RAF Sopley: History from 1941 to 1945 During WW2
I was recently given a document that was researched and written by Pat (Patricia) Sparks in 1990. Pat was a WAAF serving at RAF Sopley in Hampshire during the Second World War. RAF Sopley was a WW2 radar station codenamed Starlight which opened in 1940. It eventually closed as a station in 1974, having become an air traffic control radar station during the post-war period.
You can read Pat Spark’s written history of RAF Sopley below. It covers just the period that she was a serving WAAF (Women’s Auxiliary Air Force) during WW2, and not the post-war period. It’s a fantastic account.
I hope you enjoy it.
Foreword from John Cunningham & Roderick Chisholm in July 1990
RAF Sopley made it possible for the 604 Squadron night fighters from Middle Wallop to intercept the German night bombers.
Those of us who operated from Middle Wallop look back with pride and pleasure to the success achieved by Sopley in leading the way in the control of night fighters and enabling the night fighters to achieve their very considerable number of successful interceptions in the early part of 1941.
John Cunningham DSO, DEC
Harpenden, Hertfordshire.
A memory of Sopley
I was abroad when the war started and extraction from there and my return to the squadron demanded a course at Flight Training School (FTS), South Cerney; thus it was in July 1940 that I eventually rejoined 604.
Mike, the C.O., explained that there was a shortage of aircraft for the fitting of what he described as ‘Magic Mirrors’. This meant little to me such was the novelty of an operational squadron; much was new and strange, and deadly serious.
Then came the move from Northolt to Gravesend and Middle Wallop. I graduated uncertainly to flying patrols in the Blenheim, following patrol lines, seen or imaginary, haunted a bit by how to get home and wondering about the usefulness of all this particular tightrope walking.
The Blenheims were superseded by the Beaufighters and there were other startling changes. After take-off, a change of frequency introduced another voice; it had conviction. We became part of a plan instead of a symbol on the Sector Operations board. The new voice told us of the whereabouts of the ‘bandit’ and, coincidental with a greater familiarity with the dark, we saw our part in the plan – a long, long way from the anxious blunderings in Blenheims.
It was not always that the manoeuvres requested by the new voice achieved our arrival in the Hun’s proximity and, in fact, sometimes there was a hopeless chase. Once, I recall exhortation from the voice for more speed was answered by a frustrated pilot with “OK I’ll get out and push”. However, the ‘Magic Mirror’ experience on the ground and in the air compounded and the tally of Huns destroyed rose to near lethal heights.
Roderick Chisholm, Air Commadore, C.B.E., D.S.O., D.P.C.
Alresford, Hampshire.
Acknowledgements by Pat Sparks in September, 1990.
My grateful thanks are extended to so many people who have helped produce this booklet:
To Myrtle Bygrave, Brindley Boon, Denis Steet and Fred Bowler and many more who were at Sopley, and to Geoffrey Larkby for recalling Christmas 1940 and the setting up of Sopley.
To Curtis Brown, and to Peters, Fraser and Dunlop for their permission to quote from ‘Night Fighter’, and to Jeremy Howard-Williams, Norman Cordingly and Sam Morris for their permission to quote from their books.
To Major Michael Hickey (Retired) of the Museum, Middle Wallop, for permission to use the photograph of John Cunningham and King George VI, and to Keith Geddes for the early photography of Sopley.
Also, thanks to Roy Davis for the cartoon used throughout the reunion of 1990.
Last, but not least, my thanks to my daughter for so painstakingly typing my script.
Pat Sparks
September 1990.
I would like to dedicate this booklet to all those who served at RAF Sopley, 1941 to 1945
Chapter 1: Technicalities
Geoffrey Larkby was commissioned on 12 December 1940 when the Air Ministry requested the help of two engineers from the BBC. He was a member of a small team of engineers stationed in London to keep the BBC going throughout the Blitz, and reported together with another colleague, R.E. Young.
They were sent to H.Q. 60 Group at Leighton Buzzard and were assigned to Section TM2A, who were responsible for Chain Home Low (CHL) Stations. They were given a day’s lectures on radar, by Group Captain Wilson, Chief Engineer of the Group, then told to report to a unit called Air Defence Research and Development Establishment (ADRDE) at Christchurch, Hampshire.
There with the help of civilian engineers from Malvern and Farnborough, they assembled the first ground-controlled interception (GCI) unit.
The basis was two army gun laying (GL) trackers fitted with 12 foot 4-bay 4-stack aerials.
One array was fed by a transmitter mounted on an RAF heavy lorry, this transmitter being a pulsed oscillator, i.e. two VT98 valves. The other aerial fed into the Ops wagon (a similar heavy RAF vehicle). The receiver fed a range display and a PPI display. The height finding facilities were rather hazy at that the split aerial technique had not been developed. The synchronizing of the two aerials was carried out using a simple Wheatstone bridge circuit, feeding two meters, one in each vehicle, one aerial being the master and the other the slave (the slave always trying to zero his meter). The aerials were turned by ‘Binders’ sitting in the cabins, pedalling to nowhere, as described in a later chapter.
