
Extract from the reminiscences of Aircraft Artificer 4th Class
(Ordinance) Maurice Ayling, formerly of 1843 Squadron,, working
up in Australia as a part of the reserve No. 3 Carrier Air Group.
HMS Nabbington 16th July - 24th October 1945
We had been given to understand that
the airfield at Nowra was near a town. By Australian standards of
distance, it probably was, but it was nevertheless several miles,
and not much of a town. The main attraction seemed to be "The
Bridge" hotel, famous for its very accommodating barmaid, cum
manageress, who was reputed to have entertained a whole platoon of
Royal Marines one evening. We did not spend much time in the town
as, when we had leave, we took the train to Sydney.
The facilities for both men and
machines were the best we had yet encountered. Our huts were
complete, and there were messes with the expected facilities. We had
a hangar, and there was a building for the squadron Armoury, in
which we had electric light but not power. 1843 was to re-equip with
the latest FGA Corsair which had gyro gun sights as opposed to the
reflector sights of previous marks.
here had been problems with the
electrical unit which operated the firing pin sear of the 0.5"
Browning guns. It was adjustable by turning a disc which governed
the protrusion of the sear trigger. This unit vibrated out of
adjustment when the gun fired, and I was given the task of soldering
a tab on to the adjuster and drilling holes in the corners of the
units so that they could be lock-wired. As there was no power in the
armoury, I was given petrol driven generator by the MONAB to provide
power for a hand held drill, which was a pretty elaborate way of
drilling a 3/32" hole. The corners of the units were rounded, which
made the use of a hand held drill very awkward and I am afraid I
broke a lot of drills, there were four holes per unit, six units per
aeroplane, and 24 aeroplanes.
There was a great amount of flying to
work up the new equipment in the FGA role, although the pilots had
been well used to FGA work hitherto. There was also ADDLs (Aerodrome
Dummy Deck Landings) morning and evenings. One of the hazards was
the wallabies which warmed their bums on the tarmac after sundown on
the ends of the runways near the bush in which they lived. They had
to be chased off night after night. Rabbits lived in the
surrounding countryside in their thousands, especially on the hill
behind the airfield. One of our recreations was to go rabbiting with
a piece of wood to knock them over, which was quite easy to do. We
supplemented our rations by making rabbit stew over a fire made in a
10 gallon oil drum outside the hut. Some chaps went into the pelt
curing business, salting them and hanging them to dry in the sun.
One P.O. took a couple of dozen pelts home with him. There was also
a fruit vendor with a stall on the main camp road, but we were
horrified to have to pay four Aussie pence for an apple. The junior
ratings huts had corrugated iron sides and the duty P.O. could
encourage the morning turn out by running along the side of the hut
with a stick along the corrugations. It sounded like a machine gun
inside!
It was here that I met up with one
Horace Faulkner, who had been in my form at Midhurst Grammar School,
and who was now a P.O. Radio Mechanic - small world. I do not
remember if he was on a squadron or the MONAB, but from the rig he
is wearing in my photo it was probably the latter.
Hitherto, there had been 'wings' of
aeroplanes, but there was now the new concept of the Carrier Air
Group (GAG). The first and second GAGs had already formed and gone
to sea; participating in the final push on Japan, during which the
MONABs were to progress through the islands. Our former CO, Major
Nelson-Gracie, had been promoted to Lt. Col. and had command of the
2nd GAG of two Corsair and one Avenger squadrons. 1843, 1845,
Corsairs, and 854 Avenger squadrons were to form the 3rd CAG under
Cdr. Luard. Hardly had this taken place and the CAG stood by to
re-embark, than the two atomic bombs were dropped, so that was the
end of that little caper, and the pace of life slowed a little. When
the Japanese surrender was announced, a chaotic period ensued. I can
recall no official sanction of leave, but MONAB and Squadrons alike
just disappeared to Sydney, 100 miles up the line.
Trains were crowded and the road was
littered with hitch hikers. Unlike the miserable turn out for VE Day
VJ (or VP as we called it) was a riot. The centre of the city was
jammed with people like London on VE Day. The celebrations went on
for several days in which the Nowra mob participated until their
money ran out when they drifted back to base. Although most had been
AWOL, there were no recriminations, and life gradually returned to
normal, and a reduced flying programme resumed.
During one FGA practice sortie 1843
suffered its final loss when Sub Lt. Kennett spread his aeroplane
and himself over several acres of bush, leaving a young widow in the
USA. This was all the more tragic because, shortly afterwards we had
instructions to remove all the British gyro gunfights and G45 Camera
guns from our aeroplanes, but otherwise make them all serviceable to
fly. They were then flown onto carriers off the NSW coast, vacated
by the pilots, and catapulted into the sea. Such was the fate of
"Lease Lend" equipment. It was heartbreaking, as none of 1843's
aeroplanes had more than ten hours flying time. All the ground
equipment was left in a tidy heap in the hangar.
During the final week of October, the
whole of the personnel of 1843 at least, embarked in the SS
"Strathenden", a P&0 liner trooper on her first post war disarmed
voyage, for the UK. There may well have been some of the other
squadron chaps with us, and, perhaps, some of the MONAB, as that
unit, I believe, disbanded in early November.
MONAB I was able to give us full support, probably because it was
well established and kitted out to support Corsairs and Avengers
well before we joined it, as was the air station itself.
It might be worth mentioning the
feeling when the war ended. It was a curious mixture of relief and
disappointment. Relief that we were not going to experience the
Kamikaze attacks that were in vogue at the time, but disappointment
that all our hard graft to work up a very good squadron had been for
nothing. We really had been raring to go. It was a terrible let
down.
As with all Nowra personnel, I had two
seven day leaves while there. In Hyde Park in Sydney was a large
temporary building called "The British Centre", which provided
sleeping accommodation, canteen facilities, and Australian
hospitality.
There, I took the offer of a stay with
a family in Goulbourn, NSW, a wool centre. The hospitality was
overwhelming. During this leave, while the war was still on, I was
taken to a wool grading centre and a demonstration in a warehouse,
after which we were invited to 'have a go'. One thrust one's fingers
into a bale of wool, extracted some fibres, and held them up to the
light in extended fingers. The demonstrator told me that my hands
were ideal for the job, and offered me one on the spot! When I
explained that I would have to desert to take up his offer, he said
"No problem, sport, we can fix that for you". He was quite miffed
when I refused to even consider it!
The second leave was after VJ Day. The
British centre found me a farming family at Gilmore, near Tumut in
the Gilmore valley over the back of the Capital Territory, and about
12 hours by train over the Blue Mts. During this leave, the local
postmaster, Mr. Brown, lent me and the chap with me, a fishing rod
each for a day's fishing on the Tumut River. It was idyllic, just
miles of countryside with only cattle here and there for company.
(The reader must understand that I am a Sussex yokel from the back
of beyond). Our only catch was my yabbie, a small fresh water cray,
which I put back. However, we saw two platypuses, one diving into
the river from the bank so that we had a perfect plan view of it,
the other swimming up stream. On our return to Mr. Brown's post
office, we expressed disappointment at catching nothing worth while,
but casually mentioned the platypus. Mr. Brown, and Co. would not at
first believe us, but' after a detailed description of what we had
seen, Mr. Brown said 'Jeez! I have been living here for forty years
and have never yet seen a bleedin' plat, but you two Pommie bastards
come here once in a lifetime and see two in one bloody day!".
Neighbours of his in the little village of Gilmore were equally
astonished.
On my return to UK, my grandfather, a
keen fisher of the Arun, said "That beats all the fishing stories
I've ever heard!"
Maurice Ayling
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