strict medical, do pre air force educational training, and then an extremely hard course covering about nine months, the successful ones had something to be proud of.

I started in Rotorua with a course of 60. I came second in that lot, and 30 were aqccepted to train as navigators, the remainder doing the bombardier course. Nineteen finally received the observers wing on that parade, a proud moment and no one hid their elation.

My marks were Navigation No.1 76%, Navigation No.2 71%, Maps and Charts 88%, Meteorology 71%, Compasses 65%, Reconnaisance 90%, Photography 88%, Instruments 64%, Aircraft recognition 76%, Signals (written) 64%, Signals (practical) 95%, Bombing 90%, Armaments 90%.

My average was 78.5% and I came fifth, a result of a lot of hard work. Believe me it did not come easy. The total hours flown on course including night and day amounted to 87, mostly in trips of no more than three hours.

So I was a fully fledged navigator, and in future would be responsible for giving correct courses, finding out where we were, and working out E.T.A. (estimated time of arrivals). The full significance of this responsibility had not dawned on me at this stage. My only thoughts, "others were doing it, why couldn't I?"

However we were faced with more training yet, six weeks at Fingal, Ontario, for bombing and gunnery, and another six weeks at Summerside in Prince Edward Island. The latter really gave us confidence, we were made to see that navigation really worked. It was mainly reconnaisance training, flying out to sea about 150 miles and returning home again. To find out we could do it was great. Usually we were given the job of finding a harbour, photographing it, drawing all the details on a plan, such as ships, wharves, oil tanks, etc. Because we had to skim over the sea at nought feet, the pilots loved it. Such a contrast to the humdrum flying. One day a pilot shot up a farmer who was driving his horse and sledge across the frozen ground. The horse took off, leaving the farmer shaking his fist at the monster above. I often wonder the outcome of this.

During the whole of our training in Canada we had only three breaks. One was a long weekend when we went to Quebec and the other two at the end of courses, when we visited the United States. [JS Note : Here Ernie uses several pages describing his leave in Quebec, Boston, Detroit, Pittsburg, Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia and New York.]

Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part IV)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part IV: 10 Air Observers School, Chatham.

These experiences are from extracts of letters that I wrote to my grandfather Mr. A. K. Alexander of 15 Oakley Avenue, Hamilton, when I did my aircrew training in Canada.

Flying, which everyone on the course looked forward to, started soon after we arrived. The first was a familiarisation trip with two navigators. The greatest problem was to realise that when you were working out a course, the plane was still heading on the old one and wouldn't stop, but we soon learned that no matter what you gave the pilot he would always bring you home. Most were old bush pilots who did hours of flying in the North and were reputed to be able to fly by the seat of their pants. No pilot would venture too far away from the beaten track. At night time they would keep a good eye on the towns. Once, however this didn't happen. A pupil called Scotty, an ex Grey wolf (grounded pilot) gave a reciprocal course on the home leg. The pilot flew it this time, and ironically was recognising all the towns on the return journey. In due course their E.T.A. (estimated time of arrival) had expired and Chatham wasn't there. They flew on and soon were short on fuel, and turned on their landing lights to find somewhere to land. They found the edge of a lake and landed in shallow water, pulling up just in front of a huge rock. Scotty and the crew found they were in Halifax or nearby. He always had a habit of pulling his flying gear over his pyjamas, and spent the next two days wandering around like this. Finally he was washed out of the course, and later did a bombardier's training. He went to England and apparently survived the war.

The only problem with flying as far as I was concerned was airsickness. When the doctor told me he could do no more I just put up with it. Once I was forced to return home, but this proved fatal. Once more and I would be grounded I was told, so I never turned back. My standard equipment was a collection of cardboard boxes to contain what I couldn't hold. I eventually was so bad that the mere smell of a plane started me off. After a few minutes i was in the dry reach stage. I squared the pilots to keep quiet and I did my best, but my air work suffered. Of course I had to dispose of the boxes before returning, so the pleasant field below were the usual target. Poor devils on earth. The boys always reminded me to take my standard equipment with me. "Got your boxes" they would quip. Two on the course did go home because of air sickness.

A favourite pastime in 10 A.O.S. was to raid one anothers dormitory as a way of relaxation. Usually all ended well, except one night when a French-Canadian was involved. Poor sport he was, and informed the orderly officer who happened to be an American, a reconnaissance instructor.

One N.Z.'er and an Aussie had been celebrating too much, and subsequently were sent to an Air Force jail in Monckton for a week to cool off. But this turned the heat on at Chatham 10 A.O.S. A group of three Aussies planned reprisals, which incidently was one of the best kept secrets of the war. I personally only knew who one was, and that was when he left Canada.

The first act was to cut the stairways down with a fire axe. All the camp received a weeks C.B. (confined to barracks) for this. Act No. 2, do the job again and cut through the repairs this time. Result, 14 days C.B for the camp. But the rub was that the instructors were involved too, they couldn't leave camp when their courses were involved. Finally the Commanding Officer decided only the Aussies and N.Z.'ers were responsible, so the rest of the pupils were set free.

The select three planned further reprisals and amongst these were stealing the station flag, a copy of Janes Fighting Ships, and examination papers set for reconnaissance. The latter two belonged to the American officer, and this was a distinct embarrassment to him because Janes were a secret document to be kept under lock and key. They were a copy of all the latest planes and ships of all nations of the World, allied and enemy. He had left them on his desk.

In 14 days order was restored, the Commanding Officer was relieved of his position, and the brains behind the whole scheme eventually was given a commission off course. A well kept secret, otherwise he would probably have been discharged from the Air Force.

