Soon after War broke out in 1939 there were on the wireless occasionally situations vacant notices for the Forces, one of these was for Laboratory Assistants for the Navy with instructions to go to the nearest Recruiting Office. At that time, being a junior chemist at the local gasworks, I thought this might be a good idea to avoid charging about with a bayonet in the Army, so I cycled to the nearest Recruiting Office at Edgware and presented myself to the presiding Sergeant Major. He wasn’t at all impressed when I explained to him that the Navy was desperate for a Laboratory Assistant and I could fulfil their need. He denied all knowledge of the broadcast and told me to go away, he wanted real men!

Sadly I cycled away determined that in future the country would have to come to me if it wanted my assistance. So I went back to work and a year or so later moved to Luton gasworks as a Shift Chemist where sometime later, at the age of twenty I was required to register for National Service and was duly called before a wingless Flight Lieutenant to determine my future.

I told this Wingless Wonder that I wanted to be an Air Observer, as Navigators were then called – I knew I’d never make a pilot, I had no co-ordination and it had taken me many months and many falls to learn to ride a bike! Oh no you won’t he said almost thumping the table, “we only take real volunteers for Aircrew, not people who have been called up. A chemist, you’ll go in the Medical Service”, I hadn’t the heart to tell him that there was a difference between a gasworks chemist and a pharmacist.

Not too happy with my prospects in the RAF and in the midst of studying for professional exams, I then applied for six months deferment, which was granted. After about seven months I received instructions to report to RAF Cardington, I was now in, or at least that’s what I thought when I left the gasworks and gave up my digs.

After a day or so kicking my heels about and filling in various forms I found myself in front of a formidable RAF sergeant – “So you’re down as medical, sign here and collect your kit!” Fortunately in that rather bare office on the wall behind the sergeant was a poster – Volunteer for Aircrew. I’d like to volunteer for aircrew, I said. You’re not serious, said the sergeant, you must be mad, no I said, just stupid. Then everything changed, I was whisked away, almost red carpet treatment, an immediate, quite severe medical examination, and an interview with a Group Captain and I was to be trained as an Observer.
But not quite yet, there was about five months waiting list for training, would I like to return to civvy street and wear a badge, which I still have, proclaiming that I was a member of the RAFVR.

Needless to say I opted to go home and to the wonderment of all I turned up for work the following day and returned to my former digs.

So another six months or so elapsed before I was finally summoned to the Aircrew Reception Station at Lords Cricket ground at St Johns Wood. About a year later I was indeed flying in Wellingtons at an Operations Training Unit and as a passing out trip we dropped leaflets over Paris.

I stopped flying in Wellingtons thereafter and flew in Lancasters, but that doesn’t make an amusing picture!

Lawrence