Monthly Archives: April 2023

Hendon objects (2)

As you may have seen from previous blog posts, in 2010, I went with my family to visit the RAF Museum at Hendon. It wasn’t all aircraft at Hendon, though. There were lots of non-flying objects and various pieces of metal rescued/liberated from aircraft as they awaited their turn in the scrapyard. And there were the medals of some very brave men……

Here is the Victoria Cross won posthumously by Ian Bazelgette, a Canadian from Calgary in Alberta and a pilot of No. 635 Squadron, Bomber Command, RAF:

Here’s the citation……

When nearing the target his Lancaster came under heavy anti-aircraft fire. Both starboard engines were put out of action and serious fires broke out in the fuselage and the starboard main-plane. The bomb aimer was badly wounded.

As the deputy “master bomber” had already been shot down, the success of the attack depended on Squadron-Leader Bazalgette and this he knew. Despite the appalling conditions in his burning aircraft, he pressed on gallantly to the target, marking and bombing it accurately. That the attack was successful was due to his magnificent effort.

After the bombs had been dropped the Lancaster dived, practically out of control. By expert airmanship and great exertion Squadron-Leader Bazalgette regained control. But the port inner engine then failed and the whole of the starboard main-plane became a mass of flames.

Squadron-Leader Bazalgette fought bravely to bring his aircraft and crew to safety. The mid-upper gunner was overcome by fumes. Squadron-Leader Bazalgette then ordered those of his crew who were able to leave by parachute to do so. He remained at the controls and attempted the almost hopeless task of landing the crippled and blazing aircraft in a last effort to save the wounded bomb aimer and helpless air gunner. With superb skill, and taking great care to avoid a small French village nearby, he brought the aircraft down safely. Unfortunately it then exploded and this gallant officer and his two comrades perished.

His heroic sacrifice marked the climax of a long career of operations against the enemy. He always chose the more dangerous and exacting roles. His courage and devotion to duty were beyond praise.”

Ian Willoughby Bazalgette was one of the individual RAF airmen that my Dad, Fred, as a member of 20 OTU came into regular contact with. Bazalgette was reputed by some of his contemporaries to have been a concert pianist.  He apparently had the habit of flying when others either could not or would not, go up into the air. It was as if he just wanted to experience how rough the weather could be or was seeking the thrills of being aloft when conditions really were too dangerous for flying.

Eventually Bazalgette was to win the Victoria Cross. There were, however, those, Fred Knifton included, who thought that he was the kind of pilot who would end up by getting other people killed. How ironic that was, given the circumstances of his death!

All this, of course, contrasted very strongly with Fred’s more usual opinion of bomber pilots, a group of men to whom, after all, he had frequently had to entrust his life. Fred saw the best pilots as steady characters, who could always be trusted to push on slowly but surely, and to get the job done. They formed a strong contrast with the fighter pilots, who were far more extrovert characters, capable of great triumph, but also perhaps of great failure. Not so the pilot of the four engined bomber which slogged on through thick and thin like some very, very deadly old bus.

Research has revealed that Bazalgette, despite his own wishes to form a new Pathfinder unit, was stationed with 20 OTU at Lossiemouth from September 1943, as commander of ‘C’ Flight. He was not transferred away, to No. 635 (Pathfinder) Squadron, until April 20th 1944, when he became a flight commander with the rank of Squadron Leader.

Presumably then, Fred must have been present with 20 OTU at Lossiemouth at some point in this period of September 1943-April 1944. He could well have been at Lossiemouth both before and after Bazalgette’s time there.

Fred also spoke of “Pedlar Palmer” who, to give him his correct name, was Robert Anthony Maurice Palmer. He too, like Bazalgette, was with 20 OTU at Lossiemouth.

According to Fred’s own handwritten notes, discovered after his death in 2003, Palmer was posted to 20 OTU as a Flight Sergeant after finishing a tour of operations with 75 Squadron at Feltwell on February 13th 1941. He was then promoted to Pilot Officer in January 1942, while still at Lossiemouth.

Serving briefly alongside Bazalgette in ‘C’ Flight, he too wanted to return to operations, and his wish was granted on November 9th 1943, when he was transferred to the Pathfinder Force at RAF Warboys. He was then posted to 109 Squadron in January 1944 and eventually went on, after his promotion to Squadron Leader, to win a Distinguished Flying Cross on June 30th 1944, while flying a Mosquito. Six months later, on December 23rd 1944, Palmer attacked Cologne, this time in a Lancaster, and won a posthumous Victoria Cross. He was buried at Rheinberg.

And here is the badge of 103 Squadron where my Dad, Fred Knifton, served. In his time they were stationed at Elsham Wolds in north Lincolnshire. There are lots of squadron badges at Hendon:

And here’s our final picture, a photograph of a piece of nose art, on the nose belonging to a captured Argentinian  FMA IA 58 Pucará.

