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A Lighter view of the War

In September 1941 I was a Radar Operator at 287 A.M.E.S which was short for Air Ministry Experimental Station. This was simply a Radar Unit and that was their name, at home or in the Middle East where we were. Bawdsey in Suffolk was the first station and one remaining part was featured recently in a 麻豆官网首页入口 鈥淩estoration鈥� programme. Radar was kept very secret, even in the RAF in the first six or so years after its invention.

The speed and efficiency involved in putting the Home Chain (or CH) and then overseas stations into action by the early months of the war was surely one of our best efforts of those long ago years.

鈥�287鈥� was gathered together at the Radar Reserve Pool in Aboukir, Egypt, comprising Radar 鈥極ps鈥� and mechanics, 6-8 drivers and a few other 鈥榖ods鈥� for administration etc.

This was a small unit of 30-40 in total, governed by an officer and our Flight Sergeant, Bryan, a 鈥榬egular鈥� as about 6 others were, mainly corporals. He had been a radar mechanic pretty well ever since there had been such things, including a spell at Bawdsey. To begin with he was in charge of us putting it all together, starting with a few tents and our two 100 foot masts, as transmitter and receiver.

We were a 鈥渕obile鈥� station and had come along the coast of the Mediterranean from Egypt to Lebanon with all the equipment needed. Most of us were newly out from U.K., being a few of many brought by ships sailing in convoys around South Africa and up the Indian Ocean to Egypt, some 6-7 weeks sailing, broken by a welcome break in Cape Town or Durban. These were modified merchant ships mainly carrying soldiers to the Saharan Desert War. It was the long way round of course, because at that time the Mediterranean was much too dangerous.

We came up to there after a small group of Australian Army had claimed Lebanon from the Vicky French, with some help from the Navy. We were right on the coast, ten miles south of Beirut, the furthest radar station up the Eastern end of the Mediterranean. The next down from us was at Haifa, Palestine.

This was September and we lived in the tents we had recently put up close to our two masts and few vehicles. Two lorries, medium sized furniture vans in style, with solid sides and rear doors held our transmitter and receiver.

Beirut in 1941 was a pleasant modern city and seaport, with cinemas, trams, a department store (new in those days) and its American University. We could catch a lift in sometimes or a bus might stop. On a bus a sheep or other animal might nuzzle you, but 鈥淐鈥檈st la vie鈥� as some French-speaking locals might have said.

I was on a 鈥榳atch鈥� with 3 others, Arthur Goodall, Don Ward and Corporal 鈥楪inger鈥� Pryke. He was a regular, and like the Flight Lieutenant, Corporal Mckay our Scot, had come up from Aden before we all met in Egypt. Arthur was our oldest, 32 and married, a shoe shop manager normally. There were 2 or 3 other 鈥榳atches鈥�.

The receiver was rather like a sideboard in shape and size 鈥� ridiculous it seems now to house basically a TV screen about 9 inches wide with a greenish flickering trace across it. A narrow dip might appear in this at a certain position of a control wheel (a goniometer!). This was watched day and nights, 24/7 as it is now and 365/365 as well. In two trailers from other lorries two diesel generators provided all our power in turns. Any 鈥淓choes鈥� on our 鈥渢ube鈥� were tracked and reported to RAF Beirut via a landline. Surprisingly, we never went there but I expect there were generally 2 or 3 Hurricanes there 鈥渏ust in case鈥�. To start us up one flew tracks away from our masts for us to set compass directions and distances; necessary for us to become operational. I do remember plotting a Hurricane over the Sea of Galilee, about 100 miles southeast. The ancient town of Sidon was about 12 miles south.

