RAF Cranfield

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RAF Cranfield was an RAF base situated in Bedfordshire, England. It might be of interest if I added my memories of being stationed at RAF Cranfield in the late summer and autumn of 1940. To confirm these I have checked them with a lifelong friend I made when we were both LACs there. In fact, he, Walter Shrubsole, who was there longer than I was, is the only RAF friend I have kept in touch with over the succeeding years.

[edit] Overview

RAF Cranfield was then a flying training school with Avro Anson, Airspeed Oxford and Harvard aircraft. As such it operated on a peace time basis. On Saturdays at mid-day the entire station, apart from duty personnel, closed down until Monday morning. Walter and I used to explore the lovely Chiltern countryside walking the surrounding hills. Returning late some evenings as it was dusk we could see some 40 miles to the south the red glow in the sky from where the Luftwaffe were relentlessly pounding the city of London. Here at Cranfield, by contrast, all was peace and tranquillity.

Walter knew Vivian Hollowday quite well. Aparrently, Vivian was so engrossed in trying to get the crew out of the burning aircraft, that he was quite unaware of the fact that bullets were flying all around set off from the ammunition carried in the aircraft. He was only told of this afterwards by those who witnessed the accident. Walter has given me his permission to quote from what he remembers from those days

Roy Gandy RAF no. 1151158

It was built on 100 acres of farmland acquired by the Air Ministry in 1935 as Britain rearmed to face the growing threats on the continent. It was formally opened on the 1st of June 1937 and initially became the base for 62 and 82 squadrons of No.1 (Bomber) Group, flying the already obcelescent Hawker Hind biplanes.

Both squadrons converted to Blenheim 1s in 1938. 62 Squadron was moved to Singapore in August 1939 where it was destroyed by the invading Japanese. RAF Cranfield's grass airstrip was replaced with three hardened runways in the winter of 1939 and spring of 1940 and became a target for enemy action in the late summer of that year, with mines, bombs and incendiaries dropped on it and the nearby village of Cranfield.

Aircraftsman Vivian Hollowday, serving at the airfield, won the George Cross for the attempted rescue of two crews which crashed there in July and August 1940.

August 1941 saw the fast developing station become a night fighter training centre with the arrival of No. 51 Night fighter Operational Training Unit. This was disbanded after the end of the war in Europe in June 1945 and the airfield became the site for a new College of Aeronautics. This college helped develop the highly successful Harrier jump jet and has serviced the Hurricanes and Spitfires of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight. The sole remaining airworthy Avro Lancaster is also based at Cranfield. [1]

Submitted by Ralph Woodgate. woudyet@comcast.net service No 1454798 Once my training was completed I was once more on the train, this time to Bedford and then by bus to my first RAF station at Cranfield, now the home of the College of Aeronautics. The facility had been built for the RAF prior to WW2 and therefore was comfortable with a full range of facilities, although 30 men slept in barracks designed for 15. Here I first came in contact with men from around the world of almost every race, religion and color. In our RDF section we had Canadians, Jamaicans, New Zealanders and Australians, yet we never had any but minor differences. At first we had several arguments centering on religion that almost became physical but we soon agreed that there would be no discussion about religion or politics in the barracks. I very quickly found that race, color and religion were of little consequence in our day to day living. We all felt the comradeship that is difficult to explain but which seems to come from sharing hardships and danger. We were at that time quite literally fighting for our lives. We could stand on the airfield at night when the weather was clear and see the flames from the bombing of London, about 60 miles away lighting up the night sky. Every day we saw the effects of the scarcity of skilled men and materials, and heard of comrades and family members missing or killed. Almost every week some of us had to tackle the gruesome task of removing the radar systems from aircraft that crashed during the training programs. Cranfield was only bombed once or twice while I was there, but we were hit by a flying bombs on two occasions. Fortunately no one was hurt.

