Air Fronts: Theaters of Operation - European Theater of Operation: Hubert Griffith - R.A.F. in Russia - 9. Diary (October)
R.A.F. IN RUSSIA; by HUBERT GRIFFITH; DEDICATED TO WING-COMMANDER H. N. G. ISHERWOOD, D.F.C., A.F.C., Order of Lenin, and MAJOR - GENERAL KUZNETSOV, Red Air Force ; to the Fighter-Boys of No. 151 Wing, R.A.F. and to their Soviet opposite numbers. LONDON 1942.
CHAPTER IX - DIARY
October
October 1st
HEAVY, overcast sky. Local practice flying. Nil casualties. Signal sent to Air Vice-Marshal Collier and the Mission in Moscow, who had sent the Wing congratulations : - " Thanks for good wishes - hope there are more in the bag before we go home - Isherwood."
October 2nd
Dud again. Little flying.
October 3rd
Heavy rain. Today's surprise-effort in the Camp (it has been remarked that no two days here are ever alike) - a message comes through late in the afternoon from the Russians that the camp water-supply, which we had been told would be cut off till " five o'clock this afternoon," is in point of fact to be cut off " till this time five days hence. . . ." The Russians are burying their water-mains deep in the ground against the approach of frost. Mild alarm, and immediate action necessary. Orders have hastily to be got out rationing the remaining water stored, which will amount to about a pint per day per airman ; meanwhile the batmen are put to catch the rain-water in buckets and barrels as it pours down off the Kremlin roof. A return to primitive life with a vengeance ! - but on the whole rather fun. By way of contrast - one of the everlasting contrasts that make life here so fascinating - champagne and pancakes for supper.
October 4th
Grey, lowering sky, heavy with clouds. Rain early in the morning, turning to light snow about 11, then stopping. Rain and snow again by midday. As for genuine good weather, it looks as though " we'd had it." No flying.
The muddle about the mail arrangements is beginning to rouse discontent among the airmen - and with some justification. No single item either of official or personal mail has reached us yet. Seeing that the Wing was reporting at Peake Moor in the last days of July, and that letters from loving relatives presumably began to be posted from that time onwards, this now leaves a gap of more than nine weeks. It is not as though Russia were an isolated country, or as distant as some point in the Far East. Airmen have seen it announced in the Moscow Daily News - our only newspaper to hand - that long since our arrival in Russia streams of convoys, flying-boats, Lord Beaverbrook's party, delegates to various missions in Moscow, etc., have been entering - and it is felt that some or all of these might have brought with them a few bags of mail. Matters have not been improved by a signal from Air Ministry in response to the C.O.'s enquiry : - " Mail will be despatched in convoy loading in England now. . . ." The " will be" is interesting - it is at least a tacit admission that nothing whatever has been done up to now. Some authority in the G.P.O. has just simply forgotten about us.
News comes in through the Wing-Commander at supper tonight that the usual Soviet Air Force tariff of 1,000 roubles per enemy aircraft destroyed is to be paid by the Soviet authorities to each of our pilots who has a confirmed victory to his credit-12,000 roubles in all by now (about £240 at the rates of exchange fixed for us). The Wing-Commander asks what to do with the money. Amused cries from the pilots, " We can't take it ! Why, it would spoil our amateur status ! " Ultimately, it is agreed that the money shall be collected in bulk by the Wing and transferred to the R.A.F. Benevolent Fund in London.
October 5th (Sunday)
Party of twenty or so officers to Murmansk in the evening in transport provided by Russians. The occasion, small in its way, makes a break in Camp routine - the first since we have been here. It is amusing to have batmen laying-out best uniforms and polishing buttons. (Hitherto, in this roughest of rough camps, everyone has been going about in battle-dress, gum-boots, flying-boots, mackintoshes, Irvine jackets, fur caps bought off the Russians . . . anything and everything that keeps one warm and dry ; with a result that the Wing in general has looked like a collection of tramps.)
