In our camp at Home Farm,
Halnaker near
Chichester, Sussex, we received the news of the invasion [1] with excitement and wondered when we would be wanted.
Ours was a very good site and the comparatively short grass gave us ample opportunity for playing such games as football, cricket and softball in our spare time. Our small W/T section [2] was segregated from the rest of the camp and we slept, or lived, to be more precise, in three tents on the opposite side of the field near our receiver van. Our suppers were quite a speciality there. We built our fire amongst some trees at the back of the tents and having "obtained" [3] eggs and potatoes we were able to have a good tuck in.
If we wanted to go out in the evenings when off-duty, we would take the liberty run to
Brighton. There the
Y.M.C.A. was quite good for a snack without queueing for long. The three dance halls,
Dome,
Regent and
Sherry's provided good entertainment for those men of the "itchy-feet" clan and numerous cinemas passed the evening for others. I must not forget the public houses who probably did a little trade now and again. Chichester itself was, to put it in our parlance, a "dead loss". It could be called the "dead city". Nothing seemed to happen there and a place where the canteens closed before ten p.m. certainly couldn't provide much attraction.
For the sports side of our stay at Halnaker we had one game of football of note to record. Our game with 15056 unit [4] on our roughly marked, rather undersized pitch. When the players became accustomed to the long grass and molehills the game got into its stride. 56 pressed hard and looked likely to cause some trouble to our defence but soon it became apparent that every move by the opposing forwards was being closely checked. Our forwards were doing well with hit and run tactics and David Clinton, on the right wing, put up an excellent performance. Soon he had crashed the ball into the net twice leaving the goalkeeper P/O Wright [5] wondering if he had forgotten his glasses. Then the game ran completely in our favour and it ended with a 5-0 victory for us. Dave Clinton got his hat trick.
The softball did not develop beyond the practice stage and came to an abrupt end when Jimmy Beswick and Cyril Beater laid each other out by colliding in their run after a high ball.
We had our usual "parties" at this camp. Rumours would spread like wild fire and everyone would be waiting for the order to move. We could all make a pretty good guess as to what our next move would entail.
- Normandy landings
- Wireless Telegraphy
- Read: stolen from the farm
- Ground Control Interception Unit 15056
- Pilot officer
For other 'entertainment' - so the story my father told a number of times goes - a group of them went to the local town (it might even have been the otherwise dead Chichester) one night and presumably much alcohol was subsequently imbibed. They woke up the next morning with brass plaques that had been "liberated" from the town, adorning the fronts of all their tents. As the CO had been one of the drinking party, they were "ordered" to return the plaques the following night. Whether they went back in the right places, or the vet became the doctor, or the solicitor a dentist, is unclear.
Leading aircraftman (LAC) Charles Francis (Frank) Stone (1923-2001), my father, wrote this Forbidden Diary (i.e. they'd been told NOT to keep diaries and the fact that it exists tells you all you need to know), as a 21 year old in 1944. (Entries are transcribed exactly as written, mistakes included. Attitudes are very much 'of their time'.)