On completion of the equipment at Christchurch F/O Larkby was given a grid reference of a site at Sopley and was accompanied by the first of his crew. PC Knight met them near Sopley to give assistance with the convoy, and as they approached the site, which was a desolate field, one member of the crew enquired about billets.
Such administrative details had not been discussed with the technical officers, but the village policeman soon arranged for the men to be settled in local houses.
“We set up the convoy in the optimum layout and did our best to get power going” states Geoff. Night fell and with it the problem of guards, as this was perhaps the most secret equipment in England at that time. The Home Guard was turned out for the night, and AC Bowler remembers arriving with ‘Shorty’ Naylor and remaining on guard duty that first night with one pistol between them.
Soon the station received crews, controllers and airmen, and calibration runs were started. F/O Best took over the station and the story of Sopley is carried on by those who were posted there in the 1941 era and afterwards. F/O Young was posted to Wartling and F/O Larkby went to Sandwich, where their future work covered many GCI stations, updating them as time passed, before experimental work with FDT (a form of GCI on board ships) which was to prove so useful in 1944.
That was the beginning of radar and interception of enemy planes.
Chapter 2: First Arrivals
Brindley Boon was posted to Sopley at Christmas, 1940, from Foreness CHL, together with Corporal Billy Pratley. At almost midnight they drew up outside the massive iron gates of a location they were to come to know as Sopley Park. The village policeman was expecting them and took them to the local inn, The Woolpack. Andrew Lane was not only the village innkeeper, but Churchwarden, bellringer and welcoming party to all who eventually went to RAF Sopley, together with his wife.
After borrowing a wheel barrow to convey their kitbags, they were taken to meet Charles and Annie Button, with whom they were to be billeted. They ran a small farm and Charlie delivered milk to outlying areas while his wife fed and watered the cattle, fed the poultry and other stock. Chickens had to be shooed off the kitchen table before a meal could be served. The cottage was very cold due to a general shortage of fuel and Annie went around the house singing “someday my coal will come” to the tune in ‘Snow White’.
Dennis Skeet was posted about the same time, frow Newquay, where his wife of a few weeks was also living. Conditions were primitive as he shared a bed at Sopley with a fellow AC2 in a country cottage with an earth privvy in the back garden, but they received a warm welcome from their landlady.
Brindley and his now wife were later billeted with Lord and Lady Manners’ butler and his wife Walter and Ciss Kitley at South Lodge, Avon Tyrrell. Tyrrells Ford was the wartime home of the Manners after they handed over their big house, Avon Tyrrell, to the military. A very fitting place for our reunion in 1990.
Myrtle Bygrave was housed in Wiltshire Lodge with the early WAAF posted to Sopley. The first group to arrive found the site extremely disconcerting as they had previously been stationed at big Ops Rooms throughout England. At this “ghastly new place” there was a very small number of people, no amenities, Sergeants Bowler and Skeet to tell them what to do, and last, but not least, the three watch system was very hard to operate. However, they quickly came to be very happily part of the system and eventually became the basis of the much larger group there.
When Brindley first arrived, there were eight airmen and four WAAF, but when he left in 1944 the operational strength was 144. Initially there were six to a watch. Later there were over 40 personell to each of three watches. There was always the three-watch system which was the hardest of all watchkeeping to operate. We would start work at 8am and leave at 1pm, returning for night duty at 11pm, through to 8am the next morning. A few hours’ sleep then on duty again 5 to 11pm, and then the third duty was from 1 until 5pm. So only one night off in three, with 36 hours pass every nine or twelve days. Leave was something we hardly dared to think about but just accepted when told we could go.
Sopley was a small, free and easy unit from first to last. In the beginning there were no parades (not even for pay or to the M.O.) As the station grew in number we did attend church parades on occasions, sitting in the north nave of Sopley Church and listened to the service given by the Rev. Charles Kirkham. Sick parade meant a cycle ride to Hurn and back so one was either sick enough to need the M.C. or too sick to bother! One such visit to Hurn was made in the pouring rain and the WAAF concerned became aware of a Jeep overtaking her with a sign ‘follow me’. She obeyed and on dismounting was taken to the control tower to be told she had been cycling along the main runway.
There were RAF Police on the station but apart from guarding the main gate (and Jack Hardy shouting at me to put my on) they were not worked very hard. Doug Watling entertained us for many hours with his harmonica, and he also wrote poetry – one such poem I still have today. One letter I received was from a man living in Ripley at our time and his family billeted a RAF policeman. He often had to chase the boy from the field housing our equipment, sometimes ever late at night. Even more so after the Americans arrived with their candies and gum, I suspect.
Discipline was very relaxed – haircuts were at the discretion of the individual and when Leslie Wise went on a course, he was asked where his violin was. As long as the WAAF rolled their hair off the collar for inspections, regulations were disregarded. In the latter days – when we had a ‘Queen Bee’ – this was tightened somewhat, but on the whole life was not very strict. Besides, only the operations personnel could enter the Ops Block, so the administrative officers were not considered very important, to our way of thinking.
