Today, Greg celebrated his 20th birthday. His training and service on the Western Front had taken place entirely while he was a teenager. Back home in Holyhead, he would soon be resuming his studies in Bangor. It was in Bangor that he had portrait photographs in the new RAF uniform taken by Wickens’ Studio. His award of the British War Medal and the Victory Medal (“Squeak” and Wilfred” as they were popularly known) marked the end of his service in the First World War.
100 years later, on what would have been Greg’s 120th birthday, it seems an appropriate time to bring to a conclusion the story of Greg’s War.
Studio Portraits of Greg
It was probably around now that Greg had these two studio portrait photographs taken:
Studio portrait photograph of Greg by Wickens of Bangor. Click for larger image. Credit: Greg’s War CollectionStudio portrait photograph of Greg, probably also by Wickens of Bangor. Click for larger image. Credit: Greg’s War Collection
Light Blue RAF Uniform
The uniform that Greg was wearing was probably the light blue 1918 service dress, which was never very popular. ‘Somewhat Ruritanian’ seems to have been the general verdict. According to the Uniforms and Insignia of the British Air Force website, where the uniform’s colour can be seen, it was:
Originally introduced at the outset the Royal Air Force as optional Mess Dress for the duration of the war, and then reclassified for general wear in July of 1918.
John Wickens, Photographer
The portrait of Greg seated is mounted on card. An inscription reads:
Wickens’ Studios, Upper Bangor, N. Wales
The second is unmounted, but it looks as though it was taken at the same time.
John Wickens (1865-1936) was a noted portrait photographer of the day. The National Library of Wales has this to say about him:
John Wickens was a well-known Bangor photographer with studios in The Crescent and College Road, Upper Bangor and High Street, Bangor. According to trade directories, he first operated as a photographer in the town in 1889 and remained in business there for the remainder of his life.
By 1900, he had two premises at Retina Studio, Upper Bangor, and Studio Royal, 43 High Street. He was a prolific portrait photographer, and won awards for his images, including a Gold medal at the Swansea Eisteddfod in 1891.
So the location for the portraits was probably Retina Studio (which 100 years later sounds more like an iPhone app).
Medals
Greg’s war record has a stamp that says “Service considered for the grant of war medals”. In due course, the medals arrived. He was eligible for the British War Medal and the Victory Medal:
Greg’s British War Medal and Victory Medal – “Squeak” and “Wilfred”, or “Mutt” and “Jeff”. Click for larger image.
These were two of the service medals of the First World War. He was not eligible to receive either the 1914 Star (also known as the Mons Star) or its alternative the 1914-1915 Star, as he had only signed up in 1917.
Greg’s medals have, as is the norm for those of First World War, inscriptions on their rims with his rank, name and unit (in his case the RAF):
The inscriptions on the rims of Greg’s medals, seen here in the hands of his great-granddaughter. Click for larger image.
Pip, Squeak & Wilfred, or Mutt & Jeff
The three First World War medals were properly speaking service medals rather than campaign medals. They were irreverently known as Pip, Squeak and Wilfred after the characters in a Daily Mirror strip cartoon that first appeared in 1919. So Greg was the recipient of “Squeak” and “Wilfred”. This pair was also – and equally irreverently – known as Mutt and Jeff, after the pioneering US cartoon strip of that name.
University College of North Wales (now Bangor University)
Apart from the portraits, Greg’s more substantive connection with Bangor was that it was there that he would be returning to university to finish his undergraduate degree. The history of the institution is summarised on Bangor University’s website here:
The University was founded as a direct result of a campaign in the late nineteenth century for higher education provision in Wales. Funds were raised by public subscription to establish a college of university rank in Bangor. An important feature of its foundation was the voluntary contributions made by local people, including farmers and quarrymen, from their weekly wages over a period of time.
Opening its doors in 1884…
The University was founded as the University College of North Wales. It opened its doors on 18 October 1884 in an old coaching inn with 58 students and 10 members of staff. The students received degrees from the University of London until 1893 when the University of Wales, Bangor became one of the three original constituent colleges of the University of Wales .
