An adventure with the Air Training Corps

Towards the end of the war, I went into the Air Training Corps. We flew at Wing near Aylesbury from where Lancasters were bombing Germany. Local people knew about it but ‘careless talk costs lives’ was drummed into us.

I went to Weston-on-the-Green one Sunday and the CO came in to tell us that there wouldn’t be any flying that day. He said, “I’m taking an Australian chap up and you can put your names in a hat for a chance to come.” I went. We flew over Bicester and turned down the London Road; I could see the Bus Garage, and over Carfax in Oxford. It was buffering like mad. The CO told the Australian to lower his seat so he couldn’t see and he had to fly on instruments alone. When we landed the CO said I’d done well, but he hadn’t seen what was in the sick bag!!

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