CORP GEORGE FOSTER
RAF 113 SQUADRON
George Thomas Foster, Service No# 912497, London England, DOB 20/07/1920, Enlisted 26/01/1940
Trade:
ACH 2 31/12/1940
ACH1
LAC 31/12/1941
Corporal 31/12/1942
NO#1 RQ to 3RTP 30/01/1940
3RTP to Stn Upwood 17/02/1940
STN Upwood to Middle East 03/03/1940
Middle East to 113 Squadron 13/03/1940
Admitted #26 Gen Hosp 22/03/1941
India 02/01/1942
Burma 31/01/1942
Karachi March 1942
Hospital 02/03/1942 to 04/04/1942
MENTION IN DESPATCHES 01/01/1942 issued 27/07/1942
45MU 25/04/1944
100MU 13/06/1944
36MU 13/09/1944
RAF Cardington 07/05/1945
100MU
Release 14/06/1946
Corp George Foster 1940
There is a rather amusing story behind the photo of Corp Foster which was taken during his first 2 to 3 weeks abroad and sent home to his mother and family. Georges oldest sister was working in a munitions factory and decided to have it enlarged which she then propped up over her machine. When George arrived home after being away four years 'plus', she told him that by the end of the week his picture had been propped up all over the factory when her co-workers learned her baby brother was in the Airforce. George comments - "Ho hum such is fame"
WESTERN DESERT 1940
My nickname on the squadron was "Flossy". The Flight Sargeant couldn't read when I joined the 113, Foster became Flossy and it stuck.
One of the early incidents on the squadron I recall was the shooting down by friendly fire of one of our Blenheims at Ma'aten Bagush or Waterloo. I am not certain which but I lean to Ma'aten Bagush. It occured very soon after we arrived in the desert. This I can remember vividly. It appears one of our new pilots, I do not recall who, took off to do a few circuits and bumps and get the feel of the new atmosphere, and as the practice of the Italians was to wait for early dusk to come in from the sea on their surprise attacks our crews were told not to do this for obvious reasons. Why he did this heaven knows but he did, flying at only two - three thousand feet every gun seemed to fire at him. We were surrounded by a circle of ack ack guns manned by army chaps, they could'nt miss. Not their fault they were only doing what they were there for. Whether he forgot about not coming in from the sea at dusk or whether it was lighter at his flying height nobody can say. It was just another dreadfull event that happens during war. I am fairly certain he was flying alone as there was only one burial and I was on the firing party when the burial took place - so sad.
Another instance that little is said about was the night the Italians dropped butterfly bombs (anti-personnel bombs) all over the aerodrome and surrounding area. They were very similar to the ones dropped in England. They primed on impact with the ground and exploded if touched. That same night I suffered from "Gypo Tummie" and was back and forth to the latrine, pitch black, walking the path by instinct. Little did I know what was all around me. Sadly a number of soldiers were killed or wounded and getting rid of the bloody things proved a menace.
I was on the squadron at the time of the Corp Ian Blair incident but can add little to what is known (1940 landed his plane after the pilot was shot), I recall seeing the aircraft circling the field apparently trying to use up fuel before landing. I regret I did not see the landing but I did see the remarkable sight and fuss of him being congratulated and the very worthy fun made of him and the gunner.
During this early period on the desert, George had been tempoarily recruited as batman to the squadron doctor Dr Joseph La Frenais
TO GREECE
I do not recall the name of the ship that took us to Greece but I did learn from a crew member that it largest cargo ship in the Medditteranean. We were attacked when we were just in sight of Crete and were the middle ship of three vessels. On our right was a smaller cargo ship and on our left was a tanker. The attack was made from the left side by five Dorniers. They straddled the first ship then us but hit the tanker and it exploded in flames. They then tried repeated attacks but were driven off each time by the fire put up by the New Zealand Gunners who were ready for them this time and shot down two of the more venturesome. This I did see but I didn't know what aircraft they were at the time, up untill then I had never seen a German aircraft of any description. I was told by the NZ gunners, who were well versed in plane spotting, what they were. They had also made some of their guns into multiples at the beginning of the voyage and these proved very effective. All of this I did see as I was on deck the whole time, not by choice, but because all the gangways were already choked with the other Blokes! On reaching Pireus the captain announced that the tanker that had been hit had made it into Crete and I was taken off the ship due to a violent and painfull toothache. I booked into hospital for three days as that was the ruling. After giving my name and number I listened to the chap behind me - and guess what RAF number he was - 1000000 - one million, how about that number - hardly forget that would he.
