2
25
930
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/99/928/BArcherSWArcherSWv10001.2.jpg
96c5e9a2c3fe5b19e3e3b666cf1ebf86
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/99/928/BArcherSWArcherSWv10002.2.jpg
e5df773c8321e1b4e84a13eba6a8c727
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Archer, Stanley
S Archer
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Description
An account of the resource
18 items. The collection concerns the career of Flight Sergeant Stanley Archer. He originally trained as a fitter and served in Fighter Command before re-mustering as a flight engineer and flying operations with 97 Squadron from RAF Woodhall Spa. The collection includes a memoir, a joke medal, an engine test report, a diagram of constant speed units, three operation honours cards and 11 photographs.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Rosemarie Da Costa and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Archer, S
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-29
Access Rights
Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies.
Permission granted for commercial projects
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[inserted] F/LT STAN W. ARCHER DFM 97 & 467 SQDNs [/inserted]
My association with the Lancaster started in 1942. I was one of the first Flight Engineers to be trained specifically for operational duty on this new bomber which for a while after its introduction carried two pilots.
The training started with an Air Gunnery course, 6 weeks at Walney Island and the flying carried out on Defiants. We were posted from the Gunnery School to our bomber squadrons in my case 97 Sqdn at Woodall Spa. 10 of us. Ten more went to 106 Sqdn at Coningsby and the remaining 10 went to Waddington.
97 Sqdn with 44 Sqdn have just carried out the incredible daylight raid to Ausburg [sic], 6 aircraft from each [deleted] each [/deleted] Squadron. This raid was to bring Sqdn. Ldr. Nettleton the Victoria Cross. [deleted] and [/deleted] We were received with some incredibility and disbelief, but we were soon to go on to our Lancaster Training. This was 2 weeks at Avros [sic] at Chadderton, followed by 2 weeks at Woodford. As I recall, the Instructors went through the various systems of the aeroplane, but of course there was no flying training and no real Engineer training.
This month with Avro’s was followed
[page break]
by a month at [inserted] No 4 S of T.T. [/inserted] St. Athans [sic] where we were instructed by R.A.F Flight Engineers on the Halifax which had only one thing in common with the Lancaster. The Halifax 1 had Merlin Engines. The course was in my case rather a waste of time, as I had worked as a fitter on Merlin Engines fitted to the Hurricane & Spitfires, and as all of the u/t Engineers were Fitter II E’s most of them knew the Merlin.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Training as a flight engineer on Lancasters
Description
An account of the resource
Stanley Archer’s account of his training as one of the first flight engineers for Lancaster operations in 1942. First he attended an air gunnery course then transferred to 97 squadron at RAF Woodhall Spa. He comments on a daylight operation on Augsburg. Training continued for a month at Avro's at Chadderton then Woodford. This was ground based on Lancaster systems, there being no flying training. This was followed by a month at RAF St Athan on Halifaxes. He had previously worked as a fitter on Hurricanes and Spitfires and he considered the course a waste of time.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Stanley Archer
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two handwritten pages
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BArcherSWArcherSWv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Germany
England--Lincolnshire
England--Chadderton
Germany--Augsburg
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
106 Squadron
97 Squadron
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
Defiant
fitter engine
flight engineer
ground crew
ground personnel
Halifax
Hurricane
Lancaster
RAF Barrow in Furness
RAF Coningsby
RAF St Athan
RAF Stockport
RAF Waddington
RAF Woodhall Spa
Spitfire
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1381/24059/PChadwickR19010045.1.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1381/24059/PChadwickR19010046.1.jpg
5d3e458d0e562b998b356ee27d8f73c1
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Chadwick, Roy. Pre 1920
Description
An account of the resource
29 Items consisting of photographs of people, places and aircraft.
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of Delphine S Stevens who has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0) permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Trafford Hall
Description
An account of the resource
In the centre a large multi-story building with two turrets on the roof. Smaller building connected to the right and other smaller buildings to the front. On the left a tall chimney. In the foreground open field. Captioned '725..4, British Westinghouse Co, Nov 19th 1901 ([..] from Trafford Park'. On the reverse 'Trafford Hall near Manchester, former home of the de Trafford family. Pulled down when Trafford Park Industrial Estate was formed in late 1800s. The British Westinghouse built here c 1912'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1901-11-19
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PChadwickR19010045, PChadwickR19010046
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Manchester
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1901-11-19
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of Delphine S Stevens who has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0) permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/272/1130/PBubbGJ16010079.1.jpg
9ae7a29787b10eb4d63e5a6bdd408e19
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/272/1130/PBubbGJ16010079.2.pdf
619fe6c112cbaf78be7c2e7c4a56d044
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Bubb, George. Album
Description
An account of the resource
32 items. The album contains photographs, propaganda, service material, memorabilia and research concerning George Bubb's service with 44 Squadron at RAF Spilsby.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Bubb, GJ
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Totaler Krieg
German publications - bombing in England
Description
An account of the resource
Propaganda booklet about total war containing photographs quotes and text about bombing.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
multiple page booklet mounted on an album page
Language
A language of the resource
deu
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Physical object
Text
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PBubbGJ16010079, PBubbGJ16010080, PBubbGJ16010081, PBubbGJ16010082, PBubbGJ16010083, PBubbGJ16010084, PBubbGJ16010085, PBubbGJ16010086, PBubbGJ16010087, PBubbGJ16010088, PBubbGJ16010089, PBubbGJ16010090, PBubbGJ16010091, PBubbGJ16010092, PBubbGJ16010093
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Wehrmacht. Luftwaffe
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Poland
England--Coventry
England--Liverpool
England--London
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Poland--Warsaw
England--Lancashire
England--Warwickshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1939-09-01
1940-05-14
1940-05-18
1941-04-25
1943-06-24
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
Pending text-based transcription. Other languages than English
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
bombing
childhood in wartime
firefighting
Hitler, Adolf (1889-1945)
home front
propaganda
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1135/34154/OSnookAJ1813151-190910-01.2.pdf
2080c9cce004830c73f877491979fb45
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Snook, Tony
Tony Snook
T Snook
Description
An account of the resource
Four items. An oral history interview with Tony Snook (b. 1925, 1813151 Royal Air Force) as well as his service release book and photographs of his crew. He flew operations as an air gunner with 115 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-02-14
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Snook, T
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Tony Snook's RAF service and release book
Description
An account of the resource
Contains some personal details.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1947-09-10
1943-11-22
1947-11-05
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Preston (Lancashire)
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Service material
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Multi-page printed booklet with handwritten entries
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
OSnookAJ1813151-190910-01
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
air gunner
aircrew
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1259/17146/OWhiteheadT1502391-180307-010001.2.jpg
eb5ac59b2ebcacb54ff9d634f8f29cf9
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1259/17146/OWhiteheadT1502391-180307-010002.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1259/17146/OWhiteheadT1502391-180307-010003.2.jpg
ec8398423683ad22afda3c60e6e2ae13
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Whitehead, Tom
T Whitehead
Description
An account of the resource
31 items and an album sub collection. Collection concerns Warrant Officer Tom Whitehead (b. 1923) who served as a rear gunner with 428 Squadron operating from RAF Dalton in Yorkshire. He was shot down over Duisburg and became a prisoner of war. Collection includes his prisoner of war logbook, official correspondence to his mother, official documentation, letters from the Caterpillar Club, German prisoner of war propaganda, 14 editions of the Red Cross prisoner of war newspaper and photographs of Royal Air Force personnel including himself.
Album in sub collection consists of 47 pages of prisoner of war related photographs.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Pamela Hyslop and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-03-07
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Whitehead, T
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Tom Whitehead: National Registration Identity Card
Description
An account of the resource
Gives four address in Ashton-under-Lyne with stamps for 1946 and 1947.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1946-01-29
1947-02-28
1947-06-03
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Four sides folded card
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
OWhiteheadT1502391-180307-01
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Ashton-under-Lyne
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1946
1947
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1257/17119/BWharbyGordonCWharmbyTv10001.2.jpg
7570f3c4d350300cbe490f1b0534f878
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1257/17119/BWharbyGordonCWharmbyTv10002.2.jpg
303c190d506800148a136ae6e4b8e1d7
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Wharmby, Tom
Tom Wharmby
T Wharmby
Description
An account of the resource
13 items including nine photographs, two letters and biographical entries for five 199 Squadron personnel. Photographs and biographies are of Sergeant Tom Wharmby, including his wedding, and four of his crew members; Sergeant Ronald Hughes, Sergeant Leonard Waldorf, Sergeant John Guyer Wilson and Flying Officer Ronald Herman Downes Cook. Letters sent from Air Ministry to Sergeant Tom Wharmby’s widow concern the location of his grave and those of his aircrew at Harderwijk, Holland, their aircraft having crashed on 12/13 May 1943. <br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Carol Wharmby-Gordon and catalogued by Barry Hunter. <br />Additional information on Tom Wharmby is available via the <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/124941/">IBCC Losses Database</a>
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-10-18
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wharmby, T
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Sgt Tom Wharmby
Age 21 of 199 sqd 1236751
Tailgunner
Tom was born on the 6th November 1921 in Walkden Nr Manchester the youngest Son of Herbert and Grace.
Tom attended St Johns School and passed his scholarship at 11 yrs old, he then went onto Bolton commercial (lords) and won the honours gold medal of school in 1936. later when attending evening classes at Worsley Technical School and gained first place in the 2nd year clerical examinations in the union of Lancashire, to which he was employed by Cooper and Cooper as a chartered accountant.
He was known locally as a keen table tennis player and in 1935 played for the Bolton YMCA junior team, and later in the RAF played for the stations team.
At the outbreak of war Tom joined the Home Guards gaining his Signals Pass, He was sent to guard buildings during the heavy blitz in Manchester.
Tom signed up in the R.A.F.V.R on the 20th March 1941, he initially wanted to be a fighter pilot but was not accepted, so he went onto train as air gunner and passed operation training in Scotland, he was then posted onto Lincolnshire and took part in raids over U boat bases such as St Nazaire, raids over the Ruhr such as Essen, Dusseldorf etc..
Tom married his childhood sweetheart Edith on the 19th December 1942 at St Pauls Church Walkden, his bomber crew attended the wedding. His last home leave was at the end of April 1943, by 13th May 1943 he and his crew where reported missing. A telegram was sent to his Wife and in November 1943 he was presumed killed in action, for pension purposes ect and his personal effects were returned to his Wife. His Wife had anxious months and when the war ended in 1945 teams from the War Graves Commission went into Europe and in December 1947, his Wife received the news that his grave had been found in the Netherlands at Harderwijk General Cemetery along with his crew members. Eventually headstones were erected and his Wife was allowed to choose an inscription of 60 letters which she chose
INTO THE DARK THEY FLEW AND ON TO THE GLORIOUS MORN.
After years of waiting for news of his whereabouts his Wife never gave up hope, in hoping the crew had been taken prisoners and they would be home soon after the war ended, but that was not to be, like so many of Bomber Command.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Tom Wharmby
Age 21 of 199 sqd 1236751
Tailgunner
Description
An account of the resource
Tom Wharmby was born at Walkden, North Manchester. Mentions hobbies, schooling at St Johns School, Bolton Commercial and Worsley Technical School, his wedding and an accounting job at Cooper and Cooper. Details his military career with the Home Guard in Manchester during the Blitz and as an air gunner, training in Scotland before being posted in Lincolnshire. Mentions operations on St Nazaire, Essen and Dusseldorf. On 13 May 1943 he and his crew were reported missing and their graves eventually located at Harderwijk General Cemetery, The Netherlands.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two typewritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BWharbyGordonCWharmbyTv10001, WharbyGordonCWharmbyTv10002
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Scotland
England--Manchester
England--Lincolnshire
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
France--Saint-Nazaire
Germany--Essen
Germany--Düsseldorf
Netherlands
Netherlands--Harderwijk
France
Germany
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Lancashire
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941-03-20
1942-12-19
1943-05-13
1943-11
1947-12
199 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bombing
civil defence
final resting place
home front
Home Guard
killed in action
love and romance
memorial
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1237/16292/EHarwoodRTWHarwoodJ420111-0001.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1237/16292/EHarwoodRTWHarwoodJ420111-0003.2.jpg
7efe0e825f4bbb0780f7296ba320b3ea
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Harwood, Rupert
Description
An account of the resource
9 items. The collection concerns Pilot Officer Rupert Thomas Harwood (1910 - 1944, 1322764, 178759 Royal Air Force) and contains several letters he wrote to his young daughter Janet. <br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Janet Scorer and catalogued by Barry Hunter. <br />Additional information on Rupert Thomas Harwood is available via the <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/110178/">IBCC Losses Database</a>
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-11
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Harwwod, RTW
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[inserted] 1 [/inserted]
[RAF Crest]
1322764 A/C2 Harwood R
C/o Miss Rowlands
13 Springfield Rd
Blackpool
11-1-42
Dear Little Janet
How are you now? I hope you are alright, and that you are getting on alright at school and with your sewing and knitting
I hear from Mummy that you were upset when Daddy went back last week. You mustn’nt [sic] let it upset you, or else it will be better if I dont [sic] come home very often. You see I always have to go back, and surely it is better for
[page break]
[inserted] 2 [/inserted]
[RAF Crest]
me to come home for a little while than not come home at all, you ought to be glad that I have been home, not sad that I am going back.
As you can see I am sending you this letter in real writing as you asked me. If you cannot read it all you must ask Mummy to read it for you. Well, be a good little girl and help Mummy when you can, and the time will soon come round [sic] for Daddy to be home again.
Heaps of love and kisses
From Daddy
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
[page break]
[blank]
[underlined] Janet [/underlined]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
To Janet from Rupert Harwood
Description
An account of the resource
Letter to his daughter in which he asks if she is getting on well at school and explains why he has to go back to work. On the reverse 'Janet'.
Creator
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Rupert Harwood
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-01-11
Format
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Two handwritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Correspondence
Identifier
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EHarwoodRTWHarwoodJ420111-0001,
EHarwoodRTWHarwoodJ420111-0002,
EHarwoodRTWHarwoodJ420111-0003
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Blackpool
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-01
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Jan Morgan
David Bloomfield
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1237/16293/EHarwoodRTWHarwoodJ420119-0001.1.jpg
95a2a17dd3b2b9a7e16a639f4f5b4bbd
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1237/16293/EHarwoodRTWHarwoodJ420119-0002.1.jpg
3daddd7a642ae47a40b6f97695bae686
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Harwood, Rupert
Description
An account of the resource
9 items. The collection concerns Pilot Officer Rupert Thomas Harwood (1910 - 1944, 1322764, 178759 Royal Air Force) and contains several letters he wrote to his young daughter Janet. <br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Janet Scorer and catalogued by Barry Hunter. <br />Additional information on Rupert Thomas Harwood is available via the <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/110178/">IBCC Losses Database</a>
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-11
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Harwwod, RTW
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Royal Air Force crest]
Blackpool
19-1-42
Dear Little Janet
I hope you are well and did not upset yourself last night after Daddy went. I had a very good journey up here, and managed to get quite a lot of sleep. I did not get found out with the other mans pass, and so did not get any jankers. Everything is alright now and I cannot get found out.
I wrote to Mummy tonight but forgot to mention that is has been snowing hard all day, and this evening, and is still snowing now. The snow is about 12 inches deep. Tell Mummy will you please.
Much Love from Daddy
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
[page break]
[underlined] Janet [/underlined]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
To Janet from Rupert Harwood
Description
An account of the resource
Letter from Rupert Harwood to his daughter Janet. He writes that he had a good journey and he didn’t get caught using another man’s pass. He also mentions that it is snowing and it is now about 12 inches deep. On the reverse 'Janet'.
Creator
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Rupert Harwood
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-01-19
Format
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One handwritten sheet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Correspondence
Identifier
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EHarwoodRTWHarwoodJ420119-0001,
EHarwoodRTWHarwoodJ420119-0002
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Blackpool
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-01-18
1942-01-19
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
David Bloomfield
military discipline
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1817/32365/BWittyARWittyARv1.2.pdf
a568d561e92d25b45be271b0cecccb86
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Witty, A R
Witty, Ron
Witty, Ronald
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-03-23
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Witty, AR
Description
An account of the resource
118 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Ronald Witty DFM (1520694 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, navigation charts and logs of all his operations, photographs and correspondence home from training in South Africa. He flew thirty operations as a navigator with 12 Squadron before going as an instructor on 1656 HCU and then 576 and 50 Squadrons after the war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by David Witty and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
TIME OUT FOR WAR
[black and white sketch of Avro Lancaster bomber]
A factual account of war-time experiences
By Flight Lieutenant Ronald Witty D.F.C., B.Sc., A.R.I.C.
[page break]
TIME OUT FOR WAR
A factual account of war-time experiences
By Flight Lieutenant Ronald Witty D.F.C., B.Sc., A.R.I.C.
[page break]
[underlined]Author’s Foreword[/underlined]
At the insistence of my family, who are somewhat in the dark as regards what I got up to during World War Two, I have compiled the following account.
My memory of the wartime years still remains very clear, helped by some brief notes in diaries, my log book, some letters and, importantly, the navigational logs and charts of all thirty bombing operations in which I took part in 1944. Using them I could still tell you where our Lancaster crew was, within two or three miles, at anytime during those operations of more than fifty years ago.
[underlined]Acknowledgements[/underlined]
Many thanks to my wife Yvonne and my family for their various contributions in getting the raw material organised, and to Mike Fong for his help with the photographs.
[page break]
[underlined] CONTENTS [/underlined]
[underlined] Chapter. [/underlined] [underlined] Page No. [/underlined]
1. Decisions 5
2. The Stirling Castle 15
3. South Africa 21
4. Back to England 33
5. Operations 1 - 20 43
6. Operations 21 - 30 55
7. Instructing “ferry trips” & crewing up for second tour. 69
8. Lancaster ME 758 PH-N “Nan” 81
9. GEE, A.P.I. and H2S 85
10. The German Defences 87
11. Reflections on Survival 89
12. Postscript 93
Bibliography 97
Glossary of Terms 99
1
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[underlined] PHOTOGRAPHS [/underlined]
Following [underlined] Page No. [/underlined]
[underlined] East London, 1943 [/underlined] 32
Left to Right - Fred Rolph, Author, Dorita, ? Parker (uncertain)
[underlined] ‘B’ Flight, Air Navigation Course No. 12 at 41 Air School, Collondale, East London [/underlined] 32
Left to Right - Bond, Chippendale, Cox, Osborne, Jones, Sadler, Author, Hill, Woodland, Wilson, Marshall, Albans
[underlined] Ops Crew, 1944 [/underlined] 54
[italics] Mid Upper [/italics] - Stan Swain, [italics] Bomb Aimer [/italics] - Tom Crook, [italics] Navigator [/italics - Author, [italics] Pilot [/italics] - Fred Holbrook, [/italics] Rear Gunner [/italics] - Tom Tibb, [italics] Flight Engineer [/italics] - John Squires, [italics] Wireless Operator [/italics] - Jock Poyner
[underlined] Ops Crew and PH-N (‘Nan’) [/underlined] 54
Poyner, Tibb, Author, Swain, Crook, Holbrook, Squires
[underlined] The Author and PH-N [/underlined] 54
[underlined] Second Tour Crew, May 1945 [/underlined] 80
Two Gunners, [italics] Wireless Operator [/italics] - ‘Artie Shaw’, [italics] Pilot [/italics] - Bill Addison, [italics] Bomb Aimer [/italics] - Jack, [italics] Navigator [/italics] - Author, [italics] Flight Engineer. [/italics]
3
[page break]
[underlined] The author en-route to Wickenby, June 1945 [/underlined] 84
[underlined] PH-N, June 1945, with the author and member of the old ground crew [/underlined] 84
4
[page break]
[underlined] Chapter 1 : Decisions [/underlined]
Hull Grammar School - an old established seat of learning, with many famous pupils. I was proud of the old school and here I took the School Certificate Examination in June 1937. I passed in eight subjects with a Distinction in Chemistry. A selected group took Additional Maths, taught by the Headmaster, F. Mayor. This introduced me to differential calculus at the age of fourteen. I spent two terms in the Lower Sixth Science pending my sixteenth birthday, in March 1938. Although Maths was my favourite subject, it was more practical at that time to use the Chemistry. In those days, there were fewer universities and unless ones parents were very wealthy, one left school at sixteen.
I started work in the laboratories at British Oil & Cake Mills, H.O.M.Co, Stoneferry, Hull, within easy cycling distance from home. They were part of the Unilever Group, and were a very good firm, with sports and social facilities. I had little spare time for these as I immediately enrolled at the Hull Municipal Technical College, beginning in September 1938. I found that my School Certificate qualification gave me exemption only from the Northern Universities Matriculation and not from the London University Matriculation. This meant that I couldn’t enter for the External London B.Sc. in Chemistry. The difference between the Northern Matric. and the London Matric. was that English Literature was a compulsory subject for the latter. This seemed irrelevant in the context of a Chemistry Degree. However, I entered for the A.I.C. (Associate of the Institute of Chemistry). The A.I.C. and B.Sc. people took the same classes, but instead of taking the Inter-B.Sc. examination, after two years of Evening Classes one was given slips of paper certifying that one was up to Inter B.Sc. standard in Maths.
5
[page break]
[NOTE: PAGES 8 AND 9 MISSING]
and Physics. (These I duly obtained in May 1940.)
Meanwhile, I was fully aware of what was brewing up in Europe with Hitler and his gang making monkeys of the old-school politicians. The ruthless annexation of Austria, followed by that of Czechoslovakia, despite the pathetic delaying tactics of Britain and France, in addition to Hitler’s bellicose threats, made it very evident to me that war was becoming almost inevitable. The facts and figures produced by Winston Churchill underlined the growing military potential of the German forces. The weak capitulation of the British and French diplomats on the matter of the Sudetenland confirmed my belief that it was only a matter of time.
I was heartened when at last Britain and France gave their support to Poland, and actually felt relief when, after the German attack on Poland on September 1st 1939, they honoured their obligations and declared war on Germany. I realised fully how terrible a step it was, but there was no reasonable alternative. Sooner or later we had to face reality.
It was still very eerie when the first air-raid warning sounded on Sunday, September 3rd. 1939.
I carried on with my evening classes (three evenings a week), cycling to and from the Technical College throughout the black-out and occasional air-raid alarms. In fact, I didn’t miss a single class up to the time I went into the R.A.F. in April 1942.
I seem to remember that it was during the very first session of evening classes that I first met Walter Suddaby, who lived in North Hull. He was a quietly-spoken pleasant lad and we had similar ideas of humour and became friends for the duration
6
[page break]
of our time at the Tech. Of course, having full-time day jobs plus three nights a week at the Tech. and other evenings writing up notes and studying at home, we didn’t get together outside the course.
When the war started I was just coming up to seventeen and a half and “Sudd” was about the same age, maybe a month or two older. We followed the events of the war, wondering how it was going to affect us, but with no clear idea what we were about to do in the future.
War came to Hull spasmodically but with increasing intensity as the years passed. The German Luftwaffe found the city an easy option. Placed on a distinctive bend of a wide river estuary, it wasn’t too difficult to spot even at night, when most of their attacks were made. Also it wasn’t a great distance for them to travel, reducing navigational problems on the way. There were many air-raid warnings when inland targets were being sought and the “All-clear” didn’t sound until the last of the enemy aircraft cleared the coast on their way home. Hull often received an extra “bonus” if the Germans couldn’t find their original target.
As the war progressed the age of conscription for service in the armed forces was reduced to nineteen years but there was provision for students who were within two years of the final exams. to obtain deferment until after those exams. I remember quite clearly discussing the situation with “Sudd” and another Tech. student as we stood with our ‘cycles in the middle of the town. We agreed that we wouldn’t apply for deferment because “our qualifications wouldn’t amount to much if Hitler won the war”. “Sudd” and I would volunteer for the R.A.F. and the other lad (I can’t remember his name now) preferred the Fleet
7
[page break]
would be affected by the transition from my mundane earthly existence into the realms of flight. I had at the back of my mind some disturbing recollections of not being too comfortable on fairground rides, so I was just a little apprehensive. On this account I asked my mother not to tell people that I was going as aircrew, so if things didn’t turn out too well I wouldn’t be a public disgrace.
At Lord’s the centre of the famous stretch of turf was cordoned off but the perimeter offices had been converted into depots dispensing all the items of kit we were likely to require plus the inevitable kit-bag. Here we had our introduction to authority in the shape of sergeants and corporals, who shepherded us around the establishment until eventually we were marched off to our billets. My lot were in a converted block of flats in Viceroy Court, St. John’s Wood, which had been re-equipped with service beds and lockers.
It was all very strange, finding oneself amongst a crowd of strangers from various walks of life. The only thing we definitely had in common was that we were “all in the same boat”. We had so many adjustments to make from our previous individual routines that we more readily accepted our imposed companions and most of their idiosyncrasies. The main exceptions as far as I was concerned were smoking and crude language. I had earlier decided that smoking was bad for the health and ruled that out. After hearing some of my new associates, apparently unable to complete sentences without including at least one “f” word, I concluded that the repeated insertion made both the speech and the user appear idiotic and resolved never to stoop to it. I never did.
Various N.C.O.s, mainly corporals, undertook to instil
10
[page break]
some military discipline on our “shower” and in a few weeks we were marching around in shiny boots and brand new uniforms with shiny buttons and getting regular hair-cuts so we didn’t get picked out during inspections.
Although I was in London there was no scope entertainment-wise. Pay for an A.C.2 was 2s. 6d. a day. I was making a voluntary allotment home of 1s 0d. a day, so when pay day came after two weeks I had to quote my last three numbers, 694, step forward, salute and receive the princely sum of £1. I think I managed to get to a Lyon’s cafe once or twice whilst in London. Most of the “entertainment” consisted of walking around some of London’s famous streets.
We all looked forward to getting to an I.T.W. (Initial Training Wing) and acquiring some more useful instruction than the rudiments of drill. Unfortunately, by the time my posting to No. 5 I.T.W. at Torquay came through I had a problem. Due probably to being a little run down towards the end of the evening class session in Hull, combined with swinging arms up to shoulder-level during our marching exercises I developed an abscess under one arm. If I reported sick I would miss my posting and would be stuck in London for another three weeks, so I kept quiet and only mentioned the matter when I got to Torquay on 9.5.42. I was immediately hospitalised with a temperature of 104 degrees F. and operated on the next day.
“Home” in Torquay was the Toorak Hotel, appropriately modified with service beds and lockers. We commenced a range of studies including navigation, meteorology, signals, armament, aircraft recognition, hygiene and anti-gas. We continued with drill and physical training in addition to the regular exercise we
11
[page break]
got marching along the hilly streets in Torquay. The thing that regularly bothered me, being only five feet six and a half, was the constant effort to keep pace with the taller people at the head of the column, generally six-footers. I seemed to be airborne most of the time! We had as our N.C.O. Sergeant Ditchburn, who was the Tottenham Hotspurs goalkeeper. We found him to be quite a reasonable type and certainly preferable to a pre-war regular. He was firm but genial and had a good sense of humour.
As we progressed with our I.T.W. course we were rewarded by promotion to L.A.C. (leading aircraftman) which involved wearing a propeller badge on the sleeve. This embellishment in addition to the white flash worn in the forage cap gave us quite a smart appearance. Pay shot up to 5s. 6d. a day! Much of the time that summer in Torquay we didn’t wear our tunics – it was too warm, particularly when being marched around at 140 paces to the minute. I must admit that marching like that with arms swinging to shoulder height did look impressive and when it was N.A.A.F.I. or W.V.S. break time there was no problem achieving 140 despite the hilly streets, particularly when “racing” other squads.
I can remember learning Morse and using the buzzer and the Aldis lamp, also learning to rectify faults in the Browning 303 machine gun. Two other events associated with those days spring to mind. On one occasion we were all on the beach when we got our first sight of the enemy. A couple of Messerschmitt 109s came swooping in at low level to attack the shipping in the harbour. They also opened up with machine gun and cannon fire at random. We lay flat on the beach and had a very good view of the crosses on their wings. Fortunately we had no casualties.
The other memorable event was a dramatic introduction
12
[page break]
to dinghy drill. An inflated aircraft dinghy floating in the harbour at Torquay was the objective of our escapes from a mock ditching. In turn and singly we had to don a sodden uniform and a Mae West and jump into the harbour and make our way to the dinghy. This was reasonably straightforward for swimmers, but as a complete non-swimmer it certainly presented me with a problem.
For a start the water was about 14 feet below the harbour wall so there was no easy option. It was a case of jumping into the unknown or not showing up very well in front of everyone – so I jumped.
It seemed a long time before I surfaced and then managed rather laboriously to dog-paddle to the dinghy. I realised that it would not have been a realistic exercise in, say, the North Sea for real.
Time passed and we were kept well occupied with lectures, exams and drill (including rifle and continuity drill) and a memorable cross-country run of a mile or two which included ploughing through a duck-inhabited pond. We returned to the Toorak Hotel soaking wet, smelling horribly and legs stinging from nettle contact. On another occasion we were taken by a rather ancient local train and dropped off in small groups at stations along the line skirting Dartmoor and given the task of finding our various ways across country to a pub four or five miles away, somewhere in the middle of the moors. There we downed a pint or two of excellent cider. Fortunately we didn’t have to walk back!
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[underlined] Chapter 2: The Stirling Castle [/underlined]
Eventually, I think it was about 15.10.42, we were posted to Blackpool after some embarkation leave. We were billeted in typical Blackpool boarding houses complete with landladies. Ours was “Holmleigh”, Crystal Road. When “Sudd.” got my letter with the Blackpool postmark he was surprised but rightly deduced that I was going abroad. He said he wouldn’t mind being in my place. He was completing a wireless course at Cranwell. He had at one time also been billeted in Blackpool and had enjoyed his accommodation. He wished me good luck and suggested that to be on the safe side I should send my future letters to his home address in 5th Avenue, North Hull.
I received his letter just before we were moved to Liverpool and transferred to the “Stirling Castle” one of the Union Castle Line’s fleet which had been converted for troop carrying. That was on 26.10.42. Our accommodation consisted of long narrow benches and tables for the day-time and hammocks for sleeping. I recall the awkward and maddening time getting even the blankets to stay in the hammock. At night we must have looked like a tin of sardines. Next day the ship moved out into the river and our time was spent “spud-carrying” (2 hours) and then “fatigues” such as cutting butter, etc. from 10 p.m. to 5 a.m. Talk about slave labour!
On the 28.10.42 the ship turned to face the river mouth and we had our first boat drill. At 1 p.m. the following day we sailed, leaving Liverpool and the Royal Liver Buildings, then passing the Isle of Man and Stranraer as we headed round Northern Ireland. We got used to the hammocks but there was a snag. They isolated us from the movement of the ship and the full extent of the sea movement was not apparent until we
15
[page break]
dismounted next morning and hit the heaving deck. By now of course, we were getting into the Atlantic. It was better, if somewhat chilly on deck. I was a little sick and didn’t bother about fish breakfast. The afternoon was pleasant and we were entertained watching Aldis signals from escorting warships and a sister ship, the “Athlone Castle”. There were six ships in our convoy.
On the third day our convoy had increased to seven ships with six escorts and we were moving more slowly. Depth charges were dropped during the afternoon. Two days later we were joined by a merchant cruiser but there were now only two destroyers or frigates in sight. The temperature was increasing as we headed in a generally southerly direction and we changed into tropical kit.
We wrote letters and listened to the B.B.C. when we could, and were pleased to have good news of the North African theatre. Pontoon was a popular pastime but we also spent some time swotting our I.T.W. notes. In between we watched flying fish and were fascinated by the phosphorescence of the water. One ship left the convoy, with a small gunboat as escort.
As the temperature rose and we estimated our position as approximately 28 degrees West we speculated about the possibility of visiting South America. Our thoughts were re-focused when a destroyer Aldis message mentioned U-boats. This was a particularly profitable time for the German submarines, as the Royal Navy had not had time to recover from a series of severe set-backs in ’41 and ’42 and had only the minimum capacity for escorting convoys. On the credit side, the German Enigma Code had been broken, (we, of course, knew nothing about that) and so it was possible using devious routes to
16
[page break]
avoid the U-boat packs.
On 10.11.42 we were reduced to two escort vessels. Next day, Armistice Day, I bought a poppy – amazing that someone had such foresight! We reckoned that we were now about 4 degrees S. and 28 degrees W. We were now joined by the cruiser H.M.S. London and were also rejoined by the merchant cruiser. On 12.11.42 we spotted a Catalina flying boat so we knew land wasn’t too far away and from then on we saw aircraft every few hours. It reminded one of the dove with the olive branch. On 14.11.42 we were told we would be in port tomorrow.
AT 0530 next morning I got my first glimpse through a porthole of a low-lying stretch of land on the starboard with an orange-coloured beach, backed by trees, palm and deciduous. We were in an inlet running roughly north-south. A Brazilian biplane (it looked like an Italian C.R. 42) flew past and I spotted a Grumman Goose (American amphibian) and a Catalina – at least the aircraft recognition was paying off! There was a small harbour vessel with white-dressed pilots and officials to see us in, together with what appeared to be a tug (the “Aquina”). We were surrounded by canoes and skiffs of all sizes, fitted with sliding seats and crewed by handsome Brazilian boys. There were sailing boats looking somewhat like Red Sea feluccas. We saw loads of bananas and pineapples passing by and liberty men going ashore in launches. We had arrived at Bahia.
In the evening it was impressive, after weeks at sea and years in blacked-out England, to see all the lights ashore and red flashing street signs, together with the green flashes of trams. The land rose steeply from the sea shore with buildings at the foot and the top with trees in between.
17
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About 5 p.m. the next day our ship took the place of the “Athlone Castle” at the quayside. We had a London fire-engine pumping fresh water aboard and a British-made crane (Bath) loading stores. Some of the firemen threw oranges and bananas up to us. The water replenishment seemed to go on for quite a bit of the next day.
Wednesday 18.11.42 was a red-letter day. We went ashore for a couple of hours. (We had the “honour” of being the first Allied troops to land in Brazil after their belated declaration of war on the Axis). We were marched through the colourful streets, being followed by children who were delighted to have coins thrown to them. We halted and dismissed for a few minutes in a local park where there was a monument to the foundation of the Brazilian Republic. Everyone was after drinks and fruit, a complication being the exchange rate. I had a shilling, 100 reis = 1/4d.; 1,000 reis = 1 milreis. We then formed up and marched back to the ship.
We left Bahia the following afternoon on the final long leg of our journey to South Africa. We were escorted, presumably as a precaution against loitering U-boats, by a Brazilian “Harvard” fitted with bombs. Our convoy now consisted of three transports, two smaller ships, a destroyer and an armed merchant cruiser. By the next day we were well away from Bahia with no sign of U-boats.
Our time was occupied by tests in navigation, signals etc. We played chess and pontoon, and wrote letters (“airgraphs”). We listened to Wing Commander Ritchie, D.F.C., the author of “Fighter Pilot”. We had boat drills at regular intervals. Then on 25.11.42 we changed back into “blues”, and were duly inspected, prior to our second pay parade aboard the “Stirling Castle”.
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We estimated our position as roughly 25 degrees South and 5 degrees West, i.e. about halfway from Bahia to South Africa. I have a note on 27.11.42 that I saw the doctor and an albatross! I’d been bothered by bronchial catarrh for about a fortnight, possibly due to the stuffy conditions below decks at night-time. I used to take a book to the stairwell and read to get myself good and sleepy before climbing into my hammock so that I had a chance to fall asleep without coughing and disturbing everyone around. I can still remember the label “Mist. Expect.” on the medicine bottle in the sick bay which I visited at regular intervals!
During the next few days we were joined by a merchant cruiser and then saw two Venturas over our convoy. We were obviously in another danger zone and portholes had to be closed during the day as well as at night.
On the afternoon of 30.11.42 we sighted Table Mountain and very soon afterwards the wreckage from a ship torpedoed early that morning. By 8 p.m. we reckoned we were well east of Table Mountain when paravanes were brought into use against the possibility of sea-mines in the seas around the Cape.
We continued out of sight of land until on 4.12.42 we arrived at Durban. Everyone crowded on deck as we edged slowly into harbour at the end of our 5 weeks voyage. We were told to look out for the “Lady in White”, who made it her business to greet all the visiting troops at the dockside. Suddenly, there she was in a long white dress and picture hat.
She began to sing to us, using a megaphone, in a song clear voice several heart-warming songs such as “Rule Britannia”
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and finally “We’ll Meet Again”. At the end of her mini-concert the troops responded with cheers and whistles and the ships’ sirens joined in.
By 6 p.m. we had disembarked in our khaki uniforms and were entrained, six to a compartment, on our way to 48 Air School, a joint R.A.F./S.A.A.F. base, near East London. The journey was fascinating – I suppose being back on land and away from the ship helped a lot. We were back in civilised surroundings, a comfortable train and enjoyable meals served without us having to move a muscle. The scenery was magnificent, rolling hills with rocky outcrops. We often caught sight of forward and rear section of our train as we negotiated the snaking track. The evenings were notable for the brilliant displays of fireflies.
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[underlined] Chapter 3: South Africa [/underlined]
We reached Woodbrook, just three miles outside East London, on 6.12.42 after our two-day rail journey and were pleased by the wooden huts provided for our accommodation. We had an excellent dinner, filled in various bits of paperwork and got the bus into East London for the evening. It really was another world, walking through well-lit streets past well-filled shops, rather like a throw-back to 1939.
We discovered that new courses began every three weeks so we had quite a bit of time on our hands. In the meantime, I reported sick and got further treatment for bronchial catarrh, but really it was just a matter of time and it wasn’t long before I was O.K. again.
It wasn’t long before we were acclimatised, conditions being just about ideal in East London, temperatures being generally about 10 degrees F. warmer than we were used to in England. The coastal situation had quite a modifying effect compared with more inland Air Schools. We had the occasional sharp storm with heavy rain, but generally in short spasms, not enough to inconvenience our exploration and enjoyment of our unexpected “holiday”. Car lifts were readily available to and from the town. The harbour was usually worth a visit – we encountered various nationalities including Dutch seamen from a submarine depot ship. The shops were all set out for Christmas – this seemed at odds with an evening temperature of 70 degrees F. at 19.45 hours. A favourite indulgence was fresh strawberries and ice-cream in a local restaurant. For our entertainment and refreshment there were several volunteer-run facilities including the U-NO-ME Club, Toc H, and S.A.W.A.S., rather like the W.V.S. at home, where you could sit around and chat or play
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games. I was quite keen on table-tennis and snooker which I generally played with my pal Fred Rolph (an ardent Brentford F.C. supporter). It was also quite pleasant on the beach, or attending the “Colosseum” cinema. I also caught up with my correspondence, sending airgraphs and receiving letters from my parents, dated October.
Christmas Day was spent in the camp with lunch served by officers and sergeants. We went short of nothing. There was turkey, pork, pudding, cake, fruit, sweets, nuts, ices, beer etc. In the afternoon we rested and we had little room for tea.
It seemed a life in limbo. There was a world war going on many miles away but we were temporarily detached from it and waiting to get on the conveyor belt.
We obviously had some of our time occupied with lectures, drill etc., but were impatient to get on with something more meaningful. We were intrigued by the political situation and the segregation of the white and black communities. The coloured people did the menial jobs and seemed to accept their lot with resignation. They were housed generally in single-room huts on the outskirts of the European city. Quite a few thousands of black South Africans were enlisted in the Army but they served only in menial ways. Strangely enough they seemed quite keen on Army life. One day when I was on police guard near the main gate I witnessed a squad of them being drilled by one of their own N.C.O.s in their free time on the road just outside the camp. They put quite a lot of effort into it and were trying hard to be smart. They didn’t have any firearms, of course, or we might have been anxious! By and large, the R.A.F. lads sympathised with their situation in their own country.
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On 7.1.43 there were rumours of our course starting on 25.1.43. We filled in the time attending lectures, carrying out various duties, marching etc., and going into town when we were free. About this time I bought myself an Omega watch (£5.10s.) and a Tissot watch for my brother. The Omega watch is worth mentioning as I relied on it exclusively during all my navigation (training and operational). I got them from a Swiss jeweller’s shop in East London in early January ’43. (I still have the Omega, though it was accidentally broken around 1970).
We played a lot of table-tennis and snooker and I wrote home and to Walter Suddaby, and my brother Norman who was also in the R.A.F. (training as a wireless operator). Keeping up with the washing was another regular activity. My wash-day was usually at the weekend and consisted simply of washing my clothes in the wash basin using a bar of “Sunlight” soap, rinsing thoroughly and then spreading them out on large rocks in the sun to dry. Trousers were creased by placing them carefully under the mattress.
Eventually, we started our course proper on Monday 25.1.43, with three periods of dead-reckoning (D.R.) navigation, one period on instruments, two periods on signal procedure and one practicing on the Morse buzzer. From this time on we were kept solidly at our studies for the next eight weeks, including examinations to keep us up to the mark.
It was during this time, however, that Fred Rolph and I were invited to visit the home of Dr. G.J.C. Smyth of 30 St. Georges Road, in East London. He and his family were most hospitable and regularly entertained us when we and two other R.A.F. lads had a few hours to spare at weekends.
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We spent a lot of time in the spacious garden playing tenni-quoits, which was most enjoyable and enabled us to “let off steam”. We maintained this contact until just before we left South Africa. We didn’t see a lot of the Doctor himself, as he was pretty busy, but Mrs. Smyth and the family looked after us very well.
For the flying stage of our training I was posted on 27.3.43 to No. 41 Air School at Collondale which, I was pleased to discover, was only about eight miles from East London, thus enabling me to continue having pleasant weekend breaks at the Smyth’s. Fred wasn’t quite so fortunate, in that he was posted to No. 47 Air School near Queenstown, approximately 100 miles inland, which made it more awkward for his journeys to the Smyth’s. Fortunately he could make it by rail.
After the minimum time to settle in and only three days into our studies our class of twentyfour trainee navigators, divided into “A” and “B” flights, came face to face with reality by way of the Avro Anson. This was a twin-engined monoplane with a great safety record. I can recall it was already practically obsolete from a military point of view, being far too slow and almost unarmed, but provided a good steady platform for training purposes.
Appropriately, my first flight ever in an aircraft was on April 1st. (This by strange coincidence happened also to be the 25th. anniversary of the foundation of the Royal Air Force in 1918). I was first navigator with another pupil as second navigator in Anson “V” (3153) piloted by 2nd. Lieutenant McIndoe of the S.A.A.F. The aim was to give us air experience and to try out our map-reading skills while navigating as best we could from Potsdam, (a nearby village) around a laid-down
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cross-country route of about 250 miles. As first navigator I sat at the plotting table carrying out the chart plot and maintaining the log of events. The second navigator armed with a topographical map (i.e. showing the main ground features on the route) tries to identify features passing below the aircraft which are shown on his map. When he gets a positive identification he notes the spot on the map, the precise time of this observation and passes both pieces of information to the first navigator, who then plots them, using the latitude and longitude on his chart. This flight became the first entry in my flying log-book.
On subsequent flights the two navigators took it in turns to be first and second navigator.
The earlier trips were inclined to be a bit rough and ready technique-wise, but as experience increased we became more confident in our judgement of when to give the pilot an alteration of course. In reality, we had many factors in our favour, navigating in South Africa. The weather was generally very good and so was the visibility. The ground features were easy to interpret, nowhere near as congested as we were to encounter later back in Britain. The aircraft was usually only a few thousand feet up and the pilots were quite familiar with the territory, so although they played the game one was aware that they wouldn’t let things get out of hand navigation-wise. If you spotted a railway track it was a big help because there weren’t many railway lines in the whole of the area. Sizeable towns were few and far between and so were much more readily identified.
At this stage we were already encountering the fundamental problem of air navigation – estimating and allowing for the effect of the wind, a continually varying factor. As anyone observing a light aircraft flying in a crosswind will know,
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the aircraft doesn’t travel in exactly the direction it is pointing. It drifts sideways to an extent depending on the wind-speed and direction, (wind velocity). If the aircraft is supposed to be travelling from point A to point B it is not sufficient to point the nose directly at point B unless the wind is from dead ahead or dead astern, a most unlikely occurrence. One has to apply a correction to the heading according to the wind velocity. Knowing the aircraft’s heading from the compass and its airspeed from the airspeed indicator the navigator can plot an “air position” according to the time elapsed on that course. If at that time he can identify the actual position of the aircraft relative to the ground by visual or other means and plot that “fix”, the line joining the “air position” with the “fix” shows both the wind direction and the effect of the wind over the time of the plot and hence the wind velocity. This velocity can then be used as the most up-to-date information for use in making any necessary alteration of course to allow for the wind effect.
We proceeded with ever more sophisticated exercises as the course progressed, flying mainly with South African but occasionally R.A.F. pilots and included photography, astro-navigation (night-flying), over sea exercises, formation flights, flame-float exercises (also involving night flying), and low-level map reading.
Meanwhile we were kept hard at it with our ground studies which involved D.R. (Dead Reckoning) theory, D.R. plotting, compasses meteorology, maps and charts, instruments, radio navigation, reconnaissance, photography, aircraft recognition, signals (both lamp and buzzer) and Astro-navigation.
With any subject involving calculations I found no real difficulty because I had always enjoyed Maths. Notwithstanding
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the confidence this gave me, I could not see much relevance between the training we were getting and the realities of operating at heights of 10,000 to 20,000 feet on dark nights with the ground practically invisible, under enemy fire. Astro-navigation seemed to be about the only independent means of navigation, but when one thought about what that entailed in practice it didn’t seem such a good idea. Inherently Astro-navigation did not appeal to me as sufficiently accurate. In order to get a fix one needed to take observations by sextant on three stars distributed at reasonable angles in the night sky through the perspex dome in the roof of the bomber aircraft, each observation taking a minimum of 2-3 minutes, not forgetting to note the time of the observation and having to calculate a position line from a book of tables and transfer it along the track on the chart. Then, if one was lucky, one had three lines which crossed producing a sizeable triangle, somewhere within which lay, hopefully, the position of the aircraft. The biggest criticism was the vulnerability of an aircraft flying straight and level at a steady airspeed for up to ten minutes over predicted anti-aircraft fire and being followed by night fighters with radar. At this stage I was puzzled how the job could be done and I just had to hope that all would be revealed in the fullness of time. Meanwhile, I was thankful not to have experienced any ill effects from my encounter with aviation and felt that I should be able to cope reasonably well in the future.
It must have seemed very tame for some of our South African pilots after coming from combat in North Africa to spend time “taxi-driving” we “sprog” navigators. We heard strange stories about some of their antics as they tried to relieve the boredom, but the Anson was a most tolerant aircraft and almost flew itself. In my log book I have the names Jooste, Nasmith, Efroiken, Van Rensburg, Moll, Mannheim, Van
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Heerden, Steyn and Duveen, along with R.A.F. pilots Cowan and Hill.
Suddenly, on 1.7.43 I, with four other members of pour course (No. 12) at 41 Air School was sent for interview by W/C Pettit and two Squadron Leaders. I was genuinely taken by surprise, wearing a somewhat scruffy battledress with two or three buttons missing. I had nothng [sic] to lose and I ran down the C.E.B. exams in general. I noted “it seemed to work”.
The following day, more prepared on this occasion, I was interviewed by Group Captain O’Grady. I was stumped by a question on details of the D.F.C. He was very pleasant and at the end I felt I would have liked to have another interview, knowing more about him. It turned out that I was considered O.K. for commissioning, along with John Tebbut from “A” flight.
I was somewhat surprised, considering that I had at no time applied for or even thought about a commission at this early stage in my training. More so, because during the first interview I had rejected the possibility of staying in South Africa as an instructor on the grounds that pupils would be likely to take more notice of instructors with operational experience. I omitted to say that I would have felt like the blind leading the blind.
[underlined] Results of Courses from 29.3.43 to 10.7.43
Air Navigation Course No. 12 Held at 41 A.S. South Africa [/underlined]
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[underlined] Subject – Poss. – Obtd. [/underlined]
D.R. Theory – 100 – 63
D.R. Plotting – 300 – 229
Compasses – 100 – 74
Meteorology – 100 – 72
Maps and Charts – 100 – 94
Instruments – 100 – 76
Radio Navigation – 100 – 79
Reconnaissance – 100 – 72/A
Photography – 100 – 94/AA
A/C Recognition – P. – P.
Signals – 100 – 96
Astro-Navigation – 100 – 97
Flying times on Course Day 76.45 Night 17.20
A/C Type Anson
Air Exercise Assessment AA (Above Average)
[underlined] TOTAL MARKS OBTAINED 81 PERCENT PASSED [/underlined]
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Remarks: An Above Average Navigator
Signed by W/Commander Pettit
There were still three more air navigational exercises to fit in before our graduation day on 10.7.43. To present our brevets we had Rear-Admiral Scott. When it came to my turn the conversation was as follows:-
“Where do you come from, my boy?” “Hull, Yorkshire, Sir.”
“There’s not much of Hull left is there?” “No, Sir.” etc.
The evening celebration was quite informal but the Group Captain did take the opportunity to compliment us on a good parade.
A big dampener, as far as I was concerned, was the news I had received from Fred Rolph, about the time I had my first interview for a commission. He’d made a mess of the Astro-Navigation exam and then came up against a problem in the D.R. Plotting. He said in his letter of 29.6.43, “Do you think I could remember how to do it? I sat there cudgelling my brains and thinking of Edna” (his girl-friend back home) ”and the Astro exam and I couldn’t think how to do it.” He tried to remedy the plotting but only succeeded in getting deeper in the mire. In fact he needn’t have worried so much about the Astro exam – he obtained 67 percent, but he didn’t know how. It was worrying unnecessarily about the Astro that contributed to his failure in the D.R. Plotting. The outcome was that nine members of his course, including Fred had to re-sit their D.R. Plotting exam a day or two before I was getting my brevet. This meant a delay of three weeks for Fred but he added a P.S. “Edna won’t mind waiting three weeks extra after nine months. (I hope!)”.
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Unfortunately those three weeks meant that he never caught up with me again, and his next letter, posted from the Smyth home on 26.7.43 didn’t catch up with me until four months later, when I had no idea where he would be.
I had done my packing and said goodbye to the Smyth’s and boarded the train for Cape Town. Denis Smyth, probably about eighteen or nineteen years old, took me to the station by car, followed the train and saw me again at Cambridge just down the line. I was really sorry to leave the Smyth’s, after all their kindness. Next day, Tuesday, we passed through Queenstown very early in the morning, and on Wednesday afternoon we arrived at Cape Town. We completed the journey to the I.F.T.C. Westlake (Imperial Forces Transit Camp) by electric railway and we were ensconced in Hut 6/26.
During the next ten days I explored part of Cape Town and did some shopping. I managed to get items such as 1/2 yd. braid (pilot officer), a badge, some shirts, shoes, socks, gloves, hankies, and a raincoat and posted several small parcels of goodies to the family in England.
On Sunday, 25.7.43 I settled up my mess fees, collected my pay and a £15 travelling allowance, packed the little that remained to be packed and was transferred at the last minute to the draft prior to the one I had expected. In a very short time we boarded the “Mauretania”. There were eight of us in a cabin, but it was luxurious compared with the hammocks and benches in the “Stirling Castle”. There were five R.A.F. Pilot Officers, two Navy types and one civilian attached to the R.A.F. Next morning we sailed for England about 11 a.m., after a boat drill at 10 a.m.
Like the “Queen Elizabeth”, the “Mauretania” was
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constructed just before the war and proved extremely useful in transporting troops throughout the war. The “Mauretania” alone carried more than 380,000 troops during 55 voyages and must have been a high priority target for German U-boats. My brother travelled to Canada in the “Mauretania” for his aircrew training, shortly afterwards.
Our accommodation was section C3 on C Deck and our Mess No. 69. Mealtimes were pleasant affairs – I have an autographed menu from the luncheon on Wednesday August 11th 1943 in the Officers’ dining room. Nothing pretentious of course, but a big leap back to civilised behaviour. In contrast, acting as orderly officer one day, accompanied by a corporal I had the job of seeing the other side of life and asking the airmen on the mess decks for “Any complaints?” Thankfully everyone seemed reasonably happy with their lot.
So we passed our time in comfort on our fairly direct (apart from a brief call at Freetown), journey back to Liverpool. This took about half of the five weeks of our outward journey on the “Stirling Castle”. By this time the submarine menace had been reduced considerably.
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[photograph of three men and one woman]
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[photograph of the crew with signatures]
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[underlined and centred] Chapter 4: Back to England [/underlined and centred]
Once we docked in Liverpool we were soon on the train and on our way to No. 7 P.R.C. (presumably Personnel Receiving Centre) at Harrogate on 14.8.43. From there we went on our disembarkation leave. I believe I got most of my officer’s uniform fixed up in Hull and maybe some items in Harrogate, where we had to return before posting.
On 8.9.43 my posting came to 3(O) A.F.U., Halfpenny Green, an airfield situated in the West Midlands between Bridgnorth and Dudley. (Today it is a civil airport). There during the next few weeks, I was to take part in No. 138 Air Observers Advance Navigation Course. It seemed an impressive title although a little anachronistic when the replacement of Observers by Navigators had already spread to South Africa and Canada with the Empire Training Scheme. We were already wearing the “N” brevets which replaced the previous observer “O”, as we arrived for the course.
The “advanced navigation course” conducted on Ansons served two purposes. It showed us the difference between map-reading over the wide-open spaces of South Africa, where it was relatively easy to pick out significant features such as a main road or a railway line, and the more complex problem in European map-reading. The more densely populated areas introduced a corresponding profusion of ground detail. Secondly, it extended our experience quite logically without the further complication, on a short course, which might have been occasioned by using an unfamiliar aircraft. On the other hand, the disquieting feeling remained over the relevance of map reading from a few thousand feet, half the time in daylight, compared with the coming operational navigation mainly at
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night, largely out of sight of the ground and at around 20,000 feet, while covering the ground more rapidly in a four-engined aircraft and with the added distractions caused by the opposition.
The thirty-eight and a half hours flying time accrued at Halfpenny Green, brought my total flying time to one hundred and thirty-two and a half hours, roughly one-quarter being night flying. My one recollection of those days was, on the completion of a particular night exercise, walking from the airfield to the hut on a beautiful Autumn night along a narrow country road with not a soul in sight and humming a popular tune of those days.
The next posting was to No. 84 O.T.U. (Operational Training Unit) at Desborough in Northamptonshire. That was on 12.10.43. This was a recently established O.T.U. and the roadways had only been laid that Autumn. It was also pretty wet weather during the first few weeks there and we aircrew, marching between our Nissen huts and lectures found ourselves on roads covered with mud from the soil excavated during their construction and piled nearby.
The O.T.U. was equipped with Vickers Wellington twin-engined bombers, which had been the main-stay of Bomber Command for some time but was being progressively replaced by four-engined types. However, the Wellingtons, or “Wimpeys” as they were usually called, looked large and impressive and very business-like compared with the Anson to which I was accustomed.
Other huts were occupied by other categories of aircrew – pilots, bomb-aimers, wireless operators and air-gunners. Very soon we would have to perform the transition from individuals to aircrews. To this end we were assembled in a large hangar and
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told to get ourselves sorted out. This was very much a lottery. We were teaming up with people we had never met before to undertake dangerous operations during which we would be bound to depend implicitly on these strangers being able to do their jobs efficiently. I suppose this was accepted because we were “all in the same boat”. In hindsight, I don’t think anyone could have suggested a rational alternative.
I cannot remember just how it came about but I found myself “crewed up” with three sergeants (pilot, Chris Derrick; wireless operator, John (Jock) Poyner; a rear gunner, Tom Gibb from Glasgow), and a Pilot Officer bomb-aimer making up the crew of five for the Wellington. This was the stage at which the division between commissioned and non-commissioned aircrew became apparent. We commissioned “types” were quartered in huts segregated from the huts of the N.C.O.s, and we had separate messes. We attended lectures according to our aircrew duties, e.g. navigator or whatever and only got together as a crew when flying was in the offing. It wasn’t done for officers and N.C.0.s to go around in “matey” groups.
On the morale-boosting side, we navigators were soon relieved to learn that our big worry about how we could possibly navigate accurately at night would be considerably relieved by our introduction to an almost magical device known as a Gee box. Basically this measured the aircraft’s distance from each of two ground stations and where these measurements coincided gave the geographical position of the aircraft. On the debit side it was jammable by the enemy and could not be relied upon beyond the enemy coast. Nevertheless it would give us a sound beginning to our task when we went out on operational flights.
We flew in a “Wimpey” for the first time on 8.11.43 with
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a “screened” pilot instructing our pilot, Sgt. Derrick on the take-offs, circuits and landings, commonly known as “circuits and bumps”. The significance of this dawned on me in the course of time.
Our pilot was given his solo check, went solo (with members of the crew) and had three further lots of “circuits and bumps”. Then we took the gunners on an air-firing exercise and did some dual “circuits and bumps”, two thirds of them with six different screened pilots. I think we must have met most of the instructors of “B” flight, some of them several times. Sometimes we were airborne several times a day, four times on three occasions. Our pilot seemed to have some trouble with his steering around the perimeter track and wandered off it occasionally. When this happened we were liable to be bogged down as the ground was so muddy.
On a couple of occasions I flew in the rear turret because the gunners were occupied with ground training and the policy was for there always to be a pair of eyes in the rear turret to warn of the proximity of other aircraft both in the air and on the ground. I did not care for the cramped conditions and I cared less about the landings, when my helmeted head hit the turret. In my ignorance I thought it was just one of the things that went with flying heavy aircraft. I was thankful I was a navigator.
Now the bomb-aimer had to “get in” a bit of practical work, dropping eleven and a half pound practice bombs at the local bombing range. We had been to the bombing range once at night and once by day, both times with a “screened” pilot. Now we had to carry out the same exercises “solo”. The high-level bombing by day was carried out, apparently satisfactorily but night bombing presented difficulties. We had bomb-sight trouble
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on a number of occasions and four attempts were aborted. On the last occasion our bomb aimer was sick and on our return to base our pilot reported “bomb-aimer u/s” instead of “bomb-sight u/s”.
At this stage we parted company with Chris Derrick – he was considered unsuitable as the pilot of heavy bomber aircraft. We heard that he carried on flying Oxfords, twin-engined aircaft. [sic] We also saw no more of our bomb aimer, F/O Valentine. I missed listening to his gramophone and classical records of an evening.
During these early weeks we were rudely brought up against the realities of the job. One of our Wellingtons was shot down one night by a German intruder aircraft from a height of about 10,000 feet, possibly on a practice bombing exercise. Two members of the crew, including the F/Lt pilot, who had some operational experience on other aircraft, were fellow occupants of the same hut as Valentine and myself. I was one of the bearers at the funeral service in the local church.
Within a few days we had a replacement pilot, Sgt. Redman, a rather taciturn character and we were transferred from “B” flight to “D” flight. We also had a replacement bomb-aimer, Sgt. Tommy Crook.
Obviously Sgt. Redman had already satisfied the Air Force that he was competent to fly Wellingtons because, without any preliminaries whatsoever, our first outing with him was on a daylight cross-country (i.e. navigational exercise) in the company of a screened pilot. That was on 28.12.43. By the 10.1.44 we were completing our series of navigation exercises (in which we suffered simulated attacks by R.A.F. fighters) in what must have been record time, as the Air Force attempted to
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makes us catch up on lost time.
Unfortunately the cross-country on Route 92/19 turned out to be a somewhat traumatic experience. (In those days I don’t think the word “traumatic” was part of the vocabulary as it is today). Part of the route during a five and a half hour flight took us about 100 miles out over the North Sea and everything was going satisfactorily and the Gee set was working O.K. when Sgt. Redman suddenly announced that the aircraft had stalled. In front of me on the navigator’s table, was a duplicate altimeter, showing 8,000 feet. I watched, somewhat numbly, as the needle began to “unwind”. I can only suppose the other crew members were similarly afflicted. There was certainly no chatter and no panic.
We all knew that the next words from the pilot were most likely to be “Prepare for ditching” which would mean taking up positions to minimise injury when the aircraft hit the sea. The altimeter continued to “unwind”. There was no instruction from our pilot to the wireless operator to try to inform base of our predicament and no word as to what was happening. At 4,000 feet, halfway down to the cold North Sea with virtually no chance of survival, the aircraft levelled off, still without a word of explanation from our pilot. It transpired what had happened was that the pitot tube, which feeds the air pressure for the airspeed indicator had “iced up” so the air-speed appeared to fall. The pilot, partly through inexperience, had feared the worst and informed us accordingly. We were relieved to get “home”.
In unanimous agreement the crew decided that we had no confidence in our pilot and did not wish to fly with him again. Because of my commission, I had the unpleasant job of forwarding the crew’s views to our superiors and we did not
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meet Sgt. Redman again. However, by the contribution of our two pilots, the rest of the crew were deemed to have completed the O.T.U. course, and after a spot of leave we were posted to a holding unit at Methwold, in Suffolk on 8.2.44.
It must have been at Methwold that, whilst puzzling over the fate of our temporarily headless crew, I happened to meet an American lieutenant pilot serving with the R.A.F. He had a very English name, Braithwaite, and hailed from Hollywood and had lots of flying hours behind him before he left the U.S.A. He was waiting to be given a crew. He didn’t have a pronounced American accent and discussing our mutual situation we got on very well together. We both thought it would be the ideal solution if we could join forces, i.e. if he could take our pilotless crew. Unfortunately, the authorities preferred to give him a crew who had lost their pilot doing an operation as second pilot with another crew for experience before operating with his own crew.
Our crew was posted on 25.2.44 to No. 1653 H.C.U. at Chedburgh, (also in Suffolk), which was in No. 3 Group of Bomber Command. Here we were in the land of the Stirling four-engined bomber – we would much rather have been on Lancasters. However, looking back on those days, I am certain that it was a turning point as far as our crew was concerned. In addition to acquiring a new pilot, Sgt. G.F. (Fred) Holbrook and a mid-upper gunner, Sgt. Stan Swain, we were joined by our flight engineer, Sgt. Johnny Squires, an extremely useful asset over the next six months or so. Johnny was already serving in the Army when the war started and had got to the rank of Captain in the Black Watch, pretty good going considering he wasn’t much taller than my five foot six and a half inches! Anyway, during the middle years of the war the Army had a comb-out of junior officers of 40 years and more and it was
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decided that he would be better employed in his basic occupation, engineering, in civilian life. He was not enraptured with the idea and, knocking ten years off his age, joined the R.A.F. for aircrew training as a flight engineer.
He was, of course, much older than the rest of us. I was just coming up to 22, our wireless operator, John Poyner, was just 22 and Fred Holbrook was probably about the same age. The rest of the crew were younger, the gunners probably 19 or 20. You could say he was almost a father-figure, but we daren’t have suggested any such thing at the time.
He was really first class at the job, always calm and never at a loss, whatever the circumstances. He was a really steadying influence and, personally, having already “lost” two pilots along the way and now having a third unknown factor taking over, I felt much happier about our future knowing that Johnny was sitting up there alongside Fred. That feeling was reinforced as we progressed steadily with the local flying and then with navigational exercises on Stirlings (Mark I and III).
The Stirling, which was the first of the R.A.F.’s four-engined bombers, built to a 1936 specification, gave the impression of a long dinosaur waiting to attack or pounce. The undercarriage was enormous and at first sight made me wonder what the altimeter in the cockpit read! It was a good aircraft but had serious limitations, the main one being its maximum altitude. I understand that this was due to its wingspan being limited by the standard hangar width of the day.
Whilst other Bomber Command aircraft normally operated at about 20,000 feet, this ‘plane could barely manage 15,000, so it seemed it would be unwise to get mixed up with
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people dropping things from a mile above.
After five weeks at Chedburgh we were able to erase such thoughts from our imagination as we went on leave prior to being transferred to the Lancaster Finishing School at Hemswell in No. 1 Group. I still have one souvenir from the Stirling era, a horizontal scar on the bridge of my nose, due to colliding with the rear end of the tailplane whilst walking around a Stirling on a very dark night. Fortunately it was only local flying – not a navigational trip – and I was able to clamp my first aid dressing on to the spot immediately and stop the bleeding until we returned. That was to be the only injury I sustained in the Air Force.
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Walter Suddaby
I kept in touch with Walter at varying intervals throughout our R.A.F. careers and I knew he’d been with his crew to 1658 H.C.U. (Heavy Conversion Unit) at Riccall (halfway between York and Selby) to train on Halifax bombers. I had plenty of reminders when I later travelled through Riccall on my way to and from work at Selby. I heard when he got onto 158 Squadron at Lissett, near Bridlington and then no more.
I cannot remember just how it happened that his brother, Frank, cycled over from their home in North Hull and found me home on leave, but his tidings were terrible and I was shocked. Walter had been killed in extremely unfortunate circumstances. In “The Bomber Battle for Berlin”, Air Commodore John Searby explains what happened on the night of 24/25th March 1944. “Over the Dutch coast P/O Simpson” (Walter’s pilot) “called base saying his port and starboard outer engines were damaged”. (It would be Walter transmitting the message). “and nothing more was heard until he was reported having crashed at the water’s edge at Ingham near Cromer, Norfolk, where a minefield was laid years before against possible invasion. The aircraft blew up and all were killed.” Apparently, having little altitude, the pilot attempted a crash landing on the beach, and had either forgotten about the mined beaches or had little alternative but to take the risk.
A later publication, by W.R, Chorley. reported the crash as happening on the sand dunes near Winterton-on-Sea, Norfolk.
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[underlined] Chapter 5: Operations 1-20 [/underlined]
I can still remember my first close-up encounter with the Lancaster – no, I didn’t bump my nose. Compared with the ungainly appearance of the Stirling, the Lancaster looked sleek and business-like. On entering the cockpit I was greatly impressed by the appearance of the in-line Rolls Royce Merlin engines, of which I had heard so much since I became interested in aviation. My confidence soared. It increased further when I heard about the H2S (air-borne radar equipment) and the A.P.I. (air position indicator). Not that I had any time for practice at Hemswell – the object of the exercise was the transference from one four-engined bomber (the Stirling) to the other (the Lancaster) which mainly meant lots of take-offs and landings for our pilot and familiarisation with the new aircraft and its numerous instrument panels and dials for pilot (Fred) and flight engineer (Johnny).
We were airborne for a total of barely eleven hours (some day and some night) during our brief stay at Hemswell and in no time at all we were making the short journey, on 26.4.44, by crew bus I believe, to Wickenby and No. 12 Squadron. At Wickenby, which was a war-time constructed airfield, I was again segregated from the rest of the crew as they were all sergeants. My accomodation [sic] on the officers’ site was in a Nissen hut, similar to that of the crew on the N.C.O.S’ site, which I later wandered over to inspect.
I had a distinctly unusual and rather disquieting introduction to my new “home”. There was only one person there when I arrived, P/O Adam (Jock) Varrie, who I believe hailed from Lockerbie. (Currently domiciled in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe). He had lost his crew on operations whilst he was ill,
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and had been given the job of assistant to the Flight Engineer Leader. He had arrived at Wickenby in September ’43 and had done quite a lot of ops. before losing his crew. He told me that during his time at Wickenby he knew of only one crew and “one odd bod” who had survived a tour of 30 operations, i.e. from the two squadrons Nos. 12 and 626, operating from Wickenby. I decided there was no point in worrying and to take a limited objective.
