This is a recounting of Harley Tuck Sr's and my (HT Jr) trip to England in July 2005 on a Return To Rattlesden ("RTR") reunion tour. While there I kept some notes, many of which are found here. Then I edited them a little more for continuity and added a few details to support the pictures.

I apologize right off for mishandling so many peoples' names- I didn't write them down at the time and now I really wish I had because so many people extended such generosity to us all I wish I could thank them by name.

Finally, I want to belatedly register my awareness that at times on this trip I gave a pretty good impression of the Ugly American. There were reasons but no excuses; I sincerely apologize.

Enjoy- HT Jr.

I went through Dallas- Ft Worth and met up with Daddy in Minneapolis, he having come in straight from Spokane. We continued on together to Chicago where we were supposed to have a 2+ hr layover, during which we had planned to make the last Stateside phone calls and eat lunch. We had been following the itinerary times closely but for some unknown reason, as soon as we got there we had time to find the outbound gate to London, then begin boarding. Apologies have already been made to all those we missed calling.

The flight to London was fun enough. I got to write in my trip log and play with the freebie toys. Years ago you had to pay for the headphones to listen to the music and movies. On this flight they were all free- 25 channels of music and your choice of 6 movies. Unfortunately, none of the movies were anything I wanted to see (The Incredibles was in the catalog but not on the schedule for the flight) and I'd brought my own preferred music, so I didn't take advantage of any of their services. Except for one, the video display of the trip progress: a relief map of the ground with a little white airplane showing where we were at that moment. THAT was cool.

The route we took was a path about 100 miles north of the path Daddy had taken in his flight to Europe in the Hi Jinx in '43. We mused for a while re: the differences between then and now. The fully loaded B-17 could manage maybe 170 mph; the video display said we were going 565 mph. They flew at 35,000 ft, we were at 37,000; the cloud formations we saw below us looked just about the same as those he saw on his trip. The air temperature at this altitude was about the same: -50 F, but where he had been bundled up in his three layers of silk, wool and fleece, I was sitting there in my t-shirt and sweat pants drinking ice water.

Got to London and found that the wheelchair reserved for Daddy came complete with a person to push it and wait for a tip when finished. As it happened, this 'pusher' was well worth his tip as he got us through baggage claim and past customs with no hassle. He had to leave us at the Underground running between terminal 3, the one we'd arrived at, and 4, the one the Hilton hotel was near where the tour group was gathering.

We got on, then off the subway, then managed to get along ok by walking several dozen feet then finding a chair for Daddy to sit in while I scoped out the next leg of the route and came back to get him. We worked through the terminal in stages until we got to the walking tunnel which connected terminal 4 to the Hilton. The signs were placed every 100 feet or so, "You are 6 minutes walk from the Hilton"... "You are 5 minutes walk from the Hilton"... There were no benches to rest on so I ended up running ahead to fetch a concierge with a golf cart to come get him.

Met the rest of the tour group. I met a few people but mostly stayed separate and wrote postcards and rested; Daddy snoozed. Eventually all the tour members arrived- actually, at 2:30pm we gave up waiting for the last party- and we boarded the coach for Cambridge. Got to the Gonville Hotel and saw a startling sight across the street, about which nobody knew anything.   It sat there a provocative mystery until the next day when it  suddenly rose straight up in the air and disappeared!  No, really, I asked around  and found out it was the French circus mentioned on the banner in the picture foreground.

I think that was... Thursday night. Friday morning was free until lunch at the Eagle, a pub famous for the WWII aircrews who had adopted it as home, and also for being the place where Watson and Crick invented (?drew on a napkin?) the transistor. They were researchers at Cambridge, at the time, in fact... I was repeatedly struck by the fact that this quiet, ancient city was the actual place that has been home to some of the biggest discoveries and pivotal social events in Western Civilization. In the States we think a 100 year old building is hot stuff, but here some of the students were living in 500 year old dorms!

The lunch at the Eagle was fun, sitting under the ceiling upon which air crews ever since WWII had written their unit's names in cigarette lighter soot. The 447th BG was there, too, just above the entrance. However, the 'pub grub' was everything I had ever heard about the nutrition of food in an English pub: potatoes and sour cream with little specks of vegetables in it; macaroni salad with a few peas; bread and butter, a scanty portion of meat and plenty of heavy gravy. It tasted good but I started craving fruit right then. The lunch was slightly ameliorated by my first encounter with Old Speckled Hen ale. As an aside, I need to say that I was aware that I had come to the birthplace of ale and I was bound to taste as many different ales as I could while I was here, as long as I could maintain proper public decorum and take care of Daddy to the best of my ability. I particularly wanted to get to know English Barleywine.  Old Speckled Hen wasn't barleywine but it was a very tasty beginning to my researches.

After lunch we started walking back to the coach which would take us to the hotel to pick up the hired Cambridge tour guide (as distinct from Bob Reynolds, our tour guide in charge of the Return To Rattlesden tour).

 Everybody else paced ahead of Daddy and me and got to the bus while we were still halfway there. Bob's wife, Betty, walked along with us to hold Daddy's hand and help him over the steps and stumbles until his legs just plain wouldn't go no more. Bob borrowed a wheel chair from Clare College's security office and we got Daddy to the coach.  Then at the first opportunity, we rented one to use for the rest of the tour. 

Back to the Gonville to pick up the Cambridge tour guide. She introduced herself, "I'm from Mehico Ceetee but don' worrrry, I know everytin' abou' Cambrich!" She did have a few interesting things to say about the town but it was difficult to understand a lot of it. Daddy and I were sitting right up front only two seats behind her and a couple times heard her muttering off- microphone, "Oh, no, I'm completely lost!" and arguing with Richard the coach driver about what street went where. The very first time Richard showed his considerable professionalism and skill was when she had him drive us far down an extremely narrow street then had him back up the coach all the way to a driveway where he could turn around. He got a round of applause for that.

Friday evening was free so I found an Internet cafe and sent off the email news bulletin with some pics. The Jaffa cafe was small and crowded and, except for a young White woman surfing the net, full of young Mid Eastern men, some smoking hookahs and playing various games. I confess, after the Al Qaida bombings in London 2 weeks previous, I was just a little nervous to be the only White guy in the place. Guess I'm showing my latent racism, or something; I was polite and businesslike and so were they and I got out of there thoroughly looked at but unharmed.

Found a pub around the corner from the Jaffa, named The Six Bells. Real nice, small place, very neighborhood- pub- like. I had a half pint of Greene King bitter (pretty good) and a half pint of some other brew I forgot the name of, while writing my 2nd batch of post cards.  Just a quick mention of one of the surprising things Daddy and I had learned since arriving was that the English truly don't tip most service workers.  They get paid a fair wage for their work and don't expect extra.

Then back to the Gonville to talk with the other vets in the hotel pub til bedtime. Sat am we got up in time for breakfast and on the bus with "wheels rolling" by 9:30a.