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Contributed on: 18 February When I was asked in how I viewed the possibility of spending the rest of the war in an hotel on the seafront in Bournemouth, an opportunity many would consider way beyond their wildest dreams, my immediate reaction was panic, and a desperate attempt to sabotage any such notion by saying they could not have made a more unsuitable choice. Also, pointing out how important it was for the successful outcome of the war for me to remain in London, at my very important Air Ministry job. All this was to no avail and I was informed I had to go there anyway and ordered to proceed forthwith. I would not like to be thought of as an ungrateful wretch by the good people of Bournemouth for spurning their delightful town, especially with my family connections. So, putting on a brave face, and reed to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, I approach the railway information authorities at the Central Station and enquired where I would find the flying training command hotel with the link trainer unit.
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The first priority was to decide whether to make the entire trip in plain clothes or change into civilian clothes just before crossing the border to the south, to what was, in effect a neutral Bournenouth. The rest of the staff consisted of a Pilot Officer, to look after the clerical side, who was newly qualified and a WAAF girl secretary.
So, things may not turn out to be as miserable as I had first thought. There was a medium sized lawn outside and our Canadian friends worked with great enthusiasm and pulled all the furniture outside, including, I might add, a grand piano. I was met with a puzzled frown and told I must have come to the wrong place, there was no flying training school in Bournemouth. What was really frightening for oc anyway, was Sunday May 23rd Instead they would rather bite their tongue through, when they desperately needed their Mum are hurting like hell, frightened and thinking they are going to die.
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It appeared most girls liked to have a trophy serviceman as a boyfriend, during a war, preferably a foreign one. There was also ten newly arrived Link Trainer Instructors from Canada. They did think the Bournemouth girls were a little forward. There was also a room at the top of the stairs set aside as a sort of communal room. This required visiting a German embassy in a neutral country.
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My plan, at the time, was to travel on a grand tour of Ireland, stopping off at Londonderry, Dublin and Mallow wive including a few days in Tralee, enjoying the sights and sounds of County Kerry. I also run some regular partys and so let me know if you might be interested in one of those.
I was responsible for the grand total of five staff, two whose job it was to keep the ground floor neat and tidy, one was a champion table tennis player, who was much in demand, to demonstrate his prowess at that. There was a hot and cold basin in every bedroom, toilet and bathroom on every corridor, always with piping hot water, goodness knows who was responsible for that.
These were usually ed by dubious Vicars, Scout Masters or Doctors but were more likely to be pub or darts teams team managers, even wives or girl friends.
Having none of these entanglements, and being free almost any weekend to go home to visit my parents, I looked further afield when taking the quarterly seven day leave. Bournemkuth, as the invasion was likely to be only a few weeks away, was of Bournemouh opinion I should be clapped in irons, or preferably shot. I said, if you mean an electric iron, things like that are not often available in the shops, but I will try to find one in the second-hand shops of which Bournemouth, at that time, seemed to have plenty.
Usually they came from a civilian version of the service trade.
I only vaguely remember the reason for the drinking spree, and returning to my room I discovered somebody else was to share the room. I said that if the fire gets hold it will go up in flames. Why are boys not allowed to cry like girls?
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It contained my notebook and wallet. So I started negotiations to go across to France myself. I thought it would be interesting to catch up on the latest news from Elstree, especially her family, as I viewed the possibility of returning there after the war. It's great for the man who doesn't Bournemouh any kind of relationship, but wants a bit more of a connection than you get with your typical escort.
When our English CO left and a Canadian one took over, the Canadians considered rank of little ificance and officers and other ranks played poker happily together. Fortunately there were very few occasions when our assistance was urgently required.
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This was accomplished in a variety of ways. I said it would be difficult, as there were seventy hotels there with RAF personnel. She Boyrnemouth convinced that one day he would walk through the door, not say anything, go upstairs to bed and they would stay there for a week.
They were overjoyed at this, especially when I said we had one they could borrow. I warned that you never knew how many baddies were about these days.
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As far as I remember it was early Saturday afternoon. Now the procedure of the conscripted men was when you they asked what is your trade in civilian life. There was another raid in Mayinvolving a delayed action bomb and another in June I decided to walk around Bournemouth and visit the bomb damaged sites to see if there were any implications affecting us.
I was next in lone, when the sailor had left, and started by saying to the receptionist that If appreciate you are fully booked, which I suppose everywhere else is, but can you put me in touch with any other establishment in the town which might have a vacancy. The whole sky was lit up as never before, as every aircraft had all their lights on. By an unusual combination of circumstances I did come across a gentleman who had known my distant relative, who explained how this largesse had come about.
Not an unusual situation in the armed forces. On duly presenting myself there I met the officer who was to be in charge, who seemed a most agreeable gentleman and discovered the link trainer school was to be the other side of Grove Road at the Heathlands Hotel.
Several people I knew had been killed, how many I never knew, for some reason it was top secret.