I had a few science books with me and I did look at them on several occasions but I decided to defer the idea. Instead, I suppose partly in bravado, I decided to read Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” which I found in the Library at Wickenby Officers’ Mess. I wondered how far I’d get with it under the circumstances. I did in fact get through the lot, more than 1,000 pages, in instalments! For moral support I said the “Lord’s Prayer” each night as I lay in bed, trying to give full interpretation to the words. Secondly (and rather trivially) I always polished by flying boots before going off to briefings. It was rather foolish in hindsight, because if I’d had to parachute down in enemy territory, polished boots would not have been a good idea, if one was trying to evade capture even if you managed to rear off the leg parts. Looking back, I suppose it was a case of “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition”.
At the Navigation Office I encountered F/Lt. R. Stancliffe, our Squadron Navigation Officer and was impressed by his relaxed and friendly attitude. I soon encountered something which I found very inspirational. In some pigeon holes or racks in the Nav. Office there were a few navigators’ logs, one of which left an enduring impression on me. It had been compiled by F/O D.A. Colombo who had gone missing, along with his crew, on the Berlin raid of 24/25 March ’44, i.e.
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just over a month earlier and the one on which Walter Suddaby and his crew were lost. His log seemed to me like a work of art, hardly the kind of craftsmanship one would have believed possible, given the circumstances prevailing at that particularly hazardous period in the history of Bomber Command. I decided, then and there, that if I couldn’t make Colombo’s standard I’d have a good try. I never met him but I never forgot him.
Our crew was placed in “B” Flight of 12 Squadron and we were airborne just twice, both on 28.4.44, for “fighter affiliation” (i.e. dodging a Spitfire) combined with air-sea firing practice for the gunners and a simulated night attack on Bristol. I don’t remember whether we managed to fit in a short leave but just over a week later we were detailed for our first op. on 7.5.44.
The first and second ops. were not very demanding, one on a target near Rennes in France and the second to a target in Belgium. The latter attack was aborted on the instruction of the Master Bomber, due to poor visibility and we were ordered to return with our load.
Between our first and third ops. we got in quite a lot of navigational practice (and much needed H2S practice) on five cross-country exercises. This period also helped very considerably in getting us working together as a crew and becoming familiar with our surroundings, both aloft and on the station.
Our third and fourth ops. were on German territory, but only just over the border from Belgium. They were attacks on two marshalling yards at Aachen and met with considerable resistance, the loss rates being 6 percent in the first case and 7 percent in the
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second.
Railway marshalling yards were beginning to assume very considerable importance in view of the impending invasion of Europe by the Allied Armies. Anything that would impede the free transit of German forces to the coast could obviously be helpful to our forces, and Aachen was an important railway junction in that respect.
On the second of the Aachen trips we made the aquaintance[sic] of Lancaster Mk.1 ME758, PH-N, the former being the Manufacturers (Metropolitan Vickers) number and the latter comprising No. 12 Squadron’s letters and the aircraft letter. This was to become our regular aircraft, in which we were to do 25 of our 30 ops. The Aachen trip was N-Nan’s tenth.
On all night operations and quite a lot of the day ones I travelled secluded from the outer world by my black-out curtain. I sat at the navigation table, which was situated to the rear of the pilot’s armoured back-rest (the only armour in the aircraft), facing the port (left) side of the aeroplane. The reason for the black-out precaution was, of course, the angle-poise light which illuminated my chart and navigation log. Any emerging light would not have been appreciated by the crew as a whole and would not have been good for the pilot’s night vision.
I had devised my personal system of navigation in an effort to simplify the calculations. In fact, I had gone decimal and worked in tenths of hours and tenths of minutes instead of minutes and fractions. For example, in the early stages of an operation when I wanted to ascertain the actual wind velocity, which was ever-changing and sometimes considerably at variance with the meteorological information, I took Gee-fixes at
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6-minute intervals or sometimes 12, knowing it was then simple mental arithmetic to multiply the measured vector from the air position (thank goodness for the A.P.I.) to the fix by 10 or 5 respectively to find the wind speed in knots (nautical miles per hour). This saved a lot of messing about with the manual computer.
It was just as essential to keep in touch with the wind velocity as with your actual position so that you had the ability to correct your course in order to hit the next turning point on your route. It was always a case of working with hind-sight. You could only assume that the wind affecting you over the next few miles would be similar to what you had just experienced.
Miscellaneous observations such as times of bombs being fused and released, times to drop and rates of dropping of “window” (i.e. anti-radar aluminised strips), times and rough location of the positions of aircraft being shot down (including some alleged to be “scarecrow” devices fired into the air by the enemy to pretend they were R.A.F. aircraft which had been destroyed in mid-air), whether parachutes were seen, sightings of enemy aircraft, target indicators, radio information via the wireless operator, and anything which might be of use to “intelligence”, all had to be logged with time of occurrence and estimated positions relative to our aircraft and its heading.
We fitted in yet another cross-country exercise on 29.5.44 for H2S practice. (See page 88. for technical details). The log book entry reads “Window (aircraft) lost and aileron damaged. A.S.I. (Air Speed Indicator) read 360 m.p.h. plus in dive”. The necessary repairs were soon made.
With the invasion imminent we got a number of short-
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haul trips, including attacks on a radar-jamming station near Dieppe which was later found to have been made “with great accuracy”, a gun position at Sangatte, near Calais, (as part of a deception programme to keep the enemy guessing where the landings would come), and the attack on a coastal battery at St. Martin de Varreville on the Normandy coast on the eve of the invasion. On the latter occasion the H2S screen was covered with numerous luminous pin-point echoes of the invasion fleet on its way across the Channel.
On the next evening we were supposed to bomb a railway switch-line at Acheres in the suburbs of Paris, but there was too much cloud for the safety of French civilians so the Master Bomber ordered us to return with our loads. (Not much fun, landing with a full bomb load!)
That counted as our eighth operation. The next couple of night operations were also concerned with inhibiting the Hun, one being against a landing-ground at Flers in Southern Normandy and the other attacking the important railway junction of Evreux, about 50 miles west of Paris. So far our ten ops. had not been too stressful and had averaged only about four and a half hours night flying.
Targets were marked by the Pathfinder Force (PFF) with various coloured devices which could be varied according to pre-arranged plans during the period of the attack and could be over-ridden by instructions from the “Master of Ceremonies” (Master Bomber) according to eventualities arising during the progress of the raid.
By the time I was operating, the P.F.F. system had been developed over the better part of two years into a formidable
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system, but there were occasional human errors. When this happened the whole or part of a raid could go awry.
On the night of 12/13 June 1944 we took part in the first raid of a new oil campaign, the target being the Nordstern synthetic oil plant at Gelsenkirchen in the Ruhr. In addition to my normal duties I was one of a number of navigators on the operation to be detailed for “wind-finding”. The idea was for the force as a whole to have the benefit of the information obtained from selected navigators and apply it to their individual needs. We calculated the wind velocities at successive stages en route and had our wireless operators transmit the coded information back to base for analysis and consideration by meteorological staff, who then reported back to the main force the outcome of their deliberations in terms of up-to-date information on wind vehicles.
From my log for the trip I see that I sent back wind velocities from seven stages of the outward and return trips. I was quite happy with the navigation and had given the pilot the final correction to the course to the target, then calculated and given a wind velocity to Jock Poyner, our wireless operator, when our pilot spotted what he believed to be the target markers about 30 degrees to starboard and altered course towards them despite my disbelief, when we were approximately 20 miles from the target. Our clear instructions were to bomb the markers so that is what happened. We bombed just after 0101 hours, i.e. within our allotted range of 0100 to 0104 hours.
Many years later I read an illuminating account in “Bomber Command News” in an article spanning “Six months in the life of Bomber Command, a day-by-day account of support for the Allied invasion forces.” This covered the period 23.5.44
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to 31.12.44, including the attack on Gelsenkirchen. It reported – “Owing to the good work of the Pathfinders the attack opened with exceptional accuracy. Later a rogue target indicator fell ten miles short of target and was bombed by 35 aircraft. All production at the oil plant ceased with a loss of 1,000 tons of aviation fuel a day for several weeks.” On my part, I compared the photograph taken automatically when our bombs were released, with the large wall mosaic in the Intelligence library of photographs taken by R.A.F. reconnaissance aircraft. Not having the benefit of the information which was quoted so many years later in “Bomber Command News”, I estimated from our last alteration of course before the target approximately where to look on this huge map for the place we had actually bombed.
From a few distinctive features on our photograph I was able to find the matching spot on the wall map – with a difference. Our picture showed unmistakably a dispersal point on the perimeter of an airfield which must have been constructed during the years since the reconnaissance photographs were taken. So the airfield personnel probably had an exciting night! The probable explanation is that whilst the real target was obscured by thick smoke from burning oil, the markers dropped ten miles away in open country were clearly visible. Seventeen Lancasters were lost, 6.1% of the Lancaster force of 286.
For a bit of variation we flew the following night for a couple of hours practicing night fighter evasion (with an R.A.F. fighter).
On the evenings of 14th and 15th June ’44 we operated in Bomber Command’s first daylight raids since May ’43. The objectives were the fast German motor torpedo boats (E-boats) and other light German naval forces based at Le Havre and
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Boulogne, which were threatening Allied shipping off the Normandy beaches. We flew in loose “gaggles” (there had been no training in formation flying) escorted by Spitfires of 11 Group. The E-boat threat to the invasion beaches was almost completely removed. R.A.F. casualties were very light.
We next had an aborted attack on a switch-line at Aulnoye, about 20 miles south of Mons. After a discussion between the Master Bomber and his deputy it was decided not to risk civilian casualties as it was too cloudy to bomb with accuracy, so we set off back with our loads, jettisoning the delayed-action bombs shortly after we left the French coast.
On the night of 12/13 June ’44 the Germans began their V-1 (flying bomb) attacks on London. Between 15-16 and 16-17 June, 144 flying bombs crossed the Kent coast and 73 reached London. This stung the British authorities into action and Eisenhower, the Supreme Commander of the invasion forces, agreed that retaliatory action (code name CROSSBOW) should rank second in priority only to the urgent needs of the battlefield. From mid-June to mid-August attacks on V-weapon objectives became one of Bomber Command’s major concerns, absorbing about 40% of its effort and correspondingly reducing its ability to bomb Germany.
Our first involvement came with a daylight attack on a flying-bomb site about 10 miles south-west of Calais. As the promised target indicators were not visible at the stated time we bombed on the Gee co-ordinates. That was on 22.6.44.
I think we must have had a week’s leave after our 15th “op”, because “N-Nan” flew five operations with three other crews before we returned to the fray. Then it was back to the
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Pas de Calais to attack the Domleger V-1 site, (my log says “flying-bomb supply lines”) in another daytime operation on 2.7.44. It was rather cloudy so again we “homed” to the target on Gee before the bomb-aimer, Tommy Crook, was able to take over and bomb visually.
Now followed a trio of fairly lengthy night operations all involving railway marshalling yards at important centres in France. On the nights of 4/5, 5/6, and 12/13 July, we visited successively Orleans, Dijon, and Tours (not exactly Cook’s tours). On the first night the loss rate was 5 percent, on the second nil, and on the third about 3 percent. This was rather strange because the Dijon trip was by far the longer route, taking eight and a quarter hours, compared with about six hours for each of the others. The results were satisfactory, particularly at Orleans.
I had cause to remember the bombing of the French railway system just over a year later when involved in flying our forces home on leave from Italy because the French railway system was still in a mess from our efforts in 1944 (see later). There was also an occasion when I was attending a symposium on analytical chemistry at Birmingham University in either 1954 or 1958 when I became involved in a discussion with a young French scientist, whilst queueing at the refectory. When he asked me if I’d been to France, I said “Not exactly” and admitted I hadn’t set foot in France although I had visited during the war.
I had no idea what his reaction would be, and was greatly relieved and pleased when he slapped me on the back and spoke warmly of his admiration for the way the R.A.F. had managed to knock out railway goods yards close to the towns whilst causing the minimum of civilian casualties. He did not have such a good opinion of the U.S.A.A.F. with whom he chose to make the
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comparison. I wish that I had made a note of his name and address! It was a completely unsolicited testimonial. After a gap of another week we went on our 20th operation to the railway yards and junction at Courtrai (or Kortrijk as the Belgians have it nowadays). Both targets were devastated. Casualties were 3 percent.
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[black and white photograph of 7 airmen in uniform standing in a row in front of a Nissen hut]
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[black and white photograph of seven airmen in front of an aircraft, four standing in the back row and three kneeling in the front row.]
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[black and white photograph of an airman leaning against the wing of an aircraft]
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[underlined] Chapter 6: Operations 21-30 [/underlined]
Taking part in the first major raid on a German city for two months, on the night of 23/24 July, we went to Kiel. It was our twentyfirst [sic] operation. The elaborate deception and the surprise return to a German target must have confused the opposition because Bomber Command lost only four aircraft out of 629 taking part. Kiel suffered heavy damage. The bombing force appeared suddenly from behind a Mandrel jamming screen, operated by the Radio Counter-Measures squadrons of 100 Group, and took the defences by surprise. In the space of 25 minutes nearly 3,000 tons of bombs fell on the town and port, inflicting enormous damage to the U-boat yards and many other areas.
Rescue and repair was hampered by 500 delayed-action bombs and unexploded duds. There was no water for three days, no trains and buses for eight days and no gas for cooking for three weeks. Looking at my log, I see that I had a fault on the H2S and also that when we were well on the way home I had a dabble with the bubble sextant, taking three star shots for practice. I was glad I wasn’t dependent on them.
On the night of 24/25 July we took part in the first of three heavy raids on Stuttgart. This was a more arduous trip, the return trip taking eight hours forty minutes. I had to Sellotape two Mercator charts together to lay down the route which took us via Normandy and south of Orleans to just beyond 9 degrees E longitude, and the majority of two double-sided log forms. Once again, I had the added duty of “wind-finding” for the main force. As it happened, the winds were the lightest I encountered on operations, barely reaching 20 knots at any stage and often less than 10 knots from between west and north-west.
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From the intercom. and audible noises off I gathered, in the seclusion of my snuggery, that the reception committee was doing its best to welcome us as we neared the target. Someone spotted a night-fighter immediately ahead of us but fortunately it was crossing our route and was banked away from us, probably after some othe [sic] prey.
(See page 91 “The German Defences” for further information on the tactics of the night-fighters).
We bombed within half a minute of the time I had in my flight plan and speeded up to the next turning point on our route, just three minutes beyond the target, where we made a sharp turn to starboard on to the next leg of 18 nautical miles, before another starboard turn over the Schwabische Alb range. We had just settled onto our homeward route when trouble arose. The port inner engine packed up, probably due to flak, and had to be feathered.
That meant we had ahead of us, all being well and no further complications, a four hour journey on three engines. We hoped we didn’t encounter any night fighters and were thankful for light winds for the next part of our journey.
Actually, being relieved of the bomb load, “N-Nan” managed very nicely on its three Rolls Royce engines and I was able to continue the job of sending wind velocities back to base, the first on our return journey being only fifteen minutes after “losing” the engine. Altogether, on this op. I see that I managed to send back ten wind velocities covering various stages en route. We did lose a little time but by the time we crossed the south coast of England we were only ten minutes later than our planned time and we didn’t have to queue for landing back at Wickenby. Casualties amounted to 3.4 percent of the 614 attackers.
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Two days later, on 27.7.44 we were airborne locally to air test the new engine and also the replacement for a damaged tail-fin, do some air-sea firing and take a passenger to Sandtoft.
Our 23rd operation was much shorter and less exciting. On 30.7.44 we were part of a very large force of 692 aircraft sent to bomb six German positions in front of a mainly American ground attack in the Villers Bocage-Caumont area. Our target was near Caumont. Cloud caused difficulties and we had to orbit and descend to see the target indicators before bombing. Only four aircraft were lost. We were down at Wickenby after four hours.
During the previous week I had been greatly surprised to see among new arrivals on 12 Squadron an old acquaintance from South African days. Furthermore, he was the other navigator commissioned at the same time and so we had consecutive Air Force numbers. We had both been on No. 12 course at 41 Air School though he was in “A” flight and I was in “B”. Due to the vagaries of the R.A.F. posting system, he had arrived at Wickenby three months after myself. He was F/O J.A. (John) Tebbut. We were naturally both excited by this coincidence – he could easily have gone to one of the many other airfields and squadrons and I hadn’t encountered any of the other navigators of No. 12 course since I left 41 Air School.
I readily agreed to fly with him locally (and unofficially I believe) so that I could help him master the H2S equipment. We flew in “N-Nan” on a local cross-country lasting just over two hours on 31.7.44. When he wasn’t tied up with his crew we had a good natter about things in general and then he asked if I would like to borrow a book he had been presented with at Christmas 1943. I still have the book in front of me as I write, with its
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inscription “from Harold and Sylvia”.
Operation No. 24 couldn’t have been more brief. It was on a flying-bomb site at Les Catelliers, in the Pas-de-Calais. Navigation was normal down to the south coast near Selsey Bill except that I concentrated on H2S to the exclusion of Gee equipment. After that I relaxed as our formation was led to the target by Mosquitos. (I do not thing the Navigation Officer approved – he scribbled “Average Nav.” at the foot of my log). We were home again after three and a half hours.
Next day, 3rd August, we were briefed for a daylight attack on a flying-bomb site at Trossy St. Maximin, not far from Chantilly, about 25 miles north of Paris. The wind was light and the navigation straightforward. This time I relied mainly on Gee and my decimal-hour system taking Gee fixes at 1215, 1221, 1227, 1233, 1239, 1245, 1251, 1257, and 1303 hours i.e. 6 minute intervals and obtaining seven measurements of wind velocity in that time. For the next fix, at 1309, my fix was a bearing and distance from Selsey Bill, using H2S.
On crossing the coast the bombs were fused and selected and we proceeded at our eventual bombing altitude of 11,000 feet. We kept “bang on” our route and crossed the French coast within seconds of our predicted time. Other Lancasters were visible all around. At position “H” on our route the time was 1408 as we turned (dead over the turning point according to Tommy Crook, our bomb-aimer, and headed towards Compiegne, our last turning point before the target. Compiegne was only 14 nautical miles (4.3 minutes) away at this time and I thought I would have a look at this historic place as we turned towards our target. It was the place where the Armistice was signed in a railway-carriage in 1918 and the self-
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same place where Hitler insisted on reversing things in 1940.
I moved forward into the cockpit and was feeling pleased as Compiegne appeared below our banked wing-tip. Then I looked for our accompanying aircraft and eventually spotted them as small specks ahead of us. They had obviously cut the corner, missing out the right-angled bend at Compiegne and were well on the way to the target. There was only one other Lanc. anywhere near us and it was probably half a mile away on the beam.
We were now faced with a straight run onto the target of 21 nautical miles, which would take over 6 minutes, at only 11,000 feet in a cloudless sky and with no-one with whom to share the flak. The odds were very heavily stacked against us, but we carried on according to form. No-one panicked – we were all pretty quiet – but that run-in onto target seemed to take an awful long time.
We were subjected to very intense anti-aircraft fire – the gunners must have been rubbing their hands in anticipation. The conditions were ideal for them – a large aircraft at moderate height on a steady course in clear visibility. We were surrounded by shell-bursts, to the extent that the crew of the other aircraft thought we’d “had it”. We bombed in the middle of our allotted time bracket for bombing, which was obviously not the case with the vast majority of our companions, who were now miles away. Our aircraft was very fortunate to survive. Our recent replacement port inner engine was hit and had to be “feathered”. One of the other engines was damaged and three petrol tanks hit.
Our bomb-aimer, Tommy Crook, and flight engineer,
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Johnny Squires, received minor injuries from the “flak” which they later professed to be worthwhile in exchange for the wound-stripes they were then entitled to wear on their sleeves.
About 12 minutes after leaving the target and nearly halfway back to the coast, we saw a Lancaster on fire about five miles ahead and counted five parachutes opening as the crew baled out. That Lancaster “hit the deck” two minutes later.
It might just as easily have been our aircraft. Once we had crossed the French coast we breathed a sigh of relief and reduced the airspeed to ease the burden on our remaining engines. We were only 8 minutes later than scheduled back at Wickenby.
It so happened that our Squadron Navigation Officer had taken part in this operation and he was obviously in one of the aircraft which had taken the short cut, missing out Compiegne. I quite surprised myself by marching into his office later and telling him what I thought about it. I wondered, later, if it wasn’t our pilot I should have had words with, as he should have realised what was happening and stayed with the “gaggle”, or at least told me what was afoot. On the other hand it was possibly a throw-back from the Gelsenkirchen raid when he missed the target by sticking strictly to orders rather than follow my directions.
The outcome was that our aircraft “N-Nan” needed extensive repairs, having between 50 and 60 flak holes. (Johnny Squires gave me a piece of German flak found in the Lanc. – I still have it). It didn’t take part in operations again until ten days later, piloted by F/O G.S. Whyte to Falaise on 13/14 August.
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In the meantime we were sent on a sea-mining (or “Gardening”) operation in Lancaster PH-W off the French coast to the west of La Rochelle on 10/11 August.
This was our 26th op. and in this regard our crew was running neck and neck with another crew captained by F/Lt G.C. Owens, with a Canadian navigator F/O G.L. Wistow, who were both in my hut on the Officers’ site. I didn’t know George Wistow all that well, but I knew he was very well thought of in Canada. Mail delivered to the Mess was generally placed in a pigeon-holed framework but the “W” pigeon-hole was inadequate for the volume of Wistow’s letters so his were tied in a separate bundle placed just below the W’s. Like many Canadians he was a very outgoing type and usually went around with his pilot in his free time. Although only eight aircraft were taking part in this operation, Wistow’s was one of them, PH-X, JB716.
The object was to lay mines (or “Vegetables”) in channels believed to be used by U-boats operating from La Rochelle. This was where our H2S was to be of use in determining the dropping points of the mines on a bearing and distance from a feature on the Ile de Oleron.
The obvious hazard was the flak we were likely to encounter at our mine-dropping height of only 5,000 feet from both the Ile de Oleron and the Ile de Re. Night fighters wouldn’t have to make much altitude either.
Our route took us via Bridport on the south coast, then south across the Channel and the Brest peninsular and descending gradually to 5,000 feet to reach a turning point at 47 degrees N and 4 degrees W over the Bay of Biscay, from where
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we headed south-east towards our destination.
The islands indicating our mining zone appeared quite clearly on the H2S so I directed our route, map-reading by the H2S for the last few miles. When we reached our release point on a bearing of 335 degrees (true) from Boyard Ville we dropped our mines at 4 second intervals whilst maintaining the same bearing. There was a considerable amount of light flak but we did not receive any damage and were soon climbing back to 10,000 feet on our way home. Our mines had been dropped around 0058 G.M.T., i.e. within the 0050 and 0100 range allotted and we landed back at base at the time our pre-flight plan had calculated for our arrival, all despite a certain amount of apprehension about having to use a different Lancaster from our old faithful “N-Nan”.
Unfortunately, PH-X, with F/Lt Owen’s crew did not return. We heard later that they were badly shot up by flak near the mining area, struggled back to England but left it too late to bale out, crashed and caught fire. The wireless operator and the mid-upper gunner were the only survivors. They were both badly injured but fortunately they managed to crawl out without getting burned. They were in hospital for some time but both survived the war. Stan Canning, the wireless operator still lives in Birmingham. (I managed to contact him in 1997).
There were continual reminders for me in the post-war years of both George Wistow and Walter Suddaby as I journeyed between York and Selby. On the main road I passed through Riccall where Walter was stationed at the H.C.U. (Heavy Conversion Unit) prior to going on to Lisset and 158 Squadron. On the alternative route I had to pass through the village of Wistow.
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I think our crew must have gone on a week’s leave because the next entry in my log book was ferrying Lancaster PH-Z from Wickenby to Ludford for a major inspection on 21st August. Perhaps it was a good job it was only a twenty minute flight! Anyway we travelled back by road.
We discovered, on our return from leave, that John Tebbut and his crew had gone missing during our absence, so I was left with the slim blue book on “Cloud reading for pilots.” which he had lent me two or three weeks before. By this time of course, all his kit and possessions had been collected and I couldn’t see a lot of point in trying to catch up with them for the sake of the small inexpensive book which remains among my souvenirs.
Very strangely, a couple of years ago, I found John Tebbut’s name recorded on the Wickenby Roll of Honour with the date 24th June 1944 although my log book records my flight with him on 31st July 1944. W.R. Chorley in “R.A.F. Bomber Command Losses in 1944” obviously had the same source of information, reporting the loss of John’s crew “without trace” on 24th June during an operation on Saintes. I know they’ve got the records wrong but how can I do anything about it after 54 years? So many people were involved in making the records of operational casualties that inevitably mistakes were made. One such instance I can point to is the appearance on the Wickenby Roll of Honour of the two crew members who survived the crash which killed George Wistow and four of his crew mates. One of them, the wireless operator, is still alive and the other, the mid-upper gunner died in 1992. I presumed they must have died of their injuries until I came across their names in the Register of Members!
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By the time we renewed our acquaintanceship with “N-Nan” she had completed two more missions, her 42nd and 43rd, with two other 12 Squadron crews. We got her back for her 44th and our 27th operation on 25/26 August. This time the target was the Opel motor factories at Russelheim, E.S.E. of Mainz, where amongst other products, components were being made for flying-bombs.
Navigation was becoming pretty routine by this stage in my career, and although it was a nine-hour trip I managed to keep my concentration all the way, filling in reams of calculations with no noticeable variation in quality right through the exercise. This was recognised by the commendation “Very good nav.”. from our Squadron Navigation Officer written on the bottom of the log. Wind-finding for the main force was again an extra duty. Our scheduled time on the target was 0106 to 0110 – we actually bombed at 0107.
My log included two entries at 0054 and 0126.2 recording aircraft being shot down, with rough bearings relative to our heading. Also noted was a precautionary practice stall with just over twenty minutes to go to Wickenby. Our tailplane had received some damage and it was considered best to try out pre-landing manoeuvres whilst we still had plenty of height (about 8,000 feet). Anyway it can’t have been too bad. One thing I found was that after so many hours of continuous concentration, and then going through de-briefing, I didn’t have any problem sleeping!
The verdict on the operation, not immediately available, was that it inflicted very considerable damage and that the forge and gearbox factory were put out of action for several weeks. The attack was considered ”much more profitable, both in
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damage inflicted and in the lighter losses incurred” than the visit by a force a fortnight earlier.
Operation 28, our second attack on Kiel, turned out to be a rather bumpy ride. On the outward journey we stayed at 2,000 feet, heading E.N.E. until we were three-quarters of the way to Denmark before climbing on the same track to 12,000 feet. At 7 degrees East we turned to starboard and headed almost S.E. as if to attack Hamburg. Navigation was simplified by the fact that Heligoland stood out quite sharply on the cathode ray tube of the H2S with, of course, no confusing signals possible. I obtained bearings at ranges of twenty seven and three quarters and nineteen nautical miles as we passed well to the north of the islands, placing us right on track. At the same time we were climbing to 19,000 feet, and I sent back to base the third of the wind velocities I had dutifully measured.
We crossed the German coast dead on track, crossed the Kiel Canal still heading as if for Hamburg, but when about 25 nautical miles short we turned sharply port on a north-westerly heading to Kiel. As we turned we saw red target indicators going down S.E. of us, so it looked as if there was a diversionary attack on Hamburg. Ahead we saw the first illuminating flares going down but it looked as if there would be low stratus cloud over the target. Then we saw red indicators going down ahead of us. Using the H2S I measured the remaining distance to Kiel at 15 nautical miles, or 3.6 minutes time-wise. Then the green target indicators appeared dead ahead and our bomb-aimer, Tommy Crook, took over. The bombs were dropped at 2309.7 so we were very close to our planned time on target of 2310. We turned away at 2310.1 and, looking at the H2S, I reckoned we must have been “bang on” our aiming point.
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Our H2S fix at 2312.3 showed us right on track to our turning point over Kiel Bay, from which we turned westwards to cross the narrow neck of Germany roughly 20 nautical miles south of the Danish border. From our next turning point on the western German coast, we were to descend from 19,000 feet to 7,000 feet as we put the nose down and pushed up our airspeed from 160 to 200 knots. We had only left the coast between 10 and 15 miles astern when we saw a burning aircraft falling about five miles away on the port beam.
At 2340 all was going well and we were only 2 miles south of track, but only seven minutes later we were encountering static in heavy cloud at about 17,000 feet so Fred altered course, first onto 150 degrees, and then 180 degrees and then 210 degrees, as I could see from my repeater compass, to try to go round to the south of the cumulo-nimbus band. I managed to get a fix using Heligoland which now showed us 14 miles south of track, but we were still heading predominantly south looking for a gap in the clouds. We levelled out at 12,500 feet and turned onto 240 degrees. We were now about 24 miles due west of Heligoland and 20 miles south of track.
Fred decided to descend below freezing level on a heading of 270 degrees (west), but we encountered severe turbulence which upset some of our instruments, (apart from the crew!) and without any action by the pilot the aircraft was thrown around onto an easterly heading, all in the space of a couple of minutes! Fred turned south once more and I got another fix on Heligoland which showed that in a period of almost six minutes we had actually made good only 5 miles and that in a southerly direction. We kept on trying to avoid cloud, first on 240 degrees, then 210 degrees and back to 240 degrees.
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Another fix at 0010 hours showed us only 10 miles north of Nordeney, in the East Friesian Islands, known to be the outposts of German flak batteries. We weren’t keen on re-entering German territory and fortunately we found a gap in the clouds and altered course, thankfully, onto 290 degrees as an estimated direction whilst I calculated a more accurate course to intercept our originally intended track back home.
By 0051 we were practically back on track and hastening homeward at 220 knots. I resumed full navigational control of the aircraft and was soon back in the old routine. We arrived over Wickenby only 15 minutes later than our flight-planned time, thanks partly to using a somewhat higher airspeed than planned over the last hour of our journey, despite a certain section of our route seeming rather like an eternity.
The Navigation Officer’s comment written on my log was “Must have been a big, big cloud!!!” I wish he’d been with us to enjoy it! I think we had probably encountered what is know as a “line squall”. The report in Bomber Command News“ (Summer 1988) says “472 aircraft attacked, very heavy bombing in the town centre with widespread fires fanned by strong winds. 17 Lancasters were lost. In W.R. Chorley’s “R.A.F. Bomber Command Losses in 1944” six Lancasters are individually listed with their crews as “lost without trace” and two as “crashed in the North Sea” on that operation. One of the aircraft lost without trace was PH-A from 12 Squadron. I wonder whether they had cloud trouble but fared worse than we did?
Looking back on this experience I marvel not only at the robustness of the Lancaster but also that of the gyrocompass and the air position indicator (A.P.I.) which it served.
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It was back to routine on our 29th operation, which took us by day over Reading and Eastbourne to another flying-bomb site at Fromentel in the Pas-de-Calais. This was such a short-haul trip, lasting barely three hours, that we were able to take our maximum bomb load of 15,300 lb, or very nearly 7 tonnes in today’s parlance. One innovation this time was that the bomb-aimer took over the navigation from the French coast onwards and map-read us the 21 miles to the target, which was in any case, well marked with red target indicators, (T.I’s). We bombed one minute later than planned, but it was all pretty uneventful.
Our final (30th) operation took us on a daylight attack on a V-2 rocket store at St. Riquier, just a few miles from Abbeville. Eight other V-2 stores were being attacked on the same day, involving a total of 601 aircraft. Again things went very much according to plan and we bombed right on time. We did, however, climb to 14,500 feet to avoid flak as we headed back for the coast near Dunkerque. There was some flak damage to the aircraft, just to prove it’s not wise to take things for granted. Six Lancasters were lost. So we ended our operational tour of 30 ops. tidily on the last day of the month (31.8.44). I got an “excellent” proficiency assessment from the O.C. of 12 Squadron, Wing Commander Maurice Stockdale, which is recorded near the end of my log book. That gentleman now lives in Fleet, Hampshire.
One outcome of a successful tour of “ops” was my receiving the D.F.C., gazetted on 12 December 1944. I later learned that our pilot Fred Holbrook (who began his tour as sergeant, progressed to warrant officer half-way through the tour, and was commissioned after 23 “ops”) also received this award.
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[underlined] Chapter 7: Instructing, Ferry Trips & Crewing up for second tour [/underlined]
Just as quickly as our crew assembled in O.T.U. days we were dispersed. We went on leave, (I think it was for a week and I visited the B.O.C.M. laboratory early in September. The only home address I had for a member of the crew was for Johnny Squires. It’s such a long time ago I can’t remember how and when we got our postings, but I can’t remember meeting up again with the others at Wickenby. I was posted to No. 1656 H.C.U. (Heavy Conversion Unit) at Lindholme, near Doncaster, early in September.
I found I was amongst a bunch of experienced navigators condemned to instructing pupil navigators in the use of H2S (airborne radar). Part of the instruction we could do using simulators in a sort of classroom but the nitty-gritty part was actually flying with them on cross-countries. The four-engined aircraft at Lindholme were at first mainly Halifaxes (Mk II) but over the time I was there, (nearly eight months), they were steadily being replaced by Lancasters.
The one common factor in the flying instructing in H2S was that on each occasion (and there were forty-six of them) I flew with a different trainee crew who were leaving the airfield for the first time in a four-engined aircraft without the assurance of a “screened” pilot aboard. In every case they were all complete strangers to me, with the occasional exception of the navigator who I might have met on ground training exercises, and so there was a considerable element of the unknown when one took off with them on a four or five hour cross-country exercise. This might sometimes be extended to include simulated bombing by H2S or the dropping of small practice bombs at the local
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bombing range. When the “screened” pilot flew with a “sprog” crew he at least had his salvation in own hands in the case of emergency – while I knew nothing about piloting an aircraft for real. A “screened” pilot had generally successfully completed a tour of “ops” which was a fair enough way of sorting out the men from the boys.
Maybe I shouldn’t have put it quite like that – after all I was now a “screened” navigator, not that I felt all that screened in this situation. Anyway, I did my best to pass on my experience to a succession of navigators and there was never any suggestion of my being “grounded” and someone else doing the job.
Generally the H2S simulated bombing was done at the turning points on the navigational exercise. When the bombs would have been released if we were bombing for real, we operated (without looking out of the aircraft) a downward pointing camera to give us a line-overlap series of photographs which could be examined later to check the expertise of the use of the H2S as the sole bombing aid.
I still have some line-overlap series as souvenirs of the time we “bombed” Luton, Skomer Island (off S.W. Wales) and the Skerries (just to the N.W. of Anglesey). These were most impressive when the target happened to be largely obscured by cloud that would have made visual bombing difficult and yet there were identifiable points visible through breaks in the clouds on the photographs to prove that the bombing run had been “bang on”. As the H2S was just as effective by night as by day, these photographs helped instil confidence of its effectiveness in the pupil crews. Later we had a more sophisticated camera attached to the H2S set which took pictures of the scene on the cathode ray tube.
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Inevitably there were tricky moments. I can well remember coming in to land at Lindholme after a cross-country with one pupil crew. The pilot misjudged his landing and we touched down on the grass some distance from and running roughly parallel to the runway. Ahead of us loomed some large building. The pilot tried to turn the Lancaster and the undercarriage collapsed, so we skidded to a belly-landing. As calmly and unhurriedly as I could, I suggested that we got out quickly in case the aircraft caught fire. (We might have ruptured a petrol tank and the engines were still hot). Fortunately all was well and no-one was hurt. I have a picture in my log book of this unhappy Lancaster lying on its tummy and the succinct comment on the exercise of 15.1.45 – “Last trip by “X”. In another similar incident “Jock” Niven, another of our flying nav-instructors had to leave an aircraft somewhat hurriedly and, in squeezing his rather plump form through the emergency exit, got out either without his trousers or with them in disarray.
On another cross-country the powers that be tacked on a fighter affiliation exercise (to practice evading fighters) which upset my stomach somewhat and I had to go back down the fuselage to use the Elsan (chemical toilet) – in my log book I have a minute sketch of myself as a match-stalk man, being sick into a bucket! I survived other fighter affiliation exercises without undergoing that particular indignity.
It was just before the half-way stage of my sojourn at 1656 H.C.U. I learned that I had been awarded the D.F.C. for my work on 12 Squadron, and when I went on Christmas leave Mother presented me with a cutting from the “Hull Daily Mail” – I’ve no idea what happened to that.
Judging from the gap between entries in my log book I
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presume I had another leave after completing my duties as an instructor because the next entry shows me flying as navigator in a crew headed by F/Lt Bill Addison, who had acted as flight commander towards the end of his duties at Lindholme.
We were part of a newly assembled crew, each member having completed a tour of thirty operations, preparing for a possible second tour of operations. We had been laid off for a minimum six months (in my case eight months), to rest us from our first tours and at the same time make use of us in the training of further batches of aircrew.
In typical inflexible service fashion we found, much to our chagrin, that we were treated as beginners without an “op” behind us. Another possible explanation is that with the ending of the war in Europe, the R.A.F. had to keep us temporarily occupied and this was the easiest way to do it. For a couple of months (May to July ’45) we went through the same routine that our first crew had to undergo at No. 1653 H.C.U., omitting the “circuits and bumps” but making up for this by doing twice as much of the other H.C.U. catalogue. Halfway through this our crew was transferred to No. 576 Squadron, based at Fiskerton near Lincoln. To use a prevalent expression we were all “cheesed” or “browned off” with our lack of recognition. The war in Europe had ended but we were expecting to be sent to tackle the Japanese.
On 17.7.45 we had a cross-country with a difference, code-named “Cooks Tour”, visiting Rotterdam, Arnhem, Essen, Cologne, Aachen and Antwerp. The idea was partly to impress the natives and partly to let us see the havoc wrought by Bomber Command during the recent campaign. I believe we carried a few ground-staff personnel as observers.
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Then the R.A.F. at last found something to keep a large number of bomber crews occupied. We were used as troop carriers, flying to and from Italy, taking service personnel from and on leave, respectively. This was, I suppose, a kind of poetic justice. We had wrecked the railway system in France so that it was impossible to transport troops by land at anything like a reasonable speed, if at all, so we got the job.
On our first trip, early in August, we went to Bari, on the Adriatic coast and brought back on leave twenty members of the 8th Army. It can’t have been at all comfortable for them, sitting on the metal floor of a Lancaster, but I expect the novelty of the situation helped to distract them, and at least they were getting home quickly. Another novelty was that their kit bags were slung up in the bomb bays of the aircraft in place of bombs, but we didn’t drop any. On arrival in England we had to land at an airfield with Customs facilities, where the troops had to display their acquisitions (or loot).
The second trip was to Naples on 22.8.45. We had glorious views of Vesuvius on the approach to Pomigliano airfield. The next day was free and we managed to visit Pompeii. In Naples we were beset by bare-footed urchins competing with one another to swop lire for pound notes. Some R.A.F. types took packages of coffee to sell at inflated prices to the deprived Italians. On the following day we were due to carry another twenty passengers back to England.
Bill and I had to attend an early morning briefing, ready for a very early start, but take-off was postponed for a few hours and we had to attend a second briefing. Bill was rather tired and asked me to modify our official route by cutting off one of the corners. Instead of taking a north-westerly route running roughly
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parallel to the west coast of Italy and then heading due west towards the French Riviera I was to go over the top of Corsica to the French Riviera. As the highest ground on Corsica rose to about 9,000 feet it would be essential to be sure of a good safety margin for our passengers but as we didn’t have oxygen for them we would have to compromise – I reckoned that if we crossed Corsica at 11,000 feet that should be satisfactory. In fact I observed the approach to the east coast of the island on the H2S. We climbed to 11,000 feet and stayed there until we left the west coast behind us and then descended to our authorised height for the rest of the journey. The twenty minutes or so at 11,000 feet had negligible effect on our passengers. (The rule was that you needed to use oxygen if you flew over 10,000 feet for more than one hour).
The results of this change of route, whilst not affecting our passengers, remained to be seen. Whilst the pilot and myself were attending our second briefing some of the other members of the crew had wandered off to our aircraft where they were accosted by an R.A.F. groundstaff airman who was on leave in Italy but would rather spend his leave in England. Our crew members didn’t see why not and when the rest of us reached the Lancaster they seemed to have got it all arranged. Bill didn’t like it, but surprisingly, agreed on condition that if this “hitch-hiking” was discovered we knew nothing about it.
Our stowaway apparently got away from the Customs airfield at Glatton and went on his way. The trouble began when my chart was routinely scanned by the Navigation Officer and our short cut was revealed. Bill and I were interviewed separately about this breach of discipline but as I was subject to the captain’s instructions it largely devolved on Bill. Whilst the matter was still under consideration our stowaway put his
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spanner in the works. He had somehow to get back to Italy before his leave expired.
He knew we were from 576 Squadron from the aircraft’s lettering and notwithstanding the fact that he had already put us in jeopardy with his outward flight from Italy, he tried to get to our airfield at Fiskerton, near Lincoln, in the hope of a return trip. Unfortunately, he got mis-directed to our base airfield, where, being dressed in khaki drill whilst everyone else was in blue, the service police soon spotted him and took him for questioning. He told them almost the whole story – the only thing he didn’t give away was with which crew he had travelled. The pilot and I were confronted with this chap and we both denied having seen him – I truthfully didn’t recognise him as I hadn’t paid particular attention to him at the critical time.
We could have been right up to our ears in it but for our station intelligence officer withholding a vital piece of evidence. He knew from the time of the ‘bus that our stowaway had caught from Glatton that ours was the only aircraft from our squadron which could possibly have landed him in time, thanks to our cutting the corner on our route and being one of the first aircraft back to England. The intelligence officer told us later how he had worked things out. I suppose one or both of us might possibly have been court-martialled for this serious breach of discipline but nothing happened. Except, one day Bill Addison had to report to Group Headquarters where he saw one senior officer and was reprimanded for cutting the corner, then went (on the same visit) to see another officer to be told that he had been awarded the A.F.C. for his work as an instructor, to add to the D.F.C. he already wore. As it happened, I didn’t fly again with Bill Addison as his demobilisation cropped up very soon afterwards.
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The Japanese surrendered that August, so now there was a general feeling of anti-climax. Personally, I knew I couldn’t throw away four years of studying and I couldn’t get out of the Air Force quickly enough now that the “raison d’etre” had been removed. I tried to get back into the habit of studying science at Lincoln Technical College but found the available course too elementary and had to give up that approach. Later on I had a piece of good news from our R.A.F. education officer. He had made enquiries and discovered that London University had modified its regulations, my School Certificate of 1937 now being acceptable and giving me exemption from the London Matriculation exam. This meant that when I did get back to studying I could aim for the London B.Sc. Special qualification, which had the advantage of an intermediate examination (with certificate) en route.
Our crew was broken up and despatched to various points of the compass. I received a letter from our wireless operator, “Artie” Shaw a year later, just after I was demobilised, from R.A.F. Seletar, Singapore but never heard from any of the others. However, by strange coincidence I did run across Bill Addison again. I encountered him at Lloyd’s Bank in York somewhere about 1960, and it turned out that he was living in Osbaldwick, barely half a mile from our house on Hull Road, York
I was posted to 50 Squadron at Sturgate, a recently constructed airfield near Gainsborough and joined the crew of F/O Titchener. That was in September 1945. We were soon on the Italian ferry trips again, flying to Naples on three more occasions to bring home service personnel. Twice we brought twenty army types and once we afforded the ladies a bit more room to spread themselves by seating only fourteen of them
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(A.T.S. and Q.A.I.M.N.S.) in the space normally occupied by twenty army blokes, but it was the same metal floor.
After that it was back to routine with plenty of cross-countries thrown in. I see that on one night exercise, operation “Bullseye”, we went via Hamburg, among other places, to a target on the island of Spiekeroog in the German chain of East Frisian Islands. This was very near the scene of our memorable exploits whilst battling with the elements during our return from Kiel about sixteen months previously. This time however, things were entirely different – no cumulo-nimbus and no danger of flak. On the way back to Sturgate there was a problem. Visibility had seriously deteriorated and for the first time in my flying experience our aircraft was diverted to Carnaby, near Bridlington, where there was a special emergency airfield, much used during the war. This had exceptionally long runways to accommodate crippled aircraft returning from ops and also an emergency flare path called F.I.D.O. (Fog Investigation and Dispersal Operation) which used containers of burning gasoline down the sides of the runway to cause local dispersal of the fog.
We landed safely and found that we would have to stay there till next day. We didn’t think much of the food or the very cold accommodation (it was early January 1946). Maybe there was some problem with our aircraft because another Lancaster from 50 Squadron collected us the following afternoon and flew us back to base.
Nissen huts were never warm in the winter. I can well remember a period during the winter at Sturgate when icicles formed on the inside of the door and my bed was one of the two either side of the entrance.
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The solid fuel stove was halfway back down the hut and I finished my insulation by piling the contents of my kit-bag on the bed before trying to sleep. Some of the stuff consisted of flying gear which I never needed on operations because the Lancaster was warm enough without it.
By late January, 50 Squadron was transferred to the much more hospitable Waddington airfield, just south of Lincoln. Waddington was constructed originally during the first world war and opened as an R.F.C. flying training station in 1916. Now it was a thoroughly modern establishment with permanent accommodation, workshops and offices. I was soon pottering around with various pilots on trivia like bombing at the local range, air-sea firing (for the gunners), four short cross-countries with A.T.C. cadets, air tests (one with an A. V. Roe test pilot who managed to take off in less than half the length of the runway).
There was operation “Frontline”, a propaganda tour of the British Zone in Germany. Just for a change we did a couple of meteorological trips (code name “Operation Seaweed”, both lengthy exercises in excess of eight hours, which took us up to latitude 62 degrees North, passing Fair Isle and the Shetlands with a turning point roughly halfway between the Faroe Islands and the most westerly coast of Norway.
We carried a meteorological observer to take the required data readings, to which I was able to contribute the locations in latitude and longitude and measurements of wind velocity at our height. It was all rather boring but after seeing such wide expanses of ocean for such a long time it was nice to return to land.
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Then there was the novelty of my one and only trip in a Lincoln bomber, the successor to the Lancaster, in which we would probably have done our second tour of operations (against the Japanese). My last flight in the R.A.F. was an abortive air sea mission on which we had to search an area of the North Sea off the coast of Scotland. We did sight an empty dinghy, which was very good going considering how tiny they are from any appreciable height, but no sign of any people or aircraft debris. The lost aircraft was later found in the hills of Northumberland.
To fill in a few more weeks before I was demobbed, in August 1946 I was sent, under protest, on an instructor’s course at Finningley. It was interesting in that I got to appreciate more fully the equipment I had been using on a regular basis, but futile from the teaching point of view since I would be leaving the Air Force almost immediately. I suppose our C.O. had been required to send so many persons and it was just a matter of making up the numbers, the Air Force being well into a state of disintegration.
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[photograph of the crew in front of their aircraft]
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[underlined] Chapter 8: Lancaster ME 758 PH-N “Nan” [/underlined]
Whilst I was home on leave, sometime in June 1945, it so happened that my brother Norman was also at home. We took our bicycles and crossed the Humber by paddle steamer, then cycled south to Wickenby. By great good fortune we found my old aircraft, ME 758 PH-N “Nan” still very much in existence. She had eventually completed more than a hundred operations, the latest ones being to drop food to the starving Dutch just before the Germans capitulated. There was also one of our old ground crew in attendance and he told us that “Nan’s” next exercise would be to take part in a fighter affiliation exercise, i.e. manoeuvering [sic] violently with a fighter aircraft. This didn’t seem at all considerate after what that aircraft had gone through! Anyway Norman took a photograph of “Nan”, myself and my ground crew corporal to add to tone he had already taken of me and my bike! I still have both pictures.
It was only a few years ago that I learned more about “Nan”. That was when I obtained a copy of “Claims to Fame. The Lancaster.” by Norman Franks. This book celebrates the Lancaster “centenarians” – 34 machines that achieved the remarkable goal of flying 100 or more operations. A Lancaster crew’s first tour of duty stood at 30 operations, but both men and aircraft often failed to reach even half of that total. Skill, training and team work would all increase the chances of survival, but luck played a large part in deciding which Lancaster would be found by a night fighter or hit by flak and which would escape to attack again. Only 34 Lancasters in Bomber Command survived 100 operations, about 1 percent of the number which were lost on operations. “Nan” was the only centenarian from Wickenby which was the base for two squadrons, 12 and 626. Franks, through some meticulous
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research has been able to compile a fairly comprehensive narrative for each Lancaster, including crew changes, missions flown and events and incidents during the service career of the aircraft.
Our crew flew in PH-N for the first time when we did a two and a half hours cross-country exercise on 26.5.44 after we had completed three ops. on different Lancasters. We did our fourth op. in her (it was her tenth) when we went to the Rote Erde railway marshalling yards at Aachen. The defences were strong and losses 7 percent (12 out of 170). A day later, 29.5.44, we did another cross-country in her and it turned out to be a rather “hairy” experience.
My log entry merely states “Window lost and aileron damaged. A.S.I. (air speed indicator) read 360 m.p.h. + in dive”.
I cannot remember the cause, but no great harm was done. The damage was repaired and we began a series of eleven ops. in her over the next three weeks up to 22.6.44 covering a variety of targets, including the first daylight raids by Lancasters since 1943, when we attacked the docks at Le Havre and Boulogne, on two successive evenings and virtually ended the E-boat threat to our cross-channel invasion shipping.
This took our total of ops. to 15 and “Nan’s” to 22. Whilst we enjoyed a week’s leave, “Nan” did five more operations with three other crews. We then did four of “Nan’s” next five ops., three of them being to the important French marshalling yards at Orleans, Dijon and Tours, bringing us to 19 and “Nan” to 32.
“Nan” then managed two more trips without us before
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we did three night ops. in five days, returning from Stuttgart on 24/25.7.44 on three engines. Two days later we were air-testing “Nan” with a new engine and tail fin. This damage was not mentioned in Norman Franks’ account nor indeed was there any mention of the operation on Stuttgart, which was our 22nd and “Nan’s” 37th op.
After a couple of short daylight ops. to French targets we were scheduled to attack the V-weapon launching site at Trossy St. Maximin. This, as I have already described in some detail, was the worst experience of our tour and which we were very lucky to survive. Once again this was not mentioned in Norman Franks’ account. In fact he summarises “Nan’s” record as follows:-
“Nan” was almost totally free of mechanical problems, although towards the end of its career the aircraft’s starboard engine caught fire on 2nd February 1945, causing the crew to abort a trip to Wiesbaden. This particular Lanc. was also lucky to escape serious damage from the German defences: only once was damaged recorded when its hydraulics were hit by light flak at 0612 hours during the attack to support Operation “Goodwood” – the Allied breakout from Caen on 18th July 1944.”
This was one of a couple of ops. done by other crews, presumably whilst our crew was on leave after our 19th op. on Tours. That damage cannot have been too bad because the Caen trip was followed, the same evening, by an op. on Scholven!
In the aftermath of the Trossy operation we had to do our next op. in PH-W whilst “Nan” was being repaired. “Nan” didn’t get back on ops. until ten days after Trossy – a long lay-off in
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those days!
We had “Nan” back for the op. on Russelsheim on 25/26th August. Our tailplane was damaged to the extent that we practised landing manoeuvres whilst we still had plenty of height before actually landing at base on our return. With the exception of our op. in V-“Victor” on 28.8.44, when “Nan” was not flying with any crew, possible due to overhaul, we completed our tour in “Nan”, receiving light flak damage on our last operation.
So once we’d got “Nan”, after our three “starter” ops., we did 25 of our remaining 27 trips in her, which must be something of a record in itself.
Altogether she completed 106 operations, six “Manna” sorties (taking food to the starving Dutch people) and two “Exodus” trips (the flying home of released prisoners of war).
Looking back it seems such a shame that after seeing out the war she was “struck off charge” on 19.10.45 and “reduced to produce” i.e. scrapped.
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[black and white photograph of airman in uniform on a bicycle leaning against a wall]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[photograph]
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
[underlined] Chapter 9: GEE. A. P. I. and H2S [/underlined]
My work as a navigator was enhanced out of all recognition by three devices put at my disposal over a six-month period. “Gee” was a godsend after the dismal future I had anticipated relying to any extent on str-navigation. It was a system based on the transmission of synchronised pulses from a “master” (A) and two “slave” (B and C) ground stations. The two “slaves” were situated about 200 miles apart, with the “master” in the middle, and the cathode ray display on the “Gee” set in the aircraft showed the respective differences between the times at which the AB and AC signals were received. When these measurements were plotted on a special chart covered with two distinct sets of parabolic lines it was a simple matter to fix the aircraft’s position with great accuracy. This accuracy gradually declined as the distance from the transmitting stations increased and the crossings of the two sets of curved lines became more acute. Furthermore it was susceptible to interference from enemy jamming stations to the extent that it could not be relied upon beyond enemy shores.
It still gave us the all-important chance of determining accurate measurements of wind velocity and so getting off to a good start on every operation. It also helped to verify one’s position on the way home after leaving the enemy coast and simplified getting back to the right airfield. The Air Force had understandably kept the information about “Gee” from us until it was absolutely necessary to introduce this master stroke. It certainly “bucked up” we navigators no end.
The second of the marvellous pieces of equipment was the air position indicator (A.P.I.). This showed the changes in latitude and longitude of the moving aircraft which would occur
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if there were no wind. It was a mechanical device which combined the inputs of the gyro compass and the air speed indicator, keeping a continuous record of the actual courses and speeds flown, including all deviations from the intended, and including “spur of the moment” tactical manoeuvres. This made life a lot easier by removing much of the drudgery in the manual plotting of lines on a chart by means of ruler, protractor, dividers and calculator.
The third item was airborne radar, known as H2S. This had a rotating transmitter, known as a scanner, housed in a “blister” beneath the aircraft and a receiver at the navigator’s side, the whole system being self-contained. It produced, on a cathode-ray tube, a rough picture of the ground over which the aircraft was flying, irrespective of cloud or darkness.
Water areas, which reflected none of the transmitting signals from the rotating scanner showed darkly on the screen. Land areas (or ground returns) appeared green, but a more reflective area such as a built-up area showed up as a more luminous patch often, but not always approximating in outline to the shape of a town. It was up the navigator to use his other information gleaned en route to decide which town he was observing on the screen. The chief use was navigational for there was a range-finder on the screen and a bearing indicator so one could obtain a bearing and distance from an identified town or feature. It was also possible to carry out bombing attacks without sight of the ground and the equipment could not be jammed by the enemy.
Unfortunately, German night-fighters had, for some time before our tour of operations, the capability of homing onto H2S transmissions - more about this later under “The German Defences”.
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[underlined] Chapter 10: The German Defences. [/underlined]
To counter R.A.F. and U.S.A.A.F. attacks the Germans had to deprive the German forces of 75% of their heavy anti-tank weapons. These 88mm guns had to be used for ant-aircraft purposes, scattered all over Germany and occupied territories because the possible targets were so numerous. 900,000 soldiers manned those guns and, in addition, hundreds of thousands of expert tradesmen could not be used by the German Army because their skills were needed to repair bomb damage. Meanwhile, the increasing requirement for day and night-fighters for defence against the bomber offensive, deprived the German Army on the Russian front of much of its accustomed close support as Messerschmidt 110s and Junkers 88s were drawn westwards.
Our most deadly opposition came from the German night-fighters. The German pilots had long known that the blind spot of the British bombers was below the fuselage but had not been able to exploit this fully because the fighter had generally to be aimed at the bomber to make use of its fixed forward-firing weapons and this could be difficult at night. However, in the autumn of 1943, an ingenious fitter at a Luftwaffe airfield devised the prototype of the deadly “schrage musik” - “jazz music” - a pair of fixed 20mm cannons pointing upwards at 60 degrees. Having located a bomber with the aid of radar or using the bomber’s radar (H2S) transmissions, the fighter pilot could then fly unseen and fairly safely manoeuvre below their target and fire incendiary cannon shells into the petrol tanks between the two motors in the wing, being particularly careful to avoid the bomb bay in the belly of the aircraft. It was then only a matter of seconds before the bomber exploded. The victims had no chance.
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Using this technique, an experienced night-fighter pilot could account for several four-engined bombers in a single excursion, there being so many targets available.
I sometimes wonder if and at what stage our superiors realised the situation and whether they had to decide between warning the crews of the dangers of H2S transmissions and maintaining the advantage of the navigational aid. I am sure a lot of H2S sets would have been little used over Germany if the crews had been presented with the true scenario. To be fair, our leaders would not at the time have been in a position to accurately attribute the proportion of bomber losses due to night fighters as opposed to anti-aircraft fire, but they must have had a rough idea.
What other crews saw was a sudden mid-air explosion and burst of flame. Someone put out the story that these were “scarecrows” fired into the air by the Germans with the intention of making the crews believe they were bombers being shot down and thereby affecting the bomber crews’ morale!
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[underlined and centred] Chapter 11: Reflections on survival [/underlined and centred]
Many factors contributed to my survival, beginning with my decision that I wanted to do the navigation on a bomber aircraft. At the time I volunteered for aircrew this was one of the two jobs of the observer, who was also responsible for dropping the bombs. The latter task was subsequently delegated to a specialist bomb aimer. When I enlisted in November 1941 (after passing the preliminaries three months earlier), there was a bottle-neck in the training scheme for navigators. I was deferred for five months, otherwise I would have been starting my tour in the winter of 1943-44, probably about January. That would have been a rotten time with bad weather and numerous long-distance trips including a high proportion to Berlin.
Then there was the length of the training period which took two years from the end of my deferred service to reaching the operational squadron, partially due to the necessity of fitting in to laid-down training schedules at the succeeding stages, notably:-
(a) the gap between completing the I.T.W. course and catching the boat to South Africa,
(b) five weeks at sea on a circuitous submarine-evading route to South Africa via South America,
(c) several weeks between arriving at 48 Air School, South Africa and starting the course there,
(d) the return to England,
(e) several more weeks delay at O.T.U. whilst the R.A.F. decided that our original pilot wouldn’t make the grade.
All these delays took me nearer to D-Day and the invasion of Europe by the Allied Armies. The increasing
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diversity of the targets needing to be attacked in order to assist the coming assault meant that there was a greater proportion of shorter range tactical targets and only seven over Germany itself. (Air Marshal Harris would have preferred to keep hammering away at German targets but had to give priority to the invasion requirements.) In the final stages before the landings there were attacks on coastal batteries, and radar stations, but the longer term “softening up” was by attacking a large number of railway centres to seriously impede German troop movements and supplies to the invasion front.
We were fortunate in not being “downed” by anti-aircraft fire on a few occasions, particularly near Stuttgart, when we returned on three engines and on the occasion near Compiegne when we got 50-60 holes in the aircraft and two of the crew received minor injuries. We were lucky in our encounter with the severe storm on the way back from our second trip to Kiel. And we were never attacked by a night-fighter, despite getting a close-up view of one on the Stuttgart operation.
On the positive side, we had a well-disciplined crew who didn’t waste time on unnecessary nattering on the intercom. What’s more, there was never any visible or audible sign of fear or distress.
We kept very close to our scheduled routes and times on almost all occasions, i.e. we kept in the middle of the bunch so it wasn’t quite so easy to be singled out.
I am sure that the toughest time for bomber crews was in the six months prior to us joining 12 Squadron. Nevertheless, I was surprised to discover in an “Analysis of Total Losses of Lancasters by Months” in the Wickenby Register Newsletter of
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May 1994 that 12 Squadron lost 31 Lancasters in the six months Nov. ’43 to April ’44 and 27 in the four months that our crew was operating. I suppose that might be explained by the ops. not being so frequent during the winter months.
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[underlined and centred] Chapter 12: Postscript. [/underlined and centred]
After all these years I cannot remember just when or where I was demobbed and received my “civvy” suit. I know that officially my last day of service was 16.10.46 but I believe I was out a few weeks earlier.
I know that I picked up where I left off. I went back to work for B.O.C.M. at the laboratory in Stoneferry and I re-enlisted for Hull Technical College evening classes. As an ex-member of the forces and a background of studying chemistry for almost four years I knew I was eligible to apply for an educational grant of something over £3 a week to proceed on a full time course to a professional qualification. (Out of this, textbooks etc. had to be purchased). This would have meant giving up the day job which paid over £4 a week.
I knew that after four and a half years complete absence from my studies I would have to revise from the very beginning, but now that my School Certificate was accepted as giving me exemption from the London Matriculation exam. I decided that I would defer my application for a grant and aim to take the London Inter B.Sc. examination the next June. The Inter B.Sc. course took two years of evening class work so it meant I would have to cover one-half via the 1946-47 evening class course and the other half by swotting up from textbooks and my old notebooks. If I succeeded in passing the exam, comprising Maths., Physics and Chemistry, I would at least have that certificate to my name and I couldn’t have been further on if I’d taken advantage of the grant. Anyway I took the gamble although I found the readjustment rather tough. It was very amusing when attending an early lecture in Physics to hear the same old lecturer, Mr. Robson, repeat the same hoary joke that
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Walter Suddaby and I had heard in 1938 concerning his friend’s dog who was christened “Hysteresis” because it was always lagging behind.
Back at home there was a problem. My parents had been separated for some years, partially due to the war. The Luftwaffe destroyed Spillers’ flour mill, where my father worked, during a night raid in July 1941. Shortly afterwards, his firm offered him alternative employment at their Wallasey mill, which he accepted. At the tip of the Wirral peninsula he was now well over a hundred miles from Hull, so he wasn’t able to come home every weekend. My brother Norman, although a year younger than I, joined the R.A.F. shortly before I left home, due to my five months deferred service.
So by the time I had to report to the R.A.F. in London my mother, in a matter of a few months, was reduced from a family of five to my young sister Hazel and herself. This was very hard for her in the middle of the war, particularly as the air raid alerts still sounded regularly in Hull.
It was assumed that we should resume as a family when the war was over, although no-one knew when that would be or whether it would be possible. My father settled in Wallasey and mad regular payments to mother. At one time he tried to persuade her to join him in Wallasey but she declined for two reasons. She had worked hard all her life and used a very small legacy from a relative in New Zealand to enable the family to move into a modest home of our own and she was intent on having it ready for our return.
By the time I was “demobbed” things had become more complicated. My father had formed a relationship with his
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landlady and had no intention of returning to Hull. Mother’s situation was uncertain unless there was a legal separation, which would obviously take some time to come to court.
After passing the Inter B.Sc. exam, in June ’47, I had another decision to make. I could apply for the ex-serviceman’s grant or continue at evening classes for another year and then take the Subsid. Maths qualification, clearing the way to the B.Sc.(Special) in Chemistry. This would mean dropping all contact with chemistry for a year. Being slightly mad, but having confidence in my maths, I carried on at the Tech. evening classes for another session! and continued to work full-time at B.O.C.M. I duly passed the maths exam in June ’48.
In the meantime, the legal formalities of my parents’ separation had been formalised on a proper financial basis.
When I got my exam results I composed a letter applying for an educational grant as an ex-member of the forces, pointing out that I had already saved the country money by completing part of the course via evening classes. How could anyone resist that? I got a favourable response and I arranged to leave B.O.C.M. and complete my education full-time but still at the Hull Technical College, commencing in the autumn.
My two post-war years at B.O.C.M. had been spent on the routine testing of ingredients for animal feedstuffs, a boring occupation which I had now endured for six years altogether, plus six years of evening classes. I knew it had to be full-time or nothing.
Fortunately for me those last two years at B.O.C.M. were by no means wasted because it was there that I met a charming
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young lady assistant. Yvonne and I found that we had very similar outlooks and much in common and, although I was transferred to the Foster Street laboratory for the latter part of my stay with B.O.C.M., we maintained contact. In subsequent years I must have cycled a few hundreds of miles between North Hull and East Hull!!
It was rather odd attending the degree course. There were a couple of other ex-forces students, but the majority of our fellow pupils were about eight years younger. An advantage over attending a university was that the staff and the geography were all familiar and I had great faith in the staff, especially Messrs. L. Balmforth and G. R. Dennis.
I proposed to Yvonne on New Year’s Eve ’48 – ’49 with the proviso that I had to concentrate on first passing my final exams in 1950. Fortunately, she accepted!
I found those final two years hard going but I took my A.R.I.C. exams in April and the B.Sc. Special in Chemistry (London External) exams in June 1950 and waited in some trepidation for the results. I didn’t wish to go through all that again. I was now 28 and I’d had enough of college for my lifetime! However, all was well and I had both qualifications.
Now the way was clear to seek employment and plan for the wedding, which took place on September 30th, 1950. It rained all day! Subsequent events would take another book!
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[underlined and centred] Bibliography [/underlined and centred]
FRANKS, Norman
“Claims to Fame. The Lancaster” (Arms and Armour, 1994)
RICHARDS, Denis
“The Hardest Victory. R.A.F. Bomber Command in the Second World War.” (Hodder and Stoughton Ltd. 1994)
HASTINGS, Max
“Bomber Command” (Michael Joseph Ltd. 1979)
CHORLEY, W.R.
“Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Losses of the Second World War. Vol. 5 Aircraft and Crew Losses. 1944” (Midland Counties Publications. 1997)
SEARBY, John (Air Commodore)
“The Bomber Battle for Berlin” (Guild Publishing, 1991)
HARRIS, Sir Arthur
“Bomber Offensive” (Greenhill Books, 1998)
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98
[underlined and centred] Glossary of R.A.F. Terms. (Official and Unofficial).
A.P.I.
Air Position Indicator
A.S.I.
Air Speed Indicator
“Bang on”
Spot on, “Wizard”, 100%
“Cheesed off”
Browned off, fed up.
“Circuits and Bumps”
Practice take-off and landing
Cumulo-nimbus
Thunder clouds
D.R.
Dead reckoning with a calculated wind
Elsan
Aircraft toilet
Feathered
Engine switched off with propellor blades turned to reduce air resistance
Flak
Anti-aircraft fire
F.I.D.O.
Fog Investigation and Dispersal Operation
“Gardening”
Laying sea mines
GEE
Radio navigation aid, grid box
H2S
Radar navigation and bombing aid
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I.T.W.
Initial Training Wing
O.T.U.
Operational Training Unit
P.F.F.
Path Finder Force
Pitot/tube
An open-ended tube mounted externally on the aircraft facing directly into the air flow to provide a convenient and accurate measurement of the aircraft’s speed.
“Screened”
aircrew rested from ops at end of tour and transferred to instructing
“Solo”
Unsupervised flight
Sprog
Inexperienced aircrew
V1 and V2
Robot flying bombs used by the Germans commonly called “doodlebugs”
“Vegetables”
Mines laid by the R.A.F.
“Window”
Aluminised strips used as an anti-radar device.
