MWI 41081311 The First Night Training Air Raid
1941, Wednesday 13 August;
They sat around the big teak table in the conference room of the RAF Far East Command Headquarters, Sime Road Camp, with Park sitting at the head, the accompanying Army and RAF officers along each side. Park spoke slowly, gravely, with controlled anger in his voice. They were reviewing last night’s training operation.
Gentlemen, that was simply a disaster, let me make this most clear to you, it will not happen again. Park looked slowly around the table, looking at each face, making eye contact, before moving on to the next one. They sat there, silent, each reviewing in his own mind what had happened. Still fresh in Park’s mind was the lies he had told the reporters that morning, how if it had been a real raid, nearly all the bombers would have been shot down, and the base would have been totally safe.
The plan had been quite simple, red team, 6 Swordfish, 4 from FAA 814 Sqn and 2 from FAA 839 Sqn, had taken off from HMS Hermes, 80 miles away from Singapore at 10pm that night. Each armed with two dummy bombs, to simulate the weight.
It was a night time flying exercise for the FAA, with a take-off and landing done at night. But it was also a test of the defences, of blue team, how they would react to a night attack on Singapore Naval base. The time of attack was known, agreed even, the height they flew already set two days ago, when planning this. A simple exercise, or so they thought.
Sqn Leader Carter reflected on his radar’s failure. The TRU radar station up on Bukit Timah hill had switched on at 8pm, plenty of time to warm up, get everyone settled, and then plot in the raid, reporting to the air control at Kallang, who liaised with the AA control at Changi. Everything was fine, until twenty past nine, when a failure had taken the station off air. Their best two maintenance officers had been absent, down in Singapore, celebrating a birthday, and couldn’t be located. It had only been eleven, this morning, before the station had got back up on air!
Brigadier Wilding nervously played with his pencil, repeating in his head what he might say in defence of his command. Guns, searchlights, it had all been a mess. Should he blame individuals, a one-off circumstance? He worried about what he might have promised in the past, he struggled to recall all he might have said. He hadn’t spoken to Park much, an introduction, a few months ago, and a few short reports in committee before.
Lt Col Allpress sat beside him, debating in his head on whether to just accept a roasting, or try to offer some mitigation. No gun had declared it had captured a bearing on the aircraft, and indeed, a number of guns had not even been readied despite a ten-minute warning. He even had a number of casualties, the worse one had four broken ribs and a punctured lung, but another had a broken leg, a dozen or so others with sprains, strains etc. They had done other night exercises, but alone, with no real aircraft to track, and against a ticking clock. How different this exercise turned gun routines into, as men had clumsily acted out their roles, the excitement, and adrenaline causing chaos.
Lt Col Clarke, was next along the table, his searchlights had all worked fine, except for the one which had convinced itself an aircraft was in the cloud it illuminated, and then another two had circled around the first, creating a lovely light spectacular over the city, entertaining the upwardly looking crowds below. As for finding aircraft, they hadn’t got close.
Opposite Clarke sat Sqn Leader Fowle, who commanded 27 RAF night fighter squadron. He had sent two Blenheim 1F’s up that night, both with AI Mk IV’s. They’d had the radars fitted for about a month now, and had been practicing almost daily, in daylight hours to gain proficiency. Both aircraft were up on time, in their own boxes, and that’s about all that could be said that was good. The first aircraft had been up for about 10 minutes before the radar set failed, and they hadn’t been able to repair it, while in the second aircraft they had inexplicably changed radio frequency, and hadn’t notice it, so flew around in complete ignorance, waiting for direction from a ground control that couldn’t contact them.
Air Commodore Stanley Vincent sat on Parks right, in stony silence, already having discussed the failings earlier, Air defence of Singapore was Vincent’s top priority, this failure reflected badly on him personally. Park was well aware of his problems, but wanted to make a point with the officers under him, including the Army units which worked hand in hand with Vincent’s command, and he was in no mood for excuses, despite many of them being more than reasonable, needing to vent his anger and frustration.
Park leaned back, eyes looking at the ceiling, he spoke to them all in a steady clipped tone with a noticeable tone of aggression. “I’m not going to ask why things went wrong, I understand we have a lot of new people, incomplete training programs, and unfamiliar equipment. I want a report on my desk from each of you by the end of tomorrow, detailing, not just what went wrong, but how you will change things for the better. But I will tell you now, I will give you a month, and we will be doing this again, and there will be a marked improvement in each of your performances or your career in uniform will be coming to a quick conclusion. You are dismissed”.
They all quietly got up, relieved they hadn’t been asked to explain, were careful not to scrap their wooden chairs on the floor, and softly walked out. Park’s mind was already elsewhere. He was meeting Governor Caldicott tonight and needed to have a chat about the Civilian APR and blackout, which had simply been appalling, with large parts of the city still lit up.