The location…
The University was originally based in an old coaching inn called the Penrhyn Arms. In 1903, the city of Bangor donated a 10-acre site overlooking the city at Penrallt for a new building, and substantial sums of money were raised by local people to help meet the cost. The foundation stone for this was laid in 1907, and four years later in 1911 the main building was opened, together with some arts and social science buildings and part of the Library.
The Science Departments remained in the Penrhyn Arms for another fifteen years. In 1926 they moved to new purpose-built accommodation which had been constructed with the assistance of funds raised by the North Wales Heroes Memorial.
The Penrhyn Arms Hotel
So, since Greg was a Chemistry student, he would have spent his time and around in the original building that was formerly The Penrhyn Arms Hotel. In 1840, it had looked like this:
The Penrhyn Arms Hotel, Bangor. From a ca. 1840 print held by the National Library of Wales/Llyfrgell Genedlaethol Cymru. Stated to be in the public domain. Click for larger image.
Its location was here:
Bangor, showing the College marked in red, from a 1904 Bartholemew’s map. Click or tap for a larger, zoomable image. Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland.
All that remains today, following demolition of the hotel building as a result of a scheme to realign the A5 road, is a portico:
Penrhyn Arms Hotel Portico, with the Menai Straits and Anglesey visible in the background. Click for larger image. Credit: People’s Collection Wales. Use licensed under a Creative Archive Licence.
It was here, in the former Penrhyn Arms Hotel, that Greg completed his undergraduate – and subsequently graduate – studies in chemistry. Much later in his life, he told me that the syllabus for his undergraduate degree was simply “chemistry”. Astonishing as it seems to us today, undergraduate students were then expected to be abreast of literally all developments in the subject. That wasn’t sustainable for much more of the 20th century.
Syllabus aside, though, I have often wondered how he settled back into student life. There must have been something of a gulf between those who had been to war and those who hadn’t. He had only been in the armed forces for less than two years in total, and on the Western Front for just over five months before Armistice Day. But while he was away, he probably aged rather more than the elapsed time would suggest.
The Last Post?
This concludes the story of Greg’s War – the First World War experiences of 2nd Lt. C. E. Gregory RFC/RAF in 1918. Greg’s 120th birthday seems a fitting day to stop.
His pilot’s log book is now published in full, as is his diary of active service, to the extent that he kept it. Practically all his photographs and printed memorabilia have also found their way into the blog. I have tried to provide enough surrounding material to set his experiences in context, and to make them understandable. In the course of doing that, I have learnt and come to understand a great deal more myself.
So there may not be another Greg’s War post…but I would never say never!
Thank you…
…to all who have visited Greg’s War. You have been a truly international readership. Since the blog’s inception, there have been visitors from 55 countries, in all continents (well, OK, not Antarctica). At the time of analysis (31 January 2019), visitors have come most frequently from (in descending order): the UK, the US, Canada, France, Australia, Ireland, New Zealand, Belgium, China, Germany, Hong Kong, Russia, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Bermuda, Spain, Poland, Kenya and India.
And thank you to those who have helped and supported this endeavour. Particular thanks to those of you who have subscribed to the blog, and to those who have commented or contacted me with further information or corrections. And what I said at the foot of the About page still applies:
I am grateful to my stepfather, Rob Parsons, for his research and input, including his recollection of Greg’s telling of some of the events in the blog; to my good friend Michael Seymour (a real historian) for his advice and substantial contributions; to my daughter Lizzie for social media and content advice; and to my wife Barbara, who has both encouraged me in this endeavour and kindly put up with my wittering on about Greg’s War for some time. I am sorry that Greg never met either his granddaughter-in-law or his great-granddaughter.
I remember Greg with affection and admiration.
Greg’s War 2?
In the Second World War, Greg was back in uniform. Squadron Leader C. E. Gregory RAF was an intelligence officer in Coastal Command. One day, there may be a Greg’s War 2.
