To prove that all flying was not doom and gloom, bullets flak and searchlights etc. I can assure you that it had its lighter   moments and I give below one or two examples of these as matters of interest and amusement.

On completion of my tour of ops I was posted to an Operational Training Unit in the Leicester area as an instructor, flying in old Wellington bombers. Among others , I palled up with  an ex- member of my old squadron , a pilot who because of sinus trouble , had been taken off operational flying and restricted to a height of 10,000 ft , doing air tests and ferry work ect (odd job man )  but a good pilot.

Whenever possible I flew with him on his jaunts and he was able to give me flying instruction on the dual control planes, eventually leading to me making a perfect landing without knowing it!  Not easy on an old “Wimpy heavy as lead” Very good for my ego, but as it was      illegal I could not brag about it could I 

Scotty had “fallen in love" with a very nice A. T. S.    Girl stationed along with about 3000 others at a barracks near Leicester. One day we saw several hundred of these girls doing P. T. in a large sports field. He handed over the controls to me and we “dive bombed" them nearly to ground level, with Scotty waving a large white handkerchief from the cockpit, like a wild teenager.

On another occasion (this time legal and under orders) we ferried a fellow officer to Ouston near Newcastle, where he could get special medical attention. It was a lovely clear day and we passed over North Yorkshire on the return trip I said “ just a minute Scotty , go down a bit and I will show you where I was born “ I  pointed out “ Lilac Cottage “  in the small hamlet of  Kepwick and as we pulled away at about 50 ft , I could see two men one of them being my next door neighbour at home in the next village , Nether Silton . Scotty put the Wimpy right down to tree top level as we “beat them up good and proper.

Some six weeks later I was home on leave and happened to go into the local as people do, and there was Tom my neighbour, having a pint as was his wont. I steered the conversation on to flying, which wasn’t hard to do and he started to tell me about this mad – head of a pilot who had nearly killed him and his mate a few weeks ago. I could not hold up any longer and spluttered “It was me and my pal Tom!” Was he flabbergasted? In his usual broad Yorkshire he said “you bloomin fool you nearly knocked my bloody cap off! I bought him another pint and we were soon friends again.

There were other occasions like bombing the wedding between an Aussie pilot and the daughter of a fairly local pub landlord. Five Wimpys involved, all piloted by fellow Aussies, doing “air tests” as the couple came out of church on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I was with them, feeding toilet rolls down the flare shoot from roof top height!  And we got away with it! We should have been locked up! Blind eyes must have been turned ------ Happy Days. ! Taking the rough with the smooth I would not have missed any of it but then I’ve been lucky, thousands weren’t

This was done by Mr Jack Bosomworth