In my experience, transport pilots conducted important ferrying between China and India, carrying VIPs, troops, the wounded, equipment and freight, often in enemy territory and while flying aircraft without guns.
I've wondered if these pilots resented not seeing action and having to perform what some might consider mundane tasks. I hope not.
Likewise, RAF ground crew are not given their due considering the vital function they played. These hardworking servicemen were constantly under stress, operating under the strain of responsibility for our safety and our aircraft.
They had to be ready at a moment's notice to quickly react to emergencies and often sustained injuries and fatalities.
The ground crew re-fueled, re-armed and maintained aircraft along with patching up damage to the fighters. More often than not, this work was done under a relentlessly blazing sun.
They started the engines before missions and assisted air crew in clambering into their cockpits and turrets. I know I never failed to value their presence.
I was recently asked if I'd been afraid while on bombing missions. The short answer is yes, I was scared silly - fear of enemy attack or running out of fuel, but never concern that the ground crew hadn't sent us up in an aircraft maintained to their highest ability.
All of this is why I take great satisfaction in relating to you a tale of an incident where a few unsung heroes experienced a moment of glory of their own in the sky.
A couple of transport pilots at our field had been briefed to the seemingly ordinary task of transporting building materials to the other side of no-man's land.
Six ground crew were tasked with carrying and loading the heavy materials into the Dakota plane, which included a full load of concrete blocks. This crew also went along on the ride in order to unload it all again on the other side.
While winging over Burma's great river, the Irrawaddy, the pilots noticed two exquisite enemy floatplanes tethered to a jetty. They were gleaming beauties and obviously brand spanking new.
A light bulb must have gone on over the lead pilot's head, because he looked over at the other and casually asked "How about taking them out?" The co-pilot's sly grin confirmed his agreement.
There was a quick consultation with the ground crew, who collectively reacted with great enthusiasm, despite knowing it was in defiance of orders.
The concrete blocks had been piled up at the back of the plane and while the first pilot started his extraordinary bombing run, the crew speedily piled the blocks near the cargo doors.
The Dakota made its approach to a few feet above the doomed floatplanes, and then banked so that the cargo doors were lined right up with the target.
To a roar of approval from the ground crew, the doors opened and out slid the cement blocks, streaming downward with purpose and proving their force as they landed right on target, demolishing those much admired floatplanes to rubbish.
Barely taking time to absorb their success, the renegades quickly tailed for home, feeling jubilation at their concrete (pun intended) contribution to the cause.
Miraculously, they were not shot at or followed, obviously having caught the enemy completely off guard. Good thing too, as Dakotas were not only unarmed, but not known for speed.
Back at camp we sat in rapt attention as they excitedly regaled us with the details of their unexpected departure from routine.
We heartily congratulated them on their achievement and shared in their sense of pride. It was far into a very long war and their success lifted camp spirits and boosted our flagging morale.
The RAF, on the other hand, was far less thrilled with their adventure. It was presumed disciplinary action would result and there were rumours the pilots might be court-martialed for disobeying orders, exercising their own initiative and taking unnecessary risk.
Still, these things take time and within a few months the war was finally over in any event, so it was not worth pursuing that course of action.
I'm happy to think of our heroes leaving service with their reputations intact and with a great story to pass on to grandchildren, mine included.
