Good Times in Blackpool

Proudly wearing the wing

After finishing gunnery school and receiving my coveted air gunner’s wing, I was awarded embarkation leave for a fortnight. Not allowed to go far afield, let alone home, we were sent to Blackpool.

Not that I was disappointed with the destination. Everyone knew of the resort on the Irish Sea coast of England which had been the favoured holiday spot of Brits for decades.

There was something for everyone.  Blackpool Pleasure Beach, built in the late 1800s, the promenade, wooden roller coasters and other thrill rides, Blackpool Tower and Tower Ballroom to mention a few.

Interestingly, Blackpool had escaped enemy bombing during WWII for the most part and, according to the Daily Mail, papers have come to light indicating Hitler demanded it be spared as he was planning on using it for a personal playground once the war was over. Unfortunately for him, things didn’t go his way.

I felt fortunate to be billeted at the Manchester Hotel, which was more of a boarding house really, located in an ideal location on the boardwalk right opposite Blackpool Pier. I can tell you it was a nice change from service quarters. Best of all, the landlady cooked all the meals for us – good North Country fare and delicious.

Our leave coincided with Wakes Week (which was actually two weeks and also known as “trades fortnight”), a period particularly celebrated in the North of England (and Scotland), when tradesmen and their families take their holidays. So it was a bustling place during my leave in that summer of '42.

The best mode of transportation around Blackpool was the tram and the bus conductress (we called them “Clippies”) would look the other way when a serviceman boarded, which allowed us to use the same ticket the entire leave.

While anxious to experience all Blackpool had to offer, I was a bit lonely. Luckily I met a nice girl about my age, whose name escapes me now, to accompany me on the amusement rides and watch the concerts and shows.  Funnily enough, many years later after my wife and I had moved to Canada, we met up with a couple from England and it turned out the wife was related to my Blackpool pal.  Small world.

Probably the biggest draw at the Blackpool Tower was Reginald Dixon, the Wurlitzer organist for over 40 years. He became quite a star, selling more recordings than any organist before (or since).  Dixon eventually joined the RAF and was called upon to entertain servicemen, performing concerts at the Tower Ballroom and broadcasting on the radio from Europe. He attained the rank of Flying Officer and left the RAF as Squadron Leader, returning to his duties at the Tower at war’s end.

I also enjoyed the Billy Cotton Band, whose signature tune was “Somebody Stole My Gal”. Before setting up his own orchestra, Billy Cotton had falsified his age and saw service in the First World War, landing at Gallipoli during an artillery barrage. Still a teenager, he learned to fly a Bristol Fighter aircraft and first flew solo on the very day the Royal Flying Corps became the Royal Air Force.

Having such a great time in Blackpool, I felt some regret when embarkation leave was suddenly cut short, but that was soon replaced with anticipation. For security reasons we weren’t told our ultimate destination, but rumour around the ranks was we were shipping out to India (which turned out to be spot on).

Before getting underway though, we were told to report for inoculations and a physical checkup. I don’t know in whose infinite wisdom it was to choose a church hall for this exercise, but I was taken aback when told to strip bare for the procedure. Now, I'm not a particularly religious man, but it felt rather odd being completely unclothed in a place of worship.

The Sergeant in charge, a former flyweight boxing champion, strode into the church hall and surveyed the row of stark naked men before him. With a look of disapproval, he bellowed to a chap who'd failed to remove his cap "You! Take off your hat in the house of the Lord!"

Before long we were sent by bus to the docks in preparation for departure. I could see a troopship off in the distance and was beside myself with excitement, considering the only sea experience I'd had was a day trip across to Calais on the Brighton Belle.

My excitement quickly turned to disappointment when a small boat of about ten seats drew up and I was told to hop on.  "Surely they don't expect us to go all the way to India in that?” I sputtered, only to be met with gales of laughter and an admonishment, "You fool, that's the tender that takes you out to the ship".  Proof I was more cut out for the air force than the navy!

Ed Pearson