Post by Paul on Dec 17, 2004 13:40:04 GMT 9.5
Before you start reading, I apologize for the use of the ‘F’ word but you will see that the story would lose much of its impact if it wasn’t in place.
HOOLEY F*%KIN' DOOLEY!!
During World War II, R.A.A.F 12 Squadron was operating in Dutch New Guinea. Lloyd Phillips was posted to that squadron, becoming a member of aircrew flying Vultee Vengeance Dive Bombers.
The Vultee Vengeance was the allies answer to German JU87 Stuka. The Vultee was a two seat dive bomber boasting a 1,700hp Wright Cyclone piston engine which produced a top speed of 449km/h and a cruising speed of 370km/h. Apart from a maximum bomb load of 2,000lb it was also armed with six 0.303in or 0.50in guns in the wings and rear cockpit.
Not a pretty sight when sitting idle on the tarmac, according to Lloyd, the plane became transformed to the most graceful of predatory birds once airborne.
The method of attack was simple, terrifying, heart stopping and exhilarating all at the same time. The Vultee would fly at around 10,000 feet and when over its target, would simply roll over on its back and drop in a 90 Degree plummet towards its prey. Deadly accurate, the Vengeance could place its deadly cargo within 45 feet of the hapless target.
The Aircrew of Lloyd's squadron was befriended by a
native dog who hung around the camp begging food scraps. The dog soon became a favorite with the men and was treated as a sort of unofficial mascot.
Lloyd and his mates like most Australians in the armed forces had little time for formalities of rank and were quick to punish those that were, "Up em'selves". To this end, they generously gave English lessons to one of the native children named Mooba, who used to hang around the camp. Imagine then the surprise the Commanding Officer had one day when confronted by a small Native Boy.
Snapping off a very smart salute, Moomba in very clear English then shouted out, "Good Mornin' you F%#kin' Bastard". Moomba of course didn't have the first idea what he was saying and wondered why so many of the Australian Aircrew who were within earshot had collapsed into laughter with tears streaming down their eyes.
So the humour spread to the little native dog, one of the aircrew decided to give the dog a treat and take him for a spin in a Vultee. The dog loved it, so when those awesome messengers of death took off on a mission the dog was part of one of the planes aircrew.
Japanese pilots in their Zeros and those on Divine Wind missions shouted out Banzai as they went into battle. Not so for Lloyd and his mates. Imagine being in a plane that suddenly turned on its back and plummeted toward the earth, the more natural phrase of, "Hooley F%#kin' Dooley" was called out, and that is exactly what they named the native dog that so loved to fly.
A dive bomber produces massive G-forces when it pulls out of a dive, so it was par for the course that the crew blacked out, including Hooley. The first one to come out of the blackout had to ensure that the other crew member was awake, even Hooley adapted quickly to the rule.
RAAF 12 Squadron and Hooley flew many sorties together and saw a lot of action. Hooley's place in the plane was between the legs of the navigator who managed to hold Hooley in place during those vertical dives.
In 1995 I visited Lloyd at his beautiful home at Seacliffe. We sat on the front porch admiring the beautiful view of St Vincent’s Gulf, you could see clear up to the bay at Glenelg and on to distant Port Adelaide.
Lloyd told me how at the end of the war, the squadron managed to sneak Hooley into Australia and changed his name to a more respectable "Hooley F. Dooley" for the sake of the feminine company he would be mixing with.
Hooley lived out a long and happy life in the suburbs of Sydney and when he did finally pass on, his mates from RAAF 12 squadron laid him to rest and drank copious amounts of beer to his memory, many a tear was shed that day.
Lloyd Philips described his war, he told me of mates long departed and of battles fought, won or lost. With a tear or two he told me of a terrible battle on one of Dutch New Guinea's rivers, the A.I.F were sailing up the river one way and the Japanese Imperial Forces approached from the other. Dive bombing the Japanese boats, he finally witnessed the two sides meet head on and the river changed its colour to red.
Planes, guns, bullets and bombs are not a healthy environment for either man or dog. Throughout history
the human race has repeated its mistakes time and time again and turned to armed conflict.
To protect our freedom, some wars were necessary and there was never any shortage of ordinary men and women who answered the call to the flag.
To those brave souls that fought for our freedom and those that sacrificed their life. To the dogs that fought by their side or merely provided companionship to boost moral - I respectfully dedicate this section of the book.