As Sopley was the first GCI unit, there were many visitors. It soon became the eighth wonder of the world and everyone who was anyone came down to be entertained by the fascinating new toy. Churchill, Attlee and other Cabinet Ministers, war lords and foreign diplomats came, as well as service chiefs and military brass hats. Churchill was not in favour radar and much preferred LAM (or MUTTON as it was coded). This was a system whereby aircraft dropped mines connected to piano wires, in the stream of enemy bombers. The theory was that the hostile planes would get entangled in the wires and blow themselves up with the mine, but it never worked and was soon abandoned – as “dead as mutton in fact”.
Attlee came one evening and was glad to get away as soon as possible. A PPI was so utterly beyond anything that Eton could have taught him that he was simply bewildered.
Therefore, it could not serve any useful purpose – it was a perplexing toy, I must admit.
Those early days were a period of carefree routine – if indeed there was a routine, as Sopley Mark I was a small caravan which could easily be towed, even by a Mini. This caravan housed a couple of plan position indicators (PPIs) and had sufficient room for three people to plot and phone. There was also a Dennis truck which housed the usual primitive paraphernalia associated with radar screens and further into the field was the aerial which rather resembled a flattened bird cage. Inside the cabin at the base of the aerial sat two airmen – the Binders – who pedalled a contraption like a tandem but. going nowhere. This was the method used to turn the aerial and was controlled by the CO at the touch of a button, being stopped, reversed or sent in whatever direction the controller wished. In order to keep a complete coverage of the sky the aerial had to keep sweeping, but the erks inside did not even have the pleasure of seeing a blip. Some years later this was operated by power rather than manpower.
The whole area was patrolled by military or RAF Regiment, who taught the radar personnel to use firearms. This was in fact put into some operation after the raid on the German station at Bruneval in February 1942, when Wing Commander Charles Pickard led a force of airborne radar personnel to capture vital equipment from the Germans. Sopley was one of the stations considered to be a target for reprisal raids and Fred Bowler kept a pocket full of ammunition handy, just in case. No raid ever did take place though.
Sopley Mark II was known as the ‘Intermediate’ – a hutted mobile really. It was fitted with increased power and range; the PPIs were improved, and the height system grew better, as the operators improved with practice and technology.
Then came the Final – or ‘Happidrome’ as it was known. This was a permanent building designed for the purpose, with cabins for interception purposes, proper height-reading areas, and room housing a table showing the whole area covered, which was divided into grid squares. Plotters placed their metal arrows as directed, according to the colour-change clock. Details of the raids and flights were put up on a large screen, called the Tote, and plots were told back to Filter. Overlooking all this was the Controller’s Cabin, from where he had a complete view of the state of operations. A weather forecast was written up on a board, changing as frequently as necessary.
By this time, 1942, the equipment had improved, and the knowledge gained by ground staff and aircrews had been consolidated. The Intermediate was disbanded, and the site really became a permanent feature, complete with outside and inside guardrooms, restrooms, canteen and controller’s rest room. Tucked away amongst all this was a private branch exchange (PBX) room and an Apparatus Room with complete telecommunications. The long corridors were polished daily and buffered by the WAAF on duty, as no other personnel was allowed inside the Ops Block of course. I remember a notice posted up after a visit by ACM Sir Philip Joubert which stated, “When the tie comes to tell the story, Sopley will go out in a blaze of glory”.
Whether he meant the efficiency of the operations or the shine the corridors, I do not know.
Chapter 3: Work
The work of a GCI station was, of course, to ‘control’ the fighters from the ground until they had contact on their own AI and therefore bring about an interception with the enemy plane.
Sopley had many COs and even more controllers. The first was F/O Best a youthful looking Yorkshireman who was disrespectfully called ‘the boy’. Then came John Brown who really takes up another chapter. John McGrath was his s assistant and later took over command, having as his assistant Keith Geddes. Keith ‘Pop’ also became our CO and was then followed by John Seldon.
Keith Geddes was firstly a pilot with 604 Squadron and his record with them was four destroyed and one damaged between March and July 1941, controlled by John Brown from Sopley. Keith was posted to Sopley in December 1941 as F/Lt, where he stayed until April 1943 before going to Bolt Head and Treleaven. He returned to Sopley in December 1943 as CO, and was succeeded by John Seldon in March 1944 on his posting to H.Q. Fighter Command.
Keith Falkner was a well-known singer and was posted to Sopley as a trainee controller. Somehow Brindley could never entice him to display his vocal talents in any of the amateur shows. Keith Falkner was knighted in 1967 and became director of the Royal College of Music.
Another distinguished pilot who became a controller at Sopley was Ada Vrana, who flew with 312 Czech Squadron in the Battle of Britain. He had escaped from his homeland via the French Air Force, through Poland and flew a Curtis P36 to North Africa and finally to Casablanca before sailing to join the RAF in time to participate in flying Hurricanes, his first scramble on 16th July 1940.
There were many others, of course, too numerous to mention, but all served with distinction and were part of the general life on camp.
Already described are the technical details of radar, but it was something none of us really understood even in 1945, if we are to be honest. I do, however, include the comments of one prominent NCO of that time:
“The technical staff lived in a world of their own. For them these lovely condensers and resistors and wires leading in all directions were private toys. They almost never related the equipment to any operational purpose. It was simply heaven to play technical games, devising new bits, researching ideas, often just perfectly happily amusing themselves but getting nowhere. The result was that not infrequency they would ring through to say they were going off the air just as an important operational job was imminent; the must test transformer C3; the output was down on the reserve transmitter, or they had a bright idea for improving the sig/noise ratio. The friction between the officers in charge of these two halves of the station itself generated a high voltage. But we still won the war.”