But in the meantime, in the words of the song associated with Harry Tate, and hence indirectly with the Royal Aircraft Factory RE8:
Bonsoir old thing, cheerio! chin chin!
Nah-poo! Toodle-oo!
Good-bye-ee!
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Today was the day that Greg was “placed on [the] unemployed list”. Demobbed from the Royal Air Force, he was free to go home.
The newly demobilised Greg would no doubt have travelled by train back to Holyhead on a travel warrant. There, an enthusiastic welcome from his family would have been waiting.
Holyhead Station approach, much as it would have looked in 1919. The central hotel and administration building was flanked by two train sheds. The ferries for Ireland docked immediately behind. Image Credit: Old UK Photos (click here to see a larger version on their site).
Greg would soon return to life as an undergraduate student. He had had a wait of around eleven weeks since Armistice Day, which he probably found tedious. But apart from that modest inconvenience, his repatriation, demobilisation and reintegration into civilian life were not apparently problematical. But that wasn’t the case for everyone. Michael Seymour reflects here on the issues arising from this huge logistical exercise:
And what of Greg’s squadron? Was that too demobbed and placed on the unemployed list? As it turned out, the squadron was disbanded a few months later, on 26 June 1919. Disbandment was at Netheravon in Wiltshire, just 15 miles from Yatesbury, where Greg began his flying training on 14 March 1918.
The badge of 42 Squadron RAF (St Edward’s crown version). Used under Crown copyright licence.
42 Squadron had later incarnations before, during and after the Second World War. Its aircraft were, in turn: Vickers Vildebeests, Bristol Beauforts, Blenheims, Hurricanes, Thunderbolts and Bristol Beaufighters. Its final role was in marine reconnaissance. For this task, it flew first Avro Shackletons and then Nimrod MR.2s. Its last mission was in 2010. The squadron therefore began and ended with reconnaissance roles. It was formally disbanded on 26 May 2011. See https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/No._42_Squadron_RAF.
The Perseus Connection
42 Squadron’s association with the Vickers Vildebeest – its third aircraft after the BE2s and RE8s of the First World War – lives on. When Royal Air Force heraldry was rationalised in the 1930s, the badge that was awarded to 42 Squadron was blazoned:
In front of a Terrestrial Globe Azure/Argent the figure of Perseus Or.
The reference to Perseus served two functions. First, Perseus was of course the famous slayer of the Gorgon – an allusion that any fighting unit would wish to have. So Perseus embodied the squadron’s motto fortiter in re[1] (resolute in deed). And, yes, the similarity of sound between fortiter and forty two is quite deliberate. This ‘canting’ motto is an example of what passes for a joke in heraldry.
Secondly, and more specifically pertinent for the squadron, the Vickers Vildebeest was re-engined with the Bristol Perseus engine, which the squadron was the first to use.
And the globe behind Perseus is a reference to the international deployment of the squadron.
[1] The motto comes from the writings of Claudio Acquaviva (1543-1615), the fifth Superior General of the Jesuits. He advocating being fortiter in re, suaviter in modo (resolute in deed, but gentle in manner).
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No doubt to his great relief, Greg was today at last on his way home – back to Blighty. Or, as his war record has it, this was the day that he transferred from the British Expeditionary Force to the Home Establishment:
Back to the Channel
He would have made his way to one of the channel ports, most likely Boulogne, probably by train. Perhaps his route took him via Douai, Arras, St Pol-sur-Ternoise, Montreuil and Étaples, in a partial retracing of his journey from Boulogne to Aire-sur-la-Lys back in early June 1918:
Crossing the English Channel he took these two photographs, probably with his Vest Pocket Kodak camera:
“Homeward Bound” – taken by Greg crossing the English Channel. Click for larger image. Credit: Greg’s War CollectionCrossing the Channel – taken by Greg on his way home. Click for larger image. Credit: Greg’s War Collection
Judging by the way the light falls in the contre jour photograph entitled ‘Homeward Bound’, it looks as if it the ship was actually outward bound! Most likely it was passing Greg’s ship on its way to pick up more homecoming troops. And the men in the other photo could be looking into the light at the passing ship.
