Fred Cole part 5: Missions Completed 1945

My World War II Experiences
by
Frederick John Cole

Part 5: Missions Completed 1945
I went to Hereford and completed a training course I think lasted for four weeks, during which time I lived with wife Dot and baby son John. Well, not all of the time but for the majority of it. At the end of the course I had expected to get a priority posting, (that basically means a posting in preference to all other possibilities) and that was to be given a post as ‘Instructor’. But on the following day I was offered another, higher posting as ‘Scribe and Narrative writer’. This was a new position at the recently formed central bomber establishment at Mareham near Kings Lyn. I had to report immediately to an air Vice Marshall Simpson who told me I would have my own office in the flying control tower with all the services I needed.

I was expected to fly on missions to various countries and prepare reports in good RAF language. I pointed out that I had no experience regarding such tasks and would much rather have been getting experience appropriate to my career I wished to pursue after leaving the Air Force. I explained about my degree, future plans and family commitments and that the opportunity of lecturing in Hereford was an extraordinarily good one for me. Well he tried to persuade me that the prospects were good and a wonderful opportunity I was turning down. Anyway, I stuck to my ‘guns’ by which time I was beginning to feel very small indeed. Finally he said “All right, but I want you to stay on here as my Adjutant”. That flummoxed me! He had tried everything. The end of the story is that I went back to Hereford feeling about the size of a pea! He was a very genuine type of guy and I know he meant everything he said and I don’t know where he got it from, but there must have been some darned good figures and reports about what I had been doing.

Back in Hereford I started lecturing. My release from the Air Force had already been deferred by eighteen months and during our stay there had quite a time. I could not have had a more fulfilling and enjoyable task than lecturing to all categories of RAF Officers, from juniors right through to seniors, some with long experience, short experience, medals galore here and there and so on. I enjoyed the work I was doing and I did it well. I’m not saying this in a boasting way but because I was paid many compliments by what you might call the “old seasoners” i.e. with lots of experience who passed through my hands. I also had to conduct ‘Courts of Enquiry’ as a member of the Court Marshal panel and make summaries of the evidence given.

One time I remember being asked to act as the Defending Officer, something I did not like doing at all. It was a case where a WAF ‘Batwoman’ had discovered an Officer in bed with an RAF Officer after an evening at a WAF birthday party. I was faced with a difficult situation. One of the parties involved was sent to Yatesbury near Swindon and the other was sent to Kirkham near Blackpool and both were under close arrest. When I met the guy I was ‘flummoxed’ - he had the biggest red ‘conk’ you could imagine! I was immediately faced with a challenge of identity, (why do you think, etc.) Anyway, I managed the defence and think they did very well to get-off as they did. The experience I gained I am sure was very useful to me but at that time I was also going through a transitional period where social and family life were becoming an integral part of Air Force life.

We were living at Dorothy’s Mum and Dad’s home. I used to cycle home each evening until one evening I had cycled back as usual and sat down to read the paper when “a particular lady” came in and announced, “I’ve bought a bus!” Well, I didn’t know whether to take her seriously or not but then it transpired that she had been out in Hereford and passed ‘Yeomans Bus Garage’ and spotted a bus on the front that was for sale for thirty pounds. Knowing Dot, I can imagine that she had visualised it as a wonderful palace to live in by the time she had finished with it. I understood later that she had told her parents, her father in particular, what she had done and her Dad had told her she shouldn’t do something like that without talking to me first – to which her typical reply was “But why? If I had he would have said no”. That sort of theme has echoed throughout our two lives together. Anyway, I sent her to ‘Coventry’, i.e. I didn’t speak to her for a few days because I couldn’t think of a more stupid idea and in any case where the devil were we going to put it – this was me talking! “Oh, I’ll find somewhere” - says she!

Then Dot does no more than take John in the pram and goes to one of the large houses adjacent to the river and set in a beautiful position. She walks up to the front door, knocks and waited until the butler opened the door. She said she wanted to talk to the owner, Mr McClavity. Apparently when he appeared at the door he was a dashing man in plus fours! I don’t think he was particularly old but during the conversation Dot asked if he had any space on his land for us to park a bus and he thought what a jolly good idea it was. Before I know it the bus is being delivered to a spot he remembered that, as a child, he used to go to on picnics. There was a telegraph pole there and a separate gate for access and so forth. I wasn’t present when all this went on, but curiosity finally got the better of me and on the Saturday afternoon I went down to see the place, and that was it – I really got involved. I missed seeing the bailiff arrive with a tractor, positioning the bus in a beautiful spot in the corner of a field close to fresh water from a pump below, a lake at the side, a private entrance and sure enough, the electricity pole right in the corner. The views were fabulous looking out over the mountains. It was absolutely idyllic and our lives changed considerably from that point on.

I was lecturing five days a week and at home in the evenings and weekends. Well, I think I’ll pause there because this is where another side of my story is going to start. This is when the variety of background experience that I’d gained in the RAF really came into play. I found life totally changed now and of course we spent endless hours working on the new ‘palace’ that we had acquired. Also, a fellow Instructor was about to leave the Air Force and he happened to have an old standard 10 Saloon car he needed to sell and offered it to me for £30. Well I bought it and then another fellow Officer who was from the Operations and Transport Division took me out in an RAF wagon on the runway and taught me to drive. I got a driving certificate that in those days was the equivalent of a driving licence. So I then started driving to and from lecturing and to where we were living in the bus.

All was going fine, I was able to park the car at the entrance by the gate and it was blessed with a petrol tank that was mounted towards the rear of the bonnet. There was a special on/off cock to switch the petrol off whenever the car was parked. We would go off in the car at weekends. One Sunday morning we got up early and intended to drive down to the Mumbles in South Wales. However, that morning the car didn’t seem to want to start no matter what I tried. Dot, god bless her was pushing the car while I tried to get it to start but it still wouldn’t go! We must have covered quite a distance because she was pushing and pushing and pushing with me trying and trying to get it going until in the end we had got as far as the schoolyard. Finally I opened the bonnet and thought “Well, where do we go from here?” But it wasn’t long before some village lads arrived and out came spanners and a variety of tools – all sorts of things were taking place under the bonnet. Anyway, I was getting a bit worried about this as more and more tools appeared and I wondered when they were going to stop! After a while I had a look under the bonnet myself and – guess what – I hadn’t turned the petrol on! Well, I didn’t know what the hell to do so I went and whispered my findings to Dot and her response was “Just switch it on and don’t say anything” so I did and lo and behold the car started! I don’t know what they thought they did, but they were well pleased with themselves for getting it going! I was greatly relieved and we got in the car and set off on our merry way. After all that excitement we certainly had an eventful day out!

Edit Note:
After Mum and Dad’s move back to Derby I arrived in the November 1948. My sister Wendy was born on 5th February 1955.

Dad worked in Personnel at Rolls Royce in Derby until taking the position of Personnel Manager at Rolls Royce, Anstey, near Coventry in 1967.

They moved to Catthorpe, a small village on the border of Warwickshire and Leicestershire in the summer of 1967. They bought a piece of land and Mum finally got to design and have her dream bungalow built. Dad remained Personnel Manager at Rolls Royce until he retired at the age of 59.

They now spend their winters in their beloved apartment in Los Gigantes in Tenerife overlooking a magnificent view of the Los Gigantes Giants, harbour and sea, returning to their flat in Ringwood during the summers to catch up on seeing their ever increasing family. Last count 3 children, 7 grandchildren and 8 great-grandchildren.

Mum and Dad celebrated their 60th
Diamond Wedding Anniversary on April 10th 2004 - and yes, they danced to the “Anniversary Waltz”!

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