My personal action in this was to skip camp after about 10 days, for a few hours at the pictures. The stress of constant study, often late at night, needed a break, and Bob Shewry and myself decide to try. We marched along the road to the hospital to visit a supposed sick friend, then darted across the road to the fence and pulled the netting apart, which had been conveniently cut by the first N.Z. course at Chatham. I learn't afterwards that the Officers' mess was in sight of this spot, but they were human. We darted across to some woods, joined the road and made our way to the pictures, taking our aircrew flashes out of our caps. Recognised Special Police (S.P.'s) but they turned the blind eye. The fun started when we went to the Australia-N.Z. Club for coffee and doughnuts. The girls on duty were astounded to see us and plagued us with questions on what was going on back at camp. Apparently the town was alive with rumours, the incident had really livened up the place.

Coffee almost finished and two S.Po's appeared. One was a chap whom I had been invited home with by some locals for dinner, after attending church a couple of Sundays previously. He must have decided I was a reasonable sort of bloke because he just stood contemplating. Feeling cheeky I asked how many he had caught tonight and he said "You are the eleventh". "You won't need us," I replied, and to our amazement he said, "If you get back to camp without being caught we will say nothing." (Just our names, rank and number in his book in case). Bob and I moved off in due course, and went in the back of the camp as the night planes were coming in. We ducked behind snow drifts when lights were showing, and finally mingled witht he returning crews. We lived on tenter hooks for a few days, but nothing happened. All training camps in Canada were surrounded by tall cyclone netting fences, with barbed wire on top. The only legal way out was by the guard gate with a pass.

Before the snows started a sports day was held between the courses, football, tug-of-war, etc. etc. Number 58, our course, won with 39 points, the next closest being 32. It was a great day. The Canuks thought we were mad the way we played football.

Money is none too plentiful, and the generosity of the people is appreciated. As one way of saving money we cut each others hair. My home efforts are finding plenty of customers over here. A barber charges about 75 cents, N.Z. price 1/6, Canadian equivalent 4/-.

Diary of Ernest Kenyon Alexander (Part III)

NZ416235 W/O Ernie Alexander (Navigator)

Part III: 10 Air Observers School, Chatham.

These experiences are from extracts of letters that I wrote to my grandfather Mr. A. K. Alexander of 15 Oakley Avenue, Hamilton, when I did my aircrew training in Canada.

In due course we were posted to 10 Air Observers Course, Chatham, New Brunswick. Classes included Australians, Englishmen, Canadians, and other nationalities. The station is well set up, very convenient and ideal in every respect for training. We sleep in dormitories, built in the form of an H with the ablutions in the centre. They are two storied, with 18 beds (two tiered) in each. Janitors (old men) keep the building clean. Meals are excellent, my favourite being blueberry pie and flap jacks and maple syrup.

Paid a visit to the local town which is about two miles away. It is about the size of Tuakau, and the people are very friendly. An Australian-New Zealand Club is very helpful, supply coffee and doughnuts, aqnd introductions to families. Discovered that some months previously a New Zealand course trained in Chatham and apparently had a wonderful time. Made it easy for us - if you are a New Zealander you are OK. Gordon Lyell who instructed us at Rotorua was one of them. The first Sunday on the station we attended a church parade, most went willingly but a number absented themselves by various ruses.

The course is quite difficult, with ten subjects, plus flying. They include Navigation (Astro and Dead Reckoning), maps and charts, Reconnaissance, and Photography. Out of the original 60 at Rotorua, 30 have come to Canada to train as navigators, the remainder as bombardiers. Twenty-six of the navigators are at Chatham, four went to a station in Ontario. One of these, Jack Bell, was later killed when his parachute did not open. He apparently jumped at 500 feet when the aircraft was in trouble.

After a few days it became evident that lots of swot will be required to be successful on this course. The routine that most have settled for is five days intensive work, and a break on the weekend. Pictures, dances, golf, trips and visits to local homes find most favour.
On Sunday I was taken to the home of Archdeacon Anderson and found Eddie Medlin's name in the Visitors' book.

All the course were given their first familiarisation flight after about ten days. From the air the countryside is mostly Spruce and Fir trees, and fairly flat. The Miramachi River is quite prominent. Apparently New Brunswick is noted for the lumber trade. Chatham and New Castle once had seven mills, but during the depression only two operated. A doctor told us that 40% of the people had no work, and the rest about two days per week in this period. This reflected on the children who were very short of food and suffered accordingly.

The first pay in Canada was very welcome.

Chatham has churches belonging to six denominations, the ones with greatest followings being the Roman Catholic and the United Church of Canada. The latter is a combination of several protestant groups. The Roman Catholics have a beautiful building on top of a hill and can be seen for miles. Its steeple is almost a navigational hazard. When doing aerial photography everyone snaps the church, and it is safe to say all photography enthusiasts have one of this in their album.

The St. Pauls (Anglican) is 125 years old and well preserved. It has a shingle roof which is typical of many buildings in the area. One church, the Presbyterian, was sold and converted into a picture theatre when the United Church came into being. It still has a tall wooden steeple, and is called the Capitol. The church that went wrong someone said.

Talking of buildings, very few have paint on the outside, especially houses. This appears a reflection on the depression days.

Dr. Freeman, who befirended Bob Shewry and myself, said during these years only 40% of the people had work, and for only two days per week. The rest had nothing and lived on sustenance or whatever came their way. Of the seven lumber mills operating before the depression, only two remained open. He said this caused great starvation amongst the young people, and could still be seen. I have often wondered why so many of our age group possessed such thin legs and arms and this was apparently the answer.