Upon turning 18, Betty Hutton decided to join the air force and began her military career in the RAF Balloon Command, working in both London and Manchester. When the air force started to reduce the use of barrage balloons – at the same time deciding it wasn’t a role fit for a woman after all, much to the serving women’s chagrin – Betty opted to become an aircraft mechanic. After successfully completing her training Betty began working on the Whitley aircrafts, but as an assistant she wasn’t allowed to do any of the critical mechanical work herself. Determined to progress her role, she undertook further training and passed out as a Fitter 2A, holding sole responsibility for carrying out mechanical work on the Wellington aircraft, which she found frightening but exhilarating. Betty’s story of course contains personal accounts of loss and sadness that serve as stark reminders of the heartbreak and devastation of war, but it’s abundantly clear to see – despite the great modesty with which she shares her memories – the significant contribution her hard work and commitment made to the war effort.

John wanted to fly since the age of ten, when, on the top deck of an open trolley bus he saw a Rapide biplane land at Croydon aerodrome. He joined the RAF during WW2 and later served as a signals engineer on the Avro York. Unknown to the crew his aircraft was used as a ‘guinea pig’ test of GCA (Ground Controlled Approach). GCA was a procedure where ground control guides the aircraft in during bad visibility and was widely used during the Berlin Airlift. This enabled aircraft to land every two to three minutes, even during the severe winter weather. During the Airlift John flew 356 trips and only one of these was aborted. One time he flew with a pilot who was so drunk that he was unable to carry out the pre-flight visual inspection but flew correctly once they were airborne. After a crash at Wunstorf which killed the crew, John served as one of the pallbearers at the funeral. He was in his early twenties and never thought about dying, believing that fate played a large part in matters of life and death. On the 60^th anniversary of the Airlift the Berlin Airlift Association went to Templehof airfield in Berlin for a memorial service. Here he was thanked by the elderly and the very young, an experience he found moving. At the time of the Airlift he thought he was only doing his duty but later he became aware of its importance of it to Berliners.

Determined to become an air gunner, Tommy Thomas began RAF service with General Duties. Assisting in the dangerous task of target towing for Spitfire training, he worked with Fairey Bombers and Lysanders. His hard work paid off; before age 19, he completed air gunner training and joined the 161 Squadron at RAF Tempsford. Initially serving on Halifax aircraft to drop supplies, Tommy was soon transferred to the squadron’s A Flight by Flight Commander Hugh Verity, who recognised his skill with Lysanders. Tommy flew 33 missions in Halifax, Hudson, Lysanders and, once, in a Stirling bomber. Whilst most missions were over France and Europe, some reached as far as North Africa. The most challenging were the night flights, navigating hostile territory by moonlight alone. He recounts fascinating details from his time with 161 Squadron, including mission preparations from RAF Tempsford and Tangmere, and techniques for retrieving mail bags from occupied territory using adapted Lysanders. Although Tommy claims he was “lucky,” his missions included two near-disasters, and he admits flights over the sea were the most unnerving—he always dreaded water. Following D-Day, Tommy took on new responsibilities helping with internees at RAF Tempsford. He concludes his story with a personal memory of his promotion to Flight Officer, which coincided with his father’s Red Cross return. Resolving to notify his mother, interned in a French camp, Tommy recounts a successful—and daring—effort to get a message to her, showing his courage and daring.