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Time out for war
Description
An account of the resource
History of wartime experiences of Ronald Witty. Starts with schooling and early employment just before the war in Hull. Mentions German bombing of Hull and volunteering for the RAF. Describes training in London and Torquay before departing on a troop ship for South Africa. Describes navigator training and activities at Woodbrook and Queenstown. Continues with trip back to England and continuation of training at RAF Halfpenny Green, Desborough (Northamptonshire), RAF Chedburgh, and RAF Hemswell. Goes on to describe his operational tour on 12 Squadron at RAF Wickenby including accounts of some operations including some daylight operations during the Normandy campaign and against flying bomb sites as well as mine laying. Tour culminates with award of Distinguished Flying Cross. Concludes with account of subsequent tours as an instructor at RAF Lindholme and other stations and including account of flying on Cook's tour of German cities. Adds chapters about his Lancaster ME758 PH-N "Nan" as well as another on GEE, A.P.I and H2S. Contains many b/w photographs of RAF personnel and aircraft.
Creator
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A R Witty
Format
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100 page printed book
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BWittyARWittyARv1
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
England--Hull
England--London
England--Devon
England--Torquay
England--Lancashire
England--Liverpool
South Africa
South Africa--Durban
South Africa--East London
South Africa--Cape Town
England--Staffordshire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Suffolk
England--Lincolnshire
France
France--Rennes
Germany
Germany--Aachen
France--Paris
France--Normandy
France--Evreux
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
France--Le Havre
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
France--Calais
France--Dijon
France--Tours
Belgium
Belgium--Kortrijk
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Stuttgart
France--Orléans
France--Pas-de-Calais
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
France--Domléger-Longvillers
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-03-29
1943-07-10
1943-07-27
1943-09-08
1943-10-12
1944-02-25
1944-04-26
1944-04-28
1944-06-14
1944-06-14
1944-06-12
1942-06-13
1944-06-22
1944-07-23
1944-07-24
1944-07-25
1944-07-30
1944-08-03
1944-08-31
1944-12-12
1945-07-07
1945-07-17
Contributor
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David Bloomfield
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
1 Group
12 Squadron
1653 HCU
1656 HCU
3 Group
50 Squadron
576 Squadron
84 OTU
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
bombing of the Boulogne E-boats (15/16 June 1944)
bombing of the Le Havre E-boat pens (14/15 June 1944)
Bombing of Trossy St Maximin (3 August 1944)
Cook’s tour
coping mechanism
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
faith
Gee
H2S
Halifax
Halifax Mk 2
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Master Bomber
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
navigator
Nissen hut
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Fiskerton
RAF Halfpenny Green
RAF Hemswell
RAF Lindholme
RAF Methwold
RAF Sturgate
RAF Torquay
RAF Waddington
RAF Wickenby
Stirling
tactical support for Normandy troops
target indicator
training
V-1
V-2
V-weapon
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1276/17356/POpenshawB1803-0018.2.jpg
39896740b1df8585283133ff6378e303
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1276/17356/POpenshawB1803-0019.2.jpg
d5a242cab8ce917512d6336560f9be4a
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Openshaw, Benjamin
B Openshaw
Openshaw, Ben
Description
An account of the resource
Contains 89 items concerning Flying Officer Benjamin Openshaw who after training as a navigator/observer in Southern Rhodesia and England, flew with 104 Squadron in Italy. Collection consists of training notes, official personnel documents, his flying and navigation sight logbooks and photographs of people, places and aircraft. There is also a sub-collection consisting of target photographs in Italy and the Balkans as well as celebrities and London landmarks.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Kevin Angell and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2018-04-04
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Openshaw, B
Access Rights
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Permission granted for commercial projects
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Three airmen
Description
An account of the resource
Half length portrait of three airmen wearing battledress with half brevet and side caps. Ben Openshaw is on the left with observer brevet.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Format
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One b/w photograph
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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POpenshawB1803-0018, POpenshawB1803-0019
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Creator
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Rapide, 38 Central Drive, Blackpool
aircrew
navigator
observer
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1557/32477/PWadesonTE16010005.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1557/32477/PWadesonTE16010006.2.jpg
4554209ca8fecb79c5832b5b3bc5afeb
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Wadeson, Thomas Edward
T E Wadeson
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-11-11
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Wadeson, TE
Description
An account of the resource
28 items. The collection concerns Sergeant Thomas Edward Wadeson (1921 - 1943, 1489406 Royal Air Force) and contains photographs, documents. official and family correspondence. He flew as an air gunner on 75(NZ) Squadron. He was killed along with his crew on their fourth operation 3 August 1943. <br /><br />Additional information on Thomas Edward Wadeson is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/229013/">IBCC Losses Database</a>.<br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by D A Elgar and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Thomas Wadeson
Description
An account of the resource
Half length portrait of an airman wearing greatcoat and peaked cap. On the reverse '[...] Wadeson'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-01-03
Format
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One b/w photograph
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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PWadesonTE16010005, PWadesonTE16010006
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
Temporal Coverage
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1942-01-03
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1411/26585/PFletcherS1602.1.jpg
180202886aff16caba6d1bd6d7e653ed
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1411/26585/PFletcherS1603.1.jpg
92d20ee1f13dda8d8b75d30d53b55b23
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Thomson, Thomas
T Thomson
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-03-03
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Thomson, T
Description
An account of the resource
18 items. The collection concerns Flight Sergeant Thomas Thomson (1919 - 1991, 1366937 Royal Air Force) He flew operations as a wireless operator with 49 Squadron. It contains photographs, documents, a brief biography and a copy of E J Haddow's log book.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Suzanne Fletcher and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Thomas Thomson
Description
An account of the resource
A half-length portrait of Thomas, annotated 'With Love Tom'.
Creator
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While U Wait Studios, Blackpool
Format
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One b/w photograph
Language
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eng
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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PFletcherS1602, PFletcherS1603
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Blackpool
England--Lancashire
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1353/38126/MRobertsK430224-150527-010001.1.jpg
96c0e9d126ab2bfde0cc5fd93045ae8c
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1353/38126/MRobertsK430224-150527-010002.1.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1353/38126/MRobertsK430224-150527-010003.1.jpg
51fc1ae627a35d8729d18dc3f06eb57d
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Roberts, Kevin
Roberts, K J
Roberts, Kevin Jack
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. The collection concerns Kevin Jack Roberts (430224 Royal Australian Air Force) and contains his log book, personal recollections and a photograph.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by H Morris and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-05-24
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Roberts, KJ
Dublin Core
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Title
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The Surprising Details of a Few Years of World War 2 1939-1945
Description
An account of the resource
A memoir written by a Royal Australian Air Force wireless operator. Firstly he describes major events in the war but he continues with his own experience training in Canada then commencing further training in the UK. Only three pages are present.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Kevin Roberts
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Australia
France--Dunkerque
Russia (Federation)--Stalingradskai︠a︡ oblastʹ
Canada
Great Britain
England--Brighton
Wales--Llandwrog
England--Filey
France
England--Lancashire
England--Sussex
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Format
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Three printed sheets
Identifier
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MRobertsK430224-150527-010001, MRobertsK430224-150527-010002, MRobertsK430224-150527-010003
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription. Allocated
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
218 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bombing
Chamberlain, Neville (1869-1940)
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
crash
crewing up
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hitler, Adolf (1889-1945)
Lancaster
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Shepherds Grove
Stalin, Joseph (1878-1953)
Stirling
training
Wellington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/711/17279/MBlairJJ[Ser -DoB]-160509-01.pdf
e2e9d8182bf6e54b5b01c95e7baedfa6
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Blair, John
John Jericho Blair
J J Blair
Description
An account of the resource
38 items. The collection concerns John Jericho Blair DFC (1919-2004). He was born in Jamaica and served in RAF from 1942-1963. He flew a tour of operations as a navigator with 102 Squadron from RAF Pocklington. The collection includes numerous photographs of him and colleagues, several photographs of Jamaica, a document detailing his life and an interview with his great nephew Mark Johnson.
The collection also contains three interviews with Caribbean veterans including John Blair recorded by Mark Johnson.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Mark Johnson and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-05-09
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Blair, JJ
Access Rights
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Permission granted for commercial projects
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
The Story of Flight Lieutenant John J Blair, DFC 102 (Ceylon) Squadron and 216 Squadron Royal Air Force
1942 to 1963
Author’s Note
This story is primarily the transcript of a taped interview with my Uncle John Blair that took place in 1997. Following the creation of the raw transcript, I researched several aspects of the story to fill in some gaps. Very sadly, Uncle John began to suffer the effects of Alzheimer’s Disease soon after I spoke to him, and he was unable to review this text. Any errors of fact contained in the story are therefore mine.
Mark Johnson
London, 2008
Chapter 1: On the Pedro Plains
Let’s start the story from the beginning, bearing in mind the fact that I was born way back in 1919. This was in the Pedro Plains district of the Parish of St. Elizabeth, in south‐western Jamaica – a real country parish where families barely got by on farming and fishing.
There were eight children in my family and I happened to be the last one. In fact, I really came out of the blue because the sibling I followed was seven years ahead of me. So I was the “little last one”, what they used to call in those days a “wash belly” child. Well anyway, there I was and so off I went, trying to catch up with the rest of my family.
Life in rural Jamaica had a very slow pace back then, there being no motor vehicles around, no television or radio, no electricity in fact, nor anything else that depended on that. Our farming and fishing community was labour intensive and used techniques that go way back to the olden days. Life followed the seasons; not those of the northern hemisphere, but ‘rainy season’, ‘hurricane season’ and even ‘mango season’!
We experienced long, dry, hot periods in Pedro Plains and rainfall has always been scarce there. The soil is very red and it’s a dusty place, with few trees. At many points sharp limestone rocks stick up out of the ground like little mountain peaks. When I was a child, most people still lived in thatched cottages. You made do and you recycled everything.
One of my brothers and two sisters, as well as my brother‐in‐law were all teachers, and in time the two men rose to prominent positions in the field of education in Jamaica. In those days, teachers were amongst a group of people who were held in high esteem within the community, as were nurses and doctors, veterinarians, police constables and the local postmistress. Nowadays it’s all about lawyers, politicians, musicians, gunmen and drug dealers, but back then, in Jamaica at least, we still lived by the old values.
As I was so much younger than my brothers and sisters, I didn’t have the opportunity to go to school at the same time as them. In fact, when I eventually started school one of my sisters, Jemima Blair, was already the teacher there. In the 1920s these country schools were tiny places with only a single class made up of children of all ages, and just the one teacher. This was old style primary education. The teacher stood at the front of the class and taught, while we sat at our little wooden tables and recited. When you weren’t supposed to be reciting, you kept quiet or else you would know what was coming next; a good hiding! You didn’t raise your hand and ask questions; questions were asked of you, and you had better know the answer.
I actually started school before I had reached the required age at that time, which was seven. I started at the age of five, and this created some interesting problems. One day there came a visit by a School Inspector. (In those days of British colonial government, the Inspectors were all Englishmen – we would have called them ‘white men’.) I recall that I was literally pushed out of the back of the building by my sister when the Inspector arrived so that questions about my age would not arise!
I remained in school in St. Elizabeth until I was ten years old and then my parents were forced to move away for work for a while, and my eldest sister, Clarissa, took me in. She was also a teacher and had married yet another teacher, a Mr. Enos Bertram Johnson, or ‘E.B.’ Johnson as he was called.
They lived in a teacher’s cottage in the parish of St. Mary, almost at the other end of the island. Mr. Johnson was a serious and imposing figure and a respected educator. He also led the local scout troop and I can remember the boys parading, all smartly dressed in their khaki uniforms, but barefoot – most of them could not afford shoes in those days. I spent about a year and a half with the Johnsons until my brother Stanley returned home from the Cayman Islands. Stanley was the other teacher in my family, and he later became a School Inspector himself. I moved to live with him where he was teaching in St. Ann and eventually, after yet another move, Ocho Rios is where we ended up.
Stanley’s teacher’s cottage was a ramshackle affair and in very poor condition. There was little in it in the way of furniture or fittings and things were so tough for the pair of us that as soon as my parents had returned to Pedro Plains, I was sent home. In reality, home was not much better than my brothers’ cottage that I had just escaped from. Nevertheless, I spent the rest of my time in elementary school there and, all in all, I can say that I received a good basic education.
When I reached the age of seventeen, I decided to become a teacher like many of my siblings and I made an attempt to enter the Mico Training College in Kingston as a trainee. Mico was highly regarded and competition for places there was intense. It took two attempts, but eventually I was successful and I spent three years at the College, and experienced life in the ‘big city’. I left there as a qualified teacher in elementary education and I soon joined the Greenwich School near Tinson Pen, Kingston where I taught for about a year and a half.
By now the Second World War had been in progress for a year and many local people were volunteering to serve in uniform, irrespective of their qualifications. Some were selected to do manual labour and others were considered capable of more sophisticated activities. Although we lived far from the centre of things, we all knew about what was taking place in Europe. In those days our educational curriculum was set by the Colonial Government, and it was essentially the same as that studied by English children. We were therefore more familiar with British history than we were with our own, and goings on in the war with Germany had been well publicised. I recall that a couple of my younger Johnson nephews in Kingston (E.B. and Clarissa’s sons) kept a map of Europe on their bedroom wall, and plotted the course of the war from the information they heard on the BBC news broadcasts. Their hero was the Soviet general, Zhukov.
The general view of Hitler was that he was a man who needed to be stopped. Although a lot of Jamaicans resented colonial rule, I don’t think anyone was confused about the difference between that and what the Nazis stood for. We felt that we were all in it together – all the small countries of the world.
So, it was with this attitude that I applied to the Royal Air Force (RAF) as ‘aircrew’, and I was accepted for training. Up until this time the official British policy was that only 'British born men, of British born parents, of pure European descent' could receive officer’s commissions in any of the services. The RAF was the first to relax the restriction as their officer casualties had been so high in relation to the other services, but the colour ban was not lifted in the Navy or the Army until 1948. It was for this reason that so many of the West Indian volunteers opted for the air force. Altogether, I understand that about a thousand West Indians served as RAF aircrew during the Second World War, while thousands also served in various ground staff capacities.
Having returned home briefly to bid farewell to my family, I left St Elizabeth on the fish truck that ran to Kingston regularly from in front of the old Post Office. My nephew George Henry was amongst those gathered to see me off and he told me much later that his earliest childhood memory is of me coming to say goodbye to his mother Jemima – my sister and former teacher. George was about three when I set off and he remembers that behind the Post Office fence there was a lot of broken glass lying on the ground. He thought at the time that this was where the war was!
That trip to Kingston on the fish truck was no small affair – it took hours. When we left St Elizabeth and started the long climb up Spur Tree Hill towards the town of Mandeville, the truck would begin to overheat. The brakes were so poor that when we stopped to top up the radiator, we had to jump down quickly and ‘cotch’ the rear wheels with large stones, otherwise the thing would just roll backwards down the hill and a lot of fish would be lost! In those days, by the time you got to Kingston you were in need of a vacation.
After a short period of orientation at Up Park Camp in Kingston about thirty of us, all RAF volunteers, left the island by ship in October 1942, bound ultimately for Canada. We were off to commence our training for war. So there I was, a 23 year old elementary school teacher from Pedro Plains, St Elizabeth, Jamaica, on my way to fly against the Nazi war machine.
Chapter 2: Cold Like the Devil!
Our journey from Jamaica was really quite comical at the outset. We were ordered to board an American ship and I remember the crew just looking at us coldly and pointing below decks, saying ‘You all go down there’; remember that in most parts a black man couldn’t even vote back then! When we descended to the first level, we saw a lot of empty bunks, so everyone selected a bed and we started to make ourselves at home. However, we did not have time to get too comfortable because within a few minutes an officer appeared and shouted, ‘No, not here, go down two more levels!’ And so we volunteers spent the rest of our time on that ship sitting in the hold!
This was my first time on the open sea, and my first time out of Jamaica, so I was fortunate to be in a good group. That ship pitched and rolled like crazy, and it was dark, hot and damp down there in the hold. Several men were sick and the smell in that confined place got quite bad, which didn’t help.
We stopped for a short time in British Honduras, as it was known then (now Belize) where we took on board some forestry workers who had volunteered for labour duties, as well as a few more RAF fellows. I chatted with some of the workers as our enlarged group squatted down below decks, and they said they were going to Scotland where they would be working in the forests, cutting timber – or so they believed. They probably ended up loading cargo, in the rain, in an English port somewhere.
We travelled together as far as New Orleans where we all disembarked, with a great deal of relief. The RAF party then travelled up to New York and spent about two weeks there waiting to be told where we should go next. This was an opportunity to have a good look around, and we made full use of it. Leo Balderamos from Belize joined me on a trip to the top of the Empire State Building, then the tallest structure ever built. Now that was something! Finally our orders arrived and we set off once again, bound for the largest RAF station in Canada, Monkton in New Brunswick.
That camp covered many acres and held a large number of trainees. I don’t know how many people were there in total, because all students coming from various parts of the United Kingdom to do their Air Force training came through there. Whether you were bound for training in Canada or in the United States, you would be shipped through this base, so it was a very, very large place indeed, swarming with recruits. Before we left Monkton, we got our first issue of uniforms and we were given our basic training.
This ‘basic training’ activity had nothing to do with flying; it was just the initial qualification for getting into any of the services. A lot of our time was taken up with morning parades, and this parade and that parade, and saluting here and saluting there, stamping your feet at every chance, and using rifles, which I had never touched before in my life. It was quite an initiation.
Our first uniforms were uncomfortable and they made you itch. In addition to the trousers and jacket, we had a heavy greatcoat and great big, black leather boots, with nails in the sole. These made a crisp sound as you marched and you felt as though you were already set to jump on the Germans. We had brass buttons to clean every night, as well as our boots, and lots of brass bits all over our belts and webbing. A lot of cleaning and polishing had to be done and the evenings were generally spent sitting on the edge of our bunks in the barrack room, shining our gear, and telling jokes or speculating about the future.
We left Monkton at the end of November 1942, there being twenty‐one of us remaining in our group now, and we were sent to an RCAF (Royal Canadian Air Force) training base. We spent more time there being familiarised with the Canadian military and Air Force systems.
Our group was what we would today describe as ‘multi‐cultural’. There were only two Englishmen and the group covered all shades from black to white to grey! One of the Englishmen was a teacher like me, although he taught at a college in the UK, and the other had been living in Belize. In those days it was common practice to describe a man by his colour, and it wasn’t necessarily derogatory – it depended on the tone and context. We all travelled together and lived together without tension.
After about three weeks of further basic training we were sent to Toronto. It was here that we would be classified for different roles, so this was a critical period for anyone who had ambitions to fly. We had lectures and exams on a variety subjects and the results determined which end of the airfield you were destined for. This was our ‘ironing out’ phase.
Those who failed to qualify for flight training went off to be trained for ground staff roles while those who had qualified were assigned to the next phase of training, in preparation for flying school or navigator’s training. The process really was conducted purely on the basis of qualifications, not race. Our two Englishmen were selected for preliminary flight training from our group, as was Arthur Wint (the famous Jamaican athlete) LO Lynch from Jamaica (who later won the prestigious) RAF Air Gunner’s Trophy) Leo Balderamos from Belize, and myself.
We spent quite a long time in this stage of training, and this was in the deep, dark Canadian winter, which I had never experienced before. I can remember that the snow was up around your knees if you were not careful where you went walking. Once they had broken us down into groups, those of us who were selected for flying were sent to McGill University, where we spent about 4 weeks in the classroom. Suddenly, myself
and Arthur Wint were sent to a special school up in Ottawa. Whatever unearthly reason there was for this was not explained at the time – it seemed the authorities had just pulled our two names up out of a hat. They hadn’t even made provision for our accommodation and we had to sort that out ourselves. Anyway, off we went as ordered, and on arrival it dawned on us that the Canadians had somehow got the idea that we didn’t know anything about maths.
When these special classes started, we realized that we were being taught the most basic levels of algebra and trigonometry and on the very first day we looked at each other and said, ‘This is a joke!’ Arthur said to me, ‘Look, let’s try and see what we can do to show these people who we actually are’.
When the teacher came into the room for the second session he set up a simple algebraic calculation on the blackboard and Arthur spoke up and asked him to set us a tougher challenge. The fellow looked at Arthur and said ‘Alright’; you could see that he thought Arthur was going to make a mess of it. Arthur got up and solved the problem on the board, and I recall that it was quite a complex one. Well, all I can tell you is that in no time flat we were back in training with the rest of our group!
Not long after this, almost as compensation, Arthur and I were sent on another special training course. This time we arrived at our destination to find that the course was an advanced flying course for experienced pilots. Once again, we were sent packing! Confusion reigned!
We now went to what was known as the Initial Training Wing. This was more advanced than anything we had done before and the place had a very modern feel to it. We knew that when we finished this stage of training we would be assigned our area of specialisation, becoming trainee pilots, navigators or bomb aimers. Although Arthur and I were joining a week late we joined forces and quickly caught up with the group.
Not long after we arrived, we were told that we had to attend a flying medical, which is more difficult to pass than the basic medical all servicemen and women had to take. At this stage, my flying career almost ended before I got off the ground.
We’d been out drinking up in Montreal, and we got back to base by train at about four o’clock in the morning. Almost as soon as we had arrived I heard a voice call out, ‘Blair! Medical!’ It took them all of ten minutes to ‘wash me out’ of aircrew!
I was now an outcast, sent away to what was known as the ‘Holding School’ in Toronto. This was an old exhibition hall, made up of several huge buildings with a variety of strange fixtures here and there (now empty) for the displays. I was alone as I left my group behind, and I arrived at the Holding School alone. It was a horrible feeling and when you walked into the place there were bunk beds stretching away as far as you could see ‐ nothing but beds! Anyway, at least I got a bed for myself this time.
Within this facility there was a holding office specifically for RAF people who had failed their courses and were going back to England without doing flight training. So it appeared that I too would go to England without any training, and with all these strange Englishmen! And boy, let me tell you, I had never seen so many of them in one place before. There were about five hundred men in my area alone, and if you take into account the whole compound, there were probably several thousand men there waiting to be shipped home. But I was there now on my own as I didn’t know anybody else in this large assembly.
After about three weeks cooling my heels, feeling rather low about my plight, I went and saw the Canadian Medical Officer. I told him what the problem was, and he said ‘Alright, we’ll give you another try’. He ran a series of tests, most of which involved looking at various coloured pictures and telling him what I saw. It was a hell of a job to do but I just told him what I saw and the very next day I was given a full medical. Two days later everything was cleared up and the MO called me to his office and said
‘Alright, we are going to send you back to the training school.’ That was a relief, I can tell you.
However, as I had missed almost a month of classes, I was now placed in a new group, and I was the only Jamaican, the only coloured man there; all my coloured friends had gone on ahead. This was a new experience for me, but as it turned out it was not a problem at all. I was treated just like another member of the team. In fact, I never had any problems with racism or unfair treatment throughout my career in the Royal Air Force, right up to 1963. This might be because I felt I knew what the dangers were and I didn’t expose myself to them. But I believe that one’s attitude was the most important factor.
I focused on the task at hand, and towards the end of this period I was informed that I had been selected for Navigator training. This was quite a responsibility because after the Pilot, the Navigator is the key man in the crew. I would have to navigate the route to and from the target, normally at night, using some complicated scientific aids, and often while under attack.
I was told that I had to know my aircraft’s position at any time, regardless of bad weather or enemy action to ensure the survival of aircraft and crew. This would all involve working constantly during any flight to keep my aircraft and its crew on track and on schedule. With my head down over the maps and instruments I would always be aware of the fact that any deviation from the prescribed course can take the aircraft across the path of the hundreds of other craft in the stream behind me, or leave us prey for enemy night fighters. Great concentration would be required, and for much of the flight the only contact I would have with the rest of the crew would be a few instructions and remarks on the intercom.
At flight school we flew a total of sixty four hour’s day flying and thirty eight hour’s night flying between 5th September 1942 and 28th January 1943, before we took our examinations and attempted to qualify. I passed the Navigator’s Course, which included
Navigation, Signals, Aircraft Recognition, Photography, Armament Training, and Day and Night Flying. It was intensive as we worked seven days a week, and very comprehensive, but enjoyable, and we were feeling increasingly confident about our potential. However, at this stage you were not yet ready for operations, no matter how cocky you might be feeling. In operational terms, you were just a baby that’s learning to walk, only half ready for the real thing.
We trained on Ansons, twin‐engine things, and the only navigational equipment we had back then was a map, a compass and a radio you had to tune in order to obtain your bearings. You had nobody else there to help you. The Anson only had room for the pilot, myself sitting behind him, and a second trainee Navigator who would sit in the co‐pilot’s seat. The other trainee and I would alternate, and whoever was navigating would scribble directions on course and airspeed for the pilot onto message pads and pass them forwards. The second Navigator would practice map reading as well, and also wind the landing gear up after takeoff and down before landing.
I remember my first flight as though it were yesterday. We squeezed into the aircraft, weighed down with all our gear, and sat there a while waiting for things to start. I was looking out of one of the windows at the little strip of runway beside me and thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ The Pilot goes through his procedure, flicking a few switches and calling out the steps on his checklist. Then the port engine makes a kind of whining sound, then a splutter with lots of black smoke being whirled around by the propellers, and finally the engine roars into life and the whole aircraft starts to vibrate. That black smoke is worrying the first time you see it, but you soon get used to it.
The Pilot goes through the same procedure for the starboard engine, and before you realise what’s happening you are rolling down the runway. You speed up slowly, bumping along, and finally the Pilot heaves back on the stick and the aircraft seems to claw its way into the air. Looking out of the window, I could see the buildings, roads and fields diminishing in size below me until they looked like little toy structures.
You didn’t really go anywhere, each flight being a set piece event lasting between two and three hours, navigating from waypoint to waypoint. We also had to do of bombing exercises against dummy targets, so it was starting to feel like the real thing. I still have a picture of that particular course with only one black man in it! The rest are all Canadians and there’s that old Anson behind us.
Once I had completed this phase of training I was sent back to Monkton. On the way I stopped off in Toronto to visit one of the people I got to know there when I was at the Holding School, and who should I see while I was sitting at the railway station but Arthur Wint! Out of nowhere, there he was, big and tall, walking up to me. I was surprised, but happy to see him. Like me, he was now wearing a little white flash on his cap, to indicate that we were now ‘Flying Trainees’.
So after a long period without the company of my countrymen, I was able to travel with Arthur, back to Monkton. And we were big men now! Qualified! Arthur was a Pilot and I was a Navigator – it was a good feeling and we knew that we were part of a small group who had achieved something unique for that period in history. I remember that when we got to Monkton it was cold like the Devil! Oh man, the snow was falling, let me tell you, and I can still see Arthur and I struggling through it with all our bits and pieces. We were reminded that we were Officers now, and so we went to live in the Officers’ section of the base. We were well taken care of there and we met up with more Jamaicans who had also qualified. I recall that one of them was a Navigator and the other was a Bomb Aimer, but I no longer remember their names.
Although we were officers, we didn’t hear very much more about the progress of the war than we got on the news and in the papers. So, with all the training and preparation we had been doing we were just hoping to get into the front line before it was all over. It was now January 1944, and we knew that the Allies were winning. We were ordered to board ship once more, but this time we were bound for the UK and the war. There were still three of us from the original group travelling together, Arthur Wint, myself and one other.
We didn’t sail as part of a convoy although submarines were still active at that time. We sailed from Halifax on a huge troopship full of Canadians and landed in Glasgow. On this voyage we weren’t stuck in the hold, but space below decks was very limited all the same because of the large number on men on board. During the entire voyage I didn’t see another vessel and I know that we went far to the north, close to Iceland before turning south again. This route was the best for avoiding enemy submarines, although nobody mentioned that threat.
On arrival we were given forms to take to the local tailors, and there we were fitted for our new Officer’s uniforms. These were a great improvement on the kit we had been wearing up to that point. We were due some leave, but before we could head out into public view we had to get ourselves properly dressed.
There was no negative reaction to us at all from the people we met around our base ‐ they were glad to see us. For us, however, it was a very strange feeling at first to put on our new uniforms and walk into an English pub, although a few pints gave us some relief from the great pressure we felt. People expressed gratitude when they saw us. We would walk into a pub full of strangers and within a few moments someone would walk over and say ‘Please have a beer with me’. These were Yorkshire men and I will always have fond memories of those kind and friendly people.
It took us a fortnight to get fully kitted out, and as soon as we had achieved that we all headed in to London to enjoy our three week’s leave. The RAF had reserved hotels for its personnel in the city, and we were given free accommodation in one of these. We spent the next three weeks touring the city and seeing its famous sights for the first time, and of course drinking occasionally.
When we returned to our base in Yorkshire we were sent on a Battle Course which included the use of weapons in combat and many other aspects of infantry training – this was done in case we were shot down over enemy territory and had to fight to survive. Next it was back onto the Ansons for familiarisation flying over the UK. There
was a big difference between navigating in the wide open spaces of Canada where you really can’t lose your way, and England, where there is a new town every few miles which makes it much more confusing and challenging.
We were closer than ever to the day when we would have to go to war and once the familiarisation was finished we were posted to RAF Kinloss in Scotland. This was the stage when Pilots, Engineers, Gunners, and Bomb Aimers would be teamed up to form the crews who would fly and fight together. We were assembled in a large group in a cold hangar, and I don’t think any of us knew more than five or six of the other people in the group. Each Pilot was simply told, ‘Pick the rest of your crew’ from the group, and he would just walk around and pick people he liked the look of. Now, I was the only coloured man there as neither Arthur Wint nor the other Jamaican fellow who had come with us from Monkton had been posted to Kinloss.
So, I just stood there in this cold, noisy hangar and eventually a Canadian Pilot who was older than the average and who turned out to be very quiet person, came up to me and asked, ‘Will you come and fly with me?’ This was Ralph Pearson who would be my Pilot for the duration of the war. He then selected the two Gunners, one of whom was named Morris, and the Flight Engineer, Laurie Wilder, as well as his Wireless Operator. The Bomb Aimer would join us later, and he also turned out to be a Canadian. We were all strangers in this crew of seven. In a sense it’s an effective, if haphazard process, but at the same time you are now going off to war with a group of strangers, without so much as a formal introduction. Of course, we would soon get to know each other much better, and the strangers would become human, with good points and bad like any other person.
To start the process of building crew spirit and cohesion we were assigned a rather old aircraft now, a twin‐engine Whitley. We spent four weeks flying that old Whitley, and when I look back on it now I can only say that we must have been mad! That was an old aircraft! But it was tough. The Whitleys were solidly built because they were
designed just before the start of the war when the British realised they would have to fight, but it was built with pre‐war knowledge and this was by now a modern war.
Looking at my flying log today, I realise that we had to learn very quickly; fifty hours flying is not much time to prepare to fight with a new crew. As the Navigator, I was now using a radio system called Gee. This gave me directional readings from a beam transmitted from the ground. We had none of the new radar systems that some of the heavy bombers were equipped with. We only had the radio bearing from various points, a look out of the window to plot our track on the ground when the cloud cover allowed, and the Met reports – if you could actually find the wind blowing in the right direction that would put you on track and help you to stay on track.
Chapter 3: The Real Thing
Finally, our long and exhaustive training was over and we were considered ready for posting to an operational squadron – we were off to war. I was posted to 102 (Ceylon) Squadron, based at Pocklington in Yorkshire. During the Second World War the Squadron flew bombers, first Whitleys, and then the Halifax 2 from 1942 to 1944. In 1944 they were upgraded to the Halifax 3 and then with the Halifax 6 in early 1945, and I flew the last two Halifax models during my tour of duty.
The addition of the word ‘Ceylon’ was granted to the Squadron after the inhabitants of what we now call Sri Lanka adopted the Squadron and set aside some of their savings towards its maintenance. The squadron was made up of men from Great Britain, Canada, Ceylon, the West Indies, Australia and New Zealand, among other places.
The squadron history says that 102 (Ceylon) saw non‐stop action over Europe from 1939 to 1945. In 1944 the Squadron flew its highest number of sorties. (A sortie means one aircraft on one operational mission). 2,280 were flown of which 308 took place in August. The Squadron supported the D‐Day landings in June 1944 in Normandy, bombing a coastal gun battery that could have opposed the Allied operation. Other major targets during the war included Berlin, Cologne, Frankfurt, Hamburg, Munich, and the Ruhr industrial area, Turin, Genoa and Milan, all of which were struck from our base in Yorkshire.
I arrived at the squadron in December 1944 and if you just look at a sample from the list of 102’s losses for that period you can get a hint of what we were about to face. We lost eight aircraft out of a total of twenty four in just the first three weeks following my arrival, and six of those went down over Germany – that’s 50% losses in less than a month, and I still had five months of wartime flying ahead of me!
24 Dec 1944 – Halifax MZ871DY‐G, target Mülheim, crashed near Neuss, Germany, two crewmembers killed, one missing, four taken prisoner.
24 Dec 1944 – Halifax LW168DY‐O, target Mülheim, hit by flak and crashed near Krefeld, Germany, one crewmember killed, one missing, five taken prisoner.
29 Dec 1944 – Halifax MZ426DY‐D, target Koblenz, damaged in combat, one crewman wounded.
01 Jan 1945 – Halifax LW158DY‐P, target Dortmund, undershot on landing and hit house, entire crew injured.
02 Jan 1945 – Halifax NR186, training, overshot and crashed, crew uninjured.
05 Jan 1945 – Halifax MZ796DY‐M, target Hannover, hit by flak and crashed at Neustadt, Germany, five crewmen killed, two taken prisoner.
05 Jan 1945 – Halifax LL597DY‐X, target Hannover, shot down over Germany, five crewmen killed, three taken prisoner.
05 Jan 1945 – Halifax NA602DY‐Y, target Hannover, shot down over Germany, seven crewmen killed, one taken prisoner.
16 Jan 1945 – Halifax LW179DY‐Y, target Magdeburg, shot down over Germany, all eight crewmen killed.
So, this was it. We had a short familiarisation course on the Halifax, just twenty one daylight hours and eight at night and then we were thrown into the thick of it; “There’s your plane, there’s the target, now get on with it”!
Our first flight was a bombing exercise with the new aircraft, because it was even more sophisticated than the one on which we had done our training. We also did some cross‐country flying to ensure that we were familiar with the country around our base. This was on a Halifax Mark III. The crew was all lined up by now, and a good crew it was too! Together we would survive the next five months of battle, and thirty three bombing missions over Germany, without a single casualty.
Sixty years on, I am embarrassed to admit that I can’t recall all the names. However, the Pilot was the Canadian from Vancouver, Pearson, who had first picked me
out of the crowd in that hangar in Scotland. I remember that the two Gunners were Englishmen, one for the mid‐upper turret, and one for the tail. The Wireless Operator or Radio Operator was a Scottish fellow, the Engineer was an English gentleman from around Liverpool, the Bomb Aimer was from Canada, and of course there was I –all the way from Jamaica! It was an international crew all right, but we all got on well together, and worked as a tight knit team.
We all had to learn the special language of the air force. Many people, particularly the more senior officers, really did talk in the fashion that you only hear in old war films today. By now, this manner of speech had become a habit for me also, and I recall that when I returned home it caused some amusement.
On the 21st of December 1944 we took off for the real thing. The target for our first operational mission was Cologne, classified as an ‘Industrial Target’ and the scene of many casualties on both sides during this stage of the war.
A lot goes on during a mission, both before and after takeoff, and much of it is just a blur now. I had been afraid of feeling fear, if you understand what I mean, but when the time came I found that I had so much to do that I simply didn’t have time for feelings. I experienced this on all the operational trips I made ‐ you just don’t have time for it. During the flight you have to make sure that you stay with your group and your timing must be absolutely right. There is simply no room for error.
During our briefing we were told when to get to each waypoint, one after the other, and finally the time to be at the bomb release point, which was absolute and inflexible. You see there was not just one aircraft on missions like this; there would be hundreds of planes up there with you, sometimes as many as a thousand. We would typically have two hundred or more aircraft attacking any on one target at a time. We would fly to the target in a long column of aircraft, called the ‘bomber stream’ and you needed to know exactly which section you were in, where you were in relation to the
other sections of the stream, and where you needed to be next, to avoid colliding with any of the hundreds of planes in the air around you.
Collisions were commonplace and they caused many casualties. It wasn’t unheard of for the bomb load to detonate as well, and I know of at least one case where this happened and three nearby aircraft were brought down, along with the one that exploded first.
Let me try to describe the experience of setting off on my first mission. I had finished an intensive and extended period of training and I felt ready for this first operational flight, but let me tell you, it’s not an easy thing to do; it’s a hard, hard thing. That first morning we were all told that we were scheduled to fly that night. ‘On duty tonight’ they said. We were given this warning at about ten o’clock in the morning, and the mission took place between ten that night and two o’clock the following morning. In that four hour period we would have had to complete the total course to the target, drop our bombs and get back to the UK, but as the Navigator I also had a lot of work to do in the time remaining before takeoff.
We had lunch, and then, clutching our navigational charts, the navigators from each Squadron aircraft headed off to our briefing, where we were told the identity of the target and the track to be flown. Most of the crew was still in the dark, and didn’t yet know where we were going, so they had more time to ponder. I took out my maps and drew in the route. This zigzag course is designed to confuse the enemy. It was made up of a series of legs, each ending at a waypoint, and each going in a different direction, because if you just fly straight to the target, the enemy will be fully prepared, ready and waiting.
Walking out to the aircraft for that first operational flight was like walking through deep mud, or a strong wind. I felt as though we were moving in slow motion and my legs didn’t seem to want to carry me out there. Mentally though, I wouldn’t say I was afraid as such. I was just unusually aware of my surroundings and completely focused
on the task at hand to the exclusion of all other thoughts. The time for thinking was past; it was time for action now.
I sat at my little table with the charts laid out before me, and listened to the talk on the intercom as the Pilot went through the now familiar procedures for takeoff. Then we were trundling over the surface of the airfield towards the runway, the four engines drowning out all other sounds. A brief pause at the end of the runway followed, while we awaited clearance to takeoff from the Controller. Then the engines went to maximum power as Pilot Officer Pearson set the throttles to full, and we started to bounce and vibrate our way down the runway, gradually picking up speed, before straining into the air. The vibration ended, the undercarriage came up with a heavy ‘thunk’ and we were airborne. Eventually the engines settled to a steady drone, and we turned and climbed to form up with the rest of the Squadron. The takeoff and ensuing climb allowed us to gain the prescribed height, but the real action began when we crossed the English coastline and headed towards Europe.
The pilot didn’t have the vast array of gauges and instruments that the pilots of a modern bomber possess. There was an altimeter, to show the current height above sea level, a tachometer to display airspeed, an attitude indicator that showed the angle of the aircraft relative to the horizon, RPM indicators for each of the four engines, a compass and a few other dials. Flying a heavily loaded bomber in congested airspace with none of today’s tools required real skill and could be physically demanding.
In those old Halifax’s and even in the Lancaster I flew in later, the Navigator couldn’t see or hear much at all. I sat behind a little curtain because I didn’t want to expose a light that might attract a night fighter. We kept red lights on to read the maps and the fighter would be on the lookout for any little flash of light in the black sky. Initially, he would have used radar to find your approximate location, but in those days radar wasn’t yet accurate enough to guide him precisely to you. The Germans had jet fighters in the air as well at this stage of the war, and let me tell you, they didn’t waste time – quick as the devil those things were.
The two gunners had a different perspective. The Mid‐Upper Turret Gunner had his head literally protruding from the top of the aircraft, protected from the elements by a Perspex cone. This gunner would be constantly revolving his turret throughout the flight, scanning 360 degrees for any sign of enemy aircraft. The Tail Gunner sat alone at the rear of the plane and he had a more limited field of view. His mount was a ball‐ shaped device that also protruded form the body of the aircraft, and he could swivel his guns left and right, but to a limited extent.
As I said, I couldn’t see a great deal from my position and for most of the journey I had my head down over my charts and instruments, working hard to keep us on track. In addition to several maps of northwest Europe and a collection of odd bits of paper, protractors, rulers and various coloured pencils, I had repeats of the altimeter, airspeed indicator, and the compass in front of me. I recall that next to these in a Lancaster was also a device called the Air Position Indicator which indicated our latitudes and longitudes, but I don’t recall whether we had this tool in the older Halifax bombers. Occasionally, I would get up to take a quick look outside to check the Met and get a fix on our position, but while we were over the target I couldn’t see the effect of our bombs or indeed any of the flak that was exploding outside the aircraft.
So, the work of guiding the pilot there and guiding him home again, is the navigator’s, and it’s is hard work I can tell you. And while we were doing this twisting and turning there were hundreds of other aircraft in the black night sky beside us, above us, below us, everywhere, but you couldn’t see a single one. This entire thing was done at night!
I recall that for this mission we were divided into three waves, and these were further broken down into flights of aircraft. Our wave, the first, would be over the target at midnight, and we would take ten minutes to pass over it, releasing our payload of bombs as we went. The first flight would bomb at the appointed time precisely, while the flight behind would bomb a minute later, and the next flight a minute after them until the entire wave of bombers had finished and the second wave would start. So it
stretched on over a fairly long period of time, and a large slice of the sky, and in order to be on time you had to work out exactly what your speed needed to be with great accuracy. Getting that right was very important indeed.
The first thing we noted as we approached the enemy coast was the searchlights and we knew that German night fighters were out there in the dark looking for us. Then, as we approached Cologne there were more searchlights and lots of flak (anti‐ aircraft fire) over the target. The actual bombing run, the last leg leading in to the target, only took about ten minutes between the time we turned onto it and the time we released our bombs. When the bombs fell from the bomb bay, in the belly of the aircraft, the plane leapt upwards as it was now much lighter. I felt my heart leap upwards as well, happy to be rid of all that high explosive. After the bombs were safely away, we twisted and turned as we left the target in case there were enemy fighter aircraft waiting to hit us, and then we made our way home through the dark, back to our base away over the sea.
Once we had cleared the target and cleared the zone where we could expect to meet enemy night‐fighters, I felt quite relaxed. I think that my experience was shared by many other crew members. We had too much work to do and everything you did had to be re‐checked, because you can’t make mistakes. A mistake in those conditions could be fatal.
Throughout the flight I could hear the other crew members talking on the intercom. When the gunners spotted a fighter they would call out its position and the whole crew would be aware of the threat. If you were some distance from the target you could manoeuvre up and down, but not sideways. Once in the bomber stream you can’t go left or right, and if you were to turn in there, across the path of the stream, God help you!
On that first night we had attacked the important Cologne/Nippes rail marshalling yards which were being used to serve the final German offensive in the Ardennes. No
aircraft were lost and the target was cloud‐covered, so only a few bombs hit the railway yards but I later read that these caused the destruction of 40 wagons, a repair workshop and several railway lines.
I don’t know if photographs of the results of that raid are still available, but the picture below, showing the Giessen yards in March 1945 will give you some idea of what was involved. In the centre you can just make out the railway tracks with several trains on them, and all around you can see the craters made by the bombs when they detonated.
Three days later, on the 24th December, Christmas Eve, we set out on our second operational mission (‘Ops II’ as it’s called in my log book) to bomb Mülheim. There were ‘bags’ of flak waiting for us and the attack was what we called ‘a complete hang up’; a nasty business. Altogether there were 338 aircraft on this mission, attacking the airfields at Lohausen and Mülheim (now Düsseldorf and Essen civil airports).
Three Halifax aircraft on the Mülheim raid were shot down, two of which were from my squadron. I later learned that of the fourteen men who went down in those two aircraft, three were confirmed killed, nine were taken prisoner and two were listed as missing. I think the missing men eventually turned out to have died.
You see, the danger we faced was not just in the air. Even if you were shot and down, managed to escape the aircraft and parachute to the ground you were still in a great deal of danger as you were descending on the very people you had been engaged in bombing only a few minutes earlier. When you think about it, it’s really amazing that anyone was ever taken prisoner.
While I flew that second ‘Op’, Sergeant Arnie Coope and his crew from 102 Squadron were among the three crews shot down. This is what he later wrote about his experience on that night.
“As I hung suspended, (in my parachute) frightened and all alone, I watched the rest of our bombers complete their mission and head back home for the Christmas festivities and at this stage I looked at my watch – it was only 1430 hours.
“As I neared the ground, I could see people converging towards where I was expected to land and I got the distinct impression that I was shot at several times. I thought that I had better do something about this so I jerked around in the harness and just hung limp until I hit the ground with a thump. I was immediately surrounded by a hostile crowd, but before they could do something to me, soldiers arrived.”
It’s a very sad thing, but the truth is that some of 102 (Ceylon) Squadron crews shot down on the same mission were lynched by angry mobs of German civilians. You can only speculate on the chances of survival for a Jamaican airman landing in Hitler’s Reich! Luckily for me, I was in one of those aircraft that Arnie Coope could see, still flying overhead.
Ops III and IV saw us heading to Koblenz on the 29th, when Halifax MZ426DY‐D was damaged in combat and one crewman was wounded, and then back to Cologne on the 30th of December. In spite of the damage to one of our squadron aircraft, no aircraft were lost and at least part of the bombing of each raid hit the railway areas. The Koblenz‐Lützel railway bridge was out of action for the rest of the war and the cranes of the Mosel Harbour were put out of action by our group.
Our attack on the 30th December, 1944 was directed at the area of the Kalk‐Nord railways yards, near Cologne. There was heavy cloud cover over the target and we could not observe the effect of our bombing, but later reports indicated that two ammunition trains had blown up, and that we had badly damaged the yards, two railway stations and the nearby Autobahn. The cumulative effect of these raids, and many of those that followed, was to severely hinder the German’s ability to move troops and critical supplies to the battlefront.
Between 2nd and 22nd January, 1945 we flew another six missions (Ops V to Ops X) dropping our bombs on Ludwigshafen, where we destroyed the IG Farben chemical works (this company produced the gas used in the Nazi extermination camps); Hanau where the wind scattered our bombs over a wide area of the city; Saarbruken railway yards which were hit accurately; Dulmen Luftwaffe fuel storage depot, where our bombs landed in open fields; the city of Magdeburg, an area target; and Gelsenkirchen where residential and industrial zones were targeted.
Our crew didn’t fly on the 5th January, but the Squadron did attack Hannover and had a rough night, losing three aircraft at the cost of seventeen men killed and six taken prisoner. I believe that at least one of our squadron aircraft was shot down by a night fighter piloted by Hauptman Georg‐Hermann Greiner, who shot down a total of four of our bombers in only ten minutes that night, the other three being Lancasters. Greiner was a Luftwaffe Ace, who shot down a total of 51 allied aircraft during the war. At the time we didn’t know much at all about the identities of the enemy pilots, but later I was able to learn that several hardy and highly skilled German night fighter aces continued to engage us right up to the end of the war and some of the top enemy pilots survived the war.
On the Magdeburg run, on 16th January, our compasses stopped working, and we had to navigate without them (quite a challenge) but we got home in one piece. We suffered heavy losses during this attack, which also destroyed 40% of that city. Altogether, 17 Halifax aircraft were lost, representing 5.3% of our attacking force. Halifax LW179DY‐Y from our own Squadron, and flown by Squadron Leader Jarand, was shot down over Germany on this mission with all 8 crewmen killed, bringing the total number of men killed in 102 Squadron to 29 in just 4 weeks. Nevertheless, although we didn’t know it then, we were through the worst. In the last months of the war our squadron lost only another 5 aircraft. Other squadrons were less fortunate and continued to lose men and aircraft right up to the end.
The effect of our bombs on the target was devastating, particularly when large cities were struck. Later in the war when daylight raids were more frequent, I had the chance to observe some of these targets from the air, and as the photographs show, there was almost nothing left standing in most German city centres.
On 29th January 1945 we headed for Stuttgart on Ops XI. This time our bomb load ‘hung up’, meaning that the bombs wouldn’t release and we had to release them manually. This was a difficult business at twenty thousand feet, the crew labouring over the high explosive cargo with the bomb doors open and the screaming dark rushing by beneath their feet. We finally got the bombs away and landed at Tangmere. A combination of cloud, dummy target indicator rockets set off by the Germans, hilly terrain and dummy target fires, also started by the enemy meant that our bombing was very scattered and in this final RAF raid against this city, and casualties on the ground were relatively light on that night.
I continued to feel as though a great weight had been lifted off me each time the bombs were released. We still had flak and fighters to face, but at least we were rid of all the explosives we had been carrying. There was a collective sigh of relief, because if we had been hit with the explosives still on board – oh Christ! A hit in those circumstances means that there is a chance that the whole aircraft would simply blow up before we even hit the ground. Even if we did hit the ground in one piece, we would certainly explode.
Only a third of my way through the tour, I was already a veteran. Our squadron had already lost 8 aircraft out of a full strength of 24 since I joined. Of course, each loss was replaced as it occurred, so we were generally at full strength. And so the sequence repeated itself, night after night. Sitting in the briefing room with my fellow navigators, listening to details of the weather and the target, noting the details of flak positions on my charts and trying not to think about enemy fire. Walking to the aircraft in the evening twilight with the rest of the crew, clambering aboard through a narrow hatch
and sitting at my navigation table, listening to the nervous chatter on the intercom. The aircraft engines starting, belching that black smoke, their whine rising to a roar, the aircraft lumbering and jolting down the runway, taking me with it regardless, straining to lift itself off the ground, clawing at the cold air and climbing up into the night sky. The long, bumpy flight over dark countryside and black waters, turning this way and that. The long hours of waiting and then the enemy night fighters coming out of nowhere at high speed, guns firing all around, other aircraft burning as they fall, their crews dying, beyond any help I could offer. Then the flak and searchlights over the target, the aircraft leaping upwards as the bombs fall away, the steep dive to low‐level flight, and skimming over the trees and the black water back to base, for hot tea and eggs and bacon, and sleep, and trying not to think about the comrades who would never come home again.
On 2nd February, our bombing was again frustrated by cloud and it is reported that we did not hit the oil refinery we were trying to get at. We then lost an engine due to enemy fire over Wanne Eickel, and once more we flew home on three engines. There was the usual crack of flak going off around us, and then we heard a sudden loud bang and the aircraft was shaken violently. Our starboard outer engine died immediately and we lost some altitude before the pilot was able to level the aircraft. A mission over Bonn followed, and then we had a tough time with the flak over Goch on Op XIV and at Wesel, where cloud forced us to abort the attack, on Op XV.
The anti‐aircraft fire was always extremely unpleasant, but we soon learned that we just had to live with it. On most missions, our commanders would attempt to route us around known enemy flak concentrations so that our route through the air to the target would depend on the position of the gunners on the ground. But many of those guns were mobile and the Germans would switch locations so that at least some of their fire simply couldn’t be escaped. In those circumstances you had to fly on through the shell bursts and hope for the best. Of course, there was always plenty of flak
surrounding the target. We knew that wherever the target was, it was going to be loaded with flak, and once we got there we just had to say, well, ‘Here goes!’
The Goch raid comprised 464 aircraft and was intended to prepare the way for the attack of the British army across the German frontier near the Reichswald; the Germans had included the towns of Goch and Kleve in their strong defences there. Our Master Bomber ordered us to come in below the cloud with the rest of the Main Force and as the estimated cloud base was only 5,000ft the attack was very accurate at first. However, the raid was stopped after 155 aircraft had bombed, because smoke was causing control of the raid to become impossible. We didn’t bomb for this reason, but our course took use through the smoke and directly over the target, nevertheless.
Considerable damage was caused in Goch but I read later that most of the inhabitants had probably left the town. Kleve was also attacked, and the photograph of that town below shows the effect. One of our aircraft was lost during this attack, and although several of the crew parachuted to safety and returned to Pocklington, the pilot didn’t get out in time and he burned to death in the crash.
On the 21st, while hitting the city of Worms, of which 39% was destroyed, we had an extended tangle with German fighters. Several of these infiltrated our formation and made good their attacks and 25 bombers were shot down over various parts of Germany that night, 8 of them from our mission. Hauptmann Greiner was active again, shooting down two of our aircraft. Flying with him that night were three more German aces; Gunther Bahr, Heinz Schnaufer and Heinz Rökker who between them accounted for 24 of the 25 bombers downed. So you see, some of these enemy pilots were coming up at us and shooting down 6 or 7 bombers each in one night, single handed. You can read about the fellows I named here in the Appendix.
I judge that the stress put on a German fighter pilot must have been much greater than that put on the crew of one of our bombers, simply because we had more eyes watching the night sky around us. We were flying in such massive formations that, as
long as we stayed on course and on schedule, the odds of a fighter targeting our plane specifically were relatively low. At the same time, as we were flying a big, heavy bomber, we would never go off chasing the enemy.
So, if he chooses to attack the main bomber stream, the fighter pilot finds that he’s operating at a major disadvantage. If he does come close (and many did) and picks a target, all the nearby aircraft would swing their guns towards the single fighter and he would find himself facing very heavy fire. It took great courage on the enemy’s part. At the same time, all of our gunners, excluding the ones in the aircraft actually being attacked, would know that they were in no immediate danger and they could operate without that pressure. They knew that they had a chance to get the fighter while it hadn’t a hope in hell of hitting them.
What this meant was that, nine times out of ten, the fighters would go after the stragglers and ‘strays’ – aircraft that had dropped out of formation due to damage or poor navigation. Imagine, if you can, a huge, dense stream of aircraft, with the odd wayward fellow off to one side, below, or lagging behind. These were the ones who would most likely be picked off by the night fighters, who would come in like sharks, nibbling at the edge of the ‘fish’ in the bomber stream.
The majority of the German night fighters were actually modified fighter‐bomber and light bomber aircraft that were no longer effective in daylight. These twin‐engine planes had been fitted with radar and extra armaments to enable them to find and destroy allied bombers in the dark. The crews were specialists who flew only at night, and they belonged to elite ‘Nachtjagd’ or night fighter units.
Most of those enemy fighter pilots would attack us from behind and below, because that was our blind spot. The enemy aircraft often had special gun mountings, fitted to point slightly upwards to support this direction of attack, in a configuration the Germans called ‘Schräge Musik’. This meant that the Tail Gunner was critical to our defence and he had to be constantly alert. Many tail gunners were killed during the war
and it wasn’t unknown for the whole tail gun assembly to be shot off, with the gunner in it. That was a hard way to go and there was no way to bail out of a tail gun position as it spun to earth. As soon as either of the gunners saw an enemy fighter coming in they would call out, and the whole crew would know that we were under attack.
We rarely had prolonged engagements with the enemy fighter pilots. They would come in fast and try and get in close, but our gunners were very good and the enemy would generally be chased off after one or two passes, because for obvious reasons they were not for pressing forward when our fire was accurate. Navigation was an important factor in this. If you could stay on course you would have the company of many other aircraft with all the tail gunners and top gunners in your vicinity firing simultaneously. The enemy didn’t approve of that. You needed steady nerves and lightening reflexes to survive however, and the wayward paid a heavy price.
Below is one of the claim forms the enemy would fill out if they shot you down, so that their victory would be recorded against their name. I am happy to say that I was never referred to on any of these!
The month of February 1945 came to a close with attacks on the huge Krupps armaments works at Essen where the Germans recorded that we were very accurate, dropping 300 high explosive and 11,000 incendiaries on the target. We also made an attack on the synthetic oil plant at Kamen. In the final week of the month we were upgraded to the Halifax VI bomber, which had better engines and a longer range, and on the 25th we flew a cross country to familiarise ourselves with this aircraft.
We returned to Cologne for the third time on Ops XIX on 2nd March 1945. That city really took a hammering from us and others during this period, and the damage was very extensive, as the picture shows. There really was almost nothing left in the centre of most of these German cities. Four days after this raid, American troops captured what remained of Cologne.
Another trip to Kamen the following night saw us being hit by intruders once again, this time on the return leg as we crossed the coast of England. The enemy had adopted a new tactic that involved attacking our forces as we were preparing to land, and on this first occasion it caught us completely by surprise. Once again we had been forced to fly home on three engines owing to a technical problem. I don’t know if Greiner was in the air near us, but Luftwaffe records show that he shot down three more Lancaster bombers on that night. This time, however, we had hit the synthetic oil plant without suffering any losses in our squadron, and that plant never went back into production after that attack.
In the week that followed we struck Chemnitz and dropped mines in Flemsberg Fjord. The Chemnitz raid required us to takeoff in icy conditions, and one squadron lost several aircraft due to mid‐air collisions.
One of my 102 Squadron pilots, Flight Lieutenant Jim Weaver, wrote this account of a raid on Stuttgart in July 1944, which gives a good idea of what the experience was like for most of us.
“It was a nice run up to the target with instructions from the Master Bomber, then ‘Bomb doors open’, ‘Left, left’, ‘Right, right’, ‘Steady’, ‘Bombs gone!’ The Halifax jumped up, relieved of its burden and now there was the long 25 seconds while the photo was taken and then ‘Bomb doors closed’. This whole procedure was not long in time but seemed to be the most intense part of the trip, especially over the most heavily defended targets.
“Leaving Stuttgart, it gradually became quieter, but exceptionally dark when suddenly, all hell broke loose. Tracers and cannon shells were tearing into the tail assembly and port wing. Almost instantaneously, I reacted with a dive to starboard, away from the tracers as, obviously, the fighter was astern. I shouted to the rear gunner ‘Paul – get that guy!’ It was a Junkers 88 astern, below and to starboard. The defensive
action we took brought him up in full view of the rear gunner who shot him down, seeing it break up with a fire and explosion around one of its engines.”
I was lucky as I was too busy to be frightened. But there were others who weren’t busy enough! I wouldn't have wanted to be sitting down there all alone in the tail of the aircraft as a tail gunner, waiting for a night fighter to come in and take pot shots at me. Nor would I want to have been a pilot, forced to hold the aircraft straight and level while flying into flak, able to see everything that was coming up at me. With all that twisting and turning and with the need to be accurate at all times I was simply too busy to worry. As I told you before we never seemed to fly in the same direction for more than 50 miles. Every five minutes we would turn left or turn right, descend or ascend in order to make sure that the enemy couldn't train their guns on us.
It was the same on every mission and I was always just three or four minutes from the next turn, working like crazy to get everything ready. Some of the other crewmembers really had nothing to do, unless the fighters came in to attack us. They were the men who suffered, you see, because they were just sitting there waiting, and that is a hell of a lot of pressure to put on anybody. We navigators were too busy to think about what could happen, and fortunate to have this responsibility.
We hit the shipyards in Hamburg on the 8th March, and then on the 11th we took part in the last ‘thousand bomber raid’ on Essen. Essen was a major target in the heart of Germany’s industrial centre, the Ruhr, and large raids had headed this way repeatedly. RAF reports said later that 1,079 aircraft of all bomber groups attacked Essen this night. This was the largest number of aircraft sent to a target so far in the war. Three Lancasters were lost but 4,661 tons of bombs were dropped through complete cloud cover. The reports stated that the attack was accurate and that this great blow virtually paralysed Essen until the American troops entered the city some time later. This was the last RAF raid on Essen, which had been attacked many times. Most of the city was now in ruins. 7,000 people had died in the air raids and the pre‐war
population of 648,000 had fallen to 310,000 by the end of April 1945; the rest had left for quieter places in Germany.
Wuppertal, Bottrop and Witten were attacked by us between the 13th and 19th March. The flak over Bottrop on 15th March was very bad and one Halifax was shot down. The Witten raid was an area attack and it destroyed 129 acres of the city, or 62%, including both industrial and residential districts.
We then had two dream missions, with almost no enemy action being observed, over Dulmen and Osnabruck at the end of March, although we lost an engine due to technical problems on the 25th and had to return from Osnabruck on three. I was getting used to that by this time. These were both area attacks, and we could see large fires and lots of dust and smoke as we flew away from the target.
With only four Ops to go to complete my tour, and counting down, we returned to Hamburg for the last time on 8th April, 1945 to attack the shipyards. Altogether, 3 Halifaxes and 3 Lancasters were shot down that night, and this also turned out to be the final RAF raid on the city. The following night we dropped more mines into the Flemsburg Fjord.
On 13th April we bombed Nuremburg, the future site of the war crimes trials. This city had a special meaning for me as a black person. It was here that the huge Nazi rallies were held, and here that the German race laws were created in the 1930s. I could recall hearing mention of this place many times in my late teens and early twenties. To be flying in one of the aircraft assigned to bomb the city provided a reminder that the journey I had taken and the risks I had shared were in a just and important cause.
Finally, on 18th April, 1945 we flew our last mission of the war, Op XXXIII, thirty three operational flights being the compulsory allotment. On this final mission we attacked a fortified island near Heligoland called Wangerooge, and that was a hell of a
‘prang’, I can tell you. This place was armed and defended like no other place in the world, but we really gave them a hammering, although 3 Halifaxes were also lost.
I don't recall exactly how many aircraft were committed for this attack, I think it was a hundred, but I can tell you it was a large force because of the heavy fortifications on that island, which included thick reinforced concrete bunkers and many antiaircraft batteries. It was one hell of a blast and the attack was made in daylight. We carried very heavy bombs specially designed to pierce the thick ceilings of the enemy bunkers, and there were also fighter‐bomber aircraft involved, smaller than the heavy bombers, that carried rockets to attack and suppress the antiaircraft positions.
On that final raid, after we had dropped the bombs, we did something that was totally wrong; for the first and only time we went around and circled the target. We knew that there was nothing left down there to touch us. In fact there wasn’t a single gun firing, just lots and lots of smoke. We could see explosions as well from bombs being dropped by aircraft that had flown in behind us and secondary explosions caused by munitions or fuel stored on the ground being hit. Following our assault two more squadrons went into that target and essentially wiped it out militarily ‐ there was just nothing left.
Of course you know by now that Heligoland was just one small military target while many of our missions were directed at industrial targets and large cities; this was what they called ‘total war’. It had been declared as such by Hitler and we were now paying him back.
The massive quantities of bombs that we carried and dropped on a target were bound to cause large numbers of casualties on the ground. You would try your hardest to navigate accurately and to bomb with precision but you can never be right on target every time. You think you have the right wind direction, you think you have the right wind speed, and that there won’t be any deviation between the wind at your height and the wind nearer the ground, but at the end of the day if you're going to drop that kind of
weaponry from that sort of height you know that you're really just going to wipe out whatever is on the ground below you. Remember, we were bombing from 30,000 feet which meant that there were several miles of air beneath us, with winds blowing this way and that, and we were unable to observe or measure any of those deviations.
On many occasions we were confident that we had the aircraft perfectly aligned, just as it should be; the bomb aimer had his sights on the target, all his calculations had been completed and the aircraft was ready for a perfect bomb run, but when he released the bombs they just didn’t fall where he intended because of a wind shear somewhere beneath us. The wind would just take the bombs off target and they would land some distance away, often on civilian areas that were not being targeted. You would do your best, but there were just too many factors to take into account, many of them out of your control. That’s the nature of the beast. You tried your best.
So, that was that. Thirty three operational missions, all of them over Germany at the climax of the air war, with just over 197 operational hours and 25 non‐operational hours, for a total of 223 hours aloft with no casualties amongst our crew.
Sadly, many of our comrades were not as fortunate. In the course of the war 102 Squadron had the third heaviest losses in Bomber Command. We lost over 1,000 men out of a Bomber Command total loss of 55,000, suffered the heaviest losses in Number 4 Group (shared with 78 Squadron) and had the highest percentage losses in the Group. As I explained earlier, these heavy casualties continued almost to the end of the war.
It’s also important to bear in mind the fact that, although we were only four or five months away from the end of the war in Europe, 46% of the total tonnage of bombs dropped by Bomber Command during the entire war was dropped between September 1944 and May 1945. It’s very sad, but with a strength of 120 or so aircrew on the Squadron more than a third (47) had been killed during the last six months of the war, 2 were missing and 18 had been taken prisoner.
The courage of my comrades is reflected in the fact that a total of 74 Distinguished Flying Medals (DFM) and the Distinguished Flying Crosses (DFC) were awarded to squadron members between 1939 and 1945, along with one CGM. I was one of the recipients of the DFC, awarded for my service with 102 Squadron, although it was not presented until after the war had ended and I had transferred to another unit. I also received the 1939 to 1945 Medal, the France/Germany Cross, the Defence Medal and the War Medal. I don’t know specifically why they gave me the DFC. They kept that secret from me.
Our commitment was limited to those thirty‐three operational missions. A few fellows got really worked up about the length of it, affected by the stress of constant flying and exposure to danger. In those cases the RAF would quickly pull them off flying duty and put somebody else into the crew. The affected person would be given a rest and in most cases he would eventually be put back on duty once he had recovered. There was a pretty modern attitude towards that kind of thing, even in those days, and we felt that we were fairly treated.
My operational tour ended before the end of the war. After I finished my tour it was time to go and get drunk! It was a big relief to come through that alive, yet I am sure that if the war had continued I would have signed up for another tour of duty straightaway. I can't really explain why, it's just something to do with the way I felt at the time, that we were doing the right thing, that it was important.
I know there were people who would go up for their first flight and then decide that they weren't ready for this at all, that they were not going back. I have to admit that I don't think that what we did was something that most people would do in the same circumstances. Without meaning to sound conceited, I believe that the process of selection and the intensive period of training brought a special group of people to the top of the pile.
Ralph Pearson, our pilot, one air gunner and I all volunteered to join the Pathfinder Force. The Pathfinders were an elite force trained to arrive at the target first and to drop flares and incendiaries to mark it for the main force bombers. Our applications were approved and we were posted to the Pathfinder training school to train on the Lancaster bomber. However, after about two weeks of this familiarisation the war in Europe came to a close as the Germans surrendered.
Well, with that our pilot Pearson just disappeared; in fact I tried to contact him before he left, but he was going straight back to Canada as the Canadians were being taken home very quickly by their authorities. Pearson was more or less engaged to a girl up in York, so he rushed off to join her about three days before the actual end of the conflict, while I was stuck at the training centre cooling my heels.
As soon as the fighting had ended I hopped on the first train to York, but I couldn't find Pearson. I visited everybody I knew trying to get some information about his whereabouts but I wasn’t able to contact him. Eventually I gave up and, as I couldn't get a room in a hotel anywhere, what with everyone returning from overseas, I ended up spending the whole night sitting in the railway station. Thank God it wasn't too cold. The next day I caught the first train back to my base and I never saw Pearson or heard from him again. He left so quickly, you see that I never got his address.
Chapter 5: My World Tour
I actually stayed with the RAF until 1963. I transferred to Transport Command and I even ran for the RAF track team, my events being the two‐twenty and four‐forty. I was formally entitled to wear the RAF Athletics Blazer, something that required written approval. At the end of my career I was serving as the Chief Navigation Officer for 216 Squadron, which operated the De Havilland Comet, a brand‐new jet aircraft suited to carrying passengers. The Comet was really the first genuine passenger jet.
In 1959 or 1960 I flew out to Vancouver, where Ralph Pearson had lived before the war, as a navigator in the Comet. While there I wrote several letters to various addresses in an attempt to contact Ralph but I still couldn't find him in spite of sending letters here, there and everywhere. I don’t know if he eventually married that girl from Yorkshire.
I did stay in touch with Laurie Wilder, our Flight Engineer. He was posted to the Middle East for a time, but when he came back he took ill and he died a few years ago. Of the others in my crew, I met only one after the war. I was walking along a street in London and I heard someone walking behind me. I knew it was a policeman but I didn't worry about that as I knew they were just walking past me. Suddenly, one of these policemen turned around to face me and said, ‘Excuse me, sir’. I thought he was going to arrest me, but as it turned out it was Morris, one of the mid‐upper gunners, who had now joined the police force. I exclaimed, ‘My God!’ I had a shock you know, as I just heard this uniformed gentleman say ‘Excuse me, sir’ and when you hear that from a policeman you know that the next words coming are, ‘You are wanted for questioning down at the Station’!