Extracted from ‘It’s a Dog’s Life’ © Media Production Services – Paul Springthorpe 1990. All Rights Reserved.
HOOLEY F*%KIN' DOOLEY!!
During World War II, R.A.A.F 12 Squadron was operating in Dutch New Guinea. Lloyd Phillips was posted to that squadron, becoming a member of aircrew flying Vultee Vengeance Dive Bombers.
The Vultee Vengeance was the allies answer to German JU87 Stuka. The Vultee was a two seat dive bomber boasting a 1,700hp Wright Cyclone piston engine which produced a top speed of 449km/h and a cruising speed of 370km/h. Apart from a maximum bomb load of 2,000lb it was also armed with six 0.303in or 0.50in guns in the wings and rear cockpit.
Not a pretty sight when sitting idle on the tarmac, according to Lloyd, the plane became transformed to the most graceful of predatory birds once airborne.
The method of attack was simple, terrifying, heart stopping and exhilarating all at the same time. The Vultee would fly at around 10,000 feet and when over its target, would simply roll over on its back and drop in a 90 Degree plummet towards its prey. Deadly accurate, the Vengeance could place its deadly cargo within 45 feet of the hapless target.
The Aircrew of Lloyd's squadron was befriended by a
native dog who hung around the camp begging food scraps. The dog soon became a favorite with the men and was treated as a sort of unofficial mascot.
Lloyd and his mates like most Australians in the armed forces had little time for formalities of rank and were quick to punish those that were, "Up em'selves". To this end, they generously gave English lessons to one of the native children named Mooba, who used to hang around the camp. Imagine then the surprise the Commanding Officer had one day when confronted by a small Native Boy.
Snapping off a very smart salute, Moomba in very clear English then shouted out, "Good Mornin' you F%#kin' Bastard". Moomba of course didn't have the first idea what he was saying and wondered why so many of the Australian Aircrew who were within earshot had collapsed into laughter with tears streaming down their eyes.
So the humour spread to the little native dog, one of the aircrew decided to give the dog a treat and take him for a spin in a Vultee. The dog loved it, so when those awesome messengers of death took off on a mission the dog was part of one of the planes aircrew.
Japanese pilots in their Zeros and those on Divine Wind missions shouted out Banzai as they went into battle. Not so for Lloyd and his mates. Imagine being in a plane that suddenly turned on its back and plummeted toward the earth, the more natural phrase of, "Hooley F%#kin' Dooley" was called out, and that is exactly what they named the native dog that so loved to fly.
A dive bomber produces massive G-forces when it pulls out of a dive, so it was par for the course that the crew blacked out, including Hooley. The first one to come out of the blackout had to ensure that the other crew member was awake, even Hooley adapted quickly to the rule.
RAAF 12 Squadron and Hooley flew many sorties together and saw a lot of action. Hooley's place in the plane was between the legs of the navigator who managed to hold Hooley in place during those vertical dives.
In 1995 I visited Lloyd at his beautiful home at Seacliffe. We sat on the front porch admiring the beautiful view of St Vincent’s Gulf, you could see clear up to the bay at Glenelg and on to distant Port Adelaide.
Lloyd told me how at the end of the war, the squadron managed to sneak Hooley into Australia and changed his name to a more respectable "Hooley F. Dooley" for the sake of the feminine company he would be mixing with.
Hooley lived out a long and happy life in the suburbs of Sydney and when he did finally pass on, his mates from RAAF 12 squadron laid him to rest and drank copious amounts of beer to his memory, many a tear was shed that day.
Lloyd Philips described his war, he told me of mates long departed and of battles fought, won or lost. With a tear or two he told me of a terrible battle on one of Dutch New Guinea's rivers, the A.I.F were sailing up the river one way and the Japanese Imperial Forces approached from the other. Dive bombing the Japanese boats, he finally witnessed the two sides meet head on and the river changed its colour to red.
Planes, guns, bullets and bombs are not a healthy environment for either man or dog. Throughout history
the human race has repeated its mistakes time and time again and turned to armed conflict.
To protect our freedom, some wars were necessary and there was never any shortage of ordinary men and women who answered the call to the flag.
To those brave souls that fought for our freedom and those that sacrificed their life. To the dogs that fought by their side or merely provided companionship to boost moral - I respectfully dedicate this section of the book.
Extracted from ‘It’s a Dog’s Life’ © Media Production Services – Paul Springthorpe 1990. All Rights Reserved.
