Diary of Denis Patrick (alias Rupert Bert Patrick), 1941-1945 - Part 5

2/5/42
As I write this little addition I am
enjoying the comparative comfort of a
first class seat in the Flying Scotsman
en route from Edinburgh to London.
My C.O. gratiously gave me two weeks
leave, so here I am bound for
goodness knows where, more or less
on my own of course - I have spent
a very pleasant day with one Miss
Winnie Leamont, a charming lass
with brown hair and as she says
tartan eyes. - Doc Bilston introduced
me to her. I love her Scotch accent
her neat figure, and her bright talk.
She called on me this morning at the
Old Waverley Hotel where I was staying
and from there we took a bus to
Queens ferry and walked in the
woodlands among the ferns and
glens. I almost glimpsed Australia
in these fairy glades — Winnie's
bright chatter kept away the
idle hour, we lunch at a
wee [[?]] place and did a little
more hiking & talking, finally
having a high tea, which in
Scotland means anything from
tea and biscuit to roast turkey
Anyway we were lucky to get
eggs and bacon & a jug of [[?]]
Food prices of course are quite ridiculous
one pays the best part of six shillings
always for a decent meal. and then
it only just —Its a brave and uncomplaining
type of young womanhood
this war is turning out, and I think
these girls with restricted food & limited
clothing xxx have a particularly
optimistic outlook — I went to a party
held by a very wealthy Scotish
gentleman — it was for the officers of
455. All Australians of course — 
everything was dreadfully pukha, and
I was [[bowing?]] at my very best.
His home was in a large estate — The
girls at the show were very highly
educated & disgustingly proper.
but most of them served with His
Majistis Forces in the A.T's as
mechanics, M.T. drivers and all sorts
of dirty jobs. Their hands were
[[showing?]] the signs of work too
but they didn't mind — Yes its a
hardy bunch this war is building
and a strangely self sufficient
two fisted and practical women
I can imagine the women
displacing men entirely from the
[[?]] soon. They won't want
babies or a cat — They will
 

have their own clubs, run their own
politics and to hell with the
weakling male sex — But I don't
blame them.
In the meantime were still
rattling our way over the rails
to London in search of pleasure — I
think I'm going to miss this war when
its all over.
4/5/42
So here we are in Bournemouth, once
again, what a gentle place it is, with
its green parks modern buildings & warm
sunshine. I stopped at London yesterday,
wandered around the big city on my
own, it seemed bigger and lonelier than
before. Colin is not there now, in fact
most of my old time cobbers have
either gone East or "West" — Called
at Kodak house in Kingsway, and
enquired after Colin, apparently he is
O.K. to their knowledge. — so having
done all these things came on to
Bournemouth where I at least
know two women, God bless em.
Edna tells me she has just inherited
five hundred quid, & a furnished
house — but it didn't have any
allure for me, not £500 if it
had been five thousand I should
probably have suggested that she
should marry me straight away.
As I write I am looking out of the window
of the       where I am staying
opposite is the Bath Hill Court — a huge
place, taken over by the air force, just
as most of the buildings are — I am
wondering just how long this was will
last. Day after day passes and still we
seem to be gradually loosing ground
on all three fronts. Yes its a pretty
grim spectacle and not much of a
future for a torpedoe bomber pilot,
but who knows when the day will
dawn, peace, once again — These
English people are much too content
with their "state of security when the
world & their allies are crying for
action
10/5/42
I left Bournemouth with a little regret
but things were getting a little hot there —
so packed my bag boarded a London
train bound for goodness knows where
-However the tall cranes & Balloons

of South Hampton lured me off the 

train and I found myself booking 

into a little pub for no apparent

reason. After having eaten my humble

fill I proceeded to survey the

wreckage of another seriously blitzed

town - There wasn't a great deal to

see there except [[?]] craters &

rivers. The sirens blew several times 

and I heard the Jerry's going over with

their bombs & incendiaries which they

eventually dropped in Wales -

     Things went along with no variation

of their mellow variety so once again

packing my bag I set course for

Bristol - a distant city few hours

march by the bus -En route we

passed through Bath a very large and

also ruined City. We stopped at

Salisbury plain, well known to many

Australian soldiers in the last war.