I used to work on the de‐mob ships coming back to Jamaica with Jamaican servicemen from the UK. I was on duty, in my uniform, and it felt good to walk the streets of Kingston and to meet up with members of the family, dressed as a flyer returned from the war. On the first trip, I took sixty days leave and went home to see my family for the first time in four years. I was proud of what we had done, and I’m not ashamed to admit that. I also believe that people really looked up to us and appreciated our efforts.
I did about three de‐mob trips out here, and we actually had some serious trouble on a few occasions because of the long drawn out demobilisation process for Jamaican servicemen, and the rough conditions they were forced to endure. Men from other nations appeared to have been given priority treatment when it came to repatriation, and our men felt that they had been badly treated.
I was down in Middle East in November 1945 and for some unearthly reason heavy rain started to fall. In addition, at this time in England they had one whole month of fog, and we were supposed to fly via Italy to pick up some passengers and carry them home to the UK. When we were ready to leave Italy the controllers told us, ‘Well you can’t move because you can’t get in; you can’t get into any airfield in England’. After sitting there for two full weeks, we were told to fly over to Naples. We then spent about two weeks flying over to the heel of Italy, and bringing people over to Naples to catch a ship home from there.
We finally got back to England in December 1945, after almost a month of trying. They must have had a hell of a lot of fog there. We left Naples with about twenty‐five soldiers on board, which was the standard load, and believe it or not, we got as far as the Channel and then we had to go all the way back to Marseilles, as we still couldn’t fly in.
Finally, the following morning, with the wind against us, we were able to get into our UK base and drop off our passengers. This was a Saturday with Christmas right around the corner. As I climbed down from the aircraft I saw three or four staff cars and a gaggle of senior officers standing there waiting for us. I said to myself, ‘What the hell did we do wrong?’ That’s the first thing that comes to mind when you see a gathering like that ‐ something must be wrong! Well, they stepped away from the cars, and I saw the Wing Commander at the head of the group. He said ‘John Blair come here!’ So I went over, trying to work out what kind of trouble I was in when he handed me something and said, ‘This is yours! You’ve been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross! Well done!’ And I said, ‘For what?’
There were no less than three Squadron Leaders standing there with the Wing Commander, and one of them said, ‘What the hell is this? You won a DFC and you didn’t say anything to anybody! But here you are; you have been awarded the DFC for the work done during your tour with the bombers in 102 Squadron.’ There was no
particular mission or event that caused them to give me that award, just my overall performance during the whole tour.
So that was it – I was surprised, I can tell you. There was a citation and a short letter from the King enclosed with the medal, but I have lost those unfortunately. All I can say is that I did the best job as a Navigator that I could have ever done. Well, we came through thirty‐three missions and many, many crews did not.
Of course, that night after they gave me the medal was a terrible night! From whisky to beer to whisky again! Beer by the barrel‐full and whiskey by the bottle! That was after suffering in Italy for a whole month, and since I had even had to go and buy new shirts down there, money was tight. I really couldn’t afford that medal.
With Transport Command I went all around the world, flying as a Navigator in Hastings aircraft and also the Comet. I met my future wife Margaret on an aircraft flying into Hong Kong. I was navigating and she was idling! She was the Senior Flight Sister but with nothing to do as there were no patients going outbound, although we would take patients on the journey back, mostly army personnel. That aircraft was actually a hospital ward with stretcher patients and seated patients. The Sisters were kept busy when they had casualties to attend to, but fortunately for me we were empty on that flight.
Later, I was based out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean dropping off cargo destined for Christmas Island in the period leading up to the British nuclear tests. I went fishing before the tests and caught a few really big ones.
In 1995 I was invited to represent Jamaica at the 50th Anniversary celebrations of the end of the war, held in London. Several of us represented Jamaica, including my friend John Ebanks, who had been a Navigator/Bomb Aimer in a Mosquito Squadron. Well, that was quite something. It was very well attended indeed and I had never before seen the streets of London with so many people on them. We marched from Greenwich up to big, old Buckingham Palace. On both sides of the street all the way to
the Palace, people must have been standing more than twenty deep. It felt as though there were millions of people there on that day.
While we were fighting we never thought about defending the Empire or anything along those lines. We just knew deep down inside that we were all in this together and that what was taking place around our world had to be stopped. That was a war that had to be fought; there are no two ways about that. A lot of people have never thought about what would have happened to them here in Jamaica if the Germans had won, but we certainly would have returned to slavery. If a youngster today should ever suggest that we had no business going to fight a ‘white man’s war’ I would just throw my foot at him where it hurt him the most!
EPILOGUE
Flight Lieutenant John J Blair, DFC, 1919 to 2004
Remembrance for
Flight Lieutenant John Jellico Blair, DFC 1919 – 2004
Read at his funeral service by Mark Johnson, nephew
What motives led John Blair to tread the path he did and what must he have felt as he travelled from the dusty plains of southern St Elizabeth, Jamaica, to the air over Germany in 1944; from educator to Royal Air Force navigator, to lawyer and air accident investigator; from poor rural roots to a Distinguished Flying Cross and a career as one of the first West Indians to serve in the officer’s ranks of His Majesty’s Forces?
Uncle John went to school in Pedro Plains, to be taught by his elder sister Jemima; what a fate that must be, to be taught by one’s sister! There was a single class for children of all ages and he was actually told to start school two years early. When the English schools inspector came to visit, Aunt Jem would push him out of the one‐room school by the back door, so that she wouldn’t get into trouble.
As a child, John was moved around between his home, his brother Stanley’s teacher’s cottage in St Ann and his sister Clarissa’s house in St Mary. In the latter, John used to watch his brother‐in‐law, Mr E.B. Johnson, leading the local scout troop. The troop was smartly dressed, with uniforms and scarves, just like their English counterparts, but they were all barefoot! None of them could afford shoes for day‐to‐day use.
In the late 1930s, John left St Elizabeth to study at the Mico Teachers Training College, and he graduated as a teacher in elementary education after the 2nd World War had already started and in the words of Uncle John’s lifelong friend and RAF comrade, John Ebanks, ‘Hitler was a bully who had to be stopped’. John Blair decided that he would be one of those who would do the stopping.
So this reserved, 23 year‐old school teacher from the countryside volunteered to join the Royal Air Force, and in October 1942 he was put on a ship in Kingston harbour along with twenty other Jamaican volunteers and sent to Canada for training, by way of Belize, New Orleans and New York. This was a man who had never held a gun, never before left Jamaica, and never once flown in an aeroplane.
That experience on board the American ship stayed with Uncle John, and he found it both ironic and amusing. When his group went on board, they were told to go below. As they arrived on the first deck they found empty bunks waiting for them, so they started to unpack. However, an officer soon appeared and told them that their proper place was two decks further down; in the hold! And that’s where they travelled all the way to New Orleans, via Belize!
John trained in Canada as a Navigator in bomber aircraft, and he said it was “Cold like the Devil!” As the navigator, John Blair was responsible for telling the pilot how to get to the target and how to get home again after the bombs had been dropped. This was done mostly at night and with very limited technical assistance, just maps, compasses, a radio signal for taking bearings, star sightings and a regular look out of the window at the ground below, when you could see it. No radar. No computers. And no lights!
And while doing all this, with hundreds of other aircraft all around them in the night sky, the bombers were under attack by enemy fighters and anti‐aircraft fire. Understand this – Uncle John’s squadron (102 Ceylon Squadron) possessed 16 Halifax bombers, each with a crew of 7 men taken from many nations. During the first 3 weeks of his service with the Squadron, 8 of those 16 planes had been shot down over Germany; that’s 50% of his squadron in less than a month, with most of the crews being killed. John Blair would fly for a total of 5 months, and fly 33 bombing missions in that period.
Imagine, if you can, just a few moments in this long period of strain and tension; John Blair sitting in the briefing room with his fellow navigators, listening to details of the weather and the target, noting the enemy flak positions on his charts and trying not to
think about the effect of their fire; John walking to the aircraft in the evening twilight with his crew, clambering aboard through a narrow hatch and sitting at his navigation table, listening to the chatter on the intercom. The aircraft engines starting, belching black smoke, their whine rising to a roar, the aircraft lumbering and jolting down the runway, taking him with it regardless, straining to lift itself off the ground, clawing at the cold air and climbing into the night. Imagine a long, bumpy flight over dark countryside and black waters, turning this way and that, long hours of waiting and then the enemy night fighters coming out of nowhere at high speed, guns firing all around, other aircraft burning as they fall, their crews dying, beyond any help he could offer. Now picture the flak and searchlights over the target, the aircraft leaping upwards as the bombs fall away leaving it so much lighter, the steep dive to low‐level flight and then skimming over the trees and the water back to base, for hot tea and eggs and bacon, and sleep, and trying not to think about the comrades who would never come home again, or the fact that it would all need to be over again the following night, and the next, and the night after that.
That is what this man did.
He admitted that this was a hard, hard thing to do; there was fear and danger, and there was discomfort. Thousands of airmen died on both sides, and his Squadron suffered the second highest losses of any RAF squadron during the entire Second World War. The enemy was expert and resolute and many of the German pilots who attacked John’s squadron were combat aces with years of experience.
For example, Hauptman Georg Hermann Greiner, who downed an aircraft from 102 on 5th January 1945 was a Luftwaffe Ace, who shot down a total of 51 allied aircraft during the war. Major Heinz‐Wolfgang Schnaufer, who attacked the squadron on 21st February 1945 bringing two planes down, shot down a total of 121 allied planes during his career. In fact, on that night Schnaufer, Greiner and two other German pilots accounted for a total of 25 allied bombers in less than 30 minutes.
So this was serious business; it was life and death, and more often death than life for the allied aircrews.
What did John Blair do when he had completed this tour? Well, he volunteered for a second tour with the elite Pathfinder Squadron, and he was accepted. He also went out and got drunk with his crew, and I wonder if he didn’t get drunk first and volunteer afterwards! For his service with 102 Squadron Flight Lieutenant John Jellico Blair was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, the 1939 to 1945 Medal, the France/Germany Cross, the Defence Medal and the War Medal.
At the end of the war in Europe, Uncle John stayed in the RAF and transferred to Transport Command, flying all over the world. It was on one such flight to the Far East that he met his future wife Margaret. She was the Senior Flight Sister on board and they were on their way to pick up British casualties and ferry them home. As Uncle John put it, ‘I was working and she was idling!’
He also flew as a navigator in the Comet aircraft, the first passenger jet, and he remained in the RAF until 1963, a total of 21 years. John and Margaret Blair had two children, John Julian and Sarah, both of whom now live in the UK but who are here with us today. The family returned to Jamaica in the 1970s, and John Blair practiced law, worked as Deputy Director of Civil Aviation and tried his hand at farming.
Severe illness struck Uncle John in the late 1990’s. Throughout his long illness his wife Margaret and their children demonstrated the incredible devotion and strength that John himself had displayed throughout his life. How should we remember that life? In keeping with his own style, I propose just a few simple words; devotion to duty, to his country and to his people; love for his wife and for his children; compassion and humility; respect for others and concern for all mankind; self‐sacrifice. Let us remember him thus, let us thank him and his comrades for risking their lives to secure our freedom, and let us hope that each of us can be just one tenth the human being that was John Jellico Blair.
Appendix A
Transcript of an Interview with John Ebanks July 1997
I was a very religious young man and even now I can't understand my motivation for going to fight in the services. In 1940 I was the youngest lay preacher in the Anglican Church in Jamaica. But I was just annoyed when I listened to the news and heard how Hitler was just bulldozing his way through those little countries like Poland and Czechoslovakia. I was hurt ‐ he was just a dammed bully using his strength to dominate those people, and that triggered my decision.
I had five brothers and six sisters and came from a very traditional family background but I didn't tell my parents what I was planning to do until I had already been accepted by the RAF. I waited till the last minute to tell them.
My father was a teacher from St Elizabeth in Jamaica. In fact, there's a story in the family that states that by rights we should be in the owners of the whole of Treasure Beach where my good friend John Blair comes from. There were two brothers from Scotland call Eubanks (Ebanks is a corruption) who decided to leave their father’s carpet making business and follow in the footsteps of Columbus. Well they set sail and they reached as far as the Cayman Islands, where one of them settled. The second brother continued but his ship ran into a storm and they were shipwrecked on the South West coast of Jamaica at what is now called Treasure Beach. And so that's how the family came to Jamaica, and up to 40 years ago anywhere you heard the name Ebanks you could be certain that you were talking to someone who hailed from St Elizabeth. In 1954 there were only two Ebanks in the telephone directory and now there are about 30.
In 1939 I was a teacher. One day I was sitting with the headmistress listening to the radio when suddenly Churchill came on and we heard that amazing speech, “We will
fight them on the beaches”. I was very moved. The Germans were just rampaging across Europe, and these people were going to stop them.
So the following day I made an application to the RAF. That was in 1940 but I didn't hear from them until the middle of 1941 when they told me to report to Kingston for medical and mental tests. Incidentally the educational tests we got out here were much tougher than the ones we received when we arrived in England. We didn't actually join up here in Jamaica. There was a committee here and they were very strict because at that time all the fellows who applied were applying for aircrew duties ‐ no one was applying for anything else. My first choice was to be a pilot but I received a 100% score in the mathematical aspects of the test and apparently the English school system wasn't turning out as many good mathematicians as were required. So I was asked to become a navigator, given my skill at math. I didn't mind because I already knew that this was a critical job and that many aircraft were lost not because of enemy fire, but due to errors in navigation. It was common to hear of planes going off course and flying into mountains or heading far out to sea never to return.
After a few months in England I was posted to Canada for training. We had a good time in Canada. There was no blackout, there was plenty to eat and the girls were very nice, but that didn't interest me! What disturbed me was the comment that people trained in Canada as navigators were very poor in their performance operationally, because there was no blackout and so navigation was easy compared to Europe.
When I joined my squadron I was the only non‐commissioned officer on the station so I was stuck in a great big, big building all by myself. Eventually I was transferred to a place named Oakington.
I recall that during our bomb aiming training, on my first flight with live ordinance, I believed I had dropped the bomb on the target, but as we were returning to base we realised that the aircraft wasn’t handling properly and indeed the bomb was still attached! I said to my pilot, ‘I don't believe the bomb is gone!’ Now at this stage we
were at 30,000 feet and I said let's go down another 10,000 feet because I suspected that ice was the cause of the problem. When we had descended to 20,000 feet I pressed the button again and the aircraft jumped up about 4000 feet as the bomb left us. After that experience we never had any doubts as to whether or not the bomb had gone.
All in all I flew 50 sorties during the war. I think my most dangerous moment was over Hamburg. We lost one of our engines hit by flak, the starboard engine as I recall, and that occurred at 25,000 feet. Then suddenly the second engine packed up apparently because of an airlock. So we were just gliding with no engines at all. By now we were over the North Sea and the pilot told me to prepare to bail out. I said ‘Master, you can bail out but I not bailing out’. This was one time I was not obeying any instructions, because when you looked down below you know it was as black as pitch, it being two o'clock in the morning. No way was I going to bail out at night in the winter over the North Sea ‐ I would prefer to die in my plane.
When we got to 5000 feet the blockage cleared up and engine started and we were able to land on an emergency strip on the east coast of England. You see no matter how bad things get there is always a chance something will happen and you will scrape through. I just wasn't prepared to bail out because you had no chance of surviving you would freeze to death in two minutes in the water.
I also recall another occasion when we lost an engine and had to turn back to the UK. Now, each squadron leaving the UK had a designated re‐entry point at which you could fly back in to the UK. As long as you flew on the correct course you were expected, but if you were tempted to return on another route there was always a chance that the gunners on the ground will treat you as an enemy aircraft. As we hit the coast on this flight the English antiaircraft batteries, or ‘ack‐ack’, opened fire on us. But fortunately we always carried a Verey pistol with the flare of the day, a specific colour that everyone knew, and as soon as I fired that thing the anti‐aircraft firing stopped as though by magic.
I remember that I flew as part of a force of 30 mosquitoes to mark the target at Cologne for one of the thousand bomber raids. Well I'll just let you imagine what happens when 30 aircraft attack a target that’s defended by 600 guns. And yet, as we left the area weaving and turning violently to avoid the enemy fire I saw one aircraft circling the target, taking a look. It turned out to be one of the squadron commanders. Of course, he was shot down and killed.
When I got back to Jamaica I didn't find the adjustment difficult, but I had a hell of a time getting a job. At every interview I was told that I had a brilliant war record and that they had no place for someone like me.
I was at a gathering recently when a fellow came up to me and said “Oh! So you are one of those who went to fight for King and country.” I got very angry and I told him in no uncertain manner that I did not go to fight for King and country, I went to fight for myself. I went to fight for freedom, for Jamaica, and for all the little countries of the world that would otherwise be controlled by bullies.
John Ebanks 1997
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
The Story of Flight Lieutenant John J Blair, DFC
102 (Ceylon) Squadron and 216 Squadron
Description
An account of the resource
A 52 page document detailing the history of John Blair's RAF service from 1942 to 1963, and his childhood in Jamaica. Introductory note says it was based on a taped interview with John Blair by his nephew in 1997.
John was born in 1919 to a poor but educated family. He was the youngest of eight children. At the age of 17 he started training as a teacher but war had broken out. He was accepted by the RAF as aircrew and after brief training in Jamaica was shipped to New Orleans then onward to Canada.
He trained as a Navigator and after crew selection at Kinloss, training on Whitleys he was sent to Pocklington, Yorkshire.
He completed 33 operations - there is great detail about the operations.
After the war he transferred to Transport Command and flew Hastings and Comets around the world. He was a successful athlete for the RAF.
Included is a eulogy for John written by his nephew, Mark Johnson.
An appendix covers a colleague, John Ebanks who served as a bomb aimer at RAF Oakington. He undertook 50 operations.
Creator
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Mark Johnson
Date
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2008
Format
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52 typewritten sheets
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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MBlairJJ[Ser#-DoB]-160509-01
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Air Force. Transport Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--London
Jamaica--Pedro Plains
Cayman Islands
Jamaica--Ocho Rios
Jamaica--Kingston
Belize
United States
Louisiana--New Orleans
New York (State)--New York
Canada
New Brunswick--Moncton
Ontario--Ottawa
Québec--Montréal
Ontario--Toronto
Nova Scotia--Halifax
Iceland
England--Yorkshire
Sri Lanka
West Indies
Australia
New Zealand
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Munich
Italy--Turin
Italy--Genoa
Italy--Milan
Germany--Mülheim an der Ruhr
Germany--Koblenz
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Magdeburg
British Columbia--Vancouver
England--Liverpool
France--Ardennes
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Essen
Germany--Ludwigshafen am Rhein
Germany--Saarbrücken
Germany--Dülmen
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Goch
Germany--Bonn
Germany--Reichswald
Germany--Kleve (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Worms
Germany--Kamen
Germany--Chemnitz
Germany--Flensburg
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Bottrop
Germany--Witten
Italy--Naples
France--Marseille
Europe--English Channel Region
China--Hong Kong
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany
Jamaica
Italy
France
Germany--Osnabrück
Jamaica--Saint Elizabeth
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Wangerooge Island
Louisiana
New York (State)
Ontario
Québec
New Brunswick
Nova Scotia
China
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Lancashire
Jamaica--Saint Ann's Bay
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
102 Squadron
216 Squadron
4 Group
78 Squadron
African heritage
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bomb aimer
bombing
bombing of Helgoland (18 April 1945)
Conspicuous Gallantry Medal
crewing up
demobilisation
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
entertainment
Gee
ground personnel
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
Hitler, Adolf (1889-1945)
incendiary device
Ju 88
killed in action
Lancaster
medical officer
mid-air collision
military service conditions
mine laying
missing in action
Mosquito
navigator
Pathfinders
pilot
prisoner of war
radar
RAF Kinloss
RAF Oakington
RAF Pocklington
RAF Tangmere
searchlight
sport
training
Whitley
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/934/36497/MLovattP1821369-190903-62-01.1.pdf
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Dublin Core
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Title
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Lovatt, Peter
Dr Peter Lovatt
P Lovatt
Description
An account of the resource
117 items. An oral history interview with Peter Lovatt (b.1924, 1821369 Royal Air Force), his log book, documents, and photographs. The collection also contains two photograph albums. He flew 42 operations as an air gunner on 223 Squadron flying B-24s. <br /><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1338">Album One</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2135">Album Two</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Nina and Peter Lovatt and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-09-27
2019-09-03
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Lovatt, P
Dublin Core
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Title
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The Radio War Waged by the RAF Against Germany 1940-1945
Description
An account of the resource
A thesis written by Peter in 2002, for his Phd.
Creator
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Peter Lovatt
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2002-07
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
England--London
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
England--Norfolk
England--Norfolk
France--Dieppe
France--Cherbourg
England--Norwich
England--Swanage
England--Malvern
Germany--Berlin
England--Cornwall (County)
Canada
Newfoundland and Labrador
England--Devizes
France--Paris
England--Chatham (Kent)
Austria
Poland
England--Cheadle (Staffordshire)
England--Daventry
England--Orford Ness
England--Aldeburgh
England--Bawdsey (Air base)
Scotland--Dundee
Scotland--Perth
England--Christchurch (Dorset)
Russia (Federation)
Scotland--Firth of Forth
Germany--Baden-Baden
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Borkum
Denmark
Norway
Germany--Bredstedt
France--Brest
Netherlands
Germany--Husum (Schleswig-Holstein)
Norway--Klepp
Germany--Stollberg (Landkreis)
Netherlands--Den Helder
Netherlands--Bergen op Zoom
France--Seine-Maritime
France--Cape La Hague
France--Manche
France--Morlaix
Germany--Lörrach
Italy--Noto
England--Tunbridge Wells
England--Harpenden
England--Somerset
England--Henfield (West Sussex)
England--Petersfield
France--Dieppe
England--Portsmouth
Scotland--Orkney
England--Rochester (Kent)
England--Essex
France--Le Havre
England--Hagley (Bromsgrove)
England--Gloucestershire
England--Bridport
England--Coventry
England--Bristol
France--Cassel
France--Poix-du-Nord
England--Radlett (Hertfordshire)
England--Henfield (West Sussex)
England--Cheadle (Staffordshire)
France--Bayeux
England--Kingsdown (Kent)
England--Harleston (Norfolk)
France--Barfleur
France--Cape La Hague
France--Le Mont-Saint-Michel
France--Cancale
France--Penmarc'h
France--Groix
France--Saint-Nazaire Region
France--Saint-Malo
England--Seaton (Devon)
England--Salisbury
Wales--Swansea
England--Droitwich
France--Brittany
England--Manchester
England--Chatham (Kent)
France--Chartres
France--Vannes
Poland--Lubin (Województwo Dolnośląskie)
Egypt
Libya
England--Lydd
England--Helston
England--Chivenor
England--Marske-by-the-Sea
England--Nottingham
England--Birmingham
Slovakia
Czech Republic
Italy
France
England--Milton Keynes
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Devon
England--Dorset
England--Hampshire
England--Herefordshire
England--Kent
England--Northamptonshire
England--Staffordshire
England--Suffolk
England--Sussex
England--Wiltshire
England--Worcestershire
England--Yorkshire
England--Lancashire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Warwickshire
Germany--Kleve (North Rhine-Westphalia)
France--Ouessant Island
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Jersey
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Air Force. Fighter Command
Wehrmacht. Luftwaffe
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Personal research
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
80 printed sheets
Identifier
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MLovattP1821369-190903-62-01
100 Group
101 Squadron
109 Squadron
214 Squadron
218 Squadron
Anson
B-17
B-24
Blenheim
bombing
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
Do 217
Gee
Gneisenau
Goering, Hermann (1893-1946)
ground personnel
H2S
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
He 111
Hitler, Adolf (1889-1945)
Hudson
Ju 52
Ju 88
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Oboe
P-51
Pathfinders
Photographic Reconnaissance Unit
radar
RAF Biggin Hill
RAF Boscombe Down
RAF Defford
RAF Martlesham Heath
RAF Oulton
RAF St Athan
RAF Waddington
RAF Wyton
Scharnhorst
V-1
V-2
V-weapon
Wellington
Whitley
Window
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1532/24284/PChadwickR19040056.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1532/24284/PChadwickR19040057.2.jpg
c71092a08472dc7629f3d6e12dfd8d80
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Chadwick, Roy. 1940s
Description
An account of the resource
69 items. Photographs of people, places and aircraft
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of Delphine S Stevens who has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0) permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Queen and Roy Chadwick in front of a Lancaster
Description
An account of the resource
Roy Chadwick stands talking to the Queen. Above and right the nose of a Lancaster. Behind them a group of dignitaries and in the distance behind are spectators and a hangar. On the reverse 'A V Roe & Co Ltd, at Woodford aerodrome Cheshire. Allied News papers Ltd Manchester (75820) a number close to this. H M Queen Elizabeth with Roy Chadwick beside an Avro Lancaster Nov 1942'.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Allied Newspapers Ltd Manchester
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-11
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
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PChadwickR19040056, PChadwickR19040057
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Cheshire
England--Stockport
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-11
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of Delphine S Stevens who has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0) permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
Chadwick, Roy (1893-1947)
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/501/22596/MCurnockRM1815605-171114-024.1.pdf
d9fa2a58ac51b1f20f8090cb5b2a4df8
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Curnock, Richard
Richard Murdock Curnock
R M Curnock
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Curnock, RM
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-18
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Description
An account of the resource
92 items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Richard Curnock (1924, 1915605 Royal Air Force), his log book, letters, photographs and prisoner of war magazines. He flew operations with 425 Squadron before being shot down and becoming a prisoner of war.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Richard Curnock and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
THE
Prisoner of War
[Emblem] THE OFFICIAL JOURNAL OF THE PRISONERS OF WAR DEPARTMENT OF THE RED CROSS AND ST. JOHN WAR ORGANISATION, ST. JAMES’S PALACE, LONDON, S.W.1. [Emblem]
VOL. 3 No. 34 Free to Next of Kin FEBRUARY, 1945
THE FOOD SITUATION
By Maj.-Gen. Sir Richard Howard-Vyse, K.C.M.G., D.S.O.,
Chairman of the Prisoners of War Department
I know well that many of our readers are much distressed by letters from Camps which indicate a lack of food, and I am writing these lines in order to explain the situation and, I hope, to provide some comfort.
By the month of May, we had established in Geneva a stock of some twelve weeks’ supplies, or about two million parcels. Thereafter, while the parcels continued to leave Geneva at the rate of 160,000 a week, they ceased to flow in, because the port of Marseilles was closed, first owing to unfortunate accidents to two of our ships, and then because of the invasion of the South of France.
In September, for fear of being left with no parcels at all, we were compelled to reduce issues to a parcel a fortnight. There could have been no worse moment to do this, with the cold weather approaching, and hopes vanishing of release before Christmas, and it is only too natural that our prisoners should feel depressed as well as hungry.
The situation was further aggravated by the decision of the German High Command not to allow reserves of food parcels in Camps, inconsequence of which some Camps were compelled to consume not half a parcel, as they should have done, but as much as two or even more parcels in one week. This resulted, of course, in the disappearance of the rest of the Camp reserves which had been built up against such an eventuality as stoppage of despatches from Geneva. But, from the latest information we have, it seems likely that this order will be considerably modified, so that, as soon as transport is available, Geneva may be able to establish such reserves once more.
In some Camps, too, numbers have been greatly increased by transfers from other Camps, as well as by newly captured prisoners. The worst instance of this is Stalag 357, which has been swollen by practically the whole of Stalag Luft VI, who apparently were not allowed to bring their food reserves with them. In view of the train shortage which must exist in Germany to-day – and which, incidentally, must be materially helping to shorten the war – it is perhaps unfair to attribute this entirely to ill-will on the part of the enemy.
Now for the brighter part of the picture. In the first place, I want to stress that, while we ourselves are pretty fully informed as to the situation, practically all our news and more besides, is in the hands of the International Red Cross Committee of Geneva, who of course get it before we do. The Committee therefore possess what everyone must have before they can act; I mean Information. The point is, have they the means to act?
As to this, the situation which originally obliged us to reduce the issue has vanished. The resumed flow via Marseilles, plus supplies which are going in via Sweden, is establishing once more a reserve in Geneva. The full issue of a parcel a week can now be resumed as soon as there are sufficient stocks in Camps. It is entirely a question of rail transport through Germany. It would not be surprising if the shortage of this were acute, but as a matter of fact, we have at the moment two reasons for feeling hopeful. One of the principals of the Relief Section, of whom I happened to see a great deal when I was myself in Geneva, has sent us a distinctly encouraging report of a visit he has just paid to Berlin. And the International Red Cross Committee have told us that they hope to get the Christmas parcels to all Camps by the middle of January. In view of the Russian advance it is dangerous to prophesy about the future. (Contd. overleaf)
[Picture of a horse with cart being unloaded by four men] Red Cross parcels being unloaded at Stalag 344, one of the largest camps in Germany.
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2 The Prisoner of War FEBRUARY, 1945
The Editor Writes –
At the time of going to press no confirmation has been received of reports that camps in Poland, East Prussia, Upper Silesia, in the line of the rapid advance of the Russian armies, have been moved back into Central Germany. Camps likely to be affected include Stalags XXA, XXB, 344, VIIIB, Luft VII, B.A.B. 20 and 21, Oflag 64, Ilag Kreuzberg, and the hospitals at Marienburg and Cosel. The War Office announced recently that assurances on the highest level had been received that provision will be made for the protection and welfare of all British Commonwealth prisoners of war liberated. The War Office also stated that “our plans are complete and the necessary staffs in readiness for action at short notice.”
Should any official information of a prisoner’s change of address be received, next of kin will be notified immediately; but the chances are that they themselves will hear from the prisoner first.
“Victorious Vanguard”
The Stockholm correspondent of the Daily Telegraph quotes a French sailor who escaped to Sweden from the Baltic Port of Kolberg, as having said that British prisoners who were being evacuated from camps in East Prussia, Poland and Silesia were in the highest spirits. The sailor said that there was a striking contrast between them and the Volkssturm battalions which filled the roads leading to the front. “As the British passed them they sang ‘Roll Out the Barrel’ and ‘Tipperary,’ and turned up their thumbs.”
The way in which these prisoners passed through the town, said the Frenchman, deepened considerably the wave of pessimism which had swept over the whole of that part of Germany. “You would think they were not prisoners, but the vanguard of a victorious army.”
Welcome to Repatriates
Of the 1,500 British and Dominion men in the latest repatriation, arrangements were made for British and Australian to come to this country and Indian and other Dominion repatriates to go straight home on another ship via Suez. Besides seven welfare officers who went out to Marseilles to meet the men, Mrs. Boyd-Moriarty, representing the Australian Red Cross, made the journey out and home on the Arundel Castle, and Miss Noyes went out representing Indian Red Cross to accompany those men who are to go straight back to India. Supplies of the Arundel Castle included 600 Indian Red Cross parcels for the use of homeward-bound Indians.
“They Shall Have Music”
Gramophone records and accordions from the Indoor Recreations Section were in the charge of Welfare officers on board for the entertainment of the repatriates. General comforts included cigarettes, bars of chocolate, slippers, stationery sets, socks, scarves, gloves and news – in the shape of Sunday newspapers and a special sports summary prepared for the Red Cross and St. John Press Section by the Daily Mail was flown direct to Marseilles.
Theatre Ban Lifted
Last month I mentioned that according to an order from the General in Command, all theatrical performances in camps situated in Wehrkeis (military zone) VIII had been forbidden, though concert and variety shows were still allowed. Readers will therefore be reassured to hear that in his latest report from Stalag VIIIA at Gorlitz, one of the camps affected, the British Man of Confidence writes: “In the middle of October the ban on theatre entertainments was lifted by the authorities and we are now permitted to put on one dramatic show per month, as well as the usual musical concerts.”
Situation Improved
I am most grateful to Mr. W.B. Morrison for a piece of good news which he has recently received from his son in Oflag IVC. He points out that in our December issue the visitors’ report on Oflag IVC stated that the prisoners could only take one shower every ten days. His son has written saying “The past week has been very hot … I spend most of the day getting in and out of hot, beg pardon, cold baths, which fortunately are plentiful.” It appears, therefore, that the situation has been much improved.
Marking Time
Under the title of “Marking Time,” prisoners of war who escaped from Italian prison camps into Switzerland and were interned in St. Gallen, created a monthly magazine. The first cover design showed an “evadé” sitting at a table, mournfully looking at a bottle of beer, waiting for things to happen. The magazine caught on. Its popularity extended far beyond the scattered community of internees, and requests for it poured in from British subjects in all parts of Switzerland. Donations were received, the paper was enlarged in size, and later, when the technical difficulties were overcome, became a self-supporting weekly.
Channel Islanders
A letter, written by a Channel Islander interned at Biberach in Germany to her nephew in this country tells that she was allowed to write to the Channel Islands. The Red Cross ship Vega which took the first batch of relief supplies to the Channel Islands will be familiar to my readers as having carried supplies of P.o.W. parcels on several occasions. Among other Red Cross supplies for the Channel Islands which have been earmarked for the future are 600,000 food parcels, 20,000 invalid diet supplements and further supplies of drugs. These plans will not in any way affect the flow of supplies to p.o.w.s in Germany.
THE FOOD SITUATION (Continued from page 1)
Now I want to ask a favour of you. A curious thing to do, I know, from people who are suffering from disappointment, who are receiving depressed letters from their prisoners, and who, especially those whose men have been captives for years, are full of anxiety.
Many of you work in offices of one sort or another, and know the difficulties of obtaining office staff. We here are suffering acutely from such difficulties, and, to put it frankly, have been snowed under with correspondence etc.
Will you please try to be patient, and not send us enquiries about the food situation until you have seen whether or not my own forecast proves to be justified. We, for our part, promise to keep you informed, through the pages of this Journal, if anything transpires to alter that forecast.
If you will do this, we shall be very grateful indeed to you, and you will be enabling us to reply more quickly to other, and perhaps more urgent, enquiries.
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FEBRUARY, 1945 The Prisoner of War 3
The Brighter Side
At the Special Request of Stalag XIA, we are featuring this Month Extracts from Their Own Reports of Camp Entertainments and Sport there.
[Photograph of a group of men, most in sports kit] League Champions, July 1944, III Division at Stalag 344. Left to Right: (Back) Dick, Charlie, “Jock,” “Steve,” “Hank,” Ginger. (Middle) Robin, McGinty, “Nobby,” “Tanky,” “Tidler.” (Front) “Jock” and Frankie.
In sending special reports of camp activities prepared by prisoners in Stalag XIA, the president of their Entertainment Committee requested that these might be published in the Journal, adding: “We wish also to thank the B.R.C.S. and the Y.M.C.A. for the tremendous help they have given us.” As a gesture of appreciation the camp music maestro has written and composed a march and called it B.R.C.S. (British Red Cross Society).
Entertainment at Stalag XIA
A sergeant has written the account of camp entertainments. He begins: “On recalling to ins the recent entertainments in our camp, one is struck by the similarity between the presentations here and those that take place in the big cities outside. We in our little world have been presented with a continuous programme, which has given almost the same expectations, thrills, laughter and relaxation experienced by all who followed the seasons of theatreland before the war. Just as the Haymarket in London gives its public that atmosphere and attraction so dear to theatre fans, our ‘Haymarket’ renders full justice to its existence.”
Music and Variety
Music is provided by Roy and his “Music Makers,” fourteen in all, “who never fail in obtaining a merited success.” Fred’s “Haymakers” supply plenty of rhythm, while Sid and his “Mandoliers” give concerts of light music. “Both Roy and Sid have played their own compositions, which have more than shown their ability as musicians.” Variety shows have been “outstanding because the player have that skill and enthusiasm to show their talent in various ways, their main theme being laughter and song.” Vic’s production of “Leilani” transported them to the South Seas the moment the curtain rose on his show, and the audience was apparently “overwhelmed with fun, song, wit and charm.” Then Bob, the president of the Entertainment Committee, produced and presented within three days Bob’s Variety, a show that proved to be one of the best yet.
Repertory Theatre
There is also a flourishing Repertory Theatre, which appears to have “gaiety” as its motto, for all the plays produced to date have been comedies. Pee-Wee’s Tilly of Bloomsbury, which was adapted for the stage from the book, provided an hour and a half’s hilarity, and Vic’s production of The Man Who Came to Dinner was also a success. Spud has produced You Can’t Take It With You – “the antics of the Martin Vanderhof family kept a packed audience in hysterics. We were informed that at times the players themselves had difficulty in not laughing.”
Future attractions will include Vic’s pantomime, Cinderella, and Terry’s The Petrified Forest.
The sergeant’s report does not confine his praise to the stars of these entertainments. He points out: “In every walk of life there are unsung heroes. We owe a great deal to the lads who work in silence to make the entertainment what it is.” Particularly praised are “the sterling capabilities and skill” of Harry and Lew, who backstage ”perform such miracles as you would expect of the fairy with her magic wand.” The report concludes: “Yes, we spectators certainly do appreciate our luck in having such entertainment which goes a long way in relieving the ‘barbed wire’ feeling.”
Sport
Association Football
According to “Onlooker,” football in the camp has been “going great guns these last six or seven months.” At the end of March, Alf Smirk, a professional forward from Southend United, arrived in the camp and took over the Lager XI. His team has played five games against combined “other National” sides and has a splendid record, winning four and drawing one, with an aggregate of 22 goals to 8. The first League run in the compound was won by Staff. The first seven-a-side contest was won by 12C (since disbanded) and the second by Staff.
Two knock-out competitions have been held and were both won by 14A, for whom Alf Smirk plays.
Rugby
Since February of this year Rugby has been played regularly in the cooler months, and, according to the corporal who writes the report of this season’s games, “by praying for rain we have worked in an occasional game over the summer.” He continues: “Despite the fact that the ground is only 50 yards wide, we play fifteen a side, but even with this congestion the backs, at times, perform very well.
“We have players from the British isles and all the Rugby-playing Colonies, some very good, some just good, but all very keen – this last has been the means of keeping the game going. We have had some very good games. The first, South Africa versus the Camp, was won by the Camp. England v. Colonies was won by England by one penalty goal in a very strongly contested match. On St. Patrick’s Day the Colts played England (with Kiwis, Springboks and Wallabies included in the side), for which they qualified, and won 6 – 5.
“Since then we have had various new prisoners (mostly recaptured from Italy) v. ‘Old,’ followed by a series of Anzacs v. Camp, which the boys from
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4 The Prisoner of War FEBRUARY, 1945
What to Send Your Prisoner Now
[Photographs of musical instruments, boardgames, books and magazines] Among the many articles sent to prisoners of war by the Indoor Recreations Section at St. James’s Palace are musical instruments, artists’ materials (paints in pans), crayons, plays, books and games. They go direct from this country and from reserve supplies held by the I.R.C. at Geneva.
This typical selection includes new books of every type from the fine arts to Wild West thrillers. Remember all books must pass a severe censorship.
Music is scarce and in great demand in the camps. Clean, unmarked copies will be warmly welcomed by the Indoor Recreations Section.
THE BRIGHTER SIDE
(Continued from previous page)
‘Down Under’ won 2 games to 1. We are most grateful to the Red Cross Society for supplying us with the gear to make all this possible.”
In Other Camps
In Stalag XVIIIA they take their musical entertainment seriously and according to a trooper who writes, just produces a “Cavalcade of Music,” illustrating the progress from primitive music, through the minuet, opera, music-hall, ragtime and swing to the modern symphonic jazz, closing on the optimistic note, The Song of Dawn. By contrast in Stalag VIIA they seem to take a far from serious attitude. One prisoner, writing, admittedly on a Saturday evening, says: “I and a chap from Paddington have just finished dancing the Big Apple, Jitterbug, Charleston, and anything that Fred Astaire can do. I don’t know what the Germans think of us, but they certainly must think we are a Crazy Gang. The noise and shouting is terrific, with a background of six mouth-organs.”
Camp Shows
The Dramatic Club in Stalag 357 have hit on a new idea. They are working on a scheme for producing a series of “Radio Plays” and revues which will tour the huts throughout the camp. The plays are read from behind a curtain of blankets. One is to be a murder play, The Silent Witness.
In Oflag IXA/Z they produced Busman’s Honeymoon, the three “female” characters being afterwards presented with bouquets. Two of these were of a fairly orthodox nature, but the third, for the charwoman, was composed of a couple of large sunflowers, complete with about 5ft. of stem! The lieutenant who has recently produced Hamlet at Marlag und Milag Nord writes: “I have never pictures myself before as a producer, and I have been startled at the result. The audience sat on hard seats for three and a half hours and would have taken more.”
R.A.F. Raise Money for P.O.W’s.
At and R.A.F. station in the Midlands they recently presented a play, the proceeds of which are to be devoted to buying play scripts for their colleagues still in Germany. The warrant officer who wrote telling us of this added: “The total collected was £25 from this and neighbouring stations. Might I suggest that other stations follow suit?”
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FEBRUARY, 1945 The Prisoner of War 5
The Letters They Write Home
From a Padre
Stalag IVC. 21.8.44.
After a wait of almost six weeks I am now posted to a working kommando in this stalag. As far as the censorship allows I will proceed to give you an idea of the place. Until just recently it consisted of about 1,200 men, but another kommando has been moved here and we now total about 1,800 British troops. They are made up if men from the British Isles, South Africa, and a few from Australia and New Zealand. The men are at various jobs of work and are extremely fit; most of them are very bronzed, walking about in shorts only.
My billet is at the end of one of the long wooden huts, and at the moment I am sharing it with a Cypriot M.O. The room is about 12ft. to 14ft. square. We have single spring beds and a table with a blue check cloth on it. The floor is concrete, which is clean and cool in this grilling weather. The walls have been painted yellow with a white frieze and ceiling. Altogether a comfortable spot! Two windows overlook the compound, and we have our own tiny entrance hall.
Padre Brown is about a quarter of a mile up the road in a kommando of 2,000 men, so you see that between us we have a pretty large parish.
… The men seem pleased to see a chaplain, and as I have at least a year more of service as a p.o.w. than most of them, I am looked upon as a bit of a Methuselah. I tell them that I am a good example of the work of the Red Cross. Bodily fit with the constant supply of food parcels – we have enough here until Christmas – mentally sound through the constant flow of those grand letters of yours and books, etc., sent out by the Red Cross.
A Camp Tour
Marlag und Milag Nord (Milag). 28.8.44.
I’ll just show you round the camp this week for a change.
This is my bunk; twelve men sleep here. Look out of the window and you’ll see my tomatoes. Yes, that is where I cut hair too! Do you like the poster? Over there is the fire pond. See the ducks? They all belong to the inmates here. You ought to see the model steamboats and yachts out there some days. The former run on dubbin fuel.
This is the cinema-cum-galley. There’s a film this week, Hello Janine – all-German talkie, singing and dancing. I went yesterday. Not too bad.
The gardens look well, intermingled with the rabbit hutches and hen coops. All kinds of pets kept here. You’ll see some puppy dogs presently. You get a good view of the countryside just here. This is the officers’ galley and mess hall, which is used for games in the evening.
You cannot go any farther this way, so come back the other side. As we return we pass the hospital. There is the main gate and guard room, adjoining is the ratings’ galley and mess hall, which resembles Monte Carlo in the afternoons. There are wheels and games on which you can get rich quick or, like me, broke quick.
The next point of interest is the theatre. The show running is called Choraina, a cavalcade of all the shows we’ve had. Not seen it yet. Going further we pass into a smaller compound which is the sports ground, where there are pitches for football, baseball and cricket. The Yanks are playing baseball. Football starts next month.
Come back now and the combine will stand you a cup of tea.
From Another World
Stalag 344. 10.9.44.
Met a new chap who has just arrived, only taken 15 days ago. Talking to him makes me feel like a savage from another world. He is only 19 and so he was just a school-kid when I left Blighty. Seems to look on us as relics of a bow and arrow era. Maybe he is right too!
[Boxed] SEND US YOUR PICTURES AND LETTERS
Ten shillings will be awarded each month to senders of the first three letters from prisoners of war to be printed. Copies instead of the originals are requested, and whenever possible these should be set out on a separate sheet of paper, showing the DATES on which they were written. The Editor welcomes for other pages of the journal any recent NEWS relating to prisoners of war.
Ten shillings will also be awarded for photographs reproduced across two columns, and five shillings for those under two. Photographs should be distinct, and any information as to when they were taken is helpful.
Address: Editor, “The Prisoner of War,” St. James’s Palace, London, S.W.!. The cost of these prizes and fees is defrayed by a generous friend of the Red Cross and St. John War Organisation. [/boxed]
[Photograph of six men in uniform] A few of the prisoners at Stalag XVIIA.
We start on half a Red Cross parcel per week next week. Cannot think what we should do without the Red Cross – bless them! I shall have to tighten up my belt, but I am not worried as I don’t think we shall be collecting them much longer!
New Arrivals
Oflag 79. 22.10.44.
It is amusing to observe the new prisoners as they come in (we have a number from Arnhem). It reminds one of one’s own early days “in the bag.” The number of signs and symbols they wear on their arms is amazing to us old kriegies! Of course they give us the latest news from home. Most of them seem to be very young. They are well looked after as soon as they arrive and given extra clothing and other kit.
I am very well, as we all are, except for occasional bouts of the “crowd-complex.” Naturally, living in these conditions we all get a bit tired of being on top of one another and feel sometimes we should like to get to a quiet spot in the country and live alone for the rest of our lives. But the feeling soon passes if you get on with your work, or go to bed, as I am doing just now.
His Room
Stalag VIIA. 31.8.44.
Things are the same here – work, play and sleep. The room in which I sleep holds six – four other Englishmen, one South African, whom we rag and jape from morn till night. Each night we keep the rest of them awake with our guitar and mouth organs. Our room is called Sunshine Corner if it’s quiet,
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6 The Prisoner of War FEBRUARY, 1945
[Photograph of six men] A group of prisoners at Stalag Luft III where they make a point of celebrating birthdays.
which is seldom. When the orchestra is playing it is called the China Tea Shop.
How They Live
Stalag 357. 3.12.44.
We live in bungalows, each having four rooms, all joined end on. Each room holds 72 men on double-tier bunks. Four bungalows make “A” compound.
The day begins at 7 a.m. with a brew – on alternative mornings in bed! A wash and shave and then roll call at 8 a.m. We are counted and then dismissed until the next “count” at 4 p.m. We sweep the hut, draw bread and potatoes and then until noon, when we have a hot soup or stew, we play or watch football, rugby, hockey or volley ball.
We have an excellent library, a gymnasium, and use the church hut as a quiet room during the week. We are allowed out and around the camp from rev. till 7.15 p.m. from which time until lights out (now 9 p.m.) we have talks, lectures, whist, bridge or crib drives, quizzes, a dance band or gramophone.
Work and Play
Stalag 344. 5.11.44.
I was very amused at the way you go to business, through clover and wheatfields and over stiles. We have a similar three-mile walk (slow pace), then a little work with a little shovel, and back to camp at a faster pace. We take tea with us and brew up on the job, just like a gang of navvies in the streets of London.
I was interested to know you had seen the Prisoner of War Exhibition. The main camps are like that, but I am at a working camp of 55. We have more facilities and much more comfort.
We hold conferences on world events every day – generals and cabinet ministers have nothing on us!
Two Counties Club
Stalag Luft VII. 16.8.44.
We have just formed a Lancashire and Cheshire club and there are only two from Stockport. The majority come from either Manchester or Liverpool. The club is going to contact the Manchester Evening News, giving names and
[Photograph of a group of men in three rows] The [underlined] SHEFFIELD & DISTRICT [/underlined] Club 1943 Stalag 383 – GERMANY. 1944
addresses of all who live in the Manchester district. So keep a look out.
By the way, I was fortunate enough to be selected to play for England at cricket. The match was played on Bank Holiday Monday, and after a very exciting game we won by 46 runs.
A Hard School
Stalag 357. 30.9.44.
We are in better billets, in spite of the fact that they are not quite completed, and the Detaining Power seems to be helping us to get settles and comfortable as much as they can, for which we are all grateful. We will soon be wishing each other a “Merry Christmas.” It seems hardly possible that I have been away from you so long, and I often wonder if you will think me a lot changed when I return. If I am, I assure you it will be for the better. This is the finest, if the hardest, school in which to learn patience and understanding. I have learned more of human nature since being a P.o.W. than one would normally learn in a lifetime, but how I long for home comforts, a proper bed and plenty of freedom. Believe me, it will take something to move me once I get back.
A Library Arrives
Stalag Luft IV. 29.8.44.
I have at last got hold of some technical books which will help me. When we moved from Stalag Luft VI, I parted company with my entire kit, including all my notebooks and textbooks, as did most of my companions. However, the technical library has arrived intact, so I can continue studying, and while I have no stationery I am managing on cigarette wrappings.
A small amount of Red Cross clothing and toilet articles has arrived and I have been lucky enough to win the cut for the following: 1 toothbrush, 1 comb, 1 razor and soap, 3 razor blades and 1 light vest. This comprises my entire belongings, together with the following which I arrived in: 1 great coat, 1 jacket and trousers, 1 short pants, 1 pair socks and boots, 1 shirt and 1 handkerchief.
We are all in the very best of spirits and exceedingly optimistic and get plenty of fun out of kriegie life.
How He Lives
Stalag IVD. 8.10.44.
You ask me if I live at IVD. No, I am at B.E.I., which is a working party of 170 men. As far as the billets are concerned, they are fairly good. We
[Picture] 1944 A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR ILAG VII 1945
A drawing of the canteen at Ilag VII sent as a Christmas and New Year Card by a Guernsey civilian internee to his mother.
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FEBRUARY, 1945 The Prisoner of War 7
live in rooms; three rooms in a bungalow, twenty men to a room, two men to a bed, one above the other. I am on the top as I think it is better – it is for reading, anyhow.
We now have our own shower-house and wash-place, which is very convenient. Of course, we are locked, barred and bolted in every night, not to mention being counted far too often for my liking.
From German to Drawing
Stalag IVG. 17.9.44.
I have given up trying to learn German; it would take too long. Instead I’ve been spending most of my time lately drawing. I have been able to borrow some paints, but I’m not much of a hand with these.
Our tomato crop must have reached the 5cwt. mark, but it is falling off now as the weather gets colder. It is just about cold enough for snow at the moment.
A Good Cake
Stalag 344. 1.10.44.
I think it’s unfair that you torment me with writing about special apple pie! Of course, by now I’m a pretty good cook myself; last week Gus and I made a grand cake out of the bread ration, two tins biscuits (hard), sugar, raisins, salt, Klim and Nestles. Apart from the fact that it was slightly burnt outside, slightly undone in the centre and slightly heavy, it was a good cake.
Sport - and Stitching!
Stalag Luft III. 15.9.44.
This week there was a big volley-ball competition, with a tote to make things interesting. All the boys wagered with cigarettes, and it was just like Derby day. Through “inside information” I managed to make a few, but as I smoke the old pipe most often, it mattered little.
One America v. Britain series which I mentioned before, ended in a win for the “Yanks,” but it was a lot of fun and time well spent.
Have just finished knitting a khaki scarf, which is useful at this time. What with the sewing, washing, knitting, etc., that I do, I would make a good wife for someone, but I guess that is out of the question.
Varied Activities
Stalag IVB. 26.9.44.
Things here are not bad, bags of entertainment such as football, boxing, etc. We also have a theatre, and last week I saw a show The Barretts of Wimpole Street, and it was excellent.
I do some tailoring now and again and so earn a few cigarettes a week.
We get our Red Cross parcels every week and receiving them is the main event of the week.
I have read in the camp newspaper that the black-out is finished now. I guess it suits you fine.
PERSONALITIES AT STALAG XXB
DESCRIBED BY A P.O.W. THERE
[Photograph of two rows of men in uniform]
BACK ROW. – I will begin from left with the big blonde, “Spite” H., Liverpool, whose ambition is bigger and better boxing gloves and cowboy books. Next is “Bull,” who is happy with a car, the dirtier the better. I come next: I want a good armchair and a radio. Next is my pal “Bun,” London, whose ambition in life is parties. Next is Lewis also from London. He is not fat but can he eat! Next is “Wog” from Bradford, our interpreter, the Lover No. 1. His pal Ron next, also from Bromley, London, whose hobby is cycling, now aims to learn the piano accordian and don’t we know it!
FRONT ROW from left.- The chap with the beret, Bull’s brother, just loves to argue and waits for the time when he will be slicing bacon again (by the way they are Scotsmen). “Pudding” comes next from Leeds, who just lives for his bed and says, “Why can’t you stay in bed all day?! Next is “Fitz,” also Scotch, who longs to be home with his wife and kiddy. Last is “Busty,” our singer, whose ambition is to be on the films.
Birthday Celebrations in the Camps
TIME-HONOURED birthday traditions are observed in the camps with great gusto. They are made occasions for special celebration as a change from the usual routine.
“A happy birthday to you“ in chorus greeted a member of Stalag Luft 3 on the morning of his anniversary, and he was treated to a cup of tea in his bunk. On the previous day a companion had spent six hours grinding up biscuits, dried barley and semolina to make flour for some “wizard” meat patties. Corned beef and onions were used for the filling, and the savoury result marked the occasion at lunch. A “gorgeous” chocolate pudding was produced for sweet at dinner after an excellent course of fried spam in egg-powder and vegetables, and apricot tarts at supper completed the day’s menu. Rations had to be saved for weeks to make enough for this “real do.”
A flying officer, also at Stalag Luft 3, writes home that he did not expect to spend his 21st birthday in a prisoner of war camp, but says that the best was made of a bad job. He was presented with an iced cake and much speculation was aroused as to how the colouring had been obtained. The cake was voted an excellent effort and later the secret was revealed – a drop of red water-colour paint!
One prisoner in Oflag 79 tried to keep his birthday dark, but someone had not forgotten it. The result was a very fine cake for which the ingredients were ground biscuits, raisins, egg flakes and margarine. The mixing and decorations in chocolate and jam were carried out by a fellow-officer, who before the war demonstrated cake-mixing and was able to add the deft professional touch.
On roll call at 8.30 a.m. a letter arrived from home wishing him many happy returns – timed almost to the hour!
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8 The Prisoner of War FEBRUARY, 1945
Linking Relief for the World
THE WORK OF THE INTERNATIONAL COMMITTEE OF THE RED CROSS
By Colonel Charles de Watteville (Chief of the London Delegation of the I.C.R.C.)
[Photograph of people working on a map]
[Photograph of two women sorting letters] (Left) Working on one of the large maps showing German prison camps at the Central Office at Geneva, and (Right) sorting letters into alphabetical order. Each square represents one letter of the alphabet.
I was particularly pleased when I was asked to write this article for The Prisoner of War because I am often struck by the number of people I meet who are confused by the term International Red Cross. I shall begin with a very brief description of the Red Cross movement as a whole.
The Red Cross first came into being eighty-one years ago as a result of the experiences of a Swiss citizen – Henri Dunant – on the battlefield of Solferino, and the conclusion in August 1864, of the Geneva Convention for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Wounded and Sick in Armies in the Field. To-day the International Red Cross movement, which is governed by Statutes drawn up at The Hague in 1928, is comprised of:
The national Red Cross Societies (numbering sixty-two in 1939) with a total adult membership of over twenty millions.
The International Red Cross Committee – founded in Geneva in 1863 by a Committee of five Swiss citizens (now limited to a membership of twenty-five), and the forerunner of the whole Red Cross movement.
The League of Red Cross Societies – a federation of all the national Red Cross Societies, founded in 1919.
These aspects of the world-wide movement are linked by the International Red Cross Conference which meets every four years and is described in the Statutes as “the highest representative of the International Red Cross.”
The aim of the Red Cross is always to bring relief, whether in war or peace, to suffering humanity, and to this object the various national Societies, organised on a voluntary basis, devote themselves in every country. The International Red Cross Committee, with its headquarters in Geneva, is a completely independent and neutral organisation, composed entirely of Swiss citizens. It is in wartime the link between the national Societies and is the only organisation which, as the result of the trust placed in it by all belligerents, can work for the welfare of the war victims of both sides.
History of the Movement
Ever since 1870 the International Committee has set up in spheres of conflict, agencies for information and the relief of wounded and sick soldiers and prisoners of war. On the outbreak of the 194-18 war the International Agency for Prisoners of War was created in Geneva with a staff of 2,000 Swiss citizens, the majority of whom were voluntary workers.
The agency dealt with requests from thirty belligerent countries; its delegates visited five hundred internment camps; facilities were obtained for the evacuation of civilians from occupied territories and for the repatriation or hospitalisation in neutral countries of sick and wounded soldiers and medical personnel. The Committee organised the repatriation and exchange of prisoners of war of all nationalities after the first World War and co-operated closely with the national Red Cross Societies and other organisations in medical relief and reconstruction work in war-stricken countries. And between the two World Wars the Committee’s services were called upon for China and Abyssinia, in the Gran Chaco in 1936-39.
In 1929 there was signed in Geneva the Convention Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, and under this Convention the International Red Cross Committee is expressly charged with the establishment of a Central Agency for the Exchange of Information about Prisoners of War.
In 1939, therefore, the Committee immediately began this work, as it had done in previous wars, and in June, 1944, its staff numbered 3,289, all of whom were Swiss and more than half of whom were voluntary.
By September, 1944, the index of the Central Prisoners of War Agency contained over 23,000,000 cards relating to prisoners of war and interned civilians; permanent delegates in forty-five countries had made some four thousand visits to camps and in all seventy-seven coun-
[Photograph of rows of card index files] This huge card index system contains over 23 million cards relating to prisoners of war and interned civilians of all nationalities.
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FEBRUARY, 1945 The Prisoner of War 9
tries had been covered by delegates and special missions. The incoming mail numbered 36,489,000 letters and cards, and the outgoing 38,225,000; in one month 134,200 letters and 5,900 telegrams passed through the Committee’s different departments. Over 1,000,000 books had been forwarded to prisoners of war and civilian internment camps, and over 26,000,000 parcels, valued at approximately 2 1/2 milliard Swiss francs, had been handled by the Committee’s Relief Division up to September, 1944.
Civilians, Too
The Committee’s work does not, of course, stop at caring for sick and wounded prisoners of war and interned civilians, but has been extended, in the face of almost superhuman obstacles, to bring aid to civilian populations – especially women and children – in countries overrun by the war.
For this purpose what is known as the International Red Cross Joint Relief Commission was set up in 1940 by the International Red Cross Committee and the League of Red Cross Societies, and it was this organisation which, together with the Swiss and Swedish Red Cross Societies, was able to bring food and medical relief to the famine-stricken populations of Greece and to the children of Belgium.
Another activity of the International Red Cross Committee is the Civilian Message Scheme, by which civilians in one belligerent country can make contact with relatives and friends in another enemy or enemy-occupied country. By September, 1944, nearly 17,000,000 of these messages had been transmitted to and from people separated by the war.
The Committee’s Section for Civilian Research had handled over 500,000 cases by the same date, some necessitating as many as fifty separate enquiries. The Central Index of the Dispersed Families Section will no doubt form the basis of a great post-war task of linking members of families who have become separated.
The Committee has its own Maritime Transport system known as the “Foundation for the Organisation of Red Cross Transport.” It runs a fleet of twelve ships (three of which
[Photographs of parcels in storage and being prepared for sending] (Left) Parcels for p.o.w.s who were transferred to Germany from Italian camps, as Basle Station ready to be readdressed by the International Red Cross. (Above) The routine inspection of parcels of goods for the camps.
are owned by the “Foundation”) which ply between North and South Atlantic and Mediterranean ports, and carry relief goods for prisoners of war and civil populations. These ships, which are marked “International Red Cross Committee” and sail under neutral flags, all have on board a representative of the Committee. By September, 1944, they had transported 265,486 tons of relief goods.
Countless Services
Possibly one of the Committee’s most important and delicate tasks is that of watching over the application of international conventions and in constantly appealing to belligerent Governments on behalf of war victims.
It will be realised that all this work, of which only a bare outline has been given here, is very costly. The Committee’s expenses for the year 1943 amounted to 8,700,000 Swiss francs. Two-thirds of the donations received came from Swiss sources; the remaining third is contributed by certain Governments and a small number of national Red Cross Societies.
I feel I cannot do better than conclude this article with a quotation from a recent publication of the International Red Cross Committee: * *”The International Red Cross in Geneva – 1863-1943” – Page 5.
“it is not to be avoided, in an organisation of such dimensions as the Red Cross, and so largely dependent upon helpers who are neither trained experts nor, in all cases, permanently available, that errors and delays sometimes occur. Where special, privileged channels are open to certain groups, or can be used for an isolated case here and there, it is obvious that enquirers will be satisfied more promptly. But the International Committee and its Agency view their mission above all as a service, not for some only, but for all without privilege or distinction. They rejoice to know that tens and hundreds of thousands are helped by other means than theirs; but the millions who have no access to special favours and whom nobody takes care of otherwise must also be served, and served first. The services demanded of the Committee are countless; they range from the transmission of prisoners’ names by the tens of thousands from Government to Government, to the search for a single missing individual; from supplying a sick prisoner’s request for some remedy indispensable to him, but unobtainable in the enemy country, to rescuing whole sections of populations, such as the children in countries suffering from famine.”
[Boxed] NUMBER PLEASE!
Please be sure to mention your Red Cross reference number whenever you write to us. Otherwise delay and trouble are caused in finding previous correspondence. [/boxed]
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10 The Prisoner of War FEBRUARY, 1945
Official Reports from the Camps
[Boxed] In every case where the conditions call for remedy, the Protecting Power makes representations to the German authorities. Where there is any reason to doubt whether the Protecting Power has acted it is at once requested to do so. When it is reported that food or clothing is required, the necessary action is taken through the International Red Cross Committee. [/boxed]
OFLAG VIIB, EICHSTAETT
Strength on the day of visit, 1,504 officers and 236 other ranks. Since the last visit in June, 1944, two new huts are in the course of erection for further living quarters. A small kitchen in each hut allows for the cooking of private parcels.
Prisoners can only have two hot showers a month. The general health of all prisoners remained good. Recreational facilities inside the camp are good, but all parole activities such as walks and visits to the cinema have been suspended for no given reason.
Censoring at this camp is unsatisfactory and mail is reported to be very slow. There is a new Commandant who is considered reasonable and fair. The camp is still overcrowded.
(Visited October, 1944.)
STALAG LUFT VII BANKAU
There are 800 prisoners of war of the R.A.F., Royal Australian Air Force and Royal Canadian Air Force in this camp. They are all non-commissioned officers.
At the moment the prisoners are all in temporary “standard huts” of which there are 190, each accommodating six prisoners. New barracks are being complete, and when these are ready for use it should be the best accommodation so far found in any prisoner of war camp in Germany. There is no lighting or heating in the temporary huts, but due to the hot weather and the long days, there was, up to the time of the visit, no necessity for such facilities. When the new accommodation is ready there will be both lighting and heating.
Sixteen of these huts are available for special purposes, such as sick rooms, school rooms, offices and library. A large barrack for the kitchen has been erected. The prisoners cook their own food, the only complaints being that there were not enough kitchen utensils, and so far no ration scale has been supplied. There is no stock of Red Cross parcels, but a supply has been despatched from Geneva. As is usual in most of the camps, there is very little on sale in the canteen.
There is no provision for either hot or cold showers, but the men take daily cold showers underneath a pump in the open air.
There was no British doctor or medical orderly in the camp; the German authorities have asked for them. The German medical officer calls twice a week, and a German medical orderly looks after the sick. All prisoners have been inoculated against typhus.
The clothing situation is poor. There is a cobbler and tailor attached to the camp, but there is very little repair material to be had.
The German authorities have asked for a Roman Catholic and a Church of England padre, who are expected to arrive shortly. At present a Methodist Minister is holding services.
Outdoor recreation is very satisfactory. There is a large free space where all sorts of games are played. Half of the kitchen barrack is being used as a ping-pong room where there are three tables available.
Mail is rather poor – in particular the receipt of private parcels. The German camp commandant is said to be satisfactory and on good terms with the prisoners of war. When the new barracks are completed this camp should be very good indeed.
(Visited September, 1944.)
HOSPITAL RESERVE LAZARET, EBELSBACH
The number of patients on the day of the visit was 10 Americans and 47 British. There is one British medical officer and three medical orderlies. The only material change since the last visit in May, 1944, was the construction of an excellent air raid shelter; a second is still being built. At present bed-patients are taken on stretchers to the completed shelter and doors are opened for the other patients to walk to a nearby wood, where there are natural shelters.
Owing to the number of other Allied prisoners of war in this hospital, the one barrack assigned to the British and American patients remains overcrowded.
Every patient has a hot bath once a week. There has been no shortage of water this summer. The food is reported to be better now than it has ever been in the past. There is a good stock of Red Cross parcels. Beer and a few matches are occasionally on sale on the canteen. Clothing is still satisfactory.
A new recreation hall has been opened which gives great satisfaction to all the prisoners. The mail from England has just started to arrive again. Medical treatment is most satisfactory. The British and American doctors are given an entirely free hand to run their section of the hospital, and all essential drugs have so far been supplied by the Germans. Surgical dressings are rather limited, but the gap is filled by Red Cross supplies. There were no complaints.
(Visited September, 1944.)
[Photograph of a group of men in three rows] STALAG IXC A group from a concert party held in this camp where there are 380 British prisoners of war. The general health of the camp is good.
STALAG IXC, MUEHLHAUSEN
The strength of this camp is 380 British prisoners of war, including 178 N.C.O.s, one medical officer and two chaplains. More than 100 prisoners had left this camp since the last visit in July.
Bathing and washing facilities are satisfactory and there were no complaints about food or cooking facilities. The order sent by the Red Cross to cut the issue of parcels to one per man per two weeks was accepted by the prisoners with understanding. The clothing situation was satisfactory.
Church of England and Roman Catholic services are held in the camp, but a recent order by the Germans forbidding chaplains to visit work detachments at
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FEBRUARY, 1945 The Prisoner of War 11
any great distance from the main camp rather limits the padres’ activities.
Outdoor recreation is very satisfactory. The prisoners are able to go out for sports every afternoon from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m., as well as on Sunday mornings. Indoor entertainments were curtailed after the prisoners had written and acted a sketch which, in the opinion of the Germans, insulted their country.
Mail, as everywhere else, has become very slow, the arrival of private parcels being particularly bad. The general health of the camp is good, and in spite of the recent orders mentioned above, the spirit of the camp is still excellent.
(Visited September, 1944.)
LABOUR DETATCHMENTS
DEPENDENT ON STALAG IXC
Working Detachment No.1278, Gleichamberg was visited for the first time. The compound is situated in a beautiful wood about 1,800 feet above sea level. The present strength of the camp is 37 British prisoners of war who work in a stone quarry near the camp. Working hours are 10 per day, Sundays are always free. There were no complaints about working conditions.
