"I served as one of your Father’s ground crew from 1949 to 1951 as an Airframe Mechanic, on No 2 AC Squadron in Germany.
I served on the Berlin Airlift at an airfield called Wunstorf, and after it finished in 1949, I was posted to RAF Wahn to join No 2 Squadron which was equipped with PR Spitfires mark XIV and XIXs at the time. Also on the station were 4 Mosquito Squadrons No’s 4, 11, 14 and 98.
Soon after I arrived, so did your Father and some other Poles and Czech NCO pilots, after their own squadrons and fighting units had been disbanded after the war, they had joined the RAF instead of returning home under the disgraceful Yalta Agreement between the powers-that-be at that time, and many were encouraged to return to their Communist controlled countries, only to be persecuted when they got there.
Your Father and his colleagues were conspicuous by being informal, kind and sociable to their ground crews, not like some others I’ve had to endure. They wanted reliable aircraft to throw around the skies at will, they certainly did this in a spectacular manner when ever they returned from a trip, much to the disapproval of some on the station, but the Station Commander, Group Captain D.J. Eayes used to be a 2 Squadron pilot himself many years previously, so I think a lot of requested reprimands never got off the ground! Many of our pilots had seen wartime action and had plenty of practice of doing this type of flying during the Battle of Britain and throughout the war. They also got away with it because, our Squadron Commander, Sdn Ldr Newenham DFC, was also an ex-Battle of Britain veteran, and when he left, he was replaced by Sdn Ldr Bartett DSO, another B of B veteran. After a while the Squadron was treated with great caution by the rest of the administration on the camp.
They were a mad lot, you should have witnessed some of the parties we had. All ranks, all looking after each other and your Father being in the midst of it, and at all times sporting his cigarette holder. I, and my fellow mechanics were all of a similar age, and had watched the war unfold as spectators. Most of us, as soon as we were old enough joined up, and for the likes of your Father and his generation, we couldn’t do enough. They were all on average about nine years older than we were. In hindsight, I don’t know if your Father had any younger brothers or not, but speaking for myself, it seemed that they were treating us as if we were the younger brothers they might have left behind. 'Woj’* was very kind. When the squadron stood down for a long weekend, we would go with him and the other pilots up to a place called Bad Harzburg. There was skiing in the winter - he loved skiing - and in summer there was hill climbing, and of course plenty of elbow bending at night in some bar.
The Squadron moved up to an old Luftwaffe base called Wunstorf on the 15th Sept’49. I was on the advance party, which went by road a few days before, ready to receive the Spit’s. When they arrived, I remember, there were joyful greetings and leg pulling when they taxied in safely, as though they had just flown the Atlantic!
I relate all this, because this type of relationship between Officers, NCOs and other ranks was not encouraged in the forces, indeed one was usually reminded of ones place quite often. Young men, still wet behind the ears and far from home appreciated a little kindness an understanding at times. The likes of your Father, who were deprived of ever returning home to see their own families, liked to include their young ground crews in their recreation. It was a unique situation, and from what I remember, nobody ever took any advantage of it. Your Father’s kindness has stayed in my mind ever since, and was one of the reasons why I tried to find him after I retired, just to thank him. A kindness is never forgotten."
* "Woj" - another of Mirek's nicknames
Amen to that!
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