Greg was probably sailing on the NNW course from Boulogne to Folkestone. This was the reverse of the crossing that he made on the SS Arundel on his way out to France at the end of May 1918:
He had crossed the Channel since then, though: he went home on leave on 18 September 1918 and he had probably set off back to the Western Front on 1 October 1918. But this time, it was back to Blighty for good.
Back to Blighty
Despite its misleading similarity to the word ‘blight’, Blighty was an affectionate slang term for Britain or England. Google says that it was first used by soldiers in the Indian army, and gives its etymology as follows:
Anglo-Indian alteration of Urdu bilāyatī, wilāyatī ‘foreign, European’, from Arabic wilāyat, wilāya ‘dominion, district’.
Google’s Ngram viewer shows that the word rapidly gained currency in about 1910, but its usage fell markedly in the mid-1920s. It has enjoyed a modest revival in recent decades. Perhaps this had something to do with increased writings on the First World War as we approached its centenary. Maybe laced with a certain amount of post-modern irony.
The word ‘Blighty’ features on Laurence East’s Christmas card for 42 Squadron. It stretches on his stylised map from the Cheshire plain almost to the Thames estuary, as shown in the post for Christmas Day:
In one of Greg’s albums is a photograph that has the caption “42 Squadron R.A.F. (Abscon) Nov 1918”. The date is quite clear. It is also quite wrong. 42 Squadron wasn’t at Abscon in November 1918.
42 Squadron RAF at Château Lantier in Abscon, January 1919 (not November 1918 as captioned). Click for larger image. Credit: Greg’s War Collection.
42 Squadron RAF at Château Lantier, Abscon
How do we know that the location is right and the date wrong, and not vice versa?
Well, first, we know that the location – Abscon – is correct. This is because the background is recognisably Château Lantier, a former landmark of Abscon.
Château Lantier in Abscon, from a contemporary postcard. Click for larger image. Credit: www.akpool.co.uk
Seen in this postcard photograph, the grand Château Lantier stood sideways on to what is now la Place du Général de Gaulle in the centre of Abscon. In Greg’s photo, the officers and men of 42 Squadron are at the back of the château – the opposite side from that shown in the postcard.
The château was a little over ½ mile (1 km) from the airfield. But it would have been familiar to the squadron. It was after all in the middle of the aerodrome’s ‘home town’. And according to Anciens Aérodromes, some of the squadron’s officers were accommodated there. Today, the building is no more. Its site is now occupied by the town hall and various other buildings.
January 1919, not November 1918
Secondly, we know that the date in the caption of the photograph can’t be right. The squadron wasn’t at Abscon in November 1918. They were at Ascq at the start of November, and they moved to Marquain on Armistice Day. Later, on 25 November 1918, they moved again to Aulnoy, near Valenciennes:
Greg is in the photograph, near the middle in the fourth row up:
Detail from 42 Squadron RAF at Château Lantier in Abscon, January 1919, with Greg indicated. Click for larger image. Credit: Greg’s War Collection.
We know that Greg came to Abscon from Saultain on New Year’s Day 1919, in what was his last flight. He would be gone before the end of the month. So the photograph – Greg’s last group photo – must have been taken in January 1919.
Possibly the mistake in the date arose because of the similarities with a ‘B’ Flight group photograph at Ascq that was definitely taken in November:
In another photo taken at Abscon, RE8 4889 (actually D4889) stands on the airfield with the cité ouvrière and the spire of Abscon church in the background. Pilot and observer are in position, as is the Lewis gun on the Scarff ring – but so are the wheel-chocks. And there are no ground crew in evidence, so this looks like a posed photo.