We moved up to Larissa where soon after we were attacked by 109's, they had bright yellow propeller boses, this I do know as we saw a lot of them all the way on our retreat, aside from that I worked for Reeves Paint Manufacturers as an artist colour mixer so I can tell the difference between yellow and white.
After the German raids at Niamata (Larissa) I was given an Air Lewis machine gun to look after during our retreat from Greece together with two drums of ammo and a tripod stand. These were carried by two other erks. When we finally arrived at our embarkation point, a place just outside Argos, we were told to find a spot out of sight from the air under the trees. By this time we were hungry and exhausted from walking and no food for almost four days so we flopped down under the nearest tree. Within minutes we were told to move to another tree with more foilage by a NZ officer, they being with us as well. With much reluctance we moved to another tree, a matter of about twenty feet. Within 15 minutes we were being bombed and straffed lasting about ten to fifteen minutes (it seemed much longer). In the brief time that followed I glanced over at the tree we had moved from, it had taken a direct hit and the four chaps who had sheltered under it were all dead. There was nothing we could do except thank our lucky stars we moved when we were told. I left the other two lads to look after our equipment and proceeded to look around our area. I came across a small clearing and found a number of wounded that had already been picked up. Near me lay a soldier who had been hit in the shoulder and both knees and at that moment the bomber returned and started machine gunning the area and I instinctively threw myself over the wounded soldier to cover him. Bloody daft I know but it was a split second reaction made without thought. It made the skin on my back crawl for that few minutes. As the attack ended I felt a hand on my shoulder and and a voice saying come on young Foster I need more help. It was our Squadron doctor, Dr LaFrenais. Among other jobs I happened to be his batman when we were on the desert. He had already gathered a number of other chaps to help with the wounded. I was just one more, but he knew me. Before dark we had gathered about 12 to 15 wounded to add to the ones already collected. As to the number of dead I do not recall apart from the four who took over our first tree. (George didn't know it at the time but Dr LaFrenais would later recommend George for a "Mention In Despatches" over this incident. Regarding this George commented, I was only one of many helping the only difference was that Dr LaFrenais knew me)
At the dead of night we were embarked from the woods and ferried out to a cargo ship. As I had the Air Lewis gun I was installed on the steering housing at the aft end of the ship and then given a bowl of hot stew. It was a rather exposed position but beggars can't be choosers and I was just happy to be one of those picked up and off those beaches. Early next morning when we were well out to sea, we were attacked by Junkers 88 bombers. They only made one attack, just long enough to get rid of one pan of my ammo but in doing so nearly bounced my tripod over the edge of the steering housing. This was put right when one of the crew handed me two sand bags to put on the legs of the tripod. The balance of the trip was uneventfull and we later dissembarked at Suda Bay. After a few days of sleeping in the open we were flown out from Crete back to North Africa and were fired on by our own war ships.
BACK ON THE DESERT 1941
Giarabub and LG 125
After the evacuation from Greece & Crete we were re-equipped and back on the desert for a further seven months. Toward the end of this period we travelled about 200 miles deep into the desert straight south from the coast road to a place called Giarabub. This had been a fort of the Italians before being driven out by the Australians. It now became occupied by us and millions of flies, this due to the fact the dead had only been buried under a few inches of sand. (While George is correct that the graves were shallow due to the extremely hard earth, Giarabub has been plagued by flies since the beginning of time). Soon after our arrival we were again being bombed by the germans, they seemed to know where we were before we knew ourselves! We lost several killed and wounded due to the escarpment collapsing and they were buried. We tried our best to dig them out but it was too late.
