For those that don't do Facebook- My dad's LD (Lord Denis) war stories
posted on the link below. It's a website called "Witnesses to War"
Enjoy
https://www.witnesstowar.org/s
A VETERAN'S STORY: The British gentleman and his Southern belle
* By Pete Mecca
aveteransstory@gmail.com
* Jan 8, 2017
<https://www.rockdalenewtonci
British World War II aviator Denis Payne and his Southern belle bride Mary
met in Americus where Payne was training during the war. (Special Photo)
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British aviator Denis Payne (with goggles) was photographed with four of his
flying mates during training in Americus at Southern Field. (Special Photo)
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Britain's slow Fairey Battle aircraft was no match for German fighters.
Denis Payne, who served as a flight engineer at the age of 19 aboard a
Fairey Battle, decided he would have better chances as a pilot. (Special
Photo)
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This photo shows Denis and Mary Payne in London in 1944. Mary, who became a
British citizen upon marriage, worked for an American general in London
during the war. (Special Photo)
After the downfall of France in WWII, the German Luftwaffe controlled the
skies over Europe. Their next objective was to sweep the Royal Air Force
from the blues as an essential prerequisite to Hitler's invasion plans. The
British government and military were painfully aware their precious resource
of pilots was in limited supply and immediately expanded flight training.
But a serious problem arose: With a limited landmass, Jolly Old England
could not protect their airfields from marauding German aircraft.
The fighter planes, the Spitfire and Hurricane, were more than a match for
the German Messerschmitt Bf-109 and the Focke-Wulf Bf-190. British aviation,
although low in aircraft, maintained a priceless edge due to the new-fangled
invention called radar, but the British could ill-afford the perilous loss
of human resources. The idea occurred to train British pilots in "safe" or
"neutral" countries including the "nonaligned" United States of America.
Along comes The Arnold Scheme. Named after its topmost architect, General
"Hap" Arnold, the U.S. Army Air Corps instructed British pilots at airfields
within the Southeast Air Corps Training Centre. The towns and airfield
locations included Camden, S.C., Tuscaloosa, Ala., Arcadia and Lakeland,
Fla., Americus and Albany, Ga. At these so-called "secret" airfields, over
18,000 British airmen earned their wings. Denis Payne was one of those
aviators.
Born on Sept. 11, 1919, near Devonport, England, Payne graduated at age 15
from the Colchester High School for Young Gentlemen, then entered the Royal
Air Force School to study engineering. At the age of 19 he was flying aboard
the obsolete Fairey Battles as a flight engineer. Venerable and slow, the
Fairey Battle was easy prey for German fighters.
"I realized to hopefully survive the war I needed to get out of the backseat
into a pilot's seat," Payne said.
He applied for fighter training, was accepted, but before his orders came
through Payne fought in the Battle of Britain as a crew member on a Bristol
Beaufighter. "The Beaufighter was used for night fighting," he said. "I
remember the missions, all the bullet holes in our plane, a bit scary, it
was."
In late summer 1941, he received orders for fighter training in America.
Sent to Montgomery, Ala., Payne recalled, "We spent two weeks adjusting to
the weather and trying to understand the Southern language. You may remember
that Winston Churchill claimed, 'England and America are two countries
divided by a common language.' All I can say is, the chap knew what he was
talking about."
The summer heat of Montgomery was bad enough, but the British pilots really
had problems adjusting to an apparently vulgar system known as West Point
military inflexibility. Payne declared, "Bloody hell. We got up at 5 a.m.
and hustled everywhere. They told us when to eat; they screamed at us ....
We were not very happy blokes!" Next stop: "Secret" training in Americus,
Ga., at Southern Field, renamed Jimmy Carter Regional Airport in 2009.
British pilots were not allowed to wear their uniforms into town because of
American "neutrality" at the time. Payne stated, "Every man, woman and child
in Americus knew we were British subjects, but they treated us
magnificently. They invited us to a 'weenie roast' during our first week.
We'd never eaten hot dogs nor understood the nickname. We were very
concerned about what the blokes wanted to roast."
Payne fell in love with America and its people. "We were born into a rigid
class system in England, but in Americus we were treated as equals. The
townspeople were easy-going and approachable, a big difference from the
system I grew up in."
On Southern cooking: "I loved Southern cooking then and I love it now. We
ate fried chicken for the first time; could get peaches, corn on the cob,
black-eyed peas, butter beans and cornbread. I visited the local drug store
and sat down at what they called the lunch counter. I ordered this thing
called a banana split. When that treat was placed in front of me I thought
I'd died and gone to heaven." When asked about fried okra, Payne said,
"Listen, mate, I'm only 94 years old; give me a bit more time."
And Southern iced tea? "Now that's a problematic bit of Southern culture.
It's bad enough that Southerners drop ice cubes in their tea glasses, then
add sugar to sweeten it. After that they add lemons to make it tart again.
It doesn't make any bloody sense." And American beer? Payne replied, "Well,
put it this way, we walked into a store in Americus to hopefully purchase a
few beers. We got bottles of root beer. Not exactly what we had in mind. We
figured the Yanks were hard up for alcohol."
Another incident: "I was in town with my mates and ran into the mayor's
wife. A very nice lady; always had the time to talk with us. When I asked
what she was doing in town, she replied, 'Oh, just piddling around.' We were
speechless. If a British pilot is "piddling" around it's because he's had
one too many at the local pub. I was sort of worried about the mayor's wife
after that conversation."