RE8 4889 (D4889) – squadron number B1 – at Abscon. Click for larger image. Credit: Air Force Museum of New Zealand
RE8 4889
In January 1919, RE8 4889 was in a scruffy state. Scratches, patches and scuff marks are all over it. It used to be pristine. In fact, this is the shiny state in which we saw the same aircraft previously. In the post for 27 August 1918 it was pictured with Capt. Bill Ledlie standing proprietorially in front of the gleaming aircraft:
Capt. Bill Ledlie, CO B Flight, 42 Sqn RAF, standing in front of RE8 4889 (D4889), squadron number B1. Click for larger image. Credit: Greg’s War Collection
In this older photograph (probably taken at Rely, to where 42 Squadron had moved on 25 April 1918) the aircraft was clearly pretty new. It had been built by Napier and delivered to the squadron on 8 July 1918. It stayed with them until 28 January 1919. On that day Lt Judd ferried 4889 to St Omer, where 13 Squadron took charge of it. It had survived its time of active war service without major incident.
Possibly 4889 was the aircraft that Capt. Ledlie often flew. The squadron designation was ‘B1’, and Capt. Ledlie was the flight commander of ‘B’ flight. So he might have been the pilot in the photo at Abscon. But Capt. Ledlie didn’t have exclusive use of it. For instance, Greg flew 4889 on 6 October 1918 and 7 October 1918. More likely, since the photograph came from Lt McDermont, who later emigrated to New Zealand, it was he who was the pilot in the January 1919 photo.
The Abscon RE8 Photographs
This photograph is one of a series of aeroplanes and crew taken – probably at least semi-officially – at Abscon. Two others have been posted in previous weeks, one (of 2872) from Greg’s collection and one (of 2924) from the Air Force Museum of New Zealand, as this one was.
No doubt there are others in museums and dusty attics around the world. And more still that have been lost or destroyed.
Abscon Church
In the January 1919 photograph of 4889, the stubby spire of Abscon church rises above the house behind the tail of the aircraft. That church is now gone. According to French Wikipedia:
The old church, built in 1892 and closed to worship in July 1969 because of mining subsidence, was replaced by a new building inaugurated in 1981.
It was the stubbiness of this spire that made me think that the spire in the photograph in the post for 28 December 1918 was probably not Abscon’s, but more likely to be that of Saultain:
Two months after the armistice was signed on 11 November 1918, Greg, like so many others, must have been becoming tired of the waiting to go home from the Western Front.
Given the hundred years that have passed, none of us alive today knew Greg when he was 19. In later life, though, he was a calm man, who rarely if ever seemed impatient. And he was rational enough to know it was pointless to rail against something he couldn’t influence. This stoical quality seems to come through in this photographic portrait of Greg from his collection:
Waiting to go home? Greg in an undated, almost Karsh-like photograph. Click for larger image. Credit: Greg’s War Collection.
The photograph is undated, and the location is unknown. But there’s something of a quality of resigned patience about the portrait that seems to say ‘waiting’. So it may date from this limbo period after the armistice and before going home. Possibly it was at Abscon. Wherever it was, his accommodation looks quite comfortable.
The photographer is unknown, too. Could the photo be a selfie? Greg by Greg: an early example of the genre? Certainly he loved to experiment with that sort of thing. It’s unlikely to be a self portrait taken with his Vest Pocket Kodak. That doesn’t have a cable release facility. It is possible, though, that his left hand is covertly operating the shutter release of some other camera. Or the photographer may have been someone else – possibly someone casting a head-like shadow on Greg in the strong low light.
‘The Karsh Portrait’
In the family, we call this photograph ‘the Karsh portrait’ of Greg. That’s not to suggest that it was actually taken by the great portrait photographer Yousuf Karsh. Apart from anything else, young Yousuf would only have been 9 or10 years old at the time! It’s just that the strong lighting and sharp contrasts are vaguely reminiscent of some of Karsh’s later (and greater) portraits. Many fine examples can be found on the photographer’s website here.
On New Year’s Day 1919, Greg had ferried RE8 2924 (strictly speaking RE8 C2924) from Saultain to Abscon in his last recorded flight. The aircraft would remain at Abscon until 6 February 1918, when it was handed over to 13 Squadron RAF at St Omer. So on 8 January 1919 it would have been at Abscon, where this photograph was taken.
