Chapter Twelve

     By mid-June, 1946, 33 Wing 2nd Tactical Air Force was disbanded and all personnel flown back to the UK. By then Peter and my in-laws had converted the bothy over the tack room in the stables into a flat for us. Below the horses could be heard, snorting and stamping their feet but the bothy had made a cosy flat. Peter, when off duty, had installed a bath with a wooden cover. This doubled as a kitchen table.

     Peter had no idea when I would return but had been able to use it on his days off from RAF Northolt where he was to stay for a further six months before reaching his turn to return to Civvie Street. He was delighted to know I would be coming back to Stanmore. My feelings were slightly different. I had experienced so much since I had left. I was apprehensive of meeting my husband again. On arriving back at Fighter Command, I got a message through to him and we met the following day. We were to be together only for three weeks and then only when we were both off duty. It felt strange to be so close to someone I hardly knew.

     By now with no further need for RADAR, the Ops and Filter Rooms were dismantled. We all had to remuster, the RAF word for a change of direction. I was informed I was being sent on an EVT course, (education and vocational training), for a period of two months. This course was designed to teach those sent on it how to instruct others on a variety of subjects, which could be of use to RAF and WAAF personnel after demobilisation.

      We were to be taught some elements of psychology, shown how to demonstrate, using the blackboard and pass on some particular knowledge useful in civilian life. We all had different skills. It had been decided that I was to teach a group of Polish Fighter pilots, how to improve their English. These men, all aircrew and mostly senior officers, were intending to stay in Britain since Poland was now in the Soviet controlled zone. Poor men, after all their sacrifices, they were unable to return to their homeland and their families.

     So off I was sent on the course "Learning how to teach", and Peter was on his own again. There were about 30 of us, both sexes and all ranks in a large mansion "somewhere in Lancashire". Whilst there I realised I was pregnant. Morning sickness before attempting my first test lesson was no fun. However, I weathered the course and in fact enjoyed it.

      Returning home, Peter and I decided I should stay in the WAAF as long as I could as it meant extra income, since he would not be demobilised for some months. I soldiered on until Christmas, thoroughly enjoying teaching "real" English to the Poles in place of their current RAF slang and trying to improve their accent. I based my teaching on the sounds used in Pitman's shorthand. I knew it would come in useful one day! They were all senior officers, pilots with vast operational experiences and a wealth of medals to prove their gallantry. They included a WW1 pilot, Group Captain Bayaan, who although he had lost a hand during the First World War, was a highly successful pilot in this last one.

    They all had so many exciting and sometimes sad stories to tell. One I remembered particularly. Squadron Leader Sponarovitch during his service he had met a young Jewish civilian. This man had managed to hide his race and remained in Germany throughout the war. When he learned of the death camps and how the bodies of prisoners were being burned, he put in a tender to collect the ashes and other detritus. Knowing how his fellow Jews would try to hide their jewellery by secreting them in the various orifices of their body, he realised he might find some of them in the ashes. I was horrified to learn how anyone could profit from the sufferings of his own kin.

      Finally almost six months pregnant, I left the WAAF in early January 1946, and all the friends with whom I had worked so closely for so long. To my surprise however the RAF asked me to continue teaching the Poles from home as a civilian, at a princely salary of twenty eight shillings (£1.40) an hour, far more than I received as a WAAF Officer. Peter meanwhile whilst still in the Air Force was getting outside gigs for his band "Peter Younghusband and His Music", plus a growing reputation.  I wondered what I would do. I couldn’t visualize myself just sitting at home, baby watching.

Home Again

Bridging the Centuries 

By Eileen Younghusband