Of course, Sopley worked with many Squadrons other than 604. Middle Wallop was our sector, but other satellite stations were very operational in the early days of 1941 to 1942. The first ‘kill’ was on 4th March 1941, although ‘damaged’ had been claimed before that date. In total Sopley GCI Station was responsible for over 100 enemy planes shot down between 1941 and 1945. 604 Squadron was the first squadron to be responsible for over 60 enemy aircraft, through Sopley and John Brown.
406 Canadian Squadron, 465, 151, and 125 Squadrons all worked with Sopley and had good records, some operating from Hurn.
We were mainly operational for night fighter control but were not idle during daytime. Our radar did not distinguish between night and day by any means. From first light each morning until, perhaps, a stand-off for crews on ‘duff’ evenings, the tubes were manned, and the plotters carried out their duties of placing arrows on the table. Even on duff nights, a skeleton crew manned all stations. Air-sea rescue work was carried out and many nights were spent with planes stooging up and down the Channel looking for crews who had ditched in the sea. Or perhaps aircraft in difficulties on their return from bombing raids might need help. Our work might have been tedious at times, but we never felt that it was waste of time.
Aircrews came and went but most tried to visit Sopley to see how we worked and to associate a voice with a face. We were all there to do the same thing so why didn’t we meet up? We listened to them on the R/T and could put a face to a distorted voice, and at the same time knew what a friend was doing at that time. We girls all learned RAF jargon and overcame our blushes at some of the things on R/T. Many of pilots we worked with became famous as did John Cunningham, Keith Geddes and people like Per Bugge (who caused consternation in the WAAF ops in pronouncing his name). Jeremy Howard-Williams and Jimmy Rawnslay became famous after the war when they wrote books, but did mention Sopley or ‘Starlight’ in those tributes to us. Wing Commander Norman Cordingly describes a visit to the Ops room on 13 March 1941, just after our first ‘kill’, as:
“I met the controller and the staff on duty in the darkened room. There was very little space for most of the area was occupied by a large circular cathode ray tube, almost the size of a conventional TV screen today. I was glad I. had chosen that evening to visit the GCI as it turned out to be a gala night. That was the night Rory Chisholm shot down two Heinkels.”
The NCO triumvirate of Bowler, Skeet, and Boon flourished and the WAAF passed through trade tests from ACWII, ACWI, to LACW with bated breath. Sometimes a face was missing have been promoted, or had been granted a commission, but life in general went on undisturbed at Sopley – it seemed to some of us that once you were posted there you were there for the duration. Until after D-Day when we were left with practically no work and postings began in earnest. Our aircraft had been sent to France once the breakthrough had been established there and the work of a GCI was being done from mobile units or FDTs. I was one of the first to be posted and I think I was glad to go early, as I would not have liked to see my friends disappear one by one or two by two. I did return to Sopley in the Spring. 1945, after I was married, and my husband was still there with the mobile unit, but most of my friends had gone and the station seemed dead.
However, there was to be life after all.
Chapter 4: The Shop That Brown Built
Squadron Leader John Lawrence Brown was the Controller of RAP Sopley in 1941. He was pilot himself and could discuss problems experienced by the pilots of our fighter planes. He suggested that members of the squadron should visit Sopley and discover for themselves how a GCI unit worked. Small parties came down to Sopley on their stand-off nights and, as described in ‘Night Fighter’:
“It was not all easy to find and when we did get there it was not a very impressive sight. There were a few wooden huts, with some lorries scattered about, a caravan draped in a tarpaulin and a strange contraption which was the aerial slowing revolving on its base. Inside the cabin we found Brownie seated before the control panel which looked something like a desk, and grouped around him were several airmen and airwomen, all muffled up against the cold and all concentrating on their various duties. A second glance revealed that there were apparently more airwomen than airmen and that they were an unusually attractive lot of girls, good looking and alert.”
The beauty chorus was soon forgotten, however, when Brownie explained the workings of unit, as he went carefully over everything. It was reassuring to the aircrews that their guidance was in such safe hands, too.
In the centre or the control desk there was a large cathode ray tube on which had been painted the coastline of our area. On the tube all aircraft coming within range of the station produced a small blip which marked their position on the map. A GCI unit was able to use a larger aerial, and a more powerful radar set than could be carried in an aircraft, of course, and could thus see for a considerable distance.
The crew were giving readings in brisk tunes to the others at the far end of the caravan, who turn were plotting the tracks of the aircraft, juggling nimbly with navigation computers and working out courses and speeds. Other crew members sat in front of another cathode ray tube working out the height of the aircraft. The whole operation ran smoothly and quietly, with an absence of fuss and confusion.
The visiting pilots witnessed a practice interception between two of their own planes until, under the control of Sopley, the two were brought together – shown by the two blips on the tube. Then it was: “O.K. Starlight. Contact. Thank you.”
The Controller could identify friendly aircraft by asking the pilot to “make your cockerel crow”. This was an instruction for the Identification Friend or Foe (IFF) equipment to be activated so that the echo given was temporarily enlarged on the tubes.