They sat around the big teak table in the conference room of the RAF Far East Command Headquarters, Sime Road Camp, with Park sitting at the head, the accompanying Army and RAF officers along each side. Park spoke slowly, gravely, with controlled anger in his voice. They were reviewing last night’s training operation.
Gentlemen, that was simply a disaster, let me make this most clear to you, it will not happen again. Park looked slowly around the table, looking at each face, making eye contact, before moving on to the next one. They sat there, silent, each reviewing in his own mind what had happened. Still fresh in Park’s mind was the lies he had told the reporters that morning, how if it had been a real raid, nearly all the bombers would have been shot down, and the base would have been totally safe.
The plan had been quite simple, red team, 6 Swordfish, 4 from FAA 814 Sqn and 2 from FAA 839 Sqn, had taken off from HMS Hermes, 80 miles away from Singapore at 10pm that night. Each armed with two dummy bombs, to simulate the weight.
It was a night time flying exercise for the FAA, with a take-off and landing done at night. But it was also a test of the defences, of blue team, how they would react to a night attack on Singapore Naval base. The time of attack was known, agreed even, the height they flew already set two days ago, when planning this. A simple exercise, or so they thought.
Sqn Leader Carter reflected on his radar’s failure. The TRU radar station up on Bukit Timah hill had switched on at 8pm, plenty of time to warm up, get everyone settled, and then plot in the raid, reporting to the air control at Kallang, who liaised with the AA control at Changi. Everything was fine, until twenty past nine, when a failure had taken the station off air. Their best two maintenance officers had been absent, down in Singapore, celebrating a birthday, and couldn’t be located. It had only been eleven, this morning, before the station had got back up on air!
Brigadier Wilding nervously played with his pencil, repeating in his head what he might say in defence of his command. Guns, searchlights, it had all been a mess. Should he blame individuals, a one-off circumstance? He worried about what he might have promised in the past, he struggled to recall all he might have said. He hadn’t spoken to Park much, an introduction, a few months ago, and a few short reports in committee before.
Lt Col Allpress sat beside him, debating in his head on whether to just accept a roasting, or try to offer some mitigation. No gun had declared it had captured a bearing on the aircraft, and indeed, a number of guns had not even been readied despite a ten-minute warning. He even had a number of casualties, the worse one had four broken ribs and a punctured lung, but another had a broken leg, a dozen or so others with sprains, strains etc. They had done other night exercises, but alone, with no real aircraft to track, and against a ticking clock. How different this exercise turned gun routines into, as men had clumsily acted out their roles, the excitement, and adrenaline causing chaos.
Lt Col Clarke, was next along the table, his searchlights had all worked fine, except for the one which had convinced itself an aircraft was in the cloud it illuminated, and then another two had circled around the first, creating a lovely light spectacular over the city, entertaining the upwardly looking crowds below. As for finding aircraft, they hadn’t got close.
Opposite Clarke sat Sqn Leader Fowle, who commanded 27 RAF night fighter squadron. He had sent two Blenheim 1F’s up that night, both with AI Mk IV’s. They’d had the radars fitted for about a month now, and had been practicing almost daily, in daylight hours to gain proficiency. Both aircraft were up on time, in their own boxes, and that’s about all that could be said that was good. The first aircraft had been up for about 10 minutes before the radar set failed, and they hadn’t been able to repair it, while in the second aircraft they had inexplicably changed radio frequency, and hadn’t notice it, so flew around in complete ignorance, waiting for direction from a ground control that couldn’t contact them.
Air Commodore Stanley Vincent sat on Parks right, in stony silence, already having discussed the failings earlier, Air defence of Singapore was Vincent’s top priority, this failure reflected badly on him personally. Park was well aware of his problems, but wanted to make a point with the officers under him, including the Army units which worked hand in hand with Vincent’s command, and he was in no mood for excuses, despite many of them being more than reasonable, needing to vent his anger and frustration.
Park leaned back, eyes looking at the ceiling, he spoke to them all in a steady clipped tone with a noticeable tone of aggression. “I’m not going to ask why things went wrong, I understand we have a lot of new people, incomplete training programs, and unfamiliar equipment. I want a report on my desk from each of you by the end of tomorrow, detailing, not just what went wrong, but how you will change things for the better. But I will tell you now, I will give you a month, and we will be doing this again, and there will be a marked improvement in each of your performances or your career in uniform will be coming to a quick conclusion. You are dismissed”.
They all quietly got up, relieved they hadn’t been asked to explain, were careful not to scrap their wooden chairs on the floor, and softly walked out. Park’s mind was already elsewhere. He was meeting Governor Caldicott tonight and needed to have a chat about the Civilian APR and blackout, which had simply been appalling, with large parts of the city still lit up.