At present it teems with Americans 

& Negroes with quite a lot of air-

borne troops.

21/8/42

Had quite an interesting stay at 

Bristol. Met some civil air ways officials

and discussed my future. It didn't 

seem very brilliant. Bristol has also 

had a terrific hammering and only

the piles of debris tell their story.

Met an Australian girl down there

just married to an Englishman

which was a bad thing - she

was a real Aussie, the first 

one I had seen for eighteen months.

After three days left per train

for York - York was a much nice

place, with very remarkable

cathedral - however

things didn't seem to lively there

and the local inhabitants didn't

seem to keen on sharing any

revelry so I came on back to

Leuchars where I spent the remaining

days playing golf & what knot.

Went to Devon - "Beautiful Devon"

flew the Wing Commander down

took the Padre too - We had

quite a good trip down, next

day adjourned to the local town

of Barnstaple to buy the squadron

a keg barrel of cider, so after

lots of heavy bargaining managed

to secure a fifteen gallon, so

the padre & I rolled the barrel

through the main street while

the whole population of Barnstaple 

looked on with horror

however we were undetered &

eventually with the aid of an

other padre got our prize back

to the [[?]] aerodrome

so we loaded our barrel on

the Hampden & set course for

some place north of London

so as the padre could see 

his wife we landed at & an 

American aerodrome and 

adjourned to the padres house

for tea - I liked his wife

a slashing tomato blonde - tea

over we set course for Scotland

complete with cider & a whole

heap of baggage which the padre

had been skillfully putting on

board

Once more in to the breach dear fiend

& its work again (of a sort) (the night 

sort).
25/8/42

Its leave again, three days this time 

and I think its lucky too, The Group Captain

has brought us up north to stay with

some friends of his, so taking his car 

we came up to this little town high

highland spot surrounded by heather covered

blue mountains. My host is a wealthy

Scot and quite picturesque figure

too, a tall handsome man with

a pale kilt ad a disk in his stocking.

The Hostess, an exceedingly attractive

lady well travelled and educated

also about the house are  the son

& daughter George & Joan both still

going to college, and odd ducks or

two potter about also.

    Speaking of service, when we arrived

last night, the servants descended

upon the car and removed the

baggage to our rooms and

unpacked everything all in a trice, so that 

to my amazement there were my clothes

all packed away in drawers etc.

The house is large, three storied typically

Scottish manor. How I love these Scotch

people so sincere & friendly, and how

fortunate I am to be able to meet these

splendid people. When I consider how my

little extra efforts during training that

gave me my commission have paid

me, over & over again am I pleased with

our efforts and the luck which helped.

The heather is 'e' the bloom now - a colorfull

mauve bush covering the highlands, one 

can truly understand why these people

are so intensely patriotic to their country

(Scotland).

      We had planned to go hunting

today but rain is pelting down so

that is post front - two old Labrador Retrievers

long lounge around the house, one is

lying at my fee snoring with blissful contentedness,

I think I shall have to get myself a

dog again.

26/8/42

After three glorious days of hunting

golf, swimming & sun baking

I had to return from the land 

of mountains green pastures & heather

to my less exciting squadron

I enjoyed every moment of my stay

with these wonderful people

The Group Captain who brought

me us up there was more fortunate

and stayed longer.

Back at the Squadron an

ominous tenseness is in the air.

rumours have it that we shall

go to Russia to do a little

torpedoing - The a/c are ^all being

oth tested and fixed for the flight

I shall be going too so I am told

so here's to the Balalaika "where

there is music in the sparkling 

wine"

31/8/42 The squadron is in a state

of preparation at the moment for the

great flight to our destination somewhere

in Russia. We havent been [[?]]

yet but expect to get the good oil

any nr hour now, and pull up

our anchors and away.