There were limitations which Sopley faced, such as low flying aircraft which were hard to track, and high ground and other obstacles had a masking effect similar to the swamping experienced by the operators of AI and the ground returns. From their visits to the station, the aircrews understood why sometimes found themselves in front of the target instead of behind it!
By the Spring of 1941, Sopley could not serve the customers fast enough and another radar beacon was set up near the GCI to act as a holding point so that the pilots could keep themselves in position until wanted. ‘Starlight’ always had one fighter on patrol and Sector ordered further aircraft to fly to the holding beacon and wait for their call. As soon as the first fighter was brought contact the GCI had to call up the next in line from the ‘taxi rank’, and so keep the flow going.
“John Brown left Sopley early in 1942 and was busy in North Africa organising the running of GCI stations all along the coast of Tunisia. From there he continued with the invasion of Sicily and then on to Italy. The solid magnificence comforts of the new, static GCI stations were not for him; he had to be in the van, delighting in the hurly-burly of front-line improvisations. He died fighting with the troops within the dwindling perimeter of that tragic landing at Arnhem, with his last creation a complete GCI for transportation by air. His airborne caravan was scattered, and he did not even have the chance to set up his latest shop”.
(Quoted by permission from ‘Night Fighter.)
Chapter 5: By Royal Command
On 7th May 1941 King George VI visited Middle Wallop, where everyone and everything had been polished to perfection. The aircrews were paraded for inspection, but it was towards the time of day to be ready for enemy bombers and they all waited anxiously with an eye on the light and the clock as dusk crept up and Sopley patrol was due.
The King and his entourage arrived, after dining in the Mess. He was accompanied by the AOC, Fighter Command, Air Marshall Sir Sholto Douglas. The King stopped and spoke to a few of the pilots then reached the Operators: he asked why they were not wearing flying badges, and then there was then a new trade born and a new badge commissioned.
His Majesty continued down the line and eventually came to Jimmy Rawnsley and asked him what his score was. “Er, nine, Sir” was the reply. “Well, will you get another one tonight for me?” asked the King. “I’ll do my best Sir” replied Rawnsley.
The Royal Party then left Middle Wallop and were driven to Sopley, stopping at ‘The New Queen’ pub for refreshments. Fred Bowler’s fiancée was staying at the inn at that time and was astonished at the activity in the forecourt when the King arrived.
In the dimness of the caravan at Sopley the visitors stood looking over Brownie’s shoulder at the glowing tubes of the PPI. The time-trace swept around the face of the tube in a remorseless, hypnotic rhythm. Each sweep of the aerial meant the two blobs of light, enemy and friendly, came closer together. That night Brindley Boon was busy tracking calculating the airspeeds of both planes, when the King was given a seat next to him, a curtain separating the two.
“Imagine my state of panic when, right in the middle of the chase across the southern skies, the curtain was drawn aside and a deep, guttural, voice asked: ‘And what are you doing?’ Brindley sprang to attention and sent his chinagraph crayon hurtling to the floor and replied: ‘Plotting, Your Majesty’, as if he was about to plant a bomb under the throne. ‘Oh, are you’ commented the King as he stooped down in the darkness and retrieved the crayon, which he calmly restored to a ledge on the plotting table.”
The ceremony had already started before the King arrived at Sopley, but the enemy was well out at sea and Brownie had plenty of time to arrange the meeting to suit the occasion. He suggested the visitors might like to view from outside as the aerial battle was then overhead. They left the caravan and went into the cold moonlight. The sound of aircraft was soon heard, and the unsuspecting Heinkel was stooging around.
As described in ‘Night Fighter’:
‘The Heinkel was ahead, and we were below our target. John Cunningham started pulling up behind it and the long wait was even more agonizing than usual. But the enemy crew showed no reaction – we were right behind. Then came the moment of tension with the sharp little lurches as John brought the sight to bear. Still no response from the enemy. Then came blessed relief of the crash of guns and the sudden surge upwards to get out of the way of the hurtling wreckage. A wicket orange glow appeared inside the fuselage of the Heinkel and the wheels fell down in the most forlorn way. As we flew alongside, watching, the glow burst through the skin and flames took over. The whole aircraft trembled and broke into a violent pitching, with a plume of flames screaming out behind, it went down in a headlong plunge to earth.”
The show was over, and the Command Performance had finished.
When the aircrew got back after midnight, they had a call from Brown to report that His Majesty had witnessed the combat and seen the burning Heinkel fall from the sky. It was indeed a night to remember by all concerned – on the ground or in the air.
John Brown was awarded the MBE later that year.
Chapter 6: Invasion
One time we did feel we were doing something really useful was on the night of 5th into 6th June 1944 – D-Day. ‘C’ Watch was on duty and our CO had visited the billet during the afternoon to inform us that were all CB – those who were in could not go out and anyone who returned also had to stay in. We were also to go on duty an hour before our normal time which he later explained was to ensure that the off-going watch did not see the unusual amount of activity on the boards. From the very first of that night-watch we were very, very busy.