The evening is exactly characteristic of what might have been expected : a long drive over bad roads in the dusk and snow ; Murmansk, twenty-five years ago a few huts in a wilderness, is now a large, straggling, mostly wooden-built town, with some high blocks of brick-built flats. Roads and pavements primitive. But it has a large and well-built " Dom Kultura" (" House of Culture "), with a wide flight of stone steps leading up to it, and a paved terrace with bronze statuary in front of it - obviously the centre of life of the place. The building houses within itself a large theatre holding about a thousand, a small cinema holding about three hundred, a large sort of foyer-place with a beautifully-laid parquet-floor and grand-piano and a radio (general dancing takes place in the intervals of the entertainment), various club-rooms and a library. The theatre is clean and kempt, its interior lined with polished woods, and the corridors, cloak-rooms and foyers are swept and garnished - but the lavatories (doubtless owing to the freezing of pipes in the present stage of the weather) are in a condition that defies description. If only the Russians took the same care over sanitation as they do about most other things - instead of leaving it till the last item on the programme. . . .
In Murmansk we came across Russian civilians for the first time - even if a particularly war-like type of Russian civilian. Murmansk, owing to its short distance behind the Line, ranks as a " front line " town. Thousands of its normal citizens have been evacuated. Those that remain are almost without exception ordnance-clerks, pioneer-corps, members of Army constructional companies - something or other to do with the Armed Forces. At least half the women are in uniform - wearing boots, khaki tunics, khaki shirts or breeches, with a very work-manlike revolver slung round the waist. They are perfectly willing to be danced with in the intervals of the play on this festive Sunday evening. But Murmansk is eminently a " garrison town " for all that.
October 6th
Enemy bomb-raid on our aerodrome in middle of afternoon. High clouds, and good visibility for a change ; some A.A. goes off, some bombs bang down, and the camp air-raid alarm sounds, all pretty well simultaneously. Wing-Headquarters, by now well accustomed to this routine, dives for its slit-trenches outside the Kremlin as another considerably big bang is heard, and from its trenches watch for the next quarter-of-an-hour the sky rapidly fill with more Russian A.A. and climbing Hurricanes. It is a marvellous show, though most of the best of it turns out to have happened in the sky out of sight of the camp. Reports come back to Headquarters by telephone from time to time as to what have been our casualties and what the results of the fights. Casualties, considering the size of the raid, have been almost comically slight. Bombs have dropped on the aerodrome, one of our poor overworked lorries has been knocked about - wind-screen bashed in, tyre punctured ; one flight-mechanic has got a chip out of his shin, and is being taken to hospital to be X-rayed, another flight-mechanic has either been knocked over on his head, or had a clod of earth hit him on the head, and his head is lightly abraised. Our overworked Engineer-Officer has likewise been blown clean across his own repair workshop, but is otherwise unscathed. Our pilots have either been off the ground, or in some cases have taken off the ground, in time to intercept and contact. Three enemy aircraft have been shot down for certain, already confirmed (two Ju. 88 and one Me. 109) ; three Ju's 88 are counted as " probables," with six Ju " damaged." All our pilots and machines returned safely, one machine with a piece of cannon-shell in it, another with a couple of bullet-holes. Our only further casualty was a pilot, Scotty Edmiston, who had a bomb burst in front of his machine, stopping his engine, when in the act of taking off ; he climbed out on to the wing of the machine - and was then promptly blown by the blast of another bomb off the wing flat into a mud-puddle. He is otherwise quite uninjured.
Michael Rook, in the course of the interception-manceuvres, had the experience of getting detached from his own squadron (No. 81), and formating idly round the sky with the six Me. 109's, whom he took absent-mindedly to be Hurricanes of 134 Squadron. He apparently flew with them happily for quite some time - even waggling his wings as a sign of greeting and friendship - until he suddenly woke to his mistake, gave the nearest Me. (who was by now coming straight at him) a squirt with his twelve guns, and blew it completely to pieces. As he said afterwards, " The Germans must have thought me either bloody brave or bloody foolish."
