Frank Proctor

On 22 February 2024, I met Frank Proctor in his flat in Southampton after his son, Tom, had kindly collected me from Southampton Airport Parkway. Frank had first come to my attention because of an article in The Daily Telegraph entitled ‘RAF Veteran stranded alone for Christmas after lift breaks’. To cheer him up, we sent Frank a Burma Star hamper and soon received an email from Tom: ‘Dad’s lift is fixed!! On a more important note, the box of goodies was delivered today. I have read the card & letter to Dad who I know will cherish both as will all his family. I also know he will look at and read the card & letter when I leave and will contemplate them and the past in his own time.’ After shaking Frank’s hand, I said: “How are you?” He replied: “I’m better now than I was before when I wasn’t so good as I am. Don’t overdo it.” I thought to myself: this is going to be fun!

Francis Douglas Proctor was born in Southampton on 1 January 1922, younger son of Thomas Andrew Proctor, a cook, night steward and waiter, crewing for the Cunard Line in RMS Mauretania and RMS Berengaria, and his wife Ellen (née Barnett). His father, who was originally from Bacton in Suffolk, moved to Yorkshire and Thomas was born at Kiveton Park, near Sheffield. The family later relocated to Rugby in Warwickshire because there was no work in Yorkshire. Thomas subsequently moved to Southampton, where he worked on the ships, while his younger brother, Evan, remained in Warwickshire and found employment in the motor industry in Coventry. Frank attended Regents Park Infants’ School, followed by Regents Park Senior School, both in Shirley, Southampton, explaining: ‘I enjoyed school and there was none better. The boys were upstairs and the ground floor was for the girls. Mr. Gains was the Sports Teacher and was the best without doubt. He was popular all round. Most pupils – the better half – went on to the grammar school but I had to go to work to earn some money to pay for my keep. I was nominated for a handwriting prize and examples of my handwriting were sent to London – but I didn’t win a prize. I flatter myself that my writing is still more than legible. Remember that there are two ts in flatter! At school I used to perform harmonica duets with Jack Bovill: he played the straight tune and I played the descant. After he went to Canada, I never saw him again, though.’ To prove that he hadn’t lost his technique, Frank then played me a spirited rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’. While still at school, he had a paper round, which paid one shilling and sixpence a week, enabling him to buy a James bicycle.

After leaving school, Frank got a job as a junior clerk with The Ancient Order of Foresters Friendly Society at ten shillings a week, explaining that, ‘to satisfy my ego, they called me a junior clerk but really I was an office boy’. Nevertheless, he was soon able to upgrade from a bicycle to a Matchless 350 cc motorcycle. Sadly, Southampton was a major target for the German Luftwaffe during what became known as ‘the Blitz’: not only was it a vibrant port city but there was a Supermarine factory, where Spitfires were manufactured, at Woolston, in the eastern suburbs. Frank said: ‘I worked at Supermarine’s, where they had a fleet of Walruses, a seaplane, before I worked on Spitfires. I did a lot of riveting: we used to rivet the panels on. We always used rivets, not chewing gum!’ He recalled: ‘We lived in a flat below ground level in Portland Street. I remember looking down at the Bargate and wondering why they didn’t bomb it – then I realised that they were using it as a landmark.’ As the situation in Southampton steadily deteriorated, ‘I wanted to go somewhere else and I went to Coventry’, where he lived with his uncle and aunt, Evan and Daisy, at 42 St. Elizabeth Road. He found work at the Armstrong-Whitworth factory at Baginton, near Coventry, which made Whitley bombers. In some respects, it was an unfortunate decision. Guided by 13 specially-modified Heinkel He III, equipped with X-Gerät navigational equipment, the Luftwaffe launched what was perhaps its most effective targeted raid of the entire war when no fewer than 515 bombers attacked the city in Unternehmen Mondscheinsonate, or Operation Moonlight Sonata on the night of 14/15 November 1940. In all, 4,300 homes were destroyed, two-thirds of the city’s buildings were damaged and almost 600 people killed, with a further 863 seriously wounded. ‘I have a very clear memory of the air raid: while Southampton’s shops were in a long line, Coventry had a main square, which was destroyed during the raid,’ Frank told me.

