When the course came to an end we were informed the unit had been transferred to Greenford in Middlesex, Good Friday 1944. That was my first sight of London ever. During my stay at Greenford Alice came down to visit me and I had obtained an address where she could stay and I stayed with her, returning to my unit daily as it was only a short walk away from Greenford depot where our unit was billeted. Together we had an enjoyable time and paid a visit to London Zoo, although it was under wartime restrictions. Whilst at Greenford, I had to go on a Wireless and Signals course and it was at the end of that course that destiny took a hand in my life. We had decided to have a game of football between senior and junior ranks. During the game, I was charged rather violently in the back and fell on my wrist, May 5th. I felt the pain and shivery but carried on. That night I was on fire watch duty and my wrist swelled up. I reported sick to the M.O. who despatched me to Ealing Hospital as he said there were so many small bones which could be broken. As a result of an x-ray, it was revealed I had fractured my scaphoid in my right wrist which required being put in plaster. That meant I was out of action as it wasn’t known how long the break would take to heal. In the event, I had my wrist plastered for twenty-one weeks. During the immediate time, D-Day, 6th June, had taken place, although the unit was not destined to go for some weeks.
Around the fifteenth of June, we had our first encounter with the German VI flying unmanned bomb. When we awoke that morning the air raid signal was still on red and Mr Churchill announced in the House of the start of this new phase in aerial warfare. Many flying bombs came over and you could hear them coming, as they sounded like a motorcycle engine. If they passed over you someone else was going to be on the receiving end and a great deal of damage was done. If you heard the engine cut out, then you could count seven and the large explosion would take place. We had some very near escapes. The name given to the bomb was the “Doodle Bug” and some RAF pilots tried tipping their wings in an attempt to turn them round but the bombs were very fast.
As the days went by I was transferred to Banbury Hospital and then to a barracks in Oxford, finally ending up at the Radcliffe Infirmary in Oxford. On each occasion, especially in Banbury, I had my plaster removed and x-rayed. There, civilian older people were employed to cut off the plaster and on one occasion the surgeon rejected the plaster that had been put on as he said my wrist had not been set in the right position by the doctor. So, I had to have it cut off again and reset. I was later sent as mentioned to Oxford, where I spent a little time in Cowley Barracks and from there, after some confusion in which I was supposed to go to a unit at Lewes (whilst still in plaster), I eventually ended up at Radcliffe. I was able to walk about in Oxford and one Sunday I hitch-hiked to Blockley to see my cousin Flo Tustin. It was quite a long journey but I got a few lifts and actually met one of my father’s old school pals, Freddie Robins, whilst I was transferring to another lift from Bourton on the Hill down to Blockley, as I had introduced myself, asking the way to Blockley, which was only a short way. I had tea with Florence and my aunt Agnes. Flo’s father George had been dead some time (photo of George with the twin foals). Flo took me back to Blockley station where I caught a train back to Oxford, arriving back rather late and with a questioning glance from the staff nurse as to where I had been all afternoon. And of course, it being on double summer time, it was still light. Eventually, I was moved to a convalescent home called Flint House at Goring on Thames. We were all dressed in blue flannel suits. How life can be altered in a moment, as it was for me on the fifth of May 1944.
My stay at Flint House lasted a few weeks and during that summer the convalescent lads helped with the local harvest as we could use some of our limbs and, much to our surprised, we received a small amount of money for stacking up the sheaves. My time at Flint House eventually came to an end as the x-rays at the Radcliffe showed that the bone was finally knitting and I had my plaster finally removed. After another week or two, I was discharged and transferred to a remedial unit in Kingston on Thames, Surrey. There we had to do exercises to strengthen our damaged bones. During that time I was detailed to take a lad to a detention centre, the place being the military barracks at Chorley. When we arrived at Rugby to change trains he asked me where we were going and when I said Chorley he nearly passed out as Chorley was well known for its severe punishment. The barracks were in an old mill off Eaves Lane. I was very glad to hand him over as, if he had wished to escape, I had no means of preventing him other than the bayonet which I was wearing, which was the official dress for escort duty. The moment the prisoner stepped inside the barracks he was on the double, so I was glad to turn my back on him. I then made my way back to Whittle for the rest of the day and night. I never knew why I had been chosen for detail but it just happened to be Chorley. He could easily have done a runner as we had to walk up from Chorley railway station to the Cowling mill.
Whilst I was at Kingston on Thames, I received from my parents the address of father’s brother Harry. Dad had not seen him for over forty years. I think he had been a valet in service. He lived at Teddington, which was not far from the part of Richmond Park where we were stationed. So I made my way and he made me very welcome. He had one son, Raymond, whom I never met, and is now deceased. Whilst at Kingston, I also visited another of Dad’s brothers, Arthur, and his wife, as they lived at Tooting and within easy reach on the underground tube railway. Arthur had a son named Arthur and he said he was the eldest grandson of my grandfather John Tustin. He also had a son called John Arthur and the last I heard of him, he was living in the vicinity of Tooting. My Uncle Arthur and his wife had celebrated their diamond wedding and had sent my parents a photograph taken at the time of their anniversary. Uncle Arthur had been a jockey in his younger days and he lived to be a good age, in his nineties, I understand. The young Arthur has no son, but a daughter and it seems like the lineage of the Tustin line is becoming extinct as there are no further sons anywhere direct from John Tustin, my Grandad. All my father’s brothers either had no children or ended up with no direct male descendants, other than my two sons! A family tree had been drawn up by my cousin Jack (John) Tustin. He was the second son of my father’s eldest brother Jim.
During my time at Kingston on Thames, we had the very nasty experience of the German V2 Bomb. Unlike the VI one never saw or heard it until the explosion. It just came out of the atmosphere and a great deal of damage in London was caused by this bomb. I think a Woolworths store in the city was badly damaged. Eventually, my time at Kingston came to an end, as the remedial treatment had proved successful.
Continue to 26. Donnington, Glasgow & Sail To India