The raiding force turns out to have been 14 enemy bombers and 6 fighters.
(It is the habit of pilot's stories of combats to come out bit by bit. As a matter of fact, Rook's job was not quite so simple as this, according to later investigation. He had the remaining five of the Me's on his tail for many minutes after he had got in his squirt, and they chased him down to mast-level over a Destroyer lying in Murmansk Sound before he finally got away, after one of the stiffest combats in his life. As he remarked even later, " when I finally got back to the aerodrome and landed, I sat actually sweating in the cockpit for some time before I could climb out." It is an accepted fact that even the most brilliant of fighter-pilot victories are a combination of luck as well as brilliance. On the whole, Micky Rook, the eater of a Flight of eggs as well as the consort of a flight of Me. log's, is rather lucky to be alive.)
The afternoon's show seems generally to have been an extremely good one ; the most pleasing feature of all being that No. 134 Squadron at last broke their run of bad luck. No. 81 Squadron have had all the luck consistently for the first month of flying, and the entire score of twelve confirmed victories stood up to now to their credit. No. 134, doing an identical number of front-line patrols and bomber-escorts, and endless boring " periods of readiness " on the rim of the frozen aerodrome, have not seen an enemy within the possibility of contacting. Today their luck turned and they had their full share of the action and of the success. They are extremely pleased about it, as is the whole Camp.
October 7th
Weather dud and semi-dud. One patrol. Signals are beginning to come in from Air Ministry and from British Air Mission, Moscow, arranging for the ultimate break-up of the Wing :-" On your return such-and-such of your transport vehicles, such-and-such stores, equipment, rations . . . will be handed over to Air Mission, Moscow ; such-and-such retained by the Russians. . . ." " State how soon and how many Russian pilots will be well enough trained to take over flying Hurricanes, and how many Russian ground-staff will be competent to service them. . . ." The " classes " have been continuous. The first Russian-flown Hurricane attacked its first victim over the sea the other day.
October 8th
Four patrols, escorting Soviet bombers. Signal from Air Mission, Moscow :-" You will probably receive instructions shortly to begin movement on October 25th, leaving behind small maintenance parties. . . ." " Heartiest congratulations on operations."
But " movement " is a very generalized term. In which direction is the proposed movement to take place ?
October 9th
Weather non-operational. Snow thick and heavy, and freezing hard.
October l0th
Weather non-operational. Russian pilots go on flying our Hurricanes in practice flights.
October 11th
Weather still inclement ; aerodrome surface unserviceable through snow-drifts. Nil patrols. The snow is now the genuine article - thick, deep, crisp to the point of crackling under one's boots, and quite dry. In moments of bright sunlight, the clear air here in the North, the absence of soot, factory-smoke, etc., the snow takes on a brilliant, incandescent whiteness that is unearthly. The temperature is 10-15 degrees Fahrenheit below freezing. The last leaves are off the trees in the silver-birch grove. One can now see the gaunt barrack-blocks of the airmen from the Wing H.Q. building nearly half a mile away - impossible up to a few days ago. Horse-drawn sleighs make their appearance on the roads as the normal form of civilian transport. Russian winter has set in.
There has been hardly any flying (except training-flying) for days. The boys down at dispersal-points on the aerodrome are going in for Skiing, toboganning, and a new form of sport, invented by themselves, consisting of being hauled at speed on a sleigh across the aerodrome a rope's-length behind a motor-transport. (The only snag about the newly-devised sport is that when the car takes a sudden turn, the sleigh and its occupants, a rope's-length behind, are liable to be hurled through the air for considerable distances. One of the pilots, a sergeant, has broken open his head in the process. In consequence, the sport has had to be severely rationed as to speed and ballistics.)
October 12th
" B " Flight, 81 Squadron, due to hand over their aircraft to the Russians today, and to become non-operational, as have certain Flights in the Wing already. The more the Wing completes its originally-intended function - that of giving the Russian pilots and ground-staffs experience in manipulating Hurricanes, the less work it will have to do - and the more rowdy and difficult to manage will its personnel become.