The invasion troops started out about the same time as we went on duty and soon the Channel was filled with models of ships, plus the usual plaques aircraft definitions. There were some 7,000 ships, from battleships to small transporters and landing craft, and also 13,000 aircraft taking part that night and 200,000 men were out there in the Channel in ships and planes. We all had friends who would there and when we had a minute to think we prayed for all of them. No-one had much time for more than the merest necessary relief that night and at dawn the CO allowed us to go on the roof for a glimpse of the gun flashes – perhaps from HMS Belfast?
It was a horrible sight though.
Blessed relief came at 8 a.m. when we handed over to the next Watch and we were taken back to our billet. We did not bother with more than a cup of tea for breakfast as bed was very enticing. At noon the cooks woke us to tell us the good news of the invasion, which had just been announced on the BBC News. Didn’t we know about that already, though? They did not know what work we did, of course.
We were back on duty at 5 p.m. and still busy. We were all still keen for work as for once it really meant something to us all. We were very tired as we returned to our beds at 11 p.m. but duty called again at 1p.m. next day, 7th June. Was it in fact only 36 hours since that invasion?
On that watch we were given the same letter that Eisenhower had handed to the troops taking part in the action that day – 6th June. I believe that only ‘C’ Watch received this letter for our part on the actual night. I still l have my copy, autographed on the back by the people on duty and it is now a very dog-eared piece of paper, after my children and grandchildren have displayed it at anniversaries to their schools. It is a very treasured possession because it was not something just handed out with the rations, but one had actually to take part in the invasion to earn it. In 1989 I attended the service in Bayeux Cathedral when the Queen Mother unveiled the memorial window and I felt that, if even for that one day alone, I had served a purpose with my time in the WAAF.
Of course, after June 1944 our services were required less and less, as the squadrons were sent to France and defence of our own coasts became less imperative. We had little work to do and in February 1945 the first of us was posted away, soon followed by the majority. So ended Sopley – or did it? Like the Phoenix did it rise again?
Chapter 7: Down But Certainly Not Out
In 1945, after the invasion of Europe and the advance of allied forces through France and Belgium, the work of the radar stations along the coasts of Britain was falling. We had a few raids with ‘Divers’ (or Doodlebugs as the media named them) but few travelled as far as our Sector. In February 1945 the first WAAF were posted from Sopley to Inverness, shortly followed by most of the others to Watnall. Our work on GCI units was finished.
Throughout the south at least the work of radar and Clerks SD was over – we had served our purpose but now were redundant. I was posted to Inverness and then transferred to Stanmore. While there, the main work was to solve the crosswords in The Times and Telegraph each day on duty and do a course in dressmaking – supposedly fitting us out for civilian life. Passes were a thing of the past, as we were only an 8d train ride to London and dashed off as soon as watch was over for us. There we could try for free tickets to shows, listen to concerts or do whatever we wished, and be back in billets in time for the everlasting 23.59.
Discharges were started and the married women were gathered together early release. Some WAAF remustered to other trades but life after radar on a GCI must have been rather boring in my opinion.
However, civvy days soon took over from the uniform we were used to, and we tried to settle down to a life which had been interrupted by the war – to a life some of us had never known in fact. It was not easy, and housing was our biggest problem. Those of us who were married found it difficult to find accommodation and set up house with only utility or second-hand furniture. Gradually, as children came along, we put the past behind us and concentrated on another life. We had all changed a great deal during our service life and our outlook on life was very different from that which we had experienced before 1939.
Sopley however was still going on even after a break, and although the end of the war its role was confined to care and maintenance, it was soon in full swing again, playing a vital role in a defence chain. Excavations involved in these later developments ran into serious trouble, but eventually new Sopley was built on the original site of the first mobile.
So, after the first site, then the intermediate and finally the ‘Happidrome’, Sopley became a permanent building – but not a GCI. It was a huge underground complex which finally emerged in 1954 – filled with the most advanced electronic tracking and plotting equipment available. It eventually emerged as a radar based training school.
For air traffic controllers. In 1972, another unit moved to Shawbury to become the area radar training squadron of the School of Air Traffic Control, and on 27th September 1974, Sopley was finally closed down. It had taken part in the trials of Concorde after all the work done in protecting south coast against enemy bombers and the invasion of Europe, but the fly pass of a Spitfire and Concorde had to be cancelled because of bad weather.
The admin site remained empty for a short time and there were many rumours as to its future use. In 1976 it was used by the Household Cavalry for annual training, which included show- jumping, tent-pegging, sword lance and other equestrian sports. Then in 1980 a sign appeared at the gates of the camp – TRUNG TAM TIEP NEAN SOPLEY which meant ‘Reception Camp Sopley’. The camp had become a reception area for the boat people of Vietnam.
There were 115 families (600 people) from many walks of l i f e who lived on the camp. Farmers, tailors, doctors, potters, boat builders and many other skilled people from different trades all came to Sopley. When these people were invited to assemble on the tennis courts they were reluctant to do so because the netting surrounding the courts reminded them of the cages they had left behind in their homeland.
A letter from Veronica Handscombe, who was a nurse on the camp, states:
“From January 1980 until December 1982 the boat people lived in the RAF huts, ate in the mess and the food was prepared by Vietnamese in the kitchens. I worked in the medical centre treating the chest cases (many of them). Initially the wards were used and quite full with babies, cots, toys etc, all donated by the Red Cross. There was a dedicated band of nurses, field workers, social workers, interpreters etc, but it was a very tiring and demanding job, especially with the language difficulties.”