The day after we arrived it was decided to send a detachment of our squadron, about 80 or 90 men with several planes to a place called LG125. Just a stretch of sand suitable for planes to land and take off from. We arrived late evening and bedded down as best we could. The following morning we found that the cook had parked slap in the middle of the landing area. I need not say they were told to move forthwith but before they could, we were attacked by a lone armed reconnaisance plane who decided this obvious group in the middle of the landing area was a target too good to pass up. It was strange as he was flying in a line straight towards where I was standing and it appeared he was towing a string of balls behind him. I then realized they were a stick of bombs getting bigger and bigger. By this stage most of us knew the safest place when bombed in the open was flat on the ground as it would almost take a direct hit to harm you so putting this knowledge to good use, I hit the dirt. Meanwhile, the cooks, obviously "taking to heart" the order to get off the landing area, were by this time mere dots on the horizon. Well almost.......it took ages for them to return.
It was some time around then that Father Cox decided to hold a small service and standing on a folding trestle table began his address. Sadly it was meant to be a short one for out of the low clouds several Junkers 88's began making their dives. After glancing up at them briefly, Father Cox turned back to his flock and cried out "its alright they're just Hurricanes" which was immediately followed by a second voice crying out louder than his, "F___ING BIG HURRICANES, WITH TWO BLOODY ENGINES"! There may have been a sir at the end but I don't think anyone heard it.
Needless to say we had to evacuate this new spot as we were also attacked several more times that day and we finished up back with the main body of the squadron just in time to retreat again from Giarabub, something we were growing accustomed to, but not liking.
After this second tour of the Desert, we were under canvas just outside Cairo when we heard of the Jap attack on Pearl Harbour. Little did we know then, but we were in the pipeline for another half cooked salvage operation.
BURMA
We arrived at Rangoon sometime during the end of February 1942 and after Disembarking spent the night at the Rangoon Zoo. I think the army demolition chaps were blowing up some of the dock facilities as we heard many explosions from the area. We also heard many shots from around the Zoo. We were told they were having to shoot some of the animals as there would be no one to look after them. Just another sad example of what war can do to a country. Following several moves thereafter we found ourselves in Toungoo but not for long as the Japs were advancing so quickly. Next stop was Magwe which was to be the end of the road for me with my Squadron mainly due to catching Black Water Fever. At Magwe the Japs were pressing forward the air attacks were becomming more frequent so even us ordinary erks were having to help with the servicing of the aircraft. All I can remember of my first day was feeling very poorly and blacking out on the wing of the Blenheim and sliding off onto the ground. I came round briefly when I was in the air being flown up to Akyab where there was a hospital with an operating theater. After my operation I was flown out of Burma in a Vickers Valencia, a bi-plane with an open cockpit for both pilot and Gunner. I think it was built in 1929. I spent two weeks in Calcutta General Hospital before being transferred to Poona Hospital.
I must say in all fairness that I was well looked after over the four to five weeks except I had no pay! On Discharge from the hospital I was sent to Karachi and at this stage was not a happy bunny as I was keen to get back with my squadron. In order to do so I got permission to hitch a ride on one of the many planes passing through on their way down to Dum Dum. I was offered a lift on a Flying Fortress but was told it was no go, it had to be a British aircraft and crew. I struck lucky with a Wellington and after a busy and exciting trip finally arrived at Dum Dum and re-joined the remnants of 113 Squadron. Two days after arriving I was awarded my Corporal Stripes and re-pated ......where? back to Bloody Karachi !! So I turned around and over one thousand miles back again, this time by train.
All this because of Black Water Fever. Not being dramatic, but what the Japanese, germans and Italians failed to do over two years a tiny germ almost did. According to my nurse looking after me in Akyab I was down to what they believed was my last half hour.
