From Air Training to the Defence of Britain: One Pilot's View From Tiger Moths to Mosquitoes
Stanley G. Reynolds
Reprinted with permission of the author and publisher of For King and Country: Alberta in the Second World War;)
On 25 October I was posted to EFTS, where I was one of 45 students in Course #67. We were issued flying suits and other items needed for our flying training and ground classes. My first flight in a Tiger Moth biplane was on 28 October; my first solo flight was on 9 November, after receiving eight hours and 45 minutes of dual-flying training. Most of the flying instructors were civilians, and during flights they talked to the students through speaking tubes called Gosports. On 23 November I was given a 30-hour check by Ernie Boffa, a well-known bush pilot who was the Assistant Chief Flying Instructor. During the test I was required to do various manoeuvres, including slow rolls, blind flying [flying by instruments while under a hood], practice forced landings, cross-wind landings, steep turns, tail spins, side slipping, and other exercises. While practicing aerobatics during a solo flight on 28 November, an oil line ruptured and I flew back to base with oil spraying on the windscreen. I flew 29 different Tiger Moths at EFTS; my last flight there was on 18 December by which time I had logged 73 hours and 25 minutes flying time on Tiger Moths. In my log book endorsement in the space allocated for "Instructor's remarks on pupil's weakness" was written "no particular faults." My flying grade was 74 per cent, and my assessment was "above average." At least 14 pupils from Course 67 were "washed out," which means their pilot training was terminated. Ten of the students in this course were killed on active service overseas.
After completing my elementary training in December, I went home on leave. A US pilot flying a Bell Airacobra fighter experienced engine trouble during a flight to Alaska, baled out and the plane crashed nose first into the ground near Wetaskiwin. Personnel from the US air base at Namao picked up all the parts they could locate, but they left the engine which was buried about 17 feet down in the ground. I took it upon myself to dig out the Allison V 12 engine, the 37 mm cannon that was buried under the engine, live ammunition, propeller, and other gear. When I was digging out the engine a spectator standing nearby threw a cigarette into the hole, causing an explosion of the gas fumes. I came out of the hole so fast I don't know whether I jumped out or was blown out. Not knowing of any useful purpose for the articles, my father notified US officials who sent an army truck to pick up the remains of the Airacobra.
On 10 January 1943 I was posted to No.4 Service Flying Training School at Saskatoon, where I was placed in Course #72 with 61 other student pilots. We were learning to fly twin-engine Cessna Cranes, and my flying instructor was Pilot Officer MacIntyre. My first solo in a Crane was on 24 January, after receiving eight hours and 40 minutes dual training. During a solo flight on 7 April the fuel pump quit in the starboard engine. I flew back to base on one engine and made a successful single engine landing. My last flight in a Crane was 22 April, by which date I had logged 166 hours and 40 minutes twin-engine day-and-night flying time. By then I also had logged 35 hours in the Link trainer, not including my Link time at ITS. At least 14 pupils in Course 72 were washed out. Not every pilot received his wings on the parade square. A day or two before this important occasion I was stricken with appendicitis and taken to the base hospital where I received an appendectomy. As I was not allowed to leave the hospital bed, my pilot wings were pinned on my pajamas by an officiating officer from high command. In attendance were my instructor, other graduating pilots from my course, the doctor and nurse, various officials from the base and my very proud father. This was one of the most thrilling experiences in my air force career. I had graduated from SFTS flying twin-engine Cessna Cranes, and was now a full-fledged pilot. In my log book endorsement in the space allocated for "Instructors remarks on pupil's weakness" was written "High average student, should do well in all future flying." I was promoted to the rank of Sergeant. Fifteen of the students in this class were killed on active service overseas.
I went home on embarkation leave prior to leaving for overseas. I boarded a train with other airmen, and arrived at No.1 "Y" Depot, Halifax, Nova Scotia, on 21 June. A few days later we boarded the troop ship "Louis Pasteur," joined a convoy and headed for England. The ships travelled in a zig-zag path to lessen the chances of being hit by a torpedo from an enemy submarine. We were told that some submarines were picked up in the ships' sonar, although no ships were torpedoed in this convoy.
On Dominion Day I was posted with other pilots to No.3 Personnel Receiving Centre at Bournemouth, on the south coast of England. This city had been the target of a low-level attack by enemy aircraft and a number of buildings showed mute evidence of the strafing and bombing. At Bournemouth we were given training in parachute-harness releasing over land and water, use of the life preservers called "Mae Wests," jumping into a pool of water from a high platform, and lots of physical exercise which included routinely swimming several lengths of the swimming pool. We also received instruction on the use of firearms, and did target practice with revolvers. As part of our emergency kit, our photographs were taken in civilian clothes, to be used by the underground for forged passports if we were forced down in enemy territory. We received training and tests on wireless, aircraft recognition, link theory, armament, ship recognition, and naval theory. On 26 and 27 August, at the Empire Central Flying School at Hullavington, I took flight tests in a Miles Master and an Airspeed Oxford. From Bournemouth the pilots were posted to various bases for further flight training, depending upon their qualifications and capabilities. I was fortunate to have good night vision, good aircraft recognition and my ability as a pilot was satisfactory so it was decided my further flying training should be as a night fighter pilot.
On 22 September I was posted to No. 12 Advanced Flying Unit at Grantham, Lincolnshire, where I was one of 51 pilots in Course #17. In this course were servicemen from around the world: 33 RAF, six RCAP, four RAAP [Royal Australian Air Force], two RNZAF [Royal New Zealand Air Force], two SAAP [South African Air Force], an airman from Poland, one from Java, one from Scotland and one from USA. One of the pilots in this course was S/L George Edwards, who was the Chief Flying Instructor during the time I was training at No.4 SFTS Saskatoon. We were flying twin-engine Bristol Blenheim Mark Vs, known in England as Bisleys. I received 4 1/2 hours dual-instruction before my first solo flight on 8 October, and was promoted to Flight Sergeant on 30 October. Shortly before Christmas a group of about half a dozen airmen in my barrack block got together to play carols using a group of bottles partially filled with water. Each bottle was filled to a different level to produce a different musical note when an airman blew over the top of the bottle. Each of us controlled several bottles and after hours of practice we became quite proficient in playing "Good King Wenceslas." During a solo cross-country flight on 24 February 1944, the ceiling, 10/10th overcast, came down and I was forced down to under 300 feet to fly below the low ceiling. Endeavouring to map read at such a low height while flying over territory containing numerous roads and railways crisscrossing and running all directions, often having to read the aircraft instruments and look ahead for obstructions, I became lost. I flew with 15 degrees of flap to maintain safe control at a slower speed, but I was unable to pinpoint my location on the map. I still had a reasonable fuel supply when I flew over an air base where the planes were all grounded because of the bad weather. I made a quick circuit, landed and taxied up to the control tower. The control officer said that if I shut off the engines I would have to stay. Therefore I left the engines idling at 1000 rpm, set the brakes, and walked into the control tower where I was told I had landed at Polebrook, a United States Air Force base. I drew a line on my map from Pole brook to Grantham, took off and map-read my way back to my base, landed and parked the plane in its proper place. When I landed at Grantham I was over two hours late; however nobody asked me why I was overdue. Flying Officer Osborne, RAF, was one of the pilots killed during the flying training of Course #17. Ground school classes were Morse code, wireless, navigation, meteorology, aircraft recognition, armament, and engines.