During my first months at Cranfield we would often sit around out in the squadron hut when the weather was bad and flying cancelled, and discuss the war. It was surprising to find that some of the aircrews were very unhappy with the possibility of being sent to bomb Germany as this would inevitably cause civilian casualties. Some even said that if ordered to bomb they would dump their explosives deliberately in the sea rather than risk harming civilians. This was during the "Phony War", when there had been few if any enemy aircraft flying over the UK. Then one night London was bombed and a large number of civilians killed. Although we now know that this bombing was probably accidental, at the time it triggered retaliation and began the all out bombing campaign. I never again heard any such comments from any of our aircrew for the remainder of the war.

Looking back to those days, it is extremely difficult to understand why Britain, as a nation, was so convinced that it would win the conflict. Germany had taken virtually all of Europe single-handed; we had been driven into the sea at Dunkirk, their army was massed on the Channel shore preparing to invade us. Every night now the bombs fell on our cities and factories, the U-boats were sinking our ships. Yet there was never a single mention of defeat, we all seemed to know instinctively that eventually we would win and everyone gave everything they could to help the war effort. The other members of the Empire, Canada, Australia, Africa and so on gave their total support in those days and help in so many ways as did those who escaped from the European countries now overrun by the Nazi forces..

We had all been instructed in what we had to do if an invasion took place, which seemed extremely likely. The personnel in the RDF section were split into three groups. Group one was to be airlifted to Scotland and from there to Canada via Ireland to continue the war. I was in Group two, and we were to take a truck and try to make our way up to Scotland, where every effort would be made to also get us to Canada. Group three was to join up with the local defense forces and try to hold back the enemy as long as possible.

Cranfield was an Operational Training Unit (No 51 OTU), and our primary task was to train night fighter pilots and radar observers in the use of A.I. (Airborne Interception RDF). They were also always available for operational use as and when required. Theoretically these were all trained aircrew, but many had only a few weeks of training, and little flying experience in the aircraft that were used at 51 OTU. Crashes were common and frequently fatal. Before the wrecked planes could be picked up, we, the RDF mechanics, had to remove the secret equipment to a secure place. Although the dead and wounded crews were removed immediately, working in the blood stained and twisted wreckage was hard and brought home to us constantly the cost of this war in men and planes.

Usually the aircrews stayed with us for about one month of training before they were sent to a fully operational squadron, and then we were generally given a week to carry out major maintenance on all the equipment before another class arrived. At this time we had many volunteers who had escaped from the countries of Europe that had been overrun by the Germans and for some unknown reason one class was held up at the completion of their training, and was still at 51 O.T.U. when the new class arrived. We accommodated the newcomers while continuing the training of the previous class, as we all recognized the need for as much training possible. A few days after the new class arrived, two of our old students disappeared with no explanation. It was only later that we learned one of the new class of students recognized them as ardent Nazis and reported them to the military police. They admitted that they had planned to take one of the RDF-equipped planes and fly it to Germany as soon as they were proficient in operating the equipment. We heard some time later that they had been shot.

Part of the aircrew training was done on our "Synthetic Trainer" as we called it in those days; today we would use the term "Flight Simulator". It was one of the first computer controlled devices developed for this purpose, using many analog computers hooked together into a complex system. It was difficult to maintain in an operational condition and I was given the task of looking after this equipment that was housed in its own special building. One morning an officer walked in, I stood to attention and asked what I could do for him. "Nothing" he said, "I’ve been sent to help you in any way I can". He was very willing to do anything I asked of him and after a few days we became good friends. His story was typical of many unsung heroes of WW2.. He was a radar observer in an A.I. equipped Beaufighter and had been flying with the same pilot for some time. They had been very successful as a team in downing enemy bombers; they were very close friends and had confided in each other their very personal fears. My friend was very frightened of drowning, while his pilot colleague had told him he was scared of becoming so badly burned or injured that he could no longer function normally. One bright moonlight night while they were tracking a bomber over the English Channel they were shot up by its rear gunner. From his conversation over the intercom it was obvious to my friend that the pilot was badly wounded. He could not physically reach the pilot however because the cockpit was isolated from the rest of the aircraft by a locked armored door. The pilot told him to get on his chute and be ready to jump. "Don’t worry", he said "You won’t drown, I’ll get you over the land". "Unlock your door and let me into the cockpit so I can help you" replied my friend, but the pilot said there was nothing he could do and told him to "Get out while you can, I’ll be all right". By now the pilot had brought the plane over the cliffs of Dover, above the mainland and my friend bailed out. After he jumped he hung in his parachute over the cliffs well inland and watched as the plane turned and flew back out to sea. Then the nose pointed straight down with both engines screaming flat out as it plunged into the ocean. He realized that the pilot was badly hurt and preferred a quick death to a life as a cripple. But he had also remembered his promise to my friend that he would never let him drown. Because of this incident this officer could never face getting into a plane again. He had been classified as LMF (Lacking Moral Fiber) and taken off flying duties. He stayed with us for several months while his case was considered and then he was moved to other duties. They were just two of the many unsung heroes of the war.