In late 1982 the Vietnamese were rehoused in London and other areas, so RAF Sopley was quiet again, apart from the cadets using the cinema and a room for meetings.
Now the camp is deserted, and meetings and discussions are taking place to plan its future. The RAF Ensign remains in the North Nave of the Church where we attended church parade; the only reminder that we were ever there, really. As Kipling wrote:
‘Now there is nothing, not even our rank, to show what we have been…’
However, we were obviously not too primitive in our equipment for in 1990 the £248m ICSS System will be ten years late in linking radar systems, fighter, surface-to-air missiles and air command centres. In the meantime, RAF relies on hardware designed in the 1950s!
Chapter 8: Entertainments
Brindley Boom as was mainly responsible for the entertainments at Sopley. Another pioneer was a radio-telephone operator, Bill Lyon-Shaw. In Civvy Street he had been a theatrical producer and involved in West End shows, namely ‘Soft Lights and Sweet Music’ and its sequel, ‘Softer Lights and Sweeter Music’. As these shows were still running in various parts of the country at that time, Bill was the regular recipient of his share in the production royalties, which in the eyes of other airmen put him in the upper income bracket in 1941.
Bill Lyon-Shaw was a character; not unlike a younger edition of Charles Laughton. In the early days it was suggested that a show should be produced in the village hall, and Bill was asked to undertake the production. He enlisted Brindley as his musical director and pianist, and they worked out a revue entitled ‘Out of the Blue’.
Bill knew all the tricks of polished stagecraft and rather despaired at the humble attempts of the others. AC2 Shaw could never remember names, however, and to catch the attention of someone in the cast he would simply snap his fingers with the velocity of a rifle shot, and call “Sprawston”. There was no one of that name there, of course, but when the magic name rang out the entire company would turn in his direction. Then, having effectively gained everyone’s attention, he pointed to the person he wished to address and quietly say “Yes, you”. It never failed.
In ‘Out of the Blue’ Bill Lyon-Shaw and his wife, Anne, brilliantly performed a sketch, ‘Take a card’. Bill was the magical illusionist and Anne ‘volunteered’ from the audience and was expected carry out his instructions until he revealed the card she had chosen from the pack, without his seeing it. Anne wrecked the act by a series planned blunders and the patter was brilliant. They had obviously performed this act many times. At a well-timed professional pause, an enthralled distinguished guest in the front row said in a loud whisper, easily heard throughout the entire hall, “poor fellow, he can’t get it right”.
That scene was certainly more successful a few weeks later when the show was presented at the Regal Cinema, Ringwood, for a ‘Wings for Victory’ week.
After the war Bill Lyon-Shaw became a TV producer, linked with several BBC hit variety shows, then he went to Tyne-Tees television as its first director of programmes. Walter (Shorty) Naylor was much needed as a stage manager and handyman. In ‘Out of the Blue’ he chewed a large hole in the stage of the village hall, then impressed everyone by his efficient repair after the show.
Brindley also held ‘Musical Appreciation’ evenings which were well attended and very much enjoyed by those off duty. It was an introduction for many of us into ‘serious’ music.
We also had a Brains Trust evening, and I personally recall my old friend, the Padre at Middle Wallop, telling us he thought the kindest person was Gordon Richards, as he got the most and best out of a horse by being kind to the animal. Debating society evenings were often held on watch if there was if there was a ‘stand-down’ and many and varied were the subjects under debate. Perhaps not quite up to the Oxbridge standards but very enjoyable.
A more adventurous performance was presented at the Palace Court Theatre, Bournemouth, early in 1945, this time on a professional stage. The play was ‘Quiet Wedding’ by Esther McCracken, which was very well received by the residents at Bournemouth as well as the service personnel. It was in fact the last thing I remember at Sopley, as l was posted within a few days.
A Liberty Run was available on Friday evenings, which meant that our station lorry, usually driven by Thelma, took us into the Square at Bournemouth and we had to be back at the pick-up point well in time for the return journey, or else we were left stranded. There was always plenty to do in Bournemouth, plays or concerts of our choice. There was also a tea dance at the Pavilion each afternoon and the WAAF were never short of partners as Bournemouth was a reception area for Canadian airmen. They were only there a short time, awaiting postings to permanent crews, so our partners were always changing, and it was not wise to make a date for another day, as most likely your partner had gone by then.
In the summer we cycled the coast and sometimes went swimming at Mudeford, Barton or Highcliffe, and I remember being covered in tar from some poor ship and needing plenty of hot water to scrub clean from that swim. We also swam in the River Avon which ran past Winkton House. There was a boat which we could use to row up the river and one summer were all serenaded when Italian POWs came to cut the weeds in the river. They were willing to chop logs and firewood for us, in return for a few cigarettes, and we were all well stocked with fuel for the forthcoming winter evenings.