The prisoners live in a stone-built house containing one dormitory, one day room, a kitchen and a wash-room. There are double-tier beds with two German blankets for each prisoner, and most of them possess additional private ones. Lighting and heating are satisfactory. The roofs are reported to leak very frequently, but repairs are promised. Washing facilities are somewhat primitive, but cannot be considered as inadequate. The men receive the correct German heavy workers’ rations. The prisoners have their own cook, and a supply of Red Cross parcels for four weeks.
Medical attention is given by a civilian doctor and there is a British medical orderly in the camp. Dental treatment is good. The general state of health is satisfactory.
Although there is only a small stock of clothing in the camp, each prisoner has at least one uniform. Some have two. The camp has never been visited by a padre due to the recent order of the German High Command. The prisoners have had little chance to play games, but have been granted permission for a regular Sunday walk. In general this camp makes a good impression.
Labour Detachment No. 1401, Bleicherode, is still reported to be a good working camp. 133 British prisoners work in a salt mine. The air-raid shelter provided at the mine for civilian workers is also available to the prisoners. There
[Photograph of three rows of men in uniform] OFLAG VIIB A group of officers at this camp which is still reported to be overcrowded.
are no bugs now. The Men of Confidence from Detachments No. 1416, Sollstedt, and No. 1015, Bischofferode, came to Detachment 1401 for interviews with the visiting delegate, and their detachments are reported to be good.
At No. 1416, 65 British prisoners of war work in a salt mine for nine hours a day, with every Sunday free. The Man of Confidence confirmed that this is the best accommodated camp in the Stalag area. The 127 prisoners at No. 1015 also work in a salt mine for nine hours per day; every second Sunday is free. There were no serious complaints.
Detachment 737, Menterode. – The 138 British prisoners of war are employed in a salt mine near the camp. Some men work underground and others on the surface. There is no overcrowding in the barracks, and the interior arrangements are satisfactory. Some of the sleeping rooms are slightly infested with bugs, but arrangements for gassing the rooms are being made. Facilities for cooking private parcels are most primitive. Clothing is in order. Medical attention is given by a civilian doctor. Detachment 199, Springen, was expected to be moved shortly. The conditions are Springen were satisfactory. Detachment No. 106, Dornoff, where 58 British prisoners of war are employed in a potash mine, is also a good detachment. Some clothing had arrived recently, and this matter is now better except for a lack of small-size shoes. The potato ration had been increased.
Detachment No. 1039, Craja. – The work in the salt mine at this Detachment is considered dangerous, and the delegate insisted that the 90 prisoners should be moved.
(Visited September, 1944.)
STALAG 357, OERBKE, nr. FALLINGBOSTEL
This camp was transferred from North-eastern Germany at the beginning of August, 1944. It is situated in a country area about 2 km. from the very small town of Oerbke. The camp is composed of six compounds, the prisoners being able to move freely from one to another. The centre compound (E), which is very large, has plenty of spare space which can be used as sports fields. Also in this compound are several buildings for general use, such as four brick barracks installed as kitchens, six wooden barracks used as offices for the Men of Confidence; chapel, libraries, schoolrooms, workshops and two large laundries.
Compound “R” has 16 wooden barracks. Each of these barracks composes one large room, 72 prisoners sleeping is each on double-tier beds, and have two blankets each.
Compounds “A,” “B” and “C” each have six large brick barracks, which are divided into eight large rooms, each one accommodating 72 prisoners with the same sleeping arrangements as for Compound “R.”
Compound “A” is not yet occupied, as the barracks are still undergoing repair. When it is ready for use the Camp Commandant hopes to be able to reduce the number of prisoners in each room to 60, which will alleviate the overcrowding which at present exists.
Compound “D” is also unoccupied, but it is intended to use one of the two large brick barracks as a theatre and some schoolrooms and library, and the other as a church and some store rooms. The prisoners will be able to help in the work of repairing these barracks.
Air-raid trenches are being prepared, but as the camp is situated in a rural district it is said to be relatively safe.
On the day of the visit there were 6,512 prisoners in the camp, of whom 3,162 are R.A.F.N.C.O.s, who are not segregated from the Army personnel. This total also includes 645 Canadian, 349 Australians, 225 New Zealanders, and 415 South Africans. There were only three British prisoners of war in the camp hospital.
Daylight is insufficient in most of the brick barracks. It is intended to en-
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12 The Prisoner of War FEBRUARY, 1945
large the existing windows and to open new ones in the two end rooms. There will be no electric lighting at all in the camp until the work of installing the fittings throughout the camp is finished. Each room has two stoves, except for Compound “R,” where the stoves are ready for installation.
Washing and toilet facilities are adequate; in Compound “R” there is a large wash-house with 150 cold water taps, and hot water in large boilers every day.
Compound “C” has wash-rooms at the end of each barrack. Compounds “A” and “B”, when completed, will have the same arrangements; in the meantime the prisoners from these compounds can use one of the large laundries in Compound “E.” Each man is able to have a hot shower about once in ten days.
The prisoners cook their own food. They receive the same German rations as all other British prisoners of war. There was no complaint about the quality of the food. The chief difficulty is the lack of fuel for the boilers. There is no canteen at present in the camp, but the camp authorities promised to open one as soon as Compound “D” is completed. However, there is very little for sale.
At the time of visit there was no stock of Red Cross food parcels owing to the large increase in personnel. Nor was there any stock of clothing, and some prisoners are without greatcoats.
There are three chaplains in the camp, one Church of Scotland, one Church Army, and one Methodist. Arrangements are being made for Roman Catholic and Church of England clergymen to visit the camp.
So far little has been done in the camp with regard to recreational facilities. The prisoners will be allowed to start on the work of completing Compound “D” so that they may have a theatre, library, school, etc. There is plenty of room for exercise within the Compounds, including football and cricket, for which the prisoners have the necessary sports gear. The general state of health in this camp can be considered as good.
STALAG XIB, FALLINGBOSTEL
Of the 56 British prisoners of war in the main camp, four are N.C.O.’s and remainder other ranks. 1,981 British prisoners of war are in 10 work detachments based on the main camp.
There was an adequate supply of Red Cross parcels in the camp and labour detachments at the time of the visit. A new shipment of clothing had arrived and the position had consequently improved. Boot repair material is still short.
A Church of England padre arrived during June and is able to visit the working detachments. The camp leader is also able to go and visit the men stationed away from the main camp whenever he wants to.
The conditions in the camp hospital and infirmary are very good. On the day of the visit there were 22 patients in the hospital and three in the infirmary. The German authorities agreed to the transfer of four tubercular patients to the sanatorium at Elsterhorst as soon as transport was available.
No. 7004, Barum (Labour Detachment dependent on Stalag XIB) was visited for the first time since it was opened in December, 1943. 179 prisoners of war are engaged in laying a private railway line and live in two barracks situated in open country. There are nine rooms, each accommodating 20 men. A third barrack is used for washing purposes.
Interior arrangements are very satisfactory. There is plenty of space, and the heating, lighting and ventilation are good. Each man has two German blankets. A stove is available for cooking Red Cross and private parcels. Washing facilities are adequate. Cold showers daily and one hot shower weekly. The prisoners do their own laundry. Health is at a high standard and there is a good supply of medicaments in the small six-bed infirmary.
Every Sunday afternoon the prisoners are allowed to swim or play football. There is a supply of indoor games and musical instruments in the camp. Beer is delivered, but other canteen stocks are practically non-existent. Mail is rather slow at present.
(Visited August, 1944.)
Reports from other detachments dependent upon Stalag XIB, Nos. 7002-3 and 7004-7, appeared in last month’s issue.
[Photograph of men in uniform around a coffin] The funeral with full military honours of a prisoner of war from working detachment 855 attached to Stalag IVA, who died in hospital last year.
STALAG IVC
Repeated representations have been made through the Protecting Power concerning British prisoners of war in Stalag IVC, who are said to be working 12 hours a day, seven days a week, with one Sunday off a month. Sir James Grigg said in answer to a question in the House of Commons on January 16th that so far no satisfaction had been received, but that representations would be continued to be made as long as there is the slightest hope of achieving results.
CIVILIAN INTERNMENT CAMPS
ILAG WURZACH
Since the date of the last report on this family camp (see issue for May, page6) there have been some improvements, but the camp cannot yet be considered as entirely satisfactory. It is crowded; there are still vermin, and there is little free space within the camp perimeter, although walks can be taken in the monastery garden every day and the sports ground is available once a week.
Kitchen equipment is very modern and the internees can prepare their own food from the official rations and from the contents of Red Cross food parcels. White bread and milk are provided for the sick and for the children. Each internee can have one hot shower a week. Medical attention is satisfactory, and the state of health is good.
The camp library contains several thousand books and the internees have some musical instruments and indoor games. They have formed an orchestra and a theatrical company. The children receive instruction from professional schoolmasters and the kindergarten in well equipped.
The situation as regards clothing is satisfactory, but there is a lack of repair material.
Last visited by the Protecting Power on the 1st June, 1944, and by the International Red Cross on the 7th September.
ILAG LIEBENAU
Since the date of the last report on this civilian internment camp (see issue for May, 1944, page 6) there have been no great changes. Materially, the camp makes a good impression, the convent and adjoining buildings being of modern construction, while the garden and courtyard are well looked after. It has, however, been necessary recently to take steps against vermin. Each internee can have a hot bath or shower every week.
(Continued on page 15.)
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FEBRUARY, 1945 The Prisoner of War 13
Groups from the Camps
[Photograph of three rows of men, some in uniform, some in sports kit, two lying on the ground at the front] STALAG XXA
[Photograph of three rows of men] OFLAG VA
[Photograph of three rows of men in uniform] STALAG IVB
[Photograph of four rows of men in uniform] HEILAG IVD/Z
[Photograph of three rows of men in uniform] STALAG III D
[Photograph of three rows of men in uniform] STALAG VIII B
[Photograph of two rows of men in uniform] MARLAG U. MILAG NORD
[Photograph of two rows of men in uniform] STALAG 383
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14 The Prisoner of War FEBRUARY, 1945
EXAMINATION SUCCESSES
During 1944 the number of examination entries more than doubled that of the previous year. Over 6,000 examination scripts have now been received, and over 3,000 results were announced last year. The proportion of total passes for the year was 78.5 per cent., a figure reflecting great credit on instructors and candidates.
In a recent pass list issued by the Royal Society of Arts, there were 29 first classes out of 147 entries. Two of those who gained first classes also gained distinction in the oral test in French.
[Photograph of a group of men] The Theological Society at Oflag 79. This photograph was taken during the summer of last year.
Information has been received from the Institute of Book-keepers that one of their examination candidates, who was awarded a prize in the summer examinations, has written to them saying that the certificates he gained have been instrumental in obtaining for him a good position since his repatriation to Australia.
A Rover crew has been started in Stalag 383. Some of its members have sent home studies for Part I of the 1943-44 Scout Woodbadge Papers, and they have been forwarded to the Scout Headquarters in London.
A pass list for July to December, 1944, is in preparation and will be available soon. Application should be sent with 3d. in stamps to the Educational Books Section at the New Bodleian, Oxford .
Y.M.C.A. SPORTS MEDAL
Won by District Man of Confidence
The Y.M.C.A. sports medal, which was described in the January issue of the journal, may be awarded to any prisoner of war who has done especially good work in the interests of his fellow-men in captivity, as well as for outstanding sportsmanship. It has recently been won by a district man of confidence at Stalag IVA for carrying out his duties in “a most efficient and wholehearted manner during his term of office” on the recommendation of the chief man of confidence as a token of esteem.
His Tasks
The tasks of a district man of confidence in looking after the interests of the detachments in his area are exacting and varied. He is responsible for the distribution of Red Cross parcels, cigarettes, clothing and boots, Y.M.C.A. sports equipment and games.
He also sees that boots are repaired and clothing renewed when necessary, organises inter-detachment sports and football matches, and changes books and gramophone records to ensure that there is a steady flow of new material.
Infinite patience and understanding are required in answering the numerous questions put to him by the men; and his settlement of any little troubles which arise must be just.
[Boxed] How They Help
In addition to those mentioned below, we wish to thank the many kind readers whose help to the funds this month we cannot find room to record here individually. [/boxed]
Those who have been fortunate enough to be repatriated do not forget their companions they have left behind in the camps, and from many of them have come sums to be devoted to those who are still prisoners of war. Among them, Pte. F. Harffey, of Hastings, who was released from Switzerland, sends a contribution in appreciation of what the Red Cross was able to do for him and “to help my fellow-prisoners who are having a bad time in Germany.” Men who are still in the camp frequently ask their relatives to forward donations for them to the Red Cross, and Mrs. Burton, of Stafford, is one of the next of kin who has forwarded £5 from her husband.
At the present time money from many of the past year’s efforts is arriving. Mrs. McKinder forwards £55 from Hull, her third annual contribution, achieved by pickling onions, selling garden produce and fancy articles. “It has been hard work, but I have loved it,” Mrs. McKinder assures us, and she is already planning another year’s work. Mrs. Crowson, who lives in Lincoln, saves sixpence for every issue of “The Prisoner of War” which she receives, and among a host of regular supporters are Mrs. Huxford, of Woodbridge, and Mrs. Galloway, of Maida Vale, who send contributions every month.
Christmas sales of work find eager customers and once again we are indebted to those who have so successfully planned them to help the Red Cross. From a sale of home-made gifts and toys organised by Mrs. Francis (who had previously raised £69 by her own efforts) and three helpers at Wrexham has come £168. The 4th Whitby (County School) Guides have sent a cheque for £20, the result of a Christmas sale and entertainment which they arranged, while the Rayleigh Methodist Youth Club raised £60, also from a sale and concert, their fourth effort of this kind. A money order for £4 15s. has been sent by the pupils of Tynyrheol Council School, near Bridgend, as a special Christmas greeting and a Christmas gift of £10 came from Percymain School, Cullercoats.
Mrs. Brinkworth, of Forest Gate, has been busy stitching gloves for sale among her friends, and slippers made by Mrs. Fry have been purchased by people in Andover to the value of £10. £1 6s. has been sent by Mrs. O’Neill, of Preston, for her daughter, Pat, whose uncle is a prisoner of war, and has sold some of her precious story books to collect this money.
P.o.W.s Gifts for Children
Members of the Lothian and Border Yeomanry who are in Stalag 357 have sent home £100, asking that it should be spent to provide presents at Christmas-time for the children of their less fortunate comrades who have fallen in action.
£50 has also been received by the Welfare Fund of this regiment from men at Stalag 383, who made the same generous gesture of remembrance and loyalty to their comrades. As the money reached this country too late for Christmas, it will be used to send the children toys and savings certificates for Easter.
[Page break]
FEBRUARY, 1945 The Prisoner of War 15
Red Cross Exhibition Coach
Over 23,000 people in five Lancashire towns have now visited the Red Cross mobile Exhibition Coach, which continues its 4,000-mile railway tour of England. The Exhibition is contained in a bob-damaged dining car which has been repaired, equipped with show-cases and lent to the Red Cross and St. John Penny-a-week Fund by the L.M.S.
Red Cross activities displayed include services to prisoners of war of food parcels, comforts and training schemes; and work for the wounded shows their transports to hospital, comforts, medical and surgical stores, and some of the reconstruction done during convalescence.
The coach will be on view at the station of at least 60 towns, and this month’s programme is as follows:-
February.
1st, 2nd, Bradford (Forster Square).
3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, Leeds City (South).
8th, 9th, 10th, Darlington.
12th, 13th, 14th, Newcastle-on-Tyne (Central).
16th, 17th, Sunderland.
19th, 20th, West Hartlepool.
21st, 22nd, Middlesbrough.
23rd, 24th, 26th, York.
27th, 28th, March 1st, Hull (Paragon).
CAMP REPORTS
(Continued from page 12)
Food is still excellent and there is a good supply of Red Cross food parcels. Medical treatment is satisfactory and the general state of health is remarkably good. The supply of clothing, however, especially shoes, is proving something of a difficulty.
Recreational and educational facilities are as good as ever, although it was reported in June that the camp theatre had been closed for three months. The German authorities promised, however, to take the necessary steps to enable the internees to give performances again.
Last visited by the Protecting Power in the 2nd June, 1944, and by the International Red Cross on the 7th September.
ILAG KREUZBERG
Since the date of the last report on this camp (see issue for July, 1944, page 6) there have been no outstanding changes. There are approximately 370 internees in the camp, some of whom are volunteers working in four different working detachments.
Every internee enjoys a weekly bath. Arrangements for private cooking are satisfactory, and there is a stock of Red Cross food parcels. There was, however, a complaint that too many dried vegetables were being received.
The state of health of the internees is generally satisfactory. Recreational and exercise facilities are still excellent.
Last visited by the Protecting Power on July 24th, 1944.
KNIT THIS
Cosy Cap
[Photograph of a knitted hat]
[Instructions for knitting the pictured hat]
A Prisoner’s Poetry
SGT. R.P.L. MOGG, a journalist by profession, who was shot down over Germany and taken prisoner early in the war, vividly expresses his experiences of flying with the R.A.F. in six moving poems written during captivity.
A fellow prisoner of war, Sgt. J.W. Lambert, has contributed striking pictures to illustrate the poems which he has lettered beautifully in Gothic style.
The collection, under the title of the first poem, For This Alone, published by Basil Blackwell (8s. 6d.) is printed in facsimile just as it was received from the prisoner of war camp. It includes verses on the vigil of airmen’s wives and a flight of bombers, which reveal a sensitive imagination, and the “Requiem for Dead Airmen,” with which the book ends is remarkable for its simplicity.
An introduction by Edward Alderton reminds those who might accuse the author of being morbid that the dividing line between operational flying and death is of a very nebulous character.
For This Alone is an unusual book which demonstrates once again the patience and creativeness with which prisoners of war master their circumstances.
[Boxed] FREE TO NEXT OF KIN
This journal is sent free of charge to those registered with the Prisoners of War Dept.as next of kin. In view of the paper shortage no copies are for sale, and it is hoped that next of kin will share their copy with relatives and others interested. [/boxed]
[Page break]
16 The Prisoner of War FEBRUARY, 1945
[Underlined] Please Study This Carefully [/underlined]
NEXT-OF-KIN PARCELS
With reference to the instructions on page 26 of the Prisoner of War for December, please note that the allowance of 20 extra coupons (and extra chocolate and soap) made to compensate for 1944 issues missed owing to the suspension of despatches, can be made only up to the end of February and only to next of kin who still hold a 1944/3 label (or earlier 1944 issue) with 20 coupons.
Next of kin who qualify, and apply for, the extra coupons for use with a label already in their possession, are particularly requested not to despatch a parcel with this label before they receive the extra coupons, because these must be accounted for at the same time as the issue already held.
If a parcel is sent in without the extra coupons being accounted for at the same time, they will have to be sent back to the packing centre for clearance, before any subsequent label can be issued.
The extra allowances cannot, in any circumstances, be made with a 1944/4 or any 1945 label.
Applications should state clearly whether the next of kin holds an issue of label and coupons, and if so, its number.
IMPORTANT. – Please note that no applications for an extra allowance of coupons to be used with a 1944 label will be considered after February 28th, 1945. Applications received after that date will not be answered.
DESPATCHES FROM FINSBURY CIRCUS AND GLASGOW
In consequence of the very great number of parcels received since the beginning of December and the difficulty of obtaining extra labour, the despatches from the Packing Centres at Finsbury Circus and Glasgow are about one month in arrears.
The issue of labels and coupons is also consequently delayed.
All possible steps are being undertaken to overcome the difficulties, and next of kin are asked to help by not making enquiries about the despatch of their parcel and the issue of their next label and coupons until at least two months have elapsed since they sent their parcel.
FOUR REMINDERS
Here are four reminders from Finsbury Circus Packing Centre which, if followed, will help Red Cross workers to deal with your parcels with the least possible delay:-
1. When packing your parcel, please be careful to see that it is not overweight. If it is, some important article may have to be returned to you.
2. When ordering chocolate and soap it must be remembered that the final weight of the parcel after the addition of these articles must not be more than 10lb. Money for chocolate or soap, also invoices, coupons and acknowledgement card must be sent inside the parcel – not by separate letter post.
3. All articles intended for inclusion in a parcel should be sent together; it is exceedingly difficult to link up articles sent at different times.
4. All three copies of the invoice which accompany each parcel to the Packing Centre should be clearly written so that they can be checked quickly.
STAFF WANTED
The Prisoners of War Department, St. James’s Palace, S.W.1, is urgently in need of staff, i.e., correspondence, filing and indexing clerks; shorthand and copy typists (women only). Full time or part time (30 hours weekly).
Offers of assistance, voluntary or salaried, would be much appreciated, and should be addressed to:-
The Personnel Officer, Prisoners of War Department, B.R.C.S. and St. John, St. James’s Palace, S.W.1.
Hours of interview: 10.30 a.m. to 12 p.m. or 2 p.m. to 4 p.m., with the exception of Saturday afternoons.
Money from P.o.W.s
As many enquiries about remittances from prisoners are still being addressed to St. James’s Palace, we reprint this notice.
Arrangements have been made with the German Government which enables a prisoner of war to transfer any part of his credit balance in Germany to this country. These arrangements operate as from November 1st, 1943.
Notification of the prisoners’ wishes are received by the Government on lists transmitted through Switzerland, and relatives will understand that these lists take longer to reach this country than letters from individual prisoners informing them of the impending remittances.
Enquiries should not be addressed to the Red Cross, which is not concerned in such payments. Relatives will hear in due course from the Paymaster or Bank concerned.
[Boxed] YOUR ENQUIRIES
The Prisoner of War Department at St. James’s Palace is very busy and very short of staff.
To enable essential enquiries to be answered with as little delay as possible, will you please make your letters as SHORT and CLEAR as you can. [/boxed]
CHANGE OF ADDRESS
If you are expecting your prisoner home in the forthcoming repatriation, do not forget to notify the appropriate Service Department or Record Office and the local Red Cross P.O.W. representative of any change of address.
P.o.W. Exhibition Catalogues
A few copies of the catalogue of the Prisoners of War Exhibition held in London last year are still available (price 6d., or 7d. including postage).
Those who wish to order a catalogue as a record of their impressions of the exhibition should apply to:-
Mr. Tomlins, Red Cross and St John War Organisation, Publicity Department, 24, Carlton House Terrace, London, S.W.1.
COUNTY REPRESENTATIVES
Please note the following change of address:-
ESSEX: Mrs. Hanbury, The Central Library, Duke Street, Chelmsford.
HAMPSHIRE: The p.o.w. representative is:
Mrs. T. Dodd, Old Library House, Dean Park Road, Bournemouth.
Printed in Great Britain for the Publishers, THE RED CROSS AND ST. JOHN WAR ORGANISATION, 14, Grosvenor Crescent, London, S.W., by THE CORNWALL PRESS LTD., Paris Garden, Stamford Street, London, S.E.1.
Dublin Core
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Title
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The Prisoner of War February 1945
Description
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The official journal of the Prisoners of War Department of the Red Cross and St John War Organisation. This edition covers the Food Situation about food parcel delivery, Editors comments, Sport reports from the Camps, suggestions for parcel contents, POW letters, Personalities at Stalag XXB, Birthday celebrations in the camps, Linking Relief for the World, Official Reports from the Camps, Group photographs from the Camps, Exam results, charitable contributions, news about the Red Cross exhibition coach, a knitting pattern for a woollen cap, a poetry book and next-of-kin parcels,
Date
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1945-02
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16 printed sheets
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eng
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Text
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MCurnockRM1815605-171114-024
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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France
France--Marseille
Germany
Germany--Bleicherode
Germany--Eichstätt
Germany--Görlitz (Görlitz)
Poland--Kołobrzeg
Poland--Malbork
Great Britain
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Channel Islands
England--Bradford
England--Cullercoats
England--Hull
England--Leeds
England--Lincoln
England--Liverpool
England--London
England--London
England--Stockport
England--Woodbridge (Suffolk)
Wales--Bridgend
Wales--Wrexham
Netherlands
Netherlands--Arnhem
Sweden
Sweden--Stockholm
Switzerland
Switzerland--Geneva
Switzerland--St. Gallen
Lithuania
Poland
Lithuania--Šilutė
Poland--Tychowo
Poland--Żagań
Germany--Bad Fallingbostel
Poland--Kędzierzyn-Koźle
England--Northumberland
England--Suffolk
England--Yorkshire
England--Lancashire
England--Lincolnshire
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Great Britain. Red Cross and St John war organisation. Prisoners of war department
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
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Anne-Marie Watson
Temporal Coverage
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1945-02
aircrew
animal
arts and crafts
entertainment
prisoner of war
Red Cross
sanitation
sport
Stalag Luft 3
Stalag Luft 4
Stalag Luft 6
Stalag Luft 7
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1441/29093/BPerkinsFWJPerkinsFWJv1.1.pdf
399a52b273385620102351e9d4c96d5e
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Perkins, Frederick William James
F W J Perkins
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2015-09-17
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Perkins, FWJ
Description
An account of the resource
23 items. The collection concerns Frederick William James Perkins (1143173 Royal Air Force) who served as an engineer on radar research and as an armourer in the middle east. Collection and contains a memoir, propaganda leaflets and photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by F Perkins and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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[underlined]The Memories of LAC Fred Perkins[/underlined]
Frederick William James Perkins
Leading AirCraftman (LAC) 1143173
Main Service: Fitter Armourer General, Liberator Bombers, Middle East Theatre.
Joined Full Time Service 23 May 1941
Began Overseas Service 13 August 1943
Ended Service 26 May 1946
Transcribed from the dictated 2015 memories of Fred Perkins, aged 94.
[underlined]Joining and Basic Training[/underlined]
I volunteered to join the Royal Air Force in February 1941. I went to Worcester to volunteer and I wanted to be an aircrewman. I was enrolled and sent up to Padgate, in Lancashire, to be tested for an aircrew roll. Straight off, I could see what I was up against for a place in aircrew training. Everyone else was from a university at a time when being a student meant you were the cream at the top, and I knew I didn’t stand a chance. They accepted me into the RAF but put me on deferred service for aircrew. I got sent back into civi-street and I had a card that said I was in deferred service so I couldn't be put into another branch of the military, but could get called up at any time to the RAF. Eventually I was called up and sent to a different airbase for training as an engineer, instead.
[underlined]First Posting[/underlined]
I had my first proper posting down in RAF Christchurch, by Bournemouth (the airfield no longer exists). It was a radar research place, then, and they were experimenting on improving the radar system that had just been invented. I was assigned as general ground crew to part of the Telecommunications Flying Unit (Later the Radar Flying Unit). It was civilian billets at that point, a couple of us in each house: one airman and one technician. They were quite big houses and they looked out over the sea. Being on the south coast, the beach and the bottom of the gardens were strung with thick barbed-wire in case of invasion by boat. On a Friday, I went to the Paymaster General, to collect the rent, twentyfour and sixpence for the week, bed and breakfast. Often, in the morning, we would have to go out and round up the New Forest ponies that would wander onto the airstrip in the night. We had to get the tractor and move them off before the planes could take off. One day, I was walking past the Flight Officer’s office, an old cricket pavilion, and he said to me “You wanted to be aircrew, didn’t you?” I said I did. He said “I’ve got just the job for you. Go down to the flight office and pick up a parachute, then go up to the end of the
[page break]
runway”. When I got to the end of the runway, not much more than a grass strip, there was an aircraft called a FaireyBattle. It was a lovely aircraft with a Rolls-Royce engine, and it was all metal. They were supposed to be a fighter-bomber but weren’t very good, so they were being used for training radar. It was perfect for radar testing as the metal body was great for screwing all these little di-pole reflectors into. So I got in this thing, in the back as an observer and lookout, and off it took, the wingtips wobbling as it went over the grass. We went out over the Channel and I was to look out for German fighters. In those days, the Germans were there, only twenty nine miles away in France. We flew out over the Channel, then came back in and they would test the radar detection zones with the aircraft to determine the distance and direction that the early warning system would work. We would go out into the Channel, come back in, then down towards the west coast and over Torquay, then come back to Christchurch. As we came back in, the pilot said “How do you feel, you look a bit green?” I told him “I feel a bit green!” He told me to come back the next day, and sure enough we went up again, almost in the same area, then off towards Southampton to test that coverage. Southampton was an important area with all the docks. I felt a bit ill, then, with all the ducking and diving there, what with having to avoid all the barrage air balloons and the like. I went up a number of times, as a look-out. When I wasn’t in the back of the FaireyBattle, I would work on the petrol bowsers. They carried a thousand gallons of highoctane petrol, with a fifty gallon oil tank dragged behind. I would fill up the aircraft fuel and make sure the engines and controls were well oiled. I had a few days leave, then. When I came back, I asked if there was any chance of going up again in the ‘Battle. The Flight Officer said “You’ll be lucky, the aircraft was shot down over the Channel!” No-one knew what had happened, it had disappeared over the Channel, and that was it. They carried on the effort with several other planes, but I didn’t get to go up again. We weren’t at Christchurch for that long. We built some dome huts to live in, moving out of civilian billets, and I remember one night playing cards in one of these huts. The Germans came along and dropped some bombs right down the back of us and I thought they’d hit us directly. The explosions blew out the candles and plunged us into darkness and I thought for a moment that I was dead. We had a lot of aircraft there: Beaufighters, Mosquitoes, FaireyBattles, others, all fitted up with radar and camouflaged with trees and nets. Parts of the airfield were hit, but the bombs missed all the planes, they didn’t touch any of them. I nearly got hit several times. One night I went to the cinema and there was a raid. The Lyon's Cafe, on the corner, got hit and when we came out of the shelter, the cafe wasn't there anymore. Another time, I was cycling from Christchurch to the nearby airfield of Hurn. I heard the sirens go off, so I was peddling like mad, and all of a sudden I heard a swissssh. A line of bombs was dropped in front of me, in between Christchurch and Bournemouth. Of course, now the Germans knew where we were. They knew we were developing radar in such a way, and that it was such an important technology. They knew where we were, and seeing as we were just the other side of the Channel to them, it was too dangerous to stay. We had to move.
[page break]
We spent three days getting everything into the back of lorries, three dozen of them, and we moved up to Salisbury Plains. From there, we used the cover of darkness to go north. The lads in the back had no idea where we were going. We just piled into the back of some jeeps and followed the lead truck. Eventually, we arrived at Defford, in Worcestershire, just east of Malvern. It was just fields of tall grass and broad beans, when we got there, and the sweet smell hit us as we got out of the jeeps. We had to get the farmer out to plough the fields before we could use them. After the planes had arrived, we built a better runway and we stayed there for some time. RAF Defford was born and we carried on with radar work. You can still see some of the radar dishes there, today. One day, I was helping the top engineer with one of the fighters. He was having problems getting the oil pressure up in the engine and was revving the engine very high. The plane was jumping up and down with the vibrations until it jumped right over the chocks holding it in place. It started off down the runway with the engineer inside. It took him to the bottom of the runway to put the breaks on and get it stopped. We had to tow it back up the field with a truck, eventually, when everybody had finished laughing!
[underlined]Full Time Fitter Training[/underlined]
After that, I was called up to Kirkham, in Lancashire (what is now HM Prison Kirkham) for a training course for fitters and armourers. The course would normally have run for several years, but was condensed down into about fourteen months for us. (Between 1939 and 1945 RAF Kirkham trained 72,000 British and allied service men and women. In November 1941 Kirkham became the main armament training centre for the RAF, with 21 different trades and 86 different courses on equipment and weapons varying from 22 riffles to 75mm guns.) We were trained by Rolls Royce civilian trainers. There were about five hundred of us in a big hangar, twenty-five in a row, each section with an instructor. The training was great, there was no better training than the RAF. I used to enjoy it, I was quite keen on the job. We were trained in a number of different trades including blacksmithing, tin smithing, copper smithing, hydraulics, the lot. They took you from scratch. We had weeks of filing and grinding six-inch blocks of steel. You would file it flat, by hand, or make dove-joints, splits, rivets. Then you would start over on a new piece. The raw material would come on a tip-up truck and would be dumped in a pile for you to grab a piece when you needed it. It was easy to take a bit more of the metal off, but if you made a mistake and took too much off, you couldn't put it back on, you'd have to start again! We had the best tools, too. We had some lovely sets of tools, especially later when I was working on the Liberators. I had a big leather wallet with about twenty files in it: flat, smooth, round, square. We had to work with very fine tolerances, when we made or filed the work, because these things would end up as crucial parts of an airplane and if they failed, or didn't fit properly, the plane could crash and the crew could die. Right from the start, the trainer came over and said “That’s not the first time holding a hammer, is it? You seem to know what you’re doing.” I told him that I had come straight
[page break]
from making ceramic and steel fireplaces, on civi-street, so this was something I had been taught before. We had lots of planes to train on, too. There were six big hangars at Kirkham. Six big hangars with full sized bombers, spitfires, hurricanes, and a night-fighter called a Boulton-Paul Defiant with a turret at the back and painted black. About half-way through, the Adjutant called me into his office and said “You volunteered for aircrew when you joined.” I said “Yes, but they didn’t seem to be too eager at the time, there was no place for me on the aircrew course so they sent me to another squadron to be ground-crew.” The adjutant said “Well, there’s a place for you now.” I told him I wasn’t very interested now, I was training to be a fitter and was halfway through the course. He said “It’s not what you want, Perkins, it’s what the air force wants!” This was fair enough. They were keen, at that time, to get people onto the aircrew section because by that point, the Germans were shooting people out of the sky faster than we could train new men. However, because I had spent so long training to be an armourer, already, they had me finish my course. By the end of the fourteen weeks training, I was a Special Armourer, as opposed to the basic Armourer I was to begin with, which meant that I could work on just about anything and put me into the top group. As soon as I was finished, I was put on the list to be called up for posting overseas.
[underlined]Leaving Liverpool for the Middle East [/underlined]
As soon as my training was finished, I was to report to Liverpool, which was close to where I already was. On Sunday afternoon, we set off for Liverpool. When we got there the docks were full of all these big ships. We were headed for the Empress of Australia, a former cruise liner converted to a troop carrier. There were lots of men getting on her, very few were air force, most were army, marines and commandos. There were, I think, four thousand of us. We set off at around 8pm in the evening, three or four tugs pulling us into the Mersey. By 9pm, the Navy dropped two depth charges because they thought there was a German submarine in the vicinity. We didn’t know what was happening. They dropped these depth charges and I thought we’d been hit by a torpedo! I thought “Oh well, we won’t be going any further.” But instead, the Captain throttled up to full power and we shot out of the area as quick as the ship could go. Everyone was vaccinated, before we got onto the ship, and a few days later my elbow and arm swelled right up with vaccine fever. It took two days for the doctors to get to me, there were only a few on board and if you missed them on their round you had to wait until the next day. When they found me, they put me straight into the hospital quarters where I was waited on for a couple of days, which was lovely. Of course, when there were so many of us on the ship, finding a space for a hammock was very difficult. They were strung up everywhere with no space in between. If you weren’t there to keep a claim on your slot, like if you spend several days in the hospital, you lost your place.
[page break]
We left British waters and went out into the Atlantic, where we sailed around for about a month. We had some ships on the left of us, some on the right, but we were waiting to make up a big convoy. I think we joined a Canadian convoy to make up the numbers. We eventually went down towards Gibraltar. There were, I think, two aircraft carriers, three destroyers, us, some others. About forty odd ships in the convoy as we went through the mouth into the Mediterranean. I think we were the first allied convoy to go through the Mediterranean. Before that, to get to Egypt, the ships had to go all the way round Africa. We could see Gibraltar in the mist, with the Germans on the left, and we knew they had fast boats with torpedoes on them. We went through the strait on the North African side, down passed Benghazi. We spent about a week sailing along there because it was quite a way. I constantly thought we were going to get hammered as soon as the Germans realised we were there but we never saw more than a few German planes in the distance. It was a miracle, really. I heard the ships behind us, in later convoys, got hit, and I remember seeing a tanker in flames, on the horizon. The thing that I remember the most, about going though the Med, was the heat and smell when we hit North Africa. From spending a month in the cold Atlantic, the heat that hit us, coming of Morocco, was like an oven. The smell was strong, too, like spices. Every country I have been in has its own smell. We were so close to the coast, following it all the way around, that you could see people walking on the beach.
[underlined]Palestine and Egypt [/underlined]
We pulled into Port Said, at the mouth of the Suez Canal, on Sunday morning. We had to use pontoons to disembark and walk across to the land because the ship was so big it couldn’t get close enough to let us off. We all had two kit-bags and a Sten gun each. Of course, when we went across the pontoons it was a bit wobbly as there were so many troops getting off. Most of the troops got off first and went along the Suez Canal. Thousands and thousands of them, marching twenty miles down the side of the Suez. We didn’t go that way, there were maybe fifty or sixty of us from the RAF and we went straight to Cairo. It was a Sunday afternoon, but for the people over there it was like a weekday. We drove up to Cairo airport and there was a transit camp for RAF personnel. We were posted, from there, all over the Middle East. It was just tents on sand and we were posted off individually as needed. I was there for two or three weeks. I got to see the Pyramids, at that point. I went right inside with just a little wick candle to light the way. If you blew out the flame it was pitch black. Right inside, as far as you could go, I got. Right into the King's Chamber. I also saw the small hole that went up to the sky and lined up with a certain star at a particular time of the year. I was able to go back, as well, in 1943. About twenty of us were eventually sent off, by train, through the Sinai to Palestine. I was stationed at RAF Lydda (now Ben Gurion International Airport) in Tel Aviv. We stopped there in a small camp, just a tent village. It was a small airstrip to begin with, only small aircraft could use it, so the RAF built it up. We stripped out all of the orange trees,
[page break]
levelled the land and built a proper runway for the bombers. It was probably one of the first parts of the Middle East Bomber Command. We were attached to the Special Airborne division for a couple of months. At that point, we were sending off the bombers on bombing runs to attack the Germans. I broke my leg in Palestine. It had been raining and the ground was very slippery, but we were playing football. I played a lot of football in the RAF, and a lot before too. We had some big games when I was overseas: it was something to entertain the men so it was very popular. I always played Inside Right for the RAF teams and on that day we were playing the Army. They were all tough as hell and just as rough. I got the ball and played it down the wing. I went to kick the ball across the pitch and these two army guys both tackled me and fell across my leg. I broke both the leg and the ligament. They just moved me to the side line and didn't take me off anywhere else until the match had finished! There weren’t any ambulances over there, so I was put in the back of a pick-up wagon. It felt like part of my leg was going in one direction, and the rest in another. They drove me to Nazareth to the make-shift hospital. It was a convent, converted for military use for injured servicemen in the Mediterranean. They fixed me up and plastered my leg. The next day, I thought my leg was itching. The hospital was riddled with bugs and they had gotten into my cast. I had to push them out with sticks and flush them out with water because they were eating my leg. A day later, they took us all out of the hospital, because of the infestation, and put us on a first-aid train. It was like a cattle-wagon full of stretchers. It was open-sided and I thought it would be chilly but as it was Palestine it was nice and warm. They brought us all cups of tea, bread, cheese and a pickle. The train took us to a huge hospital in the middle of Palestine, a huge place, full of all the wounded troops from all over the Middle East. I had my leg in plaster for quite some time, so I was in a wheelchair for a bit. There was this one guy who said they had a cinema, so he took me off to see it. We had to go down a steep hill to get to the cinema. He was pushing me in the wheelchair and fell over as we were going down the hill. Off I went, bouncing down the hill and there was a ditch at the bottom of the hill. I hit the ditch, the chair went over and the wheel was spinning in the air – I can still see it now. All the others did was stand there, laughing their heads off! After that, I joined the 5th Bomber Conversion Unit, working on Liberators. This eventually changed to the 1675 Heavy Conversion Unit and moved back down to RAF Abu Sueir, in Egypt, near to the Suez Canal. I was there for two and a half years. From that airfield, you could see ships going through the main canal. Most of the time it was the tops of the ships in the distance. We couldn’t see the water, just the dunes between us and them, so it looked like the ships were going through the sand. I went swimming in the Suez, on more than one occasion. The last time I did was when I nearly drowned. My mate and I watched a big ship go by and waited for about five minutes before we went in, but it wasn't long enough. I went in and the undercurrent from the ship's wake dragged me under and pushed me down. I fought it but didn't get anywhere and I didn't think I would ever come back up. Luckily, I eventually got out of the current and made it back to the surface, but my lungs were burning like mad.
[page break]
[underlined]The Planes[/underlined]
For most of my overseas time, I worked on Liberators (American B-24s). We had nine Liberators and six fighters: three spitfires and three hurricanes. Liberators were my favourite. They had a good payload and were easy to get inside when you were ‘bombing up’ with the bomb trolley. They weren’t too far up in the air, so you could almost walk in and you pushed the bomb trolley right into the bay. You would put the swan-hook of the winch through the eye of the bomb and you would roll the winch up until the bomb sat in between the two saddles, one on each side. Then you would tighten the saddles on the bottom to keep the bombs steady when the plane was flying. After that, you would put in the detonators into what we called the pistol, at the back of the bomb. You’d put the arming vane into the pistol, followed by the safety pin. The vanes and pins would be kept in a box, fifty yards away from the plane, in case anything happened, and you‘d put the arming vanes into the bombs, to make them live, before the planes took off. I remember one time, we had just finished ‘bombing up’ one side of a Liberator. Everything was in place, all ready to go, and a flight technician went into the aircraft to go through the checklist. He accidentally pulled the wrong lever and all the bombs suddenly fell out onto the ground. Of course, we ran in every direction to get away from the bombs. Not only could they have gone off if the safety pins came out, but they were damn heavy chunks of metal that would roll, as well. You could either get crushed or blown up. Or both. We shot off in every direction and didn’t stop until we were hundreds of meters away. Finally, the technician came out with a red face. I’ve never run so fast in my life! We were more angry, though, about having to sort it all out afterwards. It took us hours to check the bombs, make sure they were safe and then re-fit them. There was lots of sweating, swearing and blinding. We kept the planes and bombs separate, most of the time. The planes were spaced out a long way apart, sometimes it was a fifteen mile round trip to fit all the planes, a mile or so there and back for each separate plane. They needed to be spaced in case there was a bombing raid on the airfield. You didn’t want all the planes and all the ammunition to go up in one lucky hit. We had a big building, in Abu Sueir, that was just for the armoury. We had guns and ammunition and other such things stored there. A big brick place. I was in charge of the munitions and there were three or four guards posted there at all times. There was thick netting and wire, all the usual things, and the guards were supposed to patrol around the outside. I went there, early one mourning, with an officer to inspect the building. When we got there, there was this big hole in the wall, at the back, where all the guns and ammunition were kept. The guards were there, and I asked what was going on, but they just mumbled. Someone’d stolen it all! They left about two or three camels and donkeys there. They had loaded all the guns and ammo they could carry on donkeys and stole off into the night. They must have been disturbed because they left a couple of animals. They’d broken through a double brick wall! They probably waited for an aircraft to come and then hammered like wild on the brick wall under cover of the noise of the aircraft engine.
[page break]
The Liberators were very loud when they took off, they had four engines, and would go on lots of bombing runs over the Mediterranean countries. Sometimes they would drop saboteurs into Italy and Albania. The Liberators would go over in the middle of the night and drop these guys, they were SAS or similar, that type of person. When they did raids in Turkey, we would fit them up to drop leaflets over the enemy territory informing them we would be bombing there in twenty-four hours, giving the civilians time to clear out of the area. For fun, sometimes we would add old crates of waste from the naafi. The crates would be wooden and would whistle when they were dropped, like bombs, and the enemy wouldn’t know if it was a bomb that hadn’t exploded. We dropped supplies, too, all kinds of supplies. Medicines, ammunition and supplies for allied troops. We dropped a lot of medicine in all the areas. They had yellow parachutes on then so you could see them. Of course, the people would gather these parachutes and keep them. The local blankets and beds were rough as hell, so people would take the parachutes as they were nice smooth silk. As a Special Armourer, I also worked on the guns. They were mainly .5’s (0.5 calibre, 12.7mm Browning Gun) which were a good gun. On the Liberator, you’d have probably about 6 stations where you had at least two .5 guns. They did away with the rearturret’s upper guns because when they fired, the crew would have two guns firing each side of their ears, and they didn’t like that very much. But, as I said, the Liberators were easy to work on. You had two side gunners, two .5’s in a side slot. The swivel range of these was limited with a cable. If the gunners were new or got a bit panicky, they could swing the gun round hard and break the cable or stretch it. We would have to reset the cable after each run. We’d get a guy with a long rod, stuck in the end of the barrel, to simulate where the bullets would go. The guy outside would walk around and we would clamp up the new cable inside to where we wanted the range of movement to be. You’d have to stop the range about six feet from something you didn’t want to hit because when you fire the guns, you get a cone of fire and had to build in some leeway. You also had to make sure that if the cable stretched again on the next flight, the gunner couldn’t shoot off the plan’s wing or tail if the cable allowed the gun to turn further than it should. The Spitfire was another one we had to change the guns on. They had .303 guns, there were eight of them. A lot of the British planes had the 303’s, which were no good at all, they had no firepower, they were like pea-shooters. The Americans used all .5s, they were definitely a better firepower. With the fighters, you would put the plane on a trestle, in the flying position, and you had a target about five hundred and fifty feet in front. You had a periscope on the gun and you lined it up to the target so that all the bullets converged in the same place. On occasion, we fitted a 20mm canon, one on each wing, but you had to have a little bit more of an anchorage if you did that on a Spitfire, because of the extra recoil. The 20mm had a special recoil-spring, a square spring. You had to have a special clamp to squash and compress it, as it was so strong to deal with the extra force of the canon when it fired. You’ve probably seen the canons in the old war films where the 20mm would strafe enemy trains.
[page break]
There were different types of ammunition, too. You’d have armour piecing shells, but we never liked them because they would wear out the barrel on the canon. You’d have incendiary ones, normal shells, they were both fine. But we used the canons more on the Hurricanes because those planes were more substantial. So we used to like to put them there. The Hurricanes also had a bit more room to move about with. The Spitfires were cramped to mount the guns. You had to be careful on the Spitfires, more than the Hurricanes, because the Spitfires used to catch fire. There was excess oil, sometimes, in the Spitfire exhaust cylinders, that could be left behind. So the flight mechanics would stand by with fire extinguishers in case the thing caught fire when it was started. The mechanic who was testing the plane would keep the engine going to blow out the flames because it was too late by that point to do anything else. We had a lot of problems with the Spitfires, out in the desert, because they were so light and flimsy, compared to the Hurricanes. You’d see them land at the end of the runway and not come any further. When you got down to the end of the strip, the thing would be tipped up on its nose! The front end would be dug into the ground. It was too front heavy and easily caught gusts of wind. It caused no end of trouble for us and the pilots. All sorts of things would happen, or go wrong, when I was out there in the Middle East. One bomber came back late, from a run over Greece. It finally came into view, coming from the Sinai towards us in Abu Sueir, over the Suez Canal. As it was nearing the end of the runway, there was this tremendous bang and the plane just blew up! We never found out what had happened. When we got to the site of the wreckage, it was all just burning fragments, too little to find anything else. It wasn’t like now with forensic teams to check every last millimetre. On another occasion, a plane came in without the undercarriage down. It scrapped along the ground and everyone was okay, but the plane was a write-off. We had to winch it up, put it on a large lorry and take it off for spares. We often had to clean out the planes, once they had returned from a bombing run. The aircrew would be trapped in these things for many hours and there was often waste that needed cleaning out. Some of the crew would get airsick and there would be vomit. Sometimes the Germans would attack the planes and shoot at them and if the plane was hit, there may be blood as well. What ever it was, we sluiced it all down with paraffin. One time, a Liberator came back with fewer crew than it left with. The plane didn't get into combat, but the rear gunner was missing. The hatch was open and the guy was gone. We thought he must have had enough and jumped out. It happened, sometimes, if someone decided they couldn't take it anymore. Being an aircrewman could be very stressful and sometimes someone would just snap.
[underlined]Local Wildlife[/underlined]
The difficulties of living out there were not limited to the aircraft. I went to a lot of places, but they all taught you to get used to varied, tough conditions. In one place there were four of us sleeping on a concrete hangar floor. Out in the desert, it was just sand and
[page break]
dust and tents. You had to check your bed, or hammock or what ever, for snakes before you got in for the night. Every morning, you‘d have to turn your boots upside down and hit them with a stick to get any scorpions out! You’d get bedbugs and things, the way we got rid of those was to thrown paraffin over the bed and blankets, then watch all these things come scurrying out. The paraffin evaporated off quickly in the desert. I slept in the armoury, quite often. I remember having to turn the light on, at night, because the scorpions would come in under cover of darkness and run across the floor. The light would dazzle them and you could hit them with a stick. I remember, as well, one night I was lying in a bed and a snake fell onto the mosquito net. I was in Palestine at the time and thought a terrorist had lobbed a grenade into the room. But I thought “If it is going to go off, it goes off, I’m not getting out of bed!” The next morning, the Palestinian guard came round, whilst I went off for breakfast, and he found the snake coiled up in the warmth of my blankets. When I came back, he’d already hit it with the butt of his rifle and laid this four foot snake out on the floor. We’d get eaten alive by mosquitoes, too, quite often, especially in Abu Sueir. We would work at night, as often as not, refitting the bombers for an early morning raid. We’d work under arclight, the Sweetwater Canal ran right along the side of the aerodrome and the light would draw the mosquitos right to us. There were bigger animal pests, too. There were a lot of stray dogs there, and they had a lot of diseases. Every Tuesday morning, early, I had to go around with a rifle and shoot any strays. On one particular day, I was doing my rounds and some wild dogs were running across the field. So I got my rifle and shot all three of them. When I got closer, to collect the bodies and burn them, I saw that one of the dogs was an alsatian. It was only then that I realised that only two of the dogs were wild, and they were chasing the alsatian. The alsatian was the pet of the Chief Engineer, and I had shot it, too. The Chief was okay about it, the dog should have been locked up and had gotten loose, but I still felt bad. What ever the problems you dealt with them because you were all in it together. You had comrades. You didn’t fight amongst yourselves, the comradeship was so unique, you stuck together as a unit, you had a great temperament and it all blends in to those harsh conditions. You put your life in everyone else’s hands, so you trust them, you look after each other. It’s hard to understand when you are in another walk of life.
[underlined]Iraq [/underlined]
When the European war ended, there was nothing left for us to do in Egypt, so I was allocated to another post and taken into the Navy Fleet Air Arm. I was sent to Basra, in Iraq: RAF Shaibah. There wasn’t much of anything there, before the RAF got there. It was built for the war. They were short on fitter-armourer generals. There were only five of us there. When you were a fitter general it meant that you could do everything. The work ranged right from the cameras that were fitted along side the guns for reconnaissance and records, to the fluid for the hydraulic systems that operated the turrets. You had to bleed and feed that fluid at different times of the day because it would expand and contract with the big temperature ranges you got in the desert.
[page break]
I taught some of the local Iraqi army how to shoot. They had guns but they didn't have any proper training on how to shoot correctly. Every Friday afternoon I would take these guys to the range and teach them how to sight up a gun, how to adjust the fore- and back-sights to correct the bias. The foresights would often take a bashing, being on the tip of the barrel, and the men would be rough with the guns and knock the irons. Teaching the Iraqis to keep the gun sights lined up meant the difference between being able to hit their targets and missing by miles. One day, one of the recruits shot wide at something. The round ricocheted and hit a tractor in the fuel tank. There was a hell of a bang, a lot of shouting in different languages, and a tractor on its side, blown over by the explosion. The Iraqis were friendly, but the Sudanese were a problem. We had an open-air cinema and we were all sitting round watching a film. There was a lot of banging going on and we thought it was the film. That was until someone shouted "Duck!" It was the Sudanese, driving around in the desert nearby, shooting off their rifles! Everyone was more annoyed with the disruption than with the threat of being shot! Then the Japanese war ended and there was no more use for us at all.
[underlined] Coming Home [/underlined]
I was in the RAF until my last posting in Iraq in 1946. I remember leaving Shaibah in a Dakota transport plane, heading back to towards Egypt. We took off and the plane was overloaded with troops and gear. After a short while into the flight, there was a huge sandstorm right in front of us, thousands of feet high and tens of miles wide. We couldn’t get over the top as we were already overloaded, so the pilot tried to go through. I felt the pressure of the sand hit the plane, then there was a huge gust of wind and the plane went over on its side and scythed through the air, dropping like a stone. We were lucky we didn’t hit the deck and all get killed. I thought I’d been out there for four, five years, survived the whole war and nearly been wiped out on my way home! Once I got to Egypt, I came back across the Mediterranean on a ship from Alexandria. It took a week to cross the sea to France, Toulon. I remember the harbour was absolutely packed with ships that had been sunk. (The French had scuttled their own fleet to prevent the Germans from getting their hands on them). The locals had very little to eat, at that point, and almost no bread. On our ship we had so much bread that it had gone stale by the time we arrived in Toulon and it was all thrown overboard into the sea. I don't know why it wasn't saved, but I remember loads of loaves of bread floating in the sea. When we got into port, you couldn't buy even a biscuit! We stayed in what was left of the German’s camp, there, for a week or so before heading to Calais. It was several days across France, by train, mostly at night. I remember it was a moon-lit night as we passed Paris and I could see the Eiffel Tower in the moonlight. I also remember taking a walk out into the fields, when we stopped for an hour at one point, just walking through the crops.
[page break]
We finally crossed the Channel, back into Dover, at about ten at night. The next morning, I was de-mobbed in Stratford. I got my de-mob suit, a quick medical, my money and was out of the gate. As quick as that I was out of the Air force. Done. When you come out of the service, you do feel a bit lost. You had a regimented life in the service, and they looked after you. The RAF looked after you really well, but when you leave, it’s all down to you. You have to completely adjust yourself. It’s probably harder to come out than it ever was going in. You had to work all times of the day. In the service, you are paid to work 24 hours a day and you work for 23 hours 59 minutes. I wasn't relieved to be out of the air force, to be honest. We travelled so much, spent so long in different countries, that I felt immune to much of the feelings of 'home'. No matter where you went, you were the same person, you weren't excited, you weren't depressed, you just went with it. I never thought "Thank God I survived that" or "I made it through". You had to be immune to all of that, if you wanted to keep your sanity. So much happens to you, and you are pushed and pulled in all directions that you just had to go with the flow. It was almost like brain-washing, in a good way. "Do as you are told, go where we tell you and you will be taken care of" was the feeling you got in the RAF. They looked after you, as much as they could. You never knew what the enemy was going to do, but you knew those around you had your back. If you didn't keep that in mind, you would have gone mad. I had about six weeks of leave stored up, when I was de-mobbed, at the end of which they called me and asked if I wanted to go back into the air force. I would have been sent back to Iraq but I’d already done several months over my time. Twice they asked me back, but by then I’d had enough. We all had.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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The memories of LAC Fred Perkins
Description
An account of the resource
Covers joining the RAF, training as an engineer and first posting to RAF Christchurch which undertook radar research. Writes of life and flying as observer in Fairey Battle on radar measurement flights. The unit then moved to RAF Defford. Goes on to describe his training as a fitter and armourer and his journey to the Middle East before arriving in RAF Lydda Palestine. Provides details of life and activities in middle east bomber command working on B-24. He then moved back to RAF Abu Sueir in Egypt. Gives account of working on B-24 as well as Spitfire and Hurricane aircraft. Gives account of armourers work on all three aircraft. Provides a paragraph on local wildlife. After the war was sent to RAF Shaibah in Iraq and he describes life and activities there. Concludes with description of journey home.
Creator
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F W J Perkins
Format
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Twelve page printed document
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BPerkinsFWJPerkinsFWJv1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Worcestershire
England--Pershore
England--Dorset
England--Bournemouth
Egypt
Middle East--Palestine
Israel
Israel--Tel Aviv
England--Hampshire
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
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1941-05-23
1943-08-13
1946-05-26
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
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David Bloomfield
aircrew
animal
B-24
Battle
bomb trolley
bombing up
Defiant
demobilisation
fitter airframe
fuelling
ground crew
Hurricane
military living conditions
military service conditions
observer
petrol bowser
RAF Abu Sueir
RAF Defford
RAF Kirkham
RAF Padgate
recruitment
service vehicle
Spitfire
sport
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1826/33140/BScottEWScottEWv1.1.pdf
92a9acd045c19578c33cacdec86958b1
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Scott, Eric William
E W Scott
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-04-06
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Scott, EW
Description
An account of the resource
139 items. The collection concerns Flying Officer Eric Scott (1425952, 188329 Royal Air Force) and contains his log books, a memoir, correspondence, documents, newspaper cuttings, a flying course handbook and photographs. He flew operations in North Africa as a bomb aimer with 142 Squadron and then after an instructional tour in Palestine started a second tour on 37 Squadron in Italy where he was shot down and finished the war as a prisoner. <br /><br />The collection includes three albums.<br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2040"><span>Album 1</span></a> <span>Photographs of Jerusalem, Bethlehem. Tel Aviv, Haifa and friends.</span><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2041">Album 2</a> <span>Photographs taken during training in the United States and England and during his service in North Africa and Italy.<br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2046">Album 3</a> Correspondence, newspaper cuttings, documents and the last issue of the Prisoner of war Journal.<br /></span><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Jacqui Holman and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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The Memoir of
ERIC WILLIAM SCOTT
[Photograph]
Immediately before and during
WORLD WAR II – (1939 to 1946)
[Page break]
ALLIED
EX-PRISONER OF WAR
MEDAL
[Photograph]
Obverse: The prominent feature of the front or obverse side of the medal is the strand of barbed wire which has entrapped a young bird, symbolic of freedom itself. These elements surmount a globe of the world indicative of the international parameters of the medal. The wording “International Prisoners of War” encircles the entire design.
Reverse: The haunting and vicious barb of the ever present wire is used symbolically to divide the reverse side of the medal into four elements, each bearing one of the words in the phrase “Intrepid against all adversity”.
Ribbon: One of the most distinctive medal ribbons yet designed, it is woven 32mm wide with an unusual feature in having a symbolised strand of white barbed wire 2mm wide placed centrally, this is bounded on either side by 4mm black bands representing the despair of the compound. These, in turn, are edged by two further white 2mm bands representative of the second and third fences of the compound, outside of these are 7mm bands of green, reminiscent of the fields of home and finally, both edges are comprised 2mm red bands symbolic of the burning faith of those who were interned.
[Photograph]
[Page break]
FOREWORD:
From the age of 14 1/2 years old – 1936 – I was employed by Clayton Dewandre Co. Ltd., of Lincoln. Initially my work included machine shop and fitting practices. During the latter part of 1938 I was accepted as a student apprentice and commenced work in the Research and Development Department as a student Technician. I attended evening college, on Monks Road, Lincoln, four nights each week studying for an ONC in Engineering.
When war was declared in September 1939 I was concentrating on the development of a twin piston air compressor, to provide air pressure for a new tank being developed at the Ministry of Defence at Chobham. I was involved in other projects too; new air/oil coolers for the Spitfire and Hurricane, power assisted controls for the same aircraft, radiators/coolers for army vehicles and tanks and new braking systems for vehicles and gun limbers.
In January 1941, having successfully completed my ONC Engineering Course, I decided that I would volunteer for the R.A.F. Because of my reserved occupation my only option was to try and be accepted for aircrew duties, which is what I wanted and would prevent Clayton Dewandre from blocking my acceptance.
R.A.F.V.R. TRAINING
I arrived at the RAF recruiting office in Saltergate, Lincoln, in February 1941. The necessary forms were completed, I was almost 19 years old at the time. Notification was received in March from the RAF to attend Cardington, Bedfordshire, for written, oral and medical examinations over a three-day period. These examinations did not prove difficult except for one oral question of “what route would I take if I flew from England to Turkey, without crossing belligerent countries?” My geography was never a strong point and I had to admit to the four officers of the board that I didn’t know.
However, I was accepted into the RAFVR as a Pilot under training (U/T Pilot) and sworn in along with approx. 50% of those attending at the time. My RAF number was 1425752 and a silver lapel badge showing RAFVR letters, with an eagle, was issued to each person.
The officer in charge of the intake of applicants explained that they had too many aspiring aircrew at the time, and because of the limited training facilities, we would now be on deferred service until notified. I returned to Clayton Dewandre and continued with development projects until call-up papers were received in August 1941. These instructed me to report to St. John’s Wood, London, adjacent to London Zoo! It was always known as A.C.R.C. (Air Crew Reception Centre).
[Page break]
[Photograph]
AIRCREW RECEPTION CENTRE
12/7 FLIGHT – LONDON – AUGUST 11TH 1941
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We were billeted in large flats – six bunks to a room. I was “closeted” with five Scotsmen and for some days just couldn’t understand a word they were saying. What with shedding ones hair and other “foreign” phrases it was very difficult to communicate. However, they became very staunch friends during our initial training.
During our three weeks at A.C.R.C. we were re-examined medically, given all the necessary injections, inoculations, blood tests, etc., including a smallpox vaccination. Many of the recruits suffered quite a lot of pain from this intensive treatment, particularly from the vaccination. I was fortunate since, having been treated as a child, my reaction was minimal.
“Kitting out” was a major operation – large kit bag stuffed with spare boots, best blues, vest – airmen for the use of – underpants, numerous pairs of socks, four shirts with eight loose collars, two ties, two side caps, shoe cleaning brushes, button cleaning equipment, sewing wallet, gas masks and tin hat. We had to remove our civilian gear to the Wembley Warehouse and don our battledress equipment. Each side hat came complete with a detachable white flash which fitted around the front and was held in place by one of the turned-up peaks. This indicated that the wearer was aircrew under training. Whilst at the warehouse in Wembley we were instructed to pack our civilian attire and wrap it in brown paper, with the address clearly printed on the label provided. These were then dealt with by the RAF stores personnel.
Whilst at the A.C.R.C. we were divided into Flights of approximately fifty recruits and were drilled, drilled and drilled – every day – to “lick us into shape”.
Being a short person i.e. 5ft 6” I was always halfway down the flight rank. Those at the front and the rear were mainly ex-policemen. It meant that we shorties had to almost run to keep up with those in front and, to prevent those at the rear from treading on our heels. The corporal in charge eventually got the stride distance sorted out – R.A.F. Standard - which suited all concerned.
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STRATFORD ON AVON
INTIAL TRAINING WING
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PROMOTION TO L.A.C. NOVEMBER 3RD 1941
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INITIAL TRAINING WING, STRATFORD-ON-AVON :
AUGUST 1941 – NOVEMBER 1941
We were billeted in hotels commandeered by the MOD. I was in the Falcon Hotel – a very old building with sloping floors, small windows and creaking stairs and floorboards. Whilst at Stratford we had to do guard duty – two hours on – four off – from 6.0 pm to 6.0 am. During the winter months it was not very pleasant and the creaking/groaning of the swinging hotel signs were, initially, rather daunting particularly when coupled with the church clock chiming and listening for the officer and NCO of the guard watch coming round to try and catch us out.
During our stay at Stratford we were taught Morse code both sending and receiving, including Aldis lamps, navigation and the Dead Reckon Type with Mercators charts, maths, aircraft recognition, theory of flight, aero engine design and, of course, drilling!
Our working day commenced with reveille at 6.0am and breakfast at 7-7.30am and ended at 4.30pm (16.30 hours). Wednesday afternoon was for sport which I spent rowing on the Avon. I also had the opportunity of seeing a few shows at the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre.
We sat our exams at the end of October 1941 and I was promoted from AC2 (the lowest Non-commissioned rank to LAC – (Leading Aircraftsman) on the 3rd November 1941. This entailed sewing a cloth badge showing an aircraft propellor onto the sleeves of our uniforms. Pay also increased from two shillings and sixpence per day to five shillings per day. I was suddenly rich beyond my wildest dreams.
FLYING TRAINING
The way was now open to commence flying training. Prior to going home on my first leave, we were issued with an additional kit bag containing an inner and outer flying suit – special flying socks, flying boots, silk, wool and gauntlet gloves and flying helmet with goggles. Taking all this gear home was quite a problem, the total kit comprising one large kit bag, one flying kit bag, upper and lower pack, side pouches, gas mask and tin hat.
One week after completing I.T. Wing training I was posted direct to RAF Watchfield, No. 3 E.F.T.S. The airfield was all grass and was mainly a beam approach training school flying Oxfords and Ansons. Supplementary to this was an Elementary Flying Training School with Tiger Moths and Biplanes made by DeHaviland [sic, and this was my destination. The weather that November was very cold and a few minutes in the air, with the open cockpit aircraft, froze our faces. The bulky fling suits were a necessity and the boots, lined with sheepskin, did manage to keep the circulation going in the feet.
My fling instructor was Lt. Bembridge, a Battle of Britain Pilot. He was very anxious to show me the aerobatic qualities of the Tiger Moth. Often, after landing, my face would be ashen and I felt very sick but I was never actually air sick. The
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WATCHFIELD, NR SWINDON
[Postcard]
GYPSY 7 ENGINE – 200 H.P. MAXIMUM SPEED – 120 MPH
NOVEMBER 21ST – DECEMBER 1ST
Total hours flying 6 3/4 in which time
I passed out Solo
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aircraft was very good to fly being light and responsive to control changes. It was, however, quite difficult to land because of its lightness and we rookies often found ourselves trying to “put the wheels down” whilst we were still ten feet or more above ground level. This, with the subsequent bouncing, was known as “walking it in”. Undercarriage repairs were required every day, but on completing the required flying exercises – see pilot’s log book – and after 6 hrs 10mins dual instruction I was allowed to go solo. It was a tremendous feeling and quite frightening to know that I was on my own and a safe take off and landing was my responsibility. There were other RAF men on the ground watching my progress and biting their nails. I cannot remember exactly but I think I completed three take offs and landings during the 00.35 minutes solo.
The time at No. 3 E.F.T.S. Watchfield was apparently an elimination period. Those who had gone solo, 8 hours allowed, were detained to go for further training to either Canada, America, South Africa, Rhodesia, or Australia on what was known as the Empire Air Training Scheme. Those cadets who needed a little extra flying training, but showed promise, were posted to other E.F.T.S. schools in the UK whilst the remainder had to re-muster as navigators, wireless operators or air gunners.
The Empire Air Training Scheme was initiated because of enemy action and weather conditions severely limiting flying training courses in the UK therefore preventing the flow of trained aircrew, with operational service, at the rate required.
Generally, the country providing the training paid for new airfields to be built and a large proportion of the training costs. This included the U.S.A.
THE ARNOLD SCHEME – UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Following a brief period of leave from Watchfield in December 1941, I was instructed to report to Heaton Park, Manchester. The weather was atrocious with rain and fog. Approximately 3,000 cadets congregated at that venue and we had to “hang around” until our names and numbers were called when we went to a billeting clerk to be told who we were to stay with and the address.
John Player and myself were given the same billet – a Mrs. Pimlett – the address escapes my memory. On arrival we were met by a middle-aged lady in best “bib and tucker”, complete with carnation. She welcomed us into her home, showed us our room and explained that she was going to a wedding. She then invited us to go to the evening reception and wrote down the address.
After a bath and general “tidy up” and, with best blues donned, buttons shining and boots polished, John and I went to the address given.
We were truly welcomed by the wedding party and enjoyed the evening with them, eventually returning home with Mrs. Pimlott.