And from closer up:

Well, I got “Fuerza Aerea Argentina”. I have no idea what “Rescate” means, though. Just look how the Argentinian pilot had a Scottish surname.

 

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Enigma 2

Last time we finished with a really strange episode from the book which was the story of Enigma, the German encrypting machine…..

A rather large and peculiar parcel had been sent in obvious error to Warsaw’s main Post Office.  Nobody knew what it was. Nobody had a clue. When the Great Gift was opened, though, it was found to be a military grade Enigma machine, brand new, state of the art, and, as yet, unused.

So what did Anton Palluth, the Head of the Cipher Bureau, do with it? Well, we found out last time that the Poles had worked out for themselves that World War One codebreakers would not be clever enough to crack the new type of codes  being introduced at the time, that is to say, the early 1930s. They found three whizz kid mathematicians, all with first class degrees, at the top universities in Poland and gave them the job. Their names were Marian Rejewski, Jery Rozycki and Henryk Zygalski. As leader, Anton Palluth picked the man that he thought was the cleverest and the one likeliest to defeat Enigma. It was Marian Rejewski.

Marian was also given a file which contained everything that the Poles had already discovered about Enigma machines, both commercial, and military. Anton asked him to work on their brand new Christmas present n his spare time. After a reasonable interval, Marian finally cracked it. He knew how Enigma worked.  He knew how to programme it and he knew how to read the messages. This feat was called in the book by author John Jackson….

“a breakthrough in cryptography on a global scale”.

Marian deciphered his first Wehrmacht communication in January 1933. I could not resist saying that the first message he found was….

“Come home Machine No 476. All is forgiven.”

Here’s another shot of Marian Rejewski. He must have saved millions of lives with what he had discovered, and we all owe him a debt of gratitude that we cannot begin to repay.

At a meeting with the British and the French in January 1939, it was obvious that the two western countries knew very little indeed about Enigma. They had more or less no ideas whatsoever about how it worked.

On that occasion, the Poles kept their mouths firmly shut, but, in July 1939 at a second meeting in Warsaw, as German forces prepared to invade their country, the Poles realised that they had to come clean and to tell the British and the French everything that they had found out. There was nothing for them to lose. In actual fact, the Poles knew an enormous amount about Enigma. By September 1st 1939, the day the Germans violated the frontier, the Poles had intercepted and decrypted so many Wehrmacht messages that they know the exact identities of some 98% of the German units involved…..

The British and the French, who included a Professor of Mathematics from Cambridge, were dumbfounded to find out that the Poles had cracked Enigma.

They were dumbfounded and then, quite simply embarrassed at their own stupidity, when they asked the Poles for one particular thing that had totally beaten their cryptographers for months, namely……

“How are the wirings inside the Entry Disc set up? We have made no progress whatsoever on this one!”

And the Poles replied:

  “Well, the wiring sequence is “A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I-J-K-L-

and so on ”.

These Polish secrets saved the British at least twelve months’ work on Enigma. This was because the first Enigma machine was not captured in Norway until May 1940. Until then, any progress whatsoever would have been impossible for the British and the French.

Later in the war, the three Poles, Marian Rejewski, Jery Rozycki and Henryk Zygalski, came to England to help with code breaking. They were never allowed to work at Bletchley Park. I cannot imagine why.

In October 1944, Marian Rejewski asked for the return of the Enigma machine they had given to the British in 1939. The British refused.

Marian also asked the British to share what they had discovered about German codes since 1939.  They refused that too.

Marian also asked that the British should share any intercepted material with the Poles so that they could decipher it and, presumably, help the war effort. This too was refused.

Conceivably, these slaps in the face were connected with the celebrations in London at the end of the war in 1946. The British Labour government failed to invite the Polish forces in exile who had fought under British High Command to participate in the Victory Parade which celebrated the end of the war in Europe. A number of MPs including Winston Churchill protested against the decision, which was described as an affront to the Polish war effort as well as an immoral concession to communist power, namely Stalin and the USSR.

The things we did to make jovial Joe Stalin feel better!! Here’s a bit of the celebrations:

 

There were no Soviet forces invited to participate either.