Houses of Abscon’s cité ouvrière are clearly visible in the background. Lt John G. McDermont is believed to be standing on the left.
RE8 C2924 at Abscon. Lt John Gilchrist Johnston McDermont is believed to be standing on the left. Click for larger image. Photo credit: Air Force Museum of New Zealand, MUS05056.
This photograph looks as though it is one of a series that includes the photograph in the 1 January post:
Lt John Gilchrist Johnston McDermont was born on 10 May 1896. This would make him 22 when the photograph was taken, and a little over two years older than Greg.
Lt McDermont was a pilot with B Flight, 42 Squadron RAF. When the squadron moved from Aulnoy to Saultain on 11 December 1918, he and his observer Lt Elliott crashed on landing RE8 D6740 at Saultain, but were both recorded as ‘OK’ in the casualty report, as previously noted here. (On the same occasion Greg and Lt Scarterfield had ferried RE8 2924 to the new aerodrome.)
After the war, Lt McDermont emigrated to New Zealand.
Thanks to…
Matthew O’Sullivan, Keeper of Photographs at the Air Force Museum of New Zealand for sending me the photograph and information about Lt McDermont, as well as for granting permission to use the photo here.
Andrew Pentland of www.airhistory.org.uk, whose Royal Flying Corps pages contain information about RE8 C2924 and Lt McDermont.
In the last flight recorded in his log book, Greg ferried another RE8 from Saultain to Abscon. This time it was 2924, and his passenger was Capt. Gordon.
Log Book
Date: 1919 Jan 1st
Machine Type: RE8
RE8: 2924
Observer: Cpt. Gordon
Time: 15 min
Height: 2000
Course/Remarks: Travelling to Abscon
Greg’s Last Flight
This was the last time that Greg took to the air at the controls of an RE8. It was some 9½ months after his first ever flight: an air experience trip in a BE2e on his first day of flying training:
Greg’s total flying hours up to armistice day had been recorded in his log book as follows:
Greg’s log book entries for 1-11 November 1918, with total flying times. Click for larger image.
Since armistice day, Greg had only flown for a further 2 hrs and 20 mins, at least according to the flights in his log book. (I’m still not sure whether he went for joyrides that were unrecorded in his log book.) Although his war flying total was unaffected by this extra time in the air, we can update the other totals as follows:
TOTAL TIME ON RE8s: 193 hrs 5 mins
TOTAL TIME IN AIR: 238 hrs 0 mins
SOLO: 227 hrs 55 mins
With Capt. Gordon at Abscon
So Greg brought Capt. Gordon to Abscon on the first day of the new year. Two days ago he had ferried RE8 2872 from Saultain to Abscon, with only sandbags for company. In this photograph, taken either on or shortly after 1 January 1919, Greg and Capt. Gordon (and Waso the dog) pose in front of 2872:
Greg, Capt. Gordon and Waso the dog in front of RE8 2872 at Abscon, January 1919. (Image retouched to reduce blemish.) Click for larger image. Credit: Greg’s War Collection
Although the photograph is undated, the background shows it to be at Abscon Aerodrome. More particularly, we can pin it down to to the northwest edge of the airfield, on the site of the more recently built housing as shown in the photos of Abscon Aerodrome in the post for 30 December 1918.
La Cité Ouvrière
The reason that it’s possible to be so precise about the location is the characteristic housing in the background. It is an example of une cité ouvrière.
This translates somewhat unsatisfactorily into English as ‘a workers’ city’. But that doesn’t properly get the meaning across. French Wikipedia defines une cité ouvrière (in translation) as a “concerted group of working-class housing, generally single-family”. By way of explanation, it continues:
It is originally an essentially residential area exclusively for workers in a particular factory and their families. It can be accompanied by communal facilities. In most cases, it is provided by the proprietor of the factory.
So in English we would probably say model village – but one in an industrial rather than rural context. British examples that have achieved some fame include Saltaire, Port Sunlight, Bournville and New Lanark, but French instances are probably more numerous even if less well known.