We learned that our landlady had an invalid husband and she financed their living by taking in sewing of pre-cut garments and of course now by providing a billet for such
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Mid-Atlantic on board the ‘Montcalm’
12th January 1942
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Our only company across the Atlantic the ‘Volendam’
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Moncton Railway Station
Canada
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as John and I. The sewing side was almost slave labour and she had to work all day and well into the evening to obtain a meagre income.
John and I departed Manchester for Glasgow on January 6th and embarked on the S.S. Montcalm. This ship had been an armed merchantman before being converted into a troop ship. A 4” naval gun was mounted at the stern and this ship was, we were told, of 13,000 ton capacity. We set sail on January 8th 1942 with a sister ship names Volendam which also had RAF cadets on board, and in convoy with other ships and destroyer escorts. After leaving Glasgow we called at Milford Haven and then nosed out into the Atlantic. The weather, after two days at sea, became very stormy and the ship pitched and rolled to an uncomfortable degree. Many men were sea sick and food was definitely out of order. John and I lived on arrowroot biscuits and lemonade for eight of the fourteen day voyage to Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada.
During the very story crossing we were called upon to carry out various duties and mine was submarine watch! I couldn’t have recognised a periscope if I had seen one and in any event, the waves and ship movement were such that just staying upright was enough without looking for submarines.
Although I had been allocated a hammock for sleeping purposes, I just could not get into one, and kept falling out the opposite side so swapped for a bunk – even though the ship’s movement was intensified by a fixed bunk.
Because of the atrocious weather conditions our destroyer and convoy of ships disappeared after five days out into the Atlantic. The Volendrum went out of sight after a further two days sailing.
Eleven days after leaving Glasgow the bad weather gradually abated and we started eating Navy food again on the mess deck, but it was necessary to hang on to the plates to prevent them sliding off the end of the table.
After thirteen days at sea we were thrilled to see the bright lights of Moncton appear on the horizon.
The first things I saw after docking were large stalks of bananas – my favourite fruit – which I had not seen since 1939/40. I bought a complete stalk and shared them with John – they were delicious.
The temperature in Moncton was well below zero and a good covering of snow was evident. The cold could easily cause frost bite but it was a dry cold and providing that we were well covered, including ear flaps, a good walk would generate a pleasant glow.
The barrack blocks were well above RAF standards as also was the food.
We were at Moncton for only a few days whilst the “powers that be” allocated the 3,000 cadets from the Montcalm to the various training establishments in the U.S.A. and Canada.
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Canadian Prairies in January 1942
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Albany, Georgia, USA
Looking down Main Street – January 1942
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Our barrack hut – No 5 – 9th Feb 1942
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British Cadets marching back from Retreat Turner Field, Albany
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Right
Our black waiters at Turner Field Albany, Georgia
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Our train journey commenced late January – destination: Turner Field, Albany, Georgia, USA, and lasted for five days. We slept in bunks which hinged down from above the windows. The Canadian prairies and Northern States of the USA were thick with snow – see photographs.
The train stopped for a short time at Grand Central Station, New York and also at the AMTRAC main station of Washington DC. We travelled south through Virginia, North and South Carolina and Georgia and the weather became warm and pleasant.
TURNER FIELD, ALBANY, GEORGIA
Our stay at Turner Field was only for approximately two weeks during which time we were introduced to the American Army Air Corp disciplines and daily routines.
We were housed in two-storey barrack huts – see photographs – each room housed two cadets and the standard of comfort was very good. The base had its own band and this marched round the camp at 06.30 hours at Reveille, at which time we had to don our shorts and ‘T’ shirts for thirty minutes of P.E., always starting and finishing with press-ups. With this rigorous daily routine we quickly regained our fitness. Each cadet was weighed by a dietician and allocated a “weight” table in the dining room and, by that means, the calorie intake was controlled. I was on an underweight table, weighing in at just eight stone. This table had lots of rich foods and unlimited bottles of milk. Needless to say, my weight remained the same but I did justice to the food!
During our visits to the dining room we were instructed that we must only sit on the first two inches of the chair. Why this stupid rule existed I do not know, also our backs had to be upright at all times, i.e. sat to attention. At 18.00 hours we were marched to the parade ground for the last post and lowering the Stars and Stripes, at which time we had to sing the American National Anthem.
CARLSTROM FIELD, ARCARDIA, FLORIDA
Our stay at Turner Field ended with the transfer of John Player, Stan Gage and myself, along with approximately thirty American and British Cadets, in total, to Carlstrom Field, Arcadia, Florida. Arcadia was only a few miles from Sarasota and Fort Myers. Miami was approximately 200 miles further south.
Carlstrom Field had been a civilian pilot training base operated by Sembery Riddle Co. All staff were civilians except those responsible for discipline and routine flying checks. The civilians were taught on Piper Cubs whereas service personnel were trained on the American Military Primary Trainer, the Boeing PT.17 Stearman. This aircraft, although a biplane, could not be compared with the Tiger Moth. It was much heavier, more powerful, had a Wright Cyclone radial engine and, to our horror, had wheel brakes, the control of these brakes were by treadles attached to the rudder bars. This resulted in numerous ground loops with Cadets landing the aircraft in a tense condition and, inadvertently pressing down on one or more of the rudder bar brake treadles. Consequently, the maintenance staff were kept very busy repairing damaged wings.
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ILLUSTRATIONS FROM THE CADET’S HANDBOOK
LATERAL CONTROL
Ailerons – The ailerons, which are the surfaces used for lateral control of the airplane (wing down or up) are situated on the outer, trailing edge of the wing and are used for rolling the airplane ….
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LONGITUDINAL CONTROL
The Elevators – are horizontal, movable control surfaces located, on conventional aircraft, on the tail group, controlled by forward or back pressure on the stick and are used for obtaining longitudinal control (up and down).
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NB: Handbook still complete and in good condition
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FRONT COVER FROM CADET’S HANDBOOK
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CARLSTROM FIELD – 1941
Compared with the photo to the left, Carlstrom Field – 1941, as pictured above, may with all conservatism, be termed the ideal training ground for fledgling pilots.
Constructed at a cost of over a million dollars, the new Carlstrom Field facilities offer the utmost in providing for the student pilot’s health of mind and body. Moreover, every piece of flight equipment is the finest available, insuring insofar as is humanly possible, the student’s rapid advancement as a steady, dependable pilot.
The instructors at RAI have been chosen with extreme care and trained at RAI’s Instructors’ Courses to the end that you may be taught to fly by an aviator who is one of the best in the game.
It is a matter of tradition and record, substantiated by the rosters of Military and Commercial aviation, that pilots trained at Carlstrom Field have gone forth as some of the most capable in aviation’s history.
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My instructor was a Mr. R.L. Priest, a very patient man. We were all issued with a book which gave a detailed account of how to carry out various manoeuvres including aerobatics. I was allowed to fly solo on the 24th March 1942 – see Certificate in Cadets Handbook – after being checked by Mr. Jane. Further checks were made at 20, 40 and 60 hours, and if satisfactory the specified stages of the Primary Training were complete.
During our stay at Arcadia we were allowed off base – “open post” from 4.0pm Saturday until 10.0pm Sunday. After exploring Arcadia – only one day necessary – we ventured further afield to Sarasota and Fort Myers. Before being able to hire a car we had to obtain a licence from the local Sheriff which meant driving him round the block.
Eight of us shared one car. Those who had driven before and held British Licences went first and those, such as myself, hung back. However, after five cadets had taken the Sheriff round he said “Okay boys, let’s give you your licences”, so we all qualified.
John Player, Stan and I generally went into either Sarasota or Fort Myers during “Open Post” staying at the cheapest guest house we could find. Our pay was only five shillings, plus two shillings and six pence flying pay, plus six pence colonial allowance per day, i.e. eight shillings per day. The rate of exchange was 4.50 dollars to the pound. The American cadet pay was 10 dollars per day.
We met many good and generous hosts during our breaks from camp but we were amazed by the number of people (males) who wore Stetson and spurred boots, without a horse in sight!
Sarasota had a very large caravan trailer area, mainly used by Americans going south to escape the winter snows and cold weather in the north. The weather generally was very pleasant during our stay at Carlstrom but the extreme humidity made life rather uncomfortable and it was common practice to shower at least once during the night.
During our training, one of the flying exercises was pylon eighties which taught the cadet to allow for wind drift. This meant selecting a field and flying the aircraft with the wing tip held on one of the intersections, then flying diagonally across the field so the wing tip again intersected with the opposite corner of the rectangular field.
I am certain that almost all cadets were guilty of taking empty Coca Cola bottles up on this exercise and, choosing a field with cows, we would drop one after another of these bottles causing almost a stampede. The bottles gave a loud whistle during their descent. Many farmers waved their fists and tried to get our aircraft number on these occasions.
It was during my stay at Carlstrom that I heard the black staff – generally dining room and similar duties – join together after evening meal and last post, singing blues songs. They were very impressive and this practice among them was experienced by me at all of the other bases to which I was posted.
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The first batch of mail from home
Carlstrom Field, Florida
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Taken in the air, showing P.T. 17 flying above another aircraft – Carlstrom Field.
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Indian Children of Seminole Tribe, The Everglades, Florida
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Eric (left) & John – relaxing in Florida
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Home of the Stewart Family
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Dexter Ave. Montgomery
(Pop’s Car)
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Cameron Stewart at The Lake
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Four day’s leave was granted at the end of our Primary Training. John and I decided to try and hitch to Miami. Our first lift, given by an insurance collector, took us a good 150 miles to Fort Lauderdale, calling in the Everglades at Indian settlements for their premiums. We met and spoke to the Seminole Tribe families and were permitted to take photographs of their children. A second lift took us into Miami where we checked in at a hotel. We didn’t expect to arrive in Miami on the same day as we left Arcadia.
During an evening meal we were approached by a middle-aged man from another table who enquired who we were and what we were doing in the USA. He asked us where we were staying and promptly said he would ring and cancel out room because we could stay in his hotel without any payment and this included all meals. He introduced us to his wife and friends and told us that he had emigrated to America after World War I and was from Sheffield. It was our good fortune to have been in the right place at the right time!
GUNTER FIELD, MONTGOMERY, ALABAMA
We returned to Arcadia after our leave to be posted to Gunter Field, Montgomery, Alabama for our Basic Flying Training.
Gunter Field was approximately six miles from Montgomery – the capital of Alabama and between the two was Kilby prison. During our first few weeks at the base it was noted that the electric lights dipped intermittently on quite a regular basis. We later learned that it was caused by the Electric Chair at the prison – very disconcerting to know that a prisoner was being executed when the voltage dropped.
Our aircraft for basic training was the BT.13 monoplane with fixed undercarriage. The exercises taught were virtually identical to those covered during Primary Training, except that we were not allowed to carry out snap rolls as they tended to twist the plane and fuselage. See Pilot’s log book for details of flying exercises. This part of our training concentrated more on instrument flying and cross-country daylight and night exercises.
My instructor was an ex-British Cadet from an earlier course, P/Officer Rogers. He was a good instructor and I enjoyed flying with him. Formation flying – three aircraft in ‘V’ formation could be somewhat traumatic at times, wing tips had to be placed and maintained between the wing and tail plane of the lead aircraft and not more than one wing length at the side. With air turbulence, particularly during afternoon flying, it was very dodgy. We also had to carry out low-level formation flying, as low as fifty feet. On one occasion, when flying along the Goosa River, the instructor in the lead aircraft was so low that water spray splattered us in the wing planes and a man who was fishing was so startled as we swept up the river, that he jumped in. Landing in formation was also very precarious. The lead aircraft pilot signalled by hand how many rotations of the main flap he was applying – we had to apply a higher number of rotations to ensure that we didn’t over-shoot him. On one occasion, I was rapidly rotating the flap handle when it came off its spindle. I had to make a rapid break from the formation. On another occasion an oil pipe in the engine nacelle fractured, spraying the windscreen and blocking all forward vision. Again it was a
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case of breaking formation and a hasty return to base, landing with only side vision! See large photographs of BT.13 – I am flying the nearest aircraft)
My Basic Training concluded on the 2nd July 1942. Durin my stay at Gunter Field, the first anniversary of Pearl Harbour was “celebrated”. The three American services decided to hold a parade in all major cities. The British contingent at Gunter were instructed by the O.C. RAF to take part. A Union Jack Flag was obtained and had to be paraded and escorted at the side of the Stars and Stripes. The first time they brought the British Flag onto the parade ground it was upside down. We were all issued with rifles – many months since we had carried out rifle drill, and even though it was July, with temperatures in the 90 degree F. region, we had to wear RAF Blue uniform. When we took these out of our kit bags the buttons were green and it took quite some time to bring them to parade ground condition.
Following the march through Montgomery, John and I made for the ice warehouse where we could buy a water melon to quench our thirst. It was at this point that an American youth came to us and suggested we should return home with him for lime drinks. He said his parents were across the road and they would drive us home. The youth was Cameron Stewart and his parents, Vannie and Pop. John and I went to the Stewart’s house and into the country on the Goosa river, almost every open post after that day. Very often Pop would pick us up to save us getting the bus into Montgomery. At that time Pop was co-owner of a gents outfitter’s shop. Their house was typical of those in the Southern States with Clapboard outer skin and very much like a plasterboard inner lining. All rooms were air conditioned and the freezer size, huge. All windows and door frames were wire netted to keep out the flies and mosquitoes.
The American hospitality was really rather marvellous, lines of cars would be parked outside the base on “open Post” and cadets were picked up at random and entertained by families for the weekend. Pop and Vannie’s hospitality continued when John and I were posted for Advanced Training to Craig Field, Selma, Alabama – a round trip of 100 miles from Montgomery – which Pop drove every weekend to pick us up.
This was the final stage to our graduation and the Advanced Trainer was the AT.6 Harvard, a high performance aircraft within the 200 mph bracket.
My instructor on this aircraft was P/O Percival and he allowed me to go solo after 2hrs.35 mins dual instruction. My stay at Craig Field was very short. During circuits and landings at an auxiliary airfield I was involved in an accident with another aircraft on the landing strip. The other aircraft was occupied by an American instructor who had disregarded all the ground rules for taxi-ing after landing and had decided to taxi to the take off point along the same route on which he had landed. I had chosen this line of approach to land and as the aircraft had already covered most of the landing length when I approached I did not see him reverse his tracks before I touched down. With a rear wheel it is not possible to see ahead after landing, until zigzagging when taxi-ing. Both aircraft collided.
Although there was a control aircraft on the airfield my instructor advised me that I wouldn’t receive any support from the American controller as he was a good friend of
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EXTRACT FROM PILOT’S FLYING LOG BOOK
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Telegram from mum on my 20th birthday – 10th March 1942
Also received telegrams from Jessie Brown, sister Dora Dickerson and sister Ethel Dixon (all telegrams still preserved in their original envelopes)
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PICTON, ONTARIO, CANADA
1942
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Approaching Canada’s Horseshoe Falls
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the instructor. Three American Officers checked my ability to fly the aircraft and at no time was my flying criticised. However, there had to be a scapegoat and that was me.
REMUSTERING – CANADA
On leaving Criag Field I was sent to Ottawa, Canada to appear before a board of officers who controlled the training of RAF cadets both in the USA and Canada.
During my interview we discussed the events of my accident and I was asked what I thought my next stage of training should be. I requested that I be considered for posting to an advanced flying school in Canada to complete my pilot training, having now achieved 130 hours in American aircraft.
I was instructed to report to a Group Captain on the board the following day for their decision. On attending this appointment I was told that they would agree to my request but I must also give written agreement that I would convert to twin-engine aircraft and stay in Canada for at least one year as an instructor. After much thought I declined their offer and opted to be retrained as a Navigator/Bomb Aimer at a school in Picton, Ontario. As my navigational training had already been concluded in America it was only a matter of a few night cross-country exercises to complete this part of my course, plus the written exams. The bombing and gunnery aspects were completely new, including theory and practice.
I graduated at the end of November 1942 and during my stay at Picton I had the opportunity of flying over and photographing the Niagara Falls. I was also able to make two visits to the Falls.
Other places visited were Hamilton and Toronto, the latter was visited on a number of occasions. It was at Picton that I met up again with Carl Hurlington and Jimmy Milichip both of whom had been sent back for retraining from pilot courses in Canada. Carl and I stayed together up to squadron allocation in North Africa.
RETURN TO THE U.K.
We embarked at New York, along with 30,000 other servicemen, on the Queen Elizabeth I – two weeks before Christmas 1942. The journey to Greenock (Glasgow) took four days and there were no escorts as it was considered that the ship could out-run the ‘U’ boats.
Only one cooked meal was served each day and every individual was given a ticket which showed which mess and meal time, which was part of the 24 hour serving. Supplementary food could be purchased from the various shops on board [sic] It was an uneventful journey and quite the opposite to the out-going one.
On arrival in Glasgow we were held for three days on board before it was our turn to be ferried ashore, after which we entrained for the RAF centre at Harrogate.
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Last week saw the departure of another contingent of British Pilot Officers, lads who had, many of them, passed through stages of their training at Maxwell and Gunter Fields, at Selma’s Craig and Dothan’s Napier, and have since been stationed as instructors at various points in the Southeast. Many of these chaps will remember Montgomery as the site of their “getting acquainted” with America, and many of them have formed ties with our town which will endure long after this present war is history.
When, some twenty months ago, Montgomery was invaded by the British, our capitulation was prompt. We fell before their onslaught like a Sicilian village before our own advancing troops. Into hundreds of Montgomery homes these cadets of the RAF were invited, perhaps a little doubtfully, but most of them quickly established themselves as wholesome lads, a little different in surface mannerisms and speech, but actually very like American boys, and very happy to find a friendly welcome in a strange land.
What began as a gesture of Montgomery’s hospitality developed, often, into fast friendships, and many Montgomery homes became “home from home” for youths from Yorkshire and Wales, Londoners and Scottish lads. RAF blue was a common sight on Montgomery’s streets. And, as the training program progressed, RAF men who had trained here began to take part in the raids over France and Germany and in other theatres of war. Montgomery is represented on these RAF sweeps over enemy territory just as it is represented in the actions of our Flying Fortresses.
Now the sight of an RAF uniform has become a rarity. With the exception of those who sleep on the hill above Montgomery, the RAF trainees have taken their wings and gone to the combat areas. They write back to Montgomery as if writing home, and Montgomery has a warm place in their hearts. Almost without exception they want to return in happier times to revisit this heart of the deep south.
“I know you’re glad to be going home’ someone remarked to a departing officer The officer hesitated. “Well yes, of course But I shall be back…definitely”
Written by ‘Pop’ Stewart for the Montgomery Advertiser
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Receipt for diamond engagement ring
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Jessie Brown 1942
Below: Sister Eva outside No. 4 William Street, Lincoln
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I was eventually interviewed by Leslie Ames the cricketer, who decided that because of the extent of my pilot training I should be a better asset to the RAF by being posted to a Wellington Operational Training Unit acting as Bomb Aimer, second pilot and supplementary navigator. I wasn’t sure how I could cope with it all but I agreed to his suggestion. – The following day I was given Christmas leave.
At this point in my memoirs I must introduce Jessie Brown. I met Jessie during the brief time that she worked at Clayton Dewandre and we began to go out together between my attendance at evening college and also at weekends. This was the period between my acceptance for the RAFVR and actually reporting for training.
Before leaving Lincoln we agreed that if either of us met someone else we were quite free to go out with them. However, both Jessie and I corresponded on a regular basis during my stay in this country and also during my time in America and Canada. Also we spent my leaves together. When I returned from Canada we decided that our relationship was very special to us, even though we had not known or been together very long. It was during my Christmas leave that we decided to become engaged. We went to Gravesend to see my sister Eva who was in the ATS and was stationed there. She was a telephonist on a Heavy Ack, Ack Gun Site but managed a short spell off duty so we went for a meal together and shared all our news. We travelled back to London and stayed in a rather cold and drab hotel off Regent Street for the night and went to a jewellers called Hinds to buy an engagement ring. Jessie chose a white gold ring with five diamonds. The assistant in the shop gave her a diary and this diary and the receipt for the ring are together in our memorabilia. At the same time, whilst on leave, we decided that if I was again posted abroad we would marry before I left.
Imagine my surprise when on arrival at Moreton-in-Marsh O.T. Unit we were told that, on completion of our training we would be posted to 205 Group British North Africa Forces. This news meant very hurried preparation for our wedding to take place at the end of March beginning of April. With the very limited facilities available and rationing of food, clothes, etc., the planning of such an event was very difficult and celebrations had to be extremely limited. The flying weather conditions during the first three months of 1943 were atrocious and our wedding date had to be postponed on two occasions but everyone was very understanding about these changes of plan. However, it did make life rather difficult for Jessie and others trying to make final arrangements.
The first and most important stage of OTU training was to “crew up” with other members of aircrew who it was thought could work as a team. I was a member of a crew made up of Pilot – Cyril Pearce – also a 42H class member in the USA but at different air bases – Jock Taylor (Scottish) navigator – Jock had joined straight from college and was the youngest crew member; Jack Morvel – WOP/AG and hailed from Bury – said he dyed to live but now lived to die – very encouraging and jovial character; Ted Peters – London – rear gunner.. [sic] Ted was a bit of a loner but we always encouraged him to join us in our out-of-base activities, mainly in Moreton, which at that time was just packed with airmen. Our crew was all NCO, and we knitted together very well. Most of our training was night flying on long cross-country exercises – Bulls Eyes – going from cities in England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland, carrying out various laid down routines such as infra-red simulated bombing of docks,
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19th April 1943 – St. Swithin’s Church, Lincoln
Carl Harlington, Enid Scott, Eric Scott, Jessie Brown, Eva Scott, James Brown
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factories etc., which would record on camera for accuracy. On some occasions the cloud base was so thick and low that we never saw the ground from take off to landing and all navigation was done by dead reckoning and Astro-shots. Our accuracy in locating “targets” and turning points were very hit and miss, hence the postponement in completing our training. Some crews were lost during this period, either crashing in the Welsh or Scottish mountains or from the mechanical failure of the aircraft. It was also during this final part of our training we had to “stand to” for participating in a 1,000 bomber raid on Germany. I never found out the intended target because it was cancelled prior to briefing.
Our training completed – not without a few hair-raising experiences, we eventually went home on “embarkation” leave.
Jessie and I were married at St. Swithins Church on 19th April 1943 and our reception was in the ‘Gym’ room of the Rose and Crown Inn at the junction of William and Dale Street, Lincoln. We really appreciated the number of local people who helped us and we didn’t seem to miss out on anything with regard to food. Carl Harlington, who was also at Moreton and who hailed from Thorne, Nr. Doncaster, was my best man, but he was the only RAF person present, though one or two others were invited.
Jessie and I spent our wedding night at my sister Mary’s house in St. Hughe’s Street, Lincoln and the following day we travelled by train to Stratford upon Avon where we stayed in a B & B which we found on arrival – address : Sheep Street. After three days we returned to Lincoln as my leave was completed.
On my return to OTU I found that Cyril Pearce had also married during his leave, to a WAAF – Doreen – who was stationed at Gloucester. They married on the Saturday and we on the Monday.
Our final stage at Moreton was to “pick up” a new Wellington aircraft from a dispersal airfield near Gloucester and fly it on a number of exercises to ensure that everything functioned satisfactorily before taking it out to North Africa. As this exercise usually absorbed three weeks of our time, Cyril and I arranged for Doreen and Jessie to join us at Moreton for a week, I.e. the last week prior to departure. We stayed at the “Wylwyn Café” which also let rooms. One of the events which stays in my mind was our visit to the circus at Moreton. We all went along including Jock Prentice – another pilot who had also been married during his leave and whose wife had joined him at Moreton. The circus acts were extremely poor but what topped the lot was the smell – particularly when they let the lions into the “arena”. One can imagine the shouts and comments which ensued from a few hundred airmen!
We learned during this last week at Moreton that Doreen was AWOL from Gloucester, so Jessie and Jock’s wife loaned her civilian clothes to wear to hide the fact that she was a service woman, bearing in mind that the Service Police were well represented at Moreton and the surrounding area. The final day arrived when we had to say goodbye to our wives and walk to the airfield knowing that we would be flying that day, 27th May 1943 on the first leg of our journey to North Africa – which was from Moreton to Portreath in Cornwall.
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OPERATIONAL TRAINING UNIT
MORETON-IN-MARSH
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We stayed overnight at Portreath and on 28th May at 6.30am took off and set a course to go around the tip of France, across the Bay of Biscay, momentarily seeing the coast of Portugal and Spain and crossed the Moroccan coast at Casablanca. We then corrected course for our overnight destination at Ras-el-ma. On landing, at approximately 3.30pm British time, i.e. a nine hour flight, we were relieved to open the hatch and climb out. The air temperature suddenly hit us as we stepped onto the ground and we were surrounded by black people (local) in strange uniforms and cloaks and even stranger rifles and other firearms. This was the guard for our aircraft. RAF Ground Personnel took us to report in, and then to the “canteen” (tent) for our meal before going to our billet to make our bed for the night. During the late afternoon, Cyril and I changed the engine coolers to the tropical type as instructed at Moreton. We took our tropical khaki uniforms, with the “long shorts” as issued and our Blue kit had also been changed to khaki to “merge” with the desert sand.
On 29th we set course for Blida near Algeria which was the Headquarters of 205 Group. This took us across the Atlas mountain range which was a truly magnificent sight. This flight was only of four hours duration.
My only significant memory at Ras-el-ma was when we started the engines to fly to Blida. It was my job to prime the engines and then give Cyril the “thumbs-up” to crank them and, if they didn’t fire straight away I gave another pump on the primer which was at the Nacelle. Normally three pumps were required to get the engine – a Hercules Radical – to fire. No-one told us that in warmer climates two pumps were adequate and consequently flames poured out of the exhaust and burned my hair, eyebrows and singed my eyelashes. The smell was terrible but luckily I was not injured in any way. The second engine was started with two pumps and yours truly stood well back.
On landing at Blida we were told that we would be staying there the following day. This station’s billets were ex-Foreign Legion and the beds were curved upwards towards the centre from top to bottom. Here we encountered for the first time the French Loo!! We never thought we would manage to cope with it but practice makes perfect!
We went into Algeria the next day and saw oranges growing on the trees in the streets, experienced our first Arab Souk and the way of “hard bargaining” before purchasing anything. We had received some pay in Francs before going into town but, apart from buying “lunch” and coffee I can’t recall paying for anything else.
On 31st May we once again took off and set course for Kairouan, Tunisia. It was a three hour flight and we landed at 3.0 pm, having had to circle for thirty minutes because of exploding oil drums at the “airfield” which had been “touched-off” by the heat of the sun.
Kairouan was a number of white buildings just a mile or so from the airfield. This airfield had previously been a cornfield and the stubble was very much still in evidence. Steel, interlocking tracking – made in USA – had been laid on top of the stubble to form the runway and of course it became very hot and was the main cause
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of tyre bursts, of which there were many. The accommodation was all tented as was the various messes, because the squadrons were a mobile unit. The two Wellington Squadrons – 142 and 150 which had been sent from Waltham, Lincolnshire had been giving tactical night bombing support to the 1st Army which had landed at Bone. The “Desert” Wellington Squadrons who were now also based around were 104, 40, 37 and 70 and further support was provided by a squadron of Liberators, South African manned, and one of Halifax’s. These night bomber squadrons formed 205 Group and could produce between 80 and 100 aircraft for a night’s operation.
FIRST OPERATIONAL TOUR – 142 SQUADRON
I flew my first operation with Sergeant Cox, his B/A was sick. He had completed two thirds of his tour and Jock Taylor and I shared his tent. The target was a small island occupied by the Italians and from which they could attack our shipping. It was only lightly defended from air attacks and it was an “easy” target. This operation was one June 9th and the island, Pantelaria. (see log book).
We didn’t fly again until the 19th June when we flew as a complete crew – the target was Messina. This target was just the opposite to my first trip and we learned very quickly how to shorten the bombing run to a minimum and weave to avoid the AA shells which, on all major targets, proved to be very accurate. Sergeant Cox and his crew failed to return on this trip, which came as quite a shock to Jock and myself, reminding us that we were very vulnerable.
We continued to attack targets in Sicily and the area in Italy near to Sicily, in readiness for the invasion which took place on the night of July 9th when we were told to stay over our targets for at least thirty minutes dropping one bomb at a time and attracting the searchlights which we must then machine gun. Jack Morvel went into the front turret for this time over the target, which for us was Syracuse. Major targets such as Naples, Leghorn, Salerno, Pisa and all the airfields, were heavily defended by both AA guns and fighter cover. We had a few close shaves and there were a number of occasions when the AA shells exploded and splattered our aircraft and the cordite passed through the fuselage. On one particular trip over Naples when we become coned in the searchlights, Cyril had to throw the aircraft around to try and escape because the gun-fire was uncomfortably close. Jack Morvel was hanging onto flares in the tricel shute ready to release them when I warned him what was going to happen. The sudden, almost vertical bank that Cyril made caused Jack to lose balance and he fell into the side of the Elsan toilet which promptly broke loose and emptied its contents all over him. He wasn’t ‘flavour of the month’ for days after and had to replace his uniform battle dress. We did however manage to locate and bomb the target and return home – but had to make a second bombing run.
Our first tour was completed – thirty eight operations – by a visit to the Civitavecchia marshalling yards on October 3rd 1943, i.e. June 9th had started a four month period.
During that time I wrote and received many letters from home and received parcels with a variety of contents. We were entertained by professional artists on make-shift stages in the open air – names such as Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, Dorothy Lamour, Charlie Chester and others. Members of the War Cabinet made visits to the Group
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142 SQUADRON, NORTH AFRICA – JUNE 1943
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From left to right : Ted Peters, Eric Scott, Jack Morval, Jock Taylor, Cyril Pearce
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from left: Ted Peters and J Prentice with two crew who were killed over Naples July 1943
Our camp near Kairouan, Tunisia
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and told us what was and was not happening and why. We complained about the rations – mainly melted bully beef and biscuits, and the cigarettes that were issued. They changed the cigarette packets from ‘V’ to Woodbines, the contents remained the same, terrible. Fortunately we could purchase various other true brands from the Sergeant’s Mess.
We made several visits to Sousse, Hammamet and other smaller coastal places for a dip in the Mediterranean.
The lovely white walled city of Koirouan was a myth, it smelled to ‘high heaven’ and we couldn’t go to the Souk unless there were five or six of us together. The Arabs were definitely objectionable, probably because we were very tight in our bargaining at “tent level”. They did however win the “top award” when they took a tent whilst five men were asleep inside!! It was quite a shock to the occupants when they awoke.
Water allowances were very limited. The daily ration for a tent of five was a five gallon drum. This had to be for washing ourselves, our clothes and for drinking. The drinking water was kept in a hole just outside the tent, using a brown pot jug which kept the water at an acceptable temperature.
The air temperatures were very high during the day but were pleasantly cool at night after sunset. It was not possible to touch metal exposed to the sun after 10.0am and it was common practice to fry an egg on a metal plate in the sun. Our wash basin was an upturned tin hat with the inside removed and fitted into the tail fin of a bomb. Other improvisations such as making a comfortable bed frame and raising it from the ground away from dung beetles, scorpions, etc. were introduced within days of arrival or were “bought” with cigs, chocolate, etc., from crews who had completed their tour and were leaving.
Flies were a big nuisance, settling on food and spreading disease. Gyppy Tummy and Dysentery were experienced by virtually everyone and ‘having the runs’ was no fun at all.
Jock Taylor went down with yellow jaundice and was in the hospital tent for at least a week. He perspired considerably and every day his shirts were encrusted with salt from the body. His feet were also very odorous – but he did consent to leave his socks off during non-flying hours!
We had to be very careful not to get sunburn as this was a chargeable offence if it prevented anyone from flying.
Our posting to Tunis arrived and we were to stay at the transit camp for further instructions, presumably to await either air or sea transport to the U.K. During our stay in Tunis we met ‘Poni’ (the only name we knew him by). He was Maltese and his mother and sister, together with himself and his horses escaped from Malta because of the siege and came to Tunis where he continued to earn his living as a jockey, with his horses pulling a ‘cart’ on two wheels around the local race tracks. They appeared to be a wealthy family and he took us around Tunis for dinners in local hotels and objected then we insisted on paying for an occasional meal.
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PALESTINE – MAY 1944
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Y.M.C.E. Building – Jerusalem
Right: The British War Cemetery
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‘Mount of Olives’
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‘Garden of Gethsemane’
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We also visited Carthage, the construction of which astounded us, with the running water and drainage system. This ancient city is a must to visit for anyone travelling in the area.
We had a severe shock when our posting came through. Only Jock Taylor was returning to the UK because of his jaundice, the rest of us were to fly to Cairo by Dakota, have leave and then proceed to Palestine where a new Operational Training Unit was being opened to instruct RAF personnel coming through from Rhodesia, South Africa and other Empire Training countries, prior to joining 205 Group.
We flew from Tunis across the Sahara Desert, visiting Tobruk on the way and landed at Cairo airport. We were taken to Heliopolis, a large transit camp about five miles out of Cairo and were incarcerated there for three weeks.
Cairo was visited almost daily. We had lots of back pay to draw upon and we visited a number of shows and night clubs. Jack Morvel blotted our copy book on one occasion when a troop of dancers were caterpillering off stage and he promptly dashed onto the stage and joined the end of the line. We had to leave but we had seen the show at half price. The Arabs in Cairo had to be watched very closely. They would steal anything, even the wealthy merchants from the Souk area couldn’t be trusted.
Eventually we left Cairo by a train which had wooden lattice seats, for two days of journeying to Tel-Aviv. Our bums were numb by the time we arrived! Upholstered seating was out because of the bugs which abounded in the Middle East and all bed legs had to the placed in tins partially filled with paraffin to prevent the bugs getting into bed with you!
Our destination from Tel-Aviv was 77 OTU Qastina. The station was only partially complete when we arrives and we were the first “instructors” to enter the station. The Sergeant’s Mess had not been completed at that stage and our aircraft had not arrived.
We spent Christmas 1943 on the Station. The accommodation was brick built blocks with three persons to a room. We had good beds, good showers new ‘mossie’ nets and plenty of storage room. The temperatures were quite moderate and we had to wear our Blues during the early part of the year.
Most of the construction work was being done by Arabs with RAF supervision. They would only work when they needed money and would arrive on their donkey, hobble the two front legs and report for duty – all very slowly. Occasionally we would unhobble a donkey, slap it on the rump and then at the end of the day watch the face of the owner then he found it was missing. They always dramatised everything that happened to them.
The airfield had been built on a small plain which was also the grazing area for local village animals. This resulted in considerable difficulties controlling aircraft movements because the Arabs would drive their sheep, camels, etc., across the airfield and runways at random. We tried to discourage them by rounding up their animals,
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BETHLEHEM
A Judean Home
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Mother of Pearl Workers
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TEL-AVIV
Boulevard Rothschild
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Habimah Theatre
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HAIFA
The Road to Mount Carmel
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Technicum
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putting them into a compound and then insisting that they pay a ‘fine’ to get them back. The local Mokta (Mayor) visited us frequently and we prevailed upon him to stop the villagers from crossing the airfield. The climax came when a Defiant hit a camel which was crossing the runway. Unfortunately the aircraft was a write-off and we didn’t think much of the camel steaks either!
Eventually we were able to educate the Arabs to keep off the runways and, if they needed to cross, to wait for a green Aldis from the control tower. The Arab women could carry very heavy weights on their heads and this was demonstrated when two of them dropped bales of compressed straw onto the runway – we had to use the 15 cwt Chevrolet to drag them clear.
Whilst in Palestine we took the opportunity to visit the sights mentioned in the Bible. Jerusalem, Gol-Gotha, Haifa, Sea of Galilee, Bethlehem. The Jewish people were not kindly disposed to us. It was the period when ships with European immigrants were being turned away and would-be leaders were conducting terrorist activities. It was necessary to always be on the alert against attack.
Our main entertainment was either visiting Tel-Aviv for the day, being invited to the Polish Armoured Division near Ramalah, or having a dance in the Sergeant’s mess. The ATS and WAAFs were brought in by truck for these occasions.
When a course of ‘pupils’ passed out, one per month, they would invite their instructors to join them in the mess to celebrate the occasion. Many did ‘pass out’ but it was quite an event each month and I never needed rocking off to sleep on such nights.
The only other significant occasion I remember was P/O Izzard who was being taught to fly on one engine. I was also in the aircraft instructing a bomb-aimer. The screen pilot asked his ‘pupil’ to unfeather the port engine and return to normal power but unfortunately he feathered the starboard engine. We were too low to recover any power and the screen pilot had to crash land the Wellington in open country. Luckily no-one was injured but the aircraft was written off.
A week later I went for the weekend to The King David Hotel, Jerusalem. When I woke up the next morning my hair from ear to ear was on the pillow. I thought that someone had played a prank on me but soon discovered that my hair was still falling out. On my return to Qastina I reported to the M.O. who sent me to Tel-Aviv hospital. The Specialist went into raptures because he had not previously seen such a perfectly defined Alopecia profile of hair loss – just in line with the medical book. He brought into his consulting room both junior doctors and nurses but my question was what could he do about it and how quickly would it grow. The response was quite negative, I was told it would re-grow but over a period of months. The cause – delayed shock from the crash landing.
During the early part of my stay at Qastina I was sent to Ballah, down the Red Sea, on a Bombing Leaders and Instructor’s course. We worked fourteen hours every day either in the classroom or flying. We had to cram a three month course into two weeks. Immediately on arrival we were given a smallpox vaccination, apparently it
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had broken out in the area. Fortunately for me it didn’t take. They tried three times but then gave me an exemption certification. The course was very enlightening – our tutor being a Squadron Leader and ex Oxford University Professor. I came second in the course with a 96% pass, beaten by a New Zealand Maori with 98% - a man with considerable retentive abilities.
I continued to teach at 77 O.T. Unit, Qastina, until the end of June 1944 when I agreed to team up with Brian Jeffares a NZ pilot to return for a second tour of operations, based at Foggia, Italy.
My other recollections during the stay in Palestine were the frogs and toads. Thousands of them came out after dark and made such a fearful noise when we walked across the grass verges and tarmac roads they just squelched under our shoes. The other was the cheapness of fruit. We had a plywood tea chest, normal size, which we would half fill on a bi-weekly basis. This would cost around five shillings. Huge grapefruit was stacked at the side of the roads, like sugar beet, and left to rot because of the lack of transportation to send them to other countries.
Jack Morval and I were, on one occasion, invited out to a meal with an Arab family by a Palestinian Policeman. Quite an experience. We sat on mats around a large dish full of mutton portions, including eyes, of which everyone present had to eat at least one. This was not pleasant but I did manage to swallow one with my own eyes closed! The Arab family were upper-class and very good hosts and could speak quite good English. I was under the impression that the Palestinian Policeman dined with them on a regular basis.
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205 GROU – FOGGIA, ITALY 1944
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Our Crew see dots:: Brian Jeffries (NZ) Jack (Canada) Snowy Ayton (NZ) Eric Scott (UK) Jack Nichols (UK)
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SECOND TOUR OF OPERATION – 205 GROUP
Our Crew:
P/O Brian Jeffares New Zealand Pilot
W/O Snowy Ayton New Zealand Rear Gunner
F/Sgt Jock Nicholls Scotland W/O Air gunner
F/O Jack Canada Navigator
F/Sgt Eric Scott England Bomb/Aimer
We left as passengers in a Dakota bound for Capodichino airfield, Naples, on 23rd July 1944. Our first touch down for refuelling was Benghazi, then further stops at Tripoli, Bari and finally Naples. Flying time was 11hrs 50 minutes but the duration of the overall journey was fourteen hours. (See Log book).
We were allocated to 37 Squadron of 205 Group flying MK X Wellingtons but these were now fitted with the MK X1V bomb sights, another Barnes Wallis invention and considerably superior and more accurate than the old MK IX. It worked on a gyroscopic principle so that if the aircraft banked the sight only rotated half the amount, thus keeping the sighting vertical. This enabled short bombing runs to be made with great accuracy and gave profound relief to the crew as this period was the time most likely to be hit by Anti-Aircraft fire and coned by searchlights.
Following two days of air tests to acquaint ourselves with the locality and hazards we were listed for our first operation to an aerodrome in the South of France. A trip of almost nine hours duration. We had two bombs ‘hung up’ and I had to chop out a section of the ‘cat walk’ above the station concerned and then release them manually over the sea.
Over the next twelve days we completed seven operations, two of which were to the Ploesti oil refinery complex near Bucharest. This was the third most heavily defended target in Europe with many searchlights, light and heavy AA guns and, I have since learned, a ratio of two fighters to every bomber.
Our losses were very high in 205 Group, around 10%, but not nearly as much as the Americans who followed us on daylight operations. They lost well over 100 aircraft each day.
Our first operation on Ploesti was quite reasonable and we were not coned, although the gun fire was accurate and the smell of cordite in the plane was quite unmistakeable we came out unscathed. The next attack was quite the opposite. We approached the target at 15,000 feet and were at least three miles away from the aiming point when a master searchlight came straight onto us, followed by at least five others. We corkscrewed, dived and did every manoeuvre possible but could not get rid of them. We were then down to 8,000 feet and being hit by light and heavy AA fire. We did the shortest bombing run ever and then continued to take avoiding action, losing height all the time. We levelled out at 700 feet, at last free of the defences and about seven miles from the target. We saw a number of aircraft being shot down and much air to air firing by observing tracer fire. We knew that some of the fires on the ground were dummies and that some of the ground explosions were to make us think that
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more aircraft were crashing than was the case. However, our losses on that occasion were high.
Following the Ploesti trips two crews in our Group refused to go on any further operations. They were court martialled and accused of ‘lack of moral fibre’, lost their rank and brevet and sent to detention. I often wondered whether the court of officers presiding had ever been to Ploesti or any similar targets. It was a very frightening experience especially with such a small force of aircraft.
We pressed on, operating through August, September and into October. Being an experienced crew we were sometimes called upon to carry out Path-finding, when we had to locate the target using flares, in Chandelier then make a second run to drop target markers of either Red or Green, then a third run to drop our bombs. Not very healthy and also we were not equipped with ‘H2S’ or ‘G’, blind target identification aids, as fitted to all four-engined aircraft operating from the UK.
Some of our operations involved dropping mines on the Danube which prevented, delayed, or damaged barges being towed with German supplies to their front lines in Hungary, it particularly restricted the supply of oil to their forces in Italy and Germany.
Dropping mines was known as ‘Gardening’ and each crew were given a ‘Bed’ or stretch of the river in which the mines must be delivered. Naval officers briefed and de-briefed us on these occasions. We usually carried four mines. When about 100 miles from the target and depending upon the terrain, we would drop to between 600/700 feet to be under the Radar beams. As the river came into view, bearing in mind that it was always a full moon situation, we would drop to 200 feet. On identifying our Bed we would further reduce height, sometimes to 100 feet before releasing the mines. This ensured that the mines would not break up on impact with the water.
Inevitably there was much light gunfire from the banks and also rocket launches on barges in the river. The rockets whistled past the aircraft but we were never hit by either of the defences and we didn’t waste time getting away.
One of our squadron crew was shot down over the river on one mine laying trip but they managed to ditch, swim to the bank and three weeks later arrived back on the squadron. We wanted to know why it took them so long!
With the Russian advance, guns and fighter aircraft became even more concentrated and targets more difficult to attack, consequently our losses also increased because of this.
About the middle of October, Wing Commander Langton, our C/O sent for our crew and told us that the Group was converting to Liberators. He said that our tour of operations would be completed in the next week or so and that we would then return to the UK. It was not worth the expense of us converting for a few operations. The following day I filled in the necessary forms to apply for a commission as I considered that this would be more beneficial to me on my return than a Warrant Officer rank
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Beside the main road from Bucharest to the famous oil town of Ploiesti, lies the beautifully tended Commonwealth War Graves Commission Cemetery. While British Defence Attaché in Romania (1979-82) the author became curious to know how the 80 British and Commonwealth airmen, who lie in this peaceful place, met their deaths between May and August 1944.
He discovered that they were from the RAF’s 205 Group which, flying from airfields in the Foggia Plain of Italy, was the night bomber component of the Mediterranean Allied Strategic Air Force. They had lost their lives during the sustained day and night offensive against the Romanian oil industry and its distribution network, the transportation system supporting the German front in Moldavia and the mining of the Danube.
The cost to the Group, against these well-defended objectives – rated third after Berlin and the Ruhr - was 254 aircrew. 154 lost their lives, 73 became prisoners, while 27 evaded capture and returned to Allied lines after many adventures. 46 Bombers were lost.
Patrick Macdonald’s account of these operations is based on the contemporary official reports and intelligence assessments fleshed out by the recollections of many of the men who were there from all corners of the Commonwealth.
‘…a riveting story, well organised and well told… Patrick Macdonald’s book convincingly justifies his assertion that this bomber offensive, though little publicised at the time was no side show when set against other events nearer to the main arena of the war and for those who took part in it.’
British Army Review
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which was imminent. I was interviewed the following day by Wing Commander Langton who said that he would forward a recommendation to Group HQ without delay.
On the 17th October we carried out what we thought would be our final operation on a marshalling yard in Yugoslavia. However, on the afternoon of the 21st we were asked to fill in for a crew whose pilot had reported sick. The target was Maribor marshalling yards in Yugoslavia. Everything went wrong on that day. The aircraft was an old MKIII and one engine was ‘playing up’ when we checked it out in the afternoon. When we went to take off the engine was still showing high mag. drop. Further work was carried out but eventually we took off fifteen minutes late and with a slower than normal aircraft. Our arrival on target was at least twenty minutes behind schedule and, of course, we were on our own. After dropping our bombs we turned for home and tried to do a bit more catching up. On approaching the Yugoslavian mountains we were attacked by a German fighter from below. No-one saw it as it was in a blind position. The damage was mainly to the petrol tank on the starboard side, so I switched both engines to that tank to save fuel.
Despite the fact that we dog-legged, changed height and changed our position every few minutes, we were again attacked about fifteen minutes later and on this occasion the aircraft went out of control. Brian gave the order to abandon the aircraft. I opened the front lower entry/escape hatch, saw Jock and Jack the navigator go forward, then picked up Brian’s parachute and gave it to him, meanwhile he was trying to slow the descent of the aircraft which was quite considerable. On trying to clip on my own ‘chute I could only feel a clip on the left side – the right hand clip seemed to be flattened. Being dark I couldn’t see what had happened. There was very little time to ponder the problem because we were over the mountains which I could see from the side window. My only chance of survival was to jump and hope that the canopy shrouds would not entangle so that the ‘chute would open.
I said a very quick prayer asking God to give me a safe landing and then swung out of the forward hatch. I then felt for the rip cord handle and pulled it. Almost immediately there was a very load crack and I was jerked into a floating situation. At the same time I saw our aircraft explode on the ground. Not being sure of my ‘angle of dangle’ I was not ready when I hit the ground with considerable force. My face hit a boulder on the mountain side – I’ve never looked so good since. It was pouring with rain and numerous dogs were barking, presumably because of the exploding aircraft.
HOSTAGE/PRISONER OF WAR
The first thing I did after releasing my parachute was to thank God for my life, and also prayed that somehow Jessie and the family would know that I was safe.
After wrapping myself in my parachute for warmth and protection from the rain I went to sleep.
The tolling of a church clock and the barking of dogs woke me at daybreak. The rain had ceased and looking around I realised that I was about one third of the way up the mountain and it was mainly boulders and scree around and below me. My face was
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[Photograph]
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stiff and sore and coated with dried blood on one side. I collected my parachute into a manageable ball and then examined the harness. The right hand clip was torn away and the remaining metal, near the harness, was very distorted. It was apparent that either a bullet or shell from the fighter had hit the clip and torn it away. The thought of such a ‘close call’ made me shiver and I was thankful for my safe deliverance. I hid my parachute between a boulder and the ground on the face away from the valley.
There was a farmhouse near the bottom of the mountain in a concealed position. I watched the activity at the house for at least three hours. The farmer came out of the house with his dog, followed by a woman who assumed to be his wife. Later, a girl who was probably about twelve years old and a boy 8-10 years started to do tasks around the farmhouse. By this time the chimney was smoking. Looking at my watch I saw it was around 10.0 am when they all returned to the house. At 11.0 am I decided that the family were harmless and that I would approach them for assistance to try and contact Tito’s Partisans.
I didn’t have any problems negotiating the descent and arrived at the farmhouse unseen. The lady opened the door to my knocking and audibly gasped. I explained who I was with gestures and she called her husband. When asking them for help I tried to explain that my parachute could be retrieved and given to them in return. The man came with me and helped to bring my parachute down to the house. I offered him a cigarette and, with the ‘hot end’ I burnt a piece of the canopy as a keepsake. What I didn’t realise was that the farmer had sent his son the alert the military authorities.
On the boy’s return the farmer motioned me to follow his son, giving me the impression that he would guide me to the Partisans.
My freedom was short-lived however, as by evening we were picked up by the Croation Military who were co-operating with the German Army and also fighting the Partisans. They were a very ‘trigger-happy’ bunch of soldiers and I knew that it was useless to make a run for it so, with a number of guns pointing in my direction I was escorted to an ancient truck and driven under guard to Gospic and the Military H.Q. where I met Snowy, Jock and Jack. We were locked in a room and left overnight but were given a meal of what seemed like pasta and jam. It was good and very welcome. I quietly asked the other crew members about Brian, whether anyone had seen him or heard about him. Snowy said he thought he had gone down with the aircraft. Apparently, just before I escaped, Snowy had gone out backwards with the turret rotated at 90° to the fuselage. This was quite a common practice and a much quicker escape route for rear gunners. Unfortunately Snowy had got his feet tangled up with the firing cables and this prevented him getting clear of the turret. He then put his helmet back on and asked Brian to hold the aircraft a little longer so that he could clear the cables. Whether he told Brian when he was clear is not known but there is no doubt that Brian sacrificed his life for his New Zealand cobber – a very generous act of self-sacrifice and discipline. I do not know where Brian is interred or whether he has any known grave.
After sleeping fitfully we were allowed to go one at a time to wash etc. Meanwhile an American-born woman married to a Croation came to see us and provided breakfast
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[Post Office Telegram]
TRANSCRIPT OF OFFICIAL TELEGRAM
Mrs E.W. Scott 4 William St. Great Northern Terrace Lincoln
From Air Ministry 73 Oxford St. PC 23/10/44
Regret to inform you that your husband 1425752 Flight Sergeant E.W. Scott is reported missing as the result of air operations on 21st October.
Enquiries are being made through the International Red Cross Committee and any further information received will be communicated to you immediately.
Should news of him reach you from any other sources please advise this department.
Letter following shortly pending its receipt no information should be given to the press.
1140 A
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and a cup of tea. She also arranged for me to be taken by a guard to the local hospital to have my face treated and accompanied me to translate when necessary. After two days in the Military Headquarter, during which we were relieved of our identity discs – much to my disgust – we were taken to the local prison and locked up in a cell about 12 feet x 8 feet with a stone floor. It was very cold and we couldn’t seem to persuade the guards to give us some blankets.
Eventually the ‘American lady’ came to see us and explained that we were not prisoners of war but hostages. She arranged for blankets to be issued and reassured the guards that we would not harm them. This conversation produced a complete change of attitude from the guards who shared their Schnapps with us and a few days later brought playing cards out. They never won, Snowy was a past master at cheating.
About one-two weeks after capture, the military advised us that they were going to hand us over to the Germans as being only hostages they couldn’t be responsible for our safety with the Russian advance. We objected and asked why they wouldn’t allow us to contact the Partisans, if they showed us their location on a map we would attempt to walk to them. They would not agree to this and the following morning in heavy rain we had to board an open lorry for transit to Zagreb and the Germans. The journey took several hours and we were soaked to the skin when we were taken into the German camp and locked in cells which were constructed of wood. A long passageway linked each cell and we quickly found out that there were American airmen in the next two cells to ours. Apparently they had been shot down a few days previous after returning from a raid on Vienna.
The Feldwebel in charge of us was a very dour, Prussian type of German and shouted at us at every opportunity, and at the same time hitting us with his rifle butt whenever we wanted to visit the toilet. The food provided was very poor, but nevertheless, it helped to fill an empty stomach. The Americans decided enough was enough with the hostility of the Feldwebel and with us in accord started to sing ‘Or would you rather be a mule’. The Germans went berserk, hitting us again with their rifle butts until the Unter Officer intervened.
The following day we were handed over to four Luftwaffe guards and taken to the local railway station where we boarded a train bound apparently for Budapest.
None of us had smoked a cigarette for some time and, on boarding the train, we saw long cardboard-type holder s with what appeared to be tobacco inside. On closer inspection, however, they were only the tubes which had been attached to Turkish cigarettes – disappointment all round. After many hours of train travel with a lot of stops we arrived at Budapest Station around mid-morning the following day. We had not eaten or drunk since leaving Zagreb. The 8 plus 4 of us were taken to the German Military Police office on the platform, given a chunk of black bread and some German sausage. It was then we heard the Russian shells falling on the City and in fact they were hitting part of the station complex. The German guards, who were all in their fifties, herded us quickly back onto the train and with civilians who were cramming into the compartments and on the carriage roofs, the train left the station leading North from whence we had come.
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[Crest] AIR TRAINING CORPS [Crest]
CITY OF LINCOLN SQUADRONS
Nos. 204 & 1237
Lindum Holme, Lindum Terrace, Lincoln Tel: Lincoln 914
From O.C. 1237 Squadron. A.T.C.
Dear Mrs Scott,
It is with very deep regret that we learn that your son, Flt/Sgt. Eric Scott has failed to return from recent operations.
We need not tell you how very proud we are of Eric’s record with us and subsequently with the R.A.F. and how sincerely we hope that you may soon receive brighter and reassuring news of him but in the meantime please remember that all ranks of his old A.T.C Squadron are with you in thought and sympathise with you in these dark times.
Yours in deep sympathy,
[Signature]
Flt. Lieut.
O.C. 1237 Squadron, A.T.C.
AIR MINITRY,
(Casualty Branch),
73-77 OXFORD STREET,
LONDON, W.1
P/424636/3/P.4.A.2.
29 October, 1944.
Madam,
I am commanded by the Air Council to confirm the telegram in which you were notified that your husband, Flight Sergeant Eric William Scott, Royal Air Force, is missing as a result of air operations on 21st October, 1944.
The telegraphic report from Air Force Headquarters, North Africa, states that your husband was air bomber of a Wellington aircraft which set out to attack marshalling yards at Maribor, Yugoslavia and failed to return.
This does not necessarily mean that he is killed or wounded, and if he is a prisoner of war he should be able to communicate with you in due course. Meanwhile enquiries are being made through the International Red Cross Committee, and as soon as any definite news is received you will be at once informed.
If any information regarding your husband is received by you from any source your are requested to be kind enough to communicate it
/immediately
Mrs E.W. Scott,
4, William Street,
Great Northern Terrace,
Lincoln.
immediately to the Air Ministry.
It is desired to explain that the reference to publication in the Press was included in the telegram informing you of the casualty to your husband in order to avoid prejudicing his chance of escape by undue publicity, should he be at large in enemy-occupied territory. This does not mean that any information about him is available but it is a precaution adopted in the case of all personnel reported “missing”.
The Air Council desire me to express their sympathy with you in your present anxiety.
I am, madam,
Your obedient servant,
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The following morning saw us travelling through Yugoslavia again, with a number of stop/starts. Eventually we stopped and, on looking out of the carriage window I saw to my horror two Typhoon fighter/bombers of the RAF, fitted with rockets. They were only 200-300 feet high and I then guessed they were going around to line up with the train. I immediately altered the guards and the Americans. The main carriage window could be pushed down to act as an emergency exit and by this we hurriedly vacated the train, ran up a grassy slope, across a village green and positioned ourselves on the protected side of a stone war memorial. The rockets hit the engine and machine gun bullets ripped through the carriages. Although the train was marked with a Red Cross the majority of passengers were German Army personnel and many were wounded in the attack and some were killed. This caused considerable bitterness and a number of army men man-handled us from the village onto the grass slope and lined us up for execution. Our guards just didn’t do anything to protect us. I bowed my head and said a prayer for all of us, fully expecting to be shot there and then. Was I frightened? very much so. I thought that I had been brought safely through a number of traumas only now to be executed.
In those few seconds, however, a German officer ran in front of the armed squad of soldiers and commanded them to return to the train, which they eventually did with reluctance. He came to us and apologised and explained that he had been a prisoner in England during the First World War and had been very well treated and was not, therefore, allowing German soldiers to ignore the Red Cross and Geneva Conventions for prisoners.
We stayed with our guards on that grassy slope until lunch time the following day when a replacement engine was coupled and the train once again began its journey North. Our destination was Vienna.
On arriving at the outskirts of the City it was apparent that all was not well. The German Officer who had protected us from the firing squad explained to us that there had been an American bombing raid on the City that morning. Many residential areas had been hit and it was too dangerous to go across the City with our guards. However, he arranged for a fit young army man to run with us across the City to the other station and hand us over to their military police – our guards were to follow in a more leisurely and safe manner. Although we were much less than fit and ravenously hungry, we ran for dear life across Vienna. Chunks of stone, brick and other forms of masonry came our way but nothing hit us and we managed with our guide to dodge the people who tried to cut us off.
We all reached the station without injury and were pleased to be handed over to the German military police who once again issued us with the usual rations of black bread and sausage, for which we were very grateful. When our guards eventually arrived we boarded a train and had an uneventful journey to Frankfurt and were incarcerated in the German Dulag Luft, i.e. the interrogation centre for airmen.
We were each locked in a cell with a bed and blanket and a barred window gave light but an electric light burned day and night. There were many bed bugs which made life uncomfortable but it had to be accepted. If the toilet was needed we had to pull a cord
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Dulag-Luft Germany
13TH NOV 1944
I have been taken prisoner of war in Germany. I am in good health – [deleted] slightly wounded [/deleted] (cancel accordingly).
We will be transported from here to another Camp within the next few days. Please don’t write until I give new address.
Kindest regards
Eric Scott
F/Sgt
R.A.F.
[Telegram]
TRANSCRIPT OF TELEGRAM
Priority CC
Mrs. E.W. Scott 4 William St. Gt. Northern Terrace, Lincoln
From 73/Oxford St. PC 966 W1/QW/PP
Information received through International Red Cross Committee states that your husband F/Sgt Eric William Scott is prisoner of war in German hands.
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near the door and this dropped a wooden lever on the outside. When the guards were sufficiently satisfied that a prisoner could go to the toilet without seeing anyone else they opened the cell door and escorted the person to the toilet. Food was put into the cell by the guards three times each day. Breakfast consisted of two thin slices of black bread coasted with erstaz butter and jam. Lunch was a thin ‘watery’ soup and one slice of bread. Evening meal was once again black bread and sausage. I had four interrogation sessions whilst at Frankfurt, all were during the night between midnight and 4.0am. My interrogator was the same officer on each occasion. He offered me a cigarette which I took and, when he turned his back to me to look at a map, I took two more cigarettes from his box and put them into my pocket. Following several threats, because I had no proof of identity, with the absence of my dog tags, he told the guard to return me to my cell. After being locked up again I took a cigarette from my pocket but then realised that I had no means of lighting it – I had fallen for that one very easily.
The remaining interrogations were very similar to the first except that during the last one he told me more about 205 Group than I knew, so he was well informed.
Finally they sent me down to another part of the building for political interrogation. The next cell to me was occupied by an American and it was possible to talk to each other because the cells were open-topped. It was during this interrogation that I learned of the death of President Roosevelt. The following day and about ten-fourteen days after my arrival at Frankfurt, I joined the rest of our crew and entrained for a POW Camp.
We had an uneventful journey to Bankau, Upper Silesia and Stalag Luft VII.
Just prior to leaving Frankfurt we were each given a card to fill in for sending home saying that we were prisoners of war and were well. Also a cardboard suitcase with American-style clothing was handed to us through the Red Cross. This consisted of a great coat, pair of boots, four pairs of socks, woolly hat, two vests, two pairs of pants, two shirts and part of a Red Cross parcel of food.
STALAG LUFT VII
On arrival at the camp, most of the occupants crowded at the entrance to see if there was anyone they knew. It was then that I learned of the Arnhem fiasco and that the Dulag Luft housed many of the Glider Pilots. The entrance to Stalag Luft VII was by two large gates about twenty yards apart and both were well guarded. The compound was rectangular, with accommodation huts down each side. Each hut had at least six rooms off each side of a central corridor. The hut was about eighteen inches above floor level to allow the dogs to go underneath. Each room was equipped with a coal stove mounted onto a steel plate and eight bunks – four upper and four lower.
I was allocated an upper bunk in the first room on the left in the second hut on the right looking from the entrance of the compound. The rest of the inmates of the room were Aussies, a New Zealander, a Scotsman and English. In the same hut were two other Lincoln people, a Glider Pilot taken at Arnhem and a wireless operator shot
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CUTTINGS FROM THE LINCOLNSHIRE ECHO
[Newspaper cuttings]
A letter from ex-Cadet E. W. Scott brings the good news that he has been promoted to Flt.-Sgt. And is at present in Italy, starting on his second tour of operations. Flt.-Sgt. Scott is a bomb-aimer and has seen service in North Africa, Sicily and Italy. On completing his first tour he had a short leave in Egypt and then went to Palestine, where he has for several months been instructing. He is now looking forward to finishing his second tour and then coming home.
LINCOLN FLIGHT-SERGT IS PRISONER OF WAR
Flight Sergt Eric W. Scott, R.A.F.V.R, reported missing in the Adriatic theatre of war two months ago, is a prisoner of war in German hands
His wife, formerly Miss Jessie Brown, of William-street, has received a post-card saying that he is well, but as he was expecting to be moved, told her not to write until she heard from him again.
Flight-Sergt Scott is the second son on Mr. and Mrs F. Scott, of William-street, Lincoln, and before joining the R.A.F. in 1941 he was employed in the research department at Clayton-Dewandre Co. Ltd. He was a member of the 1237 squadron Lincoln Air Training Corps.
Members of the squadron will be very pleased to learn that their old comrade Eric Scott, now a prisoner of war in Germany, has been granted a commission. Apparently this very excellent news came through about a week before he was reported missing, but his relatives have only recently been notified, and it is still doubtful whether Eric himself yet knows he is now a pilot officer. Congratulations, Eric, from your old squadron.
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Goodbye to the Wimpeys
ROME, Monday. – The Wellington bombers with the R.A.F. in Italy, the “Wimpeys,” have been replaced by Liberators for land warfare, it was announced tonight. Only a few remain for anti-submarine and shipping strikes.
Their four-year record began with the famous “mail runs” to Benghazi. Since then they have ranged over all the battlefields, from Iraq through North Africa to the Apls and the Balkans.
But now, said an R.A.F. officer tonight, “the old ladies are just not fast enough.” – Express News Service.
down in a Sterling [sic]. A third Lincoln man, by the name of Dennis Martin, was also in the camp.
The compound was enclosed by (a) danger wire approximately eighteen inches from the ground and fastened to posts driven into the ground at regular intervals. If anyone crossed the wire, for whatever reason without permission, the guards could legitimately open fire. (b) About ten yards further out from the ‘danger wire’ was the inner fencing, strong with barbed wire and with the top angled inwards. (c) A third fence, similar to (b) encircled the compound and was made in a similar fashion. Between (b) and (c) were coils of razor sharp wire about three feet in depth.
Four sentry boxes were positioned down each side of the compound and one at each end – the latter being centrally located. These boxes were approximately twenty feet from the ground and gave each sentry a good vision of his area. All boxes housed a ‘searchlight’ which arc-ed across the compound at regular intervals during darkness or could be manually moved by the sentry. A machine gun was also mounted in each box and each sentry had his own rifle. All were loaded.
When playing ball games, including golf, if a ball went over the ‘danger wire’ limit the guard had to be attracted and his permission obtained to retrieve it. Even then it was a bit dicey and it was advisable to have a number of the prisoners on hand when going beyond the wire to ensure that the sentry knew he was being watched.
The total number of inmates during my short stay there was 2,600. I arrived mid-December, the camp had only been opened the previous July. Some POW’s had, however, been transferred from other camps to ensure a smooth routine and operation. Our camp leader was an Australian, Bill Thompson. I met him again at a POW reunion about twelve-fourteen years ago at Nottingham. He was a good and hard working leader and all complaints from POW’s and German Staff were channelled through him. The escape committee consisted of six POW’s (old hands) who vetted each plan for escape. Many were turned down but, even when accepted, the people concerned had to wait in the queue. Many POW’s helped out with escape details, i.e. false papers, uniforms etc. The camp included a library and school. There was no shortage of teachers, some were tutors from the top Universities in the UK.
The Auditorium was also well used to promote plays, particularly those with satire against the Heronvolk, which usually resulted in the German Officers stamping out before the end. The German guards with or without dogs patrolled the compound and huts every day to try and ensure that prisoners were not engaged in activities which were ‘verboten’. Gardening was a regular task for prisoners, when the opportunity was taken to bury the spare radio. The news from the BBC was circulated to each hut once a day. Only two men knew who held the radio, the one who retained it and the camp leader. It was the duty of the occupants of the camp to keep the Germans occupied to ensure that the maximum number of guards were needed to operate the camp.
Every morning and evening all prisoners had to fall in by hut in the compound and be counted. Because I was relatively short in stature I was asked to be in the rear or middle line of three and, after being counted to move swiftly to a point in the line yet
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[Drawing]
BLOWER/COOKER-POW CAMP-STALAG LUFT V11
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to be counted. This ‘false count’ often meant being ‘on parade’ for at least one hour and, with the weather being extremely cold and with falls of snow it was no joke but had to be done. The senior NCO of the German guards became very hysterical and fired his revolver in the air if, by the third count, the number was one or two out of the official number.
With the two other Lincoln men I went for a one hour walk around the compound each day and then spent time making blower units for sale on the weekly market. A good blower, for high speed cooking was worth three blocks of chocolate from a Red Cross parcel. In the short time I was in Stalag Luft VII I made three blowers. See sketch.
Each prisoner received a Red Cross parcel each month. This meant that there were two parcels to feed the eight men in each room every week. The British parcels contained a tin of skimmed powdered milk, 2 blocks of high calorie chocolate, 100 cigarettes, dried prunes, tins of spam and corned beef, a very unique tin opener, tins of fish, flour, sugar, a pack of margarine, currants or raisins, tea and cocoa, the American parcels also had coffee. These supplemented the loaf of black bread, ersatze [sic] butter made from coal, ersatze [sic] coffee made from acorns and the watery soup plus sauerkraut, which was plentiful and was collected by one room member from the cookhouse each mid-day.
It was on one of these occasions that one of our POW’s was shot and killed by a sentry guard. The camp and Bankau air raid sirens had sounded about one hour previously. When this happened, all POW’s had to return to their rooms. This was quite a frequent occurrence and American Fortresses once again flew over the camp on the way to their target. We had to wait for their return before the all-clear sounded. On this particular day the Bankau all-clear was heard and it was past 12 o’clock – which was the time for collecting food from the cookhouse. Even after a further five minutes we did not hear anymore sirens so one sergeant, thinking that the camp siren must have gone, dashed out from his hut to be the first in the cookhouse queue. Half-way across the compound he was shot and killed.