      I have a young aussie ground

crew lad attached to my crew

to make the trip across - he is

an electrician but assures me

he can shoot so if and when 

the bullets start flying he will

be manning his gun like the

rest.

    Our mission is a very important one

and unfortunately it is not likely that

all will return, but one never knows

we might me be lucky - The flight

will be long and possible a bit hot

in parts as we have to cross Norway

De Sweden & Finland - We were all

issued with minute compasses disguised

a colour studs to us in the event

of being forced down in enemy

country

31/11/42

On the 2/9.42 wat we took to the air

and set course for Dunsburgh an aerodrome

in the Shetland Is., I did a fuel consumption

test of the way & found that my consumption

was abnormally high - The Sheltands are

lovely little Islands inhabited by sheep tending

people whose ambitions are live peacefully

and as such are contented with small

comforts & isolation.

    We stayed here two days I was

impressed with the rugged beauty of the

coasts, the green-ness of the pastures and

the warmth of the sunshine - Then on the

5/9/42 came orders to set off, so we

collected the details, the maps, enemy

cartridges, recognition signals etc and 

in the evening of that as darkness fell

set off up towards the Norwegian coast

The sea at night is a queer desolate hungry
thing and on &n on we went through

violent storms & rain when visibility was

reduced to complete instrument flying -

After three hours we turned and crossed

the coast of Norway - I saw the great

cliffs rising from the fjords, and occasional

light twinkled punctuated by an odd

search light indicating the jerry was

aware of our presence. At the coast

we were fly at 8,000 feet, which was

sufficient height to clear all mountains

of which there were many - then we

struck another storm and for two solid

hours I flew on instruments alone. The 

drain on the nerves was great, encompassed

by blackness, ice formed on the wings &

the aircraft became electrified by the storms

However after two to five hours coursing

we broke the cloud over the Fins Sweed Swedish

border, and although it was only 2AM

B.S.T. the dawn was breaking, daylight

came and we kept our eyes skinned

for enemy fighters /none came however-

The ground was obscured by low cloud

but the upper visibility was perfect still

no fighters came, later we crossed the

German Russian line but not a shot

was fired the ground fog luckily obscured

us from view

but sill no pin points available

the navigator took a couple of astro shots on

Polaris at dawn the cracked and showed us

north of track - in the meantime the wireless

operator was taking loop bearings on Archangel

which was transmitting the wrong call sign

thus everything went against us - at our

estimated time of arrival not a thing could

be seen so I decided to turn south in the 

hope of breaking cloud over the White Sea,

which I eventually did, so we followed

the coast back at 1200 feet until we

reached Kandalaska and turned up the

railway line for Africanda  -by this time

our petrol was almost exhausted - The

gauges were stuck & were reading a false

figure of 30 gallons per engine - I cut off

the two outer forward tanks - The outer

neons showed seven star & fifteen for port

while the inners thirty each - I knew 

this could not be correct as the guages

remained stationary for thirty minutes and

previously I had been warned about the

inaccuracy at low figures. We arrived 

at Africanda and took a swift look around

but no aerodrome was visible through

the haze so I decided to return to a 

small paddock which I noticed on the

way up and to do a forced landing

We found the place and did a 

dummy run but as I turned from

180⁰ to 90⁰ on the down wind big

both engines cut simultaneously - I

was then at about two hundred feet

I put the nose down and lifted up the

undercarriage - warned the crew, ^cut the [[?]] and

commenced bowling over small trees 

and stumps all of which fortunately

gave way to our superior weight -

Both engines were torn out of the vacelles

the tail was upside down - the windscreen

broken and the undercarriage left some

distance behind but our courage was undaunted

and I was indeed thankful to see

five unharmed me but frightened airmen

emerge from various quarters of the a/c.