 

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My Dad’s cars (1)

My Dad, Fred’s, first car was a Connaught green Austin A40 Devon, registration number “LXJ 701” (“seven-nought-one”). This car had been acquired in the early 1950s with the help of his in-laws, as a bargain for the newlyweds. It had previously belonged to the owner of a cement factory near Manchester, and for this reason, it proved almost impossible ever to get a good shine on the vehicle, as the painted surface had absorbed such a huge quantity of cement dust through being parked all day long in the office car park at the works. Here is a car of the correct colour, although it has been modified for use as a taxi:

I really wish my Dad had bought an A40 of this revolting bright blue. And I’m an absolute sucker for white wall tyres:

Fred never seemed to use the car an enormous amount, but, like so many people during this era, we often went out for a drive as a family on a nice Sunday afternoon. I remember that on occasion we used to go out on trips towards Repton, but I cannot really recollect anywhere else that we went, although Fred assured me in later years that we had visited destinations as far afield as the church at Breedon-on-the-Hill, Calke, Staunton Harold and Swarkestone Bridge:

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The one thing I do recall about these trips, though, was parking the car one day in a sunlit grassy field, and leaving all the doors wide open to let in the fresh air. The car had rich brown all leather upholstery, sewn lengthways in distinctive style:

I must have been a very small boy indeed, when Fred had a crash in this car. We were out somewhere in the lanes around the village of Smisby, perhaps somewhere towards Pistern Hills, and I remember that at a T-junction, we failed to turn, but just drove straight on, ploughing into the bank below the hedge at the far side of the road. The Orange Arrow points at Pistern Hills where this accident may have taken place:

In the days before seat belts, I was projected forward, and the ignition key somehow smashed into my forehead between my eyes. I certainly was not taken to hospital with what in the 1950s was just a minor injury, but instead, I was transported to the nearest country cottage at the side of the road. All that I can recall now is sitting at a wooden table in an almost bare kitchen. A woman came in. She was wearing a white blouse and a voluminous long skirt. She was plump and reached up to the wooden shelf which ran all the way around the room, some six feet off the ground, because she had to stretch to reach the tin she was after. She passed it to me. It was a tin of biscuits and she let me eat a few. I do not remember any more. I still have the scar on my forehead.

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What would you do ? (18) The Solution

“What would you do ?” used to figure on the cover of a boys’ comic called “Boys’ World”. This was a publication, obviously, aimed at boys, and first appeared on January 26th 1963. There were 89 issues before the comic was merged with Eagle in 1964. The last issue of “Boys’ World” came out on October 3rd 1964.

I used to buy “Boys’ World”, and this was mainly for the front cover which always featured a kind of puzzle. It was called “What would you do ?” and was based on somebody being in what Ned Flanders would call “A dilly of a pickle”. Here’s the situation:

And the problem was:

The correct solution was always given inside the comic, in this case on page 2.  Here it is :

And just in case you wondered, here is the whole of pages 2 and 3 :

And what about the clue? Well, if you look very carefully at the front cover, there are large quantities of lemons hanging on the trees, both behind the Orange Box, and to the right of the sentry tower.

In actual fact, this is a rather strange clue to have. Hardly any German POW camps  were in locations where lemon trees grew. For example, the POW camps of Italy were staffed by Italian troops  until September 1943 when they surrendered. Many Allied prisoners took the opportunity to leave their camp and walk south to the Allied lines. The vast majority, though, obeyed their orders from London which said, basically,  “Sit tight and we will come and get you.” Within a couple of weeks, the Germans arrived and moved every single Allied prisoner to Germany, many of them as slave labour. Some of them finished up in a POW camp from where they had a grandstand view of the daily workings of the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camp. You can read all about this in “Spectator in Hell” by Colin Rushton. Many of these spectators were Nottingham men, captured when the Sherwood Foresters surrendered at Tobruk. In my researches, I discovered that one of them may have been John Arthur Finking, the son of a factory manager from 5 Selby Road in West Bridgford, and an Old Boy of Nottingham High School. John would be murdered by his captors as they marched all of their prisoners westwards to escape the Red Army in the snowy depths of the savage 1944-1945 winter.

Finally, there were no POW camps in the Balkans as far as I am aware or in Greece. This was because any escaper might well have been helped by the local people.

The main  criteria for the location of POW camps was (1) in Germany, surrounded by hostile civilians (2) if possible, on sandy or very light soil, so tunneling was difficult. This latter point was the reason that so many camps were located in what is now Poland, where the pine forests were gigantic, difficult to navigate in and devoid of any sympathetic locals, as those areas were then part of Germany. The soil was also extremely sandy. Finally, all of the POWcamps were as far to the east as possible, so that anybody who did escape had a very long walk to the west, and therefore a much greater chance of being spotted.

 

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What would you do ? (18) The Puzzle

I used to buy “Boys’ World”, and this was mainly for the front cover which always featured a kind of puzzle. It was called “What would you do ?” and was based on somebody being in what Ned Flanders would call “A dilly of a pickle”. Here’s the situation:

 

The Orange Box sets the scene, and the task is for you to solve the situation.

And let me add, the Orange Arrow is over-the-moon to see his eldest son, “Yob” or “Young Orange Box”, becoming involved in the world of blogging. Anyway, perhaps you might like to write your idea in the “Comments” section.

What can he do?? Good luck with this one ! It’s certainly a dilly of a pickle, although you are helped by a clue in the picture.

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