Hi folks, it`s Dr Jekyll here again, here's another article from a friend of mine called Jim Law who`s about 77 years old and who also spent some years in the RAF during WWII, during which time not only was he battling for the war effort, he was also battling over his own mind and body, yet, he still found the time and inner strength to make a mental record of most, if not all of his days in the RAF.
When he was demobbed from the RAF at the end of the war he still had all or most of his recollections firmly embedded in his mind, not as scars though, more of a diary of his good & bad times, eventually decided so not to forget his RAF service time he wrote his RAF times down in a small book but so as not to make the stories boring he made the lines of all of his stories rhyme, he didn`t bother to try to get the book published, it`s merely for his own personal recollection.
This one is simply titled "France"....read on, I hope that you like it....
France Orders came for us to pack up and move off, Down to Fareham Harbour with all our stuff.
While waiting to board the boat, do you know, Wiz the Magician gave us a good show.
He places six pennies under a glass on a wall, They disappeared one by one till there was none there at all.
With everyone on board, out of harbour we steamed, Waited in the Solent for hours it seemed.
By morning light there were ships all around, The rumour was that France we were bound.
The rumour was right, to Normandy we went, Off the boat and on to the Bailey Bridge we were sent.
The concentration area was our next destination, From where we were given our next location.
A solo school was formed and we sat down to play, Until F/O (Flight Officer) Wells told us we should be on our way.
Somebody said "Can we finish the kitty?", At the time I suppose it was really quite witty.
`All right lads` said Wells, `but please make it snappy`, The kitty was won and everyone was happy.
Whoever won it I really cannot say, But I suppose we had it all back the very next day.
From there it was to Camilly we steered, To a cider orchard, and my God, it was weird.
We parked our lorries and pitched our tents, But something really didn`t make much sense.
We had nothing to do sometimes nearly all day, So out came the cards to pass the time away.
Under candlelight we sometimes played all night, Until dawn`s early light.
When someone passed by who had been for his food, We asked what it was and he said "Nothing very good".
Breakfast never was the best of the bunch, Then all you had to do was hang out for lunch.
We went round the Bayeux Circuit and Viller-le-Sec, You could hear Tom from Leeds saying "Ee flipping heck".
The only mishap we had suffered during this time, Was when Bill Banks backed his lorry over a land mine,
Bill was all right though, but sadly his lorry was not, The back of it looked like a pepper pot.
After a few days we were again on the move, Once more we had to get in the groove.
Through Caen we went without much trouble, That`s because it was one big heap of rubble.
Dead horses and wrecked transport were strewn everywhere, There was also a smell of death in the air.
We arrived at a place called Callengeville, No birds and no trees and everywhere was very still.
The place was a mess, it was a job to survive, You could get nowhere without a four-wheel drive.
It was here I think, that the rumour went around, That Sqdn/Ldr (Squadron Leader) Bachelor was nowhere to be found.
He was reported to have been captured by our friends of France, And it really set everybody a right old dance.
It turned out that they had made a terrible error, They thought that he was an officer of the Luftwaffe.
The uniforms were of a similar blend, And he arrived back with us in the end.
In the early days when we were in France, We all had a laugh when we had the chance.
There were a couple of times when we were on the road, With 1,000 gallons of 150 for a load.
And this stuff didn`t take much to ignite, We joined the Paris road, coming from the right.
Sometimes at a junction we had to wait, Some other convoy may have been late.
There may have been twenty lorries in our queue, And that is a lot of octane between me and you.
There was also always one or two Frenchmen wandering around, Waiting to see what could be found.
They very often came with a fag alight, Which gave us all a pretty good fright.
Because jerry cans could always spring a leak, With fumes of octane we could be up the creek.
It would run out of the wagons and into the gutter, And about all that Frenchmen would only utter.
Was "Have you shokolade, biskee or coffee?", Or offer their daughter in exchange for tea.
We had to tell them politely to be on their way, Or one spark and they would all be blown away.
Not many miles from there when it was getting dark, There was a cafe, beside which we used to park.
It was big enough to park lorries, four or five, I very often wondered how I came out of there alive.
With 222 jerry cans on board the good old Chevs, There was not all that much room on the lorry with many revs.
You had to climb up on the top and reach in on top of those, With the fragrance of 150 drifting up your nose.
You would come out of the cafe, and some lads had gone to retire, You could see smoke drifting out as though it was on fire.
Immediately you went to look and what did you see?, Somebody lying there, smoking peacefully.
If ever one had caught fire, you would have to be pretty sharp, Otherwise you would be up above, playing your harp.
Lisieux, Brionne and Rouen were passed by, Nobody ever asked the reason why.
We rested a while at Neufchatel, Then on through the town of Abbeville.
Historic it may be, but we had no time there, Because we were going to St Omer.
When we arrived there it was getting dark, And on the airfield we all had to park.
We must have been in front of everyone, Because no wires had been put up for the telephone.
We had a look round when we had the time, Everywhere was well past its prime.
There were some quarters from where the Germans had run, And believe me it really wasn`t much fun.
In a little Courtyard in amongst a few trees, Stood a chair which really made us freeze.
Against a brick wall it was conveniently stood, Surrounded by bullet holes and dried blood.
It was then we realized we were in a war, We didn`t bother to look around anymore.
We drank some wine in the Argues Cafe, A few days later we were on our way.
Through Hazebruk and Armentieres all in our stride, Through Lille to Bondues where we were to abide.
A very nice place when the Chateau was large, I don`t think anybody had been put on a charge.
Tourcoing was the place where we drank our beer, Some nice cafes there were full of good cheer.
The cafe at Tourcoing was a typical French place, But at least it brought a smile to our face.
Not having been in the place before, It was a job to know which was the right door.
After a few beers it was a case of go-or-bust, So the toilet to find was a must.
We asked one man and he said "Wee wee," "Yes", we said, "but where do we pee?".
He pointed to a door to which we all made a dash, And we stood there having a good slash.
Whilst in the process, some women walked by, Being RAF lads, of course we were shy.
The women took no notice, they had seen it all before, We put our kit away and made for the door.
We soon got used to the continental ways, Which would last us for many, many days.
While we were here a strange event started, Men were walking about with their cut and parted.
Some wondered for a while how this came to be, They had found a hairdresser in Bondues you see.
You might say there was nothing strange about that, But someone tried to keep it under their hat.
Different because this hairdresser, I must tell, Was rather attractive young mademoiselle.
Now a young lady hairdresser to us was rare, But there was no trouble getting then to visit her there.
Another little incident that caused much laughter, And still does a long time after.
A couple were walking down the road one day, Where they were going, I cannot say.
A man and a lady were walking arm in arm, And they were doing no one any harm.
The call of nature must have interrupted their walk, Because they stopped and had a brief talk.
The gentleman turned to his right and relieved his mind, The lady looked around and tried to look refined.
She had hold of his arm the whole of the while, Trying her best to force a smile.
In France evidently this was a regular sight, We couldn`t get used to it, try as we might.
We arrived back in camp one night very late, To find old Tom in a terrible state.
A local Frenchman had come down the track, Complete with an empty tank on his back.
He explained to Tom his benzine had run out, Tom had to chase him off with one up the spout.
The End.....
By Jim Law