Pandemonium broke out. POW’s with artistic flair immediately took pencil and paper to draw the facial details of the sentry. German officers tried to disperse the POW’s but there were far too many for them to make any impression. Our camp leader and two assistants came along with the Prussian Camp Commandant when he insisted that the sentry should be photographed and his name and other details should be given to our Camp Leader for action to be taken by the appropriate authorities at the cessation of hostilities. The sentry in question was relieved of his duties and posted without delay.
Sometimes ‘SS’ troops were brought into the camps for guard duties as a rest period and it was necessary to be very wary of these young Nazi enthusiasts.
Bearing in mind that I went into the camp in mid-December 1944, I was soon ‘volunteered’ by the other seven room occupants to try and make a Christmas pudding.
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[Newspaper cutting]
SCATTERED in the path of the Allied armies are many prison camps and internment camps. Some in the east, as the map shows, have already been overrun by the Russians.
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We had the flour, fruit and milk mix, also sugar and it was possible to buy potatoes and carrots from the Germans for a few cigarettes. My biggest problem was knowing what to cook it in even though it could be steamed. One of the room inmates had a spare pyjama jacket so it was unanimously decided that the pudding mix be stuffed down a cut sleeve and tied at both ends. This was done with great ceremony and the pudding steamed in a large gammell with a tube bottom made from tins out of the Red Cross parcels. We were usure regarding timing but decided to steam it on the stove for two hours.
On Christmas Day our mid-day dinner consisted of :
STARTERS
Mixed Stewed Fruit
MAIN COURSE
Fried Spam, Fried Potatoes, beans cooked in a tomato sauce
SWEET
Christmas Pudding
We finally had to steam the pudding for another hour. It was very solid and only a very small amount could be eaten. We shared the rest with other rooms in the hut. To say it tasted like Traditional Christmas Pudding would be an exaggeration but we enjoyed it and slept well during the afternoon on an unusually full stomach.
Although the food at Stalag Luft VII, supplemented by parcels, kept us going we didn’t increase in weight, rather the opposite for most POW’s. However, I remained at about 8 stone. On the Squadron my weight was between 8 1/2 – 9 stone.
The week after Christmas there were strong rumours of the camp having to be vacated because of the rapid Russian advance into upper Silesia. We were advised by our Camp Leader to make preparation for moving. I made a back-pack from my papier-mâché suitcase which measured about 18” x 12” and was waterproof. Four holes, one punched in each corner, allowed me to thread rope through to form shoulder straps for carrying. In this suitcase went spare vests, socks, pants, shirt and the blocks of chocolate I had been hoarding for such an occasion.
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[Postcards]
Postcards written on 10th and 17th December 1944 from Stalag Luft V11 just prior to the forced march
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On the 18th of January, with snow up to 12” deep and temperatures 10-15 degrees C below zero, we were told that we would be leaving Stalag Luft VII by foot at 4.0 pm that day, i.e. at dusk. We were each handed a Red Cross Parcel, the contents of which were distributed around our bodies. The first night of walking and freedom was a welcome experience. Each dawn, or thereabouts, we went into a farm and into the barns or cattle sheds to sleep. Because of the depth of snow my socks were always wet. I wore two pairs at a time to try and keep my feet warm. The pair I took off went into my shirt to dry and a replacement pair of dry socks put on before going to sleep. On one occasion during the first seven days, a pig had been slaughtered and made into soup in a large cauldron. The demand far exceeded the supply so I didn’t get any. The contents of the Red Cross Parcel virtually vanished after the first week. Washing faces and hands was a problem and generally had to be done using snow. My boots were pushed into the hay or at the side of a cow in an attempt to keep them above freezing but, with very little success. Generally it was necessary to hand-manipulate the shoe leather in order to get them on when it was time for moving.
The weather conditions became worse, blizzards as well as icy conditions – it was really appalling. Our breath froze in our beards and it had to be gently warmed by hand to prevent it being a mass of ice.
By this time the novelty of freedom had well worn off and airmen who had been injured during their bombing trip or on baling out and crashing, were very much the worse for wear. Some had to be left behind in houses, the occupants being mainly of Polish origin in Upper Silesia. Our rate of progress was very slow, about 20 miles each night.
The second week of walking was similar to the first except that the men were getting weaker and with little or no food provided our tummies started to shrink and become painful.
By February my chocolate store was exhausted, even though I had used it as a supplement to whatever food I could find, mainly frozen sugar beet, which now became my staple diet. A number of men went to sleep in the barns and didn’t get up again for the next night’s walk. Others collapsed at the roadside in the snow. Whether they were taken care of by the local inhabitants I don’t know. Even the German guards were dropping out because of hunger and cold.
There were occasions when we were urged to cross a bridge over a river and, on reaching the other side, the bridge was dynamited. We were surprised at this because all the rivers were frozen solid and could easily have carried vehicles.
At this stage of our journey we were allowed two nights each week to rest up because we were so close to complete exhaustion. We were told that we were heading for Luckenwalde Stalag IIIA, near Potsdam, Berlin. We were also told that the German High Command had been told to execute prisoners rather than hand them over the advancing British, American and Russian armies. We still managed to get news information so our radio was still with us.
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[Letter]
Letter sent to home – March 1945 – from Stalag IIIA
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There were so many days during the latter part of this forced march that I would have been quite willing to have laid down and died but yet it seemed so futile to give up after having endured so much since October 1944. I prayed very often for help to keep going and for a successful return to Lincoln but my expectations were very much tinged with the prospects of not making it at that stage of the march. The appalling weather continued and I felt very much like a zombie, just putting one foot in front of the other because the man in front of me was doing the same. We came to a point in the journey when the Camp Leader said enough was enough and told the Germans that they either abandon all of us to await the Russian Army or they provided transport for the remainder of the journey.
After three days at a large farm, where we did get a little food and where I saw airmen fighting each other for a piece of meat in a stew because of their hunger, we were walked to a railway embankment and, by helping each other, boarded a train with cattle truck accommodation. This was sheer luxury compared to walking.
A three day stop/start journey with the train halting each night, brought us to Potsdam and a relatively short walk to Stalag IIIA.
It was apparently late February but time didn’t mean anything anymore. The size of this camp was staggering. We were told that it held around 75,000 people, the majority being displaced workers of all nationalities and age ranges. Children were even being born in the camp.
From a military viewpoint there were Russian, Polish, French, Dutch, British and Americans. On arrival at Stalag IIIA we were each given a Red Cross Parcel. The priority however was for a shower and shave. It was apparent that we were covered in body lice and, even after showering and putting on a clean vest, the lice quickly reappeared in all of the vest seams. Boiling the vests and our battle dress tops in tin baths on open fires did not make any difference. When I first went into the shower I was stood next to the C of E Padre. He was at least 6ft 3in. tall and his ribs were really hollow and I just laughed but, when I looked at my own ribs they were identical. The small bar of swan soap – similar in size to that issued in hotels – just disappeared between our ribs. We were a good case of a starvation diet and over exercise. When the German doctors re-X-rayed us they also weighed us, I was just six stones.
With regard to the Red Cross Parcels, Lofty the Glider Pilot, sat in the aircrew compound, opened his tin of Peanut Butter and ate the lot – no bread or anything with it – it gave me a nauseating feeling just watching him. We didn’t know how long it would be before we got another parcel so we made this issue last as long as possible. The shrinkage of our stomachs also meant that we didn’t need much food to feel full.
Three weeks after arriving at the camp there was a full scale battle, with air attacks by both sides across the area. We had to take whatever cover we could as bullets and rockets passed across the compounds. We made a large white cross and laid it on the compound floor between the line of huts. The battle see-sawed back and forth for three days – it seemed more like three weeks. At first light on the third day all the German guards were gone and we were in control of our own compound. I immediately went to the German medical centre to try and pick up a Leika camera, a
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[Photograph]
Badges from a German Uniform
[Photograph]
[Photograph] Issue of RAF Watch – still working today
[Photograph] Right: Prisoner of War identification tag
[Page break]
[Record Card]
RECORD CARDS RETRIEVED FROM CAMP RECORD OFFICE (see over)
[Page break]
[Record Card]
[Page break]
number of which were used for X-raying. I was too late but moving onto the record office I managed to find my own record cards and these I kept.
The Russian army arrived in strength the same day. Tanks just crushed the barbed wire fencing so that one side of every compound was open to free movement of prisoners. The Russian prisoners in the next compound to us went berserk. They were immediately given access and disappeared with the advanced Russian troops who were all of Mongolian extraction. The general appearance of the Russian advance troops was very rag-tag. Lorries had hard tyres, mules were used for towing guns, the soldiers didn’t have tin hats and their rifles and automatic weapons, etc., were of very varied make. Some were weapons captured from the German army.
When the main body of the Russian soldiers arrived they were all uniformed and more disciplined. However they were not well disposed towards us and if we wanted food we had to find it in the locality. Lofty and I went around the area including the outskirts of Potsdam to see if food was available. Many houses had been abandoned in a hurry but the food left behind was very meagre. We went into a Tailor’s shop and it was there that I found and kept a pair of scissors which I have used for decorating ever since. I also thought that the considerable length and very sharp points of the scissors would be a handy weapon if needed for my defence.
The Russians placed large tubs on open fires and made their yoghurt. This was all the nourishment they could offer us but the smell from the sour curds was terrible and despite my hunger I just could not eat any. Lofty however, devoured both portions! Many of the Russian troops had not seen flushed toilets before and continually came into the compound toilet blocks, put their feet into the bowl and pulled the chain several times, grinning all over their faces.
It was at this time ant a Russian took my watch and did his best to steal my wedding ring but he relented eventually and left me. A senior Russian Officer, with many aides, sat at a table in our compound and we had to file past giving our name, number, origin, nationality, etc. This took over a week to complete as many POW camps of British airmen had been sent to Stalag IIIA, including those from Sagan. Hence we now had a Group Captain, demoted by himself to Flt. Lt. in charge of the British aircrew contingent, irrespective of rank.
He advised all the men not to try and make their own way to the West of the Elbe because we would again be taken prisoner or shot by either side. The Russians wanted to arm us and send us into the battle for Berlin but of course this was refused based on the Geneva Convention. The Russians did not acknowledge this. Their next ploy was to send us home via Moscow. We were the first major bunch of British aircrew released and our leaders again refused this, really upsetting the Russians who put a loose guard around our compound.
Some days after the Russians had ‘released’ us numerous American trucks turned up at the side of our compound. All were driven by black soldiers and unarmed. Two white American officers were in charge and they had apparently been sent, with agreement by the Russians, to collect us and take us across the river Elbe to the American sector. The Russians who were responsible for us didn’t want to know and
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[Crest]
CATERPILLAR CLUB
26th April, 1945.
Mrs. Scott.
4, William Street.
LINCOLN.
Dear Mrs. Scott,
[Underlined] F/Sgt. E. W. Scott. [/underlined]
I was very glad to hear from the above that he had saved his life with an Irvin chute, and at his request have pleasure in sending his membership card herewith.
I regret that due to supply restrictions we are not able to order Caterpillar Pins for Prisoners until after the war, but one will be sent as soon as available.
Please excuse the form letter, but this is due to pressure of work.
With best wishes for his early return, I am,
Yours sincerely,
[Signature]
Leslie L. Irvin.
MEL.
Encl. Card.
[Photograph] Cloth Caterpillar Badge
Right: Membership card of the Caterpillar Club [Photograph]
Below:
Two Caterpillar pin badges
[Photograph]
Piece of silk burned from parachute after bailing out
[Photograph]
[Page break]
put an armed guard around the trucks and flatly refused permission for us to move. This situation continued for three days, then the American lorries were allowed to return – empty to their sector. One or two men managed to get away rolled in a tarpaulin in the trucks. One of these was Dennis Martin who went to 4 William Street and told Jessie that I was alright.
After a further two days we were ushered into Russian lorries and driven to the Elbe and once there we disembarked, crossed the river on foot by pontoon bridge and given a terrific welcome on the other side. We were all still full of body lice and, as we passed through a medical tent, we were checked for T.B., and D.D.T. was pumped from small guns down our vests and shirts.
The Red Cross, bless them, issued us with toilet and shaving gear. It was a very painful, but necessary task to remove my beard of three-and-a-half months, although I had done a rough trimming job with the tailor’s scissors. My battle dress trousers gaped open just above the leg pocket due to the material having rotted, particularly with boiling them in an endeavour to lose the lice. I looked more like a tramp than an airman.
We stayed with the Americans for two days and had some wonderful food, but could only manage small amounts.
Air transport them took us to Brussels airport where we were again given a warm welcome and fed and watered. After a further twenty-four hours it was my turn to board an RAF Lancaster to fly home. It was May and, although I had missed V.E. day, I though with a bit of luck I would make V.J. day. I never did identify the airfield at which we landed but we were bussed to a railway station and boarded a train – normal passenger service – to Cosford. I felt really uneasy being among civilians again and my torn uniform and general appearance in the compartment was cause for comment by the other occupants. The other significant factor was that I had no idea of the current news so couldn’t make any conversation. A lonely journey and one of self-consciousness.
On arrival at RAF Station Cosford I was ushered into a queue, in line with a table, behind which sat a records clerk with a sheaf of papers. These tables extended from one end of a hanger to the other. When it came to my turn the clerk asked me for my RAF number, rank and name but none of these appeared in his papers. He then asked me whether I had received any mail from home and I told him I hadn’t. The question now was, did my wife and other members of my family know that I was alive. I told him that I had sent the usual pre-printed card from Dulag Luft Frankfurt and had written letters home, Even so I had no evidence or knowledge of whether they knew I was a prisoner of war.
This lack of evidence, plus the fact that I was not on the register of returning prisoners caused me considerable concern. I couldn’t telephone anyone because I was not aware of telephone numbers. The clerk gave me papers to get clothing equipment, badges of rank, medal ribbons, shoes, and the many other pieces of equipment we had to have in the RAF. After visiting the ‘tailor’s shop’ where numerous local women were sewing on all the badges of rank etc., I took my equipment to a hut allocated for
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[Newspaper cutting]
In memory of the PoWs of the ‘Long March’
By Peter Davies
[Photograph]
The commemorative statue by the sculptor Pamela Taylor
THE MEMORIAL to RAF prisoners of war who died on the ‘Long March’, unveiled by the Duke of Edinburgh at the Royal Air Force Museum, Hendon, yesterday, is a reminder of one of the Second World War’s most extraordinary – yet unsung – feats of endurance amid extreme privation and suffering. This was the enforced march of British, Commonwealth and Allied PoWs to western Germany from camps on the eastern borders of the Third Reich in the winter and spring of 1945.
In the summer of 1944, with the Red Army already on the borders of Germany, there were around 200,000 RAF, army and naval PoWs, besides thousands of Americans, in camps dotted throughout Germany and the occupied territories. Many of these lay in the east of the country and included Stalag Luft III, of Great Escape fame, 100 miles south east of Berlin. Others were more remote still: in East Prussia, Poland and Czechoslovakia.
To prevent their occupants being liberated by the advancing Russians, Hitler ordered that they should be marched westwards, out of harm’s way. Put in charge of this operation was an SS lieutenant-general, Gottllob Berger, a man with a history of brutal suppression of unrest in the occupied territories. However, with the Third Reich collapsing around him he seems to have felt it might be politic to ignore the Führer’s severer orders for the treatment of PoWs.
In the chaotic conditions of Germany in early 1945 when the evacuations began, this scarcely made any difference. Driven from the shelter of their camps, bullied, beaten and hectored by their guards, shot dead if they lagged behind or fell by the wayside, a quarter of a million PoWs stumbled and shuffled their way hundreds of miles to the west, without adequate food, shelter or clothing, in the bitterest winter Germany had experienced for 50 years.
The harrowing tale of the 86-day trek of the inmates of the notoriously brutal Stalag Luft IV at Gross Tychow in Pomerania to Fallingbostel in Lower Saxony, 500 miles distant, may stand as representative of the collective ordeal. A number of these prisoners had already made the 250-mile journey by sea from Stalag Luft VI at Heydekrug on the borders of Lithuania the previous summer, piled below decks in the disease-rife hold of a rusty cargo boat.
The march-out from Stalag Luft IV began on February 6, 1945, with the temperature 20 degrees below zero and with snow falling. Just 11km were covered before nightfall. Blisters on feet were soon bursting, opening them to infection. In the extreme cold resistance to disease was soon eroded. Injuries suffered in baling out or in combat were exacerbated.
Over the following interminable ice-cold days some lucky few might find a barn to lie in at night, but most were compelled to lie in the open. In snow- and waterfilled shell holes men clung to each other for warmth under a shared greatcoat. When guards were not looking the men raided the fields for potatoes, turnips and mangolds.
Raw rat became a delicacy. At times men were reduced to chewing grass. So near to starvation were they that one PoW recalled looking at his arm, suddenly realising it was a piece of meat and wondering, lightheadedly, whether he could bring himself to take a bite out of it.
The men were plagued with lice and the constant battle to rid themselves of them was a losing one. “If you kill one a thousand will come to its funeral” was the grim PoW saying. But the killer was dysentery, robbing men of their vitality – and dignity. In the utterly insanitary conditions it was almost impossible not to catch it. Men often chose to soil themselves as they marched, rather than falling out to risk being shot. Yet no one could afford to discard even the filthiest rags in the intense cold.
The brutality of their guards was compounded by the hostility of a populace who regarded the airmen as Luftgangsters and Terrorflieger as a result of the widespread damage from bombing raids. Friendly fire in one form or another was a constant peril. As the Stalag Luft IV men entered Swinemunde, bombs were falling on the port, while shrapnel from the flak defences fell among them.
In one of the worst incidents another group, ex-inmates of Stalag Luft III, were targeted by RAF Typhoon fighter bombers. In spite of frantic gesticulations by an officer who bravely exposed himself to cannon fire, waving his RAF greatcoat aloft, more than 60 PoWs, including him, were killed by pilots who could have no reason to imagine that a column on the move consisted of other than the enemy.
The figures for those who perished on these marches can only be estimates. Somewhere in the region of 10 per cent did not survive the ordeal. Commissioned by the Royal Air Forces ex-PoW Association, Pamela Taylor’s iconic study of a PoW dragging his remaining possessions on a makeshift sled commemorates those who did not reach the end of their terrible journey.
An extract from The Telegraph Newspaper after a ceremony to commemorate those who died on the ‘Long March’. Summer 2002
‘The marches were long and desperately arduous. Some POW’s walked for more than 500 miles and were on the road for many months. Hundreds died of exhaustion, disease and starvation. Those who survived were awed by their experience. How they escaped with their lives and eventually reached home is a gripping story of endurance and courage.
Extract from ‘The Last Escape’ by John Nichol & Tony Rennell
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us to ‘disrobe’ and shower. Our old uniforms were dumped into large containers but I did remember, however, to keep the piece of my parachute canopy and also my POW’s identity plate, together with the tailor’s scissors – my acquisition from Potsdam.
After donning my new uniform and packing the surplus equipment in a kit bag, I reported to the station orderly to collect a travel warrant, food coupons and some clothing coupons. My train time to Birmingham was given to me and I caught the next ‘lorry’ to leave the camp for Cosford Station. However, I had to stay overnight at Derby Station because of my lateness of departure but caught the early morning train to Lincoln to arrive home around 5.00 -6.00 am.
As I neared Lincoln I began to panic because of not knowing whether Jessie and the family knew of my existence. I walked from the Midland Station and arrived outside the door of No.4 William Street – and knocked.
Jessie came to the door with Dad’s mackintosh over her – we couldn’t believe we were together again. Everyone got up, even Grandma Dowse, to welcome me home. They did know that I was safe and had received my letters. It had been eight weeks however between receiving the ‘missing’ telegram and getting my first card from Dulag Luft, which was much longer than the norm for being advised. This of course was due to being held as a hostage and also travelling unnecessarily to arrive at Frankfurt.
Coming home was a wonderful experience and it was necessary to once again get to know my wife. There were both emotional and mental problems to pass through. I suppose today these would be dealt with by counselling, but such a process was not known in 1945.
Within twenty-four hours of getting home Jessie told me that I had been commissioned and had even received my new RAF number. The commission was backdated to my application in October 1944. It was therefore necessary for me to return to Cosford to obtain the changes of uniform, clothes coupons, shoes, socks, shirts etc. This meant staying two days at Cosford and then returning to Lincoln, but using first class travel. What a difference a day makes!
On my return home I went to Atkinsons the military tailors to be measured for my ‘best blues’, peak cap etc. All of this I had to pay for myself. I had already purchased a Canadian Crombie great coat from an officer who was being demobbed at Cosford before returning home. It was of better quality than could be obtained in the UK and was in excellent condition. I was able to obtain my mackintosh coat straight away so for May was adequately equipped.
After a few days in Lincoln Jessie and I went to Bridlington for a week. We stayed at Maud Gilberts, she had lived in Lincoln on Great Northern Terrace and Jack and Ethel had helped and supported her when she lost her husband at Dunkirk. As she hailed from the North East she had eventually returned to Bridlington.
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[Photograph]
Flying Officer Eric William Scott and Mrs Jessie G Scott
[Photograph]
Identity Disc
[Photograph]
New Wings
[Photograph]
Final entries in Observer’s and Air Gunners Flying Log Book
[Page break]
I forgot to mention that my leave was for sixteen weeks and if I wanted anything either medically or otherwise I had to report to RAF Wittering, near Peterborough. Jessie gave up her job to be with me. As it happens I did have to go to our local G.P. because a rash of spot appeared on my body. He said it was caused by enrichments of the blood with returning to a normal diet. During my leave I went into town towards mid-day and to the Black Bull in the Hight Street as I had learned that returning military personnel congregated there. On my first visit I was amazed to see my old school friend Frank Curtis. He was a WOP/AG on Halifax’s, flying from Yorkshire. His left leg was missing, apparently having been virtually severed by shell fire whilst attacking flying bomb sights [sic]. He had been in hospital for some months but was now home on indefinite leave and on crutches. He was married to Lillian who unfortunately had contracted TB, but recovery was hopeful. The four of us spent many happy hours together and I travelled with Frank to Ely hospital to try on his new tin leg. After two or three visits he eventually came away with his tin leg on. It was a painful process learning to walk again, but eventually he succeeded in using it permanently with the help of a stick, and handed back his crutches.
During my sixteen-week leave I was visited by Jack our Canadian Navigator and I also saw Jock Nichols at Cosford. Snowy I did not see but learned from other New Zealand Ex POW’s that he was on a draft to return home, so that accounted for the four crew members who had safely returned to the U.K.
Wel all enjoyed V.J. day together – Frank and Lillian, brother-in-law Jim and sisters-in-law Mary and Janet, the latter cartwheeling down the road and also paddling in the beck. My leave came to an end and I reported to RAF Wittering where they fed us on venison and knocked us into shape military fashion. I was volunteered to lead a flight of NCO’s and other ranks on an official parade in Peterborough. I had forgotten all of my drill procedures so had to go ‘cap in hand’ to the Station Warrant Officer for verbal and physical instruction to enable me to carry out this function. So Flying Officer Scott had his first official function to perform since being commissioned.
After two or three weeks at Wittering I was re-musterd as a Flying Control Officer and posted to Pershore, near Evesham. We worked in three eight hour shifts 6.0am-2.0pm being the first. It was interesting work and, with the aid of a batwoman (WAAF) who kept my uniform, shoes, etc. immaculately clean, woke me at the appropriate times for duty, made my bed, changed towels, dealt with the laundry etc., life was quite good. Another officer who had been on flying control at Pershore for some months had rented a house in Cheltenham and his wife and daughter lived there whilst he commuted every second day to stay with them for 36 hours, which was allowed within the shift system.
It transpired that he was going on leave for two weeks and that the house would be vacant for that period. He gave me the opportunity of living there with Jessie for that time, paying rent and fuel costs. We jumped at this opportunity of being together and Jessie travelled down to Cheltenham, Ist Class! to meet the departing wife and family and to get to know the house and its workings before they actually left.
I had already received my cycle from Lincoln so, on my 36 hour break from duty I would pedal into Evesham, catch the Black and White bus to Cheltenham and they
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[Photograph]
Jessie and Eric with Jacqueline - (aged three months)
[Photograph]
Vickers-Armstrong Wellington III
Postcard sent from Jack and Marjorie Morval on 1st August 1994
[Page break]
would look after my bike. It was a good arrangement and we really enjoyed that time together, even visiting Weston-Super-Mare. On departing Weston-Super-Mare on one particular visit we decided we would purchase a block of ice cream to take home. We put the block on the luggage rack above us as we were on the front seat near the door. Imagine our surprise on seeing runny ice cream dripping off the rack at the back of the bus. It was definitely a case of keeping a ‘low profile’! Cheltenham at that time was a very high class Spa town and we explored it thoroughly.
Following Jessie’s return to Lincoln, I was sent to Watchfield, the place where my flying began, on a Flying Control Officer’s course. This lasted two to three weeks. I then continued my duties at the control tower at Pershore until my demobilisation became imminent in August. The RAF advised me that they would be willing to extend my commission, but would require me to be posted to Hendon as a flying control officer on passenger transport. I pondered this issue and received much advice from both service friends and those at home. I decided eventually that if I stayed in the RAF both Jessie and I would be shunted around both in the UK and overseas and that our times apart would be unacceptable. I advised the RAF that I wished to be demobbed. Towards the end of August I reported to London where I received the necessary discharge papers, sports coat and flannels etc. and a travel warrant to Lincoln.
My life in the RAF was at an end and my leave was given to the end of September. After a week at home, before which Jessie had moved from 4 William Street to her mothers at 61 Great Northern Terrace, I reported to Clayton Dewandre to take up my career again as a technician. Because of my break in apprenticeship I was classified as a Dilutee. My weekly salary was £4.19s.6p, barely a living wage but somehow we managed.
Jacqueline was born on 18th of October 1946 at Great Northern Terrace and was the first baby to be delivered by our ex Royal Navy GP Dr. Leane. He always referred to her as his first demob baby.
That winter of 1946/47 was very cold with hard layers of snow. A quick thaw in April 1947 caused widespread flooding in Lincoln and we had to move out, going uphill to my sister Mary’s in St. Hugh’s Street. It took many days of mopping up, cleaning and disinfecting to make our two rooms habitable again.
In June 1947 we acquired a house to rent at 22 Chelmsford Street, through the good auspices of George James’ mother (sister-in-law Janet’s mother-in-law) who knew the Landlord, a Mr. Dalton.
After six/eight weeks of hard work we moved in and this was really the beginning of our life as a family.
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[Newspaper article]
THE
Prisoner of War
THE OFFICIAL JOURNAL OF THE PRISONERS OF WAR DEPARTMENT OF THE RED CROSS AND ST. JOHN ORGANISATION, ST. JAMES’S PALACE, LONDON, S.W.1
VOL. 4. No. 39. THE FINAL ISSUE July, 1945
Message from Field-Marshal Lord Chetwode
THIS is the last issue of “The Prisoner of War.” There is no longer any need for the journal since those who were prisoners or internees in Europe are now free and with few exceptions are at home again.
The Red Cross and St. John War Organisation rejoices that this piece of its work has been finished. No Editor, I am sure, ever saw his paper come to an end with such satisfaction as the Editor of “The Prisoner of War.”
The flow of letters that has come from next of kin has told us how eagerly each copy of the journal was looked forward to each month. Time and again, mothers and wives have written to say that it has seemed to bring their dear ones nearer to them. I am certain that all who were prisoners and are now happily restored to their families will remember it as one of the best services which the Organisation has rendered. Their gratitude is a reward which we are proud to have earned.
To every man who has been a prisoner, and to every family now reunited, I wish a future of abiding peace and renewed happiness. They will all be mindful, I know, as are we in the Red Cross and St. John War Organisation, that war still rages in the Far East and that men and women of our race are held captive by the Japanese. There we still have work to do and for their next of kin we shall continue to produce “Far East,” the sister journal of “The Prisoner of War.” I am confident that we shall have the good wishes and the active support of all to whom, directly or indirectly, this journal has been a source of comfort during the three years of its existence.
The Editor Writes –
IT falls to me as Editor to make my final farewell in this last issue of The Prisoner of War. At the beginning of 1944 I wrote in these columns that the best New Year’s wish I could offer to all our readers was that before many months had passed they would no longer be our readers. That wish was fulfilled for some, as the repatriation ships came in during the year, but for many the eagerly awaited day was deferred until victory had been won. To-day there are no more Kriegies, no more letters from German camps and lazarets, no more Red Cross parcels – and no more need for this journal.
I cannot believe that any editor ever owed so much to so many of his readers. It has been on their letters, and those they received from their men in exile, that this journal has been built up. We depended on them for most of the news and all the photographs of life in the camps that we have published.
“Far East” will Continue
Far East, our companion journal, which started on its separate existence near the beginning of last year, will outlive us. It will be published as and when information becomes available about the lot of those in the hands of the Japanese. Unhappily news in the past has been rare, and the services that it has been possible for the United Nations to render have been limited, irregular, and unevenly distributed. But everything that it is humanly possible to do is being done. The Governments, the Red Cross Societies, the Protecting Power, the International Red Cross Committee and their delegates on the spot are leaving no stone unturned to bring succour to the prisoners.
“Not Forgotten”
On other pages of this last issue appear articles by the heads of the various sections of the Prisoners of War Department which have ministered to the many needs of prisoners in Germany and Italy. For all of them and their colleagues their work has been in the nature of a mission cheerfully and lovingly undertaken in the knowledge that they were not only succouring fellow-countrymen and women in exile but were helping them to realise that they were not forgotten by those at home.
F.M. Lord Chetwode, O.M.
On this page appears a message from Field Marshal Lord Chetwode, O.M., the Chairman of the Executive Committee of the Red Cross and St. John War Organisation. It is upon him, as its supreme administrator, that the heavy burden falls of directing and inspiring the manifold human activities of the Organisation.
Not the least of the reasons why hundreds of thousands have had cause to be grateful to the Organisation for its work during these war years had been its “personal touch.” Sir Philip Chetwode crowned his brilliant career as a soldier by this great mission for the men in the Forces. Our readers will join us in congratulating him upon the barony which the King had conferred upon him in recognition of his distinguished work for sufferers in this war.
IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS
(See Page 16)
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
The memoir of Eric William Scott
Description
An account of the resource
Text and numerous b/w photographs (some of which are also located in sub-collection albums) covering from immediately before and during World War II - (1939-1946). First page has colour photographs and description of prisoner of war medal. Continues with account of RAFVR training including time at the Air Crew Reception Centre, St John's Wood, London, initial training at Stratford-upon-Avon and elementary flying training at RAF Watchfield. Gives account of journey to the United States to continue training on the Arnold Scheme at Turner Field, Albany, Georgia, Callstrom Field, Arcadia Florida, Gunter Field, Montgomery Alabama and Craig Field, Selma, Alabama flying Stearman, BT-13 and Harvard. At the last location an accident brought an end to his pilot training and he continues as navigator/bomb aimer at Picton in Ontario Canada. Pages contain many photographs, exttracts from the cadet handbook and his logbook. On return to UK he did operational training a RAF Moreton in the Marsh where he crewed up. He got married just before posting to North Africa. Gives account of journey to join 205 Group in North Africa and of first tour on 142 Squadron where he flew 38 operations and of life in North Africa. After this he was posted as an instructor to an operational training unit in Qastina Palestine where he had an opportunity to visit Jerusalem, Haifa, Bethlehem and Tel Aviv. In June 1944 he agreed to do a second tour and was posted to 37 Squadron at Foggia in Italy. Gives account of operations including gardening in the Danube river. Gives account of final operation to Maribor marshalling yard in Yugoslavia where after attack by night fighter he baled out of his aircraft. Follows with account of capture by Croatian military. hand over to the Germans and journey to Stalag Luft 7, Upper Silesia and life in prisoner of war camp. Then underwent the long march back to Germany in the face of Russian advance. Concludes with repatriation and life after return to England.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
E W Scott
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Thirty-seven page printed document with text and photographs
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BScottEWScottEWv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Lincoln
England--Bedfordshire
England--London
England--Warwickshire
England--Stratford-upon-Avon
England--Wiltshire
England--Manchester
Scotland--Glasgow
Canada
New Brunswick--Moncton
United States
Georgia--Albany
Florida--Arcadia
England--Gloucestershire
England--Cornwall (County)
North Africa
Algeria
Algeria--Blida
Tunisia
Tunisia--Qayrawān
Middle East--Palestine
Middle East--Jerusalem
West Bank--Bethlehem
Israel--Tel Aviv
Israel--Haifa
Italy
Italy--Foggia
Romania
Romania--Ploiești
Slovenia
Slovenia--Maribor
Poland
Poland--Opole (Voivodeship)
Germany
Germany--Potsdam
England--Shropshire
Florida
Georgia
New Brunswick
Israel
West Bank
England--Lancashire
Danube River
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941-02
1941-10
1941-11-03
1941-12
1942-01-06
1942-01
1942-02-09
1942-03-24
1942-05
1942-06
1942-07-02
1942-11
1943-04-19
1943-05-27
1943-06-09
1943-10-03
1944-06
1944-07-23
1944-10-21
1945-03
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Anne-Marie Watson
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Pending text-based transcription. Under review
142 Squadron
37 Squadron
aircrew
bale out
bomb aimer
Caterpillar Club
Dulag Luft
Flying Training School
Harvard
lack of moral fibre
love and romance
mine laying
navigator
Operational Training Unit
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Cardington
RAF Cosford
RAF Moreton in the Marsh
RAF Watchfield
recruitment
Red Cross
searchlight
shot down
Stalag 3A
Stalag Luft 7
Stearman
the long march
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30730/BJonesTJJonesPWv1.2.pdf
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Jones, Thomas John
Tom Jones
T Jones
Description
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62 items. An oral history interview with Peter William Arthur Jones (b. 1954) about his father Thomas John Jones DFC (b. 1921, 1640434 and 184141 Royal Air Force), his log book, photographs, correspondence, service documents, aircraft recognition manuals, medals and a memoir. He flew operations as a flight engineer on 622 Squadron Stirling and 7 Squadron on Lancaster. <br /><br />The collection also contains an <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2566">Album</a> of 129 types of aircraft. <br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Peter Jones and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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IBCC Digital Archive
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2014-12-04
2017-12-07
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Jones, PW
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THE LUCKY CREW
[photograph]
T.J. Jones DFC & P.W. Jones
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[page break]
Introduction
I, like many children born in the mid-fifties, grew up surrounded by reminders of World War Two. There were the L-shaped trenches, in a field, near my home, which had housed searchlights and anti-aircraft guns. There were also trees and telegraph poles with their fading white collars.
So it was that I would ask that question all little boys asked their Father in those days, “what did you do in the war, Dad”?
My Father would reply, modestly, that he had been a flight engineer on bombers. That was all he ever said no details, no bravado, no hint of heroism, or the horrors he had endured.
In time I learned that he had been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, but never discovered why.
That is how it was until his sad death on 28th January 2004.
My Mother and I were sorting out some of his papers, kept in an old wartime suitcase, when we came upon a small green notebook. This notebook was to unlock Dad’s story. For there were the memories he never told.
It would appear that he had put pen to paper in the 1990’s, some fifty years after the war. Reading that book, so shortly after his death, made me very sad. It also made me immensely proud of the modest Father I had known and loved for almost fifty years.
And what of the DFC, there was no mention of it. Did his natural modesty prevent him from recording why he was awarded it, or were the memories too painful?
The following pages tell his story.
Peter W Jones
[italics] When we first arrived the command “Attention” was followed by a noise like load of house-bricks falling of a lorry and a cry from the drill corporal
‘You dozy lot, wake up now. Bags of swank.’ At the passing-out parade six weeks later the same command produced a noise like a rifle shot. As we marched away along the promenade, rifles in line, heels crashing in unison, arms swinging shoulders high, we had what the corporal had wanted to see, Bags of swank!
I remember R.A.F. Cosford and the flight mechanics course. how young and eager we were, picking up the service slang and clichés. On arrival we were assigned to wooden huts with eight double-tier bunks down each side, a plain wooden table with two benches, andf a small stove in te middle of the hut.
The first week of every new entry was spent on fatigues. Peeling four feet high piles of vegetables. After every meal the floors and tables of the vast dining halls had to be cleaned and polished.
Guard duties, fetching carrying, pushing, scrubbing. We were at everyones beck and call, but it was fair, every new intake did it.
Wednesday afternoons were spent on field exercises. Prowling through muddy fields and woods, everything that involved mud and muck. Camouflage, grenade throwing, bayonet practice.
[page break]
Anti-gas procedure, groups of us standing in the gas chamber and being ordered to remove our respirators to prove that the room really was full of gas. Dashing out into the fresh air, coughing and spluttering, eyes streaming.
Wednesday nights were domestic nights and everyone was confined to barracks. Everything in the hut had to be cleaned and polished. Fire buckets and extinguishers, every inch of floor space to be polished and sparkling. Table and benches to be scrubbed. The last man coming out backwards the following morning polishing out the last foot prints ready for the flight commander’s inspection.i remember the precision of kit inspection. Each bed laid out with equipment, each piece in it’s correct place and every bed identical to the next.
The months of learning and cramming. Class-rooms and hangars, engines and airframes. Aero-dynamics, physics, mechanics. Hydraulics and pneumatics, fuel systems, carburation, airscrews, ignition systems and instruments. The form too. Maintenance manuals and periodicity talks. A seemingly endless number of subjects, all to be absorbed and remembered.
I remember the parades and the marching to and fro. The sound of a youthful tenor voice in one of the huts singing ‘Always.’ The bugle call at reveille and a P.T sergeant stamping down [italics]
“The Lucky Crew”
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[photograph]
The crew, left to right:
Fred Phillips RAAF, Dave Goodwin RNZAF, Stan Williamson RAAF
Clive Thurston RNZAF, Ron Wynne RAF, Joe Naylor RAF
Thomas Jones RAF, Steve Harper RAF.
This photograph was taken in September 1944 shortly after the crew completed their tour of 64 operations and left 7 Squadron. The aircraft they are standing in front of is Lancaster PA964 MG-K. This was last on the night of 6th October 1944 during a bombing raid on Scholven-Buer. The eight man crew, that night, were captured and held in Stalag Luft 7 at Bankau, from where they escaped in April 1945.
PA964 had survived 244 hours of operationsal flying, much of it in the hands of “The Lucky Crew”.
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[page break]
FORWARD
Thomas Jones’s memoir gives a vivid description of life in a bomber squadron Pathfinder Fo9rce. The account of his experience as a Flight Engineer on operations in Stirling’s and Lancaster’s depicts the stresses, strains and comradeship of a bomber crew and the extent of a flight engineers tasks.
Very few crews survived as many as 64 bomber operations which Thomas Jones and crew achieved (my own contribution was 60 sorties) so his memoirs form an important contribution to the history of Bomber Command operations and it’s crews.
Wing Commander Philip Patrick MBE DFC
[622 Sqd. Crest] [7 Sqd. Crest]
Squadron crests reproduced by permission of the Secretary of State for Defence.
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[page break]
I remember a happy childhood, firstly in central Birmingham then the southern district of Hall Green. I didn’t dislike school. My early teens were spent under the threat of war, which was declared when I was eighteen.
The blackout became a way of life for six long years. The nights spent in the air-raid shelter, my mother asking me to come away from the entrance where I was watching the havoc, into the deeper safety of that cold damp cell.
I recall the scream of falling bombs and the shudder of the earth on impact. The noise of the anti-aircraft guns firing a short distance away, like great iron doors slamming, and the hissing rush of the shells fading away as they sped up to the heavens and the German bombers. I remember my sister weeping quietly when it all got too much for her. The metallic tinkle of shell splinters as they rained down on roofs and road surfaces. The reflection of a hundred fires on the cloud as my city burned.
I was both fascinated and appalled at the effects of the nights bombing. On my way to work, at the BSA, in the early morning light I was stepping over the rubble of houses that had been hit by bombs during the night. Of one house a solitary wall left standing and on the bedroom mantelpiece a clock still showing the correct time. A house with no roof and a six-inch wide crack from eves to foundations, and not a window cracked. There was a double decker bus on Coventry Road, Small Heath, standing vertically on its bonnet.
I volunteered for aircrew duties in the RAF, the excitement and the boredom, the laughter and the comradeship the like of which is rarely experienced in civilian life. The songs and tunes of the period, each one associated with a particular time, a certain place or face.
Most of us who survived in one piece had an easy war compared to many others. No wounds, disfigurement or physical pain. No years of imprisonment torture disease, starvation and despair. That is why there is little pain for me to sit quietly, fifty years on, in that little room of memories going back down paths which divide and branch like blood vessels.
I was sent to RAF Cardington in September ’42, with its huge hangers where the great airships were built in the 1920s, for aircrew selection. I can easily recall the aircrew medical where everything was tested, examined, poked and prodded. There followed days of written, oral and aptitude tests. I remember the first time I entered the dining hall, the volume of the WAAF corporal’s voice reducing the occupants to silence, and the embarrassment on realising that the order to “put that bloody cigarette out” was directed at me. After four days home again to await my call-up papers, which I received a few weeks later.
And so in October to RAF Padgate with hours spent waiting in different rooms during induction. Being issued with my identity discs and service number, to be memorised and will be remembered for the rest of my life. Ask the service number of any ex-service man who enlisted all those years ago and he will recite it without the slightest hint of hesitation.
I remember the outstretched arms laden with clothing and equipment in the kitting out stores. The WAAF’s singing “Jealousy” in the station cinema as the little white ball bounced along the words on the screen. I recall the train journey to the Initial Training Wing (ITW) at Redcar on October 17th ‘42, and especially Mrs.Thatcher of 4 Richmond Road. Ken Battersby, Chas’ Curl and myself were billeted with her for six weeks and she looked after us like a mother hen. She made sure we were correctly dressed each morning when we went out on parade. She treated us as though we were her own sons.
The wind was icy on the sea front as we learned foot and rifle drill, fumbling with numbed fingers at the rifle bolt and rear sight. We did route marches and assault courses
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[page break]
in full battle order, reaching the finish gasping for breath, with a supposedly wounded man across our shoulders.
I learned on the rifle range that a 303 when fired from the shoulder didn’t produce the crack as when heard from a distance. It produced a heavy numbing thud inside the head. The following day it would only take the sudden rustle of a newspaper to set the ears ringing again.
When we first arrived the command “attention” was followed by a noise like a load of house bricks falling off a lorry and a cry from the drill corporal “you dozy lot, wake up now, bags of swank”. At the passing out parade, six weeks later the same command produced a noise like a rifle shot. As we marched away along the promenade, rifles in line, heals crashing in unison, arms swinging shoulder high, we had what the corporal had wanted to see, “bags of swank”.
It was then to RAF Cosford in early December and the flight mechanics course. How young and eager we were, picking up the service slang and clichés. On arrival we were assigned to wooden huts with eight double tier bunks down each side, a plain wooden table with benches, and a small stove in the middle of the floor.
The first week of every entry was spent on fatigues. Peeling four-foot high piles of vegetables. After every meal the floors and tables of the vast dining halls had to be cleaned and polished. Guard duties, fetching and carrying, polishing and scrubbing. We were at everyone’s beck and call, but it was fair, every new intake did it.
Wednesday afternoons were spent on field exercises. Crawling through muddy fields and woods, everything involved mud and muck. Camouflage, grenade throwing, bayonet practice. Anti-gas procedure, groups of us standing in the gas chamber, and being given the order to remove our respirators to prove that the room really was full of gas, dashing out into the fresh air, coughing and spluttering, eyes streaming.
Wednesday nights were domestic nights and everyone was confined to barracks. Everything in the hut had to be cleaned and polished. Fire buckets and extinguishers, every inch of the floor space to be polished and sparkling, table and benches to be scrubbed. The last man coming out backwards the following morning polishing out the last footprints ready for the flight commander’s inspection. I remember the precision of kit inspection. Each bed laid out with equipment, each piece in its correct place and every bed identical to the next.
There were months of learning and cramming. Classrooms and hangers, engines and airframes. Aerodynamics, physics, mechanics. Hydraulics and pneumatics, fuel systems and carburation, airscrews, ignition systems and instruments. Maintenance manuals and countless other books. A seemingly endless number of subjects, all to be absorbed and remembered.
There were also the parades and the marching to and fro. The bugle calls at reveille and the PT sergeant stamping down the wooden floor of the hut banging each bunk with a pick-axe handle, shouting at the top of his voice “parade in fifteen minutes, last man out is on a week’s jankers”. And there was the dreaded Trade Test Board at the end of it all, and the feeling of great achievement on making the grade.
The next step on the ladder was to RAF St.Athan in April ’43 and the flight engineers course. Was it to be Stirling’s, Lancaster’s or Halifax’s? Oh youth and innocence, it was all great fun with little thought of the future.
We were billeted in the same type of wooden huts as at Cosford and did the same fatigues during the first week. Most of us had been together since ITW, a lot of us only eighteen, not many over twenty. The Scots lads, Tommy McMeachan, John Mullens, Jimmy
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[page break]
Cruicshank and John Gartland all killed. Taffy Lightfoot and Roy Eames died over Bremen. Bill Curry shot down and killed whilst still training. There was also Albert Stocker, Arnold Hearne and Jack Walker. How many blurred faces on the edge of memory survived?
I was selected to train on the Short Stirling, the biggest of the four engine bombers of the time, eighty-seven feet long and twenty-eight feet high with the tail up. It had a fourteen tank fuel system with inter-wing and inter-engine balance cocks. Hercules XVI sleeve-valve engines with two speed superchargers and epicyclical reduction gears. The SU carburettors were the size of a car engine. The Stirling was renowned for being the electrician’s nightmare with its miles of electric wiring
There wasn’t a single subject or component part of the Stirling that we weren’t lectured on. After the intensive Trade Test Board examination I remember the brevets and chevrons being sewn on our tunics, the regulation button stick length from the shoulder seam. The young faces didn’t seem to match the rank and many of them wouldn’t survive to wear the flight sergeants crown.
[photograph]
Tom Jones, aged 22
RAF St. Athan, August 1943
And so, in July 1943, to 1657 Heavy Conversion Unit (HCU) at RAF Stradishall to be crewed up and to fly the aircraft we had been trained on. We were billeted in empty married quarters and reasonably comfortable but we soon discovered that they were directly in line with the main runway. All night long crews were practising circuits and landings and every few minutes an aircraft would roar overhead at fifty feet.
There is still another three weeks classroom work to do but now our instructors are not civilian technicians but veritable gods in our eyes, men who had completed a tour of thirty operations. There was no bravado about them but their eyes and faces showed a wealth of experience from which we were to benefit. When they lectured us we hung on their every word.
We were encouraged to visit the flight offices in our spare time, to get in as many flying hours as we could before being crewed up. I remember my first flight as a passenger. The pilot was a Canadian, flight sergeant Moore, who was still undergoing training. I’d always had the impression that an aircraft, once off the ground, flew straight
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[page break]
and level. How wrong I was! We reached the dispersal and this great black monster and I climbed aboard with the crew, I had a few misgivings. Would I be airsick, would the height affect me? Some people couldn’t climb a ladder, and I had never been higher than the inside of a bedroom window.
We taxied to the runway, hesitated and then began the mad dash toward the other end. The aircraft’s thirty tons lifted off the runway and promptly began to sway from side to side and up and down, the wings actually flapped! The engines were nodding as if in mutual agreement on some topic of conversation. Looking down the fuselage toward the rear turret I could see the whole structure was twisting back and forth. I looked out of the window, a patchwork of fields, tiny houses and on our port quarter the airfield with its three intersecting runways. The height didn’t bother me at all but the continuous movement did. After ten minutes I quietly disgraced myself by being airsick. I, subsequently, flew over 300 hours before my stomach finally settled down.
Later, on the squadron, it became the practice for the ground crew to provide me with an empty tin every time we flew, daring me to make a mess in their spotless aircraft. This saved me from bankruptcy as squadron lore dictated that anyone sick on the floor of an aircraft had to pay the groundcrew to clean it up.
I was talking with a group of engineers in the mess, when an Australian flight sergeant pilot approached asking for me. He introduced himself as Fred Phillips and said that I was to be his engineer. A former insurance clerk from East St. Kilda, Melbourne and twenty years old. He was destined to be awarded the DFC before he reached twenty-one and awarded Bar for his DFC before his twenty second birthday. He introduced me to the rest of the crew. Dave Goodwin navigator, and Clive “thirsty” Thurston bomb-aimer, both New Zealanders. The gunners were Ron Wynne from Hyde Cheshire and Joe Naylor, known as John by everyone, from the village of Wymondham near Melton Mowbray. The wireless operator was another Australian, Stan Williamson from Punchbowl, Sydney.
Our first flight as a crew, on August 29th 1943, was a familiarisation, getting the feel of the aircraft. There were circuits and landings, during daylight and the same at night, over and over again until the different drills and check became automatic. We did three and two engined procedures, cross country flights and bombing practice. We flew 34 hours together, at RAF Stradishall, and were granted “fit for operations”. In my log book was entered my certificate, qualified to fly as flight engineer in Short Stirling’s Mk I and III.
On September 2nd ’43 we were posted to 622 squadron, at RAF Mildenhall. On arrival we spotted our first operational aircraft. It was parked in front of the flying control tower after landing from an operation the previous night. As we approach we could see it was punctured with jagged holes and the rear turret was a mass of battered twisted metal. Dried blood everywhere, a glove, a tuft of hair and a piece of jawbone with teeth still attached lay on the turret floor.
That night in the mess we asked how long it took to complete a tour of thirty operations. No one had ever known a crew that had finished a tour. I realised that we had reached the point where we were expected to pay, in kind, the cost of our training.
When we made up our beds that night no thought was given to who the previous occupant had been. We quickly learned that close friendships were not formed with other crews. A passing joke or a civil word sufficed. New faces appeared, sometimes for a few days, or a week or two, to disappear and be replaced by others. Their passing marked by a visit from the committee of adjustment to clear out their lockers and return personal property to next of kin. Their names rarely mentioned again. Morale gained nothing from speculation. Had it been quick as with a direct hit with flak, or a scrambling dash to get out
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of a blazing aircraft? A human torch falling to earth with mouth wide, in a silent scream of pain and horror? Forget it quickly! Do not dwell.
I remember there was always laughter and high spirits in the mess, we learned to laugh about flak and fighters, searchlights and crashes. If a pilot bragged about his good landings no one disagreed with him. Inevitably the day came when he misjudged it and bounced down the runway like a kangaroo. His life was made a misery for the next week. Every time he entered the mess all the pilots present deferred to him and wished they possessed his skill. Stories of silly mishaps did the rounds.
An aircraft on its take-off run had reached 85 knots when the pilot cleared his throat. The engineer, thinking he had asked for wheels up selected same and they finished up on their belly astride the railway lines two hundred yards beyond the runways end. This escapade earned an unofficial commendation on the mess notice board.
Flying whilst suffering with a head cold was discouraged as it led to sinus and inner ear problems. One lad had to report sick with a heavy cold and immediately a rumour was circulating that he knew the squadron was about to attack Berlin or Essen and was reporting sick to get out of it. This sort of thing happened all the time, but it was never vindictive, the victim enjoying the joke as much as anyone.
On an operational squadron the learning still went on, each of us learning something of the others jobs and duties. Ditching and parachute drills were carried out regularly when we weren’t flying, timing ourselves to see how many seconds it took us to get out. Bombing practice; cross country exercises in atrocious weather when visibility was less than the length of the runway. Flying in rain, snow and icing conditions.
There was also fighter affiliation, to practice the corkscrew. With the guns the bombers only defence against fighters, it was essential that we practice this manoeuvre with the help of Fighter Command. I recall the Spitfire’s curving arc of attack and the rear gunners call to “corkscrew port, go”. The horizon almost vertical, then swiftly up and to starboard over the cockpit canopy. Everyone hanging on tightly to the front edge of their seats, so as not to hit the roof. The feeling of weightlessness as the aircraft plunged away in a steep diving turn, the earth in front of the windscreen rotating clockwise as we lost height, the call “roll her, roll her”. The pilot pulling back on the stick to put us into a steep climbing turns to starboard. Again the mad dance of earth and sky, the gravitational forces pressing the body down and draining blood from the head; the cheeks and the mouth falling open. The relief as the fighter breaks off the attack, the earth and sky sliding back into place as we level off and assume course, and await the next attack.
It was during fighter affiliation that we discovered how manoeuvrable the giant Stirling was in flight. It was more agile than some aircraft a quarter of its size. However, it was a beast when manoeuvring on the ground.
Our first operation had been to lay sea-mines in the Katigat, a solo aircraft operation with a naval officer on board to trigger the mines. The next night Hannover, having to divert to RAF Tangmere on return due to flak damage to number 7 fuel tank. Two nights later mine laying in the Skaggerak; then Hannover again, Kassel, Ludwigshafen and Berlin. On these first op.’s we came back only three times on all four engines.
My station, when flying in Stirling’s, was at the front main spar of the wings where it passed through the fuselage, and I consequently saw little of what went on outside. The view from the astrodome was limited so when things were running smoothly I would go forward to the cockpit for ten minutes or so to have a look out.
I shall never forget the cloudscapes, climbing through thousands of feet of dark grey nothingness to emerge into a vivid blue sky with a floor of dazzling white stretching to the
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horizon in all directions. Flying along great canyons between the cliffs of cumulus. There was also nimbus, the cloud most respected by all airmen, with its anvil shaped head towering to altitudes we could never hope to reach. Flying through nimbus had us hanging on grimly as the aircraft is flung around by the air currents, us fearing that the wings would be torn off. There were continuous lightening flashes. The propeller arcs alive like Catherine wheels, and lightening cracking back and forth along the wireless aerials and guns. The tremendous energy generate4d within nimbus clouds is unnerving when experienced for the first time.
the sunsets were always beautiful with the changing colours of the clouds. From the brilliance of polished brass, to rose, pink, bronze, purple, and finally to black. All within a short time, but always warm. Dawns were different, they were cold. During the long boring flight home the first greying in the east would silhouette the swaying tail of the aircraft. The horizon slivers of grey-green light.even the first rays of the sun were always cold.
622 Squadron converted to Lancaster’s in November 1943. While the pilots and engineers were lectured by the engineer leader, two pilots were seconded to a Lancaster squadron for a few hours flying instruction then returned to instruct us. Flying in Lancaster’s meant that my station was next to the pilot. Five hours of training flights and we were away again. my logbook made up, qualified to fly as flight engineer in Lancaster Mk’s I and III.
Our bombing sorties took us to Berlin again, Schweinfurt, and twice to Stuttgart. By now we were one of the most experienced crews on the squadron and were selected to train for the elite Pathfinder Force.
We were sent to the Navigation Training Unit at RAF Warboys in March ’44. The bomb-aimer did a course on H2S equipment while I attended lectures on the bomb-site and bomb aiming. During our free evenings the navigator, Dave Goodwin, taught me how to use the bubble sextant and we spent several clear nights picking out the constellations and their stars. Dheneb, Altair, Betelgeux, Alderbaran, Arcturus, and a dozen more. From then on I had to take the sextant shots from the astrodome. We also attended lectures on pyrotechnics and target marking techniques. After nine hours of flying and six practice bombs on the range we were posted to 7 Squadron at RAF Oakington, near Cambridge, on April 2nd.
On arrival we discovered that the squadron C/Owing Commander Rampling had just been killed during a night raid. He was replaced by Wing Commander Guy Lockhart, aged just 27. He was killed four weeks later and replaced by Reggie Cox.
As a Pathfinder crew we were expected to complete two tours of thirty op.’s each with no rest period. Main force procedure was one tour of thirty op’s, six months rest as an instructor, then recall for another tour.
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[photograph]
The pilot would inform us “we are on the order of battle” and the butterflies in the stomach would begin to flutter their wings. They were always there, at the beginning because we didn’t know what to expect, and on subsequent op.’s because we did know. In those days it was a sign of weakness to admit fear but you could tell it was there. Normally quiet lads would chatter incessantly while the extrovert would withdraw inside himself. Others developed little quirks that they never had until their names were on the order of battle.
We would go out to the aircraft to carry out our inspections etc. then to the mess for lunch, but a ban on drinks at the bar. The aircraft would be take [sic] up for a night flying test to iron out any last minute snags. If it was a late briefing a couple of hours in bed, spreading a white towel over the blanket at the foot of the bed to indicate you require waking.
We would be woken with a torch shining on the face, a hand shaking the shoulder, and a voice saying “it’s time to get up”. Sitting on the edge of the bed, head sagging, desperately trying to wake up fully; while someone fumbles about in the dark, cursing, seeking the light switch. Little is said as we walk to the ablutions to wash and visit the toilets. A call of nature during a flak barrage could cause extreme embarrassment.
The pre-flight meal is usually something recommended by the aviation medicine people. A fried greasy dish, which is always disastrous for someone like me with an already queasy stomach, or baked beans which create gas and excruciating stomach pains as the atmospheric pressure falls as we climb to our cruising altitude.
I remember the pre-flight briefings and the walk past the armed guard at the door. The long room filled with trestle tables and benches, each one occupied by a crew. At the end a low stage and almost the entire wall covered by a huge map of Europe, for security reasons behind drawn curtains. A thick swathe of tobacco smoke hangs in the air. Everyone stands as the C/O arrives and the ritual begins.
The curtains covering the wall map are withdrawn and the target announced. A low murmur of voices rises from the assembled crews. Red tapes pinned to the map mark the route from base to the target and back, doglegged to squeeze between the ominous red patches which denote heavily defended areas, avoiding all but one, the target.
The intelligence officer is the first to take the stage with the latest information on the target, factories and products, railway yards etc. The state of the defences and positions of the night fighter stations along the route.
The navigation officer holds the stage for the longest period of time, going over the route. Times of take-off and set course, time and position of course changes rendezvous
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[page break]
with the aircraft of other groups. “H” hour and the type of markers used, Parramatta, Newhaven or Wanganui. Codes, colours etc. and the inevitable time check. Each leader, in turn, taking the stage to divulge information relative to his section. Bomb aimers, gunners, engineers and wireless.
The Met. man with his charts, cloud information and prospects in the target area. Barometric pressures, temperatures, icing conditions and weather at base on return. The latter always bringing a burst of sardonic laughter from the crews but it was usually taken in good part, even on occasions eliciting a wry smile from the met. man himself.
The whole proceedings coming to a close with a few words from the C/O on the importance of a successful attack.
At a table at the other end of the room the adjutant is accepting the pocket contents of the crews. Wallets, loose change, last letters, even used bus and cinema tickets. All are placed in separate drawstring linen bags and tagged with the owners name rank and number, to be reclaimed on return. It never occurred to me to write a last letter. Was I that confident or thoughtless? On reflection, it must have been the latter.
The walk to the locker room is quiet and leisurely, different to the atmosphere in side. A noisy confusion of men and equipment, loud jocular remarks and laughter sounding a little forced. “Can I have your fried breakfast if you don’t come back?” “Yes, but what makes you think that you are coming back?” It all sounds so cruel and heartless now, but no one ever took exception to this type of banter.
While the gunners get into their heavy outer flying clothes, the rest of us don Mae West and parachute harness, pick up flying helmet, parachute pack and gloves. A WAAF driver would come to the door and shout “crew transport”.
All the WAAF’s I ever met were very efficient and went out of their way to be helpful and pleasant. Most of them could, with a smile, deflate the ego of a too adventurous lad, much to the delight of all present.
Several waiting crews clamber aboard with much scuffling of flying boots, and we begin the journey round the perimeter track to the dispersal points. There is a marked decrease in laughter and conversation now. The coach arrives at the first dispersal, “G-George” calls the driver, and a crew disembark under the nose of their aircraft. With a few mutters of good luck they slouch away. We drive on to “A-Able” and then us “O-Oboe”. We climb out of the coach, and with a wave from the WAAF driver, it draws away. This is when the butterflies in the stomach are at their worst. I pick up my gear and walk with the crew to the tail of the aircraft.
There is no ground crew to be seen. At any other time they would be laughing and joking with us, but not now. They will remain in their rough dispersal hut until we climb aboard before they emerge to prime the engines when we start up. No rules of security will be breached by them asking the name of the target, although they will have a good idea from the fuel and bomb load. They have seen it all with so many crews before we joined the squadron.
Aerodromes, in pictures and films, are mostly depicted as idyllic places. And so they are in Summer, the heat rising in shimmering waves over vast flat areas of grass and wild flowers and everything alive with birdsong. They rarely show the same scene in late autumn or winter, when the grass surrounding the dispersal has been churned up by vehicles into a sea of mud; which in the January frost is turned into ankle breaking ruts. These are the conditions ground crew work in, no protection against driving rain snow and bitter winds; the engine fitters and mechanics working fifteen or twenty feet above the ground on swaying gantries. They grumble and curse but all aircrew have great confidence
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in their skill and dedication. They take great pride in maintaining the cleanest and most efficient aircraft on the squadron, and woe betide anyone that bends it. The aircraft belongs to them, the aircrew only borrow it.
While the rest of the crew stood talking I would start my pre-flight checks. Tail unit control surfaces and tail wheel. Up the port side checking fuselage and wing surfaces, all engine cowlings in place and secure, pitot head cover removed. Examine undercarriage struts and also extensions for oil leaks. Trolley acc’. plugged in, tyres for damage and creep. Check bomb load and target indicators. Down the starboard side to the main door, static vent plugs removed. Inside now. How many times have I felt my way up and down the fuselage with eyes tightly closed so that I could locate every component in the dark? I had to be able to find every fire axe, extinguisher, field dressing and the morphia, portable oxygen bottle, intercom, and oxygen connections. As well as being able to put my hand on every hydraulic, pneumatic and electrical component, know what it did, how it worked, and what in-flight repairs I could carry out. I would also check fuel contents and oxygen supply. These careful checks were meticulously carried out prior to every flight. It was the drill and the ground crew accepted that it did not reflect on their efficiency.
I rejoin the crew outside. There is nothing to do now but wait, and still forty minutes to go before we climb aboard. We smoke one cigarette after another. Everyone wants to be off and to get the job done. We all want to be able to do something, anything, but wait. The airfield is strangely silent, save for the feint whining of a three-ton truck on the perimeter track over a mile away. A rook can be heard crowing in a distant copse.
A car turns into the dispersal and pulls up under the wing. The Wing Commander alights and has a word with the pilot. Satisfied that all is well he wishes us good luck and drives on to the next dispersal. At intervals other cars arrive with the section leaders, each checking that there are no snags. Then the Padre and Medical Officer arrive. The M/O offers us caffeine and airsickness capsules. And all the time the butterflies in the stomach keep up their constant flutter.
Ten minutes to go and time for the rear gunner to get into his turret. With so much bulky clothing he needs help to get in, so one of us pushes him in on his back feet first. We stand outside his turret talking to him through the clear-vision panel.
A few stutters then a steady roar follow the distant whine of a starter motor as an aircraft begins to start up. The pilot checks his watch and says, “time to go”. We say “see you later” to the rear gunner and make our way to the main door, throw in our gear, and climb the ladder in turn, the last man aboard stowing the ladder and securing the door.
There follows the uphill walk to the cockpit, leaning forward against the angle of the floor. Then the overpowering petrol fumes as we climb over the main spar in the centre section. On reaching our seats the pilot and I continue our checks. Flying controls free and working full range, undercarriage warning lights showing green. Brake pressure ok. Propeller pitch, fully fine. Number two fuel tanks on. Radiator flaps to override, superchargers in moderate gear.
The ground crew has appeared, two men climbing precariously up the undercarriage struts into the nacelles where the Ki-gas pumps are situated. With the pilot operating the ignition switches and starter buttons, and myself the slow running idle cut-off switches and throttle levers we start the engines in sequence from port outer to starboard outer. Trolley acc’ plug disconnected and jettisoned, ground flight switch to flight. A short period with engines at 1200 revs to allow them to warm up, then run up each in turn to full power, checking rpm, boost pressure setting and magneto levels. I select bomb-doors closed, a last look around the cockpit instruments and “ok, chocks away”.
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On receiving the hand signal a man on each side of the aircraft runs forward to drag away the heavy wooden chocks at the end of their ropes. With a hiss of released brakes and a burst of power from the engines we are guided out of the dispersal to join the squadron, the ground crew turning their backs to the gale of dust and flying debris.
A squadron of Lancaster’s taxing out to take off is an impressive sight. Each aircraft weighing twenty-eight tons they move round the perimeter track, nose to tail, like great ducks. With up to a hundred Merlin engines roaring and breaks [sic] hissing and squealing they taxi past at up to 30mph. The noise laden air vibrates against the face and the ground trembles.
A small farm cottage on the edge of the airfield is occupied by a young married couple who always stand at their garden gate with a child in their arms as we go by. All the crews return the little girl’s wave, the gunners raising and lowering their guns. Over fifty years later I can still see that little face, surrounded by light curls, laughing, in spite of the noise and clamour.
As we pass the flying control tower, with the silent watching figures on the surrounding balcony, we glimpse the duty controller whose voice we hear over the radio.
I apply twenty-five degrees of flap, then, close the jettison valves and all balance cocks. Elevator trim two degrees nose heavy.
We join the queue at the end of the runway, moving up like cars in a traffic jam as aircraft take off. A burst of power to the engines, now and then, to prevent the plugs oiling up on the rich fuel mixture. A close watch on the temperature, as the engines quickly overheat at idle revs.
The butterflies in the stomach are beginning to subside now there is something to occupy the mind.
The aircraft in front of us is well down the runway as we turn onto the threshold, line up and come to a stop. The green Aldis signal light, at the chequered caravan, dazzles as the final checks are completed. Fuel boost pumps on. Barometric pressure set on the altimeter. Engine temperature and pressure ok. Radiator flaps to automatic. Compasses set to runway bearing. Cockpit windows closed.
The pilot settles himself comfortably in his seat and says, “right, all set” and opens the throttles to 2,000 revs. The cockpit becomes a vibrating Bedlam of noise, the aircraft straining against the brakes. From the corner of my eye I glimpse the fluttering white hankies of the off duty WAAFs who always assemble to wave each aircraft off.
With a sharp hiss the brakes are off, and we begin to roll forward. Steadily the pilot advances the throttles, jiggling them to keep the nose straight. The nose dips as the tail comes up, revealing the runway lights tapering almost to a point 2,000 yards ahead. “They are yours,” says the pilot, who now has rudder control, and I take over the throttle levers. Smoothly up through the gate and on to full power, 3,000 revs and 12lbs. boost. The noise of the four Merlin’s at full power is deafening and normal speech is impossible, even shouting through cupped hands directly into an ear is useless. The rumble of the wheels, felt rather than heard, is added to the world of noise. Halfway down the runway, and the gap between the two end runway lights grows at an alarming rate. 80 knots, then 90. The wheel rumble fades slightly as the wings begin to flex on the increasing cushion of air, the tyres skipping in long hops. 105 knots. The pilot crouches forward in concentration, eases the stick back and with a final bounce we are airborne. The runway lights flash by thirty feet below and we are clear of the boundary hedge. I lift the undercarriage selection levers and as the wheels start to retract two reds replace the two green lights on the indicator. With a slight clunck [sic] the wheels are up and the two reds wink out.
