Library Reference Number: 057
The Route towards joining No. 240 (Catalina) Squadron
The Consolidated PBY Catalina was produced in higher numbers than any other flying boat in WW2 with some 3,281 being built in USA and Canada. These were produced as a matter of great urgency in order to combat the growing menace of U-boat activity. Renowned for long-endurance operations, Douglas Mackie shares his experiences of flying in such an aircraft.
After forming a crew at OTU (Operational Training Unit), Loch Erne in Northern Ireland, we flew on Atlantic exercises consisting of
bumpy flights and patrols. It was exciting to fly at virtually zero height over Rockawe one day, in what seemed to be the middle of
nowhere. Following OTU, we collected our own Catalina on the Clyde at Cardwell Bay, Gourock, and proceeded to take off alongside the
'Queen Mary' on our way to FTU at Oban.
One day we were directed to go by train to Edinburgh, then to Murrayfield (coincidently where we now have Branch meetings) where all nine crew members were given the Yellow Fever Innoculation. This in itself always gave servicemen a strong clue which part of the world they were about to be sent. At that time, home was only a few miles away at Corstorphine, so a short tram ride enabled a very brief, surprise visit home, which turned out to be the last for a long time.
Rejoining our Catalina at Oban, I was starting up the first engine which ran long enough for the rigger to slip the mooring. Unfortunately the engine stalled and we started drifting towards a rocky shore. The Skipper shouted "Get that bloody engine started!" needless to say I primed it up (possibly being cold in December) and another collision was averted. Another day we were flying along a cliff coast which was great fun, until we hit a down draught and fell like a stone. Unfortunately, we were running on Auto Lean mixture at about 900 rpm. This all took mili-seconds, but as I left my seat going upwards as if in a lift, I reached out and engaged Auto Rich, at the same time flicking the switches on my panel to indicate to the Skipper what I had done. He was throttling up at the same time, and wouldn't have had time to attend to the mixture, but for our combined efforts, we would have had a stall and hit the deck. Aterwards, the Co-Pilot thanked me for the quick action (self-preservation I think they call it).
We left FTU Oban just before Christmas, landing at Pembroke Dock before setting out for Redhills Lake, Madras, India. Our next leg was to be Gibraltar but it was fog-bound and our diversion was to Port Lyautey, French Morocco. We landed on the river there, and as it was an U.S. Naval Air Station the petrol barge arrived alongside manned by a sailor with a cigar in his mouth (unlit I hope) who asked "Does Johnny Bull want some gas?" Next day we took off for Gib having enjoyed our stay with the Yanks and their hospitality, including PX store issues. It was strange to see camels seeing us off from the Bund at the side of the river. The only other time I had seen camels was at Corstorphine Zoo.
The take-off from Gib was pretty hairy between choppy waves and swells, so needless to say, we lost a few rivets during the bounces. That night heading for Cairo we passed through several thunderstorms, were struck by lightning and lost the top window in the Navigator/Wops' compartment. We were relieved to see daylight, even if we weren't sure if it was Mersa Matruh we had just passed or not. Eventually, we landed in the River Nile, and stayed in Cairo ten days for repairs and to observe a smallpox quarantine. From there, we flew to Bahrein, then Habanaya, a lake near Baghdad an ex-BOAC station.
The next leg of this journey was truly interesting.! My father who had flown in the R.F.C. and had joined No.603 Auxiliary Squadron, was an RAF Engineering Officer who was therefore called up in August 1939, and after the Battle of Britain in the south, he was posted to No.212 Squadron in India. At this time, I didn't know what type of aircraft this Squadron flew, as his mail was simply addressed 'SEAC.' The next leg of my trip was to Karachi. When we disembarked on the pier, I met an acquaintance from Edinburgh who was also a Flight Engineer. I asked him which Squadron was based here and he replied 'No.212' Imagine my surprise when I asked him if my father was here and he said he was, but actually in the hospital with malaria - how was that for co-incidence? Needless to say, I was able to visit him and I guess it was good medicine, as he was discharged from hospital soon afterwards.
According to service rules, my father could have requested me to serve with him, but as I was already crewed up, I thought it better to stay with No.240 Squadron. Eventually, after a couple of weeks or so together, I landed with my crew at Redhills Lake, Madras. In a completely contrasting climate, 240 Squadron had seen service in Iceland, but arrived at Redhills Lake on 1st June 1942. Although their main duties included patrols over the Bay of Bengal and Indian Ocean, in addition, attachments were sent to Addu Atoll (Maldives), Aden, Coconda, Kelia, Diego Guarcia, and Koggala in Ceylon. In December 1944 the Squadron also began flying supplies and agents to the Dutch East Indies. It was pleasant landing at the Maldives coral islands - now a popular holiday destination, and Diego Guarcia was also a U.S. Base. It was also an advantage to be landing a flying-boat in the sea, as land planes still have a problem landing on these very small islands.
I sometimes wonder when later posted to 227 Group HQ at Agra (by the Taj Mahal) and was appointed Station Warrant Officer, if I was the youngest S.W.O. in the RAF at 21/22 years in 1946, having set up a Court Martial among my other duties. An exciting part of the job was having my own Jeep to run around the base. Most of my flights were Met trips with the odd Air Sea Rescue, and of 14-18 hours duration; but I feel lucky to have flown in a Catalina or PBY, as I believe it to be a wonderful war-bird.