After my long train journey back from Dum Dum to Karachi I found that my final destination was 57 Embarkation Unit at a place called Kamari (sp?). This was a dock area where we were to establish an RAF unit to handle RAF stores and personnel. Again we were to be living in tents which had already been erected but nothing more than this. No cook, no cook house. I was given the job of feeding one officer myself, two erks and about five native tribesmen and for one who had trouble boiling water it was quite a challenge. We got over this by mixing batter mix into a paste, dripping over corned beef and frying same. This only lasted about two days after which more personnel began arriving including a cook and my old mate from 113 Squadron Norman George Lamb (Mark) It was great to be together once again cementing a friendship made over four years of war which would last to present day. (2006) Now Christmas had arrived (1942) and was celebrated in the usual manner with extra beer ration, fine Christmas fare and dubious entertainment. This being Mark giving his rendering of "this old coat of mine." This was the casting off of various garments at the end of each verse untill he was completely starkers. He had reached the stage when he ws down to his grotty underwear when at that moment the canteen door opened and there was the CO with his lady friend who had come to wish us a happy Christmas. She quickly realized what was going on and as Mark was unaware they had come in, she put her fingers to her lips to allow things to carry on. Which they certainly did! Mark I should add was well away with drink and oblivious to the fact the CO and his escort had joined his audience. When he reached the verse that brought final disrobement, as was the practice, everyone in the room threw their beer dregs at him. The shrieks of laughter I shall always remember, it gave everyone enjoyment this Christmas so very far from home. Well done Mark!
Repatriation orders were received sometime in March 1944 for the two of us, (George & friend Mark Lamb) It was amazing after more than four years overseas crossing paths on and off that we should be going home together. I must say that our time at Keamari (sp?) was so very good being with so many fine chaps, many had endured much the same as ourselves, even more. Regular work with time off, as well as food and shelter. We even got to go horse racing at the Karachi track and sometimes came back winners. Oh! What a difference! from rough living and feeling so very exposed at times.
I must mention one incident that ocurred regarding our one day at the races. Four of us were on a one days leave and bound for the race track, for which we always took bets for those on duty. That day the tote double horses, instead of the horses having Indian sounding names, had just two horses with english sounding names, one in each leg. Needless to say all the lads went for these and yes they both won, I was at the tote paying out window surrounded by the other three lads and for ages all I could hear was "oh how lucky Burra Sahib" so much money! The share out that took place that night went on well into the night and our tent floor of sand was littered with bottle caps. You know life can be rewarding at times, a little thing really but it cheered up so many!
It was around this time I was summoned to the CO's office and told of my "Mention In Despatches" he seemed as delighted to tell me as I was. Nice Chap. F/Lt Wolstenholm.
GOING HOME
Getting back to Mark Lamb and I homeward bound, we were given a marvelous send off with best wishes all round. We travelled from Karachi to Bombay with a carriage to ourselves and meals arranged by the porter. I recall the journey took two whole days and was first rate. On arrival at Port it was straight off the train and into the ship. Hundreds of men of all services and lots of civilians. Men, women and children all returning to England having been caught abroad when war broke out. It was just amazing. Before sailing a message was broadcast asking for voulunteers to act as batmen for the many officers on board. Mark was reluctant but I remembered other trips when you landed with some horrible jobs, this job of batman released you from all other duties and entailed so very little to do. Mainly a cup of tea in the morning to each officer, make up bed and polishing buttons - oh and a little laundering. This is where the skive came in. Washing done and up to the ships sun deck to watch it dry. Heaven help us!! who were all those scantily clad females on our sundeck, and where have they come from! Well remember all those families who were marooned overseas with their children at the beginning of the war, well they have grown up, and how well they have done it.....and the mums aren't bad either! This is where the skive paid off. They all wanted to know how the war was won.......by us of course. Needless to say our trip home was made all the better and Mark agreed it certainly was best we could ask for.
Arriving at Liverpool we both helped our officer to pack and we both received (3 lb?) which was very good in those days and were given some great Khaki shirts that they had no further use for. Not bad for us pair who were still learning ... but fast! On landing we were arranged in our various services, and then all served with a mug of tea, and a splendid rock cake from the salvation army ladies. Bless them all, this really put the icing on the cake......we were home!
Left to Right: Corp Norman Mark Lamb, unknown, Corp George Foster, Unknown
DOCUMENTS
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