Transport was generally either on foot or issue bicycle. We must have cycled for miles in the countryside, going to Ringwood, Ibsley, the coast, or wherever we fancied. If we went to Bournemouth, we usually left our cycles in Christchurch and got a bus into town. The local police were constantly chasing us because we did not always have lights. Partly this was because the batteries were hard to find, and once when one girl went to buy them locally, she was told “they are only for war workers”- she was, of course, in uniform.
Occasionally we had a boyfriend who had his own transport and one such friend had a motorbike. The pillion was his groundsheet tied on with string which was quite uncomfortable. But we got around. More than my dignity was hurt when we went too fast over the railway crossing at Ringwood and I bounced off. Fred Bowler had a motorbike a couple of cycles behind him, with rope tied around his waist. He remembers taking Leslie, the cook, for a trip into the New Forest and in return was invited into the kitchen for bacon and egg. Leslie was in fact, a barber and was rather inclined to peel the potatoes by slicing them into squares and discarding the thick peel. The kitchens were always infested cockroaches, in all the billets, and I even forfeited my weekly egg when I saw a big, black cockroach jump into the pan as my egg was being fried. (I did tell Jeanne after she had eaten it, why I did not have it myself!)
I cannot recall what we did have to eat in those days, but I have not eaten a single baked bean on fried bread since my discharge. After D-Day we came under the Americans for our rations, and, oh, the glory that first weekend when we saw the first frozen chickens we had ever seen. The cooks did not know what to do with them so hung them round the big open ranges to thaw. Shades of salmonella, but we did all survive. We loved those first weeks on different rations but were soon seen cycling into Christchurch for a cup of English tea with fresh milk, rather than coffee with tinned milk. It was no joke after a few weeks to be asked how many eggs we could eat for breakfast, and we were even heard to remark, “Oh, no not tinned pineapple again!”
Parties were held frequently at all the billets, and we took it in turn to organise these, and to help generally. I shudder now to think of how many jellies were made with golden syrup and gelatine. The idea was to have fun, and a good time was had by all. Diana McGeorge had the good idea of teaching the men to dance and I was roped in as a partner. The idea was good, but the staying power of the men was weak. The lessons did not last very long. One disadvantage of parties was that they were held after our 1 to 5 duty which meant that everything had to be tidied that night before bed, as next morning were on 8 to 1 duty so just time to stack our beds before watch. That was usually the time the admin officers chose to have an inspection too.
There was no love lost between the admin officers and ops personnel who had been typecast as ‘snooty’ or the ‘crème de la crème’ (we didn’t act that way but had long ago been so described.) When we had a kit inspection at Winkton House, we had two staircases and it depended which route was taken, but we always had full kit by kind permission of the girls who had been first in line.
Fun was something grabbed with both hands as duty was only a few hours away – even on our one night off in three, we had to back by the inevitable 23.59, unless we had a late pass, they were not handed out generously. On our short 36 hours pass we usually hitched to London or wherever we lived. London was the general venue for those of us who could not reach home, and I shudder to think of the risks we took, but personally I was always treated with respect and could never have got around without those lifts, whether by truck, lorry, jeep, private car or, once, a hearse.
The more usual haunt for everyone, before or after duty, was the local inn, The Woolpack, under the hospitality of Mr and Mrs Andrew Lane. They treated us all with love and affection, as one of the family. There we could have coffee before duty and could all night with half a pint of cider or ale. In the latter years we had service canteen which was run by the local ladies and which we all very much enjoyed and appreciated. Here there was a room where we could play darts, cards or just talk.
But the Woolpack was part of our service life, and the Lanes are spoken of today as they were all those years ago – with great affection. My last night at Sopley was spent there, in the ‘select’ where I had so many pints bought for me, I could have swum in it all eventually. It was there I said my farewell to Sopley, and it was also there that I visited with my children years later, to tell them a little of life in the village, to tell them about Sopley and a few years out of my life.
Sopley Park alas, is no longer there and was in ruins when I visited it in 1985, once more walking up the drive. Wiltshire Lodge, the home of ‘B’ Watch, is now divided in two houses, and Winkton House, ‘C’ Watch waafery, has been turned into flats after initially being used as a hotel when we left. The Vicarage was the home of the male population of the camp and still stands today.
It really was a pity
for the country and the city
when a gentleman who worked in
A.M. (Staff)
started hell’s own trouble brewing,
and a lot of things ensuing,
by introducing to the world, the WAAF.
Of recruits there rolled in plenty,
pretty girls quite near twenty,
who forsook their civvy ways
(folks were distressed).
With proper Air Force talk
and a military walk
with the rear part sticking out behind the rest.
Still you really mustn’t blame them
for the dusk-blue doesn’t shame them,
even though they’d sooner be arrayed in mink;
and they do their bit all right,
working hard by day and night
– at least that’s what ‘yours truly’ likes to think.
Bibliography
- Nightfighter, by C.F. Rawnsley and R. Wright
- Night Intruder, by Jeremy Howard-Williams
- From a Cat’s Whisker Beginning, by Norman Cordingly
- Women in Uniform 1939-45, by Jane Waller and Michael Vaughan Rees
- Women in Air Force Blue by Sq. Leader Beryl Escott
- Off to War with ‘054, by John Kemp
- One-Of-Eight Miller, by Anne Stobbs
- A Glimpse of Sopley, by Sam Morris
