Yellow Belly - 3 (P) A.F.U., South Cerney - September 1942

Pilot's Flying Log Book September 1942

After two days leave, on 14th September 1942 my Grandfather, H.C. Kelsey, was posted to No. 3 (Pilot) Advanced Flying Unit (3(P)A.F.U.) at South Cerney, Gloucestershire. This posting would require the mastery of a tricky, twin-engined, aircraft called an Airspeed Oxford. And the new instructor putting him through his "sequence of instruction" paces, as noted in the "Duty" column, was F/Lt. Chance.

Airspeed Oxford with "trainer" paintwork

Furthermore, the posting would mean that he would no longer be an instructor, but instead return to training, in preparation for an operational posting. But did it also mean that my Grandparents would be split up after a year of fairly normal domestic bliss? I can't imagine that Flying Officers were given married quarters during the War. Perhaps my Grandmother had to go back to London and live with her parents? So a lot of changes all at once.

Flying in the Airspeed Oxford, or "Ox-box" as it was fondly known, with it's distinctive yellow-belly trainer markings, was eloquently recounted in his autobiography by F/Lt. Chance, or John Newton Chance as was his full name. He was a novelist who became a flying instructor during the War.

With novelists and pianists as well as poets and artists among the men rubbing shoulders with my Grandfather in the RAF, they must have had a huge influence on this young man's attitude to life. After all, my Grandfather was still only twenty one years old at this time. The War had forced together a very diverse and interesting group of people from all corners of the world and I think this is why that generation seems to have been "special".

So what was it like to fly an Airspeed Oxford? From what I have read, it seems that the first thought many trainee pilots had when first confronted with the large, complicated frightening monster called the Oxford was "I'll never manage THIS!" It certainly was a huge jump from a diminutive Tiger Moth, to the 53 feet 4 inches wingspan of the "Ox-box" with it's two large engines providing 750 horsepower, compared to the Tiger Moth's 130 horses. However, my Grandfather had the advantage of a great deal more flying time than the usual trainee, and knowing him , no doubt he would have been far more excited than frightened. He was a very self-confident man and would probably have started telling the flying instructor how to fly the plane within minutes of starting up!

These recruitment drawings make training in the Airspeed Oxford seem a cozy affair!

In terms of design, the Airspeed Oxford is the first aeroplane that my Grandfather flew which related more to the 2nd World War than to the 1st World War. It had a fully enclosed cockpit for a start, although apparently the glass panes often didn't fit well and a "bracing" breeze could be felt through the gaps! Secondly, the cockpit instruments were arranged well and easily seen, rather than just haphazardly bolted in as an afterthought. However, the "Ox-box" was regarded as tricky to fly well, and deliberately designed so. The theory being that if you could fly the Oxford, then you could fly pretty much any multi-engined aircraft, therefore making it ideal for training. It seems that it was on take-off that the Oxford could have a mind of it's own, as a wartime trainee at 3(P)A.F.U called Stephen Johnson recalls in a blog called Ken Fenton's War;

"After our Tiger Moths, the Oxford seemed a very powerful machine. You had to learn to control the swing on take-off by opening one engine or the other a little more. I had managed to go solo in an Oxford after about two and a half hours dual and felt quite confident about it. We were thrilled by our Oxford’s power when we first started flying them, as they went much faster than Tiger Moths and had all sorts of new gadgets, like retractable wheels which usually went up and down when you pressed a lever and flaps which did likewise."

He continues, 

"There was no electrical intercommunication in Oxfords or Tiger Moths in those days. We used a system akin to those tubes you find in the walls of very old houses. Down these you had to blow at first and this blew a whistle incorporated in a plug at the far end; this in turn summoned a minion from some distant basement. In an Oxford you had a flexible mouthpiece which you tucked into the front of your parachute harness; the other end was plugged into the pupil’s helmet. If you blew into it it made his eardrums pop. This was seldom necessary however as pupils were unlikely to go to sleep while flying.’ 

Another trainee at the time, called Peter Mayhew recounts in this same blog another quirk of the Oxford,

"The Oxford was a good deal more exciting to fly having one or two vices, such as dropping a wing when you stalled it. A week or so after going solo we did our first night flying."

As usual, these men are very understated about the difficulties they experienced in mastering the foibles of the Oxford. In fact stalling an Airspeed Oxford, which, as we know, was part of the training schedule ( See my earlier blog here), was rather hit or miss. Some would stall "straight", whilst others would have a pronounced wing drop, but you would never know for sure which one, so counteracting this before the aircraft started "spinning" required a good deal of pilot skill. Nobody could say flying the Oxford was a "piece of cake", it behaved itself when handled well but tended to bite fools!

Airspeed Oxfords at South Cerney 1942

So with the added difficulties of flying this aircraft, the usual British weather and the relatively busy skies around the airfield, not to mention the fairly frequent raids by the Luftwaffe, the casualties and deaths of young RAF personnel were a serious concern. The average percentage of deaths whilst training was 3%, but this does not include serious, life changing injuries. In the book "Bombing Hitler: One man's war with Bomber Command", T.I. Steel's Grandfather Bernard Steel, was one of the trainers at 3 (P)A.F.U in 1941/2. This passage tells us of his last day at South Cerney;

"As it turned out Bernard's last day at 3 (P) A.F.U. would be 17th October 1942 as he would take a week's well deserved rest before joining his new unit. His final pupil at South Cerney was a Sergeant Heath who, after a fifty minute flight, helped take Bernard's flying time to 832 hours and thirty minutes. Unfortunately October was unable to give the unit a fatal free month. The last man to be killed in a flying accident at 3 (P)A.F.U. while Bernard served there was Sergeant S.F. Smith, who was killed in Oxford AP401 after losing control during a night-time overshoot at Bibury relief landing ground. The aircraft was destroyed by fire after crashing. He was the thirtieth young airman to die at 3 (P) A.F.U. during Bernard's year at South Cerney."

I'm just trying to imagine what it would be like if just one person died where I worked, let alone 30 in one year! And this without getting anywhere near the enemy, just during training. Thirty deaths at just one unit in just one year through occupational accidents... how did they handle this pressure? I know that F/Lt. Chance eventually snapped and had to be invalided out of the service in February 1944.

Airspeed Oxford "Trainer" at Duxford

What of the War in general at this time? Stalingrad is now completely surrounded by the Wehrmacht. Food supplies to the civilians are dwindling and the people are starving to death, with some reports of cannibalism. The fighting is becoming bogged down in house to house attacks, and the casualties on both sides are horrendous. One of the worst battle sites was at Mamayev Kurgan, a strategic high point overlooking the City centre. Originally captured briskly by the Germans on 13th September 1942, the very next day it was the site of a huge Soviet counter-attack from 13th Guards Rifle Division. By September 16th, the Russians had recaptured the hill, but the cost was almost all of the 10,000 Soviet troops who had attacked two days previously. 

BBC The World at War Episode 9 - Stalingrad