In any event, the housing above the rear part of the RE8’s fuselage in the above photo is part of Abscon’s cité ouvrière, named on the 1:40,000 map sheet 51A as la Cité de la République. It’s still there today, forming a rather more appealing living environment than the modern developments across the road on the airfield site:
La cité ouvrière d’Abscon (la Cité de la République) in 2018, across the road from the former aerodrome. Click for larger image.
And the name of the road that separates la cité ouvrière from the site of Abscon Aerodrome? Appropriately enough, it’s la rue du 11 Novembre.
42 Squadron RAF were on the move for the last time before both the Squadron and Greg returned to the UK. Today, as part of the move, Greg flew RE8 2872 from Saultain to Abscon Aerodrome, accompanied by sandbags in the observer’s compartment. It was to be his penultimate flight.
Log Book
Date: Dec 30thMachine Type: RE8
RE8: 2872
Observer: Sandbags
Time: 15 min
Height: 2000
Course/Remarks: Travelling to Abscon
42 Squadron Moves to Abscon Aerodrome
In their last move on the Western Front, 42 Squadron relocated 12 miles (19km) west from Valenciennes, broadly in the direction of Arras.
Saultain to Abscon on a modern map (courtesy Google). Click map for a larger image, or click here to go to Google maps.
So now they were back west of the River Scheldt (Escaut).
The aerodrome occupied a triangular site on the southern edge of the small town of Abscon.
Abscon Aerodrome location on Google Maps satellite view. Click map for a larger image, or click here to go to Google maps.
From 1914 it was a German airfield. But had been in Allied hands since its liberation by Canadian forces on 18 October 1918. This was the day after the liberation of Lille. The first RAF occupants were 19 Squadron (Dolphins), who moved in on 24 October 1918 and were still there when 42 Squadron arrived. So it is possible that the previously discussed photograph of a Sopwith Dolphin in Greg’s collection was taken when 19 and 42 Squadrons shared Abscon as a home:
Today, the former aerodrome at Abscon is partly a housing development, and partly farmland.
Site of Abscon Aerodrome in 2018. Looking northwest from the southern edge of the former airfield. Click for larger imageSite of Abscon Aerodrome in 2018. Looking northeast from the southwestern corner of the former airfield. Click for larger image
Abscon
Abscon itself was a small mining town, with various other industrial activities (including a sugar refinery and a glassworks, according to French Wikipedia). Just before the outbreak of the First World War the population was a little over 3,000. Today it is about 4,500.
42 Squadron RAF were soon to be on the move again. Another group photograph in Greg’s collection was taken sometime around now. The setting is an airfield with an RE8 behind the group, and a church spire in the distant background. This time it looks like a personal snapshot. Quite possibly the photographer was Greg. And the location was – probably – Saultain.
Group Photograph, Probably at Saultain
Group of RAF personnel (42 Squadron, B Flight officers?), probably at Saultain. Click for larger image.
Who Were They?
It’s hard to say precisely who they were. But the field can be narrowed substantially. By virtue of Greg’s allegiance, the odds are that they’re from 42 Squadron and more likely than not B Flight. Judging by the flying kit at least three of them are pilots or observers. In fact, they’re probably all officers – there’s a certain insouciance that suggests that! But that’s about as far as we get. Unfortunately, the headgear and the blurry quality of the image conspire to make it hard to match the faces with those on the better quality photographs of B Flight officers in these earlier posts:
Probably at Saultain. The evidence is a little slender. In fact it principally rests on the slenderness of the spire of the church in the background. The spire can just be seen emerging above the second man from the right in the photo.
We know from the thick coats and mackintoshes of those not in flying kit that this was a winter photo. That means it was most likely to be taken at:
It is the spires that help us choose between these locations. Aulnoy church has a tower without a spire. Saultain church has a spire that looks fairly like the one in the photo. And Abscon church, although completely rebuilt in recent years, used to have a spire that was not so slender. That will be visible in some photos still to come.
So, by a nose – and by a church with a slender spire – Saultain wins the competition for the most likely location of the photograph.