      The navigator & I set off to get some

aid and the two gunners & mechanic remained

to guard the remains - I hadn't gone far

when several citizens rushed out with guns

& one with a bucket of mushrooms - I could

see they took a pretty hostile view of inspite of

my sign laun language and entreaties of

"Englisky". They had a little pow wow evidently

as to whether or not to shoot us on the spot

however they apparently decided we were better

alive than dead, to to [[?]] so contented

themselves by disarming us and marching

us away under heavy escort - We led

them back to the aircraft & showed them

the [[?]] but still no savvy - we gave

them chocolate which they ate in bitter silence

our discretion was superb in the face

of all these twitching trigger fingers

until eventually some Russian officers came &

restored our identity as the hand shaking 

started, we shook hands with the officers, the

sergeants the corporals the lance corporals the

soldats  millions of "soldats" and amongst them

five Australians bowing, clicking heels & giving

out chocolate to an increasing army of "soldats".

We were then put in a car. The Russian officers

rode in a lorry, the soldiers walked. We went

to a army mess where we ate a hearty but

grim meal of Reindeer steak, macaroni, Russian

salmon. Black bread (masses of black bread)

Billy goats grease & hot milk - A Russian 

lady doctor examined is for broken bones etc (she

found none) so she sat down & watched us wade

through plate after plate of heathen food.

   In the meantime I was trying to get in toauch

touch with Africanda where the next of the

Hampdens were or should have been - Eventually

we got there by means of a private train

which rattled along for our benefit - we found

at last those who had got there the rest

scattered all over Russia some we learned

had crashed in Finland some in Norway

just disappeared - Those who had aircraft

to Varenga near Murmansk - and those who

walked swam & ridden to Africanda waited 

several days as did I.

     The following day we went back to the wreck

with an interpreter, Bella, a Russian girl

who had been taught English at the Kiev in 

Moscow. Her English was excellent, particularly

her grammar. Bella was very good to us waifs

and mothered us with great care. She arranged

our travel and food and transport answered

our questions (non political) found us beds

etc - At Africanda we ate Russian food,

breakfast (Zaftone) 9 till 10 xa.m.

Dinner two to three p.m. & supper nine 

till ten at night, strange hours indeed.

Their food was plain, but satisfying

Goats meat, black bread. Goats butter

& tea (gallons of tea) served in glasses.

       Then we left and under Bella's gentle

care & guidance caught a train bound

for Murmansk. The carriages were

hard & soft (corresponding to our first

& second- there were no proper seats in 

the "soft" compartments (reserved for officers

but things like bunks - the Russian

porters who wore the Red star motioned

to lie down and the seem to be the

natural posture for travel in Russian

trains - The board train rattled on

for hours and we passed through barren

uninteresting scrubby hilly country in

which timber getting seemed to be the

only occupation -Bella gave us brief

details of where we were - In the villages

were signs of primitive habitation

where beshawled women cut wood

and carried babies, cleared gutters & drove

equally primitive looking horses with long

shaggy coats and large mule like ears.

      after many hours the train groaned & shuddered

into Murmansk - what a night! The city

resembled a grave yard where only tomb stones

tell a tale. Aparently it had been constructed

of wood with brick chimneys - the Germans had

rained down incendiaries on the wooden city

and only a fe the chimneys & a few

stone buildings survived. - the rest just a heap

of grey ash - We waited here for two hours

while a truck came from Varenga - I saw

haunted dejected women & old men with

jaundiced hungry faces sitting about the town

they had no homes & no food. The soldiers 

on the other hand seemed to be not robust

but at least fed and clothed -I heard that 

they existed on mushrooms, & bread when it

could be got. The Jerries were only twenty

miles away and still pasted the town at 

intervals - I was glad when the time

came and we could all pile in with

salvaged belongings and get away from

this ghastly city - The truck halted before

many sentry posts and bayonet bearing

soldiers gave us the hawk eye. Bella

evidently appeased their gabbling by out

gabbling them, often along that [[?]]

road did we hear her silvery

soprano raised in apparent protest.

