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It was a cold and foggy night early in 1944 when my sister Olive shot through the door slamming it shut behind her; she was 21 at the time.

Our mother had died in 1936 leaving dad with a family of seven children aged between one and fifteen. Anne, the eldest, had looked after us until she joined the A.T.S. Olive, then aged 16, took over the running of the house. Joe, my only brother, was on bomb-repair work in London and Meril, aged 18, had commenced training as a nurse at the Royal Waterloo Hospital, also in London. This left my sisters Janette, aged 16 and Geraldine, aged 14, at home with my Dad and I. I was eight and a half years old.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost”, said Dad. I looked up from my jigsaw. Olive stood with her eyes blinking, becoming accustomed to the light; although the curfew imposed on the east coast early in the war had been lifted, the blackout was still in operation.

“Dad, what’s Fido?”, Olive asked.
“I’ve no idea”, he replied.
“Sounds like a dog”, put in Geraldine.
“I’m serious”, went on Olive, “I was coming down Star Yard when all of a sudden the sky lit up and I could see as plain as day. I let out a scream and a man, who I’d not seen in the dark, said, “Don’t worry love, it’s only Fido.””
“It looks as if Bessingby is on fire. Come and see if it’s still there”.

We all trooped out being careful that no light shone through the doorway. Sure enough, behind the fog was a brilliant red glow which lit-up the whole area.
“You’re right”, said dad, “I’ll go to the A.R.P. post and find out what’s happening”.
He was gone ages.

In the meantime Janette, Geraldine and myself went upstairs to look out of the front bedroom window. Geraldine opened the window for a better view; overhead droning planes could be heard. All through the war, every night whatever the weather, we’d lie in bed watching searchlights sweep the sky, listening, identifying Spitfires, Halifax and Lancaster bombers by their drones. We could even tell how many engines they were coming in on!

The next morning Dad announced that F.I.D.O. stood for ‘Fog Intensive Dispersal Of’ and that it was used at Carnaby airdrome for emergency landings of planes returning from German bombing missions.

After the war we forgot about FIDO. As we grew older we would reminisce about the old times. Olive told us that Carnaby airdrome held the record for the number of planes landing in one day, the aircrews being multi-national; from Poland, Czechoslovakia, Free French, Canadian, American, Australian, South African and others. There home bases would have been anywhere in Britain. The aircrews used to go to dances in Bridlington, I guess that’s where Olive gained her knowledge, but we never came across any information to confirm it.
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Added by: Alan Brigham - www.hullwebs.co.uk

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