'My War', Richard G Wilson's account of his wartime service, 1986.

My War

I was fifteen years of age when war broke out, and with my mother, sister and brothers moved from RAF Hornchurch where my father, an airman, was stationed, to my mother’s home town of Burntisland, in Scotland, where we acquired accommodation for the duration of the war.

Not having a likeness for school I found myself a job as an apprentice maintenance fitter in the local aluminium factory, and remained there till I was seventeen years and two months old. I then joined the army as a Gordon Highlander by giving my age as nineteen years. I was posted to the Bridge of Don Barracks and trained as an infantryman. Within a month of joining I was informed that I, with other young soldiers, was being transferred from the Gordon Highlanders to a young soldiers regiment called The Highland Regiment, where I was posted to the 2nd Battalion, and continued my infantry training and home defence duties.

In November 1942 The Highland Regiment was disbanded and I was posted to the Royal Artillery at Suttan Valence in Kent and was trained as a Gun Position Officer’s assistant, but becoming bored with the type of duties required requested a transfer to the Royal Armoured Corps. I was posted to the 141st Regiment RAC (the Buffs) where I was trained as a Gunner / Mechanic where my duties were as primary co-driver and front gunner and secondary as turret gunner. (In a tank each crew member can do another mans job in case needed due to casualties in action).

In February 1944 it was decreed that men under nineteen years of age would not be sent overseas in action and although I had just attained my 19th birthday I was put into this group temporarily and given the choice of working on the tanks on their return from training in the late afternoon (out in the cold and wet) or as a waiter in the Sergeants Mess. Obviously I chose the job of Sergeants Mess waiter, as this meant being inside a nice warm building.

About a week later it was announced that volunteers were required for training as glider pilots for the future invasions and as I has always wanted to be a pilot I volunteered and was tested for suitability and health by the Royal Air Force Selection Board at Euston, London, and was accepted for training. With other trainees I commenced the specialist infantry training of a glider pilot. (A British glider pilot, on having landed his glider in action fights on the ground as an infantryman).

Having completed my ground training, I, with others, was posted to 21 Elementary Flying School, RAF, at High Wycombe, and eventually went ‘solo’ on the Tiger Moth training aircraft. I was then posted to Glider Training Schools at Stoke Orchard and North Luffenham where I was eventually awarded the Army Flying Badge (wings) to wear above my left breast pocket, and was promoted from corporal to sergeant. - I had attained what I wanted, I was now a sergeant pilot in the Glider Pilot Regiment.

In September 1944 after many false alarms we were informed that on the 17th an airborne invasion would be carried out by the 82nd U.S. Airborne Division, the 101st U.S .Airborne Division and the 1st British Airborne Division. The U.S. divisions were to land, take and hold the bridges at Grave and Nijmegen, and the British division the bridge at Arnhem.

On the morning of 17.09.44 there was great activity as the Horsa gliders towed by Dakota’s departed for Holland and the landing zones, but my flight (E Sqn at Down Ampney) had been delegated to leave on the ‘second lift’ on the following day. On that day I was called early with the others of my flight and after a good breakfast in the Mess drew a weapon and ammunition and went to our waiting Horsa glider.

After meeting our passengers and assuring their field gun, limber and jeep were correctly lashed down and secure, Jock Dunbar (or Dunn) my first pilot and I proceeded to carry out a pre-flight check of our glider and found everything correct. We then stood outside and smoked cigarettes and talked with our passengers, the gun crew of five men from the Royal Artillery until ordered to stand by.

On a given signal the gliders and tugs ahead of us commenced to move forward and take off into the sky and eventually it was our turn and away we went. When we were airborne we joined up with the remainder of the flight, and then with the squadron, then with the wing until we were part of a giant air armada protected by RAF and USAF fighter aircraft. We flew on over the English Channel and encountered anti-aircraft fire as we approached the coast at Flushing, but passed through unscathed although others were not so fortunate. On approaching the landing zone between Heelsum and Wolfheze, an area to the west of Arnhem, our tug pilot in the Dakota informed us we had (as we already knew) arrived at our destination, so after he had wished us luck, Jock, the first pilot, pulled the towline release lever and the ‘tug’ banked to the right and away home to England, leaving us in ‘free flight’ and looking for our run in to land.

