Having completed his 2nd tour of operational bombing missions, Cyril’s last flight as a rear gunner in a war zone was on 15th December 1943 in Wellington LN318 flown by Squadron Leader Bodman. He took off from Tunis airport in North Africa at 12.00hrs and flew to No.40 Squadron’s new home in Italy. He landed at Cerignola airport in south east Italy. Flying time was 3 Hour 25 minutes. On 30th December 1943 No.40 Squadron moved to Foggia Plain airport, again on the south eastern coast of Italy near the spur of the Italian ‘boot’, but further north than Cerignola airport,
Aircrew that had completed their tours were normally posted to training units. Cyril’s flight log does not record how he got back to the UK and when he finally left Italy. His flight log does show him back in the UK in April 1944. As no flights were recorded in his flight log he possible returned by ship. The Squadron stayed in Foggia Plain without him until the end of the War, returning to the UK in October 1945
The Allies had invaded the southern tip of Italy and were working their way up to the North, fighting German and Italian troops. Cyril’s brother Len was also in Italy at the same time. He was a corporal in the infantry, part of the British 8th Army ‘Desert Rats’, in the King’s Royal Rifles. It is not known if they met.
Cyril was awarded the Italian Bronze Star Campaign Medal for the time he spent flying bombing missions over Italy and the time he spent on Italian soil. Whilst waiting for transportation back to the UK he would have assisted crews get ready for their next mission.
Living and operating conditions at Foggia Plain airport were crowded and primitive. Cyril would have been living in a tent. RAF & USAAF squadrons competed for space. Cyril lived in a small five man ridge tent. They either slept on the floor or on a home made bed from salvaged wood or old stretchers. They were issued with two army blankets, and used their RAF greatcoat over the top of them to help keep warm in the winter. A kitbag stuffed with their spare clothing was used as a pillow. In order to obtain more headroom, the first job was to dig out a hole of about eighteen inches under the tent itself, being careful to insure that the walls of the hole we had dug did not collapse into it. It was very difficult work, particularly as the roots of the olive trees had to be cut away as we came across them. The floor was covered with a rubber groundsheet, supplied with the tent. Continual rain reduced the ground to a muddy quagmire. The airport was known as ‘Filthy Foggia’". Many men went down with Sandfly fever, dysentery or jaundice due to the poor toilets, and non-existent washing facilities. This sounds grim but morale was very high as they were all ‘lads roughing it together’. These conditions placed considerable strain on aircrews, aircraft and the ground crews that worked endlessly and against all odds to keep their bomber squadrons operational.
The food Cyril had to eat was generally sub-standard. Breakfast consisted of fried tinned corned beef and Spam, supplemented by a few eggs (swapped with the locals for cigarettes). The cooks had an inexhaustible supply of tea - dark brown, well-stewed with sweet condensed milk. Main meals were made from dehydrated concoctions of potatoes, onions and even meat. Later on, deals were made with one of the nearby American Messes with whom ‘hard liquor’ was exchanged for US delicacies such as tinned chicken, ham and doughnuts.
Most tents rigged up a small burner that provided heat and a one pot cooking facility. Water came into the camp in a bowser lorry which was used to serve the whole camp, and each member of the crew took it in turns, whenever the jerrycan water container became empty, to go and collect the water. This was a chore most looked forward to because, whilst in the queue they were able to meet and chat with the other crew members: ‘I hear we lost so many last night.’; ‘So and so didn’t come back.’ ; ‘The Yanks are going back today to finish it off.’; ‘I hear it’s such and such a place tonight.’ The water was also used for such things as cooking and washing - both bodies and clothes.
At the back of the bowser there was a big heavy tap that was used to fill the jerrycans. Below it the ground was like a quagmire, where the water, during the filling of the cans, had overflowed. When it was cold feet became frozen stiff through standing around in Wellington boots, which we wore instead of fur lined flying boots to protect them from getting wet and muddy. If some idiot stamped his feet in an effort to warm them he was greeted with shouts of derision as the mud splattered everywhere.
The water tasted foul, being heavily chlorinated. Once back in the tent a further can was used in which to boil and purify it. Even after boiling, the water was foul and still tasted of chlorine. When cool, each member filled his water bottle up. When not on duty, an evening in the tent be quite cosy. The stove gave off a comfortable heat and, sitting on the beds, with a blanket wrapped around shoulders, the crew would brew up a mug of cocoa, make toast and bacon and eggs, light up a fag and have a chat, telling stories of their lives before the war. The lavatories consisted of a tent, with a trench dug in the ground, and a plank with holes cut in it for about half dozen men to sit on. Underneath each hole were large buckets. There was no toilet paper. Old magazines and newspapers were used. The stench was horrible.