Although Frank tried to enlist when war broke out, he was working in a reserved occupation so was prevented from doing so. Instead, he joined the Air Training Corps (ATC) and the Local Defence Volunteers, later the Home Guard: ‘Everyone was being called up as soon as you were eighteen but I beat them to it because I was already in the ATC.’ Having enlisted in the RAF on 3 September 1942, he was posted to Blackpool for basic training: ‘I was quite popular there because I already knew all the drills, you see.’ He also remembers dancing in the Tower Ballroom that the television programme, ‘Strictly Come Dancing’, has since made famous. He next attended a specialist flight mechanic’s course, which lasted three years in peacetime, but took a mere three months during wartime. His training complete, Frank boarded 14,100-ton MV Highland Brigade, which had been requisitioned as a troopship from Royal Mail Lines Limited in 1940, for the voyage from Liverpool round the Cape, via Durban, to Bombay, which took six weeks. On arrival, he was posted to No. XI Squadron, which describes itself as ‘the world’s oldest, dedicated fighter unit’, with the motto, ‘Ociores acrioresque aquilis’ or ‘Swifter and keener than eagles’. No. XI Squadron became non-operational in August 1943 and moved to southern India for conversion and re-equipment with the Hawker Hurricane Mk IIC. A significant improvement on earlier models, this aircraft was powered by a Rolls-Royce Merlin XX engine, whose two-speed supercharger enabled the pilot to adjust the impeller speed, depending on air pressure, resulting in greater power at both high and low altitudes. Armed with four 20mm Hispano cannon and equipped to carry bombs, the Mk IIC was often used in the ground-attack role, when it was called a Hurribomber.

Each aircraft had a pilot, an engine fitter and a rigger. Frank was an engine fitter: ‘My role was to maintain the aircraft and do what was necessary. Protecting the engine, there were three panels: port, starboard and a big, heavy-gauge top panel. No-one ever took the top panel off so one day I suggested to the chaps that we did it and we did.’ There were daily inspections, as well as pre- and post-flight inspections. He would normally start up and run the engine during these inspections; if the pilot did so, though, he would sit on the tail with the rigger. Although normally working on the same aircraft, they would work on other aircraft in the Squadron, as required. He also took his turn at sentry duty. During this period, the Squadron was based at Yelahanka, north of Bangalore and at Chodavaram, east of Hyderabad and close to the Bay of Bengal: ‘We often lived in tents but occasionally we had no tents so we got wet. Three of the chaps once made a homemade shelter but there was no room for me so I simply lay on my groundsheet and rolled over and over and over so I didn’t get wet when it rained. I was once in the queue for food holding my tin plate out when I said to the cook: “Do you eat this too?” I was relieved when he said “Yes”. I was never hungry during the war.’ Six months after Frank joined the Squadron, a newly-arrived pilot was assigned to his Hurricane. His name was Peter Proctor and, until his death three years ago, the two of them always attended No. XI Squadron reunions together.

In December 1943, the Squadron returned to operations – in both the escort and ground-attack roles – in the Arakan. In March 1944, though, it moved to Imphal, where IV Corps was besieged by the Japanese Fifteenth Army. In the early days, Frank distinctly remembers a bullet whistling past his ears when the Japanese were strafing their airstrip, which happened quite frequently. For the ground crew, it was non-stop: servicing, refuelling and rearming the aircraft, before guarding them at night in case of Japanese incursions. Most unusually, though, the Squadron history panel notes that ‘the ground personnel experienced on many occasions the unique experience of being able to watch their aircraft bomb their targets’. Supplies were dropped to the besieged force from Dakotas, with so-called ‘kickers’ ensuring that they left the aircraft promptly and cleanly. Following the decision by the Japanese to break off their offensive in early July 1944, the 14th Army commenced its steady push south, towards Rangoon. With Allied air superiority guaranteed by this time, No. XI Squadron focused on the ground-attack and interdiction roles, at which it proved very successful. When coupled with air supply, this was one of the major factors in speeding up the advance.