Payne met an American beauty from Manchester, Tenn., named Mary who was
working in Americus during the war. Sparks flew, and cupid proved to be an
expert archer. They tied the knot within six weeks. The couple has been
fighting the language barrier for over 75 years. Payne recalled, "When we
first started dating I told Mary to meet me in front of Gaham's the next
weekend. She had no idea what I was talking about. I told her it was the
biggest building in town with the name plainly painted on the front in
sizable letters. Well, the building was advertising Georgia hams, the
lettering was GA HAMS."
Mary Payne automatically became a British subject by marriage. Once in
England she was scheduled for employment with the British military, but an
American general recruited Mary due to her dictation skills. She said with a
smile, "My talent on the piano helped, too." Mary had entertained American
servicemen with her musical aptitude en route to England via a 60-ship
convoy.
When Payne met Mary's parents the first time he asked her father while at
the dinner table, "Sir, with your permission, I'd like to knock up your
daughter in the morning." Mary recalled, "Good Lord, dad almost stroked out;
his face turned fire engine red." In British terminology, "knocking someone
up in the morning" meant knocking on their bedroom door and serving them
breakfast in bed. For the British, the request is a tactful and polite
gesture. But Payne said, "Bloody hell, the American fathers could be quite
unsettled by the offer."
Payne's piloting proficiencies earned him a posting teaching navigation in
Macon. One responsibility required correcting map and plotting errors made
by new recruits. Payne used a large red eraser to correct the penciled-in
mistakes. "Well, I corrected so many mistakes I needed a new rubber," he
recalled. "That's what Brits call an eraser. I went downtown to a
Woolworth's Store and informed an attractive female employee that I needed a
big red rubber. She stuttered incomprehensibly for a sec, then directed me
across the street to the Rexall Drugstore. I didn't understand why, but
being polite I did as the young lady requested. I approached a female worker
in the drugstore and dutifully asked her for a big red rubber. Her face
flushed. I wondered what the bloody hell I was doing wrong. Well, she
excused herself and fetched the manager. He was a nice lad, but I had to
repeat my request. He finally said, 'Very well, sir, would you like a
dozen?' I said, 'Good Lord, man, I only need one!' He replied, 'Yes, sir',
and walked behind the counter. He opened a drawer and pulled out a handful
of Trojans, in all sizes. I realized my blooper, but was too embarrassed to
say a word, so I just bought one, a big one. Then I walked immediately back
to the British barracks, opened the package and took the thing out and
pinned it to the bulletin board with a large note that read: Warning: This
is what the bloody Yanks call a rubber!"
Payne's dedication and aviation abilities earned him an instructor's slot,
receiving the same patriotic pitch from his superiors three times during
WWII, "Good instructors are more important than pilots." Ports-of-calls
included instructing aviation cadets in Macon and at the twin-engine fighter
school in Scotland. Later assigned to British Bomber Command, Payne trained
British pilots on the safe landing techniques of Lancaster, Ventura and
Wellington bombers during inclement weather. A natural pilot, his wisdom
earned him status as an Aviator-of-all-trades.
On D-Day, June 6, 1944, the Allies launched the Normandy Invasion to
liberate Europe. Payne recalled that morning: "We were taking off in a
Wellington bomber and, per procedure, pulled up the undercarriage. We never
knew the cause but for some reason the bomber continued on down the runway.
She pancaked, skidded down the runway and across the motorway then smacked
nose-first into a haystack. A brand new bomber, she was, with highly
classified radar and other sensitive equipment, totally destroyed."
Later that afternoon Payne and other aviators were celebrating D-Day in the
officer's mess. "Well, we downed a pint too much," he stated. "We started
passing around a new but very sterile pristine chamber pot filled to the
brim with ale. I may say that compelled several blokes to leave the bar.
Later we staggered outside, physically picked up an MG sports car then set
it down on the dance floor inside the bar. I really can't tell you what
happened after that because we left before the owner showed up."
After VE-Day, Denis and Mary Payne paid a visit to her hometown in
Manchester, Tenn. He recalled, "Mary had not been home in three years and
was anxious to see her family. I was happy for her, but never thought I'd be
arrested for running corn liquor!" Mary's friends packed Payne's car with
corn liquor as a prank; called their buddies at the local police department,
and they arrested Payne. "It was pretty funny; after it was over," said
Payne. "I still have the distinction as the only British subject thrown into
jail for running corn liquor in Manchester, Tenn."
Denis and Mary Payne's charming sense of humor conceal their graphic
experiences of WWII. They witnessed death and destruction on a daily basis,
lost several friends, and knew that the grim reaper could make the fatal
call at any given moment. Nevertheless, they fought and lived and loved
through the inferno of a World War. The conflict is long over, but the
Payne's continued living, loving, and laughing.
After the war Payne found employment at the British Consulate in Atlanta,
until his retirement. "That's right, mate," he said proudly. "I am the
original James Bond, 007. And if you care to believe that, I'll knock you up
with a cup of tea."
Gentleman Denis Payne passed gently into the good night on June 11, 2013.
Pete Mecca is a Vietnam veteran. For story consideration or comments:
aveteransstory@gmail.com <mailto:aveteransstory@gmail.c
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