My life before war

Before the Second World War started, I was always able to eat eggs, Poached, fried, boiled or scrambled, they all tasted delicious. Then, World War II came along and i had to eat egg powder instead, it tasted nothing like normal eggs. Soon after, I heard that the RAF served fried eggs to the men that worked there, so I decided to try and get enlisted for the army (only for the eggs).

How I got in

To be able to get in, you had to be a certain height, you weren’t allowed to wear glasses, you had to have perfect hearing and you basically had to have nothing wrong with you. Basically if you had medical issues, you couldn’t work for the RAF. So it was quite difficult to get in. (I was made to work as a tail-gunner).

Training

As our training was during the war was going on, we had to be out serving the war as soon as possible. We had target practice in a turret on wheels! It was funny because all tail-gunners got called “Tail-End Charlie” and my name was Charlie! I also learnt some RAF slang.

Bandit- An enemy fighter

Bang on- Right on target

Gone for a Burton- Killed in action

Hot potato- A risky operation

In the drink- To land in the sea

OP- Operation or mission

Mae West- An inflatable life vest

Piece of Cake- An easy operation (Which we still use nowadays)

Skipper- The pilot

Wizard- Brilliant!

Wizard Prang- A successful op

Our last training op was a real mission over enemy-occupied Holland to drop ‘Window.’

At war

Whilst at war, I kept feeling drowsy, I was playing Orchestra playing in my head. Then, I saw coloured lights in the sky, at the start i thought they were fireworks but to my surprise it was tracer from a Messerschmitt 109! That made me remember that i was at war! I quickly attacked back, but the fighter passed my window like a streak of lightning. Luckily, Bill got us out of trouble, I was terrified. Then someone called to check on us, everyone else was okay but I just lay there in a puddle of blood, I was luckily still breathing.

RAF Hospital

After the incident, they took me to the RAF Hospital and when I woke up, it was Christmas Day! I smashed my jaw and could have lost my head. When my wounds healed the commanding officer must have thought i’d done enough because he didn’t send me back. So he posted me to a desk job in England instead, where I met a lovely lady called Muriel Jones..