In order to achieve the goal, No. XI Squadron followed close on the heels of the 14th Army, which was inherently risky. On 8 April 1945, Flight Lieutenant Sydney ‘Doc’ Wetherell, the Squadron’s Medical Officer, was mortally wounded by Japanese fire close to Yaw chaung, a tributary of the Irrawaddy. After his body was discovered by a search party, which included Frank, ‘Doc’ Wetherell he was initially buried at Sinthe – the forward field where the Squadron was then based – before being moved to Taukkyan Commonwealth War Cemetery after the war. Operation Dracula, an amphibious assault on Rangoon, proved unnecessary because the Japanese had largely abandoned the capital and moved further east. Rangoon was occupied by 14th Army units on 6 May 1945, at which point No. XI Squadron returned to India. From Magway on the Irrawaddy, they flew initially to Feni, on the Bay of Bengal, north-west of Chittagong (now Chattogram), before continuing their journey to Chettinad, near Bangalore. Frank told me: ‘We were flying in Daks, as we called them, when we saw Spitfires on the ground. We were all quite excited: “We’re getting Spits!”’ Beginning on 20 June 1945, the Squadron was re-equipped with the Supermarine Spitfire XIV, intended to be used in the reconnaissance role for Operation Zipper, the invasion of Malaya. Since the Japanese surrendered beforehand, the landings were unopposed, fortunately. During the next ten months, Frank was stationed initially at RAF Seletar on Singapore Island and subsequently at Morib Beach, south-west of Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaya.

In May 1946, No. XI Squadron joined the British Commonwealth Occupation Force in Japan; however, having served for 38 months and 19 days in South East Asia Command, Frank sailed to Liverpool and was released from full-time RAF service on 14 November 1946. According to his Royal Air Force Service and Release Book: ‘This airman’s character and trade proficiency have been routinely satisfactory during his period of service.’ ‘Granted 94 days’ leave on release commencing the day following the date of departure from the Dispersal Centre’, he was demobbed on 6 February 1947. Frank brought back with him a Japanese sword, together with the proof of provenance beloved of Antiques Roadshow: ‘This is to certify that 1663793 LAC Proctor has been permitted to retain as a souvenir the following captured item – 1 Japanese sword – this item is [a] legitimate souvenir in accordance with para (5) of A.C.S.E.A. (Admin) Order 701/45 and is of no intelligence value.’ The chit is signed by Group Captain G. Francis, commanding RAF Seletar and is dated 7 January 1946. He also retained his so-called ‘goolie chit’, which reads, in both English and Burmese: ‘Dear friend, I am an Allied fighter, I did not come here to do any harm to you who are my friends, I only want to do harm to the Japanese and chase them away from your country as quickly as possible. If you will lead me to the nearest Allied Military Post, my Government will give you a good reward.’

Initially, Frank followed in his father’s footsteps: having started as a Pantry Boy with the Cunard Line, he became a ‘Silver Service’ waiter, sailing in the Queen Mary and the Queen Elizabeth. Among the VIP guests for whom he was responsible, he particularly remembers Annunzio Mantovani, the Italian conductor. Soon, though, he took a job at the Ford factory at Swaythling on the north-eastern outskirts of Southampton where, from 1972, the Ford Transit van was assembled. With industrial disputes far from uncommon during his 35 years at Ford, Frank used to support the family during these interludes by waiting on table at the Potters Heron restaurant near Romsey. After completing his RAF reservist commitments on 7 August 1955, Frank immediately re-enlisted, in the Royal Auxiliary Air Force.

Having met her at the Banister Ballroom in Southampton – which sadly closed in 2002, its centenary year – Frank married, on 19 February 1949 at West End, Dorothy Myrtle, daughter of Bertie George Houghton of 18 Pundle Green, Bartley, Hampshire and his wife Helen (née Littlefield). Their wedding cake – comprising three extravagant layers at a time of rationing – was made by the pastry chef from the Queen Mary. They lived initially at 12 Halstead Road, Bitterne Park, Southampton and later at 9 The Drive, West End, Southampton and had three children – Marion, Tom and Maria – and, much later, fourteen great-grandchildren. Tom remembers that his father put his hard-earned RAF experience to good use by making things with his hands: household furniture, a garden shed and, most popular of all, ‘a superb sleigh which was the envy of our friends’. He also serviced and maintained all the family cars over the years. Frank became a Life Member of the Burma Star Association on 3 September 1976 (Membership Number P/2438/76) and served as Treasurer of the Southampton Branch of the Burma Star Association for many years. Tom said to me: “That photo of my parents could be Humphrey Bogart with Lauren Bacall.” I couldn’t possibly disagree!