The Story of Roger Halstead
Told by E.R. Offen; Rye Sussex.
Offen E.R. was a senior member of the ground crew at Waddington with 463 Squadron.
We had a new “sprog” crew arrive to fly M —
Mother (463). They were very friendly and I soon got to know them. I didn’t
want to get involved too much; I began to feel they were like ‘lambs going to
slaughter’. The pilot was a young Australian of around 20 years old, he did
not look old enough to be in charge of an aircraft.
I found we had a lot in common, possibly because we were the same age. He asked
me to call him by his first name which was Roger (I never did know his surname).
Each time he was down on the flights we found plenty to talk about. He had a
little car and asked me if I could wangle some M.T. Petrol. This was possible
as we had a drum for the Charhorse’s nearby. So Long as you didn’t overdo it,
you could drain some off. This I did on the quiet, and he asked me if I would
go out one evening for a drink.
I accepted the offer and arranged between us when we would both be free, suggesting
Bracebridge Heath as the Horse and Jockey was usually full. Rank didn’t worry
him but I felt a little worried being only AC/2. However, we had a pleasant
evening with a few drinks and plenty to talk about. He talked of his home and
family and wanted to know about my village life in Sussex.
I invited him to my home and he said he would try and get a few days off when
I had my leave. I felt that this would really happen, and even wrote home saying
I would be bringing him in the new year.
Xmas was drawing nigh. It had been a bit quiet on the ‘drome because of bad
weather. The crews came down each morning for a chat, and a game of cards, so
I saw quite a bit of Roger. There was a lot of joking about “Pommies” and “Aussies”
between us, but all in fun. I more or less volunteered for Xmas Duty, being
single, did not have a local girl friend, and was not involved in any ‘beer
ups’. Both Jock and I had put in for New Year leave and got it, so we were happy
about it. The Sgt. said I could have a day off, 22 December; as I was on Xmas
duty I wanted to do a hit of shopping, so decided to go into Nottingham
On the 20th I was on the flights when Roger came down for the usual check. He
told me he had a birthday in a day or two and had received a cake from home,
and would like us to go out for a drink down the village. Just the aircrew and
ground crew. I said I would be on duty, but would see
I could swap my turn with Jock. “O.K. he said “I’ll make it Saturday, I'll try
to book up somewhere. Cheerio, have a good day out, see you Thursday”.
My pass started at 17.00 hours that day, so the others told we to “push
off” early afternoon. I knew a girl in Nottingham and could always go to her
home for the night. I washed and changed; Jock had laid my best blue out, and
even polished my buttons. He had been on night flying duty and was off that
day. This was a great help as it meant I’d get an earlier train. I sneaked out
the back way through the hole in the hedge, keeping an eye out for the S.P’s;
I’d already got my pass early through Ernie in the office. It was nice to get
away from camp and wearing your best blues made me feel quite proud.
The next day I roamed around Nottingham, did a bit of Xmas shopping, enjoyed
the day and caught the last train back to Lincoln. Then a bus to camp. As soon
as I neared the camp I could see OPS were on and could hear engines revving
up. I checked in at the guardroom, although I had until 8 am 22nd December.
I arrived back in the block to a loud cheer; you felt out of place in best blue
amongst the rest. Jock greeted me with, “want some supper?” felt like a bite,
so changed into my work clothes, borrowed a late supper chit, and joined Jock.
“I wonder where they are off to tonight?” I asked him, “I don’t know, but it’s
a long trip. I believe, your kite’s gone with the usual crew”. We had supper
and went hack to bed.
I woke up next morning, the night duty crew were just back and had brought back
mugs of tea to us. (You never came back from the cookhouse with an empty mug)
“What’s the gen?” “ Easy night, they were diverted, but two have pranged”. “Whose
are they?” someone asked. “467 N and 463 N”. I went cold. “What about the crews
I asked. “One lot pranged on the perimeter: I believe they got out OK. The other
tried to land but didn’t make it. They were trying to talk them in. They bad
been shot up. I heard it's engines but they just stopped dead, never heard anything
after. There wasn’t an explosion, at least I didn’t hear one. I should think
they pancaked”. At this stage no one knew which was which so I hoped that ours
was alright.
I suddenly realised, Jock wasn’t there. "Where’s Jock?” I asked "He
was called out on crash crew duty. They were after you, but Jock volunteered
to take your place”. This was usual as no one liked to have to go to his own
plane, and Jock knew of my friendship with the pilot. Anyway I was on pass until
8 am.
I washed and went to breakfast. No one was very eager to go down to the flights
as there were no A/C anyway, so it was suggested that one of each gang would
go when the truck called to get the “gen.’ I offered to go, as I thought it
best to report after my pass and I wanted to know if there was any news. We
set off across the ‘drome to the flight hut, went in, and a Sgt asked for M
— Mother’s ground-crew. I said, I was one and he replied, “Chiefy wants to so
you”. I asked “Why?” We said ‘“The F700 is missing, wait till he comes”. The
others set off back to camp, and I waited. Chiefy came in; he wasn’t very happy.
“Where’s the F700?” he snapped. I said I didn’t knew, and explained I was on
day off yesterday. “OK but you and the rest of the ground-crew had better find
it, or you’ll all be for it”. I asked for news of the crew. “Only the mid upper
gunner survived, the rest are dead. Now go and find the F700 and I want to know
why it wasn’t handed in!”.
So Roger was killed, my heart sank. I made my way back to camp turning things
over in my mind, I had hardened since the first loss of C-Charlie, but it was
all very sad. It was a brief friendship but a happy one. Back at the block I
told of the loss of the 700 and they already knew. Dick Waite had been to look
at the shack. This seemed to be more important than the loss of a crew. It was
found next day in the back of the truck by Dot the WAAF driver.
Jock came back later while we were playing cards. I thanked him for going in
my place and asked about the crew. He said he saw the pilot still sitting at
the controls, looking ahead with both hands on the controls. He saw him being
taken out, but didn’t think he had any injuries. I was glad I wasn’t there to
see anything.
It was sad to think he had brought the plane back and then fog had prevented
a landing.
Life carried on yet I couldn't help thinking of the pilot. No one else seemed
to care. There was Xmas approaching and the conversation was of ‘beer ups and
invitations to peoples’ homes. The A/c came back 23rd December and we readied
them for Ops again. Snow and fog clung to the telephone wires and trees and
it looked very pretty. I felt sad, but life still goes on. Duty crews were off
as weather conditions were bad. Wally invited me to his girl friend’s home,
Xmas evening and it cheered me up. I had wanted to be with the aircrew but failed
my medical;
it could have been me.