One afternoon late in the war, we had a lone Flying Fortress circle the field at a low altitude. By this time we had many American squadrons stationed in adjoining airfields, so thought little of it until it refused to respond to our radio calls. It had no markings and was painted a matte black. We sent up one of our planes to try and find out what this bomber was doing. Unfortunately our plane was neither fast enough to do more than follow, and was unarmed. Our pilot followed the bomber until recalled, but said the rear gunner kept his guns constantly aimed at him as it flew on out over the North Sea. No one was able to identify the plane but it was believed to be a captured aircraft sent out on reconnaissance. A short time afterwards I was crossing the parade ground around midnight with a colleague, we had just closed the station cinema and were heading off to bed after a late supper. It was very overcast and we heard a plane flying overhead. We could see nothing because of the low clouds and commented that it was a filthy night for any flying. The engine noise came closer and suddenly we saw the outline of a plane with a flame coming from the tail, and the comment was made that "The poor devil’s on fire". We suddenly both realized it was a flying bomb and dived for the shelter of the mess hall wall. A few seconds later the engine cut out and there was a mighty bang that made the ground shake. Fortunately it fell behind the officer’s mess and except for a large hole in the ground no damage was done. It had been launched from a German aircraft over the North Sea.

Radio Mechanics were not supposed to fly, simply because there was a great shortage of people skilled in the technology and the possibility of getting killed was always there. However the rules were often overlooked out on the squadrons, especially when an air test was necessary to find out the cause of some technical problem, or simply because one of our people wanted to experience the thrill of flying. One of our radio mechanics managed to get on a test flight one night and sat hunched up with the radar operator in the back of the aircraft. All went well until the plane came in to land when something went wrong and it crash landed into a field at the far end of the runway. In the darkness our very inexperienced colleague was not sure what happened and as they struggled out of the plane he turned to the pilot "That was a hard landing", he said. "Don't be so bloody stupid" was the reply "we just crashed". Fortunately no one was hurt. But then a Wellington bomber that was being used by the engineers at the Telecommunications Research Establishment (TRE) to develop the new blind bombing RADAR system, (H2S) crashed and all the engineers and scientists were killed. This put back the program by about six months and immediately an order came around forbidding radio mechanics to fly for any reason whatever and this was to be very strictly enforced. If a test flight became necessary we had to teach the air crew exactly what to do and explain what we were looking for.

From time to time I spent several months at Twinwood Farms, a satellite field to Cranfield that was about 10 miles away and was one of the sites for working with the new centimetric Mk 10 A.I. radar. Twinwood Farms was far from the luxury of Cranfield, just a few Quonset huts set down alongside a long runway and perimeter track out in the fields and farms of Bedfordshire. However in many ways it was a much freer way of life with much less discipline. There was little in the way of entertainment but I enjoyed spending the evenings in the radar workshop which was in one room of the large hut that held the headquarters offices. I would build radios, read, listen to the BBC, cook and eat my evening meal. It was an opportunity to get away for a little while from being continuously surrounded by people.