When we had identified our landing area we told our passengers to stand by as we were going to land, and for them to be ready to move as fast as possible in getting their jeep, gun and ammunition out of the landed glider as it would not be too pleasant once we had come to a standstill in the landing zone, as the enemy would be trying to destroy us before we could unload and become combative. Jock and I then pushed the control columns as far forward as they would go and applied ‘full flap’, the nose of the glider descended and the barn door sized ‘flaps’ started to come down fully and we were on our way to the ground.

When we were about two hundred feet from the ground the glider began to shudder and rock and we realised we were being fired at, and I turned to see why Jock was not pushing hard down on the control column at his side and saw him slumped on his side. By this time the ground was rushing up to meet us, so I eased the control column back until the glider bumped down on its two main wheels, keeping it straight by strong use of the rudder pedals and then the nose dropped until the nose wheel was also on the ground and we were rushing smoothly forward. I commenced to use the wheel brakes to stop us moving. As we were moving along it had been noisy in the glider but when we stopped it changed somewhat, now it was the noise of mortar bombs falling near us and in the distance the chatter of machine gun fire. We released the tail section of the glider without Jocks assistance as I saw that he was obviously dead, having been shot in the head, and managed to disembark the gun, jeep and ammunition. The sergeant in charge of the gun then took command of it and his men, and with me also in the jeep with the gun and limber attached drove as fast as possible for the shelter of the woods away from the enemy.

Once in the shelter of the woods I joined up with other glider pilots and fought as an infantryman for the rest of the time except when put in charge of eleven assorted infantrymen holding a house [see note 1] opposite the Hartenstein Hotel, our divisional H.Q. I then conducted them to the ‘Lower Rhine’ where we were evacuated by the Canadian Engineers, eventually arriving at Driel. At Driel we were given a hot meal, rum and cigarettes and were then taken to Nijmegen for evacuation to England by air from Lanvain airport in Belgium. I shall not tell of my experiences during my stay in the Arnhem area during that battle as many other young men (and older) could tell the same story, and some have even done so.

On arriving back in England I eventually returned to the aerodrome (as they were called then) at Down Ampney, and went to my billet where the W.A.A.F.’s had made our beds for those returning [see note 2]. If I remember correctly out of thirty pilots who occupied that hut only five had returned, the others were either dead, wounded or prisoners, and I realised how lucky I had been.

After a spell of leave the reinforced squadron continued training for any other airborne invasions which may be arranged, and life once more became less exciting.

In December 1944 I was sent to India [see note 3] as part of a combined Army and RAF glider force to prepare for an invasion against the Japanese in Burma and at first was stationed in the Punjab in the Rawalpindi area where fortunately I was able to visit my father at Delhi, where he was serving as a Wing Commander in the RAF.

In March 1945 the ‘wing’ moved south to Belgaume for jungle training and was so engaged in May of that year when the war in Europe finished, and on V.E. Day we were engaged in going over a jungle assault course. Having completed jungle training I moved to the Delhi area to await an invasion of Burma but before that could be so the atom bomb was dropped on Japan and the Japanese capitulated, for which I was thankful as we did not hold out much hope of returning unscathed from the Burmese jungle had there been an airborne invasion, and with the end of the war with Japan so ended my war.

Written in 1986 for his granddaughter Vanessa, for her primary school project.

Note 1: In September 1994 (the 50th anniversary of Arnhem) a letter was published in the Fife Free Press, (the local paper for Burntisland) asking for information regarding a name and address scratched on the door lintel in the cellar of the above address. Richard had written this while sheltering in the cellar, and had forgotten about it when he wrote the above account

Note 2: On arriving back he wanted to send his fiancée, Rita Kean, a telegram, telling of his safe arrival. The original of this is now held by the Imperial War Museum, and a copy is kept in a folder held by his daughter, Lynne Copping, along with other memorabilia.

Note 3: The squadron that he joined in India was 669 Squadron. 28 years later, in 1973, his daughter Lynne (in the WRAF) married an army helicopter engineer who belonged to 669 Sqn Army Air Corps, which was then based at RAF Wildenrath, Germany.