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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.
"Nabbington" 16th July - 24th Oct 1945
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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.
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There 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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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! |
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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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