It all remained very peaceful, although the calm was broken at least once by Ginger. He was messing about with an elderly 303 rifle we had in the lorry. This, with a few others of similar vintage, and one Browning machine gun were presumably to deter any U-boat crew from coming ashore. Ginger opened the door, looked out and there was a mouse on the sand so he aimed and fired. He just missed it nose but it was dead, probably a heart attack we thought. No one came running to see if the war had reached our coast, or if a serious breach of King鈥檚 Regulations had been committed. But to us three it just seemed rather unsporting!

Ginger had had a spell of service somewhere in Scotland in his early RAF days and did tend to tell us of his amorous experiences there. It seemed to have consisted of getting somewhat drunk and 鈥渉aving his wicked way鈥� with obliging Scottish girls, attracted by the novelty of the uniform perhaps. It was rather ironic that a favourite expression of our Scottish Corporal, Bert McKey, was 鈥淲omen, I had to beat them off with sticks鈥�. Unfortunately, our Ginger鈥檚 slandering of Scottish maidenhood got around and did nothing at all for our English-Scottish relations for some while.

Arthur liked to make improvements to our surnames. For instance mine became 鈥淔otheringay-Foottit鈥�, (and perhaps almost anything would improve the one I had, though for only 20 years then). But his best effort was Ginger鈥檚; - 鈥淩 A Pryke-Lecherous鈥�.

One morning some one woke up and thought one of his shoes was moving; it was, in fact floating and the winter rainy season was starting. In a week or two we moved along the coast 2-3 miles to a rather ramshackle but large, villa. This had suffered some damage from shelling from a Royal Navy ship earlier, but was made fairly inhabitable. In spring we moved back 鈥榦n site鈥� to finally settle in newly constructed Nissan huts.

Our only casualty in the 11 months or so was to one of the few RAF Regiment chaps who had recently been sent to us who was drowned while swimming. He was almost on his own and not far out apparently. This beach was a little way along and as several of us jogged to it after the news, hard to believe, had spread I was thinking, 鈥渨ell this could be the first time I鈥檒l see a dead person鈥�. It was and I was one of those carrying a make-do stretcher back. There could hardly have been a more surprising and unlikely death in the Middle East war. We didn鈥檛 know him at all and felt almost guilty that we didn鈥檛.

Swimming was our main recreation most of the year. We all improved (what did you do in the war Daddy?) and my main pal Jack, of those years and till he died 4 years ago, learned to swim as did one or two others.

Our departure came the following August, sudden and strange. We knew we had a 鈥渏ammy鈥� posting and expected going back to Egypt and the Western Desert, but instead we did a quick swap with the 鈥渂ods鈥� at Morphou in Cyprus.

There was a story about an officer鈥檚 girl friend over there being strangely interested in radar! Your guess------.

We did have one spot of excitement to do with the war one day in Cyprus. The Luftwaffe had one last trick already used over Egypt, which was to send a specially stripped plane, to fly higher, than normally possible for propeller planes, for some reconnaissance and photography at will. We were on watch and had been aware there were one or two Hurricanes flying around nearby hills. I couldn鈥檛 swear as to the exact order of tracking on the set and hearing outside, but we soon persuaded Nicosia RAF that we had a single plane coming over the island very high up. Soon the air raid sirens went off, the first time in Cyprus I believe.

By December that year (42) Monty and the 8th Army had finally got the Africa Corps moving back. Four of us, due for almost forgotten flying courses, were on our way back down the Indian Ocean to Durban and on to what was then Southern Rhodesia. I went with Bert McKay (actually FLOWN as far as Egypt, my first air trip) to board a troop ship again. We were soon followed by two more, one being my pal Jack, who a year later went back as a Sergeant pilot to the Middle East and met some 287 mates in Egypt.

One postscript that shows spin is nothing new:
The capabilities of radar 鈥� or radio location 鈥� were well known to those of us working on it. However it was only announced to the general public a few days after HMS Hood, the pride of the Navy, was sunk by the battleship Bismarck. It can only be assumed they chose to announce it at that point to raise morale.

Memories of Peter Foottit, written in September 2004, aged 82 years.

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