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Speed builds quickly as the pilot holds the nose down. At 165 knots he asks for climbing power and I adjust pitch and throttle levers to give 2,600 revs plus 6lbs boost as we climb away into the growing dusk. At 5,000 feet I lift flaps, the pilot correcting trim as the nose drops.
After the exhilaration of take-off the necessary chatter, over the intercom, dies away and everyone settles down to their individual routines.
I start to fill in my log, a time consuming process with the engine and aircraft details to record. With a full fuel load of 2,154 gallons, an engineer’s calculations must be accurate to within ten gallons; checked against remaining fuel on return to base. Gauges are only used to check for leaks.
After setting course on time over base we cross the coast at Cromer on the shoulder of Norfolk, still climbing. The gunners test their guns into the sea and after a short stuttering burst the smell of cordite wafts into the fuselage.
At ten thousand feet I turn on the oxygen supply. There is a chill in the air now as the temperature continues to fall. At near freezing on the ground it will be about minus twenty-five degrees at 18,000 feet.
Boost pressure and the rate of climb begin to fall off and I reach out to select full supercharge. There is a distinct clunck from all four engines as the higher gear is engaged and with the renewed surge of power we continue to climb.
“We’ll be crossing the enemy coast in three minutes” reports the navigator, and ten miles ahead there’s the reception committee. When we reach that position the pretty red twinkles in the sky will be flashes and explosions, near misses heard above the constant roar of the engines. The blast buffeting the aircraft and sending shell splinters through the thin skin of wings and fuselage.
We begin to weave and stars trace a figure of eight above the cockpit canopy. It’s like being on a big dipper and will continue until we cross the coast on our way home. The coastal flak is left behind and on reaching optimal height I reset revs and boost to cruising power, each engine reducing its fuel consumption to about forty-three gallons an hour.
Apart from the stars and the green glow of the instruments the night is black. The pilot, sat inches from my left shoulder is just a dark shadow. Our eyes straining to see the elusive faint blur that will indicate the presence of another aircraft. If it can be seen it is too close for safety and will have to be watched continuously to avoid collision. We’ll move away if it is ahead of us, many gunners open fire at anything creeping up astern of them, friend or foe.
Suspended three and a half miles above the earth it is possible to fly to Berlin and back without seeing another aircraft or feeling their slipstreams, although there could be several hundred in the stream. Another time the sky would be full of them.
To starboard and ahead a line of fighter flares light up the sky with a misty yellow glow, like someone running along a corridor switching lights on as they go. Immediately the guns are trained to port, the dark side, from where the attack will come. We drone forever along the wall of light, silhouetted, waiting for the hail of tracer. As we pass the last flare darkness closes in again, but the fighters are still with us.
Far ahead a green flare bursts and hangs in the sky, red stars dripping from it at six[1]second intervals. Placed by leading pathfinders the flare marks an accurate turning point for the main force. Ten minutes on the final leg from this point will bring them to the target area. The navigator confirms its accuracy as we round it.
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I check the engine instruments and fuel status. Nothing can be seen ahead, everything is black, and the navigator starts the countdown to “H” hour.
The bomb aimer turns his bombsight on, ensures the bombs are fused, and checks the selector and distribution boards. He feeds the necessary information into the bombsights ‘magic box’ and checks the responses to various settings. Dead on time the Blind Illuminators release their flares, row on row, as if each one is placed on the squares on a chessboard. A great floating carpet of light exposes the ground far below.
Still no defences to be seen, but they will be there loaded and aimed. Lying low and not giving anything away until they know we are certain of our position.
The Primary Markers will be making their run-in now, their bomb aimers searching for the aiming point. The target indicator bursts, releasing its contents which form a giant Christmas tree of the most brilliant red as they fall. A second pass as the Master Bomber closely circles the indicator to assess its accuracy. Finally over the RT comes his verdict “hello tonnage, the reds are ok, bomb the reds”. The complete marking process has taken about three minutes from the first illuminator flare being dropped to permission to bomb. Almost immediately the leading main force aircraft are over and sticks of high explosive and incendiary bombs are falling across the target.
By now the defences have opened fire and the sky directly ahead has become a wall of bursting shells and weaving searchlights.
We enter the flak barrage and the familiar sound of shell splinters ripping through the fuselage can be heard.
Two hundred feet below us an aircraft, with a wing on fire, lazily turns over and goes into a spin. Its crew will be fighting for their lives against the centrifugal force pinning them in their seats. No parachutes appear. We look away as they hurtle to earth and a sure end. Who were they, did we know them. Will we be next?
The target is now a bubbling carpet of fires and bursting bombs. From below light flak is coming up in a trelliswork of slow graceful curves; string upon string of balls of coloured light, deceptively beautiful until they reach you and flash by like the most deadly lightening.
Above and ahead an aircraft is caught in the intersection of three blinding searchlight beams, twisting, turning and diving as it’s clobbered by its own personal barrage.
The flak gets more intense as we get nearer the aiming point. The bomb aimer crouches over the bombsight to assess the rate at which we are approaching the target. Start the run too early and we are vulnerable in straight level flight for longer than necessary.
As the bomb doors are opened the aircraft stops weaving and begins to shudder as the slipstream enters the bomb bay and batters at the doors. The aiming point appears half way down the long arm of the graticule and the primary red indicator is burning itself out and beginning to fade. The bomb aimer can be heard over the intercom guiding the pilot onto the target; “left, left steady, right, steady, steady”. The aiming point creeps agonisingly along the graticule to the cross section. “Now”, his thumb presses down hard on the release button, “bombs gone”. Each bomb is felt as it leaves the aircraft, and there is an upward surge as the 4,000lb ‘cookie’ goes along with the green target indicator. The bomb aimer will look through the clear vision panel in the front bomb bay bulkhead to check that all our bombs have gone. The bomb doors close as he climbs back to the cockpit.
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We begin to weave again. Some seconds later the voice of the Master Bomber comes over the RT, “bomb the greens”. The knowledge that we have paved the way for hundreds of tons of bombs is pushed to the back of our minds.
After the confines of concentration on the bomb run I become aware again of what is happening around us. The world is a mad man’s worst nightmare of colour, noise and explosions. The photoflashes dropped with each bomb load create a continuous flicker like summer lightening. Undersides of aircraft reflect the red glow of the firestorm more the three miles below. We seem to hang motionless under a ghostly grey dome of light. Light enough to see the bombs in gaping bomb bays, and see them tumble past from higher aircraft. Bursting shells surrounds us, bursting too rapidly to count. The only sign of progress across the target area is the lazy slipping backward of thinning balls of smoke as the flak ceaselessly hammers at us. After what seems an eternity, but in reality about eight minutes, the flak begins to abate and darkness closes in again as the target slowly falls astern.
The pilot calls up each crewmember in turn checking for casualties. I connect a portable oxygen bottle and walk the length of the fuselage checking for damage; Ron the mid-upper gunner complains that the light from my dimmed torch is reflecting on the Perspex of his turret and attracting night fighters. I reply that if there is a hole in the floor I want to see it before I drop through. On the next op’ he’ll make the same complaint and I will give the same reply, it has become a ritual performed every time we leave the target area.
Regaining my seat I reset engine power to lower our airspeed to 155 knots. This will increase the flying time of our homeward journey but will economise on fuel at our reduced weight.
I soon begin to feel hungry but know if I eat the sickly-sweet Fry’s Chocolate Cream bar I’ll bring it up again in minutes. The small tins of orange or tomato juice are frozen solid; it’s probably just as well with the constant weaving. I will resort to sucking one of the barley sugar sweets I keep in my pocket to get some saliva back into my dry mouth and throat. What would I do for a cigarette?
A burst of tracer stitches its way across the darkness a short distance away on the starboard beam. Seconds later a twinkling star, level with our wingtip, gets bigger and longer like a comet. Some one’s luck has just run out. The small comet becomes a wild blaze and begins to curve downwards, followed by a plume of red as it hits the ground.
Our eyes feel tired and gritty as we peer into the night, the journey endless. There follows hour after hour with no sensation of speed or progress, broken up by taking regular sextant shots from the astrodome for the navigator, and doing constant calculations of fuel consumption to relieve the monotony. In the back of all our minds is the thought that an unseen fighter may have our blip on his radar screen and is creeping up on us from behind and below.
“The coast is coming up,” says the navigator “we can start letting down now”. I reduce the engine power and the altimeter starts to unwind. There is a faint horizon to the east but we will be safely over the sea when day breaks. Below 10,000 feet I turn off the oxygen supply and unclip my mask, which has been chafing for hours. We weave through the coastal flak belt and a measure of safety is reached, skimming at fifty feet above the grey heaving mass of the North Sea.
A line of cliffs appear on the horizon and with a nod the pilot eases the stick back and we clear the cliff top with feet to spare.
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Almost dead ahead, in the early morning light, a solitary figure follows a horse and harrow. Hearing our approach he moves to the horses head to take the bridle, the horse stamping its forelegs and flinging its head high. As we hammer past at little more than hedge height the figure raises an arm. Is it a friendly wave or a clenched fist on behalf of the terrified horse? We will never know, nor will we know how many times he has done that this morning as hundreds of aircraft follow the same track home.
The horizon tilts as we turn onto the final course for base, gain a little height, and the spire of All Saints church, Longstanton, begins to come into view. We join the circuit at 1,200 feet and request permission to land. From the control tower the friendly voice of the duty controller is clear, “hello, O-oboe, you are clear to pancake, runway 040, wind 026, 7 knots”.
On the up wind leg. Pitch fully fine, 25° of flap, fuel boost pumps on, brake pressure ok. We reduce speed and altitude as we turn to port on the cross wind leg. Downwind now, and an airspeed of 135 knots. Wheels down and the two red lights appear on the indicator panel, to be replaced by two greens as the undercarriage locks down. As we enter the funnel at 800 feet, the runway stretching out ahead and below; my stomach registering the rate of descent. At 500 feet the pilot applies full flap and I begin to call out the airspeed and altitude. We cross the boundary hedge at 10 feet and 110 knots. The pilot checks back on the stick to round out as I pull the throttle levers right back to the stops. With a scream and two puffs of smoke from the tyres we are down and rumbling along the runway, the engines popping and muttering quietly until I return them to idle speed as we clear the runway.
We taxi to the dispersal point and the waiting ground crew guides us into position, and with the chocks in place the pilot and I go through the shut- down procedure. As the last propeller comes to a jerky stop a deathly silence descends. We push our flying helmets back off our heads and sit for a few seconds listening to the faint whine of the instrument gyros slowing down. There is a feeling of great weariness, of being totally drained.
The rest of the crew is already out of the aircraft; we join them and light a cigarette, the first drag harsh to the dry throat. Our legs and inner ears trying to adapt to the firm ground again. One of the ground crew, at my shoulder, enquires about damage. He seems to be speaking from twenty feet away, his voice weak and distant after the roar of the last seven hours.
Transport arrives, and after leaving our gear at the locker room we carry on for interrogation. Just inside the room is a smiling WAAF dispensing strong sweet tea, from a large urn; and beside her the padre with a large box of cigarettes and a bottle of rum with which to top up our mugs. While waiting for a table to be vacated I take the opportunity to complete my log by calculating the air and track miles per gallon of fuel. I arrive at the figure 0.9mpg. We occupy a table as a crew leaves and the intelligence officer reaches for a fresh report sheet. We go through the trip from take-off to landing. He needs to record our timing, bombing accuracy and concentration. Enemy defences and fighter opposition. Times and positions of aircraft we witnessed go down. When we can tell him no more we leave and walk slowly to the mess for a meal.
I remember the fresh smell of damp earth and mown grass and the chill breeze on my face after the hours of wearing a stuffy oxygen mask.
In the mess the cheery WAAF’s behind the serving hatch ask us if we had a good trip, we would reply “yes thanks, piece of cake”. If you came back it was always a piece of cake.
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Breakfast was two slices of Spam, a fried egg and lots of dry bread. I always had to force my breakfast down. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I knew that once in bed I wouldn’t be able to for some time. I would lay there unwinding, listening to everyone else restlessly tossing and turning. When sleep did come it wasn’t a gentle drifting away but a sudden cutting off of thoughts and feelings, like a door slamming shut.
Later that same morning, at the Flight Office, we would learn that we were on that night’s order of battle and the butterflies in the stomach would begin their fluttering all over again.
And so it went on Dortmund, Rennes, Aachen, Berlin, Lille, Duisburg, Amien, Hamburg, Kiel, Stuttgart, Emden and many, many more.
[photograph]
I have a vivid memory of our last operation, on September 10th 1944. We had returned from an attack on German positions at Le Havre at 7am, and were on the order of battle to go again that afternoon. Just before take-off we were informed that this was to be our final op’ and we were being stood down.
On our return we approached base in a long shallow dive to beat up the airfield. At 200 knots we thundered along the runway at zero feet to pull up hard at the far end, the g forces pulling down the flesh of our cheeks and the lower lids from our eyes. This manoeuvre was strictly forbidden; but surely everyone must have felt on return from their last op’ the same jubilation and relief as the tension fell away. We had been a crew for a year, had flown 450 hours together and completed 64 operations without a rest period. We had done it, beaten the odds, and joined an exclusive club.
After landing, and a mild rebuke from the tower who must have understood, the grins on the faces of the ground crew were as broad as our own. Our backs were pounded until they were sore; few crews survived that many missions together.
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We celebrated that night with the ground crew at The Hoops Inn at Longstanton. The night was at our expense as a token of our appreciation. It was well worth the two days of hangover.
We had flown Op’s all Summer. I seem to remember many crews adopting a diet of beer, cherries and strawberries, the latter cadged from the land-girl’s at Chiver’s orchards at Histon. This was also the time of the great beer shortage, the only time in the history of England when crews were drinking it faster than it could be brewed. When not flying of course.
These were the days and times of such as Jonnie Denis, James Frazer-Barron, Alan Craig, Brian Frow, Tubby Baker, Ted Pearmaine, Eddie Edwards, Robbie Roberts, Brian Foster, Gerry South, Flash McCullough and so on. Remarkable days and remarkable men, I wonder what became of them.
Great times we had together. We were like brothers sharing our last cigarette or sixpence. Off duty rank meant nothing and we were all on first name terms, but we all knew where to draw the line between respect and over familiarity. Life was one big round of merriment, pranks and youthful high spirits; but once aboard the aircraft we were as sober as judges. Drills and checks were carried out to the letter and nothing ever left to chance. At no time was there idle chatter over the intercom, not even when we were flying for pleasure.
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High spirits
Op’s were never discussed at any time during the twelve months we flew together. After an op’ we came out of the interrogation room and that mission was never talked about again, ever. What was there to say? They were all the same, the noise, the fighters, and the flak; and always the cold.
As I sit here, fifty years on, I can remember events clearly but can’t put the name of the target to them; and yet others spring to mind straight away.
Normally the navigator sees nothing outside the aircraft from take-off to landing. On our first German target the pilot called him forward to see what a target looked like. He stood in the cockpit for a few seconds then raised his eyes to the sky in front of us. His only words were “bloody hell”! And my reaction? I distinctly remember thinking, ridiculously; “they are trying to kill us”.
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On one Berlin trip we were forced down by ice from 19,000 feet to 8,000 feet. We had to throw out all the ammunition and any non-essential items to try and lighten the aircraft. Waiting for the order to abandon aircraft, I remember clearly saying quietly “don’t cry Mom when you get the telegram”. Luckily we ran out of the icing area at 8,500 feet and managed to get back to base so late that they had given up on us. I don’t know what I would have said to the crew if my microphone had been switched on at that particular time. I think that was the closest we ever got to meeting our maker.
I think we had been to Berlin when we had to land at the first airfield we came to on the way back. The three engines still running had cut out through lack of fuel ten feet above the runway coming in to West Malling. The aircraft landed very heavily, the undercarriage gave way and we slid along the runway causing serious damage. With our bumps and bruises, we had to return to Mildenhall by train via London. We got some very odd looks in London and on the train as the only clothes we had was our flying gear.
I later discovered that this 746 aircraft Op’ was the last in which Stirlings (which we were flying) were used over Germany.
Leaving Karlsruhe we were attacked by night fighters and during the twisting and turning of evasive action the navigator lost our precise position. After flying on a rough course for some time he found out where we were when we flew alone over Strasbourg and into a heavy barrage of accurate predicted flak. The next morning we went out to the aircraft, and starting at the tail, counted eighty-seven holes between the rear and the mid[1]upper turret before we decided to stop counting. The rest of the aircraft and wings were equally peppered with jagged holes. We had used up a little more luck from our reserve.
I recall one occasion returning from a daylight op’ with a full bomb load and bouncing badly on landing. “Round again” shouted the pilot and I opened the throttles to full power. We roared across the grass at an angle to the runway directly toward the Longstanton church. The pilot coaxed every inch of height from the aircraft as the church loomed closer every second and flashed beneath us with inches to spare. Looking down I saw the villagers scattering. A child standing in the lane staring up at us screaming with fright at our sudden appearance and deafening noise. A woman wearing an apron, running to scoop up the child in her bare arms and racing to safety. Farm animals stampeding in the nearby fields. It all registered on the mind in the second or two we were over the village. After landing the rear gunner said, jokingly, that if we had warned him he could have leaned out of his turret and removed the steeples weather vane as a souvenir.
We once endured the long weary drag of nine hours to Stettin, in Poland. The navigator recording, over the target, an air temperature of minus forty-nine degrees. The inside of our aircraft feeling little warmer. That night must have been the coldest of my life.
We were half heartedly shot at over Sweden. As Sweden was a neutral country it had no need for the blackout suffered by Europe and so I saw for the first time an illuminated city from the air. It looked like a giant dew covered spiders web.
We were coned by searchlights several times and came back with the scars to prove it, the shell splinter holes and the night fighters trade marks.
On a raid to Stuttgart the main door lock broke and the door opened over Germany. It was eventually closed and secured with parachute cord. On return to base we discovered that a couple of incendiaries had failed to release over the target, but as soon as the bomb doors were opened they fell out and immediately burst into flames directly under the aircraft. Our mad scramble to get out of the aircraft was slowed somewhat by the knots in the cord securing the door. The ground crew were quick to push the aircraft away from the fire.
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Another engineer once told me that we were known as the lucky crew, usually last back and rarely on more than three engines. As a marker crew we occasionally had to fly over a target a second time to re-mark it. Fred Phillips was the Deputy Master Bomber on about fifteen sorties, and Master Bomber on three. This meant we had to stay over the target for up to twenty minutes as he directed the raid giving instructions to markers and main force over the radio, this could be picked up by the Nazi direction finding equipment which could then set the night fighters onto us. This was always a very risky time. It helped to be lucky and we seemed to have had more than our fare [sic] share.
A few days after our last op’ we were posted to RAF Backla on the shores of the Moray Firth, from where we were posted our separate ways. We wished each other luck, shook hands and parted, never to meet again.
[photograph]
“The Lucky Crew” RAF Oakington September 1944
Never to meet again.
In late November ’44 I was posted to RAF Nutts Corner, near Belfast. 1332 Heavy Conversion Unit, Transport Command was stationed there and I took a course on York C1 aircraft. Back to the classroom again. After passing the ground school exams I was told that I was to join the permanent staff back on Stirling’s. It appeared that a Stirling had taken off on an exercise and completely vanished with its crew. My operational experience on Stirling’s made me the obvious choice as a replacement engineer. My hopes of travelling the world vanished at the stroke of a pen; I simply had to do as I was ordered.
My new duties were to fly as engineer with a pilot instructor and student pilot who was converting from other types of aircraft, many of them flying boats that didn’t have an undercarriage. A lot of the student pilots were foreign. They were all very enthusiastic and
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eager to convert to Stirling’s, their occasional over enthusiasm and language difficulties made for an interesting time. It was disconcerting to be on the final approach with wheels up and red flares going up like a firework display from the caravan on the threshold. On touching the pilots arm and pointing to the undercarriage selector lever he would grin happily and give a thumbs-up sign, quite prepared to continue his approach and execute the perfect belly landing. The only course of action was for me to open the throttles wide and force an overshoot, then try and impress on him the error of his ways.
My nights and weekends were spent in Belfast with “Tommy” Thompson, “Mac” MacDonald and Roy Baker visiting the Four Hundred Club and the Grand Central Hotel.
Mr and Mrs Cree of Cliftonville Circus invited me to spend Christmas ’44 with them; I was treated like a member of their family. A wonderful thing to do for a lad so far from home at Christmas.
I remember watching an incident involving my pal Roy Baker. A Stirling was coming in to land when a tyre burst, the undercarriage collapsed as the aircraft went into a ground loop at over 100 knots. When it came to a halt all the crew emerged from various escape hatches except Roy, the engineer. He was still inside diligently carrying out his emergency drill, turning fuel cocks off, electric’s off, closing engine cooling grills etc. He finally emerged with a self-satisfied look on his face, then realised that both wings had been torn off, complete with engines and fuel tanks, and were at least quarter of a mile away. He was cheered when he later entered the mess.
Nothing ever eclipsed the beauty of Northern Ireland from the air, with it’s patchwork of fields of brown and straw yellow and the most brilliant green, it looked truly beautiful.
A few weeks later the unit moved to RAF Riccall, just south of York. The ageing Stirling’s were taken out of service and replaced with, American built, Consolidated Liberators. These were the last aircraft I flew in as engineer. I was taken off flying duties and made Adjutant of the Flight Engineers Ground School. Of my service in the Royal Air Force this was the job I had least enthusiasm for, sitting behind a deck [sic].
[photograph]
Tom & Ivy Jones 1946
Whilst at Riccall I met Ivy Ridsdale, a Yorkshire lass, at Christie’s Dance Hall in Selby. We would be married in February ’46
In November the unit moved to RAF Dishforth, which meant a seventy mile round trip on a bicycle to visit Ivy at her home in Hambleton, near Selby.
23
[page break]
After an interview at Group Headquarters in York I received my final posting to RAF Bramcote. On arrival I was made Station Armaments Officer. Another desk job.
Eventually I was sent to RAF Uxbridge. After a brief medical and signing a few papers I stood holding a cardboard box containing a suit and hat. My four years service with the RAF Volunteer Reserve was at an end. I have never regretted it. I learned a lot and did things I would never have had the opportunity to do in civilian life. Overall, I enjoyed it thoroughly. I have not met again or heard from any of the crew I flew with on Op.’s, perhaps none of them survived the rest of the war. I would love to know if they did, but to meet them again? I think not. I didn’t fly with a group of men in the autumn of their years; they must remain young as I remember them then. Besides, time and people change, we might not even like each other now.
At briefings the aiming point had always been designated as factories, oil installations, docks, railway yards and the like. Residential areas near the targets were never mentioned, but they were there; and the thousands of people who lived in them. The fact that we were personally responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent civilians has lived with us all our lives.
Some unfortunates, through no fault of their own, reached the point where they could no longer carry on. Irrespective of how many Op.’s they had completed they were deemed lacking in moral fibre. I never knew or heard of any member of aircrew that had anything but sympathy to them.
I remember some of the lads who had a tough time. The empty sleeves, and trouser legs of the amputees. There were lads with no faces. Noses and ears no more than shrivelled buttons, and heavy newly grafted eyelids. Their mouths little more than a slit in a face rebuilt with shining tightly stretched skin grafts. Some had hands shrivelled and clawed like eagle’s talons. They sought no sympathy or favours but carried on doing a job they could manage. When they went drinking with us their laughter was as hearty as ever, their spirit unbroken and no sign of bitterness.
I have tried to put to the back of my mind the countless times I saw aircraft shot down and the lives of their young crew snuffed out in agonising seconds. But try as I might the images remain as graphic as if it only happened last year.
As a crew we were detailed to attend the burials of crew that had got back to base, only to crash on landing. A cruel fate, so near yet so far. After the service in the village cemetery, we saluted each open grave in turn. I cannot count the number of times we did this.
What made us do it time after time? Was it patriotism? Was it the pride in volunteering being greater than the butterflies in the stomach? Was it the fear of letting down the crew, or of the life long stigma of lacking in moral fibre? Perhaps it was one or all of these. Who knows? And what do I have to show for it? My discharge papers and identity discs, my flying log book, a few medal ribbons and a thousand memories.
24
[page break]
[photograph]
Letter from George VI
[photograph]
Tom and Ivy Jones 2002 and Distinguished Flying Cross
[photograph]
Thomas John Jones DFC
April 19th 1921 – January 28th 2004
Epilogue
My sweet short life is over, my eyes no longer see,
No country walks, or Christmas trees, no pretty girls for me,
I’ve got the chop, I’ve had it, my nightly op’s are done.
But in a hundred years I’ll still be twenty-one.
R. W. Gilbert
One of Dad’s favourite poems.
25
[page break]
Decorations
24/12/43 PHILLIPS, Frederick Augustus, PO (Aus409939) RAAF 622sqn This officer has taken part in several sorties and has displayed a high degree of skill and determination. One night in Nov 1943, he piloted an aircraft detailed to attack Ludwigshafen. Whilst over the target area his aircraft was hit by shrapnel. The petrol tanks were damaged and the petrol supply could not be regulated. Nevertheless, PO Phillips by skilfully using the engines, flew the aircraft back to this country. Some nights later, whilst over Berlin, one engine of his aircraft became u/s. On return flight considerable hight [sic] was lost and ammunition was jettisoned in an effort to lighten the aircraft.. In the face of heavy odds, PO Phillips succeeded in reaching base. This officer has displayed great keenness and devotion to duty.
Awarded DFC.
14/11/44 PHILLIPS, Frederick Augustus. Flt Lt (Aus409939) RAAF 7sqn Flight Lieutenant Phillips has a splendid record of operations. At all times he has set a fine example of leadership, coolness and unfailing devotion to duty which has been a source of inspiration to the squadron.
This officer has consistently displayed fine flying spirit and cheerful determination in the face of the most adverse circumstances.
Awarder Bar to the DFC Lon Gaz 14/11/44
14/11/44 NAYLOR, Joseph William 1817796 Flight Sergeant, No 7 sqn Air Gunner.
FS Naylor has completed 53 operational sorties, including 44 with the Pathfinder Force of which 34 have been as marker. This NCO is a rear gunner in a marker crew which has carried out extremely successful day and night sorties with this squadron and has proved himself to be an exceptionally good aircrew member. Throughout his career, he has shown courage and tenacity of a high order and in the face of danger has displayed outstanding fearlessness.
Awarded DFM Lon Gaz 14/11/44
Flt. Lt. GOODWIN, David Graham, Lon Gaz 14/11/44 awarded DFC
F.O JONES, Thomas John, Lon Gaz 12/12/44 awarded DFC
F.O. THURSTON, Harry Clive Edgar, Lon Gaz 14/11/44 awarded DFC
F.O. WILLIAMSON Stanley, Lon Gaz 14/11/44 awarded DFC
P.O. WYNNE, Ronald, Lon Gaz 12/12/44 awarded DFC
26
[page break]
I can’t actually put a time or place on my earliest recollection of my father; I do have a lot of pleasant early memories. Cycle rides with me sitting on a seat on Dad’s crossbar. Trips on steam trains to see my Nan in Birmingham, which would include a visit to Dudley zoo. Days out in York with a look in Precious’s toy shop, which usually resulted in a new car or truck to add to my ever growing collection.
I recall that Dad was always at work. When I was small he worked as an engineer at Rostron’s Paper Mill in Selby. There he regularly worked six and a half days a week, cycling to work in all weathers.
He always had time for me though, and would spend hours with me reading the likes of Treasure Island, Gulliver’s Travels, Moby Dick and Black Beauty. He would also make me things, like my railway layout with its tunnels and buildings.
When I went to school, he would help me with my homework. I can still remember all about the Kenyan coffee trade, thanks to him. He also sent [sic] hours, in vain, trying to teach me to draw, sadly his artistic genes where ]sic] not passed down to me.
He had endless patience, and would never ever cut corners on any job or project he tackled. Maybe that was thanks to his RAF training.
He was a very skilled engineer and model maker, producing scale working models of stationary steam engines and balsa wood models of aircraft. His last project was of a Hawker Hurricane, with a three foot wingspan, which he gave to the boy who lived next door.
[photograph]
Fully working twin cylinder stationary steam engine made by Dad in the 1970s
27
[page break]
When he retired he turned his hand to art producing many beautifully detailed sketches and water colours.
[drawing]
Lioness, sketched by Dad in May 1979
One of his other passions, after he retired, was taking long walks with his dog accompanied by his three friends. My Mother used to refer to them as “Last of the Summer Wine” after the TV program of the same name.
Dad was a very generous man. My mother told me an amusing story of Dad buying her two bunches of flowers, but only giving her one bunch. It transpired that he had gone into the local chemists, where the girl behind the counter had commented how pretty the flowers were. So Dad being Dad, gave her one of the bunches.
Dad’s health started to decline when he was in his late seventies, which curtailed his walks, but he remained active at home, spending hours in his shed.
Sadly he died on the very snowy night of January 28th 2004 from lung cancer.
There are so many things I wish I had said to him when he was alive, and now so many questions I would like to ask.
And what of the other crew members?
I managed to get a copy of Fred Phillips’ service record from the RAAF in Canberra. It revealed that he returned to Australia after the war and was de[1]mobbed in March 1946. He moved to Centennial Park, Sydney and joined Qantas Empire Airways as a first officer. I learned from Keith Perry, who had been a friend of Freddy’s in the 40’s that he became the senior training captain
28
with Qantas in the 60’s. Then out of the blue I received an e-mail from Eric Petersen, a pilot with Qantas. He was a friend of Fred Phillips and had been showing him around the internet search engine Google. Somehow they came upon my late father’s entry on www.worldwar2exraf.co.uk. I had put him on the website shortly after his death, along with the rest of the crew, in the hope that someone might remember them and contact me via a link.
It was incredible to find Fred Phillips was alive and well. Sadly his wife, Hazel, had recently died. He lives in North Richmond New South Wales, and has two daughters and numerous grandchildren.
Fred was able to tell me that, sadly, “Thirsty” Thurston and Dave Goodwin had both died some time ago in their native New Zealand. After the war Dave Goodwin vowed never to fly again. Fred was still in touch with Frank Shaw, who had been the O/C electrics, instruments and bomb loading at Oakington. Frank can be seen second from the left on the cover picture.
Stan Williamson remains elusive. I have contacted the Australian Pathfinders Association, but no information about him has yet surfaced. I also have a friend, Air Commodore “Blue” Connolly RAAF, searching for him in Australia.
An article, about the crew, in the Melton Times newspaper produced a number of telephone calls. One was from “John” Naylor’s wife, and another from his 92 year old sister. On seeing one of the pictures of the crew his sister commented that she “never knew her brother smoked”. Sadly “John” had died two years previously.
He had returned to Wymondham after the war and became a conductor with Barton’s Bus Company in Melton Mowbray. He eventually married his sweetheart Constance and moved to Ab Kettleby where he eventually became a tree surgeon. His business thrives today, safe in the hands of his son.
I tried a similar article in the Manchester Evening News, in an effort to get any information on Ron Wynne. The day after the story ran I got an e-mail from a Barry Wynne, saying that his father Ron Wynne was alive and well and living near Stockport, Cheshire. Barry also said that his Father would like to speak to me.
That weekend I rang Ron Wynne, it was quite an emotional moment for both of us. Ron took a few seconds to compose himself, then started telling me what he had done after the war. There were also bits of information about Steve Harper too.
Unfortunately, I think Mr. Wynne has had second thoughts about meeting or writing to me. This I can understand, it must have been quite a shock to hear from the son of someone he had last seen sixty years ago, and I may have stirred long dormant sad memories.
So what of Steve Harper? He had joined “The Lucky Crew” in April or May ’44 after an incident which had killed most of his previous crew. It would appear his aircraft had been shot down by a German fighter as it made its approach to RAF Oakington. Steve became the crew’s specialist map reader and took over as Bomb Aimer. “Thirsty” became their radar operator and second navigator.
29
[page break]
Sadly Steve was seriously wounded in the chest by shrapnel on his second operation after leaving “The Lucky Crew”. He survived but I cannot find out any more about him.
These eight men were not the bravest of the brave, but they were the personification of bomber crews in their day. They did their job, and did it very well. They were 100% professional, and must have been a shining example to junior crews.
Finding Dad’s memoir has made me start looking at his generation in a slightly different light. I have always respected these people, but now I look at men and women of his age and wonder what they did all those years ago, what did they have to endure, and what memories are securely locked away.
I attended the 7 Squadron Association reunion in April 2005, in an attempt to find out more about the squadron in ‘43/’44 and about the crews. I met some wonderful people there, but sadly the number of veterans attending is dwindling fast.
I also attended the Association memorial service at Longstanton Village Hall in November 2005. I had never been to Longstanton before and as I drove down the narrow country road which links the village with the A14 I got my first glimpse of the steeple of All Saints church. A shiver ran down my spine when I realized that I was looking at the steeple that Dad’s aircraft narrowly missed in 1944.
After the very moving memorial service, in the village hall, I braved the cold driving rain to have a look inside All Saints church. Sadly the church is closed due to a major structural problem with the ceiling, which will cost tens of thousands of pounds to repair.
All Saints church is the “spiritual home” of 7 Squadron. Many graves of crew who perished can be found in the peaceful leafy churchyard, and inside is the magnificent squadron memorial window and squadron standard.
The dreadful weather, that day, prevented me from exploring the village further. But I shall return and walk in my late father’s footsteps around the village. Sadly a pint in The Hoops, where the crew celebrated in 1944, is out of the question as it closed in the 1970’s.
In his memoir, Dad remembered clearly a young blonde girl who would wave to the crews as they taxied before taking off on raids from RAF Oakington. With the help of people in Longstanton I managed to find out a little about the girl. Her name was Marion (she would have been 6 or 7 at the time) and lived in a farm cottage close to the perimeter track of RAF Oakington, with her parents Hubert and Clara Dogget and her brother Donald. Sadly Marion had died in 1998.
In September 2014 I made another breakthrough in my research into the crew. I had posted the photograph of them messing around in the first floor window on The International Bomber Command Centre Facebook page. The photograph was spotted by a chap in Australia who posted the following comment, “OMG that’s my grand dad!”. It was from “Thirsty” Thurston’s grandson Greg. Over a number of e-mails he told me that after the war Clive Thurston returned to New Zealand and became a station master. He married his sweetheart
30
[page break]
Colleen and they went on to have seven children. By the time of his death in 1984 they had twenty two grandchildren, and 30 great grandchildren. Dave Goodwin also returned to New Zealand and became an electrical retailer. He also vowed never to fly again. It appears that Dave stuck to his word and traveled [sic] by sea on his frequent visits to Australia..
I was deeply saddened to learn that Fred Philip had died in Sydney on October 4th 2016.
My search continues.
People like “The Lucky Crew” must never be forgotten, it’s because of them that we can enjoy our freedom. We must also remember the ultimate price paid by 55,573 members of Bomber Command during WWII.
If it were not for these crews the war would have dragged on longer, and who can guess at the outcome.
31
[page break]
[photograph]
All Saints Church,
Longstanton, Cambridgeshire.
32
[page break]
[photograph]
7 Squadron memorial window,
All Saints Church,
Longstanton, Cambridgeshire
33
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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The lucky crew
Description
An account of the resource
Memoir including photographs of the crew and aircraft. Thomas Jones was a flight engineer on Stirling and Lancaster and completed 64 operations on two tours. Describes early life, joining the RAF, selection and training., crewing up and first posting to 622 Squadron flying Stirling at RAF Mildenhall in September 1943. Gives account of activities and operations on first tour. Squadron converted to Lancaster and he was then posted to 7 Squadron at RAF Oakington. On completion of second tour went to 1332 Heavy Conversion Unit Transport Command near Belfast, Norther Ireland. Lists crew with decorations which is followed by account by his son Peter Jones.
Creator
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T J and P W Jones
Format
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Thirty-three page printed document
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Identifier
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BJonesTJJonesPWv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Air Force. Transport Command
Royal Australian Air Force
Royal New Zealand Air Force
Conforms To
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Pending review
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Suffolk
England--Lancashire
England--Bedfordshire
Wales--Vale of Glamorgan
England--Shropshire
England--Suffolk
Atlantic Ocean--Skagerrak
Germany
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Ludwigshafen am Rhein
Germany--Schweinfurt
England--Huntingdonshire
Germany--Dortmund
France
France--Rennes
Germany--Aachen
France--Lille
Germany--Duisburg
France--Amiens
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Emden (Lower Saxony)
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
France--Le Havre
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
1942-09-17
1943-04
1943-07
1943-08-29
1943-11
1944-09-10
1944-11
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
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Steve Baldwin
1657 HCU
622 Squadron
7 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
flight engineer
ground personnel
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
military living conditions
mine laying
navigator
Oboe
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Cardington
RAF Cosford
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Oakington
RAF Padgate
RAF St Athan
RAF Stradishall
RAF Warboys
searchlight
Spitfire
Stirling
training
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/501/22570/MCurnockRM1815605-171114-017.1.pdf
71c89cd5622fbbb2f0ce3a1b16012534
Dublin Core
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Title
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Curnock, Richard
Richard Murdock Curnock
R M Curnock
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Curnock, RM
Date
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2016-04-18
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Description
An account of the resource
92 items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Richard Curnock (1924, 1915605 Royal Air Force), his log book, letters, photographs and prisoner of war magazines. He flew operations with 425 Squadron before being shot down and becoming a prisoner of war.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Richard Curnock and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Dublin Core
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Title
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The Kriegie August 1986
Description
An account of the resource
News-sheet of the RAF ex-POW Association. This edition covers the large Canadian reunion of 1985 at Calgary, the Annual Dinner at Lords, Recco report of ex-POW activities, requests for help, Alan Bryett's lectures, the Association's AGM and annual reunion, Book reviews, advance notice of the Southampton reunion, two donations from the Larry Slattery Memorial Fund to a County Primary School band and to Merida - a 17 year old from Wiltshire, a reunion at RAF Hendon, news and photograph of the Blenheim restoration, the newly formed RAF Historical Society, the Dedication Parade and Service held at Windsor, a story about a German girl from Heydekrug who had moved to Brazil and a cartoon exhorting members to pay their subs.
Creator
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The RAF ex-POW Association
Date
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1986-08
Format
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12 printed sheets
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Identifier
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MCurnockRM1815605-171114-017
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Canadian Air Force
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
Alberta--Calgary
Alberta--Banff
Alberta--Lake Louise
England--London
Australia
Victoria--Melbourne
Queensland
England--Manchester
England--Great Yarmouth
England--Taunton
Ontario--Cornwall
Lithuania--Šilutė
England--Doncaster
England--Brighton
England--Pulborough
England--Kingston upon Thames
Scotland--Aberdeen
England--Fordingbridge
England--Bristol
England--Nottingham
England--Princes Risborough
England--Olney
England--Southampton
England--Cheshire
United States
Texas
Poland--Żagań
Germany--Bad Fallingbostel
Victoria
England--Windsor (Windsor and Maidenhead)
Poland
Great Britain
Ontario
Alberta
Germany
Lithuania
England--Berkshire
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Gloucestershire
England--Hampshire
England--Norfolk
England--Somerset
England--Surrey
England--Sussex
England--Lancashire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Yorkshire
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
10 Squadron
158 Squadron
7 Squadron
aircrew
arts and crafts
bale out
Blenheim
entertainment
Halifax
Lancaster
memorial
mess
navigator
Pathfinders
prisoner of war
RAF Duxford
RAF Hendon
RAF Melbourne
shot down
Stalag 8B
Stalag Luft 3
Stalag Luft 4
-
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1532/24221/PChadwickR19040033.2.jpg
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Chadwick, Roy. 1940s
Description
An account of the resource
69 items. Photographs of people, places and aircraft
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of Delphine S Stevens who has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0) permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The King and entourage visit a factory
Description
An account of the resource
In the centre H M the King wearing a light suit and tie at the front of a progression of men in suits. To either side workmen at machine benches. Inside a factory building. On the reverse 'The King visits Chadderton about 1941. Roy Chadwick mid photo with Lord Derby. Daily Herald'.
Publisher
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Daily Herald
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1941
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PChadwickR19040032, PChadwickR19040033
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Oldham
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of Delphine S Stevens who has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0) permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
Chadwick, Roy (1893-1947)
George VI, King of Great Britain (1895-1952)
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1085/22871/MPritchard2206805-171108-030001.1.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1085/22871/MPritchard2206805-171108-030002.1.jpg
33d1814b2dc48009b7a622e54a3d367f
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Pritchard, Arthur
A Pritchard
Description
An account of the resource
Six items. An oral history interview with Carolyn Pritchard about her father, Arthur Pritchard (2206806 Royal air Force) documents and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with with 463, 467 and 97 Squadron until he was shot down. He was hidden by the French Resistance until the liberation of Paris.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Carolyn Pritchard and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-08-23
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Pritchard, A
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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THE EXPOITS OF
WARRANT OFFICER
ARTHUR PRITCHARD
By his daughter, CAROLYN PRITCHARD
My father, Warrant Officer Arthur Pritchard, passed away on May 28, 2010, aged 86 years.
His life story is of humour, luck, and courage. It is also a story of the heroism of the French people who took him under their protection at great risk to themselves.
He was born in Beach Road, Y Felinheli (Port Dinorwig), on April 13, 1924, one of seven children of Arthur and Hannah May Pritchard.
[Photograph of an airman] Arthur Pritchard in his Flight Sergeant uniform
He joined the Royal Air Force before his 18th birthday, and did his training at R.A.F. St. Athan in South Wales, where he passed out as a Flight Sergeant and was posted to R.A.F. Winthorpe in Lincolnshire, where he was introduced to his Australian crew as a Flight Engineer. On February 29, 1944 the crew joined 463 Squadron based at RAF Waddington. During their time there they completed 17 sorties over Germany and France.
On May 7, 1944, Pilot Officer Bryan Giddins and crew were posted to 97 Pathfinder Force at RAF Coningsby. They completed a further three missions, seeing action on D-Day.
On their twenty-first sortie on June 9/10, 1944, on a night raid over a railway junction at Etampes, south of Paris, pilot Officer Giddings and his crew failed to return. After releasing flares over the target their Lancaster, ND764, was hit by flak and then attacked from below by a night fighter.
Many years later when he was able to relate his story, my father recollected the moment at the time when the aircraft was hit:- “The inner or outer port side engine was on fire, - it could have been either as there wasn’t much space between the engines. The suicidal height at which we were flying, the noise, the cabin full of smoke and partially lit, communications cut, cramped conditions in the cockpit, no place to wear your parachute (it had to be stored on the floor), frantically searching for it, the rush of cold air from the open back door, trying to prise open the escape hatch at the front, every second wasted making survival more improbable, the whole episode could not have lasted for more than a few minutes, and before we realised it was a doomed machine, we would have had even less time to make our getaway. The Lancaster was not air-crew friendly!”
Out of a crew of seven there were only two survivors. Pilot officer Bryan Giddings and Navigator Bryce Webb bailed out of the blazing plane but their parachutes did not deploy in time. The Lancaster finally crashed in a field near the village of Souzy la Briche. Carrying with it the remaining three crew members – Mid-Upper Gunner John McGill, Rear-Gunner Johnny Seale and H2S Operator Charles Clement. Wireless Operator Bob Bethell had baled out through the rear door, but was captured by a German patrol and ended up in Stalag Luft 7 Bankau, near Kreulberg.
When my father and the crew failed to return from the mission my grandparents Arthur and Hannah Mary received a telegram followed by a letter advising them that their son was missing presumed killed. During the time he was missing they and the family never gave up hope that he was still alive. On one occasion the local vicar called on them to ask permission for a memorial service for him to be arranged in the village. They declined saying “Our son is coming home”.
[Underlined] Their faith was rewarded because Flight-Engineer Arthur Pritchard evaded capture. [/underlined]
The aircraft was on fire and perilously low when he bailed out and he made a heavy landing, spraining his ankle. After wondering around the French countryside with his damaged ankle and famously asking villagers for a way to the coast, he eventually arrived at the village of Egly and entered the local church. Seeing a man by the alter he told him that he was an injured RAF airman. The Frenchman was unable to speak English, but gave him some water and pointed towards a café opposite the church. On entering the café, Dad waving a 100 Franc note from his RAF kit, ordered champagne, as this was the only French word he knew. Panic broke out as
[Boxed] [Photograph of a Lancaster]
The first Lancaster bomber came off the production line at the beginning of 1942. It was designed by AVRO’s chief designer, Roy Chadwick. The plane started out as Avro Manchester, a twin engine model, but in anticipation of the greater range that Bomber Command would require as the RAF took the war to the German heartland, Chadwick modified the Manchester to house four engines. Apart from the engine changes, the Manchester design was so good it did not take much work to come up with the new model, renamed the Lancaster.
The plane came famous later of course following the well-documented Dambuster Raid, when 617 Squadron attacked the Eder and Ruhr dams. [/boxed]
[Page break]
[Boxed] 97 (Straits Settlements) Squadron,
Royal Air Force,
CONINGSBY,
Lincolnshire.
10th June, 1944.
Dear Mr. Pritchard,
It is with deep regret that I must confirm that your son, Sergeant A. Pritchard, failed to return from operations this morning, the 10th June, 1944, and I wish to express the great sympathy which this Squadron feel with you during the [indecipherable] any news comes through.
Your son was taking part in an operation against a military target and [indecipherable] France, Flight Engineer of the aircraft. No news has been received since the aircraft left base last night – we can only hope that they had the chance to bale out and are safe, even as prisoners of war.
Sergeant Pritchard had only been serving with this Squadron for a short while, but during that period he was able to operate with us on the opening of the Second Front. He had operated with another Squadron prior to coming here, and had taken part in fifteen sorties, many of which were against major objectives in Germany. On this occasion he was working with his usual crew. Your son was keen and capable as a flight engineer, and he and his crew will be a great loss to the Squadron; we shall all miss them very much.
It [indecipherable] to explain that the request in the telegram notifying you of this casualty was [indecipherable] your son’s chance of escape being prejudged by [indecipherable] he is still at large. This is not to say that any information about him is available, but us a precaution adopted in the case of all personnel reported missing.
His kit and personal effects are being carefully collected and will be sent to the R.A.F. Central Depository, Colebrook, Slough, from whom you will hear in due course.
If any news is received you will be communicated with immediately, and in the meantime I join with you in hoping that we shall soon hear favourable news of your son and the remainder of the crew.
Yours sincerely,
[Signature]
Squadron Leader, Commanding,
No. 97 (Straits Settlements)
[Underlined] Squadron, R.A.F. CONINGSBY. [/underlined]
Mr. A. Pritchard,
10, [indecipherable];
PORT [indecipherable]
N. Wales.
[/boxed]
[Boxed] On the left is the letter dated June 10, 1944, that Arthur and Hannah Mary Pritchard received from the RAF confirming that their son had not returned from his latest mission and stating that his loss and those of the crew would be very much missed. It goes on to say that he may be still at large but that no information about him was available.
It concludes by stating that if any favourable news about him was received that the RAF would communicate immediately with the family in Felinheli. [/boxed]
there were Germans in the village, and he was hastily ushered into a back room. A young teenage boy, who could speak a little English, was brought to the café, and Dad explained his plight and was then taken to a nearby wood where he was hidden overnight in a small air-raid-type shelter in the ground whilst his identity was being checked out.
Once the o.k. was received from London, the local leader of the French Resistance was summoned. Arthur Pritchard was put into the care of Monsieur George Dantan and his family who risked being shot if caught hiding a British airman. He was given civilian clothing; ID as a deaf and dumb Frenchman, and a bicycle. He was told that he was to be moved to a safe house in Antony, near Paris. His instructions were to follow the parcel tied to the back of Monsieur Dantan’s bicycle – but not necessarily follow Monsieur Dantan. On arriving at the safe house several hours later, Monsieur Dantan entered the building, and several minutes later came out and removed the parcel from the bicycle and re-entered the house. This was the signal for Das that it was safe for him to enter. When he did so, the two men embraced, – relieved to have reached their destination safely.
He evaded capture for over two months, being moved several times to safe houses, until the Liberation of Paris on August 24.
On the liberation of Paris his parents received another telegram, this time stating that my father had been found safe and well. On seeing him for the first time, as he came down the steps to his home in an emaciated state, my grandmother fainted with the shock and relief of his safe return.
Whilst in hiding he had many adventures and kept a diary, and his story is told in the book Achieve Your Aim by Kevin Bending, and in a book written in French by Georges Dantan Junior, the English version of which is available on the 97 Squadron Association’s website.
My father was unaware of the fate of his fellow-crew members and he was constantly worried over their safety. He would not be told that they had perished in the crash until his return home. The only Welshman in an Australian crew, he was inevitably called Taffy, and they did everything together – ate, slept, fought, drank and danced. It was a tremendous blow to him when he learned of their fate.
After he was repatriated to the UK, he was posted to RAF West Freugh in Scotland as an Air Traffic Controller. He left the RAF with the rank of Warrant Officer.
Arthur Pritchard met his future wife, Edna May Cardwell, from Liverpool, whilst both were stationed at RAF Waddington, and were married in December 1947 at Llanfairisgaer Church, just outside Y Felinheli. Both are interred in the churchyard there, Edna having predeceased him on October 10, 2001.
Loyal to his wartime crew he made several visits to their war graves, near to where they perished. He was always warmly welcomed by the Mayor and villagers near the crash site, and he always laid wreaths at the well-attended graves of his wartime “family”. On one occasion he was presented with parts from the Lancaster wreckage, including the cam-shaft. The French and Australian families kept in touch over the years and visited him at his home in Wales.
[Photograph of a man wearing medals] Arthur Pritchard (the civilian) in his latter days
In his latter years he took delight in visiting his former air bases in Lincolnshire and was always warmly welcomed by the RAF personnel. On one memorable visit he was privileged to go on board the Lancaster Bomber based at RAF Coningsby – for him an unforgettable experience.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Exploits of Warrant Officer Arthur Pritchard
Description
An account of the resource
A biography of Arthur Pritchard written by his daughter. It covers his training, operations and the night he was shot down. Despite speaking no French he was assisted to a hideout in Paris where he remained until Paris was liberated in August 1944.
Creator
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Carolyn Pritchard
Format
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Two printed sheets
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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MPritchard2206805-171108-030001, MPritchard2206805-171108-030002
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France--Paris
Great Britain
England--Liverpool
Wales--Y Felinheli
France--Étampes (Essonne)
France
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-06-09
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Anne-Marie Watson
463 Squadron
617 Squadron
97 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bale out
Chadwick, Roy (1893-1947)
crash
evading
final resting place
flight engineer
H2S
killed in action
Lancaster
Manchester
missing in action
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Pathfinders
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Coningsby
RAF St Athan
RAF Waddington
RAF West Freugh
RAF Winthorpe
Resistance
shot down
Stalag Luft 7
-
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Hollis, Arthur
Arthur Norman Hollis
A N Hollis
Description
An account of the resource
56 items. The collection concerns Arthur Hollis (b. 1922) who joined the RAF in 1940 and after training completed a tour on 50 Squadron before becoming an instructor. At the end of the war he was deployed as part of Tiger Force. Collection contains a biography and memoir, his logbook, correspondence, training records, photographs of people, aircraft and places, his medals and flying jacket. It includes an oral history interview with his son, Richard Hollis.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Richard Hollis and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-11-07
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
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Hollis, AN
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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Thanksgiving address for the life of Arthur Norman Hollis OBE, DFC
Arthur Norman Hollis was born on [deleted] 8th [/undeleted] 11th August 1922 in Highgate. His father had been seriously wounded and traumatised twice during the First World War and was thus unable to enter the sort of profession that he would have normally have expected to follow. The family circumstances were therefore modest but nonetheless our father’s childhood seems to have been a very happy one. Following the birth of his younger brother Gerald and sister Rosemary the family moved to Carshalton in Surrey in 1930 where the acquisition of a bicycle at the age of 8 gave him a freedom totally unknown to today’s children. By the age of 14 he was cycling as far as Dover to visit his beloved maternal grandparents.
Thanks to a small family legacy both boys were sent to Dulwich College. Father admitted that he was rather idle for a few terms until he had a very strict and inspirational form Master and learnt that by working hard, he could be amongst the top few in the form. At Dulwich he achieved both Rugger and Boxing Colours, was the Middleweight Boxing Champion of the school and was an exceptionally strong Swimmer. Despite excellent academic and sporting achievements, it was decided that our father should leave at 16 and be articled to a firm of chartered accountants. Presumably the money had run out. He was deeply disappointed but true to character put a good face on it.
By far the youngest of the five or so articled clerks he was fortunately befriended by his immediate senior, Donald Draper, who remained a lifelong friend. When war broke out Father was only 16 so had to wait for 2 years before he could volunteer. He chose to sign up for pilot training in the RAF on the grounds that he was too young to be considered for combat duty in either the Army or Navy. After a short course at Manchester University, in 1941 he was sent by cargo ship with several thousand other young men to Florida to be taught to fly. He crossed the Atlantic in rough winter, at the height of the U Boat War.
Father’s leadership skills were recognised very early on. A few days after his arrival in Florida he was appointed Course Commander. As acting corporal (unpaid) he had general responsibility for the behaviour of the Flight (about 50 cadets). He was just 18 years old.
He returned home as a Pilot Officer and was immediately posted to Little Rissington to prepare for the larger machines of Bomber Command. It was extremely dangerous and a number of crews did not finish the course.. Father had several narrow escapes during this period. His flying jacket still hanging in his cupboard has a small nick on the shoulder. When asked why he hadn’t repaired it he replied because it had saved his life. While on a training flight with other pupils, [deleted] the [/deleted] [inserted] their [/inserted] aircraft flown by one of them went out of control. They had to bail out and as father jumped he realised that he had forgotten to fasten his parachute correctly. It went straight up over his head but caught on the edge of his flying jacket just giving him enough time to grab hold of it so that he could come down holding it by hand. After a few other narrow escapes, he moved on to Swinderby in Lincolnshire to convert on to Lancasters,. Out of all the Pilots on his conversion course to Lancasters, he was the only one to survive the war.. On finishing the course, he was posted to Skellingthorpe Lincoln to begin his tour of operations on what was afterwards known as the Battle of the Ruhr.
1
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This was a period of father’s life about which he spoke [deleted] very [/deleted] little as it was too painful for him. In his memoirs he simply states [inserted] of the Rhur [/inserted] “I hated the place” A bomber command crew member had a worse chance of survival than an infantry officer in World War 1. It is a huge tribute to father’s piloting skills that he and all but one of his crew members survived their tour of 30 operations. In May 1943 they survived a mid air collision with a Halifax over the Dutch Coast,, father got back only just, with bits of the Halifax’s propeller stuck in his own wing which had 6 feet missing. To father’s disgust there was no inquiry despite the near loss of 14 highly trained men and two valuable aircraft.
Two months later again he and his crew nearly became victims. The Daily Telegraph headline of the day read “Pilot brought home badly damaged aircraft: wins DFC”. Actg Flt.Lt. A.N. Hollis of 50 Squadron gets the DFC. In July when attacking Essen his aircraft was caught in a cone of searchlights and subjected to accurate AA fire. Much damage was caused to the machine, the “intercom” was rendered unserviceable, both tyres burst and many holes were made in the fuselage. In addition the aircraft was attacked by an enemy fighter and the rear turret was considerably damaged. Flt Lt. Hollis not only shook off his assailants but by skilful pilotage brought his charge safely home”
In August 1943 on his last operational trip he led a flight of less experienced Lancaster Pilots and crews across France and over the Alps to bomb the Railway Marshalling Yards at Milan. Whilst demonstrating how not to bomb short, he managed to bomb long, missed the Target and as he put it “knocked a Leonado da Vinci [sic] Mural off a Chapel Wall”. Not long afterwards, he used to tell us, the Italians capitulated.
He was highly valued by his crew. Some years later after two of them met and wrote to him :we came to the conclusion from our flying times, that you were about the best pilot and aircraft captain we had either of us flown with. we will spare your blushes but we really mean that”
After his tour of duty he was posted for instructor’s duties at Westcott, Bucks. Life was only marginally less perilous. The training aircraft were grossly underpowered [inserted] and worn out [/inserted] and on several occasions he found himself looking up at the trees while some hapless trainee pilot struggled to clear a hill. There were no dual controls. He was eventually promoted to Squadron Leader to command an instructor’s flight at Turweston having been categorised A2. This was rarely awarded and was the highest grade obtainable in wartime.
In March 1944 his beloved mother died which was a severe blow. Fortunately a month or so later he met our mother. They were married the following December and spent 5 happy months together before another blow struck. Whilst the rest of the country was celebrating VE day our parents spent what they later described as the saddest day of their lives. Father had been posted as a staff officer to the advance party of Tiger Force being formed to set up a Bomber Command presence on Okinawa to bomb mainland Japan. This meant almost certain death. He was not allowed to tell our mother where he was going., although she was already pregnant with my sister Jennifer, They said a profoundly sad farewell and father left for his tour of duty. He embarked from Liverpool and had got as far as Hawaii when he learned that the atom bomb had been dropped. As Father says, his feelings and those of his fellow officers were mixed. They were horrified that science had reached this far but grateful that their lives and about 2 million others had been saved.
He ended up in Hong Kong just after the Navy had arrived. From the Peninsular Hotel, his job was, as he said, running a cross between an information centre and a command post. Later with a few books sent from England by our mother [deleted] and [/undeleted] he
2
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started to study to be a Chartered Accountant. On his way home in July 1946 on arrival at Liverpool by ship he was summoned to cabin X where he was greeted by an Air Marshal who was there specifically to offer him a permanent commission. Father declined – He wasn’t going to be a Yes man, he remembered his mid-air collision and he never wanted to fly in a military aircraft again-he never did.
After two very difficult years with nowhere proper to live and no money, in 1948 he and my mother moved to Paragon, Blackheath where my sister Sylvia and I were born and father qualified as a Chartered Accountant. Any money they did have was spent on Bespoke suits and handmade shirts. He gained a reputation for being one of the best dressed men in the city….[deleted] with the white handkerchief slightly protruding from the sleeve. [/undeleted]
Accountancy is a profession which sometimes, quite erroneously, receives a bad press for being rather uninspiring. Father ensured that the opposite was the case. He acquired clients in Paris, Belgium Switzerland Germany and particularly Italy which he always adored. Frequently he went way beyond the call of duty helping Italian clients find homes and schools for their children when they needed them and giving help and advice on a great many issues outside accountancy. Several of them became firm friends and my parent’s trips to Florence and Venice were very happy occasions when they were received with open arms and wonderful hospitality by their Italian friends. On one occasion after lunch with some friends in Milan they visited a rather ruined church,. An important feature that was being restored was The Last Supper by Leonado da Vinci. [sic] He never let on but told me later that he took consolation from the fact that he had given a fair number of skilled craftsmen work for the last 30 years.
Other clients came from the world of theatre and music. During the 1950s, Father’s firm, Limebeer & Co. took over a small practice specialising in musical clients including Yehudi Menuhin. As father put it “we soon became good friends and I was able to help him become resident here without his being made bankrupt by our tax laws.” Once Menuhin had taken up residence in Highgate, he enlisted the help of Father as one of the key members in the setting up of the Menuhin School – a huge task but greatly helped by the appointment of an excellent secretary Monica Langford. Father was absolutely delighted that many years later when his eldest grandson married Monica’s granddaughter. Although unable to play or sing a note himself, Father’s love of music was profound. He was Vice President of the Menuhin school from 1989 onwards and from 1977-90 a governor of Live Music Now.
In 1963 he and my mother decided to buy a country cottage in Kent for Summer use. They saw Court Lodge and immediately decided this was where they wanted to spend the rest of their lives.. It was a huge undertaking both financially and physically. The Paragon flat was sold and the family moved down in January 1964 and camped for many months in a series of cold, damp, cheerless rooms with a total lack of any modern amenities while the house was gradually transformed into a lovely family home.. Father entered into the swing of local life with a passion while continuing to pursue a full and active life in the City. He was Chairman of Westwell Parish Council from 1976-9 and in 1980 became Chairman of Ashford Conservative Association and later South East England Treasurer. He was a terrific help and wise sage to the then MP Keith Speed the Navy Minister at the time of difficult Defence Cuts just before the Falklands War. For Political and Public Service in [missing word] he was awarded the OBE Back in 1963 he joined the Worshipful Company of Woolmen. In 1982 he was installed as Master and his ladies’ night banquet in the Goldsmith’s hall, he was able to point out in his address the Westwell silver-gilt flagons, now an important part of the Goldsmith’s treasures. These had been lying in a bank vault unused and grossly
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underinsured while the roof of this beautiful church was in real danger of collapse. After a huge battle with the church commissioners and the ecclesiastical authorities the pots were bought by the Goldsmith’s Company. Both my parents were extremely proud of the part they had been able to play in facilitating their sale and thus the restoration and saving of this magnificent church.
He had deep love of the countryside. His membership of 2 local shoots involved him in feeding and raising game as much as shooting, and in later years unable to carry a gun safely he thoroughly enjoyed accompanying the shoot just for the walk. Many of the beautiful trees in the Court Lodge garden and orchard were planted by him and he painstakingly built the paved garden commonly known as Arthur’s Folly. and rebuilt significant parts of the Church wall. He also spent many a happy hour in the early days of Court Lodge “millponding” as he called it when up to his knees in mud he and my long suffering brother-in law Maurice tried desperately to keep the millpond free of the mud and weeds that were then threatening to overwhelm it. This was followed by the era of Bloodhounds and the Alvis which were much loved……and the Peacocks…for which, to the whole village, we would like to apologise. Father was always a glass half full man – the Oyster Boys in particular will know what I mean by this. When the cruel ravages of an early bout of polio started to take their toll on our mother, he remained completely undaunted and as cheerful and determined to enjoy life as ever. By then well into his 70s, he would strap the wheel chair onto the back of his car and with the walker on the roof he and our mother would sally forth for a fortnight’s holiday accompanied by our blind sister, an elderly cousin and a mountain of luggage in the boot to explore the continent as they ate their way through some of the better restaurants in Europe. Into his eighties He and mother would also think nothing of joining his Brother Gerald and our Aunt Audrey on their Narrow boat for a holiday to check the suitable canal hostelries, were up to standard.
In 2009 he suffered a stroke but thanks to the superhuman efforts of our mother to get him to hospital on time and his own grit and determination afterwards, he made a full recovery. Our mother’s death in January 2010 shortly after their 65th wedding anniversary was a cruel blow but of course he put a good face on things and continued to live a full life at Court Lodge. He made frequent trips to London to visit friends and family He continued to entertain at home with impeccably cooked meals served as always, in full style in the dining room. Unfortunately the word “sensible” was not part of Father’s vocabulary. When quite alone in the house he continued to stagger up into the attic to find a suitcase or down a flight of the precariously lit and uneven stairs of the cellar to find a bottle of wine or two for impending guests. Only weeks before he died he had driven to the Isle of Wight, had driven to see Sylvia in Crowborough and was with difficulty prevented from driving down through France to stay with Jennifer. The happiest years of Father’s life were undoubtedly spent here in Westwell and he was deeply touched by the love and care shown him by its residents – particularly during these last few years. He was very touched by the deluge of cards he received following a short headline in the August edition of the Westwell Eye last year Happy 90th Birthday to Arthur Hollis and he was deeply honoured to be asked to light the Westwell beacon during the [deleted] Silver [/deleted] [inserted] Golden [/inserted] Jubilee celebrations last year.
A few years ago I asked him what had been the driving force behind his ambition to succeed and he told me that as a boy and teenager he had seen his parents struggle, through no fault of their own, yet he saw his wealthy cousins living in Chislehurst wanting for nothing. He was determined to succeed for his family and he did, we
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Have recently discovered that he also made generous donations to a fund at Dulwich College specifically to help boys whose parents could no longer afford the fees.
Arthur, Gramparfur, Father, Thank you. You died exactly as you would have wished – peacefully in your sleep in your own house in the village you adored.
And as you take off for the last time,…. Keep climbing…… fly well……, and at your final destination you know who is waiting for you.
5
End of transcription
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Thanksgiving address for the life of Arthur Norman Hollis OBE, DFC
Description
An account of the resource
Thanksgiving eulogy for the life and times of Arthur Hollis OBE, DFC of Bomber Command which covers his childhood successes whilst at Dulwich College, his subsequent enlistment into the RAF in 1941, and his pilot training in Florida and the UK. It also includes details of a selection of his operations, experiences as a flying instructor and role as a Staff Officer in the Tiger Force during the closing stages of the war. After a successful career as a Chartered Accountant, he fulfilled his life playing an active role to his family and the Kent village of Westwell.
Format
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Five page printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MHollisAN124522-171107-06
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--London
United States
Florida
England--Gloucestershire
England--Lincolnshire
Germany--Essen
Italy
Italy--Milan
England--Buckinghamshire
China
China--Hong Kong
England--Lancashire
England--Liverpool
England--Kent
England--Ashford
Germany
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
50 Squadron
bale out
Distinguished Flying Cross
Halifax
Lancaster
mid-air collision
military living conditions
military service conditions
Operational Training Unit
RAF Little Rissington
RAF Skellingthorpe
RAF Swinderby
RAF Turweston
RAF Westcott
sport
Tiger force
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/743/31059/BCleggPVVerdonRoeLv10001.2.jpg
d6b230fdab79f673acda8b1d075becc5
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Clegg, Peter Vernon
P V Clegg
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items and five sub-collections. Main collection contains a log of Pathfinder operations from RAF Wyton 1943 -1944, histories of the Avro repair facility at Bracebridge Heath, and Langar, a biography of Squadron Leader David James Baikie Wilson, biography of Squadron Leader Lighton Verdon-Roe, a book - Test Pilots of A.V. Roe & Co Ltd - S.A. 'Bill' Thorn, and two volumes of book - Roy Chadwick - no finer aircraft designer, Sub-collections contain a total of 29 items concerning the Aldborough Dairy and Cafe as well as biographical material, including log books for Alan Gibson, Peter Isaacson, Alistair Lang and Charles Martin. <br /><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1772">Aldborough Dairy and Cafe</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1768">Gibson, Alan</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1769">Isaacson, Peter</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1770">Lang, Alastair</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1771">Martin, Charles</a><br /><br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Peter Clegg and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-07-02
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Clegg, PV
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Test Pilots of A.V. Roe & Co Ltd - S.A. 'Bill' Thorn
Description
An account of the resource
Covers biography of Boll Thorn early life and taking a short service commission in the Royal Air Force in September 1922 and learning to fly and posting to 17 Squadron at RAF Hawkinge.= and eventually to the Royal Aircraft Establishment at Farnborough where he started testing. Relates his flying activities in the 1930s. He started working at A V Roe in 1933. Continues with testing activities on Anson, Manchester, Lancaster, York, Lincoln, Lancastrian and Tudor. Concludes with crash of Tudor in which he and Roy Chadwick were killed.
This item is available only at the International Bomber Command Centre / University of Lincoln.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
P V Clegg
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
25 b/w photocopied sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BCleggPVThornSAv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Kent
England--Wiltshire
England--Hampshire
England--Greater Manchester
England--Lancashire
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Anson
Chadwick, Roy (1893-1947)
Lancaster
Lancastrian
Lincoln
Manchester
RAF Farnborough
RAF Upavon
York