PROFILE

MAX MORRISON

Max applied to join the RAAF on his 18th birthday, May, 1944 and was called up for service in August of that year. After initial training on entry he was sent to 4 School of Technical Training in Adelaide to train as an Engineer. He passed this course with a good pass and was then posted to Ascot Vale, Victoria to train as a Flight Mechanic.

In March, 1945, Max was posted to East Sale attached to the engine repair section of the workshops there where 'out of time' Beaufort engines were removed and stripped, then new engines with reconditioned accessories were fitted to the old engine frames in the aircraft.

BEAUFORT, BEER & BOMBS

Two or three davs before V.P. Day and after the bombing of Hiroshima, on hearing the news that Japan, was suing for peace someone announced from the stage of the R.A.A.F. Cinema at No.1 O.T.U. East Sale RAAF Base that it was the end of the war in the Pacific. This resulted in some wild scenes, some of the chaps set fire to the brush fence around the Sergeants Mess, while another mob went to the Hudson dispersal area, near the old 'Heart' homestead at the South east end of the 'drome, where they took a large number of verey light shells and fired them indisscriminately into the sky over the 'drome. All great fun, except that there were a lot of Beauforts up on training exercises!

One young pilot asked for permission to land as he was short of fuel, but he was sent around for another circuit as the C.O. thought he had more fuel than the planes ahead of him: He had engine failure and landed in a farm paddock a mile or so to the north side of the 'drome.

In the history of the Beauforts a simple entry says, "A9-562 was crashed near East Sale, 10/08/45.

The next morning at parade our Sergeant asked for volunteers to salvage the Beaufort from the farmer's paddock. He also said if there was no more trouble the officers and the N.C.0's would take all the kegs of beer from the two messes, put them into the empty hangar and then, when peace was declared, serve it to all the men.

As I was a flight mechanic and a non-drinker, I decided that the best way to keep out of the way of my senior fitter 2E, 'Snowy', was to volunteer to go out to get the engines out of the crashed plane. 'Snowy' was a great lover of beer and cards. Unfortunately, no one else volunteered, so the Sergeant sent "Snowy" to look after me. I was in deep trouble as 'Snowy' thought all the beer would be gone before we could get back. He may have been nearly right as it took two or three days to lift the plane up.

When the crash crew trucks arrived at the site of the crash there were bits of wings, guns, ammunition, etc, all over the paddock as the plane had hit the power line into the base, skidded through two fences and buried it's nose in an irrigation dike. All the crew were unhurt but the main cabin area was the only undamaged part. However, this still weighed about 7-8 Tonnes.

The officer in charge lined us up and told us there were four main things we had to do:

(1) Find out if the plane contained any petrol.

(2) Not to unnecessarily damage the plane and to lift it straight up if possible.

(3) It had to be chocked on the truck 18 inches above the tray. (We wondered why?).

(4) When ready we should ask permission to proceed with each part of the job and not to take the plane through the main gate but the long way around to the salvage area, near the Hudson dispersal's.

Job No. I was OK. We pumped out the forward tank in the fuselage. It hadn't been turned on so we obtained two 44 gallon drums, which were not quite full, out of it. Then the jacks holding the plane settled into the soft ground. So we let them fall over as the load area would then move to more solid ground where we jacked it up again and were able to remove the engines and lift them onto our smaller truck.

Bv now it was the second dav and every spare body was listening to the radio for news of the Armistice, 'Snowy' in particular for the start of the free beer.

We were told to park our truck and help with jacking up the plane so that it would let the big truck under the fuselage which was about 45 feet long and about 20 feet wide with the outer wing sections, which had not already been knocked off by the crash, removed by the riggers. When the officer left for base we gave a few pushes and over fell the jacks. We continued to do this until we had solid ground to work on. So much for the instruction to not damage the plane but we reckoned that the war was all but over so it didn't matter if a few dents wereiinflicted on the underside.

After jacking up the 7 Tonnes or so of aircraft and dropping it several times to get it on to the solid ground we could, at last, see our way to be able to back the big truck under it. So we asked permission on the radio to let it down on to the truck and to proceed back to base. The request was denied. The officer was coming back with another truck and to supervise the operation. Imagine our surprise when he arrived with the armourers. We told them that the guns and ammunition had already been removed and were with the guards covering the crash. But no! They had come out to unload the bombs as the plane still had a full load on board! Well, before the officer had finished the sentence we were all about as far away as possible and still able to hear the radio. The armourers removed all the practice bombs and there seemed to be a great number of them. They were all in the bomb racks and despite the rough treatment the bomb bay opened as if it were brand new.

As the armourers left we heard the siren on the camp and on the radio we heard that peace had been declared. "Free Beer" said 'Snowy' and without further ado we let the wreck down on to the truck - no packers, just ropes and off we went. Who would care now if we dented the belly of the plane?

But at the first irrigation bridge we found that without packing the plane couldn't pass over it. 'Snowy' decided all that was between him and his free beer was the wing section of the bridge, a 4 inch by 4 inch rail. I knew now why the officer was so insistent about the height of the chocks!

'Snowy' said "Give me the axe and don't worry". He cut the offending section of the bridge down to let us and the truck through. In another quarter of a mile there was another bridge and the same problem so another rail was cut and so on until the main road was reached.

We managed to get our small truck ahead of the big semi -trailer and drove into the base. The last I saw of the semi-trailer was at the guard room at the gate where the driver was having an argument. We had come to the main gate with a load which had a span of 20 to 25 feet but the new gate posts to the base had been made to look like bombs. They were Kittyhawk belly tanks set in concrete and only 18 feet apart.

I never did find out how the driver got on, as being in front we kept on going. I think the gate posts would have to have been removed as the truck and it's load would have been too big to turn around. I didn't ask.

I collected my V.P. Day leave pass and by the time I had showered and put on my best blue uniform I saw two chaps carrying 'Snowy' back to the hut. He had drunk too much too quickly and missed the rest of the show!

In April, 1993 whilst on a trip to Innamincka, I was talking to an old retired farmer friend, who is a few years my junior, about the RAAF 50th Anniversarv and he said he remembered a plane that crashed next to their farm house on the V.P. weekend. When I said I had worked on the salvage of that plane, he told me that as a youngster he was able to bribe the aircraft guards by taking a roast dinner to them, while he drained two 5 gallon drums of 100 octane fuel from the wreck, for his motorbike. So after 48 years the mystery of the not quite full fuel tank was solved.


First published in "The Long, The Short, & The Tall
Edited by David Pearce DFC
Published by Brian Swash
For
The Gippsland Branch of
The Royal Australian Air Force Associan (Victorian Division)