After two more hours we arrived at the

place called Varenga, a small wooden

village with know shops of course.

The board houses are unpainted and

consequently have a sombre grey appearance.

         I met the Doc at the door of our store

billet. He took me to his room where

he had a spare bed waiting for me

The Doc had come up by an

American cruiser Juscalosa and

was full of his exploits - The Jerries

bombed the place every day the sun

shone & every night when the moon

came out all of which I could

myself confirm later - They came

next day with swarms of fighters

a Ju. 88^o - The Russian fighters were

up to meet them and we watch

numerous dog fights ward the rattle

of canon fire & saw the planes.

Screaming down with engines afire

some pilots managed to jump out

others had already met their fate.

After this bombing became a common

place affair which taught us to run

faster than we'd ever run before

We had our own dug outs which 

we dug ourselves, patiently laying

aside the sods with care - We

all had a tremendous respect

for these trenches after the first

raid - We never heard any siren as one would

have to listen for the ac/ac to go and if 

the bombs weren't already dropping beat it

for the shelter.

P.R.U. Went out every day to Alten Fjord

and other Nowegian Fjords liable to 

be harbouring the German battle-fleet.

Then one day our submarine Tigris reported

the Turpitz steaming out of Nansk going

north. So our torpedo a/c took off, (those

that were left to intercept - but the Turpitz

or as it turned out to be the Schier.

turned back to Alten Fjord and never

attacked the convoy which was then at 

Bear Island - So the trip was pointless.

But our presence acted as a deterant to

these ships and thus the convoy got

through with no loss by surface

craft. So our job was over, we gave

an a/c to the Russians, taught them

to fly and awaited the cruiser to take

us home - We amused ourselves by

arranging concerts - the major feature was

a play by Kevin Murphy which depicted

the follies & [[?]] of the

people who run our control Comm and

I had the part of Hugo the German

spy in Norway - The whole thing was

a topping success - The producing was

so much fun as the playing and it

all served to while while away the

lonely hours - I made good use of

Docs company and listened to his

better learning.

   Then came the day of many dog fight

One Russia fighter shot down out of

control crashed through the roof of our

billets. It came down almost vertically

from a great height. By the time it reached

the ground it was travelling at five 

or six hundred miles per hours, consequently

it went straight through the roof, two

floors and buried itself below the floor

The pilot luckily had parachuted

A great fire followed the crash, we

arranged to save our few belongings

although the fight was still going on 

overhead. After the fire had died

down the fire engine came. It looked

like a converted sausage cart.- Russians

poured off it, and seethed to the nearest

water tank, tangling the hose pipe with

their zeal - Then the pump broke down

and the hose blocked finally the hose

gave a triumphant squirt knocking

ours the fire chief who gathered

himself up from the mud emitting

Russian blasphemies, meanwhile

the fire regained a little strength

& burned merrily on with quite

a lovely crackle - The application 

of a little water made it

sizzle, but helped it to burn more

triumphantly. Then the pipe burst and

a window sill fell down & knocked a

fireman out - so the bunch knocked 

off to carry his prostrate & bleeding

form our. The fire gained momentum

and everybody cheered. I lost my ever sharp

& fountain pen in the excitement.

finally the fire died of age & the engine

roared into life and went home - when

it had got well out of sight fire

broke out again, so we put it out

ourselves.

 One night the Russians came over

to a party given by our mess - Vodka

was the main dish The country lives

on it apparently - uses it for trade, as

well as a beverage - I saw some strange

sights that night - The Ruskies took

a fancy to our smoked salmon which

they polished off in silent approval. The

reaching for the Vodka would mutter

"Vusha sta Rovia" into their beards and 

open wide their mouths (which often

revealed a set of crome plated teeth

then galunk and down it

followed  by another slice of

salmon - By this time our friend

F/O Clarke was slipping silently to

the floor but hanging to his vodka

with both hands - I heard Murphy

say to a Russian who would