Geraldine:"Dad's name was Gilbert (Gil) King. He was born in 1920 and joined the RAF in September 1941, going almost straightaway to Aberystwyth ITW 6 to complete his initial training which he did by December 1941. He was then sent to Canada to complete his training as a fighter pilot. However on his return to the UK having got his 'Wings' in 1942, he then converted to bombers and flew Wellingtons in the North African and Italian campaigns. He achieved the rank of Flight Lieutenant (acting Wing Comander) and served in 205 Group on 40 Squadron and 104 Squadron. After the War he joined the RAF as a reserve and continued his flying until the early 1950s. He retained a keen interest in the RAF and aviation throughout his life but never flew himself again.
Sadly Dad died last August in his 86th year. I know he would have been delighted to know his story and the stories of others like him are being kept alive.
In going through Dad's bits and pieces I came upon his account of his RAF training. Here is the bit about Aberystwyth:
After a twelve hour journey, we arrived at 6 I.T.W. The town was Aberystwyth in Wales and the weather was as dirty as the night was dark. We were marched from the station to our hotel with our kit. Here we were given a supper that would have satisfied the fussiest of persons, and were allocated to our bedrooms. Four of us, all friends, got in a room together. I remember them all very well: Wilf Turnbull, ex schoolmaster; Edward Smith of Birkenhead, and last but not least; "Jerry" Gerrard from Liverpool. The hotel was old but very cosy, despite the small size of the rooms. We stuck pictures of aircraft all over the walls, in order to make identification simpler.
At this training wing, we took courses in Mathematics, Navigation, Armaments, Signals, Aircraft Recognition, Gas and Air Force Law and also had extensive drill periods and parades. Each Tuesday was set aside as a sports day, when everybody had to do something in the sporting line. I was always picked for the long distance cross country runs. Anyhow we got a lot fitter on the food and good exercise and consequently were able to absorb more knowledge. The only bind we could find was our sergeant. I believe his name was Brown. He was a stickler for perfect drill, and kept us at it for hours, even in the rain.
Well, the time passed fairly quickly, and before we knew it we were taking our final exams. They were not easy but then again, not hard. After the Navigation exam, the hardest and the longest, we were sent home on our first leave, ten days.
I went home on the 28th of November, and was married on the next day. My wife and I had ten days honeymoon before I went back to the I.T.W. to find that I was the proud bearer of the title we aimed for, "Leading Aircraftman", and my pay went up from two and six to seven and six a day. Thus the first step was taken towards my goal.
Soon after we got back, the unmarried fellows under twenty six years of age were sorted out and posted to a grading course, which is a preliminary flying test prior to going to America for training. This took Eddie and Jerry away, but the day they went, the rest of us were given three days leave, which meant us returning on New Year's Day. There were wild rumours about embarkation etc., and we had a medical examination and inoculation which was very rushed. We handed in our flying kit and dashed off the station feeling very low, arriving at the station (railway) just about five minutes after the train had left. Knowing that it was the last train until the next morning, I bargained with the driver of a big Packard to drive us to the next station, Borth, and beat the train. It was a memorable ride in the dark, the roads were dark, wet and narrow, and we ploughed along at well over sixty miles per hour, pulling into Borth half a minute ahead of the train. I won't go into the rest of the journey, which for the better part of us was most painful owing to the effects of the inoculations, but at least we got home that night after all.
When I knocked at the door, my wife was extremely surprised to see me and immediately suspected the reason for my leave. This nearly broke her heart and it took me quite a long time to console her. I am afraid that I wasn't very bright during those few days, as the pain in my arm was a lot worse and I could hardly use it.
It was a brief leave and it went all too quickly. Before I realised it, it was New Year's Day and we said goodbye in the grey light of evening. It was misty, and I will always remember the muddled feelings with which I took my leave of her.
I made my way to Euston Station where I met the others, and together we found an empty carriage. We slept on the train and it was about nine o'clock the following morning when we arrived back at Aber.
We had hoped that the rumours had been false, but no such luck, and we were rushed about in utter confusion in preparation for our Trans Atlantic crossing. We were paid in advance and had additional kit issued, (not to mention some that was taken away), a lecture on behaviour, and we were away. The first stage of our journey finished at St Athen's camp. This was a huge place in the South of Wales near Cardiff and was used as every type of aerodrome, storage, disposal and receiving centre. We arrived at night, but at once we set to work getting final preparations finished. These done, we were allowed to sleep. We were there for one more day, and then at three o'clock the following morning, we were awakened and sent to our dock of embarkation.
This turned out to be Avonmouth, the docks where my grandfather had been customs master many years ago, and also the birthplace of my mother. Here we boarded one of the grey hulks of ships which were alongside the quay. She was an unimpressive ship flying a Dutch flag at her mast-head, and belching black smoke now and then. Down in the bowels of this vessel we were given our berths, and issued with blankets and a hammock. As I looked around, I realised what a miserable trip it would be and I wished more than ever that I was back home. Three days passed, and we were getting rather fed up with the conditions under which we lived. Then, without previous warning, two tugs shifted us into the river, and we were under way. After two brief stops down the Bristol Channel, we headed straight out to sea in company with another troopship and escorted by two small destroyers. The name of our vessel by the way, was the "Volandam", and our companion was the "Montcalm". Being mid-winter, we had ten terrible days afloat, dodging "U" boats and running the gauntlet through storms and blizzards. I myself was not sick, but the majority of the three thousand were. We lost both of the destroyers and then the Montcalm, and finally finished the trip alone, docking at Halifax."
Diary entries by Gilbert King and sent in by Geraldine King