There is a signal in tonight that our next job may be to push off to the Middle East. This is a new one on us - and a totally unexpected one. The Wing was confidently counting on moving when its combined job of instruction and demonstration was done - but on moving homeward, not several thousands of miles farther from home. . . .
October 14th
Signals continue to arrive hinting at the unspecified move " south." What exactly does " south " mean ? Wing-Commander contemplated sending cryptic signal to Air Ministry :—" Ref. your Movement Order of 12-10-41. See Psalm 146, verse 3." The verse in question is the celebrated " Put not thy trust in Princes."
Heavy mist today, the first of the season. Mists apparently occur here with endless frequency in winter - causes : the comparatively warm currents of the Gulf Stream (that keep Murmansk an ice-free port) meeting and washing the shores of an utterly frozen continent. Further signals sent out by the C.O. requesting more details of our proposed " southern route." Russian authorities consulted on the spot seem to think that if we are really to travel to the Middle East via Central and Southern Russia, it will take us a minimum of two months - with four months a more likely probability. (Hasty calculations of the Wing-Staff : - That means that the barest minimum of 40 tons of rations will have to be lugged along with us.) It is, of course, almost impossible for the authorities in England to visualize what conditions of railway-transport over long distances here are like. The standing miracle is that military supplies are still continuing efficiently to be got up to the 2,000-mile front from all over the vast country. How a stray English Wing is to cut across this over-strained network of communications. . . ?
No doubt all such problems will settle themselves.
October 15th
News received from Air Ministry that " Embassy and whole of Military and Air Mission leaving Moscow tonight for Kuibishev. Please inform Archangel." So that's that or at least, a bit of it. The " degree of priority " marked on the message is that of " EMERGENCY "-that is to say, it takes precedence over all other signals whatever, save only those sent out, similarly marked, by Commanders-in-Chief and Ambassadors. The Russian news about the position of the general line of the Front has been fairly vague of late. There has never been for one second the slightest diminution of Russian confidence.
Work has gone forward, with detached unconcern. So much for the exact spirit of confidence that prevails among the Russians.
But all the same, " Kuibishev," a new name in the communiques, turns out to be the ancient town of Samara renamed. It is on the easternmost bend of the Volga, 500 miles east of Moscow. And if the Embassies are evacuating thither in a hurry, it means at least that there is a sober calculation of the chances of Moscow falling.
October 16th
A minor Hun raid on the Camp. Seven bombs dropped on aerodrome, nil damage, nil casualties. Twenty Russian pilots are now operational on Hurricanes. Training of ground-personnel continued.
October 17th
Three patrols. Nil combats, nil casualties.
October 20th
The ink froze in some of the office and bedroom ink-wells today. Thank God for warm and appropriate clothing. We are allowed to wear battle-dress, and anything else that we can collect or buy off the Russians.
October 30th
Nothing doing for the pilots, except those engaged on teaching. Technical staff, wireless and engineering sections, still as hard at work as ever. The Russian technicians are insatiable. They have a trick of turning up late in the mornings, which causes grief and pain to our Meester Feesher and our Meester Gittins - but they never stop once they get started, and are ready to go on until all hours of the night - which worries our Meester Feesher and our Meester Gittins still worse.
November 5th
General arrives at afternoon Conference with baby reindeer. I have to put notice in D.R.O.'s* tonight : " A reindeer has been taken on Wing-strength as from today's date. Volunteer (preferably with experience) to report to Orderly Room for duties of grooming, feeding and exercising same."
November 14th
S/Ldr. Miller gets a wire from England today to say that he - is the father of a daughter. Put notice in D.R.O.'s : " The Wing-Commander has authorized the issue to the Wing of an extra tot of rum tonight to drink the health of S/Ldr. Miller's newly-born daughter."
The life of the Camp continues to be, as ever, excessively various. . . .
